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Les diogrammes sulvants lllustrent la mAthode. 32X 1 2 3 4 S 6 CI BY THE Ain GEOR THE CLOCKMAKER OR THE SAYINGS AND DOINGS OF SAMUEL SLICK OF SLICKVILL^ ^ I /. o ' 1-^ jiL I b/^^^^^ BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE ATTACH^" AND "THE LETTER-BAC; OF THE GREAT WESTERN" ^ LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS THE BROADWAY. LUDGATE NEW YORK: 416 BROOME STREET Property of the IJbrary University of Wuterioo MB. JUSTICE HALIBUBTON'S WORKS. The Clockmaker. The Attach^. The Letit.r-bag of THE Great j Westkkn. 1 •HAnva Slk 1. The Tr 2. The Cl< 3. The SU. 4. Con vers 5. Justice 6« Anecdot 7. Go Ahej 8- The Pre, 9- Yankee J 10. The Roa 11. Cumberl 12. The Amc 13. The Cloc 14. Sayings i 15. The Dam 16. Mr. SHck 17. A Yankee 18. The Grah 19. The Cloci 20. Sister Sal 21. Setting u| 22. A Cure fo •U The BIowi 24. Father Jol 25. Taniine a I 26. The Minis! 27. The White 28. Fire in the 29. A Body wi, 30. A Tale of I 31. Gulhng a I J^. Too inanv '3. Windsor an CONTENTS or THE FIRST SERIES. •A^ *>^^j^^0^tm>t^0t^^0k0^0^0^^iit0tm CBAPTBR Slick's Lrtter . • » 1. The TroUing Horse • • « 2. The Clockmaker • • i 3. The Silent Girls . • . 4. Conversations at the River Philip • i 5. Justice Pettifog . • 6. Anecdotes . • • . 7. Go Ahead 8. The Preacher that wandered from his Text 9. Yankee Eating and Horse Feeding . 10. The Road to a Woman's Heart— The Broken Heart 11. Cumberland Oysters produce melancholy forebodings 12. The American £agle 13. The Clockmaker's Opinion of Halifax • 14. Sayings and Doings in Cumberland « 15. The Dancing Master Abroa» 16. Mr. Slick's Opinion of the British . 17. A Yankee Handle for a Halifax Blade 18. The Grahamite and the Irish Pilot . 19. The Clockmaker quilts a Blue-Nose 20. Sister Sail's Courtship 21. Setting up for a Governor . 22. A Cure for Conceit . 4 ^. The Blowin Time 24. Father John O'Shaughnessy 25. Taming a Shrew . t 26. The Minister's Horn Mug . 1 27. The White Nigger . , . 28. Fire in the Dairy . • « 29. A Body without a Head . • 30. A Tale of Bunker's Hill . » 31. Gulling a Blue-Nose . • • 32. Too many Irons in the Fire • • 33. Windsor and the Far West • P4SI V 1 5 9 . 12 15 . 18 . 21 . 25 . 30 . 34 . 39 . 44 . 50 . 56 . GO . G5 . 71 . 77 . 83 . fH . 'J.» . 100 . 105 . HI . 116 . 121 . 127 . 132 . 137 . 141 . 145 , 150 . 1S6 1 »^ P !■■; CONTENTS. SECOND SERIBt. CHAPTER 1. The Meetirif^ 2. Tlve Voluntary Syitem 3. Training a Carriboo 4. Nick Bradshaw 5. Travelling in America 6. Elective Councils 7. Slavery 9. Talking Latin . 9. The Snow Wreath 10. The Talisman . 11. Italian Paintings 12. Shampooing the English 13. Putting a Foot in it 14. English Aristocracy and Yankee Mobocrtflf 15. Confesaions of a Deposed Minister 16. Canadian Politics 17. A cure for Smuggling 18. Taking off the Factory Ladies 19. The Schoolmaster Abroad 20. The Wrong Room 21. Finding a Mare's Nest 22. Keeping up the Steam 23. the Clockmaker's Parting Advice THIRD SERIES. «HAPTBR The Duke of Kent's Lodge Playing a Card Behind the Scenes 4. The Black Brother 5. The Great Unknown 6. Snubbing a Snob 7. Patriotism, or the Two Shean't 8. Too Knowing by Half 9. Matrimony 10. The Wooden Horse 11. The Bad ShilUng 12. Trading in Bed 13. Knowing the Soundings, or PoUj Coflb'i S a n d b ole 14. An Old Friend with a Ne^v Faoe 15. The Unburied One 16. Definition of a Gentleman 17. Looking Up 18. The Old Minister 19. The Barrel without Hoop* 20. Facing a Woman . 11 i The Attach^ 1 2. 3. PAOI . 161 . 164 . 176 . 182 . 193 . 203 . 209 . 219 , 2SU . 288 . 245 . 25*J . 261 , 268 , 278 , 286 . 295 . 802 , 313 , 321 . 3-29 ► 337 , 346 PAOB . 355 . 361 . 371 . 379 . 386 . 396 . 404 , 411 . 418 . 427 . 436 . 446 . 457 , 466 . 473 , 480 . 189 . 497 . 506 . 515 . 52h .After these Publication, w from him the i entire. J—Eonr To Mr. Hoiv SlR,^I I ami over used scandalc man for to g J^'glit off and mean, action, it. It will be There's an ee: fish I've made •"id what am "'.V oath I Me\ SLICK'S LETTER. .After these Sketches had gone through the press and were ready foi Publicatiun, we sent Mr. Slick s copy; and shortly afterwards received from him the following letter, which characteristic communication we give entire.] — EorroR. To Mr. Howe. Sir, — I have received your letter, and note its conteits.— I aint over half pleased I tell you; I think I have been used scandalous, that's a fact. It warn't the part of a gentle- man for to go and pump me arter that fashion, and then go right off and blart it out in print. It was a nasty, dirty, mean, action, and I don't thank you nor the Squire a bit for it. It will be more nor a thousand dollars out of my pocket. There's an eend to the Clock trade now, and a pretty kettle of fish I've made on it, havn't I? I shall never hear the last on it, .iiid what am I to say when I go back to the States ? I'll take my oath I never said one half the stuff he has sot down there; fl slick's letter. And as for that long lockrum about Mr. Everett, and the Hon. AUlen Gobble, and Minister, there aint a word of truth in it from bcginnin to eend. If ever I come near hand him agin, Til lam him but never mind, I say nothin. Now there's one thing I don't cleverly onderstand. If this here book is my * Sai^ins and Doins^ how comes it youm or the Squire's either! If my thoughts and notions are my own, how can they be any other folks's? According to my idee you have no more right to take them, than you have to take my clocks without payin for 'em. A man that would be guilty of such an action is no gen- tleman, that's flat, and if you don't like it you may lump it — for I don't valy him, nor you neither, nor are a blue-nose that evet stept in shoe-leather, the matter of a pin's head. I don't know as ever I felt so ugly afore since I was raised: why didn't he put his name to it as well as mine ? When an article han't the maker's name and factory on it, it shows it's a cheat, and he's ashamed to own it. If I'm to have the name, I'll have the game, or I'll know the cause why, that's a fact ! Now folks say you are a considerable of a candid man, and right up and down in your dealins, and do things above board, handsum — at least so Tve beam tell. That'^s what I like ; I love to deal with such folks. Now 'spose you make me an offer? You'll find me not very difficult to trade with, and I don't know but I might put off more than half the books myself, tu. I'll tell you how I'd work it? I'd say, 'Here's a book they've namesaked arter me, Sam Slick, the Clockmaker, but it tante mine, and I can't altogether jist say rightly whose it is. Some says it's the Gineral's and some say it's the Bishop's, and some says it's Howe himself; but aint availed who it is. It's a wise child that knows its own ther. It wipes up the blue-noses considerable hard, and don't off the Yankees so very easy neither, but it's generally allowed be about the prettiest book ever writ in this country ; and slick's letter. VII although it aint altogether jist gospel ^vhat's in it, there's some pretty home truths in it, that's a fact. Whoever wrote it mus* be a funny feller, too, that's sartin ; for there are some queei stories in it that no soul could help larfin at, that's a fact. It's about the wittiest book I ever see'd. It^s nearly all sold off, but jist a few copies I've kept for my old customers. The price is jist 5s. 6d,y but I'll let you have it for d«., because you'll not get another chance to have one.' Always ax a sixpence more than the price, and then bate it, and when blue-nose hears that, he thinks he's got a bargain, and bites directly. I never see'd one on 'era yet that didn't fall right into the trap. Yes, make me an offer, and you and I will trade, I think. But fair play's a jewel, and I must say I feel ryled and kinder sore. I han't been used handsum atween you two, and it don't seem to me that I had ought to be made a fool on in that book, arter that fashion, for folks to laugh at, and then be sheered out of the spec. If I am, somebody had better look out for squalls, I tell you. I'm as easy as an old glove, but a glove aint an old shoe to be trod on, and I think a sartain person will find that out afore he is six months older, or else I'm mistakened, that's all. Hopin to hear from you soon, I remain yours to com- mand, SAMUEL SLICK. P«yMM*« Inn, Rivsr PhiUpy Die, 2«, 1838. P.S. — I see in the last page It is writ, that the Squire is to take another journey round the Shore and back to Halifax with me next Spring. Well, I did agree with him, to drive him round the coast, but don't you mind — we'll understand each other, I guess, afore we start. I concait he'll rise considerably iirlj in the mornin, afore he catches me asleep agin. FU 1)9 4. !«-■ nil SLICK'S LETTEE wide awake for him next liitcb, that's a fact. I'd a ginn a thousand dollars if he had only used Carophell's name instead of mine ; for he was a most an almighty villain, and cheated a proper raft of folks, and then shipped himself off to Botany Buy, for fear folks would transport him there ; you couldn't rub out Slick, and put in Campbell, could youf that's a good feller; i{ you would I'd make it worth your while, you may depend. T ^ Was alua Jl'jqued mysel; JJiave made no J^ore, the pleas lieel so nell oi [tiling exhilara pleasure in m lis horse to th Ethiopel you ears on his ar pe is done, po how roams at failed me till tl I pride myse man of my ag M of coxcomb Miicli I can lea lolitary musings I On my last j( Y Colchester ha THE CLOCKMAKER. CHAPTER I. THB TROTTING HORSK. I IV AS always \vell mounted. I am fond of ahorse, and alwayi I piqued myself on having the fastest trotter in the Province, i luive made no great progress in the world, I feel doubly, there- tore, the pleasure of not being surpassed on the road. I never ll'eel so well or so cheerful as on horseback, for there is some- jthing exhilarating in quick motion; and, old as I am, I feel a )leasure in making any person whom I meet on the way put lis horse to the full gallop, to keep pace with my trotter. Poor Sthiope! you recollect him, how he was wont to lay back his ears on his arched neck, and push away from all competition. E^Ie is done, poor fellow! the spavin spoiled his speed, and he low roams at large upon ' my farm at Truro.* Mohawk never failed me till this summer. I pride myself, (you may laugh at such childish weakness in man of my age,) but still, I pride myself in taking the conceit )ut of coxcombs I meet on the road, and on the ease with vliich I can leave a fool behind, whose nonsense disturbs my |olitary musings. On my last journey to Fort Lawrence, as the beautiful view |f Colchester had just opened upon me, and as I was con tern- I (A f4t * ^ 1-1 V 2 THE CLOCKBfAKEII. plating itS richness and exquisite scenery, a tall thin man, with hollow cheeks and bright twinkling black eyes, on a good bay horse, somewhat out of condition, oyertook me; and drawing up, said, I say, Stranger, I guess you started early this morning, didn't you? I did, sir, I replied. You did not come from Halifax, I presume, did you? in a dialect too rich to be mistaken as genutite Yankee. And which way may you be trayelling? asked my inquisitire companion. To Fort Lawrence. Ah ! said he, so am I, it is tit my circuit. The word circuit sounded so professional, I looked again at him to ascertain whether I had oyer seen him before, or whether I had ' it with one of those nameless, but innumerable limbs of the U'.w, who now flourish in erery district of the Proyince. There was a keenness about his eye, and an acuteness of expression, much in fayour of the law; but the dress, and general bearing of the man, made against the supposition. His was not the coat of a man who can afford to wear an old coat, nor was it one of * Tempest and More's,' that distinguish country lawyers from country boobies. His clothes were well made, and of good materials, but looked as if their owner had shrunk a little since they ^<^re made for him; they hung somewhat loose on him. A large brooch, and some superfluous seals and gold keys, which ornamented his outward man, looked ' New England' like. A yisit to the States had, perhaps, I thought, turned this Colchester beau into a Yankee fop. Of what consequence was it to me who he was — in either case I had nothing to dt with him, and I desired neither his acquaintance nor his com- pany — still I could not but ask myself who can this man be ? I am not aware, said I, that there is a court sitting at this time at Cumberland? Nor am I, said my friend. What then could j he haye to do with the circuit? It occurred to me he must be I ■a Methodist preacher. I looked again, but his appearance again puzzled me. His attire might do— the colour might be suitable <— the broad brim not out of place; but there was a want of that staidness of look, that seriousness of countenance, thatj expression, in short, so characteristic of the clergy. I could not account for my idle curiosity — a curios ty which,! in him, I had the moment before yiewed both with suspicion and disgust; but sr it was — I felt a desire to know who hej f good e since n him. keys, igland' Led this I luencc to d4 [is com- 1 in bet LIS time could LUSt be I le again I iuitable ant oil le, that! whicli, ispicion rho he lould be who was neither lawyer nor preacher, and yet talked of his circuit with the gravity of both. How ridiculous, I thought to myself, is this; I will leare him. Turning towards him, I said, I feared I should be late for breakfast, and must, therefore, bid him good morning. Mohawk felt the pressure of my knees, and away we went at a slapping pace. I congratu- lated myself on conquering my own curiosity, and on ayoiding that of my travelling companion. This, I said to myself thii is the value of a good horse; I patted his neck — ^I felt proud of him. Presently I heard the steps of the unknown's horse-— the clatter increased. Ah, my friend, thought I, it won't do ; you should be well mounted if you desire my company; I pushed Mohawk faster, faster, faster,— to his best. He outdid himself; he had never trotted so handsomely — so easily — so well. I guess that is a considerable smart horse, said the stranger, as he came beside me, and apparently reined in, to prevent his horse passing me; there is not, I redcon, so spry a one on niy circuit. Circuit, or no circuit, one thing was settled in my mind; he was a Yankee, and a very impertinent Yankee too. I felt humbled, my pride was hurt, and Mohawk was beaten. To continue this trotting contest was humiliating; I yielded, there- fore, before the victory was palpable, and pulled up. Yes, continued he, a horse of pretty considerable good action, and a pretty fair trotter, too, I guess. Pride must have a fall— I confess mine was prostrate in the dust. These words cut me to the heart. What! is it come to this, poor Mohawk, that. you, the admiration of all but the envious, the great Mohawk, the standard by which all other horses are measured — trots next to Mohawk, only yields to Mohawk, looks like Mohawk^ that you are, after adl, only a counterfeit, and pronounced by a straggling Yankee to be merely a * pretty fair trotter !' If he was trained, I guess that he might be made to do a little more. Excuse me, but if you divide your weight between the knee and the stirrup, rather most on the knee, and rise for- ward on the saddle, so as to leave a little daylight between yoa I and it, I hope I may never ride this circuit again, if you don't I get a mile more an hour out of him. What ! not enough, I mentally groaned, to have my horse (^ V 1 t. THE CLOCKMAKEK. beaten, but I must be told that I don't know how to ride him ; and that, too, by a Yankee. Aye, there's the rub — a Yankee what ? Perhaps a half-bred puppy, half yankee, half blue-nose. As there is no escape, I'll try to make out my riding-roaster. Your circuity said I, my looks expressing all the surprise they were capable of — ^your circuit, pray what may that be ? Oh, «aid he, the eastern circuit — I am on the eastern circuit, sir. I hare heard, said I, feeling that I now had a lawyer to deal with, that there is a great deal of business on this circuit — ^pray, are there many cases of importance ? There is a pretty fair business to be done, at least there has been, said he, but the cases are of no great yalue — we don't make much out of them, we get them up very easy, but they don't bring much profit. What a beast, thought I, is this ; and what a curse to a country, to hare such an unfeeling pettifogging rascal practising in it — a horse jockey, too, what a finished character 1 I'll try him on that branch of his business. That is a superior animal you are mounted on, said I — I seldom meet one that can keep pace with mine. Yes, said he, coolly, a considerable fair traveller, and most particular good bottom. I hesitj^ted : this man who talks with such unblushing efirontery of getting up cases, and making profit out of them, cannot be offended at the question — ^yes, I will put it to him Do you feel an inclination to part with him? I never part with a horse, sir, that suits me, said he — I am fond of a horse — I don't like to ride in the dust after every one I meet, and I allow no man to pass me but when I choose. Is it possible, I thought, that he can know me ? that he has heard of my foible, and is quizzing me, or have I this feeling in common with him? But, continued I, you might supply yourself again. Not on this circuity I guess, said he, nor yet in Campbell's circuit. Campbell's circuit — pray, sir, what is that ? That, said he, is the western — and Lampton rides the shore circuit ; and as for the people on the shore, they know so little of horses, that Lampton tells me, a man from Aylesford once sold a hornless ox there, whose tail he had cut and nicked, for a horse of the Goliath breed. I should think, said I, that Mr. Lampton must have no lack of cases among such enlightened clients. Clients, sir! said my friend. Mr. Lampton is not a lawyer, I beg pardon, I thought THE TROTTINO HOKSB. f ikee lose, ster. they Oh, r. I with, ^,are »ne88 we of them beast, : such »ckey, Qch of you said he rode the circuit. We call it a circuit, said the stranger, who seemed by no means flattered by the mistake — we divide the Province, as in the Almanack, into circuits, in each of which we separately carry on our business of manufacturing and selling clocks. There are few, I guess, said the Clock- maker, who go upon lick as much as we do, who have so little use for lawyers ; if attomies could wind a man up again, after he has been fairly run down, I guess they'd be a pretty harmless sort of folks. This explanation restored my good humour, and as I could not quit my companion, and he did not feel disposed to leave me, I made up my mind to travel with him to Fort Lawrencei the limit of his circuit. CHAPTER II. THE CLOCKMAKEB, jrn — )le on |s me, se tail (d. I Ick of my )ughl 1 HAD heard of Yankee clock pedlars, tin pedlars, and bilile Ipedlars, especially of him who sold Polyglot Bibles {all in \English) to the amount of sixteen thousand pounds. The ^louse of every substantial farmer had three substantial urna- lents, a wooden clock, a tin reflector, and a Polyglot Bible. |Uow is it that an American oan sell his wares, at whatever )rice he pleases, where a blue- nose would fail to make a sale at ill? I will inquire of the Clockmaker the secret of his success. What a pity it is, Mr. Slick (for such was his name), what a )ity it is, said I, that you, who are so successful in teaching ^hese people the value of clocks, could not also teach them the |ralue of time. I guess, said he^ they have got that ring to grow >n their horns yet, which every four year old has in our country. ^e reckon hours and minutes to be dollars and cents. They lo nothin in these parts but eat, drink, smoke, sleep, ride about, lounge at taverns, make speeches at temperance meetings, and ilk about ^ House of Assembly," If a man don't hoe his com, id he don't get a crop, he says it is all owin to the Bank : and f't R THE CLOCKMA&ER. if he runs into debt, and is sued, why he says lawyers are a cuss to the country. They are a most idle set of folks, I tell ycu But how is it, said I, that you manage to sell such an immense number of clocks (which certainly cannot be called necessary articles) among a people with whom there seems to be so great a scarcity of money ? * • Mr. Slick paused, as if considering the propriety of answering the question, and looking me in the face, said in a confidential toae, Why, I don't care if I do tell you, for the market is glutted, and I shall quit this circuit. It is done by a know- ledge of sqfl sawder and human natur. But here is Deacon Flint's, said he, I have but one clock left, and I guess I will sell it to him. At the gate of a most comfortable-looking farm-house stood Deacon Flint, a respectable old man, who had understood the value of time better than most of his neighbours, if one might judge from the appearance of every thing about him. After the usual salutation, an invitation to ''* alight" was accepted by Mr. Slick, who said, he wished to take leave of Mrs. Flint before he left Colchester. We had hardly entered the house, before the Glockmakeri pointed to the view from the window, and addressing himselij to me, said, If I was to tell them in Connecticut, there was suciil a farm as this away down east here in Nova Scotia, the?! wouldn't believe me — why there aint such a location in all Ne England. The Deacon has a hundred acres of dyke. — Seventj, said the Deacon, only seventy. Well seventy; but then thei is your fine deep bottom, why I could run a ramrod into it. Interval, we call it, said the Deacon, who, though evident! pleased at this eulogium, seemed. to wish the experiment of th ramrod to be tried in the right place. — ^Well, interval, if yoi please, (though Professor Eleazer Cumstick, in his work oi Ohio, calls them bottoms,) is just as good as dyke. Then the: is that water privilege, worth 3,000 or 4,000 dollars, twice good as what Governor Cass paid 15,000 dollars for. I wond Deacon, you don't put up a carding machine on it: the sai works would carry a turning lathe, a shingle machine, a circ saw, grind bark, and . Too old, said the Deacon, too old •11 those speculations.— Old, repeated the Clockmaker, not yc why you j a-days, yo in a lower whatever i did not thi But yoi have a feec taken to th As the drew near i I call " soft a sheep pa said he, loo! smart horse, Here his lee trance of M What, have for money ii am wrong in Steel's wife a sell it; I hac I sold Gove State for Mai —it has com I article — area guess I'll take kinder hardei Mrs. Flint, 1 1 jof mine over t it on to Eastp |look at it. Mr. Slick, T woon produced looking affair. iDeauties were ] |«vhose admiral "^lint returned lorses. The ] iandsome one; THE CLOCKMAKER. r why you are worth half a doien of the young men vre sec, now a-days, you are young enough to have- here he said something in a lower tone of roice, which I did ntt distinctly hear; but wbateyer it was, the Deacon was pleased, he smiled, and said he did not think of such things now. But your beasts, dear me, your beasts must be put in and have a feed; saying which, he went out to order them to be taken to the stable. As the old gentleman closed the door after him, Mr. Slick drew near to me, and said in an under tone, Now that is what I call '' soft sawder,'* An Englishman would pass that man as a sheep passes a hog in a pastur, without looking at him ; or, said he, looking rather archly, \£ he was mounted on a pretty smart horse, I guess he'd trot away, if he could. Now I find — Here his lecture on " soft sawder" was cut short by the en- trance of Mrs. Flint. Jist come to say good bye, Mrs. Flint. — What, have you sold all your clocks? — Yes, and very low, too, for money is scarce, and I wished to close the concam ; no, I am wrong in saying all, for I have jist one left. Neighbour Steel's wife asked to have the refusal of it, but I guess I won't sell it; I had but two of them, this one and the feller of it that I sold Governor Lincoln. General Green, the Secretary of State for Maine, said he'd give me 50 dollars for this here one I — it has composition wheels and patent axles, it is a beautiful article — a real first chop — no mistake, genuine superfine, but I guess I'll take it back; and beside, Squire Hawk might think it kinder harder that I didn't give him the offer. Dear me, said Mrs. Flint, I should like to see it; where is it? It is in a chist of mine over the way, at Tom Tape's store. I guess he can ship it on to Eastport. That's a good man, said Mrs. Flint, jist let's llook at it. " ^' ". ' ;jiitJt.-!!i €H.i tr, i:.>t • • i ••*.■ Mr. Slick, willing to oblige, yielded to these entreaties, and |«oon produced the clock — a gawdy, highly varnished, truinpery- llooking affair. He placed it on the chimney-piece, where its joeauties were pointed out and duly appreciated by Mrs. Flint, Whose admiration was about ending in a proposal, when Mr. Tiint returned from giving his directions about the care of the lorses. The Deacon praised the clocks he too thought it a landsome one; but the Deacon was a prudent man, he had a 1^ o , frt ^ t .THE CLOCKMAKEIU watch — he was sorry, but he had no occasion for a clock. 1 guess you're in the wrong furrow this time, Deacon, it an't for sale, said Mr. Slick ; and if it was, I reckon neighbour Steel's wife would have it, for she gives me no peace about it. Mrs. Flint said, that Mr. Steel had enough to do, poor man, to pay his interest, without buying clocks for his wife. It's no consarn of mine, said Mr. Slick, so long as he pays me what he "baa to do, but I guess I don't want to sell it, and besides it «omes too high; that clock can't be made at Rhode Island under 40 dollars. Why it an't possible, said the Clockmaker, in apparent surprise, looking at his watch, why as I'm alive, it is 4 o'clock, and if I hav nt been two blessed hours here — how on airth shall I reach River Philip to-night? I'll tell you what, Mrs. Flint, I'll leave the clock in your care till I return on my way to the States — I'll set it a goin, and put it to the right time. As soon as this operation was performed, he delivered the key to the Deacon with a sort of serio-comic injunction to wind up the clock every Saturday night, which Mrs. Flint said she would take care should be done, and promised to remind her husband of it, in case he should chance to forget it. That, said the Clockmaker, as soon as we were mounted, that | I call ' human naiurJ' Now that clock is sold for 40 dollars- it cost me jist 6 dollars and 50 cents. Mrs. Flint will never I let Mrs. Steel have the refusal — nor will the Deacon lam, until I call for the clock, that having once indulged in the use of a superfluity, how difficult it is to give it up. We can do with- out any article of luxury we never had, but when once obtained, it isn't in * human natur* to surrender it voluntarily. Of fifteen thousand sold by myself and partners in this Province, twelvel thousand were left in this manner, and only ten clocks were I ever returned — when we called for them, they invariably boughtl them. We trust to ' soft sawder* to get them into the hou8e,[ and to ' human }tatur' that they never come out of it. ^rY 1H3 SILENT GIRLS. CHAPTER III. THE SILENT OIRLB. Do you see them are swallers, said the Clockmaker^ how low they flyt Well, I presume, we shall haye rain right away, and them noisy critters, them gulls; how close they keep to the water down there in the Shuhenacadie ; well, that's a sure sign. If we study natur, we don't want no thermometer. But I guess we shall he in time to get under coyer in a shingle-maker's shed, about three miles ahead on ut. We had just reached the deserted hoyel, when the rain fell in torrents. I I reckon, said the Clockmaker, as he sat himself down on a bundle of shingles, I reckon they are bad off for inns in this country. When a feller is too lazy to work here, he paints hia I name oyer his door, and calls it a tayem, and as like as not, he makes the whole neighbourhood as lazy as himself — it is about as easy to find a good inn in Halifax, as it is to find wool on a goat's back. An inn, to be a good concam, must be built a purpose, you can no more make a good tayem out of a common Idwelling-house,^ I expect, than a good coat out of an old pair of Itrowsers. They are etamal lazy, you may depend — now there Imight be a grand spec made there, in building a good Inn and |a good Church. What a sacrilegious and unnatural union, said I, with most unaffected surprise. Not at all, said Mr. Slick, re build both on spekilation «a the States, and make a good leal of profit out of 'em too, I tell you. We look out a good sightly place, in a town like Halifax, that is pretty considerably jwell peopled with folks that are good marks ; and if there is no i\ right down good preacher among them, we build a hand- Bme Church, touched off like a New- York liner, a rael takin- }okin thing — and then we look out for a preacher, a crack lan, a regUar ten-horse-power chap — ^well, we hire him, and re haye to give pretty, high wages, too, say twelye hundred or I THE CLOCKMAKER. sixteen hundred dollars a year. We take him at first on trial for a Sabbath or two, to try his paces, and if he takes ^vith the folks, if he goes down well, we clinch the bargain, and let and sell the pews ; and I tell you it pays well and makes a rati ^ood investment. There were few better specs among us tliau Inns and Churches, until the Riilroads came on the carpet — as oon as the novelty of the new preacher wears off, we hire another, and that keeps up the steam. I trust it will be long, V. ry long, my friend, said I, ere the rage for speculation intro- duces " the money-changers into the temple," with us. " Mr. Slick looked at me with a most ineffable expression of pity and surprise. Depend on it, sir, said he, with a most philosophical air, this Province is much behind the intelligence of the age. But if it is behind us in that respect, it is a long chalk ahead on us in others. I never seed or heard tell of a country that had so many nateral privileges as this. Why there are twice as many harbours and water powers here, as we i have all the way from Eastport to New Orleens. They have all they can ax, and more than they desarve. They have iron, coal, slate, grindstone, lime, firestone, gypsum, freestone, and a list as long as aQ auctioneer's catalogue. But they are either asleep or stone Mincl to them. Their shores are crowded with iish, and their lancii Covered with wood. A government that lays as light on 'em qs a down counterpin, and no taxes. Then look at their dykes. The Lord seems to have made 'em onl purpose for such lazy folks. If you were to tell the citizens of I our country that these dykes had been cropped for a hundred! years without manure, theyM say, they guessed you had seenl Col. Crockett, the greatest hand at a flam in our nation. Youl liave heerd tell of a man who couldn't see London for the! houses, I tell you, if we had this country, you could'nt see thcl harbours for the shippin. There'd be a rush of folks to it, asl there is in one of our inns, to the dinner table, when they some-l times get jammed together in the door-way, and a man has tol take a running leap oyer their heads, afore he can get in. Al little nigger boy in New York found a diamond worth 2,OO0l lollars; well, he sold it to a watch-maker for 50 cents — th«| little critter didn't know no better. Your people are just iik^ the nigger boy, they don't know the valy of their diamond. on trial ith the let and s a rael us than pet — as ve hire je long, n intro- ision of a most Iligence i a long tell of a Why I >, as we j liave all I re iron. ^^E SILENT Olias. Wue-nosc. of Nora Sco'ia-if. » f. "'ee^r^-^d ,o do the factonea, oar aiiU^ and even ?n *""'-'°,o»'- ship-yards, om man can't „„k and taL "oo I "''"^ *•""*'" "^ Wk-» fectone. to Lowel we'd show v^n « '^T '^ y°" "«'« to the h« woh a rael aateral curosity tX^, °" ^reat country dont contain the beat of tW^f^ that_I expect the world .l>ck of itself, without JerpoweforT^^^^ goes so on Its huiges, that it's no easy ZL * '^' '^^ "">^^ «» easy I tell yo„_it come, as natZ TiLt ^""•'' '^""8 «'°P o" it! I don't pretend to sav rt? ^ i^ '^'" """' >''>• tin.es at intermission ^I,rt!,C''°f nullif/,h/™,e, some- ion't let go, then it's Tpity Y°"^ ''"* r""*" «"=y do, 'if tW KtofMttleboys,Lo,d'iCj; J^'^aye heerd a ,cho;i coZ 't, they are no more a match for W ?l. ' °' " ^""'^ "^ ge«e at forse. But when they are to wor.,'^?" " P^f^ " «•' a coach- '«""">?• I guess we haye a ri^W V' "' '"" =" «'««? and no strained the dear «ri?^ A*», ""f? °.' '''at inyention!! ".mutes and seconds no oZr *'^ ^'"'' '"■* »' 'triking the r^y» or -j \H * ' o''j""'"*wc a streak ™ ** "O'iv we expect the ii« „» J?- V""** ''''«■» we pay »^»- I«»e«workdo?:Ze1iS'o''?''i'"''»°**^ K«>r they are nej.^ L p^^rj^tt? '*- ^ fj •, 12 THE :L0CKMAKER. Now the bees know how to sanre out such chaps, for ihc^ have their drones too. Well, thej reckon its no fun, a making of honey all summer, for these idle critters to eat all winter-^ so they give 'em Lynch Law. They have a regular built mob of citizens, and string up the drones like the Yixburg gamblers. Their maxim is, and not a bad one neither, I guess, * No work, no honey.' CHAPTER IV OONTBRSATIONS AT THE RIVER PHILIP. It was late before we arriyed at Pugnose's Inn«-the evening I was cool, and a fire was cheering and comfortable. Mr. Slick I declined any share in the bottle of wine, he said he was dys-l peptic ; and a glass or two soon convinced me that it was likeljl to produce in me something worse than dyspepsy. It was! speedily removed, and we drew up to the fire. Taking a small penknife from his pocket, he began to whittle! a thin piece of dry wood, which lay on the hearth, and, afterl musing some time, said, I guess youVe never been to the States.! I replied that I had not, but that before I returned to England,! I proposed visiting that country. There, said he, you'll see the great Daniel Webster — ^he's a great man, I tell tfou; King William, number 4, 1 guess, would be no match for him as anj orator^-he'd talk him out of sight in half an hour. If he ws in your House of Commons, I reckon h'd make some of yourl great folks look pretty streaked — he's a true patriot and states^ man, the first in our country, and a most partikilar cutef Lawyer. There was a Quaker chap too cute for him once] tho'. This Quaker, a pretty knowin old shaver, had a casj down to Rhode Island ; so he went to Danel to hire him to g| down and plead his case for him ; so says he. Lawyer WebsterJ Ifhat's your fee ? Why, says Daniel, let me see, I have to m down south to Washington, to plead the great insurance case ol the Hartford Company — and Fve got to be at Cincinnati t| attend the Conventioiu and I don't see how I can go to Rhoda CONVERSATIONS AT THE RIVER PHILIP. IS Island without great loss and great fatigue ; it would cost you^ may be, more than you'd be willin to give. Well, the Quaker looked pretty white about the gills, I teA you, when he heard this, for he could not do without him, no how, and he did not like this preliminary talk of his at all-» at last he made bold to ask him the worst of it, what he would take? Why, says Danel, I always liked the Qoikers, they are a ^uiet peaceable people who never go to law if they can help it, nnd it would be better for our great country if there were more such people in it. I never seed or heerd tell of any harm in em, except goin the whole figur for Gineral Jackson, and that everlastin' almighty villain. Van Buren ; yes, I love the Quakers, I hope they'll go the Webster ticket yet — and I'll go for you as low as I can any way afford, say 1,000 dollars. The Quaker well nigh fainted when he heerd this ; but he was pretty deep too ; so, says he, Lawyer, that's a great deal of money, but I have more cases there, if I give you the 1,000 dollars will you plead the other cases I shall have to give you ? Yes, says Danel, I will to the best of my humble abilities. So down they went to Rhode Island, and Danel tried the case and carried it for the Quaker. Well, the Quaker he goes round to all the folks that had suits in court, and says he. What will you give me if I get the great Danel to plead for you? It cost me 1,000 dollars for a fee, but now he and I are pretty thick, and as he is on the spot, I'd get him to plead cheap for you — so he got three hundred dollars from one, and two from another, and so on, until he got eleven hundred dollars, jist one hundred dollars more than he gave. Danel was in a great rage when he heerd this; What, said he, do you think I would agree to your lettin me out like a horse to hire? Friend Danel, said the Quaker, didst thou not undertake to plead all such cases as I should have to give thee? If thou wilt not stand to thy agreement, neither will I stand to mine. Danel laughed out ready to split his sides at this. Well, says he, I guess I might I as well stand still for you to put the bridle on this time, for you have fairly pinned me up in a comer of the fence I anyhow — so he went good-humouredly to work and pleaded I them all. This lasy feller, Pugnose, continued the Clockmaker, that 14 THE CLOCKMAKER. k^eps this inn, is goin to sell ofF and go to the States; be sa/i he has to work too hard here; that the markets are dull, and the winters too long ; and he guesses he can lire easier there . I guess he'll find his mistake afore he has heen there long. Why our country aint to he compared to this, on no account whatever : our country never made us to he the great nation we are, hut we made the country. How on airth could we, if we were all like old Pugnose, as laiy, as ugly, made that cold thin soil of New-England produce what it doesf Why, sir, the land between Boston and Salem would starre a flock of geese; and yet look at Salem, it has more cash than would buy Nova Scotia from the King. We rise airly, liye frugally, and work late: what we get we take care of. To all this we add enterprise and intelligence-^^ fellow that finds work too hard here, had better not go to the States. I met an Irishman, one Pat Lannigan, last week, who had just returned from the States ; Why, says I, Pat, what on airth brought you back? Bad luck to 'em, says Pat, if I wam't properly bit What do you get a day in Nova Scotia f says Judge Beler to me. Four shillings, your Lordship, says I. There are no Lords here, says he, we are all free. Well, says he, I'll gire you as much in one day as you can aim there in two; I'll give you eight shillings. Long lUe to your Lordship, says I. So next day to it I went with a party of men a-digging of a piece of canal, and if it wasn't a hot day my name is not Pat Lannigan. Presently I looked up and straightened my back, says I to a comrade c^ | mine, Mick, says I, I'm yery dry; with that, says the oyen^eer, We don't allow gentlemen to talk at their work in this country. Faith, I soon found out for my two days' pay in one, I had to do two days' work in one, and pay two weeks' board in one, and at the end of a month I found myself no better off in pocket than in Noya Scotia; while the deyil a bone in my body that didn't ache with pain, and as for my nose it took to bleedin, and bled day and night entirely. Upon my soul, Mt Slick, said he, the poor labourer does not last long in your country ; what with new rum, hard labour, and hot weather, youll see the graves of the Irish each side of the canals, for all the world like tiro rows of potatoes in a field that have forgot to come up. It is a We have All Kurop( hard bodil neither ric idleness, population Pugnose, y\ knows whe refuses to nfore him, fhnn^ed to 'V.*.>l< 0.1. li IV In the moi Court was to he could do would be assc for clocks, an the Justice ai want a fat ti flock in a con what sort of i pretty quick country. I g, a breakfast of a rifle, he'd fi issues three h that tarnation 3,000 dollars ; him before a j ^im back agaii to the life, asp Se's jist a fit ii&i^ s CONVERSATIONS AT THE RIVER FUILIP. 15 It it a land, sir, continued the Clockmakcr, of hard work. We have two kinds of slafe^ff, the niggers and the white slaves. All European labourers and blacks who come out to us, do our hard bodily work, while we direct it to a profitable end ; neither rich nor poor, high nor low, with us eat the bread of idleness. Our whole capital is in actite operation, our whole population is in active employment. An idle feller, like Pugnosc, who runs away to us, is clapt into harness afore he knows where he bees, and is made to work ; like a horse that refuses to draw, he is put into the Team-boat ; he finds some nfore him, and others behind him, he mutt either draw, or be th'd'jged to death. , i if*- ii.'i f' '•.. f> M f: ' - CHAPTER V. I. \o U-.r.ft T JUSTICE PETTIFOG, r" ' In the morning the Clockmaker informed me that a Justice's Court was to be held that day at Pugnose's Inn, and he guessed he could do a little business among the country folks that would be assembled there. Some of them, he said, owed him for clocks, and it would save him a world of travellin, to have the Justice and Constable to drive them up together. If you want a fat wether, there's nothin like penning up the whole flock in a comer. I guess, said he, if General Campbell knew what sort of a man that are magistrate was, he'd disband him pretty quick: he's a regular suck-egg — a disgrace to the country. I guess if he acted that way in Kentucky, he'd get a breakfast of cold lead some momin, out of the small eend of a rifle, he'd find pretty difficult to digest. They tell me he issues three hundred writs a year, the cost of which, includin that tarnation Constable's fee, can't amount to nothin less than 3,000 dollars per annum. If the Hon. Daniel Webster had him before a jury, I reckon he'd turn him inside out, and slip him back again, as quick as an old stocking. He'd paint htm to the life, as plain to be known as the head of Gineral Jackson. He's jist a fit feller for Lynch law, to be tried, banged 16 » v,i THE CLOCKMAKBR. damned, all at once — ^there's more nor him in the countiy— there's some of the breed in every county in the proyince, jist one or two to do the dirty work, as we keep niggers for jobs that would give a white man the cholera. They ought to pay his passage, as we do with such critters, tell him his place is taken in the Mail Coach, and if he is found here after twenty-four hours, they'd make a carpenter's plumb-bob of him, and hang him outside the church steeple to try if it *.iras perpendikilar. lie almost always gives judgment for plaintiff, and if the poor defendant has an off-set, he makes him sue it, so that it grinds a grist both ways for him, like the upper and lower millstone. ^ People soon began to assemble, some on foot, and others on horseback and in waggons — Pugnose's tavem was all bustle and confusion — Plaintiffs, Defendants, and witnesses, all talking, quarrelling, explaining, and drinking. Here comes the Squire, said one; I'm thinking his horse carries more roguery than law, said another; They must have been in proper want of timber to make a justice of, said a third, when they took such a crooked stick as that; Sap-headed enough too for refuse, said a stout- looking farmer; May be so, said another, but as'^hard at the heart as a log of elm; Howsomerer, said a third, I hope it won't be long afore he has the wainy edge scored off of him, any how. Many more such remarks were made, all drawn from familial objects, but all expressive of bitterness and contempt. He carried one or two large books with him in his gig, and a considerable roll of papers. As soon as the obsequious Mr. Pugnose saw him at the door, he assisted him to alight,' ushered him into the ''best room," and desired the constable to attend " the Squire." The crowd immediately entered, and the con- stable opened the court in due form, and commanded silence. Taking out a long list of causes, Mr. Pettifog commenced reading the names — James Sharp versus John Slug — call John Slug; John Slug being duly called, and not answering, was defaulted. In this manner he proceeded to default 20 or 30 persons; at last he came to a cause, William Hare versus Dennis O'Brien — call Dennis O'Brien ; Here I am, said a voice from the other room — here I am, who has anything to say to Dennis O'Brien? Make less noise, sir, laid the Justice, or I'lJ commit yo Squire, yoi Hare for tl liave you t liear what ' stealing a p I'd never warnin by Here Mr. I] gfranted tha opened, he Dennis, I d between the shall not non " up till nex —how can a entertainmeni is no entertaii again, J admii for a month's with him a m it, at the lifi called, who pi price. And d school, said D what is that >v believe you're bjg rogues as they'd be like f sajf then? Why the critters would say it won't pay; but i say the •urn ant half stated. Can you count in your head ? Not to any ezttnt, said I. Well, that's an etamal pity, said the Glodcmaker, for I should like to show estate of Hal Ah, said he, '. do; them are chen only ad( •lon't give th I Slick. Well, not the College, a: when you get comin all the the King, I gu add 15 per cen Basin, and 5 then what do —hut it's no uj tallies. Now we will ip another bool these folks affe< iaid I, a know pinly, in the sa low it will assis [own? said he. aess you've hii town and they'l ip into motion; >ased and set— >peration, and t ife it will giye hild off its crav low the little cri nean a Kurnel c lotbin— they do •eacocks) but a everal shoots, a aultiply itself tl ou see all natur lere raihroad will GO AHEAD. 23 irlj em- ail the aear is a oyer over over I his :cuse t the eigh, they ad I. LOUld like to show you Yatt^cce Cypherin. What is the entire rael estate of Halifax worth, at a valeation ? I really cannot say. Ah, said he, I see you don't cypher, and Latin and Greek won't do; them are people had no railroads. Well, find out, and then only add ten per cent to it, for increased valy, and if it don't give the cost of a railroad, then my name is not Sam I Slick. Well, the land between Halifax and Ardoise is worth nothing, add 5 per cent to that, and send the sum to I the College, and ax the students how much it comes to. But when you get into Hants County, I guess you have land worth comin all the way from Boston to see. His Royal Highness the King, I guess, hasn't got the like in his dominions. Well, add 15 per cent to all them are lands that border on Windsor Basin, and 5 per cent to what butts on basin of Mines, and then what do you get? A pretty considerable sum I tell you but it's no use to give you the chalks^ if you can't keep the aUiet. Now we will lay down the schoolmaster's assistant and take p another book, every bit and grain as good as that, although hose folks affect to sneer at it — ^I mean human natur. Ah ! laid I, a knowledge of that was of great service to you, cer- tainly, in the sale of your clock to the old Deacon; let us see ow it will assist you now. What does a clock want that's run own? said he. Undoubtedly to be wound up, I replied. I uess you've hit it this time. The folks of Halifax have run own and they'll never go to all etarnity, till they are wound p into motion; the works are all good, and it is plaguy well ased and set — it only wants a hey. Put this railroad into peration, and the activity it will inspire into business, the new ife it will give the place, will surprise you. It's like liftin a hild off its crawling, and putting him on his legs to run — see ow the little critter goes ahead arter that. A kurnel, (I don't ean a Kurnel of militia, for we don't valy that breed o' cattle otbm — they do nothin but strut about and screech all day like eacocks) but a kurnel of grain, when sowed, will stool into veral shoots, and. each shoot bear many kumels, and will lUltiply itself thus — 4 times 1 is 4, and 4 times 25 is 100, ou see all natur cyphers, except the blue-noses.) Jist so, this ere railroad will not perhaps beget other railroads, but it will 4-' 94 TllK CLOCKMAKEIU Deget a spirit of enterprise, that will beget other useful ins provements. It will enlarge the sphere and the means of trade i open new sources of traffic and supply— develop resources — and what is of more value perhaps than all — beget motion. It willl teach the folks that go astam or stand stock still, like the State-house in Boston, though they do say the foundation ofl that has moved a little this summer, not only to go " ahead *\ but to nullify lime and space. Here his horse (who, feeling the animation of his master, hadl been restive of late) set off at a most prodigious rate of trotting,! It was some time before he was reined up. When I overtookl bim, the Clockmaker said, this old Yankee horse, you see.| understands our word *' go ahead* better nor these blue noses. What is it, he continued, what is it that *• fetters'* the heels ofl young country, and hangs like a ^poke* around its neck? whail retards the cultivation of its soil^ and the improvement of iu\ fisheries ? — the high price of labour, I guess. Well, what's a railroad ? The substitution qf mechanical for human and animal labour, on a scale as grand as our great country. Labour iij dear in America, and cheap in Europe. A railroad, therefor^ is comparatively no manner of use to them, to what it is to us- it does wonders there, but it works miracles here. There i| makes the old man younger, but here it makes a child a gianll To us it is river, bridge, road, and canal, all one. It sam what we han't got to spare, men, horses, carts, vessels, barge^ and what's all in all — time. Since the creation of the univarse, 1 guess it's the greate invention arter man. Now this is what I call " cypherin" artei human uatur, while figures are cypherin arter the " assistant, These two sorts of cypherin make idication — and you ma depend on'*t, Squire, there is nothing like folks cypherin, if the want to ffo " ahead." -.1 "Uli" .-. Hi'; '; ; , Ut*r *,i R»f, .>%^}7: '{'iirt 'i .'•■'' V .f: 'tiC WANDERING FROM THE TEXT, 8S CHAPTER VIII. THE PREACHER THAT WANDERED FROJI HIS TEXT* I Gunss, said the Clockmaker, we know more of Nova Scotia than the blue-noses themselves do. The Yankees are further ahead than most folks ; they can een a most see round tother side of a thing ; indeed, some on them have hurt their eyes by it, and sometimes I think that's the reason such a sight of them rear fc.pectacles. The first I ever heerd tell of Cumberland was rom Mr. Everett of Congress ; he know'd as much about it as ^f he had lived here all his days, and maybe a little grain more. [e is a most splendid man that — we class him No. 1, letter A. )ne night I chanced to go into General Peep's tavern at Boston, and who should I see there but the great Mr. Everett,'a studying )ver a map of the Province of Nova Scotia. Why it aint pos- sible! said I — if that aint Professor Everett, as I am alive ! why low do you do. Professor ? Pretty well, I give you thanks, said le ; how be you ? but I aint no longer Professor ; I gin that up, ^nd also the trade of Preachin, and took to Politics. You don't ly so, said I ; why what on airth is the cause o' that ? Why, lys he, look here, Mr. Slick. What is the use of reading o* [he Proverbs of Solomon to our free and enlightened citizens, |hat are every mite and morsal as wise as he was ? That are lan undertook to say there was nothin new under the sun. I hiess he'd think he spoke a little too fast, if he was to see our [team-boats, railroads, and India rubber shoes — three inventions I'orth more nor all he knew put in a heap together. Well, I [on't know, says I, but somehow or another I guess you'd hav« )und preachin the best speculation in the long run ; them are Initarians pay better than Uncle Sam (we call, said the Clock- laker, the American public Uncle Sam, as you call the British [ohn Bull). That remark seemed to grig him a little ; he felt oneasy like id walked twice across the room, fifty fathoms deep in thought, 3 hi 1 ' »• »i U rj I 2« THE CLOCKMAKER. aid, M'hich ivaj are you from, Mr. Slick, this hitch? I ^j^^ k> I, I've been away up south, a spekelatin in nutmegs. I nerer sa A ' •t last he sai ▼ T ny, says J., m, *v k/wu «••«(»* uu ovt^tiM, a apba^^iuous «m ^AMbiucKa* ■ IlPVPl* sa J I hope, says the Professor, they were a good article, the raell or easy * A' right down genuine thing. No mistake, says I, — no mistake, I Well h '^ Professor: they were all prime, first chop, but why did you axl jj^^jg l i . ^ that are question? Why, says he, that etamal scoundrel, thatlt])g|| l . . Captain John Allspice of Nahant, he used to trade to Charleston,! jj^^j.^ .. ^'^ and he carried a cargo once there of fifty barrels of '^utmegs:ljQ„\ Jl^j . well, he put half a bushel of good ones into each eend of theiouy ^j.^ - P.IJ barrel, and the rest he filled up with wooden ones, so like theljt ^^^ . , ' rael thing, no soul could tell the difference until he bit one fviilMf^j^^ j^ ^ his teeth; and that he nerer thought of doing of, until he wasiaji parts f th^ first bit himself. Well, it's been a standin joke with them ^reljpjgQjjj ., . ® southerners agin us ever since. Lg j ^ , ^ It was only t'other day at Washinton, that everlastin ^^''ginyC.atfgj.g j ?i *k duellist General Cuffy, afore a number of senators, at the Pre-Kf^^^ j ^* sident's house, said to me, Well, Everett, says he — ^^yo5j know I^eered oi * ^ was always dead agin your Tariff bill, but I have changed mAaths, natb f mind since your able speech on it; I shall vote for it Jio^Booked s f i Give me your hand, says I, General Cuffy ; the Boston folkiy jj • . j '®* will be dreadful glad when they hear your splendid talents are! su + * , \ •J T ii • 1 -i. -11 »ii -i. V ■ ^> to turn th< on our side — 1 think it will go now — we 11 carry it. Yes, snjA |]j^j j , he, your factories down east beat all natur ; they go ahead ODBnijji, of TVT ^**« the English a long chalk. You may depend I was glad to heaA^j ^jgy. ^^ ! the New Englanders spoken of that way — I felt proud, I telBJa,,,-]- • ^ °^^ you — and, says he, there s one manufacture that might stum" ^^ all Europe to produce the like. What's that ? says I, lookin pleased all the while as a gall that's tickled. Why, says he, thj facture of wooden nutmegs; that's a cap sheef, that bangs thj bush — its a real Yankee patent invention. With that all tl gentlemen set up a laugh, you might have heerd away down an was a great ■took was off t n till t'other ly Ann Whal. 'Ptain Enoch to t here ? I thn •Sandy Hook — and the General gig gobbled like a great turke^|,y ^ , _ ^ cock, the half nigger half alligator like looking villain as he iftn throunh '\ I tell you what, Mr. Slick, said the Professor, I wish with aMgp j .^ * . my heart them are damned nutmegs were in the bottom of tlMt j qqj^^ • ° , sea. That was the first oath I ever heerd him let slip : but iftpent wh T^^ was dreadful ryled, and it made me feel ugly too, for its awttt^jj \ ry- « ^ to hear a minister swear; and the only match I know for itjij jgj. j^. ,. * ^J to hear a regular sneezer of a sinner quote scriptur. Says |oTiiice a d n WANDEllINO FROM THE TEXT. 27 Bg8» rael 1 ax that stoii) irginyl ePre Mr. £verett, that's the fruit that politics bear ; for my part, I nerer seed a good graft on it yet, that bore anythiug good to eat or easy to digest. Well, he stood awhile looking down on the carpet, with hia hands behind him, quite taken up a cypherin in his head, and then he straightened himself up, and he put his hand upon his heart, jist as he used to do in the pulpit (he looked pretty I tell egs:lyou), and slowly liftin his hand off his breast, he said, Mh Slick, : the lour tree of liberty was a most beautiful tree — a splendid tree — e thelit was a sight to look at ; it was well fenced and well protected, n;t//iland it grew so stately and so handsome, that strangers came from e waslall parts of the globe to see it. They all allowed it was the most m are^splendid thing in the world. Well, the mobs have broken in nd tore down the fences, and snapped off the branches, and attered all the leaves about, and it looks no better than a gallus ree. I am afeered, said he, I tremble to think on it, but I am :now ISkfeered our ways will no longer be ways of pleasantness, nor our ;ed myAaths, paths of peace ; I am, indeed, I vow, Mr. Slick. He ,t novrAooked so streaked and so chop-fallen, that I felt kinder sorry folkAbr him ; I actilly thought he'd a boo-hood right out. nts aiel go, to turn the conversation, says I, Professor, what are map s, say& that I seed you a studyin' over when I came in ? Says he, it''s ead oiA map of Nova Scotia. That, says he, is a valuable province, a tohea&el clever province; we han't got the like on it, but its most , I teMlagily in our way. Well, says I, send for Sam Patch (that are stumAan was a great diver, says the Clockmaker, and the last dive okin afle took was off the falls of Niagara, and he was never heerd of he, thfcn till t'other day, when Captain Enoch Wentworth, of the ings tlfcsy Ann Whaler, saw him in the South Sea. Why, says all toBaptain Enoch to him, why Sam, says he, how on airth did you own ft here 9 I thought you was drowned to the Canadian lines, turkewhy, says he, I didn't get on airth here at all, but I came risrht s he mp through it. In that are Niagara dive I went so everlastin ith vep, I thought it was just as short to come up t'other side, so of tiAt I came in these parts. If I don't take the shine off the Sea but ivrpent when I get back to Boston, then my name'*s not Sam s av Atch.) Well, says I, Professor, send for Sam Patch, the diver, or it,BdIet him dive down and stick a torpedo in the bottom of the Says p)Tincey and blow it up ; or if that won't do, send for some of 1 ■ t ■•4 ,v* 3 F 1 28 THE CLOCKMAKER. our Btcam tow-Lonts from our great Eastern cities, atnd tow illbcd-roon) like i out to sea ; you know there's nothin our folks can't do, whenlroared like a bi they once fairly take hold on a thing in airnest let him go, and Well that made him laugh : he seemed to fbrget about the nutmegs, and says he, That's a bright scheme, but it won't do ; we shall want the Province some day or another I know, and I found nobody— ifarm Lecain's i in the street, its guess we**!! buy it of King William ; they say he is over head tilloch and off and ears in debt, and owes nine hundred millions of pounds! Now, says th< Btarlin — we'll buy it, as we did Florida. In the meantime wiBiJIings, fifty c^ must have a canal from Bay Fundy to Bay Varte, right througlilaved him all th< Cumberland neck, by Shittyack, for our fishing vessels to go tJo Bay Varte woi Ijabradore. I guess you must ax leave first, said I. That''s jisiTova Scotia. "W what I was cyphering at, says he, when you came in. I believAents, without a we wont ax them at all, but jist fall to and do it ; its a road omd that are neck needcessity. I once heard Chief Justice Marshall of Baltimoriifre', and a town ■ay. If the people's highway is dangerous — a man may tnkliay talk of Solon down a fence — and pass through the fields as a way of needmoty was not arn cessity ; and we shall do it on that principle, as the way rounilll Jiis wisdom by Isle Sable is dangerous. I wonder the Nova Scotians donlitizen. Well sa do it for their own convenience, said I, it wouldn't make a baieople, that's sarta speculation that. The critters don't know no better, said bJear you run dow Well, says I, the St. John's folks, why don't they ? for they arluite so wise as TJ pretty cute chaps them. i^ Professor, and They remind me, says the Professor, of Jim Billings. Yolie bar room miff lew Jim Billings, didn't you, Mr. Slick? O yes, said I,§ery bit and crai knew gran knew him. It was him that made such a talk by shippiftme folks who thi blankets to the We^t Ingies. The same, says he. Well, ie wise folks* an went to see him the other day at Mrs. Lecain's Boardin Housliiatever comes ud and says I, Billings, says I, you have a nice location here, vable superfine d plagy sight too nice, said he. Marm Lecain makes such ^ " eternal touss about her carpets, that I have for to go along t everlasting long entry, and down both staircases, to the stn door to spit; and it keeps all the gentlemen a runnin with tb mouths full all day. I had a rael bout with a New Yorker i momin, I run down to the street door, and afore I seed ai body a comin, I let go, and I vow if I didn't let a chap have all over his white waistcoat. Well, he makes a grab at aud I shuts the door right to on his vmst, and hooks the d chain taught, and leaves him 4i(»re, and into Marm Lecai And with that h< P» and never s« 'vhoh blessed ti WANDERING FROM THE TEXT. 99 f it|bcd-room like a shot, and hides behind the curtain. Well, he lenjroared like a bull, till black Lucretia, one of the house helps, let him go, and they looked into all the gentlemen's rooms and t^iclfound nobody — so 1 got out of that are scrape. So, what with ^o ;|Marm Lecain's carpets in the house, and other folki wiiitcnats id Ip ^^^ street, its too mice a location for me, I guess, so I shal'. r.p lendlkilloch and off to-m( rrow to the Tree mont. in()4 Now, says the Professor, the St. John's folks are Jitt like illings, fifty cents would have bought him a spit box, and ^vigllaved him all them are journeys to the street door— and a cannl pro t(|o Bay Yarte would save the St. John's folks a voyage all round s jisl^'ova Scotia. Why, they can't get at their own backside settlo- ilievlaents, without a voyage most as long as one to Europe. If tie )ad ola^ tftai are neck of land in Cumberland^ tve'd have a ship canal \xaomer€y and a town al each eend of it as big as Portland, You r takvay talk of Solomon, said the Professor, but if Solomon in all his necdllory was not arrayed like a lily of the field, neither was he in rounlll his wisdom equal in knowledge to a rael free American \ donf tizen. Well, said I, Professor, we are a most enlightened ople, that's sartain, but some how or another I don't like to ear you run down King Solomon neither; perhaps he warn't |uite 80 wise as Uncle Sam, but then said I, (drawin close to e Professor, and whispering into his ear, for fear any folks in VoAe bar room might hear me,) but then, said I, may be he was id iM^^y ^^^ ^^^ grain as honest. Says he, Mr. Slick, there ar*. lippflme folks who think a good deal and say but little, and they \rell, W >vise folks; and there are others agin, who blart right out Houslhatever comes uppermost, and I guess they are pretty consi- re. ftfable superfine darned fools. ch aAnd with that he turned right round, and tot down to his ng tbVP) and never said another word, lookin at mad as a liattf e strv' ^hob bleited time. ;hthr ertll ed al havel at m ' ^ hed<| lecaJi aM id hJ ley ♦ 1 ] .V ' ,w - iK;<;# 80 THE CLOCKMAKES. Til CHAPTER IX. YANKEE EATINQ AND HORSE FEEDING. because he is people to fill -more trap Ah other folks' tr raatist, and I l)est in the i doctor; for in ' Did you ever heer tell of Abemethy, a British doctor? saidl ' j^ ® * ^ the Clockmaker. Frequently, said I, he was an eminent man J ■ . , ^^^ *? and had a most extensive practice. Well, I reckon he was al i .- ^ i^^ vulgar critter that, he replied, he treated the Honble. AldeJ n ' \ ^^^^ ^ Gobble, secretary to our legation at London, dreadful bad oncel ^? ^^' ^ and I guess if it had been me he had used that way, I'd a fixelT.* ^* . ^ his flint for him, so that he'd think twice afore he'd fire sucj wonder another shot as that are again. I'd a made him make tracks, 1^ , Jgestion, guess, as quick as a dog does a hog from a potatoe field. He'l? .* ontne a found his way of the hole in the fence a plagy sight quickel /' , ?^ ^y y. • T 1 r ej © ^ Iman does his c; than he came m, I reckon. In't h > " *" His manner, said I, was certainly rather unceremonious alj! ' hi ^ ' times, but he was so honest and so straightforward, that nl , \ . ^^ ^ *oac person, was, I believe ever seriously offended with him. It tvM. ' *'\,^™^' guj his way. Then his way was so plagy rough, continued thl .•'^ ^ -L«egati Clockmaker, that he'd been the better, if it had been hammerelg,., ^*"'^^^^"®' and mauled down ■ smoother. Td a levelled him as flat as I t ^ o acco, a, flounder. Pray what was his offence ? said I. m' \ ^"i a^ I Bad enough you 'jaay depend. The Honble. Alden ^^o^l'O^^^^ was dyspeptic, ani'. he suffered great oneasiness arter eatin, C, ' '^ ^^. ^' he goes to Abemefhy for advice. What's the matter with yoiff'^ ^ '^ said the Doctor, jist that way, without even passing the tint] • t^ ,.~T '' o' day with bin— what's the matter, with you? said he. WiKj^^j^j ^*'^'* ' ^ says Alden, -i presume I have the dyspepsy. Ah ! said be.lmiddi *^ f ^k * see ; a Yankee swallered more dollars and cents than he o e rori digest. I am an American citizen, says Alden, with gri dignity; I am Secretary to our Legation at the court of James. The devil you are, said Abemethy; then you'll s get rid of your dyspepsy. I don't see that are inference, Alden ; it don't foller from what yoa predicate at all— it an'l Tiatura! consequence, I guess, that a man should cease to be roc If the Honbl emanded his pa 1 one of our firs J)on see pyson as 'resident and tl «ess, until an ap guess if it had b YANKEE EATING AND HORSE FEEDING. 31 t)ecause he is called by the voice of a free and enlightened people to fill an important office. (The truth is you could no inore trap Alden than you couid an Indgian. He could see other folks' trail, and made none himself; he was a rael diplo* matist, and I belieye our diplomatists are allowed to be the best in the world.) But I tell you it does foller, said the doctor; for in the company you'll have to keep, you'll have lo eat like a Christian. It was an everlasting pity Alden contradicted him, for he broke out like one ravin distracted mad. I'll be d d, said he, if ever I saw a Yankee that didn't bolt his food like a Boti Constrictor. How the devil can you expect to disgest food, that you neither take the trouble to dissect, nor time to masticate? It's no wonder you lose your teeth, for you never use them ; nor your digestion, for you overload it; nor your saliva, for you ex- pend it on the carpets, instead of your food. It's disgusting it's beastly. You Yankees load your stomachs as a Devonshire man does his cart, as full as it can hold, and as fast as he can pitch it with a dung-fork, and drive off; and then you complain that such a load of compost is too heavy for you. Dyspepsy, 1«ht infernal guzzling you mean. I'll tell you what, Mr. Secre- It wfli^j^j.y q£ Legation, take half the time to eat, that you do to drawl ^cut your words, chew your food half as much as you do your |filthy tobacco, and you''ll be well in a month. I don't understand such language, said Alden, (for he was airly ryled, and got his dander up, and when he shows clear . K"^ he looks wicked ugly, I tell you,) I don't understand such atin, m,j,gQjjgg^ Sir; I came here to consult you professionally, and tn y<>Jnot to be . Don't understand.' said the Doctor, why it's |;he tiiBpiain English ; but here, read my book — and he shoved a book ^^Vnto his hands, and left him in an instant, standin alone in the iid "Cilmiddle of the room. M ^^ *^^ Honble. Alden Gobble had gone right away, and fh g'Wemanded his passports, and returned home with the Legation. |t 01 m^ Qjjg Qf Qy,. ^j.g(. class frigates, (I guess the Englisli would a^ lull soJoQjj ggg pygon as one o' them are Sarpents) to Washinton, the ^?^' Tp* resident and the people would have sustained hhn in it, I |.it anj^aesg^ until an apology was offered for the insult to the nation. '^^V guess if it had been me, said Mr Slick, I'd a headed him afon ? said ; man was a Alden L once; a fixe( e sucl acks, He< quicke lIous •mf4 «v--i .c TII£ CLOCKMAKEa YANK those blue-noses pinned up behint one heel, and a j one of these lin like a hen a serai New York, for a cadets a larfin at standin corn an< came from away Hountains. Her from Canada, I g\ ever been among ih a pity. If they'd keep lie slipt out o' the door, and pinned him up agin the wall, t^rA made him bolt his words agin, as quick as he throw'd 'em out, for I never seeM an Englishman yet that didn't cut his words ad short as he does his horse's tail, close up to the stump. It certainly was very coarse and vulgar language, and I think, said I, that your Secretary had just cause to be offended at such an ungentleman-like attack, although he showed hi.' good sense in treating it with the contempt it desenrecL It was plagy lucky, he replied, for the doctor, I tell you, that he cut his stick as he did, and made himself scarce, for Alden was an ugly customer ; he'd a gin him a proper scalding — he'd a taken the bristles off his hide as clean as tlie skin of a spring shote oi a pig killed at Christmas. ' The Clockmaker was evidently excited by his own story, and to indemnify himself for these remarks on his countrymen, he ^*^ clothin, too, i indulged for some time in ridiculing the Nova Scotians. "^^^ **^1 1 have fa Do you see that are flock of colts, said he, (as we passed one "^^'^ catch a horsi of those beautiful prairies that render the vallies of Nova Scotial"^ errand. "Well, ■o verdant and so fertile), well, I guess they keep too much off P® hand and an that are stock. I heerd an Indgian one day ax a tavern keeperl'"* beast. First for some rum ; why, Joe Spawdeeck, said he, I reckon yoiJ^***'^®''* *o see if 1 have got too much already. Too much of any thing, said ZQtf^^ on him, and is not good, but too much rifm is jist enough. I guess thesep^ * coaxin him, blue noses think so bout their horses, they are fairly eat up by[^*y ^® starts all them, out of house and home, and they are no good neitherJ^''^ another floe They beant good saddle-horses, and they beant good drafi^^P ^^ em ^oe\ beasts — they are jist neither one thing nor t'other. They arep®^'** ^^ *wo or like the drink of our Connecticut folks. At mowing time the«K®°* ^^®*' across use molasses and water, nasty stuff, only fit to catch flies — iiP*^"®^, creeks, mii spiles good water and makes bad beer. No wonder the fo^l'm'. ™^'^® ^ ^***' ch are poor. Look at them are great dykes; well, they all go ^W^\ t>me> I presura feed horses; and look at their grain fields on the upland; weliK"^ Blue Nose, he they are all sowed with oats to feed horses, and they buy theiff® neighbourhood, bread from us ; so we feed the asses^ and they feed the ^^^^^m^^'^^* '^ ^**'^^ ^ If I had them critters on that are marsh, on a location of minei » ecause he is I'd jist take my rifle and shoot everyone on em; the nast# ®r*»g f oup with yo-necked, cat-hammed, heavy-headed, flat- eared, crookedJJ *° mmd ot ca shanked, long-legged, narrow-chested, good for nothin t"i*®*»*fi!*^ \ ^"^ horse i Uiey aint worth their keep one winter. I vow, I wish one Jl^^^^ '^^ * ^^"^ <> ad YANKEE EATING AND HORSE FEEDING. those blue-noses, with his go-to-meetin clothes on, coat tail*- pinned up behind like a leather blind of a shay, an old spur on- one heel, and a pipe stuck through his hat-band, mounted on- one of these limber-timbered critters, that moves its hind legsr like a hen a scratching gravel, was sot down in Broadway, in New York, for a sight. Lord! I think I hear the West Point cadets a larfin at him. Who brought that are scarecrow out of standin corn and stuck him here? I guess that are citizen came from away down east out of the Notch of the White Mountains. Here comes the cholera doctor, from Canada — not from Canada, I guess, neither, for he don't look as if he had ever been among the rapids. If they wouldn't poke fun at him itV a pity. If they'd keep less horses, and more sheep, they'd have food* jiJand clothin, too, instead of buyin both. I vow I've larfed afore DOW till I have fairly wet myself a cryin', to see one of these folks catch a horse: may be he has to go two or three miles of errand. Well, down he goes on the dyke, with a bridle in ne hand and an old tin pan in another, full of oats, to catch is beast. First he goes to one flock of horses, and then ta other, to see if he can find his own critter. At last he gets ight on him, and goes softly up ito him, a shakin of his oats, d a coaxin him, and jist as he goes to put his hand upon him, iway he starts all head and tail, and the rest with him ; that Its another flock, and they set a third ofi; and at last every op on 'em goes, as if Old Nick was arter them, till they ount to two or three hundred in a drove. Well, he chases, em clear across the Tantarmar marsh, seven miles good, over itches, creeks, mire-holes, and flag-ponds, and then they turn id make a fair chase for it back again seven miles more. By is time, I presume they are all pretty considerably well tired^ '"^ I And Blue Nose, he goes and gets up all the men and folks in theit^^ neighbourhood, and catches his beast, as they do a moose er he is fairly run down ; so he runs fourteen miles, to ride 0, because he is in a tarnation hurry. It's e'en a most equal- eating soup with a fork, when you are short of time. It put» e in mind of catchin birds by sprinklin salt on their tails;. i'l only one horse a man can ride, arter all. One has no shoes,, other has a colt^ one amt broke, another has a sore back, while I I ded hi:' was cut ken le 01 and . on coti ch jep yoi Joe. thesi P V ther, rat' an the: s — folk bo t )rse nine, nast; ked MKmm ¥'4 X I 1 utes ne 34 THE CLOCKMAKER. a fifth is so etamal cunnin, nil Cumberland couldn't catch him^ till winter drives him up to the barn for food. Most of them are dyke marshes have what they call ' honeij' pots* in 'em ; that is a deep hole all full of squash, where you can't find no bottom. "Well, every now and then, when a feller goes to look for his horse, he sees his tail a stickin' right out an €end, from one of these honey-pots, and wavin' like a head of broom com ; and sometimes you see two or three trapped there, «'en a most smothered, everlastin' tired» half swimmin' half Wadin', like rats in a molasses cask. When they find 'em in that are pickle, they go and get ropes, and tie 'em tight round their necks, and half hang 'em to make 'em float, and then haul *em out. Awful looking critters they be, you may depend, when they do come out ; for all the world like half drowned kittens — all slinkey slimey — with their great long tails glued up like a swab of oakum dipped in tar. If they don't look foolish it's a pity! Well, they have to nurse these critters all winter, with hot mashes, warm covering, and what not, and when spring comes, they mostly die, and if they don't, they are never no goodarter. I wish with all my heart half the horses | in the country were barrelled up in these here ' honey-pots,' | and then there'd be near about one half too many left for profit., Jist look at one of these barn-yards in the spring — half a dozen half-starved colts, with their hair looking a thousand ways for 4§unday, and their coats hangin' in tatters, and half a dozen good €or nothin' old horses, a crowdin' out the cows and sheep. Can you wonder that people who keep such an unprqfitablt\ •stocky come out of the small eend of the horn in the long run? r . • CHAPTER X. t -..(<;' THE ROAD TO ▲ WOMAN S HEART— THE BROKEN HEART. As ^ve approached the Inn at Amherst, the Clockmaker grewl uneasy. It's pretty well on in the evenin, I guess, said he, aiidl Marm Pugwash is as onsartin in her temper as a mornin inl April; its all sunshine or all clouds with her, and if she's inl 49no of her tantrums, she'll stretch out her neck and huM, like n goose with a wash was a i with that an neither, and such a stiff Joshua Hope The old n •fruit, for he ^ and the orcha light up to tl the fence, I n for all the woi tiful. Xobod folks lost thei hah to a hook So I said to hi manage to kec <;ant do it no fruit, ant they Connecticut. needn't let on I grafted in m; sent clean up' Creek, (I was i for every graft, so says I, I 1 them ? Why ] ped me. Tha choicest I coulc so eternal sour. think the old li as that row, an graftin, and I tion. Now, Marm temptin fruit to watery mouth w this time. Howe ^i *sqft sawder THE ROAD TO A WOMAN S HEART. 35 Limr goose with a flock of goslins. I wonder what on earth Pug wash was a thinkin on, when he signed articles of partnership with that are woman ; she's not a had-lookin piece of furniture neither, anvl it's a proper pity sich a clever woman should carry such a stiff upper lip — she reminds me of our old minister, Joshua Hopewell's apple- trees. The old minister had an orchard of most partikelar good fruit, for he was a great hand at huddin, graftin, and what not, and the orchard (it was on the south side of the house) stretched light up to the road. Well, there were some trees hung over the fence, I never seed such hearers, the apples hung in ropes, for all the world like strings of onions, and the fruit was beau- tiful. Nobody touched the minister's apples, and when other folks lost their'n from the boys, his'*n always hung there like h&h to a hook, but there never was so much as a nibble at em. So I said to him one day. Minister, said I, how on airth do you manage to keep your fruit that's so exposed, when no one else <;ant do it nohow ? Why, says he, they are dreadful pretty fruit, ant they ? I guess, said I, there ant the like on ^em in all Connecticut. Well, says he, I'll tell you the secret, but you needn't let on to no one about it. That are row next the fence I grafted in myself, I took great pains to get the right kind, I sent clean up to Roxberry, and away down to Squaw-neck Oreek, (I was afeerd he was agoin for to give me day and date for every graft, being a terrible long-winded man in his stories), so says I, I know that, Minister, but how do you preserve them ? Why I was a goin to tell you, said he, when you stop- ped me. That are outward row I grafted myself with the I choicest I could find, and I succeeded. They are beautiful, but 80 eternal sour, no human soul can eat them. Well, the boys think the old minister's graftin has all succeeded about as well as that row, and they sarch no farther. They snicker at my graftin, and I laugh in my sleeve, I guess, at their penetra- I tion. Now, Marm Pugwash is like the Ministers apples, very temptin fruit to look at, but desperate sour. If Pugwash had a watery mouth when he married, I guess its pretty puckery by I this timo* However, if she goes for to act ugly, I'll give her a dose Bf ' sqft sawder^* that wiji take the frown out of her frontia* t^^ 36 THE CLOCKMAKER. piece, and make her dial-plate as smooth as a lick of copal yamish. It's a pity she's such a kickin' deril, too, for she has good points — good eye — good foot — ^neat pastern— fine chest— a clean set of limbs, and carries a good . But here we are, now you'll see what * soft sawder will do. When we entered the house, the trarellers room was all in darkness, and on opening the opposite door into the sitting room, we found the female part of the family extinguishing the fire for the night. Mrs. Pugwash had a broom in her hand, and was in the act (the last act of female housewifery) of sweeping the hearth. The strong flickering light of the fire, as it fell upon her tall fine figure and beautiful face, revealed a creature worthy of the Clockmaker's comments. Good evenin, Mann, said Mr. Slick, how do you do, and how's Mr. Pugwash ? He, said she, why he's been abed thi» hour, you don't expect to disturb him this time of night I hope. On, no, said Mr. Slick, certainly not, and I am sorry to h^ ve disturbed you, but we got detained longer than we expected; I am sorry that . So am I, said she, but if Mr. Pugwash will keep an inn when he has no sort of occasion to, his family can't expect no rest. Here the Clockmaker, seeing the storm gathering, stooped down suddenly, and staring intently, held out his hand and ex claimed, "Well, if that aint a beautiful child — come here, my little man, and shake hands along with me; well, I declare, if I that are little fellow aint the finest child I ever seed; what notj abed yet? ah, you rogue, where did you get them are pretty rosy cheeks ; stole em from mamma, eh? Well, I wish my old, mother could see that are child, it is such a treat! In our country, said he, turning to me, the children are all as pale as chalk, or as yeller as an orange. Lord, that are little fellow I would be a show in our country — come to me, my man. Here the 'soft sawder* began to operate. Mrs. Pugwash said inaj milder tone than we had yet heard, ' Go, my dear, to the gentle- men ; go, dear.* Mr. Slick kissed him, asked him if he wouldl go to the states along with him, told him all the little girls there would fall in love with him, for they didn't see such a beautiful face once in a month of Sundays. Black eyes — ^let me see— ah mamma's eyes too, and black hair also ; as I am alive, whyf you are a n •eated, gem next room, *il Jive to on my clocl the face. I a likeness I beautiful liti «o supper, a weary, too— you Po muc wo;id, she ri W^e were i now blazing without the 1 age, conclude iooked like n As the doo well in gear, to start, arter check em too -kick like mac Pugwash, Ig she'JI never g said the Clock fori have aln through her ch You seem, make no doubl Any man, he i siderable fair temper, and r courage the tin ffut lather the s People talk ''^omen, and ho in all of them, i [Icnows a grain SQck a man is i i THE ROAD TO A WOMAN's HEART. S7 you are a mamma's own boy, the very image of mamma. Do be •eated, gentlemen, said Mrs. Pugwash. Sally, make a fire in the next room. She ought to be proud of you, he continued. Well, if I live to return here, I must paint your face, and have it put on my clocks, and our folks will buy the clocks for the sake of the face. Did you ever see, said he, again addressing me, such a likeness between one human and another, as between this beautiful little boy and his mother ? I am sure you have had no supper, said Mrs. Pugwash, to me; you must be hungry and weary, too— I will get you a cup of tea. I am sorry to give you f>o much trouble, said I. Not the least trouble in the ^voiild, she replied, on the contrary, a pleasure. We were then shewn into the next room, where the fire wai now blazing up, but Mr. Slick protested he could not proceed without the little boy, and lingering behind me to ascertain his age, concluded by asking the child if he had any aunts that looked like mamma. As the door closed, Mr. Slick said. It's a pity she don't go well in gear. The difficulty with those critters is to get them to start, arter that there is no trouble with them if you don't check 'em too short. If you do, they'll stop again, run back and kick like mad, and then Old Nick himself wouldn't start 'em. Pugwash, I guess, don't understand the natur of the critter : slie'U never go kind in harness for him. When I see a ckildy said the Clockmaker, I always feel safe with these womenfolk ; for I have always found that the road to a woman s heart lies [through her child. , • . * - You seem, said I, to understand the female heart so well, I make no doubt you are a general favourite among the fair sex. Any man, he replied, that onderstands horses, has a pretty con- siderable fair knowledge of women, for they are jist alike in temper, and require the very identical same treatment. In- I courage the timid ones, be gentle and steady with the fractions^ [but lather the sulky ones like blazes. People talk an everlastin sight of nonsense about wine, liromen, and horses. I've bought and sold 'em all, Tre traded in nil of them, and I tell you, there aint one in a thousand that knows a grain about either on 'em. You hear folks say. Oh, sack a man is an ugly grained crit*er, he'll break his wife's> B (•■(1 h F ^n 1 38 THE CLOCKMAKER. heart; jist as if a ivoman's heart was as brittle as a pipe stalk. ^"^ The female heart, as far as my experience goes, is jist like a new India rubber shoe; you may pull and pull at it, till it stretches out a yard long, and then let go, and it will fly right back to its old shape. Their hearts are made of stout leather, I tell you; there is a plaguy sight of wear in 'em. I never knowcd but of one case of a broken heart, and that was in tother sex, one Washington Banks. He was a sneezer. He was tall enough to spit down on the heads of your gre- nadiers, and near about high enough to wade across Charles- town River, and as strong as a tow-boat. I guess he was somewhat less than a foot longer than the moral law, and catechism too. He was a perfect pictur of a man; you couldn't fait him in no partikilar; he was so just a made critter ; folks used to run to the ivinder when he passed, and say There goes Washington Banks, beant he lovely? I do believe there wam't a gall in the Lowell factories, that wam't in luve with him. Sometimes, at intermission, on Sabbath days, when they all came out together, (an amasin hansum sight too, near about a whole congregation of young galls) Banks used to say, 'I vow, young ladies, I wish I had five hundred arms to reciprocate one with each of you; but I reckon I have a heart big enough for you all ; it's a whapper, you may depend, and every mite and morsel of it at yourj service.' Well, how you do act, Mr. Banks ? half a thousand little clipper-clapper tongues would say, all at the same time, and their dear little eyes sparklin', like so many stars twinklin' of a I frosty night. Well, when I last see'd him, he was all skin and bone, like a i horse turned out to die. He was teetotally defleshed, a merej walking skeleton. I am dreadfully sorry, says I, to see you, Banks, lookin so peecked: why you look like a sick turkey hen, all legs; what on airth ails you? lam dyin, says he, of a\ broken heart. What, says I, have the galls been a jiltin of you? No, no, f lys he, I beant such a fool as that neither. Well, says I, have you made a bad spekilation? No, says he, shakin hit head, I hope I have too much clear grit in me to take on so bad foi that. What onder the sun is it, then ? said I. Why | CUMDEULAN ThE ROAD TO A WOMAN'S IIEAUT. 3S^ ipper, your lusand le, and I'of a like a mere you, hen, „/« you? I, says n hii| on 801 \Vby says he, I made a bet the fore part of the summer with Leftenant Oby Knowles, that I could shoulder the best bower of the Con- stitution frigate. I won my bet, but the anchor was so eternal heavy it broke my hearL Sure enough he did die that very fall, and he was the only instance I ever heard tell of a broken^ heart. . CHAPTER XT. CUMDEULAND OYSTERS PRODUCE MELANCHOLY FOREBODINGS. The ' soft sawder' of the Glockmaker had operated effectually Ion the beauty of Amherst, our lovely hostess of Pugwash's Innr indeed I am inclined to think with Mr. Slick, that Hhe road ta la woman's heart lies through her child,' from the effect [produced upon her by the praises bestowed on her infant Ibov. I was musing on this feminine susceptibility to flattery, whea the door opened, and Mrs. Pugwash entered, dressed in her sweetest smiles, and her best cap, an auxiliary by no means- required by her charms, which, like an Italian sky when inclouded, are unrivalled in splendour. Approaching me, she ^aid, with an irresistible smile. Would you like, Mr. (here [here was a pause, a hiatus, evidently intended for me to fill up rith my name ; but that no person knows, nor do I intend [hey shall ; at Medley's Hotel in Halifax, I was known as the jtranger in No. 1. The attention that incognito procured for le, the importance it gave me in the eyes of the master of the [ouse, its lodgers, and servants, is indescribable. It is only Bat people who travel incog. State travelling is inconvenient Ind slow ; the constant weight of form and etiquette oppresses It once the strength and spirits. It is pleasant to travel Jnobserved, to stand at ease, or exchange the full suit for the idress coat and fatigue jacket. Wherever, too, there is^ mtery, there is importance : there is no knowing for whom I jiay be mistaken — ^but let me once give my humble cognomen »d occupation, and I sink immediately to my own level, to a febeian station and a vulgar name: not even my beautiful T; Ti'' « i i v f!-\ *. »= 40 THE CLOCKMAKER. Iiostess, nor my inquisitive friend, the Glockniaker, ivlio calli - . . . me 'Squire,' shall extract the secret!) Would you like, Mr. P"'"*" »""<^ ? Indeed I would, said I, Mrs. Pugwash, pray he seated, l**'°® " ^ot and tell me what it is. "Would you like a dish of superior ■ *.^®'^ "^"^ ' 'JShittyacks for supper? Indeed I would, said I again laughing: ■p^®'* will bi but pray tell me what it is? Ijaws me ! said she with a stare, 1^^"^ wconte where have you been all your bom days, that you never heerdB ^^ it will i •of our Shittyack Oysters? I thought everybody had heerd of I *®'i *iave them. I beg pardon, said I, but I understood at Halifax, tliatR®"» |*°^ **»< the only oysters in this part of the world were found on tlieB ® C'Cmentsc shores of Prince Edward Island. Oh ! dear no, said our hostess, F ^'^ "' ^°®* they are found all along the coast from Shittyack, through Bay ff®'® J^®^^® ^^' of Vartes, away to Ramshag. The latter we seldom get, *^oughK^'^^^5®^|* *** I the best; there is no regular conveyance, and when they do» ^, , **'^ern i come, they are generally shelled and in kegs, and never in goodj" utcner tl order. I have not had a real good Ramshag in my house theseKJ^"* business, two years, since Governor Maitland was here; he was amazinV *^. ^. * "®fif" fond of them, and Lawyer Talkemdeaf sent his carriage thereJ^P ^^J®*^ ™f J on purpose to procure *em fresh for him. Now we can't gtm^^^^^ ^^} ^* *^ 4hem, but we have the Shittyacks in perfection; say the wori^R^^ options, t /and they shall be served up immediately. ■ t/ "k* A good dish and an unexpected dish is most acceptable, anfl , '* ^" P certainly my American friend and myself did ample justice the oysters, which, if they have not so classical a name, ha (quite as good a flavour as their far-famed brethren of Miltoi Mr. Slick eat so heartily, that when he resumed his conversatioi /he indulged in the most melancholy forebodings. Did you see that are nigger, said he, that removed the oysi •tshells? well, he's one of our Chesapickers, one of Ginei 'Ouffy's slaves. I wish Admiral Cockbum had taken them ofl* our hands at the same rate. We made a pretty good sale them are black cattle, I guess, to the British ; I wish we vei well rid of 'em all. The Blacks and the Whites in the Stal thow their teeth and snarl, they are jist ready to fall to. Protestants and Catholics begin to lay back their ears, and tail for kickin. The Abolitionists and Planters are at it W two bulls in a pastur. Mob-law and Lynch-latv are woi iike yeast in a barrel, and frothing at the hunghole. W/jB^^^^» irora th nation and Tariff are like a charcoal pit, all covered up, W*' '"^ over fiv ^ave of absence, o\v does your |o it so large a on, said the C is a great wh nd chips, and : all crafts are uirrel in a ca rough at certa ood pilotage, m You astonish nversations wi lends who hav W friends! effabie contemj ^•n for his insc if!' ill MELANCHOLY FOREBODINGS. I burnin inside, r«nd sendin out smoke at every crnck enough to stifle n horse. General Government and State Government every now and then square off and sparr, and the first blow given ^vill bring a genuine set-to. Surplus Revenu is anotliei bone of contention ; like a shin of beef thrown among a pack of (dogs, it will set the whole on 'em by the ears. Yon hare heer'd tell of cotton rags dipt in turpentine, havn't fOUy how they produce combustion ? Well, I guess we have Ithe elements of spontaneous combustion among us in abundance; ^vhen it does break out, if you don't see an eruption of human ;ore worse than Etna lava, then Vm mistaken. There'll be the rery devil to pay, that's a fact. I expect the blacks will butch ei ^he Southern whites, and the Northerners will have to turn out mA butcher them agin, and all this shoot, hang, cut, stab, aiul )urn business, will sweeten our folks' temper, as raw meat docs ^hat of a dog — it fairly makes me sick to think on it. The explosion may clear the air again, and all be tranquil once lore, but it is an even chance if it don t leave us three steam- boat options, to be blown sky high, to be scalded to death, or Irowned. "> If this sad picture you hare drawn be indeed true to nature, jow does your country, said I, appear so attractive, as to draw |o it so large a portion of our population ? It tante its attrac- pon, said the Clockmaker ; its nothin but its power of suction ; is a great whirlpool— a great vortex— it drags all the straw, |nd chips, and floatin sticks, drift-wood and trash into it. The lall crafts are sucked in, and whirl round and round like a |uirrel in a cage"— they'll never come out. Bigger ones pass trough at certain tiines of tide, and can come in and out with lood pilotage, as they do at Hell Gate up the sound. You astonish me, said I, beyond measure ; both your previous mversations with me, and the concurrent testimony of all my tiends who have visited the States, give a different view of it. four friends! said the Clockmaker, with such a tone of leffable contempt, that I felt a strong inclination to knock him )wn for his insolence — ^your friends ! Ensigns and leftenants, I guess, from the British marchin regiments in the Colonies, m run over five thousand miles of country in five weeks, on [aye of absence, and then return, lookiD as wise as the monkey r- 42 THE CLOCKMAKER. that had seen the world. When they get back they are sqI chock full of knowledge of the Yankees, that it luns over of] itself, like a hogshead of molasses, rolled about in hot weather— I a white froth and scum bubbles out of the bung ; wishy washjl trash they call tours, sketches, trayels, letters and what noti vapid stuff, jist sweet enough to catch flies, cockroaches, audi half fledged galls. It puts me in mind of my French. I lamtf French at night school one winter, of our minister, Joshua! Hopewell (he was the most lamed man of the age, for he tauglif himself een almost every language in Europe) ; well nexj •pring, when I went to Boston, I met a Frenchman, and t>egan to jabber away French to him i — " Polly woes a Frencll shay," says I. I don't understand Yankee yet, says he. YoJ don't understand ! says I, why its French. I guess you didnj expect to hear such good French, did you, away down easi here ? but we speak it rael well, and its ginerally allowed ^tJ ■peak English, too, better than the British. Oh, says he, yoj one very droll Yankee, dat very good joke, Sare : you tallj Indgian and call it French. But, says I, Mister Mount shear, i is French, I vow; real merchantable, without wainy edge shakes — all clear stuff; it will pass survey in any market — if| ready stuck and seasoned. Oh, very like, says he, bowin polite as a black waiter at New Orleens, very like, only I neva heerd it afore ; oh, very good French dat — clear stuff, no doublj but I no understand — its all my fault, I dare say, Sare. Thinks I to myself, a nod as good as a wink to a blind hor9 I see how the cat jumps — Minister knows so many languagij he han't been particular enough to keep 'em in separate parcelj and mark 'em on the back, and they've got mixed, and suij enough I found my French was so overrun with other sor that it was better to lose the whole crop than to go to weedij for as fast as I pulled up any strange seedlin, it would groj right up agin as quick as wink, if there was the least bit of ro in the world left in the ground, so I left it all rot on the field There is no way so good to lam French as to live among 'eij and if you want to understand us, you must live among us^ to your Halls, Hamiltons, and De Rouses, and such critters, wi van they know of us? Can a chap catch a likeness flying ale railroad? cAn he ?ven see the featurs? Old Admiral Anson ond MET-ANCHOLY FOREBODINGS. 43 are sci over ofl ither— I r washyl at not;| les, audi I lariif Joshua i tauglii , and Freiicll e. Yo )U didnj )wn eas ^wed vJ he, yoJ you tall \, shear, i id hori inguagi parcel ind SI ler son weedii lid gro' fet of r lie fiel Jong 'ei jrs, w! alongl Lson oni cd one of our folks afore our glorious Revolution (if the Biitish ad known us a little grain better at that time, they wouldn't |avc got whipped like a sack as they did then) where he came om? From the Chesapeeke, said he. Aye, aye, said tho dmiral, from the AVest Indies. I guess, said the Southaner, u may have been clean round the worlds Admiral, but you ve been plaguy little in it, not to know better nor that. I shot a wild goose at River Philip last year, with the rice of arginey fresh in his crop: he must have cracked on near about fast as them other geese, the British travellers. Which know'd e most of the country they passed over, do you suppose? I ess it was much of a muchness— near about six of one, and a If dozen of the tother; two eyes aint much better than one, if ey are both blind. No, if you want to know all about us and the blue noses (a etty considerable share of Yankee blood in them too, I tell u: the old stock comes from New England, and the breed is erable pure yet, near about one half apple scarce, and tother ! if molasses, all except to the Easterd, where there is a crost ' the Scotch), jist ax me and I'll tell you candidly. I'm not e of them that can't see no good points in my neighbour's > ttur and no bad ones in my own : I've seen too much of the rid for that, I guess. Indeed, in a gineral way^ I praise er folks' beasts, and keep dark about my own. Says I, en I meet Blue Nose mounted, That's a rael smart horse of ur'n, put him out, I guess he'll trot like mad. Well, he lets have the spur, and the critter does his best, and then I s him like a streak of lightning with mine. The feller looks taken aback at that. Why, says he, that's a rael clipper of r'n, I vow. Middlin, says I, (quite cool as if I had heerd t are same thing a thousand times,) he's good enough for me, a fair trotter and nothin to brag of. That goes noar about far agin in a general way, as a crackin and a boasting does. ver tell folks you can go ahead on *em, but do it; it spares a at deal of talk, and helps them to save their breath to cool ir broth. hy if you want to know the inns and the outs of the Yan- s — I've wintered them and summered them; I know all ir points, shape, make, and breed; I've tried 'em alongside of ? 44 THE CLOCKMAKEU. other folks, and I know where thej fall short, where they mati* ^^'^^ y<*u cam •«ni, and where they have the adrantage, ahoat as well as som *^*^' ^^ ill-direct frv ' < •s 46 THE CLOCEMAKEB. of the ship, and folks lyin about dozin away their time, and tli •ea fi heavin a long heavy swell, like the breathin of the chest tome great monster asleep. A passenger wonders the sailoj are so plagy easy ab^ ick pig. WelU well, says he, a liftin up both hands, and r > i up the whites of his eyes like a duck in I thunder, if tk - I j>n't bang the bush ! ! It fairly beats sheep sheerin, after the blackberry bushes have got the wool. It does, I I vow ; them are the tares them Unitarians sow in our grain (fields at night ; I guess theyll ruinate the crops yet, and make Ithe ground so everlastin foul, we'll have to pare the sod and burn it, to kill the roots. Our fathers sowed the right seed here in the wilderness, and watered it with their tears, and watched over it with fastin and prayer, and now its fairly run out, that's a fact, I snore. Its got chocked up with all sorts of trash in natur, I declare. Dear, dear, I vow I never seed the beat o' that |in all my born days. Now the blue- noses are like that are gall; they have growd lup, and growd up in ignorance of many things they hadn't ought not to know ; and its as hai'd to teach grown up folks as it is to Ibrcak a six year old horse ; and they do ryle one's temper so — Ithat act so ugly that it tempts one sometimes to break their con- founded necks — its near about as much trouble as its worth. What remedy is there for all this supineness? said I ; how can Ithese people be awakened out of their ignorant slothfulnesi i * .■^ i"^- 48 THE CLOCKMAKEW. into active exertion? The remedy, said Mr. Slick, is at linnd— ^ its already workin its own cure. They must recede before qui free and enlightened citizens like the Indgians ; our folks Aviil buy them out, and they must give place to a more intelligent andl iic-/ti;e people. They must go to the lands of Labrador or bel located back of Canada ; they can hold on there a few years, until! the wave of civilization reaches them, and then they must moTel again as the savages do. It is decreed ; I hear the bugle of| destiny a soundin of their retreat, as plain as anything. Con* gress will give them a concession of land, if they petition, awajl to Alleghany backside territory, and grant them relief for a fefrl years ; for we are out of debt, and don't know what to do withi our surplus revenue. The only way to shame them, that ll know, would be to sarre them as Uncle Enoch sarved a neighbour| of his in Varginy. There was a lady that had a plantation near hand to his'o,! and there was only a small riyer atwixt the two houses, so thiti folks could hear each other talk across it. Well, she was el dreadful cross-grained woman, a rael catamount, as savage as al she-bear that has cubs, an old farrow critter, as ugly as sin, andl one that both booked and kicked too— a most particular on{ marciful she devil, that's a fact. She used to have some of herl niggers tied up every day, and flogged uncommon severe, anii| their screams and screeches were horrid — ^no soul could stand it;l nothin wals heerd all day but Ok Lord Missus! Oh Loril Missus I Enoch was fairly sick of the sound, for he was al tender-hearted man, and says he to her one day. Now do, marm,! find out some other place to give your cattle the cowskin, for iti worries me to hear 'em talk on so dreadful bad — I can't standi it I vow ; they are flesh and blood as well as we be, though thel meat is a different colour ; but it was no good — she jist up andl told him to mind his own business, and she guessed she'd mindl hem. He was determined to shame her out of it; so onel mornin after breakfast, he goes into the cane-field, and says hel to Lavender, one of the black overseers. Muster up the whole! gang of slaves, every soul, and bring 'em down to the whippiil post, the whole stock of them, bulls, cows, and calves. Well,l Away goes Lavender, and drives up all the niggers. Now yoil catch it, says he, you lazy willians; I tole you so many a time— I A' THE AMERICAN EAGLE. 49 tole you Massa he lose all patience wid you, you good for ^lothin rascals. I grad, upon my soul, I werry grad ; you mind low >vhat old Layender say anoder time. (The black overseen ire always the most cruel, said the Clockmaker; they hare no )rt of feeling for their ^wn people.) Well, when they were gathered there accordin to orders, they looked streaked enough you may depend, thinkin they were roing to get it all round, and the wenches they fell to a cryin. kringin their hands, and boo-hooin like mad. Lavender was [liere with his cowskin, grinnin like a chessy cat, and crackin it iibout, ready for business. Pick me out, says Enoch, four that pve the loudest voices ; Hard matter dat, says Lavender, hard latter dat, Massa, dey all talk loud, dey all lub talk more better lor work — de idle villains ; better gib "em all a little tickel, jist teach 'em larf on tother side of de mouth : dat side bran new, (hey never use it yet. Do as I order you, Sir, said Uncle, or I'll have you triced up, you cruel old rascal you. When they rere picked out and sot by themselves, they hanged their headi, Lnd looking like sheep goin to the shambles. Now, says Uncle Dnoch, my Pickininnies, do yoa sing out, as loud as Niagara, at [he very tip eend of your voice — ^ ^: , Don't kill a nigger, pray» ' Let him lib anoder day. Oh Lord Mignts — Oh Lord Misma, i 5 > f i My back be very sore, * V . >• *. No stand it any more. Oh Lord Missua-^Oh Lord Missus. >: And all the rest of you joir chorus, as loud as you can bawl, )h Lard Missus, The black rascals understood the joke rael [veil. They larfed ready to split their sides : they fairly lay down |n the giound, and rolled over and over with larfter. Well, irhen they came to the chorus, Oh Lord Missus, if they didn't let go, it's a pity. They made the river ring agin — they were lieered clean out to sea. All the folks ran out of the lady's Uvsc, to see what on airth was the matter on Uncle Enoch's blantation — they thought there was actilly a rebellion there ; hut rhen they listened awhile, and heered it over and over again, |hey took the hint, and returned, a larfin in their sleeves. Says ley, Master Enoch Slick, he upsides with Missus this hitch any .H pis'.- 50 THE CLOCKMAKER. how. dncle nerer heerd anything more of Ch Lord Missuil arter that. Yes, thej ought to be shamed out of it, those blue noses. When reason fails to conrince, there is nothin left but| ridicule. If they have no ambition, apply to their feelings, clap a blister on their pride, and it will do the business. It's like puttin ginger under a horse's tail ; it makes him carry up reall hand^ti7n, I tell you. When I was a boy, I was always late toT school ; well, father's preachin I didn't mind much, but I neveij could bear to hear mother say. Why, Sam, are you actilly up fo all day ? Well, I hope your airly risin won* t hurt you, I declare] What on airth is agoin to happen now ? Well, wonders will never cease. It raised my dander ; at last says I, Now, motherj don't say that are any more for gracious sake, for it makes me fee ugly ; and I'll get up as airly as any on you ; and so I did, andj I soon found what's worth knowin in this life. An airly star makes easy stages, • ' ^ ■ \S tr CHAPTER XIII. THE CLOCKMAKER 8 OPINION OF HALIFAX. The next morning was warmer than several that had pre ceded it. It was one of those uncommonly fine days tha distinguish an American autumn. I guess, said Mr. Slick, tlui heat to-day is like a glass of Mint Julip, with a lump of ice it, it tastes cool and feels warm — ^it's rael good, I tell you; love such a day as this dearly. Its generally allowed the fines weather in the world is in America — there an't the beat of ill to be found anywhere. He then lighted a cigar, and throwing himself back on his chair, put both feet out of the window, anij sat with his arms folded, a perfect picture of happiness. You appear, said I, to have travelled over the v/hole of thij Province, and to have observed the country anl the peoplf with much attention; pray what is your opinion of the presenJ state and future prospects of Halifax? If you will tell me, said he, when the folks there will wake up, therj I can answeil you, but they are fust asleep; as to the Province, its a splendi| Province, and calculated to go ahead; it will grow as fast as niS OPINION OF HALIFAX. 0\ Varginy gall, and they grow so amazin fast, if you put yout arm round one of their necks to kiss them, by the time you've done, they've growd up into women. It's a pretty Province, 1 tell you, good above and better below; surface covered with pastures, meadows, woods, and a nation sight of water privi- leges, and under the ground full of mines — ^it puts me in mind of the soup at Tree-mont house. One day I was walkin in the Mall, and who should I meet but Major Bradford, a gentleman from Connecticut, that traded in calves and punkins for the Boston market. Says he. Slick,, ■where do you get your grub to day? At General Peep's, tavern, says I. Only fit for niggers, says he; why don't you come to the Tree-mont house, that's the most splendid thing its generally allowed in all the world. Why, says I, that's a notch above my mark, I guess it's too plagy dear for me, I can't afFord it nohow. Well, says he, it's dear in one sense, but it's dog cheap in another — it's a grand place for spekelation — there's so many rich Southerners and strangers there that have more money than wit, that you might do a pretty good business there without goin out of the street door. I made two hundred dollars this momin in little less than half no time. There's a Carolina Lawyer there, as rich as a bank, and says he to me arter breakfast. Major, says he, I wish I knew where to get a rael slapping trotter of a horse, one that could trot with a flash of lightnin for a mile, and beat it by a whole neck or so. Says I, My Lord, (for you must know, he says he's the nearest male heir to a Scotch dormant peerage,) my Lord, says I, I have one a proper sneezer, a chap that can go ahead of a rail-road steamer, a rael nateral traveller, one that can trot with the ball out of the small eend of a rifle, and never break into a gallop. Says he. Major, I wish you wouldn't give me that are nick- name, I don't like it, (though he looked as tickled all the time as possible,) I never knew, says he, a lord that wom't a fool, that's a fact, and that's the reason I don't go ahead and claim the title. Well, says I, my Lord, I don't know, but somehow I can't help a thinkin, if you have a good claim, you de be more like a fool not to go ahead with it. Well, says he, Lord or na Lord, lets look at your horse. So away I went to Joe Brown's livery stable, at t'other eend of the city, and picked out the best ' t ^ - If !» I/) I" . S^. wE" M THE CLOCKMAKER. ttotter he had, and no great stick to hrag on neither; says I, ^oe Brown, what do you ax for that are horse? Two hundred •dollars, says he. Well, says I, I will take him out and try him. •and if I like him, I will keep him. So I shows our Carolina | Lord the horse, and when he gets on him, says I, Don't let him •^trot as fast as he can, resarve that for a heat: if folks find out how everlastin fast he is, they'd he afeard to stump you for a | start. When he returned, he said he liked the horse amazinly, ■and axed the pricey Four hundred dollars, says I, you can't get nothin special without a good price, pewter cases never hold ^ood watches; I know it, says he, the horse is mine. Thinks I to myself, that's more than ever I could say of him then an; ^ow. * • Well, I was going to tell you about the soup~-4ays the Major, i It's near about dinner-time, jist come and see how you like the location. There was a sight of folks there, gentlemen and ladies in the public room (I never seed so many afore, except at commencement day,) all ready for a start, and when the gong sounded, off we sott like a flock of sheep. Well if there -warn''t a jam you may depend— some one give me a pull, and I iie:ir about went heels up over head, so I reached out both ]iunds, and caught hold of the first thing I could, and what should it be but a lady's dress — ^well, as Fm alive, rip went the frock, and tear goes the petticoat, and when I righted myself from my beam ends, away they all came home to me, and there she was the pretty critter, with all her upper riggin standin as far as her waist, and nothin left below but a short linen under garment. If she didn't scream, its a pity, and the more she screamed, the more folks larfed, for no soul could help larfin, till one of the waiters folded her up in a table cloth. What an awkward devil you be, Slick, says the Major, now I that comes of not fallin in first, they should have formed four deep, rear rank in open order, and marched in to our splendid national air, and filed off, to their seats, right and left, shoulders forward. I feel kinder sorry, too, says he, for that are young heifer, but she shewed a proper pretty leg tho', Slick, didn\| she — I guess you don't often get such a chance as that are. Well, I gets near the Major at table, and afore me stood a china I Utensil with two handles, full of soup, about the size of a fool HIS OPINION OF HALIFAX. 53: hih, with a li^rge silrer scoop in it, near about as big as tbc ladle of a maple sugar kettle. I was jist about bailing out lome soup into my dish, when the Major said. Fish it up from the bottom, Slick, — well, sure enough, I gives it a drag from the bottom, and up came the fat pieces of turtle, and the thick rich soup, and a sight of little forced meat balls^ of the size of sheep's dung. No soul could tell how good it was — it wa& I near about as handsum as father's old genuip.e particular cider, and that you could feel tingle clean awry down to the tip* eends of your toes. Now, says fl\e Major/, I'll give you. Slick, a new wrinkle on your horn. Folks r/m't thought nothin of, unless they live at Treemont: it's all «he go. Do you dine at Peep's tavern every day, and then off hot foot to Treemont, and" pick your teeth on the street steps thete, and folks will think yotf dine there. I do it often, ^nd it s»ves two dollars a day. Then he puts his finger on his i^ose, an^ in )olitics than he could haul the plough himself He might set )ut straight at beginnin for a little way, but he was :*«ire lo get rooked afore he got to the eend of the ri , . »ock remains oi but cnange them all, and its an even chance if you don t ge .QiUi^, t k * worse ones in their room. It is in politics as in horses ; whei • i^ i. a man has a heast that's near about up to the notch, he'd bette ,«„.!, ?• . ,..-,,,, * * our liand in you not swap Dim ; it he does, he s een amost sure to get one not s »ii ^ i .. "^ good as his own. My rule is, Fd rather keep a critter what <)i|*:«o u »ii' n faults I do knoWy than change him for a beast whose faults ^^ jj^ i . ^ don't know* j t-'^,^"*'* ... . i ^"* -It a lawyer .._ rx I i; ' he geese, he'll ea akes to it, he's ,, CHAPTER XV. lassy on you, for I naked hook at a THE DA>XINa MASTER ABROAD. ■jjJi^ The fish Wl I WISH that are black heifer in the kitchen would give otJ"* ^^^^ S^* ^"jg*** •ingin that are everlastin dismal tune, said the Clockmaker, il, °^» ^,^ »^^^ makes my head ache. YouVe heerd a song afore now, said hel ®* ^^^ • bavn't you, till vou was fairly sick of it ? for I have, I vo#®" !J^^ ^^"'^*« ' The last time I was in Rhode Island, (all the galls sing ther*^^''^' ^j iI" and it's generally allowed there's no such singers anywhertK *^ ^^ . **** they beat the fyetalians a long chalk — they sing so high sonM *** * ection. on 'em^ they go clear out o' hearin sometimes, like a lark) ^eBi.* , ^ V^^^^ ^qi you heerd nothin but " Oh no, we never mention her;" well,"' ^ ®^ ^'**^® "*" grew so plaguy tired of it, I used to say to myself, I'd sooner it than heer tell of it, I vow; I wish to gracious sake f * would never mention her,' for it makes me feel ugly to h that same thing for ever and ever and amen that way. Wei they've got a cant phrase here, * the schoolmaster is abroad,' every feller tells you that fifty times a-day. There was a chap said to me not long ago at Truro, 3Ii Slick, this country is rapidly improving, 'the schoolmaster abroad now,' and he looked as knowing as though he had foui a mare's nest. So I should think, said I, and it would jist about as well, I guess, if he'd sta} to home and mind his b I, tor your folks are so consoomedly ignorant, I reckon bd ight and left in gi «l complete bow, t makes at a p mpliments as a idy is to home, ai art answer, they man's farm to th( e road that leads uch he wants to j ridge over his bro « gets the hook tter begins to jui winds up the r J f . THE DANCING MASTER ABROAD. 61 Abroad een amost all his time. I hope when he returns he'll be [he better of his travels, and that's more nor many of our young folks are who go * abroad,' for they import more airs and non* ense than they dispose of one while, I tell you — some of the ktock remains on hand all the rest of their liyes. There's pothin I hate so much as cant, of all kinds; Jith a sure sign of a ricky disposition. If you see a feller cant m religion, clap ^ [our hand in your pocket, and lay right hold of your puss, or |e11 steal it, as sure as you're alive: and if a man cant in olitics, he'll sell you, if he gets a chance, you may depend. ivr and physic are jist the same, and every mite and morsel as id. If a lawyer takes to cantin, its like the fox preachin to be geese, he'll eat up his whole congregation ; and if a doctor akes to it, he's a quack as sure as he rates. The Lord have oassy on you, for he won't. I'd sooner trust my chance with \ naked hook at any time, than one that's half covered with bad iit. The fish will sometimes swaller the one, without thinkin, jut they get frightened at tother, turn tail, and off like a shot. Now, to change the tune, 111 give the blue-noses a new [brase. They'll have an election most likely next year, and iien * the dancin master mil be abroad* A candidate is a most artikilar polite roan, a noddin here, and a bowin there, and a bakin hands all round. Nothin improves a man's manners Ike an election. ^ The dancin master's abroad then/ nothin pes the paces equal to that, it makes them as squirmy as an el; they cross hands and back agin, set to their partt.ers, and |ght and left in great style, and slick it off at the eend, with a ftei complete bow, and a smile for all the world as sweet as a At makes at a pan of new milk. Then they get as full cf Dmpliments as a dog is full of flees — enquirin how the old |uly is to home, and the little boy that made such a wonderful Dart answer, they never can forget it till next time; a praisin i man's farm to the nines, and a tellin of him how scandalous lie road that leads his location has been neglected, and how luch he wants to find a real complete hand that can build a Iridge over his brook, and axin him if he ever built one. When p gets the hook baite^i with the right fly, and the simple itter begins to jump out of water arter it, all mouth and gills, winds up the reel, and takes leave, a thinkin to himself t. ■5WP-0* .H 62 Jf/ 0/1 THE CLOCKMAKER. ^tUT Now, you see what's to the eend of my line, I guess I'll knowj where to find you when I want you. There's no sort of fishin requires so much practice as this.! When bait is scarce^ one worm must answer for several fish. A handfull of oats in a pan, arter it brings one horse up in al pastur for the bridle, Serres for another; a shakin of it is betteil than a givin of it — it saves the grain for another time. It's al poor business, arter all, is electioneering, and when * the iancm master is abroad^ he's as apt to teach a man to cut capers and! get larfed at as any thing else. It tante every one that's sooplel enough to dance real complete. Politics take a great deal ofl time, and grind away a man^s honesty near about as fast as[ dkanin a knife with brick dust, ' it takes its steel out,'' What! does a critter get arter all for it in this country, why nothin butl expense and disappointment. As King Solomon says, (andl that are man was up to a thing or two, you may oy?) that I call independence. He was in great jirits, the old man, he was so proud of winnin the race, and llittin the leake into the New Yorkers — he looked all dander, ^•t them great liungry, ill-faToured, long-legged hitterns, sayi (only he called them hy another name that don't sound lite pretty) from the outlandish States to Congress, talk about idependence; hut, Sum, said he, (hittin the shiners again til^ [e made them dance right up an eend In his pocket) / like to el it. No, Sam, said he, line the pocket well first, make that inde- [endent, and then the spirit will be like a horse turned out to grass the spring, for the first time, he's all head and tail, a snortin and [ickin and racin and carryin on like mad — it soon gets inde- endent too. While its in the stall it may hold up, and paw, id whiner, and feel as spry as any thing, but the leather straps [eeps it to the manger, and the lead weight to the eend of it lakes it hold down its head at last. No, says he, here's inde- pendence, and he gave the Eagles such a drive with his first, he st his pocket, and sent a whole raft of them a spinnin down legs to the ground. Says I, Father, (and I swear I could ily keep from larfin, he looked so peskily vexed,) Father, ays I, I guess there's a moral in that are too — Extremes narif \ati none o' the best. Well, well, says he, (kinder snappishly) suppose you're half right, Sam, but we've said enough about it, Kt's drop the subject, and see if I have picked 'em all up, foi ly eyes are none of the best now, I'm near hand to seventy. rA ^4 CHAPTER XVI. MB. SLICK S OPINION OF THE BRITISH. What success had you, said I, In the sale of your Clocks long the Scotch in the eastern part of the Province ? do you Ind them as gullible as the blue-noses? Well, said he, you laye heerd tell that a Yankee never answers one question, rithout axing of another, haven't you? Did you ever see an iglish Stage Driver make a bow? because if you hant» Ibsarved it, I have, and a queer one it is, I swan. He bring* i«^-^ 66 THE CLOCKMAKER. his right arm up, jist across his face, and passes on, with knowin nod of his head, as much as to say, How do you doj but keep clear o* my wheels, or 1*11 fetch your horses a lick \i the mouth as sure as you're bom; just as a bear puts up hiJ paw to fend off the blow of a stick from his nose. Well, thati the way I pass them are bare breeched Scotchmen. Lord, they were located down in these here Cumberland marshc how the musquitoes would tickle them up, wouldn't thejj They'd set 'em a scratchin thereabouts, as an Irishman does hij head, when he's in sarch of a lie. Them are fellars cut thei( eye teeth afore they ever sot foot in this country, I expect! When they get a bawbee, they know what to do with it, that'j a fact; they open their pouch and drop it in, and its goti spring like a fox-trap-— it holds fast to all it gets, like grio death to a dead nigger. They are proper skin-flints, you majj depend. Oatmeal is no great shakes at best; it tante eveni good for a horse as real yaller Varginy corn, but I guess warn't long in findin out that the grits hardly pay for tli riddlin. No, a Yankee has as little chance among them as Jew has in England: the sooner he clears out the better. Yo can no more put a leake into them, than you can send a chis into Teake-wood — it turns the edge of the tool the first driytl If the blue-noses knew the valye of money as well as they do| they'd have more cash, and fewer Clocks and tin reflectors,] reckon. Now, its different with the Irish; they never carry a puss, foij they never have a cent to put in it. They are always in love oi| in liquor, or else in a row ; they are the merriest shavers I eya seed. Judge Beeler, I dare say you have heerd tell of him- he's a fanny feller — ^he put a notice over his factory gate Lowell, *No cigars or Irishmen admitted within these walls;] for, said he, the one will set a flame agoin among my cottons,! and t'other among my galls. I won't have no such inflammabkl and dangerous things about me on no account. When tiul British wanted our folks to jine in the treaty to chock thel wheels of the slave trade, I recollect hearin old John AdamSil wy. We had ought to humour them ; for, says he, they supplj| us with labour on easier terms, by shippin out the Irish. he^ they work better, and they work cheaper, and they don'll 111 '^' HIS OPINION OF THE BRITISH. 6? re 80 long. The blacks, when they are past work, hang on |r ever, and a proper bill of expence, they be; but hot oather and new rum rub out the poor rates for t'other The English are the boys for tradin with, they shell out their Ish like a sheaf of wheat in frosty weather — it flies all over the Irashin floor; but then they are a cross grained, ungainly, icken breed of cattle as I een a most ever seed. Whoever gave ^em the name of John Bull, knew what he was about, I tell )u; for they are bull-necked, bull-headed folks, I vow ; sulky, rly-tempered, vicious critters, a pawin and a roarin the whole 16, and plaguy onsafe unless well watched. They are aa jadstrong as mules, and as conceited as peacocks. The astonishment with which I heard this tirade against my Untrymen, absorbed every feeling of resentment, I listened (ith amazement at the perfect composure with which he uttered He treated it as one of those self-evident truths, that need Bither proof nor apology, but as a thing well known and imitted by all mankind. —■'*-"' r There's no richer sight that I know on, said he, than to see le on* em when he first lands in one of our great cities. He irells out, as big as a balloon, his skin is ready to burst with [ind— a regular walking bag of gas; ap.d he prances over the iTement like a bear over hot iron — a great awkward hulk ol I feller, (for tbey aint to be compared to the French in manners,) smirkin at you, as much as to say, 'Look here, Jonathan, ere's an Englishman; here's a boy that's got blood as pure as Norman pirate, and lots of the blunt of both kinds, a pocket ill of one, and a mouthful of t'other; bean't he lovely?* and len he looks as fierce as a tiger, as much as to say, ' say boo a goose, if y6u dare.* No, I believe we may stump the Univarse; we improve on rery thin^, and we have improved on our own species. You'll earch one while, I tell you, afore you'll find a man that, take lim by and large, is/^'qual to one of our free and enlightened itizens. He's the chap that has both speed, wind, and )ttom; he's clear grit — ginger to the back bone, you may jepend. Its generally allowed there ain't the beat of them to found any where. Spry as a fox, supple as an eel, and «^1 1 f}j 68 THE CLOCKMAKER. 3Ute as a weasel. Though I say it, that shouldn't say they r«urly take the shine o£f creation— they are actilly equal cash. He looked like a man who felt that he had expressed himsd so aptly and so well, that anything additional would onll weaken its effect; he, therefore, changed the conversation mediately, by pointing to a tree at some little distance fro the house, and remarking that it was the rock maple or sug tree. Its a pretty tree, said he, and a profitable one too raise. It will bear tappin for many years, tho' it gets exhaust at last. This Province is like that are tree; it is tapped till it begin to die at the top, and if they don't drive in a spile and stop tE everlastin flow of the sap, it will perish altogether. All tb money that's made here, all the interest that's paid in it, andi pretty considerable portion of the rent too, all goes abroad fol investment, and the rest is sent to us to buy bread. Its draine like a bog, it has opened and covered trenches all through iJ ftnd then there's others to the foot of the upland, to cut off th springs. Now you may make eren a bog too dry ; you may take tli moisture out to that degree, that the very sile becomes dust, blows away. The English funds, and our banks, railroads, anj canals, are all absorbin your capital like a spunge, and will lid it up as fast as you can make it. That very Bridge we heetl of at Windsor, is owned in New Brunswick, and will pay U to that province. The capitalists of Nova Scotia treat it likei hired house, they won^t keep it in repair; they neither paint f to presarve the boards, nor stop a leak to keep the fra from rottin; but let it go to rack sooner than drive a w or put in a pane of glass. It will sarve our turn out, theil There's neither spirit, enterprise, nor patriotism here; bo the whole country is as inactive as a bear in winter, that doei nothin but scroutch up in his den, a thinkin to himself, ^^ Well,| if I ain't a misfortunate devil it's a pity ; I have a most splendid warm coat as are a gentleman in these here woods, let him bel who he will ; but I got no socks to my feet, and I have to sill for everlastingly a su^kin of my paws to keep them warm; ifiti HIS OPINION OF THE BRITISH. 63 im't for that, I guess I'd make some o' them ch:.ps that have loofs to their feet and horns to their heads, look ah it 'em [retty sharp, I know." It's dismal now ain't it? If I had the lin of the Goremor's message, if I wouldn't show 'em how put timber together, you may depend ; I'd make them scratch leir heads and stare, I know. I went down to Matanzas in the Fulton Steam Boat once — ^ell, it was the first of the kind they ever seed, and proper ired they were to see a yessel, without sails or oars, goin right raight ahead, nine knots an hour, in the very wind's eye, and I great streak of smoke arter her as long as the tail of a comet. I believe they thought it was old Nick alive, a treatin himself a swim. You could see the niggers a clippin it away from le shore, for dear life, and the sodgers a movin about, as if ley thought that we was a goin for to take the whole country, [resently a little, half starved, orange-coloured lookin Spanish icer, all dressed off in his livery, as fine as a fiddle, came oft [ith two men in a boat to board us. Well, we yawed once or rice, and motioned him to keep off for fear he should get irt; but he came on right afore the wheel, and I hope I may shot if the paddle didn't strike the bow of the boat with that ^rce, it knocked up the starn like a plank tilt, when one of the oys playing on it is heavier than t'other, and chucked him Ight atop of the wheel house — ^you never seed a feller in such a mderment in your life. He had picked up a little English [om seein our folks there so much, and when he got up, the rst thing he said was ^ Damn all sheenery, I say, where's my }at?' and he looked round as if he thought it had jumped on sard too. Your boat, said the Captain, why I expect it's }ne to the bottom, and your men have gone down to look rter it, for we never seed or heerd tell of one or t'other of them |rter the boat was struck. Yes, I'd make 'em stare like that re Spanish o£Bcer, as if they had seed out of their eyes for the Irst time. Governor Campbell didn't expect to see such country as this whon he came here, I reckon, I know he (idn't. When I was a little boy, about knee high or so, and lived lown Connecticut river, mother used to say, Sam, if you don't live over aclin so like old Scratch, I^U send you off to Nova f €3 I'm 70 THE CLOCKMAKBR. Jii- Scotia, as sure as joa are bom I will, I yow. Well, Lord, hon that used to frighten me ; it made my hair stand right up oi^ eend, Jike a cat's back when she's nrrothy; it made m? drop quick as wink— -like a tin nightcap put on a dip candle agoin \^ bed, it put the fun right out. Neighbour Dearborn's darteJ married a gentleman to Yarmouth that spekilates in thj smugglin line; well, when she >vent on board to sail down tJ Nova Scotia, all her i'ol s took on as if it was a funeral; the]| said she was agoin for to be buried alive, like the nuns Portengale that get a frolickin, break out of the pastur, and rao off, and get catched and brought back agin. Says the ol^ Colonel, her father, Deliverance, my dear, I would sooner folia you to your grave, for that would be an eend to your trouble than to see you go off to that dismal country, that's nothing bs an iceberg aground ; and he howled as loud as an Irishman tl tries to wake his wife when she is dead. Awful accouDU we have of the country, that's a fact ; but if the Province not so bad as they make it out, the folks are a thousand timej worse. Th-jt lot th' iiim ^;>noj|yai YouVe seen a flock of partridges of a frosty mornin in th fall, a crowdin out of the shade to a sunny spot, and huddlin < there in the warmth — well, the blue-noses have nothin else do half the time but sun themselves. Whose fault is that{ Why it is the fault of the legislatur; thetf don't encoura§ internal improvement^ nor the investment of capital in the counlr and the result it apathy^ inaction, and poverty. They spen three months in Halifax, and what do they do? Father gafj me a dollar once, to go to the fair at Hartford, and when I came back, says he, Sam, what have you got to show for itl Now I ax what they have got to show for their three month sittin. They mislead folks : they make 'em believe all the of the Assembly is to bark at Councillors, Judges, Bankers, such cattle, to keep 'em from eatin up the crops ; and it actil| costs more to feed them when they are watchin, than all tlj others could eat if they did break a fence and get in. Inde some folks say they are the most breachy of the two, and oi to go to pound themselyes. If their fences are good, thej hungry cattle couldn't break through ; and if they aint, thj ought to stake 'em up, and withe them well; hut it's no usei HIS OPINION OP THE BRITISH. n mke fences unless the land is cultivated. If I see a farm aH tone to wrack, I say here's a bad husbandry and bad manage- bent; and if I see a Province like this, of great capacity ind great nateral resources, poyerty-stricken, I say there's bad egislation. No, said he, (with an air of more seriousness than I had yet Ibserved,) how much it is to be regretted, that, laying aside personal attacks and petty jealousies, they would not unite as one tan, and with one mind and one heart apply themselves sedu* mly to the internal improvement and developement of this eautiful Province, Its value is utterly unknown^ either to the \eneral or local Government, and the only persons who duly ajh reciate it are the Yankees. jj ;t! Mt iil •! -.ibrri^ . J: - - . 