^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I !? m m !2.0 i^ m 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 M 6" ► Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAINS ;Rlf?'T WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 #• L17 ^ :\ \ c> <^ % ^^ > ^'^mmimmimm'mmmmmmiitiiiiii!llt I'l rt ¥ ^»*:i :'*.-.)?. .!i«j, WISE SAWS; •--.i"' CBlif ■■J SAM SLIGK IN SEAECH OF A WIFE. ^ ■fA ' ' ' ' BY THE AUTHOR OF t ■., i , ,< ^ . ■ -■' / " - ,.■ *.'.-.» ■ *;•' '/r "SAM SLICK THE CLOCK-MAKER," "old judge," eto , (.,'J.- •i t. r^^^- "Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptaB Gaudia" Juv. " The proper study of mankind is man." — PopK. ■^V'i-'^-' ,vs,'-'- ».:i NEW YORK: STRINGER & TOWNSEND. i '■*!^- LF- pSW/S./^ff^^ 1^^^ I \ u \'\ .m '■^* ;-Y '~'i:'V , ..V ' ■ - '.' "\ [• .•-••■ ;■ '. ■..'•...■, v^;- CONTENTS. ' - INTRODUCTORY LETTER , Page 13 i^ ^ . CHAPTER I. - • ' QHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT 20 CHAPTER II. STEALING A SPEECH ; 30 7^" CHAPTER III. Il^ EVERT THING IN GENERAL, AND NOTHING IN PARTI- CULAR .M 37 ■ / CHAPTER it. - THE BLACK HAWK ; OR, LIFE IN A FORE AND AFTER 48 , CHAPTER V. OLD BLOWHARD 60 (ix) '^' \ X CONTENTS. , , . » CHAPTER VI. THE widow's son : .'. .^ 67 ' CHAPTER VII. . V ,y : THE LANGUAGE OF MACKEREL 74 .V, CHAPTER VIII. t THE BEST NATURED MAN IN THE WORLD 80 '.It- ■ ' , ^ CHAPTER IX; ' ' THE BAIT BOX 68 ' CHAPTER X. THE water-glass; or, a BAY-DREAM OF LIFE Og CHAPTEP XI. OLD SARSAPARILLA PILLS 100 ^- CHAPTER XII. THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT 110 • CHAPTER XIII. THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE 120 CHAPTER XIV. : r V' AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE 132 >..--■. -;l,-T*lft?V CONTENTS. XI 1 ■ ;,• ■ ' -.. ^' :; CHAPTER XV. CHAT IN A CALM liiiz:^ t.!'!;; 140' CHAPTER XVL ,v THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST 147 CHAPTER XVII/ '':%, THE WITCH OP ESKISOONY 158 '' . CHAPTER XVIIT." JEuiK'.,0 BEYOND JORDAN 174 -5p»-|t CHAPTER XIX. g THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE l88 niUPTER XX. ' ;g' AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM 208 " ^^ : >; CHAPTER XXI. A SINGLE IDEA 213 CHAPTER XXII. AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OF REFORM 223 ^ CHAPTER XXIIx. GOOSE VAN DAM 229 'mnmmimi' "-».ll u ii xii CONTBJriS. . -■■ I - ■t.'^ ^ HOT DAY ... CHAPTER XXIV. '^i:7W n CHAPTER XXV OUB COLONIES AND SAILORS 251 CHAPTER XXVI " A PICNICK AT LA DAIVE . ' ' ••— 263 CHAPTER XXVII A NASBOW ESCAPE ' ,,.:^^^-'*« :f«*-i.'- {/ < t . , , , ;■-"■■ ■ "J- ''^•^ * 1 itt^^it' * m ■'•Jfji •. -r .' .' INTRODUCTORY LETTER. I, ■ ■¥i /^ 'f'' ' • SlMkviUe, April, 185^ My "Dear Squjrb, Since I parted with you I have led a sort of wanderin', ramblin' life, browsin' here to-day, and there to-morrow, amusin' myself arter my old way, etudyin' human natur*, gettin' a wrinkle on the horn myself for some that I give others, and doin' a little bit of business by the way to pay charges, and cover the ribs of my bank book ; not to say that I need it much either, for habit Las more to do with business now with me than necessity. The bread of idle- ness in a gineral way is apt to he stale, and sometimes I consait it is a little grain sour. Latterly I have been pretty much to Slickville, having bought the old humstead from father's heirs, and added to it considerable in buildin's and land, and begin to think sometimes of marryin'. The fact is, it aint easy to settle down arter itineratin' all over the world so many yeafs as I have done without a petticoat critter of one's own for company } but before I ventur' on that partnership consam I must make anoth<3r tour in the provinces, for atweea you and me, I reckon they raise handsomer and stronger ladies than we do in Connecticut, although we do crack for everlastiu' about beatin' all the world in our " geese, galls, and onions." Oh dear, when I think of them trips I had with you. Squire, ifc makes me ifeel kind of good all over ; but there will be amusement enough left for another tour, you may depend. Fun has no limits. It is like the human race and face ; there is a family likeness among all the species, but they all diflfer. New combinations produce new varieties. Humour puts me in mind of the kaleidoscope, or pattern- makers' box ; give it a shake up, and there is a new figure every time — that is, if the box aint empty. If it is, you can neither shake anything in or out of it, as many a schoolmaster knows to his cost. But a man who has an eye for fun sees it in everythin' — • verily, even the demure Quaker catches "' 1 enjoys it. The worst of it is, it is hard to remember it long ; for the mind IS like a slate — one thing gets rub'd out for another. The only way is to enter it down at the foot of the da/s work ; so I guess I 'U keep a journal, and send it to you. It would make a new book for you, such as " Wise Saws and Modern Instances," or " Sam Slick in Search of a Wife," or some such name. 2 ^ • * a3) 'i f 14 INTIlODUOTOllY LETTER. r.^ \ -t; llli / Thero is a work called " Tho Horse," and another called " Tlwi Cow," and " Tho Dog," and so on ; why should n't there be one on *' Tho Galls ?" They aro about tho most difficult to ohooso and to manage of any created critter, and yet thero aint aty dcpepdablo directions about pickin' and choosin' of them. Is it any wonder then so many fellows get taken in when they go for to swap hearts^ with them ? Besides, any one can find a gentleman that keeps a livery-stable to get him a hors^ to order ; but who can say, " This is the gall for your money ?" No, Sir, it is a business that must bo done by yourscff, and no one else. I guess this will be the last of my rambles, and I hope to see you while I am spyin' into the wigwams in your diggins. I arast say I feel kinder lonely here sometimes, tho' I aint an idle man nother, and can turn my hand to anythin' amost; but still there is days when there is nothin' that just suits to go at to fill up the gap, and them's the times we want a friend and companion. I have spent some wet spells and everlastin' long winter evenins lately in overhaulin' my papers completin' of them, and finishin' up the reckonin' of many a pleasant, and some considerable boisterous days passed in different locations since we last parted. I have an idee you would like to see them, and have packed them all up ; and if I don't meet you, I guess I'll give them to a careful hand who will deliver them safe along with my sayin's and doin's on this trip. I haven't methodized them yet ; thej are promiscuous, like my trunk. When I put my hand in for a scjck, in a general way, I am as like to pull out a pair of stockins as not, and when I fish for stockins, I am pretty sure to haul up a pocket-handkercher. Still they are all there, and they are just as well that way as any other, for there aint what you call a connected thread to them. Some of them that's wrote out fair was notched down at the time, and others are related from memory. I am most afeard sometime, tho' I had'nt ought to be, that you '11 think there is a bit of brag here and there, and now and then a bit of buncum, and that some things are made out of whole cloth altogether. It's nateral for others to think so, Squire ; and who cares what the plague they do think ? But you ought to know and be better sartified, I reckon, than to git into a wroLg pew that way. I should n.'t wonder a morsel, if you publish them, that folks will say my talk and correspondence with great statesmen to England and sich big bugs, was the onlikeliest thing in the world. Well, so it is, but it is a nateral truth for all that. Facts are stranger than fiction, for things h;' pen sometimes that never entered into the mind of man to iniagiho or invent. You know what my position was as attacM to our embassy at the court of St. James Victoria, and that I was charge when embassador went to Oxford and made that splendiferous speech to the old dons, to advise them f INTRODUCTORY LETTER, 16 to turn Unitarians, and made a tour of the country and spoko like a ton-borBe steam-engine on agriculture, at the protection dinners ; and it was ginnerally allowed that his was the best orations on the sub- ject ever heard, tho' it's well known to home ho couldn't tell a field of oats from a field of peas, nor mangels from turnips, if ba was to be stoned to death with the old Greek books at tho college, and buried under the entire heap of rubbish. And you know that I was head of tho Legation also, when ho was absent in France a-sowin' some republican seed, which don't seem to suit that climate. I told him afore ho went, that our great nation was tho only place in the world where it would ripen and bear fruit. Republics, Squire, like some apples, thrive only in certain places. Now, you can't eat a Newtown pippin that's raised in England, and blue-roses have winter fruit to Nova Scotia that keeps all the year round, that svo can't make nothin' of at llhode Island. Theory and practice is two different things. But he was a collegian, and they know more about the dead than the livin', a plaguy sight j but that is neither here nor there. Well, rank is no obstacle in our way, tho' it would be in yourn (for we claim to be equal with the proudest peer in the realm), and then ihe book you published under my name did the rest for mo. It is no wonder then I was on those terms of intimacy with the uppercrust people to London (;■ 'd bashfulness rubs off in America long before the beard comes ; in short, wo aint much troubled with it at no time, that's a fact). Now, that will explain matters to you. As for other people, if they get on a wrong track, they will find it out when they reach the cend of it, and a night spent in the woods will cool their consait. * : .' No, I wouldn't sort the articles, only select them. Where tho story is too long, clip a bit off; where it wants point, pass it over; but whatever you do, don't add to them, "for I am responsible and not you ; and if I have got some praise in my time, I have got my share of abuse too, I can tell you. Sonichoio or another, folks can't hear to hear the truth when it just convenes to their own case ; hut when it hits their neighhours, oh! then there is no cend to their cheerin', pattin' you on the hack and stuhoj/in' you on. Father was very fond of doggiu' other folks' cattle out of his fields, but when neighbour Dearborn set his bull-terrier on ourn, tho old gentleman got quite huffy, and said it was very disrespectful. What old Colonel Crockett said to me was the rail motto for an author as well as a statesman : " First be sure you are right, Sam," said he, " and then go ahead like Statiee." Them that you don't select or approbate put carefully away. They will serve to recal old times to my mind, and I must say I like to think of tho past sometimes. Travellin' is always pleasant to me, because I take the world as I find . A feller who goes through life with a caveson in one hand fk'-^l-: r.^fc'.r- • #: \ 16 INTRODUCTORY LETTER. ;'ll, I \ and a plaguy long whalebone whip in the other, a halter, breakiu' of every sinner he meets, gets raon hoists f m thanks in a gineral way, I can tell you. My rule is to let every one skin his own foxes. It aint worth while to be ryled if you can help it, especially at things you can't alter or cure. Grumblin' and groulin' along the road, findin' fault with this and scoldin' at that, is a poor way to travel. It makes a toil of a pleasure. Now, an Englishman goes through the journey of life like a bear with a sore head, as cross as Old Scratch himself. The roads are bad, the bosses bad, the inns bad, and the bill extortionate. He can't eat homemade bread, the eggs aint poached right, the ham is hard, and he hates pork as bad as a Jew. The veal is staggerin' bob, and the mutton rank or poor, the tea is nothin* but chopped hay and water ; cotton sheets, tho' they be white and clean, are only fit for summer horse-cloths ; he can't stand a taller candle — the smell pysins him. A wood-fire puts his eyes but, roasts one side of him while the other is raw and cold. Even the galls aint pretty; if they blush when he stares at them, he sais it is a bad sign — they know too much; and if they don't, he sais they are forrard and impedent; but he goes right off into a fit at seein' me turn an egg out into a wine-glass. When I see him in one o' them are tantrums, a twitchin' of his face and a jerkin' about of bis limbs arter that fashion, like one possessed by St. Vitus' dance, I call for my horse, and say to the gentleman that keeps the inn, " Friend," says I, "get some help, and hold the poor misfortunate stranger's head, arms, and legs down so he can't hurt himself ; clap a piece of wood across his mouth to keep him from a-bitin' of his tongue, give him a large dose of spirits of turpentine, and put him to bed. That's all that can be done for him, for he is incurable. Good mornin'," and I makes tracks. Such a critter as that returns home commonly with no more knowledge and manners than when he set out. The imagination has a shadow as loell as the hody^ that keeps just a little ahead of you, or follows close behind your heels, it don't do to let it frighten you. Blue-nose is nearly as bad and ugly in his ways as John Bull. One of them said to me onct down to Nova Scotia : " Oh, Mr. Slick, aint it dreadful journeyin' here in the spring. There is nothin' but veal, veal, veal for everlastinly to eat here. — I am actilly starved to death." Sais I, " Friend, so was I at first ; I eat of so many calves one spring, I was actilly ashamed to look a cow in' the face for six months ; but at last I found there was more ways of dressin' veal than one, and more things to be had to eat if you know'd what to ask for. Folks always give me the best they have, ?nd when that's the case I always say, them that ain't content with the best that can be got had better go without, for there is no compulsion in it. • m^ ■V-l, INTRODUCTORY LETTER. ."■ 17 Grumhlin* spiles the relish and hurts the digestion. Tell you what, friend. The bee, though he finds every rose has a thorn, comes hack loaded with honey from his rambles; and why shouldn't other tourists do the same ? That's the way to shorten the road, lessen the toil, and make tmvellin' pleasant." " Cheap talkin', Mr. Slick," said he, " but I aint used to it ; and if I onct reach my comfortable home, catch me leavin* it again for such an outlandish place as this. I am half-frozen to death with the cold." " Well," says I, (for I knew more of him than he dreamed of,) , "it is cold, that's a fact; and it's lucky for you, you have a com- fortable home— tho' I have known many a man's house made too hot for him sometimes afore now. For my part, I'de as leaf travel as stay home with a scoldin' wife, cryin' children, and a smoky chimney." If you'd a seed the puzeled look he gave to my innocent face, 'twould have done you good. It was as much as to say : '*' Con- found them random shots. I vow you hit me that time tho' you didn't take aim." Them's the sort of fellows that make the greatest fuss at hotels always. If travellers have to put up with a goodeal sometimes, so have innJceepers too, that^s a fact. A nigger now is a pattern man. He sings bits of songs, or plays on the Jew's-harp, or whistles all the way, throws stones at the birds, mocks the squirrel's chirrupin' out of fright at his black face ; and when the little dogs rush out o' the houses and bark at him as he passes along, he stops, bow-wows at them, and chases them honie again, and then roars out a larfin' till the woods fairly ring with his merry yagh, yagh, yagh. At night, the way he tucks in his supper is a caution to a boa- constrictor, for it would give him the dispepsy. Free quarters are pleasant things for them who hante got nothin' to pay with, so next day he oversleeps himself on purpose, and instead of findin' fault with his accommodation, finds fault with his own feet, and pretends for to lirap, and the children won't let him go. Afore dinner, says he : " Missis lend me the axe, please, till I chop you up a lovely lot of fi'-o-wood, and split enough kindlin' stuff to heat the oven for a week ;" and the way he makes chips fly aint no matter. . .vv Then he turns to and piles it up in the porch snug, and fetches in a great big back-log the chimney-place will hardly hold — large enough almost for an ox to pull. " Missis, let me draw you a bucket of water. Dem are beautiful little hands o' youm h too soft for de well-pole. Come, younc masters, sposen you comes along wid me and see Juba carry a fuU bucket on his head and nebber spill a drop, tho' poor Juba's fcefc 2* ■^: ■-k ■■"wr". I A .-. 18 \ ' INTRODUCTORY LETTER. r t berry tender now from travellin' on dem are prepostilous hard roads." I guess he aint asked to stay another day and aint told he is wel- come ! Oh ! of course not ! Then he has been a great traveller, havin' onct made a trip to Jamaica, and has wonderful stories to tell that beat British officers' tiger hunts all to rags. The cocoa- nuts were so big there, he was obliged to wear an iron skillit on his pate for fear they might fall from the trees and split it open j and one day the monkeys caught him asleep, slipt off the pot, and stole it to cook their victuals in. True as rates, masters, and not a word of regraggeration in it, I do assure you. That was the boy to find a welcome. The youngsters actilly cried when he went away, gave him a handful of cents, and walked two miles on the road with him to hear his stories of sharks and whales. There is another advantage of this temper, that even niggers don't know ; you can larn as you travel. I lamed more from talk in Loudon than ever I did in books in my life, and noted it better. For example — as they say in cypherin' books— I sit alongside of a lamed man at some grand dinner; now larncd men in a gineral way are all as stupid as owls, they keep a devil of a thinkin', but they don't talk. So I stirs up old Heroglyphic with a long pole; for it's after dark lights is lit, and it's time for owls to wake up and gaze. " I have been tryin' to read that are book on Ninevah,'' said I. ». " Oh !" sais he, " what do you thmk of it ?" " It wants the pickaxe and crowbar," sais I. " Pickaxe and crowbar !" sais he, for that made him turn half round, and open his eyes and stare. Only surprise a man. Squire, and he can't help listenin'. " I call it a hard case," said I. " The author has spent amost a mortal long time in diggin' up these curiosities that have been onder ground Lord knows how many centuries, and now he has gone right off, and buried them all again in a book, as hard to get into as the old vaults." " Exactly," said he ; " you have just hit it — very well expressed, and very graphically — that is the principal defect in the book." " P'raps, Sir," said I, " you would be kind enough to sumtotalise for me the amount of his discoveries in a few words too, for I won't bore you," said I. Well in ten minutes you have the whole ; and if you want an explanation, he is just the boy to give it. It's just the same now in a log-hut. The settler, poor lonely, honest, simple critter haint no book larniu', but he is acquainted with some things you aint, that's a fact. I never met a man yet that couldn't give me a wrinkle, from a captain of one of our men-of-war in the Mediterranean, that I heard tell Lady B the way to peel onions without tinglin' her INTRODUCTORY LETTER. to eyes, was to hold a pin between her teeth, down to Sinful Joy the nigger at the three mile plains, who gave me the wonderful cure for jaundice I boast so much of. At every turn there is soraethin' to observe and remember, which, old tho' it be, is new to you — some impliment, some machine, some strange culture of curious plants, and things put to uses you never dreamed of, is turnin' up all the time. It was in Persia I larned the art of stupifyin' fish, and makin' them float on the surface, without hurtin' them, for food j and the first chance I get, I will try it in the mackerel fishary. It was at a Quaker's in Genesee I first met with the little windmill for sawing my fire-wood I have to Slickville, and in South America I larned to pysen an arrow that killed deer in- stantly without alFcctin' the venison, and in France the way to hatch fish-spawn, and on the Ehono the wonderful, but simple and cheap plan of the Romans, of buildin' houses of loam superior to bricks. It was by travellin' I picked up that valuable collection of receipts I showed you onct. But the greatest advantage of all of this itineration is, you can look back with pleasure on travel. You forget the little ups and downs, and crosses and losses, and bumps and thumps, and brambles and scrambles by the way ; but memory has it all sketched out in landscapes like, rail handsome for you, that imagination has helped to put in gilt frames. And tho' the forrest in them paintins contains rocks, underbrush, and boggy spots, where you slumped about, broke down, or lost your way, you see nothin' in the background but a mass of wavin' wood, or in the foreground but green fields, windin' roads, and smooth rivers. Time has mellowed the pictur'. Yes, I can and do often stop short, turn round, shade the sun off my eyes with my hands, and look back at my travels over this uncvarsel world with pleasure. But if it was all barren, all dark, . all hardship, and all privation, as some grumblin' fools find it, what in natur' would life be ? Why, it wouldn't be endurable j it 'ed give pain, and not pleasure. You'd be afraid to look back, because it would awaken onpleusant recollections, and you'd be skeer'd to look forred; for if the world don't please you when young, it can't, in the natur' of things, when you are old, that's a fact. That's my philosophy, at least, and so it is Black Juba's also. My plan is this. I seek the simny side of life alwai/s, unless the iceathcr is too Jiot, and then I go to the shade. The changes in the temperature make me enjoy both. And now, havin' written this epistle, I shall turn round to the fire, light my cigar, put my feet up on the mantel-piece, and enjoy a smoke, and think of old times. , Hoping to hear soon from you, I remain, dear Sir, .'; > , Your faithful friend, •'"' Sam Slick. ' \ m 'Iv /If *ii^ m f'i r ;• ,1 '.'I / WISE SAWS: - . - . _•■-■• i SAM SLICK IN SEARCH OF A VIFE. f CHAPTER I. crfAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. l- Before leaving the States for the lower provinces, I went up to Washington, to meet some old friends assembled there, that I had known to England, as well as to see the President, who wanted me to accept the office of a commissioner, and to report privately to him on the fisheries on the shores of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward Island. I dined quietly with him one day, a dis- cussing the latter subject, and its importance to our coasting and interior trade, when he pressed the office on rae in rael aernest. "We don*t work for nothin' you know, Mr. Slick,'' sais he, " things aint fixed up right, when you only find paper, quills, and tape, there must be somethin' to keep the pen agoin, besides fingers and ink. You will be paid liberally, as it becomes our great nation, for your services; and what do you say to my placin' a naval schooner at your disposal to make your tour in, and to protect our fishermen ? Wouldn't that more comport with dignity, and be goin' the whole figure, and doin' the thing genteel?" " Thank you. Sir," sais I, " a national vessel would spile all, it would make folks scary about talkin' to me ; and as our citizens are breakin' the treaty all the time, we mustn't sanction it like, opemy and officially, but just wink at it, and pass on, as if we didn't see it or know it. None are so blind as those that won't see, and nothin' is so easy as to hood-wink them that's too inquisitive. Oh, dear ! how oftfcn. President, I have larfed ready to die, at the way I made a custom-house officer at Bangor wink. I smuggled — no, I won't (20) # ^«i'*^. CHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. .Vi 21 say that, for I'd scorn to smuggle, it's a low thing — but I imported several times British goods to that city from Nova Scotia, but forgot to enter them regular; and when Bigelow Pineo, the oflSicer, came to search (a very pious, consciencious man he was, too, an elder among the elect, and an awful largo seven-foot down-easter ; they u?ed to call him Big Pineo), ' Brother Pineo,' sais I, ' verily I'm glad to seo you ; how is the good lady to hum, and the little Bigs, eh ? None of 'em, I guess, will ever make the man their father is, as Widow Atwater said to me, when she first sot eyes on you : Laws me, Mr. Slick, who is that noble-lookin' man ? he is the handsomest I ever saw in all my born days. My ! what a fine man !' " " * Friend Slick,' he would say, with an inward chuckle, like a half-grunt, and a half-cough (Christian men never larf ), ' thee aint improved, I see, by being among the heathen colonists, that live away down where the sun riseth. What in natur* hast thee got in all these trunks ?' , , < " Smuggled goods,' sais I, ^ of course/ " ' Oh yes !' sais he ; * and if they were, thee wouldst fetch them here to be seized, of course I How soft thee is !' " And then he gave another chuckle at that bright idea of hisn, that made his chest heave again. ' But,' sais I, * look for yourself, brother, and sarch well. Here's my spectacles,' and I took out a pair of tortoise-shell ones, that had the glasses slipt out, and two gold eagles slipt in.' " ' What in the world are these ?' sais he. " ^ Magnifiers,' sais I. ' Put them on, and nothin' will escape you; and if you can't see through them at first, practice will soon make you parfect. Accept 'em for my sake, for they are curiosities, that's a fact. The benighted colonists wear them, when the sun shines, to keep it from hurtin' their eyes. But come, that's a good man, put the chalk mark on my traps right ofi^, for I want to be a movin'.' " Well, he put the spectacles in his pocket ; and as he stooped down to chalk the trunks, sais he : * Verily thee is difierent from other men, in all thee .. jeth ; seein' I can take no fees, thee hast adopted this mode to obviate a hard law. If these trunks contained smuggled goods, of a sartaint^' thee wouldst not fetch them here, so I will mark them.' " No, President, we must wink, or put on solid gold spectacles, like Bigelow Pineo, and look without seein'. I would prefer going down in one of our coastin' vessels, careless-like, slippin' into this harbour, and dodgin' into that, and while the captain is tradin' here and tradin' there pick up all the information I want. If we had them fisheries, they would be worth more to us than California." " I think so too," sais he. " I had no idea of their immense ex- tent until lately. I actilly saw a barrel of Nova Scotia mackerel m \ \ 111 11 111 ■: 22 CHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. H the other day, with tho Halifax brand on it, away up to the Rocky Mountain. Fact, I assure you. However, consider yourself on pay from this time, six dollars per day for wages, and six dollars more for truvcllin' expenses ; and if you have to charter a vessel, draw for the amount.'' " l^resident/' sais I, " that's what I call handsum now. But as I shall be gone for a considerable spell, for I want a trip of pleasure as well as business, I will take care there is no extra charge." v^. 'i' " Well, Uncle Sam, Sir,'' sais he, " is able and willin' to pay for all ; and your report will carry great weight with it, for it is well known you have spent a great deal of time in the provinces, and know the people better than any of our citizens do. To-morrow you "will receive your commission, and letters accreditin' you to our con- suls, and to the governors of the different colonies." When this affair was settled, sais he, "Mr. Slick, did you know Lord Horton, him that's Lord Aylsford now, when you was to Eng- land?" " Knowed him well," sais I. " Is he as smart a man as folks say ?" "Gruess he is all that, and more too," sais I, "he is a whole team and a horse to spare — that man. He was among the last persons I visited when I was leavin' the embassy ; the last man I heard speak in the Commons, and the last I supped with to London. A night or two afore I left town, I Avcnt down to the House of Commons. I don't often go there. It's stupid work, and more than half the time routine business, while the other half of it is a re-hash of old speeches. Twice laid dishes I can stand, salt fish and corn beef twice laid I sometimes consait is as good as when first cooked ; but old speeches served over and over again go again the appetite. However, having nothin' above common to do, and hearin' there was to be a bit of a flare-up, down I goes, and who should be speakin' but Horton, him they now call Aylsford. What the plague they change the name for that way, I don't know. If they want to promote a man to a higher degree, such as baron (and Lord knows some of their heads are barren enough) to be an earl, and an earl to be a marquis, and so on, well and good — but the name ought to be kept, for the change only bothers folks. "Who in the world would suppose now that Lord Dundonald was the same man as the great Lord Cochran — the greatest naval hero, next to Nelson, England ever had. It's an actual fact, I knew him a whole year afore I found it out, and only then by accident; for, like all brave men, he never talks of his everlastin' battles. But this is neither here nor there; the English have a way of their own, and it is no use talkin' to them, obstinate they are, and obstinate they will be to the eend of the chapter." *' Exactly," said the President, " that's my idea to a T, when Lord #:' - ■:'"■ >/ CHATWITH THE PRESIDENT, 25 JAmphlitt was out here seme years ago, I knowed him. Gineral llchabod Shegog came to mo one day, and sais he, ' There's an Eng- [lish lord to the Treciaont ; would you like to go and have a look at Ihimr "'Well, I would,' saia I, 'that is a fact, for I never see one in my life ; but how shall we rig up ?' (( ( Why,' sais he, ' I guess I'll go in a general's uniform, and you had better go full fig as a grand master mason, for the dress is splendid.' "And we did so; the lord was gracious and affable, and a con- siderable smart man, I tell you. He seemed a good deal struck with our appearance, and I thought he felt a little mean, seein' that he warnt dressed for company, for he had nothin' on but a common frock coat, plaid trowsers, and buff waistcoat, coloured neckcloth, and great thick-soled shoes, and short gaiters. I guess he had to sail pretty close to the wind, for they do tell me the nobility are all over head and ears in debt to England. Heavens and airth how the Gin- eral raved when he came out. " ' What,' sais he, ' that little fellow a lord ? have they no better timber to Britain to make one out of than that ondersized half-starved looking critter ? Well I vow I never want to see another lord, 'til I see the Lord Jehovah.' "But Shegog warnt much of a man of the world, and, what's wuss, he is so chock full of consait, he never will be. The lord was short, there-'s no doubt of that, but he could not help it, for he would have growed more, I do suppose, if he could. Lord Amphlitt was not a bad name for the poor critter — was it ? a small book is called a pamphlet, and he was one-eighth smaller than that ; but a small house, after all, well filled, is better than an emptjf palace. " Now who the plague would have guessed that that Lord Am- phlitt is the same as Lord Scilly ? If it warnt for the Scilly Light on the chart, I should never recollect his name, 'til the end of time ran out. But go on." " Well, as I was sayin', Horton had the floor, and if he didn't talk it into 'em, it's a pity. He's a pretty speaker, the best I've heard in England by a long chalk, and the best proof that what he said hit hard, was you might have heard a pin fall. It's a different kind of speakin' from what our great guns use, and I aint quite sure I don't like it better. There is less oration and more business in it, it's all to the point, or good guards and blows well planted. He was at a rival lord, and he sartainly did make the little man look small enough, you may depend. " Weil, the next day, we had a grand dinner at the embassador's. Diplomatists, statesmen, and the gracious knows who all were there. Well, among them was Lord Horton ; but I couldn't get a chat witlr *^ ■f: :^ ^■'. .(II i^ •v^- 24 CHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. him theO; for dinner was served as soon as he arrived, but I managed it in the evenin'. " Lord Dunk Peterborough, or some such name, sat alongside of me, and took to praisin' our great nation at a great pace. It fairly took me in at first, I didn't see his drift ; it was to draw me out, and set me a boastin' and a braggin' I do suppose. And I fell into the trap before I knowed it. ^ .^i' " Arter trottin' me round a bit, sais he, * Your minister is a worthy representative of your glorious country. He is a scholar and a gentleman. One of his predecessors did nothing but compare. If you showed him a pack of hounds, they were nothing to what hun- dreds had in Virginia and the southern States. If a fine tree, it • was a mere walking stick to an American one. If a winning race- horse, he had half a dozen that would, as he expressed it, walk away from him like nothing; and so on. ''^ell, there was another who could talk of nothing but satinettes, coarse cotton, the slave trade, and what he used to call New England domestics. It is refreshing to find your nation so well represented.' " All this was said as civil as you please, you could not fault his manner a bit ; stiU I can't say I quite liked it. I knew there was some truth in it; but how little or how much I couldn't tell, not ' bein' much of a scholar. Thinks I to myself, I'm a man more used to givin' than takin' pokes, anu never could keep 'em long without returnin' them with interest. So go on, I'll see what you are about, ''* and then I rather guess I can take my part with you. " Sais he, * I'm told his Latin is very pure.' " ' It's generally allowed there can't be no better,' sais I, * there is nobody to Cambridge — our Cambridge I mean — that can hold a candle to him.' "'It's fully equal,' sais he, 'to the generality of the monastic Latin of the middle ages.' "I was adrift here: I didn't like the expression of his eye^ — it * looked quizzical ; and I must say, when lamed subjects come on the carpet, I do feel a little grain streaked, for fear I shall have to con- fess ignorance, or have to talk and make a fool of myself. Thinks I to myself, if his Latin is good, why didn't he say it was as good as what the Latins spoke or wrote, and not stop half-way at what Minister used, I am sure, to call the dark ages ? However, I'll look quizzical too, and put my best foot out. " * As good as that of the middle ages ?' sais I; 'why, that's not sayin' much for it either. Aint he a middle-aged man himself? and hasn't he been at it all his life ?' " ' Well, Slick,' sais he, ' that's uncommon good ; that's one of the best tlangs I have heard for a long time, and said so innocently too, as if you really meant it. Capital, by Jove I Come, I like that amazingly.' CHA1? WITH THE PRESIDENT. j^s "Think's I to myself, it's more than I do, then; for I didn't understand you, and I don't know the meanin' of what I said myself. But I'll pay you off bimeby, Master Dunk — sec if I don't. " Sais he, lowerin' his voice, confidential-like, ' what a pity it is that he is a Unitarian !* " Now, thinks I, my boy, I've got you off dead languages in upon Uvin' subjects, I'll play with you as a cat does with a mouse. " ' He wouldn't be an honest man, if he warn't/ sais I; ' he'd be beneath contempt.' " ' Well,' sais he, ' I never argue about religion, and will there- fore not pursue the subject farther; but it creates a great prejudice here.' " ' Religion,' sais I, ' my good friend,' lookin' all amazed, ' why, what in natur' has religion to do with it ? It has neither art nor part in it.' : . " ' Exactly,' said he, ' that's the very point. People hero think a Unitarian little better than an infidel.' - " ' Then you might,' sais I, 'just as well say a Tory was an infidel, or a Whig, or a Protectionist, or a Free Trader, or anybody else ; there would be just as much sense in it. I believe in my heart the English will never understand us.' " ' Pray, may I ask,' said he, 'what you call a Unitarian ?' " ' Sartainly,' sais I ; 'for when folks go to argue, they ought first to know what they are talkin' about; to define their terms, and see they understand each other. I '11 tell you in a few words what a Unitarian is.' " Just then. Minister speaks up, (and it's a curious thing, talk of the devil, and he is sure to heave in sight directly), ' Pass the wine, Mr. Slick, I'll help myself.' ' And push it on, your Excellency,' sais I; 'but I never pass wine — it ain't considered lucky in Slick- ville.' This made a laugh and a divarsion, and I continues : ' You see, my Lord, our general Government is a federal one, exercisin' sartain powers delegated to it by the separate States, wlnich, with this exception, are independent sovereignties. Every State is a unit, and those units form a whole ; but the rights of the separate States are as sacred as the rights of the Government to Washington ; and good patriots everywhere stand by their own units, and are called Unitarians; while some are for strengthenin' the general Govern- ment, at the expense of the individual sovereignty, and these are called Federalists; and that's the long and the short of the matter. And what on airth religion has to do with these nicknames, I don't know.' " Sais he, ' I nover knew that before ; I thought Unitarians were a religious sect, being another name for Socinians, and I am very glad to hear this explanation,' #••" V*-. '^1 si ■i '.%:.■ ■iS. ! t ' ulfl ii 1^ 26 on AT WITH TDK PRESIDENT. " Thinks I, I hopo it will do you good ; it is as good as a middle- age Latin, at any rate. " After Bomo further talk, sais he, ' Your JMinister is not a very easy man to got uciiuaintud with. Is ho a fair specimen of the New Englanders ? for he is very cold.' " Hero's at you again, blaster Lord Dunk, sais I; you ain't quite sold yet, though you aro bespoke — that's a fact. ' Well,' sais I, ' he is cold, but that's his misfortune, and not his fault : it's a wonder to me he aint dead long ago. He will never be quite thawed out. The chill went into his marrow.' " ' What chill ?' sais he ; * is not that his natural manner ?' " ' How can you ask such a qufestion as that, my Lord ?' sais L ' When he left College as a young man, ho entered into the ice trade to supply New Orlcens with ice, and a grand spec ho made of it j but it near upon cost him his life. He was a great hand to drive business, and if you want to drive business with us, you must work yourself. He was at the ice lake day and night amost, a handlin' of it ; and the last vessel he loaded that year he went in her him- self. His berth was near the companion-ladder, the best berth in the ship, but it jines on to the hold, and the chill of that ice cargo, especially when he got into the hot climate of New Orleens, so pene- trated his jints, and limbs, and marrow, he has never been warm since, and never will ; he tells me it's extendin' upwards, and he is afeard of his heart.' " Well, he roared right out ; he haw-hawed as loud as a man cleverly and politely can at a gentleman's table, and says he, ' That's the best contrived story to excuse a cold manner I ever heard in my life. It's capital, upon my word !* " ' So it was, Slick,' said the President ; ' it was well done. That was a first-rate bam ! But I must say, some of the New-England strait-laced folks are mortal cold — that's a fact, and the worst of it is, it ain't intermittent; they are iced down e'en amost to the freez- in' -point, and the glass always stands there. The ague is nothin' . vto it, for that has its warm fits j but some of them folks have the cold fit always, like Ambassador. No wonder the Puritans tolerated wine, rum, gin, brandy, and all that, and forbade kissin' ; it was, I suppose, to " ' Compound for sins they were inclined to, By damning those they had no mind to.' My niece to Charlestown told me, that when her father's brothcif came from New Bedford, and kissed her, he was so cold it actilly gave her the toothache for a week — fact, I do assure jou, Slick ; folks may say what they like, a cold manna' never covered a warm heart; hot water imparts a glow even to a silver teapot; but go on, I beg pardon for interrupting of you.' />» \\v V CHAT WITH THE rREBIDENT. 27 as a man " ' There arc stranger things, Lord Dunk/ sais I, ' in real life than in fiction; but an J]nglishraan won't believe in any thin' that aint bucked by a bet. Now I'll tell you a story will astonish your weak nerves, of a mueh stronger case than the Ambassador's chill, and I'll stake a hundred dollars on its truth with you. You've heard of General Montgomery,' sais I, 'haven't you, and his attack on Quebec ?' " ' I cannot say I have/ ho said. ' I think there was a French- man of the name of Montcalm, who distinguished himself at Que- . bcc ; but iMontgomery — Montgomery, no, I never heard of him.' " ' The fact is, the ^ii^nglish got such a tarnal lickin' in the revo- lutionary war, they try to get rid of the subject by sayin' it was a little provincial affair, and pretend to know nothin' about it. Well, Montgomery attacked it in winter, and pretty nearly carried it under cover of a snow-storm j but the garrison was prepared for him, and tliough it was awful cold weather, gave him such a warm reception, that he was about to retire, when he and his two aidecamps were killed at one shot. He left a good many poor fellows behind him killed, wounded, and prisoners. Among them that was nearly froze to death, in fact ho never was the same man afterwards, was General Peep — he was then Colonel Peep, and served as a volunteer. Ho was nearly stiff when they hauled him in, and then they thrust him into a cold stone-room, without a fire, and arterwards sent him to England, where he remained till the peace. That winter campaign nearly fixed his flint for him. Talk of Ambassador's chill, bad as it is, it is nothin' to his. One of his legs never had any more feelin' in it arterwards. He used to keep a tavern down to Slickville.' " ' What ! a General keep a tavern,' said he, and he opened his eyes wide, and wrinkled the hair of his head with astonishment. " ' To be sure,' said I, ^ why not as well as any other citizen ? That's the reason our taverns are so good, because they are kept by men of honour. You cai^'t say as much as that of every tavern in London, I know. Well, I've often seen the old General sittin' out on his stoop smokin', but the cigars and liquor of his house never cost him anything ; ho made them all out of his leg that had no feclin' in it. He used to bet folks he could riyi a pin further into his leg than they could into theirs, and in course he always won the day — and didn't they jump, and screech, and scream with the pain, when they tried to outdo him ! Once I saw him win a hogshead of brandy from the Captain of a Cape Codder that had just arrived from France, by bettin' him he would run a pin clear in up to the head, and walk across the room with it ; and he did it, all^hough I must say he made a plaguey wry face too, as if he had a little over- done it. "'Well, that beats all natur',' said the Captin; 'but Gineral, that ere calamity fell on you in your country's cause; take the jii»k ite > >4 ..1.2^S.^. /.oWi'i--..^ , '^'.:;.-s-.::_i4i.j. I n ■1 Is CHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. V brandy, it will make your leg feci again like a Christian's leg, and your iocs tinglo too if you take enough of it ; and when that is done Bend luc word, and wc Cape Cod skippers will club and send you ] another one.' " ' You doubted,' sais I, ' my lord, about his Excellency's chill j what do you think of this case ? Aint it a whopper?* . , " ' I don't for a moment doubt your word, IMr. Slick ; and there- l|j fore pray don't misunderstand me,' said ho ; * but there is some mis- ' take in it. It is incredible ; for if the leg had been so devoid of all feeling it would have mortified. There must have been some slight of liand in this, othorriso it does not appear impossible.' " ' Well,' sais I, * if I make a mistake it's my fault. I'll bet you a hundred dollars that Minister corroborates it.' " * Done !' sais he. " * And done I' sais I ; aad we shook hands. " Just before the room was vacated, Lord Horton and Lord Dunk Peterborough bcin' the only two left, I saw it was my time. Horton had been talkin* to Minister, and had just made his scrape, and was for quittin'. When he reached the door he turned and paused. " * Mr. Slick,' sais he, * one word with you, if you please.' *' That was grand; it was just what I wanted; a diversion like in my favour. *' * In one minute, my lord,' sais I : ' only one minute.' " ' Minister,' sais I ; did you know General Peep V it • ..^' CHAPTER II. V STEALING A SPEECH. " Well," sais I, continuin' my confab with the President the next mornin', "the day after the bet, I was up to my eyes in business, gettin' the papers in my charge in order for quittin* the embassy. Wo all met at lunch ; it was our great meal, for it was the hour, you know, we was used to feed at home, and arter all it seems most proper, for natur's dinner beli rings at one. Dinner, therefore, was only a matter of form arter that, and used for show and hospitality. Champain was our only liquor, for that's what we use to our hotels, where it is the best and cheapest wine ; there it is the dearest, but who cares? Uncle Sam pays for all. I suppose you don't know that gentleman," sais I, " President j" and I gave him a wink. « Well, ril tell you who he is. "You have heard of John Bull, it is the gineral name of the English, as ' Frog ' is of the French ; and a capital name it is, for he has all the properties of that brute. Breachy as Old Scratch, breakin' down neighbours' fences, runnin' off with other bulls' wives, bellowin' at nothin', ready to fight everybody and everything, and so stupid, if ho sees red oloth he makes right at it, full chizel, cross-grained, onsartain, and dangerous, you can neither lead him, nor coax him, nor drive him. The only way to manage him is to hopple him, and fortunately he is pretty well hoppled with the national debt. It's a weight to his heels that spiles his runnin', and keeps him to home to paw up the dust and roar for his own amuse- ment. Well, Uncle Sam is us. Uncle is a nice word, aint it. Sir ? It's a word of kindness and affection. He is a brother of your father or your mother j and if he has no chicks of his own, pets all his nephews and nieces, makes them presents, sends them to school, pays for their visits, and when he dies leaves all his ready rhino to them. There is nothin like an uncle, but ' Uncle Sam ' is the president of all uncles. He adopts the whole nation, and pays all the household of the State. He is pretty well imposed upon too sometimes. They take it out of him whenever thej' can, but pretend all the time that what they do is for his good and benefit, and swear they haint one mite or morsel of selfishness in 'em. It's all for 'Uncle Sam.' They'd die by him if it was necessary, but they hud a plagucy sight sooner live by him, that's a fact. Our first uncle was Sam Wash- ington, and arter tliat we called them all Sam. Sister Sail's chil- dren — the little cunnin' ones — call me * Uncle Sam,' cause I payd for them all. Some of these days t hope I shall bo Father Sam, I; .^' -^ STEALING A SPEECH. 8t and then I shall see if the tune of these critters is altered and new set with variations. " But I was speakin' of the lunch. Sais Preserved Fish to me the other attache — awful name that, aint it ? The fact is, the old Fishes of New Hampshire were Puritans of the strictest school, makin' Sunday a day and a half long, by beginnin' at twelve o'clock on Saturday ; though Preserved has got bravely over that, he drinks, as he says, ' like a fish,' swears all the newest invented slang oaths, and plays cards every night, and the devil all the time. Well some hundred and fifty years ago, a baby or spawn Fish like to have died of the croup or the cholic, or some ailment or another, but got through it, and his mother called him that was so mercifully saved ' Preserved '/ so there has been a Preserved Fish in the family ever since. Well his fs'^^her, ^Old Presarved,' has great interest in Var- mont, and Maine, and New Hampshire, where he makes cookin' stoves with the barrel-oven top, at his celebrated factory at Maple Sugar Grove, and sets them up himself, which fetches him into every man's house. The women all swear by the stoves (and they are a first chop article, that's a fact), and in course by him, and the men ditto their wives. He can influence all the elections there up and down, and get his son on the embassy, as one of the paid attaches. If he would take care of himself that critter would get on, but he won't, he can't change his natur'. A herrin' remains a herrin', and a dolphin a dolphin, and a skate a skate, and this ' odd Fish ' will be the same, till a shark or porpoise sucks him in, head, gills, and tail. " ' Well,' sais Presarved to me, ' if your friend Lord Dunk was here to-day, he wouldn't say 'T'^^ncle Sam' was cold, I know. See how he smiles, and smirks, and rubs his Lands ; depend on it he feels good all over. And that reminds me of your bet; you don't intend for to go for to send that feller's cheque for the hundred dollars back, like a nateral born fool, do you ?' " ' Sartainly, I do,' sais I. * He was bit, and it don't convene to %• the character of our embassy to do the thing that's mean.' " ' The character of the embassy bo damned,' said he. ' I railly thought you knowed too much of the world for that. Why you are the only Connec^'nt man I ever met with that even ever heard of a conscience, except, . ^ ii'inlay.' " ' Well, 1^ yon stay here much longer,' said I, ' I guess the char ractcr of our embassy will be what you'd wish it. But if you had such a hook in your gills. Master Fish, you'd be glad enough to open your mouth, and have it taken out, and then be thrown back in the water, I know.' " ' Slick,' said he, ' if ever you dare to make fun of my name ril-' '- ' ^ ^ " * Take a glass of wine with you, say, that's the way to finish the il wmmmmmmm ■ -■-— CT^ v- -■*' ,/.'■ S2 STEALING A SPEECH. ,:| i ?^'. M^ sentence, for I shall only have two or three days more at the furdest, and that's too short to quarrel in.' " < Well/ said he, ' I believe you are half right. Scipio, some champain.' " ' But what makes Uncle Sam so good-natured to-day?" said I. " * Why,' said he, * some college don called here, a sort of crack man, a double first, I think they called him ; and he and Uncle Sam had a discussion about some Greek passage. Since he went away the old coon has been up to his eyes in Greek ; and I rather guess, from his manner, that he has found out that he is right.' " Sais I, amovin' up to his eend. of the table, ' What does your Excellency think of the Latin of the middle ages ?" "Sais he, 'Sam, don't call me, when we are located and domesta- cated together, ' your Excellency,' it's all bunkum, you know.' " ' Well,' sais I, ' we are in a land of titles, Sir, a place where folks thinks a great deal of 'em ; and if we don't do it when alone, perhaps we will be too free and easy in public' "* Well,' sais he, 'and it's no use talking. People do like handles to their names, perhaps there is some truth in that.' " ' Besides,' sais I, we approbate it all over our great nation. Do you recollect the horseferry above Katskill on the Hudson ?' ' ' Perfectly,' said he. " ' And old Rip Van Hawser the ferryman, and his two splendid galls Gretchen and Lottchen. Ob, my sakes ! weren't they whole teams of themselves, and a horse to spare ? That wicked little devil Gretchen was as quick as a foxtrap, and as strong as a man. If she clinched you, it warn't easy to break her hold, I tell you. I recollect a romp I onct had with her.' "'Well never mind that, at present,' sais he, good-naturedly; ' but I recollect old Rip Van Hawser perfectly.' I'./ But don't you mind his darters?' sais I; ' for it caused more than half the people to cross the ferry just c git a squint at them beauties.' " ' We won't mind them just now,' said he ; ' but what of old Hip?' " ' Well,' sais I, 'just to show you how universal titles are even in our almighty everlastin' country, and how amazin' fond fellers are of 'em, I'll tell you what Rip Van Hawser said. " ' The first time I ever crossed over that ferry,' sais old Rip to me: 'Gineral,' sais he, 'just stand near your horse, for it's more rougher as common to-day ; for you sec and ondcrstand and know that when the wind blows so like the toyvil den when de wind go down den de wave go right down tJian it got up. So, gincral, just stand near him.' " ' I aint no gineral,' sais I. " ' Well den, colonel,' sais he. . It is rough, and too more faster -/. yv-'^ ,■>-. STEALING A SPEECH. 33 -V "< I aint a colonel, nor an officer at all.* ' j-f, " ^ Well den judge/ sais he, 'just hold on to de rein/ " ' I aint a judge or a lawyer either,' said I. ^*>-, ..^'■'■ " 'Well den bishop,' said he. " ' I am no bishop nor minister either.' - . " ' Oh den, squire.' ; ; ' • ■ ■' " ' Out agin,' I said, laughing, ' I am no squire.' " Den what de teyvil are you ?' said old Rip, lookin' up and restin* on his oars. . , « ' Nothin',' sais I. " ' Den,' said he, ' I charge you notin' for ferriage. I carry you free gratis, for you are de fust man that has crossed for a week that had no title.' "'And not a penny would he take, but insisted upon my goin' into his house. Dear me, I am amazed you don't remember those galls ! There wasn't too much of the old Dutch build about them. They were — ' " Here Ambassador put in his oar with a quiet larf. * I didn't say I didn't remember the young ladie?. But what question was that you asked about the Latin language ?' " ' Why, your Excellency,' said I, ' what sort of Latin was that, that was written in the middle ages ?' " ' In general barbarous and poor ; but there was som5 good, and that is but little known ; perhaps Dr. Johnson knew more of their literature than any man of his day.' " ' Then it is no great compliment to say of a man's Latin, that it is about as good as that of the monastic Latin of the middle ages V " ' Decidedly not,' sais he ; ' quite the other way. But that re- minds me of a curious story. You know the little square-built nobleman, that always sits and looks the peer? (How singular it is, Sam, the Whigs are the haughtiest in private, and most tyrannical in public life, of any folks here !) He goes by the nickname of the ' military critic,' on account of his finding fault with everything the Duke did in Spain, and always predicting his defeat and ruin. Well, when the Reform Bill was before Parliament, everybody made flash speeches, and among the rest, the ' great military critic' He made a Latin quotation, of which the reporter could only catch the sense, as he had never met with the lines before ; so when he came to the newspaper office, he told them its purport — that which is agitated is durable, but that which is unmoved decays. Well, the editors couldn't recollect it; they ran over ever so many indexes, time was pressing, and they had to try their hands at making that meaning into Latin verse. The next year the puzzle was found out; the noble peer was about as much of a scholar as a military critic ; ho fobbed it from Boswcll's ' Life of Johnson,' who quoted thera out of the fulness of his store of learning. These are tho lines/ said .ximy-!"-- ■ .'! il STEALING A SPEECH. to, and he repeated tliem so fast they sounded like one everlastin' word. " * Give them to me in pencil, please, Sir/ said I, ' for I couldn't repeat them an hour hence. It cant that Latin is so heavy to. carry ^ hut you have such a slipj^ery hold of it.' "* Ilere the President broke in agin with one of his confounded in- terruptions. " Slick," sais he, " it's a pity your father hadn't sent you to College, as mine did me ; you would have been a great man, if he had, and perhaps filled my shoes." And he looked good all over, and twisted his whiskers with his fingers with as much plea- sure as a feller does when ho thinks he looks rather killin'. Thinks I to myself, a man may be a president, and no great shakes either, for after all he is only the lead horse of a team. He has got the go in him, and that's all ; but he can't hold back, which is a great matter, both in statesmen and horses. For if he slacks up, he is rid over by those behind hira, and gets his neck broke — ho must go or die, I didn't say it tho', for it don't do in a general way to blart out all you think. But I observed, " President," sais I, " that's a question I have often thought of, and on the whole, I think it is more better than as it is. If I had been a scholar, like Ambassador, I should have consorted with scholars — for like loves like in this world — and been above the level. Bein' under it, as all the masses are, I've mixed with them, and have a wider rim to my wheel. If I don't make so deep a mark on the road, I move easier, and do less mischief. While others stick in the mud, I move on. Poor dear old Minister, Mr. Hopewell, was always at father to send me to College; but father used to say tho' ministers knew the way to heaven, it was the only one they did ; but they knew no more about the cross-roads of this world than children. So what does he do but go to Boston, under pretence of selling a horse, and walk into the oflBce of old iu ,vyer Leonard Pie. ' Lawyer,' sais he, ' I want your advice.' " Well, old Pie, who was a pretty crusty fellow, and a knowin' old coon too, put his big grey eyes on him, and held out his hand, without speakin' a word, as much as to say, if you want me to talk, drop a fee in, if you please. Laicycrs aint like coachmen, they take their tip before they start, toothers icait till the journey is over. But father warnt born yesterday, he'd cut his eye-teeth as well as Pie, It occurs in Boswell's It is given as a quota- * I have looked out the passage referred to «|Life of Johnson" (Vol. iii. p. 271, 3rd edition) tion from Janus Vitalis, and is as follows : " Immota labfscunt Et qua5 porpctuo sunt, agitata manent." Tho only difference between the ambassador's copy and tho extract, ap- pears to bo an omcudatiou of liis own, for he has written it Lubascunt. • STEALING A SPEECH. 35 so what does he do, but take hold of it with his own hand. ^ It ainte law, Squire, I want,* said he. " ' What the plague do you want then ?" said Pie, try in' to get his hand back j but the old gentleman held on like grim death to a dead nigger. " ' I want to know,' sais father, ' the advantage of goin^ to Cam- bridge.' _ ^ ..;... " ' I'll tell you,' sais Pie. ' A college editcation sJiows a man how devilish little other people know.' " ' 'Zactly,' sais father ; * that's just my opinion ; thank you. Sir.' And he give his hand such a squeeze, he forced the ring into the bone of the other finger, and nearly started the blood under his nails. It set the old lawyer a jumpin' and a squcelin', like anything. " ' Confound you,' sais he, ' what do you mean by that ?' " ' Nothin,' i^ais father, ' but a mark of my friendship.' And while lawyer was a-lookin' at his hand, father made his scrape and walked off. " ' Found it out,' said the old man, when he returned. "'What, father?' sais I. " ' College education,' sais he. ' The only good it is, is to show — how devilish little other folks know.' " I believe he was right. President, after all ; for you see our best scholars' Latin is no better than the ' monastic Latin of the middle ages. > » " Slick," said the President, " the advice of a lawyer without a fee, all the world knows, is no good. If the old man had dropped a dubloon in Pic's hand, he would have said : ' The advantage of a college educatimi. is to show you how much more you know than other people.' " " Perhaps so," sais I. " But now you have been to Cambridge, and I haven't, can you tell me the Latin or Greek word for india- rubber shoes ? Why, in course you can't. If you could, and ad- vertised them that way, who the plague would know what you meant ? Better as it is. Sir. It warn't your Greek made you a president, or what little Latin I picked up at night-school, that made me an attache. But I'll proceed, if you please, with the story. Where was I ? Oh ! I have it. It was that part where I said it warnt that Latin was so heavy to carry, but that you have such a slippery hold of it. " 'Now,' sais I, 'your Excellency, that reminds me of a trick I played a feller onct to Truro, in Nova Scotia. There was to be a great temperance meetin', and a lectar, and resolutions moved, and what not. Well, there was a most consaited goney in the same house (tho* that' 3 nothin* very strange neither, seein* Blue-nose is naterally a consaited critter), and as he was to second the first reso- lution; had spent oveniu' arter oveuiu' in writin' of his speech, and m mi. ) I r,i \ ■''77*'5*T, *"'.;'■-■.■■:;, VV" » '^; 36 STEALING A SPEECH. mornin' arter mornin' in gettin' it by heart. Well, the day tho great meetin' was to be, off he starts down to the lower village, with a two-horse waggon, to bring some of the young ladies to he^r his eloquence. Well, as soon us I seed him off, I goes to his desis, takes his speech, locks the door, and walks up and down tho room, a readin' of it ovor and over, like a school-lesson, and in about two or three hours had it all by heart ; and that, that I cou^ in't repeat verbatim, havin' a pretty loose tongue of my own, I could give the sense and meanin' of. But I had it in a manner all pretty slick. Then I puts the speech back in its place, takes a walk out into the fields, to recite it aloud, where none could hear, and I succeeded most beautiful. He returned, as I intended he should, before I went back to the house ; and when I went into the room, he was walkin' up and down, a muttcrin' over his speech; and when he stuck, lookin' at the writin'. " ' Hullo,' sais I, * are you back already ? How's the ladies^ and where are they ?' " 'Hush !' said he. 'Don't talk to me, that's a good feller; it puts me out, and then I have to cipher it over again. The ladies are below.' " * Well,' sais I, ' I'll go down and see them ;' and, to make a long story short, the meetin' was organised, the lecture was read, and the first resolution was moved. I mind that it was a very sensible one, and passed unanimously. I don't exactly recollect the words, but its substance — ' llesolved, That it is the opinion of this meeting, that those who drink nothin' but water, will have no liquor to buy.' I rose to second it; and there was great cheerin', and clappin' of hands, and stampin' of feet ; for I was considerable popular among the folks in them diggins. At last, silence was obtained; and I commenced with Horatio Mulgrave's speech, and delivered it word for word. Well, it warn't a bad speech for the time and place. Considerable flowery — mixed with poetry to please the galls, and solemncolly and tearful t'ov the old folk ; sometimes they cheered, and then they cried. Arter I had got on a piece, IMulgrave sprang up, half distracted with rage and surprise ; and takin' hold of me by the coat, ' Why, confound it, Slick,' sais he, ' that's my speech. I wrote it myself.' " < Pooh !' sais I, ' don't be foolish.' " ' Well, I never,' said he, ' in all my born days ! This beats the What a Yankee trick !' said this quite loud. So I stopped short, and paused, and lookc und. " 'Gentlemen and ladies,' sais I, 'Mr. IMulgrave sais I am speakin' his mind, and not my own ; and that it is his oration, and not mine. It's strange our minds should be so mw.h. alike ; for if it is actilly the case, I must be makiu' a very poor speech, I can tell you. So, with your leave, I'll sit down.' devil K EVEBTTHINO IN GENERAL, ETC. ' go on, go on.' ii«>i;v.7- " ' No, no,* sais they ', ^ _ _ "Well, I went on, and finished; and when I had done, I turned round, and said out loud to him, ' Now, Sir, you say I have spoke your mind ?' " ' So you have,' sais he. ' It's a trick — a cursed Yankee trick !' " I come pretty near increasin' the size of the critter's head for that, but I bit in.. Sais I, ' Ladies and Gentlemen, is that fair to a stranger like me, that could positively chaw him up, only he don't like the taste of the coon ?' " ' No, no,' sais they, * it aint fair.' - -^ ■ " 'Well,' sais I, 'I'll tell you what is fair, and that is turn and turn about. You say I spoke your mind. Sir ; now do you speak mine, when you move the next resolution ; and see if it won't be the best speech you ever made since you was born.' Creation, how folks larfed I 'Now,' sais I, amovin' off, and settin' down, 'take the floor.' "Well, ho got up, and scratched his head — 'Ladies and Gentle- men,' sais he, ' ahem ! that speech is my speech ; I made it ; and this is a trick ;' and down he sot. " Well, I jumped up, and sais I, ' If his mouth has been picked of his speech, a thing I never heard tell on before, it aint been picked of his tongue, for that's safe and sound ; but I'll move the resolution for him, so as to keep things astirrin';' and then I give them one of my ramblin', funny sort of speeches, with capital stories, that illustrated everything but the resolution ; and it was received with immense applause. Mulgrave was only on a visit to Truro, so next day he returned to Halifax ; and to this time, nobody under- stands a word about the story.' " " AVell, I neyer heard that anecdote before," said Uncle Sam, risin'. "Take another glass of wine. I have heard of plagiarisms on all sorts of scales, from purloining a quotation, as the 'great mili- tary critic' did, and borrowing ideas, down to using printed sermons, as many clergymen do ; but this is the first time I ever heard of ' stcaliwj a speech !' t )> CHAPTER III. EVERYTHING IN GENERAL, AND NOTHING IN PARTICULAR. " President," sais I, " I am afraid I am takin' up too much of your valuable time, and really I don't want to bore you." " Bore me ! pray don't say that," said he, " I like to hear you amazingly; it's better than a printed book, for I can ask questions Tt \ 'vC^ . T'T 88 EVERYTHING IN OENEllAL, as you go along, and join in the chat with observations of my own, which can't be done t'other way." Thinks I to myself, that's just tho disagreeable part of it, for interruptions spile all ; but when a feller has just i' '! II ■ '™»TW'* III. ft i'i I 44 EVERYTHINO IN GENERAL, "A very good story," said Horton. " 1 like that, there is so much dry humour in it ; it's a very characteristic story that." "A feller," sais I,, "my Lord, that has wrestled through life as T have, must naturally have got a good many falls, and some pretty heavy ones too, afore he larut the right grips and the proper throws, that's a fact. "'Well,' says Danel, 'ring the bell, please; and,' sais he, ' waiter, more wine. I'll tell you how I know I am going to win that cause. I told you, Sara, there was a ro"d to every man, if you could only find it. Now, the road to a judge is the most diflScult one on earth to discover. It aint a road, nor a bridle-way, nor a path hardly. It's a trail, and scarce!}' that. They are trained to impartiality, to the cold discharge of duty, and when on the bench, leave their hearts to homo, except in a ciminal case. They are all head in Court; they are intre.iched in a sort of thick jungle, so that it is almost impossible to get at them. Still, judges are only men, and there never was but one perfect man in the world. " ' Bid you mind that little judge that sat there to-day, lookin' as sour as if he had breakfasted off crab-apples, sauced with red pepper and vinegar ? Well, he aint a bad lawyer, and he aint a bad man. But he is a most disagreeable judge, and a most cantankerous chap altogether. I have bagged him to-day; but it was very difficult play, I assure you. You can't soft-sawder a judge, he is too experienced a man for that; the least spatter even of it would set him against you; and you can't bully him, fov he is independent of you, and if he submitted to such treatment, he ought to be impeached. Now, old sour-crout has decided two cases on the branch of law that was under consideration to-day, pretty analogous to my case, but not ex- actly. Well, my object is to get him to view them as governin' mine, for he is not always quite uniform in his views, but how to do that without leanin' too strong on his decisions, was my difficulty. So I took a case that he had decided on a collateral branch of the subject, and that I examined, criticised, and condemned pretty se- verely. He defended his ground strongly, at last I gave in ; I only touched it, for it warn't pertinent to take off the appeaiance of throwin' the lavender to him. Then I relied on his two other deci- sions, showed their ability, soundness, and research off to great ad- vantage, without folks knowin' it. The first slap I gave him sounded so loud, while people was sayin' I was ruenin' my cause, and had lost my tact, I was quietly strokin' down the fur on his back, and ticklin' his funny-rib. lling the bell, please. Waiter, the bill.' " Well, heaiin' that, I took out my purse to pay my half the shot. " ' Don't violate yoiiv own rule. Slick,' sais he, ' of passive soft- sawder; when I am wrong don't set me right, don't oppress me by your (I won't say superiority), but your equality. Let mo bo fool AND NOTHING IN PARTICULAR. 45 re is so much. enough to occupy the first seat, and do you take the second, you will win mc for life/ " < Squire Danel/ s^is I, ' I am sold agin ; I believe in my soul you would sell the devil.' " ' Well/ sais ho, ' I would, if I could find a purchaser, that's a fact ; but I'm thinkin Napoleon and Kossuth would be the only two bidders. The first, I am afeard, would confiscate the debt due me, and the other would pay for it only in speeches, take it out only in talk. Now, not having bought the devil yet, I won't speculate on him.' " Well, the bill came in, and he paid it ; and when the waiter made himself scarce, sais he, ' Mr. Slick, now and then I admit a friend (not in public life) to a talk, and the interchange of a glass ; but,' said he, * soft-sawder here or there, I never admit him to the privilege of paying half the bill.' Just as he put his hat on, and was going out of the door, he turned, and sais he, ^ Is that active or passive soft-sawder, Sam ?' • "'Neuter,' sais I. " ' Give me your hand,' sais he. ' That's not bad ; I like it, and I like your talk ; but recollect, there are folks in this country besides yourself that toern't horn yesterday.^ " Well, I was alone : I lit a cigar, and threw myself back in the chair, and put my feet upon the table, and considered. * Sam,' sais I, * you are rold ; and you didn't fetch much either. You were a fool to go to talk wise afore the wisest man we have. You ai_ like minister's rooster : your comb is cut, and your spurs chopped off. When they groT agin, try to 'practise with your equals only. It was a great lesson : it taught me the truth of the old sayin' of mother's,- /Saw, don't teach your grandmother to clap ashes' " * Well,' said his Lordship, * that is a curious story, Mr. Si and an instructive one too. The quiet drollery in American humour delights me beyond measure.' " * There is a part of that lesson, my Lord,' sals I, ' with all due deference, you ought to learn.' Ho kind of shook his head, and looked puzzled what to say. Sais I, ' I know what you mean — that it's popularity huntin', and beneath your station.' "'Not exactly,' said he, smiling; but looking as if a civil answer was sent for, that wouldn't come. " ♦ Well,' sais I, ' my Lord, it's a proof of knowledge and skill. Man is man, and you mu3t study the critter you have to govern. You talk to a child like a child, to a boy like a boy, and to a man like a man. You don't talk to all men alike; you don't talk to Lord John and your footman the same, do you V " ' Certainly not,' sais he. " ' Well, then, you must know the world you have to govern, and talk to folks so that they can onderstand you. The Eouse of Com ^^ ■.'i ..^': ■'#•' '1- •i^-'i"-- 46 EVERYTIIINa IN GENERAL, >\ \M^ ■ F mons aint tho people of England. That was the grand mistake Peel made : he thought it was, and studied it accordingly. "What was the couscciueuce '/ lu my opinion, ho knew juore about the feelings, temper, tone and trim of the representatives, and less of the represented, than any person in the kingdom. That man did more to lower the political character pf the country than any statesman since Walpole's time. lie was a great man, I admit ; but unfor- tunately, a great man's blunders are like accidents in powder-maga- zines — send everything to the devil amost. There is a sliding scale in men's reputations now : he not only invented it, but taught them how to regulate it according to the market. But let byegonesbe byegones. What^can't be cured, must be endured. To return to where I was, I say agin, the House of Commons aint the people of England.' c( ( Yery true,' said his Lordship. " ' Well,' sais I, * since the Reform Bill, that House don't do you much credit. You talk to the educated part of it, the agitators there don't talk to you in reply; they talk to the people outside, and have a great advantage over you. A good Latin quotation will be cheered by Lord John Manners and Sir llobcrt luglis, and even Lord John Bussel himself; but Hume talks about cheap bread, unevarsal suf- frage, vote by ballot, no sodgers, no men-o'-war, no colonies, no taxes, and no noth.a . Well, while you are cheerec! by half-a-dozen scho- lars in the House, he is cheered by millions outside.' " ' There is a great deal of truth iii that observation, Mr. Slick,' said he; 'it never strucJ: me in that light before — I see it i^ow;' and he rose and walked up and down the room. * That accounts for O'Connell'.s success.' ^^" Exactly,' sais I. 'He didn't ask you for justice to Ireland, H^ecting to convince you ; for he knew he had more than justice to Ireland, while England got no justice there; nor did he applaud the Irish for your admiration, but that they might admire him and them- selvp.^. His speeches were made in the House, but not addressed to it ; they were delivered for the edification of his countrymen. Now, though you won't condescend to what I call wisdom, but what you call ' popularity huntin' and soft sawder,' there's your equals in that House that do.' "'Who?' sais he. " ' Dear me,' sais I, ' my lord, it is two o'clock. Uncle Sam is a Salem man, where the curfew bell rings for bed at nine o'clock. I shall be locked out, I must bid you good night.' " ' Oh !" sais he, ' I am very sorry, pray come again on Friday evening, if you can ; wo have lost sight of the sul)jct;t I wanted to consult you about, and instead of that we have talkcl of everything in general and nothing in particular. If you can't come — (^ I am afraid it's onpossible,' sais I, 'my lord')— will you bo so good as to .AND NOTHING IN PARTICULAR 47 ind mistake let mo hear from you occasionally. There arc some transatlantic subjects I should like amazingly to hear your opinion upon : write unreservedly, and write as you talk, your letters shall be strictly confidential.' " ' I shall be very proud of the honour, my lord/ said I. " He seemed absent a moment, and then said, as if thinking aloud, " ' I wish I had some little keepsake to present you with, as a token of my regard ; as long as I have your books I have where- withal to place you before me as a living animated being, and not an abstraction.' And then his face lit up as if he had found what he wanted, and taking the ring you see on my left hand off his little finger, he presentrd it to me in a way somehow that only those thoroughbred folks know how to do. "But President," sais I, "our time is out too; and I must say I am kinder sort of skecrcd I have been talking too much about my- self." "Not ' M . ^aid he, "I actilly think you are fishin' for compli- ments, you apologise so. No, no, I am sorry it is so late. He is a fine fellow that Horton. But, Sam, thej'^ don't onderstand the people, do they?" " They don't," sais I, " that's a fact. Do the people onderstand them ? Not always," sais I. "'Zactly," said he, "when you have born senators, you must have born fools sometimes." " And when you elect," said I, "you sometimes elect a raven dis- tracted goney of a feller too." " Next door to it," said President, larfin', " and if they aint quite fools, they are entire rogues, that's a fact; eh. Slick ! Well, I sup- pose each way has its r •r.ilM, six of one and half a dozen of the other. "But the Prcsider "' i-'v\ he adjusted his collar and cravat, " he ought to be the cbo£ . :i *he people; and Sam (it was the first time he'd called me tLa, I A I see he was warmin') it's a proud, a high and a lofty station too, r.j.^t it? To be the elect of twenty -five millions of free, independent, and enlightened white citizens, that have three millions of black niggers to work and swet for 'em, while they smoke and talk, takes the rag off of European monarchs; don't it?" "Very," sais I, risin' to take kavc. "And President," sais I, for as he seemed dtstarmined to ttanc In the market, I thought I might just as well - xke short meter of it, and sell him at once. "President," sais ., *' \ congratulate the nation op. havin' chosen a man whose first, las^, und sole object is to serve his country, ond yourself on the honour of filling a chulr far above uU the tbrcnea, kingdoms, qncendoms, and empires in the unevarsal world." And )T e shook hands and parted. -A i 48 THE BLACK HAWK; ■V--\-W»;'."(>- 4 CIlAPTEll IV. ^ . THE BLACK HAWK; Oil, LIFE IN A FOilE.AND AFTER. The next morning I called on the President, and received my patent as Commissioner of the Fisheries on the shores of the British Provinces ; with instructions to report on the same, and to afford all such protection to the seamen and vessels of the United States as occasion might require. I was also furnished with letters mandatory to all our own officers, and introdi ■ rvto the governors of the seve- ral colonies. Things had taken an onexpected tu. 'ith me. I didn't look for this appointment, although I had resolved on the trip, as one of re- creation and pleasure. I had not b?jn well, and eonsaited I did not feel very smart. I guess I was moped, living so much alone since I returned to Slickville, and was more in dumps than in danger. So I thought I'd take a short trip to sea, but this change rendered the tour no longer optional, and it became necessary to lose no time, so I took a formal leave of the President, and returned home to make preparations foi the voyage ; but before finally accepting the office, I explained to him I must take my own time and mix pleasure with business, for with the exception of statistical returns, I was well ac- quainted with the fisheries and every harbour on the coast, and al- ready knew much that any one else would have to learn afresh. He said the commission was a roving one ; that I might do as I pleased, and go where and when I liked, so long as the report was made, and was full, accurate, and suggestive. Leaving my property Jn charge of my brother-in-law, I inquired for a trading vessel rather than a fishing one; first, because I should have the opportunity of visiting all the outports successively; and, secondly, in order to avoid the nuisance of having the process of catching, cleanin', curin', and packin' the fish, continually goin' on on board. Where the business is conducted by a mercantile firm on a large scale, an outward bound vessel is sometimes loaded with an assorted cargo of notions, which are exchanged on the coast for fish, or sold at exorbitant profits to the 'longshore folks, when she returns with the proceeds of her own barter and the surplus fish of other vessels belonging to the same parties that arc employed, or rendez- vous at Cape Breton. Just at that time there was a most beautiful rakish little clipper of a fore-and-after, fitting out at the Sound for the mackerel fishery on the coast of Nova Scotia, the prettiest craft I almost ever sot A^V \ ^ #^ OR, LIFE IN A POEE AND AFTER. 49 lyes on. Having been a packet, she had excellent accommoclation, lud was f tied up with two cabins, one small one for the captain, and bother for the mate and the crew, who were all farmers' sons, kmounting to twelve in number, and messed together. They sailed J)! shares, the vessel was entitled to half; the captain had four, the late three, and the second mate two shares, and the rest was divided squally an^.ong the crew. In fact, every one, accoiding to this ar- |:aiigement. worked for himself, and was naturally anxious to make [ill he cou d, and to rival his neighbours, so as to see and to show irho was the smartest man. It is the best plan a fishery ever was carried on under. Human natur was consulted, and gave two prin- ciples for them to work on — self-interest and ambition. Wages kvould have ruined all, for the crew would have put in their time then instead of their fish, and their desire would have been, like )rovincials, to see who could do the least, while they would have [spent half the season in harbours and not on the coast. But this is Ineither here nor there. When I first went on board to examine the vessel, I was greatly [struck with the appearance of the captin. He was a tall, thin, sal- llow-lookin' man, having a very melancholy expression of counte- [nance. He seemed to avoid conversation, or, I should rather say, I to take no interest in it. Although he went through the details of his duty, like a man who understood his business, his mind appeared [pre-occupied with other matters. He was the last person I should have selected as a companion j [but as I didn't want to go a fishia' — for it aint nice work for them th-it don't like it — and the parfume aint very enticin' to any but regular old skippers, I asked him to give me a cast coastwise, as far as the Gut of Canso, where I would go ashore for change of air, and [amuse myself arter my own fashion. " Have you had experience. Sir ?" sais he, and his face lit up with I a sickly smile, like the sun on a tombstone. " No," sais I, " I never was on board a fishin' vessel afore." He eyed me all over attentively for a minute or two, without sayiu' a word, or movin' a muscle. When he had finished his ex- amination, he turned up the whites cf his eyes, and muttered " igno- rant, or impudent, perhaps both.*' "I guess you can go," sais he; "but mind, Sir, we start to- night." Well, this warnt very encouragin', was it? I'd half a mind to give him up, and go to Maine, and sarch for another vessel, for the pleasure of your cruise depends entirely on your companions. It aint like bein' on land ; there the world is big enough for us all, and if you don't like the cut of a fellow's jib, you can sheer ofi", and give him a wide berth ; but in a vessel there is only the cabin and the deck, and the skipjper actilly seems as if he was in both places 5 i-f'^ii. ^. 50 r i THE B L A (Mv HAWK f at once. And what's wuss, he's master and you aint ; he fixes the hours for meals, the time for lights, chooses his own subjects for chat, and so on. You hear a fellow sayiu' sometimes — Fm ouly a passeuger. Kow little the critter knows of what he is talking, when he uses that cant phrase ! Why, cverythin' is sum-totalized in that word. Skipper is employed, and you aint. It's his vocation, and not yourn. It's his cabin, and no one else's. He is to hum, and you aint. He don't want you, but you want him. You aint in his way, if you don't run like a dog atween his legs, and throw him down; but he is in your way, and so is everybody else. He likes salt pork, clear sheer as he calls it, and smacks his lips over it, and enjoys his soup, that has fat and grease enough swimmin' on it to light a wick, if it was stuck in it ; and cracks hard biscuits atween his teeth, till they go oif like pistols; makes a long face when he says a long grace, and swears at the steward in the midst of it; gets shaved like a poodle-dog, leaving one part of the hair on, and takin' the other half off, lookin' all the time half-tiger, half-lurcher, and resarves this fancy job to kill time of a Sunday. Arter which he hums a hymn through his nose, to the tune the " Old Cow died of," while he straps his razor, pulls a hair out of his head, and mows it off, to see if the blade is in trim for next Sabbath. You can't get fun out of him, for it aint there, for you can't get blood out of a stump, you know ; but he has some old sea-saws to poke at you. If you are squeamish, he offers you raw fat bacon, advises you to keep yout eyes on the mast-head, to cure you of dizziness, and so on. If the wind is fair, and you are in good spirits, and say, " We're ge' Mg on well, captain," he looks thunder and lightning and says, "Ii you think so, don't say so. Broadcloth, it aint lucky." And if it blows like great guns, and is ahead, and you say, " It's unfortu- nate, aint it?" he turns short round on you and says, in a riprorious voice, "Do you think I'm a clerk of the weatl/^r. Sir? If you do, you are most particularly, essentially, and confoundedly mistaken, that's all." If you voted for him, perhaps you have interest with him ; if eo, tell him " The storm staysail is split to ribbons, and you'll trouble him for another ;" and then he takes off his norwester^ strikes it agin the binnacle to knock the rain off, and gig-goggles like a great big turkey-cock. If you are writin' in the cabin, he says, "By your IcLve," and without your leave, whops down a great yaller chart on the tlble, all over your papers, unrolls it, and sticks the corners down with forks, gets out his compasses, and works his mouth accordin' to its legs. If he stretches out its prongs, out go the corners of liis mouth pro- portionally ; if he half closes them, he contracts his ugly mug to the Bame size ; and if he shuts them up, ho pusses up his lips, and closes his clam-shell too. They have a sympathy, them twO; and work OR LIFE IN A fORE AND AFTER. 51 together, and they look alike, too, for one is brown with tobacco, and the other with rust. " . .■^• The way he writes up the log then is cautionary. The cabiri amt big enough for the operation, oat go both logs, one to each side of the vessel ; the right arm is brought up scientific like, in a semi- circular sweep, and the pen fixed on the paper solid, like a gate-post; the face and mouth is then all drawed over to the left side to be out of the way, and look knowing, the head throwed a one side, one eye half closed, and the other wide open, to get the right angles of the letters, and see they don't foul their cables, or run athwart each other. It is the most difficult piece of business a skipper has to do on board, and he always thinks when it's done it deserves a glass of rum, and such rum too — phew ! — you can smell it clear away to the forecastle amost. Then comes a, long-drawn breath, that has been pent in all the time. This is going on till the dangerous pen-naviga- tion was over ; and then a piou» sort o' look comes over his face, as much as to say, "Thank fortUji* that job is over for to-day ! It's hard work that." So he takes fe chair, puts one leg of it on the toe of his boot, claps his other foot Jigin its heel, and hauls his boot off; and so with the other, and then turns in and snores like an old buffalo. When a feller like that banks up, it's generally for all day, that's a fact. Oh yes, there's no fun in sailing with a stupid skipper like that; the pair of you look like a sheep and a pig in a pasture, one is clean, and the other is dirty; one eais dainty, and the other is a coarse feeder, swallows anything ; one likes dry places, the other enjoys soft mud and dirty water. They keep out of each other's way, and never make no acquaintance, and yet one is a sociable creature, and likes to keep company with the cow or the horse, or anything that is decent ; while the other skipper like does nothin' but feed, sleep and grunt. Man was made for talk, and can't live alone that way. Skippers though aint all cast in the same mould, some of ^em are chock full of information, and have sailed everywhere a'most, and can spin you a yarn by the hour ; but this fellow was as dumb as a clock that's run down, or if wound up has the main spring broke. However I thought he would serve my turn as far as Shelburne, where I could make an exchange and shift into some other craft; or visit the harbours as I used to do in old times in a waggon instead of a vessel. So I hurried home, packed up my duds, and got on board. The more I saw of the skipper the less I liked him. Whether he was really pious or his nervous system had been shaken by ranters I could not tell. Some folks fa'-icy they are ill, and some that they are religious, and as both put on a colicky face it aint always easy to say which is which. It was evident he was a gloomy enthusiast who would rather die than laugh, and the unfittest messmate in the world •l^4k ■•"-m 't' m ■^^THE BLAOK HAWK: t. for one who would rather die than shed tears. There was one com- fort though, we warnt to be together long, and there were other folka on board besides him. So I made up my mind to go ahead. The sea air refreshed me at once, and I felt like a new man. ' Tho "Black Hawk," for that was the name of the vessel, sailed like a witch. We overhauled and passed everything we saw in our course. She was put on this trade seeing she was a clipper, to run away from the colony cutters, which like the provincials themselves havn't much go ahead in them ; for her owners were in the habit of looking upon the treaty about the fisheries with as much respect as an old newspaper. All the barrels on board intended for fish were filled with notions for trading with the residenters along shore, and all the room not occupied by salt was filled with chums, buckets, hay-rakes, farming forks, factory cotton, sailors' clothes, cooking-stoves, and all sorts of things to sell for cash or barter for fish. It was a new page in the book of life for me, and I thought if the captain was only the right sort of man, I'd have liked it amazinly. The first day or two the men were busy stowing away their things, arranging their bferths, watches and duties, and shaking themselves fairly into their places for a long cruise ; for the vessel was to be supplied by another at Canseau, into which she was to discharge her fish, and resume her old sphere of action, on account of her sailing qualities. A finer crew I never saw — all steady, respectable, active, well-conducted, young men; and everything promised a fair run, and a quiet, if not a pleasant trip to Shelburne. But human natur is human natur, wherever you find it. A crew is a family, and we all know what that is. It may be a happy family, and it ought to be, but it takes a great deal to make it so, and every one mi^ 3t lend a hand towards it. If there is only one screw loose, it is all day with it. A cranky father, a scoldin' mother, a refractory boy, or a sulky gall, and it's nothin^ but a house of correction from one blessed New Year's Day to another. There is no peace where the wicked be. This was the case on board the "Black Hawk." One of the hands, Enoch Eells, a son of one of the owners, soon began to give himself airs of superiority; and by his behaviour, showed plain that he considered himself rather in the light of an officer than a sharesman. He went un- willingly about his work ; and as there was little to do, and many to do it, managed to escape almost altogether. The Captain bore with him several days, silently, (for he was a man of few words), apparently in hopes that his shipmates would soon shame him into better conduct, or force him to it by resorting to those annoyances they know so well how to practise, wlien they have a mind to. On the fifth day, we were within three miles of the entrance to Shel- burn Harbour; and as tho wind began to fail, the Captain was anxious to crowd on more sail ; so he called to the watch to set the OR, LIFE IN A FORE AND AFTER. 58 gaf-topsail ; and said he, " Enoch, I guess you may go up OLd keep it free." " I guess I may," said he ; and continued pacing up and down the deck. "Do you hear what I say, Sir?" " <". \' / •^■^ > " Oh, yes, I hear you." ^ ■:■ - " Then why don't you obey. Sir ?'' . .^' -•.: • ?,t " Because }) ■ ■^.f "Because I what sort of an answer is that. Sir?" •:;'»-« " It's all the answer you'll get, for want of a better. Fm not going to do all the work of the vessel. My father didn't send me here to be your nigger." " I'll teach you better than that, young man," said the Captain. "While I'm here as skipper, all my lawful orders shall be obeyed, or I'll punish the offender, be he who he may. I order you again to go up aloft." "Well, I won't; so there now, and do your prettiest." The Captain paused a moment, grew deadly pale, as if about to faint ; and then it seemed as if all the blood in his body had rushed into his face, whien he jumped up and down on the deck, with out- stretched arms and clenched fists, which he shook at the offender, and cried out, • : • - ':•,.• , r • y ..•;:,•;' ^ci'^:'?»J. "Aloft, aloft, '*^ • " ' "^ ; '-■ •^ Go up aloft, -. . J. ' » 'jM . ^.. You sinner." .. . / / 0-.,, The other came aft, and mockin^ him, said, in a drawlin', whinin' voice, that was very provokin', ' ' T' \ "I won't, that's flat, ' ' '', ^" /' .!*^...' ' So just take that, 1; You sinner." ' ' '' The Captain, whose eyes were flashing fire, and who was actually foamin' at the mouth, retorted, . . ' "May I never see bliss, ,.'•'":.' '■-■•" ^/ - If I put up with this, '. ;^-" You sinner." ^^^..^ It was evident he was so excited as to be quite deranged. " Sad business this, Mr. Slick," observed the mate. " Here, Mr. Bent," said he, addressing the second officer, "I can depend upon you ; assist me to take the captain below, we must place a hand in chargci of him, to see he does no mischief to himrslf or anybody else, and then let's go forward, and see what's to be done." " Mr. Slick," sais he, as he returned with the second mate, " this is a bad business. I'm afeerd our voyage is at an eend. What had I best do ?" '' Go forward," sais I, "and make that villain do his duty. If 6* f?i ^.. NSi'i ii ' 54 THE BLACK HAWKJ £!-\ he obeys, the knowledge of it may cool the captain, and calm him." lie shook his head, incredulously. "Never I" said he, "never! That man is past all huuiuu aid; ho never should have been taken I away from the Asylum. But suppose Eells refuses to obey me also?" "Make him." • ^. " How can I make him ?" . • ,, < " Tie him up, and lick him." < - ^'' "Why his father owns half the ^Hooker.'" "Lick him all the harder for that; he ought to sot a better! example on board of his father's vessel." " Yes, and get myself sued from one court to another, till Fm I ruined. That cat won't jump." " Send him to Shelburn jail, for mutiny." "What ! and be sued for that ?" "Well, well," sais I, in disgust, "I'm only a passenger; but 1 1 wish I was as I used to be, able to do what I pleased, whether it convened with other folks' notions of dignity or not. My position in society won't let me handle him, though my fingers tingle to be at him; but I don't like lettin' myself down arter that fashion, fightin' with a feller like that, in another man's quarrel. It goes | agin the grain, I tell you ; but old times is stronger than new fashions, and I must say that critter deserves a tannin' most richly." " If you've no objection. Sir, I'll handle him," said the second mate. He was a small-sized, but athletic looking man ; not near so strong apparently as Eels, but far more active. His complexion was rather yellow than sallow, in consequence of his recently having had the fever in Jamaica ; but his eye was the most remarkable I ever saw. " Yes," said the mate, " you may whip him as long as you like, if you aint afeard of boin' sued." Well, we went over »o where our hero was walking up and down the deck, looking as big as if he had done something very won- derful. " Eells," said the mate, " come like a good fellow, go up aloft, and do as the capten ordered you ; obeyia' him might restore him, for he is beside himself." " I won't ; so spare yourself further talk." " Then I order you." " Y^'ou order," said he, putting his fist in the officer's face. "A pretty fellow you, to order your owner. Now, I order you aft, to go and attend to your work." " Friend Eels," said the second mate, " your father is a most uncommon particular lucky man." He turned and looked at him h^)g|^for a space, dubersome whether M OR, LI ti IN A PORE AND AFTER. 55 |to condescend to answer or not; but had no more idea what was in Istore for him than a child. At last said he, sulkily : " How so ?" "Why," sais 3cnt, " ho has got a vessel, the captain of which ia Imad, a niato that hasn't the moral courage of a lamb, and a lazy idle vagabond of a son, that's a disgrace to his name, place, and nation. I wish I was first mate here, by the roarin' Bulls of Bason, I'd make I you obey my orders, I know, or I'd spend every rope's-end and every handspike in the ship first; and if that didn't do, I'd string you up by the yard-arm, or my name aint Jem Bent, you good-for-nothin', I worthless rascal." " Mr. Bent," said he, " say those words again if you dare, and I'll I whip you within, an inch of your life." " Oh, yes !" replied the other, " of course you will, and great credit I you'd get by it, a great big ongainly ugly brute like you, thrashin' a man of my size, that's taking his first voyage after the yellow fever. Why, I see you are a coward too ; but if you be, I beant, so I repeat the words, that you are a good-for-nothin', worthless rascal j those were the words, and I'll throw in coward, to make it weigh heavier. I Now, come on, and lick an invalide man, and then go home and get I a commission in the horse marines." He appeared to take all this trouble to make him strike first, so I as to keep within the law. A fight is a fight. Squire, all the world over, where fightin' is the fashion, and not stabbin'. It aint very pretty to look at, and it aint very pretty to describe, and it don't read very pretty. It's the animal passion of man roused to madness. There aint much difference to my mind between a reproarious man and a reproarious bull ; and neither on 'em create much interest. I wouldn't describe this bout, only a genuine Yankee fight is different from other folk's. Though they throw off their coats, they don't lay aside their jokes and jeers, but poke hard as well as hit hard. While Eells was stripping for the combat. Bent bammed him : sais he, " I believe I won't take off my jacket, Enoch, it might save my hide, for I don't want to have that tanned till I'm dead." The men all larfed at that, and it don't take much to make a crowd laugh; but what would it have been among Englishmen? Why it would have been a serious affair; and to show their love of justice, every fellow would have taken a side, and knocked his neighbour down to see fair play. But they have got this to larn, " to hung vp a mail's eyes aint the way to enlighten him." While Bent was secui-ing his belt, sais he, " Enoch, whatever you do, spare my face ; you would ruin me among the ladies, if you hurt that." They fairly cheered again at that remark. " Depend on it," sais one of them, " Bent knows what he's about. See how cool he is ! He's agoin to quilt that fellow, and make pretty patchwork of him, sec if he oint." - .;: ^ 1 M 56 THE BLACK UAWKJ •^^k r>- 1 !• M Mm When Bent saw him squarin' off, he put up his guards awkward like, straight up in front, '' Come on, Jack-the-giant-killer," saia ho, " but spare my dogortypo. I beseech you hnvo mercy on that." With that Kells rushed forward, and let go a powerful blow, which the other had just time to eatch and ward off j but as Eulls threw his whdlo weight to it, he almost went past Bent, when ho tripped his heels as (juick as wink, and down ho went amazin' heavy, and nearly knocked the wind out of him. " Well done. Bent," said the men. " Hurrah for Yellow Jack 1" When he got up ho blowcd a little. " Aro you ready," says Bent, " for I scorn to take an advantage, especially of a coward; if so bo that you're ready, como on." Eells fought more cautiously, and exchanged a few passes with his antagonist, but we soon perceived he had about as much chance with him as a great big crow has with a little king-bird. Presently, Bent gave him a smart short blow right atwixt his eyes, not enough to knock him down, but to blind and bewilder him for a minute, and then when he throw his arms wide, gave him a smart right and lefter, and had time to lay in a second round, beginning with the left hand, that did smashing work. 'It cut him awfully, while ho fell heavily on his head upon a spar, that caused him to faint. "Friends an' countrymen," said Bent to the crew, "if this man thrashes me to death, as he threatened, put a seal on my things and send them home to Cuttyhunk, that's good fellers." Oh ! how the men laughed at that. One of them that spoke up before, said, " I'm as glad as if somebody had given mo fifty dol- lars to see that bully get his deserts." It seemed as if Bent wanted to tantalize him, to take a little more out of him. " Do little dear heart," says he, " is mother's own darliu' ittle boy hurt '( Did that great big giant, Jim Bent, thrash mudder's on dear little beauty ?" Creation ! how the men cheered. Eells sat up and looked round, while the other crowed like a cock, and pretended to flap his wings. " Mate," said Bent, " the owner orders you to bring him a glass of water ; and he says you may put a glass of rum in it, and charge it to our mess." Eells jumped up short and quick at that; sals he, "Fll pay you for this, see if I don't." To coax him on, the other observed, " I shall go down this time. Fm beat out, I am only a sick man. Do give me a drink." While he was speaking, the mutineer rushed on him unawares, and put in a blow that just grazed the back of his head. If he hadn't just then half turned by accident, I do believe it would have taken his head off; as it was, it kind of whirled him the other way in front of Eells, whose face was unguarded, and down he went in an instant. OR, LICE IN A FORE AND AFTER. ft7 .V"- To mako a long story short, every time he raised up, Bent floored him. At last he gave in, hollered, and was carried forward, and a tarpaulin thrown over him. The other warnt hurt a bit, in fact the exercise seemed to do him good ; and I never saw a man pun- ished with so much pleasure in my life. A hrave man is someCimea a desperado. A hullf/ is always a coioard. > ' ' ". ■•v'^^' "Mate," says I, as we returned aft, " how is the captain?" " More composed sir, but still talking in short rhymes." " Will he bo fit to go tho voyage V "No, Sir." " Then he and Eells must bo sent home." ' >: ' - ' " What, tho captain ?" " Yes, to bo sure ; what in natur' is tho good of a mad captain V* " Well, that's true,'' said he; " but would I be sued ?" "Pooh 1" said I, "act and talk like a man.'' ■"':••/ " But Eells is tho owner's son, how can I send him ? I'll be sued to a dead sartainty." "I'll settle that; give me pen and ink: — 'We tho crew of the ' Black Hawk,' request that Mr. Eells bo sent home or discharged, as he may ch '^oso, for mutinous conduct ; otherwise we refuse to pro- ceed on thf age.' Call the men aft here." They all ired and signed it. . : < " Now," sais Ij " that's settled." - •■ nijt:^> "Bnt won't we all be sued ?" said he. •■ ' .': ;.'^ ''To be sure you will all be sued," said I, "and parswe£?to the eends of the airth, by a constable with a summons from a magis- trate, for one cent damage and six cents costs. Dream of that con- stable, his name is Fear, he'll be at your heels till you die. Do you see them fore and afters under M'Nutt's Island ?" .• "Yes." " Well, they are Yankee fishermen, some loaded and some empty, some goin* to Prince Edward's Island, and some returnin' home. Run alongside the outer ones, and then I'll arrange for the passage of these people." " But how," said he, " shall I make the voyage, without a captain and one hand less." " A mad captain and a mutinous sailor," said I, " are only in the way. I'll ship a skipper here, off the island, for you, who is a first rate pilot, and I'll hire a hand also. You must be the responsible captain, he will be the actual one, under the rose. He is a capital fellow, worth ten of the poor old rhymer. I only hope he is at home. I tell you I know every man, woman, and child here." "^ ' "But suppose any accident happened, Mr. Slick," said he, "mightn't I be sued, cast in damages, and ruinated?" " You are aieard of law ?" sais I, " aint you ?" "Well, I bo, that's a fact." ' .; v i^. >«- 1 \ 68 :^'>''- THE BLACK HAWK *.-. >.>f:*, H'l HM 1 !h" 1 "Well, I'll tell you liow to escape it." ^ " '" " ' " Thank you/' said he, " i shall be everlastingly obliged to you. What must I do ?" '* Turn pirate." .. < < "And be hanged," sais he, turning as white as a sheet. "No," sais I, "uo cruiser will ever be sent after i/ou. Turn pirate on this coast, rob and plunder all the gulls, dippers, lapwings, and divers nests on the islands and highlands ; shoot the crtw if they bother you, make them walk the plank, and bag the eggs, and then sail boldly into Halifax under a black flag at the top, and bloody one at the peak, wear a uniform, and a cocker! hat, buckle on a sword,. and call yourself Captain Kidd. I'm done with you, put me on shore, or ^.'^nd me on board of one of our vessels, ard ush for yourselves. I wish I had never seen the 'Black Haw!.,' the captain, Enoch Eells, or yourself. You're a disgrace to our great nation.'"' *'■ Oh, Mr. Slick !" said he, "for goodness gracious sake don't leave me in a strange port, with a crazy captain, a mutinous sailor " " And an everlastin' coward of a mate," sais I. " Oh ! don't desart me," said he, a-wringin' of his hands; "don't, it's a heavy responsibility, I aint used to it, and I might be " " Sued," said I. " That's right, bite in that word sued. Never dare mention it afore me, or I'll put you ashore with them other chaps. I'll stand by you," sais I, "for our great country's sake, if you will do exactly as I tell you. Will you promise ?" "Yes," sais he, "I will, and never talk about being sued. Never," said he. " Well, then, I'll stand by you ; and if you are sued, I'll pay all damage." " Oh ! Mr. Slick," sais he, " you must excuse me. I am a good seaman, and can obey orders. I never commanded, but I can do the work of a mate." " No, you can't," sais I. " Why didn't you take a handspike, and knock that mutinous rascal over?" " A.ud be " said he. "Sued," sais I. "Yes, sued; and suppose you had been, wouldn't all the mariners of the Sound a-stood by you, and called you a trump ? I wish to goodness Bent had a-licked you, instead of Enoch. It would have done i/ou good — it will make hiin despe- rate. Go home and farm; and when a bull roars, jump over a fence, and get vitated and sued for trespassin' on your neighbour's farm. Phew ! I hate a coward." "I aint a coward; I'm foolish, that's all — a little nervous about responsibilities I aint used to ; but whatever you say, I'll do." " I'll take you at your word," sais I. " Range up alongside of that outer craft, and send me aboard." OR, LIFE IN A PORE AND AFTER. b» Well, I hailed the vessel, and found she was the ' Bald Eagle,' Captain Love, of Nantuckev "Captain Love!" sais I to myself: "just such a fellow, I suppose, as this mate ; a sort of milksop, that goes to sea in fine weather ; and when he is to home, is a sort of amphibious beau at all the husken, quilten, and thanksgivin* parties. It's half-past twelve o'clock with our fishermeu, when a skipper's name is Love." Sweet love ! — home, sweet home I I consaited I did not feel quite so well as when I left Slickville. " Captain on board ?" sais I. r. /;, ' "I guess he is," said one of the hands. , X'^- "Then let down the ladder," sais I; "please." , • - ' '• "Won't a rope do as well?" sais he. "It would do on a pinch," sais I. "I do suppose I could come up hand over hand by it, and lick you with the eend of it, too, if I liked; but being a landsman, I don't calculate to climb, when there are a pair of stairs ; and, to my mind, it wouldn't lower our great nation, if its citizens were a little grain more civil. If you don't let it down, as Colonel Crockett said, * You may go to the devil, and I'U ' go to Texas.' " "Well," sais he, " a pleasant voyage to you. They tell me it's a fine country, that." "Push off, my men," sais I; and while they were backing water, " Give my compliments to the Captain," I said; "and tell him Mr. Slick called to see him, and pay his respects to him ; but was drove off with impudence and insult," Just then, a man rushed down from the quarter-deck, and called out, " What in the world is all this ? Who did that person say he was?" " Mr, Slick,' said the spokesman. "And how dare you. Sir, talk to a gentleman in that way? This way, Mr. Slick," for it was getting dark ; " this way, please. Very glad to see you. Sir. Down with the ship's ladder there, and fasten the man-ropes J and here, one of you go down the first two steps, and hold the ropes steady, and back up before him. Welcome, Sir," sais he, " on board the ' Bald Eagle.' The Captain is below, and Aviil be delighted to see you : I'm his first matt. But you must stay here to-night, Sir." Then, taking me a little on one side, he said ? " I presume you don't know our skipper ? Excuse me for hinting you will havp; to humour him a little at first, for he is a regular character — rough as a Polar bear; but his heart is in the right place Did you never hear of * Old Blowhard ?' " > , ' i,?;. 7 ^' U' -1 ■, if 60 THE BLACK HAWK r^ vrtt^-i, "^.>i{.;^: ^■,/;„ •if . ■ CHAPTER V. OLD BLOWHARD. " This way, Mr. Slick, please," said the mate. " Before wo go below, I want to prepare you for scein' our captain. It is not easy to find his counterpart. He is singularly eccentric, and standi out in bold relief from the lest of his race. He may be said to be sui " Hullo I" sais I to myself, " where the plague did you pick up that expression ? It strikes me his mate is sui generis, too.'^ 1- *' The only thing that I know to compare him to," he continued, " is a large cocoa-nut. First, he is covered with a rough husk that a hatchet would hardly cut thro', and then inside of that is a hard shell, that would require a saw amost to penetrate ; but arter that the core is soft and sweet, and it's filled with the very milk of human kindness. You must understand this, and make allowances for it, or you won't get on well together at all ; and when you do come to know him, you will like him. He has been to me more than a friend. If he had been my own father, he couldn't have been kinder to me. The name he goes by among the fishermen, is * Old Blow- hard;' he is a stern but just man, and is the Commodore of the fleet, and applied to in all cases of difficulty. Now follow me, but when you descend half way, remain there till I announce you, that you may hear his strange way of talking." " Captin," said he, as he opened the door of the little after-cabin, 'Hhere is a stranger here wishes to see you." " What the devil have I got to do with a stranger ?" he replied, in a voice as loud as if he was speakin' in a gale of wind. " He don't want to see me at all, and if he has got anythin' to say, just bear what it is, Matey, and then send him about his business. No, he don't want me ; but I'll tell you what the lazy spongin' vaga- bond wants, he is fishin' for a supper to eat; for these great hungry, gaunt, gander-bellied, blue-noses take as much bait as a shark. Tell the cook to boil him a five-pound piece of pork and a peck of pota- toes, and then to stand over him with the rollin'-pin, and make him eat up every mite and morsel of it clean, for we aint used to other folks' leavin's here. Some fun in that. Matey, aint there ?" And he larfed heartily at his own joke. *' Matey," said he, "I have almost finished my invention for this patent jigger j start that critter forrard, and then come and look at it, Sonney." The mate then returned to mc; and extendin' to me his hand, OLD BLOWHARD ex with which he gave me a friendly squeeze, wo descended to the door. Captain Love wa.? sittin' at a table with a lamp before him, and was wholly absorbed in conteinplatiu* of an instrument he was at work at, ti:at resembled n gas-burner with four long arms, each of which was covered on the outside with fish-hooks. From the manner in which h>3 worked it by a cord up and down, it appeared to be so contrived as to be let easily into the water, like a single bolt of iron, so as not to disturb the mackerel, and then by pullin' the line to stretch out the arms, and in that manner be drawn up through the shoal of fish. It was this he had just called his " patent jigger." He was a tall, wiry, sunburnt, weather-beaten man. His hair was long and straight, and as black as an Indian's, and fell wildly over his back and shoulders. In short, he might easily have been niistaken for a savage. His face exhibited a singular compound of violent passion and good-nature. He was rigged in an old green pea-jacket, made of a sort of serge, (that is now so commonly worn as to be almost a fisherman's uniform), a pair of yellow waterproof cotton duck-trowsers, surmounted by a pair of boots, made of leather such as patent-trunks are composed of, being apparently an inch thick, and of great weight as well as size. Beside him there lay ont he table an old black, low-crowned, broad-brimmed, shapeless nor'wester hat. He wore spectacles, and was examiniu' yery closely the mech- anism of the extended prongs of the "jigger.'^ He was mumbliu' to himself, a sort of thinkin' aloud. " The jints work nicely," said he ; "but I can't make them catch and hold on to the shoulder. I can't work that pesky snap." ' • • "I'll show you how to fix it," sais I. He turned his head round to where the voice came from, and looked at me nearly speechless with surprise and rage ; at last, he jumped up, and almost putting his fist in my face, roared out : " Who the devil are you ? Where do you come from ? And what do you want, that you dare poke your ugly nose in here un- asked arter this fashion ?" And before I could answer he went on : " Why don't you speak, you holler-cheeked, lanturn-jawed villain ? You have slack enough to home, I know, for you and your countrymen do nothin but jaw and smoke all winter. What do you want ?" said he. " Out with it, and be quick, or I'll make you mount that ladder a plaguey sight faster than you come down it, I know !" "Well," sais I, "as far as I know, sittin' is about as cheap as standin' 'specially when you don't pay for it, so by your leave I'll take a seat." " Do you hear that, Matey ?" said he ; " don't +hat take the rag off the bush ? Haint these Bluenoses got good broughtens up, eh : Confound his impudence I" and he rung the bell "Come here, you curly-headed, onsarcumsiaed little imp of midnight !" said he, ad- dressin' a black boy. " Bring that little piece of rope-yarn here V G It frnmrn 62 OLD BLOWHAUDh yv'i': K The boy trembled ; he saw his master was furious, and he didn't know whether the storm was to burst on his head or mine. He re- turned in a minute with one of the most formidable instruments of punishment I ever beheld ; and, keeping the table between himself and his master, pushed it towards him, and disappeared in an instant, it was made of rope, and had a handle worked in one eend of it, like the ring of a door-key. This appeared to be designed for the insertion of the wrist ; below this the rope was single for about four or five inches, or the depth of a hand, which had the effect of ren- dering it both pliable and manageable, from which point it had an- other piece woulded on to it. ; " Now, Sir," said he, "out with it; what do you want?" • >■ •' f " Nothin'," said I, quite cool. " Oh no, of course not ; you couldn't eat a bit of supper, could you, if you got it for nothin' ? for you look as lank, holler, and slinkey, as a salmon, jist from the lakes after spawnin' time, a goin* to take a cruise in salt water." " Well," sais I, " since you are so pressin', I don't care if I do." " Will a five pound piece of pork and a peck of potatoes do you ?" said he, a rubbin' of his hands as if the idea pleased him. '• No it won't," sais I, " do at all." " Didn't I tell you so. Matey," said he; "these long-legged, long- necked, hungry cranes, along the coast here are jist like the Ind- gians ; they can take enough at one meal to last 'em for a week. He turns up his nose at a piece of pork, and wants to go the whole hog, hay ? How much will do," said he, "just to stay your appe- tite till next time ?" " A biscuit and a glass of water," sais I. " A biscuit and a glass of water," said he, lookin' at me with utter amazement ; " how modest we are, aint we ? Butter wouldn't melt in our mouth, if we had got any to put there, would it ? A glass of water ! Oh ! to be sure, you're so cussed proud, lazy, and poor, you can't buy rum, so you jine temperance society, inake a merit of necessity, and gulp down the fish spawn, till you have spoilt the fisheries. Come to lectur' on it, I suppose, and then pass the hat round and take up a collection. Is there anything else you want ?" " Yes," said I, " there is ; but I might as well go to a goat's house to look for wool, as to search for it here; and that's civil usage." " Oh, that's the ticket, is it ?" said he. " You first of all force yourself into my cabin, won't take no for an answer, and then com- plain of oncivility. Well, mister, if I received you cold, you'll find this place too hot to hold you long, I know. I'll warm your jacket for you before I start you out, that's a fact j" and seizin' hold of the little bit of ropeyarn — ^as he called the punisher — he fitted it on the ^, OtD BLOWHARD, 63 lunst of his right hand, and stood up in front of me, with the look of a tiger. "No more time for parley now," said he. "Who the devil arc you, and what brought you here ? Out with it, or out of 'this like wink." " I am Sam Slick," sais I. i *.'' '''l*\i'^ ■; " Sam Slick ! Sam Slick !" said he, a pronouncin' of the words [slowly arter me. •, - > " /es," sais I ; "at least, what's left of me." " Matey, Matey," said he, " only think of this ! How near I was a quiltin' of him too ! Sam Slick ! Well, who in the world would have expected to see you a visitin' a mackerel schooner away down in these regions arter dark this way ? Well, I am right glad to see you. Give me your fin, old boy. We got something better than fish spawn on board here," he said, with a laugh, between a grunt and a chuckle, that sounded like a gurglin' in the throat. " Wo must drink to our better acquaintance ;" and he produced a bottle of old Jamaiky rum, and called for tumblers, and some sugar and water. " You must excuse our plain fare here, Mr. Slick," said he : " we are a rough people, work hard, fare coarsely, and sleep soundly. Tell you what though, Matey, and, by Jove ! I had een amost for- got all about 'cm," and he snapped his fingers in great glee ; " we have got a lot of special fine oysters on board, raked up only three days ago on Prince Edward Island flats. Pass the word for old Satan." When {he black cook, who answered to this agreeable name, made his appearance at the door, the Captin said, " Satan, do you see that gentleman ?" * "Yes, Massa." " Well, he is goin' to sup with us this evenin'. Now, off with you like iled lightnin', and pass on the oysters as quick as wink, both hot and cold." " Yes, Massa," said the black, with a grin that showed a row of beautiful white teeth, that a London dandy or a Cuba shark might envy ; and then I heerd him say, in a low voice, " Ky ! what de meanin' ob all dis ? When de sun shines so bright, in a gineral way, it's a wedder breeder. We is to ab a storm soon, as sure as de world." " Come, no grumblin' there," said the Captin. " Do as I order you, orril— " " I warn't a grumblin', Massa," said he j "I despise such ouda- gious conduct ; I was only sayin' how lubly de oleriferous smell of dat are rum was. It's too beautiful to drink ; it ought to be kept for smellin', dat are a nateral fact." * ■ " There, take a glass, and be off with you," said the mate. " Come, bear a hand now." " Taukce, IMassa. Oh, golly ! dat are sublime bebbcridge I" and he retired with '^.octed haste. V 1^ TTTl i ** r ' 1 \ •1 mi :ilill' I lili I ; t ll. ill Mill PA V 64 OLD BLOWnABPD. / • k " Bear me ! Sam Slick I" said Blowhard, " ch ! well, if that don't beat all ! And yet somehow you hadn't ought to have taken such a rise as that out of an old man like me ; and it aint safe either to tantalize and play with an old hear that hante got his claws cut. I might a walked into you afore you knowed it ; and if I had once a begun at you, I shouldn't a heard a word you said, till I had dressed you off rail complete. I dare say, you will make a capital story out of it, about Old Bloiohard; but I think I may sa-", I'm the best- natur'd man in the world, when I aint riled ; but when I am put up, I suppose I have temper as well as other folks. Come, here are tho oysters," Arter a while, Blowhard paused from eatin', and said he, " Mr. Slick, there is one question I want to ask you ; I always thought, if I should fall in with you, I would enquire, jist for curiosity. I have read all your stories ; and where in the world you picked them all up, I don't know; but that one about 'Polly Coffin's sand-hole,' (bein' an old pilot myself on this everlastin' American coast), tickled my ftincy, till I amost cried a larfin. Now, hadn't you old 'Uncle Kelly' in your eye at that time ? Warn't it meant for him?" " Well, it was," sais I ; " that's a nateral fact." " Didn't I always tell you so. Matey ?" said he. " I knowed it. It stood to reason. Old Uncle Kelly and Old Blowhard are the only skippers of our nation that could tell where they were, arter that fashion, without a gettin' out of bed, jist lookin' at the lead that way. It's a great gift. Some men excel in one line, and some in another. Novif, here is Matey — I don't think he is equal to me as a pilot ; he aint old enough for that. Nothin' but experience, usin' the lead freely, soundin' a harbour, when you are kept in it by a head- wind or a calm, dottin' down on the map the shoals, and keepin' them well in mind, will make you way wise. He can't do that like me, and I don't know as he has a genius that way ; nor is he equal to me as a fisherman. The fact is, I won't turn my back on any man — Southerner, Yankee, or Provincial — from the Cape of Varginy to Labradore, as a fisherman ; and though I say it who shouldn't say it, there aint a critter among them all, (and it is generally allowed on all sides as a fact), that can catch, clean, split and salt as many mackerel or cod in a day as I can. That too is a sort of nateral gift; but it tjikes a life amost to ripen it, and bring it to perfection. But as a seaman, I'll back Matey agin any officer in our navy, or any captin of a marchantman that hists the goose and gridiron as a flag. It would do you good to see him handle a vessel in a gale, blowin' half hurricane, half tornado, on a lec-shore." " Well, never mind that now," said the mate, for he appeared un- comfortable at listenin' to the soft sawder ; " it's nothin' but your kindness to think so — nothin' else." The captain proceeded : ftrr OLD BLOWHARD. 65 to me as a f} " Where was you last Sunday ?" "A comin' down the Sound," sais I. i . -r' •' "With a clear sky, and a smart southerly breeze?" " Exactly," sais I ; " and it fell short of the harbour here. " Just so, I knowed it ; there aint two gales ever at the same time so close in opposite directions ; one kinder takes the wind out of the other's sails. Well. Sunday last wo was a comin' round Scattery Island, cast side of Cape Briton, when we were cotched. Creation, how it blew ! 'Capting !' sais Matey, and we shook hands, 'capting,' sais he, Tm most afeard we can't come it; one half hour at most, and we shall be all right, or in dead man's land ; but there is no time for talk now. God bless you ! and I thank you with all my heart for all your kindness to me.' The critter was thinkin' of his mother, I suppose, when he talked that nonsense about kindness. " ' Now take charge, and station me where you like.' " ' No,' sais I, 'your voice is clearer than mine; your head is cool, and you talk less, so stay where you be.' " ' I'll con her then,' sais he, ' and you must steer. Another hand now to the helm with the capting. That's right,' sais he ; ' stick her well up ; gain all you can, and keep what you get. That's it. Will the masts hold ? ' ' ' " - '••• " ' I guess they will,' sais I. " ' Then we must trust to 'em ; if they go we go with 'em. Keep her nearer yet. Well done, old Eagle,' said he ; ' you aint afeard of it, I see. She is goin' to do it if she holds together, capting. Tight squeeze tho', there aint an inch to spare ; aint she a doll ? don't she behave well ? Nearer yet or we are gone — steady.' " Oh ! what a bump she gave ! it jist made all stagger agin. " ' There goes twenty feet of her false keel,' sais I, a jumpin' up, and a snappin' of ray fingers ; ' that's all Scattery wrackers will make out of the ' Bald Eagle' this trip, and they want that to keep them warm next winter. We have cleared the outer ledge ; we are all safe now; another hand to the wheel here in my place. And, Matey,' sais I, ^ let's shorten sail — alter our course — and get under the lee on the other side.' " It was an awful storm that, I tell you ; and it would have been a cryin' sin to lose such a seaman as that in a common fore and after. No, this is our last trip — the South Sea for me — the mackerel is only fit for boys to catch — the whale is the sport for a man, aint it, Matey ? I am goin' to buy a whaler when I return home ; he shall be my capting, and command the ship. I'll take charge of tho boats, and the harpoon will suit me better than a patent jigger. '* Yes," said he, " all the damage we suffered was the loss of about twenty feet of false keel. We ought to be thankful to Providence for that marciful escape;, and I hope we are. And so ought you to he also, Mr. Slick, for you come plaguey near having yourn stripped I ' id -' * J, Tjt.. 66 OLD BLOWHARD. off too just now, I tell you. But stay on board to-night. Satan, make a bed up for Mr. Slick." "There's just one plate more, Massa Sam," said Satan, whose countenance suddenly lit up on hearing my name. " Do try and eat; I is sure you isn't well, Massa Sam." " Massa Sam !" said the captain in a voice that might be heard on the island, " who the devil do you call Massa Sam ? Matey, that is your fault; it don't do to talk too free to niggers ; it makes them sarcy. Clear away these things, and clap a stopper on your tongue." " Yes, Massa," said the negro, who edged round, and got the table between himself and his master, and then muttered : " I taught dere would be a storm soon; I said intestinally to myself, dis was a wedder breeder." Thinkin' himself safe, he said again : " Massa Sam, how did you leave Miss Sally ? Many a time dis here nigga hab carried her to school in his arms when she was a little pickauinie. Oh ! she was de most lubly little lady dat de sun eber behold, often as he had travelled round de circumference ob do world." " Why who the plague are you?" sais I, " Satan, Satan ? I never heard that name afore. Who are you?" " Juno's son, Sir ! You mind, massa, she was always fond of fine names, and called me Oll^andeT." " Why, Oleander," says I, " my boy, is that you ?" and I held out my hand to him, and shook it heartily. I heard Old Blowhard inwardly groan at this violation of all decency ; but he said nothin' till the man withdrew. '^ ; " Mr. Slick," sais he, " I am astonished at you shakin' hands with that critter, that is as black as the devil's hind foot. If he was a slave you might make free with him, but you can't with these northern free niggers; it turns their head, and makes them as forred, and as sarcy as old Scratch himself. They are an idle, lazy, good- for-nothin' race, and I wish in my soul they were all shipped off out of the country to England, to ladies of quality and high degree there, that make such an everlastin' touss about them, that they might see and know the critters they talk such nonsense about. The devil was painted black long before the slave trade was ever thought of. All the abolition women in New, and all the sympathisin' ladies in Old England put together, can't make an Ethiopean change his skin, A nigger is — a nigger, that's a fact." "Capting," sais I, "ranic folly is a loeed that is often found in the tall rank grass of fashion ; but it's too late to-night to talk about emancipation, slavery, and all that. It would take a smart man to go over that ground from daylight to dark, I know." "And now, Mr. Slick," said he, ''you must excuse me; I'm agoin' to turn-in. Here are pipes and cigars, and old Jamaiky, and if you like to sit up, there is a lad (pointing to the mate) that will just suit. You have seen a great deal, and ho has read a great deal, \ % ft t THE WIDOW'S SON. 67 and you aro jist the boys to hitch your hosses together, I know. iHere is to your good health, Mr. Slick, and our better acquaintance," said he, as he replenished and emptied the glass; "and now amuso yourselves. Good night." * ' ■'- y- ' ^'^y ■ . . CHAPTER VI. THE WIDOW'S SON. ;an ? I never i fond of fine As soon as the Capting went into his little state-room, the mate and I lighted our cigars, drew up together near the table, so as not to disturb him, and then had a regular dish of chat to digest the eysters. "I owe everything, Mr. Slick," said he, "to Blowhard. If it hadn't been for him, I don't know what on earth would Lave become of my poor mother, and her little helpless family." "Well," sais I, "friend, you have the advantage of me." ' ^■' ■ "How so T' said he. •. .i." " Why," sais I, " you have got my name, and you know who I ' be, now I have been waitin' to hear yourn drop from the Capting, so as to pick it up, and get on without asking questions, for I don't like them when they can be avoided ; pray what might it be ?" "Timothy Cutler," said he. " Our folks was originally Puritans of the old school. Well, I dare say you have heard of Timothy- Cutler, President of Yale College ?" " The man they turned out," sais I, " because he became an Epis- • copalian ?" "The same," said he. "Well, he was my great-grandfather. Artcr he quit the college, he sarved an English Church society as a missionary, and so did his son after him, till the close of the revolu- tion : and my father was a church clergyman, too, to a place called Barnstable. There has always been a Timothy Cutler in the family. Well, father was a zealous, pious man, and mother was an excellent manager; and although they were poor — for his flock was small, , most o' the inhabitants being Congregationalists there — still they made out to make two ends meet, and to keep us all neat and tidy. Still it required all possible economy to do it. Father took great pains with me, every leisure hour he had, for he couldn't afford to send us to school, and was preparing me for college ; and, for a boy of • fourteen, I was perhaps as good a scholar as there was in Connecticut. It was arranged, I was to open a school next year, under his care ti 68 THE WIDOW'S SON. and sanction, to aim money for tho college course. Poor, dear mo- ther had it all planned out; she had a beautiful vision of her own in her mind, and believed in it as strong as her Bible. I was to go thro* Cambridge with honours, become a great lawyer, go tb Con- gress, be Secretary of State, and end by being elected President of tho nation ; that was a fixed fact with her. " Women, Mr. Slick, especially all those whose mothers live to see them thro' their childhood, are religiously inclined. They have great faith, as they ought to have, in the goodness and bounty of God, and, not knowing much of life, have perhaps more reliance J;han is just altogether safe on the world, and what it is able or willing to do for them. But this entire hopefulness, however, this strong conviction that all will be right in the end, this disposition to look on the sunny side of life, supports them in all their trials, carries them thro' all their troubles, and imparts strength equal to the weight of the burden. If it wasn't for this, many would faint in the struggle, and, way-worn and weary, sink under tho despondin* influence of the sad heart-rending realities of life. It was this made mother happy in^in and again. It made me colour up all over, for I didn't know whav I had said out of the way. " 'Well, said he, a-pattin me on the shoulder kindly, "we calls clothes and other fixins 'traps' here, and sometimes 'duds,' for shortness. I don't kn,)w,' said he, half to himself, 'whether it aint better jist so. Cutcness comes fast enough, and when cuteness comes, then comes cunning, and cunning brings deceit, and that leads to suspicion and selfishness, and hardens the heart, and when the heart is hardened, we are only fit to be cut up for bait. Mink and otter's traps ! Well, that's good. Now, son Timothy,' said he, 'come below, and I'll show you the old bear's den, and then the young cub's den.' " ' I should like to see a bear,' said I, ' for I never saw one in my life; father used to say there hadn't been one near Barnstable, within the memory of man. Are they very savage ?' " ' The old one is,' he replied, laughing, 'as savage as the devil; he is growlin' and snarlin', and showin' his teeth, all the time ; the young one's claws haint growed yet. This way, my lad, follow mc,' and he led me down to this very cabin. ' Here's where we grub,' said he. " ' Grub what. Sir ?' said I, a-lookin' round puzzled, for I saw no weeds, and no tools. " ' Hard biscuit, hard junk, and hard salt-pork, that's grub, ray boy; and the great secret of life is to learn to earn one's grub. Now here is where the old bear sleeps,' opening the door of that little st(ite-room, 'and that's mc; and there's where the young cub sleeps,' pointing to another, ' and that's you. Now go in there and stow away your traps, while I give some orders on business.' V' THE widow's son. 71 jait. Mink " lie then rang the bell, and ' Old Satan,* as ho called him, camo. « ' Come hero,' said he, trying to moderate his voice, but only making it inorc dear, and more audible, so that 1 could i ot help hearing what ho had to aay. * Did you see that boy ?' said he. <■ Well, do you understand that's inj/ son ? There's no occasion to tell him or any one else that. He is under your charge; look rj/ter him, and see he don't get into scrapes, and that no one imposes on him. If anything goes wrong, report it to me. Send the mate. Mr. Pike, when shall we be ready for sea V "' First wind. Sir, after twelve to-morrow.