1 ,j;, CHAPTER XVII. . .ii.t\ A YANKEE HANDLE FOR A HALIFAX BLADE. I .no)i; I MET a man this niomin, said the Clockmaker, from laliFax, a rael conceited lookin critter as you een amost ever feed, nil shines and didos. He looked as if he had picked up airft after some officer of the rigilars had worn 'em out and k em off. They sot on him like second-hand clothes, as if hey hadn't been made for him, and didn't exactly ^t. He [oked fine, but awkward, like a captain of militia when he Bts his uniform on, to play sodger; a thinkin himself mighty m^sum* and that all the world is a lookin at him. He karched up and down afore the street-door like a peacock, as [rge as life and twice as nateral; he had a rldin-whip in his Mid, and every now and then struck it agin his thigh, as much to say, Aint that a splendid leg for a boot, now? "Won't I ktonish the Amherst folks, that's all? Thinks I, You are a petty blade, aint you? I'd like to fit a Yankee handle on to ou, that's a fact. When I came up, he held up his head near bout as high as a shot factory, and stood with his fists on his Ips, and eyed me from head to foot, as a shakin quiiker does a ]>wn lady; as much as to say, "What a queer critter you be, that's f :^ .ft t 1 i 'I Lie- s' iP*. il fl .t\-Ji: 72 THE CLOCKMAKEK. toggery I never seed afore, you're some carnal-minded maidc that sartain. Well, says he to me, with the air of a man that chucks a ceij into a beggar's hat, A fine day this, sir. Do you actilly thin ■0? said I, and I gave it the rael Connecticut drawl. WH •aid he, quite short, if I didn't think so, I wouldn't say Well, says I, I don't know, hut if I did think so, I guess I wouldn't say so. Why not? says he — Because I expect, sai I, any fool could see that as well as me; and then I stared liira, as much as to say, now, if you like that are swap, I ready to trade with you agin as soon as you like. Well, turned right round on his heel, and walked off, a whisli Yankee Doodle to himself. lie looked jist like a man tli finds whislin a plaguy sight easier than thinkin. Presently I heard him ax the groom who that are YankJ lookin feller was. That, said the groom ; why I guess its )lj Slick. Shot! said he, how you talk. What, Slick the Cioclj maker, why, it aint possible; I wish I had known that afore, I declare, for I have a great curiosity to see him — folU say he is araazin clever feller that — and he turned and starei as if it was Old Hickory himself. Then he walked round about like a pig round the fence of a potatoe field, a watchl for a chance to cut in; so, thinks I, I'll jist give him sometlJ to talk about, when he gets back to the city, I'll fix a Yankcf handle on him in no time. How's times to Halifax, sir, said I. Better, says he, mucj better, business is done on a surer bottom than it was, an things look bright agin So does a candle, says I, jist afurei goes out; it bums up ever so high, and then sinks right do\Ti and leaves nothin behind but grease, and an everlastin smell. I guess they don't know how to feed their lamp, andj can't burn long on nothin. No, sir, the jig is up with Ilalifai and it's all their own fault. If a man sits at his door, and sei stray cattle in his field, a eatin up of his crop, and his neighbou a cartin off his grain, and won't so much as go and drive 'em on why I should say it sarves him right. I don't exactly onderstand, sir, said he. Thinks I, It wou be strange if you did, for I never see one of your folks yet th could understand a hawk from a handsaw. Well, says I, I A YANKEE HANDLE. tell you ii\'bat I mean-— draw a line from Cnpe Sable to Cape Cansoo, right through the province, and it will split iiito two, this way, and I cut an apple into two halves ; now, says I, the worst half, like the rotten half of the apple, belongs to Halifax, and the other and sound half belongs to St. John. Your side of the province on the sea coast is all stone — I never see such a proper sight of rocks in my life, it's enough to starve a rabbit. Well, t'other side on the Bay of Fundy is a superfine country, [J J J^here aint the beat of it to be found anywhere. Now, wouldn't the folks livin away up to the Bay be pretty fools to go to Halifax, when they can go to St. John with half the trouble. St. John is the nateral capital of the Bay of Fundy, it will be the largest city in America next to New York. It has an im- mense back country as big as Great Britain, a first chop rirer, |and arr.azin sharp folks, most as 'cute as the Yankees — it's a lendid location for business. Well, they draw all the produce if the Bay shores, and where the produce goes the supplies turn — it will take the whole trade of the Province ; I guess our rich folks will find they've burnt their fingers, they've put eir foot in it, that's a fact. Houaes without tenants, wharves ithout shippin, a town without people — what a grand invest- ent ! ! If you have any loose dollars, let 'em out on mortgage Halifax, that's the security — keep clear of the country for our life — the people may run, but the town can^t. No, take way the troops and you're done — ^you'll sing the dead march folks did to Louisburg and Shelburne. Why you hant got a ingle thing worth bavin, but a good harbour, and as for that, e coast is full on 'em. You havn't a pine log, a spruce board, ir a refuse shingle ; you neither raise wheat, oats, or hay, nor erer can ; you have no staples on airth. unless it be them iron nes for the padlocks in Bridewell — you've sowed pride and eaped poverty, take care of your crop, for it's worth harvestin — ou have no river and no country, what in the name of fortin ive you to trade onl But, said he, (and he shewed the whites of his eyes like a all-eyed horse,) but, said he, Mr. Slick, how is it, then, lalifax iver grew at all, hasn't it got what it always had ? it's no worse an it was. I guess, said I, that pole aint strong enough to ar you neither ; if you trust to that you'ii be into the brook, a wou jet t4 .1 :1 f .,^^ .^<^ ]-'^^ ur , 1 H^ I, THE CLOCKMAKER. as sure as you are bom ; you once had the trade of the whole Province, but St. John has run off with that now — you've lost all but your trade in blue berries and rabbits with the niggers at Hammond Plains. You've lost your customers^ your rivals have a better stand for business — they've got the corner stone— four great streets meet there, a fid it's ne.ar tfta ma*'ket f;!fp. Well, he stared ; says he, I believe yOu re right, but I never thought of that aVO'-c ; (thinks I, Nobody ever suspected you of the trick of thinkin that ever I heer'd tell of:) some of our great men, said he, laid it all to your folks sellin so many Clocks and Polyglot Bibles, they say you have taken off a horrid sight of money. Did they, indeed, said I ; well, I guess it tante pins and needles that's the expense of house-keepin, it is something more costly than that. Well, some folks say it's the Banks, says he. Better still, says I, perhaps you've heard tell, too, that greasin the axle makes a gig harder to draw, for there's jist about as much sense in that. Well, then, says he, others say it's I smugglin has made us so poor. That guess, says I, is most as good as t'other one, whoever found out that secret ought to get a patent for it, for it's worth knowin. Then the country has grown poorer, hasn't it, because it has bought cheaper this year than it did the year before? Why, your folks are 'cute chaps I vow ; they'd puzzle a Philadelphia Lawyer, they are so amazii knowin. Ah, said he, and he rubb'd his hands and smiled like I a young doctor, when he gets his first patient; ah, said he, if the timber duties are altered, down comes St. John, body and breeches, it's built on a poor foundation — it's all show — they are speculatin like mad — they'll ruin themselves. Says I, If youl wait till they're dead for your fortin, it will be one while, I telll you, afore you pocket the shiners. It's no joke waiting for al dead man's shoes. Suppose an old feller of eighty was to savJ when that are young feller dies, I'm to inherit his property, what would you think? Why I guess you'd think he was anl old fool. No, Sir, if the English don't want their timber toem want it all, we have used ourn up, we hant got a stick even m whittle. If the English dont offer we will, and St. John, likeH «3««r little weepin wider, will dry up her tears, and take tj| iBToilckin agin, and accept it right off. 'X " There isn't at this moment such a location hardly in Americ A HALIFAX BLADE. 75 as St. John ; for beside all its other advantages, it has this great one, its only rival, Halifax, has got a dose of opium that nvill send it snorin out of the world, like a feller who falls asleep on Itbe ice of a winter's night. It has heen asleep so long, I actilly Itbink it never will wake. Its an easy death too, you may rouse Ithem up if you like, hut I vow I wont. I once hrought a feller Itoo that was drowned, and one night he got drunk and quilted le, I couldn't walk for a week ; sajrs Ij Youre the last chap 1*11 ever save from drownin in all my born days, if that's all the [thanks I get for it. No, Sir, Halifax has lost the run of its custom. Who does Yarmouth trade with? St. John. Who iocs Annapolis County trade with ? St. John. Who do all the folks on the Basin of Mines, and Bay shore, trade with ? St. John. ''ho does Cumberland trade with ? St. John. Well, Pictou, janenburg, and LiTerpool supply themselves, and the rest, that aint worth havin, trade with Halifax. They take down a few rved pigs, old viteran geese, and long-legged fowls, some ram lutton and tuf beef, and swap them for tea, sugar, and such little notions for their old women to home : while the railroads and canals of St. John are goin to cut off your Gulf shore trade Ito Miramichi, and along there. Flies live in the summer and iie in winter, youVe jist as noisy in war as those little critters, but you sing small in peace. No, youVe done for, you are up a tree, you may depend, pride lust fall. Your town is like a ball-room arter a dance. The Folks have eat, drank, and frolicked, and left an empty house ; pe lamps and hangings are left, but the people are gone. Is there no remedy for this ? said he, and he looked as wild as Cherokee Indian. Thinks I, The handle is fitten on proper |ight now. Well, says I, when a man has a cold, he had oujrht 10 look out pretty sharp, afore it gets seated on his lungs ; if he lon't, he gets into a gallopin consumption, and it^s gone goose nth him. There is a remedy, if applied in time : make a raiU id to Minas Basin, and yoii have a way for your customers to \d to yoUf and a conveyance for your goods to them. When I Tas to New York last, a cousin of mine, Hezekiah Slick, said to le, I do believe, Sam, I shall be ruined ; I've lost all my custom, liey are widenin and improvin the streets, and there's so many ts and people to work in it, folks can't come to my shop t9 ! .'i ■€A vt. 'r * 76 THE CLOCKMAKER. trade ; ^hat on airth shall I do, and I'm payin a dreudfal high I rent, too? Stop Ki, suys I, when the street is all finished off| and slicked up, they'll all come back agin, and a whole raft on I em too, you'll sell twice as much as ever you did, you'll put off a proper swad of goods next year, you may depend ; and so be did, he made money, hand over hand. A railroad will kring back your customers, if done right off; but wait till trade has made new channels, and fairly gets settled in them, and you'll never dirart it agin to all etarnity. When a feller waits till a gall gets married, I guess it will be too late to pop the question | then. St. John must go ahead at any rate ; you tnat/y if you choose, but you must exert yourselves, I tell you. If a man has onM one leg, and wants to walk, he must get an artificial one. If you have no river, make a railroad, and that will supply its place. But, says he, Mr. Slick, people say it never will pay in the world, they say its as mad a scheme as the canal. Do they, ii:deedf| says I ; send them to me then, and 111 fit the handle on to then)| in tu tu's. I say it will pay, and the best proof is, our folks y,i take tu thirds of the stock. Did you ever hear any one else but I your folks ax whether a dose of medicine would pay when it iras given to save life? If that everlastin long Erie caual can secure f to New York the supply of that far off country, most tother side of creation, surely a railroad of forty-five miles can give you thef trade of the Bay of Fundy. A railroad will go from Halifax m Windsor and make them one town, easier to send goods froral one to tother, than from Governor Campbell's House to Admiral Cockburn's. A bridge makes a town, a river makes a town, a canal makes a town, but a railroad is bridge, river, thoroughfare, canal, all in one : what a whappin large place that would make,! wouldn't it? It would be the dandy, that's a fact. No, when you go back, take a piece of chalk, and the first dark night, right on every door in Halifax, in large letters — a railroad'-\ and if they don^t know the meanin of it, says you, its a Yankeel word ; if you'll go to Sam Slick, the Clockmaker (the chap thatl fixed a Yankee handle on to a Halifax blade, and I made himal scrape of my leg, as much as to say that's you), every man thfil buys a clock shall hear all about a Railroad. THE GKaHAMITE. 77 CUAPTER XVIII. TUE QRAHAMITE AND THE IRISH PILOT. I THINK, said I, this is a happy country, Mr. Slick. The people are fortunately all of one origin, there are no national jealousies to divide, and no very violent politics to agitate them. They appear to be cheerful and contented, and are a civil, good- natured, hospitable race. Considering the unsettled state of almost every part of the world, I think I would as soon cast my lot in Nova Scotia as in any part I know of. Its a clever country, you lucy depend, said he, a very clever country ; full of mineral wealth, aboundin in superior water pri- vileges and noble harbours, a large part of it prime land, and it is in the very heart of the fisheries. But the folks put me in mind of a sect in our country they call the Grahamites — they eat no meat and no excitin food, and drink nothin stronger than water. They call it Philosophy (and that is such a pretty word it has made fools of more folks than them afore now)^ but I call it tarnation nonsense. I once travelled through the State of Maine with one of them are chaps. He was as thin as a whippin post. His skin looked like a blown bladder arter some of the air had leaked out, kinder wrinkled and rumpled like, and his eye as dim as a lamp that's livin on a short allowance of ile. He put me in mind of a pair of kitchen tongs, all legs, shaft, and head, and no belly ; a real gander-gutted lookin critter, as holler as a bamboo walkin cane, anu twice as yaller. He actilly looked as if he had been picked off a rack at sea, and dragged through a gimlet hole. He was a lawyer. Thinks I, The Lord a massy on your clients, you hungry, half-starved lookin critter, you, you'll eat *em up alive as sure as the Lord made Moses. You are just the chap to strain at a gnat and s waller a camel, tank, shank, and flank, all at a gulp. Weil, when we came to an inn, and a beef-steak was sot afore us for dinner, he'd say: Oh, that is too good for me, it's too ex- citin: all fat meat is diseased meat — ^give rae some bread and r J- k ! .1 , ■^ u • ) J ^ •M ^ mii f V 1 ^•4 ■^ f : ■a 78 THE CLOCKMAKER. cbeeie. Well, I'd say, I don't know what you call too good, but it tante good enough for me, for I call it as tuf as laushong; and that will bear chawing all day. When I liquidate for my dinner, I like to get about the best that's goin, and I an't a bit too well pleased if I don't. Excitin indeed ! ! thinks I. Lord, I should like to see you excited, if it was only for the fun of the thing. What a temptin lookin crittur you'd be among the galls, wouldn't you? Why, you look like a sutject the doctor boyg had dropped on the road artcr they had dug you up, and had cut stick and run for it. Well, when tea come, he said the same thing. It's too excitin, give me soiue water, do; that's follorin the law of natur. Well, says I, if that's the case, you ought to eat beef. Why, says he, how do you make out that are proposition? Why, says I, if drinkin water, instead of tea, is natur, so is eating grass accord, ing to natur; now all flesh is grass, we are told, so you bad better eat that and call it vegetable: like a man I once seed, who fasted on fish on a Friday, and when he had none, whipped a leg o'mutton into the oven, and took it out fish; says he, Its 'changed plaice,* that's all, and ''plaice ain't a bad fish. The Catholics fast enough, gracious knows, but then they fast on a great rousin big splendid salmon at two dollars and forty cents a pound, and lots of old Madeiry to make it float light on the stomach; there's some sense in mortifyin the appetite arter that fashion, but plaguy little in your way. No, says I, friend, you may talk about natur as you please, IVe studied natur all ray life, and I vow if your natur could speak out, it would tell you, it don't over half like to be starved arter that plan. If you know'd as much about the marks of the mouth as I do, you'd know that you have carniverous as well as graniverous teeth, and that natur meant by that, you should eat most anythin that are door-keeper, your nose, would give a ticket to, I ? pass into your mouth. Father rode a race to New York course, when he was near hand to seventy, and that's more nor you'll do, I guess, and he eats as hearty as a turkey cock, and he nevci confined himself to water neither, when he could get anything convened him better. Says he, Sam, grandfather Slick used i^ lay there was an old proverb in Yorkshire, * A full belly make: a strong back,' and I guess if you try it, natur will tell you so too. If ever ; he'll give you fast, and if tha Sam Slick. It tell you. It w have to shake good stowage, nothin like a g< shine, depend o Now this Pn it's too good foi valy or won^t natur.' As yoi than the blue-n ought to be qu politics, they hi enough about i too. Now with us mammouth bre^ the opposition, the War Office, the Secretary of Ambassadors ai a snarl of ravel that Ship of St clean up to th handsomely foi another, as thic I tell you: I d( on the decks al time, and keej alarm for fear < aground, or get This Provinc have berths enc to increase 'em thty'd be as we Tory narty and THE GRAHAMITE. 79 too. If ever you go to Connecticut, jist call into father's, and he'll give you a rael right dowm genuine New England break- fast, and if that don't happify your heart, then my name's not Sam Slick. It will make you feel about among the stiffest, I tell you. It will blow your jacket out like a pig at sea. You'll have to shake a reef or two out of your waistbans and make good stowage, I guess, to carry it all under hatches. There's nothin like a good pastur to cover the ribs, and make the hide ahine, depend onY .,.. ....> i. .. Now this Province is like that are Grahamite lawyer's beef, it's too good for the folks that's in it; they either don't avail its valy or won't use it, because work aint arter their Maw of natur.' As you say, they are quiet enougli (there's worse folks than the blue-noses, too, if you come to that,) and so they had ought to be quiet, for they have nothin to fight about. As for politics, they have nothin to desarve tlie name; but they talk enough about it, and a plaguy sight of nonsense they do' talk, too. Now with us, the country is divided into two parties of the mammouth breed, the ins and the outs, the administration and the opposition. But where's the administration here? Where's the War Office, the Foreign Office, and the Home Office? where's the Secretary of the Navy? where the State Bank? where's the Ambassadors and Diplomatists (them are the boys to wind off a snarl of ravellins as slick as if it were on a reel) and where's that Ship of State, fitted up all the way from the forecastle clean up to the starn post, chuck full of good snug berths, handsomely found and furnished, tier over tier, one above another, as thick as it can hold? That's a helm wortli handlen, I tell you: I don'^ wonder that fol'.is mutiny below, and fight on the decks above for it — it makes a plaguy uproar the whole time, and keep3 the passengers for everlastinly in a state of alarm for fear they'd do mischif by bustin the byler, a runnin aground, or gettin foul of some other craft. This Province is better as it is, quieter and happier far; they have berths enough and big enough, they should be careful not to increase 'em : and if they were to do it over agin, perhaps thty'd be as well with fewer. They have two parties here, the Tory narty and the Opposition party, and both on 'em run to me mn f .1 I I m 1 * ♦ -I 80 THE CLOCKMAKEE. extremes. Them radicals, says one, are for leyellin all down to tlieir own level, tho' not a peg lower; that's their gage, jist down to their own notch and no further ; and they'd agitate the whole country to obtain that object, for if a man can't grow to be as tall as his neighbour, if he cuts a few inches off him why then they are both of one height. They are a most dangerous, disaffected people — they are etarnally appealin to the worst passions of the mob. Well, says t'other, them aristocrats, they'll ruinate the country, they spend the whole revenu on themselves. What with Bankers, Councillors, Judges, Bishops, and Public Officers, and a whole tribe of lawyers as hungry as hawks, and jist about as marciful, the country is devoured, as if there was a flock of locusts a feeding on it. There's nothin left for roads and bridges. When a chap sets out to canvass, he's got to antagonise one side or t'other. If he hangs on to the powers that be, then he's a Councilman, he's for votin large salaries, for doin as the great people at Halifax tell him. He is a fool. If he is on t'other side, a railin at Banks, Judges, Lawyers, and such cattle, and baulin for what he knows he can't get, then He is a rogue. So that, if you were to listen to the weak and noisy critters on both sides, you'd believe the House of Assembly was one-half rogues and t'other half fools, All this arises from ignorance. If they knew more of each others I guess they'd lay aside one-half their fears and all their abuse, The upper class don't know one-half the vartue that's in the middlin and lower classes; and they don't know one-half tht integrity and good feeling that's in the others^ and both are fooled and gulled by their own noisy and designin champions. Take any two men that are by the ears, they opinionate all they hear of each other, impute all sorts of on worthy motives, and mis- construe every act; let them see more of each other, ana they'll find out to their surprise, that they have not only been looking thro* a magnifyin glass, that wam't very true, but a coloured one also, that changed the complexion and distorted the features, and each one will think t'other a rery good kind of chap, and like as not a plaguy pleasant one too. ^ ' If I was axed which side was farthest from the mark in this Province, I vow I should be puzzled to say. As I don't belong to the country, and don't care a snap of my finger for either of li, THE GRAHAHITE. fr 'em, I suppose I can judge better than any man in it, but J more I don't think there's much difference. The popular side (t wont say patriotic, for we find in our steam-boats a man who has a plaguy sight of property in his portmanter is quite as anxious for its safety as him that's only one pair of yam stockings and a clean shirt, is for hisn) the popular side are not so well informed as tother, and they have the misfortin of havin their passions addressed more than their reason, therefore they are often out of the way, or rather led out of it, and put astray by bad guides ; well, tother side have the prejudices of birth and iducation to dim their vision, and are alarmed to undertake a thing, from the dread of ambush or open foes, that their guides I are etarnally descrying ir^ the mist — and beside, power has a nateral tendency to corpulency. As for them guides, I'd make I short work of 'em if it was me. In the last war with Britain, the Constitution frigate was I close in once on the shores of Ireland, a lookin arter some imarohant ships, and she took on board a pilot; well, he was a deep, sly, twistical looking chap, as you can een amost ever leed. He had a sort of dark down look about him, and a lear out of the comer of one eye, like a horse that's going to kick The captain guessed he read in his face, * Well, now, if I was to run this here Yankee right slap on a rock and bilge her, the King would make a man of me for ever/ So, says he to the first ieftenant. Reeve a rope thro* that are block to the tip eend I of the fore yard, and clap a running nuse in it. The Ieftenant (lid it as quick as wink, and came back, and says he, I guess it's done. Now, says the Captain, look here, pilot, here's a lope you han't seed yet, I'll jist explain the uac of it to you in case you want the loan of it. If this here frigate, manned with oui free and enlightened citizens, gets aground, I'll give you a ride on the slack of that are rope, right up to that yard by the neck, by Gum. Well, it rub'd all the writin out of his face, as quick as spitten on a slate takes a sum out, you may depend. Now, they should rig up a crane over the street door of the State House to Hali&x, and when any of the pilots at either eend of the buildin, run 'em on the breakers on purpose, string 'em up like an onesafe dog. A sign of that are kind, with 'a house of public er^ertainmot,' painted cnder it, would do the busineti T J- *■.. »i i X V vfl ■r 'm ^ 1^3^' f'l 62 THE CLOCKMAKER. u in less than no time. It' it would'nt keep tl*e hawks out of thj •poultry yard, it's a pity — it ^vould scare them out of a yean) growth, that's a fact — if they had used it once, I guess thn wouldn't have occasion fo^ it agin in a hurry — it would be lihi the Aloe tree, and that bears fruit only once in a hundred year?. If you want to know how to act any time, Squire, never go t{ books, leave them to galls and school boys, but go right off aiicl cyplier it out of natur, that's a sure guide, it will never deceiv you, you may depend. For instance, what's that to me? is phrase so common that it shows it's a nateral one, when peopy have no partikilar interest in a thing. Well, when a feller geti 80 warm on either side as never to use that phrase at all, watcJ him, that's all! keep your eye on him, or he'll walk right intJ you afore you know where you be. If a roan runs to me anJ says, * Your fence is down,* Thank you, says I, that's kind — if trj comes agin and says, * I guess some stray cattle have broke inti your sliort scarce garden,* I thank him agin; says I, Come nowl this is neigh l)orly; but when he keeps etarnally telling me M thing of one sarvant, and that thing of another sarvant, lilna that my friends an't true, tliat my neighbours are inclined tJ take advantage of me, and that suspicious folks are seen aboii my place, I say to myself, "What on earth makes this critter talj such a wonderfp.l interest in my affairs ? I dont like to hn such tales — he's arter something as sure as the world, ifkl warnt he'd say, 'what's that to me?' I never believe muci what I heer said by a man's violent friend^ or violent enemy. want to hear what a disinterested man has to say — now, as i disinterested man, I say if the members of the House (f AssemljlA inxlead oj raisin up ghosts and hobgoblins to frighten folks n und to show what rjordsmen they be, a cuttin and a thrusiiniA phantoms that only exist in their own brains, would turn to lm\ and hand, and develope the resources of this fine counbX facilitate the means of transport, promote its internal imprml ment, and encourage Us foreign trade, they would make it A richest and greatest, as it now is one of^'ae happiest sections oj America—I hope I tnay he skinned if they wouldn't — they wwA f twan. tUi " -'' !.' , 1 » I s y M A BB qX7ILT8 A »LU£ NOSE. 83 , \ • I j: .1 I <,, , ' CHAPTER XIX. THE CLOCKMAKER QUILTS A BLUE-NOSE. The descendants of Eve liave profited little by her example. The curiosity of the fair sex is still insatiable, and, as it is often ill-directed, it frequently terminates in error. In the country, this feminine propensity is troul)lesome to a traveller, and he who would avoid importunities, would do well to announce at once, on his arrival at a Cumberhind Inn, his name and his business, the place of his abode, and the length of his visit. Our beautiful hostess, Mrs. Pugwash, as she took her seat at the breakfast table this morning, exhibited the example tliut suggested these *•' flections. She was struck with horror at oui conversation, tlie latter part only of which she heard, and of course misapplied and misunderstood. :,.;•, She was run down by the President, said I, and has been laid up for some time. Gulard's people have stripped her, in con- sequence of her making water so fast. Stripped whom ? said Mrs. Pugwash as she suddenly dropped the tea-pot from her hand; stripped whom, — for heaven's sake tell me who it is? The Lady Ogle, said I. Lady Ogle, said she, how horrid! Two of her ribs were so broken as to require to be replaced with new ones. Two new ribs ! said she, well I never heerd the beat of that in all my born days; poor critter, how she must have suffered. On examining her below the waist they found — • Examinin her still lower, said she, (all the pride of her sex revolting at the idea of such an indecent exhibition), you don''t pretend to say they stripped her below the waist; what did the Admiral say? Did he stand by and see her handled in that way? The Adniiral, Madam, said I, did not trouble his head about it. They found her extremely unsound there, and much worm-eaten. Worm-eaten, she continued, how awful ! it must have been them nasty jiggers that got in there they tell me they are dreadful thick in the West Indies: Joe Crow had them in his feet, and lost two of his toes. Worm-eaten, dear» I 1 ',t 1 i . :i «>■ ^ I' ■' c A tfW' .si if r^ r ■A w* < ■J" •» li' >' 1 »• -i'-",. ••;« ■-'! r ^1 \l %^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // 1.0 ^^Ui Jf Bi 122 ~ lit ■■■ |i& 12.0 I.I lU Fhotogr^jiic Sciences Corporation ^ ¥k^ •s? \\ as WIST MAIN STRin WIBSTM.N.Y. I4SM (7I6)«72-4S03 ? I THE CLOCKMAKER. dear! but still that aint so bad as havin them great he fellen strip one. I promise you if them Gulards had undertaken tc strip me, I'd a taught them different guess manners; I'd a died first before I'd submitted to it. I always heerd tell the English quality ladies were awful bold, but I neyer heerd the like o' that. What on airth are you drivin att said Mr. Slick. I never seed you so much out in your latitude afore, marm, I vow. V^^ were talkin of repairin a vessel, not strippin a woman; what onder the sun could have put that are crotchet into your head She looked mortified and humbled at the result of her own absurd curiosity, and soon quitted the room. I thought I should have snorted right out two or three times, said the Clockmaker; I had to pucker up my mouth like the upper eend of a silk puss, to keep from yawhawin in her face, to hear the critter let her clapper run that fashion. She is not the first hand that has caught a lobster, 'by puttin in her oar afore her turn, I guess. She'll mind her stops next hitch, I reckon. Thii was our last breakfast at Amherst. An early frost that smote the potatoe fields, and changed the beautiful green colour of the Indian com into shades of light yellow, and dark brown, reminded me of the presence of autumn — of the season of short days and bad roads. I deter- mined to proceed at once to Parrsboro, and thence by the Windsor and Kentville route to Annapolis, Yarmouth, and Shelburne, and to return by the shore road through Liverpool and Lunenburg to Halifax. I therefore took leave (though not without much reluctance) of the Clockmaker, whose intention had been to go to Fort Lawrence. Well, said he, I vow I an sorry to part company along with you; a considerable long journey, like ourn, is like sittin up late with the galls, a bodr knows it's gettin on pretty well towards mornin, and yet feeli loth to go to bed, for it's just the time folks grow sociable. I got a scheme in my head, said he, that I think will answer both on us; I got debts due to me in all tbem are places for Clocks sold by the concarn ; now spose you leave your horse on these marshes this fiill, he'll get as fat as a fool, he won'*t be able to see out of his eyes in a month, and I'll put * Old Clayy (I call him Clay arter our senator, who is a prime bit of stuff) into i ' R Yankee wag coast. This was too fbr my horse, i original and an to induce my a As soon as w lerved. We she goes etarnal fas a spanker, you ]rear old, all leg bim broke on He knows Engl but speak it. ] handsum quiltii said I, a horse time. Oh ! not Clay had a kick you broke at Pi flinders. Oh ! it's a pity. I'll E«ra Whitter's Deacon Text an sight of folks tl came to witness the ear mark. Well, I'd bee and had jist sot takin a glass of was trottin off Tim Bradley, yoa een amost c I stopped short, Tm proper sorr about it, I do ai sheatin vagaboi assorted hardwi tried out, Dowi kim better man HE QUILTS A BLUE-NOSE. f^ry I Yankee waggon I have here, and drive you all round the eoBst. This was too good an offer to be declined. A run at grass fbr my horse, an easy and comfortable waggon, and a guide so original and amusing as Mr. Slick, were either of them enough to induce my acquiescence. As soon as we had taken our seats in the waggon, he ob- lerved. We shall progress rael handsum now; that are horse goes etarnal fast, he near about set my axle on fire twice. He's spanker, you may depend. I had him when he was a two fear old, all legs and tail, like a deril's damin needle, and had him broke on purpose by father's old nigger, January Snow. He knows English rael well, and can do near about anything but speak it. He helped me once to ginn a blue-nose a proper handsum quiltin. He must hare stood a poor chance indeed, 8aid I, a horse kicking, and a man striking him at the same time. Oh ! not arter that pattern at all, said he; Lord, if Old Clay had a kicked him, he'd a smashed him like that are sarcer Tou broke at Pugnose's inn, into ten hundred thousand million flinders. Oh I no, if I didn't fix his flint for him in fair play, it's a pity. I'll tell you how it was. I was up to Truro, at Eira Whitter's inn. There was an arbitration there at ween Deacon Text and Deacon Faithful. Well, there was a nation tight of folks there, for they said it was a biter bit, and they came to witness the sport, and to see which critter would get the ear mark. Well, I'd been doin a little business there among the folks, and had jist sot off for *he river, mounted on Old Clay, arter takin a glass of Ezra^s most particular handsum Jamaiky, and was trottin off pretty slick, when who should I run agin but Tim Bradley. He is a dreadful ugly, cross-grained critter, at you een amost ever seed, when he is about half shaved. Well, I stopped short, and says I, Mr. Bradley, I hope you beant hurt, Tm proper sorry I run agin you, you can'*t feel uglier than I do about it, I do assure you. He called me a Yankee pedlar, a :heatin vagabond, a wooden nutmeg, and threw a good deal of assorted hardware of that kind at me; and the crowd of folks cried out, Down with the Yankee, let him have it, Tim, teach him better manners; and they carried on pretty high I tell you. ..( 86 THE CLOCKMAKER. "WeWy I got mj dander up too, I felt all up on eend like; and thinks I to myself, My lad, if I get a clever chance, I'll give you such a quiltin as you never had since you were raised from a seedjin, I vow. So, says I, Mr. Bradley, I guess you had hetter let me he; you know I can't fight no more than a cow — I never was brought up to wranglin, and I don^t like it. Haul off the cowardly rascal, they all bawled out, haul him off, and lay it into him. So he lays right hold of me by the collar, and gives me a pull, and I lets on as if I had lost my balance, and falls right down. Then I jumps up on eend, and says I, * Go ahead, Clay,' and the old horse he sets off ahead, so I knew I had him when I wanted him. Then, says I, I hope you are satisfied now, Mr. Bradley, with that are ongenteel fall yon ginn me. Well, he makes a blow at me, and I dodged it; now, says I, you'll be sorry for this, I tell you, I won't be treated this way for nothin ; I'll go right off, and swear my life agin you, I'm amost afeerd youll murder me. "Well, he strikes at me agin (thinkin he had a genuine soft horn to deal with), and hits me in the shoulder. Now, says I, I wont stand here to be lathered like a dog all day long, this fashion, it tante pretty at all, I guess I'll give you a chase for it. Off I sets arter ray horse like mad, and he arter me (I did that to get clear of the crowd, so that I might have fair play at him). Well, I soon found I had the heels of him, and could play him as I liked. Then I slackened up a little, and when he came close up to me, 80 as nearly to lay his hand upon me, I squatted right whap down, all short, and he pitched over me near about a rod or so, I guess, on his head, and plowed up the ground with his nose, the matter of a foot or two. If he didn't polish up the coulter, and both mould boards of his face, it's a pity. Now, says I, you had better lay where you be, and let me go, for I'm proper tired; I blow like ahorse that's got the heaves; and, besides, says I, I guess you had better wash your face, for I'm most afeerd you hurt yourself. Th.it ryled him properly; I meant | that it should; so he ups and at me awful spiteful, like a bull; then I let's him haye it, right, left, right, jist three corkers, be- ginnin with the right hand, shifting to the left, and then with the right hand agin. This way I did it, said the Clockmaker, (and he showed me the manner in which it was done), it's i HE QUILTS A BLUR-NOSE. 8T beautiful way of hittin, and always does the business— a blow kbr eiicli eye, and one for the mouth. It sounds like ten pouiidi \en on a blacksmith's anvil; I bunged up both eyes for him, knd put in the dead lights in two tu's, and drew three of his eeth, quicker, a plaguy sight, than the Truro doctor could, to ^ave his soul alive. Now, says I, my friend, when you recover jrour eyesight, I guess you'll see your mistake — I warn't bom in [he woods to be scared by an owl. The next time you feel in a lost particular elegant good humour, come to me, and I'll play |roa the second part of that identical same tune, that's a fact. With that, I whistled for Old Clay, and back he comes, and I lounted and off, jist as the crowd came up. The folks looked ktaggered, and wondered a little grain how it was done so pverly in short metre. If I didn't quilt him in no time you lay depend ; I went right slap into him, like a flash of lightnin ito a gooseberry bush. He found his suit ready made and itted afore he thought he was half measured. Thinks I, Friend iradley, I hope you know yourself now, for I vow no livin soul iv'ould : you swallowed your soup without singin out scalding, id you're near about a pint nearer cryin than larfin. Yes, as I was sayin, this ' Old Clay' is a real knowin one, jie's as spry as a colt, yet, clear grit, ginger to the back bone; can't help a thinkin sometimes the breed must have come rom old Kentuck, half horse, half alligator, with a cross of the thquake. I hope I may be tee-totally ruinated, if I'd take eight hun- Ired dollars for him. Go ahead, you old clinker-built villain, lid he, and show the gentleman how wonderful hand^iim you m travel. Give him the real Connecticut quick step. That^s It, that's the way to carry the President's message to Congress, from Washinton to New York, in no time — that's the go to barry a gall from Boston to Rhode Island, and trice her up to a Justice to be married afore her father's out of a bed of a sum- ler 8 momin. Aint he a beauty ? a rael doll ? none of your Cumberland critters, that the more you quilt them, the more |hey won't go: but a proper one, that will go free gratis for lothin, all out of his own head yohmterrily. Yes, a horse like Old Clay,' is worth the whole seed, breed, and generation of lem Amherst beasts put together. He's a horse, every inch of lim, stock, lock, and barrel, is Old Clay. '. li i tl --f^ 1 THE CLOCKMAKEB. I CHAPTER XX. SISTER BALL S COURTSHIP, There goes one of them are everlastin rottiu poles in that bridge ; they are no better than a trap for a critter's .egs, said tu\ Clockmaker. They remind me of a trap Jim MiJiroe put bii foot in one night, that near about made one leg half a yard longer than tother. I believe I told you of him, what a des{K>{ rate idle feller he was — he came from Onion County in Con- necticut. Well, he was courtin Sister Sail — she was a raell handsum looking gall ; you scarce ever seed a more out and out complete critter than she was — a fine figur head, and i beautiful model of a craft as any in the state ; a real clipper, and as full of fun and frolic as a kitten. Well, he fairly turned Sail's head ; the more we wanted her to give him up, the more she wouldn't, and we got plaguy oneasy about it, for his chan^ ter was none of the best. He was a universal favourite mm the galls, and tho' he didn't behave very pretty neither, for-i getting to marry where he promised, and where he hadn't ought to have forgot too ; yet so it was, he had such an uncommoo winnin way with him, he could talk them over In no time — Sallj was fairlv bewitched. At last, father said to him one evenin when he came ii courtin, Jim, says he, you'll never come to no good, if you act like old Scratch as you do ; you aint fit to come into no decent I man's house, at all, and your absence would be ten times morel agreeable than your company, I tell you. I won't consent to| Sail's goin to them are buskin parties and quiltin frolics alo with you no more, on no account, for you know how Polly I Brown and Nancy White . Now, don't says he, not don't. Uncle Sam ; say no more about that ; if you know'd all you wouldn't say it was my fault ; and, besides, I have turned rightabout, I am on tother tack now, and the long leg. too; I am as steady as a pump bolt, now. I intend to settle myseli tnd take a farm. Yes, yes, and you could stock it too by all SISTER SALL'S courtship. 89 I accounts, pretty well, unless you are much misreportcd, says father, but it won't do. I knowd your father, he was our sar- geant, a proper clever and brave man he was, too ; he was one of the heroes of our glorious revolution. I had a great respect for him, and I am sorry, for his sake, you will act as you do; I but I tell you once for all, you must give up all thoughts of Sail, now and for everlastin. When Sail heerd this, she began to nit away like mad in a desperate hurry — she looked foolish enough, that's a fact. First she tried to bite in hei breath, and look if there was nothin partikilar in the wind, then ihe blushed all over like scarlet fever, but she recovered that pretty soon, and then her colour went and came, and came and went, till at last she grew as white as chalk, and down she fell slap off her seat on the floor, in a faintin fit. I see, says father, I see it now, you etarnal villain, and he made a pull at the old iashioned sword, that always hung over the fire place, (we used to call it old Bunker, for his stories always begun, ' When I was at Bunkers Hill,') and drawin it out he made a clip at him as wicked as if he was stabbin a rat with a hay-fork ; but, Jim, he outs of the door like a shot, and draws it to arter him, and father sends old Bunker right through the panel. I'll chop lyou up as fine as mince meat, you villain, said he, if ever I leatch you inside my door agin; mind what I tell you, ^i/ou'll {swing for it yet' Well, he made himself considerable scarce arter [that, he never sot foot inside the door agin, and I thought he Ihad ginn up all hopes of Sail, and she of him; when one night, a most particular oncommon dark night, as I was a comin homo Ifrom neighbour Dearborne's, I heerd some one a talkin under ISall's window. Well, I stops and listens, and who shouid b& Inear the ash saplin, but Jim Munroe, a tryin to persuade Sail Ito run off with him to Rhode Island to be married. It was all ■settled, he should come with a horse and shay to the gate, and [then help her out of the window, jist at nine o'clock, about the Itiine she commonly went to bed. Then he axes her to reach Idown her hand for him to kiss, (for he was proper clever at lioft sawder) and she stretches it down and he kisses it ; and says |he, I believe I must have the whole of you artei all, and gives ler a jirk that kinder startled her ; it came so sudden like« made her scream : so off he sot hot foot^ and over the gate in 10 time. n J- ^.'* ■J \i' .; ^1 1- .•1 c /a -VM> "^j tm *5 46 € ^ r i1 »-<-* %t* *^ m ■-■*» "m ?=3» r ■4 V' m' F %■' :^.- \ 1 90 THE CLOCKMAKER • i Well, I cyphered oyer thig all night, a calculatin how I should reciprocate that trick with him, and at last I hit on a scheme. I reccollected father's words at partin, * mind what I tell you, you'll swing for it yely and thinks I, Friend Jim, I'll make the prophecy come true, yet, I guess. So the next night, jist at dark, I gives January Snow the old nigger, a nidge with my elbow, and as soon as he looks up, I winks and walks out and he arter me — says I, January, can you keep your tongue within your teeth, you old nigger you? Why, massa, why you ax that are question? my Oor Ormity, you tink Old Snow he dont know that are yet; my tongue he got plenty room now, debil a tooth left, he can stretch out ever so far, like a little leg in a big bed, he lay quiet enough, massa, neber fear. Well, then, says I, bend down that are ash saplin softly, you old Snowball, and make no noise. The saplin was no sooner bent than secured to the ground by a notched peg and a noose, and a slip knot atus | suspended from the tree, jist oyer the track that led from the pathway to the house. Why, my Gor, massa that's a Hold your mug, you old nigger, says I, or I'll send your tongue i a sarchin arter your teeth; keep quiet, and follow me in pre- sently. Well, jist as it struck nine o'clock, says I, Sally, hold this I here hank of twine for a minute, till I wind a trifle on it off; that's a dear critter. She sot down her candle, and I put the | twine on her hands, and then I begins to wind and wind anav ever so slow, and drops the ball every now and then, so as to I keep her down stairs. Sam, says she, I do believe you Avon't wind that are twine off all night, do give it to January, I won't stay no longer, I'm een amost dead asleep. The old feller's arm is so plaguy onsteady, says I, it won't do ; but hark, what's | that, I'm sure I heerd something in the ash saplin^ didn't you, Sail ? I heerd the geese there, that's all, says she ; they alwaji I come onder the windows at night: but she looked scared enough, and says she, I vow I'm tired a holdin out of arms this way, and I won't do it no longer : and down she throw'd th^ hank on the floor. Well, says I, stop one minit, dear, till I »end old January out to see if any body is there ; perhaps some 0* neighbour Dearborne's cattle have broke into the scarce ^den. January went out, tho' Sail say'd it was no use, for SISTER SALL'S courtship. 91 she knew the noise of the geese, they always kept close to the house at night, fur fear of the varmin. Presently in runs old Snow, with his linir staqdin up an eend, and the whites of his eyes lookin as big as the rims of a soup plate; Oh I Gor Ormity, said he, oh massn, oh Miss Sally oh ! ! What on airth is the matter with you, said Sally, how you do frighten me, I vow I believe you're mad — Oh my Gor, said he, oh! massa Jim Munroe he hang himself, on the ash saplin under Miss Sally's window — oh my Gor!!! That shot was a settler, it struck poor Sail right atwixt wind and water: sht. gave a lurch ahead, them heeled over and sunk right down in another fainting fit; and Juno, old Snow's wife, carried her off and laid down on the bed — poor thing, she felt ugly enough, I do Buppose. ' Well, father, I thought he'd a fainted too, he was so struck I up all of a heap, he was completely bung fungered: Dear, dear, said he, I didn't think it would come to pass so soon, but I knew it would come; I foretold it, says I; the last time I seed him, Jim, says I, mind what you say, you II swing for it \yel. Give me the sword I wore when I was at Bunker's hill, Imay be there is life yet, I'll cut him down. The lantern was Isoon made ready, and out we went to the ash saplin. Cut me Idown, Sam, that's a good feller, said Jim, all the blood in my |body was swashed into my head, and's a runnin out o' my nose, I'm een a most smothered — ^be quick, for heaven's sake. The )rd be praised, said father, the poor sinner is not quite dead yet. ly, as I'm alive — well if that don't be? t all natur, why he las hanged himself by one leg, and's a swingin like a rabbit ipside down, that's a fact. Why, if he aint snared, Sam, he is properly wired I declare — I vow this is some of your doings, 1 — well, it was a clever scheme too, but a little grain too langerous, I guess. Don't stand starin and jawin there all light, said Jim, cut me down, I tell you — or cut my throat and be damned to you, for I am choaking with blood. Roll over |hat are hogshead, old Snow, said I, till I get a top on it and |ut him down ; so I soon released him, but he couldn't walk a jit. His ancle was swelled and sprained like vengeance, and [le swore one leg was near about six indies longer than t'other. pm Munroe, says father, little did I think I should ever see t.O. f« 1 A ^ fe"' f» a? «« '»' >w^ > <■ « " f *' I A > \< # ^< M I THE CLOCB.MAKEE. you inside my door agin, but I bid you enter now, we owe you that kindness, any how. Well, to make a long story short, Jim was so chap fallen, and so down in the mouth, he begged for heaven's sake it might be kept a secret ; he said he would run the state, if ever it got wind, he was sure he couldn't stand it. It will be one while, I guess, said father, afore you are able to run or stand either; but if you will give me your hand, Jim, p.nd promise to give over your evil ways, 1 will not only keep it a secret, but you shall be a welcome guest at old Sam Slick's once more, for tie , sake of your father — he was a brave man, one of the heroes of | Bunker's Hill, he was our sergeant and . He promises, lays I, father, (for the old man had stuck his right foot out, the way he always stood when he told about the old war ; and as Jim couldn't stir a peg, it was a grand chance, and he was a I goin to give him the whole revolution from General Gage up to Independence) — he promises, says I, father. Well it was all settled, and things soon grew as calm as a pan of milk two dayj old; and afore a year was over, Jim was as steady agoin a man as Minister Joshua Hopewell, and was married to our Sail. No thin was ever said about the snare till arter the wcddin. When the minister had finished axin a blessin, father goes up to Jin, and says he, Jim Munroe, my boy, givin him a rousin slap on the shoulder that sot him a coughin for the matter of fiTe minutes (for he was a mortal powerful man was father) Jim Munroe, my boy, says he, you've got the snare round your neck I guess now, instead of your leg; the saplin has been a father] to you, may you be a father of many sapUns. We had a most special time of it, you may depend, all except I the minister; father got him into a corner, and gave him chapter and varse of the whole war. Every now and then as I come near them, I heard Bunker's Hill, Brandy wine, Clinton, Gates, and so on. It was broad day when we parted, and the last that went was poor minister. Father followed him clean down to the gate, and says he, Minister, we hadn't time this hitch, or I'd a told you all about the Evakyation of New York, but rU| tell you that next time wc meet. _..,.. ■, •• : ■ : k '■ IITTINO UP FOE A GOVERNOR. 93 CHAPTER XXI. SETTING UP FOR A GOVERNOR. I NEVER see one of them queer little odd-fashioned tcapota, like that are in the cuphoard of Marm Pugwash, said the Clock- maker, that I don't think of Lawyer Crowningshield and his wife. When I was down to Rhode Island last, I spent an evenin with them. Arter I had heen there a while, the black house-help brought in a little home-made dipt candle, stuck in a turnip sliced in two, to make it stand straight, and sot it down on the table. Why, says the lawyer to his wife. Increase, my dear, what on airth is the meaning o' that? What does little Viney mean by bringin in such a light as this, that ain*t I fit for even a log hut of one of our free and enlightened citizens i away down east ; where* s the lamp ? My dear, says she, I ordered it— you know they are a goin to set you up for a Governor next year, and I allot we must economise or we will be ruined — the salary is only four hundred dollars a year, you know, and you'll have to give up your practice — we can't afTord Inothin now. . . < , , Well, when tea was brought in, there was a little wee China I teapot, that held about the matter of half a pint or so, and cups and sarcers about the bigness of children's toys. When he seed that, he grew most peskily ryled, his under lip curled down like a peach leaf that's got a worm in it, and he stripped his teeth and showed his grinders, like a bull dog. What foolery is this ? said he My dear, said she, it's the foolery of bein Governor; if you choose to sacrifice all your comfort to bein the first rung in the ladder, don't blame me for it. I didn't nominate you. 1 had no art nor part in it. It was cooked up at that are Con- vention, at Town Hall. Well, he sot for some time without Bay in a word, lookin as black as a thunder cloud, just ready to hnake all natur crack agin. At last he gets up, and walks round behind his wife's chair, and takin her face between his two biadg, he turns it up, and gives her a buss that went off like a cS (•i1 , .^ be ^ii» » 4il 'm- t5 k- : » ■ t fH « t I it .X ) * -1 ;- ..I* \^ '-/y1 »4 THE CLOCK MAKER. pistol — it fairly mndc my mouth ^ntor to lee him; thiukt ij Them lips aint n bnd bank to deposit one's spare kisses in, neither. Increase, my dear, said he, I believe you are half rigiit, I'll decline to*niorrow, 111 have nothin to do with it — /{ won't he a Governor^ on no account. Well, she Imd to haw and to gee like, both a little, afore shel could get her head out of his hands: and then she said. Znchnriah, says she, how you do act, aint you ashamed ? Do i for gracious sake behare himself; and she coloured up all over like a crimson piany; if you hav^nt foozled all my hnir too, that's a fact, says she; and she put her curls to rights, aud looked as pleased as fun, though poutin all the time, and walkd right out of the room. Presently in come two well-dressed house-helps, one with a splendid gilt lamp, a rael London touch, and another with a tea-tray, with a large solid silver coffee-pot, and tea-pot, and a cream jug and sugar bowl of tht { same genuine metal, and a most elegant set of rael gilt china Then came in Marm Crowningshield herself, lookin as proud ail if she wouldn't call the PMtident her cousin : and die gare | the lawyer a look, as much ai to say, I guess when Mr. Slick is gone, I'll pay you oH that are kiss with interest, yoo I dear, you — I'll answer a bill at sight for it, I will, you maj { depend. I believe, said he agin, you are right. Increase, my dear ; iti I an expensive kind of honour that bein Governor, and no great thanks nither ; great cry and little wool, all talk and no cider- its enough I guess for a man to gorem his own family, aint it dear? Sartin, my love, said she, sartin, a man is never 8o| much in his own proper sphere aa there ; and beside, said she. his will is supreme to home, there is no danger of any one non- concurring him there, and she gave me a sly look, as much at I to say, I let him think he is master in his own hou8e,^r tohn ladies wear the breeches^ their petticoats ought to be long enougk to hide em; but I allot, Mr. Slick, you can see with half an ej(| that the ' grey mare is the better horse here.' What a pity it is, continued the Clockmaker, that the bloc I noses wouldn't take a leaf out of Marm Crowningshield's book- talk more of their own affairs and less of politics. I'm sick of the everlastin sound ' House of Assembly/ and 'Council/ and 8BTTIN0 UP FOR A GOVERNOR. •(rront folks.' Thej never nllcvinte talking about them from July to etarnity. 1 had a curious conversation about politics once, away up to the right here. Do you nee that are house, said he, in the field, that's got a lurch to lee^vard, like a North River sloop, struck \\\\\\ a squnll, off West Point, lopsided like? It looks like S<'tli Pine, a tailor down to Hartford, that had one leg shorter than t'other, when he stood at ease at malitia trainin, a restin on the littlest one. Well, I had a special frolic there the last time I passed this way. I lost the linch pin out of my forred nxlo, and I turned up there to get it sot to rights. Just as I drove through the gate, I saw the eldest gall a makin for the house for dear life — she had a short petticoat on that looked like a kilt, and her bare legs put me in mind of the long shanks of a bittern down in a rush swamp, a drivin away like mad full chizel arter a frog. I could not think \That on airth was the matter. Thinks I, she wants to make herself look decent like afore I get in, she don't like to pull her stockings on afore me ; so I pulls up the old horse, and let her have a fair start. Well, when I came to the door, I heerd a proper seuddin ; there was a rigilar flight into Egypt, jist such a noise as little children make when the mistress comes suddenly into school, all a huddlin and scroudgin into their seats, as quick as wink. Deat me, says the old woman, as she put her head out of a broken winder to avail who it was, is it you, Mr. Slick ? I sniggv<^rs if you didn't frighten us properly, we actilly thought it was the Sheriff; do come in. '■■' »♦•-' ^' Poor thing, she looked half starved and half savage, hunger and temper had made proper strong lines in her face, like water furrows in a ploughed field ; she looked bony and thin, like a horse that has had more worn than oats, and a wicked expres- sion, as though it wamt over safe to come too near her heels — an everlastin kicker. You may come out, John, said she to her Imsband, its only Mr. Slick : and out came John from onder the hed backwards, on all fours, like an ox out of the shoein frame, or a lobster skullin wrong eend foremost — he looked as wild as a hawk. Well, I swan I thought I should have split, I could hardly keep from bustin right out with larftor — he wai &11 covered with feathers, iint^ and dust, the savins of all the ,r >tf% MM < i I ^ .4 1 «■ • 1 It t I '■ 1 96 TUB CLOCKMAKBK. ii H sweepins since the house was huilt, shoved under there fo; tidiness. He actilly sneezed for the matter of ten minutes — he seemed half chokd with the fluff and stuff that came out with him like a cloud. Lord he looked like a goose half picked, as if all the quills were gone, but the pen feathers and down were left, jist ready for singin and stuffin. He put me in mind of a sick Adjutant, a great tall hulkiu bird that comes from the East Indgies, amost as high as a man, and most as knowin as a blue- nose. I'd a ginn a hundred dollars to have had that chap as a show at a fair — tar and feathers wam't half as nateral. You're seen a gall both larf and cry at the same time, hante you ? well I hope I may be shot if I couldn't have done the same. To see that critter come like a turkey out of a bag at Christmas, to be fired at for ten cents a shot, was as good as a play: but to look round and see the poverty — the half naked children — the old pine stumps fcr chairs — a small bin of poor watery yaller pota- toes in the comer — daylight through the sides and roof of the house, lookin like the tarred seams of a ship, all black where the smoke got out — ^nq utensils for cookin or eatin — and star- vation wrote as plain as a handbill on their holler cheeks, ikinney fingers, and sunk eyes, went straight right to the heart. I do declare I believe I should have cried, only they didn't seem to mind it themselves. They had been used to it, like a man that's married to a thunderin ugly wife, he gets so accustomed to the look of her everlastin dismal mug, that he don't think her ugly at all. Well, there was another chap a settin by the fire, and he dii look as if he saw it and felt it too, he didn't seem over hah pleased, you may depend. He was the District Schoolmaster, and he told me he was takin a spell at boardin there, for it was their turn to keep him. Thinks I to myself. Poor devil, you've brought your pigs to a pretty market, that's a fact. I see how it is, the blue-noses can't * cypher.' The cat's out of the bag now — it's no wonder they don't go ahead, for they don'*t know nothin — the * Schoolmaster is abroad* with the devil to it, foi he has no home at all. Why, Squire, you might jist as ^vel expect a horse to go right off in gear, before he is halter broken as a blue-nose to get on in the world, when he has got no sehoolin. SETTING UP FOR A GOVERNOR. 97 Bat to get back to my story. ' Well, says I, honv's times with fou, Mrs. Spryf Dul], says she, very dull, there's no markets I now, things don't fetch nothin. Thinks I, Some folks hadnt ought to complain of markets, for they don't raise nothin to sell, but I didn't say so ; for poverty is keen enough^ milhout sharpen- \%ng Us edge 6y poking fun at it. Potatoes, says I, will fetch a good price this fall, for it's a good crop in a general way; how's your'n ? Grand, says she, as complete as ever you seed ; our hops were small and didn't look well ; but we have the hand- isomest bottoms its generally allowed in all our place; you nevei Iseed the beat of them, they are actilly worth lookin at. I vow |l had to take a chaw of tobacky to keep from snortin right out, lit sounded so queer like. Thinks I to myself. Old lady, it's a Ipity you couldn't be changed eend for eend then, as some folks Ido their stockings ; it would improve the look of your dial-plate lamazingly then, that's a fact. f v. v vv * . rvv. 'it\ >t) Now there was human natur. Squire, said the Clockmaker, there was pride even in that hovel. It is found in rags as well King's robes, where butter is spread with the thumb as teW as the silver knife, natur is natur wherever you find it, Jist then, in came one or two neighbours to see the sport, for they took me for a sheriff or constable, or something of that 9reed, and when they saw it was me, they sot down to hear the lews ; they fell right to at politics as keen as anything, as if vt lad been a dish of real Connecticut Slap Jacks, or Hominy ; or rhat is better still, a glass of real gemiine splendid mint julep vhe-eU'Up, it fairly makes my mouth water to think of it. I ^vender, says one, what they will do for us this winter in the [o se of Assembly 1 Nothin, says the other, they never do lothin but what the great people at Halifax tell 'em. Squire Teoman is the man, he'll pay up the great folks this hitch, he'll let 'em have their own, he's jist the boy that can do it. Says [. I wish I could say all men were as honest then, for I ara it'ear d there are a great many won't pay me up this winter ; I ^hould like to trade with your friend, who is he ? Why, says W, he is the member for Isle Sable County, and if he don't let [he great folks have it, it's a pity. Who do you call great pks? for, said I, I vow I hav'nt see'd one since I came here. ^e only one I know that comes near hand to one is Nicholas ti.*' I ? -•1 ■ .1 1 in 98 THE CLOCKMAKER ^^ CKerknocker, that lives along shore, about Margarets Bay, anj he is & great raan, it takes a yoke of oxen to drag him. When I I first seed him, says I, What on airth is the matter o' that man. has he the dropsy? for he is actiliy the greatest man I erer seed; he must weigh the matter of five hundred weight; he'c cut three inches on the rib, he must have a proper sight oi lard, that chap. No, says I, don't call 'em great men, for then aint a great man in the country, that's a fact; there aint ont that desarves the name ; folks will only larf at you if you tali that way. There may be some rich men, and I believe then be, and it's a pity there wam't more on 'em, and a still greaterl pity they have so little spirit or enterprise among 'em^ but a I country is none the worse of having rich men in it, y^u mar depend. Great folks I well, come, that^s a good joke, that bangil the bush. No, my friend, says I, the meat that's at the tou of the barrel^ is sometimes not so good as that thaVs a little grm\\ lower down; the upper and lower eends are plaguy apt to ham a little taint in 'em, but the middle is always good»iviu m ■> «rti Well, says the blue-nose, perhaps they beant great mei| exactly in that sense, but they are great men compared to ul poor folks: and they eat up all the revenue, there's nothin leftl for roads and bridges, they want to ruin the country, that's il feet. Want to ruin your granny, says I, (for it raised njl dander to hear the critter talk such nonsense.) I did hear A Dne chap, says I, that sot fire to his own house once, up ti| Squantum, but the cunnin' rascal insured it first; now how cail your great folks ruin the country without ruinin themselreiil unless they have insured the Province? Our folks will insunl all creation for half nothin, but I never heard tell of a couDtij| being insured agin rich men. Now if you ever go to \V Street, to get such a policy, leave the door open behind yoJ that's all ; or they'll grab right hold of you, shaver, you hi and blister it, clap a straight jacket on you, and whip you ri[ into a mad house, afore you can say Jack Robinson. No, yool great men are nothin but rich men, and I can tell you f«l your comfort, there's nothin to hinder you from bein rich to«i| if you will take the same means as they did. They were om all poor folks as you be, or their fathers afore them ; r I knowl their whole breed, seed, and generation, and they wouldDil ^ank you to tell them that you knew their fathers an grand*! SETTING UP POR A GOVERNOR. 99 Others, I tell you. If erer you want the loan of a hundred pounds from any of them, keep dark about that-^see as far ahead as you please, but it tante always pleasant to have folks see too iar back. Perhaps they be a little proud or so, but I that's nateral; all folks that grow up right off, like a mushroom in one night, are apt to think no small beer of themselves. A cabbage has plaguy large leaves to the bottom, and spreads them out as wide as an old woman'*s petticoats, to hide the groimd it sprung from, and conceal it's extraction, but what's that to youl If they get too large saleries, dock 'em down at once ; but don't keep talkin about it everlastinly. If you have too many larvants, pay some on 'em off, or when they quit your sanrice, don't hire others in their room, that's all : but you miss I your mark when you keep firin away the whole blessed time jthatway. .,,^ \,^'.v ,r • '^, t,^- ....•'.- I went out a gunnin when I was a boy, and father went {with me to teach me. Well, the first flock of plover I see'd I let slip at them and missed them. Says father, says he. What la blockhead you be, Sam, that's your own fault, they were too Ifar off, you hadn't ought to have fired so soon. At Bunker's Ihill we let the British come right on till we see'd the whites of I their eyes, and then we let them have it slap bang. Well, I Ifelt kinder grigged at missin my shot, and I didn't over half hike to be scolded too; so, says I, Yes, father; but recollect lyou had a mud bank to hide behind, wh^re you were proper safe, and you had a rest for your guns too; but as soon as you see'd a little more than the whites of their eyes, you run foi lyour dear life, full split, and so I don't see much to brag on in that larter all. so come now. I'll teach you to talk that way, you puppy, you, said he, of that glorious day ; and he fetched me a wipe that I do believe, if I hadn't dodged, would have spiled my gunnin for that hitch; so I gave him a wide berth arter that all day. Well, the next time I missed, says I, She hung fire so everlastinly, it's no wonder, and the next miss, says I, IThe powder is no good, I vow. Well, I missed every shot, and ll had an excuse for every one on 'em — ^the flint was bad, or she flashed in the pan, or the shot scaled, or something or another; and when all wouldn't do, I swore the gun was no good at all. Now, says father, (and he edged up all the time« to pay me off 100 THE CLOCKMAKER. f 4 for that hit at his Bunker's hill story, which was the onlj shot I didn't miss,) you han't got the right reason arter all. It wai your own fault, Sam. Now that's jist the case with you; you may hiame Banks and I Council, and House of Assembly, and ' the great men,' {ill yon are tired, but it's all your own fault — tfou've no spirit and no| enterprise, you want industry and economy; use them^ and you'll soon be as rich as the people at Halifax you call great folks'*\ they didn't grow rich by talkin, but by workin; instead of lookin arter other folks' business, they looked about the keenest arter their own. You are like the machinery of one of oiir| boats, good enough,, and strong enough, but of no airthly use i you get the steam up; you want to be set in motion, and thenj you'll go ahead like any thing, you may depend. Give politics — it's a barren Jield^ and well watched too; where o;«| critter jumps a fence into a good field and gets fat^ more m\ twenty are chased round and round by a whole pack of yelfim curs, till they are fairly beat out, and eend by bein half starved and are at the liften at last. Look to your farms — your waia\ powers — your fisheries, and factories. In short, says /J puttin on my hat and startin, look to yourselves, and dont look m others. > '■''"^' ^• IVv ■tr. CHAPTER XXn. A CURE FOR CONCEIT. '■vis- it's a most curious unaccountable thing, but it's a fact, said the Clockmaker, the blue-noses are so conceited, they think they know everything; and yet there aint a liyin soul in NoTaj Scotia, knows his own business real complete, farmer or fisher- man, lawyer or doctor, or any other folk. A farmer said to me I one day, up to Pugnose's inn, at River Philip, Mr. Slick, sajs he, I allot this aint ^a bread country;* I intend to sell off the house I improve, and go to the States. If it aint a bread country, said I, I never see'd one that was. There is more bread used here, made of best superfine flour, and No 1, Genessee, than in any other place of the same population in tlit nnivarse. You might as well say it aint a Clock country, vrhei to my sartin knowledge there are more clocks than bibles in it A CURE FOR CONCEIT. 10* |l guess jou expect to raise your bread ready made, don't youf |Well, there's only one class of our free and enlightened citizens that can do that, and that's them that are bom with silver spoons in their mouths. It's a pity you wasn't availed of this truth, afore you up killoch and off — take my advice and bide rhere you be. Well the fishermen are jist as bad. The next time you go ^nto the fish-market at Halifax, stump some of the old hands; Bays you, * How many fins has a cod, at a word,' and I'll liquidate the bet if you lose it. When I've been along shore afore now vendin of my clocks, and they began to raise my dander, by |)elittleing the Yankees, I always brought them up by a round (urn by that requirement, ' How many fins has a cod at a wordf ^ell they never could answer it; and then, says I, When you lam your own business, I guess it will be time enough to teach )ther folks theim. How different it is with our men folk, if they can't get thro* question, how beautifully they can go round it, can't they ? N^othin never stops them. I had two brothers, Josiah and Eldad, me was a lawyer and the other a doctor. They were talkin ibout their examinations one night, at a buskin frolic, up to ruvemor Ball's big stone bam at Slickville. Says Josy, When was examined, the judge axed me all about real estate; and, ays he, Josiah, says he, what's a fee ? Why, says I, Judge, it lepends on the natar of the case. In a common one, says I, call six dollars a pretty fair one; but Lawyer Webster has got ifore now, I've heerd tell, 1,000 dollars, and that I do call a Well, the judge be larfed ready to split his sides; (thinks lee. [, Old chap, you'll bust like a steam byler, if you han't got a fety valve somewhere or another,) and, says he, I vow that's superfine; I'll indorse your certificate for you, young man; [there's no fear of you, you'll pass the inspection brand any how. Well, says Eldad, I hope I may be skinned if the same thing Ididn't een amost happen to me at my examination. They axed Ime a nation sight of questions, some on 'em I could answer, and |«ome on 'em no soul could, right off the reel at a word, without la little cypherin; at last they axed me, 'How would you calculate Ito put a patient into a sweat, when common modes wouldn't [work no how?* Why, says I, I'd do as Doctor Comfort Payne nrred fiither. And how was that) said tbey. Why, says I, hf *.Ji I ■ 1 102 THE CLOCKMAKER. put him into such a sweat as I never see'd in him afore, in all my horn days, since I was raised, hy sending him in his bill, find if that didn't sweat him it's a pity; it was an active dose you may depend. I guess that are chap has cut his eye teeth, Kud the President, let him pass as approbated. They both knowed well enough, they only made as if tliej didn't, to poke a little fun at them, for the Slick family were counted in a general way to be pretty considerable cute. They reckon themselves here, a chalk above us Yankees, but I guess they have a wrinkle or two to grow afore they progress ahead on us yet. If they han't got a full cargo of conceit here, Lhen I never see'd a load, that's all. They have the hold cliock full, deck piled up to the pump handles, and scuppers under water. They lamt that of the British, who are actily so full of | it, they remind me of Commodore Trip. When he was about half shaved he thought every body drunk but himself. I never I liked the last war, I thought it unnateral, and that we hadn't ought to have taken hold of it at all, and so most of our Neir England folks thought, and I wasnH sorry to hear Gineral Dearbome was beat, seein we had no call to go into Canada. But when the Guerriere was captivated by our old Ironsides, the Constitution, I did feel lifted up amost as high as a stalk o( Yarginy corn among Connecticut middlins; I grew two inches taller, I vow, the night I heerd that news. Brag, says I, is a good dog, but Hold-fast is a better. The British navals haye been a braggin and hectorin so long, that when they landed in our cities, they swaggered e^en amost as much as Uncle Peleg (big Peleg as he was called), and when he walked up the centre of one of our narrow Boston streets, he used to swing his arms on each side of him, so that folks had to clear out of both foot paths; he's cut afore now, the fingers of both hands agin the shop windows on each side of the street. Many's the poor fellow's crupper bone he's smashed, with his thick boots, a throwin out his feet afore him e'en amost out of sight, when he was in full rig a swigglin away at the top of his gait. Well, I they cut as many shines as Uncle Peleg. One frigate then guessed would captivate, sink, or bum our whole navy. Sajsl A naval one day, to the skipper of a fishing-boat that he took,| ■ays he. Is it true Commodore Decatur's sword is made of i old iron hoop? Well, says the skipper, I'm not quite certifiedl A CURE FOR CONCEIT. lOS 11 to (hat, leein as I never sot eyes on it; but I guess if he gets a chance he'll show you the temper of it some of these days any how, n ^ e ■ I mind once a British man-o'-war took one of our Boston Iressels, and ordered all hands on board, and sent a party to slnittle her: well, they skuttled the fowls and the old particular genuine rum, but they obliviated their arrand and left her. hVell, next day another frigate (for they were as thick as toads larter a rain) comes near her, and fires a shot for her to bring to. iNo answer was made, there being no liyin soul on board, and janother shot fired, still no answer. Why, what on airth is the neanin of this, said the Captain, why don't they haul down Ithat damn'd goose and gridiron? (that's what he called our eagle id stars on our flag.) Why, says the first leftenant, I guess iiey are all dead men, that shot frightened them to death. iiey are afeerd to show their noses, says another, lest they ^ould be shaved off by our shots. They are all down below a fcalculatin' their loss, I guess, says a third. Ill take my davy, ays the Captain, it's some Yankee trick, a torpedo in her ottom, or some such trap — we'll let her be, and sure enough, next day, back she came to shore of herself. I'll give you a Iquarter of an hour, says the Captain of the Guerriere to his len, to take that are Yankee frigate, the Constitution. I less he found his mistake where he didn't expect it, without any great sarch for it either. Yes, (to eventuate my story) it lid me good. I felt dreadful nice, I promise you. It was as lovely as bitters of a cold momin. Our folks beat 'em arter Ihat so often, they got a little grain too much conceit also, ley got their heels too high for their boots, and began to walk |ike Uncle Peleg, too, so that when the Chesapeake got w^hipped wam't sorry. We could spare that one, arid it made our iTals look round, like a feller who gets a hoist, to see who's a at him. It made 'em brush the dust off, and walk on ather sheepish. It cut their combs, that's a fact. The wai [id us a plaguy sight of good in more ways than one, and it nd the British some good, too. It taught em not to carry lieir shins too high, for fear they shouldn't sTas begot, he said, by Boncesvalles, which was better than any horse that ever was seen, because he was once in a duke's stable in England. It was only a man that had blood like a lord, said be, that knew what blood in a horse was. Captain Currycomb, nn officer at Halifax, had seen his horse and praised him, and that was enough — that stamped him — that fixed his value, I( was like the President's name to a bank note, it makes it pass current. Well, says I, I han't got a drop of blood in me nothin stronger than molasses and water, I vow, but I guess I know a horse when I see him for all that, and I don't think any great •hakes of your beast, any how ; what start will you give me, saj$ I, and I will run ' Old Clay' agin you, for a mile lick right an eend. Ten rods, said he, for twenty dollars. Well, we run and I made * Old Clay' bite in his breath, and only beat him by half a neck. A tight scratch, says I, that, and it would have sarved me right if I had been beat. I had no business to run an old roadster so everlastin fast, it ain^t fair on him, is it? Says he, I will double the bet and start even, and run you agin if you dare. Well, says I, since I won the last it wouldn't be pretty not to give you a chance ; I do suppose I oughtn't to refuse, but I don't love to abuse my beast by knockin him about this way. . As soon as the money was staked, I said. Hadn't we better, says I, draw stakes, that are blood horse of your n has such un- common particular bottom, he'll perhaps leave me clean out of sight. No fear of that, says he, larfin, but he'll beat you easy, any how. No flinchin, says he, I'll not let you go back of the bargain. It's run or forfeit. Well, says I, friend, there is no fear of it; your horse will leave me out of sight, to a sartainty, that's a fact, for he can't keep up io me no time, I'll drop him, hull down, in tu tu's. If Old Clay didn't make a fool of hinii it'i a pity. Didn't he gallop pretty, that s alii He walked awa; A CURE FOR CONCEIT. 105 from hini) jist as the Chancellor Livingston steam-boat pastes a sloop at anchor in the North River. Says I, I told you your \orse would beat me clean out of sight, but you wouldn't believe me; now, says I, I will tell you something else. That are horse will help you to lose more money to Halifax than you are a thinkin on ; for there ain't a beast gone down there that wont beat him. He can't run a bit, and you may tell the British Cap- tain I say so. Take him home and sell him^ buy a good yoke oj oien; they are fast enough for a farmer^ and give up blwd horses I to them that can afford to keep stable-helps to tend *em^ and leave bellin alone to them' as has more money than wit, and can afford I to lose their cash, without thinkin agin of their loss. When / watit I your advice, says he, I will ask tV, most peskily sulky. You I might have got it before you axed fox it, said I, but not afore you wanted it, you may depend on it. But stop, said I, let's see that all's right afore we part; so I counts over the fifteen pounds I won of him, note by note, as slow as anything, on purpose to ryle him, then I mounts Old Clay agin, and says I, Friend, you have considerably the advantage of me in this hitch, any how. Possible? says he, how's that? Why, says I, I guess you'll return rather lighter than you came — and that's more nor I can say any how, and then I gave him a wink and a jupe of the head as mucli as to say. Do you take? and rode on and left him starin and scratchin his head like a feller who's lost his road. If that citizen ain't a born fool or too far gone in the disease, depend on't, he found ^ a cure for conceit,' '■'jl f vi3 (1 ; CHAPTER XXIIL , THE BLOWIN TIMB. ' '. ^ The long rambling dissertation on conceit to which I had just listened, from the Clockmaker, forcibly reminded me of the cele- brated aphorism ^ gnothi seauton,' Know thyself, which, both from its great antiquity and wisdom, has been by many attributed ^0 an oracle. With all his shrewdness to discover, and his humours to ridicule the foibles of others, Mr. Slick was blind to the many defects of his own character; and, while prescribing ' a cure for tl- 1 106 THE CLOCKMA&ER. VI conceit,' exhibited in all he said, and all he did, the most ove^ | weening conceit himself. He never spoke of his own country^ men without calling them ^the most free and enlightened I citizens on the face of the airth/ or as ' takin the shine off all creation/ His country he boasted to be the * best atween the poles,' ' the greatest glory under heaven/ The Yankees he con« sidered (to use uis own expression) as ' actilly the class-leaden in knowledge among all the Americans,' and boasted that then have not only 'gone ahead of all others,' but had lately arrived | at that most enviable ne plus ultra point, * goin ahead of them' selves/ In short, he entertained no doubt that Slickville was! the finest place in the greatest nation in the world, and the Slick { ^Mnily the wisest family in it. i was about calling his attention to this national trait, when I I saw him draw his reins under his foot, (a mode of driving peculiar to himself, when he wished to economise the time that would otherwise be lost by an unnecessary delay,) and taking off his hat, (which, like a pedlar's pack, contained a general assort- ment,) select fcom a number of loose cigars one that appeared I likely to ' go,' as he called it. Having lighted it by a lucifer, and ascertained that it was ' true in draft,' he resumed his reins, and remarked, ' This must be an everlastin fine country beyond all doubt, for the folks have nothin to do but to ride about and talk politics. In winter, when the ground is covered with snow, what grand times they have a slayin over these here marshes with the galls, or playing ball on the ice, or goin to quiltin frolics of nice long winter evenings, and then a drivin home like mad by moonlight. Natur meant that season on purpose for courtin. A little tidy scrumptious looking slay, a real clipper of a horse, a string of bells as long as a string of inions round his neck, and a sprig on" his back, lookin for all the world like a bunch of apples broke off at gatherin time, and a sweetheart alongside, all muffled up but her eyes and lips — the one lookin right into yon, and the other talkin right at you — is e'en amost enough to dme one ravin, tarin, distracted mad with pleasure, aint it? And then the dear critters say the bells make such • din there's no hearin one's self speak ; so they put their pretty little mugs clow ap to your face, and talk, talk, talk, till one can't help looking right at them instead of the horse, and then whap you bothgtj capsized in .-9 a snow drift together, ildiii, — «hions, and all THE BLOWIN TIME. 107 Lad then to see the little critter shake herself when she gets up, like a duck landin from a pond, a chatterin away all the time like a Canary hird, and you a haw-hawin with pleasure, is fun Ulire, you may depend. In this way blue-nose gets led on to pffer himself as a loyier, afore he knows where he bees. But when he gets married, he recovers his eyesight in little less Ihan half no time. He soon finds he's treed : his flint is fixed [ben, you may depend. She lams him how vinegar is made ; '«/ plenty of sugar into the mater ajbrehand, my dear, says she, ^you want to make it real sharp. The larf is on the other side ^f his mouth then. If his slay gets upsot, its no longer a funny latter, I tell you ; he catches it right and left. Her eyes don't look right up to his'n any more, nor her little tongue ring, ring, W, like a bell any longer, but a great big hood covers her head, id a whappin great muff covers her face, and she looks like a of soiled clothes agoin to the brook to be washed. When ^he gets out, she don't wait any more for him to walk lock and |ock with her, but they march like a horse and a cow to water, one in each gutter. If there aint a transmogrification its a pity. [he difference atween a wife and a sweetheart is neer about as reat as there is between new and hard cider — a man never tires }f puttin one to his lips, but makes plaguy wry faces at tother. [t makes me so kinder wamblecropt, when, I think on it, that Tm afeared to venture on matrimony at all. I have seen some blue-noses most properly bit, you may depend. You've seen a boy a slidin on a most beautiful smooth bit of ice, ha'nt you, larfin, and hoopin, and hallowin, like one possessed, when pre- ptly sowse he goes in over head and ears ? How he outs, fins, und flops about, and blows like a porpus properly frightened, lon't he ? and when he gets out, there he stands, all shiverin, and shakin, and the water a s<][uish-squashin in his shoes, and his trowsers all stickin slimsey-like to his legs. Well, he sneaks off home, lookin like a fool, and thinkin everybody he meets is larfin at him — ^many folks here are like that are boy, afore jthey have been six months married. They'd be proper glad to ;et out of the scrape too, and sneak off if they could, that's a Ifact. The marriage yoke is plaguy apt to gall the neck, as the bow does the ox in rainy weather, unless it be most par- ^cttlarly well fitted. You'ye seen a yoke of cattle that wam't properly mated, thej spend more strength in puUin agin eacb f J- ^ ."1 ^"' '■^i • ■ ..*« '»i >« »" - »' ■I-' .•» I ^ 0. i i ■ 1 lOS TUB CLOCKMAKBR. other tliun in pullin the load. Well, that's apt to be the caJ with them as choose their wives in sleighin parties, quiltij frolics, and so on ; instead of the dairies, looms, and cheese* houie.l Now the blue-noses are all u stirrin in winter. The younJ folks drive out the galls, and talk love and all sorts of things ai| iweet as dough-nuts. — The old folks find it near about ns wd: to leave the old women to home, for fear they shouldn't keeJ tune togethei ; so they drive out alone to chat about House oi Assembly with their neighbours, while the boys and hired l)el[ii do the chores. When the Spring comes, and the fields are drj enough to be sowed, they all have to be plowed, cam te Jail mm wash the lands too much for fall ploughin. Well, the plowi have to be mended and sharpened, cause whaCs the use of doinl thai afore its wanted? AVell, the wheat gets in too late, and then comes rust, but whose fault is that? fVhy the climate /t| be sure ^ for Nova Scotia aint a bread country. When a man has to run ever so fur as fast as he can clip, he I has to stop and take breath; you must do that or choke. Son is with a liorse; run him a mile, and his flanks will heave like a blacksmith's bellows; you must slack up the rein, and give him a little wind, or he'll fall right down with you. It stands to reason, don't it ? Atwixt spring and fall work is ' Blown time* Then Courts come on, and Grand Jury business, and Militia trainin, and Race trainin, and what not; and a fine spell of ridin about and doin nothin, a rael * Bhwin limdl Then comes harvest, and that is proper hard work, mowin and | pitchin hay, and reapin and bindin grain, and potatoe dig|i^iii, That's as hard as sole leather, afore it's hammered on the lap- stone — it's most next to anything. It takes a feller as tough ai Old Hickory (General Jackson) to stand that. Ohio is most the only country I know on where folks are tared that trouble, and there the freshets come jist in the nick of time for 'em, and sweep all the crops right up in a heap for 'em, and they have nothin to do but take it home and house it, and sometimes a man gets more than his own crop, and finds a proper swad of it all ready piled up, only a little wet or so; but all countries aint like Ohio. Well, arter harvest comes fall, and then there''s a grand * blowin time' till spring. Now, how the Lord the blue-noses can complain of their country, when it'i •nlv one- third work and two-thirdt 'blowin time/ no soul can tell. THE BLOWIN TIME. 109 Father uietl to say, when I lired on the faim along with him l^^im, says he, I tow I wish there was jist four hundred dnyi in the yeur, for it's a plaguy sight too short for me. I can find ns much work as all hands on us can do for 365 days, and jist \'^5 (lays more, if we had Vm. We han't got a minit to spare; jvou must shell the com and winner the grain at night, and clean liill up slick, or I guess well fall astarn, as sure as the Lord Imade Moses. If he didn't keep us nil at it, a drivin away full ■chisel, the whole hlessed time, it's a pity. There was no *blowin Itiine' there, you may depend. We plowed nil the fall, for dear llife; in winter we thrashed, made and mended tools, went to Imarket and mill, and got out our firewood and rails. As soon AS frost was gone, came sowin and plantin, weedin and hoein— Ithen harrest and spreadin compost — then gatherin manure, Ifencin and ditchin — and then turn tu and fall plowin agin. It lall went round like a wheel without stoppin, and so fast, I guess lyou couIdnH see the spokes, just one long cYcrlastin stroke from IJuly to etamity, without time to look back on the tracks. Ilnbtead of racin orer the country, like a young doctor, to show Ihow busy a roan is that has nothin to do, as blue-nose does, and Ithen take a * blowin time,^ we keep a racl travellin gate, an l«ight-mile-an-hour pace, the whole year round. They buy more \nor they sell, and eat more than they raise in this country. What a pretty way that is, isn't it? If the critters knew how to Icypher, they would soon find out that a sum stated that way laiways eends in a nought. I never knew it to fail, and I defy [any soul to cypher it so as to make it come out any other way, ■either by Schoolmaster's Assistant or Algebra. When I was a Iboy, the Slickville Bank broke, and an awful disorderment it imade, that's a fact: nothin else was talked of. Well, I studied lit over a long time, but I couldn't make it out: so says I, iFather, how came that are bank to break; wam't it well built? ll thought that are Quincy granite was so amazin strong all Inatur wouldn't break it. Why, you foolish critter, says he, it Itante the buildin that's broke, it's the consam that's smashed. iWell, says I, I know folks are plaguily consamed about it, Ibut what do you call 'folks smashing their consams?' Father, jhe larfed out like anything; I thought he never would stop- land Sister Sail got right up and walked out of the room, as jnad as a hatter. Says she, Sam, I do belieTe you are a bom I c- » f 1 I r*. :, 1 \ .4 ; i«- 4 ■ 1 r 1 . -4 t '',;i \ -;j* rf" ■-■1 110 THE CLOCKMAKER. ►1 v;| fool, I TOW. When father had done larfin, sajs he, 111 teli you, Sam, how it was. They cyphered it so, that they hrought out nothin for a remainder. Possible! says I; I thought there was no eend to their puss. 1 thought it was like Uncle Peleg's musquash hole, and that no soul could ever find the bottom of. My!! says I. Yes, says he, that are bank spent and lost m6re money than it made, and when folks do that, they must smash at last, if their puss be as long as the national one of Uncle Sam. This prorince is like that are bank of cum, it's goin the same road, and they'll find the little eend of the horn afore they think they are half way down to it. . If folks would only give over talkin about that everlastin House of Assembly and Council, and see to their farms, it would be better for 'em, I guess; for arter all, what is it? Why it's only a sort of first chop Grand Jury, and nothin e\w It's no more like Congress or Parliament, than Marm Pug- wash's keepin room is like our State hall. It's jist nothin— Congress makes war and peace, has a say in all treaties, con- farms all great nominations of the President, regilates the army and navy, goyerns twenty-four independent States, and anaps its fingers in the face of all the nations of Europe, as much as to ^ay, WhQ be you? I allot I am as big as you be. If you are six foot high, I am six foot six in my stockin feet, by gum, and can lambaste any two of you in no time. The I British can whip all the world, and we can whip the British. But this little House of Assembly, that folks make such a touss about, what is it ? Why jist a decent Grand Jury. They make iheir presentments of little money votes, to mend these ever- lastin rottin little wooden bridges, to throw a poultice of md once a year on the roads, and then take a ' blowin time' oi three months and go home. The littler folks be, the bigger they talk. You never seed a small man that didn't wear high heel boots and a high crowned hat, and that wam't ready «o fight most any one, to show he was a man every inch of hiin. I met a member tother day who swaggered near about as large as Uncle Peleg. He looked as if he thought you couldn't find his ' ditto' nowhere. He used some most partikilar edicatiooal words, genuine jaw-breakers. He put me in mind of a squind 1 once shot to our wood location. The little critter got a hickoij nut in his mouth; well, he found it too hard to crack, and too hf.iVi'^nii THB BLOWIN TIME. Ill big to iwaller, and for th« life and soul of him, he couldn't gpit it out agin. If he didn't look like a proper fool, you may depend. We had a pond hack of our ham, ahout the hignese of a good sizeable wash-tub, and it was chock full of frogs. Well, one of these little critters fancied himself a bull-frog, and he puffed out his cheeks, and took a rael ' blowin time' of it; he roared away like thunder; at last he puffed and puffed out till he bust like a byler. If I see the Speaker this winter, (and I shall see him to a sartainty if they don't send for him to London, to teach their new Speaker) and he's up to snuff, that are man; he knows how to cypher — I'll jist say to him. Speaker, says I, if any of your folks in the House go to swell out like dropsy, give 'em a hint in time. Says you, If you have are a iitde safety valve about you, let off a little steam now and then, or you'll go for it; recollect the Clockmaker's story of the * Blowin time.' • - • - 1. • - - ^ ii- i " ■ ...i , ' Ik.' " •ii.; i. •rA CHAPTER XXTV. "w; ';;'!. - ♦ '.IL'I iU kH ii ■ I '1,' i'ii r _4 ■ 5 t ■ Uv J <■- . i FATnER JOHN O 8HAUGHNES8T. To-morrow will be Sabbath-day, said the Clockmaker; I guess weMl bide where we be till Monday. I like a Sabbath in the country— all natur seems at rest. There's a cheerfulness in the day here, you don't find in towns. You have natur before you hercy and nothin but art there. The deathly still- ness of a town, and the barred windows, and shut shops, and empty streets, and great long lines of big brick buildins, look melancholy. It seems as if life had ceased tickin, but there hadn't been time for decay to take hold on there ; as if day had broke, but man slept. I can't describe exactly what I mean, but I always feel kinder gloomy and whamble-cropt there. Now in the country it's jist what it ought to be — a day of rest for man and beast from labour. When a man rises on the Sabbath^ and looks out on the sunny fields and wavin crops, his heart feels proper grateful, and he says. Come, this is a splendid day, aint it ? Let's get ready and put on our bettermost close, and go to meetin; His first thought is prayerfully to render thanks; and then when he goes to worship he meets all hii neighbours, ard he knows them all, and they are glad to Ak1-J> ,J,7* t .-.* 3 MX '■oJ ■f- •A t..i ri ^^ vnr.i- c ■a tte.' ^ vtP, ■■■*» ,|^ i 4 I ■ I ■.J 1 112 THE CLOCKMAKER. each other ; and if any two on 'em han't exactly gee'd togethei durin the week, why they meet on kind of neutral ground, and the minister or neighbours makes peace atween them. But it tante so in towns. You don't know no one you meet there Its the worship of neighbours, but its the worship of strangers too, for neighbours don't know nor care about each other. Yei, I love a Sabbath in the country. While uttering this soliloquy, he took up a pamphlet from the table, and turning to the title page, said, Haye you ever seen chis here book on the ^ Elder Controversy ?* (a controversy on the subject of Infant Baptism.) This author's friends says it's a clincher ; they say he has sealed up Elder's mouth as tight as a bottle. No, said I, I have not ; I have heard of it, bat never read it. In my opinion the subject has been exhausted already, and admits of nothing new being said upon it. These religious controversies are a serious injury to the cause of true religion ; they are deeply deplored by the good and moderate men of all parties. It has already embraced several denomina- tions in the dispute in this Province, and I hear the agitation has extended to New Brunswick, where it will doubtless be renewed with equal zeal. I am told all the pamphlets are exceptionable in point of temper, and this one in particular, which not only ascribes the most unworthy motives to its anta- gonist, but contains some very unjustifiable and gratuitous attacks upon other sects unconnected with the dispute. The author has injured his own cause, for an intemperate advocate ii more dangerous than an open Joe, There is no doubt on it, said the Clockmaker, it is as clear as inud, and you are not the only one that thinks so, I tell you. ■ ; :5r, . i About the hottest time of the dispute, I was to Halifax, and who should I meet but Father John O'Shaughnessy, a Catholic Priest : I had met him afore in Cape Breton, and had sold him a clock. Well, he was a leggin it off hot foot. Possible ! says I, Father John, is that you ? Why, what on airth is the matter of you — ^what makes you in such an everlastin hurry, driven away like one ravin, distracted mad? A sick visit, says he; poor Pat Lanigan, him that you mind to Bradore Lake, well, he's near about at the pint of death. I guess not, said I, for I |ist hear tell he was dead. Well, that brought him up all •tandin, and he bouts ship in a jiffy, and walks a little way FATHER JOHN O'SHAUGHNESSY. 113 with me, and we got a talkin about this rery subject. Says he. What are you, Mr. Slick? Well, I looks up to him, and winks, A Clockmaker, says I ; well, he smiled, and says he, I see : as much as to say, I hadn't ought to have axed that are question at all, I guess, for every man's religion is his own,, and nobody else's business. Then says he. You know all about this country — who does folks say has the best on the dispute ? Says I, Father John, it's like the battles up to Canada lines last war, each side claims victory ; I guess there ain't much to brag on nary way, damage done on both sides, and nothin gained, as far as I can lam. He stopped short, and looked me in the face, and says he, Mr. Slick, you are a man that has see'd a good deal of the world, and a considerable of an onderstandin man, and I guess I caji talk to you. Now, says he, for gracious sake do jist look here, and see how you heretics (Protestants I mean, says he — for I guess that are word slipt out without leave,) are by the ears, a drivin away at each other, the whole blessed time, tooth and nail, hip and thigh, hammer and tongs, disputin, revelin, wranglin, and beloutin each other, with all sorts of ugly names that they can lay their tongues to. Is that the way you love your neighbour as yourself ? fVe say this is a practical comment on schism^ and by the powers of Moll Kelly, said he, but they all ought to be well lambasted together, the whole batch on 'em entirely. Says I, Father John, give me your hand; there are some things I guess, you and I don't agree on, and most likely never will, seein that you are a Popish Priest ; but in that idea I do opinionate with you, and I wish, with all my heart, all the world thought with us. I guess he didn't half like that are word Popish Priest ; it seemed to grig him like ; his face looked kinder ryled, like well water arter a heavy rain : and said he, Mr. Slick, says he, your country is a free country, ain't it? The freest, says I, on the face of the airth — ^you can't 'ditto' it nowhere. We are as free as the air, and when our dander's up, stronger than any hari- cane you ever see'd — tear up all creation most ; there ain't the beat of it to be found any where. Do you call this a free country? said he. Pretty considerable middlin, says I, seein that they are under a king. Well, says he, if you were seen in Connecticut a shakin hands along with a Popish Priest, as you •ft '■it i --in ir.rS' ^- ^ 'm '...*ll 'm' ■ "vl t - T ' " A. »•■ . 1 -1 114 Y?:^ THB CLOCKMAKER. aHT/.*{ are pleased to call me, (and he lioade me a bdvr, as much as u say, Mind your trumps the next deal) as you are now in the streets of Halifax along with me, with all your crackin and bOastin of your fVeedom, I guess, you wouldn't sell a clock agin in that State for one while, I tell you — and he bid me good momin, and turned away. Father John! says I.— I can't stop, says he ; I must see that poor critter's family; they must be in great trouble, and a sick visit is afore controyarsy in my creed. Well, says I, one word with you afore I go ; if that are name Popish Priest was an ongenteel one, I ax your pardon ; I didn't mean no offence I do assure you. And I'll say this for your satisfaction, tu, youVe the first man in this Province, that ever gave me a rael right down complete checkmate since I first so^ foot in it, I'll be skinned if you aint. Tes, said Mr. Slicky Father John was right; these antagou- izing chaps ought to be ^ell quilted, the whole raft on 'em. It -fnrly makes me sick to see the folks, each on 'em a backin up of their own man. At it agin, says one; Fair play, says another; Stick it into him, says a third: and That's your sort, says a fourth. Them are the folks who do mischief. They show such clear grit it fiiirly frightens me. It makes my hair stand right up an eend to see ministers do that are. It appears t& me that I could write' a bodk in favour of mi/self and mij notions, without writin agin any one, and if I couldn't I wouldn't write at all, I snore. Our old minister, Mr. Hopewell, (a rael good man and a lamed man too that,) they sent to him once to write agin the Unitarians, for they are agoin a head like statiee in New England, but he reiiised. Said he, Sam, says he, when I first Went to Cambridge, there was a boxer and wrastler came there, and he beat every one wherever he went. Well, old Mr Possit was the Church of England parson to Charlestown, a the time, and a terrible powerful man he was — a rael sneezer. and as active as a weasel. Well, the boxer met him one day, a little way out of town, a takin of his evenin walk, and said he, Parson, says he, they say you are a most a plaguy strong man, and uncommon stiff too. Now, says he, I never see'd a man yet that was a match for roe ; would you have any objection jist to let me be availed of your strength here in a friendly way, by ourselves, where no soul would be the wiser ; if you will 111 keep dark about it. I swan. Go your way, said the Parson, fltUTJO s FATHBR JOUN (/SHAUGHNESSY. 115 and tempt me not; you aie a carnal-minded, wicked man, anci I take no pleasure in such rain, idle sports. Very well, said the boxer; now here I stand, says he, in the path, right slap afore you ; if you pass round me, then I take it as a sign that you are afeerd .on me, and if you keep the path, why then you must put me out. The Parson jist made a spring forrard and. kitched him up as quick as wink, and throwed him right over the fence whap on the broad of his back, and then walked on as if nothin had happened' — as demure as yon please, and .lookin as meek as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. 8top, says the boxer, as soon as he picked himself up, stop, Parson, said he, that's a good man, and jist chuck over my horse too, will you> for I swan I believe you could do one near about as easy as tVther. My! said he, if that don't bang the bush ; you are another ^uess chap from what I took you to be, any how. Now, saidi Mr.JEJopewell, says he, I won't write, but if are a Unitarian crosses my path, 111 jist oyer the fence with him in no time, as the parson did the boxer; for writin only aggrO" votes your opponents^ and never convinces them, I never seed aconvart made by that way yet; but Fll tell you what I have see'df a man set his own flock a doubtin by his own writin. You may happify your inemiee, cantankerate your opponents, ani injure your own cause by t/, but I defy you to sarve it. These writers, s^id he, put me in mind of that are boxer's pupils. , He would sometimes set two on 'em to spar; welU they'd put on their gloves and begin, larfin and jokin, all in good humour. Presently one on 'em would put in a pretty hard blow; well, t'other would return it in aim est. Oh, says the other, if that's your play, off gloves and at it : and sure enough, away would fly their gloves, and at it they'd go tooth and nail. No, Sam, the misfortin is, we are all apt to think Scriptur intended for our neighbours, and not for ourselves. The poor all think it made for the rich. Jjook at that are Dives, they say, what an all fired scrape he got into by his avarice, with Lazarus; and ain't it writ as plain as any thing, that them folks will find it as easy to go to heaven, as for a camel to go through the eye of a needle ? Weil, then, the rich think it all made for (he poor — that they sham't steal nor bear false >Yitness, but shall be obedient to Ikhem that's in authority. And as for them are ...» jrtr -gi *• f*.. t : fiiu'>'j<> 9if»t!i jniii ys li » ^a 4^»-i-«» ^ *"« 116 THE CLOCKMAKER. Unitarians, and he always got his dander up when he spoke of them, why there's no doin nothin with them, says he. When they get fairly stumped, and you produce a text that they can't get over nor get round, why they say, It tante in our yersion, at aU —That's an intarpolation, it's an invention of them ere everlastin monks; there's nothin left for you to do with them, but to sarye them as Parson Posset detailed the boxer— lay right hold of 'em and chuck 'em oyer the fence, even if they were as big as all out doors. That's what our folks ought to have done with 'em at first, pitched 'em clean out of the state, and let 'em go down to Noya Scotia, or some such outlandish place, for they aint fit to liye in no Christian country at all. Fightin is no way to make conyarts ; the true way is to win *em. You may stop a man's mouth, Sam, says he, by cramrain a book down his throat, but you won't conyince him. It's a fine thing to write a book all eoTered orer with Latin and Greek and Hebrew, like a bridle that's rael jam, all spangled with brass nails, but who knows whether it's right or wrong? Why not one in ten thousand. If I had my religion to choose, and wam't able to judge for myself, I'll tell you what I'd do: I'd jist ask myself who leads the best lives? Now, says he, Sam, I won't say who do, !>?cause it would look like yanity to say it was the folks who ^old to our platform, but I'll tell you who don't. It ain't them that makes the greatest professions always; and mind what I tell you, Sam, when you go a tradin with your clocks away down east to Noya Scotia, and them wild provinces, keep a bright look out on them as cant too much, Jot a long face is plaguy apt to cover a long conscience — that's a fact i.n » ■?'■' i .-•;/. Vt \\ CHAPTER XXV. TAMma A SHREW, .i '\, The road from Amherst to Parrsboro' U t'^dious and unin- teresting. In places it is made so straight,- that you can see several miles of it before you, which produces an appearance 0/ interminable length, while the stunted growth of the spruce and oirch trees bespeaks a cold, thin soil,, and invests the scene ^th a melancholy and sterile aspect. Here and there occurs a TAMING A SHREW. 117 little valley vritli its meandering stream, and verdant and fertile intervale, ii\'hicb, though possessing nothing peculiar to distinguish it from many others of the same kind, strikes the traveller as superior to them all, from the contrast to the surrounding country. One of these secluded spots attracted my attention, from the number and neatness of the buildings, ^hich its proprietor, a tanner and currier, had erected for the purposes of his trade. Mr. Slick said, he knew him, and he guessed it was a pity he couldn't keep his wife in as good order as he did his factory. They don't hitch their horses together well at all. He is properly henpecked, said he; he is afeerd to call his soul his own, and he leads the life of a dog ; you never seed the beat of it, I vow. Did you ever see a rooster hatch a brood of chickens ? No, said I, not that I can recollect. AVell, then, I have, said he, and if he don't look like a fool all the time he is a settin on the eggs, it's a pity; no soul could help larfin to see him. Our old nigger, January Snow, had a spite agin one of father's roosters, seein that he was a coward, and wouldn't fight. He used to call him Dearbome, arter our General that behaved so ugly to Canada: and, says he one day, I guess you are no better than a hen, you everlastin old chicken-hearted villain^ and I'll make you a larfin stock to all the poultry. I'll put a trick on you you'll bear in mind all your born days. So he catches old Dearbome, and pulls all the feathers off his breast, and strips him as naked as when he was bom, from his throat clean down to his tail, and then takes a bundle of nettles and gives him a proper switchin that stung him, and made him smart like mad; then he warms some eggs and puts them in a nest, and sets the old cock right a top of 'em. Well, the warmth of the eggs felt good to the poor critter's naked belly, and kinder kept the itchin of the nettles down, and he was glad to bide where he was, and whenever he was tired and got off his seat he felt so cold, he'd run right back and squat down agin, and when his feathers began to grow, and he got obstropolous, he got another ticklin with the nettles, that made him return double quick to his location. In a little time, he lamt the trade rael complete. Now, this John Porter, (and there he is on the bridge I vow I never seed the beat o' that, speak of old Say tin and he's sure to .ippear;) well, he's jist like old Dearbome, only fit to hatch eggs. When we came to the Bridge, Mr. Slick stopped hi9 \ • t ■!« i'. 118 THE GLOCKMAKER. horse, to shnke hands with Porter, whom he recognised as an old acquaintance and customer. He inquired after a bark mill he had smuggled from the States for him, and enlarged on the yalue of such a machine, and the cleverness of his countrymen who inyented such useful and profitable articles; and was recommending a new process of tanning, when a female voice from the house was heard, yociferating, ^ John Porter, come here this minit.' ' Coming, my dear,' said the husband. *Come here, I say, directly: why do you stand talking to that yankea villain there f The poor husband hung his head, looked silly, and bidding us good bye, returned slowly to the house. As we drove on, Mr. Slick said, That was me— •! did that. Did what? said I. That was me that sent him back, I called him, and not his wife. I had that are bestowment ever since I was knee high or so; I'm a rael complete hand at Ventriloquism; I can take off any man's voice I ever heerd to the very nines. If there was a law agin forgin that as there is for handwritin, I guess I should have been hanged long ago. I've had high goes with it many a time, but its plaguy dangersome, and I dont practice it now but seldom. I had a rael bout with that are citisen's wife once, and com- pletely broke her in for him; she went as gentle as a circus horse for a space, but he let her have her head agin and she's as bad as ever now. I'll tell you how it was. I was down to the Island a selling clocks, and who should I meet but John Porter; well, I traded with him for one part cash, part truck, and -pioducef and also put off on him that are bark mill you heerd me axin about, and it was pretty con- siderable on in the evenin afore we finished our trade. I came home along with him, and had the clock in the waggon to fix up for him, and to show him how to regilate it. "Well, as we neared his house, he began to fret and take on dreadful oneasy ; says he, I hope Jane wont be abed, cause if she is she'll act ugly, I do suppose. I had heerd tell of her afore; how she used to carry a stiff upper lip, and make him and the broom- stick well acquainted together; and says J, "Why do you put up with iier tantrums ? I'd make a fail divisiv«n of the house with her. -if it was me, I^d take the inside and allocate her the outside of it, pretty quick, that's a fact. "Well, when we came to the house, there was no light in it, and the poor crittei TAMING A SHREAV. 119 looked so streaked and down in the mouth, I feU proper sorry for him. When he rapped at the door, she called out, Who^i there? It's me, dear, says Porter. You is it? said she, then you may stay where you be; them as gave jouyour supper may give you your bed, instead of sendin you sneakin home at night like a thief. Said I, in a whisper, says I, Leare her to me, John Porter — ^jist take the horses up to the barn, and see arter tliem, and I'll manage her for you, I'll make her as sweet as sugary candy, never fear. The bam you see is a good piece oflf to the eastward of the liouse ; and as soon as he was cleverly out of hearin, siiys I, a imitatin of his voice to the life. Do let me in, Jane, says I, that's a dear critter, I've brought you home some things you'll like, I know. Well, she was an awful jealous critter; says she, Take em to her you spent the evenin with, I don't want you nor your presents neither. Arter a good deal of coaxin I stood on tother tack, and began to threaten to break the door down; says I, You old unhansum- lookin sinner you, you vinerger cruet you, open the door this minit or I'll smash it right in. That grigged her properly, it made her very wrathy (for nothin sets up a woman's spunk like callin her ugly, she gets her back right up like a cat when a strange dog comes near her; she's dl eyes, claws, and bristles.) I heerd her bounce right out of bedj and she came to the door as she was, ondressed, and onbolted it : and as I entered it, she fetched me a box right across my cheek with the flat of her hand, that made it tingle agin. Ill teach you to call names agin, says she, you varmint. It was jist what I wanted ; I pushed the door tu with my foot, and seizin her by the arm with one hand, I quilted her with the horsewhip rael hansum with the other. At first she roared like mad ; I'll give you the ten command^ ments, says she (meaning her ten claws), I'll pay you for this, you cowardly villain, to strike a woman; How dare you lift your hand, John Porter, to your lawful wife? and so on ; all the time runnin round and round, like a colt that's a breakin, with the mouthin bit, rarein, kickin, and plungin like statiee. Then she began to give in. Says she, I beg pardon, on my knees I beg pardon — don't murder me, for Heaven's sake — don't, dear John, don't murder your poor wife, that's a dear — I'll do as you bid me, I promise to behave well, upon my honour I do^oh dear John, <]o foigive me, do, dear \ WTien I had brought her • , .J U4 '«! 1 ■■■i t3 i ^ 1 IM^- ■M «IW iti I :?*• 4 v1 >' < \V\ :.-*» » >l a ' » » ■ *" f *■ 1 :i <; 4 1 * ■ -1 1 1 ■( .1 1 "J 1 i,«- 120 THE CD CKMAKKK. properly to, for hayin nothin on but a thin onder garment every crack of the whip told like a notch on a baker's tally, says I, Take that as a taste of what you'll catch when you act that way like old Scratch. Now go and dress yourself, and get supper for me and a stranger I hare brought home along with me, and be quick, for I vow I'll be master in my own house. She moaned like a dog hit with a stone, half whine half yelp ; Dear, dear, says •he, if I aint all covered oyer with welts as big as my finger, I do belieye I'm flayed aliye ; and she boo-hood out like anything. I guess, said I, you'ye got Vm where folks won't see 'em, any how, and I calculate you won't be over forrard to show 'em where they be. But come, says I, be a stirrin, or I'll quilt you agin as sure as you're alive — I'll tan your hide for you, you may depend, you old ungainly tempered heifer you. When I went to the bam, says I, John Porter, your wife made right at me, like one ravin distracted mad, when I opened the door, thinkin it was you ; and I wa& obliged to give her a track or two of the cowskin to get clear of her. It has effectuated a cure completely ; now foUer it nip, and don't let on for your life, it wamt you that did it, and you'll be master once more in your own house. She's all docity just now, keep her so. As we returned we saw a light in the keepin room, the Are wai blazin up cheerfulsome, and Marm Porter moved about as brisk- as a parched pea, though as silent as dumb, and our supper was ready in no time. As soon as she took her seat and sot dowi, she sprung up right on eend, as if she sot on a pan of hot coals, and coloured all over ; and then tears started in her eyes. Thinks I to myself, I calculate I wrote that are lesson in large letters any how, I can read that writin without spellin, and no mistake; I guess you've got prettj well warmed thereabouts this hitcb. Then she tried it agin, first she sot on one leg, then on tother, quite oneasy, and then right atwixt both, a fidgettin about dread- fully, like a man that's rode all day on a bad saddle, and lost a little leather on the way. If you had seed how she stared at Porter, it would have made you sniker. She couldn't credit ber eyes. He wam't drunk, and he wam't crazy, but there he sot as peeked and as meechin as you please. She seemed all struck up of a heap at his rebellion. The next day when I was about startin, I advised him to act like a man, and keep the weather (rage now he had it, and all would be well : but the poor critter TAMING A SHi W. 121 only held on a day or two, she soon go the upp x hand of him, and made him confess all, and hy all accounts ht leads ^orse life now than ever. I put that are trick on him jist n<^' . to tr} him, and I see its gone goose with him ; the jig is up \ ch hinu she'll soon call him with a whistle like a dog. I often think of the hornpipe she danced there in the dark along with me, to the music of my whip— she touched it off in great style, that's a fact. I shall mind that go one while, I promise you. It was actilly equal to a play at old Bowry. You may depend. Squire, the only way to tame a shrew is hj the cowskin. Grandfather Slick was raised all along the coast of Kent in old England, and he used to say, there was an old sayin there, which, I expect, it not far off the mark : ...;, ... / ,. * A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree, . , ., The more you lick 'em the better they be.' CHAPTER XXVI. THE MINISTER S HORN MUG. This Country, says Mr. Slick, ahounds in superior mill pri- yileges, and one would naterally calculate that such a sight of irater power would have led to a^ Icnowledge of machinery. I guess if a hlue-nose was to go to one of our free and enlightened citizens, and tell him Noya Scotia was intersected with rirers and hrooks in all directions, and nearly one quarter of it covered mth water, he'd say. Well, I'll start right off and see it, I vow, for I guess I'll larn somethin. I allot Til get another wrinkle away down east there. With such splendid chances for expeji- mentin, what £rst-chop mills they must have to a sartainty. I'l] see such new combinations Itnd such new applications of the force of water to motion, that III make my fortin, for we can improve on anything. Well, he'd find his mistake out I guess, as I did once, when I took passage in the night to New York for Providence, and found myself the next momin clean out to sea, steerin away for Cape Hatteras, in the Charleston steamer. He'd find he'd gone to the wrong place I reckon; there aint a mill of any kind in the Province fit to be seen. If we had *em we'd Sttve 'em as we do the gamhlin houses down south, pull 'em right f ■■' '■• /J* ■, .¥>.. --.I '•^-■.*i I.:-? i C^ P ii W^"'^ •)|B1 -■*« ^ ■=>( >i , »■ - «■ % 122 THE CLOCKMAKBIU M down, there wouldn't be one on 'em left in eigbt and forty houn. Some domeitic factories they ought to bare here; it's ac essential part of the social system. Now we've run to the other extreme, its got to be too big an interest with us, and aint suifod to the political institutions of our great country. Natur designed us for agricultural people, and our goremment was predicated on the supposition that we would be so. Mr. Hopewell was of the same opinion. He was a great hand at gardenin, orchardin, farmin, and what not. One eyenin I was up to his house, and says he, Sam, what do you say to a bottle of my old genutn; cider? I guess I got some that will take the shine off of your father's, by a long chalk, much as the old gentleman brags of his'n-^I never bring it out afore him. He thinks he has the best in all Connecticut. It's an innocent ambition that ; and, Sam, it would be but a poor thing for me to gratify my pride, at the expense of *humblin his'n. So I never lets on that I have any better, but keep dark about this superfine particular article of mine, for Fd as lives he'd think so as not. He was a rael primi/tve good man was minister. I got some, said he, that was bottled that very year, that glorious action was fought atween the Constitution and the Ouerriere. Perhaps the whole world couldn't show such a brilliant whippin as that was. It was a splendid deed, that's a fact. The British can whip the whole airth, and we can whip the British. It was a bright pro- mise for our young eagle, a noble bird that, too ; great strength, great courage, and surpassing sagacity. Well, he went down to the cellar, and brought up a bottle, with a stick tied to its neck, and day and date to it, like the lye-bills on the trees in Squire Hendrick's garden. I like to see them are cobwebs, says he, as he brushed 'em off, they are like grey hairs in an old man's head, they indicate venerable old age. As he uncorked it, says he, I guess, Sam, this will warm joui gizzard, my boy: I guess our great nation may be stumped to produce more eleganter liquor than this here. It^s the dandy, that's a fact. That, said he, a smackin of his lips, and lookin at its sparklin top, and layin back his head, and tippin off a horn mug full of it — that, said he — and his eyes twinkled agin, for it was plagy strong — that is the prodnce of my own orchard. "Well, I said, minister, says I, I never see you a swiggin it out of that TUK MINISTER'S HORN MUG. 123 ■re horn mug, that I dont think of one of your texts. What'f that, Sam? says he — for you always had a most a special memory when you was a hoy. "Why, says I, *that the horn of the righteous man shall be exalted,' I guess that's what they mean by * exaltin the horn,' aint it ? Lord if ever you was to New Orleens, and seed a black thunder cloud rise right up and covei th<« whole sky in a minit, you'd a thought of it if you had seed hi 3 face. It looked as dark as Egypt. For shame, says he, Sam, that's ondccent ; and let me tell you that a man that jokes on such subjects, shews both a lack of wit and sense too. I like mirth, you know I do, for it's only the Pharisees and hypocrites that wear long faces, but then mirth must be innocent to please roe: and when I see a man make merry with serious things, I set him down as a lost sheep. That comes of your speculatin to Lowell ; and, I vow, them factorin towns will corrupt our youth of both sexes, and become hot-beds of iniquity. Evil communications endamnify good manners, as sure as rates ; one scabby sheep will infect a whole flock — vice is as catchin as that nasty disease the Scotch haye, it's got by a shakin of hands, and both eend in the same way in brimstone. I approbate domestic factories, but nothin further for us. It don't suit us or our institutions. A republic is only calculated for an en- lightened and vartuous people, and folks chiefly in the farmin line. This is an innocent and happy yooation. Agriculture was ordained by Him that made us, for our chief occupation. Thinks I, Here's a pretty how do you do ; Tm in for it now, that's a fact; he'll jist fall to and read a regular sarmon, and he knows so many by heart hell never stop. It would take a Phi- iladelphia lawyer to an3wer him. So, says I, Minister, I ax jour pardon, I feel very ugly at havin given you offence, but I didn't mean it^ I do assure you. It jist popt out onexpectedly, like a cork out of one of them are cider bottles. I'll do my possible that the like don't happen agin, you may depend ; so "spose we drink a glass to our reconciliation. That I will, said he, and we will have another bottle too, but I must put a little water into my glass, (and he dwelt on that word, and looked at me quite fee I in, as much as to say. Don't for goodness sake make I use of that are word horn agin, for it's a joke I don't like,) for my head hante quite the strength my cider has. Taste this, ^, said Ue, (a openin of another bottle), its of the same age '5 "i : * f5 P<: 124 THE CLOCKMAKER. as the last, but made of different apples, and I am fairly stumped sometimes to say which is best. These are the pleasures, says he, of a country life. A man'a own labour provides him with jbod, and an appetite to enjoy it. Let him look which way he will, and he sees the goodness and bounty of his Creator, his wisdom, his power, and his majesty. There never was any thing so true, as that are old sayin, ^Mau made the town, but God made the country,' and both bespeak their different architects In terms too plain to be misunderstood. The one is filled with virtue, and the other with vice. One is the abode of plenty, and the other of want; one is a ware-duck «f nice pure water — and t'other one a cess-pool. Our towns are gettin so commercial and factorin, that they will soon generate mobs, Sam, (how true that are has turned out, hain't it ? He could see near about as far into a millstone, as them that picks the hole into it,) and mobs will introduce disobedience and defiance to law8> and that must eend in anarchy and bloodshed. No, said the old man, a raisin of his voice, and givin the table a wipe with his fist, that made the glasses all jingle agin, give me tbe country; that country to which He that made it said, " Bring forth grass, the herb yieldin seed, and the treeyieldin fruit," am/ who saw that it was good. Let me jine with the feathered tribe in the mornin, (I hope you get up early now, Sam ; when you was a boy there was no gettin you out of bed at no rate,) and at sunset in the hymns which they utter in full tide of song to their Creator. Let me pour out the thankfulness of my heart to the Giver of all good things, for the numerous blessins I enjoy, and in treat him to bless my increase, that I may hare wherewithal to relieve the wants of others, as he prevents and relieves mine. No ! give me the country. Its — — Minis- ter was jist like a horse that has the spavin : he sot off con- siderable stiff at first, but when he once got underway, he got on like a house a fire. He went like the wind, full split. He was jist beginnin to warm on the subject, and I knew if I he did, what wonderful bottom he had; he would hang on for e-er amost; so, says I, I think so too, minister, I like the country, I always sleep better there than in towns : it tante so plaguy hot, nor so noisy neither, and then it's a pleasant thing | t»'Sot oat on the stoop and smoke in the cool, ain't it? I think, jay§ I, too, Minister, that are uncommon handsum cider of I THE minister's HORN MVfEc 125 your'n dcsanres a pipe, what do you think? tliink myself a pipe wouldn't be amiss, and I Well, says he, I lyself a pipe wouldn't be amiss, and I got some rael good Varginy, as you een amost ever seed, a present from Rowland Randolph, an old college chum; and none the worse to my palate, Sam, for bringin bye-gone recollections with it. Phoebe, my dear, said he to his darter, bring the pipes and tobacco. As «oon as the old gentleman fairly got a pipe in his mouth, I gives Phoebe a wink, as much as to say, Warn't that well done? That's what I call a most partikilar handsum fix. He can talk now, (and that / do like to hear him do), but he can't make a speech, or preach a sarmon, and that / don't like to hear him do, except on Sabbath day, or up to Town Hall, on oration times. Minister was an oncommon pleasant man, (for there was nothin amost he didn't know,) except when he got his dander up, and then he did spin out his yarns for everlastingly. * ' But I'm of his opinion. If the folks here want their country to go ahead, they must honour the plough, and Gineral Camp- bell ought to hammer that are into their noddles, full chisel, as hard as he can drive. I could lam him somethin, I guess, about hammerin he ain't up to. It tante every one that knows how to beat a thing into a man's head. How could I have sold so many thousan clocks, if I hadn't a had that nack ? Why, I ^vouldn't have sold half a dozen, you may depend. Agricultur is not only neglected but degraded here. What a number of young folks there seem to be in these parts, a ridin he can't eat his cake and have it too, that's a fact. No, make a farmer of him, and you will have the satisfaction of seein him an honest, an independent, and a respectable member of socieli/ ^-more honest than traders, more independent than professional men, and more respectable than either. Ahem! says Marm Drivvle, and she began to clear her throat or action: she slumped down her nittin, and clawed off her ^ectacles, and looked right straight at me, so as to take good I seed a regular norwester a bruin, I knew it would but THE minister's HORN MUG. 127 •omewhere sartan, and make all smoke agin; so I cleared out and left old DriTrle to stand the squall. I conceit he must hare had a tempestical time of it, for she had got her Ebenezer up, and looked like a proper sneezer. Make her Johnny a farmer, eh ! I guess that was too much for the like o' her to stomach. Pride, Squire, continued the Clockmaker, (with such an air of concern, that I yerily belieye the man feels an interest in the welfare of a Prorince in which he has spent so long a time,) Pride, Squire, and a false pride too, is ike ruin of this cmt^ry^ I hope I matt be skinned if it iante. CHAPTER XXVII. THE WHITE NIOOEB. One of the most amiable, and at the san*e time most amusing, traits in the Clockmaker's character, was the attachment and kindness with which he regarded his horse. He considered ^ Old Clay' as far abore a Provincial horse as he did one of his ^'free and enlightened citizens" superior to a blue-nose. He treated him as a trayelling companion, and when conversation flagged between us, would often soliloquise to him, a habit con- tracted from purr* iing his journeys alone. Well now, he would say. Old Clay, I guess you took your time agoin up that are hill — s'pose we progress now. Go along, you old sculpin, and turn out your toes. I reckon you are as deff as a shad, do you hear there, 'go ahead. Old Clay.' There now, he'd say. Squire^ aint that dreadful pretty? There'^s action. That looks about right — legs all onder him — gathers all up snug — no bobbin of his head — ^no roUin of his shoulders — no wabblin of his hind parts, but steady as a pump bolt, and the motion all ondemeath. When he fairly lays himself to it, he trots like all vengeance. Then look at his ears, jist like rabbits, non o' your flop ears, like them Amherst beasvS, half horses, half pigs, but straight up and pineted, and not too near at the tips; for that are, I concai^ always shews a horse aint true to draw. Inhere are only two things. Squire, worth lookin at in a horse, action and soundness, for I never seed a critter that had good action that was a bad beast. Old Clay puts me in mind of one of our free and enli ;i jiir '^ «• I \ t !; 128 THE CLOCKMAKBR. I »liBf ' Excuse me, said I, Mr. Slicfk, but really you appropriate that word * free' to your countrymen, as if you thought no other people in the world were entitled to it but yourselves. Neither be they, said he. We first sot the example. Look at oui declaration of independence. It was writ by Jefferson, and he was the first man of the age; perhaps the world never seed his ditto. It's a beautiful piece of penmanship that, he gave the British the butt eend of his mind there. I calculate you couldn't fait it in no particular, it's ginerally allowed to be his cap shicf. In the first page of it, second section, and first varse, are these words, ' We hold this truth to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.' I guess King George turned his quid when lie read that. It was somethin to chaw on, he hadn't been used to the flavour of, I reckon. Jefferson forgot to insert one little word, said I; he should have said ' all white men/ for, as it now stands, it is a practical untruth, in a country which tolerates domestic slavery in its worst and most forbidding form. It is a declaration of shame, and not of independence. It is as perfect a misnomer as ever I knew. Well, said he, I must admit there is a screw loose somewhere thereabouts, and I wish it would convene to Con gress, to do somethin or another about our niggers, but I an not quite sartified how that is to be sot to rights. — I concait that you don't understand us. But, said he, (evading the sub* ject with his usual dexterity,) we deal only in niggers, — and those thick-skulled, crooked-shanked, flat-footed, long-heeled, woolly-headed gentlemen, don't seem fit for much else but davery, I do suppose ; they aint fit to contrive for themselves. They are jist like grass-hoppers; they dance and sing all sum< mer, and when winter comes, they have nothin provided for it, and lay down and die. They require some one to see arter them. Now, we deal in black niggers only, but the blue-noses sell their own species — they trade in white slaves. Thank God, said I, slavery does not exist in any part of his Majest/8 dominions now, we have at last wiped off that national stain. Not quite, I guess, said he, with an air of triumph, it tante done with in Nova Scotia, for I have seed these human cattle sales with my own eyes — I was availed of the truth of it up here to old Furlong's, last November. I'll tell you the stoiy, said he; and as this story of the Clockmaker's contained some THE WHITE NIOOEK. 129 extraordinary statements, which I had never heard of before, I noted it in my journal, for the purpose of ascertaining their truth; and, if founded on fact, of laying them before the proper authorities. Last fall, said he, I was on my way to Partridge Island, to ship off some truck and produce I had taken in, in the way of trade; and as I neared old Furlong's house, I seed an amazin crowd of folks about the door; I said to myself, says I, Whose dead, and what's to pay now — what on airth is the meaning of all this? Is it a vandew, or a weddin, or a roUin frolic, or a religious stir, or what is it ? Thinks I, Til see — so I hitches Old Clay to the fence, and walks in. It was some time afore I was able to swiggle my way thro' the crowd, and get into the house. And when I did, who should I see but Deacon Westfall, a smooth-faced, sleeked-haired, mecchin-lookin chap as you'd see in a hundred, a standin on a stool, with an auctioneer's hammer in his hand; and afore him was one Jerry Oaks and his wife, and two little orphan children, the prettiest little toads I ever beheld in all my bom days. Gentlemen, said he, I will begin the 3ale by puttin up Jerry Oaks, of Apple River; he's a considerable of a smart man yet, and can do many little chores besides feedin the children and pigs; I guess he's near about worth his keep. Will you warrant him sound, wind and limb ? Bays a tall, ragged lookin countryman, for he looks to me as if he was foundered in both feet, and had a string halt into the bargain. When you are as old as I be, says Jerry, mayhap you may be foundered too, young man ; I have seen the day whcL you wouldn't dare to pass that joke on me, big as you be. Wil» any gentleman bid for him, says the deacon, he's cheap at 7^. 6d. Why, deacon, said Jerry, why surely your honour isn't agoin for to sell me separate from my poor old wife, are you ? Fifty years have we lived together as man and wife, and a good wife has she been to me, through all my troubles and trials, and God knows I have had enough of 'em. No one knows my ways and my ailments but her, and who can tend me so kind, or who will bear with the complaints of a poor old man but his wife ? Do, deacon, and Heaven bless you for it, and yours, do sell us together; we have but a few days to live now, death will divide Qs soon enough. Leave her to ck>se my old eyes, when tfaa •■-' a., .' tfS! ^" .-*-* T* •jr ^J^ St. t V f «. :^-: I 4! r^. 130 THE CLOCKMAKER. struggle comes, and when it comes to you, deacon, as come i| must to us all, may this good deed rise up for you, as a me- morial hefore God. I wish it had pleased him to have taken us afore it came to this, hut His will he done; and he hung his head, as if he felt he had drained the cup of degradation to its dregs. Can't afford it, Jerry — can't afford it, old man, said the deacon (with such a smile as a Noyember sun gives, a passin atween clouds.) Last year they took oats for rates, now nothin but wheat will go down, and that's as good as cash, and you 11 hang on, as most of you do, yet these many years. There's old Joe Crowe, I believe in my conscience he will hve for ever. The biddin then went on, and he was sold for six shillings a week. Well, the poor critter gave one long, loud, deep groan, and then folded his arms over his breast so tight that he seemed tryin to keep in his heart from bustin. I pitied the misfortunate wretch from my soul, I don't know as I ever felt so streaked afore. Not so his wife, she was all tongue. She begged and prayed, and cried, and scolded, and talked at the very tip eend of her voice, till she became, poor critter, exhausted, and went off in a fadntin fit, and they ketched her up and carried her out to the air, and she was sold in that condition. Well, I couldn't make head or tail of all this, I could hardljr believe my eyes and ears; so says I to John Porter, (him that has that catamount of a wife, that I had such a touss with,) John Porter, says I, who ever see'd or heer'd tell of the like of this, what onder the sun does it all mean ? What has that are critter done that he should be sold arter that fashion? Done, said he, why nothin, and that's the reason they sell him. This is town-meetin day, and we always sell the poor for the year to the lowest bidder. Them that will keep them for the lowest sum, gets them. Why, says I, that feller that bought him is a pauper himself, to my sartin knowledge. If you were to take him up by the heels and shake him for a week, you couldn t shake sixpence out of him. How can he keep him ? it appears to me the poor buy the poor here, and that they all starve together, ^ys I, There was a very good man once lived to Liverpool, so good, he said he hadn't sinned for seven years; well, he put a mill-dam across the river, and stopt all the fish irom goin up, and the court fined him fifty pounds for it, and THE WHITE NIGGER. 131 this good man was so wrathj, he thought he should feel better to swear a little, hut conscience told him it was wicked. So ho eompounded with conscience, and cheated the devil, by callin it a ^dam fine business.' Now, friend Porter, if this is your poor-law, it is a damn poor law, I tell you, and no good can come of such hard-hearted doins. It's no wonder your country don't prosper, for who ever heerd of a blessin on such carryina on as this? Says I, Did you ever hear tell of a sartain rich man, that had a beggar called Lazarus laid at his gate, and how the dogs had more compassion than he had, and came and licked his sores; cause if you hare, look at that forehanded and sponsible man there, Deacon Westfall, and you see the rich man. And then look at that are pauper, dragged away in. that ox-cart from his wife for ever, like a feller to States' Prison,, and you see Lazarus. Recollect what foUered, John Porter, aud faaTe neither art nor part in it, as you are a Christian man. It fairly made me sick all day. John Porter foUered me out of the house, and as I was a turnin Old Clay, said he, Mr. Slick,, says he, I neyer lee'd it in that are light afore, for it's our custom^ and custom, you know, will reconcile one to most anything. I must say, it does appear, as you lay it out, an unfeelin way of providin for the poor; hut, as touchin the matter of dividin man and wife, why, (and he peered all round to see that no> one was within heerin,) why, I don't know, but if it was my allotment to he sold, I'd as lives they'd sell me separate from Jane, as not, for it appears to me it's about the best part of it. Now, what I have told you, Squire, said the Clockmaker, is the truth; and if memhers, instead of their everlastin politics, would only look into these matters a little, I guess it would be far better for the country. So, as for our declaration of inde- pendence, I guess you needn't twitt me with our slave-sales, for we deal only in blacks; but blue-nose approbates no distinction^ in colours, and when reduced to poverty, is reduced to slavery and is sold — a White Ni^^er» . . . ■') ■tHHb ■Ok.' ^*#» Vt; 182 THB CLOCKMAKER. .i "•I CHAPTER XXVIIL FIRE IN THE DAIRY. ■ ' As we approached within fifteen or twenty miles of Parrsboro^ •n sudden turn of the road brought us direct in Tront of a largo Avooden house, consisting of two stories and an immense roof, the height of which edifice was much increased by a stone foundation, rising several feet above ground. Now, did yoa €ver see, said Mr. Slick, such a catamaran as that? there's a proper goney for you, for to go and raise such a buildin as rthat are, and he has as much use for it, I do suppose, as my bottle-nose porpoise turns up his snout, and puff and snort ex* cactly like him at a small house. If neighbour Carrit has a two 'Story bouse, all filled with winders, like Sandy Hook lighthouse, neighbour Parsnip must add jist two feet more on to the post •of hisn, and about as much more to the rafter, to go ahead of bim; so all these long scarce gentlemen strive who can get ihe furdest in the sky, away from their farms. In New England our maxim is a small house, and amost an everlastin almighty big bam; but these critters revarse it, they have little hovels -for their cattle, about the bigness of a good sizeable bear trap, and a house for the humans as grand as Noah's Ark. Well jist look at it and see what a figur it does cut. An old hat stuffed into one pane of glass, and an old flannel petticoat, as yaller as Jaundice, in another, finish off the front; an old pair of breeches, and the pad of a bran new cart-saddle worn out, titivate the «end, while the backside is all closed up on account of the wind. When it rains, if there aint a pretty how-do-you-do, it's a pity- beds toated out of this room, and tubs set in tother to catch soft water to wash; while the clapboards, loose at the eends, go clap, clap, clap, like galls a hacklin flax, and the winders and doors keep a dancin to the music. The only dry place in the liouse is in the chimbley-corner where the folks all huddle up« FIRE IN THE DAIKY. 13& as an old hen and her chickens do under a cart of a net daj.. I wish I had the matter of a half a dozen pound of nails, (youll. hear the old gentleman in the grand house say,) I'll he darn'd if I don't, for if I had, I'd fix them are claphoards, I guess- they'll go for it some o' these days. I wish you had, his wife would say, for they do make a most particular unhansum clatter^ that's a fact; and so they let it he to the next tempestical time comes, and then they wish agin. Now this grand house ha» only two rooms down stairs, that are altogether slicked up and finished off complete, the other is jist petitioned off rough like one half great dark entries, and tother half places that look a plaguy sight more like packin hoxes than rooms. Well, all up stairs is a great onfarnished place, filled with every sort of good for nothin trumpery in natur — harrels without eends — corn cohs half husked — cast off clothes and hits of old harness,, sheep skins, hides and wool, apples, one half rotten, and tother half squashed'^— a thousand or two of shingles that haye hust their withs, and hroke loose all over the floor, hay rakes, forks^ and sickles, without handles or teeth; rusty scythes, and odds and eends without numher. When any thing is wanted, then there is a general overhaul of the whole cargo, and away they get shifted forrard, one hy one, all handled over and chucked into a heap together till the lost one is found ; and the next time, away they get pitched to the starn again, higglety pigglety,. heels over head, like sheep taken a split for it over a wall; only they increase in numher each move, cause some of 'em are sure to get hroke into more pieces than they was afore. Whenever I see one of these grand houses, and a hat lookin out o' the winder with nary head in it, thinks I, 111 he darned if that's a place for a wooden clock, nothin short of a London touch would go down with them folks, so I calculate I wont alight. Whenever you come to such a grand place as this. Squire, depend on't the farm is all of a piece, great crops of thistles, and an everlastin yield of weeds, and cattle the hest fed of any in the country, for they are always in the grain fields or mowin lands, and the pigs a rootin in the potatoe patches. A spic and span new gig at the door, shinin like the mud hanks of Windsor, when the sun s on em, and an old rack of a hay waggin, with its tongue onhitched, and stickin out behind, like • pig's tail, all indicate a big man. He's above thinkin of r ^ .it ail ■•>-« «. • ••_ I ♦ ■ • I =.''l# ' KAf-J'^J* ■?, ^ ' ■* .M ' 134 THE CLOCKMAKER. J; farmin tools, he sees to the hran new gig, and the hired helpi look arter the carts. Catch him with his go-to-meetin clothes on, a ruhhin agin their nasty greasy axles, like a tarry nigger; not he, indeed, he'd stick you up with it. The last time I came hy here, it was a little hit arter daylight down, ranin cats and dogs, and as dark as Egypt; so, thinks I, I'll jist turn in here for shelter to Squire Bill Blake's. Well, I knocks away at the front door, till I thought I'd split it in; hut arter rappin awhile to no purpose, and findin no one come, I gropes my way round to the hack door, and opens it, and feelin all along the partition for the latch of the keepin room, without findin it, I knocks agin, when some one from inside calls out * "Walk.* Thinks I, I don't cleverly know whether that indicates 'walk in' or 'walk out,' its plaguy short metre, that's a fact; but 111 see any how. Well, arter gropin about awhile, at last I got hold of the string and lifted the latch and walked in, and there sot old Marm Blake, close into one comer of the chimbley fire place, a see-sawin in a rockin chair, and a hal grown black house-help, half asleep in tother comer, a scroudgin ap over the embers. Who be yeu ? said Marm Blake, for I can't «ee you. A stranger, said I. Beck, says she, speaking to the l)lack heifer in the comer, Beck, says she, agin, raisin her yoice, I believe you are as def as a post, get up this minit and stir the coals, till I see the man. Arter the coals were stirred into a blaze, the old lady surveyed me firom head to foot, then she axed me my name, and where I came from, where I was agoin, and what my business was. I guess, said she, you must he reasonable wet, sit to the fire and dry yourself, or mayhap yout health may be endamnified pr'aps. So I sot down, and we soon got pretty considerably well acquainted, and quite sociable like, and her tongue, when it fairly waked up, began to run like a mill race when the gate's up. I hadn't been talkin long, 'fore I well nigh lost sight of her altogether agin, for little Beck began to flourish about her broom, right and left, in great style, a clearin up, and she did raise such an awful thick cloud o' dust, I didn't know if I should ever see or breathe either agin. Well, when all was sot to rights, and the fire made up, the old lady began to apologise for having no caudles; she said she'd had a grand tea party the night afore, and used them all up, and a whole sight of vittals too, the old HRE IN THE DAIRY. 135 «ian hadn t been ivell since, and had gone to bed airly. Buti tays she, I do wish with all my heart you had a come last nighty for we had a most special supper — punkin pies and dough nut% and apple sarce, and a roast goose stuffed with Indian puddin, and a pig's harslet stewed in molasses and onions, and I don't know what all, and the fore part of to-day folks called to finish, lactilly have nothin left to set afore you: for it was none o' your skim-milk parties, but superfine uppercrust real jam, and we made clean work of it. But I'llmake some tea, any how, for you, and perhaps, after that, said she, alterin of her tone, perhaps you'll expound the Scriptures, for it's one while since I've heerdthem laid open powerfully. I han't been fairly lifted up since that good man Judas Oglethorp trayelled this road, and then she gave a groan, and hung down her head, and looked comer-ways, to see how the land lay thereabouts. The tea-kettle was accordingly put on, and some lard fried into oil, and poured into a tumbler; which, with the aid of an inch of cotton- wick, served as a make-shift for a candle. Well, arter tea, we sot and chatted awhile about fiuhions, and markets, and sarmons, and scandal, and all sorts o' things, and, in the midst of it, in runs the nigger wench, screemin out at the tip eend of her voice. Oh Missus ! Missus ! there's fire in the dairy, fire in the dairy ! V\l give it to you for that, said the old lady, I'll give it to you for that, you good for nothin hussy, that's all your carelessness, go and put it out this minit, how on airth did it get there ? my night milk's gone, I dare say; run this minit and put it out and save the milk. I am dreadful afeard of fire, I always was from a boy, and seein the poor foolish critter seize a broom in her fright, I ups with the tea-kettle and follows her; and away we clipt thro' the entry, she callin out Mind the cellar door on the right. Take kear of the close horse on the left, and so on, but as I couldn' see Qothin, I kept right straight ahead. At last my foot kotched in somethin or another, that pitched me somewhat less than a -rod or so, right agin the poor black critter, and away we went heels over head. I heer'd a splash and a groan, and I smelt fiomethin plaguy sour, but couldn't see nothin; at last I got hold of her, and lifted her up, for she didn't scream, but Quide a strange kind of choakir TDMue, and by this time up ' tax ***! 3 vn 136 , THE CLOCKM^KRli' came Marm Blake xvith a light. If poor Beck didn t let go then in nirnest, and sing out, for dear life, it's a pity, for she Lad gone head first into the swill tuh, and the tea kettle had scalded her feet. She kept a dancin right up and down, like one rarin distracted mad, and boohood like any thing, clawin away at her head the whole time, to clear away the stuff that stuck to her wool. .•..•.,' f I held in as long as I could, till I thought I should have busted, for no soul could help a larfin, and at last I haw-hawed right out. You good for nothin stupid slut you, said the old lady, to poor Beck, it sanres you right, you had no business to leave it there — I'll pay you. But, said I, interferin for the un- fortunate critter. Good gracious, Marm ! you forget the fire. No, I don't, said she, I see him, and seesin the broom that had fallen from the nigger's hand, she exclaimed, I see him, the nasty var- mint, and began to belabour most onmercifViUy a poor half- starved cur that the noise had attracted to the entry. I'll teucb you, said she, to drink milk; 111 larn you to steal into the dairy; and the besot critter joined chorus with Beck, and they both yelled together, till they fairly made the house ring agin. Pre- sently old Squire Blake popt his head out of a door, and rabbin his eyes, half asleep and half a wake, said. What's the devil's to pay now, wife ? Why, nothin, says she, only, ''Jirei in the dairyl and Beck's in the swill tub, that's all. Well, don't make such a touss, then, said he, if that's all, and he shot tu the door, and went to bed agin. When we returned to the keepin room, the old lady told me that they always had had a dog called * Fire^ ever since her grandfather. Major Donald Eraser's time, and what was very odd, says she, every one on' em would drink milk if he had a chance. By this time the shower was over, and the moon shinin so bright and clear, that I thought I'd better be up and stirrin, and after slippin a few cents into the poor nigger wench's hand, I took leave of the grand folks in the big house. Now, Squire, among these middlin sized farmers you may lay this down as a rule,— T^e bigger ike house^ the bigger Ike fools be thaCs in it. But, howsomever, I never call to mind that are go in the big house, up to the right, that I don't snicker when I think ^ Fire in the dairy,' 4 HODY WITHOUT A HEAD. 187 CHAPTER XXIX. * ▲ BODY WITOOUT A HEAD. I ALLOT you had ought to visit our great country, Squire, said the Clockmaker, afore you quit for good and all. I calcu- late you don^t understand us. The roost splendid locntion atween the Poles is the United States, and the first man alive is Gineral Jackson, the hero of the age, him that skeered the British out of their seven senses. Then there's the great Daniel Webster, it's generally allowed, he''s the greatest orator on the face of the airth, by a long chalk, and Mr. Van Buren, and Mr. Clay, and Amos Kindle, and Judge White, and a whole raft of statesmen, up to everything, and all manner of politics; there ain't the beat of 'em, to be found any where. If you was to hear 'em, I concait you'd hear genuine pure English for once, any how; for its generally allowed we speak English better than the British. They all know roe to be an American citizen here, by my talk, for we speak it complete in New England. Yes, if you want to see a free people — them that makes their own laws, accordin to their own notions — go to the States. Indeed, if you can fait them at all, they are a little grain too jfree. Our folks have their heads a trifle too much, sometimes, particularly in Elections, both in freedom of speech and freedom of press. One hadn't ought to blart right out always all that comes uppermost. A horse that's too free frets himself and his rider too, and both on 'em lose flesh in the long run. I'd e'en almost as lives use the whip sometimes, as to be for ever- lastingly a pullin at the rein. One's arm gets jilapuy tiredj that's a fact. I often think of a lesson I larnt Jehiel Quirk I once, for letten his tongue outrun his good manners. I was down to Rhode Ishnul one summer to lam gilden and bronzin, so as to give tlie fii ishin touch to my clocks. Well, I the folks elected me a liojrn ;»ve, jist to poke fun at me, and Mr. Jehiel, a bean poh^ of m lawyer, was at the bottom of it. f^H) one day, up to Town \\n\\. >vhere there was an orati'n to be hlelivered on our IndeptiiHcnrc, jist afore the orator commenced, in runs Jehiel m a most aiifin o huirv ; and, says he, I wondeif^ 10 •«-* /'i *R- 1 1 1 ctw. < '#■ t::^ r ii ^ 'm ^'.«i>i "•- %.' T •• -' 1 r « 1 I 4i 1 138 THB CLOCKMAKER. tl ii'i sajs he, if there's are a hogreare here, becauie if there he I require* a turn of his office. And then, says he, a lookin up to me- and callin out at the tip eend of his Toice, Mr. Hogreare Slick, said he, here's a joh out here for you. Folks snickered a good deal, and felt my spunk a risen like half flood; that's a fact; but I bit in my breath, and spoke quite cool. Possible, says I; well duty, I do suppose, must be done, though it tante the most agreeable in the world. Tve been a thinkin, says I, that I would be liable to a fine of fifty ?ents for sufferin a hog to run at laige,and as you are the biggest one, I presume, in all Rhode Island^ riljist begin by ringinyour nose, to prevent you firom thefuture^ from pokin your snout where you hadn't out to— and I seized him by the nose and nearly wrung it off. Well, you nerer heerd sich a shoutin and clappin of hands, and cheerin, in your life — they haw-hawed like thunder. Says I, Jehiel Quirk, that was a superb joke of youm, how you made the folks larf, didn't you? You are iee'n amost the wittiest critter I ever seed. I gues» you^ll mind your parts o' speech, and study the accidence agin afore you let your clapper run arter that fiishion, wont't you ? I thought, said I, that among your republicans, there were no- gradations of rank or office, and that all were equal, the Hog- reare and the Goremor, the Judge and the Crier, the master and his servant; and although firom the nature of things, more power might be entrusted to one than the other, yet that the rank of all was precisely the same. Well, said he, it is so in theory, but not always in practice ; and when we do prac/»e it^ it seems to go a little agin the grain, as if it wam't quite right neither. When I was last to Baltimore there was a Court there, and Chief Justice Marshall was detailed there for duty. Well, with us in New England, the Sheriff attends the Judge to Court, and, says I to the Sheriff, Why don''t you escort that are venerable old Judge to the State House? he's a credit to our nation that man, he's actilly the first pothook on the crane, the whole weight is on him, if it warn't for him the fat would be in the fire in no time; I wonder you don't show him that respect ^-it WQnl^la't hurt you one morsel, I guess. Says he, quite miffy like, Pon't he know the way to Court as well as I do ? if I thought he didn't, I'd send one of my niggers to show him the road. I wonder who was his lackey last year, that he wants me to be hisn this time. It don't convene to one of our free A BODY WITHOUT A HEAD. 139 enlightened citiaens, to tag arter any man, thafs a /act; its too English and too foreign for our glorious institutions. He's bound by law to be there at ten o'clock, and so be I, and vre both know the ivay there I reckon. ' I told the story to our minister, Mr. Hopewell (and he has some odd notions about him that man, though he don't always kt oat what he thinks;) says he, Sam, that was in bad ta^te, (a great phrase of the old gentleman's that,) in bad taste, Sam. That are Sheriff was a goney ; don't cut your cloth arter his pattern, or your garment won't become you, I tell you. We are too enlightened to worship our fellow citizens as the ancients did, but we ought to pay great respect to vartue and exalted talents in this life; and, arter their death, there should be statues of eminent men placed in our national temples, for the Teneration of arter ages, and public ceremonies performed annually to their honour. Arter all, Sam, said he, (and he made a considerable of a long pause, as if he was dubersome whether he out to speak out or not) arter alL Sam, said he, atween ourselres, (but you must not let on I said so, for the fulness of time han*t yet come) half a yard of blue ribbon is a plaguy cheap way of rewardin merit, as the English do; and, although we larf at 'em, (for folks always will larf at what they han't got, and nerer can get,) yet titles aint bad things as objects of ambition are they? Then, tappen me on the shoulder, and looken up and smilin, as he always did when he was pleased with an idee. Sir Samuel Slick would not souud bad, I guess, would it, Sam? When I look at the English House of Lords, said he, and see so much laming, piety, talent, honour, yartue, and refinement^ collected together, I ax myself this here question. Can a system which produces and sustains such a body of men, as the world neyer saw before, and never will see agin, be defective? Well, I ani^er myself. Perhaps it is, for all human institutions are so, but I guess it's e'en about the best arter all. It wouldn't do here now, Sam, nor perhaps for a century to come, but it will come sooner or later with some variations. Now the Newtown pippin, when transplanted to England, don't produce such fruit as it does in Long Island, and English fruits don't preserve their flavour here, neither; allowance must be made for differenGe «f soil and climate — (Oh Lord! thinks I, if he tunis izito bii t^ ijrfft r I •r* I" 1 140 THE CLOCKMAKEIU t orchard, I'm done for; I'll have to give him the dodge some how or another, through some hole in the fence, that's a fact, hut he passed on that time.) So it is, said he, with consti* tutions; ourn will gradually approximate to theim, and theirn to ourn. As they lose their strength of executive, they will Targe to repuhlicanism, and as we invigorate the form of government, (as we must do, or go to the old hoy,) we shall tend towards a monarchy. If this comes on gradually, like the changes in the human hody, hy the slow approach of old age, so much the better; hut I fear we shall have fevers, and con- vulsion-fits, and cholics, and an everlastin gripin of the intes- tines first; you and I wont live to see it, San;, but our posteriors will, you may depend. ' ^'H*. > i^ , - ., iiu* ^.u < I don't go the whole figur with minister, said the Clock- maker, hut I do opinionate with him in part. In our business relations we bely our political principles — we say every man is equal in the Union, and should have an equal vote and voice in the Government; but in our BankSj Railroad Companies, Factory Corporations, and so on, every man's vote is regilated by his share and proportion of stock; and if it wam't so, no man would take hold on these things at all. Natur ordained it so — a father of a family is head, and rules supreme in his household ; his eldest son and darter are like £rst leftenants under him, and then there is an overseer over the niggers ; it would not do for all to be equal there. So it is in the univarse, it is ruled by one Superior Power ; if all the Angels had a voice in the Government I guess — — - Here I fell fast asleep ; I had been nodding for some time, not in approbation of what he said, but in heaviness of slumber, for I had never before heard him so prosy since I first overtook him on the Colchester rood. I hate politics as a subject of conversation, it is too ^ide a field for chit chat, and too often ends in angry discussion. How long he continued this train of speculation I do not know, but, judging by the different aspect of the country, I must have slept an hour. I was at length aroused by the report of his rifle, which he had discharged from the waggon. Tho last I recollected of his conversation was, I think, about American angels having no voice in the Government, an assertion that struck my drowsy fii^ulties as not strictly true ; as I had often heard that the A BODY WITHOUT A HEAD. 141 American ladies talked frequently and warmly on the subject of politics, and knew that one of them had rery recently the credit of breaking up General Jackson's cabinet. When I awoke, the iirst I heard was, Well, I declare, if that ain't an amazin fine shot, too, considerin how the critter was a runnin the whole blessed time ; if I han't cut her head off with a ball, jist below the throat, that's a fact. There's no mistake in a good Kentucky rifle, I tell you. Whose head ? said I, in great alarm, whose head, Mr. Slick ? for hearen's sake what have you done ? (for I had been dreaming of those angelic politicians, the American ladies.) Why that are hen-partridge's head, to be sure, said he; don't you see how special wonderful wise it looks, a flutteriA about arter its head. True, said I, rubbing my eyes, and opening them in time to see the last muscular spasms of the decapitated body ; true, li^r. Slick, it is a happy illustration of our previottB conversation — a body without a head. ' ^ ^^ -i 11 ^i--:-' CHAPTER XXX. A TALE OF BUNKERS HILL. Mr. Slick, like all his countrymen whom I have seen, felt that his own existence was inyolved in that of the Constitution of the United States, and that it was his duty to uphold it upon all occasions. He affected to consider its government and its institutions as perfect, and if any doubt was suggested as to the stability or character of either, would make the common reply of all Americans, 'I guess you don't understand us,' or else enter into a laboured defence. When left, however, to the free ex- pression of his own thoughts, he would often give utterance to those apprehensions which most men feel in the event of an experiment rot yet fairly tried, and which has in many parts I evidently diouppointed the sanguine hopes of its friends. But, even on these occasions, when his vigilance seemed to slumber, i he would generally cover them, by giving them, as the remarks of others, or concealing them in a tale. It was this habit that I gave his discourse rather the appearance of thinking aloud than I a connected conversation. We are a great nation, Squire, he said, that's sartain : but I Inn afear'd we didn't altogether start right. It's in politics as in i ■i.*" '•C*) > ■■ ^'ji v the sun — no two of 'em will lie so as to make a close jint. They are all divided into sects, railin, quarrellin, separatin, and agreein in nothin, but hatin each other. It is auful to think on. Tothcr family vrill some day or other gather them all up, put them into a bundle, and bind them up tight, and condemn 'em JOB fit for nothin under the sun, but the fire. Now he who tplits one of these here sects by schism, or he who preaches •schism commits a grieyous sin ; and Sam, if you valy your own peace of mind, have nothin to do with such folks. Its pretty much the same in politics. I aint quite clear in my conscience, Sam, about our glorious revolution. If that are "blood was shed justly in the rebellion, then it was the Lord's 'doin, but if unlawfully, how am I to answer for my share in it ? I was to Bunker's HUi (the most splendid battle its generally allowed that ever was fought); what effects my shots had I can't tell, and I'm glad I can't, all except one, Sam, and that shot ' Here the old gentleman became dreadfiil agitated, he shook like an ague fit, and he walked up and down the room, and wrung his hands and groaned bitterly. I have wrastled with the Lord, Sam, and have prayed to him to enlighten me on that pint, and to wash out the stain of that are blood from my hands. I never told you that are story, nor your mother neither, for she could not stand it, poor critter, sh^ d^i j;if ' -^-H -:3" f'U ■9^ % 1 144 THB CLOCKMAKBIU a P! ii fell flat on his face atop of the hlade, and it came straight oul through his hack. He was fairly skivered. I neyer seed any. thing so auful since I was raised, I actilly screamed out with horror — and I threw away my gun and joined them that was retreatin over the neck to Charlestown. Sam, that are British officer, if our rebellion was onjust, or onlawfiil, was murdered, that's a fact ; and the idee, now I am growin old, haunts me day and night. Sometimes I begin with the Stamp Act, and I ^o over all our grievances, one by one, and say, Aint they a sufficient justification? Well, it makes a long list, and I get kinder satisfied, and it appears as clear as anything. But some- times there come doubts in my mind jist like a guest that's not invited or not expected, and takes you at a short like, and I say, Wam't the Stamp Act repealed, and concessions made, and warn't offers sent to settle all fairly? — and I get troubled and oneasy again. And then I say to myself, says I, Oh .yes, but them offers came too late. I do nothin now, when I am alone. but argue it over and over agin. I actilly dream on that man in my sleep sometimes, and then I see him as plain as if he was afore me, and I go over it all agin till I come to that are 8hot»^ and then I leap right up in bed and scream like all vengeance; and your mother, poor old critter, says, Sam, says she, what oa airth ails you to make you act so like old Scratch in your sleep? I do believe there*s somethin' or another on your conscience. And I say, PoUey, dear, I guess we're a goin to have rain, for that plaguy cute rheumatis has seized my foot, and it does tmtagonize me so I have no peace. It always does so when its like for a change. Dear heart, she says, (the poor simple critter,) then I guess I had better rub it, hadn't I, Sam ? and she crawls out of bed, and gets her red flannel waistcoat, and rubs away at my foot ever so long. Oh, Sam, if she could rub it out of my heart as easy as she thinks she rubs it out of my foot, i should be in peace, that's a fact. '- What's done, Sam, can't be helped, there is no use in cry in over spilt milk, but still one can't help a thinkin on it. But I don't love schisms and I don't love rebellion. ^ ' Our revolution has made us grow faster and grow richer; but, Sam, when we were younger and poorer, we were more- pious and more happy. We have nothin fixed either in religion: ^r politics. What connection tkere ought to be atween Church X TALE OF BUNKER'S HILL. 14> Vid State, I am not availed, but some there ought to be as sura as the Lord made Moses. Religion when left to itself, as with, as, grows too rank and luxuriant. Suckers and sprouts and intersectin shoots, and superfluous wood make a nice shady tree to look at, but where's the fruit, Sam ? — that's the question — where's the firuit? No; the pride of human wisdom, and the- presumption it breeds will ruinate us. Jefferson was an infidel, and avowed it, and gloried in it, and called it the enlightenment of the age. Cambridge College is Unitarian, cause it look» wise to doubt, and every drumstick of a boy ridicules the beliei of his forefathers. If our country is to be darkened by infi- delity, our Governi jnt defied by every State, and every State ruled by mobs — then, Sam, the blood we shed in our revolution^ will be atoned for in the blood and sufferin of our fellow citizens. The murders of that civil war will be expiated by a political suicide of the State. I am somewhat of father's opinion, said the Clockmaker,. though I don't go the whole figur with him; but he needn't have made such an everlastin touss about fixen that are British^ officer's flint for him, for he'd a died of himself by this time, I do suppose, if he had a missed his shot at him. Praps we might have done a little better, and praps we mightn't, by sticken a little closer to the old constitution. But one thing I will say, I think, arter all, your Colony Government is about as happy and as good a one as I know on. A man's life and pro* perty are well protected here at little cost, and he can go where he likes and do what he likes, provided he don't trespass on. his neighbour. , - . ;./ . . • PI 1 guess that's enough for any on us; now, aint it? 'X f ' *■ CHAPTER XXXI. GULLING A BLVE-NOSE. T t ALLOT, said Mr. Slick, that the blue-noses are the most gullible folks on the face of the airth, — rigular soft horns, that's a fact. Politics and such stuff set 'em a gapin, like children in a chimney comer listenin to tales of ghosts, Salem witches, and Kova Scotia snow storms *, and while they stand starin and '0u '^ft »<**3 m -»»'?^ !««?■•»; i •9^. 4' fe - I 1^ 146 THE CLOCiOfAKER. t "I ;yawpin, all eyes and mouth, they get their pockets picked of ^yery cent that's in 'em. One candidate chap says, * Feller •citizens, this country is goin to the dogs hand over hand ; look at your riyers, you haye no hridges ; at your wild lands, you have no roads ; at your treasury, you hante got a cent in it ; at your markets, things don't fetch nothin; at your fish, the Yankees ketch 'em all. There's nothin behind you but suf- ^erin, around you but poverty, afore you but slavery and death. What's the cause of this unheerd of awful state of things, ay what's the cause? Why, Judges, and. Banks, and Lawyers ^nd great folks, have swallered all the money. They've got you 'down, and they'll keep you down to all etarnity, you and your posteriors arter your. Rise up like men, arouse yourselves like freemen, and elect me to the Legislatur, and I'll lead on the small but patriotic band, I'll put the big wigs thro' their facins, I'll make 'em shake in their shoes, 111 knock off your chains and make you free.' Well the goneys fall tu and elect him, and he desarts right away, with bills, rifle, powder, horn, and all. He promised too mueh. Then comes a rael good man, and an everlastin fine preacher a most a special spiritual man, renounces the world, the flesh, and the devil, preaches and prays day and night, so kind to the poor, and so humble, he has no more pride than a babe, and so short-handed, he's no butter to his bread — all self-denial, mor> tifyin the flesh. Well, as soon as he can work it, he marries ^he richest gall in all his flock, and then his bread is buttered •on both sides. He promised too much. Then comes a Doctor, and a prime article he is too. I've got. says he, a screw augur emetic and hot crop, and if I can't cure all sorts o' things in natur my name aint Quack. Well, he turns stomach and pocket, both inside out.> and leaves poor blue- nose — a dead man. He promised too muck. Then comes a Lawyer, an honest lawyer, too, a rael wonder •onder the sun, as straight as a shingle in all his dealins. He's so honest he can't bear to hear tell of other lawyers, he writes agin 'em, raves agin 'em, votes agin 'em, they are all rogues but liim. He's jist the man to take a case in hand^ cause he Avill see justice done. Well, he wins his case, and fobs all for costs, i GULLIKG A BLUE-NOSE. 147 Then comes a Yankee Glockmaker, (and here Mr. Slick looked np and smiled), with his 'Soft Sawder,' and 'Human Natur,' and he sells clocks warranted to run from July tc Etamitj, stoppages included, and I must say they do run as — as long as wooden clocks commonly do, that's a fact. But 111 shew you presently how I put the leak into 'em, for here's feller a little bit ahead on us, whose flint I've made up my mind to fix this while past. Here we were nearly thrown out of the waggon, by the breaking down of one of those small wooden bridges, which proye so annoying and so dangerous to Iravellers. Did you hear that are snap? said he ; well, as sure :as fate, 111 break my clocks over them etamal log briges, if Old Clay clips over them arter that fashion. Them are poles are plaguy treacherous, they are jist like old Marm Patience Does- good's teeth, that keeps the great United Independent Demo- cratic Hotel, at Squaw Neck Creek, in Massachusetts, one half gone, and tother half rotten eends. I thought you had disposed of your last clock, said I, at Colchester, to Deacon Flint. So I did, he replied, the last one I had to sell to him, but I got a few left for other folks yet. Now there's a man on this road, one Zeb Allen, a real genuine skinflint, a proper close-fisted customer as you'll almost see any where, and one that's not altogether the straight thing in his dealin neither. He don't want no one to live but himself, and he's mighty handsum to me, sayin my clocks are all a cheat, :and that we ruinate the country, a drainin every drop of money out of it, a callin me a Yankee broom and what not. But it tante all jist Gospel that he says. Now TU put a clock on him afore he knows it, I'll go right into him as slick as a whistle, and play him to the eend of my line like a trout. I'll have a hook in his gills, while he's thinkin he's only smelling at the bait. There he is now, I'll be darned if he aint, standin afore his shop door, lookin as strong as high proof Jamaiky: I guess I'll whip out of the bung while he's lookin arter the Bpicket, and p'raps he'll be none o the wiser till he finds it out, iieither. Well, Squire, how do you do, said he, how's all at home? Iteasonable well, I give you thanks, won't you alight ? Can't to 4ay) said Mr. Slick, I'm iu a considerable of a hurry to katch ■, iiSf-'' ■m f 1 m 148 THE CLOCKMAKER. 1^ the packet ; have you any commands for Sou West? I'm going to the Island and across the hay to Windsor. Any word that way? No, says Mr. Allen, none that I can think on, unless it be to inquire how hutter's goin ; they tell me cheese is down and produce of all kind particular dull this fall. Well, I'm glad I can tell you that question, said Slick, for I don't calculate to return to these parts, butter has risen a cent or two; I put mine off mind at tenpence. Don't return! possible! why, how you talk? Have you done with the clock trade? I guess I have, it tante worth foUerin now. Most time, said the other, laughin, for by all accounts the clocks warn't worth havin, and most infarnal dear too, folks begin to get their eyes open. It warn't needed in your case, said Mr. Slick, with that peculiarly com> posed manner that indicates suppressed feeling, for you wa» always wide awake, if all the folks had cut their eye teeth a» airly as you did, there'd be plaguy few clocks sold in these parts, I reckon. But you are right, Squire, you may say that, they actually were not worth havin, and that's the truth. The fact is, said he, throwin down his reins, and affectin a most confidential tone, I felt almost ashamed of them myself, I tell you. The long and short of the matter is jist this, they don't make no good ones now-a-days no more, for they calculate 'em for shipping and not for home use. I was all struck up of a heap when I seed the last lot I got from the States. I was properly bit by them, you may depend ; they didn't pay cost, for I couldn't recommend them with a clear conscience, and I must say I do like a fair deal, for I'm strait up and down, and love to go right ahead, that's a fact. Did you ever see them I fetched when I first came, them I sold over the Bay? No, said Mr. Allen, I can't say I did. Well, continued he, they were a prime article, I tell you, no mistake there, fit for any market, it's generally allowed there aint the beat of them to be found any where. If you want a clock, and can lay your hands on one of them, I advise you not to let go the chance; you'll know 'em by the Lowell mark, for they were all made at Judge Beler's factory. Squire Shepody, down to Five Islands, axed me to get him one, and a special job I had of it, near about more sarch arter it than it was worth, but I did get him one, and a particular hansum one iv is, copald and gilt superior. I guess it's worth any half-dozen in these parts, let totheri be GULLIMG A BLUE-NOSE. 143 where they may. If I could a got supplied with the like • them, I could a ma'^.e a grand spec out of them, for thej took at once and went off quick. Hare you got it with you? said Mr Allen, I should like to see it. Yes, I haye it here, all done up in tow, as snug as a bird's egg, to keep it from jarrin, for it hurts 'em consumedly to jolt 'em over them are etamal wooden bridges. But it's no use to take it out, it aint for sale, its bespoke, and I wouldn't take the same trouble to get another lor twenty dollars. The only one that I know of that there's any chance of gettin, is one that Increase Crane has up to Wilmot, they say he's a sellin off After a good deal of persuasion, Mr. Slick unpacked the clock, but protested against his asking for it, for it was not for sale. It was then exhibited, every part explained and praised, as new in inrention and perfect in workmanship. Now Mr. Allen had a very exalted opinion of Squire Shepody's taste, judgment, and saving knowledge ; and, as it was the last and only chance of getting a clock of such superior quality, he offered to take ii; at the price the Squire was to have it, at seven pounds ten shillings. But Mr. Slick vowed he couldn't part with it at no rate, he didn't know where he could get the like agin, (for he warn't quite sure about Increase Crane's,) and the Squire would be confounded disappointed, he couldn't think of it. In proportion to the difficulties, rose the ardour of Mr. Allen, his offers ad- vanced to £8, to £8 10^., to £9. I vow, said Mr. Slick, I wish 1 hadn't let on that I Lad it all. I don't like to refuse you, but where am I to get the like ? After much discussion of a similar nature, he consented to part with the clock, though with great apparent reluctance, and pocketed the money with a protest that, cost what it would, he should have to procure another, for he couldn't think of putting the Squire^s pipe out arter that fashion, for he was a very clever man, and as fair as a boot-jack. Now, said Mr. Slick, as we proceeded on our way, that are feller is properly sarved, he got the most inferior article I had, and I jist doubled the price on him. It's a pity he should be a tellm of lies of the Yankees all the time, this will help him now to a little grain of truth. Then mimicking his voice and manner, he repeated Allen's words with a strong nasal twang, ^ Most time for you to give over the clock trade, I guess, for by all accounts they ain't worth havin. and most infarnal dear, too, folks being ■ \;»' i : 1 3- f^ •'1 ■ 1 150 THE CLOCKMAKER. * to get their eyes open/ Better for you if you'd a had youi'a open, I reckon ; a joke is a joke, but I concait you'll find that no joke. The next time you tell stories about Yankee pedlan, put the wooden clock in with the wooded punkin seeds, and Hickory hams, will you? The blue-noses. Squire, are all like Zeb Allen, they think they know ererything, but they get gulled from year's eend to year's eend. They expect too much from others, and do too Hide for themselres. They actilly expect the sun to shine, and the xain to fall, through their little House ol Assembly. What hare you done for us? they keep axin their members. Who did you spunk up to last Session ? jist as if all legislation consisted in attacking some half-dozen puss-proud folks to Halifax, who are jist as big noodles as they be them* selres. You hear nothin but politics, politics, politics, one eyer- lastin sound of Gire, gire, giye. If I was OoTemor I'd giye 'em (he butt eend of my mind on the subject, I'd crack their pates till I let some light in 'em, if it was me, I know. I'd say to the members, Don't come down here to HalifiEuc with your long lockrums about politics, makin a great touss about nothin ; but open the country, foster agricultur, encourage trade, incorporate companies, make bridges, facilitate conyeyance, and aboye all things make a railroad from Windsor to Halifax; and mind what I tell you now, write it down for fear you should forget it, for it's a fact ; and if you don't belieye me, I'll lick you till you do, for there ain't a word of a lie in it, by Gum: *■ One such work as the Windsor Bridge is worth all your lawsy volesy spemihes, and resolutions, for the last ten years, if tied up and put into a meal bag together. If it tante I hope I may be shoL n CHAPTER XXXIL TOO MANT IRONS IN THE FIRB. Wb had a pleasant sail of three hours from Parrsboro' i(> Windsor. The arriyals and departures by water are regulated at this place by the tide, and it was sunset before we reached Mrs. Wilcox'^s comfortable inn. Here, as at other places, Mr. Slick seemed to be perfectly at home ; and he pointed to a wooden clock, as a proof of his successful and extended trade, and of the uniyersal influence of ' soft sawder.' and a knowledge of *■ human TOO MANY IBONS IN THE 7IRB. 1511 Bator.' Taking out a penknife, he cut off a iplinter from a stick of firewood, and balancing himself on one leg of his chair, by the aid of his right foot, commenced his fayourite amusement of whittling, which he generallj pursued in silence. Indeed it appeared to hare become with him an indispensable accompani- ment of reflection. He sat in this abstracted manner until he had manufactured! into delicate sharings the whole of his raw material, when he Tery deliberately resumed a position of more ease and security,, by resting his chair on two legs instead of one, and putting both his feet on the mantel-piece. Then, lighting hiB cigar, he said in his usual quiet manner. There's a plaguy sight of truth in them^ are old proverbs. They zre distilled fuots steamed down to an> essence. They are like portable mv\^ an imuxzin deal of matter in a small compass, lliey me v^h^t 1 raly most, experience. Father used to say, I'd as lire have tun old homesp'TA self-taught doctor as are a professor in the Coiieg<^ ut PhilridoI{;l&itt or Nc^w York to attend me; for whu tij«y io know, ihoy know by ex- perience and not by booli.?; mxd eiq>«rienoc; is evQvyth^txfj; ; it's^ hearin, and seein, and tryin, &.id arte; that 3 h]hri: r-mst be a bom fool if he don't know. That's 3!so I cwity rf aid proves bs ;. they are as true as a plum linc^, and ^ »hort and sweet an suj^ai- candy. Now when you come to Si^e all about this count 7 youli find the truth of that are one — ' A man thai has too man;/ irons in thejirey is plaguy apt to get same o.% 'am burnt ' Do you recollect that are tree I ghow'd jcxa to PiM'rs1)oro', it was all covered with black knobs, like a ^vart £ 'ibbei with caustic. Well, the plum trees had the same disease a ten yefjs rgo, and they all died, and the cherry troes I cDi^cait will gii for it toe The farms here are all covered with the same ^ black knobs, and they do look like old 8crat<;h« }.f you ace a place all gone to wrack and ruin, it's morterag^i you may depend. The *■ black knob' is on it. My pltm. you kuo^v, is to ax leave to put a clock in a house, and let ?t he till I return. I never say a word about tellin it for I hncw when I come back, they won't let it go liter they are once used to it. Well, when I first came, I knowed no one, and I was forced to inquire whether a man was good for it, afore I left it with him ; so I made a pint of axin •11 about every man's place that lives on the road. Who livci* )ip there in the big house ? I guess— it's a nice location thai„ »-* I ■'-4 ■rj :m 162 THE CLOCRMAKER. t ^ iii; pretty considerable improTements, them. Why, Sir, that's A. B's; he was we.l to do in the world once, carried a stiff tipper lip and keered for no one; he was one of our grand aris- tocrats, wore a long-tailed coat, and a ruffled shirt, but ne must take to ship buildin, and has gone to the dogs. Oh, said I, too many irons in the fire. Well, the next farm, where the pigs are in the potatoe field, whose is thatf Oh, Sir, that our D's; he was a considerable fore-handed farmer, as any in C. place, but he sot up for an Assembly-man, and opened a Store, and things went agin him somehow, he had no luck arterwards. I hear his place is mortgaged, and they've got him cited in chancery. The ^ black knob' is on him, said I. TThe black what. Sir? says blue-nose, starin like a fool and lookin onfakilised. Nothin, says I. But the next, who im> iproyes that house? Why that's E. Fs; he was the greatest farmer in these parts, another of the aristocracy, had a most noble stock o' cattle, and the matter of some hundreds out in jint notes; well, he took the contract for beef with the troops; and he fell astam, so I guess it's a gone goose with him. He^s aeavy mortgaged. ' Too many irons agin,' said I. Who lives to the left there V — that man has a most special fine intervale, and a grand orchard too, he must be a good mark that. Well, he was once, Sir, a few years ago; but he built a fuUin mill, and a cardin mill, and put up a lumber establishment, and specu- lated in the West Indy line, but the dam was carried away by the freshets, the lumber fell, and faith he fell too; he's shot up, he han't been see'd these two years, his farm is a common, and fairly run out. Oh, said I, I understand now, my man, these folks had too many irons in the fire, you see, and some on 'em have got burnt. I never heerd tell of it says blue-nose; they might, but not to my knowledge; and he scratched his head, and looked as if he would ask the meanin of it, but didn't like to. Arter that I axed no more questions; I knew a mort- gaged farm as far as I could see it. There was a strong family likeness in 'em all — the same ugly featurs, the same cast o^ countenance. The ' black knob' was disarnible — there was no mistake — bam doors broken ofi^ — fences burnt up — glass out of winder — more white crops than green — and both lookin weedy —no wood pile, no sarce garden, no compost— no stock — moar in the mowin lands, thistles in the ploughed lands^ ftnd neglect TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE. 153 every where — skinnin had commenced — takin all out and puttiit nothin in — gittin ready for a moye, to as to leave nolhin behind* Flittin time had come. Foregatherin, for foreclosin. Preparin to cuss and quit. That heautiful river we come up to-daj, what superfine farms it has on hoth sides of it, hante it ? its a sight to behold. Our folks have no notion of such a country so far down east, beyond creation most, as Nova Scotia is. If I was to draw up an account of it for the Slickville Gazette, I guess few would accept it as a bond fide draft, without some sponsible man to indorse it, that warn't given to flammin. They'd say there was a land speculation to the bottom of it, or a water privilege to put into the market, or a plaister rock to get off, or some such scheme. They would, I snore. But I hope I may sever see daylight agin, if there's sich a country in all our great nation, as the vt-cinity of Windsor. Now it's jist as like as not, some goney of a blue-nose, that see'd us from his fields, sailin up full split, with a fair wind on the packet, went right off home and said to his wife, ' Now do, for gracious sake, mother, jist look here, and see how slick them folks go along ; and that Captain has nothin to do all day, but sit straddle legs across his tiller, and order about his sailors, or talk like a gentleman to his passengers: he's got most as easy a time of it as Ami Cuttle has, since he took up the fur trade, a snarin rabits. I guess I'll buy a vessel, and leave the lads to do the plowin and little chores, they've growM up now to be con- siderable lumps of boys.* "Well, away hell go, hot foot (for I know the critters better nor they know themselves) and he'll go and buy some old wrack of a vessel, to carry plaister, and mort- gage his farm to pay for her. The vessel will jam him up tight for repairs and new riggin, and the Sheriff will soon pay him a visit; (and he's a most particular troublesome visitor that ; if he once only gets a slight how-d'ye-do acquaintance, he becomes so amazin intimate arterwards, a comin in without knockin, and a runnin in and out at all hours, and makin so plaguy free and easy, it's about as much as a bargain if you can get clear of him afterwards.) Benipt by the tide, and benipt by the Sheriff, the vessel makes short work with him. Well, the upshot is, the farm gets neglected, while Captain Cuddy is to sea a drogin of plaister. The thistles run over his graia fieldii his cattle run over his hay land, the interest runs over its ■XT.: 1 1 1 1 154 TUB CLOCKMAK£IL OOT ■jf ti' ie, the mortgage runs over all, and at Ust he jist runs over t the lines to Eastpoirt himself. Arid vi^heri he finds himself there, a standin in the street, near Major Pine's tayern. With his hands in his trowser pockets, a chasin of a stray shillih from one eend of 'em to another, afore he can eatch it, to sv^ap for a dinner, won't he look like a ravin distracted fool,' that's all! He'll feel about as streaked as I did dn^e, a ridin down the St. John River. It was the fore part of March — I'd been up to Fredericton a speculatin in a small matter of lumber, and was returnin to the city a gallopin along on one of old Buntings horses, on the ice, and all at once I missed my horse'; he went right slap in, and slid under the ice out of sight as quick as wink, and there I was a standin all alone. W^ll, says I, What the dogs has become of ray horse and port mantle? they have given me a proper dodge, that's a fact. That is a narrer squeak, it fairly bangs all. Well, I gUess hell feel hear abbut as ugly, when he finds himself btpught up all standin that Way; and it will come so' sudden on him, he'll say, Why it aint possible I've lost farm and vessel both, in tu tu*s that way, but I don't see neither on 'em. Eastport is near about all made up of folks who have had to cut and run for it. -^ ' -./... I was down there last fall, and who should I see but Thomas Rigby, of Windsor. He knew me the minit he laid eyes upon me, for I had sold him a clock the summer afore. (I got paid for it, though, for I see'd he had too many irons in the fire not to get some on 'em burnt; and besides, I knew every fall and spring the wind set in for the lines, from Windsor, very strong — a regular trade wind — a sort of monshune, that blows all one way, for a long time without shiftin.) Well, I felt proper sorry for him, for he was a very clever man and looked cut up dreadfully, and amazin down in the mouth. Why, says I, possible! is thatyoii, Mr. Rigby? why, as I am alive! if that aint my old friend — why how do you do? Hearty, I thank you, said he, how be you? Reasonable well, I give you thanks, says I; but what on airth brought you here? Why, says he, Mr. Slick, I couldn't well avoid it, times are uncommon dull over the bay; there's nothing stirrin there this year; and never will, I'm thinkin. No mortal soul caw live in Nova Scotia. I do believe that oui country was made of a Saturday night, arter all the rest of the Universe was finished. One half of it has got all the TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE. 155 ovei nself [i his from for a all? leSt. ip to I wa8 ntin"'s went ick as What J have ][ueak, iilgly, and it le I've I't see I folks believe lie rest ill the ballast of Noali^'s ^rk tiirown out there; and ihe other half is eat up by Bankers, Lawyers, and other great folks. All oiir money ^ goes to pay salaries, and a poor man has no chance at all, | Well, says I, are you done up stock and fluke — a total wrack % \ No, says he, I have two hundred pounds left yet to the good, but ; my farm, stock, and utensils, them young blood horses, and the ) bran new vessel I was aibui^ciln, are all gone to pot, swept as clean as a thrashin floor,- that* j a fact; Shark and Go. took all.- Well, says I, do you know the reason of all that misfortune? j Oh, says he, any foal can, tell that; bad times, to be sure — every - thing has turned agin the country, the banks have it all their ' own way, and much good may it do 'em. Well, says I, what's.) the reason the banks don t eat us up too, for I guess they are as , hungry as yourn be, and no way particular about their food > neither, considerable sharp set:^ — cut li!ke razors, you may depend. • I'll tell you, says I, how you got that are slide, that sent you - heels over head — * You had too manif irons in ihe Jire! You j hadn't ought to have taken hold of ship buildin at all, you,; knowednothin about it; you should have stuck to your farm,,^ and your farm would have stuck to you. Now go back, afore c you spend your money, go up to Douglas, and you'll buy as good j a farm for two hundred pounds as what you lost, and see to that, and to that only, and you'll grow rich. As for Banks, they can't.- hurt a country no great, I guess, except by breakin, and I con- j cait there's no fear of yourn breakin; and as for lawyers, andt* them kind o* heavy coaches, give 'em half the road, and if they run agin you, take the law of 'em. hndivided, unremiltin at- tentioh paid to one things in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred^ will ensure success i hut you know the old saying about ^too many i^ons, ^ ^ .^.^ ,, . .0 •> ^ u \-^^»i ' Now, says I, Mr. Rigby, what o* clock is it? Why, says he, the moon is up a piece, I guess it's seven o* clock or thereabouts. I suppose it's time to be a movin. Stop, says I, jist come with me, I got a rael nateral curiosity to show you — such a thing as you never laid your eyes on in Nova Scotia, I know. So we walked along towards the beach; Now says I, look at that are man, old Lunar, and his son, a sawin plank by moonliglit, for that are vessel on the stocks there; come agin to morrow morn in afore you can cleverly discarn objects the matter of a yard or so ' '•* " '^ '.. ■ -V: !.:■;- t :\ ni iv r - ■ ' r r ' !.; ox:Jli-r -' -iUrt ■*•*' - J-» THE CLOCKMAKER. SECOND SBEIBS. .J \.', v.^ CHAPTER I. :he meeting. Whoever has condescended to read the First Series of the Clockmaker, or the Sayings and Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick, ol Slickville, will recollect that our tour of Nova Scotia terminated at Windsor last autumn, in consequence of bad roads and bad weather, and that it was mutually agreed upon between us to resume it in the following spring. But, alas! spring came not. Tliey retain in this country the name of that delightful portion of the year, but it is *' Vox et preterea nihil." The short space that intervenes between the dissolution of winter and the birth of summer deserves not the appellation. Vegetation is so rapia here, that the valleys are often clothed with verdure before the snow has wholly disappeared from the forest. There is a strong similarity between the native and his climate the one is without youth, and the other without spring, and both exhibit the effects of losing that preparatory season. Cultivation is wanting. Neither the mind nor the soil is properly prepared There is no time. The farmer is compelled to hurry through all his field operations as he best can, so as to commit his grain to the ground in time to insure a crop. Much is unavoidably omitted that ought to be done, and all is performed in a careless and slovenly manner. The same haste is observable in educa- tion, and is attended with similar effects; a boy is hurried to school, from school to a profession, and from thence is sent forth into the world before his mind has been duly disciplined 01 properly cultivated. When I found Mr. Slick at Windsor, I expressed my regret to him tha^ we could not have met earlier in the season; but really, said I, thoy appear to have no spring in this country. Well, I don't know, said he; I r.e'«'er seed it in that light afore; I wm 1, ' ■.' .--rk If;:- .'^, '■if . -.?o* at IF: ■K ■ I' I: ■ 1 '.1 / 1 ' 1- % i .1^ 1 sjifliu' im 162 THE CLOCKMAKEK. athinkin' we might stump the whole univarsal wcrld for climate, It's generally allowed, our climate in America can'^t be no better. The spring may be a little short or so, but then it is added to t'otlier eend, and makes a'most an everiastin' fine autumn. Where ^v\\\ you ditto our fall? It whips English weather by a long chalk, none of your hangin*, shootin*, drownin', throat-cuttin* weather, but a clear sky and a good breeze, rale cheerfulsome. That, said I, is evading the question; I was speaking of the thortness of spring, and not of the comparative merit of your autumn, which 1 am ready to admit is a very charming portion of the year in America. But there is one favour I must beg of you during this tour, and that is, to avoid the practice you in- dulged in so much last year, of exalting everything American by depreciating everything British. This habit is, I assure you, very objectionable, and has already had a very perceptible effect on your national character. I believe I am as devoid of what ig called national prejudices as most men, and can make all due allowances for them in others. I have no objection to this su- perlative praise of your country, its institutions, or its people, provided you do not require me to join in it, or express it in language disrespectful of the English. Well, well, if that don't beat all, said he ; you say you hare no prejudioes, and yet you can't bear to hear tell of our great nation, and our free and enlightened citizens. Captain Aul, {Hall,) as he called himself, for I never seed an Englishman yet that spoke good English, said he hadn't one mite or morsel of prejudice, and yet in all his three volumes of travels through the /7-nited States, (the greatest nation it's ginerally allowed atween the Poles,) only found two things to praise, the kindness of our folks to him, and the state prisons. None are so blind, I guess, as them that won't see; but your folks can't bear it, that's a fact. Bear what? said I. The superiority of Americans, he replied; it does seem to grig *em, there's no denyin' it; it does somehow or another seem to go ag'in their grain to admit it most con- sumedly; nothin' a'most ryles them so much as that. But theii 6un has set in darkness and sorrow, never again to peer abore the horizon. They will be blotted out of the list of nationB. Their glory has departed across the Atlantic to fix her everiastin' abode in the C7-nited States. Yes, man to man — baganut to THE MEETING. 1(K5 Wanut— ship to ship— by land or by sea — fair fjj,'ht, or rough and tumble — we've whipped 'em, that''s a fact, deny it who can; and we'll whip 'em ag'in to all etumity. We average more physical, moral, and intellectual force than any people on the face of the airth; we are a right-minded, strong-minded, sound- minded, and high-minded people, I hope I may be shot if we ain't. On fresh or on salt water, on the lakes or the ocean, down comes the red cross and up go the stars. From Bunker's Hill clean away up to New Orleans the land teems with the glory of our heroes. Yes, our young republic is a Colossus, with one foot in the Atlantic and the other in the Pacific, its head above the everlastin' hills, graspin in its hands a tri A rifle, shooting squirrels, said I; a very suitable employment for such a tall, overgrown, long-legged youngster. Well, well, said he, resuming his ordinary quiet demeanour, and with that good humour that distinguished him, put a rifle, if you will, in his hands, I guess you'll find he's not a bad shot neither. But I must see to Old Clay, and prepare for our journey, which is a considerable of a long one, I tell you — and taking up his hat, he proceeded to the stable. Is that fellow mad or drunk? said a stranger who came from Halifax with me in the coach ; I never heard such a vapouring fool in my life ;— I had a strong inclination, if he had not taken himself off, to show him out of the door. Did you ever hear such insuficrable vanity? I should have been excessively sorry, I said, if you had taken any notice of it. He is, I assure you, neither mad nor drunk, but a very shrewd, intelligent fellow. I met with him accidentally last year while travelling through the eastern part of the province; and although I was at first somewhat annoyed at the unceremonious manner in which he forced his acquaintance upon me, I soon found that his knowledge of the province, its people, and government, might be most useful to me. He has some humour, much anecdote, and great originality; — he is, in short, quite a character. I have employed him to convey me from this place to Shelburne, and from thence along the Atlantic coast to Halifax. Although not exactly the person one would choose for a travelling companion, yet if my guide must also be my com- panion, I do not know that I could have made a happier scl« t^'r*. .-■■•11 ««.;'.. ■^i ,.'* ■li'.-. . 1 t .-1 it '1 r-1 ^ 4,. i ■5 t 'tto'n m ^5> II ^•1 f-dt '"wr '-V<» a: '.M '»i' ^ « ■■n it': X •I ins 166 ^ THE CLOCKMAKER. til sultry I could hardly breathe a'most, and I seed a'lnost a splen* did location there, near the road; a beautiful white two»story house vrith a grand yirandah runnin' all round it, painted green, and green yemitians to the winders, and a white pallisade fence in front lined with a row of Lombardy poplars, and two rows of 'em leadin up to the front door, like two files of sodgers with fixt baganuts; each side of the avenu was a grass-plot, and a beau- tiful image of Adam stood in the centre of one on 'em, — and of Eve, with a fig-leaf apron on, in t'other, made of wood by a native artist, and painted so nateral no soul could tell 'em from ptone. l^-^ii' The ayenu was all planked beautiful, and it was lined with flowers in pots and jars, and looked a touch above common, I tell you. While I was astoppin* to look at it, who should drive by but the milkman with his cart. Says I, Stranger, s.iys I, I suppose you don't know who liyes here, do you? ' I guess you are a stranger, said he, ain't you? Well, says I, I don't exactly know as I ain't; but who liyes here? The Rey. Ahab Meldium, said he, I reckon. Ahab Meldrum, said I to myself; I wonder if it can be the Ahab Meldrum I was to school with to Slickvillft to minister's, when we was boys. It can't be possible it's him, for he was fitter for a state's prisoner than a state's preacher, by a long chalk. He was a poor stick to make a preacher on, for minister could'nt beat nothin' into him a'most, he was so cussed stupid; but I'll see anyhow: so I walks right through the gate and raps away at the door, and a tidy, well-rigged nigger help opens it, and shows me into a'most an elegant famished room. I was most darnted to sit down on the chairs, they were so splendid, for fear I should spile 'em. There was mirrors and yarses, and lamps, and picturs, and crinkum crankums, and notions of all sorts and sizes in it. It looked like a bazaar a'most, it was filled with such an everlastin' sight of curiosities. The room was considerable dark too, for the blinds was shot, and I was skear'd to move for fear o' doing mischief. Presently in comes Ahab, slowly sailin* in, like a boat droppin' down stream in. a calm, with a pair o* purple slippers on, and a figured silk dressin' gound, and carrying a'most a beautiful bound book in his hand. May I presume, says he, to inquire who I have the onexpected pleasure of seein' this morniu'? If you'll gifit ■IV THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM. 167 throw open one o' them are shutters, says I, I guess the light will sare us the trouble o' uxing names. I know who you bo by your roice, any how, the' it's considerable softer than it wai ten years ago. I'm Sam Slick, says I, — what's left o'me at least. Verily, said he, friend Samuel, I*m glad to see you: and how did you leave that excellent man and distinguished scholar, the Rev. Mr. Hopewell, and my good friend your father? Is the old gentleman still alive ? if so, he must now be ripeful of years as he is full of honours. Your mother, I think, I heerd was dead —gathered to her fathers — peace be with her I — she had a good and a kind heart. I loved her as a child : but the Lord taketh whom he loveth. Ahab, says I, I have but a few minutes to stay with you, and if you think to draw the wool over my eyes, it might, perhaps, take you a longer time than you are athinkin' on, or than I have to spare ; — there are some friends you've forgot to inquire after tho' — there's Polly Bacon and her little boy. Spare me, Samuel, spare me, my friend, said he ; open not that wound afresh, I beseech thee. AVell, says I, none o' your nonsense then ; show me into a room where I can spit, and feel to home, and put ray feet upon the chairs without adamagin* things, and I'll sit and smoke and chat with you a few minutes; in fact I don't care if I stop and breakfast with you, for I feel considerable peckish this mornin*. Sam, says he, atakin' hold of my hand, you was always right up and down, and as straight as a shingle in your dealins. I can trust you^ I know, but mind — and he put his fingers on his lips — mum is the word ; bygones are bygones, — ^you wouldn't blow an old chum among his friends, would you ? I scorn a nasty, dirty, mean action, says I, as I do a nigger. Come, foller me, then, says he ; — and he led me into a back room, with an oncarpeted painted floor, famished plain, and some shelves in it, with books, and pipes and cigars, pigtail, and what not. Here's liberty hall, said he ; chew, or smoke, or spit as you please ; — do as you like here ; we'll throw off all resarve now; but mind that cussed nigger; he has a foot like a cat, and an ear for every keyhole — don't talk too loud. Well, Sam, said he, I'm glad to see you too, my boy; it puts me in mind of old times. Many's tho lark you and I have had tojrether in Slickville, when old Hunks — (it made me start that, -i^tt. i #:-; . k- f'-- -1 t *. i ■m ■v 1 im THE CLOCKMAKER. he meant Mr. Hopewell, and it made me feel kinder dandiy at him, for I wouldn't let anyone speak disrespectfully of him afore me for nothin', I know,) — when old Hunks thought we was ahed. Them was happy days — the days o* light heels and light hearts. I often think on 'em, and think on 'em too with plea- sure. Well, Ahab, says I, I don't jist altogether know as I do; there are some things we might jist as well a'most have left atone, I reckon ; but what's done is done, that's a fact. Ahem ' said he, so loud, I looked round and I seed two niggers bri/igic in the breakfast, and a grand one it was, — tea and coffee, and Indgian corn and cakes, and hot bread and cold bread, fish, fowl, and flesh, roasted, boiled, and fried; presarves, pickles, fruits ; in short, everythin* a'most you could think on. You needn't wait, said Ahab to the blacks; I'll ring for you when I want you; we'll help ourselves. "Well, when I looked round and seed this critter alivin' this way, on the fat o' the land, up to his knees in clover like, it did pose me considerable to know how he worked it so cleverly, for he was thought always, as a boy, to be rather more than half onder -baked, considerable soft-like. So, says I, Ahab, says I, I calculate you're like the cat we used to throw out of minister's garrat winder, when we was aboardin' there to school. How so, Sam ? said he. Why, says I, you always seems to come on your feet some how or another. You have got a plaguy nice thing of it here ; that's a fact, and no mistake ; (the critter had three thousand dollars a year ;) how on airth did you manage it ? I wish in my heart I had ataken up the trade o' preachin too ; when it does hit it does capitally, that's sartain. Why, says he, if you'll promise not to let on to anyone about it, I'll tell you. I'll keep dark about it, you may depend, said I. I'm not a man that can't keep nothin* in my gizzard, but go right off and blart out all I hear. I know a thing worth two o that I guess. Well, says he, it's done by a new rule I made in grammar — the feminine gender is more worthy than the neuter, and the neuter more worthy than the masculine ; I gist soft sawder the women. It taint overy man will let you tickle him ; and if you do, he'll make faces at you enough to frighten you into fits; but tickle his wife, and it's electrical — he'll laugh like anythin*. They are the forred wheels, start them, and the THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM. 169 hind ones foller of course. Now, it's mostly women that tend meetin' here ; the men folks have their politics and trade to talk over, and what not, and ain't time ; hut the ladies go consi- derahle rigular, and we have to depend on them, the dear critters. I gist lay myself out to get the hlind side o' them, and I sugar and gild the pill so as to make it pretty to look at and eiity to swallar. Last Lord's day, for instance, I preached m the death of the widder's son. Well, I drew such a pictur of the lone watch at the sick hed, the patience, the kindness, the tenderness of women's hearts, their forgivin' disposition — ■ (the Lord forgive me for saying so tho*, for if there is a created critter that never forgives, it's a woman ; they seem to forgive a wound on their pride, and it skins over and looks all heal'd up like, hut touch 'em on the sore spot agin, and see how 'cute tbeir memory is) — their sweet tempers, soothers of grief, dis- pensers of joy, ministrin* angels, — I make all the vartues of the feminine gender always, — then I wound up with a quotation from Walter Scott. They all like poetry, do the ladies, and Shakspeare, Scott, and Bjrron are amazin favorites: they go down much hetter than them old-fashioned staves o' Watts. " Oh woman, in our hour of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, Ai>d variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made : Whei^ain and anguish wring the brow, A ministerin' angel thou." if I didn't touch it off to the nines it's a pity. I never heerd jou preach so well, says one, since you was located heer. 1 irew from natur', says I, a squeezin' of her hand. Nor never so touchin', says another. You know my moddle, says I, lookin' spooney on her. I fairly shed tears, says a third. How often have you drawn them from me? says I. So true, says they, and so nateral, and truth and natur is what we call eloquence. I feel quite proud, says I, and considerably elated, my admired sisters, — for who can judge so well as the ladies of the truth of the description of their own vartues ? I must se r I felt some- how kinder inadequate to the task too, I said, — 'or the depth, and strength, and beauty of the female heart passes all under- tteodin*. When I left 'em I heard 'em say, ain't he a dear man, a feelin 12 It- ^'■- . C .•J c Tli> i ■i-t . ...-Mi 'Wv. .(.i r IK- • . f ! ?'i 170 .!•' THE CLOCKMAKER. man, a sweet critter, a'most a splendid preacher; none o' yom metre moral lecterers, but a rael right down genuine gospel preacher. Next day I received to the tune of one hundred dollars in cash, and fifty dollars produce, presents from one and another. The truth is, if a minister wants to be popular he should remain single, for then the galls all haye a chanc? for him ; but the moment he marries he's up a tree ; his flint ii fixed then : you may depend it's gone goose with him arter that ; thaf s a fiu:t. No, Sam; they are the pillars of the temple, the dear little critters. — And 1*11 give you a wrinkle for your horn perhaps you ain't got yet, and it may be some use to you when you go down atradin"* with the benighted colonists in the outlandish British provinces. The road to the head lies through the heart. Pocket, you mean, instead of head, I guess, said I, and if you don't travel that road full chisel it's a pity. Well, says I, Ahab, when I go to Slickville I'll gist tell Mr. Hopewell what a'most a precious, superfine, superior dam'd rascal you have turned out ; if you ain't No. 1, letter A. I want to know who is, that's all. You do beat all, Sam, said he; it's the system that's vicious, and not the preacher. If I didn't give 'em the soft sawder they would neither pay me nor hear me; that's a fact. Are you so soft in the horn now, Sam, as to sup- pose the galls would take the trouble to come to hear me tell *em of their corrupt natur and fallen condition; and fint thank me, and then pay me for it ? Very entertainin' that to tell 'era the worms will fatten on their pretty little rosy cheeks, and that their sweet plump flesh is nothin' but grass, flourishin' to-day, and to be cut down withered and rotten to-morrow, ain't it I It ain't in the natur' o' things, if I put them out o' concait o' themselves, I can put them in concait o' me: or they that will come down handsome, and do the thing genteel ; it's jist onpos- sible. It warn't me made the system, but the system made me. The voluntary don't work well. - ,i; . System or no system, said I, Ahab, you are Ahab still, and I Ahab you'll be to the eend o' the chapter. You may deceive the women oy soft sawder, and yourself by talkin' about systems, but you won't walk into me so easy, I know. It ain't pretty at all. Now, said I, Ahab, I told you I wouldn't blow you, nor will I. I will neither speak o* thiugs past, nor things present THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM. 17 I know you wouldn't, Sam, said he; you was always a goof feller. But it's on one condition, says I, an ^ that is, that yof allow Polly Bacon a hundred dollars a year — she was a good gall and a dacent gall w^en you first know'd her, and she's in great distress now in Slickville, I tell ymt. That's onfair, that's onkind. Sans.. »aid he; that's not the clean thing; I can't afford it; it's a breach o* confidence this, but you got me on the hip, and I cant help myself; — say fifty dollars, and I will. Done, said I, and mind you're up to the notch, for I'm in aimest — there's no mistake. Depend upon me, said he. And, Sam, suid he, ashakin' hands along with me at parting, — excuse me, my good feller, hut I hope I may neyer have the pleasure to see your face ag'in. Ditto, says I ; hut mind the fifty dollars a year, or you will see me to a sartainty — good bye. ' ' • * ' How differej.^ this cussed critter was from poor, dear, good, old Joshua Hopewell! I seed him not long arter. On my return to Connecticut, jist as I was apassin' out o' Molasses into Onion County, who should I meet but minister amounted upon his horse, old Captain Jack. Jack was a racker, and in his day about as good a beast as ever hoisted tail, (you know what a racker is, don't you, squire? saiii the Clockmaker; they brings up the two feet on one side first, together like, and then **other two at once, the same way; and they do get over the ground at a most an aniazin' size, that's sartain,) but poor old critter he looked pretty streak'd. You could coi;nt his ribs as far as you could see him, and his skin was drawn so tight over him, every blow of minister's cane on him sounded like a drum, he was so holler. A candle poked into him lighted would have shown through him like a lantern. He carried his head down to his knees, and tne hide .eem'd so scant a pattern, he showed his teeth like a cross aog, and it started his eyes, and made *em look all outside like a weasel's. He actilly did look as if he couldn't help it. Minister had two bags roU'd up and tied on behind him like a portmanter, and was ajoggin* on alookin' down on his horse, and the horse alooking down on the road, as if he was seekin' a soft spot to tumble down upon. It was curious to see Captain Jack too, when he heerd Old Clay acomin' along full split behind him: he cock'd up his head tnd tail, and prick'd up his ears, and look'd comer ways out of :ji'i. If:;: . i fr :-1 ift \ i» k. .' ■%«f. i4fiii SHU. _WW tslt-h ■c "^ ^ r ^'% ,,,H« w- • v« :.r' . .-.Jl > v ■ '■M * I ■ 'tS . t. -rf ■r- =•1 i;2 THE CLOCKMAK£R. eye, as much as to say. If you are for a lick of a quartes of i mile I don't feel much up to it, but I'll try you any yf&y; — so here's at you. He did try to do pretty, that's sartain, as if he was ashamed of lookin' so like Old Scratch, jist as a fellar does up the shirt collar and combs his hair with his fingers, afore he goes into the room among the galls. The poor skilliton of a beast was ginger to the backbone, yoo may depend — all clear grit; what there was of him was whale- bone; that's a fact. But minister had no rally about him; he was proper chop-fallen, and looked as dismal as if he had lost every friend that he had on airth. Why, minister, says I, what onder the sun is the matter of you? You and Captain Jack look as if you had had the cholera: what makes you so dismal, and your horse so thin? what's out o* joint now? Nothin' has gone wrong, I hope, since I left. Nothin' has gone right with me, Sam, of late, said he; Tve been sorely tried with affliction, "ind my spirit is fairly humbled. Fve been more insulted this day, my son, than I ever was afore in all my born days. Minister, says I, Pve gist one favour to ax o^ you; give me the sinners name, and afore daybreak to-morrow mornin'* Til bring him to a reck^nin^ and see how the balance stands. Til kick him from here to 'Washin''ton, and from Washington back to Slickville, and then Til cow-skin him, till this ridin' whip is worn up to shoe-strings, and pitch him clean out o' the State. The infarnal villain! tell me who he is, and if he war as big as all out-doont, I'd walk into him. VW teach him the road to good manners, it he can save eyesight to see it, — hang me if I don'*t. IM like no better fun, I vow. So gist show me the man that darst insult you, and if he does so agHn, Til give you leave to tell me of it. Thank you, Sam, says he; thank you, my boy, but it^s beyond your help. It ain^t a parsonal affront of that natur\ but a spiritual affront. It ain^t an affront offered to me as Joshua Hopewell, so much ns an affront to the minister of Slickville. That is worse still, said I, because you can'*t resent it yourself. Leave him to me, and TU fix his flint for him. It's a long story, Sam, and one to raise grief, but not anger;— you mustn't talk or think of fightin', it's not becom in' a Christian man: but here's my poor habitation; put up your horse and 6ome in, and we'll talk this affair over by and by. Come 'n and THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM. 173 gee me, — ^for, sick as I am, both in body and mind, it will do mn good. You was always a kind-hearted boy, Sam, and I'm glad to see the heart in the right place yet; — come in, my son. Well, when we got into the house, and sot down, — says I, Minister, what the dickens was them two great rolls o' canyass for, I seed snugg'd up and tied to your crupper ? You look'd like a man who had taken his grist to mill, and was returniu' with the bags for another; what onderthe sun had you in thenil I'll tell you, Sam, said he, — ^you know, said he, when you wtis to home, we had a state tax for the support o' the church, and every man had to pay his share to some church or another. I mind, says I, quite well. Well, said he, the inimy of souls has been at work among us, and instigated folks to think this -was too compulsory for a free people, and smelt too strong of establishments, and the legislatur repealed the law ; so now, instead o* havin' a rigilar legal stipend, we have what they call the voluntary, — every man pays what he likes, when he iikes, and to whom he likes, or if it don't convene him he pays nothin ; — do you apprehend me f As clear as a boot-jack, says I, nothin could be plainer; and I suppose that some o' youi factory people that make canvas has giyen you a present of two rolls of it to make bags to hold your pay in ? My breeches- pockets, says he, Sam, ashakin' o' his head, I estimate, are big enough for that. No, Sam, some subscribe and some don't. Some say, "We'll give, but we'll not bind ourselves ; — and some say. We'll see about it. We'll, I'm e'en a'most starved, and Captain Jack looks as poor as Job's turkey; that's a fact. So I thought, as times was hard, I'd take the bags and get some oats for him, from some of my subscribin' congregation : — it would save them the cash, and suit me jist as well as the blunt. Wherever I went, I might have filled my bags with excuses but I got no oats: — but that warn't the worst of it neither, they tum'd the tables on me and took me to task. A new thing that for me, I guess, in my old age, to stand up to be catekised Hke a convarted Heathen. Why don't you, says one, jine the Temperance Society, minister ? Because, says I, there's no war- rant for it in Scriptur', as I see. A Christian obligation to sobriety is, in my mind, afore an engagement on honour. Can't tiiink, says he of payin' to a minister that countenances dnmk> IJifl'". ■ • ■ 'Wvi ■ ' ■;■■■' 'iHr -F*» 1" !«, 1^ if. U- ["m 174 THE CLOCKMAKER. %$ enness. Sajs another, — Minister, do you smoke? Yes, layi I, I do sometimes : and I don't care if I take a pipe along with you now; — it seems sociable like. "Well, says he, it's an abuse the critter, — a waste o* valuable time, and an encouragement of slavery: I don't pay to upholders of the slave system; I go the whole figur for abolition. One found me too Calvinistic, and another too Armenian; one objected to my praying for the President, — for, he said, he was an everlastin' jJmighty rascal; — another to my wearin' a go>vnd, for it was too Popish. In short, 1 git nothin' but objections to a'most everything I do or say, and I see considerable plain my income is gone ; I may work for nothin' and find thread now, if I choose. The only one that paid me, cheated me. Says he, Minister, I've been alookin* for you for some time past, to pay my contribution, and I laid by twenty dollars for you. Thank you, said I, friend, but that is more than your share : ten dollars, I think, i« the amount of your subscription. Well, says he, I know that, but I like to do things handsiim, and he who gives to minister lends to the Lord; — but, says he, I'm afeer'd it won't turn out so much now, for the Bank has fail'd since. It's a pity you hadn't acall'd afore, but you must take the will for the deed. And he handed me a roll of the Bubble Bank paper, that ain't worth a cent. Are you sure, said I, that you put this aside for me when it was good? sartain, says he, I'll take my oath of it. There's no 'casion for tliat, says I, my friend, nor for rae to take more tiSan my due neither: — ^here are ten of them back again. I hope you may not lose them altogether, as I fear I shall. But he cheated me, — I know he did. This is the blessin* of the voluntary, as far as I'm consarned. Now I'll tell you how it's agoin' for to work upon them; not through my agency tho*, for Td die ficst, — afore I'd do a wrong thing to gain the ujiiversal world. But what are you adoin' of, Sam, said he, a'crackin' of that whip so? says he, you'll e'en a'most deefen me. A tryin* of the spring of it, says I. The night afore I go down to Nova Scotia, I'll teach 'em Connecticut quickstep — I'll lam 'em to make somersets— I'll make 'em cut more capers than the caravan monkey ever could to save his M>ul alive, I know. I'll quilt 'em, as true as my name is Sam Slick; and if they foUers me down east, I'll lambaste them back THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM. 173 a plaguy sight quicker than thej came : the nasty, dirty, mean, sneaking yiliains. I'll play them a voluntary — I'll fa la sol them to a jig tune, and show 'em how to count baker's dozen. Crack, crack, crack, that^s the music, minister; crack, crack, crack, I'll let all Slick ville ay elpin'l I'm in trouble enough, Sam, says he, without addin' that aie to it; don't quite break my heart, for such carryins on would near about kill me. Let the poor deluded critters be, promise me now. Well, well, says I, if you say so, it shall be so; — but I must say, I long to be at 'em. But how is the voluntary agoin* for to operate on them ? Emitic, diuretic, or purgative, eh? I hope it will be all three, and turn them inside out, the ungrateful scoundrils, and yet not be gist strong enough to turn them back ag'in. Sam, you're an altered man, says he. It ap- pears to me the whole world is changed. DonH talk so or.- christian: we must forget and forgive. They will be the greatest sufferers themselves, poor critters; havin' destroyed the inde- pendence of their minister, their minister will pander to their vanity. He will be afeer'd to tell them unpalatable truths. Instead of tellin* 'em they are miserable sinners in need of repentance, he Avill tell 'era they are a great nation and a great people, will quote history more than the Bible, and give *em orations not sarmons; encomiums and not censures. Presents, Sam, will bribe indulgences. The minister will be a diim dog ! It sarves 'em right, says I; I don't care what becomes of them. I hope theiy will be dum dogs, for dum dogs bite, and if they drive you mad — as I believe from my soul they will, — I hope you'll bite every one on 'em., . • ■ ; u. . i, ;- >, , ^ .u;l But, says I, minister, talkin* of presents, I've got one for you that's somethin' like the thing, I know; and I took out my pocket-book and gave him a hundred dollars. I hope I may be shot if I didn't, I felt so sorry for him. Who's this from ? said he, smilin'. From Alabama, said I ; but the giver told me not to mention his name. Well, said he, I'd arather he'd asent me a pound of good Varginy pig-tail, because I cq^Id have thank'd him for that, and not felt too much obligation. Presents of money injure both the giver and receiver^ and destroy the equilibriwr^ of friendships and diminish inde' paidLence a^4 self-respect:, butt it's all right; it will enable me A'-- 1 1*;;. I ! fir "w 176 THE CLOCKMAKER. .1 « to send neighbdur Dearboum's two 30ns to scnool. It will do ^ood. Cute little fellers them, Saraband will make considerable smart men, if they are properly seed too; but the old gentleman, f.heir father, is, like myself, nearly used up, and plaguy poor. Tiiinks I, if that's your sort, old gentleman, I wish 1 had mj hundred dollars in my pocket-book ag'in, as snug as a bug in a rug, and neighbour Dearbourn's two sons might go and whistle for their schoolin. Who the plague cares whether they have any lamin' or not? I'm sure I don't. It's the first of the volun- tary system I'm sure, and I guess, it will be the last. YeSy yesy squire, the voluntary don't work well^ — that's a fad, Ahah has lost his soul to save his body, minister has lost his bod^ to save his soul, and I've lost my hundred dollars slap to save m« ^eelins. The deuce take the voluntary, I say, ^ ■ ' CHAPTER III. TRAINING A CARRIBOO. In the erening we sauntered out on the bank of the river, Mr. Slick taking his rifle with him to shoot blue- winged duck, that often float up the Avon with the tide in great numbers. He made several shots with remarkable accuracy, but having no dogs we lost all the birds, but two, in the eddies of this rapid river. It was a delightful evening, and on our return we ascended the clifl^ that overlooks the village and the surrounding country, and sat down on the projecting point of limestone rock, to enjoy the glories of the sunset. - - A This evenin*, said Mr. Slick, reminds me of one I spent in the same way at Toronto, in Upper Canada, and of a conversation I had with a British traveller there. There was only himself and me at the inn, and havin' no thin' above partickilar to do, says I, 'spose we take the rifle and walk down by the lake this splendid afternoon ; who knows but we might see somethin' or another to shoot ? So off we set, and it was so cool and pleasant we stroU'd a considerable distance up the beach, which is like this, all lime- •tone gravel, only cleaner and lesb sediment in it. Wher, we got tired of the glare of the water, and a naitf TRAINING A CARRrBOO. 177 yallor scum that was on it at tliat season, we turned up n roa » :*»■ :.ji '!»'. ii Kf *• :'^' V "'(■• (•.. . * * p ■n ■■•■- 3f. . .;w. v^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^ A y // A^ ^ i< 1.0 I.I ■a 12.8 lU m 2.5 2.2 us ■ 40 |20 IE 1^ NJi4 1^ HiotogFaphic Sdences Corporation ^ ^N ^\^^ .^f W •^s ^, ,'V ^ ^ ^ ^ ^\ i^<^^ 23 WeST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14SM (716)872-4503 ^^^ ^ 178 THE CLOCKMAKBl. 1 teeth cut afore he takes up that trade, or he is apt to be let ib for it liiinself, instead of puttin' a leake into others; that^s a fact. Niggers dont show their age like white folk, and they are most always older than they look. A little rest, ilein' the joints, good feed, a clean shirt, a false tooth or two, and dyin' the wool black if it's got gray, keepin' 'em close shavM, and gist givin* ^em a glass of whisky or two afore the sale to brighten up the eye, has put oflf many an old nigger of fifty-five for forty. It docs more than trimmin^ and groomin^ a horse by a long chalk. Then if a man knows geography, he fixes on a spot in next state for meetin^ ^i^y slips a few dollars in Samboes hand, and Sambo slips the halter off in the manger, meets massa there, and is sold a second time ag'^in. Wash the dye out, let the beard grow and remove the tooth, and the devil himself couldn^t swear to him n» agm. If it takes so much knowledge to choose a horse^ or choose a digger, what must it take to choose a member? — Who knows h9 won't give the people the slip as Sambo does the first master; aj, and look ns different too, as a nigger does, when the dye rubs out, and his black wool looks white ng'in. Ah, squire, there are tricks in all tradest, I do believe, except the clock trade. The nigger business, says I, is apt to get a man into court, too, as much as the horse trade, if he don't know the quirks of the law. I shall never forget a joke I passed off once on a Southerner. I had been down to Charleston South Carr, where brother Siah is located as a lawyer, and drives a considerable business in that line. Well, one day as I was awalkin' along out o'town, asmokiii of my cigar, who should I meet but a poor old nigger, with a'most an almighty heavy load of pine wood on his back, as much as he could cleverly stiigger onder. Why, Sambo, said I, whose slave be you? You've got a considerable of a heavy load there for a man of your years. Oh, massa, says he, Qor Ormighty bless you, (and he laid down his load, and puttin' one hand on his loins, and t''other on his thigh, he tried to straighten himself up,; I free man now, I no longer slave no more. I purchased my free- dom from Qineral Crockodile, him that keeps public at Mua Creek. Oh, massa, but him gineral took me in terrible, by gosh! Says he, Pompey, says he, you one werry good nigger, werry Taithful nigger. I great opinion of you, Pompey; I make a man TRAINING A GARRIBOO. ]:d of you, you darn old tor brush. I hope I may be skinned alive with wild cats if I don't. Uow much money you save, romp! Huniler dollars, says I. Well, says he, I \vill sell you yout freedom for that are little sum. Oh, mnssa Gineral, 1 said, 1 believe I lib and die wid you; — what old man like me do now ^ I too old for freeman. O no, massn, leab poor old Pomp to die among de niggers. I tend young massa Gineral, and little missey Gineral, and teach ^em how to cow-skin de black villains. Oh, you smart man yet^ he says, — quite soundy werry smart man, you airn a great deal o'money; — I too great regard for you to keep you slave any longer. Well, he persuade me at last, and I buy freedom, and now I starve. I hab no one to take care of me now; I old and good for nothin' — I wish old Pomp very muck dead; — and he boohood right out like a child. Then he sold you to yourself, did he? said I. Yes, massa, said he, and here de paper and de bill ob sale. And he told you you sound man yet? True, massa, ebbery word. Then, says I, come along with me, and I toated him along into Siah's office. Sy, says I, here's a job for you. Gineral Crockodile sold this poor old nigger to himself, and warrinted him MOund wind and limb. He cheated him like a cantin' hypocritical sinner as he is, for he's foundered in his right foot, and ringboned on the left. Sue him on his warrantry — there's some fun in't. — Fun, said Sy, I tell you, it's a capital joke; and he jumpM up and danced round his office a snappin' of his fingers, as if he wor bit by a galley-nipper. How it will conflustrigrate old Sim Illeter, the judge, won't it ? ril bambousle him, I'll befogify his brain for him with warran- ties general, special, and implied, texts, notes, and comentries. ril lead him a dance through civil law and common law, and itatute law; I'll read old Latin, old French, and old English to ii'm; Pll make his head turn like a mill-stone; 1*11 make hiia ^tnre like an owl, atryin' to read by daylight, and he larfed read^ *o kill himself. Sure enough he did bother him so, agoin" up from one court to another, that Crockodile was glad to compound the matter to get clear of the joke, and paid old Pomp his hundred dollars back again ; that's a fact. In the course of the evenin", Mr. Buck, the member elect for the township of Flats in the Home district, came in, and I in- troduced him with much ceremony to the Britisher, agivin' of J ' 'J IT ■1" iW' j-j« '•■ > » « 1 • n f; * • 1 ■ 1 \ |r .. .Jfl 1 ISO TH2 CLOCKMAKER. n him a wink at the same time, as much as to say, now Yll show you the way to train a Carriboo. Well, Squire Buck, said I, ] vow Tm glad to see you ; — how did you leave Mrs. Buck, and all to home? — all well, I hope? Reasonable well, I give you thanks, sir, said he. And so theyVe elected you a member, eh ? "Well, they wanted some honest men among *em — that'*s a fact, and some onderstandin^ men too; how do you go, Tory or Radical ? Oh, popular side of course, said Mr. Buck. M'*Kenzie and Papineau have openM my eyes, I tell you; I had no notion afore our government was so rotten — Ym for elective councils, short parliaments, ballot, universal suffrage, and ag^n all officials. Right, said I, you are on the right side then, and no mistake. YouVe a plain path afore you : go straight ahead, and therc^sno fear. I should like to do so, said he, but I don'*t Onderstand these matters enough, Vm afcerM to probe ^em to the bottom; perhaps you"*!! be so good as to advise me a little. I should like to talk over these things with you, as they say you are a considerable of an onderstandin^ man, and have seed a good deal of the world. Well, said I, nothin' would happify me more, I do assure you. Be independant, that's the great thing; De independant, that is, attack everything. First of all, there's the Church; that's a grand target, fire away at that till you are tired. Raise a prejudice if you can, and then make everything a Church question. But I'm a churchman myself, Mr. Slick; you wouldn'*t have me attack my own church, would you? 8f much the better said I; it looks liberal; — true liberality^ as far as mjf experience goes, lies in praisin' every other churchy and abusin* of your own ; it'*s only bigots that attack other folks' doctrine and tenets; no strong-minded, straight-a-head, right up-and-down man does that. It shows a narrer mind and narrer heart that. But what fault is there with the church? said he: they mind their own^business, as far as I se^, and let other folks alone; they have no privilege here that I know on, that other sects ha''en^t got. It's poplar talk among some folks, and that's enough, said I. They are rich, and their clergy are lamed and genteel, and there'^s a good many envious people in the world:— there'^s radicals in religion as well as in politics, that would like to see 'em all brought to a level. And then C^:fi\ church lands: talk about dividin^ them among other sects, givin' ihem to enormous TRAINING A CARRIBOO. 181 lehoolS) and so on. There''s no harm in robbing Peter if yoa ]»ay Paul with it — a fair exchange is no robbery, all the world orer: then wind up with a Church tithe sale, and a military massacre of a poor disscntin'* old woman that was baganuted by bloody-minded sodgers while tryin^ to save her pig. It will make an affectin* speech, draw tears from the gallery, and thunders of applause from tlie House. Then there's judges, another grand mark; and councillors and rich men; call 'em the little big men of a little colony, the would-be aristocracy — the official gang — the favor'd few; call them by their christian and surnames; John Den and Richard Fen; turn up your nose at ''em like a hor8e''s tail that's double- nicked. Salaries are a never-ending theme for you; officials shouldn''t be paid at all; the honor is enough for Vm; a patriot sarves his country for nothin. Take some big salary for a text^ and treat it this way: says you, there'*! John Doe's salary, it is seven hundred and thirty pounds a year, that is two pounds a day. Now, says you, that is sixteen common labourers' pay at two and sixpence each per day; shall it be said that one great mammoth official is worth sixteen free citizens, who toil harder and fare worse than he does? then take his income for ten years and multiply it. See, says you, in ten years he has received the enormous sum of seven thousand five hundred pounds; then run over all the things seven thousand five hundred pounds would effect on roads, bridges, schools, and so on, and charge him with bavin' been the means of robbin' the country of all these blessins: call 'em blood-suckers, pampered minions, bloated leeches. Then there's the college, says you; it's for the aristo- cracy, to keep up distinctions, to rivit our fetters, to make the rich richer, and the strong stronger; talk of na/tve genius and self-taught artists, of natur's scholars, of homespun talent; it flatters the multitude this— it''s pop'*lar, you may depend. Call the troops mercenaries, vile hirelings, degraded slaves; turn up your eyes to the ceilin' and invoke defeat and slaughter on 'em ; if they dare enforce the law, talk of standing armies, of slavery, of legionary tyrants, — call 'em forigners, vulturs thirsting for blood, — butchers, — every man killed in a row, or a mob, call a victim, a murdered man, — that's your sort, my darlin' — go the whole hog, and do the thing genteel. Anything that gtve liwi \ ' 1 n 1 ^n 182 THE CLOCKMAKER. I 4 \ power lo the mattet nUl please the masses* If there Mat nothin* to attack, there would be no champions; if there it no grieranct yon mutt make one: call all changes reform, whether it makes it better or not, — anything you want to alter call an abuse. AH that oppose you, call anti-reformers, upholders of abuses, bigots, ■ycophantt, office ^vexing Tories. Say they live by corruption, by oppressin' the people, and that's the reason they oppose all change. How ttreakV they'll look, won't they ? It wUl make them scratch their heads and stare, I know. If there^s any man you don^t like, use your privilege and abuse him like old Scratch, —-lash him like a niggc**, cut him up beautiful — oh, it^s a grand privilege that! Do this, and youMl be the speaker of the House, the first pot-hook on the crane, the truckle-head and cap-sheave — ^you will, I snore. Well, it does open a wide field, don't it, mid Mr. Buck, for an ambitious man? I vow I believe Til take your advice; I like the idea amazin'^ly. Lord, I wish! could talk like you, — you do trip it off so glib — I''ll take your advice tho' — I will, 1 vow. Well, then, Mr. Buck, if you wil! really take my advice. Pit give it to you^ said I^ free-gratis^ for nothin. Be honest, be consistent, be temperate; be rather the advocate of internal improvement than political change; rf ra- tional reform, but not organic alterations. Neither flatter the moby nor flatter the government; support what is right, opfme what is wrong; what you think, speak; try lo satisfy yourself^ and not others; and if you are not jHtpular, you will at least he respected; popularity lasts but a day, respect will descend at a heritage to your children, . , ,. , , . ;,.i^ ... v 'it . 'if^iuii ot ,Piilj- . T f'T'rf: ' r-cr-'-.f !;( to CaiAPTER IV. ■•{i •Til t^-ili < a/*^-j ->\b, r.r.lx.'.. 'X KICK BRAD8HAW. «• ) i \tt\ )u^ I'M '« Wb left Grasperaux early in the ikicrning, intending to break- ^t at Kentville. The air was cool and bracing, the sun, which had just risen, shed a lustre over the scenery of this beautiful and fertila valley, which gave it a fresh and glowing appearance. A splendid country this, squire, said the Clockmaker ; that's a fiu^ ; the Lord never made the beat of it. I wouldn't an M NICK BRADSIIAW. ]Qd better location in the furmin' line than any of these allotments ; grand graiin' grounds and superfin'^ tillage lands. A man that know'd what he was about might live like a fightin' cock here, and no great scratchin' for it neither. Do you see that are house on that risin' hummock to the right there ? Well, gist look at it, that's what I call about right. Flanked on both sides by an orchard of best-grafted fruit, a tidy little clever flower-garden in front, that the galls see to, and a'most a grand sarce garden over the road there sheltered by them are willows. At the back side gee them everlastin' big bams : and, by gosh ! there goes the dairy cows ; a pretty sight too, that fourteen of them inarchin* Indgian file after milkin', down to that are medder. Whenever you see a place all snugged up and lookin' like that are, depend on it the folks are of the right kind. Them flowers too, and that are honeysuckle, and rose-bushes show the family are brought up right ; sunthin' to do to home, instead of racin' about to quiltin' parties, huskin firolicks, gossipin\ talkin', scandal, and neglectin' their business. Them little matters are like throwin' up straws, they show which way the wind is. When galls attend to them are things, it shows they arc what our minister used to call ^* rightminded." It keeps them busy, and when folks are busy, they ha'n't time to get into mischief; and it amuses them too, and it keeps the dear little critters healthy and cheerful. I believe I'll allight and breakfast there, if you've no objection. I should like you to see that citizen's improvements, and he's a plaguy nice man too, and will be proud to see you, fou may depend. *vl::( // ?r ' I, -a] • :«.» We accordingly drove up to the door, where we were met by Squire James Horton, a respectable, intelligent, cheerful-looking man, apparently of about fifty yearp of age. He received me with all the ease and warmth of a man to whom hospitality was habitual and agreeable, — thanked Mr. Slick for bringing me to Bee him, and observed that he was a plain farmer, and lived without any pretensions to be other than he was, and that he always felt pleased and gratified to see any stranger who would do him the favour to call upon him, and would accommodate himself to the plain fare of a plain countryman. He said, h* lived out of the world, and the conversation of strangers was »ften instructive, and always aioceptable to him. He then con- «!«" »''4 Mi"' «>. *» k •^ It > •r" i =( Jl i)t 184 THE CLOCKMAKER, ducted us into the house, and introduced us to his \yife and daughters, two very handsome and extremely interesting ^r\i^ who had just returned from superintending the operations of the dairy. I was particularly struck with the extreme neatness and propriety of their attire, plain and suitable to their morning occupations, but scrupulously nice in its appearance. As the clock struck seven, (a wooden clock, to which Mr. Slick looked with evident satisfaction as a proof of his previous acquaintance,) the family were summoned, and Mr. Horton addressed a short but very appropriate prayer to the Throne of Grace, rendering the tribute of a grateful heart for the numerous blessings with which he was surrounded, and supplicating a continuance of divine favour. There was something touching in the simplicity and fervour of his manner and in the unpretend- ing style of his devotion, while there was a total absence of that familiar tone of address so common in America, which, often bordering on profanity, shocks and disgusts those who have been accustomed to the more decorous and fespectful language of onr beautiful liturgy. . , . Breakfast was soon announced, and we sat down to an excellent and substantial repast, everything abundant and good of its kind, and the whole prepared with a neatness that bespoke a well-regulated and orderly family. We were then conducted round the farm, and admired the method, regularity and good 9rder of the establishment. I guess this might compare with any of your English farms, said the Glockmaker ; it looks pretty considerable slick this — don't it ? We have great advantages in this country, said Mr. Horton ; our soil is naturally good, and we have such an abundance of salt sludge on the banks of the rivers, that we are enabled to put our uplands in the highest state of cultivation. Industry and economy can accom- plish anything here. We have not only good markets, but ure enjoy an almost total exemption from taxation. We have a mild and paternal government, our laws are well and impartially administered, and we enjoy as much personal freedom as is con- listent with the peace and good order of society. God grant that it may long continue so 1 and that we may render ourselyes worthy of these blessings, by yielding the homage of grateful hearts to the Great Author and Giver of all good things, i \ 1 NICK BRADSIIAW. 185 bell ringing at the house at this time, reminded us that we \vera probably interfering with some of his arrangements, and we took leave of our kind host, and proceeded on our journej, strongly impressed with those feelings which a scene of domestic happiness and rural felicity like this never fails to inspire. We had not driven more than two or three miles before Mr. Slick suddenly checked his horse, and pointing to a farm on the right hand side of the road, stiid, Now there is a contrast for you, with a vengeance. That critter, said he, when he built that wrack of a house, (they call 'em a half-house here,) intended to add as much more to it some of these days, and accordin'ly put his chimbley outside, to sarve the new part as well as the old. He has been too lazy, you see, to remove the bankin' put there, the first fall, to keep the frost out o' the cellar, and it has rotted the sills off, and the house has fell away from the chimbley, and he has had to prop it up with that great stick of timber, to keep it from comin' down on its kaees altogether. All the winders are boarded up but one, and that has all the glass broke out. Look at the bam ! — the roof has fell in in the middle, and the two gables stand starin' each other in the face, and as if they would like to come closer together if they could, and consult what was best to be done. Them old geese and vetren fowls, that are so poor the foxes won't steal 'm for fear o' hurtin' their teeth, — that little yaller, lantern-jaw'd, long-legg'd, rabbit-eared runt of a pig, that's so weak it can't curl its tail up, — that old frame of a cow, astandin^ there with his eyes shot-to, acontemplatin^ of its latter cend, — ai i that varmint-lookin' horse, with his hocks swelled bigger tha*^ his belly, that looks as if he had come to her funeral, — is all his stock, I guess. The goney has showed his sense in one thing, however, he has burnt all his fence up ; for there is no danger of other folks' cattle breakin' into his field to starve, and gives his Old Mooley a chance o^ sneakin' into his neighbours' fields o' nights if she find an open gate, or a pair of bans down, to get a treat of clover now and then. dear, if you was to get up airly of a mornin', afore the dew was off the ground, and mow that are field with a razor, and rake it with a fine tooth comb, you wouldn't get stuff enough to keep one grasshopper through the winter, if you was to be hanged for it 'Spose we drive up 13 am «jpist looic hangs isers and es. He casin on shearin*, see the Icked on Irousers'- hile one din out bit of a ', squire, resig- nation, and all that -are sort of thing, till you're tired ; Vre seen it and heard tell of it too, hut I never knew an instance yet where it didn't com* a little grain-heavy or sour out of the oren. Philosify is like most other guests I've seed, it likes to fisit them as keeps good tables, and though it has some poor acquaintances, it ain't more nor half pleased to be seen walkin' lock and lock with 'em. But smokin'^-^Herf he comes, tho', I swan; he knows Old Clay, I reckon: he sees it ain't the candidate chap. This disoorery dispelled the important airs of Nicholas, and taking the pipe out of his mouth, he retreated a pace or two. and took a running leap of ten or twelve feet across a stagnant pool of green water that graced his lawn, and served the double purpose of rearing goslings and breeding moschetoes, and by repeating these feats of agility on the grass several times, (as if to ke^ himself in practice,) was by the side of the waggon in a few minutes, i?.} hm. I. <-' ti:n f - r:.., v^i.i 'Momin', Mr. Bradshaw, said the Clockmaker ; how's all to home to-day ? Reasonable well, I give you thanks : —won't you alight ? Thank you, I gist stop to light a cigar. — I'll bring you a bit o' fire, said Nick, in the twinklin' of an eye ; and hounding off to the house with similar gigantic strides, he was out of sight in a moment. Happy, good-natured citizen that you see, squire, said Mr. Slick, he hain't been fool enough ta stiffen himself by hard work neither; for you see he is as supple as an eel. The critter can jump like a catamount, and run like a deer ; he'd catch a fox a'most, that chap. Presently out bounded Nick in the same antelope style, waving over his head a lighted brand of three or four feet long. Here it is, said he, but you must' be quick, for this soft greets wood won't hold in fire no time-r-it goes right out. It's like my old house there, and that's so rotten it won't hold a nail now; after you drive one in, you can pull it out with your fingers. How are you off for tobacco ? said Mr. Slick. Grand, laid he, got half a fig left yet. Get it for you in a minit, and the old lady's pipe too, and without waitin for a reply, wai curvetting again off to the house. That gony, said the Clock- maker, is like a gun that goes off at half cock — there's no doin' Qothin' with him. I didn't want his backey, I only wanted IB Iw: .J u 1c »1 188 THE CLOCKMAKXR. t excuse to give him some ; but it's a strange thing, that, squire, but it's as sure as rates, ike poor are every where more liberal, tnore obligin, and more hospitable^ accordin to their meant, than the rich are : they beat them all hollar, — it's a fuct, I assure you. When he returned, Mr. Slick told him that he was so spry, he was out of hearing before he could stop him ; that he didn't /equire any himself, but was going to offer him a fig of first chop genuine stuff he had. Thank you, said he, as he took it, and put it to his nose ; — it was the right flarour that — rather weak for me, tho'. I am thinking it'll gist suit the old lady. She smokes a good deal now for the cramp in her leg. She's troubled with the cramp sometimes, awny down somewhere about the calf, and smokin', they say, is good for it. He then took the tobacco very scientifically between the fore- finger and thumb of his left hand, and cut it into small shredi that fell in to the palm. Then holding both knife and fig between his teeth, he rolled, untwisted and pulverised the cut tobacco by rubbing and grinding it between his two hands, and refilled and lighted his pipe, and pronouncing the tobacco a prime article, looked the very picture of happiness. How's crops in a gineral way this year ? said Mr. Slick. Well, they are just about meddlin', said he ; the seasons ha'n't been very good lately, and somehow the land don't bear as it used to when I was a boy : but I'm in great hopes times are goin' to be better now. They say things look brighter ; I feel a good deal encou- raged myself. They tell me the governor's agoin' to appoint a new council ; I guess, they'll do sun'thin' for the country. Ah, said the Ciockmaker, that indeed, that would be sun'thin like, — it would make things quite brisk ag'in — farmers could afford to live then. It would raise markets considerable. So I see in the papers, said Nick : the fact o' the matter is the assembly men must do sun'thin' for the country, or it will go to the dogs, that's sartain. They tell me too that the council doors are to be opened, so that we can hear the debates : — that will be a great privilege, wpn't it ? ^ery, said the Ciockmaker, it will help the farmer amaz'inly that ; I should count that a great matter; they must be worth hearin' them counsellors. It's quite a treat to hear the members in the house, particularly fv'hen they talk about bankin', currency, constitution, bountiefl^ KICK BRADSHAW. lr)b and luch tough knotty thbgs; — they go so deep into these matters, and know so much about 'em, it's quite edify in'. I're larnt more new things, and more things I niver knew afore in half an hour in the assembly, than ever I heerd afore in my life, and I expect t'other house will be quite as wise. Well, I'm glad to hear you say so, said Nicholas ; / feel somehow quite encouraged myself: if we had a bounty of about a shilling a bushel for raisin' potatoes, two and sixpence a bushel for wheat, and fifteen pence for oats, I think a body might have a chance to make out to scratch along to lire here ; and I'm told when the council doors are opened, we shall actually get them. / must say I feel quite encouraged myself But stop, said he, laying his hand on Mr. Slick, do you see that are varmint alookin' arter the old lady's chickens orer there by the bam? I had a crack at him yesterday, but he was too far off — wait a bit ! and he scampered off to the house, brought out his gun, which had been previously loaded, and throwing himself on all fours, proceeded towards the bam as rapidly as a quadruped. Stop, stop, daddy, said a little half naked imp of a boy, stop till I get my cock-shy. Well, bear a hand then, said he, or hell be off: I won't wait a minit The boy darted into the house, and returned in an instant with a short, round, hard-wood club in his hand, and throwing himself in the same posture, thrust his head under the skirts of his father's coat, and crawled after him, between his legs, the two appearing like one long monstrous reptile. The hawk, observing this unusual motion, rose higher in the air, as he slowly sailed round the building; but Nicholas, not liking to be balked of his shot, fired at a yenture, and fortimately broke his wing. Stop, daddy, said the boy, reoovering his feet, stop, daddy, it's my turn, now; and following the bird, that fled with incoTiceivable rapidity, like an ostrich,' half running, half flying, threw his cock-shy at him with unerring aim, and killed him. Ain't he a whopper, daddy ? said he. See ! and he stretched ou this wings to their full extent — he's a sneezer, ain't he ? I'll show him to mammy, I guess, and off he ran to the house to exhibit his prize. Make a smart man that, said Nick, regarding his boy as he carried off the bird, with looks of entire satisfaction; make a considerable of a smart man that, if the assembly men '» r •'«! i» I I 190 TUB CLOCKMAKER. ,' I I would only give us a chance ; but IJeel quite incouraged non, I think we shall have a good brood of chickens this year, now that thievin' rascal has got his flint fixt; and if them three regiments come to Halifax that^s talked of this winter, poultry will fetch a'most a grand price, that's sartain. It appears to me thex?'s a hawk, or a wild cat, or a fox, or a lawyer, or a constable, v)r a somethin' or another for eyerlastin'lj a botherin^ of a pooi man ; but I feel quite encouraged notv. I never seed that critter yet, said the Clockmaker, that he didn't say he felt *^ quite encouraged;" he's always lookin' for the Assembly to do great things for him, and every year feels '* quite encouraged" that they will do sun'thin' at the next ses- sion that will make his fortin. I wonder if folks will ever Ian that politicks are the seed mentioned in Scriptur' thai Jell by the road-side, and the fowls came and picked them up* They don't benefit the former, but theyfoed them hungry birds^—the party leaders. The bane of this country, squire, and indeed of all America, is havin' too much land ; they run over more ground than they can cultivate, and crop the land so severely that they run it out A very large portion of land in America has been run out by repeated grain crops, and when you add to that land naterally too poor to bear grain, or too broken for cultivation, you will find this great country in a fair way to be ruined. ,;, ,.: The State of Yarmont has nothin' like the exports it used to have, and a plaguy sight of the young folks come down to Boston to hire out as helps. The two Carolinas and Yarginy are covered with places that have been given up as ruined, and many other States. We hav'n't the surplus of wheat and grain we used to have in the I7-nited States, and it never will be so plenty again. That's the reason you hear of folks clearin' land, makin' a farm, and sellin' o£P again and goin' farther into the bush. They've exhausted it, and find it easier to clear new lands than to restore the old. A great deal of Nova Scotia is run out, and if it warn't for the lime, marsh-mud, sea-weed, salt-sand, and what not, they've got here in such quantities, there'd be no cure for it. It takes good farmin' to keep an upland location in order, I tell ypu, and make it sustain itself. It takes more to fetch a farm too that'i .'«£-«. ^ ««»»»J, poultry upon thousands of acres with us, are turned into barrens. No traveller as I've seed has noticed this, and our folks are not aware of it themselves to the extent of the evil. Squire, you and I won't live to see it; but if this awful robbin* of posterity goes on for another century, as it has progressed for the last iiundred years, we'll be a nation of paupers. Very little land in America, even of the best, will carry more than one crop of wheat arter it's cleared, afore it wants manure ; and where it's cleared so fast, where's the manure to come from ? — it puzzles me (and I won't turn my back on any man in the farmin' line) —the Lord knows, for I don't ; but if there's a thing that scares s this, ' - Hullo! hullo! — said a voice behind us, and when we turned to look from whence it came, we saw Nicholas running and leaping over the fences of his neighbours like a greyhound. Stop a minit, said he, I want to speak to you. I feel quite encouraged since I seen you ; there's one question I forgot to ask you, Mr. Slick, for I should like amazin'ly to have your opinion. Who do you go for? I go for the Squire, said he: Fm agoin' for to go round the sea-coast with him. I don't mean that at all, said he ; — who do you go for in the election ? There's to be a poll a Monday to Kentville ; and Aylesford and Gasperaux are up; who do you go for? I don't go for eithef of them ; I wouldn't give a chaw of tobakey for both on 'em what is it to me who goes ? Well, I don't suppose it is, but it's a great matter to us : who would you advise me to vote for ? Who is agoin' for to do the most good for you? Aylesford. Who promises the most? Aylesford. Vote for t'other one then, for I never seed or heerd tell of a feller yet, that was very ready with his promises, that warn't quite as ready to break them when it suited his purpose: and if Aylesford comes abotherin' of you, call out little Nick with his " cock-shy," and let him take a shot at him. Any critter that finds out all the world are rogues, and tells of the great things he's agoin' for to do, ginerally overlooks the biggest rogue of all, and that's him- ■elf. Oh ' Gasperaux for ever I he's the man for your money irs to me onstable, f a pooi that he okin' for ear feels lext ses- 'ver Ian dl by the hey don't he partji imerica, nan thejr n it out out by laterally you will used to Boston iny are ted, and id grain 11 be so in' land, nto the ar new rn't for they've t takes ;>u, and that'i ■■• .'^1 •' -^ . J • a.'-^ H c f* r ^ ** s.'t ■ tfi ti"" '->• !.%> ..«« Itu. -W ►"■ r ¥ I C-: It 192 THE CLOCKMAKEU. f and no mistake. Well, said Nicholas, I believe you're half right. Aylesford did promise a shillin a bushel bounty on potatoes tho', but I believe he lied after all. I'll take youi advice, — / feel quite encouraged now. If you'd like a coal to light your cigar by, said he, I'll step in here and get you one. Thank you, said Mr. Slick ; I have no occasion for one jist now Well, I believe I'll drop in and light a pipe there myself then, anyhow. Good-bye — I feel quite encouraged now. Oh dear ! said the Clockmaker, what a good-natered, good- for-nolhin'* simple toad that is. I suppose when the sheriff takes the vote of such critters he flatters himself he takes the sense of the county. What a difference atween him and Ilorton! The one is a lazy, idle critter, wanderin' about talkin' politics, or snarin' rabbits, catchin' eels, or shootin"* hawks, and neglectin his work, and a pretty kettle of fish he's made of it. The other, a careful, steady goin', industrious man, that leaves politics to them as like dabblin' in troubled waters, and attends steadily to his business, and he's a credit to his country. 'Yes, too much land is the ruin of us all this side o' the water. Afore I went to England I used to think that the onequal divisions of property there, and the system of landlord and tenant, was a cuss to the country, and that there was more dignity and freedom to the individual, and more benefit to the nation, for every man to own the land he cultivated, as with us. But Tve changed my mind ; I see it's the cause of the high state of cultivation in England, and the prosperity of its ngri- cultur. If the great men had the land in their own hands there, every now and then an improvident one would skin the soil, and run it out : bein' let to others, he can't do it himself, and he takes plaguy good care by his lease his tenant sha'n't do it neither. Well then, there he is, with his capital to make great improvements, substantial repairs, and so on, and things are pushed up to perfection. In Nova Scotia there are hundreds and thousands that would be better off as tenants, if they would but only think so. When a chap spends all his money in buying lanjds, and mortgages them to pay the rest of the price, he ain't able to stock his farm, and work it properly; and he labours like. a nigger all his life, and dies poor at last^ while the land gets run out in his haudi, NICK BRADSHAW. 193 and is no good for ever after. Now if he was to hire the farm, the money that he paid for the purchase would stock it complete, enable him to hire lahour, — to wait for markets, — to buy up cattle cheap, and to sell them to advantage. He'd make money hand over hand, while he'd throw the cost of all repairs and improvements on the owner. But you might talk till you were grey-headed, and you wouldn't persuade folks of that in this country. The gloifous privilege of having a vote, to give to some goney of a member, carries the day. Well may they call it a dear privilege that, for it keeps them poor to their dyin' day. No, squire, your system of landlord and tenant is the best for the farmer, and the best for the nation. There never can be a high state of general cultivation without it. Agricultur wants the labour of the farmer and the money of the capitalist, — ^both must go hand in hand. When it is left to the farmer alone, it must dwindle for want of means, — and the country must dwindle too. A nation, even if it is as big as our great one, if it has no general system of landlord and tenant adopted in it, must run out. We are ondergoin' that process now. I'm most plaguy afeerd we shall run out; that's a fact. A country is but a large estate at best; and if it's badly tilled and hard cropped, it must, in the eend, present the melancholy spectacle of a great exhausted farm. That's quite encouragin now, as Nick Brad- shaw says, — ain't it ? v., ■-*=» ^ ■ . i ■•'-■•1 • -(I ■ ^ * ■ ' i CHAPTER V. Of- TR .YELLIMO IN AMERICA. Did you ever drink any Thames water, squire ? said the Clock- maker; because it is one of the greatest nateral curiosities in the world. When I returned from Poland in the hair spekela- tion, I sailed from London, and we had Thames water on board. Says I to the captain, says I, I guess you want to pyson us, don't you, with that are nast/, dirty, horrid stuff? how can you think 0* takin' such water as that ? Why, says he, Mr. Slick, it does make the best water in the warld — that's a fact; yes, and the best porter too ; — it farments, works off the scum, clarifies •I 3 -1 194 THE CLOCKKAKEB. I I Ml I itself, and beats all natur'; — and yet look at all them are sewers and drains, and dye-stuffs, and factory- wash, and onmentionablea that are poured into it: — it beats the bugs, don't it? Wel^ squire, our great country is like that are Thames water, — it does receive the outporins of the world, — homicides and regicides, — jail-birds and galley-birds, poor-house chaps and workhouse chaps, — rebels, infidels, and forgers^ — rogues of all sorts, sizes^ and degrees, — but it farments, you see, and works clear ; and what a''most a beautiful clear stream o"* democracy it does make, d(m\ it ? Not hot enough for fog, nor cold enough for ice, nor limey enough to fur up the bylers, nor too hard to wash clean, nor raw enough to chop the skin, — ^but jist the thing; that's a feet. I wish to gracious you'd come and see for yourself. Fd go with you and cost you nothin\ I'd take a prospectus of a new work and get subscribers; take a pattern book of the Lowell factories for orders ; and spikilate a little by the way, so as to clear my shot wherever we went. You must see for yourself,-— you can't lam nothin' from books. I've read all the travels in America, and there ain't one that's worth a cent. They don't understand us. They remind me of a lawyer examinin' of a witness; he don't want either the truth, the whole truth, or nothin' but the truth, but he wants to pick out of him jist so much as will prove his case, d'ye see, and would like him to keep dark about the rest; puts artful questioni to him on purpose to get an answer to suit him; stops him when he talks too fast, leads him when he goes too slow, praises 2iis own witnesses sky-high, and abuses the other side for lyin', «quivocatin\ parjured villains. That's jist the case with English travellers; instead of lookin' all round, and seein' into things ^rst, and then comin' to an opinion, they make up their minds afore they come, and then look for &cts to support their viewt. First comes a great high tory, and a republic smells so bad in his nostrils, he's got his nose curl'd up like a pug-nose dog all thro' his journey. He sees no established church, and he swears there's no ireligionj and he sees no livery helps, and he says it's all vulgar; and if he sees a citizen spit, he jumps a one side as scared as if it were a rifle agoin' off. Then comes a radical (and them English radicals are cantankerous-lookin' critters — that's a fiMitX— as sour as vinegar, and lookin** as cross and as hungry as TRAYELUNO IN AMERICA. 195 a bear jist starved out in the spring, and they say we haTe the slavery of opinion here; that our preachers want moral courage, and that our great cities are cursed with the aristocracy of wealth. There is no pleasin' either on 'em. Then come what minister used to call the Optimists, a set of folks who talk you beef about the perfectibility of human natur'; that men, like caterpillars, will all turn into beautiful critters with wings like l)utterflies, — a sort of grub angels; — that our great nation is a paradise, and our folks jist agettin out o' the chrysolis state into gomethin' divine. I seldom or never talk to none o' them, unless it be to bam 'em. They think they know everything, and all they got to do is, to up Hudson like a shot, into the lakes fiill split, off to Mississippi and down to New Orleens full chisel, back to New York and up killock, and home in a liner, and write a book. They have a whole stock of notes. Spittin' — gougin — lynchin' — bumin' alive — steam-boats blowed up — snags — slavery — stealin* — ^Texas — state prisons — men talk slow — women talk luud — both walk fast — chat in steam-boats and stage-coaches — r anecdotes — and so on. Then out comes a book. If it's a tory writes it, then the tory papers say it's the best pictur' they have seen; lively, interestin', intelligent. If a radical, then radical papers say it's a very philosophical work (whenever a fellow gets over his head in it, and cruel unintelligible, he's deep in philosophy, that chap), statesman-like view, able work, throws great light on the politics of the day. I wouldn't give a chaw of tobackey for the books of all of 'em tied up and put into a meal-bag together. Our folks sarve 'em as the Indgians used to sarve the gulls down to Squantum in old pilgrim times. The cunnin' critters used to maJce a sort o^ fish flakes, and catch herrin' and torn cods, and such sort o' fish, and put 'em on the flakes and then crawl onder themselves, and as soon as the gulls lighted to eat the fish, catch hold o' their, legs and pull 'em thro'. Arter that, whenever a feller was made a fool on and took in, they used to say he was gulled. Well, if our folks don't gull them British travellers, it's a pity. They dp make proper fools on 'em; that's ^ ^ 1 , . IV.,. .