* '' "v'"i " ' That's right, carry on with all your force, for we are a-going to have a line run of it, by all appearance." , "< I rather guess sr, I'oo,' said he. "^ ' ' " After a little while he called mo. ' Timothy/ said he, * como here.' • *' vr "'Yes, Sir.' " * Get your hat. and go ashore with me to ' Old Praise-the-Lord.' " He set my teeth a-jar by that expression ; it was irreverent. I had never heard such language, and such is the advantage and force of early training, that to this day those expressions, though my ear is hardened, and my di'icacy blunted much, are, thank God, still offensive to me. Hi ^-^ 'c me to a shop filled with fish, cheese, honey, candles, soap, tobacco, slop-clothing, liquors of all kinds, and everything that is requisite to fit out sailors or vessels. It smelt very offensively, and looked dirty; the air was so foul that it was manifest all the ventilation the apartment had ever received, was by the door, when open. "As we entered, a small, thin man emerged from behind enor- mous coils of tarred rope, piled one on top of the other. It was Elder Jedcdiah Figg- He was dressed in a rusty suit of black, and wore a dirty white neckcloth, tied behind, while his oily hair was brushed down straight on his head and neck ; he had a very sly, but prim, sanctimonious appearance. " ' Well, brother Jed,' said the skipper, ' how are you, and how's times with you V " ' Not well, not well, capting, I am troubled with the rheumatiz dreadful, lately, and the times is poor, very poor — praise the Lord.* " ' Well, you have reason to praise him, you old yaller sadducee,' said he ; ' for whoi grasshoppers are so plenty as to mahe the pas- tures jjoor, (/ohblcrs f/row fat. Hard times is what you thrive in; when the ponds dry ^ip, the pohes get the pollyioogs. Here, fit out this boy with a complete suit of oiled cotton water-proof, a pair of thick boots, and a nor'-wester: besides these, he'll want a pea-jacket, four flannel shirts, and four check ones. Put these into a sraaJl Bca-chest, and stow away in it, a mate's blank-book, a slate, and some paper and quills. Send it aboard to-night by six o'clock.' , •> ■■•k m 73 THE widow's son. •■V \ ,4m m ,;!.;,,(. „|j m ; . " ' Who is a-goin' to pay for 'cm ?' ; :^,>. <' , > •# '■■•v^J^ ' 1 am/ said the captain. " ,• .«,' ' '* / ;,« (j>raise the Lord/ said Jedediah. , , " * Don't forge ahead that way, old boy, or you may get a-ground .,, afore you know where you be. I'll advance the money for his mo- ther, and she is as poor as a hen partridge that's a hatchia' eggs.* " * Praise the Lord/ said Jedediah. ' " ^ Now let me see the bill is all done at lowest possible cash price, or I'll keep the goods, and let you fish for the pay.' " ' I'll put them below first cost/ said he, ' I'll lose by them all I can afford. Praise the Lord.' "'What an everlastin' lie/ said the skipper, 'what a hypocrite - you bo, Jed,' returning to the counter ; ' if ever you dare to talk to me that way agin, I'll flay you alive. I shouldn't mind your rippin' out an oath or two now and then, for thunder will hurst, and it el ;ars the air — tho' swearin'' is as well let alone, when j ou can help it — but cantin', whynin', textin', and psalmin', when a man means trickery — oh ! it's the devil !' "I didn't sleep much that night; I was home-sick and heart-sick. Two things troubled me greatly, upon which I wanted explanation. The first was, he claimed to bo my father. Why was the secret kept from me ? Secondly, he bought all this outfit at my mother's ex- pense, and spoke very disrepectfully of her, say in' she was as poor as an old hen partridge. What mystery is this ? I resolved when I saw the warden to open my heart to him. So as soon as I got up I asked leave to go and see him. "Yes,' said he, 'go and welcome, but bo back by ten o'clock, for we shall sail at one, and you must learn how a vessel is got under way. Have you got any money in your pocket V "'No, Sir.' " ' Do you want any ?' " 'No, Sir; I never had any, and have no use for it.' " ' That's right, be prudent, and never be under an obligation to anybody; and above all things, always speak the truth, your word must be your bond through life. Well,' sais he, ' we always advance to the hands for outfit, if they want it. Here are two dollars, on account of your share of the airnings, and if you don't want nothin', buy some little things that your mother likes, and let Old Hundredth take them to her. Always remember her after every cruise ; you must support that family at present. Now, make tracks.' " Well, his words sunk deep into my heart, especially what he said about truth. ' Then this man is my father,' said I ; and I went sor- rowing on my way. ^ " The warden was alone at breakfast when I entered. " ' Mr. Chase,* said I, ' who is Captain Love, is he any relation of mine V 1: \fM\ i."^' THE widow's son. 73 " Not that I know/ said he, * I never heard of it. But why do I vou ask ?' « Well, I repeated to him all the conversation I had heard between I him and the cook, and told him how distressed 1 was at it. '' Oh/ said he, ' that was an expression of kindness, that's all ; I you know it is figurative language.' " I then told him the story of the outfit, and the way he spoke of I my mother. " < He has no discretion in his talk sometimes,' said the warden, ^but he was joking only. Figg understood that, it's a present to I you, only he didn't want to be bothered with thanks. Behave well, Timothy. That man is able and willing to serve you, he has taken a fimcy to you. I think your father rendered him, many years ago, an important service, without inconveniencing himself. He rejerred to somcthin' of the kind in his letter to me, when I applied to him [to take you, but I don't know what it was.' '-' '^ ' Well, here's the two dollars. Sir,' said I, * will you give them j to ray mother, with my love V " * No,' said he, ' anybody can send money ; but you must not [only do that, but take trouble besides: it's very grateful, such little attentions. ]5uy something for her — tea, coffee, and sugar, how Iwould that do?' . ,-, "There aint a spoonful in the house.^ " ' Then we'll get them ; give me the money, and I'll go to an old I parishioner of your father's that will be glad to make the two dol- lars do four dollars' work. Now good-bye, my boy, take care of your |coiiduct, and depend upon it Providence will take care of you.' " The second day after we sailed. As we sat to dinner, ' Tim,' |sais he, ' do you know what a log is, and how many kinds there be.' " ' Two, Sir,' sais I ; ' there's the back log and the back stick.' " ' Creation,' said he, * I wonder if ever I was as soft as that, I Idoii't believe it as far as I can remember; sartainly not since I was kuee high, at any rate. A log is a ship's journal, my son, the mate keeps it, and you must copy it, there is a book in your chest for the purpose, it will show you that part of his duty. Now, do you know I what throwing a log is ?' " ' I suppose it means when you have no further use of it, throw- ling it overboard.' " ' Well, you were not so far out that time. It is a small piece of ht-o«(^* attached to a line, which is thrown overboard, when the vessel is going, and this line has knots, each of which denotes a mile, and that is tbrowin' the log, and settin' down these distances is called Ikcepin' the log. Now,' said he, < make yourself master of the names • ». i (' ,'- * First called a loff in Ireland. WP ■1 74 THE widow's son. of the ropes, and spars, and riggin', and all sea tarms; but never ask a man that's busy, and never talk to the man at the helm.' "I mention these little things, not that there is any intrinsic interest in them, but to show you how minute his kindness has been. We were five weeks gone. On my return he sent me to see my mother, and sent her a cheque for fifty dollars, for what he called my share. " * Fetch your books when you come back,' sais he, ' with you, all kinds, Latin and Greek that you did lam, and travels and voyages that you hante lamed, and improve your mind. You cant larn too much, if you don't larn tricks.' " In this way I have gone on ever since, always receiving far more than my share for my services j and now I am to be advanced to the command of a whaler. I have neglected no opportunity according to his advice, of acquiring information, and continuing my study of languages. I put James thro' Cambridge, and he has removed to Boston, where he is just about commencing law. Mother has had her schemes of ambition all revived in him. He took a degree with honours ; he promises to make a figure at the bar ; and she thinks those other prizes in the lottery of life — a seat in Congress, a secre- taryship, and the presidential chair, are held in store yet by Provi- dence for the Widow's Son." CHAPTER VII. I ..ii THE LANGUAGE OF MACKEEEL. The next mornin', just at the early dawn of day, I heard the Cap- ting jump out of bed, and as I don't like to be caught nappin', I outs too, puts my clothes on as quick as wink, and gets into the cabin before he and the mate made their appearance. I sat down to the table, took up his "patent jigger," to see if I could contrive the "snaps'' for it; and was a-workin' it upwards and downwards to see what it wanted, when he came in. " What, up already ?" said the Captain. " Well, you are a raol New Englander, for 'Yankees and weasels aint often caught nap- pin.' " ^'■' ICs the early hird that gets the ^oorm/ Capting," sais I. "Exactly," sais he, "and so it is with the macarel catch too; it's first come first served in the fisheries. But, Matey, let's go on deck and see what chance there is of a wind." " It's a dead calm," said he, when ho returned, " and there will THE LANGUAGE OF MACKEREL. 75 bo no breeze until twelve o'clock j and then, if it does come, it will be, as fair as it can blow, east south-east half-east; it's like the crew, late a-gcttin' up to-day ; but it vill be along here byine byc.'^ ^'Captiug," sais I, "I have got it. You know I am a clock- nialier, and know a little about Machinery?" , ■ . ■ ,,.?;. "AVhat the plague don't you know something about, Mr. Slick?" said be. ^'Well," sais I, "1 don't k;iow much about anything, that's a ract, for I'm a sort of Jack of all trades, and msster of none ; but , I have some wrinkles on my horn for all that, for I warn't born yes- terday." ^'l guess not," said he, "nor the first flood tide before that neither." " Looke here, Capting," sais I, and I pulled the cord and drew up the arms of the jigger j "i.ow," sais 1, "put a spring on the shank, on the back of the centra.', bar, exactly like the springs of an umbrella, with the same sort of groove for it to play in, as the handle of that has, and the jigger is complete." "I see it," sais he, jumpin' up and snappin' his fingeiK.. "I see it, it's complete ; it's rael jam up that. That's a great invention, Mr. Slick, is that jigger, that and my bait-cutter, and the dodge I discovered of makin' the macarel rise to the surface, and follow me Hkc a pack of dogs, will cause old Blowhard's name to be remem- bered as long as the fisheries are carried on. I'll explain that dodge to you. You know we can't fish lawfully within three leagues of the shore. Well, the macarel i.re chiefly inside of that, and there they be as safe as a thief ia a mill. The Bluenoses are too ever- lastin' lazy to catch 'em, and wc can't get at 'em without the risk of being nabbed and losin' vessel and all. So I set my wits a thiukin', and I invented a bait-cutter j see, here is one," and he opened a locker and took out a box fitted with a handle like a coftee-mill, and having a cylinder stuck full of .sharp blades, that cut the bait with rapidity and ease into minute particles. " Now," sais he, " I just sails along in shore like — for there is no harm in that, as long as you don't fish there — and throw the bait over, and the fish rise to the surface, and follow me to the i 'ght distance ; and then we at 'em, and in with 'em like wink. I have sailed afore now right alongside of a great long seine, and taken the whole shoal away. Creation ! how Bluenose used to stare when he seed me do that ! One of 'em came on board the ' Old Eagle ' onct, and said he, ' Oh ! Capting, how on airth do you raise the fisti from the bottom that way, when no human bein' could tell there was one there. I'll give you a hun- dred dollars for that are secret, c ish down on the nail.' "Well, you know it wouldp't do to sell secrets to benighted foreigners that way, it wi)uld make them grow kind of sarsy. So I always try to put 'em o£f; and nt the same time take a rise out of iff It ■■^>*^i-:. ,-r,wi 76 THE LANOUAGE OP MACKEREL. \ 'em. So, saia I, ' friend, it would be a sin and a shame to take your property for nothin' that way ; it would bo as bad as your wreckers about your sow-sow- west shore. It's a simple thing, and I'll 'tell it to you for nothin'.' , v~ . ^ ^ c " ' Captain,' sais the critter, lookin' wide awake for once, and so excited as actilly to take his hands out of his trousers' pockets, where he had kept 'em, since the week afore, except at meal-hours and bed- time, out of pure laziness, *now that's what I call clever, and I don't mind if I go below and take a glass of grog with you on the strength of it.' And one thing I must say for the critters, if they are lazy — and there's no denyin' that — they ain't bashful ; that's a Yankee word they never heard on. " ' Well,' sais I, ' I ought to have thought of that myself, that's a fact. Come let's go below, for I don't want everyone to hear it, if it is so simple.' Well, I takes him into the cabin, shuts to the door, places the liquor on the tabic, ipd draws up close, to be confidential. * Take a pull at that are pariicaiur old Besting domestic rum,' sais I. ' It's some I keep on purpose for treating them gentlemen to, Mr. Slick; it's made of the lye of wood-ashes, sweetened with molasses, and has some vitriol in it, to give it spirit; it's beautiful stuflF for them that likes it. It's manufactored by that pious old rascal, ' Praise-the-Lord.' The old villain got the other distillers at the Cape to jine the temperance society with him, so as to have things his own way, and then sot to a brewin' this stuff; and when hauled over the coals for sellin' liquor, sais he, *It's neither rum, nor brandy, nor gin, nor whiskey,' and so he ran on through the whole catelogue that's in their oaths, ' nor distilled, nor farmented liquors, nor anything tetotallized agin, but just an anti-cholic cordial, praise the Lord I' " < Capting,' sais Bluenose, ' that's the rael thing, that are a fact. It ain't reduced. What we buy along shore here is half water and half rum, and scarcely that; we are so cheated by them that gets our fish. It's pee-owerful, that's sartain.' " ' Pee-owerful,' sais I, ' I guess it is ; it wouldn't take much of that to give weak eyes and a sore throat, I can tell you. Fire will burn, unless you keep it down with water.' " ' Well,' sais he, ' ain't you agoin' to drink yourself?* "*I guess not,' sais I; 'I don't calculate in a general way to drink except at meal-times.' "'What,' said he, 'don't you take a mornin' facer?' " ' No.' " ' Nor an appetizer ?' "'No.' "'Nor a better luck still?' "'No.' " ' Well, well !' sais he, ^ if that don't pass, an5 you all the time THE LANGUAGE OP MACKEREL. 77 rum/ sais I. having it standin' so invitin' alongside of you in the locker ! You tie the uight-cap though sometimes, don't you?'.. :'• ^:''-^iJ^'.,:i^.-^^,/K- "'Sometimes I do/ sais I, 'when I think on it, but I forget it as often as not. Now/ sais I, ' I'll tell you the secret/ for I got tired of this long lockrum about nothin' ; ' but/ ^ais I, 'before I give it to you, will you promise me you will try it?' ,'■'.#' .7 ■..•:• k:.;":-i;™v " ' Oh yes/ sais he, ' I will, and only be too glad to try it/ " ' Will you try it at onct/ sais I, ' so that I can see you onder- Btand how to go about it ?' "'I will/ sais he. " - ■ * -" - -• • • i-" ^-i ^^ -^ y-:^..... " Well, that being settled, we shook hands on it, and, sais I : 'v >. "'There is nothin' easier in natur'. Get into a diver's suit, be let down gently in among the mackerel, and larn their lingo ; and then you can call them, and they'll follow you like dogs. I soon picked it up: it's very easy/ ..?i; "' What ! fish talk ?' sais he. 'Come, I aint quite so green. Who ever heard the like o' that, as fish talkin' ?' " ' Aye, my man,' sais I, ' and larfin' too. Did you ever see a ripplin' on the water like air-bubbles, when a shoal of fish rises ?' " ' Often,' sais he. ' The water bubbles "up like beer in a tumbler/ "'Well,' sais I, 'that's the fish a larfin' at some odd old fellow's story. I never would have thought it possible they were such a merry set, if I hadn't a seen it with my own eyes, and the fondest of a joke you ever see. They are a takin' a rise out of some young goney now, depend upon it, judgin' by the bubbles there is on the water. Onct when I was down among them, they sent a youngster off to invite a cod to come and sup with them. As soon as the old fellow saw him, out he goes to meet him, gallows polite, and swal- lers him down like wink. Creation ! how the whole shoal larfed at the way the goney was sold/ " ' Well, well !' sais he, ' that beats all, that's a fact. Fish talkin' ! Is it possible ?' '"Don't you know that crows talk?' sais I. " ' Well,' sais he, ' I do. I've seen that myself. Many a long day I've laid down in our pasture, a-stretched out at full length, a watchin' the vessels pass, and obsarvin' the action of the crows.' " ' Hard work that, warn't it?' sais I. " ' Well,' sais he, ' if you was made to do it, I suppose it would be-; but I liked it, and what you like aint* hard. I'll just help myself to a little more of that cordial, for I like it too. Well, I have heard the crows talk to each other, and seen them plant sentries out when they seed me a watchin' of them, and once I actilly saw thera hold a court-martial. The old veterans came from all the ports about here, and from all the islands, and bluffs and shores, up and down; and the culprit hung his head down, and looked foolish enough, you may depend. What he had done, I don't know. Whe- 7* \ ri' 78 THE LANGUAGE Of MACKERl-L. k i'M I ' I: ther lie had run off with another crow's wife, or stole a piece of meat, or went to sleep when he was on guard, or what, I don't know, but artcr consultin' together, they turnrl to and fell on him, and killed him, and then adjourned the court ^nd dispersed ; that's a natural fact. And now wo are on the subjeci,' said he, 'I'll tell you another thing I once seed. There were soma seals used to come ashore last summer at my place, sometimes singly, and sometimes in pairs. Well, at that time I was out of powder; and I don't know how it is with you, Capting, but it seems to me i^iien I get out of things, that's the very identical time I wants 'em most. Well, the store is a matter of two miles off, and I was waitin' for some of my neighbours to be a goin' that way to send for some, so I had an opportunity to watch them several days, and it's a natural fact, I'm going to tell you. Them and the gulls kind of knocked up an acquaintance con- siderable intimate. Well, at last the powder came, and I loaded my gun and sneaked along on all-fours to get a shot at a fellow that was dozin' there ; and just as I got to about the correct distance, what do you think ? a cussed gull that wa;3 a watchin' of me, guessed what I was about, scud off to the seals like wink, and gave such a scream in the critter's car as he sailed over him, that he jumped right up with fright, and goes kerwallop head over ears into the water in no time ; that's a nateral fact.' " ' Why, in course,' sais I, ' there's a voice in all natur'. Every- thin' talks from a woman down to a crow, and from a crow to a mackerel. I believe your story of the crows.' " ' I'll swear to it,' sais he. "'You needn't swear to it,' sai? I; ^I believe it, and besides I never swear to any o' my stories ; it makes swearin' too cheap.' "'Well,' sais he, 'seein' that crews talk, I believe that story of the fish too; it must be so, else \io\,- could they all keep together? but I must say it's the strangest story I ever heard since I was born, and opened my ears and heard. It does sound odd, but I believe it.' " ' Well then take another drop of that cordial, for you might feel cold.' " < Oh, no !' said he, ' I don't feel cold a bit.' "'But you might by and bye,' sajd I; but the critter didn't see what I was at. " ' Gome let's go on deck,' sais I ; * and John Brown,' sais I, ' bring up the diveu' dress. Jim Lynch, fetch the leads, and fasten them on to this gentleman's feet; and do you hear there, Noah Coffin, reave an inch-rope through tLo eye of the studden-sail-boom — be quick — bear a hand there; we ire just on the right spot.' " ' For what ?' said Blue-nose. " ' For puttin' you into the divin' dress and throwen you overboard to larn your first lesson, in the madtetel language' a I Why, capting,' sais he, a-edjin' off slowly, and his eyes glazen, THE LANGUAGE OP MACKEREL. 79 like a wild cat that's a facin' of the dogs ; ' why, capting, you aint agoin' to force me whether I will or no/ " ' That's the bargain/ sais I. ' Bear a hand, boys, and see if you aint overboard in no time.' " I took one step forward, as if about to catch him, when he put a hand on the tafirail, sprang into his boat, and pushed off in a minute, and rowed ashore like mad. « Wliat a pity it is, Mr. Slick, that such a fine race of men as these Nova Scotians should be so besotted by politics as they are. They expect England to do every thin' for 'em, build railroads, and canals, and docks, and what not, and then coax them to travel by them, or use them, while they lay in the field, stretched out at full length, and watch crows like that chap, or bask in the sun day arter day, and talk about sponsible government, and rail agin every sponsible man in the colony. But that's their look out, and not cum, only I wish they would improve the country better before we come and take it. " Now, ril show you the use of that ere jigger. A man who goes a-fishin' should know the habits (jnd natur' of the fish he is after, or he had better stay to home. AH fish have different habits, and are as much onlike as the Yankees and Blue-noses be. Now there is the shad, I believe they have no ears, for they don't mind noises a bit ; and when a feller is hard a-hearin', we say he is as deaf as a shad j but they see well, and you can't catch 'em easy enough with the hook to make it worth while. Now the mackerel don't see very plain. There's a kind of film comes on Iheir eyes in winter that makes them half-blind, and then drops ofi* as summer comes. Natur', to counteract it, has made their hearin' very cute, and their infirmity of sight makes them very shy and timid-like. I have actilly seen a shoal of them when they have got into an inlet, kept there by two or three boats stationed at the entrance, with the crew in 'em a-splashin' in the water with their oars. The moment they heard that, down they went to the bottom, and stayed there until they were all scooped out with nets — fact, I assure you. " Now the use of that jigger will be when the fish are brought up to the surface, it can be let into the water easy without frightenin' of them; and when it's drawn up, its arms will be full of fish. These are things that must be studied out. Every created critter has an instinct for self-preservation. If you would catch them, you must set your reason to work ; and as that is stronger than instinct, if you go the right way about it, you will circumvent them in the eend. " But come, let's liquor, the sun is gettin' over the foreyard, as we sailors say. Slick, here's your good health. I say, that warn't a bad rise, was it ? I took out of Blue-nose about ' the language of macJcereV " o il ii ' 11 80 THE BEST NATURED f ill'" II X^S,-!- ■•' '',•■■'''. v; .^.K y^^ -^ CHAPTER VIII. THE BEST NATURED MAN IN THE WORLD. .'. Finding the captain really good naturecl now, I took the oppor- ,; tunity of attending to the duties of the office I had accepted, pro- duced and read to him my commission and instructions, and asked ] his advice as to the mode and manner of executing it. " Silently, Mr. Slick,'' he replied, as the Puritan minister said to the barber who asked him how he would be shaved ; * silently, Sir,' gais he. ' Do it as quietly as you can.' On business, men are on their guard : in conversation, confidential. Folks don't like to be examined by a public officer, they don't know the drift of it exactly, and aint quite sartified, they wont be overhauled for their doins and get themselves into a fix. Right without might don't avail much, Q and authority without power to force obedience, is like a boat without oars, it can't go ahead. I wouldn't, if I was you, let every one know what your main object was : if you do, you will get more plans than facts, and more advice than information." He then entered minutely into the description of the fisheries, their extent, the manner in which they were carried on, and the im- provements they were capable of, furnished me with a vast deal of useful information, and gave me the names of the persons on the coast I was to pump dry, as he called it. He also gave me some tables and calculations he had made on the subject, which he had privately prepared for Mr. Adams some time since. " These figures and details wont interest you much, Squire, for you hanfce a turn that way, and beside it aint our custom, as it is in J^ugland, to publish everything in newspapers, that our public men or national departments are doin' for the country. Blartin' out a discovery afore you take a patent may help others, but it keeps you poor. But I must say this, neither your folks, nor ourn, know the vast importance of these fisheries, though we are a more wide awake people than provincials be. That wliich made Amsterdam ought to malce Halifax." I knew Blowhard had great experience, but I had no idea, what a clear head and enlarged views he had. It don't do to judge men by their appearance, and conversalioii is more than half the time a refiiije from thought or a blind to conceal it. Having fixed this matter up snug, sais T, " Captin, I have come here on a very disagreeable business, and I want your advice and adsistance. That vessel a layin' outside there is the ' Black Hawk.' " MAN IN THE WORLD. 81 IS, and asked " I know it," ho said, " I could tell her among a thousand ; next to the ' Eagle' she ia the most beautiful craft of the whole American mackerel fleet." ; " Well," sais I, " the skipper has gone mad." "Mad," said he, and the word seemed to annoy him, ''not a bit of it — odd like a little, perhaps, but a good sailor I warrant : mad, hay ! Why they say I am mad, just cause I go where others darsent follow me, and keep order and will have it pn board; I am the best natured man living." ,:'i ■ .:< ■ : ' > .xt^ v ji At that moment the cook made his appearance accompanied by the cabin boy, to whom he gave some instruction about the table. The instant Ijlowhard saw the former, he suddenly boiled over with rage and looked the very picture of a madman. " Come here, jou old Lucifer," said he, " or I'll make the whites of your two great goggle eyes the same colour as your face, black as midnight." " Tank you, massa," said the negro, holding the door in his hand, ^' but you mad now, and I berry busy gettin' dinner ready ; you said half past eleben, and it is just gone eleben, and I see the breeze off Bagged Island." "Eleven, you villain," said the captain, ".I wish I could get my paw upon you^ it's half past now." "Oh, massa Commodore, you mad now; just look at are olo crometer turnip of yourn." The captain pulled out a large silver watch, resembling that vege- table more than a modern time-piece, and instantly recovering his good humour said : " Well, cookey, you are right for oncet in your life, that are a fact, come here, here is a glass of monogohela for you cookey. Tip that off, and then stir your stumps." " Massa, your berry good health, same to you massa Sam, and massa mate." Drinking it off he returned to the door, which ho held as a screen in his hand, and then showing two rows of ivory that extended almost from ear to ear, he turned and said : "Now next time, massa, don't go get mad for noten," and vanished. "Mad! You see they say I am mad," he said again; "but there never was so good-natured a man as I be. I never was mad in my life, except I was put out ; and there is enough un board a vessel to drive a man distracted. I never saw a rail Yankee mad nothcr, except he made a bad specilation. No, we don't go crazy, we got too much sense for that, and Blue-nose has too little — the Butch is too slow for it, and a nigger has no care ; but a mad Frenchman is a sight to behold. I shall never forget a feller onco I drove ravin* distracted. I was bound for Prince Edward's Island fishery ; and I never made such a run afore or since, as that from Cape Cod to Arichat. There the wind failed, and not feelin' well, I took the boat and went ashore to the doctor. , , ^ .y,^. 5, ' m: r t 82 THE BEST WA TUBED ' H i : aiiii ■" *' Sais ho, * you must tako five powders of calomel and colycinth, one every other night,' and ho did them up as neat as you please, in white slips of paper, quite workmanlkc. v " ' Wliat's the daraago V sais I. ■ " ' Eightecn-penec,' sais he. " ' Eighteen what !' sais I, a raisin' my voice so as to bo heard in airnest. •' Eightecn-pence/ said he. ' I can't sell 'em no cheaper, that colycinth is expensive, and don't keep well ; and you must import it from London yourself.' , " ^ I hope I may never see Capo Cod again if I do,' sais I. " * I don't moan you,' he said, quite cool ; '■ I mean me.' " ' Then why the plague didn't you say so V sais I. " ' I can't take no less,' said he. * This is a poor country here. Sometimes I ride five or six miles to see a sick woman j well, half the time I don't get paid at all, sometimes I get only a few dried 6sh, or a little butter, or may be a dozen of eggs, and ofto'- othin' but a dozen fleas. If it's too dear t ike it for nothin', foi won't take less.' " ' Why you old salts and sinna,' st id I, ' do you think I am com- plainin' of the price ? I was complainin' of you bein' such a fool as to charge so little. Who the plague can live arter that fashion? There,' sais I, 'is a dollar, keep that,' a throwin of it down on his counter, 'and I will keep the medicire, for I'll be hanged if I take it. The smell of your shop has half cured me already, and lots of molasses and water, I guess, will do the rest.' " Well, I picked up the poivders, and put thqm into my waistcoat- pocket, and thought no more about 'em. I pitied that are doctor, for I took a kind of. likin' to him, seein' he was like me, had great command of himself, and kept cool. So when I was ready to leave, ' Dr. Pain,' sais I, ' I am the best-untured man in the world, I do believe; but I hope I may be most particularly d — d, if I could stand such patients as you have. Take my advice^ cuss and quit.' "'Don't swear,' said he, 'it's apoplectic, and it's profane.' "'Swear,' sais I, 'who the devil made you a preacher? If it warnt for your fleas I'd flay you alive, you old — ' " ' Take care,' said he, ' you'll bruak that retort.' " ' Retort !' sais I ; 'to be sure I will letort, it's my fashion to give as good as I get.' " ' The man is drunk,' said he, mumbling to himself; and he slipt into an inner room, and bolted the dcor. "It appears to me people tease me a purpose sometimes, just because I am good-natured. " Well, as I was sayin', as soon as I got on board the breeze sprung up agin, and we slipped through the great Gut of Canso quite easy, but owin' io the eddies and flaw-s of wind, sometimes one ecnd MAN IN THE WORLD. 88 foremost and sometimes tho other, and we passed Sand Point, Ship Harbour, Pirate's Cove, Plaister Buff, McNair's Bight, and all the other hiding and smuggling places, one arter the other. Just as wo got off Indigue ledges, a fishing-boat bore down on us. ,., , "'Any fish, Captano?' '^ ' ^ '■ " < What's your name V sais I j for I always like to answer one question before I answer another. .. '^ .. - . Uiii " ' Nicholas Baban,' said ho. " He was a little dried-up wizened Frenchman, that looked more like a bubboon than anything else. He had a pair of mocassins on his feet, tanned and dressed, with the hair on the outside ; his home- spun trousers didn't come much below the knee, and the call between that and the little blue sock was bare, and looked the colour of a smoked salmon. His jacket, like his trousers, had shrunk up too, and only came to the pockets of his waistcoat, while the blue cloth it was first made of, was patched over with another kind, having white stripes, such as the Frenchwomen wear for petticoats. His cap, for hat he had none, had been cobbled up out of old red worsted, aud a piece of fox-skin, with the tail hanging down rakishly behind. Iq the front was stuck two little black pipes. He was a pictur* to behold, and so was the other critter in the bow of the boat. "'Any fish, Captane? Best Roke code-fish, jist caught, vary good.' " ' Well,' sais I, ' Mr. Babboon, I don't care if I do. Throw us up on deck two dozen, for a mess of chowder.' " Well, they was as pretty a lot of cod as T most ever seed. Them lodges is the best boat-fishing ground I know on, on the whole coast. ' Now,' sais I, ' Mr. Babboon, * what's to pay V "'Any ting you like, Captauc.' "'Any ting is nothin',' sais I. 'Name your price, for time is money, and we must be a movin' on agin. Come, what's the damage V " ' Oh, anyting you like, Sarc.' And the deuce a thing else could I get out of him ; but * anyting you like, Sarc,' which I didn't like at all ) at last I began to get riled. Thinks I, I'll teach you to speak out plaiu next time, I know; so I put my hand in my waistcoat-pocket, and took out something to give him. ' Here,' sais I, ' Mr. Babboon,' a stretchin' out my hand to him ; and he reached up his'n to receive his pay, and began to thank me gallus polite afore he got it. " ' Tank you, Sare, vary much obliege.' " ' Here's five calomel powders,' said I, and I dropt them into his hand. ' Take one every other night agoin' to bed, in some sweatenin' or another, and it will clear your complexion for you, and make you as spry as a four-year-old.' '* Oh ! I never saw anything like that mad Frenchman. He fairly t: ".I 84 THE BEST NATURED /•» \ yelled, ho tore off his old cap and jumped on it, and let out a ball putc of a lighter colour than his face, that made him look something not human. 1I(^ foamed, and raved, and jabhoriMl, and threw his arms about, and shook his clenched list at me, and swore all worts of outhH. French oaths, (Jiaelic oaths — for there is a largo Ilighlaml eettlement back of Indiguc — Indian cusses, and Yankee and English and Irish oaths. They all came out in one great long chain ; and I am sart&iu if anybody had taken hold of one cend of it, afore the links broke, and stretched 'em out strait, they would have reached across the Gut of Canso. " Well, artcr I thought he had let off steam enough for safety, I took out of my pocket a handful of loose silver, and held it out to him. 'Come, Mr. IJabboon,' said I, 'come and take your pay, I don't want your fish for nothin*, and go I must; so come now, like a good feller, and let us part friends.' *' But it only sot him off agin as bad as ever; but this time it was all abuse of us Yaidfcos. Well, I can stand a glass or two of that, but more gets into my head, and excites mo. Thiidcs I, my boy I'll cool you. I always have a hand-engine on board for wettin' sails ; it makes them thicker, heavier, and hold the wind better. We had been usin' ourn that mornin' to help us through the Gut, for the currents were bothersome at the time. 'Give me the hose,' said I; ' and let a hand stand ready to work the pump. Are you ready V sais I. " ' Yes,' sais the man. " 'Now,' sais I, ' Mr. Babboon, I'll wash your face for you, afore you go home to see the old lady,' and let go a stream all over him. Some of it actilly went down his mouth and nearly choked him, he and t'other feller pulled out of reach, hoisted sail, and made tracks for the shore as straight as the crow flies. I felt kinder sorry for him too, for ho lost two dozen beautiful cod, and got a duckin' into the bargain ; but it was his own fault, he ought to have kept a civil tongue in his head. Yes, I think Parly voo Frenchman will beat any created critter at gettin' mad." "But, Captin/' sais I, "our skipper is actilly mad, and no mistake." " What's his name ?" said he. "Jabish Green." " What ! Jabish Green, of Squantum ?" said he, a jumpin' up on eend. " The same," sais I. ' Mad !" said he. " To be sure he is ; as mad as a March hare. That's poor old Jim McGory, as they call him ; as good a critter, and as good a seaman, as evqr trod shoe-leather. Oh, I guess he is mad. It's all day with him, poor feller ! and has been ever since that ever- lastin' scoundrel, Jim McGory, came out of the South, and got up li!) ill 'III MAN IN TUB WOULD. 86 protracted mcotina in our parts, bo as to kocp tlio Imt passin' round all ibo time. Gracious knows ho was bad enough that foUor, but ho luado himself out a huudred time wus than ho was. lie lied as fast horse could trot, llo waid ho had been a Yixburg gambler, a as a horse-stcalcr, a nigger-kidnapper, a wracker, a pirate, and I don't know what he didn't own to. The greater the sinner, the greater the saint, you know. Well, ho said he was convartcd in the middle of the night, by an evangelical call, ' Jim McGory, come to glory 1' Oh, the crowds of foolish women and men that followed arter that It appears to me, the more onlikely believe them. Poor Jabish attended a inun, would astonish you things are, the more folks protracted meetin' of that critter's, down to Squantum, that lasted three days and three nights; and the followin' night ho was so ex- cited he didn't sleep a wink, and they couldn't get no sense out of him ; he couldn't say anythin', but that are profane rhyme over and over, and they had to scud him to the asylum. Who on airth could liiivc shipped that man? Who are the owners of the 'Black Hawk'?" . . .,,...,. "I don't know." ■ ■; p^v "Have you a tradin* cargo of notions on board?" *' -- ' "Yes." ;'^. .. ■ .■ " Then, it's the Boston folks. They don't know nothin' about the fishery. They have hired this man 'cause they have got him cheap, and they think they are doin' great things, 'cause they get such a large profit on their goods; but they don't count the time they lose, and it's no better than pedlin' at last; and if there is a created critter I hate and despise, it's a pedlar — the cheatin', lyin', ramblin', lazy villain." "Except a clock pedlar," sais I, winkin* to him. - — -' "No," sais he, a raisin' of his voice, until he roared amost, (for xchcit, a mem is lorong, and won't admit it, he always (jets angry). "No, I won't except them. There haint been an honest one here since your time ; they is the wust of all ; and a wooden clock now is like a wooden nutmeg, or a hickory ham — a standin* joke agin our great nation. Well, what do you want me to do, Mr. Slick?" -■ v.' "Take this skipper home with you." After a pause of a moment, he said, " No, I can't do that. I am the best tempered man in the world, but I haint got patience ; and if he went for to go for to give me any of his nonsense about Jim McGory, I suppose I should turn to and thrash him, and that would only make him wus. Here's the ' Nantasket,' of Nantucket, along- side here. The Captin is fonder of quack medicines than Babboouj the Frenchman, was, by a long chalk. I'll get him to give him a passage home. So that's settled." " Well," sais I, " there is another chap that must go home; and I told him all about Enoch Eels tantalizin' the skipper, and settin* 8 1 . *' ■"BfPUpWPIW I U !■ >"' ' 86 THE BEST NATURED .''■V k t f i (k':i 'i !il( him out of his mind j but," sais I, " I am afraid he won't quit the I vessel. I "Won't he?" said he. "Then I'll make him, that's all. I'll soon larn him the difference between Jim McGory and old Blow- I hard, I know. He's jist the chap I want — something to tame : it keeps one in good humour. I had a bear on board onst ; I had him for three seasons. He was a great comiort to me, when I had no- thing to do. I used to let him loose, take a short iron bar in my hand, and give him lessons in manners. It was great fun; but being so well-fed, ho grew to be so strong a brute, he became ob- stropolus and troublesome, and used to drive the men up the riggin' sometimes. Nobody could manage him but me ; for a crack over the nose with the iron bar always made him civil. A bear's nose, you know, Mr. Slick, is as tender as a feller's that's got a cold in his head. It kept us all in good humour. I used to like to get him near Satan, tail on, give him a whack on the rump, and put my rod behind me as quick as wink, when he'd turn short, lay right hold of the cook's leg with his claws, and give him a nip. But somehow, I consait, bears don't like niggers ; for he always let go soon, and then sneezed for a minute or so, as if he smelt pyson. Well, one day, cook was called aft, just as the men's dinner was ready ; and in slipt bear, and began to pay away at it in rail airnest ; but he scalded his paws, and skinned his nose with the soup, and the meat was so hot, he had to bolt it. The pain set him ravin' dis- tracted mad; and when he came o"t of the cabousc, he cleared the deck in less than half no time, lie was dangerous, that's a fact. Well, I got the rod, and he gave me a stand-up fight for it ; and at last, after he had warded off a good many blows, 1 iiit him a crack on the snout; and he turned, and went into hin den, slowly and sulkily, a lookin' over his shoulder as he went, and grinnin' awful wicked. The short, quick way he lifted up his scalded paws off the deck, instead of his usual slouchiu' gait, was the funniest thing you ever saw. " Next raornin*, when I turned out, f seed all the men was ou deck, and Bruin's door standin' open. * Where's the bar?' sais I. " * He got out afoi'o day,' sais tiiey ; ' and as his paws were scalded and sore, we kinder guess he went overboard to cool 'em.' " I seed how it was : the villains had made him walk the plank. Oh, Solomon! didn't I bile up, ready to run over the lid! for I don't like fellers to make free with mo or mine. But I threw a Uttle grain of prudence into it, and it went right down in a minute, jist as a drop of water puts down bilin' maplo sugar. I have great command over myself — I believe I am the best-tempered man in the world. Sais I to myself, ' It aint right to keep this brute to bother them, and he's got dangerous; and if he was to make mince-meat of any of 'em, it would be heavy on one's conscience, if a feller was on his beam-end.' So bais I, ' Well, it's jist as well he has taken iij..^ MAN IN THE WORLD. 8T Kiws were a swim to shore, for ho aint safe, is he ? and sheep seems more natcral food than humans for him. I should have liked though,' said I ' if you could a cought him as he went over by the ears, and drawed his skin off, as he sprung out ; the hide was worth twenty dollars.' " Well, they larfed at that joke, but they didn't know me. I ' always joke when I am aggravated; it's like driving down the wad well — when the gun goes off it makes a louder report. I warn't well pleased, and yet I can't say I was sorry, only I wished they had asked leave, and I turned and went below. It's hetter to he cheated than chafedy when you can't help yourself. Presently I heered an awful noise on deck, all the hands shoutin' and cheorin' and callin' out at the top eend of their voice. " ' Hullo !' sais I, ^ what in natur' is all this ? has States Prison broke loose ?' <« ' Look there,' sais they ; 'look at Bruin the bear.' " We was about a mile and a half from Louisburg, and it was nearly calm. Two French fishoniiiin had come out in a boat to take up their nets, and, while their backs was turned. Bruin claws over the bow, and there he was a sittin' on his haunches a-grinnin' and a-raakin' faces at 'cm, and a-lickin' of his chopL. Tvith his great red tougue, as if ho had heard of French dishes, and wanted to try one. " Well, they yelled and roared with fright ; but the bear was used to noises, and didn't understand no language but Indgian and Eng- lish, and held his ground like a man. At last one of the Frenchers got the boat-hook and made a poke at him ; but he knocked it out of his hand away up into the air ever so far, and then actilly roared, ho was so mad. '"Lower the boat,' sais I, 'my men. Be quick. Mate, you and I must go with our rifles ; and Tim Lynch, you are a good shot too, bear a hand; we must be quick, or he'll breakfast off those chaps. Take your knives with you." " \Vell, we pulled off, and got within good shootin' distance, when I told the Frenchmen to lie flat down in the boat, and we'd shoot the bar. Well, jist as they throwed themselves down, bar began to make preparations for ondressin' of 'cm, when the mate and I iired, and down he fell on one of the seats and smasned it in two. The man at the helm jumped overboard and swam towards us, but the other neither rose nor spoke. The bar had fallen on him, when he gave himself up for lost and fainted. We shipped the bar into our boat, put the helmsman back into his'n, and raised t'other feller on his I'cet, arter which we returned to the ' Eagle.' " No, Pd like to tame Enoch Eells. There would be fun in it, wouldn't there ? Cook, keep the dinner back, till further orders. Four hands in the boat there — move quick. Come, let's go on board the ' Black Hawk.' " ¥* van 88 THE BAIT BOX. r \ \ "Massa/' said Satan, "I know you is de best-natured man in del world, 'cept six, and derefore I retreat you dine fust; it's half-past! elebcn now, and dinner is pij)iu^ hot, and dat are Jamaiky does smell so oloriferous," and he held back his head and snuffed two or three times, as if he longed to taste of it agin; "and Massa Sam aintj well, I is sure he aint, is you, Massa Sam V* That familiar word, Sam, from a nigger was too much for poor 1 Blowhard. " Sam ! the devil," said he, raisin' his voice to its utmost pitch, , " how dare you, you black imp of darkness, talk before me that | way." And he seized his favourite jigger, but as he raised it in the air, Satan absquotulated. The captain glared at the closing door most savagely ; but being disappointed of his prey, he turned to me with ] a look of fury. " I agree with you, captin'," sais I, quite cool ; " I think we might ! as well be a-movin." "Come then," said he, suddenly lowerin* his tone, "come then. let us go ahead. Mr. Slick," said he, " I believe they will drive me ] mad at last ; every fellow on board of this -v esse! takes liberties with me, thinking I'll stand it, because they know 1 am the best-natured \ man m the world." CHAPTER IX. ill I! I fW^ THE BAIT BOX. " So he wont leave the vessel, eh ?" said Captain Love, " well, a critter that woni move must be made to go, that's all. There is a motive power in all natur'. There is a current or a breeze for a vessel, an iogine for a rail-car, necessity for poverty, love for the feminine gender, and glory for the hero. J^ut for men, I like per- suasion; it seems to convene better with a free and enlightened citizen. Now here," said he, openin' his closet, and taking out his 'rope-yarn,' (the formidable instrument of punishment I have spoken of,) " here is a persuader that nothing can stand. Oh ! he wijut come, vh? well, we'll see !" As soou as he went on board the ' Black Hawk,' we descended into the large cabin, and there sat Mr. Enoch Eells apart from the rest, with his head rostin' on his hands, and his elbows on his knee.s, lookin' as if he hrul lost cviry friend he had in the world, and was a tryin' to fumy iheir ftuos on the floor. "Mornin' to you, Mi. Eells/' said tho skipper, "come to invitt) THE BAIT BOX. you on board the 'Bald Eagle/ to take a trip to hum to «ee your friends again." <'Well, I wont go/' said he, "so just mind your own business." " Hold up your head, man, and let me look at you," he replied, and he seized him by the collar, lifted him on his feet, and exposed bis face to view. It was a caution, you may depend, swelled, and cut, and bruised and blackened dreadful. " Hullo !" said the skipper, " what's all this : who has been ill- using the man? It must be inquired into. What's the matter, here V and he pretended to look all surprised. "Why," said the second mate, "the matter is just this: Enoch, instead of mindin' his business, aggravated the captin' and set him mad; aud instead of mindin' my business, as I had ought to do, I returned the compliment, first aggravated, and then set him mad, and we fit, I must say, I took him in, for I know how to box scien- titic." "Workmanlike, you mean," the captain said, "I hate and j despise that word ' scientific / it is a cloak to cover impudence and ignorance. A feller told me as we started last voyage, he fished scientific. ' Then you are just the hand for me,' said I. ' What's the cause of that film on the mackerel's eye in winter ?" " ' What film ?' said he. " ' And what's the scientific cause that the cataract drops off of I itself without a doctor to couch it with a needle ?' '* ' What cataract ?' said he. "'Why, you impostor,' said I, 'you said you fished scientific j [get up your traps; go ashore and finish your schooliu',' and I pat |Liiu into the boat and landed him. Finery in talk is as bad as finery [in dress; and our great country is overrun with it. Things aint sulld and plain now a-days as they used to be; but they are all veneered and varnished. Say workmanlike and I wont nonconcur you, for I must say the business was done thorough." " Well," sais Bent, " call it what you like, I was taughten the jart, and he warnt, or he would have made small bait of mo in no time, for he is as brave as he is strong, and I don't believe there is Ian untaught man of his inches could stand before him." Eells Jumpt right up on eend at that, and caught him by the jhaud. " Mr. Bent," said he, "you have spoke like a man. I feel I was wrong; I am very sorry for it; let us part friends. It is [better I should go; the lesson wont be lost on me." " Exactly," said Blowhard, " the lesson is deeper than you think ; h'our father owns half this h(?re vessel ; now a man th;it is richer jthan his neighbour, is expected to be liberal of his civility as well as his money; civility is a cheap coiu that is manufactured for jnothiu', and among folks in general goes further than dollars and Icents. But come, we must be a movin'. Mr. Eells" — and he 8* ma m^ "WS iiii «|! i .J, I'll {'I ll'lll.'li'lli:. Hill '■S-v': THE BAIT BOX. /■ < < marked the word *Mr.' to show he was pleased — "as '=''>on as youj arQ ready come on hoard, it will look better than goin' with me, itj ,, sdems voluntary and free-will like. / "Now, Mr. Slick, let us go on board of the 'Nantasket' and se Capting Oby Furlong, old Sarsiparilly Pills, as I call him. ■ He isji good kind of man in his way, but death on quack medicines, and I ■H especially sarsiparilly, for which he is going to take out a patent, Mate, when you see a flag hoisted, come on board with the capting, fetch him without his luggage, and then he will think there is no I compulsion, and you can return for .that arterwards. Come, boys, | shove off." " Mr. Slick," said the mate, " do you. think I'll be sued ? It's a| great risk and a heavy responsibility this." " Stand a one side," said I, " how dare you talk that way to me?"] " Yes, Mr. Slick," said the skipper, " every man has his hobby, and on board ship it is actilly necessary to have some hobby oil another, or the bottle is apt to be sent for as a companion. It is a| dull life at sea, sometimes, and a sameness in it even in its varieties, and it is a great thing to have some object for the mind to work on, where there are no passengers. Now there is my bait-box and! patent-jigger inventions; there is Matey with his books and studies, and here is Oby Furlong with an apothecary's shop on board. The want of these things makes captings of men-of-war tyrants; when they don't study, their hobby is to bother their men, and their] whole talk is discipline. " Commodore Blarlin, of the ' Ben Lomond,' a British seventy- four, once hailed me off Fox Island, to ask some questions about] the passage thro' the gut of Canso. He was a tight-built, well- made, active, wiry man, and looked every inch a sailor; but the] word tyrant was writ over all in big print. There was a fightin' devil, and a buUyin' devil at the same time in his eyes and mouth, and it ain't often they go together, for it's mostly cowards that bully; I but that man looked as if he warnt afeard of old Scratch himself. It ain't always necessary to look fierce; I ain't skeered of old Nick I nuther; but 1 am as meek as a lamb. I do believe in my soul I] am the best natured man living ; but that is neither here nor there. " When I went aft to him — for he didn't meet mo a step, tho' he sent for me himself — he eyed me all over, from head to foot, silent j ' and scorney like, as much as to say, what a queer old thrasher you be ! I wonder if you are any relation to tho sea-sarpont, or the hippopotamus, or any of these outlandish animals 1* Ho never so much as asked me to sit down, or to go hito his cabin, or take a glass to drink with Jiim, or sni.l a word in favour of my beautiful little craft, which sailors always do, when they can with truth. " It seems to me, all created critters look down on ouuh other. Tho British and French look down on the Yankees, and oolouists J' ■^^^'k^^ f^f'' THE BAIT-BOX. .^- 91 hook down upon niggers and Indians, while we look down upon tlicm jail. It's the way of the world, I do suppose; but the road ain't a pleasant one. ] ''Are you acquainted with the navigation of the Straits of ICanso?' said he. " ' I guess I ought to be,' sais I. "'That's not the question,' said he. 'Are you, or are you not?' " ' Do you know it V sais I. ' If you do, perhaps you have seen ISand Pint.' " Sais he, ' My friend, I aaiffed you a plain, civil question ; will lyou give me a plain, civil answer ?' " Thinks I to myself, Commodore, the question is civil enough, Ikt you aint civil, and your manner aint civil ; but, however, here's lat you. I'll pay you off at last, see if I don't, for you sent for me ; |l didn't come unaxcd, and it was to give, and not ax favours. ' Yes/ Isais I, ' as many as you like.' Well, I told him all about the navi- jgation, and finally advised him not to try to go through without a Istiff breeze, with so large a ship, as the cancnts were strong, and [the wind, when light, always baffling. At last, sais I, ' This witness-box of yourn, Commodore, has a Iplaguey hard floor to it; I don't care if I sit down,' and 1 jist squat- , Ited down careless, with legs across the breach of a large gun, so big ll could hardly straddle it, a most onpardonable sin, as I knowed, on Iboard of a man-of war; but I did it a purpose. Then I jist sprin- Ikled over the beautiful white deck a little tobacco-juicv . acl coolly [took out my jack-knife and began to prepare to load my pipe and Iwhittle. I did this all intentional, to vex him, on account of hia Irudeuess — for rudeness is a gamo two can play at. Oh, Jerusalem ! lif you had a seen him, how he raved, and stamped, and swore, when llie seed I was so juicy ! and the more he stormed, the more the ofli- Icers on the other side of the deck si.iggored in their sleeves; for I some how or another, in big ships or .ittle ones, men like to see the Iskipper rubbed up agin the graiii. vhen they aint like to catch it Itlicmselvcs. \\Jiorcvcr there is aic;/i''nti/, there is a natural incU- ination to disobedience. "'Don't you know beCiser than diat, Sir?' said he. 'Have you |no decency ul>out you ? ' '' ' Do )e>u swaller when you ehaw ?' sais I, lookin' innocent. I* i!ome folks do, I know • but I n( er could for the life of me. It !S agin the grain, and I consait hurts the digestion.' Oh, what a wche made! how he wagged his head, and shut his mouth luid his < close to ! He looked like a landsman jist agoin to be sea-sick, |aiid he gave a kind of shiuldor all over his frame. "* You may go. Sir,' said he. '"Thank you/ s;\isl; ' I suppose I needn't usk leave for that. |Capung/ sais J^ still koepln' ray seat on the gun, ' you want a bait- Sbox.' ■t ..■;«^ •^^ ■i i\ m\„ 'n THE BAIT-BOX. n iiX ^, " ' A spittle-box, you mean/ said he. " 'No I don't/ sais I. 'I have been too long afloat not to know| the meanin' of sea-terms. You want a bait-box/ " He was fairly puzzled. First he looked at the leftcnant, and I then at me, and then he looked as if he had better drop further] talk; but his curiosity got the better of him. "' A bait-box,' said he; 'I don't understand you.' " ' Well,' sais I, 'I invented a bait-box for cuttin* up bait smal' and fine, for enticin' fish,' and I explained it as short as words could | make it, for fear he'd cut stick an<4 leave rae alone talkin' there, * Now,' sais I, ' that invention, beautiful and simple as it is, cost me great thought and much tobacky,' said I, lookin' innocent again; ' but it occupied my mind at leisure hours for two seasons, and that's | a great thing. Now, invent a bait-box, or a new capstan, or an im- proved windlass, or something or another of that kind ; it will keep 1 you busy, and what's better, good-natured, and you won't rave whea j a gentleman jist spits on a floor that has a thousand men to clean it, " 'Now,' sais I, a risin', puttin' up my knife and tobacky, 'Cap.! ting, depend upon it, you want a bait-box. And, Commodore, let me tell you, you sent for the right man to get information. I am| Commodore of this everlastin' splendid American fishing-fleet, of I more than two hundred fore-and-afters. A fleet the world can't | ditto for beauty, speed, and equipments. They call me Old Blow- hard. If you ever do me th>3 honour to visit my flag-ship, I will prove to you an old Commodore knows how to receive a young one. There is a cabin in my vessel, small as she is, and chairs in it, and a bottle of the best wine for the like of you, and old Jam^ikyfor thcui that has sense to prefer it, and that's more than there is in tbis seventy-four, big as she is, as far as I can see. Oh, invent a bait- box ! it will improve your temper, and that will improve your man- ners, depend upon it. I wish you good mornin'.' "I then went on board, and hoisted a Commodore's flag, and myl men — eighteen in number — saluted it with three cheers as it wentj up, and every other of our vessels becalmed there, seeing somcthin' was goin' on above common, took up the cheer, and returned it with] a will that made the shores echo again. "But here we are almost alongside of the 'Nantasket.' I Tf introduce you to Capting Ohy Furlong ; he will be a character fori you, and if you ever write a book again, don't forgit Old Sarn'im Tilly puis." THE WATER-GLASS, ETC. 93 r^x CHAPTER X. THE WATER-GLASS; Oil, A DAY-DREAM OF LIFE. As the men rowed us towards the ' Nantasket/ the Captin and I jcouldn't very well talk afore 'ein on the subjects we wanted to speak I of, so we held a sort of Quaker's meetin', and said nothin'. I pulled the peak of my cap over my eyes, for the sun dazzled me, and afore II knowed where I was, I was off into one of my day-dreams, that I Igometiraes indulge in. I was musin' on what a strange thing life is, [what a curious feller man is, and what a phantom we pursue all the Itime, thinkin' it points the way to happiness, instead of enticin' us linto swamps, quagmires, and lagoons. Like most day-dreams it Iwarn't very coherent, for one thought leads to another, and that h.as Ian affinity to something else j and so at last the thread of it, if it Idon't get tangled, ain't very straight, that's a fact. I shJl put it Idown as if I was a talkin' to you about everything in general and |notbin' in particular. Sais I to myself, the world has many nations on the face of it, I {reckon, but there gin't but four classes among them : fools and CDaves, saints and sinners. Fools and sinners form the bulk of aankind; rogues are numerous everywhere, while saints — real salts -are few in number, fewer, if you could look into their hearts, than ^•As think. I was once in Prospect Harbour, near Halifax, shortly rter a Boston packet had been wracked there. All that could float bad been picked up, or washed away ', but the heavy things sank to |lhe bottom, and these in the general way were valuable. I saw a aau in a boat with a great long tube in his hands, which he put down into the sea every now and then, and looked through, and then ttoved on and took another observation. It was near about dinner-time, so I thought I'd just wait, as I had Botliiu' above particular to do, and see what this thing was ; so when khe man came on shore, "Mornin' to you,'' sais I. "That was an pful wreck that, warn't it ?" and 1 looked as dismal as if I had 8t somethin' there myself. But there was nothin' very awful about for everybody was saved ; and if there was some bales and boxes Dst, why iu a general way it's good for trade. But I said awful rack, for I've obsarvcJ you have to cant a little with the world, if ^ou want even common civil usage. In fact, in calamities I never knew but one man speak the truth, le lived near a large range of barracks that was burnt, together fi/: \;f* 'if' 94 ,i THE WATER OLASSJ r I ■ "With all tho houses round him, but ho escaped j and his house was insured. Well, he mourned dreadful over his standing house, more than others did over their fallen ones. He said, " lie was ruinated; he lived by the barrack expenditure, and the soldiers were removed, and the barracks were never to be rebuilt ; and as he was insured, he'd a been a happy man, if his house had been burnt, and ho had recovered the amount of his loss." Now that man I always respected; he was an honest man. Other folks would have pretended to bo thankful for so narrow an escape, but thought in their hearts just as he did, only they wouldn't be manly enough to say so. But to get back to my story. "Awful wrack that!" said I, dolefully. " Well, it was considerable, but it might have been wuss," said he, quite composed. Ah ! sais I to myself, I see how it is, you haint lost anything, that's clear, but you are lookin' for somethin'. " Sarching for gold ?" said I, laughin', and goin' on t'other tack. " Every vessel, they say, is loaded with gold now-a-days ?" " Well," sais he, smiling, " I aint sarching for gold, for it aint so plenty on this coast ; but I am sarching for zinc : there arc several rolls of it there." "What was that curious tube," sais I, "if I might be so bold as to ax?" " Sartain," sais he, " it's a water-glass. The bottom of that tube has a large plate of glass in it. When you insert the tube into the sea, and look down into it, you can perceive the bottom much plainer than you can with a naked eye." " Good \" sais I ; " now that's a wrinkle on my horn. I daresay a water-glass is a common thing, but I never heard of it afore. Might it be your invention, for it is an excellent one." He looked up suspicious like. " Never heard of a water-glass ?" he said, slowly. " May I ask what your name mougbt be?" "Sartaiuly," sais I, "friend; you answered me my question civilly, and I will answer yours. I'm Sam Slick, sais I, at least what's left of me." "Sam Slick, the Clockmaker?" sais he " The same," said I, " and never heard of a water-glass ?" "Never! Mr. Slick," said he, "I'm not so simple as you take me to be. You can't come over mo that way, but you are welcome to that rise, anyhow. I wish you good morniu'." Now that's human natur' all over. A man I's never astonishd or ashamed that he don't know what a nothcr docs ; hut he is svr- prised at the (/ross ignorance of the other in not know in' what h does. But to return. If instead of the water-glass (which I yow to man I never heard of it before that day), if we had a breaift-glass OR, A DAY-DREAM OF LIFE. 06 to look into tho heart, and read what is wrote, and see what is passin' there, a great part of the saints — them that don't know music or paintin' and call it a waste of precious time, and can't dance, and call it wicked, and won't go to parties, because they are so stupid no one will talk to them, and call it sinful — a great lot of the saints would pass over to the sinners. "Well, the sinners must bo added to - the fools, and it swells their numbers up considerable, for a feller must be a fool to be a sinner at all, scein' that the way of the trans- gressors is hard. Of the little band of rael salts of saints, a considerable some must be added to the fools' ranks too, for it aint every pious man that's wise, though ho may have sense enough to be good. Arter. this deduction, the census of them that's left will show a small table, . that's a fact. When the devoted city was to be destroyed, Abraham begged it off for fifty righteous men. And then for forty-five, and finally for ten ; but arter all, only Lot, his wife, and two daughters was saved, and that was more from marcy than their desarts, for they warnt no great shakes arter all. Yes, the breast-glass would work , wonders, but I don't think it would be overly safe for a man to in- vent it ; he'd find himself, I reckon, some odd night a plaguey sight nearer tho top of a lamp-post, and farther from the ground than was agreeable; and wouldn't the hypocrites pretend to lament him, and say be was a dreadful loss to mankind ? That being the state of the case, the great bulk of humans may be classed as fools and knaves. The last are the thrashers and sword-fishes, and grampuses I and sharks of the sea of life ; and the other the great shoal of com- I men fish of different sorts, that seem made a-purpose to feed these [hungry onmarciful critters that take 'em in by the dozen at one swoop, and open their mouths wide, and dart on for another meal. Them's the boys that don't know what dyspepsy is. Considera- Ible knowin' in the way of eatin', too, takin' an appertizer of sar- dines in the mornin' afore breakfastin' on macarel, and having lob- ster sauce with their cod-fish to dinner, and a barrel of anchovies to disgest a light little supper of a boat-load of haddock, halibut, and flat fish. Yes, yes ! the bulk of mankind is knaves and fools; reli- gious knaves, political knaves, legal knaves, quack knaves, trading knaves, and sarvcnt knaves; knaves of all kinds and degrees, from officers with gold epaulettes on their shoulders, who sometimes con- descend to relieve (as they call it) a fool of his money at cards, down to thimble-rigging at a fair. The whole continent of America, from one end of it to the other, lis overrun with political knaves and quack knaves. They are the greatest pests we have. One undertakes to improve the constitution of the country, and the other the constitution of the body, and their evcrlastin' tiukerin' injures both. How in natur folks can be so taken in, I don't know. Of all knaves, I consider them two the ' 'U- \t i li r. >, I l! i'!il|!