« s »<» Year afore Ia«t> I met an English gall atravellin' in a stiMi* t 'f 196 THE CLOCKMAKER, I !? II it Si :i iff I' boat; she had a French name that I can't recollect, tho' 1 got h on the tip o' my tongue too; you know who I mean — she wrote books on economy, — not domestic economy, as galls ought, but on political economy, as galls oughtn't, for they don't knoiv nothin about it. She had a trumpet in her hand, — thinks I, who on airth is she agoin' to hail, or is she agoin' to try echoes »n the ri^er? I watched her some time, and I found it was an ear>trumpet. ^. -- u. Well, well, says I, that's onlike most English travellers anj way, for in a gineral way they wear magnifyin' glasses, and do enlarge things so, a body don't know 'em ag'in when he sees 'em. Now, this gall won't hear one-half that's said, and will get that half wrong, and so it turned out. Says she to me, Beautiful country this, Mr. Slick; says she, I'm transported. Transported, said I, why, what onder the sun did you do to home to get transported? — but she larfed right out like anj thing; delighted, I mean, said she, it's so beautiful. It is splen- did, said I, no doubt; there ain't the beat of it to be found any- where. Oh! said she, what views, what scenery, what woods, what a river! how I should like to soar away up with that are eagle into the blue sky, and see all its beauties spread out afore me like a map! How grand — everything is on a grand scale! Have you seen the Kentuckians? said I. Not yet, said she. Stop then, said I, till you see them. They are on a scale that will please you, I guess; whopping big fellows them, I tell you; half horse, half alligator, with a touch of the airthquake. I wasn't atalkin' of the men, said she, 'tis the beauties of natur I was admirin'. Well, said I, once on a time I used to admire the beauties of natur' too, but I got cured of that. Sit down on this bench, said she, and tell me how it was; — these kind o' anecdotes serve to illustrate the "moral of feelin'." Thinks I, this is philosophy now, "moral of feelin'!** Well, if the mos- chetoes don't illustrate your moral of feelin' for you, some of these nights, I'm mistaken. Very immoral fellers those 'skeeters. Well, said I, my first tower in the clock- trade was up Canada way, and I was the first ever went up Huron with clocks. When I reached our fort at Gratiot, who did I find there as eommander of the party, but the son of an old American hen^ • laigeant a; Bunker's Hill. Well, bein' the son of an old vete- TRAVELLING IN AMERICA. 197 fan hero myself, it made quite a fellowship atwecn us, like. He bought a clock o' me, and invited me to stay with him till a vessel arrived for Michigan. Well, in the afternoon, we went for to take tea with a jintleman that had settled near the fort, and things were sot out in an arbor, surrounded with honey- suckle, and Isabella grape, and what not; there was a view of the fort from it, and that elegant lake and endless forest; it was lovely — that's a fact; and the birds flocked round the place, lighted on it, and sung so sweet, — I thought it was the mos^ romantic thing I ever seed since I was a created sinner. So said I to his wife (a German lady from one of the emigrant •hips), I prefer, said I, jour band of birds to the Bowery band of New York, by a long chalk; it's natur's music, it's most delightful, it's splendid! Furder off, said she, I like 'em more better hash nearer; for the nasty, dirty tivils they dirt in the tay and de shuker; look there, said she, that's de tird cup now spilte. Lord, it make me sick! I never had any romance in me arter that. - ' I ^ *: Here the English gall turned round and looked at me for a space quite hard. Said she. You are a humorous people, Mr. Slick; you resemble the Irish very much, — you remind me greatly of that lively, light-hearted, agreeable people. Thank you, said I, marm, for that compliment ; we are ginerally thought to resemble each other very much, both in looks and dress; there's often great mistakes made when they first land, from the hkeness. Arter a considerable of a pause, she said. This must be a religious country, said she, ain't it; for religion is *Hhe highest &ct in man's right, and the root of all democracy." If religion is the root of democracy, said I, it bears some strange fruit sometimes, as the man said of the pine-tree the five gamblers were lynched upon to Yixburg. I'm glad to see, said she, you tave no establishment — it's an incubus — a dead weight — ^a aightmare. I ain't able, said I; I can't afford it no how; and besides, said I, I can'*t get no one to have me. Them that I «rould have won't have me, and them that would have me, the ievil wouldn't have, so I don't see as I'm like to be troubled with a nightmare for one while. I don't mean that, said she, laaghin; I mean an Established CLurch. Oh! an Established ■'rJ f^ 198 > THE CLOCKMAKER. Church, said I; now I understand; but when I liear ladies talk of establishments, I always think they have matrimony in theii heads. The truth is, squire, I don't like to hear English people come out here, and abuse their church; they're got a church, and throve under it, and a national character under it, for honor and upright dealin', such as no other people in Europe linve: indeed, I could teli you of some folks who hare to call their goods English, to get them off in a foreign land at all. The name sells 'em. You may boast of this tree or that tree, and call 'em this dictionary name and that new-fangled name, bui give me the tree that bears the best fruity I say. i A church must be paid, and the mode don't much signify; at any rate it ain't for them to abuse it, tho' other folks maj choose to copy it, or let it alone, as it convenes them. Your people, said she, arc in advance of the clergy; your ministers are half men, half women, with a touch of the noodle. You'd be better without 'em; their parochial visits do more harm than good. In that last remark, said I, I concur; for if there's a gaK in their vicinity, with a good fortin, theyll snap her up at once; a .feller has no chance with 'em. One ^on them did brother Eldad out of one hundred thousand dollars that way. I don't speak o' that, said she, rather short like; but they hav'n't mora) courage. They are not bold shepherds, but timid sheep; thej don't preach abolition, they don't meddle with public rights. As to that, said I, they don't think it right to hasten on the crisis, to preach up a servile war, to encourage the blacks to cut their masters' throats: they think it a dangerous subject any way; and besides, said I, they have scruples o' conscience W they ought to stir in it at all. These matters are state rights, or state wrongs, if you please, and our Northern States have no more right to interfere in 'em than they have to interfere in the affairs of any other independent sovereign state in Europe. So I don't blame ministers much for that arter all, — so come now. In England, says I, you maintain that they ought not to meddle with public rights, and call 'em political priests, and all that sort o' thing, and here you abuse 'em for not meddlin' with 'em; call 'em cowards, dum dogs, slaves to public opinion, and what , not. There's no pleasin' some folks. I A« to religion, says L bein* "the root of democracy," it's the TRAVELLING IN AMERICA. 199 loot of monarch J too, and all governments, or ought to be; and there ain't that nvide difference arter all at ween the two countries some folks think on. Government here, both in theory and practice, resides >vith the people; and religion is under the care of the rael government. With you, government is in the executive, and religion is in the hands of the govern- ment there. Church and state are to a sartain extent con- nected therefore in both. The difference with us is, we don't prefer one and establish it, and donH render its support compul- loiy. Better, perhaps, if we did, for it bums pretty near out sometimes here, and has to be brought to by revivals and camp- meetins, and all sorts of excitements ; and when it does come to^ it don't give a steady clear light for some time, but spits and spatters and cracks like a candle that's got a drop o' water on the wick. It don't seem kinder rational, neither, that screamin' and screetchin', and hoopin' and hoUerin', like possest, and tumblin' into faintins, and fits, and swoons, and what not. / dont like preachin to the narves instead of the Judgment. — I recollect a lady once, tho', conyarted by preachin' to her narves, that was an altered woman all the rest o' her days. How was that? said she: these stories illustrate the *' science of religion." I like to hear them. There was a lady, said I, (and I thought I'd give her a story for her book,) that tried to rule her husband a little tighter than was agreeable, — meddlin' with things she didn't onderstand, and dictatin' in matters of politics and religion, and everything a'n^ost. So one day her husband had got up considerable airly in the mornin', and went out and got a tailor, and brought him into his wife's bed-room afore she was out o' bed:— "Measure that woman," said he, "for a pair of breeches ; she's detarmined to wear 'em, and I'm resolved folks shall know it," and he shook the cow-skin over the tailor's head to show him he intended to be obeyed. It cured her, — she begged and prayed, and cried, and promised obedience to her husband. He spared her, but it effectuated a cure. Now that's what I call preachin to the narves: Lord, how she would have kicked and squeeled if the tailor had a ■ A very good story, said she, abowin* and amovin' a little, so as not to hear about the measurin' — a very good story indeed. ^'*'" If you was to revarse that maxim o^'yourn, said I, arid say Hi, ,.l 'J| 'It. l."T---^ 200 THE CLOCKMAKER. f - 4 4 V if i if: .% " Ff fc ' I i J M M i democracy is too often found at the root of religion, you'd I4 nearer the mark, I reckon. I knew a case once exactly in point. Do tell it to me, said she; il will illustrate ^^the spirit of religion." Yes, said I, and illustrate your book, too, if you are awritin' one, as most English trarellers do. Our congregation, •aid I, to Slickyille, contained most of the wealthy and respect- able folk there, and a most powerful and united body it was. Well, there came a split once on the election of an Elder, and a body of the upper-crust folks separated and went off in a huff, Like most folks that separate in temper, they laid it all to con- science; found out all at once they had been adrift afore all their lives, and joined another church as different from ourn in creed as chalk is from cheese; and to shew their humilit}', hooked on to the poorest congregation in the place. Well, the minister was quite lifted up in the stirrups when he saw these folks jine him; and to shew his zeal for them the next Sunday, he looked up at the gallery to the niggers, and, said he, My brether'n, said he, I beg you won't spit down any more on the aisle seats, for there be gentlemen there now. Jist turn your heads, my sable friends, and let go oyer your shoulders. Man- ners, my brothers, manners before backey. Well, the niggers seceded; they said it was an infringement on their rights, on their privilege of spittin', as freemen, where they liked, how they liked, and when they liked, and they quit in a body. " Democracy," said they, " is the root of religion." Is that a fact? said she. No mistake, said I; I seed it my- self; I know 'em all. Well, i#'s a curious fact, said she, and ▼ery illustrative. It illustrates the universality of spittin', and the universality of democracy. It''s characteristic. I have no fear of a people where the right of spittin' is held sacred from the interminable assaults of priestcraft. She laid down her trumpet, and took out her pocket-book, and began to write it down. She swallar^d it all. I have seen her book since; it^s jist what I expected from her. The chapter on religion strikei at the root of all religion; and the effect of such doctrines are exhibited in the gross slander she has written ag'in her own sex in the States, from whom she received nothin** but kindness and hospitality. I don^t call that pretty at all; it's enough to drive hospitality out of the land. TRAVELLING IN AMERICA. 201 ou'd 1<€ actly in spirit of you are ■egation, respect- J it was. er, and a n a hufF. il to con- afore all 1 ourn in humility, Well, the saw these t Sunday, 1 he, My re on the turn your rs. Man- le niggers rights, on ked, how a hody. I know what you allude to, said I, and fully concur with you in opinion, that it is a gross ahominable slander, adopted on insufficient authority, and the more abominable from coming from a woman. Our church may be aristocratic; but if it is, it teaches good manners, and a regard for the decencies of life. Had she listened more to the regular clergy, and less to tlv modem illuminati, she might have learned a little of that cha^ rity which induces us to think well of others, and to speak ill of none. It certainly was a great outrage, and I am sorry that outrage was perpetrated by an Englishwoman. I am proper glad you agree with me, squire, said he; but come and see for yourself, and I will explain matters to you; for without some one to let you into things, you won't understand us. I'll take great pleasure in bein' your guide, for I must say I like your Gonyersation. — How singular this is! to the natural reserve of my country, I add an uncommon taciturnity; but this peculiar adaptation to listening has everywhere established for me that rare, but most desirable reputation, of being a good compa- nion. It is evident, therefore, that listeners are everywhere more scarce than talkers, and are valued accordingly. Indeed, without them, what would become of the talkers? Yes, I like your conversation, said the Clockmaker (who, the reader must have observed, has had all the talk to himself). We are like the Chinese; they hare two languages, the written language and the spoken language. Strangers only get as far as die spoken one; but all secret affairs of religion and govern- ment are sealed up in the written one; they can't make nothin' of it. That's jist the case with us; we have two languages, one for strangers, and one for ourselves. A stranger must know this, or he's all adrift We've got our own difficulties, our own doubts, our owa troubles, as well as other folks, — it would be strange if we hadn't; but we don't choose to blart 'em all out to the world. Look at our President's Message last year; he said, we was the most prosperous nation on the face of the airth, peace and plenty spreadin' over the land, and more wealth than we know'd how to spend. At that very time we was on the point of na- tional bankruptcj. He said, the great fire at New York didn't cause our failure; good reason why, the goods were all owned 14 1 i02 THE CLOCKMARER. I. V. 'I I <« at London and Lyons, and the failures took place there, and not here. Our President taid on that occasion, our maxim li, ** Do no wrong, and suffer no insult." Well, at that rery time our gineral was marchin' into the Mexican territory, and our people off South boarded Texas, and took it, — and our folks down North-east were ready to do the same neighbourly act to Canada, only waitin* for Papineau to say, " All ready." He boasted we had no national debt, but a large surplus revenue in the public chist, and yet, add up the public debt of each sepa- rate state, and see what a whappin' large one that makes. We don't intertain strangers, as the English do, with the troubles of our household and the bothar our sarvants give us; we think it ain't hospitable, nor polished, nor even good manners; we keep that for the written language among ourselves. If you don't believe my word, go and ask the Britisher that was at Mr. Madison's court when the last war broke out — he was the only man to Washington that know'd nothin' about it — he didn't understand the language. I guess you may go and pack up your duds and go home, said Mr. Madison to him one day, when he called there to the levee. Qo home! said he, and he wrinkled up his forehead, and drew up his eyelids, as much as to say, I estimate you are mad, ain't you? Go home ! said he. What for? Why, said he, I reckon we are at war. At war! said the Englishman; why, you don't say so? there can't be a word of truth in the report: my dispatches say nothin' of it Perhaps not, said the President, quite cool, (only a slight twitch of his mouth showed how he would like to haw, haw, haw, right out, only it wam't decent,) perhaps not, but I pre- sume I declared war yesterday, when you was engaged a playin' of a game at chess with Mrs. Madison. Folks said they raelljr pitied him, he looked so taken aback, so streaked, so completely dumb-founded. No, when I say you can't make us out, yo« always laugh; but it's true, you can't without an interpreter. We speak the English language and the American language; you must larn the American language, if you want to under* tiandl thp American people. :>!.. '.i V ii'i . i.:.« ,4 you'd be for ever on the move as our citizens are to New York, and thej move into a new house every first o* May-day. If there be any good in that are Council at all, it is in their bcin placed above popular excitement, and subject to no influence but that cf reason, and the fitness of things: chaps that have a considerable stake in the country, and don't buy their seats Lv pledges and promises, pledges that half the time ruin the country if they are kept, and always ruin the man that breaks 'em. It's better as it is in the hands of the government. It'>) a safety-valve now, to let off the fume, and steam, and vapou:, generated by the heat of the lower house. If you make thai branch elective^ you put government right into the gap^ and all iifference of opinion, instead of bein between the two brancha as it is noWy {that is, in fact, between the people themselves)^ would then occur in all cases between the people and the go- vernor. Afore long that would either seal up the voice of the executive, so that they dam't call their souls their own, or innke em onpopular, and whenever the executive once fairly gets into that are pickle, there's an eend of the colony, and a declaration of independence would soon foller. Papinor knows that, and that's the reason he's so hot for it, — he knows what it would lead to in the eend. The critter may want ginger, for ought I know; but he don't want for gumption, you may depend. Elective councils are inconsistent with colonial dependance. It's takin^ away the crane that holds up the pot from the fire, to keep it from boilin' over, and clappin' it right on the hot coals* what a galloppin' boil it would soon come into, wouldn't it? In all mixed governments like youm, the true rule is never to interfere with pop'lar rights established. Amend what is wrong, concede what is right, and do what is just always; but presarve the balance of the constitution for your life. One pound weight only taken off the executive, and put on t'othei eend, is like a shift of the weight on a well-balanced plank till it won't play true no more, but keeps aslidin' and aslidin' down by leetle and leetle to the heaviest eend, till it all stays down to one side, and won't work no longer. It's a system of checks Eow, but when all the checks run together, and make only one weight, they'll do as our senate did once (for that ain't no check no m:«re) — it actilly passed that cussed embargo law oi ELECTIVE COUNCILS. 205 b ranches mselves\ d I he go- •e of the , or make gets into eclaration ithat, and it would ouglit I depend. nee. It's le fire, ta hot coals* aldn't it'f never to ■what is ays; but One ,n t'othei Iplank till in down lys down |of cbecxs only one ain't no [0 law ol Jefferson's that ruined our trade, rotted our shippin', and bankrupted the i;\'hole nation, arter it come up from the House of Representatives thro' all its three readins in four hours; I hope I maj he skinned if it didn't. It did, I snore. That's the beauty of havin' two bodies to look at things thro' only one spyglass, and blow bubbles thro' one pipe. There's no appeal, no redress, in that case, and what's more, when one party gives riders to both horses, they ride over you like wink, and tread vou right onder foot, as arbitrary as old Scratch himself. There's no tyranny on airth equal to the tyranny of a majority; you can't form no notion of it unless you seed it. Jist see how tbey sarved them chaps to Baltimore last war. General Lingan and thirty other fellers that had the impedence to say thoy didn't approve of the doins of the administration; they jist lynched em and stoned 'em to death like dogs. We find Among us the greatest democrats are the greatett tyrants. No, squire; repair, amend, enlarge, ventilate, mo- dernize a little too, if you like, your structur; put new roof, new porch, winders, and doors, fresh paint and shingle it, make it more attractive and pleasanter to inhabit, and of course it will be more valuable; but do you leave the foundation alone— don't you meddle with the frame, the braces, the girts for your life, or it will spread, bilge out, leak like the divil, and come to pieces some o' these stormy nights about your ears as sure as you are bom. Make no organic changes. There are quacks in politics^ squire, as well as in med'cine, — critters who have unevarsal pills to cure all sorts o' diseases; aiid many's the constitution, human and politic, they've fixt atween them. There's no knowin' the gripes and pains and cbolicks they've caused; and the worst of it is, the poor devils that get in their hands, when they are on the broad of their backs, can't help themselves but turn up the wliites of their eyes, and say. Oh dear! I'm very bad: how will it go? Go, says they; why, like a house a-fire — full split — goin* on I ^jrandly,— couldn't do no better, — jist what was expected. You'll have a new constitution, strong as a lion: oh! goin* o» h;randly. Well, I don't know, says the misfortunate critter/ jbut I feels a plaguy sight more like goin' off than goin' on, I teU jyoM. Then comes apickin' o' the bed-clothes, a clammy sweat h;i' > m 206 THE CLOCKMAKER. I jiff t !■• ! I -I cold feet, the hiccup, rattles, and death. Sarves him right, says quack; the cussed fool has had doctors too long ahout him *n former days, and they sapped his constitution, and fixt his dint for him: why didn't he call me in sooner? The conceited ass thought he know'd everything, and didn't foller out all mt^ prescriptions ; — one comfort, though — his estate shall pay for it, I vow» Yes, squire, and that is the pity, win or lose, live oi die, the estate does pay for it — that's a fact ; and what's worser. too, many on 'em care more ahout dividin the spile than effectin the cure, by a long chalk. .v rv, .jtv^, m, ,<.,,• ■ f--'. . • There's always some jugglery or quackery agoin' oh eveiy- where a'most. It puts me in mind of the Wilmot springs. One of the greatest flams I ever heard tell of in this province; was brought out hereabouts in Wilmot, and succeeded for a space beyond all calculation. Our sea sarpant was no touch to it-^and that was a grand steam-boat spekilation too, for a nation sight of folks went from Boston down to Providence and back ag'in, on purpose to see the sarpant in the boat that first spoke it out to sea. But then they were all pleasurin' parties, young folks takin' a trip by water, instead of a quiltin^ frolic to shore. li gave the galls something to talk about and to do, to strain their little eyes through the captain's great big spy-glass to see their natural enemy, the sarpant; and you may depend thej had all the cur''osity of old Marm Eve too. It was all young hearts and young eyes, and pretty ones they were, I tell you. But this here Wilmot wonder was a sort of funeral affair, an old and ugly assortment, a kind of Irish wake, part dead and part alive, where one half groaned with sorrow and pain, and t 'other half groaned to keep 'em company, — a rael, right down, genuine hysteric frolic, near about as much cryin' as laughin— it beat all natur'. I believe they actilly did good in sartain cases, in proper doses with proper diet; and at some future day in more knowin' hands, they will come into v<^ue ag^in, and make a good spekilation; but I have always obsarved when an article is once run down, and folks find out that it has got more puffin' than it desarves^ they don't give it no credit at all, and it is a long time afore it comes round ag'in. The Wilmot springs are sitiated on the right there, away up onder that mountain a-head on us. They sartainly did make a wonderful BLECTIVE COX7NCIL8. 207 great noise tiiree years ago. If the pool of Saloom had aheeB there, it couldn't a'had a greater crowd o* clowns about it. The lame and mciiined, the consumptive and dropsical, the cancerous and leprous, the old drunkard and the young rake, the barren ^ife and sick maid, the larfin' catholic, and sour sectary, high and low, rich and poor, black and white, fools of all ages, sises, and degrees, were assembled there adrinkin', bathin', and awashin' in the waters, and carryin' off the mud for poultices and plaisters. It killed some, and cured some, and fool'd a nation sight of folks. Down to the mouth of the spring, where it discharges into a stream, there is a soft bottom, and there you'd see a feller standin' with one leg stuck in the mud; another lyin' on a plank, with an arm shoyed into the ooze up to the shoulder: a third asittih' down, with a mask o' mould like a gypsum cast on his head; others with naked feet spotted all over with the clay to cure corns; and these grouped ag'^in here with an unfortunate fellor with a stiff arm, who could only thrust in his elbow; and there with another sittin'* on a chair, adanglin' his feet in the mire to cure the rheumatis; while a third, sunk up to his ribs, had a man apourin' water on his head for an eruption;, as a gard'ner waters a transplanted cab- bage-plant, all declitrin' they felt better, and wonderin' it hadn't been found' out afore. It was horrid, I tell you, to see folks makin such fools of themselves. - -■' . ; -,h c; .....„.,. ., If tbat are spring had belonged to an American citizen, that had made such an everlastin' touss about it, folks would have said they calkelated it was a Yankee trick; as it was, they sot each other on, and every Critter that came home from it sent a half a dozen neighbours off, — so none on 'em could larf at eaeh other. The road was actilly covered with people. I saw one old goney, seventy years of age, stuck in a gig atween two mattresses, like a carcase of mutton atween two bales of wool in a countryman's cart. The old fool was agoin' for to be mad« young, and to be married when he returned home. Folks believed everything they heerd of it. They actilly swallered a story that a British officer that had a cork leg bathed there, and the flesh growed on it, so that no soul could tell the diffe- Fence atween it and the natural one. They believed the age of miracles had come ; so a fellor took a dead pig and throw'd it 4 1. ■ i-ji* 1" -%i: ij- ,.,-« h jj- \ \ r 1 - -« " .H ■n. :V1 ^1 208 THE CLOCKMAKER. *t« tfi#j in, sayin' who know'd as it cured the half dead, that it wculda't go the whole hog. That joke fixt the Wilmot springs: it turned the larf against 'em; and it was lucky they did, for they were findin' springs just like 'em ererywhere. Every pool the pigs had ryled was tasted, and if it was too had for the stomach, i* was pronounced medicinal. The nearest doctor wrote an ac- count of it for the newspapers, and said it had sulphur and saltpetre in it, and that the mud when dried would make good powder, quite good enough to hlow gypsum and shoot us Yankees. At last they exploded spontaneous, the sulphur, saltpetre, and humt hrans went off of themselves, and nothin' has ever been since heerd of the Wilmot springs. It's pretty much the case in politics: folks have always some 'bubble or another, — some elective council, — private ballot, — short parliaments, — or some pill or another to cure all political evils in natur; with quacks enough to cry 'em up, and inte- rested quacks also, who make their ned out of 'em, afore people get tired of them and their pills too. There was a time when there was too many public officers in your council here, but they've died off, or moved off, and too many of 'em lived to Halifax, and too few of 'em in the country, and folks thought a new deal would give 'em more fair play. "Well, they've got ft new deal now, and new cards. So far so good. A change of men is no great matter— natur' is a changin' of 'em all the time if government don't. But the constitution is another thing. You can't take out the vitals and put in new ones, ag you can in a watchcase, with any great chance of success, as ever I heerd tell of. I've seen some most beautiful operations performed, too, by brother Eldad, where the patients lived thro* 'em, — and he got a plaguy sight of credit for *em, — but they all died a few days arterwards. Why, 'Dad, says I, what in natur' is the good o' them are operations, and puttin' the poor critters to all that pain and misery, and their estate to so much expense, if it don't do *em no good? — for it seems to me they all do go for it; that's sartain. Well, it was a dreadful pretty operation tho', Sam, wam't iti he'd say; but the critter was desperate sick and peeowerfuUy weak; I raely was e'en a'most afeerd I shouldn''t carry him thro' it. But what's the use on it at last, when it kills 'emT ELECTIVE COUNCILS 209 laid . for you see they do slip thro* your fingers in the eencL A fellor, says he, Sam, that's considerable slippery all his life, may be a little slippery towards the eend on't, and there's no help for it, as I see; — but, Sam, said he, with a jupe o' the head, and a wink quite knowin', you ain't up to snuff yet, I see. // dont kill *em if they dont die onder the knife: t/* you can carry 'em thro' the operation^ and they die next day^ they alrvayt die^ of sunthin' else, and the doctor is made a man for ever and a day arterwards too. Do you apprehend now, my boy? Yes, says I, I apprehend there arc tricks in other trades as well as the clock trade; only some on 'em ain't quite so innocent, and there's some / wouldn't like to play, / know. No, said he, I suppose not; and then, haw-hawin** right out — how soft we are, Sam, ain't we? said he. Yes, preserve the principle of the mechanism of your consti- tution, for it ain't a bad one, and preserve the balances, and the rest you can improve on without endangerin' the whole engin'. One thing too is sartain, — a power imprudently given to the executive^ or to the people, is seldom or never got back. I ain't been to England since your Reform Bill passed, but some folks do say it works complete, that it goes as easy as a loaded wag- gon down hill, full chisel. Now suppose that bill was found to be alterin' of the balances, so that the constitution couldn't work many years longer, without acomin' to a dead stand, could you repeal it? and say, "as you were?" Let a bird out o' your hand, and try to catch it ag'in, will you? No, squire, said the Clockmaker, you have laws aregilatin of quack doctors, but none aregilatin* of quack politicians: now a quack doctor is had enough, and dangerous enough, gracious knows, but a quack olilician is a devil outlawed, — that's a fact. ".^.i••^*&l y 1 ,. -xk^ CHAPTER VII. SLAYERT. The road from Kentville to Wilmot passes over an extensive ind dreary sand plain equally fatiguing to man and horse, and after three hours* hard dragging on this heavy road, we lookM out anxiously for an inn to rest and refresh our gallant "Clay." 210 THE CLOCKMAKEIU \ I' \ \ ,t«. .,•1 There it is, said Mr. Slick; you'll know it by that high post, on which fhey hare jibitted one of their goyemors ahorseback as a sign. The first night I stopt there, I tow I couldn't sleep a wink for the creakin of it, as it swung backwards and forwards in the wind. It sounded so nateral like, that I couldn't help athinkin' it was rael human hung in chains there. It put me in mind of the slave to Charleston, that was strung up for pysonin his master and mistress. When we drove up to the door, a black man came out of the stable, and took the horse by the head in a listless and reluctant manner, but his attention was shortlj awakened by the animal, whom he soon began to examin atten- tively. Him don't look like blue nose, said blacky, — sartin him stranger. Fine critter, dat, by gosh — ^no mistake. From the horse his eye wandered to us; when, slowly quitting his hold of the bridle, and stretching out his ht^ad, and stepping anxiously and cautiously round to where the Clockmaker was Standingvhe suddenly pulled off hi;:< hat, and throwing it up in the air, uttered one of thie most piercing yells I think I overheard, •md throwing himself upon the ground, seized Mr. Slick round the legs with his. arms. I i .Oh, Massa, Sammy! Massa Sammy! Oh, my Gor !r— only tii^ old Scippy see you once more! How you do, Massa.l^mmy? t Gor Ormighty bless you! How you do? Why, who on airth are^oM? said the Clockmaker! what onder the sun do you n^ean by actin' so like a ravin' distracted fool? Get up this minnit, and let ^e see who you be, or I'll give you a slockdoioger in the ear th my foot, as sure as you are bom. Who be j^ov; you nigger you ? Oh, Massa Sam, you no recollect Old Scip,— Massa 'Siah's nigger boy? How's Massa Sy, and Missey Sy, and all our children, and all our folks to our house to home? De dear little lily, de sweet little booty, de little missy baby. Oh, how I do lub 'em all. In this manner the creature ran on, incoherently asking ques- tions, sobbing, and '^ming himself for having left so good a master, and so com{\«f^ble a home. How is dat black villain, dat Cato? he continu.^; — Massa no hang him yet? He is sold, said Mr. Slick, and has gone to New Or/eew*, I guess. O, I g.u^, upon my soul, I wery grad! then he catch it, de dam black nig- ger — ^it sarve him right. I hope dey cowskin him well — I grad f dat,-~oh Gor! dat is good! I link I see him, da ugly brute. 8LAVERY.:r'| 211 X hope dey lay it into him well, damn him ! I guess you'd bet« ter onharness Old Clay, and not leave him standin' all day in the gun, said Mr. Slick. Oh goody gracy, yes, said the overjoyed negro, dat I will, and rub him down* too till him all dry as bone, — ^ebil a wet hair left. Oh, only tink, Massa Sammy Slick, — Massa Sammy Slick,— Scip see you again! * «> - .!•'*> The Clockmaker accompanied him to the stable, and there gratified the curiosity of the afifectionate creature by answering all bis inquiries after his master's family, the state of the planta- tion and the slaves. It appears that he had been inveigled away by the mate of a Boston vessel that was loading at his master's estate; and, notwithstanding all the sweets attending a stat6 of liberty, was unhappy under the influence of a cold climate, hard labour, and the absence of all that real sympathy, which, not- withstanding thie rod.of the mastery 'existiv nowhere but where there is a comniunity of interests. He entreated Mr. Slick to take him into his employment, and rowed eternal fidelity to him and his family, if he .ivould receite hiu as a servant, and procure his manumission from his master, v it- ";i -v) . \ > ^.u.'O This arrangement having been effeo6ed to the satisfaction of both parties, we proceeded on •■* i - ' •I ; . ■ ■\ ' lilf^ '^ 214 THE CLOCKMAKER. \ '» if It i some olher g^intleman there; so 'Siah offered to bet one thousand dollars he could piod^oe ten black gentlemen, who should be allowed, by good judgt v', to be more polished than any like number of whites that could be selected in the town of Charles- ton. Well, the bet was taken, the money staked, and a note made of the tarms. • » : ':•• ' .• . • m Next day at ten o'clock, the time fixed, Josiah had his ten niggers nicely dressed, paraded out in the streets, afacin* of the sun, and brought his friends and the umpires to decide the bet. Well, when they got near 'em, they put their hands to tlieir eyes and looked down to the ground, and the tears ran down their cheeks like anything. Whose cheeks? said she; blacks or whites ? this is very interestin'. Oh, the whites, to be sure, said I. Then, said she, I will record that mark of feelin with great pleasure — I'll let the world know it. It does honour to their heads and hearts. But not to their eyes, tho*, said I; they swore they couldn't see a bit. What the devil have you ^.'jnt there. Slick? says they; it has put our eyes out: damn theiii^ how they shine ! they look like black japanned tea-trays in tiie sun — it's blindin — it's the devil, that's a fact. Are you satis- fied? said 'Sy. Satisfied of what? says they; satisfied with bein' as blind as buzzards, ehf Satisfied of the high polish niggers are capable of, said Josiah : why shouldn't nigger hide, with lots of Day and Martins blackin' on it, t&kd as good a polish as cow hide, eh f Oh lord ! if you'd aheerd what a roar of larfter there was, for all Charleston was there amost; what a hurrain' and shoutin': it was grand iiin. I went up and shook hands with Josiah, for I always liked a joke fiom a boy. Well done, 'Sy, says I ; you've put the leake into 'em this hitch real complete; it's grand! Bu^ says he, don't look so pleased, Samj* they are cussed vexed, and if we crow I'll have to fight every one on 'em, that's sartin, for they are plaguy touchy them South- erners; fight for nothin' a'most. But Sam, said he, Connecticut ain't a bad school for a boy, arter all, is it ? I could tell you fifty such stories, miss, says I. She drew up rather stately. Thank you, sir, said she, that will do; I am not sure whether it is a joke of your brother, or a hoax of yourn, but whosoever it is, it has more practical wit than feelin' in it. The truth is, said the Olockmaker, nothin^ raises my dander /•!// SLAVERY. 210 more, than to hear English folks and our Eastern citizens atal kin about this subject that they don't onderstand, and have notiiin to do with. If such critters will go down South ameddlin with things that don't consarn 'em, they desarve what they catch. I don't mean to say I approve of lynchin*, because that's horrid ; but when a feller gets himself kicked, or his nose pulled, and lams how the cowskin feels, I don't pity him one morsel. Our folks won't bear tamperin' with, as you Colonists do; we won't stand no nonsense. The subject is jist a complete snarl; it's all tangled, and twisted, and knotted so, old Nick himself wouldn't onravel it. "What with priyate rights, public rights, and state rights, feelin', expediency, and public safety, it's a considerable of a tough subject. The truth is, I ain't master of it myself. I'm no book man, I never was to college, and my time has been mostly spent in the clock trade and tooth business, and all I know is jist a little I've picked up by the way. The tooth business, said I; what is that? do you mean to say you are a dentist? No, said he, laughing; the tooth business is pickin up experience. Whenever a feller is considerable 'cute with us, we say he has cut his eye teeth, he's tolerable sharp; and the study of this I call the tooth business. Now I ain't able to lay it all down what I think as plain as brother Josiah can, but I have an idea there's a good deal in name, and that slavery is a word that frightens more than it hurts. It's some o' the branches or grafts of slavery that want cuttin' off. Take away corporal punishment from the masters and give it to the law, forbid separatin' families and the right to compel marriage and other connexions, and you leave slavery nothin' more than sarvitude in name, and somethin' quite as good in fact. Every critter must work in this world, and a labourer is a slave; but the labourer only gets enough to live on from day to day, while the slave is tended in infancy, sickness, and old age, and has spare time enough given him to aim a good deal too. A married woman, if you come to that, is a slave, call her what /oi} will wife, woman, angel, termegant^ or devil, she^s a slave; and if she happens to get the upper hand, the husband is a slave, and if he don^t lead a worse life than any black nigger, when he''s under petticoat government, then my name is not Sam Slick. Tm no advocate of slavery, squire, nor are any of „ji» 216 THE CLOCKMAKSR. X. *•■■■:' * 'U *' t ■I? im our folks: it^s bad for the niggers, worse for the masters, an la cuss to any country; but we hare got it, and the question is, what are we to do with it ? Let them answer that now,—] don^t pretend to be able to. The subject was a disagreeable one, but it was a striking peculiarity of the Glockmaker\ that he neyer dwelt long upon anything that was not a subject of national boast; he therefore rery dexterously shifted both the subject and the scene of it to England, so as to furnish himself with a retort, of which he wai at all times exceedingly fond. I hare heerd tell, said he, that you British haye Emancipated your niggers. Yes, said I, thank God 1 slavery exists not in the British empire. Well, I take some credit to myself for that, said the Glockmaker; it was me that sot that agoin^ any way. You, said I, with unfeigned astonishment: you ! how could you, by any possibility be instru- mental in that great national actf Well, TU tell you, said he, tho^ its a considerable of a long story too. When I returned from Poland, ria London, in the hair spickilation of Jabiih Green, I went down to Sheffield to execute a commission; I had to bribe some Master Workmen to go out to America, and if I didn''t fix ^em it^s a pity. The critters wouldn'^t go at no rate, without the most extraTagant onreasonable wages, that no business could afford no how. Well, there was nothin^ to be done but to agree to it; but things worked right in the long run, our folks soon larnt the business, and then they had to work for half nothing or starre. It don''t do to driye too hard ft bargain always. When I was down there a ^rentleman called on me one arternoon, one John Canter by name, and says he, Mr. Slick, IVe called to see you, to make some inquiries about America me and my friends think of emigrating there. Happy, says I, to give any information in my power, sir, and a sociable dish o^ chat is what I must say I do like most amazing — it^s kind o^ nateral to me talkin** is. So we sot down and chatted a^vay about our great nation all the arternoon and eYenin\ and him and me got as thick as two thieyes afore we parted. — If jou will be to home to-morrow eyenin\ says he, I will call again, ii you will give me leare. Sartain, says I, most happy. . Well, nex^ eyenin^ he came ag^in; and in the course of talk, SLAVERY. 217 says he, I was bom a <(Uaker, Mr. Slick. PWtj of '*em with as, says I, and well to ssent, and if he hadn't a conscience he wouldn't; a man, therefore, who quits his church, always stands a notch higher with me than a stupid obstinate critter that iticks to it ''cause he was bom and brought up in it, and his father belonged to it — there''s no sense in that. A quaker is a very set man in his way; a dissenter therefore from a quaker must be what I call a considerable of a obstinate man, says he, larfin\ No, says I, not jist exactly that, but he must carry i pretty tolerable stiff upper lip, tho** — that's a fact. Well, says he, Mr. Slick, this country is an aristocratic eoantry, a very aristocratic country indeed, and it tante easy for a man to push himself when he has no great friends or family mterest ; and besides, if a man has some little talent — says he, (and he squeezed his chin atween his fore-finger and thumb, as much as to say, tho' I say it that shouldn't say it, I hare a tolerable share of it at any rate,) he has no opportunity of risin' by bringin' himself afore the public. Every avenu is filled. A man has no chance to come forward, — money won't do it, for that I have, — talent won't do it, for the opportunity is wantin*. I believe Til go to the States where all men are equal, and one has neither the trouble of risin' nor the vexation of failin'. Then you'd like to come forard in public life here, would you, said I, if you had a chance? I would, says he; that's the truth. Give me your hand then, says I, my friend, I've got an idea that it will make your fortin*. Ill put you in a track that will make a man of you first, and a nobleman arterwards, as sure as ihou says thee. Walk into the niggers, says /, and they'll help yoti to wait into the whiles, and they'll make you fvalk into parliament Walk into the niggers ! said he ; and he and stared like s cat awatchin' cf a mouse-hole ; — walk into 15 $ 1^ T, 1 46 -m I as THB CLOCKMAKER. ■'■i if I? y. us St, i ihe niggers ! — what's that? I don't onderstand you. — Take up 'mancipation, says I, and work it up till it works you up ; call meetins and make speeches to 'em ; — get up societies and make reports to 'em ; — get up petitions to parliament and get signers to 'em. Enlist the women on your side, of all ages, sects, and denominations. Excite 'em first tho', for women folks are poor tools till you get 'em up ; but excite 'em and they'll go the whole figur*, — wake up the whole country. It's a grand subject for it, — broken-hearted slayes akillin' of them- j selves in despair, or dyin* a lingerin^ death, — taskmaster''s whip acuttin' into their flesh, bumin^ suns, — days o' toil — nights o' | grief — pestilential rice-groundg — chains — starvation — misery and death, — grand figurs them for ora/ry, and make splendid speeches, if well put together. Says you, such is the spirit of British freedom, that the moment a slave touches its sea-girt shores, his spirit busts its bonds ; he stands ''mancipated, disenthralled, and liberated ; his chains fall right off, and he walks in all the naked majesty of a great big black he nigger ! It sounds Irish that, and Josiah used to say they come ?ip to the Americans a'*most in pure eloquence. It's grand, it'*s sublime that you may depend. "When you get 'em up to the right pitch, then, says you, we Iv'-e no power in parliament ; we must have abolition members. Certainly, says they, and who so fit as the good, the pious, the christian-like John Canter ; up you are put then, and bundled free gratis, head over heels, into parliament. When you are in the House o' Commons, at it agin, blue-jacket, for life. Some good men, some weak men, and almost a plaguy sight of hypocritical men, will jine you. Cant carries sway always now. A large party I in the House, and a wappin' large party out o' the house, must be kept quiet, conciliated, or whatever the right word is, and | John Canter is made Lord Lavender. I see, I see, said he; a glorious prospect of doin' good, of I aidin' my fellow mortals, of bein' useful in my generation. I hope for a more imperishable reward than a coronet, — the approbation of my own conscience. Well, well, says I to myself, if you ain'*t the most impudent as well as the most pharisaical villain that ever went onhung, then I never see a finished OMcal, — that's all. He took my advice, and went right at iM SLAVERY. 219 tooth and nail; worked day and night, and made a most a deuce of a stir. His name was in every paper; — a meetin** held here to-day, — that great and good man John Canter in the Icliair; — a meetin' held there to-morrow, — addressed most eloquently by that philanthropist, philosopher, and Christian, John Canter; — a society formed in one place, John Canter secretary; — a society formed in another place, John Canter [president : — John Canter eyerywhere ; — if you went to London, he handed you a subscription list, — if you went to Brighton, Ihe met you with a petition, — ^if you went to Sheffield, he filled lyour pockets with tracts : — he was a complete jack-oMantem, [here, and there and everywhere. The last I heerd tell of him lie was in parliament, and agoin^ out govemer-gineral of some lofthe colonies. iVe seen a good many superfine saints in my Itime, squire, but this critter was the most uppercrust one I ever |ieed, — he did beat all. Yes, the English desarve some credit, no doubt ; but when |you subtract electioneering party spirit, hippoorasy, ambition, ainisterial flourishes, and all the other ondertow causes that Operated in this work, which at best was but clumsily contrived, nd bunglinly executed, it donH leave so much to brag on ter all, does it now f ■ d' :. a i .k i. ••' t nJ!:U:f t! .1 ' CHAPTER VIII. A - J TALKING LATIN. Do you see them are country galls there, said Mr. Slick, how |iiey are tricked out in silks, and touched off with lacf yuA [ibbon to the nines amincin'* along with parasols in their hwnds, if they were afearM the sun would^melt them like wax, or ie the colour out of their face like a printed cotton blind ? i^ell, that^s jist the ruin of this country. It ainH poverty the Hue noses have to fear, for that they needn^t know without they poose to make acquaintance with it ; but it''s gentility. They the whole hog in this country, you may depend. They ain't ontent to appear what they be, but want to be what they ain^j liey live too extravagant, and dress too extravagant, and won't |lo what'*s the only thing that will supply this extravagance ; 9^: v* m THE CLOCKMAKER. K that is, be industrioufli. Jist go into one of the meetin^ houses, back here in the woods, where there ought to be nothin^ but homespun cloth, and home-made stuffs and bonnets, and see the leghorns and palmettors, and silk and shalleys, morenos, gauzes, and blonds, assembled there, enough to buy the best farm in the settlement. There's somethin** not altogether jist right in this ; and the wust of these habits is, they ruinate the young folks, and they grow up as big goneys as the old ones, and eend in the same way, by bein^ half-starved at last ; there^s a fulse pride, false feeling and false edication here. I mind once, I was down this way to New Canaan, avendin* o' my clocks, and who should I overtake but Nabal Green, apokin^ along in his waggon, half loaded with notions from the retail shops, at the cross roads. Why, Nabal, said I, are you agoin** to set up for a merchant, for I see youVe got a considerable of an assortment of goods there ? youVe got enough o** them to make a pedlar's ibrtin^ amost. Who^s dead, and what^s to pay now ? Why, friend Slick, said he, how do you do? who'd a' thought of seein^ you here ? You see my old lady, said he, is agoin^ for to give our Arabella, that''s jist returned from boardin school to Halifax, a let off to-night. Most of all the bettermost folks in these parts are axed, and the doctor, the lawyer, and the minister is invited ; it's no skim-milk story, I do assure you, but upper crust, real jam. Ruth intends to do the thing hand- some. She says she don't do it often, but when she does, she likes to go the whole figur\ and do it genteel. If she hasn't a show of dough nuts .and prasarves, and apple sarse and punkin pics and sarsages, it's a pity ; its taken all hands of us, the old lady and her galls too, besides the helps, the best part of a week past preparin^. I say nothing but its most turned the house inside out, a settin^ up things in this room, or toatin' 'en out of that into t'other, and all in such a conflustigation, that I'm glad when they send me of an arrand to be out of the way- It's lucky them harrycanes don't come every day, for they do I scatter things about at a great rate, all topsy turvey like, that's sartin. Won't you call in and see us to night, Mr. Slick ? folki will be amazin' glad to see you, and I'll s^ow you some i pritty-lookin' galls, to my mind, in our settlement here, as you 11 see in Connecticut, I know. Well, Bays I, I don't care if I do; TALKING LATIN. 221 there^s nothin^ I like more nor a frolic, and the dear little critters 1 do like to be among 'em too, — that's sartin. In the evenin' I drives over to Nabal's, and arter puttin' up my beast, old Clay, I goes into the house, and sure enough, there they was as big as life. The young ladies asittin' on one Bide, and the men astandin' up by the door and achatterin' away in great good humour. There was a young chap, aholdin* forth to the men about politics ; he was a young trader, sot up by some marchant in Halifax, to ruinate the settlement with good- for-nothin' trumpery they hadn't no occasion for, — chock full of concait and affectation, and beginnin' to feel his way with the yard stick to assembly already. Great dandy was Mr. Bobbin ; he looked jist as if he had come out of the tailor's hands, spic and span ; put out his lips and drew down his brow, as if he had a trick of thinkin' some- times — nodded his head and winked, as if he knew more than he'd like to tell — talked of talent quite glib, but disdainful, as if he would'nt touch some folks with a pair of tongs ; a great scholar too was Mr. Bobbin, always spoke dictionary, and used heavy artillery words. I don't entertain no manner of doubt if goTernment would take him at his own valiation, he'd be found to be a man o' great worth. I never liked the critter, and ahvays gave him a poke when I got a chance. He was a town meetin' orator ; a grand school that to larn public speakin\ squire ; a nice muddy pool for young ducks to lam to swim in. He was a grand hand to read lectures in blacksmith'^s shops, at Yandues and the like, and talked politics over his counter at a great size. He looked big and talked big, and altogether was a considerable big man in his own concait. He dealt in reform. He had ballot tape, suffrage ribbon^ radical lace, no-tythe hats, and beautiful pipes with a democrat's head on 'em, and the maxim, " No sinecure," onder it. Every thing had its motto. No, sir, said he, to some one he was atalkin' to as I came in, tliis country is attenuated to pulverization by its aristocracy — a proud, a haughty aristocracy ; a corrupt, a ligniouj, and lapidi- nous aristocracy ; put them into a parcel, envelopa *em with a panoply of paper, tie them up and put them into the scales, and they will be found wantin*. There is not a pound of honesty among 'em, nay, not an ounce, nay not a pennyweight Th« ;;.»■* 'US:.^' -«* .IT- « ■i:;'^^ ooo THE CLOCKMAKER. ■la 5 i I*' Ji f IW 1 1 *^ ^ 1 f" '': •■«, ■ '.«!«' .. 'i>'^ i .-fn:' > \i\i . If there is no honesty in market, says I, why don't you import I some, and retail it out? yon might make some considerable! profit on it, and do good to the country too ; it would be quite patriotic that. I'm glad to see, says I, one honest man atalkir' I politics any how, for there's one thing I've ohsarved in tiie course of my experience, whenever a man suspects all the worlii that's above him of roj(uery, he must be a pretty considerable superfine darned — (rogue himself, whispered some critter standin by, loud enough for all on 'em to hear, and to set the whole party achockin with larfter) — judge of the article himself, says I. Now, says I, if you do import it, jist let us know how you sell it, — by the yard, the quart, or the pound, will you? fork ain't sot down in any tradm^ tables I've seen, whether it is for t'ong measure, dry measure, or weight. "Well, says he, atryin" to larf, as if he didn't take the hint, I'll let you know, for it might be of sonre use to you, perhaps, in the clock trade. May be you'll be a customer, as well as the aristocrats. But how is clocks now ? said he, and he gave his I neighbour a nudge with his elbow, as much as to say, I guess it's my turn now — ^how do clocks go ? Like some young country traders I've seen in my time, says I; don't go long afore they run down, and have to be wound up again. They are considerable better too, like them, for bein' kept in their own place, and plaguy apt to go wrong when moved out of it. Thinks I to myself, Take your change out o' that, young man, will you ? for I'd heerd tell the goney had said they had cheats enough in Nova Scotia, without havin' Yankee clockmakers to put new vTinkles on their horns. Why, you are quite witty this evenin', said he; you've been masticatin' mustard, I apprehend. I was always fond of it from a boy, said I, and it's a pity the blue noses didn't chew a little more of it, I tell you ; it would help 'em, p'/aps, to disgest their jokes better, I estimate. Why, I didn't mean no offence, said he, I do assure you. Nor I neither, said I ; I hope you didn't take it in any way parsonal. Says I, Friend Bobbin, jhe larfs at ererything that siD*^ TALKING LaTIM. 225 Yankee. Larf ! said I; now do tell: I guess I'd be rery sorry to do such an ongenteel thing to any one — much less, miss, to a young lady like you. No, indeed, not I. Yes, said hef mother ; do, Bella, dear ; Mr. Slick will excuse any little defects,, I'm sure ; she's only had five quarters, you know, and you'll make allowances, won't you, Mr. Slick ? I dare say, I said, they don't stand in need of no allowances at all ; so don't be so backward, my dear. Arter a good deal of mock modesty, out skips Miss Arabella, and returns with a great large water color drawin' as big as a winder shutter, and carried it up afore her face, as a hookin' cow does a board over her eyes to keep her from makin* right at you. Now, said her mother, lookin* as pleased as a peacock when it's in full fig with its head and tail up, now, says she, Mr. Slick, you are a considerable of a judge of paintin — seein' that you do bronzin' and gildin"" so beautiful, ■—now don't you call that splendid ? Splendid ! says I ; I guess there aint the beat of it to be found in this country, anyhow : I neyer seed anything like it: you couldn't ditto it in the proTince, I know. I guess not, said her mother, nor in the next province neither. It sartainly beats all, said I. And so it did, squire ; you'd adied if you'd aseed it, for larfin'. There was the two vessels one right above t'other, a great big black cloud on the top, and a church steeple standin' under the bottom of the schooner. "Well, says I, that is beautiful — that'^s a fact! but the water, said I, miss ; you hav'n't done that yet : when you put that in, it will be complete. Not yet, said she ; the greatest difficulty I have in paintin' is in makin water. Have you, tho' ? said I ; well, that is a pity. Yes, said she ; it's the hardest thing in natur' — I can't do it straight, nor make it look of the right color ; and Mr. Acre, our master, said you must always make water in straight lines in paintin', or it ain't natural and ain't pleasin' : vessels too are considerable hard ; if you make 'em straight up and down they look stiff and ongrace- ful like, and if you put 'em onder sail, then you should know all about fixin* the sails the right way for the wind — if yoa don't, it's blundersome. I'm terribly troubled with the effect of wind. Oh ! says I. Yes, I am, said she, and if I could only manage wind and water in paintin' landscapes, why, it would be nothin*— I'd do 'em in a jiffey; but to produce the right ■A .■ • ■■■' '- ft • ' II * • 1 226 THE CLOCKMAKEK. 1^ .4- fil fffect, these things take a great deal of practice. I thought 1 should have snorted right out to hear the little critter run oo with such a regular ham. Oh dear ! said I to myself, ^nhat pains some folks do take to make fools of their children : here's as nice a little heifer as eyer was, alettin' of her clapper run away with her like an onruly horse; she don't know where it will take her to yet, no more than the man in the moon. ''r> ' > As she carried it out again, her mother said. Now, I take some credit to myself, Mr. Slick, for that; — she is throwed away here : but I was detarmined to have her educated, and so I sent her to boardin' school, and you see the effect of her five quarters. Afore she went, she was three years to the combined school in this district, that includes both Dalhousie and Shar* brooke : you have combined schools in the States, haim't you, Mr. ^ick ? I guess we have, said I; boys and galls combined; I was to one on 'em, when I was considerable well growd up; Lord, what fun we had I it's a grand place to lam the multipli- cation table at, ain't it? I recollect once — Oh fie I Mr. Slick, I mean a seminary for young gentlemen and ladies where they larn Latin and English combined. Oh latteu i said I; they lam latten there, do they 9 — Well, come, there is some sense in that; I didn't know there was a factory of it in all Nova Scotia. I know how to make latten; father sent me clean away to New York to larn it. You mix up calamine and copper, and it makes a brass as near like gold as one pea is like another; and then there is anolher kind o' latten workin tin oyer iron,— it makes a most complete imitation of silver. Oh t a knowledge of latten has been of great sarvice to me in t^e clock trade, you may depend. It has helped me to a nation sight of the genu- mine metals — that's a fact. .*r/ Why, what on airth are you atalkin^ about ? said Mrs. Green, I don''t mean that latten at all; I mean the Latin they larn to schools. Well, I don^t know, said I; I never seed any other kind 0** latten, nor ever heard tell of any.- — What is it ? Why, it's a , ifs a . Oh, you know well enough, said she; only you make as if you didn'*t, to poke fun at me. I belieye, on my soul, you've been abammin^ of me the whole blessed time. X hope I may be shot if I do, said I; so do tell me what it is. Is it anything in the silk factory line, or the straw-pH TALKING LATIN. 227 or the cotton warp way? Your head, she said, considerable miffy, is always aninnin' on a factory. Latin is a ■ . Nabal, siiid she, do tell me what Latin is. Latin, says he, — why, Latin is ahem ! it's what they teach at the Combined School. Well, says she, we all know that as well as you do, Mr. Wisehead : but what is it ? Come here, Arabella dear, and tell me what Latin is ? Why, Latin, ma, said Arabella, is — am-o, I love; — am-at, he loves: am-amus, we love; — that's Latin. Well, it does sound dreadful pretty tho', don't it ? says I; and yet if Latin is love, and love is Latin, you hadn't no occasion, — and I got up, and slipt my hand into her's — you hadn'*t no occasion for to go to the Combined School to lam it; for natur', says I, teaches that a , and I was whisperin' of the test o' the sentence in her ear, when her mother said, — Come, come, Mr. Slick, what's that you are asayin"* of? Talkin^ Latin, says I, —awinkin' to Arabella ; — ain't we, miss ? Oh yes, said she, — returnin'' the squeeze of my hand, and larfin'; — oh yes, mother, arter all he ondemtands it complete. Then take my seat here, says the old kdy, a'iid both on you sit down and talk it, for it will be a good practice for you;— and away she sailed to the eend of the room, and left us SLftalkin* Latin, a nuu .^ < I hadn't been asittin' there long afore Doctor Ivory Hovey came up, asmirkin', and asmilin', and arubbin'* of his hands, as if he was agoin' to say somethin' very witty ; and I observed, the moment he came, Arabella took herself off. She said, she couldn't bide him at all. Well, Mr. Slick, said he, how be you ? how do you do, upon an average, eh? Pray, what's your opinion of matters and things in general, eh? Do you think you could exhibit such a show of fine bloomin' galls in Slick- ville, eh? Not a bad chance for you,! guess, — (and he gave that word guess a twang that made the folks larf all round,) — said he, for you to spekilate for a wife, eh ? Well, says I, there is a pretty show o' galls, that's sartain, — but they wouldn't con- descend to the like o' me.i I was athinkin' there was some on 'em that would jist suit you to a T. Me, says he, adrawin' of himself up and looking big, — me ! and he turned up his nose like a pointer dog when the birds flowed off. When / honour a lady with the offer of my hand, says he, it will be a lady. Well, thinks I, if you ain't a consaited critter it's a pity; most '*■• ■'■' lit ■■* 4< ;r* 228 THfi CLOCKMAKER. .'.> « I* 411 ^em are a plaguy Bight too good for you, so I will jist pay yon off in your own coin. Says I, you put me in mind of Lawyer £ndicot''s dog. What^s that? says the folks acrowdin^ round to hear it, for I seed plain enough that not one on ^em liked him one morsel. Says I, he had a great big black dog that he used to carry about with him everywhere he went, into the churches and into the court. The dog was always abotherin'* of the judges, agettin^ between their legs, and they used to order him to be turned out every day, and they always told the lawyer to keep his dog to home. At last, old Judge Porson said to the constable one day, in a voice of thunder, Turn out that dog! and the judge gave him a kick that sent him half-way across the room, yelpin^ and howlin^ like anything. The lawyer wai properly vexed at this, so says he to the dog, Pompey, says ho, come here! and the dog came up to him. Didn't I always tell you, said he, to keep out o^ bad company? Take that, said he, agivin' of him a'^most an awful kick — take that ! — and the next time only go among gentlemen; and away went the dog, lookin^ foolish enough, you may depend. What do you mean by that are story, sir? said he, abristlin^ up like a mastifif. No thin', says I; only that a puppy sometimes gets into company that''s too good for him, by mistake; and if he forgets himself, is plaguy apt to get bundled out fester than he came in; — and I got up and walked away to he other side. Folks gave him the nickname of Endicot'^s dog arter that, and I was glad on it; it sarved him right, the consaited ass. I heerd the critter amuterrin' sun'thin'* of the Glockmaker illus- tratin"* his own case, but as I didn't want to be parsonal, I made as if I didn"*! hear him. As I went over towards the side-table, who should I see aleanin^ up against it but Mr. Bobbin, pretty considerable well shaved, with a glass o^ grog in his hand, alookin^ as cross as you please, and so far gone, he was athinkin aloud, and atalkin* to himself. There comes '*soft sawder,^ says he, and ''human natur\'" — ameanin'* me — a Yankey broom, —wooden nutm ^s, — cussed sarcy, — great mind to kick him, Arabella'*s got her head turned, — consaited minx; — good exte- rior, but nothin'* in her, — ^like Slick'^s clocks, all gilded and var- nished outside, and soft wood within. Gist do for Ivory Hovey — same breed, — ^big head,— long ears, — a pair of donkeys! Shj TALKING LATIN. 229 old cock, that deacon, — joins Temperance Societies to get popular^ — dips the gin in, pretends it's water; — I see him. But here goes, I believe Til slip off. Thinks I, it's gettin* on for mornin'; rU slip off too; so out I goes, and harnesses up old Clay, and driyes home. Jist as I came from the bam, and got opposite to the house, I heerd some one acrackin' of his whip, and abawlin' out at a great size; and I looked up, and who should I see but Bobbin in his waggon ag'in the pole fence. Comin^ in the air had made him blind drunk. He was alickin' away at the top pole of the fence, and afancyin^ his horse was there, and wouldn't go. — Who comes there ? said he. Gloekmaker, said I. Gist take my horse by the head, — that's a good fellor — will you ? said he, and lead him out as far as the road. Cuss him, he won't stir. Spiles a good horse to lead him, says I; he always looks for it again. Jist you lay it on to him well, — his hams ain't made o* hickory like mine. Cut away at him; he'll go by-and-bye: — and I drove away, and left him acuttin' and alashin' at the fence for dear life. Thinks I, you are not the first ass that has been brought /o a /)o//, anyhow. Next day, I met Nabal. Well, said he, Mr. Slick, you hit our young trader rather hard last night; but I warn't sorry to hear you tho', for the critter is so full of consait, it will do him good. He wants to pull every one down to his own level, as he can't rise to theirs, and is for everlastin'ly spoutin' about House of Assembly business, officials, aristocrats, and such stuff; he'd be a plaguy sight better, in my mind, attendin' to his own business, instead of talkin' of other folks's; and usin' his yardstick more, and his tongue less. And between you and me, Mr. Slick, said he, — tho' I hope you won't let on to any one that I said anything to you about it, — but atween ourselves, as we are alone here, I am athinkin' my old woman is in a fair way to turn Arabella's head too. All this paintin', and singin', and talkin' Latin is very well, I consait, for them who have time for it, and nothin' better to do at home. It's better p'raps to be adoin' of that than adoin' of nothin'; but for the like o' us, who have to live by farmin', and keep a considerable of a large dairy, and upwards of a hundred sheep, it does seem to me sometimes as if it were t little out of place. Be candid now, said he, for I should like *ir^' \r- u • I ■< f?1 230 THE CLOCKMAKER. i 1 :•< I I 1 i'1 f ■ to hear what your rael genuwine opinion is touchin^ this matter; seein' that you know a good deal of the world. "Why, friend Nahal, says I, as you're axed my adyice, I'll give it to you; tho** anythin' partainin' to the apron-string is what I don't call myself a judge of, and feel delicate of meddlin' with. "Woman is woman, says I; that's p fact; and a fellor that will go for to provoke hornets, is plaguy apt to get himself stung, and I don^t know as it does not sarve him right too; hut this I must say, friend, that you're just ahoat half right, — that's a fact. The proper music for a farmer's house is the spinnin'-wheel, — the true paintin' the dye stuffs, — and the tamhourin' the loom. Teach Arabella to be useful, and not showy, prudent and not extra- vagant. She is jist about as nice a gall as you'll see in a day^s ride; now don't spoil her, and let her get her head turned, for it would be a rael right down pity. One thing you may depend on for sartin, as a maxim in thefarmin' line, — a good darter and a good housekeeper is plaguy apt to make a good wife and a good motlier. .••^,. ..■;„. iM\r ',,\:'' u .:. (^: ,i :;, ' !" ,,-• .}■••/:•*'. X : •■ •A r n • I < 'III, ••!*"' W , , CHAPTER IX. THE SNOW WREATH. '! Whoever has read Haliburton's History of Nova Scotia (which, next to Mr. Josiah Slick's History of Cuttyhunk, in five volumes, is the most important account of unimportant things I have ever seen,) will recollect that this good city of Annapolis is the most ancient one in North America; but there is one fact omitted by that author, which I trust he will not think an intrusion upon his province if I take the liberty of 'ecording, and that is, that in addition to its being the most tncient, it is also the most loyal city of this Western Hemi- sphere. This character it has always sustained, and "royal," as a mark of particular favour, has ever been added to its cog- nomen by every government that has had dominion over it. , Under the French, with whom it was a great favourite, it was called Port Boyal; and the good Queen Anne, who con- descended to adopt it, permitted it to be called Annapolis Royal. A book issuing from Nova Scotia is, as Blackwood very justly M THE SNOW WRIATH. 231 ril give what I n' with, aat will f stung, t this I s a fact, vheel, — le loom, ot extra- a day's >d, for it J depend irler and. id a good otsefres, in his nerer-to-be-forgotten, nor ever-to-he-sufficientlj- Rdmired review of the 6r8t series of this work, one of those unexpected events that, from their great improbability, appear almost incredible. Entertaining no doubt, therefore, that everj member of the cabinet will read this lusus naturce^ 1 take this opportunity of informing them that our most gracious Sovereign, Queen Victoria, has not in all her wide-spread dominions more devoted or more loyal subjects than the good people of Annapolis Royal. Here it was, said I, Mr. Slick, that the egg was laid of that American bird, whose progeny have since spread over this immense continent. Well, it is almost a beautiful bird too, ain't it? said he; what a plumage it has; what a size it is! It is a whopper,- — that^s sartain: it has the courage and the soarin^ of the eagle, and the colour of the peacook, and his majestic gtep and keen eye; the world never seed the beat of it; that''s a fact. How streaked the* English must feel when they think they once bad it in the cage and couldn't keep it there! it is a pity they are so invyous tho\ I declare. Not at all, I assure you, I replied; there is not a man among them who is not ready to admit all you have advanced in favour of your national emblem: the fantastic stmt of the peacock, the melodious and attic tones, the gaudy apparel, the fondness for display which is perpetually exhibiting to the world the extended tail with painted stars, the amiable disposition of the \ ird towards the younger and feebler offspring of others, the unwieldy , I thought so, said he: I liadn'*t ought to have spoke of it afore you, for it does seem to rile you; that^s sartain; and I don'*t know as it was jist altogether right to allude to a thin** that is 80 humblin^ to your national pride. But, squire, ain't this been a hot day? I think it would pass muster among the hot ones of the West Indgies almost. 1 do wish I could jist slip off my flesh and sit in my bones for a space, to cool myself, for I ainH seed such thawy weather this many a year, I know. I calculate I ^vill brew a little lemonade, for Marm Bailey ginerally keeps the materials for that Temperance Society drink. This climate o^ Nova Scotia does run to extremes; it has th« hottest and the coldest days in it I ever seed. I shall nerei forget a night I spent here three winters ago. I come very near ••1 Pi . ^ " -ft 232 THE CI.OCKMAKER. 3 » X.m .m \ >m € it t y* freezin to death. The very thought of that night will cool mi the hottest day in summer. It was ahout the latter eend of February, as far as my memory sarves me, I came down here to cross over the bay to St. John, and it was considerable arter daylight down when I arrived. It was the most violent slipperj weather, and ihe most cruel cold, I think, I ever mind seein' lince I was raised. Says Marm Bailey to me, Mr. Slick, says she, I don't know what onder the sun Tm agoin' to do with you, or how I shall be able to accommodate you, for there^s a whole raft of folks from Halifax, here, and a bacch of moose-huntin* officers, and I don't know who all; and the house is chock full, I declare. Well, says I, Fm no ways partikiler — ^I can put up with most anything. I'll jist take a stretch here, afore the fire on the floor; — for I'm e'en a'most chilled to death, and awful sleepy too; first come, says I, first sarved, you knoVs an old rule, and luck's the word now-a-days. Yes, FU jist take the hearth-rug for it, and a good warm berth it is too. "Well, says she, I can't think o** that at no rate: there's old Mrs. Faims in the next street but one; she''s got a spare bed she lets out sometimes: I'll send up to her to get it ready for you, and to-morrow these folks will be off, and then you can have your old quarters again. So, arter supper, old Johnny Farquhar, the English help, showed me up to the widder's. She was considerable in years, hut a cheerfulsome old lady and very pleasant, hut she had a darter, the prettiest gall I ever seed since I was created. There was sunthin' or other about her that made a body feel melan- choly too; she was a lovely lookin' critter, but her countenance was sad; she was tall and well made, had beautiful lookin' long black hair and black eyes; but, oh! how pale she was! — and the only colour she had, was a little fever-like-lookin' red about her lips. She was dressed in black, which made her countenance look more marble like; and yet whatever it was, — natur*, or consumption, or dcsartion, or settin^ on the anxious benches, or what not, — that made her look so, yet shehadn^t fallen away one morsel, but was full-formed and well-waisted. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. i felt a kind, o^ interest in' her; I seemed asif Td like to hear I ker story, for sunthin^ or another had gone wrong — thatwai THE SNOW WREATH. 23:j clear; lome little story of the heart, most like, for young galli axe plaguy apt to haye a tender spot thereabouts. She never smiled, and when she look3d on me she looked so streaked and 80 sad, and cold withal, it made me kinder superstitious. Her foice, too, was so sweet, and yet so doleful, that I felt proper sorry and amazin** curious too; thinks I, I'll jist ax to-morrow all about her, for folks hare pretty ^cute ears in Annapolis: there ain t a smack of a kiss that ain'^t heard all oyer the town in two twos, and sometimes they think they hear ^em eyen afore they happen. It''s almost a grand place for news, like all other small places I eyer seed. Well, I tried jokin^ and funny stories, and every kind o' thing to raise a larf, but all wouldn'^t do; she talked and listened and chatted away as if there was nothin' aboye partikiler; but still no smile; her face was cold, and clear, and bright as the icy surface of a lake, and so transparent too, you could see the yeins in it. Artera while the old lady showed me to my chamber, and there was a fire in it: but, oh ! my sakes, how cold ! it was like goin' down into a well in summer ; it made my blood fairly thicken agMn. Your tumbler is out, squire; try a little more of that lemonade; that iced water is grand. Well, I sot oyer the fire a space, and gathered up the little bits o^ brands and kindlin wood (for the logs were grecn^ and wouldn't bum up at no rate): and then I ondressed anj made a desperate jump right into the cold bed, with only half clothes enough on it for such weather, and wrapped up all the clothes round me. Well, I thought I should haye died. The frost was in the sheets, and my breath looked like the steam from a boilin' tea-kettle, and it settled right down on the quilt, and froze into white hoar. The nails in the house cracked like a gun with a wet wad, they went off like thunder, and now and then you'd hear some one run along eyer so fast, as if he couldn"! shew his nose to it for one minit, and the snow creakin' and crumplin' onder his feet, like a new shoe with a stiff sole to it. The fire wouldn''t b)aze no longer, and only gaye up a blue smoke, and the glass in the winder looked all fuzzy with the frost. Thinks I, Til freeze to death to a sartinty. If I go for to drop off asleep, as f ure as the world FU neyer wake up ag''iD. IVe heerin'' tell of folks afore now feelin^ dozy like out in the* eold, and layin' down to sleep, and goin"* for i<^ and I donH halt 10 >»■'! ..ji i * ^'"t h0 . 234 THE CLOCKMARER. 1* i! , i ,» ■Mm b « ■Iff , '"" . like to tr]' it, I row. "Well, I got considerable narvous like, and I kept aTrake near about all night, tremblin^ and shakin^ like ague. My teeth fairly chattered ag''in; first I rubbed one foot ag'in tother, then I doubled up all in a heap, and then ru])bed all oyer with my hands. Oh ! it was dismal, you may depend; at last I began to nod and doze, and fancy I seed a flock o^ sheep atakin a split for it over a wall, and tried to count 'em, one by one> and couldn'^t; and then I'd start up, and then nod ag'io. I felt it acomin' all over, in spite of all I could do; and thinki I, it aint so everlastin' long to daylight now; Vl\ try it anyhow, FU be darned if I don't, so here goes. Jist as I shot my eyes, and made up my mind for a nap, I hears a low moan and a sob ; well, I sits up and listens, but all was silent agin. Nothin* but them etarnal nails agoin off, one arter t'other, like anything. Thinks I to myself, the wind's agfettin' up, I estimate; it's as like as not we shall have a change o* weather. Presently I heerd a light step on the entry, and the door opens softly, and in walks the widder's darter on tip-toe, dressed in a long white wrapper; and after peerin' all round to see if I was asleep, she goes and sits down in the chimbly comer, and picks up the coals and fixes the fire^ and sits alookin' at it for oyer so long. Oh! so sad, and so melancholy; it Avas dreadful to see her. Says I to myself, says I, what on airth brings the poor critter here, all alone, this time o' night; and the air so plaguy cold too? I guess, she thinks Til freeze to death; or, p'rhaps she's walkin in her sleep. But there she sot lookin' more like a ghost than a human, — first she wanned one foot and then the other; and then held her hands over the coals, and moaned bitterly. Dear! dear! thinks I, that poor critter is afreezin' to death as well as me; I do believe the world is acomin' to an eend right off, and we shall all die of cola, and I shivered all over. Presently she got up, and I saw her face, part covered with her long black hair, and the other parts so white and so cold, it chilled me to look at it, and her footsteps I ecu- Baited sounded louder, and I cast my eyes down to her feet, and I actilly did fancy they looked froze. "Well, she come near the bed, and lookin' at me, stood for a space without stirrin*, and then she cried bitterly. He, too, is doomed, said she; he is in the deep of death, and so fietr from home, and all big friends toa * ( THE SNOW WREATH. 9S6 a nap, I IS, but all Q* ofiF, one he wind's s a change y, aud the on tip-toe, 11 round to bly comer, lokin at it y; it was it on airth it; and the to death; sot lookin le foot and coals, and critter is |e world is lolcl, and 1 face, pait Its so white eps I cou- ir feet, and] le near the |lirrin*,&i|i| ^e; heisin lends too. Xot yet, said I, you dear critter you, not yet, you may depend|; —but you will be if you don't go to bed; — so says I, do for gr» cious sake return to your room, or you will perish. It's frozen says she; it's deathy cold; the bed is a snow wreath, and th« piller is ice, and the coyerlid is congealed ; the chill has struck into my heart, and my blood has ceased to flow. I'm doomed, I'm doomed to die; and oh! how strange, how cold is death! Well I was all struck up of a heap; I didn't know what on airth to do; says I to myself, says I, here's this poor gall in my room carryin' on like rayin' distracted mad in the middle of the night here; she's oneasy in her mind, and is awalkin' as sure as the world, and how it's agoin' for to eend, I don't know, — that's a fact. Katey, says I, dear, I'll get up and give you my bed if you are cold, and 111 go and make up a great rousin' big fire, and I'll call up the old lady, and she will see to you, and get you a hot drink; sunthin' must be done, to a sartainty, for I can't bear to hear you talk so. No, says she, not for the world; what will my mother say, Mr. Slick? and me here in your room, and nothin' but this wrapper on: it's too late now; it's all over; and rith that she k "nted, and fell right across the bed. Oh, how cold she was , a. hill struck into me; I feel it yet; the veiy thought is enougii to give one the ague. WeU, I'm a modest man, squire; I was always modest from a boy; — but there was no time for ceremony now, for there was a sufferin*', dyin' critter —so I drew her in, and folded her in my arms, in hopes she would come to, but death was there. . ;>ai ..,;<'.-.• I breathed on her icy lips, but life seemed extinct, and every time I pressed her to me, I shrunk from her till my back touched the cold gypsum wall. It felt like a tomb, so chill, so damp, so cold — (you have no notion how cold them are kind o waUs, are, they beat all natur') — squeezed between this frozen gall on one side, and the icy plaster on the other, I felt as if my own life was aebbin' away fast. Poor critter! says I, has her care of me brought her to this pass? I'll press her to my hearii once more; pYaps the little heat that's left there may revive her, and I can but die a few minutes sooner. It was a last effort, but it succeeded; she seemed to breathe again — I spoke to her, but she couldn^t answer, tho' I felt her tears flow fast on my bosom; but I was aotilly sinking fast myself now,— ^I Uh^mf ■) <"1 236 THE CLOCKMAKER. ■xim ^^ Mi \ !.. eend approacbiu'. Then came reflection, bitter and sad thouglits they were too, 1 tell you. Dear, dearl said I; here^s a prettv kettle o^ fish, ain^t there? we shall be both found dead here in the momin', and what will folks say of this beautiful gall, and one of our free and enlightened citizens, found in such a scrape! Nothin will be too bad for '*em that they can lay their tongues to, that''s a fact: the Yankee villain, the cheatin^ Olockmuker, the — : the thought gave my heart a jupe, so sharp, so deep, BO painful, I awoke and found I was ahuggin a snow wreath, that had sifted thro"* a hole in the roof on the bed; part had melted and trickled down my breast, and part had froze to the clothes and chilled me through. I woke up, proper glad it was all a dream, you may depend — ^but amazin' cold and dreadful stifle, and I was laid up at this place for three weeks, with the 'cute rheumatiz,' — that's a fact. But your pale young friend, said I; did you ever see her againf pray, what became of her? "Would you believe it? said he; the next mornin,' when I came down, there sot Katey by the fire, lookin' as bloomin' as a rose, and as chipper as a canary bird;— the fact is, I was so uncommon cold, and so sleepy too, the night afore, that I thought every body and everything looked cold and dismal too. Mornin,' sir, said she, as I entered the keepin' room ; ntomin' to you, Mr. Slick; how did you sleep last night? I'm most afeard you found that are room dreadful cold, for little Binney opened the window at the head of the bed to make the fire draw and start the smoke up, and forgot to shut it again, and I guess it was wide open all night; — I minded it arter I got to bed, and I thought I should ha' died alarfin.' Thank you, said I, fdkr that; but jou forget you come and shot it yourself. Me! said she; I never did no such a thing. Catch me indeed agoin' into a gentleman's chamber: no, indeed, not for the world; If I wasn't cold, stud I, it's a pity, — that's all^ I was e'en a'most frozen as sti£P as a poker, and near about frightened to death too> for I seed you or your ghost last night, as plain as I see you now; that's a fact. A ghost 1 said she: how you talk! do tell. Why, how was that? "Well, I told her the whole story from beginning to eend. First she larfed ready to split at my account of the cold room, and my beic' afeard to go to sleep: but then ■he Btopt pretty short, I guess, and blushed like anything when THE SNOW WREATH. 237 a pretty here in jail, and I scrape! tongues ikmaker, so deep, wreath, part had ze to the id it was dreadful with the t told her about her comin' into the chamber, and looked proper frightened, not knowin' what was to come next ; but when she heerd of her tumin' first into an icecicle, and then into a snow drift, she haw-hawed right out. I thought she actilly would have gone into hysterics. You might have frozen, said she, in rael right down airnest, afore I'd agone into your chamber at that time o* night to see arter you, or your fire either, said she, you may depend: I can't think what on airth could have put that are crotchet into your head. Nor I neither, said I; and besides, said I, aketchin' hold of her hand, and drawin' her close to me, — and besides, says I, — I shouldn't haye felt so awful cold neither, if you . Hold your tongue, said she, you goney you, this minit; I won't hear another word about it, and go right off and get your breakfast, for you was sent for half an hour ago. Arter bein' mocked all night, says I, by them are icy lips of your ghost, now I see them are pretty little sarcy ones of youm, I think I must, and 111 be darned if I won't have a « Well, X estimate you won't, then, said she, you impedence, — and slie did fend off like a brave one — that's a fact; she made frill, shirt collar, and dickey fly like snow; she was at smart as a fox-trap, and as wicked as a meat-axe: — there was no gettin** near her no how. At last, said she, if there ain't mother acomin,' 1 do declare, and my hair is all spiflicated, too, like a mop, — and my dress all rumfoozled, like anything,— do, for gracious sake, set things to rights a little afore mother comes in, and then cut and run: my heart is in my mouth, I declare. Then she sot down in a chair, and put both hands behind her head a puttin' in her coml4. Oh dear, said she, pretendin' to try to get away, is tha: what you call puttin' things to rights? Don't squeeze so hard; you'l choke me, I vow. It tante me that'^s achokin' of you, says I, i^^s the heart that'^s in your mouth. Oh, if it had only been them lips instead of the ghost ! Quick, says she a- openin' of the door, — I hear mother on the steps; quick, be off; but mind you don''t tell any one that are ghost story; people might think there was more in it than met the ear. Well, ^ ell^ said I to myself, for a pale face, sad, melancholy-lookin' gall, if you havVt turned out as rosy, a rompin', larkin', light-hearted a heifer as ever I seed afore, it's a pity. There's another lemon jeft, squire, 'spose we mix a little more sourin' afore we turn in, and take another glass "to the widder's darter." 1 «.. 't fl>^ ^im* •s k 238 THB CLOCKMAK£il. J '''' » 1. •J , WSJ.- ., •act >*i 1 Util> :i»J.l. » * • » • >»■•* \>i li'ii rjf'i:- Xi O..' liOi-i lull I J ; V,' i.> , I J i . i 'UtJY? /tU' »iV t>» ■If f'ji*( ''Ai'' ,ri'rj. >i- O' CHAPTER X. THE TALISMAN. It was our intention to have left Annapolis this morning after breakfast, and proceeded to Digbj, a small but beautiful village, situated at the entrance of that magnificent sheet of water, once known as Port Royal Basin, but lately by the more euphonious appellation of the ^^Gut." But Mr. Slick was missing, nor could any trace of him be found; I therefore ordered the horse again to the stable, and awaited his return with all due patience. It was five o'clock in the afternoon before he made his appearance. Sorry to keep you awaitin', said he, but I got completely let in for it this momin'; I put my foot in it, you may depend. I'ye got a grand story to tell you, and one that will make you larf too, I know. Where do you think I've been of all places onder the sun? Why, Ire been to court; that's a fact. I seed a great crowd of folks about the door, and thinks I, who's dead, and what's to pay now? I think Til just step in for a minit and see. What's on the carpet to-day? says I to a blue nose; what's goin' on here? Why, said he, they are agoin' for to try a Yankee. What for? said I. Steelin', said he. A Yankee, says I to myself: well, that'*s strange too; that beats me any- how; I never heard tell of a Yankee being such a bom fool as to steal. If the feller has been such a ravin' destracted gonej, I hope they will hang him, the varmint; that's a fact. It's mostly them thick*skulled, wrong-headed, cussed stupid fools the British that do that are; they ain't brought up well, and hay'n't got no edication; but our folks know better; they've been better lamed than to do the like o' that — they can get most anything they want by gettin' hold on the right eend iu a baigaim; they do manage beautiful in a trade, a slight o'hand, a loan, a failin', a spekilatin, swap, thimble-rig, or some how or another in the rigular way within the law; but as for stealin' —never — I don't believe he's a Yankee. No, thinks I, he can't be American, bred and born, for we are too enlightened THE TALISMAN. 239 for that, by a long cbalk. We have a great lespect for the lawi^ gqaire; we've been bred to that, and always uphold the dignity of the law. I recollect once that some of our young citizens away above Montgomery got into a flare-up with a party of boatmen that lives on the Mississippi; a desperate row it was too; and three Kentuckians were killed as dead as herrins. Well, they were had up for it afore Judge Cotton. He was one of our revolutionary heroes, a stam, hard-featured old man, quite a Cato, — and he did curry 'cm down with a heavy hand, you may depend;-r^he had no marcy on *em. There he sot with his hat on, a cigar in his mouth, his arms folded, and hit feet over the rail, lookin' as sour a^ a onripe lemon. Bring up them culprits, said he, and when they were brought up, he told 'em it was scandalous, and only fit for English and ignorant foreigners that sit on the outer porch of darkness, and not high-minded, intelligent Americans. You are a disgrace, said he, to our great nation, and I hope I shall never hear tiie like of it ag'in. If I do, I'll put you on your trial as sure as you are born; I hope I may be skinned alive by wild cats if I don't. Well, they di^'t like this kind o' talk at all, so that night away they goes to the judge's house, to teach him a thing or two with a cowskin, and kicked up a deuce of a row; and what do you think the neighbours did? Why, they jist walked in, seized the ringleaders and lynched them, in less than ten minits, on one of the linden trees afore the judge's door. They said the lam must be vindicated^ — and that courts must be upheld by all quiet orderly people for a terror to all evil- doers. The law must take its course. No, thinks I, he can't be a Yankee; — ^if he was, and had awanted the article, he would ha' done him out of it, p'rhaps in a trade, bein' too ex- perienced a man of business for him; but steal it, never, never — I don't believe it, I vow. Well, I walked into the court- house, and there was a great crowd of folks there, ajabberin* and atalkin' away like anything (for bluenose needn't turn his back on any one for talkin' — the critter is all tongue, like an old horse),— presently in come one or two young lawyers in a dreadful hurry, with great piles of books onder their arms with white leather covers, and great bundles of papers tied with red tape, and put 'em down on the table afore, ^em, lookin' very big -I ■T' •** t .- i:?*i •^ 240 TUB CLOCKMAKSIU *!» fc'W >5 IV, .f with the quantity of lamin* they carried. Thinks 1, young sharers, if you had more of that in your heads, and less undei your arms, you would haye the use of your hands to play with your thumbs when you had nothin' to do. Then came in one or two old lawyers, and sot down and nodded here and there to fome o' the upper-crust folks o' the county, and then shook hands amazin' hearty with the young lawyers, and the young lawyers larfed, and the old ones larfed, and they all nodded their heads together like a flock of geese agoin' thro' a gate. Presently the sheriff calls out at the tip eend of his voice, *' Clear the way for the judge;" — and the judge walks up to the bench, lookin' down to his feet to see he didn't tread on other folks' toes, and put his arm behind his back, and twirls the tail of his gown over it so, that other folks mightn't tread on hisn. Well, when he gets to the bench, he stands up as straight as a liberty pole, and the lawyers all stands up straight too, and clap their eyes on his till he winks, then both on 'em slowly bend their bodies forard till they nearly touch the tables with their noses, and then they sot down, and the judge took a look all round, as if he saw eyerything in gineral and nothin' in partikelar, — I never seed anything so queer afore, I vow. It puts me in mind o' the Chinese, but they bob their heads clean away down to the very floor. Well, then said the crier, "Oh yes! Oh yes! His Majesty's (I mean her Majesty''s) court is now opened. God save the King (I mean the Queen.)* Oh 1 if folks didn't larf it's a pity — ^for I've often obsarved it takes but a very small joke to make a crowd larf. They'll larf at nothin' a'most. Silence, said the sheriff, and all was as still as moonlight. It looked strange to me, you may depend, for the lawyers looked like so many mi- nisters all dressed in black gouns and white bands on, only they acted more like players than preachers, a plaguy sight. But, said I, is this not the case in your country; is there not some sort of professional garb worn by the bar of the United States, and do not the barristers and the court exchange those saluta- tions which the common courtesies of life not only sanction, but imperatively require as essential to the preservation of mutual respect and general good breeding? What on airth, ^d the Clockmaker, can a black gound have to do with intel- THE TALISMAN. 241 ligencef Them sort of liyeries may do in Europe, but they don't convene to our free and enlightened citizens. It's too foreign for us, too unphilosophical, too feudal, and a renmant o' the dark ages. No, sir; our lawyers do as they like. Some on 'em dress in black, and some in white; some carry walkin- gticks, and some umbrellas, some whittle sticks with penknives, and some shave the table, and some put their legs onder the desks, and some put 'em a top of them, just as it suits them. They sit as they please, dress as they please, and talk as they please; we are a free people. I guess if a judge in our countiy was to order the lawyers to appear all dressed in black, they'd soon ax him who elected him director -general of fashions, and where he found such arbitrary power in the constitution, as that, committed to any man. But I was agoin' for to tell you ^bout the trial. — Presently one 0^ the old lawyers got up, and said he, My lord, said he, I nme, your lordship, that the prisoner may be brought up. And if it wam^t a move it was a pity. The lawyer moved the judge, uid the judge moved the sheriff, and the sheriff moved the crowd, for they all inoved out together, leavin^ hardly any one on them but the judge and the lawyers; and in a few minits they all moved back agMn with the prisoner. They seemed as if they had never seed a prisoner before. When they came to call the jury they didn'^t all answer; so says the sheriff to me, Walk in the box, sir, — ^you, sir, with the blue coat. Do you indicate me, sir? said I. Yes, says he, I do: walk in the box. 1 give you thanks, sir, says I, but Vd rather stand where I be: IVeno occasion to sit; and besides, I guess, I must be amovin^. Walk in the box, sir, said he, and he roared like thunder. And, says the judge, alookin^ up, and smilin' and speakin' as soft as If butter wouldn''t melt in his mouth, you must walk in the box, sir. "Well, says I, to oblige you, says I, my lord, I will; but there don''t seem much room in it to walk, I vow. You are called upon, sir, says the judge, as a talisman ; take your seat to the box, and be silent. If I must, says I, I do suppose I must; but I don't like the office, and I don't believe I've got a marker about me ; but if you've are a piece of chalk about you, you could give me, or lend me an old pencil, I'll try to cypher it as well as I can, and do my possibles to give you satisfactiotl, ii^t' ***! K* 4j\ f ' r if? t 3^: ;V".: ^ 242 THE CLOCKMAKER. Bj lord. What are you atalkin^ about, sir? laid he— nvhat do you mean by such nonsense? Why, says I, my lord, IVe been told that in this country, and indeed I know it is the prac" tiet all over oum for the jury to chalky that is, every man chalks down on the wall his Vote; one man ten pounds, one twenty, another thirty, and another five pounds, and so; and then thej add them all up, and divide by twelve, and that makes the var- diet. Now, if Tm to be talysmany says I, and keep county I'll chalk it as straight as a bootjack. The judge throwed himself back in his chair, and turnin' to tbe sheriff, says he. Is it pos- Bible, Mr. Sheriff, that such an abominable practice as this exists in this country? or that people, onder the solemn obligation of an oath, can conduct themselves with so much levity as to make tbeir vardict depend upon chance, and not upon reason? If I was to know an instance of the kind, said he, — and he looked battle, murder, and sudden death, — I'd both fine and imprison the jury; — ^I would by ' (and he gave the comer of his mouth a twist jist in time to keep in an oath that was on the tip of his tongue,) and he hesitated a little to think how to get out of the scrwpe, — at least I concaited lo, — ^by and with the full consent of my brethren on the bench, i^'i. ;iU )uu rs ait :.>Ihave my suspicions, said the Clockmaker, that the judge had heerd tell of that practice afore, and was only waitin for a complaint to take notice of it rigular-like, for them old judge; are as cunnin' as foxes; and if. he had, I must say he did do the surprise very well, for he looked all struck up of a heap, like a vessel taken aback with a squall, agoin' down stam foremost. Who is that man? said he. I am a clockmaker, sir, said I. 1 didn't ask you what you were, sir, says he, acolorin' up; I asked you who yoM were. I'm Mr. Samuel Slick of Slickville, sir, says I; a clockmaker from Onion County, State of Connecticut, in the United States of America. You are exempt, said he, — ^you may walk out of the box. Thinks I to myself. Old chap, next time you want a talisman, take one of your own folks, will you? Well, when I iooked up to the prisoner, sure enough I seed he was one of our citizens, one " i&cpected Thome," of our town, an endless villain, that had been two or three times in the State's prison. The case was a very plain one. Captain Billy Slociim produced a watch, which he said was hisn; he said he THE TALISMAN. 243 irent out arter dinner, leayin' his watch ahangin^ up over the mantel piece, and when he returned to tea it was gone, and that it was found in Expected Thome's possession. Long afore the eridence was gone through, I seed he was guilty, the rillain. There is a sort of freemasonry in hypocrasy, squire, you may depend. It has its signs and looks hy which the brotherhood know each other; and as charity hopet^ all things, and fbr- giyeth all things, these appeals of the elect to each other from the lowest depths of woe, whether conveyed by the eye, the garb, or the tongue, are seldom made in vain. Expected had seed too much of the world, I estirr .*e, not to know that. If he hadn't his go-to-meetin' dress and looks on this day to the jury, it's a pity. He had his hairs combed down as straight as a horse's main; a little thin white cravat, nicely plaited and tied plain, garnished his neck, as a white towel does a dish of calve's head, — a standin' up collar to his coat gave it the true cut, and the gilt buttons covered with cloth eschewed the gaudy ornaments of sinful, carnal man. He looked as de- mure as a harlot at a christenin',-— drew down the comers of his mouth, so as to contract the trumpet of his nose, and give the right base twang to the voice, and tamed up the whites of his eyes, as if ;.ihey had been in the habit of lookin' in upon the mner man for self-examination and reproach. Oh, he looked like a martyr; jist like a man who would suffer death for con- science sake, and forgive his inemies with his dyin' breath. Gentlemen of the jury, says Expected, i am a stranger and a sqjouraer in this land, but I have many friends and received much kindness, thanks be to divine Providence for all his good- ness to me a sinner: and I don't make no doubt that tho' I be a stranger, his lordship's honor will, under Providence, see justice done to me. The last time I was to Captain Billyhs house I seed his watch, and that it was out of order, and I offered to clean it and repair it for him for nothin', free gratis; — that 1 cant prove. But TU tell you what / can prove, and its a privi- lege for which I desire to render thanks; that when that geD tie- man, the constable, came to me, and said he came about the watch, I said to him, right out at once, *' She's cleaned, says I, but wants regulatin'; if Captain Billy is in a hurry for her he CBn have her, but he had better leave her two or three days to ..vi« '1 ^ ,jr l-',''^^l ;,.':,(«»» 244 THE :lockmaker. I ^7 1 * 4t V *■• (It Ik. '« • t •!!• get the right beat." And never did I deny havia it, as a guihj man would have done. And, my lord, said he, and gentlemen of the jury (and he turned up his ugly can tin' mug full round to the box)— I trust I know too well the auful account I must one lUy give of the deeds done in the flesh to peril my immortal soul for vain, idle, sinful toys; and he held up his hands together, and looked upwards till his eyes turned in like them are ones in a marble statue, and his lips kept amovin' some time as if he was lost in inward prayer. Well, the constable proved it word for word, and the judge said it did appear that there was some mistake ; at all events it did not appear there was evidence of a felonious takin', and he was acquitted. As soon as it was over. Expected comes to me in the corner, and, says he, quite bold like, Momin', Slick, how do you do? And then whisperin' in my ear, says he. Didn't I do 'em pretty? cuss 'em, — that's all. Let old Connecticut alone yet ; she's too much for any on ^em, I know. The truth is, the moment I seed that cussed critter, that constable acomin, I seed his errand with half an eye, and had that are story ready-tongued and grooved for him as quick as wink. Says I, I wished they had ahanged you, with all my heart, it's such critters as you that lower the national character of our free and enligh- tened citizens, and degrade it in the eyes of foreigners. The eyes of foreigners be d ! said he. Who cares what they think? And as for these blue-noses, they ain''t able to think. They ain't got two ideas to bless themselves with, the stupid, punkin-headed, consaited blockheads! cuss me if they hare. Well, says I, they ain't such an enlightened people as we are, that's sartain, but that don't justify you a bit; you hadn't ought to have stolen that watch. That was wrong, very wrong in- €ed. You might have traded with him, and got it for half othin'; or bought it and failed, as some of our importin' mar- ehants sew up the soft-horned British; or swapped it and forgot to give the exchange; or bought it and give your note, and cut stick afore the note became due. There's a thousand ways of doin' it honestly and legally, without resortin, as foreigners do' to stealin^. We are a moral people; a religious, a high- minded, and a high-spirited people; and can do any and all the nations of the universal world out of anything, in the hundred ITALIAN PAINTINGS. 845 a guilty lemen of round to aust one >rtal soul together, are ones ) as if he the judge events it ', and he les to me lick, how Didn't I nnecticut rhe truth i acomin, are story Says 1,1 ;h critters d enligh- rs. The lat they to think, stupid, By have, we are, L*t ought Tong in- for half in mar- id forgot and cut ways of ;ners do a high- Id all the ihundred of millions of clever shifts there are in trade; hut as for steal* in', I dispise it: it's a low, blackguard, dirty, mean action; and I must say you're a disgrace to our great nation. An American ciliien never ttealty he only gains the advantage I CHAPTER XI. ITALIAN PAINTINGS, The next morning we resumed our journey, and travelling through the township of Clements, and crossing Moose and Bear rivers, reached Digby early in the afternoon. It vfzs a most delightful drive. When we left Annapolis the tofr v.;a» slowly rising from the low grounds and resting oi. the hi!is ^u» gather itself up for a flight into upper air, disclosiiig., i,>^ >.f de- parted, ridge after ridge of the Qranville Mountain, ^vbich I'*y concealed in its folds, and gradually revealing tlic bro^/i Midt beautiful basin that extends from the town to Digby. I am too old now for romance, and, what is ^rorse, I avta corpulent. I find, as I grow stout, I grow less Imaginativf;., One cannot serve two masters. I longed to climb the mountr:ii(;i peak, to stand where Champlain stood, and imagine f.hu sccriie as it then was, when his prophetic eye caught revelatioas; ol the future; to visit the holy well where the rite of baptism ^vas iint performed in these provinces; to trace the first encampracrr.tft,.*-' the ruins of the rude fortifications, — ^the first battle ground. But, alas! the day is gone. I must leave the field to more youthful competitors. I can gratify my eye as I drive Joiig thff road, but I must not venture into the forest. The naturai ice house, — the cascade, — the mountain lake, — the bta ej'^ dam, —the Qeneral's bridge, — the apocryphal RossignoJ, — fae iit« mines, — and last, not least, the Indian anti^fuiaes, — in short, each and all of the lions of this interestiu'^ place., that require bodily exertion to be seen, I leave to succeeding travellers. I visit men, and not places. Ah\s! has it come to this at lastf^ to gout and port wire? Be it so: I will assume the privilege if old age, and talk. At a short distance firom iie town of Annapolis we pasted -^ ■■.J * ■ ■r^^-"* 246 THE CLOCKMAKEB. * ^ m iK ■ lit 8 -«. '" 1*^ ... <5 • *i-- 'i the Court House, the scene of Mr. Slick's adventures the pre* ceding day, and found a crowd of country people assembled about the door. More than a hundred horses were tied to the fences on either side of the road, and groups of idlers were seen scattered about on the lawn, either discussing the last verdict, or anticipating the jury in the next. I think, said Mr. Slick, we hare a right to boast of the jus- titiary of our two great nations; for yourn is a great nation,— that is a fact ; and if all your colonies were joined together, and added on to Old England, she would be most as great a nation as oum. You have good reason to be proud of your judiciary, said I j if profound learning, exalted talent, and inflexible inte- grity, can make an establishment respectable, the Supreme Court of the United States is pre-eminently so; and I have heard, from those who hare the honour of their acquaintance, that the judges are no less distinguished for their private worth than their public virtues. I rejoice that it is so, for I consider the justiciary of America as its sheet-anchor. Amidst the incessant change of men and institutions so conspicuous there, this forms a solitary exception. To the permanency and exten- sive power of this court you pre indebted to the only check you possess, either to popular tumult or arbitrary power, affording, as it does, the only effectual means of controlling the conflicts of the local and general governments, and rendering their movements regular and harmonious. It is so, said he; but your courts and ourn are both tarred with the same stick, — ihei^ move too slow, I recollect, once I was in old Kentuck, and a judge was sentincin' a man to death for murder : says he, '^ Sooner or later punishment is sure to overtake the guilty man. The law moves slow, but it is sure and sartin. Justice has been represented with a heel of lead, from its slow and measured pace, but its hand is a hand of iron, and its blow is death.'^ Folks said it was a beautiful idea that, and every chap that you met said. Ain't that splendid?— did «ver old Mansfield or Ellen Borough come up to that? Well, says I, they might come up to that, and not go very I far neither. A funny sort o* figure of justice that; when it's so plaguy heavy-heeled most any one can outrun it; and when its great iron fist strikes 80 uncommon flow, a chap that's anj ITALIAN PAINTINGS. 247 • the jus- nation, — ither, and b a nation judiciary, dble inte- Supreme id I have uaintance, ^ate worth I consider .midst the aous there, and exten- cbeck you affording, ^e conflicts (ring their way spry Is t en a'most sure to give it the dodge. No; they ought to clap on more steam. The French courts are the courti for me. I had a case once &t Marsailles, and if the judge didn't turn it out of hand ready hooped and headed in less than no time, it's a pity. But I beliere I must first tell you how I came for to go there. In the latter eend of the year twenty-eight, I think it was, if my memory sarves me, I was in my little hack studio to Slick- ville, with off coat, apron on, and sleeves up, as busy as a bee, abronzin' and gildin' of a clock case, when old Snow, the nig- ger help, popped in his head in a most a terrible conflustriga- tion, and says he, Massa, says he, if there ain't Massa Go- vernor and the Gineral at the door, as I'm alive! what on airth shall I say? "Well, says I, they have caught me at a nonplush, that's sartain; but there's no help for it as I see, — show 'em in. Mornin* , says I, gentlemen, how do you do ? I am sorry, says I, I didn't know of this pleasure in time to have received you respectfully. You have taken me at a short, that's a fact; and the worst of it is, — I can't shake hands along mth you neither, for one hand, you see, is all covered with isle, and t'other with copper bronze. Don't mention it, Mr. Slick, said his excellency, I beg of you; the fine arts do some- times require detergants, and there is no help for it. But that's a'most a beautiful thing, said he, you are adoin' of; may I pre- sume to chatichise what it is ? Why, said I, governor, that landscape on the right, with a great white two story house in it, havin* a washin* tub of apple sarce on one side, and a cart chockfuU of punkin pies on t'other, with the gold letters A. P. oyer it, is intended to represent this land of promise, our great country, Amerika; and the gold letters A. P. initialise it Airthly Paradise, Well, says he, who is that he one on the left? I didn't intend them letters H and E to indicate he at all, said I, tho' I see now they do; I guess I must altar that. That tall graceful figur', says I, with wings, carryin' a long Bowie knife in his right hand, and them small winged figures in the rear, with little rifies, are angels emigratin' from heaven to this country. H and E means heavenly emigrants. It's alle — go — ^ry. — And a beautiful alle — go — ry it is, said he, and well calculated to give foreigners a correct notion of oux 1^ ...4* 'r** .1*-** t 248 THE CLOCKMAKER. I* -'- %m .■.%;■ ^ < n m young growin* and great Republic. It is a line conception that It is worthy of "West. How true to life — ^how much it conveys — how many chords it strikes! It addresses the heart — it's splendid. Hallo! says I to myself, what's all this? It made me look up ftt him. Thinks I to myself, you laid that soft sawder on pretty thick anyhow. I wonder whether you are in rael right down airnest, or whether you are only arter a vote. Says he, Mr. Slick, it was on the subject of picturs we called. It's a thing I'm en- thusiastic upon myself; but my official duties leave me no time to fraternise with the brush. I've been actilly six weeks adoin* of a bunch of grapes on a chair, and it's not yet done. The de« partment of paintin' in our Atheneum, — in this risin' and flourishin* town of Slickrille — is placed under the Gineral and myself, and we propose detailin' you to Italy to purchase some originals for our gallery, seein' that you are a nsttive artist your self, and have more practical experience than most of our citi- zens. There is a great aspiration among our'free and enlightened youth for perfection, whether in the arts or sciences. Your expenses will be paid, and eight dollars a day while absent on this diplomacy. One thing, however, do pray remember, don't bring any picture that will evoke a blush on female cheeks, oi cause vartue to st nd afore 'em with averted eyes or indignant looks. The statues imported last year we had to clothe, both male and female, from head to foot, for they actilly came stark naked, and were right down ondecent. One of my factory ladies went into fits on seein' 'em, that lasted her a good hour: she took Jupiter for a rael human, and said she thought that she had got into a bathin' room, among the men, by mistake. Her narres received a heavy shock, poor critter; she said she never would forget what she seed there the longest day she lived. So none o' your Potiphar's wives, or Susannahs, or sleepin* Venuses; such picturs are repugnant to the high tone o* moral feelin' in this country. Oh Lord! I thought I should have split; I darsn't look up for fear I should abust out alarfin' in his face, to hear him talk so spooney about that are factory gall. Thinks I to myself, how ilelicate she is, ain't she! If a common marble statue threw her into fits, what would ? And here he lAu^bed lo immo- consumn ITALIAN PAINTINGS, 249 jerately, it was some time before he resumed intelligibly hit story. Well, says he at last, if there is one Ihing I hate more nor ano- ther, it is that cussed mock modesty some galls have, pretendin' they don't know nothin*. It always shows they know too much. Now, says his excellency, a pictur , Mr. Slick, may exhibit great skill and great beauty, and yet display very little flesh beyond the face and the hands. You apprehend me, don't you? A nod^s as good as a wink, says I, to a blind horse: if I can't see thro' a ladder, I reckon I'm not fit for that mission ; and, says I, tho' I say it myself, that shouldn't say it, I must say, I do account my- self a considerable of a judge of these matters, — I won't turn mj ))ack on any one in my line in the Union. I think so, said he; the alle — go — ry you jist show'd me, displays taste, tact, and a consummate knowledge of the art. Without genius there can be no invention, — no plot without skill, and no character without the power of discrimination. I should like to associate with you Ebenezer Peck, the Blickville poet, in this diplomatic mission, if our funds authorised the exercise of this constitutional power of the executiye committee, for the fine arts are closely allied, Mr. Slick. Poetry is the music of words, music is the poetry of sounds, and paintin' is the poetry of colors ; — what a sweet, inte- restin' family they be, ain't they? We must locate, domesticate, acclimate and fratemate them among us. Conceivin' an elective governor of a free and enlightened people to rank afore an here- ditary prince, I have given you letters of introduction to the Eyeialhn princes and the Pope, and have offered tc reciprocate their attentions should they visit Slickville. Farewell, my friend, farewell, and fail not to sustain the dignity of this great and en- lightened nation abroad — farewell ! ? - . . : . . . ■>> .*•..* ...^ A very good man, the governor, and a genuwine patriot too, said Mr. Slick. He knowed a good deal about paintin', for he was a sign-painter by trade; but he often used to wade out too deep, and got over his head now and then afore he knowed it. He wam't the best o' swimmers neither, and sometimes I used to be scared to death for fear he'd go for it afore he'd touch bottom ag'in. Well off I sot in a vessel to Leghorn, and I laid out there three thousand dollars in picturs. Rum>lookin' old cocks them laints, som 3n 'em too with their long beards, bald heads, and 17 >i tM 250 THE CLOCKMAKER. hard featurs, bean't they? but I got a lot of 'em of all sizes, l bought two Madonnas, I think they call them — ^beautiful little picturs they were too, — but the child's legs were so naked and ondecent, that to please the goremor and his factory galls, I had an artist to paint trousers, and a pair of lace boots on him, and they look quite genteel now. It improved 'em amazin'ly; but the best o' the joke was those Macaroni rascals, seein' me a stranger, thought to do me nicely (most infamal cheats them dealers too, — walk right into you afore you know where you be). The older a pictur' was, and the more it was blacked, so you couldn't see the figurs, the more they axed for it; and they'd talk and jabber away about their Tittyan tints and Gauido airs by the hour. How soft we are, ain't we? sai<' I. Catch a weasel asleep, will you? Second-hand farniture don't suit our market. We want picturs, and not things that look a plaguy sight more like the shutters of an old smoke-house than paintins, and I hope I may be shot if I didn't get bran new ones .^^r half the price they axed for them rusty old veterans. Our folks were well pleased with the shipment, and I ought to be too, for I made a trifle in the discount of fifteen per cent for comin' down handsum' with the cash on the spot. Our Atheneum is worth seein', I tell you; you won't ditto it easy, I knoW; it's actilly a sight to behold. r^J ^ " ' v^i-t .im^^ /m v ^i, vii :.. ^ '" But I was agoin' to tell you about the French court. Arter I closed the eonsam about the picturs, and shipped 'em off in a Cape codder that Was there, I fell in with some of our folks on their way to London, where I had to go afore I returned home, so, says I, s'pose we hire a vessel in Co. and go by water to Marsailles; we'll get on faster and cQnsiderable cheaper too, I calculate, than agoin' by land. Well, we hired the E^etaliano to take us, and he was to find us in bed, board, and liquor, tod we paid him one-third in advance, to enable him to do it genteel; but the everlastin' villain, as soon as he got us out to sea, gave us no bed -clothes and itothin' to eat, and we almost perished with hunger and damp; so when we got to Marsaillea, Meo friendo, says I, for I had picked up a little Eyctalian, meo friendo, cumma longo alia courto, will you? and I took him by the scruff of the neck and toated him into court. Where is de pappia? says a little skip-jack of a French judge, that was chock n ITALIAN PAINTINGS. 261 full of grins and grimaces like a monkey arter a pinch of snu£f, —where is de pappia? So I handed him up the pappia signed by the master, and then proved how he cheated us. No sooner said than done, Mount Sheer Bullfrog gave the case in our favour in two twos, said jEl^'^^taliano bad got too much already, cut him off the other two-thirds, and made him pay all costs, If he didn't look bumsquabbled it's a pity. It took the rust off of him pretty slick, you may depend. /• Begar, he says to the skipper, you keep de bargain next time; you von very grand damne rogue, and he shook his head and grinned like a crocodile, from ear to ear, all mouth and teeth. You may depend, I wam't long at Marsailles arter that. I cut stick and ofiP, hot foot for the channel without stopping to water the horses or liquor the drivers, for fear Eif eiaWimo would walk into my ribs with his stiletto, for he was as savage as a white bear afore breakfast. Yes, our courts move too slow. It was that ruinated Expected Thorne. The first time he was taken up and sent to jail, he was as innocent as a child, but they kept him there so long afore his trial, it broke his spirits, and broke his pride, — and he came out as wicked as a devil. The ^reat secret is speedy justice. We have too much machinery in our courts, and I do'nt see but what we prize juries beyond their rael valy. One half the time with us they don't onderstand a thing, and the other half they are prejudiced. True, said I, but they are a great safeguard to liberty, and indeed the only one in all cases between the government and the peaople. The executive can never tyrannise where they cannot convict, and juries never lend themselves to oppression. Tho' a corrupt minister may appoint corrupt judges, he can never corrupt a whole people. Well, said he, far be it from me to say they are no use, because I know and feel that they be in sartain cases most invaluable, but I mean to say that they are only a drag on business, and an expensive one too, one half the time. I want no better tribunal to try me or mv cases than our supreme judges to Washington, and all I would ax is a resarved right to have a jury when I call for one. That right I never would yield, but that is all I would ax. You can see how the lawyers valy each by the way they talk to 'em. To the court they are as cool as cucumbers, — dry argument, sound reasonin', an application to 4* I*- tvFH t^ .t:> '■^ , 'I 252 THE CLOCKMAKER. T '1* *i* '' "1 > : »^=t ■it' ,i judgment. To the jury, all fire and tow and declamationa, — all to the passions, prejudices, and feelins. The one they try to convince, they try to do the other. I never heerd tell of judges chalkin*. I know brother Josiah the lawyer thinks &o too. Says he to me once, Sam, says he, they ain't suited to the times now in all cases, and are only needed occasionally. Whenjurietjirsl came into vogue there were no judges, but the devil of it is, when public opinion runs all one way in this country, you might jist as well to try to swim up Niagara as to go for to stem it,— it will roll you over and over, and squash you to death at last. You may say what you like here, Sam, but other folks may do what they like here too. Many a man has had a goose's jacket lined with tar here, that he never bought at the tailor's, and a tight fit it is too, considerin' its made without measurin*. So as Fm for Congress some day or another, why I jist fall to and flatter the people by chimin^ in with them. I get up on a stump, or the top of a whiskey barrel, and talk as big as ony on ^em about that birth-right — that sheet anchor, that mainstay, that blessed shield, that glorious institution — the rich man's terror, the poor man'*s hope, the people^s pride, the nation's glory — Trial h^ ;«ry. ',fH^ • ! 'i'li SHAMPOOING THE ENGLISH. CHAPTER XII. . 1 DiGBY is a charming little town. It is the Brighton of Nova Scotia, the resort of the valetudinarians of New Brunswick, who take refuge here from the unrelenting fogs, hopeless steri- lity, and calcarsous waters of St. John. About as pretty a location this for business, said the Clockmaker, as I know on in this country. Digby is the only safe harbour from Blowme- down to Briar Island. Then there is that everlastin' long river, tdjnin' away up from the wharfes here almost across to Minas Basin, bordered with dikes and interval, and backed up by good apland. A nice, dry, pleasant place for a town, with good water, good air, and the best herrin' fishery in America, but it v'snts one thini; to make it go ahead. And pray what is thatf > ) SHAMPOOING THE ENGLISH. 253 said I, for it appears to me to have every natural advantage that can he desired. It wants to he made a free port, said he. They ought to send a delegate to England,ahout it; hut the fact is, they don't onderstand diplomacy here, nor the English either. They havVt got no talents that way. I guess we may stump the univarse in that line. Our states- men, I consait, do onderstand it. They go ahout so beautiful, tack so well, sail so close by the wind, make so little lee-way, shoot ahead so fast, draw so little water, keep the lead agoin constant, and a bright look>out ahead always; it's very seldom you hear o* them runnin^ aground, I tell you. Hardly anything they take in hand they do'nt succeed in. How glib they are in the tongue too! how they do lay in the soft sawder! They do ruh John Bull down so pretty, it does one good to see 'em: they pat him on the hack, and stroke him on the cheek, and coax and wheedle and flatter till they get him as good-natured as possible. Then they jist get what they like out of him ; not a word of a threat to him the', for they know it won'*t do. He'd as soon fight as eat his dinner, and sooner too, but they tickle him, as the boys at Cape Ann sarve the bladder fish. There's a fish comes ashore there at ebb tide, that the boys catch and tickle, and the more they tickle him the more he fills with wind. Well, he gets blowed up as full as he can hold, and then they just turn him up and give him a crack across the belly with a stick, and off he goes like a pop-gun, and then all the little critters run hoppin' and hollowin' like ravin' distracted mad,— so pleased with foolin' the old fish. There are no people in the univarsal world so eloquent as the Americans; they beat the ancients all hollor; and when our diplomatists go for to talk it into the British, they do it 80 pretty, it's a sight to behold. Descended, they say, from a common stock, havin' one common language and a community of interests, they cannot but hope for justice from a power dis- tinguished alike for its honour and its generosity. Indebted to them for the spirit of liberty they enjoy, — for their laws, litera- ture, and religion, — they feel more like allies than aliens, and more like relatives than either. Though unfortunate occur- rences may have drawn them asunder, with that frankness and generosity peculiar to a brare and generous people, both nationt if-''** 4., ■m •254 THE CLOCKMAKER. n;^ !ii' ^! *i ** A-'i le^' have now forgotten and forgiven the past, and it is the duty and the interest of each to cultivate these amicable relationst, now so happily existing, and to draw closer those bonds which unite two people essentially the same in habit and feelings. Though years have rolled by since they left the paternal roof, and tlie ocean divides them, yet they cannot but look back at the home beyond the waters with a grateful remembrance, — with venera- tion and respect. ,*■] r* Now that's what I call dictionary, said the Clockmaker. It's splendid penmanship, ain't it ? When John Adams was minister at the Court of St. Jimes's, how his weak eye would have sarved him a' utterin' of this galbanum, wouldn't it ? He'd turn round to hide emotion, draw forth his handkerchief and wipe off a manly tear of genun;{»^ feelin*. It is easy enough to stand a woman's tears, for they weep like children, everlastin' sun- showers; they cry as bad as if they used a chesnut burr for an eyestone; but to see the tear drawn from the stam natur'ot man, start! n' at the biddin' of generous feelin', there's no standin' that. Oh dear ! how John Bull swallers this soft sawder, don^t he ? I think I see him astandin' with his hands in his trousers- pockets, alookin' as big as all out-doors, and as sour as cider sot out in the sun for vinegar. At first he looks suspicious and sulky, and then one haughty frown relaxes, and then another, and so on, till all starnness is gone, and his whole face wears one goeat benevolent expression, like a full moon, till you can eye hiic without winkin', and lookin' about as intelligent all the time as a skim milk cheese. Arter his stare is gone, a kind o' look comes over his face as if he thought, "Well, now, this d d Yankey sees his error at last, and no mistake; that comes o' that good lickin* I gave him last war; there's nothin' like fightiu things out. The critter seems humble enough now tho'; give me your fist, Jonathan, my boy, says he; don't look so cussed dismal ; what is it ? Oh, nothin', says our diplomatist ; a mere trifle, and he tries to look as onconsamed as possible all the time; nothin' but what your sense of justice, for which you are always distin- guished, will grant; a little strip of land, half fog, half bog atween the State of Maine and New Brunswick; it's nothin' but wood, wAtcr, and snakes, and no bigger than Scotland. Take SHAMPOOING THE ENGLISH. 255 it, and say no more about it, says John; I hope it ^vill be accepted as a proof of my regard. I don't think nothiii' of Iialf a colony. And then when our chap gets home to the President, doij't he say, as Expected Thome did of the blue-nose jury, " Didn't I do him pretty f cuss him^ that's all." Then he takes Mount-Sheer on another tack. He desires to express the gratitude of a free and enlightened people to the French, — their first ally, their dearest friend, — for enablin' them, under Providence, to lay the foundation-stone of their country. They never can forget how kindly, how disinterestedly^ they stept in to aid their infant struggles, — to assist them to resist the unnateral tyranny of England, who, while affectin to protect liberty abroad, was enslavin' her children to home. Nothin' but the purest feelin', unalloyed by any jealousy of England, dictated that step; it emanated from a virtuous indignation at seein' the strong oppress the weak, — ^from a love of constitutional freedom, —from pure philanthropy. How deeply is seated in" American breasts a veneration of the French character ! how they admire their sincerity, — their good faith, — their stability! Well may they be called the Grand Nation ! Religious, not bigoted — brave, not rash — dignified, not volatile — great, yet not vain! Magnanimous in success, — cheerful and resolved under reverses, — they form the beau-ideal to American youth, who are taught, in their first lessons, to emulate, and imitate, and venerate the virtues of their character ! Don't it run off the tongue like lie ? Soft and slick, ain't it pretty talk? . :.. . , / . ,, r Lord! how Mount-Sheer skips, and hops, and bows, and smirks when he hears that are, don't he? How he claps his hand upon his heart, and makes faces like a monkey that'^s got a pain in his side from swallerin** a nut without crackin' it. With all other folks but these great powers, it's a very different tune they sing. They make'short metre with them little powers ; they never take the trouble to talk much; they jist make their demands, and ax them for their answer right off the reel. \i they say, let us hear your reasons. Oh ! by all means, says our diplomatist, jist come along with me; and he takes the minisier under bis arm, walks lock and lock with him down to the har- bour, claps him aboard a barge, and rows him off to one of our little hundred gun sloops o' war. Pretty little sloop o' war. 4 •fi .f"!'ii 250 THE CLOCKMAK£R. I if » rti. < ■ r '\f- ' i» that of ourn, I reckon, ain^ it ? says he. Oh I rerj pretty, Teiy pretty, indeed, says foreigner; hut if that be your lilile sloop, what must be yoMt great big men-o^-ivarY That's just what I was agoin** for to say, says Jonathan, — a Leviathan, a Mammotl), blow all creation to atoms a'*mo8t, like a harricane tipt with lightnin**, and then he looks up to the captain and nods. Says be, captain, I guess you may run out your guns, and he runs them out as quick as wink. These are my reasons, says Jona- than, and pretty strong arguments too, I guess; that^s what I call shewin'* our teeth; and now you, mister, with a d n hard name, your answer, if you please. You don^t understand us, I see, foreigner; we got chaps in our country, that can stand on one side of the Mississippi, and kill a racoon on toother side, with a sneeze, — rigular ring-tail roarers ; don't provoke us ; it wouldn't be oversafe, I assure you. We can out-talk thunder, out-ran a flash of lightnin', and out-reach all the world — we can whip our weight of wild cats. The British can lick all the world, and we can lick the British. I believe, says he, and he claps his name to the treaty in no time. We madft these second-class gentry shell out a considerable of cash, these few years past, on one excuse or another and frightened some on them, as the naked statue did the factory gall, in fits almost. But the English we have to soft sawder, for they've got little sloops of war, too, as well as we have; and not only show their teeth, but bite like bull-dogs. We shampoo them, — ^you know what shampooing is, squire, don't you? It is an eastern custom, I think, said I: I have heard of it, but I do not retain a very distinct recollection of the practice. Well, said the Clockmaker, I estimate I ought to know what it means any how : for I came plaguy nigh losin* my life by it once. When I was jist twenty years old, I took it into my head I'd like to go to sea, — so father got me a berth of supercargo of a whaler at New Bedford, and away we went arter sperm : an amazin' long voyage we had of it too — gone nearly three years. Well, we put into Sand- wich Island for refreshments; and, says the captain, 'Spose we go and call on the queen ! So all us cabin party went, and dressed ourselves up full fig, and were introduced in due form to the young queen. Well, she was a rael, right down, prettf looki'n' heifer, and no mistake; well-dressed and well-demeaned. SHAMPOOING THE ENGLISH 25; and a plaguy sight cleaner skinnM than some white folks — for they hathe every day almost. Where youM see one piece of farniture better than her, you''ll see fifty worsei ones, / know. What is your father, Mr. Shleek ? says she. A prince, marro, said I. And his'n ugly man's ? says she, p'intin' to the captain. A prince too, said I, and all this party are princes ; fathers all sovereigns to home, — no bigger men than them, neither there nor anywhere else in the uniyarsal world. Then, said she, you all dine wid me to-day ; me proud to have de prinches to my table. If she did'nt gire us a regular blow-out it's a pity, and the vrhole on us were more than half-seas over : for my part the hot mulled wine actilly made me feel like a prince, and what put me in tip top spirits was the idee of the houx I played off en her about our bein' princes ; and then my rosy cheeks and youth pleased her fancy, so that she was oncommon civil to me, talked to no one else almost. Well, when Ave rose from table, (for she stayed there till the wine made her eyes twinkle ag'in,) Prince Shleek, said she, atakin' o' my hand, and puttiu' her sarcy little mug close up to me, (and she raelly did look pretty, all smiles and sweetness,) Prince Shleek, will you have one shampoo ? said she. A shampoo ? said I ; to be sure I will, and thank you too ; you are jist the gall I'd like to shampoo, and I clapt my arms round her neck, and gare her a buss that made all ring again. What the devil are you at ? said the captain, and he seized me round the waist and lugged me off. Do you want to lose your head, you fool, you ? said he ; youVe carried this joke too far already without this rompin' — go aboard. It was lucky for me she had a wee drop in her eye herself — for after the first scream she larfed ready to split ; says she, No kissy, — no kissy — shampoo is shampoo, but kissy is anoder ting. The noise brought the sarvants in, and says the queen p'intin' to me, " shampoo him" — and they up with me, and into another room, and before I could say Jack Robinson, off went my clothes, and I was gettin'* shampooM in airnest. It is done by a gentle pressure, and rubbin' all over the body with the hand ; it is delightful, — that^s a fact, and I was soon asleep, I was pretty well corned that artemoon, but still I knew what i was about ; and recollected when I awoke the whisper of the '■M !