|)'f i mm- li'l'iil ■ 96 THE WATER-aLABS! v^l most (langcroiw, for both deal in poisonous deadly medicines. One pysonij people's minds, and the other their bodies. One unsettles their heads, and the other their stomachs, and I do believe in my heart and soul that's the cause we Yankees look so thin, hollow in the cheeks, narrow in the chest, and gander-waistcd. Wo boafst of being the happiest people in the world. The President tells the Congress that lockrum every year, and every year the Congress sais, "Tho' there ain't much truth in you, old slippiry-go-easy, at no time, ihat^s no lie ao any i-ate." Every young lady sais, " I guess that's a fact." And evjry boy that coaxed a little hair to grow on his upper lip, puts hi?, arm round his gall's waist and sais, "That's as true as rates, we are happy, and if you would only name the day, we shall be still happier." Well, this is all fine talk ; but what is bein' a happy people '/ Let's see, for hang me if I think wo are a happy people. When I was a boy to night-school with my poor dear old friend, the minister, and arterwards in life as his companion, he was for ever- lastingly correctin' me about words that I used wrong, so one day, having been down to the sale of the effects of the great llevolutionary General, Zaddoc Seth, of Holmes' Hole, what does he do but buy a Johnson's Dictionary for me in two volumes, each as big as a clock, and a little grain heavier than my wooden ones. " Now," sais he, " do look out words, Sam, so as to know what you are a-talking about." One day, I recollect it as well as if it was yesterday — and if I loved a man on earth, it was that man — I told him if I could only go to the Thanksgiving Bull, I should bo quite happy. "Happy!" said he, "what's thatr"' "Why happy," sais I, "is — bein' happy, to be sure." " Why that's of course," sais he, " a dollar is a dollar, but that don't inform me what a dollar represents. I told you you used words half the time you did'ut understand the meanin' of" " But I do," sais I ; happy means being so glad, your heart is ready to jump out of its jacket for joy." "Yes — yes," sais he; "and I suppose if it never jumped back again, you would be unhappy for all the rest of your life. I see you have a very clear conception of what ' happy' means. Now look it out ; let us see what the great and good Dr. Johnson says." " He sais it is a state where the desires are satisfied — lucky — ready." " Now," said he, '^at most, as it applies to you, if you get leave to go to the ball, and you may go, for I approbate all innocent amusements for young people, you would be only lucky ; and in a stale where one desire is satisfied. It appears to me," said he, and he put one leg over the other, and laid his head a little back, as if be was a-goin' to lay down the law, " that that eminent man has omitted ; ( OE, A DAY-DREAM OP LIFE. 07 another sense in wliicli this word is properly used — namely, a state of joyfulucsa — HgUt-hcjirtcdness — njcrriment, but wo won't stop to iinjuirc into that. It is great presumption for the likes of me to attempt to critieise Dr. Johnson.'' Poor dear old soul, he was a wiser and a modester man than ever the old doetor was. Fact is, old dictionary was very fond of playin' first liddlo wherever he was. Thundcrm' loiuj words aint wisdonby and stoppin' a critter's ivouth is more apt to improve his wind than his ondcrstandin' . "You may go to the ball," said he; "and I hope you may bo happy in the last sense I have given it." *' Thank you, Sir," said I, and off I cuts hot foot, when ho called me back ; I had a great mind to pretend not to hear him, for I was afraid he was a-goin' to renig — . " Sum," said he, and he held out his band and took mine, and looked very seriously at me ; " Sam, ray son," said he, " now that I have granted you permission to go, there is one thing I want you tc promise mc. I think myself you will do it without any promise, but I should like to have your word." " I will observe any direction you may give me, Sir," said I. *' Sam," said he, and his face grew so long and blank, I hardly knew what was a-comin' next, " Sam," said he, " don't let your heart jump out of its jacket," and he lah ''jack in his chair, and laughed like anythin', in fact I could not help laughin' myself to find it all eeud in a joke. Presently he let go my hand, took both hisn, and wipod his eyes, for tears of fu'^ were in 'em. "Minister," lis I, " will you let me just say a word 'i^* "Yes," sais he. " Well, according to Dr. Johnson's third sense, that was a happy thought, for it was * ready.' " "Well, I won't say it warn't," said he; "and, Sam, in that sense you are likely to be a happy man all your life, I'or you are .always 'ready;' take care you aint too sharp." But to go back, for I go round about sometimes. Tho' Daniel Webster, said I, was like a good sportin'-dog, if I did beat round tho . bush, I always put up the birds. What is a happy people 't If havin' j enough to cat and drink, with rather a short, inst a little mite nnd [nioscl too short an allowance of time to s'.v:>;'0 it, is bein' happy, [then we are so beyond doubt. If livin' in a frco ■•ouutry like Maine, where you arc compelled to drink stagnant sv-iu^.. -water, but can eat I opium like a Chinese, if you choose, is bein' iiappy, then we are a I '^''^PPy people. Just walk thro' the happy streets of our happy villages, and look I at the men — all busy — in a hurry, thoughtful, anxious, full of busi- ness, toilin' from day dawn to night — look at the women, the dear 9 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. O :/. ^^ '(/. % 1.0 I.I '- IIIIIM ■ 50 "'"^^ Jim 1^ 1^ !M 2.2 IIM 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 -^ 6" - ^ V] <^ /a m. % V ^^# ^ > a? c-> .1t^^ S 'ff "i o / m Photographic Sciences Corporation ^ V ^ s \ -^A, ^'^ ^>^. % v^ > 'i I ask again what is happiness ? It aint bein' idle, tha'^/s a fact — no idle man or woman ever wab happy, since the world began. Eve was idle, and that's the way she got tempted, poor critter ; employ- ment gives both appetite and di^ jstion. I>uti/ makes pleasure doubly sweet uy contrast. When the harness is off, if the work aint too hard, a critter likes to kick up his heels. When pleasure is the business of li/e, it ceases to be 2:)leasure ; and when it's o.U labour and no play, work like an onsidffed saddle cuts into the very bone. Neither labour nor idleness has a road that leads to happiness, one . has no room for the heart and the other corrupts it. Hard work is the best of the two, for that has at all events sound sleep — the other has restless pillows and onrefrewhin' slumbers — one is a misfortune, the other is a curse; and monay aint happiness, that's as clear as mud. : -^Vi,;; There was a feller to Slickvijle once called Dotey Conky, aha fie sartinly did look dotey like lun\ber that aint squared down enough to cut the san off. He was always a wishing. I used to call him Wishey Washey Dotey. " Sam," he used to say, " I wish I waa rich." - - ,r ,. " So do I," I used to say. " If I had fifty thousand dollars," he said, '♦ I wouldn't call the President my cousin." ' ' pi^ ' ■ .• ' ^ • ? '■' v '*>^'^ t-" " Well," sais I, " I can do that now, poor as I be ; he is no cousin a44^. ."^ij Lil\^i^ \..VL\^\al..lu.^iLrJ.t.2::i:Ch\t^^i' \ 100 OLD SARBAPARILLA PIL8 of mine, and if ho was hcM bo no credit, for ho is no great shakos. Gentl<3inen now don't set up for that office ; they can't live on it." *^)h, I don't uioau that," ho said, "but fifty thousand dollars, Sam, only think of that ; aint it a great sum, that ; it's all I should ask in this world of providence : if I had that, I should he the happiest man that ever was." "Dotey," sais I, "would it cure you of the colic? you know how you suflFer from that." " Phoo," sais he. "Well, what would you do with it?" sais I. " I would go and travel;" sais he, " and get into society and aee the world." " Would it educate you, Dotey, at your age give you French and German, Latin and Greek, and so on ?'^ " Hire it, Sam," sais he, touching his noso with his fore-finger. "And manners," sais I, " could you hire that ? I will tell you what it would do for you. You could get drunk every night if you liked, surround yourself with spongers, horse jockies, and foreign counts, and go to the dovii by rail-road instead of a one horse shay." Well as luck would have it, he drew a prize in the lottery at New Orleans of just that sum, and in nine months he was cleaned out, and sent to the asylum. It taint cash then that gains it } that's as plain as preaching. What is it then that confers it ? " A rope," said Blowhard, as we reached the side of the ' Nan- tasket,' " in with your oars my men. Now^ Mr. Slick, lot's take a ^o%Q oi SarsipariUj/ pills." ~;.^:; v- :; ,- -l^^^r^wvi.o*; r^ ^- :'^^J^':'. '.''■•-■t-^^- .'i^-i"-^]y^\,\ CHAPTER XI, OLD SARSAPARILLA PILLS. " Come, Mr. Attachy," said Blowhard, as we mounted the deck of the 'Nantasket,' "let's go down to Apothecary's Hall;" and he larfed agin in great good humour. When we entered the cabin, which sartainly looked more like an herb and medicine shop than anythin' else, wo found the Capting seated at the table, with a pair of small scales in his hand, carefully adjustin' the weight of somothin' that had just been prepared by a boy, who sat in the corner, and was busy with a pestle and mortar. " How are you. Doctor ?" fc. lid Blowhard, in his blandest manner. ** This is Mr. Slick. We have come to ask you if you will take a patient on board, who wants to return home, and whom Providence has just sent you in here to relieve ?" .^ . t OLD SARSAPARILLA PILLS. 101 "What'a tho matter with him?" inquired the quack Captin, with the air of a man who had but to hear and to cure. Love explained briefly the state of the case ; and, having obtained his consent, asked me to request one of the hands to hoist a flag, a0 the signal agreed upon for bringing tho invalid on board. " Proud to see you, Mr. Slick, '° said the quack Captin. " Take a chair, and bring yourself to an anchor. You are welcome on board the 'Nantasket.' " Instead of an aged man, with a white beard, large spectacles, and an assumed look of groat experience, as I expected to have seen, from the nickname of " Old Sarsaparilla Pills," given to him by the skipper, I was surprised to find he w?3 not past five-and-thirty years of age. He was a sort of French craft on a vigorous Yankee stock. His chin and face wore covered with long black hair, out of which twinkled a pair of bright, sparkling, restless eyes. His dress and talk was New England, but French negligence covered all, and was as onpleasant and disorderly as tho deck; for the Yankees ?re a neat people, in a ginerul way, and like to poo things snug and tidy. If, in his appearance, ho was half French and half Yankee, it was plain he was also half knave and half goney. The only thing I saw to like about him was, that he was a man with a theory ; and a theory, to my mind, whether in political economy or in medicine, is the most beautiful thing in the world. They say an empty bag can't stand straight. Well, who the plague cares if it can't, when you have nothin' to put into it ? for it would only be in the way, and take up room, if it could. Now, a theory will stand as straight as a buUrush, without a fact at all. Arguments, probabilities, and lies will do just as well. But if folks must have facts, why the only plan is to manufacture 'em. What's the use of the Crystal Palace, and all its discoveries, if statesmen can't invent facts'? Sometimes one fact depends on another, and that on a third, and so on. Well, to make anything of them, you must reason. Well, what on airth is the use of reason ? Did you ever see a man that could reason? A dog can, but then a dog has some sense. If he comes to a place where four roads meet, he stops and considers, and weighs all tho probabilities of the case, pro and con^ for each road. At last, he makes up his mind ; goes on confi- dent; and ninety-nine times out of a hundred, he is right. But place a man there, and what would he do ? Why, he'd look like a ravin', distracted fool : he'd scratch his head, and say, " I don't know, I declare; I don't know, I am sure;" the only thing the critter is sure about. And then he'd sit down on a stone, and wait till some one come by to tell him. Well, after waitin' there till he is cen amost tired out, the first man that rides by, he'd jump up so sudden, he'd scare the horse, that shies awfully, and nearly spills tho rider; and wouldn't he get 9* 'fl;P!l^'l '— ■ '^^^ 102 OLD SABSAPABILLA PILLS. r I' more blessings thac would last him a whole whalin' voyage ? Well, the next man that comes by, drivin' in a gig, he goes more coolly to work i/(} stop; when traveller pulls cit a pistol, and sais, '^ Stand off, you villain ! I am armed, and will fire I" Well, the third sets a fierce dog on him, and asks him whut he is a doin' of there ? And when he inquires the way, he puts his finger to his nose, and says, "That cat won't jump, old boy." Well, the next chap that comes along, is a good-natured feller. He is a whistlin a tune, or singing an air, as light-hearted as you please j and a hittin' of loose stones with his cane, as he trips along ; and when he axes him the way, he shows it to him as perlite as possible, and says it is the very road ho is going, and will walk abit with him to the next turn, where they must part. ;.,:. ■u:.y>-,''':--'(^.^,^''' '--] ■^'-. '^^.t^' This world aint so bad, after all, as it looks ; there are some good- natured folks in it, that's a fact, that will do a civil thing now and then for nothin' but the pleasure, but they aint quite 33 thick as blackberries, I can tell you. V"<. <^;^.:,.;;..v ,*' ■.-'"~ ;, .^v;^ VV^ell, at the turn of the road there is an ale-house, and the good- natured st/anger pulls out some money, like a good Samaritan, and gives him a drink for nothin'. "Now," sais he, "friend, suppose you qualify ?" ^^'' • '* ,u.">>' " Qualify ?" sais the critter, more puzzled than he was at the four roads. " Qualify ! does that mean to stand treat ? for if it doeth, I don't care if I doos." "Come, none of that nonsense, my good feller," sais the other, whose air and manner is changed in a minute, so that he don't look like the same man. " Come, come, you aint so soft as that. You are listed. Fee.', in your waistcoat poctot, and there is her Majesty's shilling/' "Danged if I do," sais this vartuous and reasonable being; "danged if I do; I'll fight till I die fust — " when he is knocked dpwn, hears a whistle, and three men come in, iron him to another feller that didn't know the read any better than him, and off he is marched to see his officer. I saw that critter mountin' guard at the Ordnance Gate, at Halifax, last winter at night, mercury sixteen below zero, cold enough amost to freeze the hair off of a dog's bacic. That's because he couldn't reason. Little doggy we've seen could reason and reason well, and was home half an hour before ^ thiri een-pence a-day' was listed, to have a finger, or a toe, or an ear fuze off on duty. There is no pension for a toe, unless it's the goui in an old admiral or gineral's toe. No, reasonin' is no good. That th,- 1 is good reasonin' aint market- able, bad reasonin' is like some factory cloth, half cotton, half old clothes, carded over agin' at Manchester, and is low-priced, just fit for fellers that don't know the way, and get listed under a party illHi ijl>llll«lill»M'HiW»ii.H>»llBltll*r "^gpP 6LD SARSAPARILLA PILLS. 108 leader. That's the case too with free-traders, they sing out * cheap bread j' it don't want rcasonin' except cheap reasonin'. Don't cheap bread cost less than dear bread ? Why yes, in course it does. Well then, fre* -trade ^oes that; don't you wish you may be better of it.' No, reasonin' is no good, and facts are no good ; for they arc as cheap as words which only cost a halfpenny a hundred, and two far- things change given back. I like a theory j it is a grand thing to work a farm by when you have no experience, and govern a nation by when the electors are as wise as that are recruit, that couldn't even follow his nose. Captin Furlong had a theory, and hadn't he as good a right to have one as Peel, or any other practitioner, either in politics, or medicme, or farmin', or anythin' else ? Why to be sure he had. " Mr. Slick," said he, and he put one leg over the other, threw his head back, and gave me a sort of fixed stare, just one of those stares you see a feller now and then put on who shuts to his ears and opens his eyes wide, as much as to say " now don't interrupt me, for I mean to have all the talk to myself." Whenever I see a critter do that, I am sure to stop him every minute, for I have no notion of a feller taking me like a lamb, and tying me hand and foot to offer up as a. sacrifice to his vanity. "Mr. Slick," said he, "I have a theory." "'Zactly," said I, "it's just what you.ought to have; yon can no more get on in medicine without a theory to carry out, than a receipt to work by. I knowed a chap onct— " but he gave me the dodge, cut in agin, and led off. " I have a theory that for every disease natur* has provided a re- medy, if we could only find it. " "'Zactly," said I, "let natur' alone, and nine times ou' of ten she will effect a cure ; it's my theory that more folks die of the doctor than the disease. I knew a feller onct — " but he headed me agin. " Now this remedy is to be found in simples, herbs, barks, vege- tables, and so on. The aborigines of no country ever were sappers and miners, Mr. Slick, many of them were so ignorant as not even to know the use of fire, and therefore the remedy was never intended to be hid, like mercury and zinc, and what not, in the beeowels of the earth." " 'Zactly," said I, " but in the beeowels of the patient." He lifted up his hairy upper lip at that, and backed it agin his nose, for all the world as you have seed a horse poke tut his head, and strip his mouth, that was rather proud of his teeth ; but he went on : " There is a specific and an antidote for every thin' in natur*." " 'Zactly," sais I. " Do you know an antidote for fleas ? for I do. It's a plant found in every sizable sarce garden; they hate it like pyson. I never travel without it. When I was in Italy last, I slept \ 104 DLD eABSAPARILLA PILLS. ■p ■ t, ^^^ !j w in a double-bedded room with the Honourable Erastus Cassina, a senator from Alligator Gully to Congress, and the fleas was awful thicki ' So I jist took out of the pocket of my drcssin'-gown four little bags of this ' flea-antidote ;' two I put on the bed, and two under it. Oh I if there warn't a flight in Egypt that night, it's a pity 1 In a few minutes, Erastus called out : " ' Slick ! Slick I* said he, ' are you awake 1' " ' What in natur' is the matter V sais I. " ' Oh, the fleas ! the fleas !' said he. ' Clouds on 'em are lightin' on vcy bed, and I shall be devoured alive. They are wus than alli- gatoi,:^ for thei/ do the job for you in two twos; but these imps of darkness nibble you up, and take all night to it. They are so 'spry, you can't catch 'em, and so small you can't shoot 'em. I do believe every flea in the house is coming here.' "'That's the cane-juice that's in you,' sais I; 'you are the sweetest man alive — all sugar ; they are no fools, are fleas.' " ' Do tbey bother you ?' said he. " ' No,' sais -I, ' I hante one.' " * Then,' said he, ' let me turn in with you, friend Slick, that's a good feller, for I'mdn an awful state.' " * That cat won't jump. Senator,' sais I, ' for they will foller you here too, for the sake of the cane-juice. You must drink vinegar and get sour, and smoke tobacky and pyson them.' Now, Capting," sais /, " I have an antidote for bugs too — better, simpler, and shorter than any 'pothecary's ointments. I hold them two critters to be the pest of the world. The Nova Scotia Indgians call fleas waUcum- fastK, and bugs loalkum-shws. They say fleas travel so fast, they can't shake 'em off. " Now I have a theory about fleas. I don't believe one word of history about the Gothsj and Vandals, and Huns. I believe it was an irruption of fleas that followed the legions back, and overrun Rome. And my facts are as good as Gibbon's for a theory any day. I told that story about the fleas to the Pope, who larfed ready to kill himself, but kept a scratchin' rather ondignified all the time. * Mr. Slick,' said he, * I will give you a thousand dollars for that receipt,' and he- smiled very good-natured ; ' for fleas,' said he, ' have no re- spect for the Church.' But our minister to St. James's, who was at Rome at the time on business, told me it would lower our great na- tion for an Attache to sell flea-antidotes and bug-exterminators, and his Holiness and I didn't trade. "But if a man was to travel with that little simple remedy through Portugal, Spain, France and Italy, Switzerland and shores of the Mediterranean Sea, where fleas are as big as horse-flies, ho would make the largest fortin ever bagged by any one man in this universal world." ;. ;,;('*■ >'/f .6. .■••:. . J.. ■ ^ ili. ^i" iii|iK rt l l ii ^nrt Mlhfcliiilli . OLD SAR8APARILLA PILLS. 106 " Will you take vhat the Pope offered you, now ?" said Capting Furlong. " Oh, oh, old boy !" sais T to myself, ♦' you have opened your cars, have you ? I thought I'd improve your hearin' for you. Say three,'' sais I, " and the secret and patent is yours." " Can't come it," sais he. " Then I withdraw the offer, Capting j if you want it you must pay higher. But go on; you interest me greatly.'' I thought I should have split when I said that, for I hadn't allowed him to say a word hardly. ''- " Well," said he, but that story of the fleas nearly upset him, '< everything has its specific and its antidote. Now my sarsaparilly pills has made a fortune for old Jacob Worldsend, to whom I was fool enough to sell the secret for three thousand dollars, and it railly is all it's cracked up to be. But, Mr. Slick, I have at last made a discovery that will astonish the world. I have found a certain and sure cure for the dropsy. It is an extract of a plant that is common •in the woods, and is applied externally as a lotion, and internally as pills. I have proved it; I have the affidavits of more than fifty people I have cured." -tr ' And he smote the table, stioked his beard down, and smiled as pleased as a feller that's found a nugget of gold as big as his head, and looked at me with a self-satisfied air, as much as to say, Mr. Slick, don't you wish you was me ? Now, thinks T, is the time to cut in. Whenever a feller is fool enough to stand up in the stirrups, and you can see daylight atw^en him and the saddle, that's your chance ; give Liim a lift then order one foot, and he is over in no time. "I shouldn't wonder," said I, " if that was a sartain cure." " Wonder," said he, " why I know it is." "'Zactly," said I; "I have knowed it this long time — long before you ever see this coast." "What is it?" said he. "Write the word down, for partitions have ears." - '' ^^■ Well, I took the pen, as if I was going to do as he asked, and then suddenly stopped, and said : "Yes, and give you my secret. Oh, no! that won't do; but it has a long stalk." " Exactly," said he. "And leaves not onlike those of a horse-chesnut.* "Which gender is it?'' said he, gaspin' for breath, and openin' of his ugly mug, till it looked like a hole made in a bear-skin of a sleigh to pass a strap through. " Feminine gender," said I. "The devil !" said he, and I thought he would have fainted. " Mr. Slick," said Blowhard, " I'll back you agin any man I ever 106 OLD SARSA.PARILLA PILLS. " 1 iM I >.: see for a knowledge of tliings ia gineral, and men and women in particular. What the deuce don't you know ?" f' Why I'll tell you," suis I, " wha'. I don't know. I don't know how tne plague it is a squid can swim either end foremost, like a pinkey steamer^ without having eyes in the starn also, or why it hasn't a bono at all, when a shad is chock full of 'em. And I can't tell why it can live five days out of water, when a herring dies slick off at onct." *' Well — well," said Love: " who'd a-thought you'd have observed such things I" Furlong was so astonished at my having his dropsy secret, he didn't hear a word of this by-talk ; but lookin' up, half-soared, hd said: ;.:.,.>; -;5.v . .,,;v,.jf " That's witchcraft." "Well, it might be," said I "for two old women found it outj they actilly didn't look onlike witches. Old Sal Slaughtory, that lives to the Falls, on the south branch of the river at the Country Harbour, and keeps a glass of good v/hiskey for salmon-fishers, fust told me, and old Susan, the Indian squaw, was the one that discoV" ered it." " That beats the "bugs," said the skipper, looking aghast, and drawiu' off his chair, as if he thought old Scratch had some baud in it. ., , "No," said I, "Not the bugs, but '.he dropsy. '^\; ■ . .J- i,',, "Phoo!" said he; "I didn't mean that." ;wirWo>;;^A^ "Don't be afeard of me," said I; "I scorn a mean action as I do a nigger. I won't blow you; part of the invention is yourn, and that is, reducin' it to pills, for the old gal only knew of the de- coction, and that is good enough. But you must give Sal fifty dol- lars when you take out the patent ; it is a great sum to her, and will fill her heart, and her whiskey-cask too." " Done," said he. " Now, Mr. Slick, have you any more medi- cal secrets of natur' ?" " I have," said I. " I can cure the jaundice in a few days, when the doctors can make no fist at it, any how they can fix it ; and the remedy is on every farm, only they don't know it. I can cure in an hour or two that awful ague in the face, that folks, and specially women, aro .mbject to ; and can make skin grow when it is broken on the shin-bone, and other awkward places, even in the case of an old man, that^octors only make wu3 ; and effect a hundred other cures. But that's neither here nor there, and I aint a-goin' to set up for a doctor; I didn't come to br.;g, but lam. That is a great herbal cure you have got hold of tho' — that's a fact," said I. " What are you goin' to call it ?" " Sure and safe remedy for the dropsy," said he. " You won't sell a bottle," sais I. " Simple will do very well ■'""""■ J^^^-^*"""^'' « i Iii »H - T:'- =' " Well, then, my theory is, that it is high time for us to go on board." Thinks I to myself, I was rather hard on that chap. I intruded on him, and not he on me. I was his guest, and he wasn't mine. He was in his own house, as it were, and had a right to lead tho talk. So I thought I owed him a good turn, and as I expected the jobation I gave him would make him ill, I said : " Captin Furlong, I'll give you my cure for the jaundice. You will make your fortin out of it ; and common as the article is, all the doctors under heaven will never find your secret out." And I wrote it out for him, tho' it was a tough job ; for as he leaned over my shoulder, as I was a-doin' of it, his nasty, coarse, stiff, horse-hair sort of beard tickled me so, I thought I should have gone into fits; but I got through it, and then shook hands, and bid him % ■>; :■:' ^ >'. \ 110 THE HOUSE TUA.T HOPE BUILT. li i\ CHAPTER XII. ;#THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. \ Early the following mornm', every vessel in the fleet got tinclGr way with what is called a soldier's wind ; that is, it was fair for those goin' both east and west. Captain Love not only consented to his mate takin' charge of the ' Black Hawk' instead of the poor deranged skipper, but pressed him to do so, sayin' : " I guess I can find where the Cape lies. Matey, without askin' the way of any one. There aint much above common for you to do to hum just now; so go, my son, and enjoy yourself with friend Slick. He aint perhaps quite so good-natured as I be, for I believe I am the best-tempered man in the world, when they let me alone, and don't rile me ; but he is better informed than me, and will spin you yarns by the hour, about the Queen of England, whose nobles, they tell me, eat off of silver dishes with gold forks ; and the Pope of Rome, where it's the fashion to shake hands with his big toe j and the King of France, where it is the custom to fire at him once a week, and instead of hitting him, kill one of his guards. Great shots, them Frenchmen ! I don't doubt but that they could hit a barn-door, if it was big enough, at ten yards distance. Slick has been everywhere amost, and as he travels with his eyes open, has seen everythin'. I don't suppose his stories are all just Gospel, but they aint far off the mark for all that; more like a chalk sketch of a coast made on the deck, perhaps, than a printed chart, not done to measurement, but like enough to steer by. And then_, when you are a-shore, if you want to see fun, set him to rig a Blue-nose, as he did old Sarseperilly Pills yesterday, till he hollered and called fcr mercy, and it will make you split. Come, that's settled now, sposen we have a glass of grog at partin'. Mr. Slick, here is your good health, and the same to you, Matey, and a pleasant voyage to you both. You will return. Matey, by the supply vessel, and its captiu and you will change places ; and, Mr. Slick," said he, " I forgot to tell you, friend Cutler can give you all the information you want about tho fisheries. He knows the history and habits of the fish, their feedin' grounds, and the mode of takin' and curin' of them." When we got into the boat to leave the ' Bald Eagle,' the sailors, to testify their regard for their old oflBcer, gave thrae cheers, a com- pliment that was returned when we reached our vessel, with a hearty good will. It was a splendid sight to see this flett of thirty-six sail of fishin'-craft that now got under way, all of them beautiful : ■ , 1 . '^r^^^K' Iu"'''FP ■* |m!''.|\ ». ^ THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. Ill models, neatly and uniformly painted, well-rigged, and their white cotton canvas sails cut, so as to lay up to the wind like a board, and the whole skimmin' over the water as light as sea-guiis. When we consider this was only an accidental meetin' of some scattered out- . ward and homeward bound vessels, and was merely a specimen of whiit was to be seen from this to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, I actilly do think, without any crackin* or boastin' on the subject, that we have great reason to be proud of our splendid mackerel fleet. As the ' Bald Eagle' left her anchorage, Cutler said, with a smile : ■% ''Do you hear, my dear old friend, the most good-natured man ia the world, how he is stormin' ? This is one of the exceptions he himself makes — he is riled now. Poor old Blowhard ! If you are not the best tempered, as you so often boast, you certainly are the kindest-hearted u.^n in the world, and no one knows it better and appreciates it more highly than I do." In the meantime, instead of going with either portion of the fleet, we sailed past M'Nutt's Island into the entrance of the magnilicent harbour of Shelburn, the largest, the best, the safest, and the most beautiful on the whole American coast, from Labrador to Mexico, where we came to anchor. Takin' two hands in the boat, I steered to the point of land that forms the southern entrance, and crossiu* the little promontory, proceeded to search for Mr. Eldad Nickerson, whom I intended to hire as pilot and assistant to the coward mate in his land trade, and as a hand in the place of Mr. Enoch Eells, for I knew him to be a trustworthy, intelligent, excellent man. Near the first house on the way, I met a smart, active-looking boy of about thirteen years of age. . ..■,-•:■. < . " Whose house is that, boy V "Ouru, Sir." « Who lives there ?" " Eeeather Peter Potter, Sir." / "Is he at hum?" " Vp:' '*■ , " Do you know Mr. Eldad Nickerson ?" • M ' ' f "Yes." .■ •. "' "Is ho at hum?" "Yes, I just now saw him cross the fields to his house." " Well, do you run after hira as fast as your legs can carry you, and tell him that Mr. Slick is ut Squire Peter Potter's a-waitin' for him." N " Feeather beant a squire, Sir," said the boy. " Well, he ought to be then. Tell him Mr. Slick wants to see him down to the squire's." " I tell you Peter Potter beant a squire. Sir." v " And I tell you he ought to- be a squire, then, and I'll just go in and see about it." ■MPipifP^ 112 THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. fl i! ll illlif iV ill- if "Well, I wish you would, Sir," said the boy, "for some how feeather thinks he aint kind of been well used." *• Tell Mr. Nickersou," said I, " to come at once ; and now run aa if old Scratch kicked you on eend, and when you come back I will give you hal&a-dollar." : ,: ,-"^ .'-r' '}y-^^k The boy darted off like an arrow from a bow ; half-a-dollar certain, and the prospect of a seat in the quarter sessions for his fec'tiihcr were great temptations ; the critter was chock full of hope. Boys * are like men, and men are like boys, and galls and women are both alike, too; they live on hope — false hopes — hopes without any airthly foundation in natur' but their own foolish consaits. Hope ! what is hope ? expectin' some unsertin thing or another to happen. ,^ Well, sposen it don't happen, why then there is a nice little crop of disappointment to disgest, that's all. What's the use of hopen at all then ? I never could see any use under the sun in it. That word ought to bo struck out of every dictionary. I'll tell Webster so, when he gets out a new edition of hisn. Love is painted like a little angel, with wings, and a bow and arrow, called Cupid — the V • name of mother's lap-dog. Many's the one I've painted on clocks, little, chubby-cheeked, onmeanen, fat, lubberly, critters. I suppose it typifies that love is a fool. Yes, and how he does fool folks, too ! Boys and galls fall in love. The boy is all attention and devotion, T and the gall is all smiles, and airs, and graces, and pretty little winnin' ways, and they bill and coo, and get married because they Jiopc. Well, what do they hope ? Oh, they hope they will love all the , days of their lives, and they hope their lives will be ever so long just to love each other; its such a sweet thing to love. Well, they hope a great deal more I guess. The boy hopes arter he's married his wife will smile as sweet as ever and twice as often, and be just as neat and twice as neater, her hair lookin' like part of the head, 'so tight, and bright, and glossy, and parted on the top like a little : '' - path in the forest. A path is a sweet little thing, for it seems made ;j^ a purpose for courtin', it is so lonely and retired. Natur teaches its ^^ use, he says, for the breeze as it whispers kisses the leaves, and helps the flowering shrubs to bend down and kiss the clear little stream that waits in an eddy for it afore it moves on. Poor fellow, he aint spoony at all. Is he ? And he hopes that her temper will be as gentle and as meek and as mild as ever ; in fact, no temper at all — all amiability — an angel in petticoats. Well, she hopes every minute he has to spare he will fly to her on the wings of love — legs aint fast enough, and runnin might hurt his lungs, but^y to her — and never leave her, but bill and coo for ever, and will let her will be his law ; sartainly wont want her to wait on him, but for him to tend on her, the devoted critter like a heavenly ministering white he-nigger. "•""IP THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. 113 Well, don't they hope they may get all this ? And do they ? Jist ga into any house you like, and the last two that talks is these has been lovers. They have said their Bay, and are tired talking ; they have kissed their kiss, and an onion has spiled it J they ha\ e strolled their stroll, for the dew is on the grass all day now. His dress is ontidy, and he smokes a short black pipe, (he didn't even smoke a cigar before ho was married), and the ashes get on his waistcoat ; but who cares ? it's only his wife to see it — and he kinder guesses he sees wrinkles, where he never saw 'em afore, on her stocking ancles ; and her shoes are a little, just a little, down to heel ; and she comes down to breakfast, with her hair and dress lookin' as if it was a little more neater, it would be a little more better. He sits up late with old friends, and he lets her go to bed alone ; and she cries, the little angel ! but it's only because she has a head- ache. The heart — oh ! there's nothing wrong there — but she is lately troubled with shockin' bad nervous headaches, and can't think what in the world is the cause. The dashing young gentleman has got awful stingy too, lately. He sais housekeepin' costs too much, rips out an ugly word every now and then, she never heerd afore ; bdt she hopes — what docs the poor dupe hope ? Why, she hopes he aint swearin ; but it sounds amazin' like it— that's a fact. What is that ugly word " dam," that he uses so often lately ? and she looks it out in the dictionary, and she finds " dam" means the "mother of a colt." Well, she hopes to be a mother herself, some day, poor critter ! So her hope has ended in her findin' a mare's nest at last. More things than that puzzle her poor little head. What does he see to be for cverlastinly a praisin' that ugly virago of a woman, Mrs. Glass — callin' her such an excellent housekeeper and capital manager J and when asked if she understands music, sayin' she knows somethin' much better than that. ' • *• ' "What, dear r • . ;- ;. y^:',^- "Ohl nevermind." "But I insist/' (insist is the first strong word: take care, you little dear, or it will soon be one of tlfe weakest. Mind your stops, dear ; it sends a husband off like a hair-trigger gun) ; " but I insist." "What, insist! Well, come, I like that amazingly." "I mean I should like to know, dear;" (Ah! that's right, my sweet friend, for I do love the little critters ; for it's bad trainin' and bad handlin' arterwards, by bad masters, that so often spiles them. That's right; lower your tone, dear,* you'll have occasion to raise it high enough, some of these days, perhaps) ; " I should like to know, dear, what she knows better than that ? You used to say you was so fond of music, and stand by the piano, and turn over the leaves j 10* 114 THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. 7^ ^ ,,\ ^.31 and bo so angry if anybody talked when I sang, and said I could have made a fortiti on the stage. Tell me what she knows better, dear ? . Is it painting? You used to be so fond and so proud of my painting. Tell me, dear, what does she know better V That little touchin' and nateral appeal about the music and paintin' saved her that time. She got put off with a kiss, which she didn't hardly hope for, and that made it doubly sweet. What people Jiope /or, they think at last they have a right to, and when they are disappointed, they actilly think they are ill-used ; but un- expected luck makes the heart dance, and it saved her from hearin' what she did arterwards, for the unfeelin' rascal was agoin to tell her that what Mrs. Glass knew, that was better, was how to make a puddin*. Well, the child hope painted was to be a blessin', rot a little angel, that aint good enough ; but a cherubim or seraphim at least. Well, it did resemble them in one respect, for " they con- tinually do cry." What a torment it was ! Teethin', hoopin'-cough, measles, scarlatina, the hives, the snuffles, the croup, the influenza, and the Lord knows what, all 6ame to pay their respects to it. Just as fast as one plague of Egypt went, another came. Well, if the nursery told 'em how foolish it was to hope, the world told 'em in* rougher language the same thing at a time when the temper was too sour to bear it. The pretty boys, what are they ? Pretty birds ! Enough to break their parents' hearts, if they was as hard as flints. And their galls, their sweet galls, that had nur- sery-governesses, and fashionable boarden-schools, and music masters, and French mastei*s, and ^^etalian masters, and German masters (for German is worth both French and ^^etalian put together; it will take you from Antwerp to Russia, and from the Mediterranean to the Baltic), and every other master, and mistress, and professor, and lecturer worth havin' ; and have been brought out into company according to rule — (I never liked that regular-built bringin' out of galls ; its too business-like, too much like showin' a filly's paces at a fair, like hangin' a piece of goods out of the window — if you fancy the article, and will give the price, I guess it's likely we'll come to tarms, for she is on hand, and to be disposed of) — well, arter all this hope of dear Minna, and Brenda, and Ulla, and Nina : what did hope do, the villain ? Why he looked into the drawin'-room, where they were all ready to receive company, with mamma (that dear little mamma, that it seems as if she was only married the other day, so slight, so sweet, so fairy-like, and so handsome. I don't wonder " Hubby," as she called her husband, fell in love with hor ; but now a great, fat, coarse, blowsy, cross woman, that I wouldn't swear didn't paint, and, don't mention it — yes! drink her Cologne water too). Well, hope peeped in at the winder, and looked at those accomplished young ladies, with beautiful foreign and romantic names, and screamed like a loon at the sight of a gun. Ho vowed >diWHtMaii«MMaMn»< THfi HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. 115 old Satan's ttey nearly scared him to death ; for they were as ugly as eldest daughter, her they call Deadly Nightshade. * Jlope is a slippery gentleman, and has cheated more fools than ever love did, for many people pretend to love that don't. Many a feller, while he was a kissen of a gall, and had one arm round her waist, slipped the other into her pockets to feel what was there, and many a woman has inquired (no that aint fair, I swow, I won't say that, I ought to be kicked if I did) ; but there is many a gall whose friends inquire, not into a man's character, but into his balance at his banker's, and if that aint good, into his family interest, for "friends are better than money," and fish that won't take a worm, will jump clean stark naked out of the water at red hackle. But love is neither here nor there ; the rael neat article, like rael best Varginy backey, is a scarce thing ; it's either very coarse, or a counterfeit, something you wouldn't touch with a pair of tongs, or something that is all varnish, venear, and glue. The moment it is heated it warps, and then falls to pieces. Love is a pickpocket — hope is a forger. Love robs a gall and desarts her, and the sooner she is rid of him the better, for she is young, and the world is left to her, at any rate. Hope coaxes her to hoard up for the future, and she listens to the villain, and places her happiness in years to come ; and when that long future arrives (a pretty short story arter all, for it so soon comes), and she goes to draw on this accumulated fund, the devil a cent is there } hope has drawd it all out, and gone to California. ■ c ■" , Love and hope are both rascals. I don't pity any folks that is cheated by hope, it sarves them right, for all natur' is agin hope. " Good and evil seldom come where tliey are expected." We hante no right to rely on anybody but on Providence and ourselves. Middle men, or agents in a general way, are evil spirits, but hope is the devil. I do pity a feminine tho', that is cheated by love, for by listenin' to the insinivations of the accomplished rascal, she don't know that the voice of natur' is in his favour, tho' he does. But I don't pity a he crittur at all. His strength, vanity, and want of principle, will carry him through any thin'. The spur icon't hurt lohere the hide is thick. I don't go agin love, it's only Cupid's love, boy love, calf love, and Cupid ought to be sarved like a calf. With us we veal a calf at four weeks, in England they keep him three months ; but Cupid, like the calves, ought to have his throat cut at one age or the other. Man's love and woman's love is a sensible thing, and a natural thing, and I approbate it, provided it is founded on — bit I" aint a goin' to preach. Day and night are given to work, to glorify, to jol- lify, and sleep. What right have we to take this day's happiness, bottle it up, and pnt it away for ten years, and say, " We will then ». J. ■-#» \ ,A\. < IP 11 116 i 'I! THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT, '>.♦■ .■» -^ have a splcndiferaus spree, uncork it, and get riproarious with delight ? Take your daily bread, and be thankful; but don't pray to the Lord to lay up for you the loaves for years to come to make you rich. Many a man has died ahout the time his yreat baki?ig of bread came otif of Ms oven. . -■ .' ' ' • , .. 5- ■ Love, like the small-pox, comes in the natcral way, and you can't help it; but hope is different; all experience is agin it; and ydt; like sin, every one indulges in it, privately or publicly. Look at that boy, now ; he hopes I am goin' to make his father a squire or justice of the peace. I haven't the power, and don't know as I would if I could. But tarnation ! I never said I would. All I did «ay was, he ought to be. Well, so he ought, if he was worth a far- thin'. On that little compliment he has framed, raised, boarded in and shingled up a considerable buildin' of hope. And don't every- body do the same ? Why to be sure they do. " When my Uncle Sam dies," sais my nephew, Sam Munroc, " I shall get all his money." He is quite sure of it; his hope is so strong, and so i, his mother's and father's too. They all hope as hard as they can. Well, I intend to marry soon, and I guess I don't hope, for / aint such a fool ; but I gue^ I may have a little Sam Slick of my own, and then where is all their hopes ? Gone to the four winds and all their pints, includin' Oilynndcv the black cook's favourite one — west and by east, half south. Then new hopes spring up; Uncle Sam will get me a situation under government, for he knows everybody amost. And Uncle Sam guesses he may ; but as it don't depend on him altogether, and it is as like as not he might fail, all he sais is he'll try; but in the meantime, don't depend on it; work as if you never thought of it. You can't live on hope, and hope deferred makes the heart sick. Well, the critter don't look pleased at that*answer — that sensible answer — that answer that is accordin' to the natur of things and the working of Providence, and he is huify, slams his hat on, sticks his lips out and bangs the door arter him as he struts oif, and his father is sulky, and his mother looks down in the mouth. They hoped better things of Uncle Sam. He ain't got no nateval affection; he has travelled about the world so much, he don't care for no one now. Single men get selfish ; but they still hoj)c, because they intend to teaze nie into it. So they at it again. They hope to wheedle me too, if teazin' won't answer. " Oh^ Shta !" says sister Sail, and railly there is no restin' of her when she gets at you, she has such winnin' ways about her, and smilcs.JW) s^p^t, and looks to my mind handsomer than when she was a gall, ^vcll, she watches her chance — fur hope keeps her wide awake— =-and when she sees me dressed up for a party, in my best J^don and Paris dress, she takes hold of my whisker, and gives it a litllc better curl and set with her finger. " Sam," sais she, " how \ *mm THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. 117 well you do look ! I wouldn't go out to this party, only I feel so proud of you, and I do like to see folks look up to you so. Your last visit to Europe did a great deal for you ; it improved you so much." "i ■''''>- - i,; ,. /v, ;>_ ' r " Do you think so ? sais I. ',;,'■■ " Think !" sais she, a tossin' up of her pretty little head, and a sha- kin' of her beautiful ringlets, and a kissin' of me. " I don't think about it at all, I know it, and it's generally allowed to be so, it has made you quite a man of the world, it has rubbed off all rusticity, or what Cooper calls provincial look." " Oh ! ho !" sais I to myself, " I see how the cat jumps, there ia a gold chain, or a bracelet, or a cameo, or somethin' or another wanted. Well I'll play her off a little while and she shall have it, the dear little critter, and welcome. Oh ! Lord, a man of the world I " Sally," sais I, " Sally," pretending to look all taken aback, " I am sorry to hear that." "Why, dear?" sais she. - • • '•' "-^ .' '"* V " Because, Sally, a man of the world has no heart, and I begin to think mine aint so big or soft as it used to be." " How can you say so, Sam ?" sais she, and then comes another kiss. " Better so, Sally dear," sais I. " If I was as soft as I onct was, when I was always in love with every gall I romped with, (and I jiever see one that I didn't make right after), perhaps, I'd go strait off, marry in haste and repent at leisure." Well, that word marry always set her a swollerin' her breath, as folks do to keep down the Jiickups. Sally railly does love me, and no mistake ; but somehow or somehow else, it strikes me it would take her a good while to like my wife (though she will have to try some day), for that would knock her hopes all to squash. " Marry !" said she ; " why I'm sure there aint any one half good enough for you here, Sam, so you needn't be afeard of fallin' in love to-night; but I wasn't thinkin' of the galls," said she, a-colorin' up out of consciousness. " I was thinkin' of the men." Some how or another, natur don't seem to approbate anything that aint the clear grit. The moment a lady goes to conceal an arti- fice, if, instead of hiding it with her petticoats, she covers it with blushes, " Guilty !" sais you at once. " There is the marks of blood in your face." " So you warn't thinkin' of the galls, eh, Sally ? ' HoT^ike a woman that was !" ^ "Sam," sais she, a-colorin' up again most beautiful, "do behave yourself. I thought you was improved, but now I don't see you are a bit altered. But, as I was sayin', the men all look up so to you. They respect you so much, and are kind of proud of you — they'd do anything for you. Now, Amos Kendle is to be there to-night, one ii Hi 11 ¥M'\ ?r-.* 118 THB HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. of tho Secretaries of State. Couldn't you speak to hira about Sam ? He'd provide for him in a minute. It's amost a grand chance ; a word from you would do the business at ouct — ho won't refuse i,ou." Well, it aint easy to say no to a woman, especially if that woman is a sister, and you love that sister as I do Sally. But sometimes they must listen to reason (though hope don't know such a tarm as that), and hear sense (though hope says that's heathen Greek) so, I have to let her down easy. " Sally dear," sais I, a-takin' of her hand, " Amos is a democrat, and I am a Whig, and they mix about as easy as ile and water j and the democrats are at the top of the ladder now ; and in this great nation each party take^ all the patronage for its own side. It's a thing just onpossible, dear. Wait until the Whigs come in, and then I'll see what I can do. But, Sally, I don't approbate offices for young men. Let them aim t> ir own grub, and not eat the bread of the State. It aint half so siveet, nor half so much to be depended on. Poor Sally !" thinks I, " hope will be the death of you yet," for she said, in a faint \ oice : " Well, Sam, you know best. I trust all to you ; my hope is in you," and she ■sot down, and looked awful pale, held a smellin'-bottle to her nose, and I thought she would have fainted. Well, to make a long storv short, one fine day in flies Sally to my room, all life, animation and joy. . * ' ' . ' '• '/T^ " Oh ! Sam," sais she, " I have great news for you ?" ' ~- '^'*''. ,^"i' "Has the blood-mare got a colt?" sais I. ,'^' ' , •• '''^ "Ho!" sais she; "how stupid you are !" * ' ' "' "^ " Has the Berkshire pig arrived from England ?" ' . . • , « * I knew in course what was comin', but I just did it to tease her. "No, Sam," said she, a-throwin' her arms round my neck, a-laughin', kissin', and cryin', half-distracted all at the same time, " no, Sam, the Whigs have carried their man for President. Now's the time for Sam ! you'll get an^pffice for him ; won't you, dear?" " I'll try, dear. Pack up my things, and I'll start for Washington to-night ; but, Sally, dear^ some how I don't think I can do much for Sam ; he aint known in politics, and its party men, active men, and influential men that gets places. I might obtain a foreign appointment for myself, if I wanted it." "Oh! of course you could if you wanted it," she replied, "for you'd try then." TWjip is no keepin' off a woman ; if coaxin' won't do, they give you {fWy touch on the raw; but I takes that poke, and goes on. " Because they aint always confined to party ; but as for a boy like Sam, I don't know, but I'll try." Well, what, sais President, 'i Collector of Customs at New Port, Rhode Island? Why Mr. Slick, if s worth three thousand a-year." ' "Exactly; that's the reason why I asked for it." ;; : .■Sj^'-s?^ ■• I'ii; - 1 :!•■ ? ■' ^' - ' 'i ^^yi i wp^^J^B fliBfck" THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BTJILT. 119 )) " It's onpossible, Sir.' "Well, Capo Cod? Let me see two thousand five hundred dol- lars." " Too large, Sir, the party will never consent to it for an unknown boy ; and even you, Mr. Slick, though one of us, don't mix in poli- tics; but stop, ril see what I can do," and he turns over a large book of places, names, and salaries ; at last he sais : " Here's a vacancy that nobody has asked for. I'll make him United States' Consul for Turks Island, in the West Indies ; it's worth three thousand dollars a-year, if he don't object to the yaller-fever," he said, laughin', " the ophthalmia, the absence of whites, and the presence of the many blacks, and can do without fresh provisions ; it's a good office, for I defy him to spend his income, and he may add to it by trade, I am sorry I have nothin' better to offer him ; but if you, Mr. Slick, would like a diplomatic station, I shall be happy to nominate you to the Senate for other considerations weigh there as well as party. Wash- ington Irving goes to Spain, which he has illustrated. , You are favourably known as attacM to our embassy to St. Jimes' ; if you would like any part of the Mediterranean, or the north of Europe, "Thank you. Sir," sais I, "I prefer private to public life, and will let you know the young gentleman's determination as soon as I return." ' * -^ - 'T;<>-' When I came home, Sally didn't cry : oh ! of course not, women don't know how, when she saw all her hopes broken to pieces, like a flower- pot that falls off a stand, leavin' nothin' but dirt, broken crockery, and squashed roses on the carpet. And Sam didn't stalk about the room, and hold up his head straight like a crane that's half choked swallowin' a great bull frog, and talk nonsense, and threaten to lick the President if ever he caught him to Slickville. Oh no ! boys never do that ; and they didn't coax and persuade me to take a foreign mission, on purpose to have Sam as attacM. Oh no ! of course not ; that would have looked selfish, and askin' too much of Uncle. I wonder if there is such a thing as asking too much of an uncle. Thinks I, when the Lord don't send children, the devil sends nephews and nieces. Well, hope, like an alder-bush near a ditch in the dike, as soon as it is cut down springs right up again, and puts forth five or six stems instead of one. There is a new hope for Sam, who railly is a handsome feller, and if he was a little taller would be most as handsome as his Uncle. "Well, what is it, Sally?" * "Why, I think he will marry Miss Crowningshield, the great heiress. Her father made a million dollars in ile, and left it all to her. Oh ! I hope to goodness he will take my advice. She is very fond of him, and meets him more than half way. Wouldn't that be grand, Sam ?" :^/ *f' '« ill if hi. K*Si 120 XUn IIOUHK WITUOUT UOPl. ,)lftl Woll, T didn't Hiiy ft word. "Hum, why don't you ^lpolllcl' Wliy 8ain, wlmt. nils you?" " Httlly dtniv," niiis I, " tuko caro. Tins I'ortin commonood iu ile, mid will JTud ill Mnblior, us hiu'o us tho world, hoo if it don't." Woll, it did ; oithor lio didn't go tho right way to work", or hUo jiltod him; but thoy didn't hitoh horses togothcr. Hull took t) her uod, ftnd nearly criod hor oyos out, and ISnni took to u likoly young hoifor, thut imd just njonoy enough to pay thoir pawago, and splioou and sot oil' to (!aliftn*nia. Ho will do hottor now ho is away from bis niotluM*, if ho works like a niggor day and night, aint afraid of hot suns and eold rivers, has good luck in diggiu', and don't get robbed, burnt out, or murdered. 1' llopo will bo tho death of poor Sally yet. She goes it as strong hs over, now, on Joslma Hopewell JNIunroo, tho second boy; and it they would only let hopin' alono, I make no doubt but ho'd do. "i'lo, no I" as I said to my nephew, when ho went to tho ruoifio, **hopo ought to bo .struek out of tho dictionary. Do your duti/y SaWy ami (ruKf to Pioviifvnrv ; have no hopv and no fear ; rajard the preiitnt nmf not the future^ except that /uturo heyund tho i/rave, an(f /or that thf word iit/ai'th.'* Stpiire, what eS'et ilo you think that had on him? and this I will say, though I nay it that shouldn't say it, it'.s good advice. Why the hopeful youth just winked to his wife, as much as to say, How wivso ho is, aint he? " l*]xaetly, unele," sais ho; "wo shall have as happy ft life of it as the jolly old pair in tho song had, who •• * Nor hoped, nor foarod, noi* lauglicd, nor oriod| ' •*■ .•, Ami 80 thoy livcil, and so thoy tliod.* ' ^ Good bye, unelo;" and after thoy got out into tho entry, I could hear them laugh like anything at it. Poor boy I ho is tho wrack of a house that hope built. ' \ CnAPTER XIII. ■ ' « ' - - ■> THi: HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE. WlIlLK tho boy was goin' ft)r Eldad Niekorson, I walked into tho house of Mr. Peter l\>tter, the door of which stood iuvitinly or carelessly open, and went to the fire, wliere Peter sat smokin' a pipo. Ho was about as cross-grained, morose, ongainly, forbiddi:\' a lookin' man as ever I sot eyes on. He was tilted back on his chair, which ho Dalanced with the toes of his boots. Ho wore his hat, to savo the trouble of taking it on or off; and a month's board, to savo tho troublo of shaviu*. He neither got up, nor looked up, nor spokoj :^i^W* t THR nOUHR WITHOUT HOPE. 121 \oo.d iti ile, n't." tIc, or hUo ook t) her :oly yomiff lul upliood iiwtiy froui d nfi'uid of don't get an Htronff y; and it ; ho'd do. 10 ruoiflo, lour dati/y •; rctjard the yravey this T will uo. Why 8iiy, How U htwe as , I oould Iwnick of linto tho [tinly or a pipo. lookin' |, which |to savo ivo tho Ispoko; but Hocmod llHtoninp; to a groon stick of wood, that was what is culled Hinging or hi^Hing, uh tlio heat of tho fii'o drovo out thu nap. Poverty, despair, and doggod bad temper, was Htampod on his faco in big print. I guess lio had got out of bed tho wrong way that uiornm'. Kvorvtliing depends on how a num gets up. It's a groat soorct, that. If it is done wrong leg foremost, or wrong cend fust, you aro wrong all day, cross as old scratch ; and tho wisest thing is to give you a wide bcrtli, lest you should fly olT tho handle. And if the right log, or tho right side, or right cend, as tho caso may bo, cornea up as it ought, why then you'll do pretty well that day, like Old lUowhard, if tlioy don't rile you. But t'other way, is like tho sun risin', and goin' into a cloud right oft'j it's a suro sign of a storm, or a jtiicy day. l*oter had got up wrong, or never turned in right, or didn't know the (lodge of cottin' out of bed properly. Tho apartment in which ho sat was both a kitchen, and common sitting-room. It was clean, [mt scantily and wretchedly furnished. Evcrythin' betokened groat poverty. Much of tho glass of tho windows was broken, (jnd its place supplied by shingles, and what was left was patched with tho fragments of those that had been shattered. Tho dresser contained but few articles of crockery, and those of tho commonest kind, of ililVorojit patterns, and of indispensable use. A common deal table, a bench, and throe or four rickctty chairs, with two round pieces of birch, apparently siuvcd from a log of fire-wood, for seats, that stood on each side of tho chimney, was all that tho room contained. Onliko other houses of tho sumo kind, bclongin' to people of his class, which aro generally comfortable, and bear some marks of thrift and good cheer, this exhibited nothin' to feed or work upon. No hams hung temptii. from tho rafters. No hanks of yarn kivered tho \valls, and no spinnin'-whecl showed a partnership with sheep. High up, within tho largo open fire-place, and on cither side of tho jams, were two hard-wood rods, that severally supported about a dozen fflispercaux, or alowives, that were utidergoin' tho process of Huiokin ; while in one corner of tho room stood a diminutive scoop- net, by the aid of which tho eldest boy, apparently, had provided this scanty supply of food for tho family. A heavy, old-fashioned nmsket was slung between tho windows, and was probably tho travollin* companion of its owner, for tho special benefit of consta- bles and wild-fowl, both of which are naturally shy in a place so much IVoquented by sailors, It was a scone not easily forgotten, especially in a country like Nova Scotia, whoro common industry supplies in abundance all tho ordinary wants of a family. Procecdin' to the fire-place, I addressed the immoveable and silent owner. " Mornin*," sais I, " friend. By your leave I'll light a cigar by U . * il ' m 1 7. il'lrl 122 TUG II U B E WITHOUT HOPS. r I \ stoud near tbo \ vouv fii'o." And suitin' the action to the word, I took up a coal, Slowed it, and lit ono. a " That's right," said he, " help yourself fust, and then ask leave." " Peter, aint you uahamcd '(" said his wife, who dresser, apparently desirous of escaping observation. <»No, I aint." . ; ■ ^r. *«^. .,t " Well, then, you ought to be." " I'riend," sais I (for if I blow a coal, I never blow up conteU' tion), " friend," sais I, (and I took no notice of what ho said, for I was detarniined to make him talk in spite of himself. I never see the man yet, where I had the chance, that I couldn't draw him out, as easy as nail-rod iron), "friend," sais I, "will you try a cigar? it's a first chop article." "No; I don't smoke them," he said; "I can't afford them." " Well, here is a fig of best Varginny tobacky. You don't often see the like in these diggins ; take that." He held his hand out without speakin' a word, half-ashaiacd to refuse, and half-unwillin' to accept it, and I dropt it in. "And now," sais I, "friend, I must be a movin'. Good-bye. I am obliged to you for the loan of that are coal, for I left my fire- works ibehind." And I turned and went to the door, to intercept the boy, so that he mightn't give my name ; for I am well known on the Shelburne coast, having set up a clock in every house in the county almost. We met at the threshold. ^ .,. " Mr. Nickerson," .said he, " will bo here torectly, Sir." "All right, my lad. Now, here's the half-dollar you aimed. You see how easy money is aimed by them that's willin' to work. You're a smart lad, and would make a smart man, if you had a chance. Now, cross over that neck ; under the bank is a boat. Tell them that's in it to hold on there for me; and do you wait till I come, and I will give you a quarter-dollar more." " Yes, Sir," said the boy, all animation, and was going to staflrt off again, when I said : " And boy !" "Yes,"Sir." "Do you know Jabe Lunn?" "Yes, Sir; he lives close by." " Well, he used to be the laziest rascal in all Shelburae county. If you will ax him to come and swing on the gate with me for half an hour, and suck sugar-barley, I will give you another quarter- dollar, for I hante got a soul to talk to, and ray tongue is getting rusty on the hinge. Now off like a shot." I followed him an instant with my eye, and then said, loud enough to myself to be heard inside : " A plaguy smart boy that — well-man- nered, too — and the gracious knows where he got such nice manners from I" Then I took a step or two forward, and then suddenly re- >!<:■ \\\-v TIIK HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE. i2d turned, nnd looked in. " Oood-byo, old man," sais I, a raisin' of my voice, " I sec you nro dumb ; I hope you aint dcef j" and I saun- tcitid towards the roud, for I knew I should bo called back. I had sowed the seeds of curiosity — peThaps jealousy — about Nickorson. Wij^h words succeeded my d(^)arture ; and the wife soon followed mo, and besought mo to wait for Mr. Niekerson. She said her husband was subject to these gloomy fits, and this one was passin' off. Poor thing ! like all wives, she made every excuse but tho right ono, and that was that he was a nasty cross-grained critter, that wanted a good quiltin' to warm his blood — for warm blood makes a warm heart, that's a fact. Well, back I went. I gained my pint. I wanted to examine tho critter, and probe tho sore points, and sec what on airth ailed him. <'Come, Sir," sais she, "sit down please." And she took her apron, and wiped tho dust off the chair — a common country practice — and took another herself. "Come to preach, I suppose r" said old Peter, who had found his tongue at last. " No, my friend, I am not ordained ; and them that aint, have got somcthin' to larn themselves." "Come to Icctur', perhaps?" ' " No," sais I, " I have not come to lectur' you." " I don't mean that," he said, for curiosity, when once started, aint easy kept in ; "I mean call a mcetin', read a lectur*, and pass round the hat." "No," sais I, "I don't put my money in my hat, but in my pocket. Come here," sais I, "my beautiful little curly-headed boy, and I'll show you the pocket is better than the hat;" and I took out a silver threepenny bit, and a large copper half-penny. " Go to the gentleman," said the mother. ' '•' " " "Now," sais I, "which will you have?" Well, child-like, ho took the biggest. "My friend," said I, " that big fellow promises the most, but can do the least. That small white chap is just worth three of him, tho* he don't look like it. Don't trust professions when you grow up.'