■!* >» .f» ' I' 258 THE CLOCKMAKER. , locks off to *^ Prince Shleek.*" So our diplomatists shampoo the English, and put 'em to sleep. How beautiful they shampoo'd them in the fishery story ! It M\aa agreed we was to fish within three leagues of the coast ; but then, says Jonathan, wood and water, you know, and shelter, when it blows like great guns, are rights of hospitality. You wouldn't refuse us a port in a storm, would you ? so noble, so humane, so liberal, so confidin as you be. Sartainly not, says John Bull ; it would be inhu- man to refuse either shelter, wood, or water. "Well, then, if there was are a snug little cove not settled, disarted like, would you have any objection to our dryin** our fish there ? — they might spile, you know, so far from home ; — a little act of kindness like that, would bind us to you for ever and ever, and amen Certainly, says John, it is very reasonable that — ^you are per- fectly welcome — happy to oblige you. It was all we wanted, an excuse for enterin\ and now we are in and out when w please, and smuggle like all vengeance : got the whole trade and the whole fishery. It was splendidly done, wamH it ? Well, then, we did manage the boundary line capitally too. We know we havn't got no title to that land — it wasnl given io us bi/ the treaty^ and it tvarrCt in our possession when m declared independence or made peace. But our maxim is, it is better to get things by treaty than by war : it is more Christian* like, and more intellectual. To gain that land, we asked the navigation of the St. Lawrence, and the St. John, which we knew would never be granted ; but then it gave us somethin' to concede on our part, and brag on as liberal, and it is nateral and right for the English to concede on their side somethin too, — so they will concede the disputed territory. Ah, squire, said he, your countrymen have a good heart, and I believe they have ; indeed, it would be strange if a full puss didn't make a full heart ; but they have a most plaguy poor head, that'*s a fact. — This was rather too bad. To be first im- posed upon and then ridiculed, was paying rather too heavy a penalty for either negligence or ignorance. There was unhap* t ) SUAMPOOINO TU£ BNGU8H. 259 pily too much truth in the remark for me to join in the laugh. If your diplomatists, said I, have in one or two instances been successful by departing from the plain intelligible path, and resorting to flattery and cunning, (arts in which I regret to say diplomatists of all nations are but too apt to indulge,) it is a course which carries its own cure : and, by raising suspicion and distrust, will hereafter impose difficulties in their way even \vhen their objects are legitimate and just. I should have thought that the lesson read on a celebrated occasion, (which you doubtless remember) by Mr. Canning, would have dictated the necessity of caution for the future. — Recollect that confi- dence once withdrawn is seldom restored again. You have, however, omitted to state your policy with Russia. — Oh ! said he, Old Nick in the North is sarved in the same way. Excuse me, said I, (for I felt piqued,) but if you will permit me, I will suggest some observations to you relative to Russia that may not have occurred to you. Your diplomatists might address the Emperor thus : May it please you Majesty, there is an astonishing resemblance between our two countries; in fact there is little or no difference except in name, — the same cast of countenance, same family-likeness, same Tartar pro- pensity to change abode. All extremes meet. You take off folks' heads without law, so do our mobs. You se^d fellows to Siberia, our mobs send them to the devil. No povfer on airth can restrain you, no power on airth can restrain our mobs. You make laws and break ^em as suits your convenience, so do our lynchers. You don't allow any one to sport opinions you don't hold, or you stifle them and their opinions too. It's just so with us ; our folks forbid all talkin' about niggers ; and if a man forgets himself, he is reminded of it by his head supportin' bis body instead of his heels. You have got a liquorish mouth for fartile lands beyond your borders, so have we; and yet both have got more land than tenants. You foment troubles among your neighbours, and then step in to keep the peace, and hold possession when you get there, so do we. You are a great slave-holder, so are we. Folks accuse you of stealin Poland, the same libellin' villains accuse us of stealin' Texas, and a desire to have Canada too ; and yet the one is as much without foundation as the other. You plant colonies in Tartar lands^ •I ^ ^ • i r-. 3 2G0 THE CLOCKMAKEK. m I'tv • • • t '•#-■" < i«^ •■•- 1 • ». ^ ''f^ .•f^ -, 1 I •^^ . fr.i^ 1 \0 >N. ' ■m >.« i '-;■»- ■ '^ 1^^ -•*^ >t* ■'! ;!t. V. ".)i ', •••^ h- 1 ■ . Tj. ant) then drive out the owners: we sarve the Indgians the Bame way. You have extarminated some of your enemies, weVe extarminated some of oum. Some folks say your em- pire will split to pieces — it's too hig ; the identical same pro- phecy they make of us, and one is just as likely as the other. Every man in Russia must bow to the pictur' of his Emperor; every man must bow to the pictur* of our great nation, and swear through thick and thin he admires it more nor anything on the face of the airth. Every man in Russia may say what he likes if he dare, so he may in the l7-nited States. If foreign news-papers abusin' Polish matters get into the Russian mail, the mail is broic&n open and they are taken out ; if abolition papers get into the Southern mail, our folks break open the bags and burn 'em, as they did at Charleston. The law insti- tutes no inquiries in your dominions as to your acts of execu- tion, spoliation, and exile ; neither is there an}" inquest with us on similar acts of our mobs. There is no freedom of the press with you, neither is there with us. If a paper c ffends you, you stop it : if it offends our sovereigns, they break the machi- nery, gut the house, and throw the types into the street ; and if the printer escapes, he may thank God for givin' him a good pair of legs. In short, they may say to lim — it's generally allowed the freedom of one country is as liP.e the despotism ot the other as two peas — no soul could tell the difference ; and therefore there ought to be an actual as there is a nateral alli- ance bi^tween us. And then the cunnin' critters, if they catch him alone where they won't be overheard, they may soft sawder him, by tellin* they never knew before the blessin' of havin only one tyrant instead of a thousand, and that is an amend- ment they intend to propose to the constitution when they return home, and hope they'll yet live to see it. From this specimen you may easily perceive that it requires no great penetration or ability to deceive ^ven an acute observer, when* ever recourse is had to imagination for the facts. How far this parallel holds good, I leave you to judge ; I desire to offer you no offence, but I wish you to understand that all the world are not in love with your republican institutions or your people, and that both are better understood than you seem to suppose. Well, well, says he ; I didn't mean to ryle you, I do assure meanness. PUTTING A FOOT IN IT. 261 ]foa ; but if you hav'n't made a good story out of a Southern mob or two, neither of which are half as bad a^ your Bristol riot or Irish frays, it's a pity. After all, said he, I don't know whether it wouIdn''t comport more with our dignity to go strait ahead. I believe it's in politics as in other matters— ^one^/y it the best policy. CHAPTER XIII. PUTTINQ A FOOT IN IT. One amusing trait in the Clockmaker's character was his love of contradiction. If you suggested any objection to the Ameri- can government, he immediately put himself on the defensive; and if hard pressed, extricated himself by changing the topic. At the same time he would seldom allow me to pass a eulogy ipon it without affecting to consider the praise as misapplied, and as another instance of '' our not understanding them." In the course of our conversation, I happened to observe that the American government was certainly a very cheap one : and that the economy practised in the expenditure of the public revenue, tho' in some instances carried so far as to border on meanness, was certainly a very just subject of national pride. Ah, said he, I always said, " you don't onderstand us." Now it happens that this is one of the few things if you was only ayailed of it that you could fault us in. It is about the most costly government in the world, considcrin' our means. We are actilly oat up by it — it is a most plaguy sore, and has spread so like statiee that it has got its root into the very core. Cheap govern- ment \ — well, come, that beats all ! ! I should like to know, said I, how you can make that appear, for the salaries paid to your public officers are not only small but absolutely mean; and, in my opinion, wholly inadequate to procure the services of the best and most efficient men. Well, flaid he, which costs most, to keep one good horse well, or half a dozen poor ones ill, or to keep ten rael complete good sarrants, or fifty lazy, idle, do-no thin' critters ? because that's Ji»t our case, — we have too many of *em altogether. We tare twenty-four indapendent states, besides the general 1 ,1 1 1 J '■a [1 *^ Ml 262 ! ; THE CLOCKMAKER. ■ii 'tK t" tf. ii •^tr'! k >'•■ k^f •".--« '.1*. '-?■ ■ii* HI- - IP '*' ■'• ; is ■■■^ '* ■■!r- ■ f'^^ .,-^, .■ - . government ; we have therefore twenty-fire presidents, twenty* five secretaries of state, twenty-five treasurers, twenty-five senates, twenty-five houses of representatives, and fifty attorney- generals, and all our legislators are paid, every soul of 'em, and so are our magistrates, for they all take fees and seek the office for pay, so that we have as many paid legislators as soldiers, and as many judges of all sorts and sizes as sailors in our navy. Put all these expenses together, of state government, and general government, and see what an awful sum it aonies to, and then tell me it's a cheap government. True, said I, but you have not that enormous item of expenditure known in England under the name of half-pay. We have more officers of the navy on half-pay than you have in your navy altogether. So much the better for you, says he, for oum are all on full pay, and when they ain't employed we set 'em down as absent on leave. Which costs the most, do you suppose ? That comes of not callin' things by their right names, you see. Our folks know thi?, but our popularity-seekin^ patriots have all their o^vn interest in multiplying these ofiices; yes, our folks have put their foot in it: that's a fact. They cling to it as the bear did to Jack Fogler's mill-saw, and I guess it will sarve them the same way. Did I ever tell you that are story ? for I'm most afeard sometimes I've got father's fashion of tellin my stories over twice. No, said I, it is new to me ; I have never heard it. Well, says he, I will tell you how it was. - '. '» • v ' • ' Jack Fogler lives to Nictau-road, and he keeps a saw-mill and tavern ; he's a sneezer, that fellow ; he*s near hand to seven feet high, with shoulders as broad as a barn-door; he is a giant, that's a fact, and can twitch a mill-log as easy as a yoke of oxen can — nothin' never stops him. But that's not all, for I've seen a man as big as all out doors afore him ; but he has a foot that beats all — folks call him the man with the foot. The first time I seed him I could not keep my eyes off of it. I actilly could not think of anything else. Well, says I, Jack, vour foot is a whopper, that's a fact ; I never seed the beat of that in all my bom days, — it beats Gasper Zwicher's all holler, ind his is so big, folks say he has to haul his trowsers on over his head. Yes, says he, lawyer Yule says it passes all onder- Htandin', Well, he has a darter most as big as he is. but for all PUTTING A FOOT IN IT. 263 that she is near about as pretty a gall as I ever laid eyes oiii but she has her father's foot ; and, poor thing, she can't bear in hear tell of it. I mind once when I came there, there was no one to home, and I had to see to old Clay myself; and arter I had done, I went in and sot down by the fire and lighted a cigar. Arter a while in come Lucy, looking pretty tired. Why, said I, Lucy dear, where on airth have you been ? you look pretty well beat out. Why, says she, the bears are plaguy thick this while past, and have killed some of our sheep, so I went to the woods to driv<; the flock home ag'in night-fall, and, fegs ! I lost my way. I've been gone ever so long, and I don't know as Td eyer afound my way out again, if I hadn^t a met Bill Zink alookin^ up his sheep, and he shewed me the way out. Thinks I to myself, let the galls alone for an excuse ; I see how the cat jumps. Well, says I, Lucy, you are about the luckiest gall I ever seed. Possible, says she ; — how's that ? Why, sayg I, many's the gall I've known that's lost her way with a sweet" heart afore now, and got on the wrong track; but you're the first one ever I seed that got put on the right way by one any- how. Well, she larfed, and says she, you men always suspect CTil; it shows how bad you must be yourselves. Perhaps it may be so, says I, but mind your eye, and take care you dorCt put ym^refooi in it. She looked at me the matter of a minit or so without sayin' a word, and then burst out acryin\ She said, if she had such an awful big foot, it wam't her fault, and it was very onkind to larf at it to her face — that way. Well, I felt proper sorry too, you may deper J, for I vow she was so oncommon handsum' I had never noticed the big foot of hem till then. I had hardly got her pacified when in come Jack, with two halves of a bear, and threw 'em down on the floor, and larfed ready to kill himself. I never see the beat o' that, said he, since I was raised from a seedlin'. I never see a feller so taken in in all my life — that's a fact. Why, says I, what is it? — It was some time afore he could speak agin for larf.n' — for Jack was considerable in the wind, pretty nearly half shaved. At last, says he, you know my failin', Mr. Slick : I like a drop of grog better than it likea me. Well, when the last rain come, and the brook was pretty considerable full, I kag'd for a month, (^that is, said the Clock- maker, he had taken an oath to abstain from drawing liquor i ■» t m ' I- ■■■I 264 THE CLOCKBIAILSK. }$i .'.'.1 .**i ,-<' ■l'^ -v>t-.l ? f-' IK. tW from the keg — they calls it kaggin'^) and my kag was out to. day at twelve ©""clock. Well, I had just got a log on the wayi when the sun was on the twelve ©''clock line, so I stops the mill And takes out my dinner, and sets it down on the log, and then runs up to the house to draw off a hottle of rum. WJien I returned, and was jist ahout to enter the mill, what should I see hut that are hear asittin^ on the pine stick in the mill aeatin' of my dinner, so I jist backs out, takes a good swig out of the hottle, and lays it down, to run off home for the gun, when, says I to myself, says I, he'*ll make a plaguy sight a shorter work of that are dinner than I would, and when Le^s done he'U not wait to wipe his mouth with the towel neither. May be he^U be gone afore I gets back; so I jist crawls onder the mi!! »— pokes up a stick thro'* the j^ice, and starts the plug, and sets the mill agoin\ Well, the motion was so easy, and he was so busy, he never moves, and arter a little the saw jist gives him a scratch on the back : well, he growls and shoves forward a bit on his rump; presently it gives him another scratch, \vitl< that he wheels short round and lays right hold of it, and gives it a most devil of a hug with his paws, and afore he knowed what he was about it pinned him down and sawed him right in two, he squeelin' and kickin* and singin' out like a good feller the whole blessed time. Thinks /, he put his foot in iV, that feller, anv how. Yes, our folks have put their foot in it: a cheap article aint always the best; if you want a rael right down first chop, genuwine thing, you must pay for it. Talent and integrity ain''t such common things anywhere, that they are to be had for half nothin'. A man that has them two things can go ahead anywhere, and if you want him to give up his own consarns to see arter those of the public, and do'nt give him the fair market price for ""em, he's plaguy apt to put his integrity in his pocket, and put his talents to usury. What he loses one way he makes up another; if he can't get it out of his pay, he takes it out of parquesites, jobs, and patronage, or sunthin' or another. Folks won't sarve the public for nothin', no more than they will each other free-gratis. An honest man won'^t take office, if it wont support him properly, hut a dishonest one will, 'cause he won't «tand about trifles but goes the whole figur' — and where you PUTTING A FOOT IN IT. 265 have a good many such critters as put)lii servants — why, a little slip of the pen or trip of the foot ain't thought nothin"* of, ard the tone of public feelin* is lowered, till at last folks judge of k mans dishonesty by the 'cuteness of it. If the slight-o'-hand in't well done, they say, when he is detected, he is a fool — vuss him, it sarves him right; but if it is done so slick that you can't hardly see it even when it's done afore your eyes, people gay, a fine bold stroke that — splendid business talents that man — considerable powers — a risin' character, — eend by being a great man in the long run. You recollect the story of the quaker and his insurance, don't you? He had a vessel to see that he hadn't heerd of for a con- siderable time, and he was most plaguyly afeeard she had gone for it; so he sent an order to his broker to insure her. "Well, next day he lamt for sartin that she was lost, so what does he do but writes to his broker as if he r^eant to save the premium by recallin' the order: If thee hast not insured, thee need'st not do it, esteemed friend, for I have heerd of the vessel. The broker, thinkin* it would be all clear gain, falls right into the trap ; tells him his letter came too late, for he had effected the insurance half an hour afore it arrived. Verily, I am sorry for thee, friend, said the quaker, if that be the case, for a heavy loss will fall on thee; of a sartainty I have heerd of the vessel, but she is lost. Now that was what I call handsum'; it showed great talents that, and a knowledge of human natur and soft sawder. I thought, said I, that your annual parliaments, universal suffrage, and system of rotation of office, had a tendency to prevent corruption, by removing the means and the opportunity to any extent. "Well, it would, perhaps, to a certain point, said the Clockmaker, if you knew where that point was, and could stop there; but wherevtr it is, I am afeerd we have passed it. Annual parliaments bring in so many raw hands every year, that they are jist like pawns in the game at chess, only fit for tools to move about and count while the game is played by the bigger ones. They get so puzzled^ — the critters, with the forms o' the house, that they put me in mind of a feller standin' up for the first time in a quadrille. One tells him to cross over here, and afore he gets there another calls him back ag'in ; one pukhes him to the right, and another to the left ; he runs ag'in 18 .'..4 2GG TH'E CLOCKMAKEK. 1 '■'■.■'"- fe^^: VfT («.•. : V .** ■|»> .yv* ■!►■ ..•* <;■ : 6 ^€ every body, and eVery body runs ag'in him ; he treads on the heels of the galls, and takes their skin and their shoes off, and they tread on his toes, and return the compliment to his corns ; he is no good in natur' except to bother folks, and put them out. The old hands that have been there afore, and cut their eye- teeth, know how to bam these critters, and make 'em believe the moon is made of green cheese. That gives great power to the master movers, and they are enabled to spikelate handsum in land stock, bank stock, or any other corporate stock, for they can raise or depress the article jist as they please by legislative action. There was a grand legislative speck made not long since, called the pre-emption speck. A law was passed, that all who had settled on government lands without title, should have a right of pre-emption at a very reduced price, below common upset sum, if application was made on a partikelar day. The jobbers watched the law very sjiarp, and the moment it passed, off they sot with their gangs of men and a magistrate, camped out all night on the wild land, made the affidavits of settlement, and run on till they went over a'most a deuce of a tract of country, that was all picked out aforehand for them; then returned their affidavits to the office, got the land at pre-emption rate, and turned right round, and sold it at market price — pocketed the difference — and netted a most handsum thing by the speck. Them pet banks was another splendid affair; it deluged the land with corruption that, — it was too bad to think on. When the government is in the many, as with us, and rotation of office is the order of the day, there is a nateral tendency to multiply offices, so that every one can get his share of 'em, and it in- creases expenses, breeds officcrseekers, and corrupts the whole mass. It is in politics as in farmin\ — one large farm is worked at much less expense and much greater profit, and is better in many ways, than half a dozen small ones; and the head farmer is a more 'sponsible man, and better to do in the world, and more influence than the small fry. Things are better done too on hh farm — the tools are better, the teams are better, and the crops are better : it's better altogether. Our first-rate men ain't ir politics with. us. It don't pay 'em, and they wonH go thro' the mill for it. Our principle is to consider all public men rogues, PUTTING A FOOT IN IT. 267 and to natch ^em well that they keep straight. Well, I ain't jist altogether sartified that this don't help to make 'cm rogues where there is no confidence^ there can be no honesty; locks and keys are good things, hut if you can't never trust a sarvant with a key, he don't think the better of you for all your suspicions, and is plaguy apt to get a key of his own. Then they do get such a drill through the press, that no man that thinks any great shakes of himself can stand it. A feller must have a hide as thick as a bull's to hear all the lashing our public men get the Tirhole blessed time, and if he can bear it without winkin', it's more perhaps than his family can. There's nothin** in office that's worth it. So our best men ain't in office — they can't sub- mit to it. I knew a judge of the stat'i court of New York, a first chop man too, give it up, and take the office of clerk in the identical same court. He said he couldn't afford to be a judge; it was only them who couldn't make a livin"* by their practice ^:hat it would suit. No, squire, it would be a long story to go through the whole thing; but we ain^tthe cheapest government in the world, — that's a fact. "When you come to visit us and go deep into the matter, and see general government and state govern- ment, and local taxes and gineral taxes, although the items are small, the sum total is a'most a swingin' large one, I tell you. You take a shop account, and read it over. Well, the thing appears reasonable enough, and cheap enough ; but if you have been arunnin'' in and out pretty often, and goin' the whole , figur', add it up to the bottom, and if it don't make you stare and look comer ways, it's a pity. What made me first of all think o' these things, was seein' how they got on in the colonies: why, the critters don^t pay no taxes at all a''most — they actlUy don't desarve the name o' taxes. They don't know how well they're off — that's sartin: I mind Mrhen I used to be agrumblin' to home, when I was a boy about knee high to a goose or so, father used to say, Sam, if you want to know how to valy home, you should go abroad for a while among strangers. It ain't all gold that glitters, my boy. You'd Boon find out what a nice home you've got; for mind what I tell you, home is home, however homely, — that's a fact. — ^These Uuenoseo ought to be jist sent away from home a little while; 268 THE CLOCKMAKER. i 1 ' I ■(ft- .«.^: ■.'■( ■ ,4 if they were, when they returned, I guess, theyM lam how to Taly their location. It's a lawful colony this,— things do go on rig'lar,— a feller can rely on law here to defend his property, — . he needn't do as I seed a squatter to Ohio do once. I had stopt at his house one day to bait my horse; and in the course of con- Tersation about matters and things in gineral, says I, "What's your title? is it from government, or purchased from settlers?— I'll tell you, Mr. Slick, he says, what my title is, — and he went in, and took his rifle down, and brought it to the door. Do you see that are hen, said he, with the top-knot on, afeedin* by the fence there? — Yes, says I, I do. — Well, says he, see that; and he put a ball right through the head of it. That, said he, I reckon, is my title; and that'*s the way Til sarve any tarnation scoundrel that goes for to meddle with it. Says I, if that's your title, depend on it you won't have many fellers troublin' you with claims. — I rather guess not, said he, larfin'; and the lawyers won't be over forrard to buy such claims on spekilation, — and he wiped his rifle, reloaded her, and hung her up ag'in. There's nothin* of that kind here. ' - ... But as touchin' the matter o' cheap government, why, it^s a? well as not for our folks to hold out that ourn is so; but the truth is, atween you and me, though I would'nt like you to let on to any one I said so, the truth is, somehow or another, we've put our foot in it — that's a fact. CHAPTER XIV. ENGLISH ARISTOCRACY AND YANKEE MOBOCBACY. "When we had taken our tower, said the Clockmaker, I estimate I will return to the 17-nited States for good and all. You had ought to visit our great nation : you may depend, it's the most splendid location atween the poles. History can't show nothin' like it: you might bile all creation down to an essence, and not get such a concrete as New England. It's a light to behold twelve millions of free and enlightened citizens, and I guess we shall have all these provinces, and all South jbneiica. There is no eend to us ; old Rome that folks made ENGLISH ARISTOCRACY. 269 Bucli a touss about, was notliln' to us — it warn' fit to hold a candle to our federal government, — that's a fact. I intend, said I, to do so before I go to Europe, and may perhaps avail myself of your kind offer to accompany nie. Is an Englishman well received in your country now? Well, he is now, said Mr. Slick; the last war did that ; we licked the British into a respect for us: and if it warn't that they are so plaguy jealous of our facto- ries, and so invyus of our freedom, I guess we should be con- siderable sociable, but they can't stomach our glorious institu- tions no how. They don't onderstand us. Father and our minister used to have great arguments about the British. Father hated them like pyson, as most of our revolutionary heroes did; hut minister used to stand up for *em considerable stiflF. I mind one evenin' arter hay harvest, father said to me, Sam, said he, 'spose we go down and see minister; I guess he's a little raiffey with me, for I brought him up all standin* t'other night by sayin' the English were a damned overbearin' tyrannical race, and he hadn't another word to say. When you make use of such language as that are. Colonel Slick, said he, there's an eend of all conversation. — I allow it is very disrespectful to swear afore a minister, and yery onhandsum to do so at all, and I don't approbate such talk at no rate. So we will drop the subject, if you please. Well, I got pretty grumpy too, and we parted in a huff. I think myself, says father, it warn't pretty to swear atbre him ; for, Sam, if there is a good man agoin', it is minister,— that's a fact. But, Sam, says he, we military men — mid he straightened himself up considerable sti£F, and pulled up his collar, and looked as fierce as a lion, — we military men, says he, have a habit of rappin out an oath now and then. Very few of our heroes didn't swear; I recollect iiinl larnation fire-eater, Gineral Gates, when he was in our sarvico^ ordered me once to attack a British outpost, and I didn't much more than half like it. Gineral, says I, there's a plaguy stone wall there, and the British have lined it, I guess; and I'm athinkin' it ain't altoge- ther jist safe to go too near it. D — m — n, — Captain Slick, says he,^(I was jist made a captain then) — d — m — n, Captain 81ick, says he, ain't there two sides to a stone wall? Don't let me hear the like ag'in from you, said he, captain, or I hope I may be tetotally and effectually d — d if I don't break you!— I J ft 270 . THE CLOCKMAKER. ^f^'-; *, »c.> ' M^» ^/.l fc^ If *; ... ^ ... I' >^'A -^ ■■.■ ii^rill, by gosh! He wam't a man to be trifled wi;ii, you may depend; so I drew up my company, and made at the wall double quick, expectin' every minit would be our last. Jist as we got near the fence, I heerd a scramblin' and a scuddin' behind it, and I said, now, says I, for'ard, my boys, for your lives! hot foot, and down onder the fence on your bellies! and then we shall be as safe as they be, and p'rhaps we can loophole 'em. Well, we jist hit it, and got there without a shot, and down on our faces as flat as flounders. Presently we heerd the British run for dear life, and take right back across the road, full split. Now, says T, my hearties, up and let drive at 'em, right over the wall! Well, we got on our knees, and cocked our guns, so as to have all ready, and then we jump'd up an eend; and seein nothin but a great cloud o' dust, we fired right into it, and down we heard *em tumble ; and when the dust clear'd ofl', we saw the matter o' twenty white breeches turned up to us sprawlin' on the ground. Jist at that moment we heerd three cheers from the inemy at the fort, and a great shout of larfin' from our army too; they haw-hawed like thunder. Well, says I, as soon as I could see, if that dont bang the bush. I'll be darn'd if it aint a flock of sheep belongin* to Elder Solo- mon Longstafi', arter all,— ^and if we ain't killed the matter of a score of *em too, as dead as mutton; that's a fact. Well, we returned considerable down in the mouth, and says the ginoral, Captain, says he, I guess you made the enemy look pretty sheepish, didn't you? Well, if the officers didn't larf, it's a pity; and, says a Varginy ofiicer that was there, in a sort of half whis- per, that wall was well lined, you may depend — sheep on one side and asses on the other! Says I, stranger, you had better not say that are ag'in, or I'll . Gintlemen, says the gineral, resarve your heat for the inemy; no quarrels among ourselves— ami he rode ofi^, havin' first whispered in my ear. Do you hear, captain, d— n you! there are two sides to a wall. Yes, says I, gineral, and two sides to a story too. And don't, for gracious sake, say no more about it. Yes, we military men all swears a few — it's the practice of the camp, and seems kinder nateral. But Fll go and make friends with minister. '^ ''^^^ ^ '-'^ ' Well, we walked down to Mr, Hopewell's, and we found him in a liitle summer-house, all covered over with honeysuckle as ENGLISH ARISTOCRACY. 271 as busy as you please with a book he was astudyin', and aa soon as lie seed \is he laid it down and came out to meet us. Colonel Slick, says he, I owe you an apology, I believe; I con- sait I spoke too al)rupt to you t'other evenin'. I ought to have made some allowance for the ardour of ond of our military heroes. Well, it took father all aback that, for he know'd it was him that was to blame, and not minister, so he began to gay that it was him that ought to ax pardon; but minister wouldn't hear a word, — (he was all humility was minister — he had no more pride than a babe,) — and, says he, come, Colonel walk in and sit down here, and we will see if we can muster r. bottle of cider for you, for I take this visit very kind of you. U'ell, he brought out the cider, and we sot down quite sociable iike. Now, says he, colonel, what news hive you? ■ ' - Well, says father, neighbour Dearboum tells me that he heard from excellent authority that he can't doubt, when he was in England, that King George the Third has been dead these two years: but his ministers darsen't let the people know it, for fear of a revolution ; so they have given out that he took the loss of these States so much to heart, and fretted and car- ried on so about it, that he ain't able to do business no more, and that they are obliged to keep him included. They say the people want to have a government jist like ourn, but the lords and great folks won't let *em, and that if a poor man lays by a few dollars, the nobles send and take it righ ; away, for fear they should buy powder and shot wlch it. It's awful to think on, ain't it? I allow the British are about the most enslaved, oppressed, ignorant, and miserable folks on the face of creation. You mustn't believe all you hear, said minister; depend upon it, there ain't a word of truth in it. I have been a good deal in England, and 1 do assure you they are as free as we be, and a most plaguy sight richer, stronger, and wiser. Their govern- ment convenes them better than ourn would, and I must say there be some things in it I like better than ourn too. Now, says he, colonel, I'll p'int out to you where they have a'most an araazin' advantage over us here in America. First of all, there is the King on his throne, an hereditary King — a born King, — the head of his people, and not the head of a party ; not supported, right or wrong, by one tide because they chosp IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I ^ lU ■2.2 m m ^ Hiotographic ScMioes Carparation ^ %■ iV <^ ^. as VVBT MAIN STRHT \MnSTIII,N.Y. 145t0 (7I6)S72-4S03 v\ 272 THE CLOCKIIAKER. #1 ^ ^ m ■If- ■* 1 • < 'r .4 - is him, nor hated and oppressed, right or wrong, by t'other, because they don^t rote for him ; but loTed and supported bj all because he is their King; and regarded by all with a feelin' we don't know nothin' of in our country, a feelin' of loyalty. Yes, says father, and they don't care whether it's a man, woman, or child ; the ignorant, benighted critters. They are consider- able sure, says minister, he ain't a rogue at any rate. Well, the next link in the chain (Chains enough, poor wretches! says father; but its good enough for 'em tho', I guess) -—Well, the next link in the chain is the nobility, independent of the crown on one side, and the people on the other; a body distinguished for its wealth, its lamin', its munificence, its high honour, and all the great and good qualities that ennoble the human heart. Yes, said father, and yet they can sally out ot their castles, seize travellers, and rob 'em of all they hare; havn't they got the whole country enslayed? the debauched, profligate, effeminate^ tyrannical gang as they be; and see what mean offices they do fill about the King's parson. They put me in mind of my son Eldad, when he went to larn the doctor's trade; they took him the first winter to the dissectin' room, io in the spring, says I, Eldad, says I, how do you get on! Why, says he, father, I've only had my first lesson yet. What is that? says I. Why, says he, when the doctors are dissectin of a carcass of cold meat, (for that^s the name a subject goes by,) I have to stand by *em and keep my hands clean, to wipe their noses, give 'em snuff, and light cigars for 'em: and the snufi^ sets 'em asneezin' so, I have to be awipin' of their noses ererlastin'ly. It's a dirty business, that's a fact; but dissectin is a dirty af&ir, I guess, altogether. Well, by all accounts the nobility fill offices as mean as the doctors' apprentices do tb fint winter. I tell you, these are mere lies, says minister, got up here by a party to influence us ag'in the British. Well, well! said father, go on, and he threw one leg over the other, tilted back in his chair, folded his arms over his breast, and looked as de- tarmined as if he thought, now you may jist talk till you are hoarse, if you like, but you won't convince me, I can tell you. Then there is an Established Church, containin' a body o' men distinguished for their piety and larnin', uniform practice^ BNGLUH ARISTOCRACY. 273 Christian lives, and consistent conduct; jist a beach that keeps off the assaults of the wares o' infidelity and enthusiasm from the Christian harbour within, the great bulwark and breakwater that protects and shelters Protestantism in the world. Oh dear! oh dear ! said father, and he looked over to me, quite streaked, as much as to say. Now, Sam, do only hear the nonsense that are old critter is atalkin' of; ain't it horrid? Then there is the gentry, and a fine, honorable, manly, hospitable, independent r What little check we had in Washinton's time is now lost; our cenate has degenerated into a mere second house of represent ENGLISH ARISTOCRACY. 277 tatires; our legislators arc nothin' but speakin^ trumpets for the mobs outside to yell and howl thro'. The British government is like its oak; it has its roots spread out far and wide, and is supported and nourished on all sides, besides its tap«roots, that ran right straight down into the ground (for all hard-wood treei have tap-roots, you know). "Well, when a popular storm come»« it bends to the blast, do you see, till its fury is spent; it gets a few leaves shook down, and, perhaps, a rotten branch or tw♦«' %i*- tfr 1 f" .•^ < ^ * 1 ■SPt^ it- ►•! r ■If if he was drawln' out n sword, — njid now, sir, said he, makin' a lounge into the air with his arm, now, sir, if you was not a clergyman, you should answer it to me with your life, you should, I snore. It's nothin' but your cloth protects you, and an old friendship that has subsisted atween us for many years. You revolutionary heroes, colonel, says minister, smilin', are covered with too much glory to require any aid from private quarrels : put up your sword, colonel, put it up, my good friend, and let us see how the cider is. I have talked so much, my mouth feels considerable rusty about the hinges, I vow. I guess we had, says father, quite mollified by that are Httle revolutionary hero, and I will sheathe it; and he went thro"* the form of puttin^ a sword into the scabbard, and fetched his two hands together with a click that sounded amazinMy like the rael thing. Fill your glass, colonel, says minister, fill your glass, and I will give you a toast: — May our government never dege- nerate into a mob, nor our mobs grow strong enough to become our govcrtiTtent, /. ji ,f, CHAPTER XV. THE CONFESSIONS OF ▲ DEPOSED MINISTER. Since I parted with you, squire, to Windsor, last fall, Fve been to home. There's been an awful smash among the banks in the States, they've been blowed over, and snapped off, and torn up by the roots, like the pines in the southward in a tor> nado: awful work, you may depend. Everything prostrated ai fiat as if it had been chopped with an axe for the fire; it''s the most dismal sight I ever beheld. Shortly after I left you, I got a letter from Mr. Hopewell, atellin^ of me there was a storm abrewin'*, and advisin^ of me to come to home as soon as possible, to see arter my stock in the Slickville bank, for they were carry- ing too much sail, and he was e''en a'*most sartain it would capsize when the squall struck it. Well, I rode night and day; 1 nearly killed Old Clay and myself too, (I left the old horse to St. John's;) but I, got there in time, sold out my shares, and jist secured myself, when it failed tetotally, it won't pay five cenh to the dollar; a total wrapk, stock and fluke. Poor oU CONFESSIONS OF A MINISTER. 279 minister, he is nearly used up; he is small potatoes now, and few in a hill. It made me feel quite streaked to see him, for he is a rael good man, a genuwine primitive Christian, and one of the old school. Why, Sam, said he, how do you do, my boy? The sight of you is actilly good for sore eyes. Oh! I am glad to see you once more afore I go; it does me good, it happifies me, it does, I vow — for you always seemed kind o' nateral to me. I didn^t think I should ever take any interest in anything ttg'in; but I must have a talk with you, it will do me good, it revives me. And now, Sam, said he, open thrl are cupboard there, and take that big key off the nail on the right hand side, it's the key of the cellar; and go to the north bin, and bring up a hottle of the genutvine cider, it will refresh you arter your ^tigue; and give me my pipe and tobacco, and we will have a talk, as we used to do in old times. Well, says I, when I returned and uncorked the bottle, Minister, says I, it*s no use atalkin' — and I took a heavy pull at the cider — it*s no use atalkin', but there's nothin^ like that are among the Blue-noses, anyhow. I believe you might stump the univarse for cider — that caps all — it's super-excellent — that's a fact. I shall stump out of the univarse soon, Sam, said he ; Vm e'en amost done; my body is worn out, and my spirits are none of the best now, I'm a lone man. The old men are droppin' off fast into the grave, and the young men are troopin' off fast into the Far West; and Slick ville don't seem the same place to me it used to do no more. I'm well stri >^n in years now; my life stretches over a considerable space of the colony time, and over all our republic: my race is run, my lamp is out, and I am ready to go. I often say. Lord, now lettest thou thy sarvant depart in peace. Next birthday, if the Lord spares me to see it, I shall be ninety-five year^ old. Well, says I, Minister, you've seen great changes in your time, that's sartin ; haven't we grown cruel fast ? There ain't such a nation as oum p'rhaps atween the poles, jist at this present time. We are a'most through to the Pacific, and spreadin' all over this great conti- nent; and our flag floats over every part of the world. Our free and enlightened people do present a'most a glorious spectacle, that's a fact. Well, he sot still and said nothin'; but takin' the pipe 1 u m 2S0 THE CLOCKMAKER. >tt| 'IT* 4 1 > » « ' 4 :• • 1 i 1^ * .» • ■■5ft ^'.4 "1 *» if it V.' " ^4? "- i 4b -•• ; < ■4 'if ' u out of his mouth, lie let go a great big long pufT of smoke, and then replaced his pipe ag^in, and arter a space, says he, Well, Sam, what of all that? Why, said I, minister, you remind me of Joab Hunter; he whipped every one that darst try him, both in Slickville and its vicinity; and then he sot down and cried like a child, ^cause folks were afeerd of him, and none on 'em would fight him. It^s a law o" natur\ Sam, said he, that things that grow too fast, and grow too big, go to decay soon, I am afeerd we shall bt rotten afore we are ripe. Precosity ain't a good sign in any- thing. A boy that outgrows his strength, is seldom healthy: an old head on young shoulders is plaguy apt to find afore long the shoulders too old and weak for the head. I am too aged a man to be led away by names — too old a bird to be caught by chaff. Tinsel and glitter don'*t deceive me into a belief that they are ■olid, genufPtne metals. Our eagle that we chose for our emblem, is a fine bird, and an aspirin^ bird; but he is a bird of prey^ Sam, too fond of blood — loo prone to pounce on the weak and unwary. I don^t like to see him hoverin^ over Texas and Canada so much. Our flag that you talk of is a good flag; but them stripes, are they prophetic or accidental ? Are they the stripes of the slavei risin' up to humble our pride by exhibitin' our shame on our banner ? Or what do they mean ? Freedom, what is it ? We boast of freedom; tell me what freedom is? Is it bavin' no king and no nobles? Then we are sartinly free. But is that freedom ? Is it in havin^ no established religion? Then we are free enough, gracious knows. Is it in havin^ no hereditary government, or vigorous executive ? Then we are free, beyond all doubt. Yes, we know what we are atalkin** about; we are wise in cm generation, wiser than the children of light; we are as free ai the air of heaven. What that air is, p'rhaps they know who talk of it so flippantly and so glibly; but it may not be so free to all comers as our country is. But what is freedom \ Hr little grandson, little Sammy (I had him named arter you, Sam), told me yesterday I was behind the enlightenment of the age; perhaps you, who are ahead of it, will answer me. What is freedom? A colt is free, he is onrestrained; he acknowledges no master, no law, but the law of natttr\ A man may get \» CONFESSIONS OP A MINISTER. 281 hrains kicked out among wild horses, but still they are free. If our freedom Utce that of the wild horse or the wild ass ? If not, whntisit? Is it in the right of openly preaching infidelity? Is it in a licentious press ? Is it in the outpourings of popular spirits? Is it in the absence of all subordination, or the insuffi- ciency of all legal or moral restraint? I will define it. It is that happy condition of mankind where people are assembled in t community; where there is no government, no law, and no religion, but such as are imposed from day to day by a mob of freemen. That is freedom. Why, minister, said I, what on airth ails you, to make you talk arter that fashion ? If you had abin drinkin'' any of that are old cider, I do think I should have believed it had got into your brain, for if s pretty considerable stiff that, and tarnation beady. How can you go for to say we have no government, no law, and no religion, when it's ginerally allowed we are the most free and enlightened people on the face of the airth ? I didn't say that^ Sam; I was definin' freedom in its gineral acceptation. We have got a government somewhere, if folks could only find it. When they searched for it at Texas, they said it was to Canady lines; and when they got to Canady lines to seek it, tfaey Siiy it is gone to the Seminole war; and when they get there, they''ll tell ''em they've been lookin' for it; but it hasn^t anrived yet, and they wish to gracious it would make haste and come, for if it wor there, three thousand Injians couIdn'*t beat us three years runnin', and defy us yet. We've got law too; and when the judges go on the circuit, the mob holds its courts, and keeps the peace. Whose commission does the mob hold ? The people's commission. And whose commission does the supreme judge hold ? The President's. Which is at the top of the pot then? Can the judges punish the mob? No; but the mob can punish the judges. Which is the supreme court, then? No; we have law. Yes, said I, and the prophets too; for if you ain't a prophet of evil, it's a pity. I fairly felt ryled, for if there is a thing that raises my dander, and puts my Ebenezer up, it is to hear a man say anything ag'in the glorious institu- tions of our great, splendid country. There yoii go agin, said he; you don't know what you are a tslkin' about* a prophet used to be a person who foretold futuio 19 ■t ^ f" 19 282 THE CLOCKMAKER. '4l» r «(«; > ■i'% i* '.» erentf io coine. What they be now in Webster's new dictionary. I don't know; but I guest they now be those who foretell thingi arter they happen. I wam't aprophesyin' — I was speakin' of things afore my eyes. Your ideas of prophets are about as clear as your ideas of freedom. Yes, we've got law, and written law too, as well as written constitutions, (for we dispise that on- written law, the common law of the ignorant British; we dispise it as a relic of barbarism, of the age of darkness and fable,) and as soon as our cases that arc tried afore the mob courts are col- lected and reported to some of our imiaent mob orators, these state trials will haye great authority. They'll be quoted by England with great respect I know; for they're got orators of the same breed there too, — the same gentle, mild, Christian-like philanthropists. Pity you hadn't asported that kind of doctrine, says I, minister, afore our glorious rerolution. The British would have made a bishop of you, or a Canter of Berry, or whatever they call their Protestant pope. Yes, you might hare had the canon law, and the tythe law enforced with the baggo- net law. Abusin' the British don't help us, Sam. I am not their advocate, but the advocate for law, jost and equal law, impartially administered, voluntarily obeyed, and, when infringed, duly en- forced. Yes, we have religion, too, from the strict good old platform, through every variety and shade of tinker, mormonite, and mountebank, down to the infidel,— men who preach peace and good will, but who fight and hate each other like the devil. Idolatry like oum you won't find even among the heathen. We are image worshippers: we have two images. There's the golden image, which all men worship here, and the American image. The American image! said I; do tell: what on airth is that? I do believe in my heart, minister, that you have taken leave of your senses. What onder the sun is the American image? An image of perfection, Sam, said he; fine phrenological head, high forehead, noble countenance, intelligent face, limbs Herculean but well proportioned, graceful attitude, a figrure of great elegance and beauty, the personification of everything ihat is great and good; that is the American image; that we set up and admire, and every body thinks it is an image of himself. Oh! It is hu- miliatin', it is degradin'; but we are all brought up to this idolatry from our cradle: we are taught first to worship gold, and then to idolize ourselves* CONFESSIONS OP A MINISTER. 283 Yes, wc have a goyernment, have a law, and hare a religion ; tnd a precious government, law, and religion it is. I was once led to believe we had made a great discovery, and were tryin' a great experiment in the art of self-government, for the benefit of mankind, as well as ourselves. Oh, delusion of delusions ! It had been tried before and signally failed, and tried on our own ground too, and under our own eyes. Wc are copies and not originals ; base imitators. When he got this far, I seed how it was ; he was delirious, poor old gentleman : the sight of me was too much for him; his narves was excited, and he was aravin'; big face was flushed, his eye glared, and looked quite wild like. It touched me to the heart, for I loved him like a father, and his intellects were of the first order afore old age, like a cloud, had overshadowed 'em. I thought I should have boohooed right out. So, instead of contradictin' him, I humoured him. Where was it tried, minister? said I; who had the honour afore us? for let 08 give the credit where it is due. The North American Indians, said he, had tried it afore in all its parts. They had no king, no nobles, no privileged class, no established religion. Their mobs made laws, Lynch law too, for they had hurned people before the citizens at Mobile was ever bom, or was even thought on, and invaded also other folks' territory by stealth, and then kept possession. They, too, elected their presidents and other officers, and did all and everything we do. They, too, had their federal government of independent states, and their congress and solemn* lookin' boastin orators. They, too, had their long knives as well as Arkansas' folks have, and were as fond of blood. And where are they now? Where is their great experiment? their great spectacle of a people govemin' themselves ? Gone ! where our ovm will go; gone with the years that are fled, never to return ! Oh, Sam, Sam! my heart ia sick within me. Where now is our beautiful republic bequeathed to us byr Washington, and the sages and heroes of the revolution? Overwhelmed and destroyed by the mighty waters of democracy. Nothin' is now left but a dreary waste of angry waters, moved and excited by every wind that blows, and agitated by every conflicting current, onsafe to navigate, fearful even to look upon. This is too excitin^ a subject, said I, minister, and admits of a great deal bein* said on bofii sides. It ain't worth our while to ii -I C84 THE CLOCKMAKER. ^r1 t; (ft '■ , .y '#» '» r- • -« E ^P .? 'T get warm on it. As for an established church, said I, you kncn what a hubbub they make in England to get clear of that are. I don t think we need envy 'em, unless they^l establish our plat- form, if they did ihat^ said I, and I looked up and winked, I don't know as I wouldn''t vote for it myself. Sam, said he, we are agoin' f o have an established church ; it may be a very good church, and is a great deal better than many we have; but still it ain't the church of the Pilgrims. "What church, said I, minister? Why, said he, the Catholic Church ; before long it will be the established church of the United States. Poor old man, only think of his getting such a freak as that are in his head; it was melancholy to hear him talk such nonsense, warn't it? What makes you think so? said I. Why, said he, Sam, the majority here do everything. The majority voted at first against an establishment; a majority may at last vote for it; the voice of the majority is law. Now the Catholics are fast gainin' a numerical majority. Don't you believe census or other tables! I know it, and I could easily correct the errors of the census. They gain constantly,-— they gain more by emigration, more by natural increase in proportion to their numbers, more by inter- marriages, adoption, and conversion, than the Protestants. With their exclusive views of salvation, and peculiar tenets, — as soon as they have the majority, this becomes a Catholic country, with a Catholic government, with the Catholic religion established bv law. Is this a great change? A greater change has taken place among the British, the Medes and Persians of Europe, the no- lumus leges mutari people. What then will the nateral order *nd progress of events now in train here not produce? I only speak of this, I don't dread it; I hope, and trust, and pray that it may be so; not because I think them right, for I don't, but because they are a Christian church, an old church, a consistent church, and because it is a church, and any sect is better than the substitution of a cold speculative philosophy for religion, as we see too frequently among us. We are too greedy to be moral, coo self-sufficient to be pious, and too independent to be religious. United under one head, and obedient to that head, with the countenance and aid of the whole Catholic world, what can ther not achieve? Yes, it is the only cure that time and a kind and fnerciful Providence has in store for iu. We shall be a Calkolk » I CONFESSIONS OF A MINISTER. 28o Sum, my heart is broken! my last tie is severed, and I am nuw descendin^ to the grave full of years and full of sorrers ! 1 have received my dismissal; my elders have waited upon me with the appallin* information that they have given a call to a Uni- tiriiin, and have no fiirther need of my sarvices. My labours, Sum, were not worth having — that's a fact: I am now old, gray- headed, and infirm, and worn out in the service of my Master. It was time for me to retire. Tempus abire tibi est. (I hope you havVt forgot what little Latin you had, Sam.) I don't blame them for thai: — but a Unitarian in my pulpit! It has killed me — I cannot survive it; and he cried like a child. I looked on ''em, said he, as fit^ childem, I loved 'em as my own tanght'em their infant prayers, — I led *em to the altar of the Lord, —I fed 'em with the bread of life, encouraged them when they was right, reproved *em when they was wrong, and watched trer 'em always. Where now is my flockf and what account shall I give of the shepherd? Oh, Sam, willin'ly would I offer up my life for 'em as a sacrifice, but it may not be. My poor flock, my dear children, my lost sheep, that I should have lived to have seen this day! and he hid his face in his hands, and moaned bitterly. Poor old gentleman, it had been too much for him; it was evident that it had affected his head as well as his heart. And this I will say, that a better head and a better heart there ain't this day in the United States of America than minister Joshua Hopewell's of Slickville. I am glad to hear you speak so affec- tionately of him, said I. It shows there are good and warm hearts in Slickville besides his; but do you really think he was delirious? No doubt in the world on it, said he. If you had aseen him and heerd him, you would have felt that his troubles had swompified him. It was gone goose with him, that's a fact That he spoke under the influence of excited feelings, I replie('^ and with a heart filled with grief and indignation, there can be no doubt: but I see no evidence of delirium; on the contrary. Ills remarks strike me as most eloquent .ind original. They have made a great impression upon me, and I shall long re- Qiember the confessions of a deposed minister. I ff T I I- in 28G TUB CLOCKMAKER. ... ,. CHAPTER XVI. %» r \ m f ■ ■ I b ■'- CANADIA.N POLITICS. r . . • • • • . The next day we reached Clare, a township wholly settled bj descendants of the Acadian French. The moment you pass the bridge at Scissiboo, you become sensible that you are in a foreign country. And here I must enter my protest against that American custom of changing the old and appropriate names of places, for the new and inappropriate ones of Europe. Scissiboo is the Indian name of this long and beautiful riyer, and signifies the great deep, and should have been retained, not merelj because it was its proper name, but on account of its antiquity, its legends, and, above all, because the river had a name, which the minor streams of the province have not. A country, in mj opinion, is robbed of half its charms when its streams, like those of Nova Scotia, have no other names than those of the pro- prietors of the lands through which they pass, and change them as often as the soil changes owners. Scissiboo sounded too savage and uncouth in the ears of the inhabitants, and they changed it to Weymouth, but they must excuse me for adopting the old reading. I am no democrat; I like old names and the traditions belong- ing to them. I am no friend to novelties. There has been a reaction in Upper Canada. The movement party in that colonj, with great form and ceremony, conferred the name of Little York upon the capital of the colony; but the Conservatires have adopted the ancient order of things, and with equal taste and good feeling have restored the name of Toronto. I hope to see the same restoration at Scissiboo, at Tatamagouche, and other places where the spoiler has been. There is something very interesting in these Acadians. They are the lineal descendants of those who made the first effectire settlement in North America, in 1606, under De Monts, and have retained to this day the dress, customs, language, and reli- gion of their ancestors. They are a peaceable, contented, and happy people ; and have escaped the temptations of English ag> tators, French atheists, and domestic demagogues. CANADUN POLITICS. 287 I have often been amazed, said the Glockmaker, when trarel- liog among the Canadians, to see what curious critters they be. They leave the marketin^ to the women, and the business to their notaries, the care of their souls to their priests, and of their bodies to the doctors, and resanre only frolickin', dancin', singin', fidlin', and gasconadin'. to themselves. They are as merry as crickets, and happy as the day is long. They don't care a straw how the world jogs, who's up or who^s down, who reigns or who is deposed. Ask 'em who is king, and they believe Papinor is ; who is Pope, and they believe their bishop is; who is the best off in the world, and they believe Mount-sheer Chatter-box Habitan is. How is it then, said I, they are just on the eve of a rebel- lion? If they are so contented and happy as you represent them, what can induce them to involve the country in all the horrors of a civil war; and voluntarily incur the penalties of treason, and the miseries of a revolution? Because, said he, they are jist what I have described them to be — ^because they don't know nothin'. They are as weak as Taunton water^ and all the world knows that that won't even ran down hill. They won't do nothin' but jist as they are bid. Their notaries and doctors tell 'em, them sacra diabola foutera Ei^lish are agoin', by-and-bye, to ship 'em out o' the country; and in the mean time rob 'em, plunder 'em, and tax 'em ; hang Iheir priests, seize their galls, and play hell and Tommy with ihem, and all because they speak French. Hay beang, says Habitan, up and at them then, and let Vm have it ! But how c&n we manage all them redcoats ? Oh ! says their leaders, old France will send a fleet and sodgers, and Yankies will send an axmy. Yankies very fond of us, all larnin' French apurpose; very fond of Catholics too, all thro' New England; great friend of oum, — hate English like the diable. Allong dong, then, they say; up and cut their throats ! and when winter comes, bum 'em up, hang 'em up, use 'em up ! One grand French nation we shall have here then ; all French, and no sacra English. But do they really talk such nonsense to them as that, or are they such fools to believe it ? Fact, I assure ; they are so ignorant they believe it all, and will believe anything they tell 'era. It is ft comfortable ignorance they are in too, for they are actilly the happiest critters on the face of the airth; but then it is a dan* I ■Bf in 288 THE CLOCKMAKER. %m I I' |l» --^ Z» h •r^ - »i 4 .. r f gerous ignorance, for it is so easily imposed upon. I had been always led to believe, I said, that it was a great constitutional question that was at stake ; the right to stop the supplies ; and from hearing there were so many speculative and theoretical points of dispute between them and the English as to the machinery of the local government, I thought they were at least an enlightened people, and one that, feeling they had rights, wer« determined to maintain those rights at all hazards. Oh, dear, said the Clockmaker, where have you been all your bom days, not to know better nor that ? They don't know nothin' about the matter, nor don't want to. Even them that talk about those things in the assembly don't know much more; but theyjist know enough to ax for what they know they can't get, then call it a grievance, and pick a quarrel about it. Why, they've got all they want, and more nor they could have under us, or any other power on the face of the airth than the English, ay more than they could have if they were on their own hook. They have their own laws, and plaguy queer, oId*fashioned laws they are too : Old Scratch himself couldn't onderstand 'em ; they parley TOO language, religion, old customs and usages, and everything else, and no taxes at all. If such is the case, what makes their leaders discontented! There must be something wrong somewhere, when there is so much disaffection. AH that is the matter may be summed up in one word, said the Clockmaker, French^ devil a thing else but that — French. You can't make an Englishman out of a Frenchman, any more than you can a white man out of a nigger; if the skin ain't different, the tongue is. But, said I, though you cannot make the Ethiopian change his skin, you can make the Frenchman change his language. Ay, now you have it. I guess, s* ' Great man, your Washington, says the doctor. Very, says I; no greater ever lived, p'r'aps the world never seed his ditto. And Papinor is a great man, too, said he. Yery, said I, espe- cially in the talking line; he'*d beat Washinton at that game, I guess, by a long chalk. I hope, says he, some day or another, Mr. Slick, and not far off neither, we shall be a free and inde- pendent people, like you. We shall be the France of America afore long — the grand nation — the great empire. It's our des- tiny, everything foretells it; I can see it as plain as can be. Thinks I to myself, this is a good time to broach our interests; and if there is to be a break-up here, to put in a spoke in the wheel for our folks — a stitch in time saves nine. So, says I, you needn't flatter yourselves, doctor; you can't be a distinct nation; it ain't possible in the natur^ o^ things. You may jine us, if you like, and there would be some sense in that move, — that's a fact; but you never can stand alone here, no more than a lame man can without crutches, or a child of six days old. No, not if all the colonies were to unite, you couldn't do it. Why, says I, jist see here, doctor; you couldn't show your noses on the lishin' ground for one minit, you can hardly do it (iow, even tho' the British have you onder their wing. Our I ^ "■ It •I f * 1 I ■a <^* 4b «i I*' ^!» I 292 THE CLOCKMAKER. folks would drive you off the banks, seize your fi^Ii, tear your nets, and lick you like a sack; and then go home and swear you attacked them first, and our government would seize the fisheries as an indemnification. How could you support an army, and v/ ir-jji ;: J->.'::.(i av !;.»:■ j y-u-i ra-/; J Everything will depend on how the English work it arter- wards; if they blunder ag'in, they'll never be able to set it to rights. What course ought they to adopt ? said I, for the subject is one in which I feel great interest. I'll tell you, said he. First, they should , and he suddenly checked himself, as if doubtful of the propriety of answering the question ; and then smiling, as if he had discovered a mode of escaping the difficulty, he continued, — They should make you plenipo, and appoint m your secretary. - %s/»t?. :\':0| ;.'Yi^A'i. V\^ . X-.J A CURE FOR SMUGGLING. 2d5 CHAPTER XVII ' . ▲ CURE FOR BMUOOLINO. ■ Whbrever nalur* does leasts man does mosl^ said the Clock- maker. Jist see the difference at ween these folks here to Liver- pool and them up the bay of Fundy. There natur' has given them the finest country in the world, — she has taken away all the soil from this place, and chucked it out there, and left Qothin' but rocks and stones here. There they jist vegetate, but here they go a-head like anything. I was credibly informed, irhen Liverpool was first settled, folks had to carry little light ladders on their shoulders to climb over the rocks, and now they've got better streets, better houses, better gardens, and a better town than any of the baymen. They carry on a con- liderable of a fishery here, and do a great stroke in the timber business. I shall nerer forget a talk I had with Ichabod Gates here, and a frolic him and me had with the tide-waiter. Ichabod had a large store o' goods, and I was in there one evenin' adrinkin' tea along with him, and we got atalkin' about smugglin . Says he, Mr. Slick, your people ruin the trade here, they do smuggle so; I don't know as I ever shall be able to get rid of my stock of goods, and it cost me a considerable of a sum too. What a pity it is them navy people, instead of carryin' freights of money from the West Indgies, wam't employed more a protectin' of GUI fisheries and our trade. Why don't you smuggle then too, lays I, and meet 'em in their own way % — tit for tat — diamond cat diamond— smuggle yourselves and seize ihem; — ^free trade and sailor's rights is our maxim. Why, says he, I ain't jist altogether certified that it's right; it goes ag'in my conscience to do ^e like o' that are, and I must say I like a fair deal. Li a gin^ral way a'most, I've observed what's got over the devil's hack is commonly lost onder his belly. It don't seem to wear weU. Well, that's onconyenient too, to be so thin skinned, said 1; for conscience most commonly has a hide as thick as the sole vf one's foot; you may ooTer it with leather to make it look i' i J;vi 206 THE CLOCKMAKEI. f ■ m decent-like, 1)ut it will bear a considerable hard scrubbiu' without anythin^ over it. Now, says I, I will put you on a track that will sarve you without bringin' corns on your conscience cither. Do you jist pretend to smuggle and make believe as if you were agoin' the wliole hog in it. It^s safer and full out as profitable as the rael thing, and besides there'^s no sort o"* risk in it in the world. When folks hear a thing is smuggled they always think it's cheap, and never look into the price; they bite directly— it's a grand bait that. Now always onload your vessels at night, and let folks hear a cart agoin' into your place atween two and three o'clock in the mornin'; fix one o' the axles so it will squeak like a pig, and do you look suspicious, mysterious, and oneasy. Says you, (when a chap says, I guess you were up late last night,) ax rae no questions, and V\\ tell you no lies. There are so many pimpin' eyes about now, a body has to be cautious, if he don't want to get into the centre of a hobble. If Fm up late, I guess its nobody's business but my own I'm about any- how; but I hope you won't make no remarks about what you seed or heerd. Well, when a feller axes arter a thing, do you jist stand and look at him for a space without sayin^ a word, inquirin' like with a dubersum' look, as if you didn't know as you could trust him or no; then jist wink, put your finger on your nose, and say mum is the word. Take a candle and light it, and say, foller me now, and take him into the cellar. Now, says you, friend, don't betray me, I beseech you, for your life; don't let on to any one about this place;— people will never think o' su^ pectin' me, if you only keep dark about it. Fll let you see some things, says you, that will please you, I know; but dont blow me — that's a good soul. This article, says you, atakiii' up one that cost t-hree pounds, I can afford to let you have as low BS five pounds, and that one as cheap as six pounds, on one condition, — but mind you it's on them tarms only, — ^and that if, that you dou't tell any one, not even your wife, where you got it; but you must promise me on the word and honour of a man. The critter will fall right into the trap, and swear by all that's good he'll never breathe it to a livin' soul, and then go right off and tell his wife, and you might as well pour a thing into a filterin' stone as into a woman's ear; it will run righi A CUBB FOB SMUGOLINO. 297 f you were \ profitable n it in the ways think directly— Is at night, en two and } so it will ;erious, and rere up late ies. There be cautious, If Tm up about any- it nvhat you st stand and ^quirin like could trust thro*, and she'll go ahraggin^ to her neighbours of the bargain they got, and swear them to secrecy, and they'll tell the whole country in the same way, as a secret of the cheap things Ichabod Gates hii8. Well, the excise folks will soon hear o' this, and come and sarch your house from top to bottom, and the sarch will make your fortin", for, as they can't find nothin', you will get the credit of d(^in' the officers in great style. Well, w<*ll, said Ichabod, if you Yankees don't beat allnatur*. I don't believe on my soul there's a critter in all Nova Scotia would athought o** such a scheme as that, but it's a grand joke, and comports with conscience, for it paralls pretty close with the truth : I'll try it. Try it, says I, to be sure; let'*s go right 3ff this blessed night, and hide away a parcel of your goods in the cellar, — put some in the garrat and some in the gig-house. Begin and sell to-morrow, and all the time I'm to Liverpool I'll keep a runnin'* in and out o^ your house; sometimes I'll jist come to the comer of the fence, put my head over and draw it back ag'in, as if I didn't want folks to see roe, and sometimes I'll make as if I was agoin' out, and if I see any one ncomin** I'll spring back and hide behind the door : it will set the whole town on the look-out, — and they'll say it's me that asmugglin either on my own hook or youm. In three days he had a great run o' custom, particularly arter night-fall. It was fun alive to see how the critters were bammed by that hoax. On the fifth day the tide-waiter came. Mr. Slick, says he, I've information th . Glad to hear it, says I: an officer without information would be a poor tool — that's a fact. Well, it brought him up all astandin'. Says he, Do you know who Tou are atalkin to ? Yes, says I, I guess I do ; I'm talkin' to a man of information, and that bein' the case, I'll be so bold as to ax you one question, — have you anything to say to me, for Tm in a considerable of a hurry? Yes, said he, I have. I'm informed you have smuggled goods in the house. Well, then, says I, you can say what many galls can't boast on at any rate. What's that ? says he. Why, says I, that you are »iii«informed. Mr. Gates, said he, give me a candle — I must go to the cellar. Sartainly, sir, said Ichabod, you may sarch where yon please : IVe never smuggled yet, and I am not agoin' now to commence at my time of life. As soon as he got the candies ! k •:'J3 THE CLOCKMAKER. ,■ Al'. ■I t»&,' «A IOC!," -v. ts ^ and was agoin' down to the cellar with Gates, I called out ta Ichabod. Here, says I, Ich, run quick, for your life — now'a your time ; and off we ran up stairs as bard as we could leg it, and locked the door ; the sarcber beerin^ that, up too and arter us hot foot, and bust open it. As soon as we heerd him adoin' of that, we out o^ the other door and locked that also, and down the back stairs to where we started from. It was some time afore he broke in the second door, and then he follered us down, lookin^ like a proper fool. Til pay you up for this, said he to me. I hope so, said I, and Ichabod too. A pretty time o^ day this when folks can tare and race over a decent man's house, and smash all afore him this way for nothin', ain't it ? Them doors you broke all to pieces >vill come to sunthin', you may depend ; — a joke is a joke, but that's no joke. Arter that he took his time, searched the cellar, upper rooms, lower rooms, and garret, and found nothin^ to seize ; be was all cut up, and amazin' vexed ancl put out. Says I, Friend, if you want to catch a weasel, you must catch him asleep ; now, if you want to catch me a £;mugglin', rise considerably airly in the mornin', ^vill you? This story made Ichabod^s fortin^ a'most; he had smug- gled goods to sell for three years, and yet no one could find him in the act, or tell where onder the sun he had him 'em away to. At last the secret leaked out, and it fairly broke up smugglin on the whole shore. That story has done more nor twenty officers — that's a fact. There's nothin' a'most, said the Clockmaker, I like so much as to see folks cheat themselves. I don't know as I ever cheated a man myself in my life : I like to do things above board handsum', and go strait ahead ; but if a chap seems bent on cheatin' himself, I like to be neighbourly and help him to do it. I mind once, when I was to the eastward of Halifax atradin', I bought a young horse to use while I gtive old Clay a run to grass. I do that most every fall, and it does the oli critter a deal of p;ood. He kinder seems to take a new leas every time, it sets him up so. "Well, he was a most aspecial horse, but he had an infarnal temper, and it required all hit knowledge of horse flesh to manage him. He'd kick, sulk, back, bite, refuse to draw, or run away, jist as he took the notion. I mastered him, but it was jist ai much as a baigain I ■* r '* ■AZ* .I- f. I '' •■ M 1 7 3i 4 «' . 1 ^ ■ » - K^ .•■(SI ' ;»««' *(*' «i'i .■1 ,^!r-'W 'r« -M^ ;*■ '' >t V' " ■»- . , - 4.T i' ■fi ■' i '^e ' 1 4 ■J, f^' '& kick, says I. Til put a back strap on Lim, said lie. He ^il: go backwards faster than forward, said I. I will give him the whip and teach him better, says he: Well, says I, alarfin'' like anything, he won''t go at all sometimes. I'll take my chance of that, said he ; but you must take off that five pounds. "Well, says I, parson, I don''t want to sell you the horse — that^'s a fuct ; but if you must have him, I suppose you must, and I will Bubstract the five pounds on one condition, and that is, if you don''t like the beast, you tell folks that you would have liim, tho^ I tried to set him out as bad as I could, and said every. thin' of him I could lay my tongue to. Well, says he, the horse is mine, and if he don''t suit me, I acquit you of all blame. Well, he took the horse, and cracked and boasted most pro> digiously of him; he said he wouldn't like to take a hundred pounds for him; that he liked to buy a horse of a Yankee, for they were such capital judges of horse-flesh they hardly ever a'most had a bad one, and that he knew he was agoin' to get a first-chop one, the moment he found I didn't want to sell him, and that he never saw a man so loath to part with a beast. Oh dear! how I larfed in my sleeve when 1 heerd tell of the gooney talkin such nonsense ; thinks I, he'll live to larn yet some things that ain't writ down in Latin afore he dies, or I'm mistakened — that's all. In the course of a few days the horse began to find he'd changed hands, and he thought he'd try what sort o' stuff his new master was made on; so he ist took the bit in his mouth one fine momin', and ran off with him, and kicked his gig all to flinders, and nearly broke the parson's neck; and findin' that answer, he took to all his old tricks ag'in, and got worse than ever. He couldn't do nothin' with him, — even the helps were frightened out of their lives to go into the stable to him, he skeered them so. So he come to me one day lookin' quite streaked, and, says he, Mr. Slick, that horse I bought of you is a perfect devil; I never saw such a critter in my life; I can neither ride him nor drive him. He jist does what he pleases with us, and we can t help ourselves nohow. He actilly beats all the unruly animals 1 ever seed in my life. Well, says I, I told you so, minister— I didn't want to sell him to you at all ; but you would haTfl bim. I know yon did, said he; but you larfed so all the tim^ 1 t A CURE fOR SMUGGLING. 801 e. He will ive him the alarfin'* like ly chance of nds. Well, hat'*8 a fact ; and 1 will at is, if you d have l»im, said every. savs he, the of all blame. id most pro- e a hundred Yankee, for liardly ever roiu to get a n't want to )ath to part eeve when 1 links I, he'll Latin afore Ltse of a few Id he thought |de on; so he ran oflf with ■ly broke the Ibis old tricks nothin with lives to go I thought you were in jeest I thought you didn't care to seE him, and jist said so to put me off, jokin'* like : I had no idee you were in aimest : I wouldn't give ten pounds for him. Noi I either, said I; I wouldn't take him as a gift, and be bound to keep him. How could you then, said he, have the conscience to ax me fifty pounds for him, and pocket it so coolly? To pre- vent you from buying him, parson, said I, that was my reason. I did all I could for you, I axed you five times as much as he was worth, and said all I could think on to run him down too; hut you took yourself in. There's two ways of tellin' a thing, said he, Mr. Slick, — in aimest and in jeest. You told it as if ^ou were in jeest, and I took it so; you may call it what you like, but I call it a deception still. Parson, siiys I, how many ways you may have of tellin' a thing I don't know; but I have only one, and that's the true way : I told you the truth, but you didn^t choose to believe it. Now, says I, I feel kinder sorry for you too; but I'll tell you how to get out of the scrape. I can^t take him back, or folks would say it was me and not you that cheated yourself. Do you ship him. You can't sell him here without doin the fair thing, as I did, tellin* all his faults ; and if you do, no soul would take him as a present, for people will believe you, tho* it seems they wont always believe a Clockmaker. Jist send him off to the West Indgies, and sell him at auction there for what he will fetch. He'll bring a good price : and if he gets into a rael right down genufftne horseman'*s hands, there is no better horse. He said nothin\ hut shook his head, as if that cat wouldn't jump. Now, says I, there's another piece of advice VW. give you free gratis for nothin' — never buy a horse on the dealers judg- ment^ or he will cheat you if he can; never buy him on your own, or you will cheat yourself as sure as you are born. In that case, said he, larfin\ a man will be sure to be cheated either way ; how is he to guard ag'in bein' taken in, then ? Well, says I, he stands a fair chance anyway, of bavin' the leake put into him — that''s sartin, for next to womankind there is nothin* so deceitful as horse-flesh that ever I seed yet. Both on 'em are apt to be spoiled in the breakin': both on ^em puzzle the best judges sometimes to tell their age when well vamped up, and it takes some time afore you find out al their tricks. Pedigree must be attended to in both cases, par :302 THE CLOCKMAKER. ic i > ^f.- I AT ^^"^ 4 ;' • i ticularly on the mother*s side, and both require good training 3 steady hand^ and careful usage. Yes; both branches requiii> great experience, and the most knowin^ ones do get bit some* times most beautiful. Well, says he, as touching horses, how is a man to avoid bein' deceived ? Well, says I, I'll tell you— never l)uy a horse of a total stranger on no account, — never buy a horse of a gentleman, for Why, said he, he's the very man I should like to buy of, above all others. Well, then, says I, he's not the man for my money, anyhow ! you think you are safe with him, and don^t inquire enough, and take too much for grcinted: you are apt to cheat yourself in that case. Never buy a crack horse ; he's done too much. Never buy a colt; he's done too little; you can't tell how he'll turn out. In short, says I, it's a considerable of a long story to go all through with it; it would take me less time to teach you how to make a clock, I calculate. If you buy from a man who ain't a dealer, he actilly don't know whether his horse is a good one or not; you must get advice from a friend who does know. If you buy from a dealer, he is too much for you or your friend either. If he has no honour, don't trade with him. If he has, put your- self wholly and entirely on it, and he'll not deceive you, there's no mistake— he'll do the thing genteel. If you'd a' axed me candidly now about that are horse, says I, I'd At that he looked up to me quite hard for a space, without sayin' a word, but pressed his lips together quite miffy like, as if he was strivin' for to keep old Adam down, and turned short off and walked away. I felt kinder pity for him too ; but if a man is so infarnal wise, he thinks he knows better nor you, and will cheat himself in spite of all you can do, why there is no help for it, as I see, but to let him. Do you, squire ? >n I'. } ji«i CHAPTER XVIII. TAKING OFF THE FACTORT LADIES. There are few countries in the world, squire, said the Clock* maker, got such fine water-powers as these provinces ; but the folks don't make no use of 'em, tho' the materials for factories are spread about in abundance everywhere. Perhaps the whole world might be stumped to produce such a factory stand ai TAXING OFP THE FACTORY LADIES. 30.J Niagara fall; what a nation sight of machinery that woul* carry, wouldn't it ? — supply all Barmin'^ham almost. The first time I returned from there,' minister said, Sam, saia he, you have seen the falls of Niagara? Yes, sir, said I, 1 guess I have. Well, said he, ain^ it a'^most grand sight that ^ I guess it is a scite, says I, and it would he a grand speck to get up a jint stock company for factory purposes, for such another place for mills ainH to he found atweon the poles. Oli dear! said I, only think of the cardin^ mills^ jfiillin^ mills, cotton mills, grain mills, saw mills, plaster mills, and gracious knows what sort o' mills might be put up there, and never fail for water ; any fall you like, and any power you want, and yet tliem goneyf the British let all run away to waste. It's a dread- ful pity, ain't it? Oh Sam ! said he, — and he jumped as if he was bit by a sarpent right up on eend, now don't talk so pro- fane, my sakes ! — don't talk so sacrilegious. How that dread- ful thirst o' gain has absorbed all other feelins in our people, when such an idea could be entertained for a moment ! It's a grand spectacle, it's the voice o' nature in the wilderness, pro- claiming to the untutored tribes thereof the power and majesty and glory of God. It is consecrated by the visible impress of the great invisible Architect. It is sacred ground — a temple not made by hands. . It cannot be viewed without fear and tremblin', nor contemplated without wonder and awe. It pro- claims to man, as to Moses of old, ''Draw not nigh hither, put off thy shoes from thy feet, for the place where thou standest is holy ground." He who appeared in a flame of fire in the bush, and the bush was not consumed, appears also in the rush of water, and the water diminishes not. Talk not to me of mills, factories, and machinery, sir, nor of introducin' the money-changers into the temple of the Lord. Talk not. — You needn't go, said I, minister, for to work yourself up that way ag'in me, I do assure you, for I didn't mean to say nothin' out o' the way at all ; so come now. And now you do mention it, says I, it does seem kinder grand-like — that are great big lake does seem like an everlastin' large milk-pan with a lip for pourin** at the falls, and when it does fall head over heels, all white froth and spray like Phoebe's syllabub, it does look grand, no doubt, and it's nateral for a minister to thok on it as you do; but still for all that, for 304 THE CLOCKMAKEIU K*-' them that ain^t preachers, I defy most any man to see it, with, out thinkin^ of a cotton mill. Well, well, said he awavin'' of his hand; say no more about it, and he walked into his study and shot to the door. He warnH like other men, minister. He was full of crotchets that way, and the sight of the sea, a great storm^ a starry sky, or eren a mere flower, would make him fly right off at the handle that way when you wamH athinkin^ on it at all; and yet for all that lie was the most cheerful critter I ever seed, and nothin^ amost pleased him so much as to see young folks enjoyin^ them- selves as merry as crickets. He used to say that youth, inno- cence, and cheerfulness was what was meant by the three graces, It was a curious kink, too, he took about them falls, warn'*t it ? for, arter all, atween you and me, it''s nothin'* but a river takin a lick orer a cliff full split, instead of Tunnin** down hill the old way — I never hear tell of Vm I don^t think of that tantrum of hisn. Our factories in New England are one of the best fruits of the last war, squire, said he; they are actilly worth seein\ I know I have reason to speak well of ^em, any how, for it was them gave me my first start in life, and a pleasant start it was too, as well as a profitable one. I spent upwards of a year there among the galls, atakin'' of them off in the portrait line, and in that time I cleared three hundred pounds of your money good: it warn'*t so bad that, was it? When I was down to Rhode Island, lamin^ bronzin\ gildin', and sketchin^ for the clock business, I worked at odd times for the Honourable Eli Wad, a foundationalist — apainting for him. A foundationalist, said I; what is that? — is it a religious sect! No, said he; it^s a bottom-maker. He only made bottoms, he didn't make arms and legs, and he sold these wooden bottoms to the chair-makers. He did ^em by a sarcular saw and a tumin lathe, and he turned off amazin^ quick ; he made a fortin out of the invention, for he shipped 'em to every part of the Union. The select men objected to his sign of bottom-maker; they said it didn't sound pretty, and he altered it to foundation- alist. That was one cause the speck turned oui so well, for every one that seed it almost stopt tu inquire what it meant, and it brought his patent into great vogue; many's the larf folks bad over that sign I tell you. ^ TAKING OFF THB FACTORY LADIES. *^l)5 So, said he, when I had done, Slick, said he, you^ve a con • liderable of a knack with the brush, it would be a grand speck for you to go to Lowell and take off the factory ladies; you ^ow what the women are — most all on 'em will want to have their likeness taken. The whole art of portrait paintin\ says he, as far as my obsenration goes, lies in a free sketcht of the leadin** featur. Give it good measure : do you take ? No, says I, I don't onderstand one word of it. "Well, says he, what I mean is this; see what the leadin featur is, and exaggerate that, and you have a strikin' likeness. If the nose is large, jist make it a little more so; if there is a slight cast o' the eye, give it a squint; a strong line in the face^ deepen it; a big mouth, enlarge it; a set smile, make it a smirk; a high cheek bone, square it out well. Reciprocate this by paintin^ the rest o' the face a little handsumer, and you have it complete; you'll never iliil — there's no mistake. Dead colorin'*, with lots of varnish, ynW do for that market, and six dollars apiece for the pictures is about the fair deal for the price. If you don't succeed, I will give my head for a foot-ball. Youll hear *em all say, Oh ! that's her nose to a hair, — that's her eye exactly; you could tell that mouth anywhere, that smile you could swear to as far as you can see it — it's a'most a beautiful likeness. She's taken off complete — it's as nateral as life. You could do one at a sittin', or six a week, as easy as kiss my hand, and I'm athinkin' you'd find it answer a good eend, and put you in funds for a start in the clock line. But, Sam, says he, aputtin' of his hand on my shoulder, and lookin' me strong in the face, mind your eye, my boy; mind you don't get tangled in the deep sea-grass, so you can't clear hand or foot. There are some plaguy pretty galls there, and some on *em have saved a considerable round sum too; don't /et 'em walk into you now afore you know where you be. Young gentlemen are scarce in New England, sweethearts ain't 10 be had for love nor money, and a good lookin' feller like you, with a five hundred pair of pretty little good-natured longin* eyes on him, is in a fair way o' gettin his flint fixed, I tell you. Marriage won't do for you, my hearty, till you've seed the world and made sunthin' handsum. To marry for money is mean, or nuury without it is folly, and to marry both young and poor i« 806 i ' . ' * THE CLOCKMAKER. .4 II 1^' ■' ■» <;' !N ■jc?.- 1; "A » ^''•■■; ;<*!■» ,„, ■■•'-■ ^ '■■'■- downright madness; so hands off, says you; loTe to all, but none in partiklar. If you find yourself agettin spooney, throw brush, palette, and paint over the falls, and off full split; change of air and scene to cure love, consumption, or the blues, must be taken airly in the disease, or it^'s no good. An ounce o' prevention is worth a pound o* cure. Recollect, too, when you are married, you are tied by the leg, Sam; like one of our sodger desarters, you have a chain adanglin' to your foot, with a plaguy heavy shot to the eend of it. It keeps you to one place most all the time, for you can't carry it with you, and you cani leave it behind you, and you can't do nothin' with it. If you think you can trust yourself, go; if not, stay where you be. It's a grand school, tho\ Sam; you'll know sunthin^ of human natur' when you leave Lowell, I estimate, for they'll lam you how to cut your eye-teeth, them galls; you'll see how wonderful the ways of womankind is, for they do beat all— that's sartin. Well, down I went to Lowell, and arter a day or two spent a visitin* the factories and gettin' introduced to the ladies, I got a room and sot up my easel, and I had as much work as ever 1 could cleverly turn my hand to. Most every gall in the place had her likeness taken; some wanted 'em to send to home, some to give to a sweetheart to admire, and some to hang up to admire themselves. The best of the joke was, every gall had an excuse for bein* there. They all seemed as if they thoughi^t warn't quite genteel, a little too much in the help style. One said she came from the benefit of the lecturs at the Lyceum, another to carry a little sister to dancin' school, and a third to assist the fund for foreign missions, and so on, but none on 'em to work. Some on 'em lived in large buildings belongin** to the factory, and others in little cottages — three or four in a house. '<..).;>•., .. ■ . >. .,:; • . I recollect tvvO or three days arter I arrived, I went to call on Miss Naylor, I knew down to Squantuni, and she axed me to come and drink tea with her and the two ladies that lived with her. So in the evenin' I put on my bettermost clothes and went down to tea. This, says she, introducin' of me to the ladies, is Mr. Slick, a Ji&tive artist of great promise, and one that is self-taught too, that is come to take us off; and this is Miss Jemima Potts, of Milldam, in Umbagog; and this is 3Iiss TAKING OFF THE FACTORY LADIES. 307 BInab Dooly, a lady from Indgian Scalp, Yarmont. Your sar* vant, ladies, says 1; I hope I see you well. Beautiful factory this, it whips English all holler; our free and enlightened citizens have exhibited so much skill, and our intelligent and enterprisin' ladies, says I, (with a smile and a bow to each,) so much science and taste, that I reckon we might stump the universal world to ditto Lowell. It sartainly is one of the wonders of the world, says Miss Jemima Potts; it is astonishing how jealous the English are, it makes 'em so ryled they can't bear to praise it at all. There was one on 'em agoin** thro' the large cotton factory to-day with Judge Beler, and says the Judge to him. Now don''t this astonish you ? said he ; don't it exceed any idea you could have formed of it ? you must allow there is nothin' like it in Europe, and yet this is only in its infancy — its onlyjist begun. Come now, confess the fact, don't you feel that the sun of England is set for ever — her glory departed to set up its standard in the new world ? Speak candidly now, for I should like to hear what you think. It certainly is a respectable effort for a young country with a thin population, said he, and a limited capital, and is creditable to the skill and enterprise of New England; but as for rivalry, it's wholly out of the question; and he looked as mad as if he could aswallered a wild cat alive. Well, well, said the Judge, larfin*, for he is a iweet-tempered, dear man, and the politest one too I ever knew, I don't altogether know as it is jist fair to ask you to admit a fact so humblin' to your national pride, and so mortifyin' to your feelins as an Englishman; but I can easily conceive how thunderstruck you must haye been on enterin' this town, at its prodigious power, its great capacity, its wonderful promise. It'f generally allowed to be the first thing of the kind in the world. But what are you a lookin' at, Mr. Slick ? said she ; is there anything on my cheek ? I was only athinkin*, says I, how difficult it would be to paint such a'most beautiful complexion, to infuse into it the softness and richness of natur's colorin'; I'm most afeer'd and it would be beyond my art — that*s a fact. Oh, you artists do flatter so, said she ; tho' flattery is a part of your profession, I do believe ; but I'm e'en a'most sure there is somethin' or another oti my face : — and she got up and looked into the glass to satisfy herself. It would adone you V' «S08 THE CLOCKMAKER. '.#8' -!«' »- . . t ■ 1 1' good, squire^ to see how it did satisfy her too. How manj of the ladies have you taken ofF? said Miss Dooly. I have onlj painted three, said I, yet; but I have thirty bespoke. How would you like to be painted, said I, miss ? On a white horse, said she, accompanyin of my father, the General, to the review. And you, said I, Miss Naylor ? Astudyin' Judge Naylor, mj iLncIe's specimens, said she, in the library. Says Miss Jemima, T should like to be taken off in my brother's barge. What is !ie^ said I, for he would have to have his uniform on. He! 4aid she ; — why, he is a , and she looked away and coloured up like anything — he's an officer, sir, said she, in one of our national ships. Yes, miss, said I, I know that ; but officers are dressed accordin' to their grade, you know, in our sarvice. We must give him the right dress. What is his grade ? The other two ladies turned round and giggled, and Miss Jemima hung down her head and looked foolish. Says Miss Naylor, \v}iy don't you tell him, dear ? No, says she, T won't ; do you tell him. No, indeed, said Miss Naylor; he is not my brother; you ought to know best what he is ; — do you tell him yourself. Oh, you know very well, Mr. Slick, said she, only you malce as if you didn't, to poke fun at me, and make me say it. I hope I may be shot if I do, says I, miss ; I never heerd tell of him afore, and if he is an officer in our navy, there is one thing I can tell you, says I, you needn't be ashamed to call one of our naval heroes your brother, nor to tell his grade neither, for there ain't an office in the sarvice that ain't one of honour and glory. The British can whip all the world, and we can whip the British. Well, says she, alookin' down and takin' up her handkerchief, and turnin' it eend for eend to read the marks in the comer of it, to see if it was hem or not,— if I must, then I suppose I must ; he is a rooster swain, then, but it^s a shame to make me. A rooster swain I says I ; well, I vow I never heerd that grade afore in all my bom days ; I hope I may die if I did. What €ort of a swain is a rooster swain ? How you do act, Mr. Slick, ^id she; ain't you ashamed of yourself? Do, for gracious Kake, behave, and not carry on so like Old Scratch. You are goin* too far now : ain't he. Miss Naylor ? Upon my word I ion't know what you mean, said Miss Naylor, affectin' to look TAKING OFF THI VCTORY lADIES. 9C\ as innocent as a female fox : I'l not used 'o tea-tarms, and ' don't onderstand it no more than Ue does and Miss Dooly ^ up a book, and began to read and rock h. rseif 1 '•kward >ii(| forward in a chair, as rigilar as a Mississippi s-> ver, a^ d aa demure as you please. "Well, thinks I, what ond^ the su , cai» she mean? for I can't make head nor tail of i^ A rooster swain ! — a rooster swain ! says I : do tell. — Well, says she, you make me feel quite spunky, and if you don't stop this minit, I'll go right out of the room ; it ain'*t fair to make game of me so, and I don't thank you for it one mite or morsel. Says I, miss, I beg your pardon ; I'll take my davy I didn't mean no offence at all; but, upon my word and honour I never heerd the word rooster swain afore, and I don't mean to larf at your brother, or teaze you neither. Well, says she, I suppose you never will ha* done, so turn away your face and I will tell you. And she got up and turned my head round with her hands to the wall, and the other two ladies started out, and said they'd go and see arter the tea. Well, says I, are you ready now, miss ? Yes, said she ; a rooster swain, if you must know, you wicked critter you, is a cockswain; a word you know'd well enough warn't fit for a lady to speak ; so take that to remember it by, — and she fetched me a deuce of a clip on the side of the face, and ran out of the room. Well, I swear I could hardly keep from larfin* right out, to find out arter all it was nothin' but a cockswain sh& made such a touss about ; but I felt kinder sorry, too, to have bothered her so, for I recollect there was the same difficulty among our ladies last war about the name of the English officer that took Washington ; they called him always the " British Admiral,'' and there warn't a lady in the Union would call him by name. I'm a great friend to decency, a very great friend indeed, squire, — for decency is a manly vartue ; and to delicacy, for delicacy is a feminine vartue ; but as for squeamishness, rat i me if it don't make me sick. There was two little rooms behind the keepin* room ; one wat a pantry, and t'other a kitchen. It was into the fardest one the ladies went to get tea ready, and presently they brought in the things and sot them down on the table, and we all got sociable once more* Jist as we began conversation ag^'in, Miss #1 « .310 THE CLOCKMAKER. ri» •-m ■ § ; H Jemimn Potts said she must go and bring in the jrcani-ju^ Well, up I jumps, and foUers her out and says I, Pray let mii, diiss, wait upon you ; it ain'*t fair for the ladies to do thii when the gentlemen are by — is it ? Why didn't you call on me? I overtook her jist at the kitchen door. But this door-way, ■aid I, is so plaguy narrer, — ain't it? There is hardly room fcf two to pass without their lips atouchin\ is there ? Ain't yon ashamed? said she : I believe you have broke my comb in tvro^ —that's a fact ; — but don't do that ag'in, said she, awhisperin',— that's a dear man ; Miss Dooly will hear you, and tell evorj lady in the factory, for she's plaguy jealous ; — so let me paw now. One more to make friends, said I, miss. Hush I said she, — there — let me go ; and she put the jug in my hand, and then whipped up a plate herself, and back into the parlour in no time. , A curtain, says I, ladies, (as I sot down ag'n,) or a book shelf, I could introduce into the pictur', but it would make it a work o* great time and expense, to do it the way you speak of; and, besides, says I, who would look at the rest if the face was well done? for one thing, I will say, three prettier faces never nat seen painted on canvass. Oh, Mr. Slick, says they, how yoa bam ! ain't you ashamed ? Fact, says I, ladies, upon my ho- nour: a fact, and no mistake. If you would allow me, ladies, said I, to suggest, I think hair done up high, long tortoise-shell comb, with flowers on the top, would become you. Miss Naylor, and set off your fine Grecian face, grand. A fashionable mornin^ cap, lined with pink and trimmed with blue bows, would set off your portrait, Miss Dooly, and become your splendid Roman profile complete. And what for me? said Jemima. If I might be so bold, said I, I would advice leavin' out the comb in your case, miss, said I, as you are tall, and it might perhaps be in the way, and be broke in two (and I pressed her foot ond« the table with mine); and I would throw the hair into long loose nateral curls, and let the neck and shoulders be consider- able b:ire, to give room for a pearl necklace, or coral beads, or any little splendid ornament of that kind. Miss Jemima looked rvuite delighted at this idea, and jumpin' up, exclaimed. Dear me, laid she, I forgot the sugar-tongs! I'll jist go and fetch %in. Allow me, tays I, miss, follerin' her; but ain't it fiinDf TAKING OFF THE FACTORY LAD ES. 311 face was well , tays I too, that >ve should jist get scroudged ng'in in this ery identical little narrer door-way, — ain't it? How you act, Isiiid she; now this is too bad; the curl is all squashed, I declare; I won't come out ag'in to-night, I vow. Nor I neitlier then, said I, larfin'; let them that wiints things go for 'em. Then you couldn't introduce the specimens, could you? said Miss Nay lor, the judge, my uncle, has a beautiful collection. When he wag [in business as a master mason, he built the great independent Democratic Sovereignty Hall at Sam Patchville (a noble buildin* hat, Mr. Slick; it's generally allowed to be the first piece oi irchitecture in the world). He always broke off a piece oi erery kind of stone used in the buildin"*, and it makes it a'most I a complete collection. If I could be taken off at a table astudyin* and asortin' *em into primary formations, secondary formations, and trap, I should like it amazingly. Well, says I, I'll do the best I can to please you, miss, for I never hear of secondary formations without pleasure, that's a tact. The ladies, you know, are the secondary formation, for they were formed arter men, and as for trap, says I, if they ain't up to that, it's a pity. Why, as I'm alive, said I, if that ain't the nine o'clock bell; well, how time has flowed, hasn't it? I suppose I must be amovin', as it is gettin' on considerable late, but I must say I've had a most delightful evenin' as ever 1 spent in my life. When a body, says I, finds himself in a circle of literary and scientific ladies, he takes no note of time, it passes so smooth and quick. Now, sajs I, ladies, excuse me for mentionin' a little bit of business, but it is usual in my pro- fession to be paid one half in advance; but with the ladies I dispense with that rule, says I, on one condition, — I receive a kiss as airnest. Oh, Mr. Slick, says they, how can you? No kiss, no pictur, says I. Is that an invariable rule? says they. 1 never deviated from it in my life, said I, especially where the ladies are so beautiful as my kind friends here to-night are. Thank you, my sweet Miss Naylor, said I. Oh, did you tver f said she. And you aho, dear Miss Dooly. Oh, my lakes, said she, how on decent! I wish I could take my pay iltogether in that coin, said I. Well, you'll get no such aimest from me, I can tell you, said Miss Jemima, and off she sot and darted out o' the room like a kitten, and I arter her. Oh! that 312 THE CLOCfKMAKER. I 4r» J' 4 «■# \ f K.' . ■-■•< 1. ■' }■ . J « ■' ' I IV dear little narrer door- way seems made on purpose, said I, don'i it? AVell, I hope you are satisfied now, said she, you forward, impudent critter; youVe taken away my breath a'most. Good night, ladies, said I. Good night, Mr. Slick, says they; don't forget to call and take us off to-morrow at intermission. And, lays Miss Jemima, walkin' out as far as the gate with me, when not better engaged, we shall be happy to see you sociably to tea. Most happy, miss, said I; only I fear I shall call oftener than will be agreeable; but dear me! says I, I've forgot some- thin' I declare, and I turned right about. Perhaps you forgot it in the little narrer door- way, said she, alarfin' and steppin' backwards, and holdin' up both hands to fend off. What is it? •aid she, and she looked up as saucy and as rompy as you please. Why, said I, tha« dreadful horrid name you called your brother. What was it? for I've forgot it, I vow. Look about and find it out, said she; it's what you ain't, and never was, and never will be, and that's a gentleman. You are a nasty, dirty, ondecent man, — that's flat, and if you don't like it you may lump it, so there now for you; good night. But stop, shake hands afore you go, said she ; let's part friends, and she held out her hand. Jist as I was agoin' to take it, it slipt up like flash by my face, and tipt my hat off over my shoulder, and as I turned and stooped to pick it up she up with her little foot and let me have it, and pitched me right over on my knees. It was done as quick as wink. Even and quit now, said she, as good friends as ever. Done, said I. But hush, said she; that critter has the ears of a mole, and the eyes of a lynx. What critter? said I. Why, that frightful, ugly Varment witch, Binah Dooly, if she ain't acomin' out here, as I'm a livin' sinner. Come again soon, that's a dear! good night! and she sailed back as demure as if nothin' had ahappened. Tes, squire, the Honourable Eli Wad, the foundationalist, was right when he said I'd see sunthin' of human natur' among the factory galls. The ways of womankind are wonderful indeed. This was my first lesson, that squeamishness and indelicacy an xfien found united; in shorty that in manners^ as in other thin£,s^ txtremes m::et. ■ ! ' J THE SCHOOLMASTER 4BR0AD. 313 laid I, don't ou forward, iost. Good they; don't sion. And, h me, when , sociably to call oftener brgot some- 3 you forgot ind steppin' What is it? mpy as you i you called vow. Look 't, and never You are a I don't like it t. But stop, inds, and she ^t, it slipt up ;houlder, and ler little foot m my knees. iw, said she, ib, said she; s of a lynx. ;ly Varmont Te, as I'm a |d night! and )ened. Yes, ^st, was right among the jvful indeed. udelicactf an other Ihingh :r CHAPTER XIX. THE SCHOOLMASTER ABRIMLD The road from Chester to Halifax is one of the worst in the province^ and daylight failing us before we made half our journey, we were compelled to spend the night at a small un- licensed house, the occasional resort of fishermen and coasters. There was but one room in the shanty, besides the kitchen and bedroom; and that one, though perfectly clean, smelt intolerably of smoked salmon that garnished its rafters. A musket, a light fowling-piece, and a heayy American rifle, were slung on the beams that supported the floor of the garret; and snow-shoes, fishing-rods, and small dip-nets with long ash handles, were se- cured to the wall by iron hooks. Altogether it had a sporting appearance, that indicated the owner to be one of those amphi- bious animals to whom land or water is equally natural, and \rho prefer the pleasures of the chase and the fishery to the CDYerer labour, but more profitable employment, of tilling the soil. A few fancy articles of costly materials and superior workmanship that ornamented the mantel-piece and open closet, (probably presents from the gentlemen of the garrison at Hali- fax,) showed that there were sometimes visiters of a different description from the ordinary customers. As the house was a lolitary one, and situated at the head of a deep, well-sheltered inlet, it is probable that smuggling may have added to the pro- fits, and diversified the pursuits of the owner. He did not, however, make his appearance. He had gone, his wife said, in his boat that afternoon to Margaret's bay, a distance of eight miles, to procure some salt to cure his fish, and would probably not return before the morning. .. T I've been here before, you see, squire, said Mr. Slick, pointing to a wooden clock in the corner of the room; folks that have nothin* to do like to see how the time goes, — and a man who takes a glass of grog at twelve o'clock is the most punctual feller in the world. The draft is always honoured when it falls due. But who have we here ? As he said this, iuin entered the room, carrying a small bundle in his hand, 2J !■ \% 314 ...1 THE CLOCKMAKBIU i,T « i i :»«« *» f% m yr " f <^; ■lu ..-#1 1 \ i tied up in a dirty silk pocket-handkerchief. He Avas dressoi! in an old suit of rusty black, much the worse for wear. Hi] face bore the marks of intemperance, and he appeared mucii | fatigued with his journey, which he had performed alone uul on foot I hope I don't intrude, gentlemen, said he; but you see Dulhanty, poor fellow, has but one room, and poyertr| makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows sometimci Brandy, my little girl, and some cold water : take it out of th north side of the well, my dear; and, do you hear, be quick, I for I'm choked with the dust. Gentlemen, will you take some brandy and water? said he. Dulhanty always keeps some goo] | brandy; none o' your wretched Yankee peach brandy, thats enough to pyson a horse, but real Cogniak. Well, I don't care | if I do, said Mr. Slick. Arter you, sir. By your leave, the water, sir. Gentlemen, all your healths, said the stran)];er. Good brandy, that, sir; you had better take another glass b^ I tore the water gets warm, — and he helped himself again most liberally; then taking a survey of the Clockmaker and myself observed to Mr. Slick that he thought he had seen him before.] Well, it^s not onlikely; — where? ■5 Ah, that's the question, sir; I cannot exactly say where. Nor I neither. Which way may you be travellin'? Down east, I expect Which way are you from then? Somewhere down south. The traveller again applied himself to brandy and water. Ahem! then you are from Lunenborg. Well, I won't say I wamt at Lunenburg. Aheml pretty place that Lunenburg; but they speak Dutch D — ^n the^Dutch; I hate Dutch: there's no language like ttej English, i.'^i*- '• - "/ Then I suppose you are going to Halifax? Well, I won't say I won't go to Ilalifax afore I ntw neither. A nice town that Halifax — good fishmarket there; but thej i4 ore not like the EngliiSh fish arter all. Halibut is a poor sub 5 stitute for the good old English turbot. Where did yousai i" you were from, sir? I don't jist altogether mind that I said I was from any pla particklar, but from down south last. , a • THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD. 315 Ahem! your health, sir; perhaps you are like myself, sir, • ftrauger, and have no home: and after all, there is no home like England. Pray what part of England are you from? ] I estimate Vm not from England at all. I'm sorry for you, then: but where the devil are you from? In a gineral way folks say Fm from the States. Knock them down then, d — n them. If any man was to insult me by calling me a Yankee, I^d kick him; but the Yankees have no seat of honour to kick. If I hadn't been thinkin' more of my brandy and water than your answers, I might have known you were a Yankee by your miserable evasions. They never give a straight answer; there's nothing straight about' them but their long backs; and he was asleep in his chair, overcome by the united efiPects of the heat, the brandy and fatigue. That's one o' their schoolmasters, said Mr. Slick; and it's na wonder the Blue-noses are such 'cute chaps when they got such masters as that are to teach the young idea how to shoot. The critter has axed more questions in ten minutes that if he was a full-blooded Yankee, thou' he does hate them so peeoW" erfully. He's an Englishman, and, I guess, has seen better days; but he is ruinated by drink now. When he is about half shaved he is an everlastin' quarrelsom' critter, and car- ries a most plaguy uncivil tongue in his head: that's the reason 1 didn't let on where I came from, for he hates us like pyson. But there ain't many such critters here; the English don't €migrate here much, — they go to Canada or the States: and it's strange too, for, squire, this is the best location in all America, is Nova Scotia, if the British did but know it. It will have the greatest trade, the greatest population, the most manufacturs, and the most wealth of any state this side of the water. The resources, nateral advantages, and political position of this place beat all. Take it all together, I don't know jist such a country in the univarsal world a'most. What. Nova Ssotia? said T; this poor little colony, this Ultima Thule of America; what is ever to make it a place of any conse- quence? Everything, squire, said he, everything that consti-. tutes greatness. I wish we had it, that's all; and we witt liare it too some o' these days if they don't look sharp. In »■• »*j | cessary for trade, are not the only things requisite in commerce. But it's in the midst of the fisheries, squire; all sorts of fishe- ries too. River fisheries of shad, salmon, gasperaux, and her- ring, shore fishery of mackerel and cod, bank fishery, and La- brador fishery. Oh dear! it beats all, and they don't do nothin^j with 'em, but leave 'em to us. They don't seem to think 'em | worth havin' or keepin', for government don't protect 'em. See what a school for seamen that is, to man the ships t»| fill the harbours. Then look of the beeowells of the airth; only think of the I coal^ and it's no use atalkin', that's the only coal to supply us that we can rely on. Why, there ain't nothin' like it. It ex- tends all the way from Bay of Fundy right out to Pictou tliro' the province, and then under all the island of Cape Breton; and some o' them seams are the biggest, and thickest, and deepest ever yet discovered since the world began. Beautiful coal it i$l too. Then natur' has given 'em most grand abundant irnn-oreJ jiere and there and everywhere, and wood and coal to work it. Only think o' them two things in such abundance, and a countrjl possessed of the first chop-water powers everywhere, and theDl tell me Providence hasn'*t laid the foundation of a manufacturin [ nation here. But that ain't all. Jist see the plaster of PanU what almighty big heaps of it there is here. We use alreadn more nor a hundred and fifty thousand tons of it a year fori manure, and we shall want ten times that quantity yet, — wel «an't do ^ithout it: it has done more for us than steam; it ha»| Jnade our barren lands fertile, and whole tracts habitable, thatl ^•Ter would have been worth a cent an acre without it. It vrill| THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD. 317 go to Soutli America and the West Indgies yet— it is the magio tviind — it's the philosophers stone; I hope I may he shot if it ain't; it turns all it touches into gold. See what a sight of •vessels it takes to carry a great hulky article like that — what a •sight of men it employs, what a host of folks it feeds, what a batcli of sailors it bakes, what hardy tars for the wooden walls of Old England. But Old England is as blind as a bat, and Blue-nose is a puppy only nine days old; he can't see yet. If the critter was well trained, had his ears cropped and tongue wormed, he might turn out a decent-lookin' whelp yet, for the old one is a good nurse and feeds well. Well, then, look at the lead, copper, slate, (and as for slate, they may stump Wales, I Jtnow, to produce the like,) granite, grindstone, freestone, lime, manganese, salt, sulphur. Why, they're got everything but enterprise, and that I do belieye in my soul they expect to find » mine of, and dig up out of the ground as they do coal. But the soil, squire, where will you find the like o' that? A con- siderable part of it along the coast is poor, no doubt; but it's the fishin' side of the proyince, ^and therefore it's all right; but the bay side is a tearin', lippin' fine country. Them dyke mashes have raised hay and grain year arter year now for a whole centery without manur, and I guess will continue to do 80 from July to etamity. Then natur has given them that sea- mud, salt-sand, sea-weed, and river-sludge for dressin' their up- land, so that it could be made to carry wheat till all's blue again. If it possesses all these advantages you speak of, said I, it vi\\\ doubtless be some day or another both a populous and rich country; but still it does not appear to me that it can be com- pared to the country of the Mississippi. Why, squire, said he, if you was once to New Orleens I think you wouldn't say so. That is a great country, no doubt, too great to compare to a small province like this; great resources, great river, fartile land, great trade; but the climate is awful, and the emigrant people ain't much better than the climate. The folks at New Orleen.. put me in mind of children playin in a churchyard, jumpin ^Ter the graves, hidin' behind the tombs, alarfin at the emblems of mortality, and the queer old rhymes onder 'em, all full of life «nd glee, and fun above ground, while ondemeath it is a grea» duuruel-house, full of windin'-sheets, skeletons, and ^{eiieratiouft 318 THE CLOCKMAKER. *;» ins ». 1:^ I:; 4' -p i' AiJi I h-^4 i.1- of departed citizens. That are place is built in a bar in the harbor, made of snags, driftwood, and chokes, heaped up by the river, and then filled and covered with the sediment and alluvial of the rich bottoms above, brought down by the freshets. It's peopled in the same way. The eddies and tides of business of all that country centre there, and the froth and scum are washed up and settle at New Orleens. It's filled with all sorts of people, black, white, and Indgians, and their diflferent shades, French, Spanish, Portuguese, and Dutch; English, Irish, and Scotch, and then people from every state in the Union. These last have all nicknames. There's the ho49siers of Indiana, the suckers of lUi^ioy, the pukes of Missuri, the buckeys of Ohio, the red horses of Kentucky, the mudheads of Tenessee, the •wolverines of Michigan, the eels of New England, and the corn- cirackers of Virginia. All these, with many others, make up the population, which is mottled with black and all its shades; 'most all too is supplied by emigration. It is a great caravan- sary filled with strangers, dissolute enough to make your hair stand an eend, drinkin' all day, gamblin' all night, and fightin' all the time. Death pervades all natur' there; it breathes in the air, and it floats on the water, and rises in the vapours and exhalations, and rides on the whirlwind and tempest: it dwells on the drought, and also in the inundation. Above, below, within, around, everywhere is death; but who knows, or misses^ or mourns the stranger? Dig a grave for him, and you plunge him into the water, — the worms eat the coffin, and the croco- diles have the body. We have mills to Rhode Island with sar- cular saws, and apparatus for makin' packin'-boxes. At one of these factories they used to make 'em in the shape of coffins, and then they sarved a double purpose; they carried out inions to New Orleens, and then carried out the dead to their graves. That are city was made by the freshets. It's a chance if it ain't carried away by them. It may yet be its fate to be swep: clean off by *em, to mingle once more with the stream that de- posited it, and form new land further down the river. It may chance to be a spot to be pointed out from the steam-boats as the place where a great city once stood, and a great battle \va» I once fought, in which the genius and valour of the new world | triumphed over the best troops and the best ginerals of Europe TOE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD. 319 That place is jist like a hot-bed, and the folk like the plants in it. People do grow rich fast; but they look kinder spindlin and weak, and they are e'en a'most choked with weeds and toad- stools, that grow every bit and grain as fiut, and twice as nateral. The Blue-noses don't know how to Tsly this location, squire, that's a fact, for its a'most a grand one. What's a grand location? said the schoolmaster, wakin' up. Xoya Scotia, said Mr. ^ick, I was just atellin' of the squire it's grand location. D — n the location, said he; I hate the word ; it ain't English : there are no words like the English words. Here, my little girl, more brandy, my deal., and some fresh water ; mind it's fresh, — take it out of the bottom of the well, do you hear? the coldest spot in the well ; apd be quick : for Tm burnt up with the heat to-day. Who's for a pull of grog ? suppose we have a pull, gentlemen — a good puU, and a strong pull, and a pull altogether, eh ! Here's to yo gentlemen ! — ah, that's good ! you are sure of good brandy j ere. I say. Mister Loca- tion, won't you moisten the clay, eh? Come, my honest fellow! Ill take another glass with you to our better acquaintance :— you won't,- eh? well, then, 1*11 supply your deficiency myself; here's luck! Where did you say you were from, sir? I don't mind that I indicated where I was jist in pitikilar. No, you didn't; but I twig you now, my boy, Sam Slick, the clockmaker! And so you say this is a nice location, do you ? Yes, it is a nice /ocation indeed for a gentleman this— a /ocation for pride and poverty, for ignorance and assumption, for folly and vice. Carse the location ! I say; there'^s no location like Old England. This is a poor man's country, sir; but not a rich man's or a gentleman's. There's nothin' this side of the water, sir, ap- proachin' to the class of gentry. They have neither the feelings, the sentiments, nor the breeding. They know nothing about it. What little they have here, sir, are second-hand airs copied from Door models that necessity forceiS out here. It is the farce of high life below stairs, sir, played in a poor theatre to a provincial audience. Poor as I am, humble a& I am^ and degraded as I im, — ^for I am now all three, — I have seen better days, and wa* not always the houseless wanderer you now see me. I know what lam talking about. There is nothing beyond respectable me- ^ocrity here ; there never can be, th ere is no material for ik, 3*20 THE CLOCKMAKER. •J..V. *" "■* ( \ .0 ^ ^ if" there is nothing to support it. Some fresh water, my dear ; that horrid water is hot enough to scald one^s throat. The worst of a colony is, sir, there is no field for amhition, no room for talents, no reward for distinguished exertions. It is a rich country for a poor man, and a poor country for a rich one. There is no per- manent upper class of society here, or anywhere else in America There are rich men, learned men, agreeable men, liberal men, and good men, but very few gentlemen. The breed ain''t pure; it is not kept long enough distinct to refine, to obtain the di^ tinctire marks, to become generic. Dry work this talkin'*;— > your health, gentlemen! — a good fellow that Dulhanty, sup. pose we drink his health f he always keeps good brandy ; there's not a head-ache in a gallon of it. What was I talking about ? Oh ! I have it-— the location, as those drawling Yankees call it. Yes, instead of importing horses here from England to improye the breed, they should im- port gentlemen; they want the true breed, they want blood. Yes, said the Glockmaker, (whom I had never known to remai^i silent so long before,) I guess. Yes, d — n you ! said the stranger, what do you know about it? you know as much about a gentle- man as a cat does of music. If you interrupt me again, III knock your two eyes into one, you clockmaking, bumpkin- headed, peddling, cheating, Yankee vagabond. The sickly wax- work imitation of gentility here, the faded artificial flower of fi^ishion, the vulgar pretension, the contemptible struggle forpre^ cedence, make one look across the Atlantic with a longing after the freshness of nature, for life and its realities. AH North America is a poor country, with a poor climate. I would not give Ireland for the whole of it. This Nova Scotia is the best part of it, and has the greatest resources ! but still there is no field in a colony for a man of talent and education. Little ponds never hold big fish; there is nothing but poUywogs, tadpoks. and minims in them. Look at them as they swim thro' the •hallow water of the margins of their little muddy pool, following some small fellow a inch long, the leader of the shoal, that thinks himself a whale, and if you do not despise their pretensions, you will, at leasts be compelled to laugh at their absurdities. Go to every legislature this side of the water from Congress to Halifax, and hear the stuff that is talked. Gp to every press, and see THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD. 321 (he stuff that is printed ; go to the people, and see the stuff that I is uttered or swallowed, and then tell me this is a location for anything ahove mediocrity. What keeps you here then ? said Mr. Slick, if it is such an everlastin miserable country as you lay it out to be. TU tell you, sir, said he, and he drained ofl the whole of the brandy, as if to prepare for the effort— I will tell you what keeps me, and he placed his hands on his knees. iind looking the Glockmaker steadily in the face until every muscle worked with emotion — I'll tell you, sir, if you must know — my misfoitune. The effort and the brandy overpowered liim; he fell from his chair, and we removed him to a bed, loosened his cravat, and left him to his repose. It's a considerable of a trial, said the Clockmaker, to sit still and listen to that cussed old critter, I tell you. If you hadn't abeen here, I'd agiv'n him a rael good quiltin*. I^d atanned his jacket for him; Vd alamed him to carry n civil tongue in his head, the nasty, drunken, onmannerly, good-for-nothin* beast; more nor once I felt my fingers itch to give him a slock-dolager onder the ear; but he ain't worth mindin', I guess. Yes, squire, I won't deny but New Orleens is a great place, a wonderful place; but there are resources here beyond all conception, and its climate is as pleasant as any we have, and a plaguy sight more healthy. I don't know what more you'd ask, almost an island indented everywhere with harbours surrounded with fish eries. The key of the St. Lawrence, the Bay of Fundy, and the West Indgies; prime land above, one vast mineral bed kneath, and a climate over all temperate, pleasant, and healthy if tha»^ ain't enough for one's place, it's a pity — that's alL ft ^^vt~~ J . 1 CHAPTER XX. I" I ■ -r f . THE WRONG ROOM. The next morning the rain poured down in torrents, and it was ten o'clock before we were able to resume our journey. I am glad, said Mr. Slick, that cussed critter, that schoolmaster, liasn't yet woke up. I'm most afeerd if he had atumed out afore we started, I should have quilted him, for that talk of his 322 THE CLOCKMAKER. ♦t ** I . Hv, ' i,- Inst night sticks in my crop considerable hard. It ain^t ovei easy to digest, I tell you ; ^or nothin' a'most raises my dander so much as to hear a benighiied, ignorant, and enslaved foreignci belittle our free and enlightened citizens. But see there, squire, said he, that's the first Indgian campment we've fell in with oq our journey. Happy fellers, them Indgians, ben't they; they have no wants and no cares but food and cloathin', and iisliin' and huntin' supply them things easy. That tall one you see •pearin' fish down in that are creek there, is Peter Paul, a roost aplaguy 'cute chap. I mind the last time I was to Lunenburg, I seed him to the magistrates, John Bobar's : he laid down tlie law to the justice better than are a lawyer I have met with in the province yet ; he talked as clever a'most as Mr. Clay. Ill tell you what it was: Peter Paul had made his wigwam one winter near a brook on the farm of James M^Nutt, and employed his time in cooperin', and used M'Nutt^s timber when he wanted any. "Well, M'Nutt threatened to send him to jail if he didn't move away, and Paul came to Robar' to ax him whether it could be done. Says he, squire, M^Xutt, he came to me, and, says he, Peter, what adevil you do here, d — n you? I say, I make 'em bucket, make 'em tub, may be basket, or axe handle, to buy me some blanket and powder and shot with — ^you no want some ? "Well, he say, this my land, Peter, and my wood; I bought 'em, and pay money for 'em; I won't let you stay here and cut my wood; if you cut anoder stick, I send you to jail. Then I te!! him- I see what governor say to that: what you plant, that yours; what you sow, that yours too; but you no plant 'em woods; God — he plant *em dat; he make 'em river, too, for all mens, white man and Indgian man — all same. God — he no give 'em river to one man; he make him run thro' all the woods. When you drink, he run on and I drink, and then when all drink he run on to de sea. He no stand still — ^you no catch him — ^you no have him. If I cut down your apple-tree, then send me to jail, cause you plant ^em; but if I cut down ash- tree, oak-tree, or pine-tree in woods, I say it's mine, if I cut 'era first — for tree in big woods like river — first cut him first have him. If God give 'em all to you, where is your writin', or kring somebody say he hear him say so, then I stop, I never kill |our hog, and say I thought him one bear, nor your hen, THE WRONO ROOM. 32&^ lay him one partridge; but you go kill my stock, my carriboo^ and my moose. I nerer frighten away your sheep ; but you ga chop wood, and make one d — d noise and frighten away bear;, so when I go to my trap I no find him there, and I lose him, and de skin, and de meat too. No two laws for you and me, but all same. You know Jeffery? him big man to Halifax; well, him very good man that; very kind to poor Indgian (when that man go to heaven, God will give him plenty of backy to smoke, for that I know.) Well, he say, Peter Paul, when you want ash-tree, you go cut 'em down on my land when you like; I give you leave. He very good man dat, but God give 'em afore Jeffery was born. And by and by, I say, M'Nutt, you have 'em all. Indgian all die soon: no more wood left, no more hunt left; he starve, and then you take all. Till then I take 'em wood that God plant for us, where I find *em, and no thanks to you. It would puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer to answer that, I guess, said Mr. Slick. That feller cyphered that out of human natur', the best book a man can study arter all, and the only true one; there's no two ways about it, thereV never no mistake there. Queer critter, that Peter; he has an answer for every one; nothin* ever da'nts or poses him; but here we are at the eend of our journey, and I must say I am sorry for it too, for tho' it's been a considerable of a long one^ it's been a very pleasant one. When we returned to Halifax we drove to Mrs. Spiccr't boarding-house, where I had bespoken lodgings previously to my departure from town. While the servants were preparing my room, we were shovyn into the parlour of Mrs. Spicer. She was young, pretty, and a widow. She had but one child, a daughter of six years of age, which, like all only children, was petted and spoiled. She was first shy, then familiar, and ended by being troublesome and rude. She amused her mother by imitating Mr. Slick's pronunciation, and herself by using his hat for a football. « Entertainin' that, ain* t it? said the Clockmaker, as we entered our own apartments. The worst of women is, said he, they are for everlastin'ly ateazin' folks with their children, and take more pains to spoil 'em and make 'em disagreeable than anything else. Who the plague wants to hear 'em repeat a yard o' poetry liktt/ ;)-24 THE CLOCKMAKER. t 4r* 1 f ( fan? vr»» -''In i'^ that are little sarpcnt? I am sure I don't. The Hon. Eli Wad rviis right when \ie said the ways o* womankind are wonderful. I ve been afecrd to venture on matrimonj myself, and I don't think I shall spckilate in that line for one while. It don''t jist »uit a rovin' man like me. It's a considerable of a tie, and then it ain't like a horse deal, where, if you don't like the beast, you can put it off in tt raffle, or trade, or swop, and suit yourself , better; but you must make the best of a bad bargain, and put up^'with it. It ain't often you meet a critter of the right mettle; spirited, yet gentle; easy on the bit, sure-footed and spry; no bitin', or kickin', or sulkin', or raein' off, or refusin' to go, or runnin^ back, and then clean-limbed and good carriage. It^i about the difficulty at piece of business I know on. Our great cities are most the only places in our Union where a man can marry with comfort, rael right down genuine comfort .and no drawback. No farnishin' a house; and if you go for to please a woman in that line, there's no eend o' the expense they'il go to, and no trouble about helps; a considerable of a {)lague them in the States, you may depend; then you got nothin^ to provide, and nothin^ to see arter, and it ain^t so plaguy lonely as a private house neither. The ladies too, have nothin' to do all day but dress themselves, gossip, walk out, or go ashoppin', or receive visits to home. They have a'most a grand time of it, you may depend. If there be any children, why, they can be sent up garret with the helps, out o' the way and out o' hearin', till they are big enough to go to school. They ain't half the plague they be in a private house. But one o' the 1>est things about it is, a man needn''t stay to home to entertain his wife a-evenings, for she can find company enough in the public rooms if she has a mind to, and he can go to the political clubs and coffee-houses, and see arter politics, and inquire how the nation's agoin^ on, and watch over the doins of Congress. ] t takes a great deal of time that, and a man can't discharge his duties right to the States or the Union either, if he is for ever- lastinMy tied to his wife'*s apron-strings. Tou may talk about the domestic hearth, and the pleasures of home, and the family circle, and all that are sort o' thin', squire: it sounds very clever, and reads dreadful pretty; but what does it eend in at lastf why, a 8( oldin* wife with her shoes down to heel, a see-sawin* TBI WRONG ROOM. 32^ in a rooking chair; her hair either not done up at all, or all ftuck chock full of paper and pins, like porcupine quills; » smoky chimbly aputtin^ of your eyes out; cryin"* children ascreamin' of your ears out; extravagant, ivasteful helps, a-emp> tying of your pockets out, and the whole thing awearin' of your patience out. No, there'^s nothin"* like a good boardin^ house for married folk; it don''t cost nothin^ like keepin^ house, and there^s plenty o^ company all the time, and the women folk nerer feel lonely like when their husbands are not at home.. The only thing to lam is the geography of the house well, and know their own number. If they don^t do that, they may get into a most adeuce of a scrape, that it ain^t so easy to back out of. I recollect almost a curious accident that happened that way once, agettin^ into the wrong room, ^ I had gone down to Boston to keep 4th of July, our great Annt* rersary-day. A great day that, squire; a great national festival;; a splendid spectacle; fifteen millions of free men and three mil- lions of slaves acelebratin' the birth-day of liberty ; rejoicin' in. their strength, their freedom and enlightenment. Perhaps the urn never shone on such a sight afore, nor the moon, nor the stars, for their planetary system ain't more perfect than our po- litical system. The sun typifies our splendor; the moon in its- changes figures our rotation of office, and eclipses of Presidents, and the stars are emblems of our states, as painted on our flugs* If the British don't catch it that day it's a pity. All over our Union, in every town and village, there are orations made, jist about as beautiful pieces of workmanship, and as nicely dove- tailed and mortised, and as prettily put together as well can be,, and the English catch it everywhere. All our battles are fought over ag'in, and you can e'en a'most see the British aflyin' afore them like the wind, full split, or layin' down their arms as humble as you please, or marchin' off as prisoners tied two and two, like runaway niggers, as plain as if you was in the engage- ment, and Washington on his big war horse aridin' over them, and our free and enlightened citizens askiverin' of them ; or the proud impudent ofiicers a kneelin' down to him, givin' up their swords^ nnd abeggin for dear life for quarter. Then you think you can e'en a'most see that infamal spy Andr^ nabbed and sarched, and the scorn that Mt on the brows of our heroes as they threw inU> ^26 THE CLOCKMAKER* S(« {n- the dirt tbe money he offered to be released, and hear him hcg like an Indgian to be shot like a gentleman, and not lianged like a thief, and Washington's noble and magnanimous answer, — ^4 guess the'll think us afeerd if we don't," — so simple, so sublime. The hammerin' of the carpenters seem to strike your ears as they «rect the gallus ; and then his struggles, like a dog tucked up for sheep stealin', are as nateral as life. I must say I do like to hear them orations, — to hear of the deeds of our heroes by land and by sea. It's a bright page of history that. It exasperates the young — it makes their blood bile at the wrongs of their fore- fathers ; it makes them clean their rifles and run their bullets. It prepares them for that great day, that comin' day, that no •distant day neither, that must come and will come, and can't help comin', when Britain will be a colony to our great nation. and when your colonies will be states in our Union. Many's the disputes, and pretty hot disputes too, I've had with minister about these orations. He neyer would go near one on *em; he said they were in bad taste — (a great phrase of hisn that, poor dear good old man; I believe his heart yarns arter old times, and I most think sometimes he ought to have joined the refugees,) bad taste, Sam. It smells o"* braggin', its ongentle- manly: and, what's worse — it's onchristian. But ministers don't know much of this world : — they may know the road to the next, but they don't know the cross-roads and l)y paths of this one — that's a fact. But I was agoiii' to t(;ll you what happened that day — I was stayin' to General Peep's boardin' house to Boston, to enjoy, as I wc^s asayin', the anniversary. There was an amazin' crowd of folks there; the hiouse was chock full of strangers. ' Well, there was a gentlniau and lady, one Major Ebene^er Sproul and his wife uboardin tliere, that had one child, the most cryenest critter I ever seed ; it boohood all night a'most, and the boarders said it must he -tent up to the garret to the helps, for no soul could sleep a'must for it. Well, most every night Mrs. Sproul had to go up there 'to quiet the little varmint,— -for it wouldn't givs over yellin' (for no one but her. That night, in partikilar, the critter «creetched and screemed like Old Scratch ; and at last Mrs. Sproul slipped on her dressin' gownd, and went up stairs to it, — 4knd left her door ajar, fp at not to disturb her husband THE WRONG ROOM. 327 toomin' back; and vfhen she returned, she pushed the door •pen softly, and shot it to, and got into bed. He^s asleep, now, fays she ; I hope he won't disturb me ag'in. No I ain't asleep, mynheer stranger, says Old Zwicker, a Dutch merchant from Albany, (for she had got into the wrong room, and got into his bed by mistake,) nor I don't dank you, nor General Peep needer, for puddin' you into my bed mid me, mdout my leavo nor lichense, nor approbation, needer. I liksh your place more better as your company. Oh, I got no gimblet ! Het is jam- mer, it is a pity ! Oh dear! if she didn't let go it's a pity : she kicked and screamed, and carried on like a ravin' distracted bed-bug. Tousand teyvels, said he, what ails te man ? I pe* lieve he is pewitched. Murder! murder! said she, and she cried out at the very tip eend of her voice, Murder ! murder W^ell, Zwicker, he jumped out o** bed in an alUfired hurry, most properly frightened, you may depend; and seezin** her dressia* gownd instead of his trowsers, he put his legs into the arms of it, and was arunnin' out of the room aholdin** up of the skirts with his hands, as I came in with the candle. De ferry tcyvil hisself is in te man, and in te trousher too, said he ; for I pe- lieve te coat has growM to it in te night, it it so tam long. Oh dear, what a pitty ! Stop, says I, Mister Zwicker, and I pulled him back by the gownd ; (I thought I should adied alarfin' to see him in his red night-cap his eyes astartin' <>ut o' his head, and those short-legged trowsers on, for the sleeves of the dres- sin' gownd didn't come further than his knees, with a long tail to 'em.) Stop, says I, and tell us what all this everlastin' hub- bub is about: who'^s dead, and what''s to pay now? All this time Mrs. Sproul lay curled up like a cat, covered all over in the bed clothes, ayellin' and ascreamin' like mad ; 'most all the house was gathered there, some ondressed, and some half-dressed — some had sticks and pokers, and some had swords. Hullo! says I, who on airth is makin"* all this toussY Goten Hymel, said he, old Saydon himself, I do pelieve; he came tru de door, and jumped right into ped, and yelled so loud in mine ear as to deefen my head a'most : pull him out by te cloven foot, and kill him, tam him ! I had no gimblet no more, and he know'd it, and dat is te cause, and notin' else. ^elU the folks got hold of the clothes, and pulled and hauled \''k 328 THE CLOCKMAKEIL h» (« I 4 ;?IS VI away till her head showed aboye the sheet. Dear, dear, sim) Major Ebenezer Sproul; — if it ain'^t Miss Sproul, mj wife, asl am alive ! Why, 'Mary, dear, what brought you here? — what of airth are you adoin^ of in Mr. Zwicker^s room here ?' I take mj oat^ she prought herself there, said Zwicker, and I peg she take herself away ag'in so fast as she came, and 'more faster too. What will Vrou Zwicker say to this woman's tale t — was te likesh ever heerd afore ? Tear, tear, put 'tis too pad ! Well, well^ says the folks, who'd athought it? — such a steady old gentlemas as Mr. Zwicker, — and young Marm Sproul, says they, — onlj think of her ! — ain't it's horrid ! The hussy ! says the womeo house-helps: she's nicely caught, ain't she? She's no great things, anyhow, to take up with that nasty smoky old Dutclh man; it sarves her right, — it does, the good-for-nothin' jade. I wouldn't ahad it happen, says the Major, for fifty dollars, I Vow ; and he walked up and down, and wrung his hands, and looked streaked enough, you may depend: no, nor I don't know^ said he, as I would for a hundred dollars a'most. Have what happened, says Zwicker ; upon my vort and honour and r}^. notin' happened, only I had no gimblet. Het as jammer ; ii a pity. I went to see the baby, says Mrs. Sproul, asoLi ready to kill herself, poor thing! — and . Well, I dont want, nor have occasion, nor require a nurse, said Zwicker.— And I mistook the room, said she, and came here athinkin^ it was cum. Couldn't pe possible, said he, to take me for to papy dat has papys hisself, — >but it was to ruin my character, and name, and reputation. O Go^n Hymel! what will Vrou ZiVicker say to dis woman's tale ? but then she know'd I had no gimblet, she did. Folks snickered and larfed a good deal, I tell you ; but they soon cleared out, and went to bed ag'in. The story ran all over Boston like wildfire ; nothin' else a'most %vas talked of; and, like most stories, it grew worse and worse every day. Zwicker returned next momin' to Albany, and has never been to Boston since ; and the Sprouls kept close for •ome time, and then moved away to the western terri/ory. I actilly believe they changed their name, for I never heerd tell of | any one that ever seed them since. Mr. Slick, says. Zwicker, the momin** he started, I have OM Bfo, jf g ^z leetle frimblet; I always travel with my leetle gimblet; take it ln/j, „ ^| *5 THB WRONG ROOM. d2S» ear, dear, ttii my wife, as 1 re? — what of .t I take my [ T^cg she take »re faster too. -was te likesh I Well, well, old gentlemao s they, — only ys the womea ihe's no great ky old Dutclh :-nothin jade» fifty dollars, I [lis hands, and rl don't know, t. Have what nonr and rh, jammer; i^ >rou1, asoI>: Well, I dont id Zwicker.— ire athinkin if e for to p«ipy iharacter, and at will Vrou knowM I had la good deal, 1 to hed ag'in. Ill* else almost Lrse and worse Ihany, and has cept close for terntory. 1 Irheerdtellof mid me wherever I go ; and when I goes to ped, I takes nij leetle gimhlet out, and bores wid it over the latch of te door, and dat fastens it, and keeps out de tief and de villain and de v'onianB. I left it to home dat time mid de old vrow, and it Atas all because I had no gimblet, de row, and te noise, and te mmpish wash made. Tarn it ! said he, Mr. Slick, ^tis no use tulkin\ but tere is always te teyvil to pay when theie is a woman 4Uid no gimblet. .t-^^r^n^ Yes, said the Clockmaker, if they don^t mind the number of the room, they'd better stay away, — but a litde attention that way cures all. We are all in a hurry in the States ; we eat in n hurry, drink in a hurry, and sleep in a hurry. We all go ahead so fast, it keeps one full spring to keep up with the others ; and one must go it hot foot, if he wants to pass his neighbours. Now, it is a great comfort to have your dinner to tbeminit, as you do at a boardin' house, when you are in a huriy, only you must look out sharp arter the dishes, or you won''t get nothin\ Things vanish like wink. I recollect once when quails first came in that season: — ^there was an old chpp at Peep's board* "^tn^-house, that used to take the whole dish of 'em, empty it on his gjplate, and gobble 'em up like a turkeycock, — no one else ever got none. We were all a good deal ryled at it, seein' that he didn't pay no more for his dinner than us^ so I nick-named him " Old ^uail," and it cured him ; he always left half arter that, for a ficramb. No system is quite perfect, squire; accidents will happen ihe hest regulated places, like that of Marm Sproul's and Old inairs; but still there is nothin' arter all like a boardin'-house, I— the only thing is, keep out of the tvrong room, r : i^.-ji i *:--;"/ .077 v'ii CHAPTER XXI. FINDING A MARE S NEST. f ^(H • -» ■fe Haiifax, like London, has its tower also, hut there is this re^ arkable difference between these two national structures, the lOne is designed for the defenders of the country, and the other I have OM Hfor its o/fenders, and that of the former is as difficult to be broken blet ; take tt ■11(0 as the latter (notwithstanding all the ingenious devices of 3d0 THE CLOCKMAKEK. '« f vil k^ ^vT. kg WM»I^ m ■^ il-^' raccessiTe generations from the days of Julius CaBsar to the time of the schoolmaster) is to be broken out of, A critical eye might, perhaps, detect some other, though lesser points of distinction. This cis- Atlantic martello tower has a more aristocratic and ex- clusiye air than its city brother, and its portals are open to none hut those who are attired in the uniform of the guard, or that of the royal staff; while the other receives the lowest, the most de- praved, and vulgar of mankind. It is true it has not the lions^ and other adventitious attractions of the elder one ; but the ori- ginal and noble park in which it stands is plentifully stocked with carribooSy while the horn work of the latter is at least equal to that of its ancient rival ; and although it cannot exhibit a dis- play of the armour of the country , its very existence there is con- clusive evidence of the amor patrice. It Utands on an eminence that protects the harbour of Halifax, and commands that of the North-west Arm, and is situated at the termination of a fashion- able promenade, which is skirted on one side by a thick shrub- bery, and on the other by the water of the harbour ; the former being the resort of those of both sexes who delight in the imper- vious shade of the spruce, and the latter of those who prefer swimming, and other aquatic exercises. With these attractions to the lovers of nature, and a pure air, it is thronged at all hours, hut more especially at day-dawn, by the valetudinarian, the aged, and infirm, and at the witching hour of moonlight by those wbj are young enough to defy the dew and damp air of night. i To the latter class I have long since ceased to belong. Old, I corpulent, and rheumatic, I am compelled to be careful of a hody that is not worth the trouble that it gives me. I no longer indulgej in the dreamy visions of the second nap, for, alas ! nan sim\ qualis eram, I rise early, and take my constitutional walk to| the tower. I had not proceeded more than half-way this morn. *ng, before I met the Clockmaker returning to town. Mornin*, squire, said he; I suppose you didn't hear the newsJ did you? the British packet's in. Which packet? said I; fofl there are two due, and great apprehensions are entertained thad one of them is lost. More promotion, then, said he, for then navals that's left : it's an ill wind that blows nobody any goo Good God ! said I, Mr. Slick, how can you talk so unfeelingly! suf>h an awful catastrophe? Only think of the misery entiule nMDING A &IARE'S NEST. 331 bj such an erent upon Falmouth, where most of the officers and ereir have left destitute and distressed families. Poor creatures, what dreadful tidings await them! Well, well, said he, I didn't ii8t altogether mean to make a joke of it neither; hut your folks k.io^v what they are ahout; them coffin ships ain't sent out for notliin*. Ten of them gunbrigs hare been lost already; and de- pend on it, the English have their reasons for it — ^there's no mis« take about it; considerable 'cute chaps them, they can see as far into a millstone as them that picks the hole in it; if they throw a sprat it's to catch a mackerel, or my name is not Sam Slick. Reason! I replied, — ^what reason can there be for consigning so many gallant fellows to a yiolent death and a watery grave? What could justify such a ? I'll tell you, said the Clock- maker; it keeps the natives to home by frightenin' 'em out of their seven senses. New, if they had a good set of liners, them blue^nose tories and radicals would be for everlastingly abotherin* of government with their requests and complaints. Hungry as hawks them fellers; they'd fairly eat the minister up without salt, they would. It compels 'em to stay at home, it does. Your folks desarve credit for that trick, for it answers the purpose rael complete. Yes, you English are pretty considerable tarnation sharp. You wam't bom yesterday, I tell you. You are always afindin' out some mare's nest or another. Didn't you send out Tvater-casks and filterin^ stones last war to the fresh water lakes to Canada? Didn't you send out a frigate there ready built, in pieces ready numbered and marked, to put together, 'cause there's no timber in America, nor carpenters neither? Didn't you order the Yank'^e prisoners to be kept at the fortress of Louisburg, which was so levelled to the ground fifty years before, that folks can hardly tell where it stood? Han't you squandered more money to Bermuda than would make a military road from Hali- fax to Quebec, make the Windsor rail-road, and complete the great canal? Han't you built a dockyard there that rots all the cordage and stores as fast as you send them out there? and han't ]roa to send these things every year to sell to Halifax, 'cause there ain't folks enough to Bermuda to make an auction? Don't you send out a squadron every year of seventy-fours, frigates, and sloops of war, and most work 'em to death, sendin 'em to Bermuda to winter 'cause it's warm, and to Halifax to summer. 'J 33*2 THE CLOCKlfAKSBiT'n ;?5 ■?l i*^ cause its cool; ana to carry freigbtf of doublooni and dollan A-oin the West Indgies to E^igland 'cause it pays well ; while the fisheries, coastin' trade, and revenue are left to look out for thein- selresl Oh, if you don't beat all, its a pity t 'f^r j ,f(Mr;ri|. i« Now, what in natur' is the use of them are great seyentj. fours in peace time on that station? Half the sum of money one of them are everlasting' almighty monsters cost would equip a dozen spankin cutters, commanded by leftenants in the navy, (and this I will say^ though they be Britsshers, a smarter set o' men than they be never stept in shoe-leather,) and they'd soon set these matters right in two twos. Them seventytfours put me in mind of Black Hawk, the great Indian chiif> that was tc Washin'ton lately; he had an alligator tattooed on the back part of one thigh, and' a racoon on t'other, touched off to the veir nines, and as nateral b» any thin' you. ever seed in your life; and well he know'd it too, for he was as proud of it as anythin'. Well, the president^ and a whole raft of senators, and a consi- derable of an assortment of most beautiful ladies, went dl ovec )he capital with him; showin' him the great buildins, and publie halls, and curiosities^ patents, presents, and whatnot; but Black Hawk he took no notice of nothin* a'most till he came to the picturs of our great naval and military heroes, and splendid national victories of our free and enlightened citizens, and then he did stare at: they posed him considerable — ^that's a £ict. r\ Well, warrior, said the President, arubbin' of his hands, and asmilin, what do you think of them?: Broder, said Black Hawk^ them grand, them live, and breathe, and speak — them great pictures, I tell i/ou^ very great indeed; but I got better ones, said he, and he turned round and stooped down, drew up his mantle over his head. Look at that alligator, broder, said he, and he struck it with his hand till he made all ring again; and that racoon behind there; leani't they splendid? Oh, ]jord! if there Wam't a shout, its a pity! The mea hawed- ha*.yed right out like thunder, and the women ran off, and screamed like mad. Did you ever! said they. Holv ondecent! ain't it shockin'! and then they screamed out oUtag'in louder I than afore. Oh, dear! said they, if that nasty horrid thing ain't in all the mirron in the room! and they put their pretty Iittlft| mids up to their dear little cares, and raced right out into the nNDINQ A MARE'S NEST. 833 I and dollan ell ; while the out for them- reat seventy- im of money t would equip s in the navy, smarter set o' id they'd soon rffours put me f, that was tc i the back part [)ff to the Tery your life ; and it as anythin. B, and a consU , went all over ins, and publie whatnot; but till he came to and splendid tns, and thm lat's a £ict. lis hands, and ir, said Blacit speak — them I got better id down, drew |igator, broder, lade all ring hey splendid? [e men hawed- ran off, and ;o1v ondecentl it ag'in louder [rid thing ain't [ir pretty littk out into the itreet. The President he stamped, and bit his lip, nnd looked as mad as if he could have swallered a wild cat alive. Cum him! said be, IVe half a mind to kick him into the Potomaot the savage brute! I shall never hear the last of this joke. I fairly thought I ihould have split to see the conflustrigation it put 'em all into* Now, that's jist the way with your seventy* fours. When the Bluenoses grumbled that we Yankees smuggle like all vengeance, and have all the fisheries on the coast to ourselves, you send *em out a great seventy>four with a painted stam for 'em to look at, and it is jist about as much use as the tattooed stam of Black Hawk. I hope I may be shot if it ain't. Well, then, jist see how you — True, said I, glad to put a stop to the enumeration of our blunders, but government have added some new vessels to the paeket line of a very superior description, and will withdraw the old ones as soon as possible. These changes are very ezpen- sItc, and cannot be effected in a moment. Yes, said he, so I hve heerd tell; and I have heerd, too, that the new ones won't lay to, and the old ones won t scud; grand chance in a gale for a feller that, ain't it? One tumbles over in the trough of the sea, and the other has such great solid bulwarks, if she ships a sea she never gets rid of it but by goin' down. Oh, you British are up to everythin*'! it wouldn't be easy to put a rinkle on your horns, I know. They will at least, said I, with mora pique than prudence, last as long as the colonies. It is admitted on all hands niow, by Tories, Whigs, and Radicals, that the time is not far distant when the provinces will be old enough for independence, and strong enough to demand it. I am also happy to say that there is every disposition to yield to their wishes whenever a majority shall concur in applying for a sepa- ration. It is very questionable whether the expense of their protection is not greater than any advantage we derive from them* That, said the Olockmaker, is what I call, now, good sound sense. I like to hear you talk that way, for it shows you parti- cipate in the enlightenment of the age. Arter all the expense you have been to in conquerin', clearin', settlin', fortifyin', go* Temin', and protecthi' these colonies from the time they were little miserable, spindlin' teedlins, up to now, when they have |nw'd to be considerable itiff and strong, and of some use, Ut 334 THE CLOCKMAKBB. I t» \ ! '0 f '6f ^ff i^M l« <■:;•: ;»:i i '' <% 1 give 'em up, and encourage 'em to ax for 'mancipation, la, I estimate, the part of vrise men. Yes, I lee you are wi(?e awake. Let 'em go. They are no use to you. But, I saj, squire, — and he tapped me on the shoulder and winked, — ki 'em look out the next momin'* arter they are free for a yisit firon us. If we don't put 'em thro' their facins, it's a pity. Tho they are no good to you, they are worth a Jew^s eye to us, and have '*em we will, by gum! - You put me in mind of a British parliament-man that wai travellin' in the States once. I seed him in a steam-boat on the | .Ohio, (a'most a grand river that, squire; if you were to put all the English rivers into one, you couldn't make its ditto,) and we went the matter of seten hundred miles on till it j'ined tlie Mississippi. As soon as we turned to go down that river, he stood, and stared, and scratched his head, like bewildered. Says he, this is yery strange,— very strange indeed, says he. What'^s strano^e? said I; but he went on without hearin'. Ih the greatest curiosity, said he, I ever seed, a nateral phenome- non, one of the wonders of the world; and he jumped right up and down like a ravin* distracted fool. Where is it? said lie. What the devil has become of it? If it's your wit, said I, you are lookin* for, it'*8 gone a wool-gatherin' more nor half an hour ago. What on airth ails you, says I, to make you act so like Old Scratch that way? Do for goodness sake, look here, Mr. Slick! said he. That immense river the Ohio, that we hare] been sailin* upon so many days, where is it? Where is it? said i I. Why, its run into the Mississippi here to be sure; where else should it be ? or did you think it was like a snake, that itj curled its head onder its own belly, and run back ag^in? But, said he, the Mississippi am'^t made one inch higher or one inch I wider by it ; it don't swell it one mite or morsel ; its marvellous, ain't it? Well, jist afore that, we had been talkin' about the colonies ; so, says I, I can tell you a r ore marvellous thing | than that by a long chalk. There is Upper Canada and Lower Canada, and New Brans* I wick, and Nova Scotia, and Cape Breton, and Prince Edward'i Island, and Newfoundland — they all belong to the Englisn. Well, said he, I know that as well as you do. Don''t be so plaguy touchy ! said I, but hear me out . They all belong to tii« FINDING A mare's NEST. 335 sipation, it, I ^ou are wi(!e But, I say; winked^ — let )r a yisit fron Et pity. Tho ye to us, %nd man that was m-boat on the yere to put ail its ditto,) and 11 it j'ined the that river, lie ;e bewildered, ieed, says he. b hearin'. h i&nX phenome- mped right up is it? said he. rit, said I, you )r half an hour oil act so like |ook here, Mr. that we have lere is it? said {e sure; where snake, that it ag'in? But, [ ler or one inch Its marvellous, dn' about the I rellous thing I New Brans- ice Edward's I the Engliflik Don't be so Ibelongtothe English, and there s no two ways about it; it's the best part ol America too; better land and better climate than oum, and free from yaller fevers, and agues, and nigger slaves, and hostile ladgians, and Lynchers, and alligators, and such like varmint; and all the trade and commarce of them colonies, and the supply gf Yactured goods belong to the English too, and yet I defy any livin^ soul to say he can see that it swells their trade to be one inch wider, or one inch higher; it's jist a drop in the bucket. Well, that is strange, said he; but it only shows the magnitude of British commerce. Yes, say si, it does: it shows another thing too. What's that? said he. Why, said I, that their commarce is a plaguy sight deeper than the shaller pated noodles that ic belongs to. Do you, said I, jist take the lead line, and sound the river jist below where the Ohio comes into it, and you will iind that, though it tante broader or higher, it'^s an everlastin* sight deeper than it is above the jinin"* place. It can't be other- wise in natur\ '. . Now, turn to the Ohio, and let it run down to Baltimore^ and youM find the Mississippi, mammoth as it is, a different guess river from what you now see it. It wouldn't overrun its banks no more, nor break the dykes at New Orleens, nor leave the great Cyprus swamps under water any longer. It would look pretty streaked in dry weather, I know. Jist so with the colony trade ; though you can't see it in the ocean of English trade, yet it is there. Cut it off, and see the raft of ships you'd have to spare, and the thousands of seamen youM have to emi- grate to us; and see how white about the gills Glasgow, and Greenock, and Liverpool, and Manchester, and Barmin'ham ^ould look. Cuttin' off the colonies is like cuttin' off the roots of a tree ; it's an even chance if it don't blow right slap over the very first sneeze of wind that comes ; and if it don't, the leaves curl up, turn yaller and fall off afore their time. Well, the next spring foUerin* there is about six feet of the top dead, and the tips of the branches withered, and the leaves only half size; and the year arter, unless it sends out new roots, it's a great leafless trunk, a sight to behold ; and, if it is strong enough to push out new roots, it may revive, but it never looks like itself again. The luxuriance is gone, and gorif. for ever. Vou got chaps in your parliament that never sc^d a cuica/^ 336 THE CLOCKMAKER. 1 11 kOT* ??••■: -i ; l»^^ and yet get up and talk about 'em by the hour, and look ai wist about 'em as the monkey that had seen the world. In America all our farms a'most have what we call the rough pastur' — that is, a great rough field of a hundred acres or so near the woods, where we turn in our young cattle, and breedin' mares, and colts, and dry cows, and what not, where they take care of themselves, and the young stock grow up, and the old stock- grow fat. ICs a grand outlet that to the farm^ that would be overstocked rvilhout it. We could not do without it nohow. Now^ your colonies are a great Jield for a redundant population^ a grand outlet. Ask the £|^e-talians what fixed their flint? Losin' the overland trade to India. Ask the folks to Cadiz what put them up to a tree? Losin' the trade to South America. If that's too far off, ask the people of Bristol and Chester \vhat sewed them up ? and they will tell you, while they was asleep, Xiverpool ran off with their trade. And if you havn't time to go there, ax the first coachman you get alongside of, what he thinks of the railroads ? and jist listen to the funeral hymn he'll sing over the turnpikes. When I was to England last, I always did that when I was in a hurry, and it put coachee into such a passion, heM turn to and lick his horses out o' spite into a full gallop. D — n 'em, he'd say, them that sanctioned them rails, to ruin the 'pikes, (get along, you lazy willain, Charley, and he'd lay it into the wheeler,) they out to be hanged, sir, (that's the ticket, and he''d whop the leader,) — yes, sir, to be hanged, for what is become of them as lent their money on the Spikes? (wh — ist, crack, crack goes the whip) — ^hanged and quartered they ought to be. These men ought to be relunerated as well as the slave-holders ; I wonder, sir, what we shall all come to yet? Come to, says I ; why to be a stoker to be sure; that's what all you coachmen will eend in at last, as sure as you are born. A stoker, sir, said he, (looking as bothVed as if it wor a French furriner that word,) what the devil is that ? Why, a stoker, says I, is a critter that draws, and stirs, and pokes the fire of a steam engin*. I'd sooner die first, sir, said he; I would, d — ^m me if I wouldn't? Only think of a man of my age and size bein'a stoker, sir; I wouldn^t be in the feller's skin that would propose it to me, for the best shillin'* as ever come out o the mint. Take that^ and that, and thai, heM say to the off KEEPING UP THE STEAM. d37 1 look ai Wist hraid horse, (alayin'it into him like mad,) and do you your owir work, you dishonest rascal. It is fun alive, you may depend, t No, sir, lose your colonies, and you'd have £ye-talian citier without their climate, £ye-talian lazaroni without their light hearts to sing over their poverty, (for the English can^t sing' a bit better nor bull-frogs,) and worse than fjfe-talian eruptions and volcanoes in politics, without the grandeur and sublimity of those in natur*. Deceive not yourselves ; if you lop off the branches, the tree perishes, for the leaves elaborate the sap that riyifies, nourishes, and supports the trunk. There's two ways- about it, squire : *^ them ti.\u say colonies are no good, are either fools or knaves ; if they befools, they ain't worth answerin ; and if they are knaves, tend them to the treadmill^ till they lam t^ speak the truth/' -^t > paoiniifo hb.i » i .>aii5*Tt>-.'£:r v?-« ioa s-i-s C'-:my-' CHAPTER XXII. .^ -.^ii^i^d ,».',. KEEPING UP THE STEAM. ^ -'-' "i' ^'^ ' ] It is painful to think of the blunders that have been ''com- mitted from time to time in the management of our colonies, and of the gross ignorance, or utter disregard of their interests, that has been displayed in the treaties with foreign powers. Fortunately for the mother country, the colonists are warmly attached to her and her institutions, and deplore a separation too much to agitate questions, however important, that may have a tendency to awaken their affections by arousing their passions. The time, however, has now arrived when the treat- ment of adults should supersede that of children. Other and nearer, and for the time, most important interests, have occu- pied her attention, and diverted her thoughts from those distant portions of the empire. Much, therefore, that has been done, may be attributed to want of accurate information, while it is to be feared much also has arisen from not duly appreciating their importance. The government of thts- provinces has been but too often entrusted to persons who have been selected, not so much from their peculiar fitness % the situation, as with reference to their interest, or their claims for reward for past services in other departmental .^38 THE CLOCKMAKER. Xa m%. From persons thus chosen, no very accurate or useful informa* >tion can be expected. This is the more to be regretted, as tht resolutions of the dominant party, either in the House of As- sembly or Council, ure not always to be received as conclusive «vidence of public opinion. They are sometimes produced Ity accidental causes, often by temporary excitement, and frequently l>y the intrigue or talents of one man. In the colonies, the legislature is more often in advance of public opinion than "Coerced by it, and the pressure from without is sometimes caused by the excitement previously existing within^ while in many •cases the people do not participate in the views of their repre- sentatives. Hence the resolutions of one day are sometimes ^rescinded the next, and a subsequent session, or a new house, is found to hold opinions opposed to those of its predecessor. To these difficulties in obtaining accurate information, may be added the uncertain character of that arising from private sources. Individuals having access to the Colonial Office are not always the best qualified for consultation, and interest or prejudice is >l)ut too often found to operate insensibly even upon those whose ■sincerity and integrity are undoubted. As a remedy for thes^ •evils it has been proposed to give the colonies a representation in parliament, but the measure is attended with so many ob- jections, and such inherent difficulties, that it may be considered almost impracticable. The only satisfactory and efficient pre- .«cription that political quackery has hitherto suggested, appears •to be that of a Colonial Council-board, composed principally, if Tnot wholly, of persons from the respective provinces: who, while the minister changes with the cabinet of the day, shall remain as permanent members, to inform, advise, and assist his -successor. None but natives can fully understand the peculiar feelings of the colonists. The advantages to be derived from such a boar<' are too obvious to be enlarged upon, and will readily occur to any one at all conversant with these subjects; for it is a matter of notoriety, that a correspondence may be commenced by one minister, continued by a second, and ter- -minated by a third, so rapid have sometimes been the changes in this department. It is not my business, however, to suggest, ^and I heartily rejoice that it is not, for I am no projector,) bat simply to record Ae sayings and doings of that eccentric per* .■■I KEEPING UP TflE STEAM. 339 lonage, Mr. Samuel Slick, to vrhom it is now high time te return. You ohject, said I, to the present line of government piickett nmning hetween Fidmoath and Halifax (and I must say not without reason): pray what do you propose to substitute in their places? Well, I don't know, said he, as I jist altogether ought to blart out all I think about it. Our folks mightn't be over half pleased with me for the hint, for our New York liners have the u'hole run of the passengers now, and plaguy proud our folks be of it, too, I tell you. Lordl if it was to leake out it vras me that put you up to it, I should hayc to gallop through the country when I returned home, as Head did — ^you know Head the author, don't you? There i\ie several gentlemen of that name, I replied, ^v^'J h&fe dlBt/aguished themselves as authors: pray which d^ yon niKim^, Well, I don't know, said he, as I can jist altogeth^ir iucSicate the identical man I mean, but I calculate it's liim. that gaUoped the vild horsesi in the Pampas a hundred miks a duy hand rt.^inin", day in and day out, on beef-tea mrde of tiuug beef and cold nai'M; — it's the Ijallopin' one I mean; he is €Kr c.'nor to Oimri<'>M now, I believe. You know in that are book be tvrote' mi gaUopia lie says, •'The greatest luxury ir. all uatur' is to ride withovif. t-o'jiLrs on a horse without a saddle,^' — v'^at. wo call i>p re -breeched and bare-backed. (Oh Lordl I wonder he dJda't die -Uatfin', I do, I vow. Them great thistles tiiat !ie says grow in Vim Pampas as high as a human head, mxut liave iick)<^d a man a'most ta death that rode that way.) Wel3, liovf^ if I w.?? ^o tell you how to work it, I should have to ride armed, a» be ^vaR in his travels, mth. two pair of detonatia' pistnls! and a do u de-barrelled-gun, and when I seed a guacho of a New Yorker a-comin', clap the reins in my mouth, set oft hi f\ full gallop, pint a pistol at him with each hand; or els*^ I'd have to lasso him, — that's sartin, — for they'd make frdveliixk^ in. that state too hot for me to wear breeches I k'lav, I'd have to off with them full chisel, and go it bare-backed, — that's as clear as mud. I believe Sir Francis Head is no great favourite, I replied., with your countrymen, but he is very popular with the colonist, and very deservedly so. He is an able and efficient governor, and possesses the entire confidence of the provinces. He is placed in a rerv ^^^cull 940 TUE CLOCKMAKER.t i:jh !MP #88? I.. .... I i^' -. I I.-- I situation, and appears to display great tact and gr^at talent Well, well, said he, let that pass; I won't say he don't, though I wish he wouldn't talk so much ag'in us as he does anyhow but will you promise you won't let on it was me now if I tell you? Certainly, said I, your name shall be concealed. Well, then, I'll tell you, said he; turn your attention to steam naviga^ tion to Halifax. Steam will half ruin England yet, if they don't mind. It will drain it of its money, drain it of its population, and — what's more than all — what it can spare' least of all, and what it will feel more nor all, its ariiisans, its skilful workmen^ and its honest, intelligent, and respectable middle classes. It will leave you nothin' in time but your aristocracy and your poor. A trip to America is goin' to be nothin' more than a trip to France, and folks will go where land is cheap and labour high. It will build the new world up, but it will drain the old one out in a way no one thinks on. Turn this tide of emigra- tion to your o>vn provinces, or as sure as eggs is eggs we will get it all. You han't no notion what steam is destined to do for America. It will make it look as bright as a pewter button yet, I know. '-> oi tva-^TC'i.) il "r! :n;:eni I 5lta ;:: > The distance, as I make it, from Bristol to New York Light- house, is 3037 miles; From Bristol to Halifax Light-house is 2479; from Halifax Light to New York Light is 522 miles,— in all, 3001 miles; 558 miles shorter than New York line: and even going to New York, 36 miles shorter to stop to Halifax iktan go to New York direct. I fix on Bristol 'cause it's a better port for the purpose than Liverpool, and the new railroad will be jist the dandy for you. But them great, fat, porter-drinkin eritters of Bristol have been asnorin' fast asleep for half a cen- tnry, and only jist got one eye open now. I'm most afeerd they will turn over, and take the second nap, and if they do they «re done for — that's a fact. Now you take the chart and work it yourself, squire, for I'm no great hand at navigation. I've been a whaling voyage, and a few other seatrips, and I know a little about it, but not much, and yet, if I ain't pretty consider- able near the mark, I'll give them leave to guess that knowa better — that's all. Get you legislatur' to persuade govern- ment to contract with the Great Western folks to carry the tasalf and drop it in their way to New York; for you KEEPING UP THB STEAM, 841 ai mtich imd as good coal to NoTa Scotia as Ejnglazid has, aiuf ihe steam-boats would have to carry a supply for 550 miles less, and could take in a stock at Halifax for the return voyage to Europe. If ministers won't do that, get 'em to send steam- packets of their own, and you wouldn't be no longer an everlastiiv outlandish country no more as you be now. And, more nor that, you wouldn't lose all the best emigrants and all their capi- ta), who now go to the States 'cause the voyage is safer, and remain there 'cause they are tired of travelUn', and can't get ^own here without risk of their precious necks and ugly mugs. But John Bull is like all other sponsible folks; he thinks 'cause he is rich he is wise too, and knows everything when ii* fact he knows plaguy little outside of his own location. Like all other consaited folks, too, he don^t allow nobody else to know nothin' neither but himself. The EyetaMan is too lazy, the French too smirky, the Spaniard too banditti, the Dutch too smoky, the German too dreamy, the Scotch too itchy, the Irish toopopey, and the Yankee too tricky; all low, all ignorant, all poor. He thinks the noblest work of God an Englishman, He is on considerable good tarms with himself, too, is John Bull, when he has his go-to>meetin' clothes on, his gold-headed cane in his hand, and his puss buttoned up tight in his trousers pocket. He wears his hat a little a one side, rakish-like, whaps his cane down agin the pavement hard, as if he intended to keep things in their place, swaggers a few, as if he thought he vn expense, and therefore he infers that the remaining dependencies are useless incumbrances. And he forgets too, he replied, that he made his fortin' himself in a colony, and therefore it don't become him to say so, and that America is. lamin' to sell as well as to buy, and to manufactur' as well as to import, and to hate as much, and a little grain more, than she loved, and that you are wo^^J^er by all her strength. He forgets, too, that them that separate from a government, or secede from a chuicch, always hate those they leave much worse than those who are born in different states or different sects. It's a fact, I assure you, those critters that desarted our church to Slickville in temper that time about the choice of an elder, was the only ones that hated, and reviled, and parsecuted us in all Connecticut, for we were on friendly or neutral terms with all the rest. Keep a sharp look out always for disasters, for when they jine the enemy thsy fight like the devil. No one hates like him that has once been a friend. He forgets that a- but it's no use atalkin'; you might as well whistle jigs to a milestone as talk to a goney that says fifteen millions of uiimies ar« as good as fifteen millions of friends^ unless indeethat don't beat cock-fightin', it's a pity ; it fairly bangs the bush, that. If there's a rebellion to Canada, squire (and there will be as sure as there are snakes in Yarginy), it will be plan- ned, advised, and sot on foot in London, you may depend; for thtm. simple critters, the French, would never think of it, if •ihey were not put iip to it. Them that advise PapinOr to rebel, and set his folks to murder Englishmen, and promise to back ■them in England, are for everlastin'ly atalkin' of economy, and yet instigate them parley vous to put the nation to more ex- pence than they and their party ever saved by all their barking ■in their life, or ever could, if *Hey were to live as long as Merusalem. If them poor Frenchmen rebel, jist pardon them right off the reel without sayin* a word, for they don't know fiothin', but rig up a gallus in London as high as a church steeple, and I'll give you the names of a few villains there, the cause of all the murders and arsons, and robberies and miseries, and sufferins that'll foUer. Jist take 'em and string 'em up like onsafe dogs. A crittur that throws a firebrand among combus- tibles, must answer for the fire; and when he throws it into his neighbour's house, and not his own, he is both a coward and a villain. Ouiis 'eml hanging is too good for 'em, I say; •4on't you, squire? u ^mm 91;; n -^7^;v^i/ ^ftoinHn fi cao-:t This was the last conversation I had with the Clockmaker on ^politics. I have endeavoured to give his remarks in his own language, and as nearly verbatim as I could; but they were so -desultory and discursive, that they rather resembled thinking them aloud than a connected conversation, and his illustrations often led him into such long episodes, that he sometimes wan- dered into new topics before he had closed his remarks upon ^he subject he was discoursing on. It is, I believe, not an 4in common mode with Americans, when they talk, to amuse rather than convince. Although there is evidently some exag- geration, there is also a great deal of truth in his observatioiuk KEEPING UP THE STEAM. 345 tetter to have ire are ehapi t, squire; it's jfigkt his own iainment. If rly bangs the re (and there will be plan- y depend ; for think of it, if ,pinor to rehel, omise to back economy, and a to more ex- l their barking ve as long as it pardon them ey don't know li as a church kains there, the s and miseries, ng *em up like mong comhus- throws it into )oth a coward ■or *em, I say; rfff»vt ■> ''I'- *•>■•■>' Dlockmaker on ks in his own they were so Ibled thinking lis illustrations Imetimes wan- Iremarks upon Vieve, not an ilk, to amuse ^y some exag- obseryatioBfc They are the result of long experience, and a thorough and intimate knowledge of the provinces, and I confess I think they are entitled to great weight. The bane of the colonies, as of England, it appears to me, ii ultra opinions. The cis- Atlantic ultra tory, is a nondescript animal, as well as the ultra radical. Neither have the same ohjects or the same principles with those in the mother country, whose names they assume. It is difficult to say which does most injury. The violence of the radical defeats his own views; the violence of his opponent defeats those of the government, while both incite each other to greater extremes. It is not easy to define the principles of either of these ultra political parties in the colonies. An unnatural, and, it would appear, a personal, and therefore a contemptible jealousy, influences the one, and a ridiculous assumption the other, the smallest possible amount of salary being held as sufficient for a public officer by the former, and the greater part of the revenues inadequate for the purpose by the latter, while patriotism and loyalty are Beverally claimed as the exclusive attributes of each. As usual, extremes meet, the same emptiness distinguishes both, the same loud professions, the same violent invectives, and the same selfishness. They are carnivorous animals, having a strong appetite to devour their enemies, and occasionally showing no repugnance to sacrifice a friend. Amidst the clamours of these noisy disputants, the voice of the thinking and moderate portion of the community is drowned, and government but too often seems to forget the existence of this more numerous, more respectable, and more valuable class. He who adopts extreme radical doctrines in order to carry numbers by flattering their prejudices, or he who assumes the tone of the ultra tory of England, because he imagines it to be that of the aristocracy of that country, a.;d more current among those of the little colonial courts, betrays at once a want of sense and a want of integrity, and should be treated accordingly by those who are sent to administer the government. There is as little safety in the councils of those who, seeing no defect in the institutions of their country, or desiring no change beyond an extension of patronage and salary, stigmatise all who differ from them ai Contented and disloyal, as there is in a party tLat call ftfr 23 346 ••' THE CLOCKMAKER. 4 '■jr.;'* >i i.a K-'---51 •^1 )^ -ifWOI .,1: I oiganic changes in the constitution, for the mere purpose of supplanting their rivals, by opening new sources of preferment for themselves. Instead of committing himself into the hands ^f either of these factions, as is often the case, and thereby at ice inviting and defying the opposition of the other, a governor should bo instructed to avoid them both, and to assemble round him for council those only who partake not of the selfishness of the one, or the violence of the other, but who, uniting firmness with moderation, are not afraid to redress a grievance because it involves a change, or to uphold the established institutions of the country, because it exposes them to the charge of corrupt motives. Such men exist in every colony: and though a governor may not find them the most prominent, he will at least find them the surest and safest guides in the end. Such a course of policy will soften the asperities of party by stripping it of success, will rally round the local governments men of property, integrity, and talent; and inspire, by its impartiality, moderation, and consistency, a feeling of satisfaction and confidence through the whole population. - • 1 Oil ; - i - 'yiU 'v = '^- ■ 'i CHAPTER XXIII. '■■"•'•-A, ,v? '^^^^ ' oi :-T •' '<: n^ii THB CLOCKMAKER S PARTING ADVICE. ^' Haying now fulfilled his engagement with me, Mr. Slick hif quire out the author, and to tell that man, that distinguished man, that Her Majesty delights to reward merit and honour talent, and that if he will come home, she'll make a man of him for ever, for the sake of her royal father, who lived so long among the Blue-noses, who can't forget him very soon. Don't threaten him; for I've often obsarved, if you go for to threaten John Bull, he jist sqtares off to fight without sayin' of a word; but give him a hint. Says you, I had a peacock, and a dreadful pretty bird he was, and a most a beautiful splendid long tail he had too; well, whenever I took the pan o' crumbs out into the poultry-yard to feed the fowls, the nasty stingy critter never voM let any of 'em have a crumb till he sarved ^himself and his sweetheart first. Our old Muscovy drake, he didn'^t think this a fair deal at all, and he used to go awalkin' round and round the pan ever so often, alongin' to get a dip into it; but peacock he always flew at him and drove him off. Wtll, what does drake do, (for he thought he wouldn't threaten him^ for ,,»,-»• 3 -,2 THI CLOCKMAKER. ^5 3 £> 1 S A'" •Wot . 1 r, 1- 1 »l?'t. ?'! S=^ ifear of gettin' a thrashin') but he goes round and seiiet him h? the tail, and pulls him head orer heels, and drags liim all OTer the yard till he pulls every one of his great, long, beautiful feathers out, and made a most proper lookin^ fool of him— that's a fact. It made peacock as civil as you please for ever after. Now, says you, Mr. Slick and I talk of goin' to England next year, and writin' a book about the British: if I ain't allowed to get at the pan of crumbs, along with some o' them big birds with long tails, and get my share of 'em, some folki had better look out for squalls: if Clockmaker gets hold of ^em by the tail, if he don't make the feathers fly it's a pity. A joke is a joke, but, I guess they'll find that no joke. A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse; so come down handsum', minister, or look to your tails, I tell you, for there's a keel-haulin' in store for some of you that shall be nameless, as sure as yoa are born. Now, squire, do that, and see if they don't send you out governor of some colony or another; and if they do, jist make me your deputy secretary, that's a good man, and we'll write books till we write ourselves to the very tip-top of the ladder we will, by gum! Ah! my friend, said 1, writing a book is no such great rarity in England as it is in America, I assure you aiid colonies would soon be wanting if every author were to be made a governor. It's a rarity in the colonies, though, said he and I should like to know how many governors there are who could write the two Olockmakers. Why they never had one that could do it to save his soul alive. Come, come, Mr. Slick, said I, no soft sawder if you please, to me. I have no objections to record your jokes upon others, but I do not desire to be made the subject of one myself. I am not quite such a simpleton as not to know that a man may write a book, and yet not be fit for a governor. Some books, said he, such as I could name; but this I will say and maintain to my dyin* day, that a man that knows all that's set down in the Olockmaker's, (and it ain't probable be emptied the whole bag out — there must be considerable siftins left in it yet,) is fit for governor of any place in the univarsai world. I doubt if even Mr. Van Buren himself (the prettiest penman atween the poles) could do it. Let 'em jist take you up by the heels and shake you, and see if as much more don't come out. THE CLOCKMAKEr's PARTING ADVICE. 353 ,8 sure as yoa If yoa really are in earnest, I said, all I can say is, that yon rery much orer-rate it. You think favourably of the work, because you are kind enough to think favourably of the author. All this is very well as a joke ; but I assure you they would not even condescend to answer such a communication at the Colonial Office: they would set such a letter down as the ravings of in- sanity — as one of the innumerable instances that are constantly occurring of the vanity and folly of authors. Don't you believe it, said he; and if you don't send it, I hope I may be shot if I don't. I'll send it through our minister at the Court of St. James's. He'll do it with pleasure ; he'll feel proud of it as an American production — as a rival to Pickwick Papers, as the American Boz ; he will, I vow. That'^s jist exactly what you are fit for — I've got it — IVe got it now ; you shall be ambassador to our court to Washinton. The knowledge I have given you of America, American politics, American character, and American feelin\ has jist fitted you for it. It's a grand birth that, and private secretary will suit me to a notch. I can do your writing and plenty o^ time to spare to spekilate in cotton, niggers, and tobacco too. That's it — that's the dandy 1 And he jumped up, snapped his fingers, and skipped about the floor in a most extra- ordinary manner. Here, waiter, d — n your eyes (for I must lam to swear — the English all swear like troopers; the French call 'em Mountsheer G — d d — ns:) here, waiter, tell his Excellency the British minister to the court or the American people, (that's you, squire, said he, and he made a scrape of his leg,) that Mr. Secretary Slick is waitin\ Come, bear a hand, rat you, and stir your stumps, and mind the title, do you hear, — Mr. Secretary Slick. I have the honour to wish your Excellency, said he, with the only bow I ever saw him perpetrate, and a very hearty shake of the hands — I have the honour to wish your Excellency ^ood night and good b e. ■fe It ^ mi ««*' ;■ . . t f ■ ■■ . ■f'Q^ • h '■Wi'i'; if. h'.i. :n ':i' • ' W' r'T 'J • ' ■ ' o / ikiir 'fi;l h .N-'-f* ('■ »tf » ; , I , ■ n: u '•'■;■» K', ^j;, j - ! •■/ ■n;!Jt^;w;: •JO il ■i I '\u'.\u%rni ^iOr: 'ti'/aJii ■.;; )i;; 1 V.u Jii\>l I 'i ■I r 'fl ■< ) Ann ;-> '\. ♦ i: n ■M*!;:) Ir iM-j*' 1 ■> \ J''!' L iil j. i .V / , )■ < I V ■f ;'«' •>' « f 'i J ,; . :; "> " . ) ,J. 'i .1 i;!i s:- - u il .i!n>> 1. V . ^^.■ I' nail '^.'rf 11 11 h i'f • ^ !i:,! i '!!•>■; A--'- '•f'5''(.'l-' f ■••sMn, fi . 1 I M,. ! •V. ?/., •(!, .f .», u: ,1 '.>' 1 !,f /ill ? ■ iij -V. } :,, >[, THE DUKE OF KENT'S LODGE. .,j\ ,^.,.,. - , ■ ;, I 'i ■ CHAPTER I. .-'■s ..7 .i . •;:: I »; ;■ .i .«. j'./;ni v^; The communication by steam between Nova Scotia and Eng- land will form a new era in colonial history. It will draw closet the bonds of affection between the two countries, afford a new and extended field for English capital, and develope the resources of that valuable but neglected proyince. Mr. Slick, with nis usaal yanity, claims the honour of suggesting it, as well as the merit of haying, by argument and ridicule, reasoned and shamed the Goyernment into its adoption. His remarks upon the cruelty of employing the unsafe and unfortunate gun-brigs hat constituted the line of Falmouth packets, until they scyerally foundered and disappeared with their gallant crews, are too per- sonal and too seyere to be recorded in this place, and the credit he claims for haying attracted the attention, and directed the indignation of the public to this disgraceful sacrifice of human life, is so extravagant, that one would suppose this obvious and palpable eiTor had escaped the observation of all the world but himself, and was altogether a new discovery. But, whateveir praise he may deserve for his calculations and suggestions, or whatever blame is to be attached to the Admiralty for their obstinate adherence to the memo :ible "coffin-ships,*^ I prefer looking forward, to dwelling on a painful retrospect, and in- dulging in pleasing anticipations of the future, to commenting on the errors of the past. ,,. ^. u,- This route, by its connexion with that of New York, will afford an agreeable tour, commencing at Halifax, passing through the colonies, and terminating at the Hudson. It will offer a de- lightful substitute for that of the Rhine, and the beaten tracts on the Continent. As soon as it was announced that Government bad decided upon adopting Mr. Slick's designs, I wrote to him 356 fHE CLOCKMAKBR. 1 -^'» t?" p 1;^^ . , r -^ !*<■* '^ >. f'-' -/ ■ ^ '-.♦1 ',■ « :. ;«*S a".'** WW . i *»*( t ,1'. ,5- , 1 5',':., i ♦ pforming him 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 accom^anv 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 eccentric indiyidual. During the journey there were few incidents of sufficient noyeltj to interest the reader, but his conyersation partook of tb« tain« originality, the same knowledge of human nature, and the same humour as formerly ; and whenever he dereloped any new traits of character or peculiarity of feeling, not exhibited in our pre- yious 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, what- ever may be the merit of the execution, has, at least, the ad- vantage, and deserves the praise, of fidelity. The morning I left Halifax was one of those brilliant ones that in this climate distinguish this season of the year; and as I as- cended the citadel hill, and paused to look for the last time upon the noble and secure harbour, the sloping fields and wooded hills of Dartmouth, and the tranquil waters and graceful course of the North West Arm, which, embosomed in wood, insinuates itself around the peninsula, and embraces the town, I 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 termini of the great American tour. Hitherto it has been known only to the ofiicers of the army and navy, the former of whom are but too apt to have their first pleasurable impressions effaced by a sense of exile, which a long unvaried sound of garrison duty in a distant land so naturally induces; and the latter to regard good shelter and safe anchorage as the greatest natural beauties of a harbour. After leaving Halifax the road to Windsor winds for ten miles round the margin of Bedford Basin, which is connected Avitb the harbour by a narrow passage at the dockyard. It is an ex- tensive and magnificent sheet of water, the shores of which are deeply indented with numerous coves, and well-sheltered inlet J ^f great beauty. .-%, THE DUKE OF KENT*S LODGE. 357 •>* At a distance of seyen miles from the town is a ruined lodge, built by his Royal Highness the late Duke of Kent, when com- mander-in-chief of the forces in this colony, once his favourite Bunimer residence, and the scene of his munificent hospitalities. It is impossible to yisit this spot without the most melancholy feelings. The tottering fence, the prostrate gates, the ruined grottos, the long and winding avenues, cut out of the forest, overgrown by rank grass and occasional shrubs, and the silence find 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 neighbourhood for the purpose of strolling over it for the last time ere I left the country, and for the indulgence of those moralising musings which at times harmonize with ouif nerves, and awaken what may be called the pleasurable sensa- tions of melancholy. A modern wooden ruin is of itself the least interesting, and at the same time the most depressing, object imaginable. The massive structures of antiquity that are everywhere to be met with in Europe, exhibit the remains of great strength, and, though injured and defaced by the slow and almost imperceptible agency of time, promise to continue thus mutilated for ages to come. They awaken the images of departed generations, and are sanctified by legend and by tale. But a wooden ruin shows rank and rapid decay, concentrates its interest on one family, or one man, and resembles a mangled corpse, rather than the mo- nument that covers it. It has no historical importance, no an- cestral record. It awakens not the imagination. The poet finds *.io in&piration in it, and the antiquary no interest. It speaks <^Ay of death and decay, of recent calamity, and vegetable de- composition. The very air about it is close, dank, and unwhole- some. It has no grace, no strength, no beauty, but looks deformed, gross, and repulsive. Even the faded colour of a painted wooden house, the tarnished gilding of its decorations, the corroded iron of its fastenings, and itp crumbling materials, «ll indicate recent use and temporary habitation. It is but a short time since this mansion was tenanted by its royal master, «ud in that brief space how great has been the devastation Qf a58 THE CLOCKMAKER. I ft H^3 •>-i!^ 1 ,. -^ % »» «e't. »-^i v% 4 M t"*- tbe elements ! A few years more, and all trace of it will hart disappeared for ever. Its very site will soon become a mutter of doubt. The forest is fast reclaiming its own, and the lawns :\ni ornamented gardens, annually sown with seeds scattered by the winds from the surrounding woods, are relapsing into a state of nature, and exhibiting in detached patches a young growth of such trees as are common to the countiy. •, ,' As I approached the house I noticed that the windows were broken out, or shut up with rough boards to exclude the rain and snow; the doors supported by wooden props instead of hinges, which hung loosely on the pannels ; and that long luxu- riant clover grew in the eaves, which had been originally de- signed 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 occupation was to watcb over its decay, and to prevent its premature destruction by the plunder of its fixtures and more durable materials, informed me that the floors were unsafe. Altogether the scene was one of a most depressing kind. i'.t .; : ;:i ; - A small brook, which had by a skilful hand been led over several precipitous decents, performed its feats alone and unob-^ served, and seemed to murmur out its complaints, as it hurried over its rocky channel to mingle with the sea ; while the wind, sighing through the umbrageous wood, appeared to assume a louder and more melancholy wail, as it swept through the long vacant passages and deserted saloons, and escaped in plaintive tones from the broken casements. The offices, as well as the ornamental buildings, had shared the same fate as the house. The roofs of all had fallen in, and mouldered into dust ; the doors, Bashes, and floors had disappeared; and the walls only, which were in part built of stone, remained to attest their existence and * This was the case when I was there in 1828 ; since then porch and tree Aave both disappeared. THE DUKE OF KENT'S LODGE. 359 Oie. The grounds exhibited similar effects of neglect, in a dimate where the Hying wood grows i\o rapidly, and the dead decays so soon, as in Nova Scotia. An arbour, which had been constructed of lattice-work, for the support of a flowering Yine^ liad fallen, and was covered with vegetation ; while its roof alone remained, supported aloft by limbs of trees that, growing up near it, had become entangled in its net-work. A Chinese temple^ once a favourite retreat of its owner, as if in conscious pride of its preference, had offered a more successful resistance to the weather, and appeared in tolerable preservation ; while one small gurviving bell, of the numerous ones that once ornamented it, gave out its solitary and melancholy tinkling as it waved in the wind. How sad was its mimic knell over pleasures that weie fled for ever! The contemplation of this deserted houpe is not without iti beneficial i.5ect on the mind; for it inculcates humility to the rich, and resignation to the poor. However elevated man may be, there is much in his condition that remindu him of the infirmi- ties of his nature, and reconciles him to the decrees of Provi- dence. '* May it please your Majesty," said Euclid to his royal pupil, " there is no refjal road to science. You mijst travel in the same path with others, if you would attain the same end.** These forsaken grouiids teach us in similar terms this 3onsolatory truth, that there is no exclusive way to happiness reserved even for those of the most exalted rank. The smiles of fortune are capricious, and sunshine and shade are unequally distributed; but though the surface of life is thus diversified, the end is uni- form to all, and invariably terminates in the grave. - > ' " Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede paupcmm tabemas Rfgomqiie torres."' Ruing, like death, of which they lire at dnce the emblem and the evidence, are apt to lose their effect from their frequency. The mind becomes accustomed to them, and the moral is lost. The picturesque alone remains predominant, and criticism sup- plies the place of reflection. But this is the only ruin of any extent in Nova Scotia, and the only spot either associated with royalty, or set apart and consecmted to solitude and decay. The stranger pauses at a sight so unusual, and inquires the cause ; te leamg with siarprise that this place WW deToted exclusively to f SH!R 'S? * ^360 THE CLOCKMAKER. ■if n t ■v I ♦■.4'. ■ • H0» -t* *r" i0^ I*- •••'■".- ?' \ It i pleasure ; that care and sorrow never entered here; and that the roice of mirth and music was alone heard within its gates. It was the temporary abode of a prince, — of one^ too, had he lired, that would have inherited the first and fairest empire in the world. All that man can give or rank enjoy awaited him ; but an overruling and inscrutable Providence decreed, at the verv time when his succession seemed most certain, that the sceptre should pass into the hands of another. This intelligence inte- fests and excites his feelings. He enters, and hears at every step the voice of nature proclaiming the doom that awaits alike the prince and the peasant. The desolation he sees appals him. The swallow nestles in the empty chamber, and the sheep find a noon-day shelter in the banquetting-room, while the ill-omened bat rejoices in the dampness of the mouldering ruins. Every* thing 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 elo- quence that overpowers the heart. Death is written everywhere. Sad and dejected, he turns and seeks some little relic, some small memorial of his deceased prince, and a solitary, neglected garden- flower, struggling for existence among the rank grasses, presents a fitting type of the brief existence and transitory nature of all around him. As he gathers it, he pays the silent but touching tribute of a votive tear to the memory of him who has departed, and leaves the place with a mind softened and subdued, but im* proved and purified, by what he has seen. The affectionate remembrance we retain of its lamented owner may have added to my regret, and increased the interest I felt in this lonely and peculiar ruin. In the Duke of Kent the Nova Scotians lost a kind patron and generous friend. The loyalty of the people, which, when all America was revolting, remained firm and unshaken, and the numerous proofs he received of their attachment to their king and to himself, made an impression upon his mind that was neither effaced or weakened by time of 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. THE DUKE OF KENT'S LODGE. 36) and tbat th« ts gates. It had he lived, npire in the ted him ; but I, at the very at the sceptre diligence inte- I at every step raits alike the s appals him. le sheep find a the ill-omened uins. Every. ; has its record s legend; and an awful elo- Bn eyerywhere. lie, some small elected garden- •asses, presents y nature of all tbut touching has departed, idued, but im- limented owner iterestlfeltin lent the Nova I The loyalty of ling, remained [ceived of their impression led by time oi _ of a Colonial ^he security of him of a duty ^us individual, »se reflections. This work is designed for the cottage, and not for the palace; and the author has not the presumption even to hope it can ever be honoured by the perusal of his sovereign. Had he any ground for anticipating 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 attach- ment to, the present occupant of the throne, from the circum- stance of the long and close connection that subsisted between them and her illustrious parent. He was their patron, benefac- tor, and friend. To be a Nova Scotian was of itself a sufficient passport to his notice, and to possess merit a sufficient guarantee for his favour. Her Majesty reigns therefore in this little pro- Tince in the hearts of ker subjects, a dominion of love inherited from her father. Great as their loss was in being thus deprived of their only protector, her faithful people of Nova Scotia still cling to the hope that Providence has youchsafed to raise up one more powerful and equally kind in her Majesty, who, following this paternal example, will be graciously pleased to extend to them a patronage that courtiers cannot, and statesmen will not give. While therefore as proteges of her royal house, they claim the right to honour and to serve the sovereign of the empire as ^Uheirown Queen,'' they flatter themselves her Majesty, for a similar reason, will condescend to regard them as '^ the Queen* 9wn. CHAPTER II. PLAYmO A CARD. I HAP lingered so long about these grounds, that the day was too far spent to think of reaching Windsor before night, and I therefore determined upon wiling away the afternoon in examin- ing, by the aid of a diving-bell, the hulls of several ships of a French fleet, which at an early period of the history of thi» country took shelter in Bedford Basin, and was sunk by the few survivors of the crews to prevent their falling into the hands o-f the Euglish. The small-pox, at that time so fatal a scourge to 24 .;,.*■ aG2 THE CLOCKMAKER. t .we* me"* ^l !% 1 «•:;''' 4' 1 ■*/.,. the human race, appearing among them soon after their arrival, nearly depopulated the fleet, destroyed the neighbouring village, and swe;)t off one-third of the whole tribe of Nova Scotia Indians. So dreadful a mortality has never been witnessed on this continent; and the number of strangers thus suddenly smote with death at this place, exceeded by several thousands the amount of the population of the country in which they were interred. Of one of the most powerful armaments ever fitted out by France, a few hundred of persons only survived to return to their native land to tell the sad tale of their misfortunes. The ships are still distinctly visible in calm weather, and the rising ground in the neighbourhood 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 surpassing 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 arrang- ing 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 England. 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 always been afraid of wounding the feelings of his own countrymen, and alienating the affections of his old friends, the colonists, for whom he professed great regard. On the following morning, when the little light travelling- waggon was driven round from the coach-yard, I was delighted to see that the Clockmaker had brought his favourite 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 Windsor, and he is jist *he boy that can do it. Hold up your head, my old ^gfi-rafFe, PLAYING A CARD. 363 laid he, and make the folks a how; it's the last time you will ever lee them in all your horn days: and now o£P with you as if you was in rael wide awake airnest, and turn out your toes pretty. Never stop for them idle critturs that stand starin' in the road there, as if they never seed a horse afore, hut 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'i 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 afore you water him, so there is nothing gained hy it. Ain't he a horrid hand- some horse^ a most endurin' quickster, a rael salt, that's aUY 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 ofaspeakin' trumpet. He can pick up miles on his feet, and throw 'em behind him faster than a steam doctor a-racin' off with another man's wife. There now, squire, ain't that magnificient? 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? Absquotilate it in style, you old skunk, a from squerrel's jump to the eend of the chapter, and show the gentlemen what you can 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. Lord, I have a great mind to tdce him to England, ji^t 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 him 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. C7nited 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. Hopewell, so often quoted and so affectionately remembered by Mr. Slick. Every laying of his that I had heard, and every part of his conduct^ in 364 THE CLOCKMAKER. 4r* *> 1^^ P 1 U;; i» X priyate or public Hfe, recordd in the previous volumes, had been marked by such a benevolent and Christian feeling, and l)y such sound sense and good judgment, that I was fully prepared to honour and to love him. Indeed one of the best traits in the Clockmakers character was the great affection he always ex- pressed for his old friend and preceptor, whose opinions and maxims he had carefully iircasured as rules of conduct that were Infallible. "With natural shrewdness, Mr. Slick, like most men 15 of his class, was eminently gifted; but the knowledge of men Hand things which he derived from his learned and exemplary i I friend made him a wiser man, and more of a philosopher, thaa ^is usually found in his station of life. ' , It made him " a great card;" a saying of his with whicli 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 home at Slick ville. No, said he, not now. I was once an assembly man, but since '^ rv I ginn up politicks. There is nothin' so well taken care of as your rights and privileges, squire. There are always plenty of chaps volunteerin* to do that, out of pure regard for you, ready to lay down their lives to fight your cause, or their fordns, 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 havin' 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 are the biggest rogues we have. It don't convene with iiberty that public sarvants should be masters of the public. — I quite concur with you, says I. Reduce lawyers' fees, says «ome; they are a-eatin* up of the country like locusts. — Jist so, laid I. A bounty on wheat, says the farmer, for your life. Would you tax the mechanic to inrich the agriculturl:*? says the manufacturer. Make a law agin thistles, says one; a regu- lator about temperance, says another; we have a right to drink jf we please, says a third. Don't legislate too much, says a Ibarth — it 's the crorse of the state ; and so on without ecnd. I PLAYING A CAKD. 3C5 IV as fairljr bothered, for no two thought alike, and there waf no ^leasin' nobody. Then every man that voted for me wanted Bome favour or another, and there was no bottom to the obliga* tion. I was most squashed to death with the weight of my cares, they was so heavy. At last the great day came, and the governor, and senate, and representatives all walked 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 lay that day was the happiest one of my life. I felt full of dignity and honour, and was filled with visions of glory to come. "Well, says I to myself, the great game is now to be played in rael aimest, and no mistake: what card thall J plat/? The presidential chair :ind the highest posts is open to me in common with other citizens. What is to prevent me a-comin' in bi/ honours, or, if I have good luck, bt/ the odd trick. What shall I lead ojf with? I laid awake all night con- fliderin' of it, a-rollin' and a-tossin' over, like cramp in the Btomack, not knowin' what to do : at last I got an idea. Exten • tion of suffrage, says I, is the card F II play. 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 farther; so I went for univarsal suffrage; for, thinks I, if I can carry that. I can go for governor first, on the strength of the new votes, and president arterwards; and it did seem plausible enough, too, that's a fact. To all appearance it was the best card in the pack. So out I jumps from bed, arwalkin* 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'de stick fast, get bothered, and forget where I was, and have to begin agin ; but when day was e'en about breakin', I was just drawin' to a close, and had nearly Mored and rough-hew'd it out, when all of a sudden I run agin' ihe bed-post jh the dark, and nearly knocked my ])rains out. Well, next night I worked at it agin, only I left the candle burnin', so as not to be a-stumblin' up agin' things that way, and IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // // ^ A ^>.*^ . •^ '^A V 4^ 1.0 1.1 ■tt Uii 12.2 u KA lU Hi U 140 20 IL25 HI 1.4 U& M^^ Hiotographic .Sciences Corporation ■1>^ V ^ O ^ 23 WIST MAIN STRieT WEBSTIR,N.Y. MSSO (71«)S72-4S03 866 THE CLOCKMAKER. the third night I got it all finished off complete; hut I got i ihockin' cold in my head, a-walkin' about naked so, and felt ai 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 better, or strike while the iron was hot and hissin', for I wamt sure sume o' the speech wouldn't leake out, or the whole get flat, if I kept it in too long; so ai toon 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 som^ how expect that interruption ; it kinder put me out, and I never got a-goin* altogether right agin arterwards, for I lost my temper; and when a man ain't cool, he might as well hang 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 con- stitution too? I stand stock still a-waitin' for your answer, sir. —Oh, sartain, said he, sartain; you may talk for ever, if you like: go on, sir; only no man doubts your proposition. — It's a lie, sir, said I, it's a lie writ. — Order! order 1 — chair I chair! says some. Knock him down! — turn him out! — where did you lam manners? sap others.-«^Hear me out, says I, will yout and don't be so ererlastin' fast: what's the use of jumpin' afore you come to the fence. It s a lie written on the face of the consti- tution. — Oh, oh, says Aey, is that it? — Yes, says I, it is, and contradict it if you darst. We are not free ; we are slaves : one half of us is tyrants, — unremorseless, onfeelin*, overbearin tyrants, and vile usurpers; and the other half slaves, — abject, miserable, degraded slaves. The first argument 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 winders out. Oh, Lord, what a haw! haw! they sot up. The first argument is this, sir; and off went both barrels of my nose gin like thunder: it fairly raised the dust from the floor in a cloud, like a young whirlwind in the street afore rain. H made all spin agin. Why, he is a very ring-tail roarer, says PLATING A CARD. 367 in*, overbearin the membera, a regular sneezer; and they ihouted and roared Hke 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 cleyerly 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 riret Americl^n ones? Was it for this the people died covered with gore and glory, on the bed of honour? Was it the forty shillings alone that fought the rero- lution of the Polls? I am for the Polls. Taxation and repre- sentadon should go hand in hand, and freedom and equtdity likewise also. How dare you tax the Polls without their con- Bcnt? Suppose they was to go for to tax you without your consent, why who would be right or who wrong then ? Can two wrongs make a right? It is much of a muchness, sir,— six of one, and half a doien of the other. What's that feller talkin' about? says a member. — A rote to help the Poles agin Russia, says the other: what a cussed fool he is. ' It put me quite out, that, and joggled me so I couldn't make another line 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 blowin' my nose the whole blessed time, for the cold in it corked it up as tight as a bottle. Who calls them fools? says I: who dares insult free citizens because they are not forty shillingers? You couldn't treat them wus if they was nasty, dirty, dispisable niggers; and yet you boast your glorious constitution. Will any member answer me this? Have they blood in their Teinsf— and if they hare, it must be free blood; and if free, it must boil. (Tickle, tickle goes my boscii agin, and I had to stop to sarch my pocket for my nose-rag.) The honorable gentleman, says some feller or another, for most on 'em were strangers to me, means a 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-ploughin' thro' the mud in the fields like anything. Says I, I'll have your blood, you scoundrel, if you dare to say that agin, see if I don't, so there now. Oh dear, Buch shoutin', and roaring and clappin of hands I never heerd : tny head run round like a fpimiin* wheel; it was all burr, burr i m 3Gd THE CLOCKMAKER. II ■* ., ■■■' I" • '■ 5 I ^) >^ burr, buis, buzz, buzz. I bit in my breath to keep cool ; I felt I was on the edge of a wharf, and only one step more was orer head and ears chewallop in the water. Sam, says I to myself, be a man; be cool,— take it easy: so I sot off agin, but I was so confused I got into my other speech on agricultur' that I had lamed by heart, and mixed the two together all in a ravel. Thistles, says I, is the bane of all good husbandry. Extirpate them from the land; they are usurpin' the places of grain, and all Slickville 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. Compel folks to cut them down in the full of the moon, and they'll all die; I have tried it myself with univarsal suffrage and the ballot. Well, artillery is nothin^ but a popgun to the noise the mem- bers now made, — it was an airthquake tipped with thunder and lightning. I never heerd nothing like it. I felt 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 lasl cousin Woodberry took pity on ae, md came over to where 1 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. Speaker; I fight for liberty and the Polls. I stand agin^ the forty shillingers. Unhand me, you slave! said I; touch me not, or I'll sacrifice yon on the altar of my country; and with that I ups fist and knocks Woodberry over as flat as a pancake, and bolts right out of the hall. Bat I was so blinded with the cold in my head and rage together, I couldn't see no more 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 by the name, for years arterwards, in our town, of ** Free-and-equal Slick." I wish I could wipe out iliis page of my follies from my memory, I tell you; but it's a cautioi Co them that navigate in politicks, that's a fact. PLAYING A CARD. 809 BOol; I felt re was otct [ to myself, lut I was so that I had in a ravel. Extirpate f grain, and I no voice in ae laws they e full of the ithunivarsal se the mem- thunder and was crazy; I ;he floor into ras. At lasl to where 1 id feller; you :in' an ass of said he, you he laid hold hut instead show of me. I won't be id the Polls. [u slave I said my country; |r as flat as a id and rage I pitched into their necks my spcech- Lrds, in oui [ipe out this It'sacautios Nothin' on this side of the water makes so big a fool cf • man, squire, he continued, as goin' to tlie house of represcnta- livetf without bein* fit for it. Them that hante jist got the right weight of ballast are upsot in no time, and turned bottom upwards afore they know where they be. Them that are a little vain bj natur' get so puffed up and so consaited, they become nothin* but laughin' stocks to all the world, mott ridiculous fools; while them whose principles ain't well anchored in good holdin'-ground, let the rogue peep out o^ their profet* sessions plainer than they are a thinkin' on. The skin of the beast wiU show through, like an Irishman's elbow, though he has three coats on. But that ain't the worst of it, neether. 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 they are ready to bust with their importance, don't convene with sellin' tape by the yard, or loadin' on carts, when they return home to their business. In short, squire, a country ought to be a rich country, with lamed men in it, and men o* property to represent it, or else assembly work is nothin^ but high life below stairs, arter all. I Goold point you out legislaturs on this here continent where the ipeakin' is all kitchin talk, all strut, brag, and vulgar impedence. It's enough to make a cat sick to hear fellers talk of indepen- dence 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 nun, or playin' sixpenny loo. If mankind only knew whaiJooU tha/ were^ and how they helped folks themselves to fool them, there would be some hope of them^for they would have larnt the \frH lesson of wisdom. Bat to sum-totalize my story: the next time I went to poor old minister's arter that, says he, Sam, says he, they tell me yoa broke down the other day in the house of representa/tW», and made a proper gag of yourself. I am very sorry for you, very lony indeed ; but it is no use now a-cryin' over spilt milk. ^^t can't be cured, must be endured, I do suppose ; but I do wish with all my heart and soul you had a-taken my advice and left politicks alone. — Don't mention it. minister, said I : I 370 TBI CLOCKMAKBA. it'i V , I'- •i p. \ \ k^ ftsliamed to death of myself, and shall leave Slickville till blowed over and forgot : I can't bear to hear of it ; it fairly makes me sick. // was a great card I had tho*, if I had only played it rights says I, a very great card indeed. In fact It vrus more than a card^ — it was high, loWy Jack, and the game.— What was it, said he, that was worth all that are nonsense %— Vniyarsal suffrage, says I. — Sam, said he, (and I know'd I was in for a lectur', for he knit his brow, and looked in rael rigbt down aimest,) 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 eyery man havin' a Tote and a voice in makin' those laws that is to govern him ; and it comports with reason, and stands to common sense. Well, says he, what 's all that when it 's fried ? why, it amounts to this, and nothin' more nor less : Now men of property and character make lams to govern rogues and vagabomdsy but by your beautiful scheme of univarsal •i:^age, rogues and vagalxmdi will make laws to govern men oj property and character. It is revarsin' the order of things : it is worse than nonsense ; it is downright madness. We are fast approaching this state, without your aid, Sam, I can tell you; and when we do arrive at it, we shall be an object of scorn to point at from Europe. We shall then have wound up the fearful tragedy of our revolution with as precious a farce as folly and licentious ever produced. — Minister, says I, I don't know how it is, but you have such a short-hand way of puttin' things, that there is no contradictin' of you. You Jist squeeze all the argument up in a ball, as easy as dough, and stop a feller's mouth with it. How the plague is it that you seem always right ? — Because I never play a card, Sam. I never consider what is expedient, but what is right; never study what will tickle the ears of people, but what will promote their welfare. You would have been all straight too, if you had only looked to the right and wrong of the measure; but you looked to popularity, and that sot you to playin* of a card. Now the upshot of this popular gambling, or card playing, is patriotism; and mark my words, Sam, mark my words, my boy, for I am In. old man now, and have read the human heart well,— in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, patriotism is the trump cari of a scoundrel. BEHIND TBI SCENES. 371 .1 i !■ , r J . (. 1 I, . CHAPTER III. IV , , : BEHIND THE SCENES. •i; *\ y It is not to be supposed that Mr. Slick bad eyer made such an absurd exhibition of himself in the Legislatire Hall of Slick- Tille, as he thought proper to pourtray in the anecdote related b the last chapter. He was eridently a man of too much tact and natural good sense, to have rendered himself so ridiculous; nor must we, on the other hand, attribute his making himself the hero of the tale to an absence of yanity, for few men had a greater share of it than himself. It probably arose from his desire to ayoid personalitiesi and an amiable anxiety not to fur- nish a trayeller with names that might hereafter appear in print to tiie annoyance of the real actors. Indeed, so rich did he think himself in experience and knowledge of the world, that he felt he could afford to draw at will on his own reputation. How true to nature is the graphic sketch in the last chapter, and how just the reflections to which it gaye rise ! I can call to mind so many instances, eyen in my own limited sphere of ohservation, to which his remarks are applicable, that I recognise at once the fidelity of the picture and the hand of a master, Upon my expressing to him an intention to record his illustn^ tion of *' playing a card" as a yaluable lesson in life,— Ah, sir, said he, with the air of a man who felt he had a right to boast, I haye lamed to '* look behind the scenes." Major Bradford tanght me that airly in life. It was him put that wrinkle on my horn. He was the gentleman that traded in caWes and punkins for the Boston market, him that youVe got down in jour first series, that took me to the Tremont House, the time the gall lost her runnin-riggin' in the crowd. Well, one arter- noon, hayin' nothin' above pitikilar to do, I goes and dresses myself up full fig, and was a-posten away as hard as I could leg it, full chisel down by the Mall in Boston to a tea and turn-out to Sy Tupper's. Sy had an only darter called Desire; she ifam't a bad lookin' piece of farniture neither; folks said she would haye fifty thousand dollars, and to tell you the truth 1 I d72 THE CLOCKMAKER, «« ».' » jr.. . wai a-thinkin' of spekelating there, and wm a Bcouterin' awaj as hard as I could leg it to the party. Who should I meet oq the road hut the Major a-pokin' along with his cocoanut down, a-studjin' over somethin' or another quite deep, and a workin' ap the haccy in great style, for nothin' a'most will make a man chaw like cypherin' in his head to himself.— Hullo, Major, said I, whose dead, and what's to pay now f why what's the matter of you? you look as if you had lost every freend you had on airth. — H'are you, hoy ? said he : give ns your fin, and then tell tts which way you are a-sailin' of this fine day, will you.— But jist as I was a-goin' to take hold of his hand, he drew back the matter of a yard or so, and eyed me all over from bead to foot, as if he was a-measurin' me for a wrastlin' bout. Says he, I'll bet you a five-dollar piece, Sam, I know where you are a-goin' to-night. — Done, said I, it's a bargain : now, where f — A-whalin', says he.— A what ! says L — On a whalin' yoyage, said he. — Hand out your five dollars, says I, for you missed your guess this hitch anyhow. I am a-goin' down to Sjr Tupper's to tea and spend the evenin'.-^Exactly, said he, goin' a-gaJlin' ; I know'd it, for you are considerably large print, and it don't take spectacles to read yoa. She is rich in ilet, 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 hante been '* behind the scenes yet," I see, and that screetch-owl in petticoats. Mother Tupper, is an old hand. She will harpoon you yet, if you don't mind your eye ; now mark what I tell you. Come with me to the the-a/re, and 1 11 show you a gall of the right sort, / know. Helen Bush comes on in tights to-nighf. She is a beautiful-made crittur that, clean limbed and as well made as if she was turned in a mould. She is worth lookin' at, that's a fact ; and you don't often get such a chance as that are. <— Dear, dear, said I, in tights I well if that don't beat all ! I must say that don't seem kinder nateral now, does it. Major?— Nateral! said he, what the devil has natur"* got to do with it? If she followed natur' she wouldn^t wear nothin^ at all. Custom lias given women petticoats and men pantaloons, but it would be jist as nateral for woman to wear the breeches and men the •pronstring, and there is a plaguy sight of them do it too. Say BRHINO THE SCENES. 079 •uterin' awa; d I meet on oanut down, nd a workin' make a man », Major, said 's the matter i you had on and then tell ill you. — But rew back the head to foot, know where largain: now, -On a whalin' ays I, for you a* down to Sy said he, goin' rge print, and :h in iles, that folks call her blubber that , You hante ireetch-owl in will harpoon latltellyou. la gall of the jhts to-night. and as well th lookin' at, |e as that are. beat all! I [it. Majors- do with it! 11. Custom [t it would be Ind men the it too. Say H ain\ modest and I won't non-concur you, but don't talk about natur', for natur^ has no hand in it at all. It has neither art nor part in it, at no rate. But take my advice, my green-horn, and study natur' a bit. Folks may talk of their Latin and Greek till they are tired, but give me natur'. But to study it right you must get ** behind the scenes ;" so come along with me to the house. Well, I never was to a theatre afore in all my life, for minister didn't approbate them at no rate, and he wouldn't never let me go to Vm to Slickville ; so thinks I to myself, I con't care if I do go this once ; it can^t do me no great harm I do suppose, and a gall in tights is something new; so here goes, and I turns and walks lock-and-lock with him down to the plny-house. Well, I must say it was a splendid sight, too. The house was ehocl: full of company, all drest out to the very nines, and the lamps was as bright as day, and the musick was splendid, that's a fact, for it was the black band of the militia (and them blacks hare most elegant ears for musick too, I iell you), and when they struck up our blood-stirrin' national air, it made me feel al) orer in a twitteration as if I was on wires a'most, considerable martial. But what gave me the gapes was the scenes. Lord, squire, when the curtain drawed up, there was Genesee Falls as nateraf as life, and the beautiful four-story grist-mills taken off as plain as anything, and Sam Patch jist ready to take a jump in the basin below. It was all but rael, it was so like life. The- action too was equal to the scenes ; it was d: riifnl pretty, I do assure you. Well, arter a while, Helen Bush cime on in tights; but I can't say I liked it ; it didn't seem kinder right for a galf to dress up in men'*s clothes that way, and I sorter thort that nothin' a'most would tempt me to let Sister Sail show shapes arter that fashion for money. But somehow or somehow-else„ folks hurrawed and clapped and cheered like anything. It was> 80 excitin' I hurrawed too, at last, as if I was as well pleased as I any of them, for hollerin'* is catchin', like barkin' among dogs,, and you can't help it no how you can fix it. Well, arter legv I lost their novelty, a whole lot o"* dancin' galls came forward and danced quod-dnWsy gallop pards, hornpipes, and what not, the moit beautiful critturs, I think, I ever laid my eyes on,— all 374 THE CLOCKMAKER. \ ■*■' • ; H*t,-- ..^1 /oung and bloomin', and graceful and light ai ipirits a most. They seemed as if they e''en almost belonged to another gueH world from ourn, only the rosy cheeks and bare necks, and naked arms, and dear little ankles, all smacked of rael life. Wliat do you think of them f said the Major ; hante they fine gla8»-spun heels, them oritturs. 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 ?-»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 horrid pretty, I must say : are they foreigners or natti;e.f ? — Natives, said he, genuiviite Jonatheenas, all raised in ConneHicut, and silver-skinned inions every soul of them. — Would you like to be introduced to them ? — Well, sayi I, I would, that's a fact, for its enough to set a feller crazy almost, 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 difficult navigation it was too, among trap- doors, and boxes, and broken steps, and what not ; and arter a while we enters a great onfamished bam 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 sight too ; p'raps in all my bom days I never see anything to equal it. I never was so staggered. I don't think 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 hom- pipin*, 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 lam manners, starin' so like allj 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. — Oh fie, Julia, said another, how cani you ! and then comin' up and tappin' me on the shoulder with ber fan, to wake me up like, said she, — Pray, my good feller, Does your mother know you're out?"— The whole room bun* «( BEHIND THE SCENES. 375 out a-larfin' at me ; but no, more or speak I couldn't, for I woa 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 uncommon spry and ac-Zivf, 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 banes, stretched the other foot away out ever so far behind her. "Well, arter perchin' that way a minit or so, as a bird does on a sprig of a tree, she sprung agin, right forrard, and 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? — 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 fits, they larfed so ; they fairly screetched till they most loosend 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 'lie 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 pro- gessed 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 Ange- lica; 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 pretence. I guess she has put " Sy Tupper's ipermaceti" quite out, hante she ? It puts all creation out, said I; I never was so stumpt afore since I was raised from a seedlinV Heavens and airth! only to think them nasty, tawdry faded. 376 TIIC CLOCKMAKER. -«r» ti .»■■ ' jailer, jaded, painted drabs was the beautiful dancin' galls of th theotref and them old, forrerd, impudent heifers was the modest, graceful, elegant, little cherubs that was on the stage an houi afore; and then to think them nasty daubs was like Qenesec Falls, Lord, I could paint them pictur scenes better myself, with a nigger wench's house-mop, I could. I snore. Exactly, sayi the Major; you hare been ** behind the scenes" you see, Snin, and you have got a lesson not to trust to appearances altogetlier. llael life is one thing and stage representation is another. The world ** behind the scenes," and what is exhibited on the boord is as different as day is from night. It tante 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 doable Cape Horn, as yer In hopes for to do, Tliere'a a-plenty of sparm whale on the cout 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 eyenin', and then she was actin' rigged out for a party, a-smilin and a-doin' sweet and pretty, and u-wearin* of her company face, and singin' like a canary bird. But go into " the green-room," see her of a momin\ get a peep at a family scene, drop in on 'em of a sudden, onexpected like, and see the old cat and her kitten a-caterwaulin' and clapper- clawin* each other till they make the fiir fly, and you will be jist as much dumfoundered as you was at the dancin' galls: yoa won't know her, that's a fact; you'll find that your beautiful ^ spermaceti** has turned out nothin' but tallow, and damn bad tallow too. Such critturs run more nor half away to waste, and giTe more grease than light, by a long chalk. But come, said he, s'posin' you and me settle our little account, for short reckon- ings make long friends, as the sayin' i& First, there is your five dollar bet; then six bottles of iced champaigne, at three dollars each, is eighteen dollars more; and then two dollars for tickets, makes a total of twenty- fiye dollars; do you undercumstand? 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 conii- derable of a dear lesson that ; but it's the best you ever got /• BEHIND THE SCENES. 377 know. Dear! said I, a countin^ out of the ir.onoy to liim, I guess it is clear. If nil my schoolin^ in town-ways is to cost at that rate, I guess I'll have more larniu' than cnpital when I get thro' my trainin*. Twenty-five doHars for hcin' made a fool on, for them dancin' galls to laugh at for two hours, what a pretty go that is, aii't it? I must say I don't thank you i\ bit, Major; it warn't pretty at all. Who the devil axed you ibr thanks! nid he ; you have done hetter, you have paid for it . man, and boughten wit is always the hest ; hut you wiil 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 sillv enough to marry a dancin' gall afore now; but then Le'd never been " behind the scenes," as you have ; yes, it's a valuable lesson that. Your old fogey of a parson that you aie always a-talkin^ of, old Hop, Hope, something or other, may preach away to you till he is blind, but he can't larn you anything equal to that. It's a lesson from life, and a lesson from life is worth a hundred sarmons. In everything a'most, Sam, in this world, consider you are either deceived or liable to be deceived, and that you can't trust even the evidence of your own senses, unless you ^* look behind the scenes." But come, said he, prcachin' 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. lie could open, pepper, and swaller a dozen to my one, for somehow I never could get my knife into the jinte of one until arter half an hour's bunglin', I hadn't got the knack. You don't seem to like them, §aid he, at last, a-drawin' breath, and a-swallerin' a gill of pure whiskey; p*raps you are too ])atriotic to eat blue-noses iseters, and perfer the free citizens of our own beds ? No, said I, it tiinte that; I can't open them, they are so oncomraon 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 if you was a-goin' to have an all out-door fight of it, and he slipped 'em out o' the shells into his moutb w fast as a man dealin' cards, until he fairly finished all w« 2;^ \ ' • i' ■ ^^1 •f-^ f*". 'V 378 THE CJ OCOBSEJU had. You don't drink, said he, now that's not ^holetiome; 1 ou ought to take enough of the neat liquor to make 'em float light on the stomach ; and he just tipt off the halance of tlip whiskey without winkin'. Ah! said he, making a wry face, that's no go ; that last iscter was not good, it's upsot me a-most; call for som( more, and I'll be in agin in a minit ; I must go into the air for I feel dizzy. Well, I called for some more iseters and s< me more whiskey, and I sot and worked away at my leisure, a ad waited for him to come back and pay his share of the shot. Well, I waited and waited for eyer 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 handle of a knife for the nigg ?r help. Snowball, says I, have you seen anything of the Major f where on airth is he? Ime waitin' for him to settle the bill. Massa hab to wait den, one berry long time, aar : do last isetei, sar, he always fix Majoi-'s flint, sar, and make him cut his stick. You won't see him no more, sar; and he grinned from ear to ear like a chessy-cat. De bill is four dollar, massa, and a quarter-dollar for Snowball. Hem ! says I to myself, a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse : I see it now, Tm bilked ; so I paid it, and said no more on the subject. That was another "peep behind the scenes," that *Mie who incurs jinte expenses should look to the honesty and solvencv of his partners," I didn't grudge the money for what I larned 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-going there, and then he cut in there and got the prize hissclf ; he did upon my soul 1 All that talk about her temper was made out of whole cloth, and got up a-purpose, along with her nick-name of " Spermaceti," to put me out of consait of her, and it an- swered the purpose most beautiful. Yes, he did me most properly all the way through the chapter ; but, p'raps, it will all turn out right in the long run, for I was too young then to marry, or to handle so much money, for light come is plaguy apt to turn out ** light go ;" but, at the time, I was most peskilV rylcd, 1 tell you; and if I had a-seed him when I was so BEHIND THE SCENES. 37d wholesome ; ke 'em float lance of the a wry face, t me a-niost; ; ; 1 must go some more ked away at pay bis share 10 long, till I ist I began to le of a knife }een anything in' for bim to ry long time, sar, and make , sar; and he is four dollar, ml says I to lorse : 1 see it in the subject. Ihat "be who and solvency oncommsn wratliy, I do believe, in my soul, I should have tanned his jacket for him, so that he would have been a caution to behold. I am a good-nater'd man, and can bear spittin' on ; b«t 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 tell the itory or not; but I knew it would leakc out, and thought my own varsion of it would be the best, so I jist ups and tells father all about it, from first to last. He is a nasty, dirty, low-lived, mean feller, says father, and a disgrace to the coiamission, though one comfort is, he ain't a reglar, and never seed sarvice, and I dispise an officer that has never smelt powder. Ko man in the country but a veteran dcsarves the name of soldier, anrl tliem. it ain't no vanity to say, are the first troops in the univarse, — for the British have whipped all the world, and rve whipped them. Yes, he is a scoun'irel, said the old man ; but still the information you got is worth bavin'. It is a knowledge of the world, and that is invaluable ; although, from what 1 seed in t')e wars, I am most afeerd a man of the world ain't a man of much heart in a gincral way. Still the knowin' it is worth the lurnin' it. Acquire it, Siim, if you can ; but you musn't pay too dear for it. Now the Major gin more for his wit than you. Possible? said I; why, how is that? Why, says father, he bought bis at the expense of his character, and the loastest morsel of character in the world is worth more nor all that is to be larnt *' behind the scenes.^* ill : • f It CHAPTER IV, THE BLACK DROTIIKn. Yes, squire, said the Clockmaker, there is nothin* like lookin* "behind the scenes" in this world I rather pride myself on that lesson of Major Bradford. It ccme airly in life, and was, as he said, the best lesson I evei had. It made me an obsarvin' man. It taught me to look into thing? considerable sharp. I've given you a peep behind the scenes in assembly matters, so that you can judg« how far patriots and reformers show the painted face: and at the theatre what devils little angels c* 880 THE CLOCKMAKBR. -f-^ ^1 iC^-' 1^ ,.t • 1, , .1 ^ 1 t ;.1 1 dancin' galls turn out sometimes; and now I'll tell you a stor^ of " the Black Brother/' to show you how cantiu' fellers can carry two faces also, when they choose, for I've been " behind the scenes" there, too. I mentioned to you afore, if you recollect, that we had a split once to Slickville in our congregation, about the voluntary, and that some of the upper-crust folks went off in a huflF, and joined the " Christian band" as they called them- selves, or the awakeners as we call em. AVell, these folks went the whole figur', and from bein' considerjible proud men, affected great humility, and called each other '* Brother," and only asso- ciated with each other, and kept the rest of mankind off at arm's length, as if they were lost ones, and it would contaminate them, like, to keep company with them. It broke poor old minister's heart a'most, for they parsecuted him arterwards most dreadful; there was nothin' too b.id for them a'most to say of the old church, for in a gineral way them that secede dont go off' in pcacCy but go off armed fat a Jight^ as if they expected to he chased and brought back again* Pride and temper is almost always at the bottom of schism, you will Jind. Ahab Meldrum was one of these superfine overly good men, and jist about as par- feet a specimen of a hypocrit as I e'en a'most ever came across in all my travels. Well, I was to Ahab's one day asettlin' some business with him, and a pretty tough job I had of it — for you might as well drag out an eyetooth, without lancin' the gum, as to drag a debt out of these whitewashed gentlemen — and who should come in but a scentoriferous blackman, his woolly head all done up in roll curls like cotton in the cardin' mills, and a large shovel-hat in his hand, and wearin' a fine frill shirt, and dressed off to the very nines, for a nigger is as fond of finery as a peacock is of his tail. They are for spreadin' it out and a- struttin' about in it for ever and ever a'most. If there was a thing on airth that Ahab hated like pyson, I do believe it was a great bull-nigger, so seein' him come in, in that free and easy manner, he looks up at him quite stiff — for the better a man is, the prouder he grows in a gineral way — and, without biddin' him the time o' day, (which wouldn't ahurt him one morsel, tho' the 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 knavs THE BLACK BROTU£R. 381 you a story i' fellers can " behind the rou recollect, gation, about ^Iks went oflf called them- se folks went men, affected ind only asso- ankind off at d contaminate roke poor old terwards most St to say of the don I go of in expected to be %per is almost ihab Meldrum st about as par- ir came across asettlin' some |of it — for you l' the gum, as len — and who lis woolly head * mills, and a frill shirt, and id of finery as it out and a- |lf there was a lelieve it was a free and easy ,tter a man is, ithout biddin'^ jne morsel, tho' rom his chair, t brought you h, for I knew Humility was tne dress coat of pride^ and that we was cigoin' to ha?e a scene, for I seed by the cut of the feller's jih that he was a preacher. O massa, said he, I is a broder labourer in de Lord's wineyard, de onworthy (and he made a bow at that word, as much as to say there is a peg for you to hang a compliment on if you like), de onworthy shepherd oh de little flock of free color'i Christians to Martin Vanburinville. I jist call'y, massa brodei, to cossult you about some business ob *^ our little Christian band." Sit down, sir, if you please, says Ahab, a colorin' up like any- thing, for he seed his own professions was set like a fox-tnip aCore 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. Query, for that was the nickname the crittur went by; how is all your consarns, and ^our leetle flock? I hope day is all well, and none on em jumpiu' defence, and gettin'out o' de fold, among neighbour's sheeps: mine gib me great bodder dat way, werry great bodder indeed. Mine all shockin' fond ob musick, and go whereber dere is de best singin'; but I believe we may stump any sec for dat, and werry fond ob Greek too. Of Greek ! said Ahab, who was dumfuundered at the turn things took; did you say Greek? Yes, massa, said the Doctor, of Qreek; and he took an old well-worn grammar from his pocket, and openin' it, said, Broder, said he, what you call him ? pintein' to a pitikilar word. That, said Ahab, who I seed was a gittin' of his dander up quite fast, that is ^''eureeka," Ah, said the Doctor, I know him by sight, but I no recollect his name; by golly ! but Greek him werry hard, werry hard indeed. I try to lam a few words, for dey sounds well in de pulpit, and look grand. ( 'olored people no tinkey you know nottin, if you nc gib em hard words sometimes; and Broder Sly, he teach me to say em. Well, Broder Meldrum, he says, at last, I is glad I ''eureeka" you at home; here is de superscription for de new meetiii' house; put you fist to dat, broder, and come down like a man hansum. Poor Ahab, he shrunk from the touch as if it was hot iron, and from the subscription paper too as if it was his death-warrant. Brother, said he, and that word brother stuck in his crop so he had to cough twice afore he could get it out, and Bmelt so strong in his nose he had to take out his handkerchief, all scented with musk to get clear of the fogo of it, here are tfT) 382 TH£ CLOCKMAKER. d*' ^.%-M' 't ■'^' ili 4 % dollars, O niassa bmdder, said Blackey, only two dollar ! Bj golly! but I ginn fiye myself. Member, sar, he what gibs to de church, lends to de Lord. Come, brudder, mend de figur, dat'ii a good soul; you won't be one morsel de poor of it in de long run, you may depend. But Ahab was tough. Stickin' a sub- scription paper into a very strait-laced man, even for building a schism-shop for his own folks, is like stickin' a needle behind an ox's ear, it kills him dead on the spot. The labourer is worthy of his hire, broth — broth — he couldn^t come it a second time, so he ginn it up in despair; worthy of his hire, sir. You were wrong, very wrong, sir, to do it : the congregation should do their own work themselves. "Well, well, said Blackey, a good deal disconsarted at the failure of his application; p'raps you is right, brudder, p'raps you is right; you noes better den us poor colored folks does. I has seed a great deal of trouble lately, brudder, said Query. My congregation is the most difficultest to man.nge I did ever see (pitikilarly de fair sec), and has had a split in it. Dat everlastin' sinner, and crooked 'sciple of a nig- ger, Ben Parsons, dat is too laay to work hisself, de good-for- notten feller, he tinks he preach better nor me, de consaited fool ! and he sot up for hisself, and seceded, and I lose twenty dollars a year of my livin' by him, and some o' my best singers too. Cato Cooper's three daughters, Cleopatra, Portia, and Juno, all left to foller arter de young preacher, and dey had mos superfine voices, better nor most nigga wenches has, and sing as well as teatre women, dey did. Yes, it's lucky for massa Ben, I is a Christian man, dat uses no carnal weapon, or I'd feel his short ribs tor him, and take my change out of his hide, de villain. De Raccoon ginn to scratch and bite, I hitty once wid all ma might, '■' I bnngy eye and spile his sight, Oh, Ise de child to tight ! But I is a new man now wid de ungenerate heart, and only fight old Scratch, old Adam, or old sin, but not a brudder in de flesh- no naber I ain' goin^ get mad no more. For little childer neber let I .r ' ' ? I '^ De angry passions rise, '"^ * r . ; . Your little hands were neber made To tear each oder's eyes. Nothin' cfse save liim from catchiu' it, for I it de bo> dat couM II Ul w| cri ur tol ril sc| T i a TH£ BLACK BROTHER. 383 do it. liOrd, IM run him foul of a consternation, afore he know'd what was de matter of him. Temper, him werry trong, and say cuss him, bung up both he eye, and put in de dead lite ; but I is a preacher now, and religion advise werry different, and say, "let him go to de debil his own way, de willain.** He ain*t worth powder and shot, and dat is de fuck, for he is more crookeder in his ways nor a dog's hind leg, or ram's horn, the ungenerate, ungrateful beast. Den I hab great trouble to home too; I lost Miss "Wenus, my wife, last week; she died of de ribilious cholic. But she died happy, werry happy indeed, screetchin* and screamin' for joy, and made a most lovely corpse. I tink she was de most beautifulest corpse I ever did see — it wai a pleasure to look at her. Bioder Sly improved de occasion, and spoke four hours and a half widout stopin', werry powerful did de leetle man; we had a werry refreshin' time of it, and beautiful singin' ; oh, by golly, but it was grand ! Yes, I hab great trouble, and I 'most fear I will ab go to sarvice agin, for troubles rise up as de sparks do ; and if I do gin up preach in' agin, if I don't pitch into Ben Parson's ribs like a tousand of bricks, it's a pity, that's all. I'll make hawk's meat ob him. Cryin' over spilt milk is no use tho', s'pose we conclude our talk with a varse of mHsick ; and before Ahab could recover from amazement at the freedom of his new brother, and the mortification of my witnessing the scene, he was struck speechless with vexation at Dr. Query pulling out a flute from his pocket, and putting the parts together, with a great many flourishes, and a lot of babooneries, wettin* the threaded ends in his mouth, and forcin' them together with main strength. Now, brudder, said he, spittin' on the eends of his fingers to make 'em stop better, if you and de entire stranger dere, pointin' to me, will strike up a vaise of musick, ticklin' metre, I will jine you wid de flute, „,^ : Adam was de fust man . ^- J , t^t Eve was de tudder, ■ Cain was a wicked man \ Cause he killed him brudder. Abei wasn't name right, was he, for he warn't " able" for Cain, b? no manner of means. But it makes beautiful musick, verv beautiful indeed; you have no notion of it, no more nor a child. It is the forty elebenth varse of Brudder Siy's new ode: and he I Ju 884 THE CLOCKMAKER. immediately commenced playing the air. Come, hrudder, said he, begin, and I mil pitch it for you. I thought Ahab would have fainted, he was so struck up all of a heap. He knew I would tell the story all round the town, and he was as mad as a hatter; for nothin' makes a man boil over so quick as to h.'ive the cover put on and keep the steam in. He WM jist rccidy to bust, and make ail fly agin with rage. At Inst, said he. a tryin' to bite in his breath, this gentleman, Mr. Slick, has some business of importance to transact this mornin' with me. I nm afraid I cannot now join in the exercise; but some other time will have the pi — pleas — . I will try to do it. Ob, says I, don't mind me, Aliab, I beg ; I should like it above all things. There is nothin' I am so fond of as psalmody in coiisart with the flute. Dr. Query is right: it makes excellent superior musick; so come, says I, let's try: our accounts has kept for three years, they'll keep for half an hour longer; don't disappoint the gentleman. Yes^ said Blackey, by golly, but it's grand, dat is de fack. *'Adam was de fust man;" and he set off m a voluntary agin. Brother, said Ahab, for he was obliged now to bolt that word, my friend is not in a frame of mind: he is not a man of experience. Put up your instrument. Let us take another opportunity. Well, the poor divil felt he warn't wonted there at all. He seed Ahab was ashamed of him, and that pride, not business', was the stumblin'-block ; so he separated the jintes of his flute, put them in his pocket, and rose to depart. Now, squire, continued the Clockmaker, p'raps you dont know, for you can't have seed much of the blacks, but what I'm goin* for to tell you is a fact, I assure you. When a nigger is frightened or vexed, there is a parfume comes from him that's enough to stifle you. If you don't believe me ask Lord — Lord — what the plague is his name, that was out to the West 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 awful, 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. Brudder, said he, fare-de-well, peace be wid you, my lubbin fren*; and he held out his great ily black paw to shake hands with him. Pool wl .! '. THE BLACK BROTHER. ;i8o Ahab! lie looked like a crittur that is a-goiii' to be put in tha itocks, resigned to his fate because he could'iit 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 >vas 'ristocratic, and that it \vould be a fortin for a single man like him to Eng. land; and he actilly slept in gloves lined with pomatum to keep the freckles off; I hope I may be shot if he didn't. He was top-gallant sail proud of them, I tell you: so he looked at the great piece of raw nigger meat that was afore him with horror ; und arter makin' all sorts of wry faces at it, as a gall does when slie takes physic, he shut his eyes and dropped his hand into it. 01) ! 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 last 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 arm's length, as a feller does that falls into the dirt, and a bitin^ in his breath, and curlin^ up his nose us mad as a bear with his tail shot off, and went into the bed- l"Ooni, and washed and scrubbed away at it like anything. AVhen he was gone, I opened the winders and ventilated the room; for it smelt as bad as one of the narrer alleys in Old Town Edinbro', or a slave-ship: it was shocking nosey, I tell you. As soon aa he came back, says he, Sam, that poor feller means well, but he has mistaken his calling: he has too much levity, I fear, for a minister. I give you joy, says I, of your new " bnidder" 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-liad to endure what you jist went thro', / know. No bishop would ordain that man; for he would see with half an eye he had no sense, and warn*t no way fit for it at all except to make things look ridikilous: but, if any body can go and choose preachers that please, as they do hogreeves at town meetin'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 leadl to another. Now don't, for goodness' sake, make such ever- kistin' pretences .is you do, unless your practice keeps up to yout professions. I hate hypocrites, and I won't spare you. When- ever folks talk of you ai^d the Slickville schism, hang me if I don't tell *eai Df the Black Brother, 386 THE CLOCKMaKER. ''.) >• .jt * t: '^T X i. ..** tij,. ' *'i I.- . ■' • . . u' . THE GREAT UNKNOWN. , CHAFrER V. 1 > ' ■- i; .*,. Well, squire, said the Clockmaker, Fm glad you arc 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 nonsense is talked as in parliament. They measure every one by themselves as father did about his clothes He always thought hisn ought to fit all his Imj/s, 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 had 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 harvest for you. Walk into 'em with your sickle, and cut and bind till you are tired; you will find employment enough, I tell 1/ou. We may have our weak points, and 1 should like to know who the plague has'nt; but John has both his weak spots and soft spots too, and Til pint 'em out to you, so that you can give him a sly poke that will make him run foul of consternation afore he knows it. I'll show you how to settle his coffee for him without a fish-skin, I know; so begin as soon as you can, and as much sooner as you have a mind to. On my own part, I was no less pleased to have him with me, for few men in British America have so intimate a knowledge o( the character, feelings, and prejudices of the people of the colo- nies as Mr. Slick, or a more clear conception of the policy that ought to be pursued towards them by the mother country. So < trongly was I impressed with this cooTiction, that I could not TIIK GREAT UNKNOWN. 3S7 help expressing to him a hope that circumstances might urisi during our visit to England to bring him in contact with somt of the leading members of parliament, as I felt assured he could gire most valuable and useful information on a subject which, tiiough of immense importance, was but little understood. Lord, gir, said he, I've seen some on 'em when I was there afore (for Tve been three times to Engh'ind) and know it well; but tliey didn't want the right information, and so I bammed them: they didn't want facts to make opinions on, but facts to tally with opinions fornied, like British travellers in the States, and I always stuff such folks. I had a most curious ventur' when I was last in London. * I had been down city all day a-skuUin' about, and trampoos> ing everywhere a'most to sell some stock in the canal that is to run through the pine barrens in the Quahog Territory, that I bought for half nothin', and wanted to put off to advantage, and returned to my lodgings awful tired, and as wet-footed as a duck. I had jist drawed off ray boots, got snug afore the fire, with a cigar in my mouth and my feet on the back of a chair, ii-toastin* of them to the coals, when the sarvent-maid opened the door and a gentleman entered a-bowin' very ginteel, and sayin', Mr. Slick, I presume. — "Well, says T, I won't say I ain't; but won't you come to an anchor and be seated; you musi excuse me, says I, a-gittin* up, for my feet is wet. Well, he sot down and eyed me from head to foot, as if he thought I was a little ondcr 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 everlastingly. I have only seen the sun once since I came here, and then it looked as if it had the cholera in the black stage ; but my feet is what I complain of most. Now to home I wear ingian rubbers; but they don't do on the pavements here; for they make you slide about as if you was on the ice. I had to leave them off, for I pitched into every one I met a'most, and it wam't pretty at all, — How long is it, said he, since you left Nova Scotia? — Thinks I to myself, what in natur* is this crittur after. I'll jist draw him out by doin' simple. Now that is natur\ squire. If ever you want to read a man, do simple, and he thinks he has a soft horn ^m THE CLOCKMAKER. ,4f* s.«' < ■•' to deal with; and, while he s'poses ne i» a-playiii' you off, yon are puttin' the leake into him without his seein* it. Now, If you put on the knowin^ it puts him on his guard directly, and he fights as shy as a loon. Talkiii' cute, looks knavish; hut talkin' soft, looks sappy. Nothin' will make a feller bark up a wrong tree like that: so, without answerin' to the pint, (tltat I might bring him to his business,) sa^^s I— -for wet feet there is nothin' like toastin' them afore the fire : it draws the cold out^ and keeps it from flyin' to the stomack, and saves you a fit ol the mulligrubs p'raps. I lamt that from the Ingians; thev always sleep with their feet to the fire, and at night lays all in a circle round it like the spokes of a wheel. I never yet seed an Ingian with a cold in his nose. — How very good, said he, wliat 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 nobod}'. Thinks I to myseU^ I dare say you will mind it, but more to laugh at than foller ut any rate. * At last, says he, thinkin' it was time to come to the pint, I am desired, sir, by a distinguished friend of mme, to request the favour of you to give him an interview whenever it may l)e con- venient to you, as he has heard much of your knowledge of the provinces, and is anxious to get all the information he can pre- vious to the Canada question coming on for discussion. — Hem i says I to myself, I wonder whether this is fact or bam. It don t seem to hang very well together nother, but it mought be a bee for all that, as the old woman said when she looked into the hornet's nest for honey. So to prove him, says I, as to con- venience, let me see — I must consider a bit, — to-morrow I go to Bristol, by Great Western Railway, and next day 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 carrige is at the door, and I will drive you there as soon as you are ready, for my friend would be much disappointed in not having the pleasure of seeing you. Civil enough too, tliinkj (, and as I never seed a parliamentary big bug, I should like e chance, if it was only, like a colony delec^ate, to have it ta THE GREAT Itm^XOWN. 389 |ra{? on art«r I got liome ; so I goes into the chamber, puts on a clean shirt-coUar, slips on a pair of dry boots, and runs the comb through my hair. Now, says 1, when I comes back to the sittin'-room, let''s up killock and off, for it's gettin' on eon- giderably well in the arternoon, and is a*most daylight down, and if he sets me a-goin' on colony subjects I won''t know when to leave off, for it takes time to spin them yarns, I tell you. So we showed a leg right off, trotted down stairs, and into the coach in no time, and says he to the driver "home/' — "liome!*" siiys I to myself; why who the devil can this crittur be? Is he a member's son, or his wriiin' and cypherin' clerk, or a lover i)t' one of the galls ; or who is he that he says " home," for he must live there, that's sartin. Well, I didn't like to ask him direct, for I knew IM 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 about nothin' a'most. Now, it happens to be jist the revarse ; we are not famous for axing questions^ but for never answerin' them. Arter a while the coach stopped, and afore I could look round I was in the hall, surrounded by officers of the Life Guards, drest in the most beautiful toggery, at least so I took them to be, for their uniform was splendid ; I never see anything to equal it except the President's on reviewin' the troops on the 4th of July day. It made me wish I had brought my militia dress, for I didn't like one of our citizens to be out- done 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 msn dressed in plain clothes, and they stood there a space a-eyin* of me and n- whisperin' together. — He won't do, said the new comer : look at his boots. — It can't be helped, said the other, he must see him, he sent for him himself. — Who the devil is he? said the stranger. Is he a delegate or a patriot member of assembly, or what is he, for he is the queerest lookin' devil I ever saw ? — Hush ! said guide, he is the celebrated *' Sam Slick," the Yankee clockmaker; and, said he, they may talk about the feller's shrewdness as muoh as they please, but he is the d — ■! W r over saw, I 39() THE CLOCKMAKER. m^Z €0 Well, Bays I to myself, this is rather pretty too, nin't itt [ guess you think flashin' in the ))an scares clucks, don't you! One thing is Murtin, the' you don^t often look in the ghiss, any- how, or youM know the face of a fool when you see one, wliicli ii more, I estimate, than you do at this present time. With tlint, guide said to one of the sodgcr officers that wasa-standin^inthe hall a-doin^ of nothin\ Show him up. So one of thcni, a very tall handsome man with his head all covered writh ])0\vder, like a rat in a flour barrel, come up and said, your name, if you ])leag(', sir? AVell, savs I, 1 donH know as it matters much about names, what^s yourn? Thomas, sir, said he, a-bowin' and a- smiiin' very pcrlite. — Well then, said I, friend Thomas, mine is Mr. Slick, to the htickbone. — I no sooner said the word than he bawled out ^Ir. Slick in my ear, as loud as he could roar, till he made me start again, and then every officer on the stairs, and there was several of them there, kept repeatin^ after each other *-Mr. Slick/' ''Mr. Slick,'' "Mr. Slick."— Don't he in an cverlastiu'' almighty hurry, said I, Tm a-comin' as fast as I can, and if you do that are agin I won't come at all, so titerc now; for I began to get my Ebenezer up, and feel rather wolfish. ^Vhen I came to the foot of the stairs the officer stood back and made room for me; and, says I, after you, sir; but he hung back quite modest (seein'* that an American citizen ranks with the first man livin')— so not to be outdone in manners by a mere Britisher, I took him by the arm and pushed him on. — I can't think of goin' afore you, sir, said I, but don^t let's lose time in ceremony ; and besides you know the navigation better than I do, for I never was here afore ; and then he went on first. As I mounted the stairs I heerd guide friend say again to the other man in phiin clothes. Didn't I tell you he was a fool ! — Madman, I should think, said the other. — Presently a door wpened, and I was showed into a room where member, who was nothin' but a common-sized man arter all, was standin' by the fire, and three or four young gentlemen in plain clothes Kas a-writin' at a table, as hard as they could lay pen to paper. The officer that opened the door roared out again, " Mr. Sliekr 98 loud as he could, and I raely felt so dander, I do believe I should have knocked him down if he hadn't a-stept back out of THE GllEAT UNKNOWN. 3yi teach ; but member came forrard very perlite, and shook me by the hand and stiid it >vus very kind of me to come at such sltort notice, and thdt he was very happy to have the pleasure to tee me. Then he jist giive a wave of his hand and pointed to the door, as a hunter does to las dogs, without speakin', and the people writii)'' get up and went out backward, kccpin' their fucei to him and bowi/)\ Arter they were gone, he said, take a ciiair, sir, if you ]>leasc: so I took one for myself and lifted one for him, suyin', it was as cheap to sit as to stand, and every bit and grain us easy too; but he Siiid he preferred 8tandin\ and kinder sorter looked at me, as much as to siiy, he was too good or too proud for that ; so there he stood, his elbow on tlic mantel- piece and his head restin^ on his hand. Well, my bristles began to stand right up, like a dog'*s back : I didn'*t like the talk of the guide friend he sent for me ; I didn't like the way the officers kept bawlin'* out my name and snickered in the entry, and I didn''t relish the way I was sot down on a chair alone, like a man to be shaved in a barber^s shop. I felt as if I could chew him right up, I was so mad, and I was dctarmined to act as ugly as him, for my coming was his seeking and not my own; and, as there was nothin^ to be made out of it, and no trade :^ spiled, I didn^t see as I had any occasion to put up witli his ^ nonsense, do you ? for there is nothin' I hate so much as pride, especially when any of them benighted insolent foreigners un- dertake to show it to a free and enlightened American. So I jist put up my feet on his fender, free and easy, to show him he couldn''t darnt me by his airs and graces, and then spit right Btween the polished bars of the grate on the red hot coals till it cracked like a pistol. Well, he jumped a yard or so, as if he was shot, and if you had seen the tanyard look he gin me, it would have made you split a-larfin*. Don^ be frightened, Lord^ iJiid I, — for I didn't know which house he belonged to, so 1 thought I'd give the title, as we call every stranger citizen Kurnel, — Lord, said I, I won't hit you ; I could spit thro' a leyhole and not wet the wards ; but as you stand, I believe I Kill too, for talk atween two don't come kinder nateral, unless both sit or both stand ; and now, says I, as time presses, what may your business be with me. Lord ? Well, he stood back ^0 or three feet, as if he was afeered I would touch him, and . 