* "Oh I I see," said Peter, relapsin' into his sulkiness, "I see now, you are a canvasser?" " No, I aint," said I, " I hate, and despise, and detest politicians of all sorts, sizes, shapes, f»nd names," " The devil you do !'* said he, " So do I," , ' -^^ "Ah ha!" sais I, "that's one o' the 'places the shoe pinches." " But maybe," and he still looked dissatisfied, " maybe you are a lawyer chap ?" "Maybe I aint," sais I; "for I don't calculate to live on the fol- lies, the vices, the crimes, and misfortins of others, but to aim my v^-> m 124 THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE, . bread like an honest man. Take care of that bit of silver, my little boy/' sais I. "Don't give it to a lawyer when you grow up." "What mout your name be?" said Potter, turning half round, and takiu' a look at me. "Well," sftid I, "it mout be Mr. S^imuel;" I thought !'t. . • ,^ . " Mister," said his wife, when he was gone, " I see you have been about here afore, and know who we are, tho' we don't know who you be." " That's a fiict," sais I. - ■ ' >- - -^^ " My poor '-: Bband is dissatisfied and discouraged; talk to him, do Sir, if you pio ., lOi' y^.u talk different from anybody else. I saw you w^ ^ detarmined to make him speak to you, and nobody, I do believe, could have done it but yourself, because you don't want nothin' of him, and now he will tell you anythin' you like. Do en- courage him if you can, pray do, Sir ; he is down-hearted and down in the world, he says ho is past hope. Ii's dreadful to hear him talk that way !" " Come, bear a hand," sais I, " my old boy, for I want a drop of somethin' to drink (not that I cared about it, but I guessed he did) 11* ' 0^ W^ I: Wr-' i I |i 126 THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPJ:.. Try that, it will warm the cockles of your heart, and then let us have a dish of chat, for my time is short, and I must be a movin' soon. How do you like that, ch ? It aint bad, is it?'' ,. „ , . " Well, it aint," said ho, " that's a fact." "Now," sais I, "my friend sit down and talk. I have told you what I aint, now tell me what you aint." "Well," sais he, "I aint a Papist, I can't abide them, with their masses, holy water, and confessions." " They have as good right to be Papists, as you have to be a Pro- testant," sais I ; " and the world is wide and large enough for both of you. Let them alone, and they will let you be, if they can. Perhaps you are a churchman ?" " No, I don't hold to them either, their ministers are too proud j they talk down to you like as if you only onderstood a little common English, but don't lake yoa up to them, do you comprehend?" " Exactly," sais I, " I take ; but help yourself to a Utile of that are old particular Cogniac, for talking is dry work. Exactly, but you don't comprehend. You couldn't onderstand plain English if you was to die for it. If you was to go to Yorkshire, or Somerset- shire, or Cornwall, or any of them counties where plain English is spoken, you couldn't onderstand one word of it, any more nor if it was French. Plain English aint plain at all; it's like common sense, the most oncommon thing in the world. And if they was to take you up to them, it would be half Latin and Greek, and you couldn't comprehend that; and as for pride, aint there a little mite or morsel of that in your not acknowledgin' a superior?" "That are a fact," said his wife, "I am a churchw'>man myself; and I often tell him it aint the parson that's proud, but him." " Mother," said he, " will you hold your tongue ? because if you won't, you had better leave the room. You don't know what you are a-talking about." "Come," sais I, "go on; for there i? nothin', next to work, I love so much as talk. By loorh you gt* money, hy talk you get knowledge." " Well, the methodist preachers are as proud as the church par- sons, and better paid," said he. " So much the better for you," said I, "for they want the less from you." " Want, is it ?" said he. " Why they all want something or an- other. There was a Latter-Day Saint came here last Sabbath month from the Cape to preach. They say he is a great wrackcr, helps the poor people's things ashore, and lets the owners swim for it. Well, his horse was as fat as a seal, and shined in the sun so as nearly to put your eyes out. " ' Friend Potter,' said he, " they all call you friend when the hat is to go round, 'a marciful man is marciful to his beast.' Thinks I ^^ . iof.- THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE. 127 a movm on sense. to myself I wonder if you are marciful to your wife, for she is as thin as a crow, and if all your wracks are no better ^han ber, the trade wouldn't be worth follerin'." i :'- .^\. ^". " ^ - " Peter, Peter," said his wife, " how loosely you talk.'' " I wish your tongue warn't so loose,'* said he, "what business is it of yours how I talk ? 'Mr. Potter,* said the preacher, ' have you are a lock of hay to spare V ' " ' No,* sais I, ' I haint. Hay is six pounds a ton here, and mine is fed out long ago. My cattle is most starved, and is now to the Hftin'.* " ' Well,' sais he, ' have you are a dog-fish you don't want ?' " Yes,' sais I, * plenty. Some I try out for ile, and some I use for manure. What do you want of 'em ?* " * I'll tell,* said he. ' That are horse that is so fat and shiny has eat only a few hundredweight of hay since last fall ; two dog-fish a day did all the rest of the feedin*, and look at him, aint he a pictur*?"* - v/. :,>i> "Is that a fact, Mr. Potter?" sais 1. " A nateral truth,'* said he. " Well, my friend, that is the good of talk, as I told you, you larn something by it. I never heard that afore, and to poor fishermen it's worth more than all the boards of agriculture ever did for them. By.and-bye I'll tell you somethiu' you don't know, for swapping fat 's is better than swapping horses any time." " Yes,** said Peter, looking wise, " I go to hear all religionists, but hitch on to none.** ' • ^^ That's natural,'^ sais I, "/or a man that knows less than any or more than all of them. But I didn't mean to ax you what sect you belonged to. Like you, I don't belong to any sect; but like your wife, I belong to the Church ; however, I never talk of these things. What I should like to know is — what you are?" " Oh, now I understand you," said he ; " oh ! I am neither con- aarvative nor liberal. I have no hope in either of them. In fact 1 am desperate, and I have no hope. I don't put my hope in princes, for I never saw one j nor on any son of man, for all men are liars ; nor on any son of a gun of a governor, for though they don't lie, they don't speak the truth. All they say is I'll see, which means I'll see you out of the house, or I'll inquire, which means I'll in- quire for an excuse. I hope I may be hanged — '* " Oh ! Peter Potter, how you talk,** interrupted his wife. "Mother, will you hold your tongue now, I tell you;" said her spouse. " Your wife is right," sais I, " don't hope to be hanged, or you will be disappointed, say wish.** '• Well, call it what you like. May I be hanged if ever I hope u J I <^ — 1^ agam \ 128 THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE. it ;i [ 111 JRt " Why what on airtli's the matter ?" ■ v . v ...>'^i " Matter/' said he, '^ everything is the matter. Things is so high you can't live here now/' " So much the better for a poor man all over America," sais I, " for if you raise less, the price rises in proportion ; all you^vo got to do is to work harder, and you'll grow rich," ■ vJEv "•?!». " The fish," he continued, " ain't so plenty as they used to ho ; the rot's in thepotaters; and the weavel in the wheat; and the devil in everything." " Why man alive," sais I, " how easy it is to grumble ; if it was only as hard as work, all the world would be well to do in a gineral way I reckon. As for wheat, you never raised any, so you can't complain of the weavel, and as to potatoes, fifty bushels was about your biggest crop, for you like superfine Yankee flour better. And ^ as to luck in the mackerel fishery, do you calculate to be so lucky '' as for them to come to you, or are you too lazy to go to them ? There . aint a single vessel gone from this coast yet, folks are so tarnel sleepy j and I saw with my own eyes thirty-six sail of Yankee fish- ermen, this blessed day, one-half returnin' deep loaded, and the other goin' on the second trip. Some folks are too lazy to live." " That are a nateral fact," said his wife again, who, after all, seemed determined to have her own way a little, as well as her hus- band. "Woman," said he, imploringly, finding the current against him, " now do hold your tongue, will you ?" "No, I won't hold my tongue," she replied with spirit; "I have as good a right to talk as you have. Oh, wife ! oh, husband !" said she, " the gentleman talks sense, and you know it." To preserve the peace, I said, " I wonder what keeps Eldad Nick- erson so long?" and then I took out my watch, and pretended to look puzzled. "If he don't come to me soon," sais I, "I must go to him, that's a fajt. But what on airth had either Consarvatives or Liberals to do with either the weavel, the rot, or the run of fish ?" " Well, not exactly all mixed up that way," said he ; " but added up, they are too much to stand. There is no hope for a poor man, but to lie down and die." "It would be better for their widders," said I, "if one-half of 'em did." "So say T," said his spouse, who seemed to think there might be some hope then. " Well, but what have politicians done V ' "Done!" said he; " why, done nothin', or done things brown. Didn't the Consarvatives appoint that consaitcd ninoumpoop and jack- ass, Mr. Ryder Kitcum, to lay out the road-money right in front of my door, j'car after year? Warn't that enough to raise the dander > of a Quaker ? And then, arter I turned tail, and voted for the ;^. ^i^¥.-i^-:2j> -• . ..£^> THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE. 129 Radicals, and fit and got licked awful, they actilly wouldn't appoint mo hog-reave/' "I shouldn't account that office no great honor," said I, "nor profit nother." " Well," said he, with a sigh of regret at this review of the extent of his misery, " the honor, perhaps, was no great loss ; but the profit was considerable. Most of the male folks here go a fishing : well, in course, while they are away in the fall, their pigs will get out into the highway; and then a man that does his duty, which I always strive my best to do, nabs them in a minute, advertises thera for sale right ofi", and as there is no one to bid, buys them up for half nothin'. They actilly fed my family all winter." " Well, I never," said Mrs. Potter, " in all my born days ! Why, Peter, you have told that fib so often, you actilly believe it now yourself." " Well, well," sais I to myself, " this chap is a bit of a scounderal at bottom, after all ; or else he is so ignorant, he don't know right from wrong. Mr. Potter," said I, " that may be accordin' to Pro- vince law, but, depend upon it, it's agin the moral law. I don't wonder them hogs was hard to disgest, and made you feel all the time as if you had nothin' to do, but lie down and sleep till you died. It was your pork, and not your care, that was too heavy. Come, cheer up, man." After a pause, he said, " You have the eye of a lawyer, and the tongue of a minister ; but, after all, what is the use of talking ? I am in a regular, tormented frizzle of a fix. I am tied hand and foot, and I can't help myself, nohow I can work it. But, it's my own fault; I can't blame nobody but myself. What's done, is done; but sometimes, when I sit down and think over what is past, and what a fool I have been, I nearly go distracted;" and he struck his fore- head with his clenched fist, and looked the very pictur of despair ; and in the bitterness of his heart, said he wished he was dead. " You can't swim long agin the current, stranger," he continued, " without cuttin' your throat as a pig does ; and if that don't happen, you soon get tired out, and the waters carry you down, and you are foundered for ever." "Try an eddy," said I; "you ought to know enough of the stream of life to find one of them ; and then you would work up river as if it was flood-tide. At the end of the eddy is still water, where you can rest for another struggle." "Yes," said he, bitterly; "and at the end of life, there's the grave, where the struggle is over. It is too late now : I have no hope." " Mr. Potter," said I, " poverty is full of privations, vexatious, and mortifications, no doubt, and is hard to bear. The heart of man is naturally proud, and poverty humbles it to the dust ; but poverty kibii^Uii..sk \ 130 THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE \ \n e ■1 can be endured — honest poverty ; and so can misfortin, provided memory don't charge it to our own folly, as it does in your case." ii'K^Oh, Sir!" said he, "when I look back sometimes, I go well nigli mad." *' What has made you mad, ought to make you wise, my friend," I replied. " A good pilot has a good memory : he knows every cur- rent, sunk rock, shoal, breaker and sand-bar; havin' as like as not, been in a scrape onct or twice on all of them. Memory/ is nothin* but experience. The memory of the wrong way heeps us in the right one, and the memory of the right road reminds us of pleasant jour- neys. To mourn to-day over the wrech of yesterday only increases the loss, and diminishes the value of lohat little is left to us. If you are in a fix, back water, throw the lead, look out for a channel, and pull into some cove or another." "Nothin' but Providence can help me!" he said, shaking his head ; " and I have no hope of that, for I don't desarve its inter- ference." "I guess not," said I, "for Providence requires three things of us afore it will help us — ^a stout heart, a strong arm, and a stifif upper lip. Can you fish ?" "I guess I can ! I won't turn my back on no man in these parts, either for the mackerel or cod, the shore or deep-sea fishing." " Why the plague don't you go to work, then, like a man ?" "Because I can't get the supplies. If I go to Birchtown, they grab all the catch for the outfit, and an old balance j and if I go to Shelburn I hante got no credit. It's no use talkin'. ^Yhen you are down, poverty, like snoic-shoes, heeps your feet fast, and prevents your rising : a man can't hope agin hope." " Why not engage as a hand on board another man's craft, then ?" " What ! go as a hand, when I have always gone as skipper ? No, no ! stranger, that cat won't jump !" " Lord John Kussell has done it," sais I, " and a bigger man than him afore his day, and that's John Adams. So my friend," sais I, "let's drop the subject, for I don't like talkin' nonsense. It aint your misfortens, nor the memory of the past, nor your poverty, that ails you, but your tarnal pride. I don't pity you one bit ; but 1 do your wife and children. Your panes of glass in your winders are all shingles, as the Patlanders say, and the room is so dark I can't hardly see Mrs. Potter ; but your two boys I have seen, and smart • le chaps they be too, it's a pity you should bring 'em up to be . lamed of their father. Be a man ! — above all, be an honest man ! lu poor man that won't work aint honest, that's a fact." He covered his face with his hands at that poke : if the hide is thick on the ribs, it's thin on the flanks, and there is nothing like trying for tender spots. Work" said I, followiu' up that jibe; "aim your own pork, (( /THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE. 131 and see how sweet it will he. Work and see how well you will he. ^Yorh and see hoio cheerful you roill he. Work and see how inde- pcndent you will he. Work and see hoto happy your family will be. Wor/c and see how rcligioua you loill he, for hefore you know where you are instead of repinivH at Providence, you will find your- self offering up thanks for all the numerous hlessings you enjoy. Our vessel is just below, on a coastin' voyage down east. Como along with me, and you shall have five pounds cash a month, and be found. And when you return, put your pride in one pocket, and your wages in the other, and see which will weigh heaviest. Come, hope for the best." For a few minutes he remained silent, when he suddenly sprung up, seized my hand, and said : "Done J it's a bargain." — rirv- " Thank God for that," said Mrs. Potter, and burst into tears. " Now, Peter," sais I, " we sail to-night if the wind's fair, so look up your traps j but first of all shave, and make yourself look like a Christian. Come, stir your stumps, and hope for the hest." "I do," said he; "it's the first glimpse of hope that has entered this house for many a long day. I'll be ready in no time." Arter all, I had to use that word hope ) and I believe it must actilly be kept a little longer in the dictionary, in spite of all pre- judice for such poor devils as Peter Potter. It is a dark room that has no ray of light in it. Hope is a slender reed for a stout man to lean on, but it's strong enough, I do suppose, for them that's infirm of mind and purpose. The houses hope huilds are castles in the air. The houses of th'e wretched, who are altogether without hope, are too dismal to live in. A slight infusion of hope may be prescribed in bad cases ; but strong doses weaken the mind, loosen the morals, and destroy the happiness of those who indulge in them. The true rule is, perhaps, not to let hope build a house for you, or to live with you in it ; but he might come to visit you sometimes, to cheer you up a little, by talking pleasant, and getting you to look on the bright side of things, when you are in a solemncholy mood. Sope is a pleasant acquaintance, hut an unsafe friend. He'll do on a pinch for a travellin' companion, hut he is not the man for your banker. , ., i*. t! 1£ 'M 182 AN OLD F il 1 E N I) W I T il A N K W i' A E . M'* ■; t ,|i.:. .:,;:! !■! i \ » CIIArTER XIV. AN OLD nilEND WITH A NEW PACE. As Pottor retired into one of the bed-rooms, for tlio purpose of carryin' his good rcsohitions into eff'oot, I took my hat, uiid was about to proceed by the path to Mr. Nickersoii's house, when Mrs. J*otter, hastily puttiu' on a bonnet, foUowed mo out. The moment T saw her in the broad day-light, I recognised her as I'atty Schneider, the belle of the coast, but now sadly changed by her many and sore trials, and retainin' but little that vouched for her former beauty and vivacity. A (jood temper must be, Ar/)t cool to rctdui its Hwrr.tuess, Even sugar, when fermented, makes vinegar, and sour draughts moko wry faces. Iler cheerfulness was destroyed, and her hus- band's ten^per made worse by the poverty into which they had fallen. , Folks talk of nations and colonies being capable of self-govern- ment. Show me one man or woman in either that is able to govern themselves. Pride and consait ruin us all, and we know it, and yet wo flatter the pride and consait of the public to rule them. Po- litical self-government means the blind leading the blind. A govern- ment is an asylum, in which imbeciles imagine themselves kings, queens, and statesmen, and are indulged in their delusions, to pre- serve the peace of the community. I wish they would make a statesman of Peter Potter, for the sake of his wife. If he lived on the pork of others, so do Generals and Admirals, and so does the maimfacterers' patriot on dear sheer, with his subscription fortin. (yonliscatin' his neighbour's pigs, is only an humble inutation of Louis NapoleoH's seizure of the Orleans* estates. Peter has been enough at the helm to larn how to back and fill. What more does n y Prime Minister know '/ But I must leave him to shave, and talk to his wife, Patty Schneider. Poor thing ! she had known bettor times, for her father was the richest trader on the coast in his day. Where all arc poor, it don'i take much to make a rich man, " Oh Mr. Samuel 1" she said, " how happy you have made mo to-day !" ** Happy !" sais I to myself, as I turned and looked at her pale, melancholy, holler, dragged-looking face, her' old yaller smoky bon- net, her faded calico gown, lookin' still more so from its contrast with a clean white apron, which, womanlike, she had quietly slipped on while I was convarsiu' with her husband in tho house. She had AN OLD I'RIEND WITH A NEW FACE. m also thrown on a ttbawl, to cover tho ravages of wear and tear on her ilivss,-and im hIio Hpoko, huutily and almost Htoalthilv, adjuHtod it in its j)laco, and rapidly paHHin' hur hand under her bonnet, contined h(!i' still luxuriant and beautiful hair witiiin its narrow limits. lOven ill this hour of mingled trouble and of joy, the beeonun's were not wholly forgotten. VVoman iti ever true to her nnter; and what wo are pleased to eall vanity, and female folly, i.s tho nusro fulfilment of tho law of her bein', without obeying whieh, she would soon eoaso to nil tho station hhe doHervedly enjoys in every civilized nation. " Happy !" sai.s 1 to myself. " Dear mo ! if ho little can make you h!i|>py, what a brute beast your husband must bo to make you ever unhappy. J'atty," sais 1, "you sciom thankful for small favouru." "VVhatl"' said she. "What did you Bay 1' Did you call ino ratty'/' Jlow did you know my name V "Didn't l*eter eall you i'atty "/" Hain I. - ,. ; • ■■ "No, no," she aaid. "It ia a name of love that, and I haven't heard it for a long timi;," and she burst into tears. " Why, Mrs. I'otter," sais I, " for 1 Won't call you Patty no more, lirst because it sets you a-eryin' ; and Bceondly, because, as you say, it is a word of love, J'eter uiay not like it. Why, Mrs. Potter, just now you told me I had made you ha{)py, and hero you are a-cryiu' away like an April shower, jist to prove it." " Oh, Sir ! that word Patty called up tinies that's gouo BO sudden, that it quite upset mo. " I came to thank you with all my heart," sho said. Your kind- ness — " "Do tell!" sais I. "Now don't talk that day," (for there's nothiu' 1 hate so much as thanks, especially from a woman ; it makes a feller feel foolish, and you don't know exactly what to say). So, sais I, "don't talk that way; Pve done no kindness. Wo have made a fair trade. I've got a good hand, and your husband has got good wages. There ain't no obligation in it ary way, and say no more about it." "Oh, that's not it!" she said; "you didn't want him at all, and you know it. lie could have got wages always, but ho wouldn't work; ho said it was useless. You have made him feel his duty, opcnied new hopes and new prospects to us all, and niado us quite happy. I shall never forgot — " ' :•?»>, . " Yes you will, I'at— Mrs. Potter," sais I. < ': -- '-^■ " Call mo Patty," said she ; " only friends do that, and you have been tho best friend I ever had. Jiut that word beats u)C ; how did you know it '(" "Didn'i you hear him say, M)on't cry, Patty,' " sais I, "when you cried for pleasure seein' him consent to go to work '{" "No," sais she, doubtfully; "I don't recollect," and she looked 12 134 AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. .i^ at me scrutinizin'ly, as if I was tryin' to conceal somothin' from her. Said she, " I shall never forget." .;:, " Yes you will, I^atty. Sit down hero on this windfall of a tree, an^ I'll tell you what wo have both forgot. How are you agoin' to get ou without him r"' Poor thing ! her eyes filled with tears. I know'd what she was thiukin' of; times gone by, when she couldn't have borne the partin' ; but she didn't say a word for a space. Sais I, "it's usual to advance some of the wages when men ship that way," and I took out my pocket-book, and opened it, and began to look for province bills. " How much would you like V sais I. " I won't take any money, Sir," she said. " Settle that with him, and he will do what's right. Ho makes himself out worse than he is, and as he is detarmiued to throw the blame on the shoulders of others j he paints everything as black as possible- That story of his neighbours' pigs is an embellishment of his own imagination, I would hp,ve died before I would have tasted provision so unj-^stly gotten." Thinking she might be left to starve in his absence, and that her refusal arose from diffidence, I repeated the offer, and advised her to take it; but she promptly but civilly refused. As I was returnin' the notes to the pocket of the book, she put out her hand, and said : " Oh, Mr. Samuel ! what a beautiful ring that is !" and she bent over it to look at it. It was paste for common use, but a capital imitation, and no great value. " Do you like it ?" sais I. " It's the handsomest one I ever saw," she said. When I went to take it off, I found she had a portion of my hand in hers, and was not a little surprised to feel her rapidly passing her forefinger lengthways and across the palm ; but I thought it was accidental, and talked on. "Look at the workmanship," sais I, handin' it to her. " Oh, women, women !" sais I to myself, " ain't you a puzzle, that's all ! In the midst of hunger and tears, and almost rags, a diamond ring has charms in your eyes." It lowered her in my estimation, that's a fact, more nor her refusal of her husband's wages had raised her. "Will you do me the favour to accept it?" sais I. "I have another, and I guess I have no use for this." " Nor I nuther. Sir," said she. " That ring would ill become one that wants the common necessaries of life. It would hardly match this gown, would it?" holdin' up a small piece of her faded calico. " No, Sir, thank you, I can't take it ; but let me put it on you, please. How soft and white your hand is," she remarked, " in comparison with mine," holdin' the two together side by side, and I felt the same light pressure of her forefinger across the palm of my hand as before. "Poor thing!" sais I to myself, "I have wronged you both AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. 185j times ; I did think you would have had the precaution to put the advance to your husband, where it ought to go — into your pocket. 13ut your sense of honour was stronger than your sense of hunger or expediency ; and I did think you longed for the ring, and that your vanity was stronger than your judgment. Man like, I have wronged you, and I believe in my soul, it ain't the first time by a- long chalk, that I have put a wrong construction on a woman. Poor critter I the higher I thought of her, the more I pitied her. But while I was a tryin' to find out her character, she was busy a tryiu' to find out mine. That word " Patt/' had created doubts ; takin' the trouble to preach to " stick-in-the-mud" her husband, and to hire him when she thought I didn't want him, ofi'erin' her money, and then a handsome gold ring, all put together, made a considerable case of suspicion agin me. I began to sink in value accordin' to her appraisement of me. When she put the ring on my finger, she con- trived to sit down agin on a stump just opposite to me, and not on the trunk of the same tree. "Mr. Samuel," said she, "who in the world are you? Is this what they call mesmerism, or what is it '/ You have bewitched my boys, you have altered Potter into a new man, and you have made me so happy. I only want to know one thing to make it parfect, and that is, is it all real ? I feel scared. You are not what you seem to be." "What makes you think so, Patty ?" . .Li-/^''' ^ " Oh, there it is agin ! — Patty ! Oh, that's reading backwards — that's mesmerism. I have seen you when I was a child," she said ; "I saw you to Boston, to school there. I know your voice; I played with you in the churchyard. When you first spoke, you startled me ; it was like a far-off sound on the ear !" She was excited ; her eyes lighted up brilliant, and she railly did look beautiful. " Don't deceive yourself," I said ; " I never was at school at Boston in my life, and our childhood days were spent far apart, as our after days will be." " Still you are not what you seem to be," she said. " While you thought my aching eyes, that were filled with tears, were admirin' your ring, I was examinin' your hand. Look here, Sir," and she rose, and taking it in hers, turned up the palm. " You are no sea captin, Sir. Those fingers never handled ropes. There is no tar there, and hard callous skin — it's softer than a woman's. What does the like of you want of a seaman?" :,. • .^ " Well, I am not a skipper," sals I, " that's a fact." "In the name of goodness, then,'' she said, "who and what are you? Did you ever hear of a man having control of a vessel, captin, crew, and all; or half a dozen vessels fitted and manned? Is that an oncommon thing ?" " I think, Mrs. Potter, you are gettin' on too fast when you are •i ■■ 180 AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. frightened because a man's hand is not hard that don't work with it; that wears a ring because ho can afford it; and hires a man, either because ho wants hiin, or»bcc:iusc ho pleases, and then stand off as high cock-spotty as a partridge, and sing out mesmerism. You are weh^omo to your thoughts," sals I. " 1 can't stand lower in your estimation than I do in my own. I never pretended to be a great man, or great shakes of any kind. No woman ever took mo for either. If she had, she'd a snapped mo up long ago as quick as a duck does a June bug. If it pleases you to make fun of me, you'd better bo quick then, or Eldad will bo here, and that's the last you will ever sco of me." " Oh I 1 am foolish or light-headed !" she said. " This onex- pected turn of happiness seemed incredible — impossible ! I couldn't realise it all at once ! I thought I had know'd you in childhood. I sec how it is now. I have seen you in a dream — a long-forgotten dream — and now you are fulfillin' it 1 Yes, that's it. I see it now — it's the hand of Providence ! I'll never forget you, my kind, good friend, as long as I live j" and she shook me cordially by the hand. " Yes you will, Patty ; you won't as much as remember my name soon, let alone Aiy face. A word of advice is a small matter, and not worth rememberin', but to foller. As to memory, you don't know, as well as I do. A dear- old friend of mine used to say : * The tncmori/ of j^ast favours is like a raitibmo, hrifj/ht, vivid^ and oeautifid ; hut it soon fades axoay. The mcmo.y of injuries is en- graved on the heart, and remains for ever' " "It may bo so with men. Sir," she said, "and I believe it is; but it aint so with women. Men are selfish, and take everything as their due ; and if their memory is bad, it is because they arc too consaited to charge it. 13ut women — have you a woman ? If I may be so bold, are you married V " No," I replied, " I have no wife, and never had . I am a bird of passage — here to-day and gone to-morrow — and 'nrvven't had lei- sure to think of marriage." " Well, it's time you did," she said. " You deserve a good wife, and I hope you will get one. I am sure you would be kind to her." " The time is past now," said I, mock modestly. " I am too old ; and, as an old aunt of mine onct said : * them that I'd have, wouldn't have me, and them that would have me, the devil wouldn't have.' Patty," sais I, " the fox that had his tail cut off, wanted to persuade every other fox to try the short dock, too." As I said that, I saw she took it wrong, for her eyes filled with tears. She thought I meant more than I said. It is strange, but true notwithstanding : the faith and the courage of women is indo- mitable. A gall makes shipwreck of everything by gettin' married in haste, and repentin' at leisure. No sooner is she a widder, than AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW PACE. 137 W hho ventures to sea again, risks hor all in another voyago as full of coiilidcncc us ever; and when the sUirnis come, and the ship is dis- masted, and she is pieked up in the life-boat halt-drowned,, hulf- .starvcd, half-nuked, and alone in the waste of waters, no sooner doea she reach hind and mix in the gay world agin, before the idea crosses her mind that better luck is still in store for her. The storms are over — storms don't rage for ever — the sky looks serene, aud noi, a ripplo is seen on the ocean. Fair weather sailin' is a pleasant thing, the temptation is too strong, and she is ready to ctnbark again. Why not? ])oes it follow because the leeward is all black, wild, and dreary, that the sweet windward sky shall ever again be overcast by the tempest and the thunder-clouds ? Not a bit of it. Go it, my little widder, when you arc young. The game of life is not played out with one or two hands. Who knows what are on the cards ; and diamonds is trumps now if hearts aiut. I was sorry I alluded to the fox's tail. She thought it was a jibe. Wounded irride should be touched lujhtli/. The skin is thin and pliKjij scnsative. "i'atty," sais I, ''you are generous to say you won't forget me, but you feel more grateful on account of your pretty boys than yourself You see light breakin' ahead already for them — don't bo otfeiided. I know you will forget both me and my name too.'* • '• Never, never/' said she, with great emphasis ; " never, as long as I live. What makes you think so meanly of me ? I think you have been a guardian angel sent by Providence." Well, I repeated them words, " guardian angel," slow. " The very same," said I. " IIow strange ! were you Patty Sehiicider'V" _ . -•,.,. "Yes sir," she said. - " '^^"''' " A guardian angel, sent by Providence," said I. " Exactly ! that's the very words he said you used. It's a favourite word of yours J and yet you forgot him." " Forgot who, sir '( It's a false accusation ? Forgot who, sir ? Tray do tell me?" " Well," sais I, " I was in England last year, and there I met a man who told me a capital story about you. He larfed ready to kill himself." " I am much obleeged to him, I am sure," she said, with a toss of her head ; " he is welcome to his good story. Who was he, the impident fellow ?" • "He said ne was travelling once on the Barrington road, the matter of some years ago now, in his waggon, with a fast-trotting horse he had. It was a lonely part of the road, and a woman mis- took him for a doctor, and called to him to stop and advise her about her children; one had just died of scarlet-fever, and two others were dangerously ill. Well, while he was talkin' to the poor woman, one 9* - 138 AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. of tbo most beautiful girls he ever laid 07 js on, passed by on foot. A rael clipper — tall, straight, well-built, perhaps overly tall, plump as a partridge, eyes like a snappin' turtle, teeth like ivory, lips like — " '' '' Well, never mind her lips. Who was she, tell me quick ?'* "Stop,'' sais I, " till I get this plaguey knife open, J. can't talk unless I whittle. Her lips were so — " - , " Never mind her lips." • " Well, her neck and bust — ' ' . " Well, never mind them ; who was that gall ? Who did ho say? I think I know what he is at now.' ■ ' . *' ' Who is that splendiferous gall V said he. " Ho didn't say no such thing," she replied ; " them is embellish- ments of your own." " * That,' sais she, ' is Patty Schneider, the dai ter of old Cap- ting Schneider, of lloseway, the most sponsible man in these parts.' " Wnll, arter b-^ had instructed the poor critter, the best way he could, what to do about her children— for ho was a man that by trav- elling abo'ife everywher'^^ had picked up a little of everything amost — and encourafred hov the best way he could, he proceeded on his jour- ney; aiid as he was jogglu' on, he thought to himself, how in the world did that beautiful young lady get across them places in the swamp, where the water covers the road, without wettin' her shoes and stockings ? She must have taken them off, and waded as the snipes do." " I didn't do no such thing," she said. " Oh dear ! oh dear ! To think I should have been talked of in that way by that feller. It's too bad, I declare," and she rested her elbows on her knees, and put her hands to her liice. " Go on," she said, " what else did he say ?" " Well," he said, " arter a while he heard the screams of a woman in distress, and he pushed on, and he saw a head and bonnet stickin' out of the bog. And when he came up, the water was across the road; and it appeared the young woman that had passed some time afore, in tryin' to cross over on a fallen tree that lay there, had slip- ped off, and was up to her neck in the quag, and would have sunk over her head, if she hadn't caught hold of the log with both hands, and was screamin' and scrcachin' for dear life." " Well, part of that is true," she said. " Well, he said he was puzzled to know what to do next, or how in the world to get her out, for fear her weight would pull him in head first, the ground was so slippery. But brticin' one '.oot agin the log, and the other agin the road, he stooped liis head close down to her. * Now,' sais he, ' put your arms round my neck, and I will lift you up.' " * I can't,' riid che. * If I let go my hold, I shall sink out of Bight, for I can't touch bottom here, and my strength is een a' most gone.* • AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW PACE. 139 Who did he is embellish- ' Try/ said he ; ' put one arm round first, and I will hold on to it, and then try the other, and if you can hook on that way I think I can haul you out.' <'Well, arter a while, she was a huggin' of his neck instead of the log, and he streighted himself up, and after a most desperate pull, fetched up the upper part of her ; and a most powerful pull it was too, the bog sucked so hard. But what to do then, he didn't know, for it was necessary for him to take a fresh hold of her, and there was no rcstin' -place for her feet to help him. -/• " ' How much more of you is there left?' sais he; and he couldn't help larfin', now that the worst was over. ' Take a higher hold of me, and I will take a lower grip of you, and give you another bouss up.' " Oh dear !" said Mrs. Potter with a groan, " that I should ever hear of this again. It warnt the part of a man to go and tell of such an accident." " Well, he gave her another start, and out she came, all covered over with black slime, and without her shoes, for the suction was so great, it was a wonder i< hadn't drawn her feet off too. ' Well,' he said, ' the young lady thanked him kindly, said she never would for- get him the longest day she ever lived, he had been .sent by Provi- dence as a guardian-angel' for her (the very words you used to-day to nie), and that he replied you was the angel, and not him ; and that tliese two angels stood in the road there for a few seconds all covered with black mud, dirty sluime, and green water, cxtLangin* a few kisses of gratitude, and that he never could think of it arter- wards without larfin, it was so droll a scene.' " ''Did he now actilly say all that, or are you making of it?" " Why you Know whether it is true, or not; is that correct?" " Well, it's none of your affair, whether it is or not. A body at such a time could hardly say what they did." "Well," said I, ''he wouldn't be much of a man, with a hand- some woman in his arms, and her face rubbin' agin hisin for so long a time, if he didn't manage to lot the lips meet; and I don't think the young lady would have acted naterally to be angry — at lea:t, that's my opinion. But the worst is to be told yet. He sais it's a pity they ever met again." "They never did meet again," she replied; "I never sot eyes on him from that day to this." "Are you sure?" " As trae, Sir, as I am talking to you, I never saw him, and never heard of him since; and what's more, never found out his name." ^' lie went to your house some years arterwards, ae said, but you didn't or wouldn't know him. Whether you was afraid of Mr. Potter hearin' it, or didn't wish to recal the obligation to mind, ho didn't know, but you took no more notice of him than any other stranger. - .1 140 '■■•y. CHAT IN A CALM. 7^' Ho felt hurt, I assure you. lie said ho didn't blame you; you miglit have had your reasons, but ho must have been greatly altered, .i'if you had really forgot him that way." ** I tell you, Sir, honestly and fairly, there aint a word of truth in saying,. I didn't know him again; for I tell you I never saw him afterwards," ^ ' " ' ^'> " Oh ! ycs,^' sais I; " I can tell you time and place; I can bring it to your mind exactly," . ^ " When and where then ?" said she. " This very day," said I, " in your own house, and now here. I am the man; and my name is Sam Slick, the Clockmakcr." CHAPTER XV. : ■• CHAT IN A CALM. Having shipped Mr. Eldad Nickerson as a pilot, and Mr. Peter "Potter as a " hand," we set sail for the settlement at Jordan. We were becalmed off the entrance of the river ; and as we lay motion- less on the glassy surface of the sea, we found ourselves at no great distance iiom an Indian encampment on ihe extreme point of the beach, from which several canoes issued in pursuit of the porposes, which were revelling in a shoal of herring. As these sleek, alder- men-lgokin' fellows ros,o to the surface in their roly-poly sort or play, or leapt from- the water to show their pretty figures, (for even fish pride themselves on what they haiut got), they were Ibot at by the man in the bow of the canoe, and two ^n the stern paddled with all their might in chase, while the former exchanged his gun for a spear, and stood ready to strike th'^. criitur, and draw him in over the bows, a slight of hand that nobody but an Indian could perform in so tot- lis'.. aud dangerous a craft as a bark-canoe. The first fish that waa pursued, tho' hit by the ball, escaped the spear, dived, and disap- peared from view. " Well done, feminine gender," said Eldad, addressin' himself to the cabin party on the after part of the deck, " well done, feminine gender," alludin* to the porpose ; " you gave Tony Cope, the Indjin, the dodge that time any how. You must put on more steam, Tony, if you want to catch them ere sea-going craft ; they have high-pres- sure engines them navvies, and never burst their boilers neither. He hr.d better a gi'cu in tho' to you than run thro' the fleet, as she will have to do now. You aint half such a savage, Tony, as her own Becd breed and generation is — that's my logic at any rate." ''■' How can you tell it's a female porpoise ?" said the captain. " Ay," said I, " how can you say so at this distance ?" M.- ■// OHAT TN A CAIiM. 141 "What will you bet?" said the mate, "it's a she porpoise?" " Five dollars/' said the pilot. '• Cover them," holding out the silver coins in his hand ; " cover them," which was no sooner done than ho quietly put them into his pocket. y i '- V'^„;>r^| " Who shall decide ?" said the mate. "I^ll leave it to yourself," said Eldad, coolly. "I'll take your own word for it, that's fair, aint it ?" " Well it is so, that's a fact." ' • ~ . \ J. • " Jump overboard then, and swim off and see if I aint right." The loud laugh of the men who heard the catch, rewarded the joke. "But here is your money,'/ he said; "I know it to be fact, and a bet is only fair when there is a chance of losin', that's my logic, at any rate." " How do you know it then ?" said the skipper. "Because it stands to reason, to natur' and to logic." "We'.l, i^ome," said the captain, "let us sit down here and see how j'»u ^ va the gender of the fish by reason, natur' and logic ?" "^ '" L^aid Eldad, "there is natur' in all things. Among humans there is three kinds, white natur', nigger natur', and Indjin natur' ; then there is fish natur', and horse natur', mosquito natur', and snakes natur', and he natur', and she natur', at least that's my logic. Well, it's the natur' of porpoirses, when a she one gets wounded, that all the other porpoirses race right arter her, and chase her to death. They show her no marcy. Human natur' is the same as fish natur' in this particler, and is as sealyi||^o. When a woman get a wound from an arrow shot out by scandal, or envy, or malice, or falsehood, for not keeping her eye on the compass, and shapin' her course as she ought to, men, women, and boys, parsons, and their tca-goin' gossipin' wi /es, pious galls and prim old maids, all start oflf in full cry like a r'i(k of bloodhounds arter her, and tear her to pieces; and if s^ c; -itiS, and has the luck to get safe into a hole fust, they howl '^x a "ound it every time she shows her nose, like EG many imps ot uai : L' .^s- It's the race of charity, to see which long-legged, cantin', biiioi!.. -lookin' crittur can be in first at the death. They turn up the white of their eyes like ducks in thunder, at a fox- hunt, it's so wicked; but a gall-hunt they love dearly, it's 'servin' the liord.' " "But that s'ill don't prove it's a female porpoise," said Cutler "Yes it does,'' replied Eldad; "they darn't sarve a man that way; if they get up a hunt on L' a, he don't run, he shows fight; he turns round - ,d says, ' Come on one at a tii.e, and I'll handle you, or two toj^: ■ r, if y a like, you cowards, or all in a heap, and I'll fight till I die, buL I won't run;' that's he-natur, you see.. Now if the woufided porpoise was a male, wouldn't he turn also, butt with his head, and thrash with his tail, like a brave fellow ? he'd a seen 'em shot and speared first, afore he'd run. No, the natur* of a !. I ' ( if » I'i >'m4 f ^ ^-r-m y 'M 11 \ 142 CHAT IN A CALM /M, If l'^ wounded gall and a wounded she-porperse is to run for it ; so that fish is feminine-gender, according to my logic. And now, captin," he continued, " I reckon it would be aa well to order the boat out, and we will give the 'Black Hawk' a pull a few hundred yards further out. She is driftin' too near that point, and the water shoals rapidly there ; an ounce of precaution is worth a pound of cure, at least, that's my logic." " All right/' said Cutler. " Mate, attend to the orders of the pilot." ^ . . While this little operation was being performed, the skipper and I paced the deck, and discoursed on the. subject of the pilot's ana- logy between female porpoises and women. " Is it true, Mr. Slick," said he, " that mankind shows so little charity to a woman who is so ^mfortunate as to attract observation? I have moved so little in the -^ . ' ^ ^ was not aware of it, altho' I know Scott says : " * And ev'ry fault a tear can claim, Except an erring sister's shame.' " "It is a melancholy truth," said I; ^'it is coicardice in man, and cruelty in wdman. It is the worst trait in human natur', and the most remarkable fact is, that women whose conduct is not altogether free from blame, are the loudest in their outcry. They yelp shriller than if they was hit themselves. It is a bad sign. A tooman lolio wants a charitable liMu't, wants a pure mind. The measure of a female's judgment must he her own feelings ; and if she judges harshly, her feelings are not delicate. Her experience is her own, and if that is adverse, it ought at least to impose silence. Innocence is not suspicious, hut guilt is always ready to turn informer. But here is the pilot ; he is an odd chap, aint he ? and a bit of a hu- mourist, too. That fellow will amuse us when we have nothin' to do." When Eldad resumed his place, I took up the conversation where he had left it. " If the female creation," said I, " Mr. Nickerson, suffer parsecu- tion sometimes, particularly women, perhaps it's as like as not they haint been prudent ; but sometimes they give it to the males pro- perly, you may depend ; and they aint without defence, neither. If a woman aint able for a stand-up fight, and her little hand aint no good to box, her tiny fingers can clapper, claw, and scratch, like thorns, and flay a man alive amost." "Exactly," said Eldad; ''they attend meetin' oftnor nor men, and hijve the ten commandments at their f tigers' ends." "Oh! Mr. Nickerson," said Cutler, "that's very irreverent." "And then natur' has given her a tongue," sais I, "so loose and iley on its hinge, it's the nearest thing in creation to perpetual mo- j*^ ^* (/ CHAT IN A CALM, 148 rders of the " nor men, tion. Oh ! if over you was iu a fish-market to London, you'd hear 'em use it in perfection ! Don't the words come easy, and such words, too, no livin' soul ever hcerd afore ; not jaw-breakin' words, such as black gentlemen use to show their knowledge of dictionary, but heart-breakin' words, not heavy, thick, and stinging. Why they call a feller more names in a minnit than would sarve half the Spa- nish grandees, and one of them chap's namtj covers the whole out- sidt of a letter, and hardly leave room for the place of direction at the cend of it. Pretty names they use, too, do those fish-women, only they have a leetle — just a leetle — taint about 'em, and aint quite as sweet as stale fish. There never was a man yet could stand thera. Well, if they can't fight, and are above slang, and scorn scoldin', they can tease beautiful, aud drive a man ravin' dis- tracted mad. " Did you ever see a horse race and chase, tear and bang, jump and kick, moan and groan, round and round, over and over a paster', with his mouth open, his nostrils spread wide, his eyes starin', his tail up, his body all covered with foam, and he ready to drop down dead):' Well, that gi'eat big critter aint hurt, he is only teased; touched on the flank, and then in the ear, tickled where the' skin is thin, and stung where it is off. Why it's nothin' after all, that does that, but a teasin', tormentin' hornet; you co ddn't do it yourself with a whip, if you was to die for it. Well, a woman can sarve a man the same way; a sly little jibe here, another touch there, now on his pride, then on bis faults, here on his family, there on his friends, and then a little accidental slip o' the tongue, done on pur- pose, that reaches the jealous spot; away the poor critter goes at that last sting, he can't stand it no more; he is furious, and throws down his hat, and kicks it (he can't kick her, that aint manly), and roars and bellows like a bull, till he can't utter no more words, and then off he goes to cool his head by drivin' himself into a fever. "Oh! beautiful play that; you may talk of playin' a salmon arter he is hooked, and the sport of seein' him jump clean out of the water iu his struggles, a-racin' off and being snubbed again, and reeled up, till he is almost bagged, when dash, splash, he makes another spring for it, and away he goes as hard as he can lick, and out runs the line, whirr-rr ! and then another hour's play afore he gives in. " Well, it's grand, there's no doubt. It's very excitin' ; but what is that sport to seein' a woman play her husband ? The wife, too, is just such another little gaudy-lookin' fly as that which the salmon was fool enough to be hooked with, and got up just as nateral. Oh ! how I have watched one of 'era afore now at that game ! Don't she enjoy it, the little dear, smilin' all the Hme like an angel, most bewitchin' sweet; bright, little eyes, sparklin' like diamonds, and tier teeth looJii»' jso white, and her face so composed, and not a Jlfx-t mm 144 CHAT IN A CALM. /■• V f^'- . ! * * ii.i breath to heavo her beautiful bosom, or swell her allcrbastor neck, but us quiet and as gentle throughout as one of the graces; and her Words so sweet, all honey, and usin' such cndoarin' names too, you'd think she was courtin' amost. But thi' honey makes tho words stick, and tho fond names cdver a sting, and some phrases that are so kind have a hidden meaning that makes poor hubby jump right on cend, and when ho roars with pain and rage, she lays down her pencil or her embroidery, and looks up in surprise, for she was occu- pied before, and didn't notice uothin'. Oh! what a look of asto- nishment vshc puts on. it < Why my dearest love,' sais she, ' what is the matter with you, aint you well? IIow wild you look! lias anything excited you ? Is there anything in the world I can do for you V " He can't stand it no longer, so he bolts. As soon as he is gone, tho little cherub wife lays back her head and smiles. '' ' Succumb is a charming man, Mr. Slick, and one of the kindest and best husbands in the world, only he is a little touchy and hasty- tempered sometimes, don't you think so ?' " And then she goes on as cool as if nothin' had happened, but caste round fyv a chance to let go and laugh out. So she says — " * IVay, JMr. Slick, do tell me what sort of folks the Bluenoses are. Is it true the weather is so cold there, that their noses are blue all winter y Bluenoses i' what a funny name !' ' " That's the chance she was looking for, and then she indulges in a laugh so hearty, so clear, so loud and so merry, you'd think her heart was so ftill of joy, it required that safety-valve to keep it from bustin'. . " Oh ! I'd rather see a man played than a salmon anytime, and if v'omeu are bad-used sometimes, and can't help themselves in a "ren- eral way, I guess they are more than a match for the men in the long run. liut I was going to tell you about the seals down Sable Island. They come ashore there eveij now and agin to dry their jackets, blow olf steam, and have a game of romps ; and what do you think them roguish, coquettish, tormentin' imps of she ones do ? Why, they just turn to and drive all the old bulVors, fathers, hus- bands, wrinkled bachelors, and guardian uncles, further inland, and there they make them stay by themselves, while they atid the young gentlemen, beaux seals ogle, and flirt, and romp about like anything close to the water, where they can give them the dodge if they got obstreperous. It would make you die a larfin, if you was to see how sulky the old fellers look, a-wipin' their ugly mugs with their paws, showing their teeth, at least what is left of them, and gruntiu* aud growlin' like politicians kicked out of office. I believe, in my soul, they put them there a-purpose to get rid of them altogether ; for when the hunters come, they rush right iu between them young as.scmbly-meu and them old senators, and attack the big boys with -Mf- .<^: ?.v * II CHAT IN A CALM. 146 '1 it great heavy-loaded Hticks, and tumble thorn over quick stick, and thou the young ones just take a dive for it, and enjoy the joke in safety. " Perhaps all natur can't show such a soft, lovely, liquid eye as a young lady seal. It seems as if flirtin', coquettin', oglin', rompin', and larkin', was just what this was made for. Yes, yes, natur balances all things admirably, and has put the sexes and every indi- vidual of each on a par. Them that have more than their share of one thin«/, commonly have less of another. Where there is great strength, there aint apt to he much gumption. A handsome man in a (jineral loay aint much of a man.* A beautiful hird seldom sings. Them that has genius have no common sense. A feller with one idea grows richf while he loho calls him a fool dies poor. The world is like a halccd-mcat pic : the ttp2)cr crust is rich, dry, and pvffy ; die lower crust is lieavy, doughy, and underdone. Them,iddlc is not had generally, hut the smallest part of all is that which fa- vours the whole." "Well, that are a fact," said the Pilot; "at least, that's my logic." " Now, Squire, I am going to give you my ideas of the feminine gender in general. I flatter myself I know somethin' about them. As usual, I suppose you will say ' You do flatter yourself; it's a bit of your Yankee brag.' Well, I am a modest man, as I always say, when I know what I am a-talkin' about j and if I am wrong, per- haps you will set me right. Now, I do say, I know somethin' of women. I aint a scientific man. I warn't brought up to it ; and you never heard me talk professor-like ; but I have studied the great book of human natur, and have got it at my fingers' ends, as dear old minister had his bible. I can quote chapter and varso for all I • say. I read this book continually; it's my delight: and I won't turn my back on any one, when he talks of that. I haint travelled for notliin', I haint listened for nothin', I haint used a magnifyin' glass for nothin', and I haint meditated for nothin'. Now, females i divide into three classes : first, petticoat angels ; second, women ; aud third, devils. Petticoat angels there arc, beyond all doubt, the most exalted, the most pure, the most pious, the most lovin', the most devoted ; and these angels arc in low degree as well as high ; they aint confined to no station — prizes that clockmakers as well as piiuccs may draw. Is that Yankee brag? Well, then, there is women. Well, women commonly are critters of a mixed character, in gineral more, good than bad about 'cm, by a long chalk (for men don't do 'em justice in talkin' of 'em), but spoiled like tilleys in * That a pretty man has seklom much to recommend hira beyond his good looks, was a favourite nuixira of Martial. Ou one occasion ho calls him a stouy affair — "Res pctricosa est bellus bcllus homo;" and on another, a weak man — "Qui bellus homo est, Cotta, pusillus homo est," '•-'■'. ' '• 13 '«! S.I A J^.^. *v-H 146 CHAT IN A CALM, r-t ♦, ■.: A- II I-- traiQiQ\ The mouth is hard from being broke with too small a bit, 1? their temper ruined by being punished when they don't desarve TO o:-' ontvue by being put to work they can't stand^ or aint fitted by natur for. llierc never loas a good husband that loarn't a " So I threw down the reins, lit my cigar, and began to read, and took no more notice of her than if she was in the stable. When twelve o'clock came, she looked round as much as to say, if you aint a-goin' to fight, will you make friends, old boy ? We]!, I took no notice, as much as to say, go to the devil; eat my dinner, and I turned to again, and began to read. Well, as the sun was goin' down, she began to get dreadful oneasy and fidgetty, and to put one foot before the other, but I stopped her, and called out, ' whoh !' At last she got very impatient, but I held on till she should take the word from me. Finally, I took up the reins, gave her a lick of the whip, and away she went up the hill, as if she smelt oats at the top of it; and to show her what a fool she was, I drove her twenty miles right straight on cend afore I hauled up. She never baulked at a hill again. "Well, this is more trouble than they ave worth amost; another time, but we won't foller it up ; it's too long a story to illustrate in that way. Some want to race oif. Well, a boss that has onct run away in harness, will always do it again when it gets a chance — shp the bridle over their head, and let them go to old scratch ; they aint worth follering. Is that Yankee brag ? Well, perhaps, it is. Give mo your Blue-nose brag now. I say, petticoat angels, women, and *• ■', -vf THE PABLE ISLAND GHOST. 147 devils. Now what is your division ? You are a Collego man, and I aint; you are a province man, and I am a man of the world, whii-'li, tlio' it aiut quite as big as Nova Scotia, is big enough for the likes of me. I know your Halifax notions. You will say high and low, genteel or vulgar, rich or poor. You are wrong, Squire, a woman maybe high and vulgar, and there may be a person not quite so common, but far above her, and worth a thousand such cattle, called a ' poor lady.' If she is an angel — and I maintain there are such — do- as is writ in the marriage-sarvice, 'with ray body I theo worship.' If she is a woman, say, ' with this caveson and halter I thee break.'* If she is a devil, lead her to the door, take the bit out out of her mouth, and say, ' I'll make a fair division of the house with yon; I'll take the inside, and do you take the outside, -now cut and run, and be hanged to you.' Now, Squire, as Eldad says, that's my logic at any rate." ■ ■^^^^■' .i •>i^- CHAPTER XVI. I -: THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST. "Talking of the Isle of Sable," said Cutler, *'did you ever land there? I should like amazin'ly to visit it. I have seen it .in the distance, but never could spare time to go on shore. What an interesting place it must be, from the melancholy accidents that have occurred there." '' Yes," said I, " I have been there, and it's just what«you say, filled with solemncoly interest. The cause and occasion of my goin' there was rather a droll story. Onct when I was to Halifax, the captain of the cutter said to me : "'Mr. Slick,' said he, 'I'm off to Sable Island. What do you say to takin' a trip down there ? We are to have a wild-hoss chase, and that's great sport. Come, what do you say ?' "'Well,' sais I, 'I'm most afeerd to go." ' «■ ■-^*-""' " ' Afeerd !' said he, ' I thought you was afeerd of nothin ? We always go to the leeward side of the island, and we will whisk you thro' the surf, without so much as sprinklin' of your jacket.' " ' Oh,' sais I, ' it aint that. I am not afee"d of surfs or breakers, or anything of that kind. A man like me that has landed at Cal- cutta needn't fear anything. I rather guess I could teach 3 ^u a dodge or two about surf ypu aint up to, tho' you do go there so of» n.' ^' Well/ sais he, 'what are you afeerd on then V and I saw him .>«■ r . %■ 148 THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST. iil *->. give a wink to ono of the cominissioncrs, as much as to say, ' Let ua rig him. a i Why/ sals 1, * captiu, our fishermen don't mind the treaty a bit more than a governor's proclamation, and just fish where they please, and trade in any harbour they like, and now and then you nab one of them for it. Now I wouldn't like to bo on board of you, when you tried to seize a vessel under our Everlastin' flag. It wouldn't look pretty, nor sound pretty. I should have to jump on board of our craft, and turn to and capture the cutter, take her up to Bostin' and get her condemned, and that wouldn't convene. If you succeeded, and me in your company, I couldn't return home; and if I was to assist my brother Jonathans, I couldn't return here ; and, besides, I like to let every feller grind his own axe. If it warn't for that, it's just the thing I do like.' " ' Well,* said he, * don't be skeer'd ; I go straight there and back. I aint on a cruise, and Sable Island don't want cutters to frighten away intruders. It's dangerous enough of itself to keep folks off, who know what's what. I'll tell you what, if ever you saw that are island when the sea was wrathy, and heard the roar of tho breakers on the outer bar, one sheet of foam twenty-five miles long, stretching away up into the air like a snow-wreath in a whirlwind, you'd think you seed old Neptune's head o' white hair, and whiskers, and heard him call up all hands on deck to shorten sail. The island, which is a long narrow sand-strip, when it's lashed by tho mountain waves, trembles agin, as if it had the ague; and you can't help thinkin', the fust time you feel it, that the sand will give to thos» everlastin' blows, separate, and be swept away to leeward. The fust night I spent there in a gale, I felt a deuced sight more streaked than ever I did on board ship in a hurricane.' " ' Yes,' said I, fancyin' he was a tryin' the temper of my narves, ' it must have been grand.' "The fact is, I Udn't jist altogether like tho look of his face, when I said I was afeerd to go, nor his sly wink nothcr; they seemed as if they kinder meant he thought I was cowardly ; and then I didn't like all that bunkum about old Neptune, and the ter- rors of the storm, and so on ; it sounded braggy ; so I thought I'd just clap on all steam, and go ahead of him, for whoever gets to windward of me had better try it on a river, or a harbour in a sloop- rigged clipper, have his mainsail cut as flat as a board, luflf all be can, hold on to all he gets, and mind his weather eye. I don't cal- culate in a gineral way to have the wind taken out of my sails, ' So, sais I (and in them days I was a pretty extravagant feller to talk when 1 felt dandery, I tell you), ' so,' sais I, ' I hope there will be a ripper there, a regular ring-tailed roarer, the night I land on the island. Then if a feller was to jump bare-backed on his imagina- tion, throw away the reins, dig in the spurs — ' ■i'*' THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST. 149 f my narves, "'You needn't do that/ said ho; 'thoro are three hundred wild bosses there ; catch one o' them in the storm, aud race off, if you have a faiijy for that sort o' scuddiu' afore the wind with bare poles.' " < Exactly,' sais I, ' I'm your man. liaise the wind till it blows a tornado, catch mo a hoss, and start mo off at midnight, wind howlin', breakers roarin', thunder crashin', lightnin' flashin', and me a whoopin' and yellin' like an ludgian devil, and if there is any echo, raise sounds like distant voices of unburicd thousands that lie hid in those shallows ; it would wake the dead, make the wracks start once more from their sandy beds, and sink again with a kcr- wallup, like crocodiles jumpin' in the river, or a steamer goin' down squcnsh. Here's at you, old boy; I'm your man. Here's for a ghost-rider's gallop over skulls, skeletons, and skippers ; a midnight lark to scare the wild bosses, scatter the rabbits and rats, and make the owls stare. I'll outrun you, outscrcech you, and outj'ell you, for a ten mile heat for five hundred dollars. Come, what do you say to that stump ? are you brought to a hack ?' " ' I wouldn't run a race of a mile,' said he, ' at midnight, on that onconsecrated grave-yard, for a thousand pounds. I am a sailor, and I respect the dead.' " Oh, ho ! sais I to myself, I have cooled you, have I? Who is afeerd now ? '' ' And let me tell you, too,' said he, 'it's a land of spirits/ .»; " The fact was, he was superstitious. »' ' I could tell you some ghoi^t stories that I know to be true, that would make your hair stand on eend. Did you ever hear of Dr. Copeland's lady that appeared to the brave Captain Torrens, of the 29th llegiment of the British army, or the Paris gentleman, that appears always to wracked Frenchmen, and complains of Henry the Fourth of France, for takin' his wife and banishin' him there with a lot of convicts, so long ago as 1598 ? or the old regicide that used it as a hidin'-place, and lived and died there !