892 THE CLOCKMAKER. 1 • ■ 1 S' I then he entered into a long palaver about the colonies, and asked ine if the people was contented with the Government. ]\rr. Stranger Lord, said I, they are not, and that's a fact. lie brightened up when he heerd that; he seemed as if il pleased him, as if he would raither hear that than that were satisBed. Thinks I to myself, a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse. I see what you be; you are an agitator, and want grievances to work on; but you got the wrong sow by the ear this time any how. — Ah, said he, your testimony is valuable, Mr. Slick, for you are an impartial man, and have had great opportunities of knowing the condition of the people. Do you attribute this discontent to the government that has previiiled there since the American revolution, or to causes over which we have no control? — To the Government, said I, some part, and some part to other causes, but to none over which you have no control. — Precisely, said he; that is exactly my view of it. Will you allow me, said he, (a-tryin* to lead me on by doin' the civil,) to offer you some refreshment, sir; I ought to apologise to you for not having offered it before. Have you lunched yet? — Thank you, Lord, said I, I have dined, and harn't no occasion for nothin'. — Then what remedies do you propose? said he. how would a union do? — Cure all evils, said I: you have hit (he right nail on the head; it's exactly the right medecine.— How singular, said he; and he rubbed his hands, and walked up and down the room several times, lookin' very pleased; and 1 thought I heerd him say, What will the Duke say to this You have heerd, no doubt, said he, of responsible government ; pray what is your opinion of that ? — It is not only a good government, said I, but no country can be either happy or con- tented without it. It is absolutely indispensable; you will lose the colonies without you introduce it. — Mr. Slick, said he. I have heered much of your sagacity from others, and your con- versation fully confirms the high opinion I had formed of yoa I am delighted to have the pleasure of making your acquaint- ance. When do you leave town ? (English folks always begins that way, afore they axe you to take pot luck with them.) — In the mornin', bright and airly, said I: have you any conimandi that way? — No, thank you, said he; but would you have any objections to my ordering up those gentlemen you saw here jist THE GREAT UNKNOWN. 893 es, and asked ninent. Mr. t. med as if il an that were J a >viiik to a tor, and want ,w by the ear y is valuable, ive had great )ple. Do ymi has prevailed over which we [)me part, and -h you have no ly view oi it. on by doin the it to apologise ►u lunched yet? rn't no occasion )ose? said he. : you have hit [it medecine.- ids, and walked y pleased; and Ike say to this he government; >t only a good happy or con- ; you will lose ck, said he. I and your con- formed of you. your acquaint 8 always begins [ith them.)— ^^ any commandi you have any saw herejisl now, to hear this yerj gratifying confirmation of my opinions? —Not the least in the world, said I; I don't earc if all London hears it. So he ry English putty; the doors are hung upon English hinges, and secured by English locks (against British thieves tho*, for they forgot to reform them afore they shipped them out); the floor is covered with imported carpets, the windows with imported curtains, and the fire made in imported stoves, and fixed with imported tongs and shovels. When he gives a house-warmin' to his friends, for he is rather amorous of a frolick, the plates, knives, and forks, decanters and glasses, and everything else is English, and when the boys and galls go for to dance, hear the musick, that's all! Pretty musick it is too, afore tunes came in fashion, I guess ; but hear it. English fifes, English flutes, English drums English pianoes, 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 Tli tell you what don't come : wood, water, stone, and airth, is all that they can call their own, that doesn't come from England, unless it be a few thousand wooden clocks I introduced here, to let 'em know when grog time of day comes. Well, the next house Blue-nose gets into is a small one, where his nose and his toes touches the roof. You'd think he was done with England now, and that he could take nothin' out of the world with him, no more than he brought into it; but he ain't finished yet. The goney wouldn't die happy if this was the case. He don't like to be separated from English manufactures even in death, for he is so used and 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 I No, sir, the grave don't part 'em, nor death shut his pan nother, for, %8 soon as he is stiff, he is dressed in an English shroud, I 402 TUB CLOCKMAKEK. I I-' i i :Ar hi ^ 9 tv4 pi^ »IV-: w r ... 1 -A :it. screwed diO\i\\ with English screws into his coffin, that is corerod with Englisii cloth, und has a plate on it of English ware, foi the worms to road his name and age on, if they have lamed to spell. The minister claps on an English gownd, reads the English sarvice out of an English hook, and the grave is filled up agin with airth shovelled in with an English shovel, while every man, woman, and child that bears his name pulls out an English handkerchief, to wipe their eyes and blow their noses with, and buy as much English black cloth, crape, and what not, &s would freight a vessel almost; for, bavin' lamed the multiplication table airly in life, the number of his descendants would make you stare, I know. His children run the same rig round the same course, till they eend by being packed up in a snug pill-box in the same grave-yard. 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 goo(t-natured stranger could endure, and though amused myself at the rhodomontavas to Ant warp, you'd see what it is i lose colonies. When that place belonged to Holland, and bad colonial trade, five thousand marchants used to meet on 'Change; now the Exchange is left, but (he 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 mindle of next week, that can't get out for the Dutch forts, is of no use in, and if it did get oufc has no place to go to. Buonaparte said he wanted ships, colonies, and commerce; one fool makes many! Every delegate, patriot, and humbug, that goes from here to London, if he gets by acci- dent to a public dinner (for folks to see he ain't black), and ia isked for a toast, rises up, lookin' as wise as a donkey, and says, "Ships, colonies, and commerce!" 'till it becomes a standin' toast. Buonaparte was a fool, and didn't know what he was a-talkin' about, for colonies means all three. Them that have colonies will lose the other two along with them. Yes, John Bull is a blamed blockhead, a cus Excuse me, said the Itranger., rising and etfecting his escape at last ; but really, sir, your language is so offensive you must permit me to retire, and he very properly left ihe room. Well, I didn't mean to oll'end him nother, said Mr. Slick, I vow. There was no occasion for him to hop about as mad as a parched pea that way, was there f I am sorry he kicked afore he was spurred tho', for I was only speakin^ in a gineral way like. I wish he bad heerd me out too, tor I was only a-breakin' of the crust when he began to look all wrath that way, I hadn't got rightly into the subject; I only spoke of manufactures, but that is merely one item there are many other political ones *hat he never heerd of, / know. But what can you expect of such critturs? all they can do is to grunt like a pig at corn time. The way they don't know nothiu' 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 pro- vinces: it's ridiculous, it makes me larf so it actilly busts my waist/joat buttons off; it fairly gives me a side, 404 THE CLOCKMAKER. And I must say 1 do like, when I get a clinnce, to •' Snuh a Snob," CHAPTER VII. ■4*- '■ . PATRIOTISM, OR THE TWO 8HEARS*S. As toon as the conversation rehited in the preceding chapter had ceased, I committed the heads of it to paper, and as I in tended to proceed on the following day to New Brunswick, I retired early, in order to secure a good night's rest. In this ex- pectation, however, I was disappointed. The har, 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 he the delegation sent from Can it was wliitewnshin* da; to the palace, and they was all in htbbub. For, Mac, said he (smilin' like n rael sult-wuter sailor), th«s« leetle things, you know, must be done for kings as well as sub* jccts, and women is women, whether their petticoats are made of silk or cotton, and the dear critturs will have their own way, eh, Blac! Our washin' we put out, but house cleanin' must be done in the house or not done at all, there is no two ways about it: you understand one, Mac! Tell my people, when you return, if my governors don't behave better, d — n 'em I *11 hang one or two of them as an example! Good>b've, Mac And some on 'em was fools enough to believe the goney and his everlastin' lockrums, that's a fact. Yes, delegations play the vory old Nick with a country. They hurt its credit, stop emigration, reform out decent folks, and injure its trade. People are afecr'd 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 ain't. You are a nation sight too well off, so you be, and if you >?as taxed like us Yankees, or the ignorant British, and had to move round and mind your stops, so as to make two eends cleverly meet together when the year is out, it would be better for you, I guess. One half of you don't know what you are taikin' about; and t'*other half are goin^ the whole figur' for patrioitism. Lord, I shall never forget a rise I once took out of an old Colonel to Bangor, the Honorable Conrad Corncob. lie rose to be a gineral arterwards, but then he was only a kurnel, and it*s very odd, but you can tell a kurnel as far as you can see him. They'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. AVell, he was ravin^ about the disputed territory, a-blowin* up Mr. Harvey, the Governor of New Brunswick, sky high, and sayin' what he would do agin' the Britishers, and, at last he says, a-turnin to me and a-roUin' up his eyes like a duck in thunder, Mr. Slick, lays he, '^dilce est pro patria mori.^' What in natur' is thati ' 406 THE CLOCKMAKKR. W' says I, gincral, for Fve forgot what little Latin minister lamed me to uightschool ; 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 1 says he: I don't see no other meanin' to it at all. I do then, says I, and this is the way I turn it into English: "mori" the more I get, "pro patria" by the country, "dulce est* the sweeter it is. And that's what I call patriotism in these days. Says he, Mr. Slick, and he looked all round to see nobody was within faearin', 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 captain and the other of major; do you take''! To be sure I do, says I ? I take well enough ; and if them Maine folks will be such almighty " maniacks,'^ as I call 'em, as to send out troops to the Brunswick line, you'd be a fool if you didn't make your ned out o' them as well as anybody else, that's a fact. But, Mr. Slick, said he, mum is the word, you know; keep dark about it, and I'll show you how to put the leake into folks; and then turnin' round and puttin' himself in the fix of Webster, Clay, and some o' them great-guns, he made as if he was addressin' of an assembly of citizens. Now, said he, I'll show you how I talk into them about the boundary. " Will you sell your birth-right, my fellow citizens ? will you sell your bii-th- right to the proud and insolent British? I await your answer. Will none speak ? Then none will be so base. Will you t.imely submit to have your sacred soil polluted by benighted foreigners ? No; let Maine answer indignantly. No; let Florida echo it back; let the mountains and valleys, the lakes and the rivers, take it up, aad reverberate in thunder; No. No, fellow citizens, let us father rally round the star-spangled banner of our great and glorious country. Let us, choosing that day that is consecrated to fame by the blood and heroism of our ancestors, the great day y. I PATRIOTISM. 40? of independence, plant our flag on the terri/ory, and rampart it round with the bodies of our free and enlightened citizens. •Dulce est pro patria mori.'" And then be bust out a-larfin\ and staggered like over to the sophy, and laid down and haw- hawed like thunder. Well, Slick, said he, when he came too, what darned fools mankind are, to be so easily gulled by that are word patriotism! ain't they? It fairly beats all, don't it! Now, strangers, said the Clockmaker, that's pretty much the case with delegations. As long as them missions are pro^table tilings, delegates will be as plenty and grievances as thick as hops. If I was the minister I would receive them folks very civilly, and attend to their business if they had any, and was recommended by the Governor: but I never would encourage agitation, and hold out a premium for it, by rewardin' agitators Ihemselves with appointments. A trade won't he followed long ihat ain't a prq/ilable one, that's a fad. I'll tell you a story. Do, said the company; let^s hear your story: and the motion of the chairs indicated a closing in of the listeners round the speaker. About forty years ago, or thereabouts, I think it is, said Mr. Slick, if my memory sarves me right, there was a rebellion to Ireland. Patriots were as thick as toads arter a rain storm; they was found in every man^s path almost, and they stirred up a tempestical time of it, you may depend. They began with grievances and speech-makin', and all that sort of thing, jist as they did t'other day to Canidy, and it eended the same way. It was put do>vn arter a good many poor deluded critturs lost their lives in the field. Then came the day of reckonin', and they caught some o' the leaders and hanged them, tho' most of the first chopmen cut and run, as they always do in such like cases, considerable cranky. Among the rest that they nabbed was two brothers, the two Shears's. Well, folks pitied these two men a good deal, too; they said they railly was in airnest, and had no private eends to sarve, like most of the patriots, but was led astray by artful men. They said that nothin' could excuse the horrid murders, and blood, and distress caused by their doin's; but still, somehow or another, there was so much courage and darin', and eloquence, and elevation of mind like, about these men, they did railly grudge the gallus its due, that time, anyhow, and kind o' sorter felt as if they'd a-been glad if they had got \ 408 THE CLOCKMAKER. «-i ■a ofT. But no. Nothin' would do. Government said a just severity would be marcy 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 consi derable streaked about it, pitied ^eni, mourned ^em, and, as usual, forgot ^em. Well, last summer I was to Dublin, and, arter I hud finished my trade there, havin^ a little time on my hands, I goes about to see the Castle, Custom House, College, and what not d curiosities; for Dublin is worth seein', I tell you; it takes the shine off of most cities, and, at last I heard, there was a place under St. Michan^s church where bodies never decayed 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 the like of that, and it must be worth lookin' at. So off I sot, with an old East India Captain, that was a-stayin** there, to the Shelburne Inn, to Stephen's-green — quite a spooney old boy as youM see in a hundred — and when I got to the church, I hired the old saxton woman, or whatever they call her, to let me in. What does she do but lights two candles; one on 'era 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 crumbly black soil like, that felt greasy onder foot, and as far as I know, might a- been human ; and railly as I ant a livin' sinner, I hope I may die this blessed rainit 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 coflins had rolled off and fallen away to powder; and they had nothin' over them at all, but there they laid on the floor like dead dogs, as naked as when they was born. AVell, says I to the woman, says I, if that don't beat ail, too: why nothin' has decayed about them men, but the chords of their necks. Their heads is off; how strange that is, ain't it ? what made their heads go for it, and no other part? what on airth is the meanin'o* that? Here another general move of the chairs in the bar-room showed the increasing interest of the conipany in his narrative, as thsy closed in still further, and contiJictod theii Why, their heads ain*t gone, your honor, said she (i'oi PATRIOTISM. 409 all Irish people say your honor to you when there is anything to he got hy it), they have got them in their laps, and are a- holdin' of them in their hands: see, and she lifted up one of their heads, and turned its ghastly face round towards me, and its eyeless socket stared horrid ; while the mouth, all contracted, showed the teeth and looked wicked ugly, I tell you, with an expression o^ pain and sufierin' that was dreadful to hehold. I didn't get thai head out o' my head one while, I tell you. It fairly harnted me ; and I fancied I seed it arterwards, when I went to hed, for the matter of two or three nights, one arter the other. Dead bodies ain't very pretty things at no time ; I can't jist say I am fond of them, and I most wonder somehow, how doctors don't get sick of them too. Brother Eldad was always a-l)uyin* of them, jist for the pleasure of whitlin' of them with his knife, and every draw and trunk he had^ almost, had an arm, or leg, or somethin' or another in it. I believe in my soul, he never buried one agin' that he dug up, for he seemed to owe the worms a grudge, so he did ; but as I was a-sayin', they had their heads in their laps. Well, says I to the old woman, says I, is that St. Dennis ? for he is the only man I ever heerd tell of that ondertook to walk off with his head onder his arm arter that fashion — who onder the sun is he ? Why, says she, them two men are two brothers : they was hanged and beheaded in the rebellion; the/ are ''^the two Shears' s;" hante 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 beau- tiful the corpse looks, where the air ain't come to the back. No, says I, not I indeed ; I always feels kinder onswoggled like, at dead bodies ; it makes my flesh crawl all over, and I won't lay foot to 'em for nothin', a'most, for it's ondecent to kick 'em about with your foot that way, as if it was a carcass of pork. Why they won't bite your honor, said she, tho* they do show their teeth ; and, by the powers, I am not afeerd of any man that ever was, dead or alive ; so I'll give him a roll over if you'd like to see the other side of him. He is as light as a baby, he is so dry. No, says I, jist let him be; it don't seem jist alto- gether right. Let him be where he is. Well, then, said she, obsarve, your honor, how nateral the limbs look. See the great toe, ^ow it forks out, strainin' as if seekin' for support for tht ^7 410 THE CLOCKMAKER. m body, when hangin' ; and the chords of the legs, how hard and crampt they he. The hands, too, are conTuIsed, and the fingen clenched in the agonies like a violent death. It's a beautifu! sight entirely. People say they are great cnriosities, them, and that it's worth goin' many a long mile to see, and a crown piece to get a sight of them. Most gentlemen give me five shillings for my trouble ; and once. Lord Argent gave me a sov — *' "Well, well, says I, a-stoppiii" of her gab about the pay, for women in agineral way never lose sight of the main chance one blessed minit — 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 coffin, bury 'em decently, and put a monument over them, and show their pity or their gratitude, if they have any. If it ain't fit to make a fuss about folks that was hanged, and they actilly did desarve what they caught that time, why on airth hante they the decency to inter 'em privately, and jist put up a stone with their names on it, to show where they be, and who they be ? It 's enough to make a man sick of patriotism this, I *ll be hanged myself if it ain't. It is hard to say which IS wus, to see patriots forgit their country, or the country forgit- ten patriots, for it happens both ways. — Don't call it patriotism, said the Sea-Captain, who stood all the time a-sniflin' and a- shivelin' like a child, (he did, upon my soul !) don't dignify the crime o' rebellion, which is an offence against the laws of God and man, by such a name. The innocent blood which thej caused to be poured out like water called for the just but heavy retribution of shedding their own. — ^Well, says I, them whose cause they took hold on might bury 'em, at any rate. It would'nt hurt 'em one might or morsel to do that much, I am sure. — ^Patriots, said he, in gineral, are too busy in consartin* schemes for their own aggrandizement to have time to think of the dead, or care for the livin' either. The very name of patriot awakens no other idea than that of the cowardly assassin, or midnight incendiary. Patriotism, and the worst species of crime have become synonymous. — Call 'em Pat-rio/*, then, says I, if you please, or christen them anything you like; but they ought •to be buri;d, anyhow. — So they had ought, said he. Poor uar PATRIOTISM. 411 fortunate men. the Tictims of your own folly, and the viilany of your more subtle and designing accomplices, I pity you — I pity you from my heart, and i/vill ask permission to perlbrm the last sad office for you, and see that your bodies repose in peace at last. Ah ! my good friend, said he, had they read their Bible more, and seditious pamphlets less, they might have escaped this jfrnominious end. They would have observed the precept of the Psalmist : " Fear God, honour the King, and meddle not rvith ihem that are given to change." — Stranger, said I, — for I didn't see what right he had for to go for to preach to me, — as for fearin' the Lord, says I, I guess I was always brought up to that since I was knee high, or so, to a chaw of tobacco; and as for a king, we hante got none, and ain't likely to have one. We have iiothin' but a President, and he is a divil outlawed, for he is nothin' but a miserable, dispicable Loco Foco. Now, says I, if Tou can find anywhere tbat an everlastin' miserable skunk of a Loco Foco is desarvin of honour, why ; but he wouldn't hear me out, but jist walked away a bit, a-sayin' of oh! oh! oh! as if he had a fit of the cholic, and a-wavin' of his hand up and down, as a freemason does at a funeral. The crittur was a con- siderable of a spooney, that 's a fact; but, greenhorn as he was^ lie wam't far out in his latitude about politics, I tell you. Whenever I hear how sweet it is to die for one's country, pa- triotism, and such stufif, I always think of them two Shears's, and the reward they got at the time, and now receive from pos- terity, *^Jbr meddlin* with them that are given to change" ' CHAPTER VIIL TOO KNOWING BY HALF. 'If if: Instead of embarking at Windsor in the steamer for New Brunswick, as we had originally designed, Mr. Slick proposed driving me in his waggon to Horton by the Mount Denson route, that I might have an opportunity of seeing what he pronounced to he some of the most beautiful scenery in the province. Hay- ing arranged with the commander of the boat to call for us at the Bluff, we set out accordingly a few hours before high-water^ 412 TH£ CLOCKMAKER. 1 " ' WV,'^, KM fc mnd proceeded at our leisure through the lower part of Falmouth, Mr. Slick, as the reader no doubt has observed, had a good deal of extrayagance of manner about him, and was not less remark'- able for his exaggeration of language, and therefore I was by na means prepared to find a scene of such exquisite beauty as non- lay before me. I had seen at different periods of my life a good deal of Europe, and much of America; but I have seldom seen anything to be compared to the view of the Basin of Minas and its adjacent landscape, as it presents itself to you on your ascent of Mount Denson; and yet, strange to say, so little is it known or appreciated here, at I never recollect to have heard it spoken of before, as anything remarkable. I am not writing a book of travels, and shall not attempt, therefore, to describe it. I am iketching character, not scenery, and shall content myself by recommending all American tourists to visit Mount Denson. It 18 an old saying of the French, that he who has not seen Paris has seen nothing. In like manner, he who travels on this con> tinent, and does not spend a few days on the shores of thi» beautiful and extraordinary basin, may be said to have missed one of the greatest attractions on this side of the water. Here, too, may be studied the phenomena of tides, that are only presented to the same extent in one other part of the world; while the mineralogist and geologist will find much to employ and interest him. It possesses, also, the charm of novelty. It lies out of the beaten track, and is new. In these days of steam how long will this be the case anywhere? "While musing on this subject my attention was directed by Mr. Slick, who sud- 4enly reined up his horse, to a scene of a different description. There, said he, there is a pictur for you, squire. Now that's •what minister would call love in a cottage, or rural felicity, for he was fond of fine names was the old man. — 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 the attention oi the settler. Look at that crittur, said he, Bill Dill Mill. There he sets on the gate, with his go-to-meetin' clothes on, a-doin' of nothing, with a pocket full of potatoes, cuttin' them up into small pieces with his jacknife, and teachin' a pig to jump up and '^tch 'em in his mouth. It 's the schoolmaster to home, that il: TOO KNOWING BY HALF. 413 And there sets his young wife a-halancin* of herself on the top rail of the fence opposite, and a-swingin* her foot hackward and forrerd, and a-watchin of him. Ain^t she a heavenly splice that ? By JacoVs spotted cattle, ^vhat an ankle she has ! Jist look ! a rael corn-fed heifer thr.t, ain't she ? She is so plump she ^d shed rain like a duck. Them Blue-noses do heat all in ^alls, I must say, for they raise some desperate handsome ones. But then there is nothin' in that crittur. She is nothin' hut wax- work — no life there; and he looks tired of his bargain already, — what you called fairly onswaggled. Now don't speak loud, for if she sees us she'll cut and run like a weasel. She has got her hair all covered over with paper-curls, and stuck thro' with pins, like a porcupine's hack. She 's for a tea-squall to-night, and nothin' vexes women like hein' taken of a non- plush this way by strangers. That 's matrimony, squire, and nothin' to do; a honeymoon in the woods, or young love grow'c ten days old. Oh, dear ! if it wa6 me, I should yawn so afori a week, I should be skeerd lest my wife should jump down my throat. To be left alone that way idle, with a wife that hhL nothin' to do and nothin' to say, if she was as pretty as an angel, would drive me melancholy m?d. I should either get up & •quarrel for vanity sake, or go hang myself to get out of the -scrape. A tame, vacant, doll-faced, idle gall ! O Lord! what a fate for a man who knows what *s what, and is up to snuff I Who the plague can live on sugar-candy ? I am sure I could'nt. Kothin' does for me like honey; arter a while I get to hate it like sin; the very sight of it is enough for mu. Vinegar ain't half so bad; for that stimulates, and yon can't take more nor enough of it if you would. Svense in better nor looks any time; hut when sense and looks goes together, why then a woman is worth havin', that's a fact. But the best of the joke is, that crittur Bill Dill Mill has found out he " knows too much," and is most frettin* himself to death about it. He is actilly pinin* Jtway so, that it will soon take two such men put together to make a shadow; and this I -.vill say, that he is the first feller ever I met that actilly was " too knowin by half.** But time progresses, and so must we, I guess. The noise of the waggon, as Mr. Slick anticipated, soon p«t ^le young bride of the woods to flight, and a few hasty and 4U THE CLOCRMAKER. ,«ir* agile bounds carried her to the house ; hut her curiosity proTcd quite _as strong as !»*»»• v«nitv, for the paper head was ngain^^ Yisible, peeping over the winaow-hlind. The bridegroom put up- his knife ^vith an air of confusion, as if he was half ashamed of his employment, and having given a nod of recognition to Mr. Slick, turned, and followed his wife into the cottage. This is the effect, said Mr. Slick, of a want of steady habits of industry. That man lives by tradin', and bein' a cute chap, und always gitting the right eend of the bargain, folks don't think it a profitable business to sell always to a loss; so he says he is mined by knorvin too much,— Ah ! said he to me the other day, \ don''t know what on airth I shall do, Mr. Slick; but I am up a tree, you may depend. It's gone goose with me, I tell you. People have such a high opinion of my judgment, and think I' know so much, they won't buy nor sell with me. If I go to an^ auction, and bid, people say, Oh, if Bill Dill Mill bids, then it must be cheap, and it goes beyond its valy right away. If I go to sell anything, every one thinks I wouldn't sell it if I hadn't a very good reason for it, for I am ioo knofoin for that. If I offer to swap, I only stamp a valy on the thing I want, and put it right out of my reach; for the owner wouldn't let me have it at no rate, but doubles his price, and goes and says, Bill Dill Mill offered me so much for it, and everybody knows he only offers half a thing is worth. I can't hire a help for what anybody else can, for the same reason; and I had to marry before I wa» ready, or had quite made up my mind to it; for I knew folks would think twice as much of my gall as soon as they knew I was after her. Darn it, said he, if they said I was a fool I wouldn't a-minded it a bit; or said it was luck or anything. Indeed, I don't know as I wouldn't as lif they'd call me a rogue,. as say for ever and ever, 0/«, he is too knowin by half. It's the divil, that's a fact. Before this misfortin came I used to do iv considerable smart chance of business; but now it's time for me to cut dirt, and leave the country. I believe I must hang out the G. T. T. sign. — "Why, what the plague is that ? says I. — Gone to Texas, said he. What else on airth shall I do. I have nothin' to see to, and the day seems twice as long as it used to did. — Ah ! says I, I have heerd folks say so afore, when they was jist new married. But I see what you want; yoi» iriosity proved ^ad was ngaiiir egroom put up- ilf ashamed of gnition to Mr. ge. teady habits of cute chap, and don't think it » he says he is the other day, ; but I am up ne, I tell you. t, and think I If I go to an- 1 bids, then it I way. If I go it if I hadn't a lat. If I oflFer tit, and put it me have it at Bill Dill Mill he only offers t anybody elsfr before I was I knew folks ; they knew I was a fool I or anything. me a rogue^ alf. It's the used to do a s time for nie ust hang out t? says I. — lall I do. I IS long as it afore, when a want; yoi> TOO KNOWING BY HALF. 415 want excitement. How would politics do ? It's a wide field, and some considerable sport in it, too. Agitate the country; swear the Church is a-goin'' to levy tithes, or dissenters to be taxed to support them, or that the Governor is a-goin' to hare martial law. Gall office-holders by the cant tarms of compact cliques and official gang, and they will have to gag you with a seat in the council, or somethin' or another, see if they don't. — No, said he, a-shtdcin* of his head; poor business that; there is nothin' to be made by it, as far as I see, but inimies; and, besides, people are fond of a change; they get tired of profes- sions at last, and jist as you are a-going to reap the advantage another feller outbids you, and carries ofif the prize. No, that won't do. Well, preachin, says I, aow would that answer? Take up gome new pinte, and you will 'ir.ve lots of folks to hear you; and tbe more extravagant the better. Go the whole figur' for "religious liberty;* it has no meanin* here, where all are free, but it's a catchword, and sounds well. You don't want ordina- tion now-a-days; it's out of fashion; give yourself a call; it's as good as any other man's call. A man that can't make himself a preacher is a poor tool, that's a fact, and not fit to make con- yarts. — Hem ! says he, I was a-thinkin* of that, for ministers fare well in a gineral way, that's sartin; and a-travellin^ about, and a-livin' on the best, and sleepin' in the spare bed always, ain't a bad move nother; but I hante the gift of the gab, I am afeerd, and I couldn't come it no how I could fix it. — Well, 'tis awkward, says I, to be thought too knorvin* hy half^ too; did any one ever accuse you of bein' too industrious hy half^-^What do you mean by that? said he, a little grumphy like. — ^Nothin', says I, but what I say. Get a spinnin'- wheel for your wife, and a plough for yourself; work more and trade less; live by your labour, and not by your wits; and the day, instead of being so 'tamal long, won't be long enough by a jug-full. Instead of bein* ^Uoo knowin* by half " you don't '"''know half enough*' or you'd know that. Fact, I assure you, squire; if thai; crittur had railly been a knowin' one, the name of it wouldn't a-fixed his flute for him, for there is always a why for every wherefore in this world. There is a thousand ways for managing that. Now I got the III. II 416 THE CLOCKMAKER. name myself. Them tricks in the clock-trade I told you. I didn't think you would go right away, and puhlish; hut you did, and it put people on their guard, so there was no doin' nothin' with them for some time hardly; and if I went to say a civil thing, people looked shy at me, and called out, "Soft Sawder." AVell, what does I do? Instead of goin' ahout mopin' and com- I plainin* that I was "too knowin' hy half," I sot myself about 1 repairin' damage, and gitten up something new; so I took to ^;^^i~pllrenology^^ "Soft Sawder** by itself requires a knowledge of paintin', of light and shade, and dramn' too. You must know I character. Some people will take a coat put on by a white-wnsh I brush as thick as porridge ; others won't stand it if it ain't laid ^ on thin like copal, and that takes twenty coats to look com- plete ; and others, agin, are more delicater still, so that you must lay it on like gold leaf, and that you have to take up with a camefs hair brush, with a little pomatum on the tip of it, and hold your breath while you are a-spreadin' of it out, or the leastest grain of air from your nose will blow it away. But still, whether laid on thick or thin, a cute person can tel! what you are at; though it tickles him so while you are a-doin' of it, he can't help showin' how pleased he is. But your books played the divil with me; folks wouldn'*t let me do it at all arter they came out, at no rate; first civil word always brought out the same answer. Ah! now, that's your "Soft ^iwder;*" that won't do. — "Won't it tho', says I. I'll give you the same ingredients in a new shape, and you will swaller it without knowin' it, or else I am mistakend, that''s all. So now, when I enter a location, arter a little talk about this, that, or the other, I looks at one of the young grow'd up galls airnest like, till she says, Mr. Slick, what on airth are you a-lookin' at? Nothin^ says I, my dear, but a most remarkable developement — A what? says she.— A remarkable devolopement, says I, the most remarkable, too 1 f ever seed since I was raised. — Why, what in natur** is that? says (. she. — ^Excuse me. Miss, says I, and I gets up, and puts my finger on her crown. What benevolence! says I, and firmness of character! did you ever! — and then, says I, a-passin' my finger over the eye-brow, you ought to sing well, "positively; it's your own fault if you don't, for you have oncommon pitikilar powers that way. Your time is large, and tune great; yes, and U TOO KNOWING BY HALF. 417 composition is strong. — Well, how strange ! says she ; you hav$ guessed right, I sware, for I do sing, and am allowed to haye the best ear for musick in all these clearin's. How on airth can you tell ? If that don't pass ! — Tell ! says I, why it*s what they call phrenology, and a most beautiful study it is. I can read a head as plain as a book; and this I will say, a finer head than ^011 m I never did see, posittve/y. "What a splendid forehead you have ! it's a sight to behold. If you was to take pains you could do anything a'most. Would you like to have it read. Miss? Well, arter hearing' me pronounce aforehand at that rate, she is sure to want it read, and then I say I wont read it aloud, Miss, I'll whisper it in your ear, and you shall say if I am right. — Do, says she; I should like to see what mistakes you'll make, for I can't believe it possible you can tell; it don^t convene to reason, does it ? Nothin', squire, never stops a woman when her curiosity is once up, especially if she be curous to know somcthin' about herself. Only hold a secret out in your hand to her, and it's like a bunch of catnip to a cat ; she'll jump, and frisk, and frolic round you like anything, and never give over purrin' and coaxin' of you till she gets it. They'll do anything for you a'most for it. So I slides out my knee for a seat, and says, it's no harm, Miss, you know, for Ma is here, and I must look near to tell you ; so I draws her on my knee without waiting for an answer. Then gradually one arm goes round the waist, and t'other hand goes to the head, bumpologizin', and I whispers — •vvit, paintin', judgment, fancy, order, musick, and every good thing a'most. And she keeps a-sayin' — Well, he's a witch !— well, how strange ! lawfiil heart ! Well, I want to know ! — now I never ! do tell ! — as pleased all the time as anything. Lord ! squire, you never see anything like it : it's Jerusalem fine fun. Well, then I wind up by touchin' the back of her head hard (you know squire, what they call the amative bumps are located there) and then whisper a bit of a joke to her about her makin* a very very lovin' wife, and so on, and she jumps up a-colourin' and a sayin' — It's no such a thing. You missed that guess, anyhow. Take that for not guessin' better ! and pretendin' to slap me, and all that but actilly ready to jump over the moon for delight. Don't my clocks get fiist admired and thea 418 THE CLOCKMAKKR. boughten arter thii readin' of heads, that's all ? Yes ; tliat't the beauty of phrenology. You can put a clock into their headi when you are a-puttin' other fine things in, too, as easy as kis» my hand. I have sold a nation lot of them by it. The only thing ag'in phrenology is, it 's a little bit dangerous. It 's only fit for an old hand like me, that 's up to trap, for a r^w one is amazin' apt to get spooney. Taking a gall on your knee that way, with one hand on her heart, that goes pitty-pat like a watch tickin', and the other a-rovin' about her head a-discoverin' of bumps, is plaguy apt to make a fool of you without your knowing of it. Many a bird has got fascinated so afore now, that, do what it would, it couldn't get away. It might flutter and struggle a little ; but at last it would fall as helpless as anything, right down. But then a fool is a fool all the world over. For my part I am not afeerd of none of them* This, squire, is what I call reason, and knowin' the world. A wise man is never taken at a nonplush. But Bill Dill Mill is a noodle, and such a one, too, as it would take seven fools and a philosopher to make, and even then they wouldn't make no part of a primin' to him. He has got everything to lam yet, that feller, for a crittur that is '' too knowin* by half** may know loo much for other folks* good^ but he don't know '•^ half enough" for his omn, that *s a fad. CHAPTER IX. ' V !!•*.•'♦' MATRIMONY. ■■ >■■■. , y'^it' :ii Talkin* of that young bride of Bill Dill Mill, and phrenology continued the Clodnnaker, puts me in mind of a conversation I liad with minister about women, jist afore I came down hen? the last time. The old man was advisin' of me to marry, and settle down to Slickville, into what he called " a useful membej of society " Poor old crittur ! he is so good himself, he thinks no harm of no one, and looks on a gall as a rose without a thorn, or an angel in petticoats, or somethin of that kind ; but book-larned men seldom know nothin' but books, and there is •ne never was printed yet worth all they got on their shelves, MATRIMONY. 419 wliich they never read, nor eren so much as cut she leaves of« for they don't onderstand the handwritin', and that is — human^ natur'. On most subjects no man could advise better ^r minister ; but on the question of woman he is as dreamy as » poet, chock full of romance and nonsense, and actilly talks blank Tarse, where the rhyme is left out. It 's considerable of a lon^; yam, but it will give you some idea what an innocent, puro- heartcd, dear old crittur he is; indeed, among our ministers iiu is uctilly at the top of the pot. He is quite *'^ a case/' I do assure you. One artemoon, as we was a-sittin' together smokin', says ho, awakin' up out of one of his bouts of cypherin' in his head, Sam, says he, it 's most time you was thinkin' of settlin' yourself in the world. By all accounts you are considerable well to do now, and have made an everlastin' sight of money among the Blue-noses to Nova Scotia : you should look round for a help- mate, and pick yourself out a rael, complete, right-down good wife. There is nothin' like matrimony, nothin' like home, nothin on airth to be compared to a vartuous woman. They are somethin^ better than men, and somethin' jist a little Icss^ than angels, when you can fall in with one of the right kind. < Oh, a right-minded, sound-minded, and pure-minded woman, is the greatest and hest work of Qod. Man was made out of gross materials, of nothin' hut clay and spittle; but woman, she was made out of the rib of man, twice refined and remoulded, as it were, from a substance that had been cleared of its dross by a process of previous formation. She was the last work of crea- tion ; the best, the most finished, the most beautiful. Man is airthenware, coarse, rude, rough, and onseemly. Woman is porcelain, a crittur highly finished and delicate. Man was made for knockin' about, he is tough and strong ; hut woman,, to be taken care of and handled gently. TVhat a sweet thing is mnocence, Sam ; how beautiful to contemplate, how lovely to associate with! As a philosopher, I admire purity in th& abstract ; but, as a man and a Christian, I love it when parsoni- fied. Purity in a child, of such is heaven ; purity in woman^ of such also is the realms of bliss ; but purity in man — oh, Sam^ I am most afeerd, sometimes, there ain't much of it any where- sow a days, I snore : but matrimony, Sam, is a state ordained ; i 420 THE CLOCKMAKEB. U :•: hy God, not oily to carry out his great purposes that is above •our comprehension, but also for our happiness; yes^ it is « nateral state, and a considerable of a pleasant one too, when well •considered and rightly entered upon. Don't put it off too long, ^m ; don^t wait till the heart ossifies. — Ossifies i says I ; wlij -what the plague is that, minister ? — Why, Sam, says he, you •ought to be ashamed to axe that are question. I do believe, in my soul, you have forgot all you ever lamed while tradin* among them benighted critturs in the British Provinces. Ossifies, means growin^ into a hard substance like a bone. — Oh, says I, now I see, and that 's the reason of the old sayin', when a man ilicks his wife like a sack, "I 've got a bone to pick with you, my dear," says he, and shows the crittur's heart is ossified. There are some men, I know, that would find it the luckiest thing that ever happened th«m to have their hearts ossified, if it 'took that turn sometimes. You may rave as much as you please, minister, about purity, and porcelain ware, and vartue, and all that arc sort of thing, till you are tired, but there are some women I ^ve seed that have more of the devil and less of the angel in 'em than you are a-thinkin' on, / can tell you. Regular built bruisers too; claw your eyes right out, like a "Carolina gouger, and walk right into you afore you know where you be. — Well, said he, p'raps so ; it mought be the case since the fall, but that 's mostly our own faults, our own bringin* of them up : but I was a-goin* to explain to you about the heart -As we grow old, it hardens, and loses its feelin*. When we are young it is as sensitive as anything ; you can't hardly touch it without givin"* it pain or pleasure. It is so cute, and beats m strong and quick that it's sensations are plaguy powerful. Well, as we advance in years, the outer coverin' of it hardens, and gets as rough as the bark of a hemlock tree, and when you peel that off, then there is a hard, close, tough rind all round it, -and inside that another, they call the inner cu — tickle. Ingra- titude, and disappointment, and onkindness, and the wear-and- tear of the world, does this, so as to defend the heart from sufferin* pain all the time, I guess it *s a wise provision ot' natur', a marciful dispensation that. If we don't feel so much pleasure, we feel less pain ; we have less and less hearty until vre -get gradually weaned from airthly things, and put our affections ai d tl li4 n \\\ MATIlIMONl« 42lr on things above. The passions cease to play, and reason begina^ to dominate in their place. We are less the critturs of feelin*, and more the subiects of wisdom. You apprehend me, Sam» don't you ? — It 's as plain as a pike-stafF, says I, and as clear as- mud. That ossified skin you talk of, puts me in mind of them- nasty, dirty, horrid critturs, the Scotch and Irish peasants* They don't wear no shoes and stockings, but go barefooted, and^ their soles become as hard as the hoofs of jackasses ; and them little, short-legged, hairy Highlanders kick every bit as hard, and twice as wicked, as donkeys too. They are shockin* critturs- them, for if there's a part about a man or woman that's not- fit to be seen at no time, it 's the foot. Women that go that way, put me in mind of a divin' duck there is to Labrador, that- has a red shank and a black-webbed foot; our sailors call *emt the immigrant ladies ; and them ducks act exactly like the galls,, too, a-fiirtin' and a-frolickin' about like fun. You '11 see a duck now, minister, sailin' round and round about her mate, ever so^ slow, to attract his attention, like ; and when he sees her and makes- up to her, smirkin' and courtin', she jist downs with her head' and ups with her legs, and away she dives right out of sight in. no time, leavin' him alone, starein' and wonderin' like a fool. That gets his dander up immediately, and when he sees her come up agin, oiF he sets arter her hot foot, and she gives hinv the dodge agin ; and when they get tired of that fun, they sail: off together, a-liftin' up their heads and a-gabblin' away like- any thing, so pleased. Rompin' seems kinder nateral to all- created critturs, and the female is every where a-tormentin\. wicked, teasin', little toad. Natur' is natur', that 's a fact. — WelU. Sam, said he, larfin', for a man that minds the main chance- tolerable well as you do, I never seed one yet so amazin' full of nonsense as you be ; you have such strange ideas as never- entered into no soul's head but your own, I do believe : and yet> as you say, mirth and playfulness does seem kinder nateral : the- Latin poet, Virgil, if you hante forgot all you ever lamed toa night-school with me, has beautifully illustrated that. He then, •aid some Latin about a gall peltin' her spark with apples, but I misremembfr the words. — Perhaps he quoted these lines said i Male me Galatea petit, Lasciva puella £t fugit ar' Salices, sed se cupit ante videri.— 422 THE CLOCKMAKER. W'^-^% ' ) ■ Jk.y, said Mr. Slick, them's the very identical ones. — Now, sayt minister, that is natur', for he was natur's poet, was Virgil. — Natur', says I; I guess it is natur\ A little innicent rompin*, (it must he innicent tho', minister, said I, and I looked up to him as demure as you please,) is what I call primi/zve and nateral, and I must say, I am shocking fond of a little of it myself. — ^You are right, said he, to say innocent, Sam, for nothin' that's not innocent ever gives real pleasure; nothin' that's impure can be happy. The fact is, I don't jist altogether like that word rompin'; it's a coarse thing, and a vulgar thing, and only fit for such benighted critturs as them in the British Provinces; say mirth, innocent mirth, and then I agree with you: that I do approbate. I delight in that; it's a sign of a sweet disposition, a pure mind, and a light heart. But mirth is different from rompin'. It don't admit, as rompin' does, of obstropolous noise, nor ticklin', nor screamin'*, and things that don't seem quite decent ; call it mirth, and I won't non-concur you. — You may call it what convenes you, minister, says I, but still it^s the identical same thing, that's a fact. It puts life into a body. It piques you, and raises your dander like : I must say, I like a romp dearly. Now, that's the reason married folks are «o everlastin' striped; they never romp. It makes me feel skeery of matrimony ,to see it so heavy and sour : I don't wonder ^o many folks to Slickville have got the dyspepsy ; the only thing I wonder at is, how they can digest it at all. I guess, now, if a married woman was to imitate that are divin' duck, give her husband the dodge now and then, and, whenever he came near hand to her, jist race off and let him chase her, she'd — Ahem ! says minister, ahem ! Sam, we won't illustrate, we won't enter into details, if you please; where was we when we got off into this rompin' digression. — Why, says I, you was 4idvisin' of me to get married afore my heart got bonafied. — Ossafied, said he, I didn't say bonafied. I wish it was a bona fide one, that's a fact. 'True, Sam, marry airly, marry before the feelins become blunted, and before you grow sus- |)Icious and cold. All our young emotions are good and generous; but we become jealous, selfish, and mean, as we advance in years. At first we see nothin' but the roses and lowers of life afo*A u» wkd our voune eyes are ao good, and ooK MATRIMONY. 423 ^sion BO cute, the colours all look bright and beautiful, and we can distinguish all the tints and shades ever so far off, as plain as can be. Well, away we go to gather them, to make 'em into garlands and wcaye ^em into wreatlis, and never think of the ten tiiousand million of thorns that are onder the leaves and are all over the bushes. Well, first we tear all our clothes to tatters, and then we prick our fingers, and inflammation and fester comes, and run 'em into our feet, and contraction and lameness comes ; and scratch our little faces till the tears run down our cheeks and mingle with it. But that ain't the worst of it by a long chalk, neither; for many a time, jist as we pull the rose, and go to put it to our bosoms, away goes all the leaves, a-flutterin^ off to the ground; it was too full-blown to bear rough handlin', and we get nothin' but the stem in our hand, and ever so many prickles a-stickin' into the skin. And if we do succeed in gettin* the rose arter all, and take it to home, why, next momin' when we wake up and look at it, oh, the leaves are all edged with hrown and dirty yaller, and the sprig is all wilted, and it looker + '>be*gastered like, and faded, and it's only fit to be throwd out ^ 't; windur; for nothin'' looks so bad a'^most, as a wilted ^ower. Jist so is the world, Sam; only the world has its thorns for the heart, and that's more than the rose has; and who shall heal them? Philosophy may give its styptics, and religion its balm, but there are some wounds in that place, Sam — and he cliipt his hand on his breast, and did look dreadful bad, poor old crittur, and I pitied him from the bottom of my soul, for I knowd what he was leadin' to — there are some wounds here, Sam, said he, that the eye cannot see, nor the hand reach ; which nothin' a'most can cure. They may heal over and get cicatrised, and «eem all right agin, but still they are so tender, you can't bear to touch them without wincin', and every now and then they open of themselves, like old scars do in the scurvy, and bleed, and throb, and ache ; oh ! how they ache ! When my elders discharged me, Sam, and reformed me out, and took a Unitarian in my place, I actilly thought my heart would a-burst with grief; — and his voice quivered and trembled like anything, and a great big tear-drop rose up in the corner of his eye, nnd swelled, and swelled,* till it bust, and run over, and iiickled down one of the furrows of his cheek, but he wouldn't let 424 THE CLOCKMAKBR. on he know'd it, and wouldn^t wipe it ofiF, hopin I Mrot.ldn't see i^ I suppose. It actilly a'most made me pipe my eye to see him, it was so affectin*. So, says I, I know it all, minister, says I; we won'*t talk of that; what's done is done, but the loss is theirs, and it sarves them right. But it didn't stop him, he went right on. — For, oh! Sara, said he, the fountain of love lies in the deepest recesses of the human heart. It may cease to ^sli over, as it does in youth, when it is fed by a thousand rills of emotion. The wintry frosts of old age may dry up some of its springs, and the lacerations of ingratitude may drain oiF and limit its supply ; but deep and far down is the well, Sara, where snmmer-heats and wintry frost cannot penetrate, and its water what little is left of it in old age, is as pure, and sweet, and pellucid as ever, and there it remains till the temple that covers it, (that's the body, you see, Sam,) crumbled and mouldered by time, totters to its fall, and chokes it in its ruins. But, oh I Sam, if our friends, them that we dearly loved, basely desert us at last, and meanly betray us; if them we admitted to our con- £dence, 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 vocation and my principles, had the blow been dealt out by enemies, Sam ; but, oh I it came from my friends, from them that I loved as brothers, nay, more than as brothers, as children. It was too much for my narves. It overpowered my strength, and I hid my face in my hands as Ciesar did in his mantle, and wept like a child. Et tu, said I, — for I couldn't help a-thinkin' of that are old republican her(v for it was jist the way them are pretended reformers sarved hin> out. — Et tUf says I, et tu Brute I — You might well say a brute, says I, and if I had a-been near hand to them, Pd a sarxcti them like a brute, too, I know. I'd a-cropt their ears, i\w\ branded them on the rump, as they do a horse that^s turned out on the common in the fall. I'd a marked them V. B. (the voluntary brutes !), hang me if I wouldn't. I'd a-kicked them till I kicked their western eends up to their shoulders, and made em carry *em there like a masons hod. **Sich a gittin' up •tairs you never did see." — Sam, said he, you actilly frigliten ae, you talk so savage; it makes my blood ran cold. Let ui MATUIMONY. 4VJ leaTe the suoject, and go right hack 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 hright agin. Where was we, Sam ? for my mind goes a wool-gathering some- times, and gets confused. Where was we ?— A-talkin' of the ll - says I. — Exactly, says he * ifs a pleasanter topic that, and the contemplation of the dear critturs softeti) Dur naturs, " nee sinil este feros" nor suffers us to he ferocious. Nothin' tames a man like a woman. — I guess so, says I. — Yes, my son, said he, get married, and marry soon ; it's time you were a-thinkin' on it now in airnest. — "Well, I feel most plaguily skeered, minister, says I, to try, for if once you get into the wrong hox^ ind the door is locked on you, there is no escape as I see; and besides, women are so everlastin^ full of tricks, and so cunuin' in hiden 'em aforehand, that it's no easy matter to tell whether the bait has a hook in it or not; and if you go a-playin' round it and a-nibblin' at it, why a sudden jerk given by a skilful band may whip it into your gills afore you know where you be, and your flint is fixed as shure as there are snakes in Yarginy. , You may tug, and pull, and haul back till you are tired; but \ the more obstropolous you become, the faster the hook is fixed in, and the sorer the place is. Nothin' a'most is left for you but to come up to the line, and submit to your fate. Now you go for to take a widder, they are shocking apt to know much, and are infarnal sly; and if you take a maid, it's an even chance if you don't spile her in breakin* her in, and she don't bolt and refuse a heavy j)ull. If they are too old they are apt 1o be headstrong from hann' had their head so long; and if they are too young, they are hardly way- wise enough to be pleasjmt ^hich, now, do you recommend, minister, widder or maid 1 1 Poor old ciittur ! I know'd well enough he didn't know nothin* about it, bavin' had no experience among women any more nor a child ; but I axed him to humour him, for most men like to he thought knowin on that subject. — Why, says he, a-lookin' up wise like, that's a matter of taste, Sam ; some prefers one, aud some prefers the other. — (So like human natur' that, wam't it, squire? You never beerd a man in your life, when axed «hout woman, say, that's a subject I ain't jist altogether able t» 23 n 4*26 THE CLOCKMAKER. i ■ \- •peak on, and yet plaguy few know much more about 'em thaa that women wear petticoats, and men don't.) — It's quite a matter of taste, said he ; hut, as far as my experience goes, says the old man, I am half inclined to opinionate that widders muke the best wires. 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 sis of one and half-a-dozen of t'other, not much to choose any way.. But, whicherer 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 watch, how late it is ! I must go, for I have a sick visit. I still visit my dear lost flock, as if they hadn't a-used me so ill, Sam. I forgive them, all of 'em. I don't harbor any hard thoughts agin an^ 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'll give you a word of advice at partin', my dear boy. Don't marry too poor a gall^for they are apt to think there is no eend to their husband! s puss ; nor too rich a gall, for they are apt to remind you of it onpleasant sometimes ; nor too giddy a gall, for they neglect their families; nor too demure a one, for they are most apt to give you the dodge, race off, and leave you; nor one of a different sect, for it breeds discord ; nor a weak-minded one for children take all their talents from their mothers ; nor a O Lord I says 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'll tell you, my son, said he, for Td like afore I die to see you well mated ; I would, indeed 1 I'll tell you, tho' you talk to me sometimes as if I didn't know nothin* of women. You think nobody can't know 'em but them as romp all their days with them as you dc; But them, let me tell you, know the least, for they are only acquainted with the least deserving. Y\\ gin you a gage to know 'em by that is almost invariable, universal, iniUUible. The character and conduct of the mother is a sure and rerta » guarantee for that of the darter, , . . -. ~:^ jtk^i^ r THE WOODEN HORSE. 427 •' > ,t '. 7 •■-.( -.i;' tv CHAPTER X. THB WOODEN HORSE. No person on entering the harbour of St. John Jbr the first time, could suppose that it was the outlet of one of the largest rirers on this American continent, as it is in no way to he dis- tinguished in appearance from any of those numerous inlets of the sea that render the roast of the British provinces ererywheie accessible to ships of t^ie largest class. As soon, however, as he gets a view 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 mistake. They don't take it all out in talkin', as some people do. If they have any politicks t day ? — ^Why, kinder sorter middling says he, Mr. Slick ; what you call considerable nimble, and spry. We 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 less you talk about 'sponsi- hility the better 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 Bure. Didn'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' I How could you sup- |ose I meant suoh cattle as them ? No, says he, come with mc^ 428 /.^ THE CLOCKMAKER. i.^\ i.H' and V\\ indicate wnat sponsibility is^ for the street is no plaes to talk over such matters in, and he took me into his countin foom, 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 soyereigns, and splendid American eagles; it was actilly good for sore eyes to look at 'em! and then he opened another, filled half way up to the top with bank paper, notes of hand, bonds, and mortgages, and stuff of that kind. He stood 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 thun- der,) that'*s what / call sponsibility, I didn^t aim that little lop of specie a-talkin^ over politicks^ you may depend, but talk- ing over customers. Your 'sponsibile men want no indorsers, do you twig? Now, who has most interest in takin'care of that *' siake,'^ that it don't go for it by fire, or sympathisers, or what not, — me, or that are chatterin', jawin' watchman of mine ? — Why you, says I, you, of course. — Exactly, says he ; and so it is in politicks. Them critturs that race about like a runaway steamboat, calling fire I fire ! and disturbin* all honest folks in their beds, cuss "'em ! they have nothin to lose by afire rfii does come: but in the scramble they generallyfind somelhin or another to pick up that they didn't work for. Now them chaps, patriots, Durhamites, 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 profitable trade in more thitigs than one, Jeremiah was right, squire. It^s a pity Government ever listened to colonial agitators. It was erroneous considerable. It would have been better for England, and better for the colonies too, if they hadn''t, and that theyll find some o' these days, or my name is not Sam Slick. But cTohn wants a commission o"* lun- acy taken out; the foolish old crittur actilly seems possest Concession never stopt agitation since the world was first squeezed out of a curd, it only feeds it. Throwin' sops to var- mint only brings 'em back agin ; and when you have nothin n^ore to throw to 'em, they are plaguy apt to turn to and tan THE W'OOD£N HORSE. 429 you to pieces. It puts me in mind of the wooden horse to Java. That time I took the nvhalin' trip, we stopt to Jaya: well, jisl then there was a na/ive chief there, that almost drove the Dutch off the island. He cut off their outposts, hroke up their settle- ments, druy away their cattle, seesed their galls, and kicked up a regular huilt tornado. The Dutch governor, old Vandam, who was as fat and heavy as a December hear, was fairly ex- plunctified : he didn't know what onder the sun to do. He was in a most awful feese. All he could say when people came with news, was " Tousand Tey vils ;" 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 hoUands, 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 didn't say a ' word. Then he looked at the liquor, and then at the glasses, - and the servant :A\ed 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 pinte, 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 lettin' go a great long roll of smoke, as big as what comes from a steam-boat,— oh, Goten llymmel ! I have got one idea, and you sball see varte you shall see; and he winked to them knowin* like, and sot down again. It was a long speech for the Governor; but he got thro' it, for he had made uj[» his mind ; and when once a Dutchman makef ,;« 4J0 TBE CLOCKMAKER. ''■'l-n up his mind, I have always observed you might as well think of turnin' Niagara as tumin' 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 varte you shall see." Well, next day I was woke up by a most riprorious noise in the street, folks beatin' drums and blowin' horns, and rattlin' arms and all sort of 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? — Oh! says they, there is somethin** wus than galls in the bushes. The Governor komes out to the head of his army to fight Tousand Teyvils, — and they was very full of courage, was the Dutch, for they was m )re 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 comin', when orders came to halt ; and glad enough I was to hear 'em, you may depend. t We campt near a most a-beautiful meddow at the foot of a mountain, with good shade and lots of nice cool water, and we turned to to wash and make comfortable. Presently the horns blew a long, lively blast, and in a few minutes they was answered by another from the mountain. Then ten mules was brought out, and loaded with money and goods and what not; and a captain and his guard proceeded with them to the mountains, along with one of the councillors, and in two hours' time they returned, and then a gineral salute was fired by the whole line, for they had bought a peace with the na/tve chief. Every one was delighted; they not only nodded to each other, but actilly spoke. Some said goot, others said fary goot, and some hot-headed young fellers said, tarn coot. Then a report ■s i well think of Itors sot there jectofhisidea, d all that was p. And when I agin, — "You I woke up hy a a' drums and ngs a'most ; so fith. the winder a natur^ is all ly now ? — Oh ! i hushes. The I fight Tousand the Dutch, for [> myself, there d better go and if I do ; and I )wn and joins sweated to that in the rear, it tilly thought I was heginnin' glad enough I it the foot of a water, and we mtly the horns was answered Is was brought lat not; and a [he mountains, |urs' time they by the whole noiive chief. to each other, lary goot, and ?hen a report THE WOODEN HORSE. 431 came Tousand Teyviis was to dine with the Governor; and ao 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 soafeerd on; for no one knew whether he was man or devil, no one havin' ever dared to show anything hut 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'i 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 . shine to you to do varte I told you for to do. Now, if you neglects, my coot Casper, then — and he drew his finger across 'Casper''s throat — ^which is the Dutch for sayin' I will have youi head cut off. Poor Casper lifted up his hand to put it on his heart; but W was so tarnation frightened, he didn't get it no higher than his breeches; and thrustin' it into his pocket, which was big enough to hold a quart bottle, he bent over it and bowed down to th« ground, which is the Dutch way of sayin** I onderstand you, olfi boy, and will take devilish good care to mind my eye and S6Te 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, strapping devilish, handsome feller, with a cap and plumes stuck sideways like on his head. Well, as he marched along in the double line, folks «eemed as amazed as if they was jist born, and hung back like ^ if ii was old Scratch himself agoin' to give 'em a taste of his %reed and they looked as skeered as if they had seed a rifla 432 THE CLOCKMAKKR. lookiii^ at ''em eend wayi; and Tousnnd Teyvils cirled up hi* upper lip, jist as you hare 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 mean-spirited rapscallions to come and buy your peace like cowards, instead of fightin' it out to the hat's eend Lke brave men? Cuss you! you hante an idea above your nasty, muddy, stinkin^ canals and flag-ponds; and all you care for is your tamal schnaps and tobacco. Phew, you paltrooni,. how you stink of sour crout! He had a most audacious eye, I tell you: it looked exactly na 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 ^vill dig you out of your hole like a badger, I hope I may be gouged, if I don''t. Well, the Oovemor advances two steps to meet him, which is a great way for a governor to go, especially a Dutch one, and takin' him by the hand and bowin', says he, — ^' Mine goot frient — my prave frient,^^ and then he suddenly began to stop, and his eyes swelled, and the whole expression of his countenance altered, 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 Teyvils^ didn't seem to like it nother ^or he cut this mummery short by sayin', — ^^ How am you was, (for he didn^t speak good Dutch at all,) "how is you been, my old Bullock?" 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 came in for orders (and it railly did seem to hurt him beautiful), how shall I use my noshe- viper? I can't blow my noshe no more as a child, my nails- have grow'd one \Thole inch longer. Varte sha J I do ? Est ist ■harder (I am sorry). Well, arter a while they all sot down, and they eat and drank, And drank a^d eat, till all was blue a^n; they fairly pulled oft THE WOODEN HOHSB. 43;^ cirled up hi* tis tail, with s lay ain't you » and buy your the hat's eend ea aboye your d all you care you paltrooni,. )ked exactly ns > look into it, e, and will dig y be gouged, if )S to meet him, ecially a Dutch fa he, — " Mine denly began to pression of his Lis lips, and he trictor, and wag. ousand Teyvily imery short by ak good Dutch d he squeezed like a bear on gers as if they unded dog. It behold. If all as straightened ve. — Oh, mine s (and it railly use my noshe- child, my nails- I do? £sti3t eat and drank, Ifairly pulled off their coats to it, as if they were in racl wide-awake aimest; and' irter the cloth was removed, says the old Governor, — Mine hears, (which means my dummies, or fellers that hear but donH- ipeak,) mine heart, 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-yiper (which is the Dutch for a pocket-hand- kerchief) and tried to blow his nose, but he couldn't for hir fingers were all lame, they was crushed so; and then he took his lefk 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 ri.dhed Cnsper and the guard, and come down on poor TousandTey/ils like fallin'* stars^ and tied him hand and foo^^ and cnrvir d him in old Yandam's carriage down to town, and rowed hht ct7 to a fortified rock at some distance from the land, whco they imprisoned him like Buonaparte, and where he is livin** to thia day chriin^d like a dog. Fact, I assure you. — Coot farry i^oof, tarn <-/>of trick, ihe company all said agin; and ihta they tunned to smokin' v.nd drinkin^ till all was blue agin. They didn'? get d;-ii'?ik, tno they ^ had a considerable of a muddy time of it clad. His very jacket must have cost enough to set up a com- mon man like me in the world. The hoss looked so big and so iiierce you'd think these ten men couldn't hold him ; but as he "was on wheels, I guess they pulled him instead of hoi den of liim. Well, every now and then the hoss, that had machinery in it, would up-head and snort and neigh, jist like natur', and •out came gingerbread, and tarts, and sugar-candy, and fruit, and 4ill sorts of good things. Such a scramble you never did see, fellows tumblin' head over heels, and fighting and quarrelling for a share of the goodies. Well, then he'd progress a little ■a-further, and then go thro' the same menouvres, and move his head as exact like a live hoss as ever you did see in all your llife, and then came the pure gin. Oh, dear, it was as good as a play to see them holdin' their hands, cocoa-nut shells and hats (to catch the liquor as it came from the hoss. Rejoicin', 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 o THB WOODEN HORSE. 435 r of the Datoh uire, it would Either thej 't fatted up as users hung so ;ir knapsacks, them on their if they was, didn't see as I is to let every and counter- jist as if they (Tomen smiled, ningly, like a ordnance was ime almost an ifter wouldn't I. He had a . his hody, all worked steel. p on one side ^ider superbly set up a com- so big and so m ; but as he of hoi den of ad machinery :e natur', and nd fruit, and ver did see, Id quarrelling kress a little d move his in all vour as good as a ills and hats tare an eend [me, as far as «Ter I seed, especially when there ain't no smokin' in it), and so did their review. The people all went home pleased. The wooden boss was a grand idea. It was worked out by General Vandam himself, that time he shot himself up in his castle for two whole days and two whole nights, a-studyin' over this mat- ter of Tousand Teyvils, and shows plain enough, to my mind, that a Dutchman can think, arter all, if you only give him time enough. The day arter the review I walked out over the excrcisin ground, and there lay the poor old hoss, with his ribs broke in. Ills body ripped up, and his tail pulled out. While I was musin' over the fate of the hoss, who should I see but a little nigger boy. So says I, come here you little imp of darkness, you spawn of the old one, you, and tell me how this is ? Is Tousand Tey- vils loose again? Who killed the Governor's hoss? — Why, says he, massa, (for he spoke very good English, as he lived as help to a gentleman that kept a bumboat,) him Dutchman comed here last night in crowds, with carts and hogsheads and kegs, and they got old hoss and patted him, and '^soff sawdered" him, (you know dat word, massa, him Yankee word all same as blarney.) — Yes, says I, I have heerd tell of him afore. — Well, 'they coaxed him. Come, good hoss; beautiful hoss; a little drop more skidam ; dat is good bossy ; a little more sweatmeat, dat's a pretty hossl Well, dey holdy up his head, and lift up him tail; but no, dat no go— bossy no gib any. At last him Dutchmen get angry. Dunder and Blitzen! he say, if you no gib him by fair means you gib him by roul^ and wid dat dey fall too 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 turn to and abuse old Gobemor like sin. Tarn old Gineral, dey say; he one old big coward, one "Erbarmlick!" (dat's Dutch, massa, for awful bad,) one Erbarmlick cheat ! Tousand Teyvils worth a hundred such old fools and knaves ! He no solda, 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 fiuckin Satan, you, now make jcurself scarce; and he scampered off as smart as a two year old. JN^ow, squire, said the Ciockmaker, it's a considerable of a long ''■V nr^. '-', 436 THE CLOCKMAKER. Btory that, and I am most afeerd I haye tiled you; but John Bull and his Colonic Patriots remind me of them Dutchmen and their wooden horse. As long as he will neigh and whinner and hold up his head, and give 'em cakes and candy and sweetmeat? to eat, and skidam to drink, they are full and runnin' over with praises and professions of loyalty; hut as soon as he stops, then those same patriots, those M^Kenzies and Papineaus and devils have knifes ready to rip him up. John Bull dont know and don't valy his rael Jriends enough. All are well disposed 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 M. The railly loyal people, like railly religious people, don't talk of it for everlastingly. They seldom make professions, unless called for, and aifCt found rebellin like patriots, even when provoked. Their loyally hante (t condition to it like a mortgage. It ain't cupboard love, like that of the Dutchman to the Wooden Horse, , 1 . CHAPTER XI. ■;;..f'A;-/ am BAD SHILLING. It was late at night when we arrived at one of the frontier towns of the state of Maine, which, to avoid local offence, I shall designate as Quimbagog. There was so much noisy disputation rf lative to politicks and religion in the coffee-room of the inn, at I retired early to bed, with a bad headache, and not with- t some misgiving, that by visiting Maine first I had entered the States, to use an expression of the Clockmakers, by the ^vrong door. In order that the sketch which I am now about to give may be fully understood, it may be necessary to request the reader to recollect that Mr. Slick is a Yankee, a iesignution the origin of which is now not very obvious, but it has been assumed by, and conceded by common consent to, the inhabitants of New England. It is a name, though sometimes liitirically used, of which they have great reason to be proud, a& it is descriptive of a most cultivated, intelligent, enterprising, frugal, and industrious population, who may well challenge a yovLi but John Dutchmen and i lYhinner and nd sweetmeat." inin* over witlv he stops, then aus and devils on^i know and 11 disposed to { old Jeremiah ear-sighted he ^al people^ like slin'ly. They d ain't found r loyally hante jard love, like i.i . * , ..... ^ n;-i .1. ji"! . THE BAD SHILLING. 437 QUI )f the frontier afFence, I shall sy disputation m of the inn^ ind not with- had entered cers, by the I am now necessary to a Yankee, a )vious, but it >nsent to, the ;h sometimes be proud, as enterprising. challenge & comparison with the inhabitants of any other country in the world; but it has only a local application. The United States cover an immense extent of territory, and the inhabitants of different parts of the Union differ as widely in character, feelings and even in appearance, as the people of different countries usually do. These st.ctions differ also in dialect and in humour as much as in other things, and to as great, if not a greater extent, than the natives of different parts of Great Britain vary from each other. It is customary in Europe to call all Americans, Yankees; but it is as much a misnomer as it would be to call all Europeans Frenchmen. Throughout these works it will be observed, that Mr. Slick^s pronunciation is that of the Yankee, or an inhabitant of the rural districts of New England. His conversation is generally purely so: but in some instances he uses, as his countrymen frequently do from choice, phrases which, though Americanisms, are not of eastern origin* Wholly to exclude these would be to violate the usages of Ame- rican 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 neighbours. The dry, quaint humour of New England is occasionally found in the west, and the rich gasconade and exaggerative language of the west migrates not unfrequently to the east. This idiomatic exchange is perceptibly on the increase. It arises from the travelling propensities of the Americaiis, and the constant inter- course mutually maintained by the inhabitants of the different. states. A droll or an original expression is thus imported and adopted, and, though indigenous, soon becomes engrafted on the general stock of the language of the country. In using the term ^ language of the country,^^ I mean that of the classes in humble life, of which Mr. Slick is a member, as I hope I hsi\e never been so misunderstood as to rendei it necessary for roe to say, that I have no intention of imputing these idioms to any other, jj This explanation, while it accounts for an erratic man, like Mr. Slick, occasionally using some few phrases whi^h are not native Yankeeisms, will enable the reader the better to understand the difference between the plebeian of the west and the east, tm exhibited in the following sketch. ^•#* *f% 438 THE CLOCKMAKER. During the stroll after breakfast on the folic wiag morning, Mr. Slick said, Did you nerer mind, squire, how hard it is to get rid of " a bad shillin',** how eyerlastin'ly it keeps a-comin' back to you ? — I said, I had never experienced any difficulty of that kind, never having endeavoured to pass one that I knew was spurious. — No, I suppose not, said he, because you are a careless kind of a man that way, and let your shillin's desart oftener than they had ought to. But 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. Che&tin'* is givin"* a thing of no valy for somet' In' 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 no valy. S'pose any gentleman that keeps a pike was to give you a bad shillin' in change, you would have a right to pass it tht. , cause it had cost you a shillin*. The odds make the difference — do you take ? Fd like, he continued, to go into committee Avith you on that matter (as we used to say to the house of Rip's), but there ain't time ibr it jist now, as the pirate said to the hangmtin when he was a-tyin* of the knot. Howsumdever it is so. I fell in with a bad shillin' last night, arter you went to bed, that I thought I had parted with to New Orleans five years ago, for ever. I had been sittin' down talkin' over roads and travellin', and the clearings, and what not to Nova Scotia, last night, with a gentle- man that owns a free-trader to Quimbagog, the Honorable Lucifer "Wolfe. I misremembered him at first, and I don''t think I filled his eye chock full nother, for he sartam-/^ didn't know me when we first began our palarver. He was a tall man, over six foot high, all bone and muscle, not an ounce of super/2uous flesh on him. I seed at once he warn't a nsitive of Maine, but a ringtail roarer from the West. He was all made of fox-traps and bears-claws, and as springy as a saplin ash. Havin been a considerable some in the African trade, a dealin' in niggers, he was very swarthy like, wore a most ungodly pair of whiskers, and had more hair than head, tho'thu' was none of the smallest nother. His eyes was full and hawk-like, and close together, but they squinted awfiil; one on 'em mounted guard on his tombler and t'other on you, as if his fightin' and drinkin' liked riag morning, ird it is to get i-comin' back iculty of that ; I knew was are a careless desart oftener e been, had I I see no harm t above boord . CheUin"* is Now, a bad can't be said, . S'pose any bad sbillin' in ise it had cost do you take? 1 you on that >ut there ain't man when he I fell in with \t I thought I : ever. I had lin', and the ivith a gentle- e Honorable I don't think didn't know all man, over f super^MOus Maine, but a of fox-traps avin been a niggers, he of whiskers, the smallest |ose together, ruard on his Irinkin liked THE BAD SHILLING. 43Cr keepin* company. His nose was booked and thin, iSke 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 piump part of his cheek, to scuttle down to the level of his jaw, and gave him a very- savage kilniferous kind of look. He wore his neckcloth loose- like a sailor^ 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 :Aid hid onder the cape of his coat, ready for use. I couldn't help a-thinkin' of sister Sail when I seed it, for she used to say she liked things that appealed to the heart. I. wonder whether she'd call a bowie knife pathetic or not, for few things sink as deep as they do. Then the two large padded flaps like watch pockets to his frock coat, showed pistols was. concealed there. His shirt had two or three large gold brooches in it, and a chain of the same genuine material, as thick as a^ gall's finger, was suspended round his neck as a watch-guard,, and his waistcoat was made of spotted calFs skin, tanned with the hair on, and the shaggy side showin' out. He looked half landsman half seaman, with a strong dash of the fire-eater» Altogether he was a caution to look at, that's a fact. All at; once he recollected my phiz, and jumpin' up and catchin* hold of my hand, which he squeezed as if it was in a vice, he roared out — Why it ain't possible ! said he. Lawful heart alive, if that aim't you ! Where on airth did you spring from, since you gin* over livin whar you used to did ? Whar do you lead your life now ? Why, you have become quite a big bug lately by your writin's: penmanship, I take it, is a better bisness than clock- makin'; but come, let's liquor; I want to wet up; the sight of an old friend warms my heart so, it makes my lips dry. What will you have? cocktail, sling, julip, sherry cobbler, purl tala- bogus, 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 'bout as good a nightcap as I know on. Done^ •aid 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 fns«3 about choosing, as if their throats had «ny taste in them, and they actilly knew the difference; but the^ 440 THE CLOCKMAKBR. •donX that's a fact. New England rum takes the skin clean offy ■and they can't taste nothin' that's weaker. I'll go and speak for it to one of the gentlemen to the har. — With that he s wiggled liis way thro' the crowd, to the counter, and says he. Major, says lie, I guess you may let one of your aidy-conks hring us a pint of cocktail, hut let it he letter A, No. 1, and strong enough to Joosen 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 got 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 Jl hoist the foresail she is mad, and when I run up the mainsail ■she goes ravin' distracted. I can heat her up the harhour, 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- «andle lookin' scoundrels the Bruns wickers. She goes right on eend like a rampin' alligator. She'll go so quick she'll draw their wind out: go ahead ! cock-a-doodle-doo ! And he crowd xike a rael live rooster.— Go ahead, steam-boat — cock-a-doodle- doo ! and he smashed my hat in, most ridikilous over my eyes, va-flappin' so with his hands, like wings. It was a caution to -«ee, 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 the head of the Basin of Jfiiios, up to Windsor, it is thirty-five miles? It is. Is it true the tide runs out so, you can lay aground anywhac jou darn please, on the mud-flats, with safety? It is. Is it true you ain't bound to call at no custom-house till yoa get up to Windsor? It is. Is it true they can't see you to Windsor till you come withm two miles of it ? It is. ir/* Isn't Windsor almost clear across the province, no more than Ihirtj'-five miles from Halifax Basin * It is. nss, THE BAD SHILLING. 441 skin clean off^ and speak for b he swiggled le, Major, says ring us a pint mg enough to sot down and savs he. Slick, )r I am a fiee- \ craft, a rael r she walks her -after. "When ip the mainsail harbour, when ; ay, walk her lips ! and they ,t her will take mouthed, dipt- i goes right on ck she'll draw And he crowd cock-a-doodle- over my eyes, LS a caution to think I see a iness to Nova fova Scotia, a the Basin of is. )und anywhac |t is. jhouse till yoa come withm no more thaik :j >^. l*w Then, says he, a-girin^ 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 wag 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 ca:> lay aground by accident and run your goods, t am intarmined to fill that are country, called Nover Scotiar, with smuggled goods as full as u 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 chaps are pretty much of a muchness with them, six of one and haif-a>doien of t'other, and no great to choose nary way. But the next time, friend Wolfe, clinch the argument on your own thigh, that''s a good soul, and not on mine, for I feel it tingle clean away down to the tip eends of my toes : and now I'll tell you somethin' you ain't axed yet, for you don'*t know all things, cute as you be. They used to have to the east, when I fiist know'd it, an excise officer and a custom, house 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 etamal minit, so there won't now be no custom-house at all in a manner, and that only for formes sake. It^s a free-trade now, a''most, and we are a-goin' to haye the whole supply afore long, see if we ain't; and one thing I haye often remarkedf 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 0^ party catch-word they larnt from the English, and all changes they make will help us and hurt them. The deyil a hair I care, says Lucifer, what they do. I am no politician, and I hate politicks. I am no great hand at makin** laws ; but one thing I do pride myself on : I never seed the law yet that could tie my hands, for I am a regular scroudger : I can slip them thro^ any clauses you please. Build up four square walls of laws round me, and I'll whip thro' the keyhole. Tlie way Til run 29 442 Tin CIX)CKMAKEK. .';*j|i ■■}i -«i goodn into that are country is a caution to steam-boats and railroads, and them plaister digging shingle w^avin', clam-feed- hi' Bltie-noses, may do their prettiest, cuss ^e^. I'm for free- trade, and them that want's a fleece for revenue liiust 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 bom fool. But no one hadn^t better go foolin'* with me, for IVe 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 Blue-noses, I know, so they can't tell a sneeze from a blowM-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 properly; I guess 111 order supper. What shall it be, com bread and common doin's, or wheat bread and chicken fixin's ? But we miist fust play for it. What do you say to a game at all-fours, blind-hookey, odd and even, wild' <;at and 'coon, or somethin' or another, jist to pass time I Cdme, I'll size your pile. Size my pile! says I, whyj what the plague is that ? I never heerd tell of that sayin' afore. Why, says he, shell out, and plank down a pile of dollars or dotibloons, of any size you like, and 111 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 ? said he ; and whose erei^HrpwM pays the shot for supper. No, says I, since I broke i(br le^iif-ridili^ a cussed Blue-nos^ boss, I hante strength enough f6r thalr "Well, then, we are near about of a height, says he, I ^Ibtfa^tt^, let's chalk on the wall, and whoever chalks lowest liquidates tbe bill. If it wam't for the plaguy rhumatiz I caught once to Nova Scotia, says I, a-sleepin' in a bed the night arter a damp gall Ibdged there, I think I would give you a trial, says I ; but the very thoughts of that foggy heifer ^ves me the cramp. X jist said that to make him larf, for I seed he was a-gettin' liirjsteam tip rather faster than was safe, and that he could jist double ihe up like a spare shirt if he liked, for nothin' will take the lYiry edge of a man's temper off like 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 i it's a Jerusalem bright thought THE BAD SHILLING. 443 im-boats and a', clam-feed* I'm for free- ust first catcb > why then he i' such a bom e, for IVe got T missed her laylight shine 't tell a sneeze rigger. Vm a }11 you, for it*s is considerable ; I guess 111 ommon doin's, 3t fust play for id-hookey, odd nother, jist to T pile! says I» of that sayin' , pile of dollars >wn another of hank you, says le ; and whose , since I broke rength enough ght, sftys he, I chalks lowest matiz I caught le night arter )U a trial, says le the cramp, was a-gettin' he could jist Ihin* will take fairly roared It idea of the ^ght thought 111 air my wife, Miss Wolfe, before the fire to-night ; 1 hope I may be kicked to death by grasshoppers if I don't. Ill 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 broughteisup. 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 ^s two rotten stumps in a fog. FU tell you what well do ; here^s two oranges, do you take one, and I'll 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'* \m. No, says I, IM be sure to lose, for I am the poorest shot in 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 ConneHicut, you are jist about as sof);, and as holler, and good-for-nothin\ as they be : what ails you 9 You hante got no soul in you, man, at all. ThiA won't do : we must have a throw for it. I don't valy the money a cent : it ainH that, but I like to spikilate in all things. I'll tell you what weHl do, — ^let's spit for it ; and he drew his chair up even with mine. Now, says he, bring your head back in a line with the top rail, and let go ; and whoever spits furthest without spatterin' wins. Well, says I, you'll laugh when I tell you, I dare say, but IVe gin up spittin^ since I went down to Nova Scotia ; I have,, upon my sotd, for nothin' riles them Blue* noses more. Spittin^ would spile a trade there as quick a* thunder does milk. I'm out of ^toclice. They'll swuller any- thing, them fellers, they are such gulls, but they keep all they get : they won't let out, for they are as hard as the two sides of a grindstone. Well, then, what the plague will you do ? said he. Why, says I, a-takin' up the candle, and a-yawnin* so wide and so deep you could hear the watch tickin^ thro' my mouth, I guess Til go to bed, says I, for 1 hadn't the leastest morsel of sleep in the world last night. Mr. Slick, says he» a-risin^ up and a-cli^pin^ both arms a-kimber, lookin' as fierce as a wild-cat, and jist crowin' like a cock agin, give me leaf to m 444 THE CLOCKMAKKR. <••*• IHi?.' feiif' I tell you, Mr. Slick, says he, that you are no gentleman, and he tho^red his teeth as wicked as if he could grin a nigger white. I never suid I was, said I, so we won't quarrel about that. But I'm not a-goin' to he baulked that way, said he ; you'll find me jist a leetle the ugliest colt you ever undertook to brake ; there is no back out in me, for I'm a snappin' turtle, so you^U fight or play, that's flat, and no two ways about it, so take youi choice, for I feel most intierly wolfish and savagerous, and have half a mind to give you a tickler in the ribs that will make you feel monstrous amiable, and set you a-considerin^, I tell you. Says I, friend Wolfe, for I seed there was a smart chance of a row, play I won^t, so there is an eend of that matter, and as you are a-goin' to embark considerable capital in the smugglin' line, to Nova Scotia, (and I put my finger on my nose and winked, that there might be no mistake about what I meant,) I guess it would be jist about as well for us not to quarrel. So don't kick afore you are spurred, do you take ? Lord, it laid his bristles in a minit that, for the crittur's feeling like some people's respect- ability, was all in his pocket. Ah, said he, spoke like an honest man, that, and not like a cussed Yankee pedlar, and they ain't no better than an onsarcumcised Ingian, or a odoriferous nigger. There is some sense in that; give us your flipper, old boy; but Jet's have a drop of wet to drown it. I never sleep well unless words is either foughten out or washed out, and grog makes me feel as good-natured as a sooped eel. Lord, how glad I was to find it takin' that are turn, fiar I was actilly in a piled-up-agony, and the chilly ague began to crawl all over me. Only thinkin' of fightin' such a ring-tail roarer as that, nearly broke two of my ribs short off. What shall it be, said I ? Apple toddy, said he. Apple toddy then let be, said I; and I ordered a pint o' the best, and so we slinged. Arter discussin' it out, we parted, on the best possible tarms, for ever I hope : but cuss them bad skillin's, they are always a-comin^ back to you, there is no gettin quit of them at no rate, for they won't take the mitten if you do try to cut them. Such is the loose, good-for-nothin' loafers, cheats, smugglers, and outlaws, squire, the Blue-noses are a-goin' to have among ihem, by their beautiful free ports, for the trade won't pay regular marchants, aid, unless I am much mistaken'di when once thc^e Ji' THE Bad shilling. 445 man, and he aigger white. It that. But ou'U find me brake; there JO you'll fight so take youi [)us, and have ill make you i', I tell you. ; chance of a er, and as you mugglin' line, e and winked, tnt,) I guess it So don't kick aid his bristles jople's respect- like an honest and they ain't iferous nigger. ", old boy; but ep well unless ;rog makes me glad I was to iled-up-agony, Only thinkin' broke two of pie toddy, said ered a pint o' i, we parted, uss them bad •e is no gettin tten if you do |ts, smugglers, hare among I't pay regular len once tbe^e ''bad shillln's" are imported they'll find it no easy matter to drive them out of circulation agin. The advantage is all on our Hide. The reason why Windsor hasn't growd more of late yearf is, they have had a lot of poor little miserable coasters, tha* either didn't know the way, or was afraid to go beyond the American lines, so Windsor built Eastport. Now they have got bigger vessels, are makin' money hand over hand in airnest, and jist as they have got it to work right, they must have a reform free port, and give the carryin* trade to us. If it wam't that puppies can't see till they are nine days old, one would wonder they were so blind; but the wust of it is, they are plng^'.y apt, afore they do find their sight, to get their cars cropt and their tails cut. It reminds me of father and neighbour Outhouse Pipes. Father had a hundred acres lot in the rear of his farm, that was used as a partur, and a capital one it was too, well watered, well shaded, and well covered with beautiful white clover, and sweet grasses, and what not; but it cost considerable to keep up the fence round it. So, said he, one day to Outhouse Pipes, neighbour, says he, that partition fence costs a great deal of time, money, and trouble, every year, and poles is gittin* almighty scarce, I'm a-most afeerd we shall run out of wood afore long, suppose we pastur' in common, and let that fence down, the poles would do for other fences, and be quite handy. Well, says Pipes, quite careless like, so as not to let father see how pleased he was; well, says he, I was a-thinkin'* myself it would be more neighbourly, and every bit and grain as good too. I don't care if I do. Well, what does Outhouse Pipes do, for his stock was more nor twice as large as father's, what does he do, but turns in all his cattle, hogs, and sheep, and father's pastur' being the best, they all in course went into his field, and when dry time in summer come, his tarnation lookin' cattle, cross l)ull, and breachy oxen, 'most worried all father's dairy cows to death, and finally druv 'em all out into the township barrens There never was no findin' them when you wanted them, and in a little while they fell oif in the milk, got thin and mangy, and looked Hke old scratch. Well, bimeby father got tired of thi. fun, and wanted Outhouse Pipes to fence again on the division line ; says he, I guess you have eat sour grapes, and your son's teeth are on edge, ain't they ? He said it warn't reasonable at. all 446 THE CLOCKMAKEI. ■•.^ .' to be 10 petkily whimsical and crotchical; that it was none of hit teekin' to pastur' in common; that we had used up all his share of the poles, and didn'*t know where to get any more; and, arter five years' 'craitination, rezation, and trouble, father, to eend the dispute, went and put up the whole line himself, his own and neighbour Pipes' too. Cuss them cattle, Sam, says father, they have done me more nor a hundred pounds damage, but I guess, whefi a man has a good Jidd of his own, containm* mU he wants in the way of feed, shelter^ and wuter, he had better snug up his fences strong and tidy, and keep it to himseif But fathers trouble wam'i cended so easy as he was athinkin' on Havin'* once got a taste of the good grass, the nasty onruly brutes of Outhouse's were for eTerlastin'Iy a-breakin^ in and chasin' our beasts from one eend of the pasture to the other. As for father, poor old soul, he spent most of his time a-rundin* and a-hollerin' arter them stray critturs, and dririn^ of them oat. Well, if this don't beat the bogs, he'd sayl What a spot o' work this is sar- foinly. They are like a bad shilUn* them breachy denls, you oan't get rid of them at no rate. Put them out as often as you plea»j, they are for ererlastinly a-^omin'* back to you. I am n-thinkin', said the Clockmaker, the Blue-noses will find that arter a while, usin^ the trade in common with us is like fiither'*s pastur*, their neighbours hare two craft to their one to put in it, and bein' the strongest of the two, will gradually drive tkem off altogether, while shutting them out again is easier talked of than done, and that when actilly debarred, the onruly ones will occasionally break in andtcause 'tarnal trouble and ex> pense. Changing one thing for another is not always reform, as they have found out to England, to their smrrow, in more ihingt than one. But them who change often and unnecessary, are apt sometimes to find to their cost, when it's too late, that they have incautiously got hold on ** a bad shillin'" CHAPTER XII. TRADING IN BED. During one of our former journeys a circumstance 'occurred, that I did not undentand at the time, but which Mr. Slick now TRADING IN B£D. 44T it was none of ised up all hit anymore; and, uble, father, to ne himself, his ttle, Sam, says tounds damage, own, contminm' fr, he had better } himself. But IS athinkin' on ty onruly brutes and chasin' our As for father, ' and a-hollerin' i. Well, if this rork this is sar- :hy doTils, you as often as you ► you. snoses will find fith OS is like to their one to gradually drire again is easier red, the onruly rouble and ex- vatfs refornty as in more things cessary, are apt that they have anoe 'occurred, Mr* Slick now explained to me. On our return from Chester in Nova Scotia to Windsor, we stopped at a small house on the roadside, near a sawmill, for the purpose of feeding our horse, and in the course of a conyersation which it appeared to me was designedly intro* duced, relative to the stream and the adjoining timber'^land, Mr. Slick extolled the "water power*^ "mill privilege'^ betterments and conrenience and value of the place in terms of such ex- travagant praise, that the owner proposed to sell it to him, an offer which was immediately accepted. You see, said Mr. Slick to him, I ain^t Jist prepared to pay you right down on the nail in hard pewter, not expectin^ any such trade, l^ut ^PU bond itf" 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 whieh the bond was to be given to the wrong man). Why don't you give me a bond, said he, for the purchase-money, and Til give you a deed? Til trust ^ou, for you are good for more nor that. — Why, ril tell you, said the Clockmaker. It^s altogether for your advantage, and saves trouble and expense, you see. Ac- Gordin'' to your plan, if I didn't pay my bond when it's due, why youM 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 you, 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 you 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 ttate of Maine, the head- quarters of land spekilators, and I'*ll put off my Chester friend'^s bond to an advance. I never had no notion of buyin' that are feller's and. I don't want it no more nor my old waggon does a 448 THE CLOCKMAKER. i^** It-, -\A\ fifth wheel. Tve heen spekilatin' on his capital. If I donH sell the hond, I lose nothin'; for I have paid nothin'; if I sell it, I gain all I can get for it. It is one of the best and prettiest modes of trading I know on; but the di£ficuitest part is all to do yet, and that is to sell it, Anyboay can put the leake into a Blue- nose, or a John Bull, for thej are a primi/tve, unsuspectin^ sort of folks, not jist exactly up to snuff; but to walk into a down east-land jobber requires great skill, I tell you, and a very con- siderable knowledge of human natur' and of business. If your hook &in'*t well covered, and the bait well chose and suited to the season, they won'^t so much as look at it. If you pull at a nibble, you never get another one, for there is nothin' so bad as eagerness. A quick eye, a steady hand, and cocl temper, is not do withoutable. Tantalise 'em, play ^em on and off, let Vm see the bait and smell it, then jist raise it a little cut of sight till thev have to look for it, and then let it float down stream for them to foller, and when they get to it, snub it short till they pass it, and have to turn back and make up agin' stream. They don'^t see so clear then for the drift stu€% air bubbles, and what not; and when you find them makin light at it full split with their mouths open, slacken up a little, and jist as they snap at it, draw it forward an inch or so, and then rest a bit. The next grab they make they will take in the bait, hook, sinker, and 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 right into the jaw. O, it^s beautiful play, that ! it sharpens the wit, pints the eye teeth, and raises a man in the scale of intelli- gence. I never see a human yet, unless he was one of our free and enlightened citizens, that had the science — never, and I must say my hand is 'most out. I want prac/zce ; for in them British provinces the folks are as simple as the partridges be, and they ai-e 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 two long black cords a-hangin' from it with TRADING IN BED. 449 If I don't sell ; if I sell it, 1 prettiest modes s all to do yet, le into a Blue- isuspectin' sort k into a down nd a very con- Iness. If your and suited to f you pull at a thin' so bad as temper, is not off, let 'em see f sight till ther tream for them 11 they pass it, 1. They don't and what not; plit with their ey snap at it, it. The next |k, sinker, and ack pull (not t agin p'raps, Ihips the hook sharpens the ale of intelli- e of our free r, and I must them British , and they ai-e gunnin' arter Floorin' one the flock, it me on the er. Do you an with the om it with almighty big tassels a-aanglin' to the eend cf it like the lamp- rope there, a-carryin' part of the cloak folded on one arm like a Roman senator, and toother arm akimber, 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 dollar 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 p'lt his foot in it in his life If I don't lighten him of two thousand dollars afore to-morro\r mornin', say my name is not Sam Slick. FH walk right into him, tight as he is, I know. I'll bam he so he'll be a caution, I hope I may be shot if I won't. There is nothin" like flshin' for the leadin' trouts of the hole— no, nothin'; there is some fun in that, somethin' worth holdin' out the landin'-net for — beautiful spots of gold on them fellers — ^lick, it makes my mouth water. It's excitin — it's dreadful pretty; it caps all, that's a fact. 1 shan't see you now agin till momin', squire, for it's considerable well on in the cvenin* now, when daylight's down, and I shouldn'f wonder if I had " to trade in bed' afore I bring him to tarms, so good-night. I'll play 'possum with you in the mornin'', and 1x5 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. — 'f To the cashier of the Ban- gor 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, exult- ingly, I did him ; but it was no easy matter, I tell you. I had to play him up and down stream more nor once, and shift the colour of the fly till I tempted him; but he is bagged for once, nnvhow. It was a'most a-diflicult piece of business; and I must say, tho' I say it that should'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, 111 tell you how it w >s. Arter I left you, I seed him in a line with the stai)le ; so I jist walks out and maJses for the hoss-stalls, lookin' down in a hurry like, and seemin' chock full of bisness, and not lettin* on w if I know'd that he was there, for tl;ere is nothin' like a noo- 450 THE CLOCKMAKER. 31 eommittal, and he calls out,-— Why, Slick, if that ain't yon, as ' am alive ! why, how do you do, eh f who on airth woi]lki hare expected to have se }d 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 me? oh, for ever ! — Why, says T, I know your voice, and know your face, and ought to know your name; but . — Well, if you think you ought j .said he, you shaU. Don't you mind Gineral Conrad Corncob, him that was kyurnal lasi; war on full-pay ? — Corncob ? says I. Let me see, said I. Corncob— -Corncob ' ^-and then I scratched my head like ^ dog in sarch of a flea, — oh ! ay ! to be sure I do, and glad to see you too. — I thought, •aid he, Slick, you was down to Nova Scotia, a-tradin^ among them tatur-headed filue-nosef ; and d— n them fellers, they talk rather warlike about the boundary line. I shouldn't wonder if they'd like a war, the villains; for they'd find it a plaguy sight easier, I estimate, to come and gi:ab oi^ vessels than build them for themselves. Halifax always goes a-head 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 ? — Well, I jist look'd up at him and eyed him hard in the face, without sayin' of a word for a space, dubersome 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 Ij I haven't done bad in clocks, that's sartain. — ^Fire and tow I have you done anything in the timber line? said he, for that is a rising property. — Well, I made as if I didn'^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 wont 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, Vm tired and sick of the subject ; but I see you have made a hit, I know you have, you are so infamal 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 suffered in the eyes of foreignerfe\ — ^The Jevil take the eyes of foreigners, •ud Governor Fairfield* and the boundary toutch overseer of the niggers with the glass e} , in the sugar- bouse,) and they stared like the e3'^es of an owl, aad had jist sich a glassy, filmy, onmeanin' look. His hands, like most Britishers, 1VUS 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 pictur' of an ugly man. Hnllo, ship- mate, says I, how''s your heels this momin' ? I guess you must have hurt 'em agin' that are wall last night, for you kicked like all vengeance ; but he was as sound as a top. With that, I Ihrow'd down the clothes on my 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 wam't as dead as »* 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, wam't it? — ^Well, fire and tow! it was horrid, that's a fact, said the Gineral, and if your bed-fellers are apt to be so confounded on- lucky, I must say Tm ^most afeerd to go to bed with you. I don't like to hear about them things at night, they kinder skeer away sleep and set me a dreamin' ; let ^s hear about your Nova Scotia estate : what is it like V — We had a crowner's inquest on the body, says I, and the crowner, who was a bit of a wag, returned a vardict, "died of fright, a-sleepin' along with a Yankee." Ke did, upon my soul. Fact, I assure you. — Who the plague cares, says Corncob, what the great fat porter- drinkin'* hog died of, do, for gr*».cious' sake, let him be. Did you say your land was in Nova Scotia or New Brunswick ? Come, gin* over foolin', that 's a good feller.— I seed he was very anxious to hear about the bond, so to tease him and pique him, says I, I had another curious adventure once with a man in bed. — W hat a devil of a long-winded felier you be. Slick, says he ; why don't you come to the pinte at once ? if you want advice, ax it ; if not, let 's go to sleep, for your stories are dismal. Fire and tow ! I shall gee that dead man in a night-mare yet.^-Well, ^ys I, this one will make you larf, anyhow, for it took a different turc from t'other one altogether. When I fiist went 454 THE CLOCKMAKER. »;> ■a* * J out in the CiOck line, up Huron waj, I used to be ubject to i\% 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 eyery night onder the pillar of my bed to hare it liandy. 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 night half dead with the cramp, and screamin' like mad, and I jist out fin and felt for the brimstone, and I no sooner seized it than Frisk he roared like a bull too, and folks came runnin' and troopin^ in from the other room, to see what on airth all the hubbub was about ; and I hope I may die this blessed minit if I hadn'*t got him by the nose in mistake for the brimstone (almost 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 didn'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' sake let my nose alone, at any rate, for I hante 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 he feller said when the boat upset, let *s get to land. Let 's have bisness first, and jokes arterwards. — Well, there is reason even in roastin' an egg, I knowM I might push this too far, and that it was time to stop afore he smelt a rat So T jisi began at the beginnin', by tellin' him the land warn'v for sale at DO rate, but for a company, in shares, to be called "Ches ,1 TRADING IN BED. 455 ubject to i\% I gave me relief iid, and I used bed to have it d it was too) I iker, a terrible ed. He had a [>st, and he had biskin it as an .cross your face lettles ; it made look at. His 36 of a reapin' [*s ; they looked lep. He actilly 0-year old, and n the night half Ijist out finand t than Frisk he and troopin** in the hubbub was ; if I hadn t got 'most an endless a-hangiii' on to Qe larf so, when he goney made, ell, the Gineral Slick, said he, one a-purpose, |vil when a boy; •ate, for I hante ain't over safe [s go to land, as land. Let's there is reason sh this too far, rat So 1 jisi arn'v for sale at ailed "Ches ;i fjakei Mill Company,* and to be incorporated like Other com panics, so that they needn't pay their debts if they hadn'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 Mahone Bay on t'other side for exportin' of it, and no on, and then offerM 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 old " fire and tow" a-workin' of the weed in great style, and when I got this far, he put out his hand and felt onder the pillar for his baccy. I seed he was a-beginnin' to nibble at the bait, and that he was fairly on the scent, and I calculated I should have him afore long, if nothin' didn't skeer him. Says be, why not sell out and out and have done with it ? I think I could show you how to put it ofi; — 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 particular jam. — So it is, says I, and that's the reason it's onfit; it's the rael right down thing itself. — You know best, says he, but if I was to presume to offer an 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 1, 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 lik'^ a sheep's head, all jaw. I'll give you two thousuid dollars at a word, for your bargain ; what do you say now, go or no go ? Say the word, bargain or no bargain ! — I'll give you an answer in the momin', 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 cypher over it a little, for I have got hold of a rael 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 day. — No, said he, I like a man to be ^ to the notch, and stand to his lick-log ; salt or nc salt, say 458 THE CLOCfwMAKEli. ■" ^1 the word, or it's no offer. — Dear, dear, said I, you put the leake into every one, a'most, Gineral ; oiher men beat the bush, but you catch the bird ; say ninety cents more, for I have made a vo^v I wouldn't look at two thousand dollars, and it's yourn. ♦ —Fire and tow! then, done, said he, ^nd now I'll 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, Siick, and I will write the cheque; and in less than twenty minutes the bond was in his trunk, the chequt) in my portmanter, and we was both in bed agin, back to baik, as sociable as you please. Well, Ginera], ■ays I, as you say business fust and jokes arter wards, now Til tell you another fjtory of two fellers sleepin* in one bed, a'most as good as t'other one. The house they was a-sleepiu^ in took fire, and they jumps up in an all-fired hnriy, and seein' one pair of trowsers at ween 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. Til tell you how it was. — Do be quiet, says he ; I believe in my soul you'd talk all night ; and when I larf so much, I can't go to sleep arterwards, it sets me a coughiu' so. Good-night, and he was off in a hand gallop of a snore 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, bisuess fust, and jokes arterwards ; that^s jist exactly what you have been doin\ only you don''t know it. You'll! find this night^s work a capital joke some o' these days, or I am mistakened, that'^s all. YouM rather a-had the dead Englishman here alongside of you in bed than me, I know. You might a-got an odd kick from him, but I'll be hanged if you^d a-been bit. The crittur hadn't sense enough for that at no time. Oh! it < was done pretty, that, squire; it made me feel good all over. It was what I call work- manlike. Bed is the place for doin' bimess in arter all. You ain't bound to hear all that^s said in bed; and if you hesitate, 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, i'hen there ain't no fear of interruption or observation, and KNOWIirO THE SOUNDINGS. 457 [, you put thft a beat the busii, ^r I have made and it's yourn. ;r rU show you )Ut of bed and he, write you a will write the )ond was in his as both in bed "Well, Gineral, wards, now I'll one bed, a'most I they jumps up Towsers at ween ich put a leg in in' and squeelin nost killed. Til I believe in my Inuch, I can't go jood-night, and le less than half ny sleeve till I >isuess fust, and lave been doin\ \ work a capital it's all. You d e of you in bed from him, but r hadn't sense e pretty, that, at I call work- irter all. You if you hesitate, ,nd not stupid, loo long ; and a lin good humor, servation, and nothin' to distract attention. Bundlin^ oi courtin in the new clearin's is done the same way. It'*s the best place for makin' a sarmon in too, or an oration, or any difficult piece of bisness ; but as for dealin' and traffickin' that requires skill, depend on it, squire, if you are only wide awake and duly sober, there is nothin like " tradin' in bed** CHAPTER XIII. KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS, OR POLLY COFFINS SANDHOLE. The reckless speculation occasioned by an equally reckless issue of paper money, which has of late years appeared in the United States, has had a far more injurious operation than any one who has not carefully watched its progress and effects could possibly suppose. The first apparent change it produced was to raise the price of real and personal property far beyond their ralue, and to cause the unhappy delusion, that this feverish ex- citement was a healthy condition. That a great alteration had taken place was obvious to all ; and those who were profiting by it, found it by no means a difficult task to make men believe it was the natural result of republican institutions, of a free trade, a fertile soil, and an intelligent spirit of enterprise. In this opinion they were unfortunately confirmed, by. finding the liberal party among the English and the Colonists constantly repeating the same absurd theory, and contrasting the high prices of the United States with the sounder and more rational condition of Canada, as a proof of the superior advantages of elective goremments oy$r a monarchy. They all affected to be unable to attribute the difference in the price of land on the opposite sides of the boundary line to any other cause than the ballot, universal suffrage, and annual elections. The conse- quence of all this has been, that the Americans have suffered immense losses in their trade, while the colonists have suffered no less in their peace and hi»pp::iess, by the introduction of wild .heories of government by those whose rank and influence gave I mischieT3US weight to their opinions. In the States, however, the great pecuniary loss they have sustained is by far the least iojpry they have incurred from this unfortunate error. Thef 458 THE CLOCKMAKKR. Arti'^ suffered in their morals, A wild ami iirf rim'pVl ^xc^\^. lation like this has no pretention to be • ignified by the < anic of trade or enterprise. It is one of the worst species oT gambling, inaflmuch as it originates in deception, and is contaminated wiAi fraud throughout. The preceding sketch, >vhich is founded on fad, shows with what care even clever and experienced men like General Corncob can be duped, when their caution is dia- rmed by the eagemeM of speculation; and how readily a man iike the Clockmaker can reconcile himsuil, hy the aid of a little sophistry, to a fraudulent transaction. Had you no compunction, said I, Mr. Slick, in palming off upon the General that worthless bond, and in taking from him so large a sum of money as two thousand dollars without giving him any equivalent whatever? — Compunction, said he, in great astonishment, why no, squire, why should I? This ain't tradin', i^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 raftied for, and if it don't, he loses, that''s all. Great gains corer many losses. If one land speki- lation in ten turns out well, and is rael jam, it makes a man's nest. Oh, no ! if it was trade, why honor bright ! but it tante, it's spekilatin'; and you might as well call loo, or put, or all- fours, or any other game trade. It tante givln valy for a thing, it's huyin a chance. Now, there is no more harm done in settin' off a chance to advantage than in platin'a candlestick, or gildin' a frame. It'^s puffin', that's all, and that's done every day every- where; so it is in smufrglin** — do you suppose there is any harm in that? If you smuggle clever, you win; if you don't it's seized, and there is an eend on it; you lose the trick, but the game is not immoral. It would be difficult to believe that so sensible a man as Mr. Slick could be the dupe of such shallow nonsense, if daily ex- perience did not prove how much easier men can deceive them- selves where their interest isconcerned,thansatisfy others, and how ; soon the morals of a country are damaged by this sort of national gambling. The explanation was disagreeable. I was reluctant to permit him to lower himself In my opinion, and I changed the conversation by a reference to colonial subjects. These were topics on which I admired to hear him talk, as his observa- KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS. 459 tions were generally correct, often original, and Jilways amusing. — Yea, said he, I must say, without a morsel of vanity, I esti- mate I have picked up a few notions of men and things in a jfineral way that ercry one can't boast of. Now, there's them Goloniei Mid 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 im- migrants has, for jist one month. The way I'd show him how to handle the ribbons ain''t no matter, I know. I'd larn him how to set on the box, how to hold the whip atween his teeth, and to yawk the reins with both hands, so as to make each boss in the team feel he had a master that was none o' the scariest, and that wouldn't put up with no nonsense. A cross-grained, ongainly crittur wouldn't frighten me by layin' down and refusin' to draw, I tell you. I'd jist start the rest of the cattle into a handsome lope, and give him a drag over the gravel till I scriitched 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 caa be a good statesman that can't drive well. There's a great deal to be lamed from hossei Natur' is natur', that is a fact ; but the natur' of a boss ain''t human, that's all, and lie can't talk; study him^ therefore, and man comes easy arter that. There ain't no part of a h^ss 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 couldn'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 curbin' them the next, and 'most throwiu* 'em down. That's no way to drive, hut jist the way to spile their temper ; but bein' afeerd on 'em is the devil, it ruins 'em right off. Oh, dear ! if I was only alongside Lord Sir John on the state -box, I'd teach him in six lessons so that he could manage them by whisperin'; but you might as well whistle jigs to a milestone ma IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A 1.0 £fui m |_LL L'^ "^ Sciences Corporation %^ \ c\ ^-^ 23 WBT MAIN STRKT WnSTIR,N.Y. 14SM (7t6)«72-4S03 i\ '<^ ? 400 THE CLOCKMAKER. 4 *»^t to an Englishman, they are lo infarnal sot in their ways. Th« first thing to know how to get safe into port is to study the soundings. I mind a trick I played once on old **Tarnnl Death/' as we called Captain Ebenezer Fathom, the skipper I went to South 8ea with. He know*d eyery inch of the American coast ai well as he did of his own cabin; and whenever he throwM the lead, and looked at what sort of bottom it sliowed, he know'd as well where 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 eyerlastingly. So, afore I goes aboard, off I slips to a sandpit 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 are yoyage 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 soundic's now, I calculate; run on till twelve o'clock, and then heaye-to and throw the lead, for it is as dark as Comingo, and let me see what it fetches up, and, tamal death ! I'll tell you to the six- teenth part of an inch what part of the thirteen united univarsal worlds we be in. — What will you bet, says I, you do? — I'll bet you a pound of the best Yarginy pigtail, says he; for I am out of baccy this week past, and have been chawing oakum until my jaws fairly stick together with the tar. Yesterday, when you turned in, I throw'd out a signal of distress, and brought a Britisher down on us fiye miles out of his way; but, cuss him, when he found out I only wanted a pig of tobacco, he swore like all yengeancCf and hauled his wind right off. What tamal gulls and fools they be, ain't they? Yes, I'll bet you a pound of the best. — Done, says I, I'll go my death on it you don't tell ; for I never will believe no soul can steer by the lead, for sand is sand everywhere; and who can tell the difference?— Any fool, iaid he, with half an eye, in the pitchiest, inkyest, lampblackiest flight that ever was created. I didn't get here in Jo the cabin by jumpin' thro' the skylight, as national officers do, but worked my way in from before the mast. Tamal death to met a man that don'^t know soundin's when he sees it is fit for nothin' but to bait shark- hooks with. Soundic*S| ehf why, I was born ia soundin's, sarved ji KNOWING TUB SOUNDINGS. 461 tlieir ways. The t is to study the il Death,'' as we I went to South merican coast ai r he throwM the ved, he know'd ag d. He did beat it too, a-boastin re I goes aboard, nents, where they fills a bag with it gone the matter iched home; and lezer comes down ays he, we are in o'clock, and then Comingo, and let ell you to the sir- uuited univarsiil ou do?— I'll bet tie; for I am out ng oakum until iTesterday, when , and brought a ; but, cuss him, >bacco, he swore r. What tarnal et you a pound Eyou don't tell; ead, for sand is ice? — Any fool, t, lampblackiest i.o the cabin by but worked my I man that don'^t lit to bait shark- mndin'*!, larved 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, mak^ yourself scarce, for I am sleepy; and he was a-snorin' afore I waa out of the cabin. — "Well, at tweWe o'clock we hove-to, and sure enough found sand at fifty fathom, as he said we would. What doei I do but goes and takes another lead and dips it into the water to wet it, and then stirs it in the bag of sand I had stowed away in my trunk, and then goes and wakes up the skipper. Hollo, shipmate! says I, here's the lead: we have got a sandy bottom in fifty fathom, as you said. Exactly, says he, didn't I tell you 80. I can feel my way all along the coast when it's so dark you can't hear yourself speak. I know eyery foot of it as well as if I made it myself. Qiye me the lead. — As soon as he took it and looked at it, he jumpt right up an eend in bed. —Hollo! said he, what the deyil's this? giye me my specs, that's a good feller, for I don't see as well as I used to did. — So I goes to the table and hands him his spectacles, and says I, I knew you couldn't tell no more than any one else by the lead. That are boast of youm was a bam, and nothin' else. Til trouble you for your pound of Varginy pigtail ; jist enter it in the log, will you ? — Heayens and airth! said he, a-mutterin' to himself, old Nan- tuck is sunk, an airthquake, by gum! What a dreadful piece of bisness this isl^He looked at white as chalk: his eyes started most out of his head, and his hair looked a hundred ways for Sunday. Lord, how frightened he looked, he was quite onfaki- lised. — ^Tarnal death to me! says he, bring the candle here agin; and then he wiped his eyes fust, and then his specs, and took another long look at it, as steady as if he was a drawin' a bead on it fine with his rifle. — After a space, he Jumps right out of bed on the floor, and bawls out as loud as thunder to the hands on deck, — " 'Bout ship, boys! said he, 'bout ship for your lives, as quick as wink ! old Nantuck has gone for it as sure as rates, it has by Gosh! I hope I may die this blessed instant minic of time if that are lead hasn't gone right slap into old Aunt Polly Coffin's Sandhole. What a spot o' work this is! Poor old Nantuck!" and he was jist ready to cry a'most, he seemed so sorry. — Stop, says I, captain, I'm 'most afeerd Tye made a mis- take; I do belieye IVe gin you the wrong lead: look at this, a- handin' up to him and a-showin' of him the right one. — Ab* 462 THE CLOCK! KBR. *■*» .<. m gays he, fust a-smilin' and then hustin' out in a hoss-iauga^ yon thought to catch me, Sammy, did you, my hoy? hut it's more nor you nor any livin' soul can. None o' you can put the leake into me where soundin's is consamed. I defy all creation to do that. Nothin^ hut an airthquake can do that. **Let her ofl two pints, and hold on that way till daylight." Nohody had hetter not go foolin^ with me; and then he swung round and fixed for a nap, agin makin^ a chucklin'* noise, half grunt, half larf. Catch me, catch the devil, will you? Think I don^tknow the har grit from Polly Coffin's Sandhole? Oh ! of course I don't, I don't know nothing nor never did; I never had no eyes nor no sense nother. Old folks never know nothing and never will ; so, tamal death to you ! teach your grandmother to clap ashes, and your daddy how to suck eggs, will you? Now, squire, I know the soundin's of them are colonies as well as Captain Ebenezer did Nantucket hottom, and could put his royal highness Lord Sir John Russell up to a thing or two he don'*t know, that's a fact. He ought to go and see for himself, how else can he know whether folks are drawin^ the wool over his eyes or no, or whether it's proper to *bout ship or not? Do you think he could tell now, or any other British minister that ever stood in shoe-leather, from the days of old Captain Noah of the Ark whaler downwards, how many kinds of patriots there are in the colonies? no, not he. It's a question that would pose most men, unless they had sarved an apprenticeship to state teachin\ Well, there are jist five. Rehel patriots, mahogony patriots, spooney patriots, place patriots, and rael gcnutne pa- triots. 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 hoss is from a Jackass, or a hawk from a handsaw. A rebel patriot is a gentleman that talks better than he fights, hante got much property in a gineral way, and hopes to grab a little in the universal scramble. He starts on his own hook, looks to his rifle for his support, and shoots his own game. If he got his due, he would get a gallus for his reward. — A mahogony patriot is a crittur that rides like a beggar a-horseback: you'll know him by his gait. As soon as he begins to get on a bit in the world, he is envious of all them that's above him, and if he can't get his legs onder the mahogony of his betters, ii for takin' his i KNOWIlfO TBB SOUNDINGS. 463 hoss-iaugn^ jou y? but it's more m put the leake ill creation to do "Let her ofl ." Nobody had mng round and half grunt, half nk I don^t know ^h ! of course I verhad no eyes thin', and nerer imother to clap u? are colonies as , and could put thing or two he see for himself, * the wool over ip or not? Do 1 minister that Captain Noah nds of patriots tion that would iceship to state iots, mahogony ircl genuine pa- to know these :>m each other idsaw. A rebel ghts, hante got ^ a little in the c, looks to his If he got his \hogony patriot ou'll know him t in the world, f he can't get for takin' hia better's mahogony away from them. To skin his pride OTer aad islre his Tanity, he says he is excluded on account of his politicks and patriotism, a martyr to his yartue. This chap mistakes impedence for independence, and abuse for manliness: be is jist about a little the dirtiest and nastiest bird of the whole flock of patriots. This feller should be sarred out in his own way: he should stand in the pillory and be pelted with rotten eggs.^^— ii tpoomey patriot is a well-meanin', silly Billy, who thinks the world can be reduced to squares like a draftboard, and goremed by systems; who talks about reforms, codifyin*, progression, schoolmasters abroad, liberality, responsibility, and a pack of party catchwords that he don't know the meaning of. | This chap is a fool, and ought to go to the infarmary. — A place patrioi is a rogue: he panders to popular prejudice, appeals to the passions of the mob, and tries to set them agin' their richer neighbours, and attempts to ride on their shoulders 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 i against conviction. This man is the loudest and most dangerous | <^all, and should go to the workhouse. — The true patriot is one who is neither a sycophant to the Government nor a tyraat to the people, but one who will manfully oppose either when they arc wrong, who regards what's right, as minister said to me, and not what is popular; who supports 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 yon are a Tory, if you only knew it. Are you merely talking for effect, or do you really mean what you sayf for your picture of a true patriot is nothing more or less than the picture of a con- sistent Tory. Any person must see the resemblance to the Duke of Well .—Why, squire, said he, interrupting me, you don't know our soundin's from Polly Coffin's Sandhole as well as I do, or you wouldn't ax that are question, at no rate. I am a Federalist when I am to home, tho' I somewhat guess you are a Consarvative ; but a monarchist in a republic, and a republican in a monarchy is jist about on a par, — a pair of rebels that ought to be chained together, th&t they might have time to argue t't 464 TUE CLOCKMAKER. out Our goverament suits ui best, youm suite you best; a good citizen stands by bis own. I don't care who looks like the pictur*. I drawed one of a true patriot, and you may gire him what nick-name you please; but I hante 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, diyine succession men, cliques, or whatever they are, — for they have as many aliases as the Spanish pirate bad 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. Whole hogSy who won't hear of no change, good or bad, right or wrong, at no rate. These critturs are of the donkey breed. They stick their head into the fence, and lash away with their heels right and left, till all is blue agin. — Fashionable ones, who don't care much about politicks, but join that side because the upper-crust folks and bettermost people are that way of thinkin': jackdaw birds, that borrow feathers to strut in. If the great men or the governor was a radical, these critturs would be radical too. They lake their colour from the object they look up io, — 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 Philadelphia lawyer to tell ^em apart. I shouldn't like to let on that I said so; for, cuss 'em, if it hadn't a-been for them the patriots or reformers, winter afore last, would have throwM Canady into our bands as slick as grease and I wouldn^t a -said to others what I have said to you for nothin* a'most. Now, if I was John Russell, (for them 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's 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 io a governor and another to the world. He'd know too, when influence was character^ and when it was trick KNOWING THE SOUNDl^^GS. 4a3 lilts you best; a ho looks like the ou may gire him yet. I want to for mind, I ain't ger who's up or m Slick; at least impacts, officials, 5y are, — for they that was hanged ly mind, to trade B are three sorts >od or bad, right e donkey breed. away with their onableoneSj who side because the way of thinkin': I. If the great itturs would be M they look up emes meet, and triot are so near ill ''em apart. I 'em, if it hadn't nter afore last, slick as grease said to you for them almighty ihind it, always them), if I was ithout sayin' of guess, nobody so, for he ain't idin's of these e patriot folks i. He'd know it was trick \Vhen he returned again to home, to the state-house in Downin'- street, and a colonist brought him a lead to look at, he'd teH with half an eye, like Captain Ebenezer, whether it had sand on it from the rael bottom or Polly Coffin's Sandhole. If them jawin Jacks to Parliament had half the sense my poor old mother had, theyM know what to say when them patriot critturs come home with their long lockrums about grierances, with an everlastin^ lyin' preface to it about 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 be: Sam, she'd say^ I'd a plaguy 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 could tell you of) to humbug with talk, and was for reformin' everything a'most, and promised all 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; so, which ever way things eventuated, he was always right. A rigilar politician that ! One day he called his red children together, as he called the Ingians, and made them a speech too. It \vas 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 spooney 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 Russell ought to hold to 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 ''the ratil »wuii(Hii's from PoUi: Coffin's Sandhole i** won't you, squire f 466 THE CLOCKMAKER. , t ■t''f>r 't; iiiii;^;* .'ni. w l\ ' • '; CHAPTER XIV. ' ' •' *y>- AN OLD FRIEND WITD A NEW FACB. Uattno travelled this day from Parnassus to Thebes,* a di;; tance of thirty-five miles, we concluded to remain where we were, although there were some two or three hours of daylight yet t€ spare, and to resume our journey on the following morning. Thebes is a small town, nor does there appear to have been any grounds whatever for suppc^ing that it could, by any possible contingency, ever attain the sue or imitate the splendour 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 population, while the scaffolds, heaps of mortar, and unloaded waggons of timber, all exhibited signs of a hasty desertion of the workmen. The silence and melancholy that reigned through the streets consti- tuted the only point of resemblance 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 at- tended by people from a distance as well as the immediate neigh- bourhood; that there was a great ^^stir," and a preacher of more than common eloquence, called a " Corcomite," who was break- ing up all the old congr^ations, and proselyting the whole country to his new notions. It is a nervous fever, said my informant, the innkeeper, with an air of satirical severity. All nations have their peculiar excite- ments. The Chinese have their opium, the South Sea people their chew-chew, the Dutch their skidam, the Indians their to- bacco, and the Irish their whiskey ; but we have a combination of them all — we go ahead of most folks in that line. We have * I have used these names, instead of the real ones, as well on aooonnt •( iToiding local offence, as of their absurd adoption in the States. AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. 467 'Mi. ■ : ■ II .., r CB. > Thebta,* a dis n where we werc^ f daylight yet t€ lowing morning, to hare been any by any poMible splendour of that to be transferred I log huts. The 1 inhabitants for I all closed, bore rems were open, lation, while the ns of timber, all workmen. The le streets oonsti- prototype. So iosity, and upon gathering, of a numerously at- nmediate neigh- »reacher of more who was break- ting the whole innkeeper, with peculiar ezcite- uth Sea people ndians their to- i a combination ine. We have nrell on aooount sC atei. rum, strong tea, oaccy, politicks, and ranaticism. We are the most excitable and excited people in the world. One mistake itranger, naturally leads to another. Them are Puritans that came out of your country to this, proscribed all amusements, all innocent festivities, all gaiety of the heart, and held that the more wretched and melancholy they were the more acceptable they would be to the Lord. They were no half-measure chaps them. When they began to dissent from the Church they went the whole figur*. They gave up all the Church allowed, and re- tained all the Church disapproved. The Church prayed for the King; they beheaded him. The Church thought a cheerful countenance betokened a happy heart; the Puritans called it the fece of a malignant, and so forth. Well, what was the conse- quence of all this? why, as pretty a set of hypocrites was begot- ten as you'd w^h to see. I take your Cromwell to be jist a luperfine sample of them, and the breed is tolerably pure yet ; cold, canting, sour pharisees, who appropriate heaven to them- selves, and quietly consign all the rest of the world to the devil. This feeling has tinged every one of the hundred thousand sect* that have sprung up to oppose the old Church of Old England^ I am a colonist by birth myself; I was brought up an Episco- palian, and so was my wife; but my children have all seceded. One is a Hixite, another a XJniversalist, a third a Unitarian, and A fourth a Socialist. Religion, instead of being a bond of union in my house, is the cause of discord, and doctrinal points are never-ending sources of dispute and disa^x^ ement. Christianity, nr, is fast giving place to philosophy, and we are relapsing into what these new lights call '^ rational thinkers," or, in plain English, Atheists. It makes me sick to think on it; but yoii had better go and see for yourself, and then tell roe if such dii- graceful work is religion. This fellow that is drawing such crowds after him, belongs not to any of the great sects of Epis- copalians, Methodists, Baptists, or Papists, but is called a *^Cor- comite.** His doctrine is simply this, that a state of future punishment exists, but exists only for those who do not embrace his creed, — a comfortable sort of faith, which, I fear, his sect it not the only one that propagates. The meeting was held on the betterments of a new settler, near a bridge, t^ which several roads led, and which, from its 468 THB OLOCKMAKBR. I cenlral situation, was easy of access from Tarious parts of the country. Waggons, gigs, and cars without number, were sta- tioned near the fenoes, and along the line of the forests, the horses belonging to each Oirriage being unharnessed and sererallv fastened by a halter to the axletree for security. Here and there were tents and booths, giring the field the appearance of a niili. tary encampment; and on the edge of the woods, and under the shade of the giants of the forest, were numerous conical wig- warns, 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 root- tied multitude of people listening to the wild declamation of the preacher, whose Toice was occasionally heard oyer the whole field, as he screamed out his frightful denunciations. Groups of men were scattered about the field, seated on the huge stumps which here and there dotted the surface of the ground, or perched on the upper rails of the wooden fence, discussing business or poli- ticks, or cnnyassing the doctrines or merits of the preacher; while others were indolently lounging about the refreshment booths, whiling away the time with cigars and mint julip until they should be joined by their fair firiends at the hour of intermission. After some difficulty, Mr. Slick and myself forced our way into the bam, and fortunately obtained stomding-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 tal^ thin, and rather consumptiye-looking man, who had a red silk pocket-handkerchief tied about his head, and wore no neckcloth. There was something quite appalling in his look. There was such a deep dejection in his countenance, such a settled melancholy, such a look of total abstraction and resigna- tion to the endurance of some ineyitable fate, that I was forcibly reminded of the appearance of an unfortunate criminal when led out for execution. Instantly all was hushed, eyery eye was upon him, and every ear in anxious solicitude to catch the almost in- audible whispers that fell from his lips. Now and then a word was heard, and then a few unconnected ones, and shortly a fe«v brief sentences or maxims. Presently his enunciation was clein and distinct, and it gradually increased in yolume and rapidity until it became painfully loud, and then commenced gesticulation, AN OLD PEIBNO WITH ▲ !flW VACB. 469 tout parts of the imber, were sta- the forests, the sed and severally • Here and there arance of a mil i- [s, and under the ous conical wig* d resemhling one lie centre of the \ mixed and mot- iclamation of the it the whole field, Groups of men ge stumps which id, or perched on business or poli- e preacher; while reshment booths, julip until they r of intermission, forced our way -room on one of le interior. One as succeeded by oking man, who t his head, and appalling in his untenance, such ion and resigna- 1 1 was forcibly iminal when led [ry eye was upon the almost in- Ind then a word id shortly a feiv liation was cleai le and rapidity id gesticulation, emphasis, and raving. It was one unceasing flow of words with- out pause or interruption, except for an occasional draught of water from a stone pitcher that was placed beside him. Even this, however, was insufficient to prevent exhaustion, and he re- moved his coat He then commenced the great effort of his elo- quence, a description of the tortures of the damned. It was a studied and frightful piece of declamation, in which he painted their wild demoniac shrieks, their blusphemovs despair, their un- qaenched and unquenchable thirst, — the boiling, steaming lake of brimstone — their unwilling tenacity of existence, and increased lensibility of pain. When all the figures of speech and all his powers of imagination were exhausted, he finished the horrible picture by the introduction of fallen angeli, who, with expanded wings, hovered for ever and ever over this awful abyss, whose busi- ness and pleasure was, as the boiling of the infernal caldron brought iny of the accursed to the surface, with spears of heated glowing metal to thrust them deeper and further into the burning flood. The groans, screams, and hysterical laughter of the female part of the audience was so frightful and appalling an accom- paniment to this description, that my feelings became intensely painful, and I was about leaving the building, when his voice suddenly dropped from the unnatural pitch to which he had strained it, and sunk into a soft and seductive tone, in which, in the mildest and gentlest manner, he invited them to accompany him to Paradise, which he described, after the manner of the Mohammedans, as an abode furnished with all the delicacies and pleasures most suited to their senses and corporal enjoyments. He then represented the infernal regions as the doom of those who belonged not to the *' band" of which he was the head, in the absence of its persecuted founder, ** Corcoran," and invited his hearers to fellowship. Enough, said I, to Mr. Slick; and more than enough. I am disgusted and horrified; let us go. I 'most wonder you staid so long, said he; it is awful hot here, and that crittur talked so of ralphur Pve actilly got the taste of it in my mouth; my tongue is all warped and curled up like singed shoe-leather. I must have a brandy cocktail to cool it. But I've seen that fellef ifore; I know his voice and the cut of his jib as well as any- thing, bat to call his name out to sare my soul alift I can't I P» 'n 470 THE CLOCKMAKBR. They call him Concord Fisher, but that is not his rnei natnvt that 8 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 knowM I had seed him afore, for I never forgot a face yet; tho^ names are considerable slip. pery, and it ain't jist so easy to keep hold on sucli soapy things. It was that everlastin' skirmudgeon, Ahab Meldrum; it was, I swear. Last night, jist as I was a-turnin^ in, who should slip into my room, but Ahab. Sam, says he, I seed you to the great '^stir,'*^ and knowM you in a minit; you are jist the man I want to see, for I need your advice; but, for the love of Heaven give me some brandy and water, for I am e^en a'^most dead, — and he gave a kind of tan-yard grin that went right straight to the heart. We have to preach tee-totalism here, for nothin' else will go down; but it^s easier to preach than prac/ife that: give me some grog, or I shall die. It sarves you right, says I, for bein such a 'tarnal hypocrite: why the devil don^t you take your grog like a man, if you need it, above-boord, off-hand handsum, and let them that don^t like it, lump it, that''s my way; I don^t ap- probate no nonsense. Well, I goes and gets some brandy and water, enough to make a night-cap for two, and, says I, swig away till you are tired, now, will you; you are safe with me; I won't blow you, you may depend. Well, I pitied the poor crittur too, for he looked as pale and as white about the gills as a scalded nigger; I actilly thought he would have fainted, he was 80 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 was gittin on like a house a fire there, a soft-sawderin^ the women there, with your new rule in grammar, that the feminine gender was more worthy than the masculine, and the masculine more better nor the neuter, and so forth. I hope you hante been illustrating eh? no more Polly Bacons, I hope, eh? you was always a sly feller that way: what was it ? Sam, says he, IVe been a fool, and it sarves me right; I was doin^ the smartest chance of preachin'* there of any man hi the state, and I throw^d it away like an ass. I «m punished FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. 471 ot hii rnei natnvt U goney, for seen >a think that an lad seed him ufore, considerable slip. lucli soapy things, eldrum; it was, I , who should slip id you to the great 8t the man I want re of Heayen give ost dead, — and he ht straight to the for nothin' else will lise that: give me it, says I, for bein rou take your grog Etnd handsum, and f way; I don't ap- some brandy and and, says I, swig e safe with me; I I pitied the poor about the gills as a ye fainted, he was iter only spiles it; which brought his come to, says I, ere? what made like a house a fire your new rule in 3 worthy than the the neuter, and so jh? no more Polly er that way: what t saryes me right; here of any man in . I am punished cnouiili, anyhow; spare mo, for I am as weak as a child, and cnn*t stand Jobeing. Bpare me, that's a good crittur, and don't ▼ou bark agin* ma, t00| for it will drive me crazy ; and he put his hand to hk Iket an^ bohood right out. Why, you poor crittur, says I, — for a touch of old times come over me, when we waa boyi to school together, and I felt kinder sorry to sea him that way, lookin' so streaked — why you poor crittur, says I, youVe worn yourself out a-screachin' and a-screarain' that way, and yellin' like a ravin' distracted bed bug; let me mix you a pitcher of egg-nog, stiff enough to stick to your ribs as it goei down, and it will make a man of you agin' in two-twos. So away I goes and gets a lot of eggs and sugar, and some brandy, and mixes up a dose that would float a dollar a'most, and made him drink it: now, says I, for your rule in grammar; how did it work ? Well, says he, it's no use concealin' anythin* from you, Sam; it didn't turn out well in the eend, that's a fact. People began to talk considerable hard and Lynchy about their galls 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 pleasant subject — I got a notice to make myself scarce from Judge Lynch, and, as I know'd a little grain more about the matter than they did, and guessed the secret would soon be obleeged to be known, I felt iny jig ^as up, and I jist took the hint and made tracks. Then I hooked on to the Corcornites, and here I am among them, I must say, rather takin' the lead. Folks actilly do say I take the rag o£f quite, all along up and down Maine and Varmont, and a piece beyond; but I can't stand it; I shall die; the excitement is too much for me. I have endured more already than a dead nigger in a doctor's shop could stand. Livin' so long in a hot climate, I hante 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 patronise It since, a complete swad of them. He says it will trip the heels of the church yet, let the Bishops do their prettiest, for Socialists haye votes as weH as other folks, and must be covrtad. I ■II m\ 47-2 THE CLOCKMAKER. ' , i Or .'■ and are courted, and will be courted all through the piece. He 'Beems 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 peskiljT inclined to close with them, for them rational religion- ists live like men, and ain't so everlastin' strait-laced in matters of the heart as others he, nother. In fact, they are jist about the most liberal sect I know on. Now, tell me candid, has it a bottom, or is it a bam? Will it stand, or will public opinion be too strong for it? for I don't want to embark on board a leaky ship; when I spikilate I like to hare the chances in my fayor. Well, Ahab, says I, you make me crawl like al' oyer, to hear you talk BO loose, so you do; what a deyil 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 ereiy sect there is, a'most, and now you talk of tumin' infidel, as coolly as of tumin' into bed. Give up preachin', you ain't fit for it, nor never was, and more nor that, you hante strength 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 liberty great. Jist hand me the brandy tho', that's a good feller, please. I must take some clear, for that egg-nog is cold and heavy on the stomach, — and he drank off near about half a pint without winkin\ No, said he, no ox-carts for me, Sammy, boy; no, nor baccy, nor cotton nother; they are low, yery low> them. Concoran, the head of our sect is in jail. They are a-goin' to give him a birth in the states prison. 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 boll frog when traps are sot for you. What I want to know is, whether So — so-HK>cial — SociaUsm ca — an stand or no? Not much better than you can, I expect, says I, for he was blind flrunk now, and as dumb as a wooden clock two years old, and [ lifted him on the bed with all his runnin' riggin* on, and there oe was this momin^ when I got up, a-snorin^ like a sizeable buffalc. Oh, squire, said the Clockmaker, that are Ahab has AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. 473 h the piece. He 1 to prosecute him. lateyer is the go to >u the truth, I feel I rational religion- Aced in matters of ist ahout the most , has it a hottoro, e opinion he too >ard a leaky ship; my faror. "Well, , to hear you talk you be, you are cratch, you are so )St, and now you to bed. Give up d more nor that, I, you'll go for it go tradin^ or go hard work; but the work is light, ist hand me the t take some clear, (tomach, — and he in\ No, said he, )accy, nor cotton >ran, the head of m a birth in the id I must say it killock, when he frizzle of a fiz. th, like a jumpin want to know is, md or no? Not br he was blind ro years old, and |[in* on, and there ^ like a sizeable it are Ahab hat made me feel dreadful ugly, I tell you. Old times kinder touches the heart; I look on my old class-mates like brothers, and I don't feel sorter right when I see one on 'em actin'' like old Scratch that way. A bad man is bad enoughy the Lord knows; but a bad minister beats the devil, that^s as plain ai preachin\ CHAPTER XV. THE UNBURIED ONE. As we approached Boston, Mr. Slick said, Ah, squire! now you will see as pretty a city as we hare this side of the water. There is a good many folks worth seein' here, and a good many curosities of natur' too. There's the State House, and Old Funnel, and Charleston College, and the Market-place, and the Wharf they give to the British steamer (an act of greater libe- rality p^raps than you''ll find, I estimate, in the world), and ever 80 many things. Then there is Mount Auburn. Lord, the French may crack and boast as much as they please, about their **Pair o* Shaise,*" but it's no touch to it. "Why, I never was so disappointed in anything in all my life, since I was broughten op, as that are Paris buryin' ground. It looks for all the world like an old ruined town, where the houses are all gone, and the porches, and steps, and dog-kennels are left. It hante no inte- rest 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 romantic. Many a woman that^s lost one husband there, has found another in the same place. A widower has a fine chance of seein^ widders there, and then nobody ever suspects them of courtin', beiu^ that they are both in black, but takes Vm for mourners, and don't intrude on 'em out of pity. Til go a bet of one hundred dollars the women invented that place, for they beat all natur"* for contri- vances, so they do. Yes, squire, if you have a mind for a rich young widder, clap a crape weeper on your hat, and a white nose-rag in your hand, and go to Mount Auburn, and youll see f«mt heavenly splices there, I tell yo^ in some o^ them are 31 474 THB CLOCSMAKER. ilH'* »i;Vv »*-1 thady walks, that will put all the dead in creation out of youf head almost. Them sailer lookin', garlic eatin** French heifers you see to " Pair o* Shaise," may have better top gear, and better riggin' in gineral than our galls, and so they had ought, seein' that they think of nothin** else but dress; but can they show such lips, and cheeks, and complexions, that's all, or such clin- ker-built models? No, not them, nor any other women of any other nation in the unirarsal 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 faet; but then, leave your heart to home, to the Tremont, as folks do theit watches when they go to the theatre to London, or you will lose it as sure as you are bom. O, there is a sartain somethin' about Boston thtit always makes an American feel kinder proud. It was the cradle of our cradle. The voice of our yoiing 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. : t HtW •T/i 5;j /f t Newbury port's a rocky place, And Salem's very sandy, Charleston is a pretty town, But Boston is the dandy. zhfiV.) V!!f I guess the English must feel most awful streaked when- To divert him from a topic on which his national vanity always made him appear ridiculous, I observed, that I believed there was one opinion among strangers about Boston, who were always much pleased with the place, and its society, but that I was not myself fond of cities as cities. Long streets, and broad streets, said I, walls of brick and mortar^ ana stones, heaped on stones, have few charms for me. Even architectural beauty is, after all^ but the effect of a judicious arrangement of poor materials. It is good of its kind, but not one of those things I most admire. It may have many component parts of beauty, it may combine lightness, strength, proportion, and so on. The general effect may be good, criticism may be satisfied, and the eye dwell on it with complacency. You may be willing to concede to it the usual terms of praise. You may say it is grand, or magnificent, or exquisite, or beautiful. You may laud the, invention, the judgment, and skill of the architect; you may say, in thort, that i, TBE UNBURIED ONE. 475 ion out of youf L^ French heifers gear, and better lad ought, seein' b can they show ill, or such clin- r women of any n, it's some place md you must go d them, for they bum to-morrow, to home, to the > to the theatre to m. O, there is a kes an American lie. The voice of ker's Hill, which ste of its talona. mr.) vnfr i';<'-* i::'.it''. *o •:'!.■' ed when lal vanity always believed there vho were always it that I was not id broad streets, eaped on stones, auty is, after all^ r materials. It I most admire. it may combine e general effect eye dwell on it mcede to it the or magnificent, . invention, the y, in short, that your artificial and acquired taste for architectural beat ty is grati- fied and content, (an admission, by the by, which it is very rare to hear,) but still it is but the work of the hodsman and mason. I do not mean to, underrate its importance, because, as a great part of mankind must dwell in cities, and all must live in houses, few things are of greater consequence than the appearance of those cities and houses; and order, symmetry, and the general 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 buildiog is but a work of art, and that, as such, it gives me less pleasure than many other works of art, and that it falls so immeasurably short of the works of nature, of which I am a great admirer, I fear I do not derive all that plea- sure from it that it is capable of affording. I like cities, there- fore, not for themselves, but as a gregarious animal for the greater number of my own species they contain, and for the greater opportunity they afford me of meeting the idem velle and idem nolle people, among whom, only, we are told, by a very compe- tent judge, is to be found true friendship. But, even in this case, I am not sure 1 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 ike higher the polish the more indurated you will find the substance* By this process it loses its pliability and ac- quires brittleness, and its strength is diminished in proportion to its beauty. It is. a gay deceiver. It flatters your vanity by its devcion to yourself. Its smooth and brilliant service will reflect y^our image while present^ but the very operation of refinement has destroyed its susceptibility of an impression. It is your own smile that is returned to you, but it refuses to retain it when you cease to look upon it. As a lover of nature, therefore, I love the country and the man that inhabits it. I find more of beauty in the one, and f generous impulses in the other, than I find in cities or in cour iers. I reciprocate that idee, said the Clockmaker. Give me the folks that like "human natur* ** and ** soft-sawder.*' Them crit« turs in towns, in a gineral way, have most commonly cut their eye teeth, and you can't make nothiu' of them. There is no 476 THE CLOCKMAKER. human natur' in them to work on; and as for soft-sawaer, the^ are so used to it themselves, it seems to put 'em on their guard like. They jist button up their pockets, and nrrinkle up their foreheads, and look on you with their eyes wide apart, on meanin^ like, as if they wam't attendin', and how you out. Nothin' makes me feel so onswoggled as one of them ** I guess- you-may-go kind of stares;**^ it's horrid. But as for our country folks. Lord, you can walk right into 'em like nothin*. I swear I could row a boat-load on 'em cross-handed right up agin the stream in no time. Boston is a fine town, that's sartain, tho' I won't jist altogether say it^s better nor Edinboro\ nor Dublin jiother ; 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 es- ^cially the anecdote of the two Shears's; was that a fact, or one of your fanciful illustrations given for the sake of effect ? — Fact, squire, I assure you, said he, and no mistake : I seed it with my own eyes no longer than two years agone. Gospel, «very word of it. — You mentioned there was a female exhibited with them in the same perfect state: who 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 noboby knew her oiame, or who her folks were, or where the plague she come irom. All they know'd was she was a nun that wouldn't let no one see so much as the colour of her eyes while she lived, but made up bravely for it arter she was dead. If you had only a- ^heerd how it made the old sea-captain rave like a mad poet at . the full of the moon, it would have made you laugh I know. I 4sot him a-goin* on purpose; for nothin' pleases me so much as to see an old feller try to jump Jim Crow in an oration. So, says I, captain, says I, that are nun wam't a bad lookin' heifer in her -day nother, was she? a rael^ right down, scrumptious-lookin' piece of famiture, and no mistake; but what in natur' was the use of her veilin^ her face all her life to keep off the looks of sinful carnal man, if they won't veil her arter she is dead, and no one wants to look at her. Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! if she could only wake up now and see us two great he fellers a-standin' «tarin' at her fuU in the face, what an everlastin^ hubbub she soft-sawaer, thej n on their guard wrinkle up their wide apart, on 1 bow you out. them ** I guess- i for our country iothin*. I swear ight up agin the lat's sartain, tho' )oro\ nor Dublin I I, reminds me )me countryman nration in which Church, and es- s that a fact, or Etke of effect ? — stake : I seed it agone. Gospel, female exhibited she? — Oh ! she tter of the Lord oboby knew her [ague she come : wouldn't let no le she liyed, but jrou had only a- i a mad poet at ugh I know. I le so much as to ation. So, says in' heifer in her mptious-lookin' 1 natur' was the >ff the looks of he is dead, and ir ! if she could illers a-standin' in^ hubbub she THE UNBURIED ONE. 477 would make, woaldn''t ihe ? If she wouldn't let go, and kick, and squeel, and carry on like rayin' distracted mad, it's a pity Ihat's all. I say. Miss Stranger, said I, a-tumin'' to our female guide, and a-chuckin^ her onder the chin, now what do you e^ timate is the first thing that are gall would do in that case-^ would she ? but the old ongainly heifer pretended to take B fit of the modest all at once, and jist turned towards the door, and by bringin^ the lamp closer to her body, threw the corpses and that comer of the cellar into darkness, and then axin' us if we'd like to see the next vault, led us right up into the church- yard. 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-raisin^ of my voice till the buildin^ actilly gave an echo agin, for the crittur was as deaf as a shad. I am from Slickyille, Onion county, Conne''ticut, United States of America. — Well, Mr. Slick.— Ah ! now you have it, said I ; you''ye got it to a T. — To a T ! said he, (the old soft horn,) how is that ? I really don'*t onderstand how you have a T in it at all. — Oh dear ! said I, no more we have ; it's nothin* but a sayin^ of ourn, a kind of proyarb ; it's a cant phrase. — Ah ! cant is it ? said he, with a face a yard long : then you must permit me to obsarye, that you are one of the last men, judging from your remarks, that I should have supposed to have had anything about you approach- ing to cant ; but I fully concur with you that the exhibition of this female is not decent. I should not have observed myself unless you had called my attention to the corpse, that it was a female. — No, I suppose not, says I ; and there'*s not one mite or morsel of cant in that, I suppose, at all. How innocent we are, not to know a hawk firom a handsaw, ain'^t we? — Speak a little louder, said the old man, if you please, sir, for I have the misfortin' to be a leetle hard of hearin\ — I was saying sir, said I, that I don't know as I should nother, if that are woman that showed 'em to us hadn'^t a- said, beautiful crater, your honor, that same nun must have been in her day. The jontlemen all admire her very much entirely. They say she looks like m statue, she does. Well, well, said the captain, kinder snappiahly, whoever she 47S THE CLOCKMAKER. was, poor crittur! the exhibition is improper. She has iSb» reputation of having been a nun, who, whatever may be the errors of their creed that induce them voluntarily to quit a world into which they are sent with certain social duties to perform, have at least the merit of a sincere devotion, and their motivei are to be ifespected. As in life they are scrupulous in the obser- vanoe of all the most minute proprieties of conduct, they, of all others, seem to have the greatest claim to be exempted from this degrading exposure after death. Decay, however, has now com- menced, and will soon remove all trace of humanity. Corrup- tion, according to that beautiful idea of Scripture, will assert it's claim of kindred, and the worm proclaim himself her brother. Alas! where now are the gay and thoughtless crowd that thronged to witness the georgeous and solemn spectacle of a young, beautiful, and innocent sister, assuming that veil that was to separate here from the world for evert Where are the priests that officiated at the altar f— the sisterhood that rejoiced in receiving? — the relatives that grieved at surrendering this sacrifice ? and they, too, whose voices pealed forth the hymn of praise, and poured out the tide of sacred song to the echoing aisles— where are they? All, all have passed away! and none, no, not one, is left of all that assembled crowd to disclose her lineage or her name. Their rolls have perished with them, and all that now remains is this unclaimed, unknown, nameless one. Poor thing! has indignant humanity asserted its rights? hath the vindictive world rejected thee, as thou rejected it? or why art thou here alone, unhonoured and unknown? Alas! is there no distinction between the gallows and the cloister? is it fitting that thou, whose life was a life of pennance and of prayer, whose pure mind communed only with heavenly objects, should now consort with convicted criminals, and that thy fair form should be laid with the headless trunks of traitors? Ah, me! thou hast returned, poor houseless thing! to thine own, and thine own knows thee no more! I have seen the grave open to receive its tenant, and the troubled sea its dead, and the green turf and the billowy wave fold them in its bosom, to sleep the sleep that knows no waking. All have their resting-place, save thee! Ambition has its temple, and wealth its tomb, while even the poor are carsd for; but thou, how is it, fair one. that thou alone i\ THE UNfiURIED ONE. 479 T. She has tiie erer may be the ly to quit a world uties to perform, nd their motivei ous in the obser- duct, they, of all empted from thii er, has now com- lanity. Corrup- re, will assert it's iself her brother, less crowd that in spectacle of a g that yeil that Where are the ood that rejoiced lurrendering this orth the hymn of ig to the echoing away! and none, d to disclose her : with them, and n, nameless one. its rights? hath ected it? or why Alasl is there ster? is it fitting of prayer, whose ects, should now fair form should h, me! thou hast , and thine own >en to receive its e green turf and ep the sleep that lace, save thee! I, while even the > that thou alone of all thy sex should be left the ** unbuned one ?'*^ the greedy sexton's show, and the vile scoffer^s viler jest. Who art thou f 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 ^innin' this yam, the old sea-captain turned off to ex- amine the tombstones in the church-yard, and I mounted the car to the gate and drove off to the hotel. There was some feelin' and some sense too in what he said, tho' he did rant a few, wam't there? but as for his goin' to make believe he didn't know she was a woman, that is what I must say, now, I call a most superfine bam that. Old fellers always think young ones fools; but young fellers sometimes know 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 fi^r nothin' aC all, at seein' that queer, parchment-coloured, wilted, old onfakilised nun. I think, myself, they might as well bury her ; and if they^d ship her out to minister, I don't make no doubt he'd bury her hisself in Mount Auburn ; or to brother Eldad, and he'd stick her up in a museum for a show, as they do mother Bar* chell at Sturgeons^ Hall to London ; but as for her name, 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 of his 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, says she? ain't it splendid? it^s sub- lime, I declare; it's so feelin' and so true. — And if I won't go the whole figur rdth her, she gets as mad as a hatter. — You hante 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 Dotfaia 48C THE CLOCKMAKER itAiJ I but dollars and cents. — Well then, I say, says I, don't be so peskily ryled, Sally dear; but railly now, as I am a liyin' sinner, I don't jist exactly onderstand it; and as you arc more critical than I be, jist pint out the beauties, that's a dear loTe, will you, and see if I don't admire it erery mite and morsel as much as you do, and maybe, a plaguy sight more. Well, I get her to set down and go over it all ever so slow, and explain it all as mud, and then she says, — ^Now do you see, Sam, ain't it horrid pretty? — Well, says I, it does sound grand like, that I must say —and then I scratch my head and look onfakilised— but how did you say that was, dear? says I, a-pintin' to the top line; I don^t jist altogether mind how you explained that. — Why, you stupid crittur, youl she says, this way; and then she goes orer it all agin word for word. Now do you onderstand, says she, you thick head, you? Ain't that beautiful? don't that pass! — Yes, says I, it does pass, that^s a fact, for it passes all onder- standin'; but you wouldn't jist explain once more, would you, dear? and I looks up wicked and winks at her. — Well, now, it that ainH too bad, she says, Sam, I declare, to make game of me that way. — If I hadn't a-been as blind as a bat, I might hare seed with half an eye you was a-bammin' of me the whole blessed time, so I might; but I'll never speak to you agin, now, see if I do; so there now, and away she goes out of the room a- poutin' like anythin'*. It's grand fun, that, and don't do a gall no harm nother, for there is nothin' like bavin' a string to a kite, when it's a-gettin' away out of sight a'most, to bring it down agin. Of all ike seventeen senses, I like common sense about as well as any on 'em, arter all; now, don* t you, squire, . ■. . I i ■ I , . ■ !>.,-' -i; (.r^t .. •-. 'i» CHAPTER XVI. • '>■ ' ••. t 1.'.: - DEFnnrioN of a oentlemak. * 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 Stales, but decidedly one of the best in the world. As our time was limited, we proceeded, as soon as we could, to visit the ■everal objects of interest in the city and its neighbourhood, and DIFINITION OF K GENTLEMAN. 48) '8 I, don't be bo 1 a liyin' sinner, kre more critical r love, will you, sel as much as ill, I get her to explain it all as I, ain't it horrid that I must say ilised— but how the top line; I at. — Wby, you tn she goes orer stand, says she, I't that passt— isses all onder- iore, would you, — Well, now, it ake game of me kt, I might hare me the whole you agin, now, of the room a- don t do a gall string to a kite, bring it down sense about as tire, .; '!■> .;... * t r ''''■"' ; among the rest Bunker's Hill, where, Mr. Slick observed, *Hhe British got a taste of wbat they afterwards got a belly-full.* The hill was surmounted by an unfinished monument, which, he said it was intended should exceed in height the monument in the city of London, as the Yankies went a-head of the English in ererything. As his father had been present at the battle, it was natural the Clockmaker should feel a pride in it; for by proring cor army to be both mortal and fallible, it had a great effect on the subsequent events of the war. In his exultation, however, he seemed to forget that he was talking to a British subject, who, if he now had any feeling on the subject, could only have wished that the prudence of the general had equalled the bravery 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 cir» cumstances, I was pleased to see the erection of this monument, as it is a tribute to their valour which they hare justly merited. Why the Americans should have thought of putting it there I am at a loss to know, when there are many other places where their gallantry was not only equally conspicuous, but crowned with signal success. In this case, however, they have not merely selected a spot where they were defeated, but one which is, perhaps, more remarkable than any other on this continent for that indomitable spirit and reckless courage that distinguishea the English. On an examination of the ground it would appear that & slight detour would have enabled the troops to have routed the rebel army with great ease and but little loss, and at the same time effectually to have cut off their retreat. Instead of adopt- ing this obvious mode of attack, the troops were ordered to- charge up the steep ascent of* this hill, upon an enemy securely protected by their entrenchments, a service which they performed under a most murderous fire, which, from the nature of the* ground, they were unable to return with any effect. This suc- cessful effort is as deserving of commendation as the conduct of the officer in command is of reprehension, in thus wantonly sacrificing his men, out of mere bravado, in the attainment of an object which could be followed by none of the usual con- sequences of a victory. A monument to perpetuate the recol- ^m THE CLOCKMAKER. /:M\ lection of this gallant feat of those intrepid men, by whomsoeyei erected, is a most desirable thing, and it is to be Loped that means will not be long wanting to complete it in the same handsome style in which it is begun. On our return to the hotel, as we passed the bar, Mr. Slick, according to his usual custom, stopped to take some refresh, ment, and when he joined me again, he said, — Squire, do yon know Peter Barr to Quaco, where we stopt one night? Well, he is Bar by name and Bar by natur\ for he is the waiter tt a-most excellent one, the Reneficaoious House. I reckon he ii the most gentlemanlike man in all New Brunswick. He sar- iainAy is a polished man that ; his manners are about the best I eyer fell in with. It does one good to see him enter a room, he does it so pretty; in fact I call him as near about a finished gentleman as I know on, don't you, now t I said I had seen the person he alluded to, but it was not eustomary to call serrants finidied gentlemen, and that I had never heaid. the term applied in that manner before; that he was no doubt a yeiy attentire and eiyil waiter, and I belieye an honest and excellent seryant, but that finished manners referred to a yery different state of society from that of the attendants 0n a bar-room. • * ^n-jiJ// Jon*? n * Ah, said he, now there peeps out the pride of the Englishman and ihe effect of your political institutions. Now with us we are all equal, and in course the polish extends yery considerable thro' all the different grades of society, especially among them that liye on the sea-board, >-i njntini} ttu.ii ifium! i., How, said I, can you haye different grades if you are all equal? I do not exactly comprehend that..— No, said he, the feet is you do not understand us. Now, take my grade ; it's what you call a clock pedlar in the scomy 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 &ce is open disgrace.") Well, I estimate they are as gentlemanlike men as you will find in the world, and the best drest too, for we all wear finer cloth in a gineral way than the British do, and our plunder is commonly more costly than theirn : this arises, you see, from our bein' on a footin' with l^rinces and nobles, and xeeeired at all foreign courts as naturi DEFINITION OP A GENTLEMAN. 483 by whoBuoerei be Loped that it in the 8am« \ bar, Mr. Slick, :e some refresh. -Squire, do yoa i night? Well, is the waiter ti I reckon he i| swick. He sar- ) about the best m enter a room, about a finished f but it was not and that I had before; that he and I belieye an manners referred the attendants the Englishman Now with us we rery considerable lly among them ^s if you are all «f 0, said he, the my grade; it's you British talk over the whole myself, because I estimate they e world, and the ineral way than nore costly than n a footin' with courts as naturi noblemen, free and enlightened citizens of the greatest empire M tke fiMJe of the aiith. Now, I could go where despisable colonists couldn't go. If I went to France I should go to our Embassador and say. Embassador, Fve come to see the ins and outs of Paris; and a nasty, dirty, tawdry place it is, it ain't to be named on the same day with Philadelphia, New York, of any of our first shop cities ; but as I am here, I'd like to see some o' their big bugs, — show us their king, he kept school once to our country, but we kinder thought he didn't speak at good French as the New Orleans folks; I wonder if he has* improved any. Well, he'd take me and introduce me to the palace without any more to do about it, and king and me would be as thick as two thieves, a-talkin' over his old schoUirs, frog soup, and what not of the ups and downs of refugee life. Em- AostorfDr darsn't refuse me, or we'd recall him for not supportin' the honor of the nation. Kmg darsn't refuse Aim, or we'd go to war with him for insidtin' the Union — ^fact, I assure you Creation I If he was to dare to refuse, he'd see our hair rise like a fightin' cat's back. *We wouldn't pine and whine about it at the English do at gittin' thdr flag insulted by the French and us great folks, and then show Uieir spunk on them out^ landish 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 ohampaigne 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 natives of Europe, and makes it work so that aity man of my grade (I don't speak of the upper-crust folks, because them that eat their pork and greens with silver forks are the same all the world over, all they have to lam is ht>w to spend their money ginteely, but of m^ class, that has to lam fiist how to make it and then how to keep it,) is ginerally allowed to be as much of a gentleman as you'll see sin any rank in Europe, partikilarly when he sets out to do the thing in best style. Of course, when people are at their work they must have their workin dress on, but when they ondertake to put on their bettermost clothes and go the whole figur', I w^nt to know where y i:/"ithers did, like a a the middle, as to it all my life Aforv you go, FU pint out to you some smart men in the s&me grade as myself, travellin' clock renders, or in the tin line, who are men of great refinement in dress, and considerable taste in boss flesh, and parfect gentlemen, who pride themselyes on having the handsomest gall, the best trottin' beast, and the dearest coats in the city, and wouldn'^t let no man say boo to them for nothin\ Let a British duke ax one o' them to a party without fust callin' and gittin' introduced, as one of them did to another citizen of oum not long ago, and see if he wouldn't make him a caution to behold. Fd trouble an old gouty lord to go a-hobblin' up stairs afore 'em, a purpose to keep 'em back, and mortify 'em, 'cause they were Americans. I guess they'd give him a lift with the tip eend of their toe that would help him to mend his pace, that's all. What your idea of a gentleman is, I don't know, but I suppose nothin' 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 first-rate style, to go the full figur', and to do the thing ginteel. That's what I call a gentleman. ;.i :i CHAPTER XVII. LOOKING UP. The Clockmaker had an extensire and accurate knouHedge of human nature. The wandering life he had led, and the nature of his business, which sent him into ereiy man's house, afforded him a favourable opportunity of studying character, a knowledge of which was the foundation of his success in life. Like most clever men, however, he prided himself less upon what he did, than what he did not, know, and was more ambitious of being considered a man of fashionable manners, than a skilful mecha- nic, an expert salesman, or a shrewd, intelligent man. It was one of his weak points, and the more remarkable in him, for it was natural to suppose that his quick perception of the ridicu- lous, and his power of humour, would have enabled him to see the absurdity of such a pretension quicker than most men. 4dmitting the tnith of his assertion, that all men, women, and 82 III 490 THE CLOCK'hfAKBR. II chil ren, are open to the influence of his universal and infallible soft-sawder, I have no doubt that a dose of it skilfully applied to him on this point, would have proved the accuracy of the remark, by showing that he was no more exempt from its ope- ration than the thousands of dupes whose caution he had dis- armed, and whose favour he had won by it himself. Yes, squire, he continued, it^s a great advantage we possess, is manners. It enables us to visit the log-huts of the down east settler, and the palace of the nobles on free and easy tarms, to peddle in the one, and do first chop in the other. I rather 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, unless it be to hear the sound of their own tongues. Then, I larnt psalmody to singin' school, and bavin 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 Zionised. Lookin on the same musick book with the ladies brings heads together, and if you don't put your hands on their shoulder or their waists you can't see straight, or stand steady to read. Many a match has been made afore now in the night singin' schools. There is where I got my first lesson in manners, tho' father was always a-preaching up of manners to me too. Father, you know, was one of the heroes of Bunker's Hill. He was a sargeant at that glorious battle, and arterwards rose in Slickville to be a kurnel in the militia. He had quite a military air about hini, had the old man, and was as straight as a poker at seventy, and carried his bead 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 man- ners. 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 th« men, because one you fought for, and the other you fought LOOKING UP. 491 with. Poor old man, he was always a-dingin' this lesson into my ears. A Iways look up, Sam ; look up in manners, and look up in politicks. In manners, said he, a man that looks down ain't safe at all. It's a sure sign of roguery and treachery. Such a crittur will either lie, cheat, or steal, or do some had thing or another, you may depend. Never trust a man that don't hold up and look you in the face; such a crittur knows his heart is had, and is afeerd you see into it thro' them are winders, his eyes. Haye nothin' to do with him on no account. Look at Lawyer Sly ware: well, he is the most pious lawyer and the most extortionate man in all SlickTille^ You'd think hutter wouldn't melt in that feller's mouth, and yet, when he is ondei the protection of the court, there ain^t anything too had for him to lay his tongue to in ahusin' folks, and where money is con- gamed, he is mean and onreasonahle. Some folks say his piety is jist a cloak, and nothin' more, to hide his claws; how that ia, I won^t say; hut this I know, he looks down, and looks side- ways, or any way hut right up like a man at you full in the face, and such corn-crackers as that, let them he who they may, am't over safe in the dark, or in the woods, I know. You recollect old Southey Crowe, don t youf Well, I'll tell you a story about him. He was one of those down-lookin' skunks I was a-speakin' of, and a more endless yillain, p^raps, there ain't this blessed day atween the poles than he was; but you musnH 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 di£Perent 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 as gospel for all that;- **^ v*iwi; When minister was first located here, to Slickville, he thought his boss was the most everlastin' eater he ever seed, for he use d to eat more nor any two bosses in all the town, and, says he, to me, one day, ittiymel, says he, what^s good for a boss that has an oimateral appetite, do you know? says he, for my hoss eats near a ton of hay a month. — It's worms, says I; nothin^ will make a hoss eat like the botts. — ^Well, what''s good for botts, said he ?-^ Well, says I, chopped boss-hair in their oats ain^t a bad thilig, nor a little tobacco, nother; but FU look at him and see what it is, for I never heerd tell of a hoss eatin' at that rate, at no time. Well, the next mornin' I goes out to the stable along with 1 i 492 THE CLOCKMAKEK. ^JF»'^. 1' minister, 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 ahout after him. Minister, says I, there's the hotts sure enough ; they hare carried off the hay bv wholesale, hut theyVe tookt 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 he that was so vile? — Southey Crowe, said I; Vl\ put my head agin^ a cent it^s him, for in a gineral way, I suspect them rascali thai look down always. These are dark nights now, I guess, for it's in the old of the moon, and jist the time for rogues to be up and doin\ I'll keep watch for you, to-night, and see who he is. Ill catch him, the yillain, see if I don''t. — "Well, don't use your sword, nor your pistols nother, ^uymel, said he; doii^t apprehend him, nor slay him, or hurt him, but jist admonish, 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' sin- ner ! — 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 consta- ble'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 draVd in my country's cause, and it shall never be disgraced by a meaner one. It is consecrated to everlastin' £[ime, and not to be defiled by the crop and gizzard of a scoundrel. — Well, at night, I takes my lantern, the same I had to dress by in the wars, and goes and off shoes, and hides away in a vacant boss-stall near the door, and I had hatdly got all snugged away m the hoss litter, and done swearin' at the parfume of it, (for it ainH 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 lock of bay, and then ties it up in a bundle f^t for carriage, and •lips it over his shoulder like a knapsack, Sx; as to have his hands free to balance with in runnin', and to help him climb the fences. Weil, as soon as he was ready be 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. Aj soon as.be sees the light, he gives a jerk, forces the bundU H. M ' LOOKING fTF. 493 .1 a little chance of s of a man quite seed and dust of Minister, says I, led off the hay bv got it the', and no X, said he, only to »n airth could that IMl put my head spect them rascali i now, I guess, for )r rogues to be up ind see who he is. bU, don^t use your ; dou^t apprehend lish, for I'd rather poor sinner, and T a repentin' sin- shed at his talkin ;hin' but a consta- the hay go to old unified manner to mtry's cause, and is consecrated crop and gizzard ntern, the same I shoes, and hides I had haidly got swearin at the rhen, who should the loft in litde lonsiderable of a for carriage, and o have his hands climb the fences, or, and opens it; stuck a bit, and n sereral places, orces the bundlt thro, the doorway, and runs like old Nick himself, as fast as he could cut dirt, for dear life, and fancyin^ there was some one a-pursuin' of him; he never stopped to look behind him, but jist streaked it off like a greased thunderbolt. At last, the poor crittur was singed in aimest, 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 bumin' bundle. A few days arter- wards he came to minister, and confessed that he was the man, and said Heayen had sent down fire to bum the hay on him as a wamin' to him of the punishment to come for robbin' a minister. Well, what does minister do, the old goose, but ups and tells him human means was used, as it was my lantern. He said he didn't want ^o encourage superstition by pious frauds, and I don't know what all. It made me hoppin' mad to see him act so like an old fool. Well, what was the consequence of all this nonsense ? Why, Southey got over his fright, seein^ the Devil had no hand in it, and went right at ste^in^ agin. He was one of them fellers that always look dowrty was Southey. Cuss Vm, there is no trustin^ any of them. Then he used to say, always look up in politicks, Sam. Now we have two kinds of politicians, the Federalists and the Democrats, The Federalists look up, and are for a vigorous executive, for republican institutions such as Washington left us, for the state-tax for religion, and for enforcin' law and order —what you may call consarvitives, p'raps ; and they appeal to men of tenRe and judgment, and property, to the humane, liberal and enlightened upper classes, and they want to see the reins of Government in the hands of such folks, because then we have some security things will be well administered. Then -we have Ike Democrats, fellers "that look down; who try to set the poor agin the rich, who talk of our best men with contempt, and hold em up as enemies to their country; who say the Federalists are aristocrats, tjrrants, and despots, and appeal to the prejudices and passions of the ignorant, and try to inflame them; who ure the word Reform as a catchword to weaken the hands of the Goveniment, to make everything elective, and to take all power of good from the venerable senate (whose voice they call an aristocratic wtiisper), under pretence of restraining their powar 494 THB CLOCKMAKER. ^r«* 1 I for evil. These are mob politicians. They first incite and dia- content the mob, and then say the people must hare a changi ff officers; and when they get into office, they sacrifice erery- lody and everything to keep in. This comes o' lookin' down. ^ These party leaders call the mob their tail^ and they know the life of a tail too as well as neighbour Dearbome's rats did. Neighbour Dearborne used to wonder how it was all his casks of molasses had jist five inches draw'd ofi^, exactly, and no more, mit of each cask. His store was well locked, and well barred, and fastened up all tight and snug every day, and he was fairly •tumpt to know how the thieves got in, and why they stole no more than jist fiye inches out of each; so what does he do but (Koes and gets up on the roof of the store, and watches thro* the skylight. Well, he watched and watched for ever so long, all to ho purpose, and he was jist about givin' it up as a bad job, idien he thought he seed somethin a-movin', and he looked, and what do you think he did see ? Why, a few, great, big, over- groVd rats come crawlin^ along the tops of the casks, and they jist dipt their tails thro* the bungs unto the Masses, and then turned to and licked 'em off clean. They did, upon my soul ! V '>This is jist the way in politicks. Democrat or liberal leaders make the same use of their followers, their taiL They make use ^thern to get a dip into the good things^ hut they lick all up so clean themselves nothin' was ever seen to stick to the tail. See, too, what a condition religion is got into among these . THK OLD MINISTER. As we approached Slickyille, the natire town of the Clock* maker, he began to manifest great impatience and an extraordi- nary 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 steam-boat whenerer there was> one running in the direction of our route, looked much thinner for this prodigious journey than when we left Halifax. Come, old Tee-total, said he, you are a-goin** home now, and no mistake. Hold up your old oatmill, and see if you can snuff the stable at minister's, if the smell of these inion fields don't pyson your nose. Show the folks you ain't forgot kom to go. The weather, squire, you see, has been considerable juicy here lately, and to judge by the mud some smart grists of rain has fell, which has made the roads soapy and violent slippery; but if he can't trot he can slide, you'll find, and if he can't slide he can skate, and if he breaks thro' he can swim, but he can go somehow or another, or somehow else. He is all sorts of a boss, and the best live one that ever cut dirt this side of the big pond, or t'other side other; and if any man will show me a boss that can keep it up as he has done in the wild wicked trot clean away trom Kent's Lodge in Nora Scotia, to Slickyille, Conne'ticut, and eend it with such a pace as that are. Til giro him old Clay for nothin', as a span for him. Go it, you old coon, you — ^go it! and make tracks like dry dust in a thunder storm. There now, that's it, I guess! hit or miss, right or wrong, tit or no tit, that's the tatur! O squire, he is a boss, is old Clay, every inch of him! Start him agin for five hundred miles, and you'll find he is jist the boy that can do it. He'd make as short work of it as a whole battalion does of a pint of whiskey at a ginenu trainin*. If you want to see another beast like him in this world, put your spectacles on, and look as sharp as you dam please, for I reckon he is too far off to see with the naked eye^ It least I couJd never see him 498 THE CLOCKlfAKER. 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 the longest to do it in by a jug full/^ The reception he met with on his return to his native land was a pleasing eyidence of the fstimation in which he was held by those who best knew him. (Nothing could exceed the kindness with which he was greeted by his countrymen. An invitation to a public dinner, presented by a deputation of the select men, as a token of their approba- tion of his *' Sayings and Doings,^ was, however, so unexpected an honour on his part that his feelings rearly overpowered him. Perhaps it was fortunate that it had that effect, for it enabled him to make a suitable 'eply, which, under any other circum- •tances, his exuberant spirits and extravagant phraseology would have disqualified him from doing. He said he was aware he owed this honour more to their personal regard for him than his own merits; but tho^ he coaM not flatter himself he was entitled to so gratifying a distinction, it should certainly stimulate him to endeavour to render himself so. In our subsequent travels he often referred to this voluntary tribute of regard and respect of his countrymen in terms of great 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 Representatives, and made sure he was to be President of the United States; the second when, after finding his mistake, he ceased to be a member, and escaped out of the menagerie ; and the third, when he found himself thus publicly honoured in his native land. " \ ••* - ■-' . -■" • - - ■ i- ■ -* 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 vrarmth and affection of a father. He pressed him most cordially and affectionately to his bosom, called him his good friend, his kind-hearted boy, his dear and dutiful son. They were both affected to tears. He thanked him for having brought me to his house, to which he welcomed me in the most hospitable manner, and did me the favour to ■ay, that he had looked forward with much pleasure to this opportunity of making my acquaintance. '^'*^^ ' THI 0L3 MINISTIft. 499 this furious rate >etween Mr. Slick that the last mile, le bilin\ took the ption he met with f evidence of the o best knew him. jh he was greeted dinner, presented of their approba- er, so unexpected )verpowered him. set, for it enabled my other circum- hraseology would he was aware he for him than his Ifhe was entitled ily stimulate him ibsequent trayels jard and respect and pride. He e could call rael o the House of ^resident of the his mistake, he menagerie; and honoured in his most kind and of the parish, on of a father. y to his bosom, y, his dear and He thanked h he welcomed e the favour to leasure to this The ippearance of this venerable old man was most striking. In stature he exceeded the ordinary standard, and though not corpulent, he was sufficiently stout to prevent an air of awkward- ness attaching to his height. Notwithstanding his very great age, his voice was firm, and his gait erect His hair was of the most snowy whiteness, and his countenance, though furrowed with age and care, gave evidence of great intelligence and extra- ordinary benevolence. His manner, though somewhat formaU like that 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 fiimily reunions, the social intercourse of friends, and, to use Mr. Slick's favourite phnuM, *' to be behind the scenes.^ Whoever has been so favoured ai to be admitted on these intimate tenns in New England, has always come away most favourably impressed with what he has seen, and has learned, th&t in the thousand happy homes that are there, there are many, very many, thousands of kind, and good, and affectionate hearts in them, to make them so. The temperature of Mr. Slick's mind was warm, and his spirits buoyant, and, therefore, though overcome for a time by various emotions, on the present occasion, his natural gaiety soon re- turned, and the appearance of Mr. Hopewell's sister, a maiden lady ^' of a certain age,^^ who resided with him, and superin- tended his household, afforded him an opportunity of indemnify- ing himself. Is that aunt Hetty, sir % said he, addressing himself to ^ the minister'^ with much gravity. Why yes, Sam, to be sure it is. Is she so much altered that you do not know her? Ah, me t we are both altered-^both older than we were, and sadder too> Sam, since you left us. Altered? I guess she is, said Mr. ^lick; I wouldnt a-know'd her nowhere. Why, aunt Hetty! how do you do ? What on airth have you done with yourself to look so young? Why, you look ten years younger. Well, if that don^t pass ! Well, you ain't altered then, Sam, said she, shaking him i hand, not one mite or morsel; heartily by you are jist 500 THE CLOCKMAKEK. (1 of nonsense as ever ; do behave, now^ that's a good feller. Ahl he continued, I wish I could alter as you do, and that are rose- bush of joum onder the parlour winder; both on you bloom afresh erery month. Lord, if I could only manage as you do, grow younger eyery year, I should be as smart as a two-year-old soon : then, lowering his Toice, he said, '* Brought you a beau, aunty, — thafs the squire, there, — ain't he a beauty without paint, that? The sarrant 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 youM hare to lace them stays every momin' for him, and that's no joke, is it ? Now, Santf said she, (colouring 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 colour, and make him look like a Christian. He is as soft as dough, that chap, and your eyes are so keen they will cut right into him, like a carvin'-knife into a pumkin pie. Lord, hell never know he has lost his heart, till he puts his ear to it like a watch, and finds it's done tickin. Oive 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. O, dear ! one smack o' them is worth . Do get along, said Miss Hetty, extricating, at last, her hand from his, and effecting her escape to her brother. What a plague you be ! " It was a happy meeting, and at dinner, Mr. Slick's sallies awakened many a long-forgotten smile on the face of his old friend, the minister. It is delightful to witness the effect of a young and joyous heart upon one that has become torpid with age, cr chilled with the coldness and neglect of the world; to see it winning it back to cheerfulness, warming it again into animated existence, beguiling it of its load of care, until it brightens into reflecting on its surface the new and gay images that are thus thrown upon it. After the cloth vras removed, the conversation accidentally took m more serious turn. So you aie going to England, Sam, ;ood feller. Ahl id that are rose- I on you bloom nage as you do, ts a two-year-old ught you a beau, beauty without 'S last night, but you. The only lat youM hare to 's no joke, is it ? i of a gentleman's ranger will hear kinder foolish to w, that's a dear ! heeding her; he ned inion on it, him look like a nd your eyes are in'-knife into a st his heart, till :'s done tickin*. >u marry; your t, for you won't arter lips. O, ;et along, said is, and effecting e! Slick's sallies face of his old the effect of a •me torpid with the world; to it again into care, until it nd gay images m accidentally England, Sam, THE OLD MINISIXR. 501 are you, said Mr. Hopewell ? Yes, ministerj replied the Clock- maker, I am a-goin' with the squire, here. 'Spose you go with us. You are a gentleman at large now you got nothin' to do, and it will do you good ; it will give you a new lease of life, I am a-thinkin. The allusion to his haying nothing to do was, to say the least of it, thoughtless and ill-timed. Yes, Sam, said he, evidently much distressed, you say truly, I have nothin' to do; but whose fault is that? Is it mine or my parishioners'? When my flock ail turned Unitarians, and put another man io my pulpit, and told me they hadn't no further occasion for me or my sarvices, was it the flock that wandered, or the shepherd that slept ? It is an awful question, that, Sam, and one that must be answered some day or another, as sure as you are bom. I try to make myself believe it is my fault, and I pray that it I may be so considered, and that I may be accepted as a sacrifioe for them; for willingly would I lay down my life for them, the poor deluded critturs. Then, sometimes I try to think it wam't the fault of either me or my flock, but the fault of them are good-for-nothin' philosophers, Jefferson, Franklin, and them new- school people, that fixed our constitution, and forgot to make Christianity the corner-stone. O, what an awful a£9iction it is for a country, when its rulers are not attached to the Church of Ood ! If poor dear old Oineral 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 t 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, Washington ; but for Him^ Joshua, said he. a-pintin' up to the skies with one hand, and devoutly oncoveric' his head with the other, but for Him who upheld us in the houi of battle and in the day of trouble — for Him, to whom all honor, and praise, and glory is due, what have we done ? why> carefully excluded the power to endow Chiistianity from every constitution of every state in the Union. Our language is at once impious and blasphemous. We say the Lord is better able to take charge of his clergy than we are, and we have no doubt he will. Let him see to them, and will see to ourselves. Them Uiat want religion can pay for it The state wants none« for it is 502 THE CLOCKMAKER. >«^ 13 an incorporeal afifair, without a body to be puiisbed or a soul to be sayed. 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 met to worship, and it kills me — you will see the nateral conse- quence of all this in a few years. We shall run away from the practice of religion into theory. We shall have more sects than the yanity of man eyer yet inyented, and more enthusiasm and less piety, and more pretension and less morals, than any ciyilised nation on the face of the airth. Instead of the well-regulated, eyen pulsation, that shows a healthy state of religion, it will be a feyerish excitement or helpless debility. The body will some- times appear dead, as when in a trance; a glass over the lips will hardly detect respiration; it will seem as if the yital spark was extinct. Then it will haye fits of idiotcy, stupid, yacant, and driyelling; 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 before you can make up your mind that it haa lost its balance, you will be shocked by its insanity, its horrible frantic raying madness. ■ ■'' '• ' ^ '! = / Joshua, said he, we ought to haye established a Church, fixed upon some one, and called it a national one. Not haying done so, nothing short of a direct interposition of Providence, which we do not deserve and therefore cannot hope for, can save this great country from becoming a dependency of Rome. Popery, I that is now only a speck in these States no bigger than a man's I hand, will speedily spread into a great cloud, and cover this land so no ray of light can penetrate iU 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 ? O, that we had held fast to the Church that we had! the Church of our forefathers — ^the Church of England. It is a pure, noble, apostolic structure, the holiest and the best since the days of the Apostles; but we have not, and the consequenoe is too melancholy and too awful to con • template. Was it for this, said he, I drew my sword in my country's cause f and he pulled the blade half out. Had I known what 1 now know,— -and he drove it hack with such force. I THE OLD MINISTER. 603 led or a soul to f to see it, but I an idol of met nateral conse- away from the more sects than enthusiasm and lan any ciyilised well-regulated, igion, it will be body will some- s over the lipa the vital spark stupid, vacant, al, genius, and n of its powers, its wildness, its II can make up } shocked by its 2 Church, fixed >t having done ividence, which can save this ome. Popery, than a man's cover this land mt, and it will occupants. We inherit heaven 1 they tolerate lad held fast to refathers — iibt : structure, the but we have ) awful to con • sword in my Had I known such forces I 'airly thought it would have come out of t'other eeiAil, — it should have rusted in its scabbard first, it should, indeed, Hope- well. Now, Joshua, said he, — and he oncovered his head agin, for he was a religious man was Washington, and never took the Lord's name in vain, — recollect these words: '' visiting the sina of the fathers upca the children, imto the third and fourth gene* ration of them that hate me, and shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me.** May the promise be ours; but, oh! far, far be the denunciation from us and our posterity! Franklin, Joshua, has a great deal to answer for. Success has made him flippant and self-sufficient, and, like all self-taught men, he thinks he knows more than he does, and more than anybody else. If he had more religion and leis philosophy, as he calls scepticism, it would be better for him and us too. He is always a-sayin' to me, leave religion alone, GLneral: leave it to the voluntary principle; the supply will always keep pace 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, the demand seldom or never precedes, but almost invariably follows and increases with the supply. *'An ignorant man knoweth not this, neither doth a fool understand it." I wish he could see with his own eyes the effects of his liberality, Joshua, it would sober his exultation, and teach him a sad and humiliat- ing lesson. Let him come with me into Virginia and see the ruins of that great and good establishment that ministered to us in our youth as our nursing mother, — let him examine the ninety-five parishes of the State, and he will find twenty-three extinct, and thirty-four destitute, the pastors expelled by want, or violence, or death. His philosophy will be gratified too, I suppose, by seeing the numerous proselytes he has made to his enlightened opinions. In breaking up the Church, these ra^tona/ religionistshave adopted his maxims of frugality, and abstained from destroying that which might he ustful. 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 re- formers are always men of enlarged minds. They have done their wwk like men. They have applied the property of tlit 504 THE CLOCKMAKEK. '[ ! 1' ii Church to secular purposes, and covered their iniquity under tht cant of educating the poor, forgetting the while that a knowledge of God is the foundation of all wisdom. They have extinj^uished the cry of the Church heing in danger by extinguishing the Church itself. When reformers talk of religious freedom as a popular topic^ depend upon it they mean to dispense with religion allogether. What the end will be I know not, for the issues are with Him from whom all good things do come; but I do still indulge the hope all is not yet lost Though the tree he cut down, the roots are left; and the sun by day and the dew by night may mature them, and new shoots may spring up, and grow luxuriantly, and afford shelter in due season to them that are weary and heavy-laden: and even if the roots should be killed, the venerable parentstock on the other side of the water, from which ours is an offset, is still in full vigour: and new layers may yet be laid by pious hands, which, under the blessing of Heaven, shall replace our loss. Yes, even I, though lately in arms against the English, may say, long may the maternal Church live and flourish! and may the axe of the spoiler never be laid upon it by sacrilegious hands; for I warred with their King^ and not against their Qod, who is my God also. Washington was right, Sam, continued Mr. Hopewell. We ought to have an establishment and national temples for wor- ship; for He has said, who 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 flock, mine or them philosophers that made the constitution? I availed myself here of a slight pause in the conversation to give it another turn, for the excitement was too much for a man of his great years and sensibility. So I said that I perfectly agreed with Oeneral 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 BO strong, it would have been utteriy impossible for the firamers of ihe constitution to have done other>vise than they did : but, said I, with reference to your visiting England, since steam navigation has been introduced, the voyage has been stripped of all its discomforts, and half its duration ; and I am confident t!i» iniquity under tht e that a knowledge have extingfuished jxtinguishing the ous freedom as a ense with religion for the issues are ae; hut I do still L the tree be cut and the dew hy ring up, and grow to them that are should he killed, the water, from and new lajers r the blessing of though lately in maternal Church jr never be laid rith their King^ Hopewell. Wc emples for wor- lere I record my ^mehow, I fear i fault was this B that made the conversation to auch for a man hat I perfectly entertained as istances of the rthing English or the framers they did: but, , since steam len stripped of confident t!i# THE OLD MINISTER. 503 trip would be as beneficial to your health as your company would be instructive and agreeable to us. Have you ever been there ? — Often, said he : oh, yes ! I know, or rather knew, dear Old England well — very well ; and I had a great many friends and correspondents there, among the bishops many dear very dear and learned friends ; but alas ! they are gone now, — and he took his spectacles off and wiped them with his handkerchief, for a tear had dimmed the glasses,— -gone to receive the reward they have earned as good and faithful stewards. Let me see, said he, when was I there last ? Oh ! my memory fails me. ril jist step into my study and get my journal ; but I fear it was to give vent to feelings that were overpowering him. When he had gone, Mr. Slick said, — Ain't he a'most a-beautiful talker, that, squire, even when he is a little wanderin' in his mind, as he is now ? There is nothin' he don't know. He is jist a walkin' dictionery. 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 you ever see, for he knows it so well he can read it back- ward. He says it's the right way ; but that's only his modesty, for I've tried English backward and I can't make no hand of it. Oh ! he'd wear a slate out in no time, he writes so much on things he thinks on. He is a peg too low now. I'll jist give him a dose of soft-sawder, for old or young, men or women, high or low, every palate likes that. Ill put him up if I can another note or so; but he is so crotchied, and flies off the handle so, you hardly know where to touch him. The most curious thing about him is the way he acts about the stars. He has gin 'em all names, and talks of 'em as if they were humans; he does, upon my soul. There is his Mars, and Venus, and Saturn, and Big Bear, and Little Bear, and the Lord knows what all. I mind once I put him into a''most an allfired pas- sion when he was talkin^ about 'em. I never see him in such 9 rage before or since, for he didn't speak for the matter of thre^ minutes. 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' to say than sunthin' to repent of. Well, this time, I guess, he counted two hundred, for it wiift iongei than oommon afore he had added it all up and «!»'»• 33 506 Tff« CLOCKMAKER. j( *l totalised it, I'll tell you how it was. Him and me was a-sittin talkin* over nothin' at all, jist as we are now, when all at once he gets up and goes to the winder, and presently sings out,— • " Sam, says he, put your hat on, my hoy, and let's go and see Venus dip to-night;" hut here he comes. I'll tell you that are story some other time, for here comes the Old Minitter, CHAPTER XIX. \ r. r(. 'f i' l». . 1 THE BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS. 'U i^"*'" ) SccH is the charm of manner, that it often happens that what we hear with pleasure we afterwards read with diminished satisfaction. I cannot now give the words of the Minister, for the memory seldom retains more than the suhstance, and I am quite aware how much these conversations lose in repeating. He was, as Mr. Slick observed, ** the best talker I ever heard," and I regretted that my time was so limited I had it not in my power to enjoy more of his society at this place, although I am not altogether without hopes that as I have enlisted '^aunt Hetty" on my side, I have succeeded in persuading him to accompany us to Ekigland How delightful it would be to hear his observations on the aspect of affairs there, to hear him con- trast the present with the past, and listen to his conjectures about the future. With such a thorough knowledge of man, and such an extensive experience as he has had of the operation of various forms of government, his predictions would appear almost pro- phetic. When he returned from his study Mr. Slick rose and left the room in search of amusement in the village, and I uvailed myself of the opportunity to ascertain his opinions re- specting the adjoining colonies, for the constant interruption he received from the Clockmaker had a tendency to make his con- versation too desultory for one whose object was instruction. I therefore lost no time in asking him what changes he thought would be desirable to improve the condition of the people in Ikitish America and perpetuate the connexion with England. Ah, sir, said he, that word change is *' the incantation that Cftlls fools into a dide." It if the riddle that perplexes British THB BARREL \VIT!IOUT HOOPS. 507 me was a-sitiin hen all at once ly sings out, — Jt's go and see ill you that are nitter, • . .<.:•! S r. ■ '''•• ■ •Yf.) • * • ir>| / /.:< ■; i happens that ith diminished le Minister, for mce, and I am i in repeating. I erer heard," d it not in my although I am nlisted "aunt ading him to uld be to hear hear him con- jectures about nan, and such ion of yarious r almost pro- Jlick rose and Ullage, and I 8 opiQions re- iterruption he [nake his con- Qstruction. I ia he thought the people in k England, antation that >lexe8 Britisb statesmen, and the rock on ivhich they are consfanlly making shipwreck. They are like our friend Samuel, who changes his abode so often that removal has become necessary to his veri existence. A desire for political change, like a fondness for travel, grows with the indulgence. "WhatyoM want in the colonies is tranquillity, not change, — Quod vetis hie est. You may change constitutions for ever, but you cannot change man. He is still unaltered under every vicissitude, the same restless, dis- contented, dissatisfied animal. Even in this pure unmixed demo- cracy of ours he is as loud in his complaints as under the strictest despotism, nay, louder, for the more he is indulged the more intractable he becomes. The object of statesmen, therefore, should be, not to study what changes should be conceded, but the causes that lead men to desire change. The restlessness in the colonies proceeds not from grievances, for, with the exception of a total absence of patronage, they do not exist ; but it is caused by an uneasiness of position, arising from a want of room to move in. There is no field for ambition, no room for the exercise of distinguished talent in the provinces. The colonists, when comparing their situation with that of their more fortunate brethren in England, find all honour monopolised at home, and employment, preferments, and titles liberally bestowed on men frequently inferior in intellect and ability to themselves, 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 littleness 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 respectable name in patriotism. A man who quits his church in temper would have you believe he has scruples of conscience, which he requires you to respect; and he who rebels in the hope of amending his fortune ascribes his conduct to an ardent love of country, and a devotion to the cause of freedom. Grievances are convenient masks under which to hide our real objects. The great question then is, what induces men in the provinces to resort to them as pretexts. The cause now, as in 1777) is the absence of all patronage, the impossibility there is for talent to rise«-want of room— of that employment that is required foi 508 THE CLOCKMAKER. 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 leaden are the workmen and the multitude their tools. It is difficult to make an Englishman comprehend this. Our successful rebellion, one would have supposed, would not easily have been forgotten; but, unfortunately, it was a lesson not at all understood. TLts was so novel a view of the subject, and the assertion that a 1 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 1 777) when his countrymen took up arms against us ? No, sir, said he, none ; none of any magnitude except the attempt to tax for the purpose of revenue, which was wrong, very wrong, indeed; but if thai which was put forth at the main dhty had been the real caute^ when it ceased^ the rebellion would have ceased also. But there was another, a secret and un- avowed, the more powerful cause, the want of patronage. I will explain this to you. Statesmen have always been prone to consider the colonies as a field reserved for the support of their dependants, and they are, unfortunately, so distant from the parent state that the rays of royal favour do not easily penetrate so far. Noisy applicants, mercenary voters, and importunate suitors at home, engross the attention and monopolise the favour of those in power, and provincial merit is left to languish for want of encouragement. The provincials hear of coronation honours, of flattering distinctions, and of marks of royal favour ; but, alas ! they participate not in them. A few of the petty local officers, which they pay themselves out of their little revenue, have long since been held their due, and, within these few years, I hear the reformers have generously promised not to deprive them of this valuable patronage in any case where it is not required for others. Beyond this honourable parish rank no man can rise, and we look in vain for the name of a colonist, wiiatever his loyalty, his talent, or his services may be, out of the limits of his own country. The colonial clergy are ex- cluded from the dignities of the Church of England, the lawyers from the preferments of the bar, and the medical men from fiBCtisiiig out of their own country, while the professions in th« THE BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS. 509 is the cause with > lead — to direct »r the leaden are It is difficult to ccessful rebellion, e been forgotten; iderstood. ind the assertion was so different that I could not esin 3777, when tude except the hich was wrong, hrlh as the main rebellion would secret and un- f patronage, I 8 been prone to support of their istant from the easily penetrate id importunate olise the favour to languish for of coronation •f royal favour; w of the petty of their little 1, within these romised not to ase where it is parish rank no of a colonist, may be, out tlergy are ex- d, the lawyers 7al men from essioBS in th« colonies are open to all who migrate thither. The ivennei to the army and navy, and all the departments of the imperial service are practically closed to them. Notwithstanding the intimate knowledge they possess on colonial subjects, who of their leading men are ever selected to govern other provinces? A captain in the navy, a colonel in the army, a London merchant, or an unprovided natural son, any person, in short, from whose previous education constitutional ]^law has been wholly excluded, is thought better qualified, or more eligible, for these important duties than a colonist, while that department that manages and directs all these dependencies, seldom contains one individual that has ever been out of Great Britain. A peerage generally awaits a Governor-General, but indifference or neglect rewards those through whose intelligence and ability he is alone enabled to discharge his duties. The same remedy for this contemptuous neglect occurs to all men, in all ages. When tlie delegate from the Gabii consulted Tarquin, he took him into his garden, and drawing his sword cut off the heads of the tallest poppies. The hint was not lost, and the patricians soon severally disappeared. When our agent in France men- tioned the difficulties that subsisted between us and Britain, the king significantly pointed to a piece of ordnance, and observed it was an able negotiator, and the meaning was too obvious to be disregarded. When Papineau, more recently, asked advice of the reformers in England, he was told, ^* Keep the glorious example of the United States constantly in view;" and an insurrection soon followed, to destroy what his friend called •* the baneful domination." The consequence of this oversight or neglect, as our revolu- tion and the late disturbances in Canada but too plainly evince, is, that ambition, disappointed of its legitimate exercise, is apt, in its despair, to attempt the enlargement of its sphere by the use of the sword. Washington, it is well known, felt the chiU ling influence of this policy. Having attained early in life to great influence by the favour of his countrymen, not only with- out the aid but against the neglect of the Commander-in-chief, he saw a regular, and sometimes not a very judicious advance menti in the military operations of America, of every man who had the good fortune not to be a colonist. He felt that his 010 THE CLOCKMAKER. country was conyerted into one of the great stages at which these favoured trareliers 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 mortif)ring spectacle. Conscious of his own powers, he smarted under this treatment, and he who became too powerful for a subject, might, under a wiser and kinder policy, have been transferred to a higher and more honourable position in another colony. Progressive advance- ment, to which his talents, and at one time his services, gave him a far better claim than most governors can exhibit, would have deprived him of the motive, the mea^s, and the temptation to seek in patriotism what was denied to merit and loyalty. History affords us some recent instances, in which the adminis- tration in the parent state have relieved themselves of *' an in- convenient friend," by giving him an appointment abroad. Ambitious men who attain to this inconvenient eminence in the colonies, might, with equal advantage to the country and them- selves, be transferred to a more extended and safer sphere oi action in other parts of the empire. No man now pretends to deny, that it was the want of some such safety-valve that caused the explosion in these old colonies that now form the United States. Patriotism then, as in all ages, covered a multitude of sins, and he who preferred, like a Washington, a Jefferson, or an Adams, the command of armies, the presidential chair of a great nation, and the patronage and other attributes of royalty, to the rank of a retired planter, a practising pro- vincial barrister, or an humble representative in a local legisla- ture, easily became a convert to the doctrine that a stamp act was illegal, and a tax on tea an intolerable oppression. When loyalty, like chastity, is considered, as it now is, to be its own great reward, and agitation is decorated with so many brilliant prizes, it is not to be wondered at if men constantly endeavour to persuade themselves that every refusal of a request is both an arbitrary and unjust exercise of power, that denial justifies resistance, and that resistance is a virtue. Instead of conceding CO popular clamour changes that are dangerous, it is safer and wiser to give ambition a new direction, and to show that the ^yemment has the dlspoaition to patronise, as well as the THE BARREL WITHOUT HCOFS. 611 itages at which p the reward of nt of life, while doomed to be Conscious of nt, and he who jr a wiser and ber and more ssive advance- I services, gave exhibit, would the temptation i and loyalty. L the adminisk es of "anin- ment abroad, ninence in the try and them- afer sphere of w pretends to fcy-valve that ow form the 8, covered a Washington, a 3 presidential ler attributes actising pro- local legisla- a stamp act ion. When [> be its own any brilliant y endeavour uest is both lial justifies )f conceding is safer and ow that the veil as the power to punish. It is unjust to the Queen, and imkind to the Colonists, to exhibit the image of their Sovereign in no other attitude than that of an avenging despot exacting obedience, and enforcing dependence. Royalty has other qualities that appeal to the hearts of subjects, but parliamentary influence it too selfish and too busy to permit statesmen to regard colonists in any other light than the humble tenantry of the distant pos- sessions of the empire. Grievances (except the unavowed one I have just mentioned, which is the prolific parent of all that bear the name of patriots,) fortunately do not exist ; but ambi- tious men, like hypochondriacs, when real evils are wanting, often supply their place with imaginary ones. Provincialism and nationality are different degrees of the same thing, and both take their rise in the same feeling, love of country, while no colony is so poor or so small as not to engender it. The public •r distinguished men of a province are public property, and the people feel an interest in them in an inverse ratio, perhaps, to their own individual want of importance. To those who have the distribution of this patronage, it must be gratifying to know, that when this is the case, an act of justice will always appear an act of grace. Here we is agin, said Mr. Slick, who now entered the room. How am you was, how is you been, as Tousand Teyvils said to the Dutch Governor. Well, minister, did you find the date ? When was it you was in England last? Nothing could be more provoking than this interruption, for the subject we were talking upon was one of great interest to a colonist, and no opportunity occurred of reverting to it afterwards. The change of the topic, however, was not more sudden than the change of Mr. Hope- well's manner and style of speaking, for he adopted at once the familiar and idiomatic language to which Mr. Slick was more accustomed, as one better suited to the level of his understand- ing. — It was in *85, said Mr. Hopewell; I havn'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 now. — Why minister, said Mr. Slick, you put me in mind of the Prophet. — Yes, yes, Sam, said he, I dare say I do, for you are always a-thinkin on profit and loss. Natur' jist fitted you for a trader. Dollars and cents 512 THE CLOCKMAKER. is always uppermost on your mind. — 0, dear he replied, 1 didn't mean that at all, I mean him that got on Pisgah. Yon hare attained such a height as it mought be in years, you can see a great way behind, and ewer so far ahead. You hare 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 didn't know your tongue was the worsest part of you, and that it neither spoke for the head or heart, but jist for itself. As for the English empire, Sam, it's the greatest the world ever seed. The sun never sets on it. The banner of England floats on every breeze and on every sea. So many parts and pieces require good management and great skill to bind together, for it tante a whole of itself, like a single stick-mast, but 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 tante every cooper can do it, for there are bunglin' coopers as well as bunglin^ statesmen. Now, see how many staves there are in a barrel, — (do you mean a barrel organ, said the Clockmaker, for some o' them grind some very tidy staves, of times, I tell you. — Pooh 1 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 continued, but, sir, cut the hoops and where is your barrel? — (where is the liquor? you should say, said Mr. Slick, for that is always worth a great deal more than the barrel by a long chalk, and while you are a-talkin' about cooperin', I will jist go and tap that are cask of prime old East Ingy Madeira Captain Ned Sparm gave you. — Do, said Mr. Hopewell ; I am sorry I didn't think of it afore ; but don't shake it, Sam, or you'll xyle it.) Well, sir, where is your bai- t and still it t> but put it -top of one weight you sir, cut the iquor? you » great deal re a-talkin* f prime old —Do, said ; but don't your bar- rel ? why, a heap of old iron hoops and wooden stayes. Now, in time, the heat of the sun, and roUin' about, and what not, shrinks a cask, as a matter of course, and the hoops all loosen, and you must drive them up occasionally, to keep all tight and snug. A little attention this way, and it will last for ever a'most. Now, somehow or another, the British appear to me of late years to revarse this rule, and instead of tightening the hoops of their great body politick, as they ought to do, they loosen them, and if they continue to do so much longer, that great empire will tumble to pieces as sure as we are a-talkin' here. Now, one of the great bonds of society is religion — a national establishment of religion, — one that provides, at the expense of tlie State, for the religious education of the poor, — one that inculcates good morals with sound doctrines,—- one that teaches folks to honour the King, at the same time that it commands them to fear God,— one that preaches humility to the rich, deference to the poor, and exacts from both an obedience to the laws, — one that seeks the light it disperses to others from that sacred source, the Bible; and so far from being ashamed of it, from excluding it from schools, says to all, '* Search the Scrip- tures," — one, in short, that makes people at once good men, good Christians, and good subjects. They have got this to Eng- land, and they are happy enough to have it in the Colonies. It^s interwoven into the State so beautiful, and yet so skilful, that while the Church is not political, the State is not religious. There is nothin^ like their Liturgy in any language, nor never will be agin; and all good men may be made better for their liook 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 blood of the Martyrs, and not like some others I could tell you of, in the blood of its miserable victims. Now, when I see ten protestant bishops cut off at one fell swoop from Ireland, where they are so much needed, I say you are loosenin the hoops. When I see aid thdrawn from the Colonial Church, their tem- poralities interfered with, and an attempt made to take away the charter from its college to Windsor, Nova Scotia, — when I hear tliat the loyal colonists say (I hope the report ain't true) that they are discouraged, agitators boast they are patronised, and rebels runnin'' about with pardons in their hands, — when I \ ' M 514 THE CIX)CKMAKEE. hear there ain't difference enough made hetween truly good conserratire subjects and factious demagogues, / say you art loosenirC the hoops: and when I hear all talk and no cider, as the sayin' is, said Mr. Slick, who just then returned with some of the old wine from the cellar, I say it^s dry work; so here's to you, minister, and let me advise you to moisten them are stayes, 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 will fit at the eend of a month. You might beat a tattoo on it like a drum. — ^You give your tongue a little too much licence, Sam, said Mr. Hopewell ; but, squire, he is a ■ort of privileged man here, and I don't mind him. Help yourself, if you please, sir. Here's a pleasant royage to yon, 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 num- bered,^ I say you are more than loosenin^ the hoops, you are slavitC in the cash. There are some things I don't onder- stand, and some things I hear I don't beliere. I am no politi- cian; but I should like to go to England, if I wam't too old, to see into the actual state of things. How is it there is hoop loose to Newfoundland, another to the West Ingies, and half-apdozen to Canada, another to the East, and one in almost every colony! How is it there is chartism and socialism in England, secret associations in Ireland, rebellion in your Proyincea^ and agitation <%yerywhere? The hoops want tightenin. The leaders of al« 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 goyemor^ in subjection to the goyemec/, 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 colonies. Let her sever that bond, and xhe will find she lesembles — the barrel without hoops. tt tl ■■■'Kli' ;i:i - A* • I !(f,.'r f B tween trulj good es, Isay yoH are ana no cider, as turned with some «^ork; so here's to 1 them are stares, *ut a pint of that aaj, and see how »th. You might ar tongue a little % squire, he is a 'nd him. Help I isant voyage to "d to the bench r days are num- the hoops, you I don't onder- I am no politi- ani*t too old, to ere is hoop hote nd half-a^ozen ■teTery colony? England, secret ^ and agitation > leaders of aK s are held too 1 are afeerd on rnment in the >nie advocates, ^er; and, as it ▼emerf, it was liar leaders. — or I do about nd ripen into nion between lat bond, and VACING A WOMAN. 515 'l - ■ Jl «■ .' ruia . >.: «■ CHAPTER XX. FAdNO A WOMAN. • I'l, This was the day fixed for our departure, and I mutt 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. Bfr. Slick, I am inclined to think, was aware of my feelings, and to prevent the formality of bidding adieu, commenced a rhodomon- tade 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, Samf tell me, dear, who it is. — And he so far from home; ain'*t it horrid? and pysoned, too, and that in minister's house. — Lord, Sam, how yoa frighten a body! who is pysonedf — The squire, aunty: don't you see how pale he looks. — Pysoned, O for ever! Well, I want to know. Lawful heart alive, how could he be pysoned? O Sam! I'll tell you: I've got it now. How stupid it was of me not to ask him if he could eat them; it^s them presarved straw- berries, — ^yes, yes, it's the strawberries. They do pyson some folks. There was sister Woodbridge's son's wife's youngest darter that she had by the first marriage, Prudence. Well, Prudence never could eat them: they always brought on . —Oh! it's worse nor that, aunty; it ain't strawberries, tho' I know they a:n't good eatin^ for them that don't like them. It's . — And a mustard emetic was the onliest thing in natur' to relieve her. I; made her . — Oh! it tante them, it's love : youVe killed him. — Me, Sam! why how you talk! what on airth do you mean? — You've killed him as dead as a herring. I told you your eyes would cut right into him, for he was as soft as a pig fed on beech-nuts and raw potatoes; but you wouldn't be- lieve me. Oh! you've done the job for him: he told me to hisself. Says he, Mr. Slick, (for he always calls me Mr. Sl.cu, I i M6 THE CLOCKMAKEA. so formal,) says he, Mr. Slick, you may talk of Ivrely 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 pysoned him he says of all the affectionate sisters and charming women he ever seed, you do beat all. — Oh! he means what I once was, Sam, for I was considered a likely gall in my day, that'^s a fact; but, dear o' me, only to think times is altered. — ^Yes; but you ain't altered; for, says he, — for a woman of her great age, aunt Hetty is . — Well, he hadn't much to do, then, to talk of my advanced age, for I am not so old as all that comes to nother. He is no gentleman to talk that way, and you may tell him so. — No, I am wrong, he didn't say great age, he said great beauty: she is very unaffected. — Well, I thought he wouldn't be so rude as to remark on a lady's age. — Says he, her grey hairs suit her complexion. — Well, I donH thank him for his impedence, nor you nother for repeatin' it. — No, I mean grey eyes. He said he admired the eyes: grey was his colour.— Well, I thought he wouldn't be so vulgar, for he is a very pretty man, and a very polite man too; and I don't see the blue nose you spoke of, nother. — And says he, if I could muster courage, I would pro- pose . — But, Sam, it'*s so sudden. Oh, dear! 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 recjuire a kind nurse.->-Oh, dear! is that all? How mighty narvous he is. I guess the crittur is pysoned sure enough, but then it's with affectation. — Gome, aunty, a kiss at partin*. We are off, good-by'e; but that was an awful big holo 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^e! 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 conversation Mr. Sick said, with a grave face,- -Squire, you say we Yankeei bos hai the dai is coi be spel I of breljr women, "hat eyes she has, — . —Why, Sam, senses. — Mad! I ve pysoned him ming women he rhat I once was lay, that's a fact; — Yes; but you P great age, aunt then, to talk of comes to nother. ^y tell him so . 1 great beauty: Wn't be so rude r hairs suit her impedence, nor «• He said he I thought he ui, and a rery you spoke of, , I would pro- ! I am in such .—Oh! ing but black lid propose for Foshua would dn't travel, I New York, 1 is that all ? pysoned sure »ty» a kiss at «^ful big holo lean out and -h/el And a war with ersation Mr. ^e Yankees FACING A WOMAN. 617 s boast too much; and it ain't improbable we do, set in' that we have whipped the Ingians, the French, the British, the Spaniards, the Algerines, the Malays, and erery created crittur a'most that dared to stand afore us, and try his hand at it. So much succest is e'en a'most enough to turn folks' heads, and make 'em a little consaited, ain't it? Now give me your candid opinion, I won't be the leastest morsel offended, if you do give it agin^ us; but speak onresarved, Who do you think is the bravest people, the Yankees or the British? I should like to hear your mind upon it. They are the same people, I said, differing as little, perhaps, from each other as the inhabitants of any two counties in Eng- land, 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 consangumity and mutual interest, should ever imbrue their hands in each other's blood. A war between people thus peculiarly related is an unnatural spec V. ^le, that no rational man can contemplate without horror. In t' ' imt of any future contest the issue will be as heretofore, somt. ' ^vS in favour of one and sometimes of the other. Supe- rior discipline will decide some engagements 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 can claim pre-eminence. All people of the same stock, living in a similar climate, and having nearly the same diet and habits, must, as a matter of course, possess animal courage as nearly as possible in the same degree. 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'raps you are right; but boastin' does some good too. Only get people to think they can do a thing and they can do it. The British boasted that one Englishman could whip three French* men, and it wam't without its effect in the wan, as Buonaparte knoVd to his cost. Now, our folks boast that one Yankee can walk into three Englishmen; and somehow or another, I kinder guess they will — try to do it at any rate. For my part, I am pretty much like father, and he used to say he never was afeerd of anything on the face of the airth but a woman. Did I evet '|3i 518 THE CLOCKMAKER. . '5 tell you the story of father's courtship? No, I replied, nerer; L^e your stock of anecdotes is inexhaustible, and your memory so ^e good you never fall into the common error of great talkers, of f^rai telling your stories a second time. I should like to hear it. thrc Well, said he, it ain't an easy story to tell, for father always undl told it with Tariations, accordin^ to what he had on hoard at the wasi time, for it was only on the annivarsary of his weddin' he used doU| to tell it, and as there Was considerable brag about father, he saic used to introduce new flourishes every time, what our singin' as master in sacred melody, Doldrum Dykins, used to call grace «nai notes. Sam, he'd say, I have been married this day, — ^let me the I see, how many years is it? Do you recollect, Polly, dear? |thei Why, says mother, I can't say rightly, for I never kept a tally, I youl but it's a considerable some tho', I estimate. (She never would J gays answer that question, poor dear old soul! for women don't like to count arter that if they can help it, that's a fact.) Well, says father, it's either eight or nine-and-twenty years ago, I forget which. It's no such thing, says mother, quite snappishly; Sam is only twenty-one last Thanksgiving-day, and he was bom jist nine months and one day arter we was married, so there now. (Father gives me a wink, as much as to say, that^s woman now, Sam, all over, ain't it?) Well, your mother was eighteen when we was married, and twenty-one years and nine months and one day added to that makes her near hand to fort . Never mind what it makes, says mother, but go on with your story, whatever it is, and sumtotalize it. You are like Doldrum Dykins, he sings the words of each varse over three times. Well, said he, this / mill say, a younger^lookin', bloominer woman of her age there ain't this day in all Slickville, no, noi in Oonne'ticut nother. Why, Mr. Slick, says mother, layin' down her knittin' and fixin' her cap, how you do talk! Fact, upon my soul, Polly! said he; but, Sam, said he, if you'd a-seed her when I first know'd her, she was a most super-supeiior gall 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 ^ceep. 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 tuch a erftll if yoa was to sarch all the ftotories to Lowell, for tei lai th cl b a ft' FxVCING A WOMAN. 619 she looked as it slie could e^en a most jump oyer iiei own shadow, me was so tamal wirey. HeaTins! how springy she was to a nirrastle, when we was first married. She always throw'd me [three or four times at first hand runnin'*; in course I was stronger and it ginerally eended in my throwin' her at last; but then that was nateral, seein' she was the weakest. Oh! she was a rael doll! she was the dandy, that^s a fact. Well, I want to know, said mother, did you ever? a-tryin' to look cross, but as pleased as anything, and her eyes fairly twinklin' agin to hear the old Tian's soft sawder : Why the man is tipsy to talk that way afore the boy ; do, for gracious sake ! behave, or I'll go right out ; and then tumin^ to me and fillin^ my glass, do 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, jsays mother. Courtin , says he, Sam, is about the hardest work I know on; fightin' is nothin' to it. Facin'* ball, grape, or bullet, or baganut, as we did at Bunker's Hill, is easy when a man is used to it, but 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 onfakilized. Well, I reconnoitred and reconnoitred for everso long, a-considerin' how I was to lay siege to her, — stormin'* a battery or escaladin' a redcubt is nothin' to it, I have done it fifty times. Fifty times ! says mother, lookin' arch to him, for she was kinder sorted wrathy at bein' talked of as a horse. Well, says father, forty times at any rate. Forty times! says mother; that's a powerful number. Well, d — n it ! twenty times then, and more too. Twenty times ! said she; did our folka storm twenty bat- teries all together? Why, tarnation ! says father, I suppose at last you'll say I wam't at Bunker's Hill at all, or Mud Creek, or the batt^ atween the outposts at Peach Orchard ? Or chargin' Elder Solomon Longstafi's sheep, says mother. Well, by the tamal ! says father, who hopped with rage like a ravin' distracted parched pea; if that bean't pitikilar I am a pumkin, and the pigs may do their prettiest with me. Didn't I tell you, Bam, nothin' could come up to a woman f Except a fill/, saye lU M m 520 THE CLOCKMAK£R. mother; now don't compare me to a boss, and talk of pints thai 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 erei doubted your courage, and Gineral Qates told me so himself. Polly, says the Gineral, if you take Sargeant Slick, you take a hero. Well, says father, quite mollified by that are title of hero, Gates was a good judge, and a good feller too. Fill your glass, Sam, for I always calculate to be merry on this night; and, Polly dear, you must take a drop too: if we do get warm some- times, makin' up seems all the sweeter for it. Well, as I was a-sayin', I studied every sort of way how I should begin: so at last, thinks I, a faint heart never won a fair lady; so one Sabbath-day I brushed up my regimentals and hung old Bunker by my side, and ironed out my hat anew, and washed the feather in milk till it looked as well as one jist boughten, and off I goes to meetin'. Well, I won't say I heard much of the sarmon, because I didn't; but I know it was a little the longest I ever sot out; and when we was dismissed, I was e'en a'most sorry it was over, I was so discomboborated, and I breathed as short as if 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, — momin', says I, 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-K>ath, says mother, there is not a word of truth in it. Why, Polly, says father, how can you say so? I brought both feet to the first position this way (and he got upon the floor and indicate'd), then I came to attention this way (and he stood up as stiff as a poker, he held his arms down by his side quite straight, and his head as erect as a flagstaff), then I brought up my right arm with a graceful sweep, and without bendin' the body or movin' the head the least mite or morsel in the world, I brought the back of my hand against the front of my regimental hat (and he indicated again). Oh! says mother, that salute, indeed! I detract, I recollect you did. That salute! says father: why what salute did you mean? Why, says mother, lolorin' up, I thought you meant that — that — that— never miii4 n] wl FACING A WOMAN. 621 talk of pints thai I I won't jibe jou ain, no man erer >ld me so himself. Slick, JOU take a It are title of hero, Fill your glass, this night; and, > get warm iome- •t of way how I neyer won a fair nentals and hung new, and washed 1st boughten, and ird much of the little the longest was e'en a'most td I breathed as all day; but at me all to rights as your mother re her a salute, did no such a re all the folks I'll take my of truth in it. [ brought both n the floor and d he stood up his side quite I brought up it bendin* the n the world, I tny regimental t that salute, salute! says says mother, — nerer mind what I meant. Oh, ho! says father, I take, I take; talk uf a B Hill, Mud Creek, and Peach Orchard are enough for any one man, in all conscience ; but I'll marry as soon as you please, and the looner the better. — So I should think, said he. — No, no, neighbour Styles, said I, you don'*t do me justice, you don't indeed ; I never had the courage to put the question yet. — Well, if that don't cap all ! 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 f — 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 last kiss I ever had afore we was married, Polly was so everlastin' coy ; but arterwards she nev . — Not one word more, says mother, to your peril, not one word more, and she got up and •hook her knittin* at him quite spunky. Most o' that are story was an invention of your own, jist a mere brag, and I won't hear no more. I don't mind a joke when we are alone, but I won't hear nothin** said afore that are boy that lessens his respect for his mother the leastest grain, so there now. — Well, well, says father, have it your own way, Polly, dear ; I have had my say, and I wouldn't ryle you for the world, for this I will say, a'most an excellent wife, dependable friend, and whiskin' housekeeper you have made to me, that's sartain. No man don't want no better, that's a fact. She hadn''t no ear for musick^ Sam, but she had a capital tye far dirt^ and for jpoor folks that's much better. No one never seed as mucb ii FACING A WOMAN. 525 nd the nine galls for the blankit — ick, said he. — It lie; a prettj gall galls in war, it's -Well, sajs I, it de. Well, Slick, you must either ightin'. Bunker's >ugh for any one I as you please, :, said he. — No, ustice, you don't question yet. — beats the bugs ; Mr. Styles, that night, in arms er them, to talk ather too good t too happy to arternoon, said )ng story short, we were spliced Le first and last s so everlastin' 'ord more, says 'he got up and ' that are stor^? % and I won't are alone, but lat lessens his ( now.— Well, dear; I have I'orld, for this e friend, and I sartain. No ladn't no ear dirt, and ;i>r leed as mucb dirt in my house as a fly couldn't brush off with his wings. Boston galls may boast of its spinnetts, and their ^ters and their eyetalian airs, and their ears for musick; but gire me the gall, I say, that has an eye for dirty for she is the gall for my money. But to eyentuate my story — when the weddin' was over, Mr Syles, that was your grandfather that is, come np to me, and tappin^ me on the shoulde" 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 time, in arms, a-strugglin' for their liberty, and so on. You must give over them pranks ROW you 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 Greek, and Peach Orchard, et sarterar, as the Boston merchants say; veterans I mean, — will tell you, that to face an inimy is nothin,' but it is better to face the devil than iofoce a woman. CHAPTER XXI. THE ATTACHE. i>i- 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. Hopewell, if he should incline to accompany us, and arrive in time to embark. I then sauntered up through the Broadway to a coach-stand, and drove to the several residences of my kind and agreeable friends to bid them adieu. New York is decidedly the first city of the western world, and is alike distinguished for the beauty of its situation and the hos- pitality of its inhabitants. I left it not without great regret, and shall always retain the most pleasing recollection of it. In this respect, I understand I am by no means singular, as no stranger, bringing proper introductions, is ever permitted to feel he is alone in a foreign land. Soon after I returned to the 5iG THE CLOCKMAKER. Ijotel Mr. Slick entered, with a face filled with importance,— Bquire, said he, I bare 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 ahout. I must say 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 came I— No, I replied, I have not the honour of his acquaintance. I never saw him, and never had any com- munication with him on any subject whatever. — Well, it passes then, said he, that's sartain : I havn't axed no one ttotber, and yet folks don't often get things crammed down their throats that way without sayin' by your leave, stranger. I hante got no interest ; I am like the poor crittur at the pool, I hante got no one to put me in, and another feller always steps in afore me. If Martin Van has done this hisself he must have had some mo-live, for he hante got these things to throw awaj ; he wants all the offices he has got as sops to his voters. Patriotism ii infarnal hungry, and as savage as old Scratch if it tante fed. If you want to tame it, you must trea. it at Van Amburg does hit lions, keep its belly full. I wonder whether he is arter the vote of Slickville, or whether he is only doin' the patron to have sunthin'* to brag on. I'd like to know this, for I am not in the habit of barkin^ up the wrong tree if I can find the right one. 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 clockm'\kin' sounds everlastin' nosey to them, and I don't calculate in a gineral way to let any man look scorney to me, much less talk so ; now this fixes the thing jist aliout light, and gives it the finishin' touch. It's grand 1 I've got an appointment, and I must say, I feel kinder proud of it, as I never axed for it. It's about the most honorable thing Martin Van ever did since he became public. Tit or no tit, that's the tatur ! and I'll maintain it too. Til jist read you a Letter firom Salter Fisher, an envoy or sunthin** or another of that kind in the Secretary '>f State's office. I believe he is thegeiitle> ra&s: that cames their notes and memagiBfL THE ATTACHE. 621 th importance,— that will astonish fiity you wouldn't sed, and that's a '. Now, tell me mbassador about ot the honour of 5r had any com- -Well, it paisei one nother, and rn their throats I hante got no » I hante got no ps in afore me. hare had some way; he wants Patriotism is t tante fed. If nburg does hit I arter the rote atron to have am not in the the right one. he meant, so ist the dandy had my own be British are Btin* nosey to »ny man look the thing jist grand! IVe ler proud of lorable thing it or no tit, '< read you a )ther of that 8 the gentle- I i«( PRIVATE. My dear Slick, Herewith I have the honor to enclose you yuur commis* sion as an attachi to our legation to the Court of Saint Jimsea, Buckin'ham, with an official letter announcin' the President's nomination and Senate's vote of concurrence. Martin ordered these to be put into the mail, but I huve taVen the chance to slip this into the paper-cover. It is t)ie poa^y »>f our Govern- ment to encourage na/tve authorr, and rewf.n^ v/ierit ; and it makes me feel good to find your prodiclicjis have made the name of this great and growin' repdhl'C beU^r known among Europeans, and we expect a considers ole soir/e, Chat .lis appoint- ment will enable you to exalt it still fw:ti\&(^ sivd tii. it the nr.me of Slick will be associated witL that <-»f our ragfls a/id htio'^.i^ n\ after ages. This commission will place you on » jooth/' mih the princes and nobles of England, give you ■x ixf^.b ticket of admission to the palace, and enable you to nf udy human natur' under new phases, associations, and dcvelopcments ; that ii; if thare is any natur' left in such crUiurs. With £^j.ch opportiu v- ties, the President expects you will nivt fai!. to anstaiii tbt honor of the nation on all occasions, demanding and cnfoi, ing your true place in society, at the top of the pot. aru! oi r (i;,iai!:.ed rank at foreign courts as the greatest, freest, and vroit en- lightened nation now existin\ It would i^^. advisfible, if a favourable opportunity offers, to drav tho attention of the Queen to the subject of her authors and traveihrs., — carelessly like, as if it weren't done a purpose, mt li don't comport with dignity to appear too senst/tve, but yM merely to regret the prac-/ tee of hireiu* authors to phi\%% us in order to damp the admiration of Europeans of our glorious institutions. We have every reason to believe that Captain Hall received five thousand pounds for this purpose, and Mrs. Trollope the same sum ; that Miss Martineau is promised a royal garter, (it's a pity she warn't hanged with it,) and Captain Marryatt to be made a Knight of the Royal Baths. This conduct is onworthv a great people like the English, and unjust and insultin' to uf. ' and you might suggest to her Ftoyal Highness that this mean, low jived, dirty conduct will defeat itself, and that notbin' short 528 THB CLOCKMAKER. m 4S of kickin' out her ministry will be accepted as an apology bj the American people. You might say to her ladyship, that the city articles in the Times newspaper are very ofiensiye to us, and that tho** individually we despise such low blackguardisms, yet collectively the honor of the nation demands satisfaction. That her Govemment pays for their insartion there can be no doubt; and the paltry trick of Mr. Melburne bribin' opposition papers to let 'em in, is an artifice that man cover the rascallity to ignorant British, but can''t draw the wool over our eyes. If you have no opportunity to say this to her, tell Albert Gotha, her bridegroom, to tell her plainly, if she don't look sharp, we'll retaliate and hunt red foxes for her in Canada, as we did two winters ago. Caution is necessary in conversation, in speakin' of our army, navy, and resources of war, for the ministers will pump you if they can. Boastin' without crackin' is the true course. For instance, if war is talked of, regret the smallness of our navy ; for, if they had to contend with France and England at the same time, the issue would be extremely doubtful. That is a clear intimation we could lick either, and ain't afraid of both, and yet don't say so. So, in speakin' of the army, deprecate a war, and say marchin' one hundred and fifty thousand men into Canada would interfere with intarnal improvements by raising the price of 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 honours await you. Your name is now well and favourably known, and, what is better, is popular, as you may infer, when I tell you that the very pen with which this is wrote is a ^ Sam Slick pen.^^ The highest gift in the hands of man, the presidential chair, should now and henceforth be the object of your ambition. We look forward with much gratification to your delineation of English character, their ex- clusiveness, their self-sufficiency, their strong-hold of slavery — the factories, their overfed clergy, overpaid officials and anti- quated institutions, their defenceless condition, half-manned navy, and radical army, their proud and dissolute aristocracy, their turbulent and factious commons, and brutally i^j^norant peasantry. I estimate when they hear of your appointment they THE ATTACHE. 629 as an apologj bj ladyship, that the rensiye to us, and ickguardisms, yet itisfaction. That can be no doubt; opposition papers the rascallity to 3r our eyes. If II -Albert Gotha, look sharp, we'll , as we did two :in* of our army, ill pump you if le course. For ss of our nary ; England at the ful. That is a afraid of both, »J> deprecate a isand men into -nts by raising brag that best » a republican i^our name is Br, is popular, a with which ^ gift in the id henceforth 1 with much er, their ex- >f slavery — s and anti- lalf-manned aristocracy, I7 ijnorant tment 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 makiu' 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 scu£9e, say Duke A , Lord B J Lady C , and occasionally the Q told me. It sounds well this, and shows youi standin^ is high and is peak> aunt. Anecdotes of high life sell well if they are racy. Then collect them together into a book onder some takein^ onpre- tending title, as ^* Mems of a mum,'*'* or scrawlin's afore bed-time, or some such name. The proceeds will enable you to cut a better dash to court; only don't tell Vm 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 presidential chair. While on this subject, it might not be amiss to hint a change of party might occasion a change of office-holders; and that tho' too strong to require any aid for ourselves, we hope for your family ticket in Slickville and its vicinity to enable us to keep you in your present honorable position. Without this berth, you would find the first circles as stiff as an ongreased mast; this appoint* ment will ile that beautiful, and make you slide as easy as on well-slushed ways. Avail it. Sustain the honor of the nation, and paint the name of Sam Slick indelibly on the dial-plate of Fame, that the finger of Time may point it out to admirin' posterity, to all etarnity. Yours to command, Salter Fisher. F.S. — I will give you a wrinkle on your horn that'*s worth havin^. Should our great gun be absent and you left in London, recollect we do as the British do, give no instructions we can help; write what must be wrote so it will read any way^ and leave subordinates to incur all responsibility of actin'* and readin . Meet Vm in their own way by referrin' all home, and puttin* the saddle on the right horse in spite of him. Let the shafter io his own work. Do you take ? — S. F. 630 THE CLOCKMAKER. 1^ ^ As soon af the Clockmaker had read this epistle, he observed in a half soliloquising, half conyersational tone, ''An Attach^.** Well, it^s a station of great dignity too, ain'*t it ? It makes me feel kinder narrous and whimble-cropt, for I have got to sustain a new character, and act a new part in the plaj of life. To dine at the palace with kings, queens, and princes; what a pretty how-d'ye-do that is, ain't it ? Won't it be tall feedin' at Queen's table, that's all; and I am a rael whale at ducks and green peas. Lord, I am afeerd I shall feel plaguy awkward too, with a court dress on. I 6nce seed a colony chap rigged out in a suit he hired of a Jew, fbr levee 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, theyM a-gin' him a chase for it, I know; the way they'd a-foxed him and a-lamed him fleas ain't lobsters, would have been a caution to monkeys to hold up their tails afore they shut- to the door arter them. A crittur with a good nose would put up some tarnal queer birds in the long stubble at St. Jimses, that's a fact. Yes, I am afeerd I shall feel monstrous onconyenient, and as if I warn't jist made to measure. Carryin' a sword so as to keep it from stickin' atween your legs and throwin' you down, ain't no easy matter nother, but practice makes parfect, I do suppose. Well, I TOW, our noble institutions do open avenues to ambition and merit to the humblest citizens too, don't they ? Now, tell me candid, squire, don't it make your mouth water ? How would you like Mr. Melbume 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, «xcept in Turkey and Egypt, and when kissin' goes by favour, who would look at a dispisable colonist. Well, Martin Van has done that to me, and he is a gentleman every inch of him, and eats his bread buttered on both sides. Only to think, now, Sam Slick, the Clockmaker, should be a TH£ ATTACH^. 531 stie, he observed , "An Attach^.- ? It makes me ve got to sustain of life. To dine ; what a pretty Jedin' at Queen's and green peas. Qo, with a court ut in a suit he ly extinctified if I that rides the i few in a hill, Jrittur with one Jmed scared at le lookin* glass, m, they'd a-gin' Ebxed him and in a caution to the door arter ip some tarnal i a fact. Yes, t, and as if I ) as to keep it lown, ain't no i do suppose. es to ambition ? Now, tell How would your trowsers he other, and for he is jist lats all; no never was, !S by favour, rtin Van has of him, and should be a member of our legation to the greatest nation in the world next to us. Lord, how it would mako- poor dear old mother stare, if she could only lift herself up ouf. of the grave, and open her eyes. It would make her scratch her nead and sniker, / know; for only tliinkin' of it kinder gives me, the peadoddles myself. AVhat on airth do they talk about, I wonder, when they get together to the palace, them great folks and big bugs. 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, Tve 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 ns well as most men; colonies and colony chaps, too, I know bet- ter than any crittur I'd meet, and no mistake. Pictur* likeness is a thing I won't turn my back on to no one, nor bronzin', noi gildin, nother, for that's part of the clock bisness. Agriculture I was brought up to, and gunnin' and trappin' I was used to since I was a boy. Poetry 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 bum primin', for I hante 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 wam't as poor as Job's tur- key, or a church mouse; or a she poet t}\at her shoes didn't go down to heel, and her stockin's look as if they wanted damin', for it's all cry and little wool with poets, as the devil said when he sheared his hogs. History I do know a little of, for I lamed Woodbridge's Epitome to school, and the Bible, and the history of our rcvolutiou I know by heart, from Paradise to Lexin'ton, and from Bunker's Hill to Independence. But I do suppose I must rub up a little on the passage. Musick, I don't fear much, for I rather pride myself on my ear and my voice; and psalmody I lamed to singin' schools; so operas and theatres will soon set me right on that. But dancin' is what I can take the shine o£F most folks in^ I was reckoned the supplest boy in all Slickville. Many's the time I have danced '' Possum up a gum tree'' at a quiltin' frolic or huskin' pa^y* with a tumbler full of cider on my head, and never spilt a drop ; — I have upon my soul. He then got up and executed several evolutions on the floor which would have puzzled an opera-dancer to imitate, and then said with an air of great self-satisfaction, — Show me any Lord to 592 THE CLOCKMAKER. England that could do that, and FU give him leave to brag, that's all. Oh dear, I'll whirl them maids of honour to the palace round and round so fiist in a waltz^ no liyin' soul can see me a-kissing of them. I've done it to Phcebe Hopewell afore her father's face and he never know'd it, tho, he was lookin' on the whole blessed time — I hope I may be shot if I hante. She actilly did love them waltzes, the wickedest I ever did see. Lick I there is some fun in that are, aint they? It ain''t often they get a smack from rael right-down good genuwine Yankee lips, sweet fed on com and molasses, I 'know. If they only like them half as well as dear little Phoebe did, Pm a made man, that's all. The only thing in dancin', like boatin', is to keep a straight keel. That's the rael secret. Praps the best way arter all is, I b"Meve,at first to play mum, say little and hear everything, and then do jist like other folks. Yes, that's the plan; tor liquor that's well corked is always the best up. *^An AtiachL''^ well that sounds dread- ful 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'll get now for't would look shockin' han- sum, 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 bettermost 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. 1 lamea 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 AtiachSU" Well, it's funny, too,ain'*t it? It sounds rael jam that I must say I feel kinder obleeged to Mr. Yan Burin for this good turn he has done me. I always thought he was very much of the gentleman in his manners, and the likeUei^ man in the States, and now I swear by him. Yes, loco-foco as he is, I go the whole figur' for Martin Van, that's a fact. Hit or miss, rough or tumble, claw or mudscraper, I'm his man ; I'll go in for him up to the handle, and so will all us Slickville folks, for in elections we pull like inions al. on one string, and stick to our man like burrs to sheep's wool. And now, squire, said he, jumping up. 4. !j ■ |i- :s1:i^ 1 ' . . .Ui THE ATTACHE. 533 > to brag, that's ^e palace rouud e me a-kiasing er father's face > whole blessed ctilljr did love there is some a smack from et fed on com alf as well as Che only thing . That's the eTe> at first to « do jist like 8 well corked lounds dread- 8 PU wait till ind up to the Bhockin' han- step into the and put my take it down Boston,) and i respect on r Josiah; he g8 the best ^ think you :>ld me as a ^t. I must » good turn uch of the the States, the whole ^ rough or or him up i elections man like nping up. and takin me by the hand ; and now, my friend, shake flippers along with me, and congratulate me. When I return from thf. tailor's I shall be a new man. You then will meet the Honour- able Samuel Slick, an ^^ AtiackS** to our Legation to the Court of Saint Jimses, Victoria's Gotha. And him you will hare as a feller passenger. You had sense enough not to be ashamed of me when I was a hoein** my ^vay as a tradin"* man, and I won''t go for to cut ifon now, tho'you arenothin' but a down East Pro- vincial. All I ask of you is, keep dark about the clocks; we'll sink them, if you please ; for by gum you've seen the last of Sam Slick the Clockmaker, And now, squire, I am your humble ser- nnt to command. The Attache. Woodfall and Kinder, Printow, Mllford Laae, Straii.l, Lombu, W.a