* and on the 29th of May. when Charles the First was beheaded, marches about with a broad- brimmed hat on, carries a drawn sword, and sings psalm,* through his nose so loud you can hear him above the storm ?" " * No,' sais I, ' I should like to seo that man amazin'ly. Our country was settled by Puritans, and I would give anything to know what sort of critters they were arter all, and ask some questions to clear up history. Oh ! time it so as to be there on the 29th. If I could only see that sainted sinner, talk to him, get his name, "see his dress, and hear his lingo, I'd make a fortin' out of the critter." " ' Well, well,' said he, " come with me, and I will tell you all these stories to pass time.' " ' Done !' sais I, I'm your man. I'd rather raise that old regi- cide than raise a treasure ship. Hurrah for Sable Island !' Thinks 13* "^ '& J) If r 160 TIIK »ADLE ISLAND GHOST. I: 01(1 boy, who is ufocrd now? I warn't born in the woods to Do Beared by an owl," , " J^Ixrtctly," Huid Mr. Eldad, 'who Is afoerd? A man has but ^jno life, and that ho must h)yo Homo day or anothor, any way ho can fix it, and ho .don't know how soon. ITo i.s a fool to bo a coward, thi-ro- foro, bccauso the timo will fomo whou ho can't help himself. Dio ho must. Now if a feller had nine lives like a eat, they would bo worth takin' caro of, because, in a general way, he'd have a good stock left, and gracious knows how long ho might live, lie could afford to bo timid liI;o them, and it would bo worth his while, too, to take caro of his lives. At least, that's my logic." " I can't say much Iw the loij;ic ;" sais I ; " but your first idea of dyin' game aint a bad one, and 1 won't nonconcur you. " Well off wo went, and a rael pleasant time wo had of it, too. Oh I what fun we had a chasin' of them wild bosses ! There Was a herd of three hundred of them, and wo caught a lot of them for tho Halifax market, for they overstock the island now and then, and have to be thinned off'. You have no idea what nice eatiu' wild hoss- nieat is. It was the fust time I ever tasted any, T felt kinder skit- tish at fust, but I soon got used to it. It is somethin' between veal and beef As for wild fowl, there is no ecnd to them there." " Did you see a st(U"m there '/" said Cutler. "I guess I did," sais Ij "and that's the reason I staid there so long, for tho cap tin had to get on board quick step, up anchor, and off till it was over. It was splendid, you may depend — awful, per- haps, is tho proper word. You fancy you hear drowning men's voices in it, while the screams of birds scuddin' home for shelter aint onliko those of human bein's." " What sort of a lookin' place is it ?" said he ?" "As desolate, wild, and lonely a place," sais I, " as ever you see. Its sand, just the colour of the water, and can't be seen at no great distance on that account. In the hollows scooped out by the wind arc whortleberry and cranberry bushes, in shallower places is bent grass, and on the shores wild peas ; but there aint a tree or a shrub on the whole island. The sand drifts in a gale like snow, and blows up into high cones. These dance about sometimes, and change places ; and when they do, they oncover dead bodies of poor critters that have boon overtaken there, the Lord knows when or how. There is a large lake in it fifteen miles long." "Why what is the extent of the island?" said Cutler. "About thirty miles," sais I; "and from one and a half to two wide. It has the sh-^pe of a bow, and tapers off at both ends. After the storm, the supcrintcndout and I rode all round it. When we come to the north end of the lake, we got off, and lastened our nags to a sort of pound, made of ship timber and drift stuff; that they drive wild bosses into when they want to catch them. :.., , ■ TIIK UAULK ISLAND Gil OUT. 161 " ' Now,' said .he, ' sit down hero, Mr. Slick, and I'll toll you one of the strangest stories you ever heard. In the year 1802, tho ship I'rincess Amelia was v/rackcd off here, having tho furniture of tho Queen's fatlior, Princo Edward, on hoard, and a number of rccruiti, Boilgcr officers and their wives, and women sarvants. There wore two hundred souls of them altogether, and thoy all perished. About that period, some piratical vagabonds used to frequent there, for there was no regular establishment kept on the island then ; and it's gene- rally supposed somo of tho poor people of that misfortinato ship reached the shore in safety, and were nmrdered by tho wrackors for their property. Well, tho Princo sends down Captain Torrens — of the l2i)th regiment, I think it was — from Halifax, to inquire after tho missin' ship ; and, as lv-v;k would have it, ho was wracked too, and pretty nearly lost his life in trying to drag others through the surf, ibr he was a man that didn't know what danger or fear cither was, except by name. There was but few that could bo rescued before tho vessel went to pieces. Well, he stationed them that survived at oue eend of tho island, and off he goes to the other so as to ext* nd Lis look-out for aid as far as ho could, but first they had to bur} the dead th * floated from tho troop-ship, and gather up such parts of the P 's effects as came ashore, and were worth saving. It was au aw ^ik, and took them a long time, for the grave was as largo as a cellar amost. There they are, just where that long bent grass grows. Having done this, and findin' fire-arms in tho Government slielter-hut, oft" ho goes alone to the other eend of the island. One day, having made tho circuit of tho lower half here, ho returned about dusk to whore wo now are. " ' Where you see that little hillock, there was a small hut in those days, that had fir 3 works in it, and some food, and chairs, and tables, that had been saved out of wracks, which were placed there for dis- tressed people ; and there were printed instructions in ij'rench and English, telling them what to do to keep themselves alive till they could bo taken off. Well, ho made up a fire, hauled down some hay out of tho loft, and made up a bed in one corner, and went out to take a walk along by the side of the lako, afore he turned in. As he returned, he was surprised to see his dog standin* at tho door, lookin' awfully skeered, growlin', barkin', and yelpin' like mad. The first thing he saw inside was a lady sittin' on one side of the fire, with long drippin' hair hangin' over her shoulders, her face as pale aa death, and havin' nothin' on but a loose soiled white dress, that was as wet as if she had just come out of the sea, and had sand stickin' to it, as if she had been rolled over and over on the breakers. Good Heavens, Madam, said he, who are you, and where did you come from? " ' But she didn't speak to him, and only held up her hand before her, and ho saw one of the forefingers was cut off, and was still blcedin' jiJjiKiJ.-t .<„..• «^'' 168 Tun BAinvti rsiiANt) oiiowt. i . , WoU, l»o turnod roMiul uml (»iumu)«I a mm thiit ho luul piokod up in i,\h\ inoniiu' iVom tho dril'l nlnp, in which wus iiiulrrinlM tor hftudn^'m' tlu< wouml, MUil wiiM goiu' (o oIliM' ht'i' smiM* ns,sis(iui«M>, whoii Mh(^ yohv m\ :«U(lilon, , ImkIoi" ho \v(>nt, tho HwitYor nho raood, till sljo oaiuo to tlio luko, and dovo rij.i;ht into it hoad fonMuost. ** * WoU, l»o Hlood MMuo (iiuo th<»ro oonsidorin* and pondorin' ovoi* >vhat had luvpiuMunl, and at luMt ho HtndhMJ hack, and nat down by tht» liro a p;oo«l doal pn/,/U'd. Artoi' wtiidyin' it out lor ,s »ino liniu, Hais ho: Thoro oan't bo no niislako hero. 'J'hat in not a jj;hv>Mt, nor a donionttul ptM'; m, but a nninlni'od wojuan. If I is aotilly doad ; but who is sho, and who nro hi>r folks i* !hit tho rn\j;or, said ho, that is vory odd. I HUpposi* in putting up hor hatul to savo hor lifo, it vvas out oil', (lon- fouiid tho villain, I wish 1 oould onoo f^ot uiy oyos on hin», ai»d ho lookod at tlu^^prinuu' of his gun, and wont out and kncoKul down, and takin' t>IV Ids hat held his hoail oloso to tho ground, to soo if any- body was ino\iu' botwottn hi'u and tho horizon; anYhafc ilo you ihiuk, it's a positive fart, sho hold up tho mutilatod baud again. Ilo j)a(isod sonio tiuu> aforo ho spoko, and took a good look at hor, to bo suro tlu>ro was lu) nnstako, and to bo ablo to idou- tify hi>r aftorwunls, if nooossary. *' ' Why, sai;i ho, afh'r soruti»ii/.in* of hor (for 1»q was a nmu was tho bravo (^ijitaiu Torrous, that bloody stump of hor linger. " ' 1 havo it, sais he, uun"dercighbourhood. Ono evenin' he put on a sphnulid ring, which ho brought down for the ])urpose, ho as to draw the talk to tho subject ho wanted. The ehUist gall admired it greatly; and ho took it off, and it was handed round, and eoi>\men(od on. At last ono t)f tho (liulors said she didn't think it was half so j)retty as the ono dadjly got -MY (he lady's llngcu' at Sable Island. "' No, my dear, said the motluir, who got behind his chair to tcle- l^\\i\^\, ho got it from a Kronchman, who picked it up ut tho sand lliere. " ♦ Oh ! T boliovo it was, said tho girl, colourin' up, and lookin' a little confused. '" Well, at last the ring was handed back, and he put it on his linger again ; and when ho was kinder prctondin' to bo admiring it, Hiiirt he, carelessly : " 'Show mo your ring; if it is as handsome as this I'll buy it of you, for I am a great ving-faneicr ; but I don't suppose it would go on my gi'eat coarso linger — W(mld it'/ VVhero is it'/ "' It's at Halifax, Sir, said she. The last time daddy was thci-o, 10 left it with a watehuuikcr to sell. He gave him twenty shillings on it, and told him if it fetched more he should have it. '" Oh, said In', ((uite une(msarned, it's tio matter. M' "Oh, yes! it is, Sir, said she, for it's a most beautiful ono; you lad better buy it, and sho described it most minutely. ' He was quite satislied ; and arter breakfast tho next mornia' "ka^" (( < ■ik.. \ 154 THE SABLE -ISLAND GHOST m xr «'' i. he started for Halifax as fast as he could. Well the town warn't then what it is now. Two watchmakers was all that was iu it, so a search couldn't last very long any how ; but in the window of the first shop he went to was the identical ring. Sais he to the shop- man : " ' Friend, sais ho, give me the history of that ring, as far as you know about it. . ./- '■"■^ " < Well, the account was just what he had heard himself, omittin' of course all mention of the linger. Says he : " ' Give it to me ; here are the twentj shillings advanced ; and if the owner wants more, tell him to bring the finger that wap cut off to get at it, and then come to me. *^ . * " ' Well, it was identified at once by the ladies of the regiment, and some of the doctor's brother officers; and the moment the Prince saw it, he knew it, fot it was a curious old family ring, and the Captain sent it to England to Mrs. Copeland's friends. Torrens was ordered home soon after that, and there the matter dropt.' " That's a strange story," said the skipper ; " what do you think of it, Mr. Slick?" " Why," sais I, " it seems to come very straight, and looks as if it was true j and nothin' ought to be thought onpossible because it's oncommon. The main thing is how a story is vouched, and whether the man who tells it is credible. All depends on that. When a feller sais he saw an apparition he may be deceived ; his eyes,, or the state of his stomach, operatin' on his vision, or his fancy, or per- haps his fears, may make him think he saw it when he didn't. But if an apparition appears to him, not in bed, when ho may mistake a dream for a reality, but when he is wide awake and in good health, and gives him information, and he acts on it, and the information turns out correct, why then I think you may believe him." " Well,'^ sais Eldad, " that story is as true as Gospel, for I've heard it from Mr. CoUingwood's father, who was with the Prince at the time, and saw the ring himself; and more than that, I could tell you the name of the wracker, but I won't, for some of his descend- ants are still living, and are decent people. I have seen the old coon several times, and the devil himself, with all his arts and insine- vations, never could coax him out of the house arter dark.'' "Exactly," sais T, "Eldad, that's conscience; and, in my opinion, conscience is the devil. His court is hardly a fair one, for he fills three offices at onct. He is witness, judge, and executioner. Con- science is a witness, and testifies agin a feller; it is a judge too, and knows the evidence is true, and it is an executioner, and has no raarc3^ It don't punish a fcllor right off, and ha' done with it, but it keeps torturin' poor sinners all the time. Depend upon it, many and many a night it woke up that old wracker out of a sound sleep with a dig on his ribs, and said : ' I say, old feller, how arc you of)' >:i THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST. 155 »wn warn't iu it, so a low of the the shop- far as you If, omittin' 3d ; and if vaf cut off I regiment, loment the y ring, and 3. Torrens ropt/ ) you think looks as if because it's ,ud whether When a bis eyes,, or cy, or per- idn't. But mistake a ood health, nformation 1, for I've 3 Prince at could tell lis dcscend- n the old ud insine- * ly opinion, tbr he fills ier. Con- le too, and ]d has no (ith it, but it, many lund sleep [•0 you oir for rings ? You hainte got a spare finger to part with, have you ? for I want one to point at a murderer with, and mine's tired out.' Well, then it kinder relents, lets the poor misfortunate critter go to sleep agin ; and when he begins to snore, gives a dyin' screetch iu his ear that fetches him up :^u his feet in a moment, and he rubs his eyes, half stupid with fright and drowsiness, and sais : ' I wish to Heavens I was out of this cussed island,' and he lights his candle, tm'ns in again, and goes to sleep once more; for ghosts don't come in where there is light in a general way. Well he dreams (for con- science is a dab at makin' fellers act tragedies over in their dreams), and he dreams he is awful hungry, and come home just in time for dinner, and there is a beautiful meat-pie on the table that smells so nice, he actilly feels his mouth water, and he cuts the crust, puts the spoon in it, and out comes a long white finger with a beautiful ring on it, Eldad, that is wus than being hung — aint it ? Depend on it. Pilot, as I said before, conscience is the devil." ^-J -J "Yes," said he, "it's wus than the gallus, if you are quite sure the same thing hante to be gone over again on dead man's land. But Mr. Slick,'' said he, "you describe that so pccowerful, you must have suffered yourself, I guess, from conscience." "Well, I have," sais I. " I won't deny it, for I should tell a lie if I did. You know, ' if we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.' I do actilly dream sometimes of an onsound horse I have put off afore now on a feller, or a critter thuu would run aiWay, or a clock that wouldn't go ; and I won't deny the memory of these things does trouble me now and agin in my iras, and I wake up almost chokin' and laughin' at the thought of a " Mr. Slick," said the pilot, " you arc a droll man. Nothin' seems to make an impression on you." "Don't it," said I; and I turned to Cutler, for I knew Eldad couldn't take my meanin'. "My mind is like natur'," sais I. " The dark shaders and deep lines are in the right place, but the strong lights and bright sky are also where they ought to be, I hope. But come, Mr. Nickerson," said I, "I have told you my ghost story, now do you spin us a yarn if you have a rael dependable one ; if not, we will talk of something else." "Well," said he, "Pll tell you of one that I knowed myself, for I was on board the vessel at the time. I was mate oncet of a brig of Colonel Freeman's, of Liverpool, Nova Scotia, that was commanded by Captain James Taylor, for I'll give you the real names of the par- ties — and we had just come back from the West Indies. On our return, we arrived off the entrance of the harbour a considerable piece arter daylight-down, when the wind failed us, and we dropt anchor there. It was a most beautiful moonlight night. I guess you knew Gaptin James Taylor, didn't you ?" mmmm ■mH \ 15(5 THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST, ^t \ if *' Yes," said I, " I knew him; and a better shipmaster, or a better man, never trod in shoe leather.' -5|-.'^. " Well," he said, "he would go ashore and walk up to the town, which was about two miles off; and he left mc in charge, with orders to get undef weigh as soon as the night breeze sprung up,- and two hands got into the boat, and set him ashore. Well, he crossed over into the main road, and made for home. As he neared Liverpool, he came opposite to old Mr. Parker's farm, where a man of the name of Trots lived as a tenant. The furst person he saw was old Trots himself, who was lame, standing out in front of the door. . " How are you. Trots ?" said he. " Give me a drink of water, that's a good fellow." "Well, the old chap didn't answer, so he repeated it louder; but the critter wouldn't speak. "What in natur' ails you?" said he; and went close up to him, and called out again, at the tip eend of his voice : " Give me a glass of water, old feller, will you ?" " Trots stared him in the face, and never said a word, or offered to move. NoWjiiJW the Captain was in a hurry, and it was gettin' late, he turns out into the road quick, just leaving a parting tough word for the old man to digest, and thought no more about it. In the mornin', he goes to Colonel Freeman to report the vessel, and tell him about the sale of his lumber and fish, and so on, in the West Indies. " Says the Colonel, ' Jemmy,' sais he (for he was a great hand for patronisin' smart young men, and a putting of them forward in the world), 'did you see anything of my servant on the road last night.' " No !" said he, ' the only man I saw was old Trots ; and he — * " Pooh !' said he, ' Trots ! why Trots has been dead and buried these three weeks.' " 'Why how you talk !' said the captin ; and he jumps up and tells him the whole story. "Just then, who should come into the countin' -house liit Captin Dewal, of Liverpool, and said he : " Colonel, did you hear about Trots ?' " What's that ?' said Taylor, in astonishment, for ho knew he had told no one the story. " ' Why,' said he, * Trots was at his old house last night, and appeared to Murphy.' " Murphy was another tenant who had moved into the house after Trot's death, and he woke him up. " Murphy,' sais he, ' in three days you will be where I am.' " The poor critter was as well at the time as I am now, but sure enough, in three days, ho was as dead as a herrin'. What do you think of that, Mr. Slick ? Can you account for it ?' THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST. 157 " Yes," sais I, " as easy as kiss my hand. It was a moonlight night. Now, as the eaptin knew Trots lived there when he went to the West Indies, it's nateral he should take a shadow of a gate, post, or somcthin' or another for him, and think he actilly saw him(. That will account for that part of it. Now suppose Murphy had taken a glass of grog extra that night, or a pound of pork more than common, got the night-mare, and fancied old Trots was a sittin a top of him, got scared at the dream, and died out of fright. That will account for t'other part of it.'' "You may imagine anything," said Cutler; "but accordin' to that way of reasonin', all human testimony would be an illusion, and no one could ever be convicted. I believe that story firmly." " So do I believe it firmly, too," said I ; " but he didn't ask me if I believed it, he asked me if I could account for it ; and I never allow mystlf to be stumped, so I just give him reasons he didn't think of. Yes, I believe it too, for Captain Taylor is as bratWfe. man as ever Captain Torrens was, as little likely to be deceived, and a man of undoubted veracity, l^'es, I believe it."* * These two stories are given with the real names. The first is well known to an officer of the 7th, still living, who was intimately acquainted with the parties; and all those persons named in the second, were well known to myself. — Author. -- . . .»■,■;: ' '' .■'■!.•■(; :t?-^i.,v. II ii: ''m V 'A ■M BBI \ mmt mw 15d i\ THE WITCH OF ESKISOONY. T* .^S-^»; ■» '^ . ' • ;}^»U'' ■ «•-■'-■'■ ■•!!/"* CHAPTEll XVII. THE WITCH OF ESKISOONY. f In the mornin', all was bustle on board of the ' Black Hawk ',' boats and canoes were alongside from various parts of the harbour, and a, rapid sale was effected of the " notions " on board, either for ,1 money, or by barter for fish and oil. While these were conducted ) under the auspices of the mate and the pilot, I took the gig, and puttin' into it my fishin'4ackle, rifle and carpet-bag, containin' a few changes, I rowed up the river to the residence of my old friend, Gaptia CoUin^mppd. The house w!ra situated on a gentle acclivity, that sloped gradually down to the river, commandin' a view of several of its windings, but sheltered fron^R Atlantic storms by a projectin* wooded promon- tory, that shut in the harbour, and gave it an air of seclusion and repose. Seein' a man at some little distance, haulin' sea-weed in an ox-cart, I ascertained from him all the particulars concernin' the family, and the whereabouts of all its members. I always do this when I visit a house arter a long absence, to avoid puttin' ontimely questions. It isn't pleasant, in a gineral way, to inquire after the old lady, and find her place supplied by another ; or after a son that's dead and buried, or a gal that's taken it into her head to get married without leave. Them mistakes make a feller look blank, and don't make you more welcome, that's a fact. " Don't care," won't hear friendship for fruit, and ^^ Don't know, I'm sure," loon't ripen it. Life has a chart as locll as a coast, and a little care loill keep you clear of rocks, reefs and sandbars. After I had heard all I wanted, sais I, " Friend, one good turn deserves another, now your off-ox aint as smart, or as strong as your near one." '' Well, that's a fact," sais he, " he aint." "Give him a little more of the yoke-beam," sais I, ''that will ' give him more purchase, and make him even with tother." " Well, I never thought of that," said he. " Mornin' " sais I. " Come, steward, you and I must be a movin'. " ' Never thought of that,' " said I, " Sorrow," addressin' of the nigger sarvant, "well, I don't believe that goney will ever * think of that again,' for advice that ain't paid for ain't no good. But here we are at the house ; now put down the things and cut for the vessel, you may be wanted." iiti THE WITCH OP ESKISOONY. 159 I paused a moment before knockin' at the door, to take a look at tho scene before mc. IIow familiar it looked ! and yet how many things had happened to me since I was here ! A member of the embassy to London — an Attache — visitin' palaces, castles, country- scats and town-houses. How will country gals in Nova Scotia look after well-dressed fashionable ladies to England, that art has helped natur' to make handsome, and wealth held out the puss to, wide open, and said, " Don't spare, for there's plenty more ?" The Town Hall to Slickville, that seemed so large afore I left, looked like nothin' when I came back, the Museum warn't as good as an old curiosity shop, and the houses looked as if the two upper storeys had been cut oflF. AVill these gals of Collingwood's seem coarse, or vulgar ? or con- saitcd, or ignorant, or what ? If I thought they would I wouldn't go in. I like 'em too well to draw comparisons agin 'em. I shouldn't wonder if they looked the best of the two, artcr all ! First, I know they'll bo more bloomin', for they keep better hours ; next, they are natcral, and tho' first chop ladies to London arc so too, yet art is only polished natur', and the height of it is to loofPhateral. It's like the rael thing, but it wants life. One's an artificial flower : the other's a rael genuine rose. One has no scent : the other's parfume itself. I guess, at last, high-bred beauty looks best "to high-bora folks, and simple country trainin' to folks that's used to it them- selves. Circumstances, education, and custom makes circles in Eng- land and the States, in monarchies and republics, and everywhere else, and always will ; and I reckon everybody had better keep to his own, or at any rate to one that ain't very far above or below it. A man must keep his own circle, like his own side of the road, un- less he wants to be elbowed and jostled for everlastin'. I wonder whether Sophy would do for me, or whether she would hear transplantin' to Slickville? Let's see, here goes; and just as I lifted up my hand to rap on tho door, swing it went open, and it nearly hit her in the face. As she started and coloured with sur- prise, I thought I never see so handsome a gal in my life. "Well done, natur'!" sais I to myself, "you've carried the day, and I kinder guessed you would." "Don't be skeered. Miss," said I, "ray hand was lifted agin the door, and not agin you, to enquire if my old friend, the Captin, was to home." She said he was absent, but would be back in time for dinner; and, as her little brother made his appearance with his satchel over his shoulder, he and I lifted into the hall my travellin' traps. It was plain she didn't recollect me, and I don't know as I should have know'd her, if I hadn't seen her to home — she had filled out, and developed into so fine a woman ! Arter a while, sais she, " You have the advantage of me, Sir ? i ft 160 TUE WITOII 0¥ ESKISOONY.i i^' y ^^ if i!i ii , ii lllilllll lllHi] III n M w M i 1 i 1 If 1 M (meanin', * Pray what may your name be ?' it's a common phrase, this side of the Atlantic) ; but I evaded it. ♦'No/' sais I, " Miss Sophy, you have the advantage of me; for you have youth, bloom and beauty on your side : and I am so * vcdder bcaden,* as poor old Rodenheiser over the river there used to say, that you don't recollect me. But where is Mary ? tell her that her old friend, Mr. Slick, has come to see her." " ill- " Mr. Slick,'' said she, " well, what a surprise this is ! I knew your face and your voice, but I couldn't just call your name, not ex- pectin' to see you, and being taken by surprise, it confused mo. Why, how do you do ? — how glad I am to sec you ! Jemmy, call Mary; but don't tell her who it is, see if her memory is better than mine. How delighted my father will be ! He often talks of you, and only yesterday wondered where you were." Mary, like her sister, had greatly improved in appearance ; but, unlike her, knew me at once, and I was at home once more among friends. The country is the place for warm hearts. The field is larger, and fewer in it, than in cities ; and they aint fenced in, and penned up, andUBbn't beat by rule. Feelins rise sudden, like freshets, and gush right -over; and then when they subside like, run deep, and clear, and transparent*. A country welcome, like a country wood-fire, is the most bright and charmin' thing in the world : warms all, and cheers all, and lights up everythin'. Oh ! give me the country, and them that live in it. Poor dear old Minister used to say, " The voice that whispers in the trees, and intones the brooks, or calls aloud in the cataracts, is the voice of Him that made them ; and the birds that sing, and the fish that leap with joy, and the hum of unseen myriads of ani- mate creatures, and the flowers of the fields, and the blossoming shrubs, all speak of peace, quiet, and happiness. Is it any wonder that those who live there become part of the landscape, and harmo- nize with all around them ? They inhale fragrance ; and are healthy, and look on beauty till they reflect it ?" I remember his very words; and what was there that ho didn't say pretty ? But these galls have set me off thinkin' over his poetical ideas. I wonder if comin' by sea makes the contrast greater ? P'raps it does, for all natur loves variety. Artor a little chat, thinks I, Pli just take myself off now for a spell; for, in course, there is some- thin' to do when a stranger arrives ; and when most that is done, is done by folks themselves. The great secret of life is never to he in the icai/ of others. So sais I, " Jemmy, my boy, did you ever see a salmon caught with a fly ?" "No, Sir," said he. " Well, then, s'posen you and I go down to where the Eskisoony stream jincs the river, and I will raise one for dinner in less than half no time. It's beautiful sport." ■ . /*■ '>♦» THE WITCH or ESKISOONY. lui' "I ■will jist run up and put on my bonnet, and walk with you/' said Sophy. " I have often hcerd of fly-fishin', but never saw it. This week is my holidays, for it's Mary's turn to be housekeeper." ''Any chaiice of a shot, my little man?" sais I. "Shall I take my rifle?" - -'' -■■' -• .^ ^. '''< ''i'^ :,' '^;- " Oh, yes, Sir ; the minks and otters, at this season, are very busy fishin'." " There's some chance for a fur-cap for you then, this winter, ray boy," sais I. Having prepared all things necessary, and loaded little Jem ray with the fishin'-rod and landin'-nct, I took Sophy under one arm, and slung my rifle over the other, and in a few minutes was on the best spot on the river for salmon. " Now, my little squire, look here," sais I. " Do you sec where the water shoals above that deep, still pool ? Well, that is the place to look for the gentleman to invite to dinner. Choose a fly always like the flies of the season and place, for he has an eye for natur as well as you ; and as you are agoin' to take him in so, he shan't know bis own food when he sees it, you must make it lo&k like the very identical thing itself, or else ho turns up his nose at it, laughs in his gills, and sais to himself, * I aint such a fool as you take me to be.' Then throw your line clear across the stream ; float it gently down this way, and then lift the head of the rod, and trail it up conside- rable quick — tip, tip, tip, on the water. Ah ! that's a trout, and a fine fellow too. That's the way to play him to drown him. Now for the landin'-net. Aint he a whopper?" In a few minutes, a dozen and a half of splendid trout were extended on the grass. " You see the trout take the fly before I have a chance to trail it up the stream. Now, I'll not float it down, for that's their game ; but cast it slantin' across, and then skim it up, as a nateral fly skims along. That's the ticket ! I've struck a nobliferous salmon. Now you'll see sport." The fish took down the stream at a great rate, and I in and after him ; stayin' but not snubbin', rcstrainin' but not chcckin' him short ; till he took his last desperate leap clear out of the water, and then headed up stream again ; but he grew weaker and weaker, and arter a while I at last reached the old stand, brought him to shore nearly beat out, and pop he went into the net. "That's lesson number one. Jemmy. Now we'll set down under the oaks, and wait till the disturbance of the water is over. How strange it is, Sophy, that you couldn't recollect me ! Maybe it's witohery, for that has a prodigious effect* upon the memory. Do you believe in witches ?" said I, leaning on ray elbow in the grass, and looking up into her pretty face. •. , '' How can I believe, who never saw one — did you ?" " Just come from a county in England," said I, " that's chockful of 'em." 14* 1C2 THK WITOII OF ESKISOONY. I !l!'i"l 'liiT. ! i fj JH'-.V." II ;( * aa a mouso." And I put my heels on tlio grass, and lifted up my V^eight with my handti, and amporsanded forwards that way until I 'got near the troo, when I took up my rifle, and made all ready. Just then the eracklin' of the shrubs showed something was movin' on, and then the same noise was made further beyond, and in a min- ute or two, a beautiful large stately carriboo came out of the thicket, snuffed up the air, looked round cautious, and made as if he was a-goin' to take a drink, to cool his coppers. I drew a bead on him, and let him have it as quick as wink. lie sprang up on eend, the matter of a yard or so, and fell right down dead in the bushes, when off started the herd among the alders, as if they 'd crush the whole of them into the intervale. ^ "You've got him, Mr. Slick!" said Jemmy, who was about jumpin' up on his feet, when I pulled him down again. " Hush I" said I, " not a word for your life. Keep dark and lay low, they'll come back again to look after him presently, and then I'll get unother shot." And I reloaded as fast as I could, crawled nearer the trank of the tree, and got a position for coverin' anythin' for some distant^ up and down stream. Artcr layin' a while there, the same traiuplin' was heard again, and then the same hard brcath- in', and then the sounds of more than one advancin', when two lead- ers came out of the bush, and stood and looked at their old captain, a-wondcrin' what or airth was the matter with him, when bang went the rifle, and down wrent^ another noble buck right across him. "Now, Jemmy," sais I, ""we can afford to talk, for I don't want to kill no more. There 's one for the house, and one for the * Black Hawk,' and it's my rule not to waste God's bounties." " And a very good rule it is, too," said Sophy. " I never could boar to hear of their bein' shot just for sport, and then left in the woods for the crows and foxes to eat. That don 't seem to me the purpose Providence designed 'era for. What on airth could have brought them away down here ? I don't remember ever hearin' of any being so near the coast before." " The witch of Eskisoo — Oh ! I was very nearly in for it again !" says I. " Yes, yes," said she, laughin', " there's many a mistake made on purpose." * "There's something diflicult to get out of the head of Sophy," sais I, "and some more difl&cult to get out of the heart." She col- oured some at that, and kinder looked down ; but, woman like, was cunnin' of fence, and answered right off. " And among them the love of banter, that 's born in some folks, I do believe. But go on with your Annapolis story." " Well," sais I, and I rested agin on my elbow, and looked up into her beautiful face — for there 's no way a gall looks so pretty as when in that position. If they have to look up to you, it kinder THE WTTOn OF ERKISOONT. 165 causes them to throw the head hack, opens the eyes too wide, and covers the whole face with strong lij^ht. Half tho beauty, and moro nor halt' the exprcssiou id lost. Jio.sidc;), tlio neck is apt to look cordy. When they look down, the eyelashes fall, tind tho eye in better shaped, moro oval, less round, and is moro liquid. The beau- tiful bow-shapo of the mouth shows better, tho ringlets hang graoo- fiil and there's shapes here and there in the face that 3ots it off grand. Nothin' ever looks pretty in glare. That's tho advantage in pain tin'. It makes one know what ho could u't lam without it. My clocks have been tho makin' of rao, that's a fact. Daubiu' figures on 'em set mo to study drawin' and paintin', and that made nic study natur. An artist has more than two cf/cs, that 's a fact. "Sophy," sais I, "aforo I go, I must try and tako you, just as you now sit." "Take mo ?" she said, lookin' puzzled. « . i , "Yes," sais I; "I have my drawiu'-pencil and sketchin'-block here, and if you only knew how bccomin' that attitude is — how beautiful yon do — " "Oh, como now." sho said, "don't talk nonsense that way, that's a good soul 1 Go on with your story." "Well, I'll try," sais I, "tho' it's hard to think of one thing, and talk of anotLu'-." Tho fact is, and there's no dcnyin' it, much as I've laugheci .J> ».thers, I was almost spoony myself. "When I first went down to Annapolis — Jemmy," sais I, "suppose you carry up that are salmon to the house ; it 's time it was there for dinner, and tell some of the men folks, when they return at twelve o'clock, to bring down a wooden-shod ox-sled to carry up the deer. It will side over the grass most as easy as snow. When I first went to Annapolis," sais I. Just then Sophy looked over her shoulder arter Jemmy, and seemed oneasy like; I suppose she didn't half like bcin' left alone there with me a lollin' on the grass, and sho was right. It ain't enough for galls not to give jicople reason to talk ; they shouldn't even give them a chance. But if she took mo into her calculations she was wrong. When folks confides in me, I'd die to presarve confidence. When they tako the reins and trust to their own drivin', I leave 'em to take care of themselves, and jist look arter number one." " Mr. Slick," sais she, " I beg pardon for interruptin' you, but we are loavin' poor Mary all alone. I think we'd better return, p'raps." "Jemmy," sais I, a calliu' arter him ever so loud, "ask Miss Mary if she won't come and see a salmon caught. Oh ! don't go, Miss," sais I ; "I have to leave to-morrow, and it's such a treat for mc to sec you, and talk to you, you can't think." " To-morrow !" sais she. " Oh my, you don't say so !" ."Well, let's talk of to-morrow," sais i, "when to-morrow comes. ' Iff m. f'w- ipiii I ICii T II K W 1 'l' U', a faint heart, yon know, novor won a fair lady; yon have Inrnctl into a nateral i'ot>l, I. do hclievo. ; ''^"' " Well," sais I, " when I lirnfc went to Annapoliw, Ihoro was an ohl laily there, one IMrs. Lothrop, a vcM'y old woman; and wlu^n mIio heard 1 was there, she f^ent lor mo. When she was a littlo girl, she lived at Hrooklyn Vvvvy, where iior father died wlien nho woh nine years old. Artor that, who lived in the honse of ii loyalist, named liothrop, and married ono of his sons, and when the war canio, moved down ti) this eonntry. " Well, slu* wanted to talk of Long Island, and the old f(M*ry, and iho market days, and what not, of old times. Sho raid sho wonld like to eend hor days there ; that sho was snro the moon was larger there than here, and shom^ brighter, and the frnit W!is bettor, and the people honoster, and 1 don't know what jdl. It was a great comfort to hvx to see mo, and lu>ar herscdf talk about those things; lind every time I. went there, I used to go and sec her, it pleased her MO "Well, the last time f was to that town^ tho servant waked nio up about daylight one day, and said, *I\Ir. ]f_) TMK WrT(in UV KMKfHOONY. 107 with it/ mm I, *liko h rniin, or out with yourwolf from thia room, anil ht nio go to uloop. Whiit iiUm tlio old huiy ? — in who (load ?' <"()h 1 WUH iKir flmtl' "* Hiidod oiF imd ^(it iiiurriod iigiu?' ^4^iH 1. Well that kinder j^iig^dd him, and cooled hii'i down ii hit. ♦< ' Hiuiod oil' and got nuirriiMl!' nais ho, 'Y didn't expect to hear yon Hpnak ko dlHreHjicdUnl of po(ir dear mother 1 You know that's oiipossihle, in tlio nalnr' ol" lliijigs; hnt if it war, it's wim nor that I' '"Well, wluit in natnr' is il/r" nais I. "Why,' HaiH he, 'she's ho— -Ihi — bo — ' and at lawt ho giggog* gli'd it out, 'kIio's 1)0 — ho — bewitehcd I' "< Hii — 1)0 — he — witched !' Haiw T, a-runokin* him, for unless I miide him mad, T knew I fionldn't make him talk; 'yon ho — ho — 1)0 — hanged 1 you great hig, hlnhh(>rin' l)loekhead I If you han't got no .Monso, I' hope you'vo got some decc-ney loft. Ho clear out of tliJH, aiul let mo go to Hleop. I railly didn't think you was bucIi a bovnfool 1 (Jet out o* this, afore I put you out 1" " 'Oh 1 Mr. Slick/ said ho, ' don't bi,s I. M know there's no such a thing under the sun as a, wil(^h ; if there was, you'd a-lieen hanged long "{'"> you're such a knowin' 'coon. Out with you!' "' Mr. Slick 1' sais he, 'oh, Mr. Slick 1 do oomo and sco her, and toll us what to do with her 1' " ' Well,' snis I, ' I will, for her sake : for I'd do anything amosfc for her J hut there's one thing I'd do willingly for you, and that is to kick you.' " ' Well, then/ said he, ' if she aint bewitched, I'll Htand kickin' till you'ro tired.' " ' J)oiui,' sais T. 'do and harness up Old (Hay, and I'll dress in II jilVy and off. Oonu^, make yourscilf scarce : ))ear a hand.' " Well, as wo drove along, ' Now,' sais I, 'Lothrop, if you don't want mo to lose my tcnnpcr, and pilch you right out of this hero wagj^on, Ix'gin at the heginnin', and tell mo this hero foolish story.' '" Foolish I' said lie. ' Mr. Slick, I am sure — ' "I jist hauled up short. 'No jaw/ sais I. 'Just begin now, njid tell it short, f(»r I don't a])prohato long yarns,* (Sophy smiled at this, a.-, mimh as to say how littlo wo know ourselves, but she didn't auy nothin'), 'or out you go.' '' ' Well,' sais he, ' it was night before last. Sir, about twelve o'clock, as near I can guesH, that I first hecrd the witch como to the house, and call Mother! through the roof.' "'What an overlastin', abominable, onaccountablo fool you be, Lothrop,' sais T; ' but go on.' "' Let mo tell it my own way,' sais he. ' Well, Fanny had gone to bed before me, and was fast aslecjp when I turned in, and I was ■v mmn^m ilin I I llillil'lr ii' •"•■•v 168 THE WTTOH OP ESKISOONT. i' just a droppia' off into the land of nod, when whap the hag jumped on the roof, near the chmibly, and scratched about among the shin- gles with her broomstick, and called out two witch words I didn't understand. Oh ! they were loud, and clear, and cold enough to freeze you ! So I wakes up Fanny. Fanny, sais I. What, dear ? sais she. Just listen. Well, I am listenin' sais she. What have you got to say, love ? Listen, sais I. Well, I am listening' sais she, quite peevish-like : what is it, dear ? Do you hear anything ? sais I. Yes, sais she, dear, I hear you. Tut ! sais I; don't you hear any- body else ? Why, in course, I do j I hear Granny a snorin', that's all. It was worth while to wake me up for that, warn't it ! And she turned right round agin, and dropped off to sleep as quick as wink. Well, Christians talkin' that way, skeered off' the witch, or ghost, or banshee, or whatever it was ; and I thought it was all over, and had just begun to forget all about it, when bang it come agin upon the ridgepole, and called twice for the old lady. Well, I wakes up wife agin. Fanny, sais I. John, sais she, what's the matter? what on uirth ails you ? Listen, sais I. I won't, sais she ; so there, now, do for goodness gracious sake, go to sleep. Fanny,, sais I, I am skeered. Qh ! you've been dreamin', sais she : do be quiet j you'll wake up the baby, and then wo shall have a proper hullabaloo here. There, sais I, didn't you hear that noise now ? for there was another call as plain as barkin'. Yes, said she, I do; it's nothin' but an owlj and you are a stupid booby too, to bo scared by an owl ; seein' you was raised in the woods. I'll g3t right up, and shoot it, sais I; I'm superstitious about owls. They bring bad luck; their great goggle eyes aint nateral. The night Jem Donson — Jem Denson be fid- dled, said she, and you too. I'll have no such carryin's on here, in the night, on no account. Go right off to sleep this minute; and she put her arm round my neck, and held me like a fox-trap, and protended to snore in my ear. So we both fell into a sound sleep, and it was broad day when I woke up. When I did, Fanny had me fast by the neck still ; I couldn't get her arm off. Fanny, sais I, but she was dead asleep ; Fanny, dear : no answer. Fanny, sais I, a undoin' of her arm, and a shakin' her. I won't listen no moro. It's time to get up, sais I. I won't, sais she ; it's nothin' but au owl. Fact is, she was a little bewitched herself, without knowin' of it, and it was some time before she was wide awake.' " ' Your wife is an uuderstandin' woman,' sais I ; ' it's a pity you hadn't some of her sense.' " ' Well, I got up, and went into the keepin'-room, and as I passed mother's door, I heard her call out in an unairthly voice. Fanny, sais I ; but she was a dozin' off agin, Fanny, for Heaven's sake, get up; sais I, mother's bewitched? It's you^ she said, that's be- witched; it's nothin' but an — an — o — owl, and off she dropt agin aa fast as a pine-stump. I just lifted her right out o' bed, carried her ry/t^mm they were ' Morniii'/ Can I see V, THE WITOH OF ESKISOONY. to mother's room in my arms, opened the door, sot her on the floor, and left her in there. In less than a minute, she screamed awful, and mother screamed herself hoarse. When I went in I cried like a child.' " ' I've no doubt you did/ sais I, ' and yelled loud enough to wake the dead.' " ' So would you/ said ho, ' if you had a been there, I know, and it will shock you awful now. Oh, Mr. Slick ! what a time we have had of it ever since ! There she lies, talkin' that devilish gibberish, and then she cries, and sobs, and falls asleep exhausted, and then at it agin like any thin'. What a dreadful fearful thing witchcraft is ! I went to the parson, and he ordered me out of the room, and told mo it was scandalous to sec me so drunk at such a time of the mornin'. But here we are.' "Well, sure enough, the whole family looked as if gathcrin' for a funeral, cry in' and sobbin' like any thin'. sais' I, ' Mrs. Lothrop. How is the old lady, to-day ? her ?' Well, to make a long story short, I went into her room, and held out my hand to her without speakin'. She took it, and then certainly did let oflf a lingo strange enough to make Adam and Eve stare. Well, I sat and looked, and listened, and at last an idea flashed across my mind, and I kneeled down close by the bed, and whispered a word in her ear, and she started, looked at mc, stared, and then the tears came to her eyes. Arter the space of a minute more, I tried another, and whispered it also, and she put her hand on my head: and patted it, and then the tears ran down her cheeks, but she was quite eased." " What was them two words, Mr. Slick ? do tell mc. That's a very curious story," said Sophy. Well, I wasn't a-goin' to tell her jist then; it spoils stories to let the cat out of the bag too soon, and I was spinnin' it as long as I could, to keep her there, it was so pleasant. What a inty it is marrylri' spoils conrtin', "I'll tell you in a minute/' sais I; ''for I'm afcerd I'm detainin' oi you. Well, if Lothrop and his wife didn't look amazed it's a pity. They were confirmed in their opinion of witches, and jist looked on mc with wonder, as if I was one myself." '' ' Well,' said Lothrop, ' what do you make of it, Mr. Slick ?' " ' That she's no more bewitched,' sais I, * than I am ; but most drove mad by you and your confounded tom-fooleries, about owls, broom-handles and fiddlesticks. Now, I can't cure her, and I'm most afcard she won't be never quite restored agin ; but I'll go and bring her case, I know.' Them two words made me feel quite sure I was right. Knowin' what a great thing employment is to people who are in trouble, sais I, ' Mrs. Lothrop, this great wiseacre here, who was scared by au 15 ■li*' ;.^?a» BBi m 170 THE WITCH OP ESKISOONY. owl, hauled me out of bed this raornin', before I had my breakfast. 1 begin to feel pretty considerable peckish, I do assure you. Just turn to, that's a good woman, and give me one of your rael, good, old-fashioned breakftists, and I'll be back in half an hour and bring you comfort, I know.' " Well, oif I starts up the back road to old Jones, icHs him Mrs. Lothrop hadn't long, to live, and wanted to see him right-off, bundled him into the waggon, flew like iled lightnin' b'\ck to the house, and marched him right into the old lady's bed-room. Well, she began agin with her lingo, and he answered her, and she sot up, took hold of his hand, kissed it, and made him sit down on the bed and talk to her. "MVhy, what on earth's that?" said Lothrop. " ' Welsh,' sais I; ' don't you know your mother left Wales when she was nine years old ?" " ' Yes, I do,' sais he ; ' but I've heard her say over and over agin, that she didn't recollect !;. word of Welsh, and had forgot the very sound of it.' " ' Well) you see she's had a slight paralitic attack, that's affected her head. The English is gone, and the Welsh has returned, and there is the eend of all your long 1 :ckrum about owls, witches and broomsticks. You must get that Welshman's daughter to attend her. And now, mother,' sais I, tappin' Mrs. Lothrop on the shoulder, ' now for breakfast. You never spoke a truer word in your life, than when you said it was John that was bewitched.' " " What a curious story !" said Sophy. " But, Mr. Slick, what was them two words you whispered in the old lady's ear ?" " Why," sais I, " I guessed it was old times had come back to her, so to try her, I whispered 'Brooklin" in her ear,^where she came to as a child, and the other word was her father's name, 'Ap- Williams.' " " Now, you're making all that story, I know you are, just on pur- pose to keep me here !" " Fact, I assure you, Miss ; upon my honour, every word of it's true." "Well, then, all I can. say is, it's the strangest thing I ever heerd in my life. But, dear me, I must be a movin' !" With that, I jumped up on my feet, and held out both hands. " Let me help you up. Miss," sais I, and takin' her's in mine, I gave her a lift, and afore she know'd what I was at, she w.|S bolt upright, face to face to me, and I drew her in, and put my head for- ward, close up. But she bent back. "Ah ! no, Mr. Slick, that's not fair; it's not right. " Just one little kiss/' said I, "No, no." • ''Not for old times?" ;; w ;^ir. "^■'' THE WITCH OF ESKISOONY. 17* I'M "IcanV •.;.=v-;-A- ■ r : • .w: ^y>^::i, ' " Not for makin' up ?" * :-...-/-, "Oh, we have made up/' ' ' — "Well, then, just to remember you by, when I am gone and far away?" /•.••,,;'-;, /tv, But she held off, and said, " You have no right to take this liberty, Sir/' Jist then I felt a slap on the back. " That's fly-fishing, is it ?" said Mary. " That's the tackle you explained to Jemmy, for catchin' galls and salmon. Pretty sport, aint it?" ~ / v ^r " Oh, Mary !" said Sophy, laughin', " How glad T am you've come. Here has Mr. Slick been catchin' salmon with flies, that no- body else ever did on this river, and killin' carriboo where no soul ever saw 'em afore ; and makin' a fool of me, which no one ever tried to do yet." . - •';■:, " More fool you to let him," said Mary. " It's more than he could do with me^ I know." " Is it ?" sais I, glad to have somethin' to say, for I really did feel foolish. "It's a fair challenge that." "Yes," said she. "I'm not to be taken in by skimmin' the fly up the stream — tip, tip, tip ;" and she held out her arm as if trailin' the rod, and laughed a merry laugh that made the woods ring agin. " Come," said she, " let me see you catch a salmon, and then we'll go up to the house, for father ought to be back soon now." Well, I tried the stream, and whipt away at it scientific, light enough to tickle it amost; but it was no go. The sun had come out too hot. The fish was lazy, or sarcy, or somethin' or another, and I couldn't raise one of 'em. " Pretty sport, aint it ?" said she. " If you can't catch one fish in an hour, how many could you take in a whole day ? Can you cipher that out ? Give me the rod ; I do believe I could do better myself." " That's the ticket," sais I : " that's jist what I wanted you to do, and why I didn't take none myself. If you catch one, you know the penalty. I give you notice; you must pay your footin'." "Will I?" said she; "I'll teach you what footin' you are on first, I can tell you." But as she said that, an enormous salmon, weighin' the matter of twelve pounds at least, took the fly, and at the ^me time, by the sudden jerk, took Mary too from off the bank into the deep, round pool, below where she was standin'. It was the work of an instant; but in another instant I follered, and as she rose to the surface, placed one arm round her waist, and almost in as short a time as it takes to tell it, was conveyin' her to her sister. It was a differ dive, and nothin' more, hardly enough to take away her breath. It would take a good deal more nor that, I guess, to m as [f mm ■B»" '^mmm^ Im m THE WITCH OP ESKISOONY.V frighten her ; for better ntirves, and better spirits, I never seed in ftU my born days. She was the most playful crittur I ever beheld. " My ! how you skocrcd rac, Miss," said I. " It was all my fault : I ought to have cautioned you." *'l guess you're skeercd in earnest," she said; "for you're squeezing me as tight as if I was in the water still. Sit me down, please." " You must pay you'ro footin'," sais I. " That was the bargain, you know." " But I haven't caught the fish," said she, as quick as a wink, and a boxin' of ray ears. " But I've caught the fisher," sais I. ^ "That's not fair now," sais she; "that's highway robbery, I declare. Well, then, take it," sais she, " and much good may it do >; you ^ " Hullo ! what the dqvil is all this. Slick !" said the Captain, who jist then came out of the wood path, and stood afqjre us. " Caught agin !" sais I to myself, as I placed Mary on her feet. " Hang me if ever I'll kiss a gal agin till I'm married, and I won'-t ,1 ,..-., then if there's any chance of bein' seen." "I'll tell you, father," said Mary, "what it all means. I fell into the deep pool here, giddy pate as I am, and Mr. Slick jumped in after me, and before I almost knew where I was, had me out, like a man ; and then, man-fashion — for men can't do generous things — claimed his reward, and I was just a pay in' of him. I'm glad he did, for now we arc even. When a critter is paid for his sarvices, ,s there is no obligation." " I don't think so," said her fiithor, laughin'. " A man man who saves a young lady's life at the risk of his own, is entitled to a kiss all the world over. You may thank your stars you had him here with you. Many a milksop of a feller would have called out, when you were under water and couldn't hear, not to be frightened, and run backward and forward on the bank, as flustered as a hen with a brood of young ducks, and held out a stick to you, too short for you • to reach, and told you to lay hold, and he'd pull you out. Slick, I'm right glad to see you, my boy. I take this visit very kind of you. Sophy, make these two cock-a-weo divin' -birds go and change their clothes before they take cold. Here come the boys with the sled, and I will see to gettin' the carriboo up," *■■ " Come, Miss Mary," sais I, " I think your father is right. Will you take a Jin, fair lady?" sais I, oifcrin' her an arm. ^ " Well, tho' you're an odd Jish, and did play me that scale^ trick just now," said she, " I don't care if I do, particularly as you can't soil my dress. But, oh, Mr. Slick !" said she, "that was a merciful dispensation of Providence, wasn't it?" , ^, ;; "Very," sais I. ' v ■//' THE WITCH OF ESKISOONY, 173 "You ought to bo very thankful/' she said. > * "I hope I am," sais I, "for bein' an humble instrument in — " " I dou't think you know your own danger." i " Danger !" sais I j " I was in no sort or manner of danger." ' ' " Soi)hy, only hear him how he talks, after such a merciful escape. Oh ! you ought to have a thankful heart, Sir. I was so frightened about you, I fairly trembled." " Me having had an escape !" sais I, fairly puzzled, and regularly took in, for I didn't know what on earth she was a drivin' at. "So little," said she, "turns the scale to good or bad fortune — • to happiness or evil. I must say, I felt for you. How near too, my good friend, you was havin' got it !" " Got what ?" sais I. " Do teH." " ' " A racl handsome quilting," sais she, " from the old gentleman, and richly you deserved it too, for kissin' his two daughters without his leave, and agin their wishes, jist to see whose lips was the sweet- est ;" and she fairly staggered, she laughed so. " Do you take now?" she said, and then looking demure agin, went on : "Wasn't it a merciful dispensation ?" "Don't make so -light of those words, Mary, my dear," said Sophy ; " it don't sound pretty." " You certainly had an escape, though," said I. "Well, I had," she said; "there's no denyin' of it. I jumped in to look after the witch of Eskisoony, that I heard was there ;" and she gave Sophy a wicked look that made the colour rise to her cheeks J " but as the old ballad we read the other day says, <" But still, like the mermaid in stories, I found it a dullish consarn, "With no creatures but trouts and John Dories, .., To listen to spinning a yarn.' So I just rose to the surface, and took your arm, and walked ashore. By the bye, Mr. Slick, I hope you didn't wet your clock ; just see if you have." " Watch, you mean," I said. Well, she nearly fell down, she laughed agin so violent. " What a mistake to make 1 Only fancy a man with a great big clock in front, with a large white face, and two brass hands, and Washington on a white horse above it ! What a mistake ! Well, perh|j|is you have wet your paper-money ?" "I have none in my pocket," said I. "That's lucky; it will save you the trouble of dryin' it. But, oh, my mouth ! my month !" and she put up both hands to it, and moaned bitterly. " Oh, Mr. Slick ! you'll bo the death of me yet ! There," said she, " oh ! oh 1 oh ! Just stand still, you and Sophy, for a few minutes, till the spasms arc over; for I don't like people 15* X '■% /iUNi W; 174 JERICHO BEYOND JORDAN. to look at me when I am in pain ;" and she walked on, holding down her head, and supportin' her oheek, and groanin' enough to make one's heart ache, till she was some distance off; when down went both hanc^.s, and the laugh rang till it echoed again. " You flattered yourself I was hooked, didn't you? Mr. Slick, reel up your line; You was took in, and not the little country gal down to Jordan river. Good-bye," and off she darted to the house. " Reelin' up the line," sais I, " puts mo in mind, Miss Sophy, that I had better go and look arter my rod and Mary's salmon. What a day of adventure it has been ! But all's well that eend's well ; and I must say it's the pleasantest aay I ever spent in my life. Don't you believe in witchcraft now, Sophy ? for I do ; and the more I see of one that presides over Eskisoony, the more I am—" " Nonsense I Go and look after your fishing-rod/' she said. . CHAPTER XVIII. JERICHO BEYOND JORDAN. As soon as I had changed my clothes, I descended to the sittin'- '*' room, and not findin* the young ladies, I took up my rifle and ... ' strolled out on the lawn in front of the house, where I met little Jemmy. Some books and music that I had found in my bed-room, had awakened my curiosity, and made me feel kinder jealous, so I thought I would pump the young gentleman : " Jemmy," says I, " let's go and look at the colts in the pastur'. I'll give you a lecture on hoss-flesh.'' As we strolled along, I said, "who is Mr. Maxwell?" . f' He is the curate," said he. " Does he come here often ?" • * *' Oh, yes. Sir, he's here a good deal; and always stays here when there's church on the river." " Going to be married, aint he ?" sais I. "Folks say so, Sir; but I don't know." Well, it's strange ; all I cared about was, whether it was Sophy, but even to that little boy I couldn't get out the words ; for when a feller don't half acknowledge his own secret to himself, he don't like to let another know what is passiu' in his mind. So sais I,^ It's Mary, isn't it ?" "They say so. Sir." Well, thinks I, that's a puzzle. Men sometimes, afore others, pretend to court the wrong one, to put folks off the scent; so I aint much wiser. JERICHO BEYOND JORDAN. 171^^ "Well, what does papa say to all this?" "Why, Sir, he sais 'they must wait till he gets a church to himself.' " Well, that's a load olDf my mind, thinks I; that accounts for her onresarved manner. She knows her free and easy way wont be set down to wrong motives. High spirits in a gall is dangerous things, that's a fact. It's lucky she lives in the country; but then I do suppose in a town she would soon be halter-broke, and travel more steadily, and not prance so much. What on earth do you suppose could make a minister pick out such a playful, rollickin', frollickin' critter as that for a wife ? But Sophy — come out with it — ask the boy about her. "Well, Sophy," sais I, "is she goin' to bo married, too? I hope not, for your father would be dreadful lonely here, with only Aunt Thankful to keep house for him." " No, Sir," said Jemmy, " I guess not ; I don't think it. There was an army officer here this time last year." " The devil there was !" sais I. " Stop, Jemmy," for I felt savi- gerous, and wanted to see if ray hand was in. " Do you see that red-coated rascal of a squirrel there ? Where shall I hit him ? I'll scalp him," And I fired, and just stripped up the skin of his fore- head. " Warn't that prettily done, Jemmy ? Didn't I spile that officer's courtin' for him, that hitch ?" " What oificer. Sir?" . ,*..;« " Captain Squirrel." "That wasn't his name, Sir. It was Captain Tyrrell." "Oh, I only meant to joke about this little varmint," sais Ij "it's the way all friskin', chatterin', dancin' fellers like them should be sarved. I warn't talkin' of an officer. Well, what did the C-iptin do ?" " Well, he wanted to marry our Sophy ; and he got aunty on his side, and father consented, and Mary coaxed, but Sophy wouldn't hear to it on no account, and " , "Gave him the mitten," sais I, laughin'. "What's that. Sir?" " Why, my boy, when I'm cordial with a feller, I take off the mitten, and shake hands with him ; when I ain't, I don't take the trouble, but just give him the mitten. Sophy is a sensible girl," sais I. " So Mr. Maxwell said, Sir. But he's the only one among 'em thinks so." " What the deuce has he got to do with Sophy ?" " Why, Sir, he said somethin' about bein' dragged from Dan to Beersheba, but I didn't understand it." Just then the shell blew to summon us to dinner. Well, I felt now considerable easy in my mind, and took a great likin' to the boy, and began, all at once, to %:: 17G JERIOIIO BEYOND JO 11 DAN. \ feel oncominon generous. I told him I Lad a beautiful little single- barrel partridge gun on board that I would give him, and a powder- flask and shot-belt, and that he must learn to shoot, for it was a groat thing to be a good marksman. There's nothin' like bein' the bearer of good news. A feller that rides express with that is always well received. If you carry misfortunato tidin's to a man, he always looks at you arterwards with a shudder. It's strange that your friends, tho', like the last job the best. They are amazin' kind in tellin' unkind things that has been said of you. Well, after dinner was over, and we returned to the sittin'-room, the captin havin' asked to be excused for a few minutes to issue some indispensable orders to his men, I was left alone again with my two young friends. What I am goin' to set down here, squire, don't show me to advantage, that's a fact ; but what in tho world's the use of a false journal ? Who would read it if ho doubted it ? I know people say I praise myself in my books, and crack them up too, and call me consaited, and say I'm a bit of a brag, and all that. Well, I won't say I aint open to that charge, for boastin' comes as natural to us Yankees as seratchin' does to Scotchmen — it's in tho bl 1. But if I miss a figure sometimes (and who don't when he totc^ up a long column of life ?) I'm willin' to say so. We find it easy enough to direct others to the rili, than anythin' else, for there was no blood circulatin' in my head — and gave her as sweet a look as I could, tho' I have no doubt it looked like that of a dyin' calf. " No," sais I, " Sophy, I never knew what that was till tliu day. I feel better now." "Take this," she said, pourin' out a tumbler of cold water, *'it will do you good. It will soon puss off." Oh, how hoppin' mad that madn me ! I didn't observe that a feller that's courtin's as blind as a bat — and I didn't notice that she tlidu't take the pint. The fact is, she was too frightened ; so,^sai8 I, "Oh, by all means, Bliss Tyrrel — wood, there's nothin' lika throwin' cold v/ater on it ! When a man's too ardent, there's nothin' like icin' him down to the right pint !" " Why, what's this?" said ^lary, who came in now, ready for II walk to tho shore. " ►^-pby; what on uirth's the matter ?" .10 i- msimm -W' n I i m JERICHO BEYOND JORDAN. v « Can't tell," she said. " All T know is, Mr. Slick is very ill, and I'm very much frightened. I wish papa was here." " Mary, dear/' suis I, " 1 11 explain it all to you. I've been an invalid lately : it's that that's caused me to travel, and not business ; for I've more means than I can make a good use of." (I thought I'd just throw in by accident like, that hint about means, for money aint Scotcb-snuff, it never makes folks sneeze.) "And I didn't know that I was as weak as I am. The excitement has been too much for me. I'm a calm man in a general way ; but I never had so delightful a day as this in my life. I have had both head and heart turned, and have suffered for it ! But as I shall never see such another day while I live, so I shall never suffer that same way. I thought my heart would bust ; but it's all over now. I feel the blood comin' back to my face. I'll take another dose of Soph/s prescription," (fillin' out another tumbler of cold water, and drinkin' it off). '' And now, fair ladies, I'm at your service for a walk." . " Oh ! Mr. Slick," said Mary, " it's all ray doins ! It all cornea from divin' into the river after me, and it has brought on an ague. You're actilly tremblin' now !" •*I assure you, Miss," sais I, "you had no hand in it whatever. London life has made me forget what I was, and what I am, what I can do, and what I can't." I cast my eye sideways towards Sophy, and I saw a new light was breaking in upon her, for a little comin' and goin' of colour, and a restless eye, showed she was thinkin' and feelin' too, so, sais I, "now ladies 3" and we set off to saunter to the beach. " I ought to have thought of the Captin before," I said, " but that comes of bein' selfish, and, perhaps, who knows, a little jeal- ous, for I wanted to have you all to myself, and he is the finest feller I ever saw. His father was a clergyman, and he is a scholar and a gentleman, and far above the condition in life he is in ; better informed, better lookin', and in every way superior to a travellin' clock.uaker like me ;" and I spoke that word bitterly. " I'll pro- mise him, Sophy, neither to throw him f)verboard, or cut him into bait for mackerel now ; that foolish and wicked thought is gone for ever. I think you'll like him." " Not if he talks as bitterly as you do, Mr. Slick," said she whose arm I felt tremblin' inside of mine. " And now, ladies, I've a little pet scheme in my head." "To help you cut him up for bait, I suppose?" said Sophy, "WRatashockin'idca!" "Mr. Slick," said Mary^, "I wouldn't marry you for the world." " You're not the only one that wouldn't," said I, pressin' Sophy's arm. ''But what 'lave I done to be rejected before I asked you? That aint a maicitul usu of beauty, is it Sophy ? If I was to tell JTIRICIIO BEYOND JORDAN. raBfli her that I had a little cUurch of my own, perhaps she'd think kinder of me." Hut Mary prctendin' not to hear mo saved her the reply, by goin' on : '' Because you arc jealous." " You don't know me, Miss, or you wouldn't say that. I never saw Mr. Maxwell, therefore how can 1 be jealous ?'' She looked inquirinly at Sophy, to ascertain if she had betrayed her, and I went on. " I never knew what love was but once, and I hope I never shall agin ; and to keep out of the scrape I never will even talk of it. So I can't be jealous. But now that you see what a safe man I am, I hope you will both help rac to carry out my pet scheme, and you must help me soon, or it will be too late, for I embark to-night, or at day dawn in the mornin'. Twant your father to come and visit us at Slickville, and bring you both with him (not to visit me, I have no such vanity, but my sister Sally, the dearest, the sweetest, best sister man ever had). Now don't say no, Sophy. Tho' I won't make love, and render myself ridiculous, and persecute others, I can make a visit pleasant to you both, and will go everythin' in my power to do so. What do you say ?" " If my father will go I should like to see the States very much," she replied; "but I'm afraid there might bo some difficulty." "Oh! I understand," sais I, "about the curaie. The invitation shall include him too." , "Oh! Mr. Slick," said Mary, "how very kind! I shall be delighted. Come, sit down here on this bench. Give me the note. I will give it to that boy that's gettin' into the boat; and, Mr. Slick, coax Sophy out of her difficulties. She's a great prude." Pausin' a moment, and lookin' earnest at us both, she said : "There's a screw loose between you two. Put it right, Mr. Slick; and if you can't, give her another lesson in fly-fishin'." And away she flew, as merry and as light-hearted as a bird. " Sophy," said I, "I'm glad to have an opportunity to beg pardon for my rudeness. The excitement of tho mornin', and the thought of partin' this evenin,' upsot me, and I hardly knew what I said or did." " Mr. Slick, I will not be prudish," said she. " I really did mis- understand the nature of ycur complaint," and she smiled, " that caused you to say what you did. Now I comprehend it all. The struggle you was undergoin' did great credit to your feelins'." "We are friends again, I hope — good friends — warm friends. And — " sais I. "And," said she, looking me steadily in the face, "attached friends*' Thinks I to myself: Take what you can got, Sam. If you go in for more, you may lose all. " Now for the visit." • f' JERICHO BEYOND JORDAN. ".Mr. Slick, knowia* what I do know, there's ^u delicacy that makes the difficulty almost insurmountable.'^ " I'll remove that," sais I, " at ouce. I will never mention, or so much as allude to, what has taken place to-day, durin' your whole visit to Slickville. It would have been unkind, and unfair, and inhospitable." ' *' That's very handsome. Sir," she said. '' I'll answer for my father. We shall have great pleasure in goiu*. Fix the time with him. Here's Mary." " Mary !" sais I, lookin' at Sophy. " Don't she look more beau- tiful than ever, now she has done a gracious thing. She has con- sented to come to Slickville." "Ah!" she said, "that's fly-fishin'. There's nothin' like flj- fishin', is there, Sophy ?" " There was nothin' like fly-fishin', I can assure you." " Oh ! of course not. He don't know how, and you arc too prudish to show him. I never was so happy in all my life. I shan't sleep a wink to-night for thinkin' of Slickville. Will you, Sophy r' " I hope so, dear. I know of nothin' to keep me awake." " Nor I either," said I, " except the mortification that Mary refused me before she was asked." In this way, we entered the house. " Mr. Slick," said Mary, bringin' me a sheet of paper, " give me some idea of the kind of lookin' place yours is at Slickville, for it will often be the subject of my thoughts and dreams." " I have my sketch-book with me up-stairs, and everythin' that interests me is there. I will go and get it," When I returned, I found my old friend, Aunt Thankful, the eldest sister of Mr. Collingwood, had joined the party. I had not seen her since my arrival at the house, but she seemed to me the only unaltered person in it. Younger she couldn't be in the natur' of things, but she wap. not a day older, and was dressed in the same antiquated style as when I last saw her. She asked me the same questions as of old. She inquired how poor father and mother, and dear old Minister was. Well, they were all dead, and I didn't like to shock her, and I told her they were quite well when I last saw them. It distressed me dreadful, and the poor girls hung their heads and were distressed, too. Well, I sheered off as soon as 1 could, and opened the portfolio. "Oh, Sophy, look here !" said Mary, " isn't this a beautiful place? What lovely grounds you have ! — they are so extensive ! How much money they nmst have cost !" " I. Icaruod the value of time, dear, b^' monsiirin' himrs and minutes 80 accurately. I worked for it, and tlio broad of industry is sweet." " Let me look at \^," said Aunt Thankful, and she put on her "■ f' JERICHO BEYOND JORDAN. i^ ioacy that tion, or so 'Our whole lUfair, and er for my ) time with more beau- e has con- i' like fly- rou arc too my life. I Will you, ,ke." that Mary r, " give me cvillc, for it irythin' that lankful, the I had not td to me the the natur' I in the same the same lother, and didn't like I last saw ihung their k soon as I Itiful place ? live ! How ,(\d minutes is sweet." iput on hei spectacles and examined it. " Dear me/ ' she said, " how much that looks like Prince Edward's Lodge, on Bedford Basin. The last time I was at Halifax, I was at a ball there. Little did I think, then, I was talkin' to the father of a future Queen of England ! " ' Miss CoUingwood/ he said, ' you don't appear in your usual spirits to-night.' " ' Please your Royal Highness,' sais I, * it's the awful execution to-day !" " ' I assure you, Miss CoUingwood,' said the Prince, * there has been no execution done to-day,' and he lowered his voice, ' but by your beautiful eyes.' " That was a very flattcrin' speech, wasn't it, from a King's son ? For there are more eyes on them than on other folks, which makes them better judges. " ' What do you allude to ?" said his Royal Highness. " ' Two men shot for not bcin' shaved, three for havin' a button off their coats, and the drum-major for havin' lost his queue.' " The Prince said I was deceived ; and ray father stormed and raved like a mad-man when he heard it, and said, if Mrs. Pindlay, who told me the story, was a man, he'd shoot her." "Aunt," said Mary, to get rid of a story that mortified them, "do send Jemmy off to bed; see how sleepy he is, he has just fallen off his chair." Poor girls ! I pitied them. People have no rihe was relieved of her aunt; "what a dear little church !" " It was the church of my poor old friend, Mr. Hopewell. After the shepherd died, the tiock dispersed. It's mine now." She looked at mo for a minute or two in most eloquent silenee. I knew what was passin' th^u' her mind; but she said nothin'. I read her little innocent hi-irt as plain as a book — and a beautiful book it was too. iShe e.aiinucd to regard it with deep interest for awhilo, and then returned -i to its place, without another word; but I huw a tear in her eyr a& she passed on to the others. *' But what i> this T' said she. " Look here, Sophy !" as she took u|» a daguerrotype-case and opened it. ' Mary, dear," said Aunt Thankful, who had returned, " Mary, dear," and she pressed ti foroliiiger and thumb of both hands on her shoulders, '■• do sit up straight, dear. I can't boar to see young ladies stoop so, do you, Mr. Maxwell?" " Perhaps ' she stoops to cniujuer,' * said ho. " /," said Aunt Thankful, "don't know what stoopin' is, unless his Royal — " "Well, aunt," said Mary, "I'll sit as straight as an arrow, a bul- rush, a drill-sergeant, a piko-stalV, flag-stall', or anything you like, to 16* ^ /■' Mil, ti'i' % 186 JERICHO BEYOND JORDAN. please you. Maxwell/' said she, in an under tone, " do for good- ness gracious sake take aunty off, and ask her about presarvin' plums, ■whether the stones arc taken out, or the seed from raspberries. Or whether it's true a peach-tree growd out of Major Andre's nose when he was dead." "Mary," said he, "that's too bad; don't talk so, my love." "Well I won't ask you to eat of the fruit," said she, "for that must be too bad; but the story is true nevertheless. Now take yourself off, and aunty too. What a beautiful girl," said Mary, takin' up again her conversation about the daguerrotype ! " I never in my life saw anythin' so handsome. Oh ! Mr. Slick, who is that ? Well you are a man of taste. Who is that ?" "You've been too quick," said I, pretendin' to look confused; " guess." "Your lady-love." " Sophy, who do you say ?" "Some fine lady of your acquaintance in England," said she, slowly. " You are both out," said I ; " it's only valuable as a specimen of the art. It is a beautiful impression. I have another of the same kind here ; if you will do me the fa,vour to accept them, you will confer a great pleasure on me, for I did them both." Turnin' over several sketches in the portfolio, I found it; and presentin' the first to Sophy, I gave the other to Mary, who said she would keep it as long as she lived — for she dealt in strong terms — •""o cure her vanity when she looked at it, and to remember me by also. When she opened it, she uttered somethin' like a scream of delight. "Oh! this is worth a dozen of the other; this is just what I do want. Oh ! Sophy, look at this ; aint that a grand likeness ?" It was one of myself. There was somethin' in the little shuffle of the cases, and in the beauty of the one given to Sophy, that kinder rubbed her agin the grain. After contemplatin' it awhile, she said : " BIr. Slick, to have a specimen there must be a face ; do you set so/little value on this lovely one, as to part with it so lightly ?" " I can afford to part with it," said I, " for the original of it is engraved on my heart, where it will remain imprinted for ever ; for she is as pure-minded, and as good and affectionate as stie is lov-dy." "Engravings wear out or get defaced," she said. ■ I will nm let you deprive yourself of this exquisite miniature in a moment of thoughtless kindness, ' and '^he handed it back to nio. "Mary," said I, "don't let it be said that this went a-beggin' ; do you keep it. You will love the original when you know it. That lovely woman, though j'ou would scarcely believe it, is the sister of nn. JEIIIOHO BEYOND JORDAN. 187*' the man you called to-day a bewbiskered, bebearded Yankee doodle- dandy. That is sister Sally." Sophy looked hurt, and I don't wonder at it. It aint right to play with people's feelin's that way. So, sais I, to save myself from gcttin' the luittcn I desarved : • - '■ You are quite right, Sophy ; if that had been a likeness of any one but a sister, a man who would part with it in that way would betray a sacred trust. I honour your feelin's more than my own behaviour in this matter. We can't look at all those sketches now. I will leave the portfolio with you till you come to Slickville ; if there is any you would like to keep, select them. There is one," I said, lowerin' my voice, "I can't ask you to select, or accept; but if it shall be left out by accident like, when you leave home, I shall he delighted." We had a charmin' evenin'. What the Captain and Maxwell said and did, their journals will show ; mine is runnin' over already. "VVc had some very good singin' and the Captin appeared to make such rapid progress in Sophy's regards, that on one occasion, to teazo her, I pretended to look grave, and asked her plainly, which she preferred ; a question that didn't please her at all, for said she : " Mr. Slick, how can you be so absurd i* Neither." "One of them," said I, "must bo selected, for he's doomed; overboard he goes to a dead sartainty, or he's cut up for mackerel bait." She couldn't help laughin,' to save her life. " What an odd man," she said, " you are." At another time I suggested the propriety, if he complained of an affection of the heart, to prescribe cold water for Jhim ; which she said was a very unfair and unkind remark. ''I don't know," sais I, "why he should bo exempted. Captain Tyrrell and I had to swallow it." The look of astonishment she gave me, was beyond all words to describe. She was utterly con- founded, and could scarcely speak, "Sophy," sais I, "it's witch- craft." " I believe it is," said she ; " though I hardly know what I am saying." " Sophy," and I spoke low, " we are unobserved now, the Caprin iG takin' leave, shake hands with me." I gave her'a a slight squeeze, and the pressure was returned. I whispered to her, " A thousand thanks for that/' sais I. " I'll see you again, before I return to the States." At last, the move became general, and the Captain rose to go on hoard, and invited Maxwell to accompany liiui. Collingv/ood, how- ever, would not consent to such an early separation. ^'It is not often," he said, "I have the pleasure of seein' any one here, and you must gratify mc by stayin' a while longer. I have ■ « 'f ^-\ y:jt;..^i'" %,. 188 TIIEEE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. i m f^ ■{IMr. ■■'. not seen Slick for some years ; and, Captin, I have not had time yet to make your acquaintauco. Come, sit down, and let's have a little more chat before you go. Sophy, order up spine supper." Tho young ladies were fairly fixed. Their fiither's invitation didn't extend to them. Aunt Hetty, too, was in a hurry, and they couldn't help themselves j so they exchanged adieus with rne, which, considcrin' tho onwelcomo presence of their father and tho guests, was as cordial and affectionate as they well could be. As they reached the door, Mary said, " Mr. Slick, must you really go to-morrow ? Can't you spend one day more with us ?" I knew and felt that I ought to go, and said, I feared it was on- possible to detain tho vessel any longer " Where do you go next ?" she said. " What is the name of the nearest harbour?" sais I. I knew as well as she did that it was Port Jolly j but jist axed for somcthin' to say. "Jericho," she replied. "Don't you know that this is Jordan? and don't you know the next is Jericho ? Now, if you won't stay, you may just (/o to Jericho hcyoiid Jordan ! So, good-night !" CHAPTER XIX. THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. The evenings are cool on the southern coast of the province until late in the spring, and although the day had been iine, it was found if not necessary, at all events agreeable, to have a Sre. "I like a fire," said Collingwood, "it's a sociable thing; and now the ladies have retired, suppose we draw up round it and have a chat." " Slick," said Cutler, " what a droll fellow you are ; you never go anywhere you don't meet with an adventure. What a singular incident that was of JMiss Collingwood falling into the river, and her instantaneous rescue. Now, though I should be very sorry to wit- ness such an accident, I am not the man to have the good fortune to plunge in after a lady, and save her life. All these things fall to your lot, but none of them ever occur to me. You only did what any man of spirit would have done ; but the young lady took it as easy as a common bath. I never knew an instance of better spirit. I only hope she may not feci tho effects of it. in the shape of a cold." "Ah ! my dear friend," said I, "you don't understand the natur of women as well as I do. Although they are not endowed by natur with the same strength as men, they aint deficient in rael courage, THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE- 189 1 timo yet ive a little invitation , and they rne, which, ;ho guests, you really . it was on- I knew as * somethin' js Jordan? won't stay, ightl" )vincc until was found [thing; and lit and have you never a singular [er, and her Drry to wit- fortune to igs fall to [y did what Itook it as [tter spirit. 1 of a cold." the natur Id by natur lei courage, when there is need of it. A woman that would scream and faint if a mouse was to run over the keys of her piano, could face fire, ship- wreck, and death in any shape, with a calmness and coolness that nothin' but faith in Providence can give. I recollect a curious cir- cumstance that occurred down to Kennebec, during the revolutionary war. I had it from one of the family. Old Captain Eldridge and his son had to leave home one day to attend a meetiu' of the king's friends, and there was nobody left in the house but his daughter Mary and a hired gall, both on 'em about eighteen years of age. Well, things went on as usual pretty much till about sundown, when there was an awful uproar in the yard. Such a yellin' and screamin', and squcelin' and gruntin', and scamperin' never was hoard. " W^''' 190 THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. u ? pole, keep it down with all your might, he can't get out, he is pro- perly noosed/ " 'Oh ! I am afecrd, Miss,' said the gall, ' I'm skecrcd to death,' " < Skcered, arc you if' sais she. ' Now do tell. Well, I want to know. Why? How you talk? Well, just give mo your hand then, that I may take a good jump, and we'll let him go; but it's a pity too.' " Weil, she creeped up and creeped up ever so cautious, keepin* one eye on the beast, and the other on the young lady, and gave her her hand And what does Miss do, but gives her a pull that nearly fetched her a top of Bruin. " ' Now', sais she, sittin' of her down on the log, * do you hold fast, till I go for the carvin' -knife and do for him.' " ' Oh ! dear Miss Eldridgc,' sais she, < I can't. Oh ! don't Iciiva me in the jaws of this roarin' lion, that's a dear lady — oh ! don't. " < It aint a lion, Sally !' said she ; ' it's nothin' but a bear. Don't be skeered; but don't stir for your life, or the crittur will give you such a hug, Bill Edwards will be jealous.' " ' Oh ! be quick. Miss Mary, then ; he's strugglin' dreadful now.' " Well, she flew to the house and back agin with the knife as quick as wink, and passiu' through the gate, got the other side of the villain, and stood ready for action. " ' Now, Sally,' sais she, ' hold on for dear life. When he feels the knife, he will make a desperate splunge, and kirwollop like any- thin'. Are you ready ?' « ' Yes.' "'Then here goes,' and she drew the knife right across his throat. Well, his tongue was stuck out ever so far, his eyes flashed fire enough to light up the fence amost, and he fairly roared agin with pain. He braced up against the fence with his hind feet, and managed to get a small purchase for his paws, and made a desperate pull backward with all his might. The more he pulled, the mora he opened the wound, and she got another clear sweep of the knife across the gash, and cut it through. In the lust struggle, he threw his hind parts almost on to Sally, and she screamed, '• Let go !' and he pulled out his head, and arter her quick stick. But it was no go. Arter a jump or two, he fell, and then he rose, and fell again, and then he got up, and staggered about with his head hangin', and fell heavy, and bled to death. He was the larg-^st bear ever seen on the Kenebec river. Well, some of thp. neighbours skinned it for her ; and what do you think she did with the fur ?" " Made a muff of it," said CoUingwood, *'No." " Trimmed a sleigh ?" "No," " Made a counterpane ?" na THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE, 191 "No." " A mat for tho bed-side ?" . •'- "No." ,,>.•' ' " Why, what on airth did sho do with it then ?" ^ "^ J " Why, she had the skin shaved close, and took the fur and spun it into yarn, and vowed, if she married an officer in the king's ser- vice, she would knit a battle-shirt for him, that he might bo re- minded of the courage of his wife ; and if she married a civilian, and e\or had sons, tho first shirt they should ever put on should be one made of the hair of that boar, that they might be bravo and victorious !" '' Well, did she ever marry ?" said the Captain. " Yes, she did, one of the mildest and meekest of men, a clergy- man of the Church of England, that was settled arterwards in Nova Scotia — as good and as peaceable a missionary as the society ever employed. Now, that's human natur agin." " Well, it aint my idea of what's nateral," said Collingwood, " for like seeks like, the brave like the brave — birds of a feather flock together. You know who people are by their associates." "Excuse me," sais I, "you've got it wrong. The natur of mat- rimony is one thing, and the natur of friendship is another. A tall man likes a short wife ; a veat talker likes a silent woman, for both can't talk at once. A gay man likes a domestic gall, for he can leave her to home to nuss children and mak( pap, while he is en- joyin' of himself to parties. A man tliat hanto any music in him, likes it in his spouse, and so on. It chimes ' vutiful, for they aint in eu other's way. Now, friendship is the '■her way, you must like tho same things to like each other and be fri«.-ids, A similarity of tastes, studies, pursuits, ant recreations (what ihcy call congenial souls) ; a toper for a toper, a smoker for a .smoker, a horse-racer for a horse-racer; a prize-fighter for a prize-fighter and so on. Matri- mony/ likes contrasts ; friendsliip seeks its own counterparts. " Well, the lady had three sons, and as soon as they were born, they had the bear's shirt put on ; and one thing in sartin, they were all three men of undoubted courage. One was killed in battle in Canada, a captin iu the British army. The other two were civilians, men that nobody would think of takin' a liberty with. The hair shirt is in existence still. I seed ')' . =elf, and have a small bit of the yarn to home now." " Well done. Slick," said Colling wo.;^, "that's not a bad yarn. " It's a fact, though, I assure you. i know the family as well as I do yourn.'' Here there was a knock at ^he door, and an inquiry made for the Captin, The voice was that of Mr. Eldad Nickerson, who had come up for orders. "Come jn," said Collingwocd. "Come in, Mr. Nickerson. The }} h'^^WM^A IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 ■- Ilia ^ 1^ m 22 ^ m 2.0 1.8 U i 1.6 s^. c^ S>J ^. m>. "^ *. .^ CM t^i O o / /W ^. //a Photographic Sciences Corporation iV 4^ $^ A \ ^'^^^ '^ ^\ W^ -alkin' to savages. They have nothin' ju common with you. They don't think like you, value what you do, or have the same springs of action. It's all moon- •.i^^itHjii THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE 1^5 hes for them, oam, and cat- insanity, run- 'em by heart, pout them out iths and swal- if their scalps J a dead horse, ;, and then go water by the atur' of things, better shut up rhey are a fine 'em so, other- em long before all, and savage stions you have aul Tomahawlj, : so easily civil- low to bring up dry-nurses, and losophers think civilize savages; hat live on rich ik wise. , hatch 'em out ,ng enough, off A hatch one of ,ie young gentle- irothers and sis- dinner. That's iw you can fix it. srbs, there is so .an, a partridge,' | But we go tlifl rt do, you nrnst lare school-boys, apprentices and lint, and so are leal with. Well, Vitentiaries, and _ savages. They |k like you, value I It's all moon- shine, it's beginnin' at the wrong eend. See what fools the British made of themselves in the Caffre wars, from not knowin' this ! Treatin' them naked savages like gentlemen, and takin' their word for peace. What the plague do English generals know about bush- fightin* ? or the natur' of them heathen, ontamed, rampaginous imps of darkne-ss ? And what security will they ever have of them crit- ters keopin' the peace longer than when their stock of cattle is renewed, and a fresh supply of arms and ammunition laid in ? But that's their look out, and not mine; and this I will say, some of our Peace Society folks haven't much reason to larf at them either. " These wise men of Goshen sent a missionary onct to the Bur- mese. Well, one day he built a bamboo tent near one of their tem- ples, and as the heathens were goin' to idolotrize, he stood at the door to preach to them, and convart them. He took for his text that passage that refers to livin' water that quenches thirst for ever. Well, it was a capital text, if they could have understood it; but they didn't ; and off they ran as hard as they could lick, and what was his horror when he saw them all return with cans, Qups, gourds, calabashes, and what not for the fluid ; and when they found he hadn't it, they pulled down his bamboo camp, and took the sticks and thrashed him amost to death. In fact, he never did get over it. He died from that are beaten. They called him a Yankee cheat, and it lowered our great nation araazinly — fact, I assure you. The right way is — but you and I aint a-goin' to be missionaries, so we wont enter into details ; at least, I aint. I don't want to be grilled and eat for supper, that's a fact. I'd like to see them cunvarted into Christians ; but I don t want to be converted into a curried dock- maker, I can tell you. They are far above niggers though, that I will say ; and they despise those woolly-headed, thick-sculled, long- heeled, monkey-faced gentleman as much as you or I. In that particular, they have more pride than we have. White women do sometimes marry niggers, but an Indgin gall never. She'd die first. The Indgins here in this country are no fools, I tell you. Though they do eat like a boa-constrictor, swallow enough at one meal to last for two days, and that muddifies the brain, still they know what's good, and aint above lookin' a gift horse in the mouth. Lord ! I shall never forget an evenin' onct that I was goin' down La Halve river, in a canoe with two Indgins. Well, dark come on, and it began to blow like statiee, and I saw a light in a house in the woods, and I told them to run ashore for the night. '"Now," sais I, 'strike up a light here, and take a stretch for it in the bush, and hold on till raornin'. Well, we hauled up the canoe, and knocked up a shelter in no time, and as I was a-goin' towards the cottage of a highlauder that lived there, to get a night's lodging, a little wrinkled man in an old homespun dress that was onct blue, but had grown grey in the sarvice, and wearin' a sealskin ». -J I V mm 196 THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE, ^ cap, came towards me. I thought by his look he was one of the laird's helps, or, as they call it, a joint of his tail, that had small wages and poor fare, .-i'-, •,"'■. " Hallo, friend,' sais I, 'do you belong to this house?* "'Nae, she don't belong to the hoose/ sini he, ^but the hoose belongs to herself. It's Squire Rory M'Tavish you have the honour to speak to.' ■ '■' V'm " Well, thinks I to myself, considering you havn't so much as a pair of breeches to wear, that piece of pride aint bad, that's a fact; ■ the pattern of the kilt is big enough, in the hands of a good tailor to make you a pair ; but who on airth gave you the name of Rory ? What a devil of a fellow you'd be at roarin', wouldn't you frighten the grasshoppers a'most? I thought I should have roared out myself. Well, you are a riproarious fellow, Rory, and no mistake ; but I wanted a bed and a supper, sol soft-sawdered hira, and smoothed the laird down, and by the time we reached the house, we were as thick as two thieves. The little feller was a good-hearted critter too, as all Highlanders are, and out came a hearty welcome, and then out came the whiskey, and then out came his wife — a better feller than ho was, and far better-lookin' too — a rael jolly nice little woman. • i '';' " ' How did you come V said she. " Well, I told her about the canoe, and the Indgins, and all that, "What!' she said, Uhc poor Indians sleepin' in the heather! Murdoch,' sais she, addressin' a little bare-footed chieftain, that had a head of red hair that would have stuffed a gall's side-saddle a'most, ' go and bring them up here, they must have a supper, and sleep bj the fire.' Well, everythin' went on swimmingly. They gave me a capital supper, and wc told capital stories. I know hisn must have been capital, though I didn't understand a word of them, for he larfed so ' in tellin' them, they nearly choked him; and I roared in tellin' mine, for I knew he could not make out what I was talkin' about either. I haw-hawed so loud, that I actilly waked up the cock that was roostin' in the porch, and sot him off a crowin' too. We kicked up a great bobbery, that's a fact. In the midst of it, in comes Mrs. McTavish, lookin' as red as a turkey-cock, and struttin' like a ban- tam-hen, head up stiff and strait, wings extended angrj'-like, till thej scraped the floor. She was in a riproarious passion, if she didn't talk quick, it's a pity. First she talked Gaelic, and then she trans- lated it. She made a long yarn of it; but the short of it was this, she gave the Indians a pot of burgoo— oatmeal and water — for tbeii supper, and they refused to cat it, sayin' : ' Blay be very good for Scotchmen and pigs, but Indian no eat it,' and walked out of the house in high dudgeon. „^ „ " Oh ! didn't little Rory roar, and Mrs. Rory rave, and didn't I ..#;.: THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. 19^ go into convulsions? I thought I should have died on the spot for want of breath. I joined in berating the Indians though of course, Lf I should hava been obliged to cut stick too; but it was almost too much for my ribs. Well done, hairy scalps, sais I to luyself, well done, hairy scalps, your pride has outdone hairy legs this time at any rate. Oh dear ! how Ambassador laughed, when he heard that story. " It was the lirst time I ever heerd him laugh, for, in a general way, he only smiles, and gives a twinkle out of the corner of his eye But that time he laughed right out, and sais he : "'Sam,'^ and he took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyesf' 'Sara, don't tell that story here to London. There are a great many chieftains here in the season, and you wouldn't know they weren't lowlanders, for they conform to the fashion, wear trousers, and dress quite decent. I like them myself, they are a fine, manly, good- hearted race, but they are very national and very touchy, and you'll get called out as sure as you are born.' ; • - > " ' Well,' sais I, * let them call ; but they must call louder than little Rory, if they want a man to listen to them. If a feller thinks to stop my talk, he's mistaken ; for if I don't make a hole in his cheek big enough to hold the tube of his unchristian bagpipe in, my name isn't Sam Slick. Ambassador,' sais I, ' Latin and Greek is your forte. If a feller held a pistol to you, and told you not to speak them languages, or if you did you must go out with him, would that stop you ? I kinder guess not. Well, I wouldn't swap my stories for your Latin and Greek, nor the embassy to boot; and no Highlander, from Ben Lomond to John 0' Groat's, shall stop me.' j, "I saw he was bothered. He didn't know what to say. He" didn't approve of duellin', but sHU he was a Yankee, and wouhia't like to have one of the embassy called a cowara. ?^^' . " ' Sam,' sais he, ' it's a serious matter here ; if it eends fatally it's murder. What would you do under the circumstances ?' said he, lookin' very grave. " ' Act like a man. Sir,' sais I. " Accept his invite at once, and he gallus polite ; give him his choice of weapons, rifles or pistols, or sittcn' straddle-legs across a keg of gunpowder, but resarve the choice of ground to myself. Well, as soon as he makes his selection, which would be pistols of course, he'd say, now name your ground. Well, I'd say, I take it for granted I shall let daylight through you, for I'm a dead shot ; but perhaps you thini you are a deader one, and make sartin you'll fix my flint. Now, in order to spare the survivor's life, and have no arrests or trials about it, and. save judges from talkin' hippocritical, ray the right bank of the Mississippi. Name your day. But I hope you won't be oiFended with me, as 1 know the country better than you do, for advisin' you to wear trou- sers there instead of kilts, or as sure as you're born, you will never 17* M:. •^ .'X*^ ,, :-;^ •I m 193 THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIB. I I'.. -'• MJf } v: Vi U reach the ground alive, for the galley-nippers. I wish you a good mornin'.' " *Sani/ sais he, 'what a way you have of raakin' fools of people.* '* 'It's a knack, Sir,' sais I, 'wo Connecticut people have, and it's useful in important things as well as in trifles^ as the nigger says in the song: ^:'-i? •. >• "Oh, habbent I do knack, • V . • ' : : t^ Ob suckin' sugar-candy and drinkin' apple-jack." \ , " There is some fun in Indians, too, Captin," sais I, to go on with my story about 'em. " I was once to Liverpool Falls, when I was in this country last, and there was a feller called Tony, took a very good rise out of a settler near there, called Bednigo Latty. Bednigo met him one day in the road, in winter, and as soon as Tony saw him, he began to limp and make faces. "'What's the matter, Tony?' sais the other; 'have you hurt yourself?' " ' Oh !" said Tony, stoppin' short, puttin' down his gun, and restin' over the muzzle, ' me most dead, me tired out ; me no drag my legs along scarcely. Mister Latty; me chase moose, very big moose, two whole days; and when I kill him at last, me so tired, me not able to skin him, or bring any meat home to my squaw. I give him to you; if you go for him you shall have him. Only give poor squaw one small piece for her dinner.' " ' Yes,' said Bednigo, 'and thank you, too; but how shall I find moose V " ' Oh ! I tell you so you find him, sartin sure. You know Grand Lake?' ' .;'r " ' Yes.' " ' You know where neck of land runs way out ever so far, into lake?' ;, "'Yes.' ■ " ' You know where large birch tree grows out of the end of that neck ?' "'Yes.' •■■■ ' ■■ ■■ ■■ ■ • " ' Well, moose just under that birch tree there; very big moose. You get him, you have him.' " Well, next mornin' Bednigo makes up a huntin'-party, and off they starts through the woods, eight miles as the crow flies, in a straight line for Grand Lake ; and at the upper end of it, four miles further, they found the neck of land, and the big birch tree, but no moose, and no signs of one, or tracks either. " Well, they reiurned homo as savage as bears, for they knowed they would be larfed at by the whole settlement, for bein' took in so by an Indian. But they sarched all round the lake first, in hopes of havin' somethin' to bring home, and detarmined if they did, not vi'-^ ■ ,#.■ V 1^ ■m mm THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIB. to tell the story j but they had no luck that day, and they camped out, and huuced the best part of next day, but saw nothin*, and returned as tired, in fact, as Tony pretended to be, and awful hungry, for they intended to feed on the fresh steaks. "The next time liednigo saw the Indian, 'Hullo!' sais he, 'what did you mean by tellin' me that lie about the moose, and sendin' me away out there, to make a fool of me, you Indgian rascal ? I have a great mind to thrash you, you villain !' " ' What lie V said Tony, very gravely. , . " < Why that lie about the moose.' .tjv.:,'.v" "'Ah !' said he, 'you no gettum moose?' "No! of course I did'nt; there was none there, and you knowd it well enough.' "'Very strange,' said Tony, 'you no gettum moose,' quite un- moved by the threat. ' Did you find grand lake ?' "'Yes.' ■^-''^^-%:^'^--';i^-m^'=T " ' Well, that's one. Did you find neck of land runnin' away out into water ?' " ' Yes.' '■ "- ■"■*'■ •'"■■'-"•■ ■ ■ — '-'': '-' ■■' ■ ■' -^-'^ " ' Well, that's two. Did you find big birch tree ?' "'Yes.' :^.-;:^^ " ' Well, that's three, and you no findem moose?' "'No.' " ' Well, that's three truths for one lie. Pretty well for Indiam- — aint it r When I sold you my furs last spring, you cheated me, a;nd what you said was all one grand big lie. You no pay. me yet — cheatem Indian — cheatem devil,' and he drew back a step or two, and began lookin' to the primin' of his gun, which Bednigo thought, as they was alone in the woods, was a hint Congress was broke up, and members had better cut off for home, so he hung his head, and made tracks. I guess humour is in 'em, for they understand a joke, and enjoy it. Many a time I've made 'em laugh, by givin' them a droll idea dressed in Indian phrases and familiar words. The fact is, natur' is natur' all the world over, and the plainer talk is, and the simpler written it is, the nearer to life is it, and the longer it is re- membered — or lives. " I have often heard old Minister say, the ' Vicar of Wakefield ' is more nor a hundred years old, and is a common book now, because it's written in common language ; and will be a popular work a hun- dred years hence, on that account, altho' it's no great shakes arter all. It don't require a scholar to enjoy it. Why is it if you read a book to a man you set him to sleep ? Just because it is a book, and the language aint common. Why is it if you talk to him he will sit up all night with you, and say, ' Oh ! don't go to bed yet, stay a little longer ?' — Just because it's talk, the language of natur'. "It's only lawyers that read law books, and doctors that read ...^ Ml... 200 THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. doctor's books, and college folts that read Latin and Greek. Why? Because nobody else onderstands 'em. They are out of their way. Well, some books are read in the parlour,,and some in the kitchen; but the test of a rael genuine good book is, that it is read in both. Why? Because it shows it's nateral; for nitur* is 'the same in both. It only differs in the dress; it's more transparent in the kit- chen, it's only covered with gauze there, just for decency's sake. It's dressed in silk in the other, and aint just quite as easy seen through. " Anythin' to please must be nateral, I don't care what it is. Now talk nateral to an Indgian, in lai/'guage such as he uses in common, and use ideas that he uses, and put humour into them, and see if he don't lurf. A little thing m:ikcs a man larf, and next to nothin' makes a crowd roar. We are full of chords, from the deepest-toned silver stringy like that of the harp, vp to the little short dipper sharp one that is only ttvo inches long. Strike one of i/oiir own that is in tune with that of another person, and see if they don't harmonise. It vibrates through him. Anybody can be made to larf, unless it is one of those sour chaps in North Britain ; and I believe in my soul nothin' btit takin' him to see a bishop hariged or burned would make him larf. " My idea is, that the want of humour in Indgians comes from not talkin' to their women. Women are naterally sharp, quick- witted, and lively : if they can't reason like men, a nateral gumption takes 'em to a, right conclusion long afore a man has got half way through his argument. Now men without women's society are like bodies without souls, heavy lumps of mortality ; it's that domestic degradation of the wife among savages that beastifies the mind of the man.-;-* ■■■r^.v v ■ - '■ ■• ,;;.;■/ ■■■■ •■'-.-=::■■ •^''lif "He is thoughtful, but not playful; knowin' but silent; 'cute, but not humorous. It's a great pity the misfortunate critters 'e so fond of rum, it's the ruin of them ; they will sell anythin' a'most to buy it. y-;,,.i,-f .^.ajlw ue£ AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM. W •v"*** >.■:*' r "''. CHAPTER XX, ■'/'"' AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM; The first thing I did when I went to my bed-room was to pax)k up my things. I never draw on to-morrow. It is like anticipatin' one's income and maJcin' the future hear the expeiises of the past. When a thing is done, it is off your mind. To carry care to bed is to sleep with a pack on your hack. That's my logic, as the pilot sais. Well, when that was done, I hops into bed, and now, sais I to myself, Sam, s'posin' as wo arc alone here, and it aiLt overly late. ' we have a littlo quiet talk together. What do you think of to-day's work? Well, I think it is about as pleasant a day as I ev^r passed in my life. As for Sophy, she is splendiferous, and no mistake. I guess I'm in for it this hitch. Well, sais I agin, aint she prudish, or cold, or calculatin' or some- thin' or another of that sort ; aint there a little grain of Aunt Thank- ful's starch in her. S'posin' we run over the events as they occurred, and consider them separate, and then put the parts all together, and" see how they work. Well, I goes over all in my mind, till I throws tho Hno over the brook, to give little Jemmy his first lesson, and gets tho first trout, and the pull ho gave jerked my hand off my eyes, and I was asleep in a minute as fast as a pine-stump. A little afore day I wakes up, and rubs my eyes, and I thought I Leered some one a movin', so says I, steward, how is her head ? But steward didn't answer, so I answered for him ; Pretty well I tbauk you. Sir. How is yourn ? And that made me laugh ; but still I was a little bewildered. I thought I was on board the 'Black Hawk ;' but I stretched out my leg first on one side aad then on the other, and found I was in bed. > - '^ ?- iViiiv?: V Yes, sais I, a-bed, that's sartain j but where ? Oh, I have it ! at Squire Collingwood's. Why, Sam, sais I, it aint possible you are in love, when even the thought of dear Sophy couldn't keep you awake for half an hour. But I am tho', that's a fact. Oh dear, what nonsense people talk about love, don't they? Sleepless nights — broken dreams — beatin' hearts — pale faces — a pinin' away to shaders — fits of absence — loss of appetite — narvous flutterin's, and all that. I haven't got the symptoms, but I'll swear to the disease. Folks take this talk, I guess, from poetL ; and they are miserable, mooney soifc of critters, half mad and whole lazy, who would rather Alt iMsji; wmmm mm "^ 204 AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM. take a da/s dream than a day's work any time, and catcli rhymes as niggers catch flies, to pass time — hearts and darts, cupid and stupid, purlin' streams and rulin' dr ins, and so on. It's all bunkum! Spooney looks and spooney words may do for schoolboys and semi- nary galls ; but for a man like me, and an angeliferons critter like Sophy, love must be like electricity — eye for eye, and heart for heart, telegraphed backwards and forwards like 'iled lightnin'. Well, sais I to myself, confound the thing, Sam, you didn't make no great headway nuther, did you, tho' you did go it pretty strong ? Thinks I again, you haven't had no great experience in these matters, Sam, and that's just where you made the mistake. You went at it too strong. Courtin' a gall, I guess, is like catchin' a young horse in the pastur'. You put the oats in a pan, hide the halter, and soft- sawder the critter, and it comes up softly and shyly at first, and puts its nose to the grain, and get's a taste, stands off and munches a little, looks round to see that the coast is clear, and advanfies cautious again, ready for a go if you are rough. Well, you soft-sawder it all the time : — so-so, pet ! gently, pet ! that's a pretty doll ! and it gets to kind a like it, and comes closer, and you think you haVe it, make a grab at its mane, and it nps head and tail, snorts, wheels short round, lets go both hind-feet at you, and off like a shot. That comes of being in a hurry. Now, if you had put your hand up slowly towards its shoulder, and felt along tho neck for the mane, it might perhaps have drawed away, as much as to say, hands off, if you please; I like your oats, but I don't want you, the chance is you would have caught it. Well, what's your play now you have missed it? Why, you don't give chase, for that only scares a critter; but you stand still, shake the oats in the pan, and say, cope, cope, cope ! and it stops, looks at you, and comes up again, but awful skittish, stretches its neck out ever so far, steals a few grains, and then keeps a respectful distance. Now what do you do then ? Why, shake the pan, and move slowly, as if you were goin' to leave tho pastur and make for hum ; when it repents of beiu' so distrustful, comes up, and you slips the halter on. Now more nor half of all that work is lost by bein' in too big a hurry. That's just the case with Sophy. You showed her the hal- ter too soon, and it skeered her. I see it all now, as plain as a new floor-board," sais I. It stands to natur. Put one strange horse in a pastur, and another in the next one, and artor a while they will go to the fence, and like as not, when they look over at each other, snap and bite as cross as anything, as much as to say, you keep your side and I'll keep mine. I never saw you before, and I don't like your looks. Arter an hour or so, they will go and look at each other agin ; and that time they won't bite, but they breathe together, and rub their heads together, and at last do the friendly by brushin' the flies from each other's neck. Arter tha|;; there is a treaty of peace T-ii., AUWT THANKFUL AND HEE ROOM. 206 sigued, and tbey turn to and knock the fence down, (for it is very lonely to feed in h field by oneself), and go wanderin* about showin' each other the best grass. Yes, Sophy, I see where I missed a iigurej and if I remain of the same mind as I am now, see if I don't slip the halter round your neck before you know where you be. Or say I can't catch a boss or a gall, that's all. But I must be a movin' now, so as not to disturb folks, So I lights the candle, and goes down softly to the front entry, and puts down my traps to be sent for; and just as I was a goin' to open the door, the black house-help. Rose, comes from the other end of the buildin*, and says, " This way, please. Master Slick. Marm Thank- ful will be here in a few minutes, and hopes you will sit down in this room till she comes;" and closin' the door on me, vanished. There was a small wood-fire burnin' in the chimney, and two lighted candles stood on one of the tables, so that everything was as clear as noonday. Oh, Jerusalem ! sais I, what in creation is all this ? Here is a room, that looks as if it must have been cut out of the old family house in New York State, and fetched down, bolus bolus, as it stood ; for there aint anything hardly in it as new as herself, and she is seventy years old, if she is a day. Note it all down for your journal, for sister Sal; for though you have seen most of these things as odds and ends, you never saw them all brought together before, and never will again. So I up and at it. I paced the floor ; it was twenty-two by twenty. The carpet was a square of dark cloth, not so large as the whole floor, and instead of a pattern, had different colored pieces on it, cut out in the shape of birds and beasts, and secured and edged with variegated worsted in chain-stitch. In one corner stood an old-fashioned eight-day clock, in a black oak case, with enormous gilt hinges. In the oppo- site one was a closet, made angular to fit the shape of the wall, with a glass front, to preserve and exhibit large silver tankards; Dutch wiuo-glasses, very high in the stem, made of blue glass, with mugs to match, richly gilt, though showin' marks of wear, as well as age : a very old China bowl, and so on. " In one of the deep recesses formed by the chimbly stood an old spinet, the voice of which probably was cracked before that of its mistress, and, like her. had forgot its music. In the other was a mahogany bureau, with numerous drawers, growin' gradually less and less in depth and size, till it nearly reached the ceilin', and ter- minatin' in a cone, surmounted by a gilt parrot; not a bad emblem for a chatty old lady-bird, who is apt to repeat over and over the same thing. The jambs of the fire-place, which was very capacious, were orna- mented with bright glazed tiles, havin' landscapes, rcprcscntin' wiud- niills, summer-iiouses in swamps, canal boats, in which you could see nothin' but tobacco-pipes for the smoke, and other Dutch opulent 18 ' .'^' ■' ■' ii : fei '1 'i 206 mmm AUNT THANKFUL AND HER RO(|M, luxuries painted on tliem. On one side of these were suspended a very long toastin'-fork and a pair of bellows ; and on the other a worked kettle-holder, an almanac, and a duster made of the wing of a bird. ': .-'.'^^.:; :'^ i '>..W. ^- .: ..-XK ^ The mantel-piece, which was high, was set off with, a cocoa-nut bowl, carved, polished, and supported by three silver feet j an ostrich egg, and a little antique China tea-pot, about as large as a sizable cup. Two largo high brass dog-irons, surmounted by hollow balls, supported the fire. The chairs were of mahogany, high and rather straight in the back, which had open cross bar-work. Two of these wfere arm-chairs, on one of which (Aunt Thankful's own) hung a patch-work bag, from which long knittin'-needles and a substantial yarn-stockin' protruded. All had cushions of crimson cloth, worked with various patterns, and edged with chain-stitch, and intended to match the curtains, which were similar. There was no table in the centre of the room, and but two in it, which were much higher than modern ones, with several little spindly legs to each, makin' up in number what they wanted in size. On the largest stood two old- fashioned cases, with the covers thrown back to exhibit the silver- handled knives, which rose tier above tier, like powdered heads in a theatre, that all might be seen. Beside them was a silver filigree tea-caddy. On the smaller table, stood a little hand-bell and a large family Bible with enormous clasps, a Prayer-book, and the " Whole Duty of Man." It was a funny idea that too. I took it for granted it was a receipt-book, or a family medicine-book, or a cookery-book, or a female book of some sort or another; but no — ^it was the *' Whole Duty of Man !" Ah, Aunt Thankful ! confess now, warn't there a little curiosity in you to find out what the "Whole Duty of Man" was? Well, they don't do their duty, or one of them would a gone down on his marrow-bones, and begged the honor of your hand, long and long ago ; and they never will do their duty. But you will be here be- fore I have half-finished my inventory; and Sally will scold if I don't tell her about the walls, and say I haven't done my dut^. Well, between the winders was a very large lookin' -glass, in an old dark, carved mahogany frame ; a yellow sampler, with the letters of the alphabet; a moral lesson, "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth," and the name of the artist, " Thankful Colling- wood, 1790, aged ten years," worked on it; and a similar one, cou- tainin' a family coat-of-arms, executed on the same material, and by the same hand, though at a later date, were substantially framed, and protected by glass. Two portraits of military men, in oils, re- markably well painted, completed the collection ; each of which was decorated with long peacock's feathers. ^ Now, Sally, that's Aunt Thankful' s room ; aud I am thankful I i&-'- AUN-fT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM. 20T, have finished it. But, stop — what the plague does she want with me ? Is she an envoy extraordinary, as we say, to the Court of St. James's, from Sophy to declare non-intercourse ? I guess not. She has spunk enough to do that herself, if she wanted; or from Mary, about Mr. Hopewell's church ? She knows she has only to ask me for it herself to get it, or anythin' I have. From herself? Oh, the devil ! said I : no, that can't be. I am sure the " Whole Duty of Man" is agin' marryin' your grandmother. I know Mr. Hopewell told me it was agin the law ; but whether he said canon law, civil law, ecclesiastical law, Levitical law, law of England, or the United States' law, hang me, if I don't disremember j for I never intended to do it, so I forget where he said to look for it. I have got it, said I: she thinks it aint suitable for the young ladies to go to Slickville without her. Well, prhaps it is agin the "whole duty of woman/' and I'll ask the good old soul too. Poor Aunt Thankful ! it's others ought to be thankful to you, that's a fact, for your post aint easy. We uncles and aunts have enough to do. tjncle pays for all, and aunt works for all. The children don't mind you like a mother, and the servants don't obey you like the rael head of the house nother. Is there one of the party to stay to home ? it's aunt. Is there any one to get up early, and to be the last to lock doors, and to look to fires ? it's aunty. Is there company to home, who takes charge of the house? Why aunty to be sure. If you haven't got money enough for what you want, there is some doubloons still left in the eend of Aunt Thank- ful's stockin'. You didn't return the last three you borrowed; but coax her, she is so good-natured and so kind. Get her to tell that story about Prince Edward, Duke of Kent, and her eyes, and say, well, aunt, they must have been beautiful, for they are still so hand- some ; how near you came being the Duchess of Kent (that's the soft spot, with three tender places in it, first to be married, second to be a duchess, and third to be the mother of a queen) ; go right on without stoppin'. Aunty, if you would lend me just one doub- loon ? you shall have it again soon. Ah ! you rogue, you didn't pay the last three you got. I'll trust you this once though, but mind, I never will again. There now, mind it's the last time. Then aunty dear, if you have some disagreeable things to do and to bear — who hasn't? Oh! you have some such pleasant duties, that I envy you. The family hospital is under your sole command, scarlet-fever, hoopin' -cough, measles, chilblains, sore throats, and consumption — not all at once, and then ever so much of it that you get tired, but one at a time, with spaces between to keep up the in- terest — and the blisters, no one can handle like you, and you do make such lovely poultices, and sweet salves, and are such a grand hand at a scald, a burn, a cut, or a shot-wound. 208 AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROt)M. " Well, there's no use a talkin' about it," sais I, speakin* aloud, " I do love her \" The door opened, and there stood Aunt Thankful. She paused a moment confused-like. That avowal of mine puzzled her. My ! if she wasn't a pictur' ! She was tall, thin, and fair. Her forehead, which made up in height what it was deficient in breadth, was some- what disfigured, by bavin' the hair cut across the middle. The rest, rather grizzled than grey, was parted, and partly concealed by a mob- cap of stiffened muslin, high in the crown, with lappets extendin' to the shoulder, and secured by a black-silk fillet, round the head. The only ornaments I could see were a pair of short ear-rings, and a necklace or string of gold beads round the throat. She had on a white dimity, high-bodied, short gown, extendin' a little below the hips, and enclosin' a beautifully-starched, clear, white handkerchief, and fastened by a girdle of white-cotton cord, terminatin' in two tassels pendant in front. To this was attached, on the right side, a large steel bunch of snap-rings; the uppermost supported a thick, clumsy-lookin' gold watch, of antique manufac- ture, the . face, for security, restin' agin her person, and the wrought back exhibitin' no design, but much labour and skill, resembling somewhat brain-stone tracery. From another was suspended, by a long ribbon, a pair of scissors in a steel-case, and a red cloth pin- cushion, and from the rest, keys of various sizes. The sleeves of the gown were loose, reached a little below the elbow, and terminated in long, gray, kid mitts, coverin' half the hand, the low^er part bein' so fashioned as to turn backwards towards the wrist in a point. The petticoat was made of shiny black shal- loon, rather short, and exhibitin' to advantage a small foot in a high- heeled shoe of the same material, and a neat ancle incased in a white cotton stockin', with open clocks. Such was Aunt Thankful. She looked round puzzled-like, to see if I was a talkin' to any one in the room, or was addressin' her, and at last courtseyin* advanced, and shook hands with me. " I could not think, Mr. Slick," she said, " of lettin' you go away without a cup of tea, and as I am an early riser, I thought you wouldn't object to takin' it with an old woman like me, even if the young ladies were not present ?" Takin' one of the candles, and proceediu' to '>;he closet, she took up one of the gilt glasses, and unfoldin' a napkin, and carefully wipin' it, she poured out a glass of pale yaller liquor. ^' Take this, Mr. Slick," she said, " it is some bitters I made myself It is a wholesome tiling on this foggy coast before break- fast, and promotes appetite." Well, in a gineral way my twist is considerable. Pharaoh's lean kine are a caution to sinners in the eatin' line, and my appetite don't wan't provokin' ; but anythin' a lady makes herself you must take ; AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM 2(^b kin' aloud, le paused a . My ! if r forehead, , was some- The rest, I by a mob- ixtendin' to , the head, rings, and a extendin' a ched, clear, cotton cord, as attached, e uppermost ae manufac- the wrought , resembling pended, by a d cloth pin- ■•■".■ "''■ , e below the in' half the ards towards black shal- lot in a high- id in a white [-like, to see isin' her, and |ttin' you go thought you me, even if |;, she took up jfully wipin' tors I made [efcre break- ^araoh's lean apetite don't must take ; fact 18, 1 never could swaller physic unless a woman gave it to me. It aint civil to refuse, so I took the glass, held it up to the light, and it was as clear as racked cider, "Well," said I, with a very admirin' smile, "you do look beau- tiful, and your complexion is as clear as a bell." " Oh Mr. Slick !" said she. I thought I should have busted; I was a takin' of the liquor, and she was a-thinkin' of herself. I wonder what is the age a fem- inine gives over vanity, or gives up hopes. I'll ask Professor JSillj/- man, who is a great nateral philosopher, to tell me this fact about silli/ women j and if he can't, perhaps Cardinal irise-man can, for old galls have to confess their weaknesses as well as young ones. "Madam," says I "my sarvice to you," and I made her a low bow, and tossed it off. Lord, if it warnt bitter, then there are no snakes in Virginny. It was strong enough to pucker the mouth of an aligator; so he couldn't open it without usin' cod-liver oil. " Oh that is grand !" said I. " I am glad you like it," said she, " and I'll give you a receipt." How strange it is, no created critter wants to learn, but every one wants to instruct. The grand secret of life is to hear lessons, and not to teach them. Who the plague ever liked a schoolmaster ? Vanity, vanity ! all is vanity, says the preacher ! Well, that text aint read right in general. Ministers discourse on it as if all worldly things were of no use. The rael meanin' of it is " the vanity of fools is the wisdom of the- wise ." Poor thing ! she didn't know that, but I did. Says she, I'll give you a receipt. " Thank you. Madam," said I, " and when I come here on my return, I shall be most grateful ; but I am afeard I must be a movin'. 1 am skeered, lest I should wake the folks up." She rang her little silver bell, and in came Rose with the break- fast-tray, containin' the teapot — the tiniest I ever seen — it wouldn't hold a good-sizeable glass of grog, sugar-bowl and cream-jug of the> same dimensions, a plate of buttered toast cut into squares two inch- es long, and p'l^d up like a high chimney, and two little dishes of presarves. Tamks I, old lady, it was worth while to make a feller swaller bitters to get an appetite for all this, warnt it ? "Will you try a little quince, Sir? it is some I preserved myself." " Quince, is it ?" said I, " the best flavour to my mind of any ■ that is made. Dear me," sais I, " how tender, it's delicious, that's a fact. It's easy to sec who prepared it." ,.' " I am glad you like it. Sir. The great secret is to pulverize the loaf-sugar complete before it is put on the fruit, or the scum won't rise well, and to cover the quinces when bilin', if you want them to have a beautiful colour." ^ '"^•' ' '^'''^"< ^ T^ "So I've heard mother say," sais I, "and she was a grand hand 18* mi i 210 AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM, *'''W at all kinds of presarving. I've heerd her say, when she wanted anythin' super-superior, she clarified the syrups first, and actilly filtered the water." " Why, Mr. Slick,'^ said she, " how on airth do you pick up all them things ? If I was a young lady, I should be amost afcard you knew too much, so as to make you too particular. Know how to preserve quinces ? Well, I want to know I" ':;,^r ^ :■.;;:>■ " Yes," sais I, " and how to eat them too, when they are prepared by Madame Thankful. Mother couldn't hold a candle to you." ' "Well, I must say," she said, "I do rather pride myself on my quinces. I'll tell you how I learned the secret of it. You didn't know Prince Edward, who was made Duke of Kent, tho' why I never could understand ; for Princes always seemed bigger than dukes to me ? No, no ! you couldn't have know'd him. Well, he was very fond of presarved quinces, and Mrs Finley, a friend of Lady Wentworth's (that was the Governor's lady) used to prepare them with her own hands, in the way she learned to New Hampshire — for she, as well as Sir John, came from that colony to Nova Scotia. I was on a visit to Government House then, and Mrs. Finley said, ' Thankful I am goin' to preserve some New York quinces to-day for his Royal Highness, come and help me, and I will let you into the mysteries of confections.' " ' What ! do king's sons like quinces ?' said I, " * Yes, and kisses too, dear !' . =; . "'Oh, Mrs. Finley,' said I, 'how you do talk.' "Well, that's the way I larned how to do them so nice." Thinks I to myself, " Old lady, which do you mean ?" didn't say so, all I said was, '' Quinces and kisses will always go together in my mind hereafter !" ■-■ - ^ ' ^^ ;"— " Oh, Mr. Slick !" said she, " how you do go on. * You talk just as Mrs. Finley did. Ah me ! that was the last time I ever was in Halifax. The evenin' of that very day we was all at the Prince's Lodge, to a ball there. Little did I think I was a-talkin' to the father of the future Queen of England ! ' Miss Collingwood,' sais he, 'you don't seem in your usual spirits to-night.' " ' Please your Royal — ' " It was evidently a stereotyped story, all ready to bind up in any work, and as there was somethin' in it the young ladies didn't want me to hear (for the night afore she got on the same subject, and they drew her oft" from it), I cut in, " Is either of those pictures a portrait of him ?" said I. " Yes," Baid she, takin' up a candle, and pointin' to one of them, "that is his Royal Highness Prince Edward. Aint he a noble- lookin' man ? He presented it to papa, who was very fond of him, and always said he was an excellent officer." And then, turnin' to t>he windoWj which had a deep recess that formed a scat, she touched but I AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM. 2ii e wanted id actilly ick up all ifeard you )W how to e prepared you." self on my You didn't ho' why I than dukes ell, he was id of Lady epare them ampshire— lova Scotia. Finley said, js to-day for ^ou into the an V but I always go 3U talk just ever was in le Prince's iin' to the gwood,' sais id up in any didn't want ect, and they es a portrait )ne of thera, he a noble- bnd of him, n, turnin' to she touched a spring, and opened the lid, or cover, and took out a brass-mounted desk, or rather small trunk, and said, — " That, Mr. Slick, con- tains all the Prince's correspondence with my father, and all the letters of his to others that could be collected ; also, his Royal High- ness's orderly-books, thirteen of thera ; and also my poor father's journal, while the Prince was here and at Gibraltar, and all my father's campainsin the rebellion in the States." ''• Revolution we call it now. Madam," sais I. " Yes, I know you do ; but father always said rebellion was the right name, and the gallows the right remedy." '' Back your cart, Sam," said I, " or you'll stick in that soft spot, I know. That box you must have by hook or by crook, so put your best foot foremost." , ■'•;*,;>>> "Mr. Slick," said she, and she took off her spectacles and wiped her eyes, " that box contains everythin' valuable that I possess in the world." " Now," sais I, " make a desperate throw for that box, and then be off. Except one," said I. ,• ^ ...,'*.•.;•, . "And what is that, pray?" "J'he kindest heart," said I, " that ever woman had. If his Royal Highness had added praises to that, also, when he admired the eyes, he would have done you no more than justice." " Oh, Mr. Slick !" she said, " don't talk in that way !" " Madam," said I, " I feel hurt. Do you suppose I would say what I didn't mean ? Your brother says so; your beautiful nieces say so ; the whole neighbourhood say so ; and why shouldn't I say so? I shall never forget this visit; but above all, this mornin', this room — yourself — that invaluable box. I admire this room — it's feminine. It's a lady's ow7i room — nothin' male in it: no guns, fishin'-rods, bows, arrows, moose-horns, whips, spurs and so on. I like it, it's unique and antique, as they shy to the Court of St. Jiraes', Victoria. After the check you gave me jist now, I won't say anythin' about how much I admire i/oii; but in two hours, I shall hope to be the owner of a perfect sketch of you." "Oh no, Mr. Slick ! not in this dress. If you do take me, let it be in my splendid brocade — the ball-dress I had on when his Royal. Highness said, ' Miss CoUingwood, you are not in your usual spirits to-night. I assure you there has been no execution to-day, but what has been effected by your beautiful eyes.' This is more the costume of the housekeeper." "It shall be so," I said. "I return this way, and will execute it for you in a way that I hope will meet your approbation." Confound that box ! said I to myself. I shall never enveigle her out of it ; and yet have it I must and will, for I have a work of that kind all outlined in my head. I have it, Sam, said I ; throw all thfi =■ -J..- t. ■' '-i.'l.C't-jT . "ia. ;: 'ST.:- iPP >^V" ' ••"mmmm 212 AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM. obligation on her ; condescend to be so kind as to take the Iflusty, fusty old box on her account. "Madam," said I, "will you allow mo to show my gratitude in another shape ? It's a pity 8«ch a distinguished o|Bcer as your father shouldn't have had justice done to him or the Prince's memory either. You know I write books ? " " I do, Sir ; and have often said to my brother : ' Frederick/ sais I, ' where in the world did Mr. Slick pick up so many curious stories, and so many odd things and odd subjects, I wonder ? ' ' " * From odd people,' said he, ' like himself " "Well," said I, "nothin' would give me greater pleasure than to arrange them papers for publication for you, and to have them printed free of expense, for I know all the publishers." ■ "Why, Mr. Slick," said she, "would you, indeed?""".' ' ■ " Only too happy," s!- I I. ' "" " And you will give me back the originals afterwards ? " " Certainly, and as many copies of the book as you desire." " 'Tis yours. Sir, and here is the key; and I am greatly indebted to you. But Mr. Slick," she added, " if there be anythin' in them that his Royal Highness the Prince, or my father wouldn't approve of, if livin', or that don't convene to me — you understand." "Exactly," ; us I. "Wide awake — up to snuff. Talkin' of snuff, could you favor me with a pinch? I think I saw aT)ox on the mantel-piece ? " I did this to see if she took any on the sly; and findin' she did, thought of a present to send to her. "Good-bye, Madam," said I. " I thank you kindly for all your polite attentions, and must now say adieu ; for," and I opened the curtain, " there is the first gray streak of dawn;" and takin' her hand in both mine, bent down respectfully over it, and touched it with my lips. Then puttin' the box under my arm, proceeded to the door, where I gave it to Rose, ^ takin' the gun and fishin'-rod instead, and proceeded to the beach. When I got out on the lawn, I could not help thinkin' how many onexpected events had taken place in this short visit ! What little accidental circumstances sometimes change the whole current of a man's life ! Was it an ill wind, or a lucky chance that took me to Jordan lliver ? What course shall I take ? Adopt dear old Minis- ter's rule in similar cases, " Sam, think well he/ore you decide ; act on your own calm, delihcrate judgment, and not your impulses ; and leave the issue with Him loho can alone direct it." .V. ,t.-,^^^' ■^^^^'i' ^.:-*^0^:--, -?>. ■,■■ ■m ^^, 'M *^4|#. A SINGLE IDEA. 21B tf^m CHAPTE'!t*KJiL A SINGLE IDEA. Poor Aunt Thankful bad lived on a single idea for nearly half a century. Sixteen thousand five hundred successive days appeared to her but as one day, and sixteen thousand five hundred successive nights but as one long night. It was but yesterday she assisted in preservin* quinces for the Prince, and only last evenin' that he promenaded with her on his arm, and complimented her on her beautiful eyes. That one idea was ever uppermost in her mind, that charmin' scene ever before her eyes. Often as she sat in her arm-chair, alone by the fire knittin', would she wander in imagination over the beau- tiful grounds of the Lodge, rest in one of the pretty little Pagoda summer-houses, listen to the tinklin' of the tiny bells as they waved in the wind, or look out on the wide-spread basin, dotted here and there with pleasure-boats, from which rose the merry peal of laughter, or in the lone hour of night — for it aint every one that makes one solid nap of it as I do — wake to the recollection of that fine manly figure, and hear that clear commandin' voice say, " I assure you, Miss Collingwood, there has been no execution to-day, but what has been effected by your beautiful eyes." Sweeter far than quince syrup to the palate was that flatterin' unction to the mind. If you could but see her face then ; but you aint an owl, and can't see in the dark; but supposin' you could, wouldn't you see a dreamy smile come over it, for Aunty feels good all over. One little long-drawn sigh, not much louder than a baby's, and bhe is off to sleep agin ; and then comes a dream of speculation, that she don't indulge in when awake — she has too much sense for that. " Sposin'," sais the dreamer, " papa had left me a little longer at Government House, and his lloyal Highness had got his papa's consent for the American beauty, as they called me. A Duchess is such a pretty title — the mother of a queen, perhaps a king — wouldn't I be tliankfid then? I wonder if the Duchess's eyes are as handsome as mine are. I don't believe it." Nor I either. Aunty, or any Duchess in the queendom. " Oh ! that horrid cock ! I wish it wouldn't crow so loud under my window. If he hasn't waked mo up I declare, aud now it is time to get up, and call up Sophy and Mary." If that aint bein' happy, it's plaguy near it. But it aint an overly sage thing to have only one idea in life. . Folks want two ideas in a general way, like two eyes, «wo hands, and two feet, so 'M::: ■.*iiU.iit'i*;i.v.:ie&i''.i'*^-:;';aiA£!t..'iV..^,. mmmmm ,*i 214 w.^* ASINQLEIDEA. 1 that if you lose one, you can fall back on tho other. Maii^H|iing lady has b;ut one idea — a sort of trade wind oae, that alv/i^ljplowa one way-ithat a n^ of rank,^r-hcr lookin'-gSws, or her foolish old mother^ or her owii vanitVjjrilP' put into her bfead tl^at she is aa Mnazin* handsome gall. And she aint a bad-lookin' heifer neither, "fliat's a fact. Well, she flirts with this one and that one, plays one oiF agin another, keeps 'era on hand like till a better one comes, and cracks Jjeli-ts like hickory nuts. Well, the men get tired of flirtin', drop off one by one, and get tnarried, and the better one that she has been waitin' for so long, don't come; and she opens her eyes some fine day, and says: " Hullo ! what in natur is all this ? As I'm a livin' sinner, here are grey hairs in my head ! and I haven't so much as I used to have; it's actilly gettin' thin ! See how the comb fetches it out too ! I must see to this. I'll use neat's foot oil. Phew ! the very idea makes me sick. I can't bear the smell of it even. Well, bear's grease. Oh ! I couldn't stand my own joke about that. I fairly plagued old Miss Bantam out of her wits, by telling her it would bring out fur instead of hair, and she would have a bear-skin. I wish now I hadn't made that foolish speech, for bear's grease aint bad, that's a fact. Well, there is tricopherus, how will that do? It's a very hard word to pronounce, and there is no rememberin' it; but them things aint to be talked of. But oh ! my gracious ! I never had my glass arranged this way before. I did it to examia' my hair. But what on airth are them little squares on the fore- head ? Wrinkles ! Nonsense, they can't be. You are only — let's see how old you are. Take twenty from fifty-two, and that leaves thirty-two, and two years I stood still at twenty-five, makes thirty- four. People oughtn't to count that way after twenty-five, for the years run twice as quick then as before. I'll try to cipher it that way. Twenty-five from thirty-four, leaves nine — half of nine is four and a half — twenty-five and four and a half makes twenty-nine and a half — that is my age exactly. I thought there must be some mistake. Now let's examine them little squares agin — wrinkles sproutin' up as sure as dog days. How strange, and me only twenty-nine and a half years old ! I must take care how I sit in the light. Self- examination that the parsons recommends so strongly may be a very good thing, but it aint a very pleasant one. But go through with it BOW you are at it. How are the teeth ? Why what has come over me'f I never noticed them little specks before ! Shockin' bad Itiijrte ! — some must come out and others ^o in. I declare my heart's broke ! So she rings the bell, orders breakfast in bed, and don't get up again that day, and sends word to her mother she has a slight head- ache, and will darken her room, and try to go to sleep. All that ^ni:fi J l/*^.i^^i^^x.li1^1^ J^iilbil^&^^A'ii iMiiJ^ ^^^. A SINGLE tf^. 'IMH^ 215 comHp'ii&'^^' only one idea, and wen^n^thatjijl't begins to givo out from' long use^_And I have an idea that ^pH will |klier die a sour old maid, or^Bl 'to take <& cr||kcd stick Jlf^a husb^fl ^ttf lust, ril bet six cendflKap taU^he >l||i;9,f th^ino she^ll tAp' to dritikin'. 'It will »e»Trymanncr and Sir«^j4rf|^ine. Trymanncr^ so awful sour, it takes three people to get ifiii^j(m. One is lai^ on the table, a second holds the hands down, and "tW tjprfl boai^' ft into the mouth. Strumph is stockin' wine, for it is so if you pour it into a stockin' that has a hole in it, it will pucker up 30, it w(»n't require no darnin' or raendin'. Yes, that will be her fate. Now there was a great difference between her and Aunt Tbriiiicful. Aunty had but one idea, but she knew the consequence, and wouldn't give it up but with her life. The other critter had but one also, and didn't know the consequence of havin' such an artful domestic about her toilet-table as vanity, till she missed the roses on her cheek. Well, that one idea aint confined to women. Many a man has it, and fancies he is a very killin' feller, and never doubts it in the least, tho' he gets pretty broad hints, now and then, to get another idea into his head. The galls are absent when he talks to them (that he puts down to bad manners, and he don't think they are as well bred as they used to be), and the old ladies take to patronizia* him strangely, but they are of the old school, and always was perlite. Well, one night at a ball, a stoutish woman, remarkably good- lookin' for her age, and with a face beamin' with delight and eyes sparklin' with joy, leauin' on the arm of an active, athletic young ■a leftenaut in the navy — who, in spite of the ugly navy uni man- form, looks better than any one else there, slowly promenades up the room as if proud of her escort, and looks up into his face as if she bad no cy. for any one but him. Says single-idead bachelor: "I don't like such a public exhibition of flirtin'. Such admiration in public aint hardly decent." The sooner you leave this station, young man, the better for that silly woman, and you too. Perhaps you don't know her husband is livin', and a dead shot, too — snuff | can- dle at twenty paces with a ball without so much as flickerim the light. Well, it will make promotion, at any rate. When the lady stops, and calls the one-idead, but many-wrinkled bachelor to her, who bows like an old monkey, his chin stickin' out in front, and his Cj tails behind. " Mr. Bachelor, allow me to introduce my son to you — Liei Tiller, of the navy. He has just returned from Rangoon, wh^f^I am happy to say, he distinguished himself, and has been appointed flag-lieutenant to Admiral Sir John Growler, on board the * 3\MM. Doff.' '' . '*' ilSi«ii-'';-;. ,■..;' JittiiFi. ■iy.Si^..ii .•ii::.L>;* *r IDEA. Bach^OTDfute; makcs%v41 speeches to both, hopes ho fih^ Bog a good (Iculjjf hi^P»Ti(l returns to a.oorDor aud reflects. ' '< i.j^ Jrsoort t^^ll^c devil asthaf ^uu sarpeD^^hc eais to himself. iB|-lictileimnt ^9v fro life of a dofl. ^tj^u admiral ! I am oy shouldn't have '' He^niakcs me^W^old. . JB|-licti>cimnt t J [lad of it; you wilWead'tTO life of a dog. iffc you to sea. Yatt^ave outgrown your strongth, and are too tall fof betwecu-dctJw. ^s it possible, this memento-mori is . he son of JittJ^illlllPr Dawson, or that little Ma^ DawBon, that was more like a gazelle than anythin' else, is fat Mrs. Tiller. She don't take earo of herself. They married her too early, and that plays the devil with women j and she looks as if she drank brown stout at lunch. She can't be so old either. It is only the other day I was called to the bur, and I recollect that year I lifted her into a cherry-tree to gather fruit, when she show'd such a foot and ankle, and perhaps a few inches more, as never mortal man beheld. Poor thing ! she has fed coarsely since then, and vealed her calf, I suppose ! What a pity it is women don't take care of themselves, for they don't wear as well as wo men do in a general way. Still, confound it ! it does make me feel old, too !" Well, bo you are old I The crows' feet at the corners of your eyes are as large as the prints they leave in the sand, when, like you, they are a fecdin' on what the tide has left of the wracks of the dead. You are too old to marry now. Adopt that handsome leftenant, and leave him your money. , i ;,,^." What! me?" "Yes, you." j* • ' ■ ^ " . . "What! him?" . . ' "Yes, him." * v. A '^ '' • ^y He springs right up on eend, and says : ^, ' ■ ,, ; " ril see him d— d first ?" And cuts out of the room, and makes tracks for home. Oh ! my one-idead lawyer, that blow over the pate of your vanity has let a new light into it, I guess, and made a crack big enough for a new idea to enter it. Put that doion on your hrief, that life itself is too hrief hy half to he fooled away on one idea only. One idea aint confined to looks neither. Mr. and Mrs. and the Misses aud the young gentlemen Nobodies are very apt, especially in a country like this, where it is all small beer, to have one grand idea that haunts them day and night, starches their cravats or muslins, ., stiffens the upper lip, and keeps their chins up — and that is that * t^'lj^re somebodies. There is some excuse for the idea about looks "hiAk^ a nateral one, and only hurts oneself; but the other, the gflraa idea, makes folks a nuisance, itnd causes other people to have an idea that they hate them. To claim superiority is to attempt to pass another on the road^ nd compel Jiim to take tJie dust. In a giueral way that aint genteel, •"•mm A SINQLE IDISA. iop a to bimself. al ! I am ilda't have aro too tall .he son of 2 more like 't take caro 8 the devil t at lunch, as called to erry-treo to d perhaps a [ig ! she has I ! What a ^ don't wear I it ! it does lers of your ;en, like you, I of the dead, cftcnant, and your vanity y enough for Vat life itself Mrs. and the lespecially in |e grand idea or muslins, Ithat is that about looks other, the Lie to have m the road, laint genteel, 21T onlcss there is a lady in the case. iVtcZe ieind up^tartism aon' t coti' vciir. Who' the oil jloals, the tumhler in nearlj/ full of water, and the (jlnsa shown it-^ic oil vi wasted, and the water spofU, There aint enough of thSk»i(. for a lamp^hut there it enough of the other to make the light sp'^^kMtj^d jynt it ottt. *' Grandpapa w^^^Kuodoro in the British navy/' says Miss Nohody. '^KM' " The devil ho wll^^A.nd what was ho before ho was « commo- dore?" " Why an officer, to bo sure." • " And who was his father ?" "A tinman." " Well, that will do to tinker up a pedigree. Died poor, didn't he ?" " Well, he didn't lay up anythin'. Exactly, ho begun life and ended it without money." * " It is a pity he didn't stick to his trade, if ho had, his tin would have stuck to him." " Well, grandma was a great beauty." "Yes, and her face now looks as wrinkled as a cabbage-leaf. I recollect her well, when the music-master gave up her daughter, your mother, because she had no capacity. She said she would send to London and buy her one." "Well, grandpa on the other side — " " Do you mean the other side of the water ?" - ^' How provokin' you are ! no, on the maternal side." " Oh ! now I understand, the matronly side. Yes, yes, now I have it ! matron of a hospital, and married the doctor, who became a P.M.O., and used to call her his diacolon-plaster, she used to stick so close to him. Poor thing ! she thought him very killin', and she wasn't far out of the way. Doctors excel in killin'. But don't cry, dear, you brought it on yourself by a bit of brag. I should have forgot it all if you hadn't called my attention to it. That comes of the grand idea of being somebody. Let the dead he , wo don't of^m inherit their talents or their moneys and if we did, why should we he answcrahle for their follies P" • , ' ^ ' ■ If you boast your claim to be a bigger bug than others,- if your claim is disputed and you get wounded iu the conflict, it's your own fault. Modesty is hrought forward and made way for, , A^m/tpp- tion has the door shut in its face. If you really have'- an old i^aime, and belong to an old family, do somethia' to show tj^e value ofjiit. Brag is a dog that everybody hates, hut nohody fears, for he Ofjf^-^ low-iooios ; hut he loakes up detraction, and he is a dangerous critter, for he hites without bar kin*. In society one-idead men are awful bores. London is chock full of them, as my fruit-trees to Slickvillc used to be of an insect of 19 mi i ra||^HH| 1 ■1 m ^mm 218 A SINGLE IDEA. that name, till I lamed how to get rid of them. You will get near a ninni/ at table who can't talk about anythin' but iVmcvah, till you think he must have been dug up there. Another fellow is mad after mummies; if heVas only dummy or mummy himself, it wouldn't be so bad,y||^ii3 tongue runs like a mill race, his hair smells of tho horrid ^RHk[^4' stuff which he has been analyzing and at first you think q^palM^us combustion has commenced. The only way is to make fan oKj^im, and shut him up. " (keat prize to-day, Mr. Slick ; I got one of Pharer% darters." " What's the colour !" :.,..«. j.-,} v >:?■.;'''/:: . f^* m~^f:'^'' "Deep claret." ' ■ .,. "She wasn't a Fair-er's darter then, but a darfcie's gall?" He don't take at first, for the pun aint so plain as a hyrogrip^ic, so on he goes. ■^,,^\,,,^ , .-• _ ^:':i>',i^:^^^4f^^<^' ^:,-J.'r:' " A beautiful specimen. Sir." . .- . ^ . <. - ^ '■:>■->■' ' ■ "Thin?" ,^ . .,,,../:.-;:;;5ii,^ii:\::vl.-..; ; "Katherso." ' '*\:iv:. V:^"v;,V "Then she was one of Pharaoh's lean kine?" •' -, ' He stares at that. " Aint you afraid of infection," sais I, " a handlin' the gall that way?" "No, not at all." ■ " v:,:. ■ ■ ' '.•: "I wouldn't touch her on no account," sais I; "for she must have been one of the plagiLes of Egypt. I guess she must be wuss than the canister meat government sent to the North Pole, and that was so bad it poisoned the foxes. I have an idea the Egyptians were cannibals, and these bodies were those of their captives, who were killed, spiced, baked, and put away for feasts. , Did you ever taste one to see if it had been cooked ?" i That shuts him up. He turns to his next neighbour, and earwigs him by tho hour. Another critter is mad on ehurch architecture, I had no idea of being crammed myself, so I tui^ to and crams him. Ho squares round to you, his eye lights up, and he is all animation. " Are you fond of church architecter, Mr. Slick ? It is a beau- tiful study." I look all aghast. -. ' -r .'":.' '^ ' . .y-*^Cant't bear to think of it," sais I, "much less to speak of it, since a dreadful accident happened to a friend of mine to Michigan. He thought of nothin' else but buildin' a new church, mornin', noon, and night; and after years of study and savin', and beggin', he finished a' most a beautiful one. Well, he no sooner got it out of his head than he got it into his stomach. He fancied he had swallered it; all the doctors told him he was a fool, and left him, and he re- turned the compliment and called them fools. My brother, the doctor and I was travel lin' there at the time, and when he heard it, A SINGLE IDEA. 21^ ■will get near evah, till you \\y dummy or 10 runs like a buff -which he 13 combustion ijm, and shut darters. 7f '■t> galir , a hyrogripliic, in' the gall that ■-tj^v "for she must ae must be vfna h Pole, and that Egyptians were itives, who were you ever taste .our, and earwigs [rch architecture, and crams him. is all animation. ? It is a beau- I to Speak of it, line to Michigan. |h, mornin', noon, land beggin',be '• got it out of W8 le had swallered I him, and he re- tily brother, the ■vhen he heard it, ' Sam,' said he, ' everybody a'most is mad in some respect or another, as you are on human natur^ and soft sawder' " *■ I'll cure him, but I must humour him. Mr. Sternhold,' sais ho, 'this is a curious complaint, but I knew a case just like it. Fulton once swallowed a steamboat, and I knew several who swal- lowed a sea-serpent. I can cure you. Fortunately the church is of wood. I'll knock the pins out of the frame, take it to pieces, and have it put up again ; but the tenants fit into the mortises so tight, I must use plenty of ile to make them separate easy.* And he dark- ened the room, and gave him awful doses of castor ile. " Next we6k, sais he, * I have got the doors and windows off safe and sound, and lowered the steeple to the floor.' " Next week one side and one end were off, and the next it was all took to pieces safe and put up again. * Sa s he, ' Sternhold, some wicked profane person has wished that church in your stomach, and the devil, who is full of tricks, helped him to his wish out of mischief. Now you must pray that it may remain where it is, but take more ile, for that church has tore you a considerable sura. When you are better, come and see me to Charles- town.' " It cured him, but it nearly killed me to see him in that state. I can't bear to hear of church architecture since then." It choked him off. , ,. , ,v, ; ''What a strange story I" said he. ' ■ ■■■ ♦^ • -' Thinks I to myself^ " It's quite as strange you too should swaller that identical church yourself." . ;•' ;-..'• ^'w0'*^;i->v It's different now in business — one grand idea of makin' money — and when you have made it, savin' it commonly succeeds in the long run. If a rich man, that ha^ got his fortin all himself, was to divide his money into two heaps before he died, and put into one what he had made, and into the other what he had saved, in nine cases out of ten the saved heap would be the biggest. It is easier to make money than to save it ; one is exert ion, the other self-denial. It is harder to refuse others than yourself, for the skin is nearer than the shirt. A critter that saves, therefor', as well as makes money, must in the natur' of things eend by bein' as rich as a Jew. The one idea takes in -everythin' needful for riches. Money is a thing people L:"> ' ^j ^if'^'t; but there aint any bodt but your single-idea moa that kuow its nater; and it is lucky theynPon't, for there would be nofortins to he made if there ioeren' t fools to spend* em. I knew an awful rich man to London of the name of Zimenes, the richest man there, or any where I suppose a'most : well he made it all him- self. He wanted some information from me about the States, and he asked mo to dine with him. ^^^ ■'>' .*--'■''/ " Mr. Slick," sais he, " could you dine as early as two ? that is my hour, when I dine alone in the city." v.>S^.l V-V. 220 A SINGLE IDEA. -,'i. *■• "Dine at any time/' sais I. "I am nscd to travellm\ Hours was made for man, and not man for hours. A critter who is a slave to his own rides is his own niggei^.. I am a free citizen ; I don't calculate to let other folks fetter me, and I aint such a fool as to fetter myself. When fools malce society, its rules cccnH ahoc(i/s he wise. When a custom can and ought to he followed, foller it. When it can't, set your own compass, and steer your own course. That's my way of tlunkin' ; but still in a general way, if you want the world to be with you, you must be with the world. Yes, I'll dine with you with pleasure." He eyed mc all over, as a man does a highly -priced ring, to see whether it's paste or a diamond. I knew what was passin' in his mind. It was this : by the beard of Moses ! but that is pretty well for a Oockmaker. I wonder if there is one of the craft in London could talk in that way. But he said nothing. .Well at five minutes to two I rings, for it takes five minutes to get into a house, uncase, and slick the hair up ; and a servant showed me through a narrowish entry into a small sittin'-room. As I entered one door, he came through another ; for a one-idead man knows time is money, and you have no more right to rob him of one than of the other. If you take a shillin' from a feller, you are had up for it and punished. If you take half an hour of his time, which p'raps is worth more pounds than minutes, you aint even repri- manded. It is a pity kickin' is gone out of fashion, for a feller that keeps you waitin' richly desarves one. " You're punctuality itself, Mr. Slick," said he, smilin', for it pleased him. "The same time," sais I, "is given to all men — twenty-four hours a-day. It was ordained so on purpose for appointments, that all might know and govern themselves accordingly, as proclamations say." When I looked round t' ) room, I saw it was plain furnished, nothiu' to be remarked but two or three old paintins. Thinks I, when I am showed into dinner, he is agoin' to astonish my weak narves with his splendour ; but I am not easily scared, even if I do see my own mug in a silver-plate ; but he is rich enough, I do sup- pose, to have fairies wait upon him. Just then the servant announced dinner ; and touchki*j|ji secret spring on the oak wall, a door opened, and we entered anoiajbr room of the same size, furnished much in the same way, only tttere was a small sideboard, a celcrct under it, and some dinner fixins on it. It was a plain dinner for two, sup- posin' one of them to . have no great . appetite ; the desert and the wine was the only costly things about it. He only played with his dinner, but he was death on fruit, and the way he pitched into that was a caution to schoolboys. In fact ho dined oif of it. After takin' a glass or two of wine, I cried quits. \<'^^ rjE7 A SINGLE IDEA. isH " You have drank nothin'/' he said. "That's the advantage of early dinin'," I replied. You must mule." " Mule !" said he, " what's that ? " " Stick out your fore feet," sais *I, " lay back in the britchen, and look as if all the eoaxin' and beatin' in the world wouldn't make you alter your mind." He smiled. I don't think that man ever laughed, unless when he was bit, and then it must be like a hyena, one wouldn't want to see it again. " You must be temperate if you dine early ; there is too much to do arterwards, to sit drinkin', and you oughtn't, and can't do it. You can ♦ drinky for dry,' as the niggers say, but you can't Mrinky for drink.'" ;:■••;; - - • He sat back in his chair and mused, and said half aloud, " So - saith the Prophet, ' woe unto them that rise up early, that they may follow strong drink, and continue until night till wine inflames them.'" - ;, ^ . r-'i. " I hate extremes," sais T, " good liquor is like good singin', few have the right taste, sopie you can't get a-goin', and some you can't stop. Use but not abuse, that's my rule. Now, Sir, your time is precious, don't stand on ceremony with me."j Well, he put a number of questions to me about the rael value, and the bottom and good faith of most of the American stock. " I don't want to know what their prices are," said he, " that I have got ; I want to J^now where dishonesty lies hid, and repudiation is in ambush, where speculation has been reckless, and where it is based on solid data." He warmed, and as he warmed he showed to advantage I tell you. I answered him short up to fhe pint, gave him all he wanted on each, and no more nor no loss. When he had done, he thanked me, and said he had got more information in five minutes from me, than he could in a general way get in a whole day out of any of my countrymen, who, he said, never answered direct, and so on. " Is there anythin' I can do for you, Mr. Slick ? y^u ought to be a rich man, for you have a business head and business habits." '^ " Well," sais I, "I won't say I aint well off for the likes of me, but I made my money in a small way, and I haven't the knowledge or the courage to risk it. If I might be so bold, if it aint an impe- dent question, what is the secret of your great success in the world ?" " Certainljjr," said he, " I'll answer it with pleasure. It's a tho- rough knowledge of the natur', uses, and properties of money. It is the most prolific thing in the world. I deal in money, and not in merchandize, and its growth almost defies figures." Ho then touched a bell, and a tall, thin, thoughtful-lookin' clerk came in, when Zimenes, takin' out his pencil, wrote down soraothin', 19* KOI 222 A SINGLE IDEA. and said : " Copy that from Gregory's Dictionary, and bring it here with an envelope and a pen and ink." In a moment almost he returned, handed him a slip of paper and the other things, and vanished. " Perhaps you have never," said he, " fully considfered the enor- mous increase of money. Here is a short calcuLLion which will surprise you, I think. A penny at five per cent simple interest, for eighteen hundred years, amounts to seven shillings and sevenpenco halfpenny ; but at compound interest, it would be a larger sura than could be contained in six hundred millions of globes, each equal to the earth in magnitude, and all of solid gold." ''':''^:'^"i'^'i''^',!'' We was standin' then, and it made me feel as if I must let off steam or bust with astonishment. .. . r "Heavens and airth," sais I. ' ■ -' ^' • ' ^ "No, no, my friend," said he, "it is written 'Not by Heaven, for it is Sis throne, nor the Earth, for it is Ilis footstool.' " It almost took away my breath that remark, for it astonished me more than the other. " Wh^t a pity it is," said I, " you were not — " but I stopped. " A Christian," said he. " Finish the sentence, and we will let it rest there, if you please.*' Foldin' the calculation up, he put it into the envelope, and ad- dressed it with his own hands : " For the Hon. Sam Slick, with Mr. Zimenes' compliments," and handed it to me. " Mr. Zimenes,,' said I, " if there are any of my answers unsatis- factory, I have means of the most accurate information here which none but an American can get. Send for me, and I am at your sarvice." ;i "Thank you, thank you," said he; and we shook hands. "I shall not fail to do so if I require iC ; and you on your part, if you want capital, let me know the object and the amount." ' Creation, said I, as I got into the street, if Solomon knew onlj half as much as that man does about money, he'd a built his temple all of solid gold. There is one idea fully carried out at any rate. A man that has many ideas may be a clever man, but a clever man never makes money — he has too much genius. Well how many ideas ought a man to have then ? Why a man ought to have one great idea, and some small ones to rub against it, so that they may all be kept bright. The grand one is to be taken care of and never lost sight of, the little ones will do for daily use, and serve as small change. The more ideas you have beyond them, like the more wild land or self-righteousness you possess, the poorer you be, ■ < ■* .» AT LEAST that's MY IDEA. i r^^ l AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OP REFORM. '•^: r. CHAPTERXXII. '•^t AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OP EBPORM. From Jordan we proceeded to Sable River, but nearly all the in- habitants were absent at Port Jolly, where a great political meetin' was to he held, and thither we directed our course immediately. " Mr. Slick," said Eldad, "did you ever see such a beautiful schoal of mackerel in your life, as we are now passin' through ? the water 13 actually alive with them. Instead of reformin' the provincial government, what a pity it is these folks wouldn't reform their habits; and, instead of makin' speeches, and wastin' their time, turn to and make seins, and catch the fish that Providence has sent in such immense numbers up to their very doors, leapin' out of the water to show themselves, as much as to say, come and catch us be- fore the Yankees do, for you have the best right to us, seein' the coast is yours. Were you ever up to Labrador, Mr. Slick?" "No," saisi, "never." " Oh ! well, you can't form no notion of the fisheries, all the way up along that shore. Nothin' but seein' could give you any idea of the salmon, the cod, the mackerel, and the herrin'. My eyes ! what millions upon millions of herrin's there are there, when the spring opens." " Yes," said the Captin, " it defies the power of language almost to convey an idea of them. They remain durin' the winter up in those icy regions, and when the weather moderates they take a tour south, as far as Ciarolina. The drove or herd gives them their name, for Heer signifies an army. As soon as they start, you can trace them by the grampus, the whale, the shark, black backs, dog-fish, and porpoises, that follow in hot pursuit, while sea-fowl of all kinds hover over them, and charge on them continually. This keeps them in a compact body for safety j for how it is I can't say, but a whale never was known to ventur' into the main army, though he will cut off detachments, and takes hundreds and hundreds of them down at a gulp. Their numbers positively alter the appearance of the water sometimes, which actilly sparkles with different colours, as the rays of the sun are reflected by their scales and fins. If I was to tell you in miles how long and broad this host is, you could scarcely credit it. After a while they divide into smaller armies, and seek their own haunts, and the quality varies accordin' to the food. Tho Bay of Fundy detachment is of splendid quality. They are smoked, as you know, and sold in small boxes." '^ ;.ufc'. d..0': 224 AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OF REFORM. " Know/' sais I, "to bo sure I do. Why there aint nothin' like a ' Digby chicken/ hardly anywhere. Further up the bay they are still fatter, but they don't know how to cure them as the Digby boys do.'' " Wtat they feed on," said Cutler, " I never could discover, for I have opened them again and again, and never could perceive either animal or vegetable matter in them. And vet I know, for I have tried them, they will actually rise sometimes to a fly. Blowhard says it's a sea-flea, and spawn-like substance, that the eye can't dis- cover in water without a magnifier, that they subsist on. But oh ! Mr. Slick, the Bay of Fundy shad, aint they a glorious fish ! They are superior to what they have on the Atlantic shore, either here or in the States." "I guess they be," said I, "and far before those of the Severn to England, they brag so much of. To my mind, they are preferable to salmon, only the everlastin' little bones are so tormentin', aint they ? Lord, I never shall forgot a grand party I was at to Canada once, in the shad season. The ball-room was got up in a hurry, and the plaister warn't quite dry ; the eveniu' was hot and the winders were operi, and in come a cloud of shad-flies from the St. Lawrence, that the Lord always sends before them to feed on. They stuck to the walls, and filled the ladies' dresses, choked the lights out, and then went down your nose and mouth by the hundreds. If it warn't fun, it's a pity. When we went in to supper, the floor of the dancin'- room looked like a battle-field, strewn with the dead, wounded, and dying. " Oh ! in the way of nateral wealth and actual poverty, Nova Scotia beats all natur'. The land is chock full of coal, iron, copper, freestone, asphalte, slate, gypsum, grindstones, and the Lord knows what. And the coast chock full of harbours, and the waters chock full of fish. I say. Cutler, if we only had it, lick ! wouldn't we make a great country of it, that's all. But here we are at Port Jolly." ^ "This is a shoal harbour. Captain," said the pilot; "we mustn't go any further in, I guess we must anchor where we be." " Mr. Slick," says one of the Sable lliver folks that came t)S in a boat to us, " we have had a great meetin' to-day, the largest I ever saw on this coast." " It was the largest-," said I, " I ever saw in my life." "Oh !" said he, "you're makin' fun of us poor folks; in course, in the States you have seen an assemblage twenty times as large." "Never," said I, "I give you my honour; and what's more, it was the richest meetin', too." "Ah! there you are again," he replied, "but I don't sec that poverty is to be laughed at." "Nor I cither," said I; "but I don't know what you call poverty. mm* I don't SCO that you call poverty. AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OP REFORM I should say that meetin' was worth, all told, two hundred and fifty thousand pounds." "I didn't mean no offence, Sir," said he, "and I don't like to bo rigged that way. Will you just tell me what you are at?" "Yes," sais I, "I will. You said you had a great meetin' to-day. Of course, at this busy season of the year, I thought you was talkin' of the mackerel shoal, which was the largest meetin' of them I ever saw. It was a mile and a half long, and more than half a mile wide, if it was an inch; and it's time you did meet and consart measures for catchin' of them." "Well," said the man, half ashamed of himself, "perhaps it would have been as well if we had adjourned the meetin' to a more convenient time ; but I am glad to hear you say the fish have struck in, in such numbers." " Yes," sais I, "it will be a grand time for the gulls and porpoises, for I suppose nothin' else will disturb the fish amost, for spring work is come on, and the ground must be tilled, and public meetin's are come on, and representatives must be chose ; and then the roads are to be repaired, and it's the only chance you have of airnin' a little ready money. You needn't hurry though," sais I "for you know there is a fall run of fish as well as a spring one, and the fall fish, in a gineral way, are the best." " You're severe on us," said he ; " but I don't know but what wo desarve it too." " Come and sit down then," sais I, " along with me, and I'll tell you a story, and comment on it as I go." " Exactly," sais he, " what they call expound." " The very thing," sais I. " It's a way of talkin' I like amazinly. The last time I was to Windsor, Nova Scotia, I met Peter Ham, an inmate of the poor-house, whom I saw crawlin' along on the ferry hill there, into the village. • ^, " ' J wish I was Governor of Nova Scotia for one day. Sir,' sais Peter; 'just for one day only, and that's all.' " Even Peter was a reformer, and perhaps knew as much of the subject as most folks do, for it aint every change that's a reform, that is a fact, and reforms aint always improvements. The fact is, 'reform' is a cant word. There is cant in politics as well as in reli- gion, and hypocrites of either kind arc rascals. A good man don't talk of his religion for everlastingly, and a good subject finds he has as much liberty as is good for him or his neighbours. Piety aint found in pot-houses, nor patriotism in mobs or mass-meetins. Don't trade with a man that is over sanctimonious , or you will be taken in ; or be too thick with a demagogue, or you may be taken np. Fermentation throws up scum, and agitation brings rascality to the top of the pot. For my part, I hate politicks. Tliere arc cleanei things to handle, and pleasanter to smell. 'mM m V. ■•:■' ' t 226 AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OF REFORM. t " There are two kinds of reform in the world — personal reforms, and reforms in the State. Now, personal reforms can bo made at any time we like, so we just put them off until it is convenient ; and sometimes we consait we can do without them at all. ^t all events, it's like takin' physic; it's hard to swaller, and causes wry faces. Reforms in the State arn pretty things, and show wisdom. I never met a man yet that hadn't, like Peter, some little pet scheme of reform for the public. The most disinterested one, too, in the world — for statesmen are very disinterested cattle. "Lord John had a Reform Bill; it lowered the house, but it raised him, for it created the liberal party ; but that was an accident, of course. The Brummigin' patriots are all for free trade, a thing in England that must be cheap, for it stands on one leg, and has no reciprocity. It will lower real estate, but who cares? It's the farmer's look out, that. But it will lower wages, and enable the employers to sell more, because they can sell cheaper. That was an accident again, of course ; it was quite unexpected, too, by them ; and besides, Australian gold will stave off the discover^/ of that mistake /or a while. The great thing is to get the right meanin' of , tarms. Liberality in religion now consists in abusin* your own church, and praisin' every other sect, i ''' ; i ...7^ :. ^^f^ " A man that does this is certain to go to Parliament, for he is 1 sure of the votes of all the black, white, grey, and speckled birds; but then a seat was an onexpected honour; he never dreamed of it; he didn't want to go, but he could not refuse so large a constitu- ency's request. Liberality in politics means talk as loud as you can 4 bawl, and as long as you can stand, on the five points of the people's charter ; and then there is political consistency, which means ham- merin' away for everlastinly at one thing, right or wrong. Public burdens is a good subject to be consistent on. There must be an army, and a navy, and government estimates must pass, so opposin' ' 'em does no harm, and is amazin' popular, tho' a man don't know it. Hume has rod that hobby for thirty years, and it will carry him as ' long as he lives ; and lately it has been found strong enough to let Cobden jump up behind him, and take a canter too. " ' I say, old boy,' said Cobden to him, as he sprung up on the crupper, and clasped the veteran round the ribs ; ' I say, old boy, this is an amazin' easy steed to ride, aint it ?' "' Very,' said Hume. ':. • " ' Is he safe ?' ^ • " ' Safest hack in the kingdom ; and I'll tell you what is a better recommendation.' ■" What's that ?' • ^ - , "^^ (( 'Why it costs nothin' to feed or keep him;' and they roared aind laughed so, they came plaguey near tumblin' off. both on 'em, safe as the hobby wae* , W USti I. )iial reforms, bo made at i^enient; and U all events, 53 wry faco8. )m. I never it scheme of , in the world house, but it 3 an accident, trade, a thing y, and has no €s? It's the id enable the That was an too, by them ; overi/ of that 'ht meanin' of 5m' 1/our own lent, for he is peckled birda; dreamed of it; 'ge a constitu- Dud as you can of the people's means ham- rong. Public •e must be an |ss, so opposin' don't know it. Ill carry him aa enough to let kng up on the say, old boy, rhat is a better id they roared \. both on 'em, AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OF REFORM. "It's a great thing for a nation to have such patriots. There ought to be an institution at Manchester to manufacture ready-made politicians arter the same pattern — a coarse, cheap article for expor- tation to the continent, or the colonies. I make no doubt they could be aftbrded low, if there was only a demand for them. " But I sot to work to tell you a story that I picked up durin' my last visit to Nova Scotia, and the reflections on it — like old addition and substraction's hobby — carried me ofiF, and ran away with me j so that now the story has more hair than head. " 'I wish I was governor for Nova Scotia,' said Peter, *just for one day.' *' * Sit down here now, Peter, and tell me what you would do if you was governor.' : " ■• '•'Yes, but if I sit down,' said Peter, *I can't get up again without help.' " Poor fellow, he was nearly bent double with rheumatism, the jints of his legs were all but ossified, and refused to obey his orders ; and he had to toil most laboriously with crutches, and advanced slowly on his road, and but a few inches at a time. " ' I'll make a seat for you, Peter,' and I placed a pole in the angle of the rail-fence, so that he could rest himself while ho developed to me his grand scheme of reform for the benefit of the country. " * You see,' said Peter, ' this is a dreadful steep hill, Sir — right between the poor-honse and the town ; and it takes me nearly all day to get there and back agin, for it's the matter of a mile each way. You haven' got a piece of tobacky, have you. Sir, you could give me? Thank you kindly. Sir; I always consait it does me good ; and that's grand, only perhaps it's a little grain too mild.' "' But the hill, Peter ?' " ' Oh ! yes. Sir ; it's a cruel hill, that. I wish I was governor of Nova Scotia just for one day.' v " , ' " ' What would you do^^ Peter ?' a - " < Why I'd move the poor-house into the town, and then a rlieu- matized, lame old fellow like me, could get his glass of grog without toilin' all day for it.' " * Peter,' said I, ' you are a sensible man ; I wish you were go- vernor with all my heart ; few governors would be so reasonable. Here's some money to pay for the grog.' " " Mr. Slick," said Bluenose, " that is a very good story, and I shall not forget it ; there's a good moral in it." " There is," said I, " and I will tell you what the moral is. It shows you how great the folly and vanity of statesmen is — what a di^ ersity of wishes all mankind have, and what a personal application almost every man makes of politics to his own individual benefit and advantage. It shows, too, how little we really do want of legisla- tion, and how small a portion of our welfare and comfort is dependent m I' i€!iii' l»?'^*, 228 AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OF REFORM. on governors or assemblies.* The States, to my certain knowledge, have been totally and entirely ruinated several times in ray memory, and yet things went on much the same after each ruination, and the country is still left, and so is the constitution, and the people are still thrivin' and prosperous. Peter Ham knew what ho did want, and that's more than most people do; for half the time when folks get their own way, they aint satisfied. I'll tell you another story to illustrate that. " In course you've heard tell of Van Buren ; you know he was made President of our almighty republic. Well, the Irish all went in up to the handle for him, for in a general way they all go one way, which gives them great influence at elections. When it was over, says Peter Mulkahy one day (at New York) to another Irish- man, one Paddy Blake. "'Paddy,' sais he, 'we've gained the day, and got our man in; Van Buren is President. Hurrah for ould Ireland ! we're the boys that did it.' " ' In is it he is !* sais Pat; ' the devil ho, 13 ! then I'm agin him now, for I'm agin all governments.' "Hullol" sais I, "what in natur' is all that cheerin' ashore there?" " Why, sais Bluenose, " our party has got the victory, and our nomination has succeeded. We've carried the day." "Well, that's a great matter," sais I, "aint it? You'll have better times now to Nova Scotia, won't you ?" "Well," sais he, (and he did look ashamed, that's a fiict,) "I won't say, as the Irishman did, that I'm agin him ; but I'll tell you what I'll do — from this day out I'm agin all politics, and that's a fact." "That's right," sais I, "give me your hand; stand up to your lick-log like a man, be they consarvativcs or liberals, /or they are all ta,rrcd loitli the same stick. They differ in name like maize and corn, hut it's the identical same grain. If you don't find yourself better off "in the long run, my name aint Sam Slick, that's all. Liberty is- a very good thing for slaves to work out, but free men should find somethin' else to talk about. Talk never put a crop in the ground, and if that aint tilled, thistles and weeds supply its place. The wages of idleness is poverty. To find hidden gold is to find * "Why have I strayed from pleasure and repose, -■■"■■ To seek a good each government bestows ? X'\ .t. m.-- f- , -X- * -X- * -X- ■ .-.:^.: ;■. - * * -IS- * -X- .. ■ ' ' -i' JIow small, of all that human hearts cndnro, . -^ '" " ' That part which laws or kings can cause or cure." Goldsmith's Thavelluii. %■ knowledge, ly memory, on, and tho pic are still i want, and en folks get bcr story to mow ne was isli all went y all go one iVhen it was lothcr Irish- our man in ; e'ro the boys 'm agin him serin' ashore ;ory, and our You'll have a ftict,) ^' I I'll tell you and that's a up to your c all nd they ar maize a [find yourself that's all. \\xt free men )ut a crop in pply its place. Id is to find «^ **>■ ^uavellkh. OOOSE VAN DAM. temptation and siii, hut that thaf/s earned has no alloi/ in it. These are nateral truths, Mr. IJluenoso, put them into your pipe and smoko them on your way homo to Sable llivcr, and see how you like the tiavour of them." CHAPTER XXIII. GOOSE VAN DAM. Whether I really was unwell when I left homo, or only con- saited I was, as I said before, I do not know ; but it is certain that these short sea-trips, change of air and scene, and the excitement of meetin' old friends agin, has done me a great deal of sarvice. Down to Lunenburg, the Dutch people use ox-carts, and always travel in one track, and it cuts up the road so that the ruts are hob-deep amost. The dull straight-forrard course in life, without varyin' the track, furrows the mud up the same way. Wo must leave the highway sometimes and take to the bye-roads, or lanes, or forest-paths. The air is diflferent, the scenery devarsificd, the parfume of the firs and pines smell fragrant, and the birds sing more at their case. Tho quiet of the country calms the nervous system, gives us somcthin' new to think of, as well as to see, and the population is different, and so is their parsuits. Gunnin' is cxcitin', and leads to exercise, and BO dous fishin' ; and huntin' gives a grand appetite, and puts a feller in first-rate condition. Well then, talk to new people is pleasant ; you get new ideas from them, and it brings out new ones from you. I have larnt a good deal from my oicn talk. Often when I have been advisin' a man, or funnin' of him, new reasons or new illustra- tions have sprung up of their own accord, that I never thought of before. It has made my opinions stronger, or given me cause to change them in some particulars. I jyn not certain whether a man, if he could be sure not to be overheard, was to think aloud, but what it would be beneficial to him. It would take off tho dreaminess of thinkiu' and its castle-buildin', and give reality to his reasons, and life to his humour. Musin's aiiit livofitahle in a gineral way^ for they are like the dews of night — early sunrise dries them right up. Sayin' is doin'. Musin' is dreamin\ What we say, we remem- ber; what we dream^ can't be wrote down and sworn to, that's a fact. Well, arter one of these summer-runs at grass, we return to tho business of life new men, and we are better able to work, and like it better for the change agin. 20 %l ^^u^ 280 OOOHE VON DAM Dr. Sobieski, u surgeon to Slickvillo, who was a Polo — I don't mean a poor stick, but a German Polaoder — a very clever man, oYily ho warn't very easy to uiiderBtaTKl, tor he had forgot his own lan- guage, and hadn't larncd Knglish right. The boys used to call him " Old Telluiidgor," because when they teazed him, he always pro- nounced those four words in one — " To h — 11 with you I" Some- times they used to call him " Old Sober-isky," for ho was an awful fellow to drink. When folks talked to him about bein' such a toper, "Ah!" he used to say, '* my poor country is robbed and plundered so, wo have an old sayin', ' Only what I drink is mine,' and I likes to own as much as I can." Well, " Old Tellmidger" was the first to open my eyes to the value of change of air. "You can't kco the air," said he, "Mr. Slick; and if you want to analyze it, you can't catch it — what you call nab him." r " It can catch you tho," sais I, " when it's twenty below zero, and shave you in no time, quick as wink." Oh, how he used to hate a joke I for he didn't clearly onderstand it, and it used to put him out in his gibberish. He had great spikes of teeth, fit to nail down a two-inch plank amost, and he'd show them as spiteful as a bull-dog, and give ''em a grit, as if he was a filin' of 'cm, and say : " What for teyvil you do dat — Tellmidger 1" • " Well, go on. Dr. Sober-isky," I'd say. "Well, you can't see the air, nor analyze it, nor taste it." "You can smell it tho' sometimes," I'd say. And then he'd stop, stamp on the ground, and grit again awful mad. But I'd say, "I beg pardon; I won't interrupt you again. Dr. Sober-esky. Pray go on." " Tellmidger Sober-esky ! he'd say. Well, if you was to interrupt him a thousand times, he'd always begin at the beginnin' agin, if he had to go a hundred yards back. " You can't see do air, or analyze it, or taste it; all you know is, it is what you call mystery, ijnota, wonder, von grand puzzle. You can't explain de modus operandi" (for h3 could talk Latin as easy as he could drink) ; " but you watch it, an' see the eflfects, and leave the causes to be explorated hereafter. Now you will send your child'" (I was agoin' to say I hadn't got none, but I knew how mad it would make him ; so I let him go on.) " You will send your child into de next street, that has got hoopin'-cough so bad, it coughs its boots upamost, and he will get well straightway — de air is changed. What make change of air in two street joinin' on to each oder, both on de same hill, and same level, and de same wind blow over both, we cannot say. De fact is sartain ; de cause unknown. To be healthy, you must change air, change diet, and change drink." ;, "Aye," said I, "and change doctors too." He fi!xed his eyes on me, and glared like a tiger; but before he got out that ugly word of his, " You are perfectly right. Doctor," sais I ; " there is great •¥.■ •:\. .H^-: iv'li*- J. mMJJ!U 0008G VAN DAM. 2^1 truth in what you say. You aro n closo observer," and poor Old Sobcresky was right. Onct when I was to Windsor, I bad a dread- ful cold in my head ; I could hardly seo out of my oycs, and my two nostrils felt as largo and as ugly as two broken panes of glass in a winder stopped up with old bats. I fairly felt no bow all over. Well, I just happened to tbink of "Old Tollraidgcr's Tbcory of Obange of Air," ordered Old Clay into tbo waggon, streaked it off over the mountain, and up to Kentville in no time ; and tbo next mornin' felt like a new man. Change of air has operated liko a charm on mo this time. I sartainly feel as I used to did, when I kept travellin' over Nova Scotia all the time. I actilly consait I am better lookin' too, than I was. I never looked in my glass so often as I have since I left Sophy ; but I railly do kinder think it has improved my daguertype, jist enough, perhaps, to be takiu'. A sickly face is repulsive, a delicate one is intercstin*. I wish I had left sometbin* behind me at CoUingwood's, besides my heart, for an excuse to go back for it. There would be plenty of time, while the vessel is at Port Midway, wouldn't there ? or I could overtake her at Petite lliviere. Is there anythin' I could invent? " By your leave, Mr. Slick," said the pilot, '•' I want to let go the mainsail, for we are forgin' too far ahead rather." (I guess / arrif thinks I to myself.) " Let go the anchor. If we make as good a trade here as we did at Port Jolly, we shall do a considerable busi- ness, I guess. It's a pity we couldn't have stopped at Liverpool though too, for there are more folks there; but ^Iv j have a custom- honse, and it wouldn't be safe to venture there ; and besides, coun- try harbours, for our trade, is better than towns. There, the people have to go to the marchant; here, we carry the store to them. It makes all the difference in the world that. Ah I here come the boats off. Well, then, I guess I'll go ashore and see my old friend, Goose Van Dam. Ho lives in the white house on the hill. If I am wanted, you can send for me." Speakin' of Van Dam reminds me of what I have said afore in my journal, that I don't believe there is a man or woman in the world hardly but what has some peg or another for pride to bang bis hat on. Even in the States, folks cock up their chins, and talk of great folks to England they are connected with. All the rael heirs of all the grand titles in the kingdom are to be found in the great cities there. There is many a duke with his arms in a homespun coat, his coat of arms in a book, and only wants the means to get justice done and have his title. Father always said he was the rail undoubted Prince Scblick, and sister Sail will believe to her dyin' day that, now the old man is gone, I am the rail Simon Pure. Well, it's a cheap bit of pride, and costs nothin' but a stretch of fancy|j and when folks say what they actilly believe, why there can't bo much of an ontruth in it. lit ; ^U 1 I Jl 1 .. V/i, ( ,p'l] 232 GOOSE VAN DAM. t 'm „ But pride has always a sore bpofc somewhere, that the more you • cover it, the redder it looks, and the tenderer it gets. Sally is ter- ribly scared to hear of a wooden clock, and no thin' makes her so mad as for folks to call me " Sam Slick, the Clockmaker." She sais it's very rude to call a gentleman Sam, for shortness ; they might as well say Sambo at oncet. And when she writes to me, she always addresses the letter to the " Honourable Samuel Slick, late of the Embassy to the Court of St. James's, but now at Halifax, Nova Scotia;" and puts in tho corner, "care of the United States* Consul." Poor thing ! it pleases her for the postmaster to Slickvillo to see such a letter. She says, she likes to let some folks know who some folks are, and tosses up her pretty little mug, when she hands in the letter, with an air as much as to say, " that's my brother with that handle as long as a corn broom to his name." I do railly Tbeliev^e that if one of them young chaps in the com- missariat that sarves out soap, coals and candles to Halifax was to go to Onion county, he'd marry the richest gall in it, for his title beats all natur'. considerin' his rank, which ia only one notch above a clerk, a,iid his pay, which don't afford new clothes till they're want- ed — depu^-assistant-commissary "general ! Oh I Sally, if I had such a handle as that, it would upset such a little word as Slick after it right off. It couldn't stand straight and hold it up. Thinkin' of young commissaries, reminds rae agin of what I oncet heard of two old coves, heads of that department, for there is an official pride, and a pride of doin' things by rule. When I was to Gibraltar, there was an old commissary-general who was on his last legs, tor the king's stores never sarve out new ones, and he had to set about his last accounts, pretty hard accounts coo to pass sometimes, showin' a balance ginerally agin a man in the long run, notwithstandin' all the credits he can set down. • Well, you can't put them old coons out of their way, do what you will. Things must be done jist so, have jist so many black lines, find rod lines, and columns, and headings, and totals, and countersigns. Well, this old man when he was all doue, sent for the governor to see him, and take leave of him. "Governor," said he, "I am a very fortunate man." " How so ?" said the General. "I am delighted to hear it. How so?" " I have had a bishop with me in my last illness. It's a great comfort to treat with heads of departments, aint it ?" :- . " You are sure all's right then ?" ^'No — mis — mis — take — in — the — vou — vou — vouchers, ' and ho opened }iis eyes and mcuth wide, and kicked the bucket right off. I heard the Governor toll that story himself one day, when he lunched on board of old Ironsides, as we call the 'Constitution' frigate. He enjoyed it very much, and said he knew another just A A /> ./\. ^^zJ-Cy^.. ner lear it. How GOOSE VAN DAM. 233 exactly like" it. Tho chaplain called on one of these issuer-generala of good things, who was travellin* the last road, faster than he knowed of himself, and advised him to prepare for a gineral give out of the machmery. He said ho hoped ho would excuse him^ but he really felt it to be his duty to talk seriously to him. "Well, Sir," said he, *'I will excuse you upon this one occasion, as I have no doubt you mean well, and £ire unacquainted with official etiquette, altho' your ignorance greatly surprises me. You can hold yourself in readiness. Sir, when required. In the meantime you must know that my medical man has nou reported to me that I am in danger : when he does. Sir, it will be time enough to hear what you have to say. Good mornin', Sir, I won't detain you." While these things were passin' in ray mind, I reached Van Dam's house. .*-^ i «. >.. " Is Goose to hum ?" said I, addrcssin' myself to his handsotno young, wife. " Pray, Sir, who do you call Goose ?" said she, slightly colouring and bridlin' up a considerable sum. ■ ^-.'si^j " Why, Goose Van Dam, to be sure," sais I. " Who else should I call by that are cvcrlastiu' handsome name?" -, ;,, ''You are very free and easy, Sir," said she. " It's a way I have among friends," sais I, sittin' down coolly in a chair. - -; '" v-v : " You had better keep it then," she replied, " till you are among 'em. What might your business be ?" said she, qui^T short, "Well, don't you be a goose, then, at any rate,'' I replied, "and fly off the handle for nothin' that way. You was always skittish, Kate. Do you recollect the night you held the lantern to me down to the Five Houses, the time I dug up tho French captin, and got his belt of doubloons off his skeliton, and you got skeerd, and dropt the light, and left me in the dark, in the grave there ? Warnt that a proper lark ? Lord how often I have larfed over that, when I have thought of it since. Oh ! them was the times for light heois and light hearts." " Well, I am a goose, that's a fact, Mr. Slick," said shfi ; " for I ought .0 have know'd you at once. But, Mr. Slick," said she, risin' and tappin' me on the shoulder, " don't mention that are story to Van, that's a good soul ; for though he is the best-tempered man agoin', he is of a very jealous turn, and ho mightn't jist altogether like it. No one knows it but you and me, and perhaps we might have been better imployed. But here he is himself." Goose was like most of those of. Dutch descent on that cop.st, a very large powerful man. He was tall an' bony, though not stout or corpulent, and stooped a little, which night perhaps be occasioned by the weight of his enormous fists, each of which looked as heavy to carry as a six-and-thirty-pound shot. His countenance was opeu 20* . ,1 m 1,^ t 284 GOOSE VAN DAM. and jolly, but there was that about his mouth that gave you the idea of a man, who if he got a notion in his head onct, would defy all the world to get it out. He had an awkward trick, when he spoke to you, of tuggin' at his shirt-collar, in a way that caused you to rejoice he had a coat and waistcoat on, or that garment would have been in danger of goin' over his head at last. He had the air of a man who was well to do in the world, and his house and estab lishmcnt bespoke thrift, order, and comfort. " How are you, old fellow ?" sais I. " I was jist a tellin' youi \vife bow green she must have been to have married a man with such an all-fired name as Goose." , r-^; , " Well," said he, tryin' to larf, though it went agin his grain, " she knew I was no fool, if I was a goose. But, Mr. Slick, I have been so bothered ever since I was a boy, w th that name, that I have had* half a mind to quit the country and change it. It was an old family-name among us, when we lived at Albany, afore the revolu- tion. There has always been a goose in the family." " So I should think," sais I. But seein' I was distressin* the flock, I added: "I should like to know what good family in New York State there aint one in ?" > «>. "I shouldn't wonder," said he. "But confound it, it's enough to drive a feller mad, a' most ! When I was a youngster, other boys led out, VUii. 1 << 'Goosey, goosey gander, ' w • ; '' ■\Vliither do you wander ?' or they would stand on one leg, as if they was a w.itchin' of the n^'-t, and quarke, and call my little sisters ' goslins !' Many a time I have set them a larfin' the other side of their mouths, I know. If a father and mother want you to honour them accordin' to catechism, they shouldn't g've a child such a name as ' Goose !' " "You mustn't talk nonsense," sais I; "you might as well drop the 'dam' at the end of your name, cause it sounds profane. * Goose is good Dutch, and so is ' dam,' too. Some of our first chop folks are connected with that family. The great Van Home, of Albany, was a Goose." "Why, you don't say so !" said he. ^. "But I do say so," sais I; "and it's generally allowed the King of Holland, that give up his crown, was a Goovse.'' "Do you hear that, Kate?" said the pacified man. "'I always told you I came of a good family, and now I hope you believe it." " Seein' is believin'," said she. " Now ask if dinner is ready. Why, Mr, Slick," said she, as soon as he was gone, " what a droll man you be ! But mind and keep dark about the doubloons. Ob ! what a touss folks made about diggin' up that Frenchman ! They actilly oflFered a reward of fifty pounds to find out wLo it was ; and I mmtm tve you the would defy k. when he 1 caused you rment would J had the air 16 and estab . •• ' * , tellin' youi an with such in his grain, Slick, I have J, that I have It was an old e the r£Volu- ■ •x'-s-- '■^ •■■ iistressin* the iraily in New t, it's enough er, other boy8 |i)' of the n^^t, any a time I I know. If I' to catechism, ^t as well drop mds profane. our first chop Ian Home, of |)wed the King " I always Lu believe it." tiner is ready. [" what a droll libloons. Oh I imanl They it was J and I GOOSE VAN DAM. 2^^ never changed the old gold till last summer, when I was in Boston. Do you think there was any harm in it ?" "Well, 1 don't know," sais I, "for I never thought about the harm; but there is one thing I'll promise you — " *< "What's that?" said she. " Why, if ever you are a widder, I'll never dig up Goose, that's a fact. Mind, you're bespoke." "Pooh!" said she, lavfin', "don't talk nonsense. Let's go to dinner." i A good, plain, substantial meal it was, too; jist what it ought to be, and what it is, in every substantial farmer's house in the country. " Mr. Slick," said the good-natured host, " there was a droll thing occurred the other day, down to Five Houses." jf'?? :' f " There have been a good many droll things happened there," said I, a-winkin to his wife. "I shouldn't wonder," said he. "You must tell me some of f.^^n; for there is nothiu' I like so much as a good story." Kato ' I at that, passed her hand over her face, and managed to let her fore-finger rest on her lips as a signal. " Did you know the Snare galls ?" said he. " A large family, the Snare galls !" said I, laughin'. "You may say that, Mr. Slick!" said his wife, enterin' into the joke with spirit. "I shouldn't wonder,'' said Goose, lookin' puzzled. "Well, Kitty Snare married Conrad Shupe. You knew Conrade Shupe; he was the son of Old Crouse Shupe, that lived down to Bernardi's Point. Bernardi was an Italian, and used to sell lookin'-glasses and pictures to Halifax, and then went and settled to the Point." " Well, yon will never get to the point," said his wife. "I shoiiJ^^Ui'?; wonder," said Goose; "for it's worth two thousand pounds, BT ' Ti;!0j'° money, on account of the sea-weed. I have always set my he - Ci. *\ie Point." " You 'i ^,c' Y. M of it some o' these days," sais I. "I shouldn t n-tider," said he; ''for Lawyer Lybolt sais it will come to the hammer yet." ' ' ,/•-'..;* •' Well, you are a ninnyhammer," spid she, roarin' with laughter. " Let me tell the story, for it will take you all day." " I phouldn't wonder," sais he ; " for when I gets to the Point, it puts everythin' else out of my head. It's the greatest point on the coast for sea-weed; there '3 lashions of it, after a southerly gdle. Thesh, ^— " " M . l-^Hck," p' j said, "there aint much point in the story; and what liti^- tuere is, ho has taken off." " All the teams in the township wouldn't clear off that Point," ho replied. " Shupe," she went on to say, " aint like my husband, the best fT-W a m '111 " :irv 236 GOOSE VAN DAM. ivri tempered man in the world, but jist the revarse — a great cross- grained, crabbit, sour-crout Dutchman; and he don't use his wife "ffell at all. He makes her work harder than any hired help, and won't allow the men folks to wait on her at all." "He wants to get to the Point, too, Mr. Slick," said Goose; "that's the reason he saves all so close." " The other .day. Van and I went over there to see them," she continued, " and she asked us to stay to dine ; and when dinner was ready, she blew the conch-shell, and up come Conrad and the men folks, and down we sat. I thought I should have died a larfin' to see his face, when he had done sayin' an overly long grace, opened his eyes, and looked down at the table. There was a raw fillet of veal, and a raw codfish, and raw potatoes, and corn, and peas, and beans, jist as they came from the garden. Didn't he stare, that's all?" " I shouldn't wonder,' , ' xoose. " Do be (^uiet," said his v, o, impatiently. " First h6 stared at the table, and then at his wife, and then at Van, and then at me, and I tee-heed right out; I could' nt hold in no longer; I had a pain in my sida for a week arterwards. : "' ■ ' "* " ' Pots tauzend ! — thousand devils !' said he, ' what is the meanin' of all this ? The Lord sends provisions, but the devil sends cooks.' " ' I wish he would send me one then,' said his wife, ' for there is neither wood nor water in the house. I can't cook without them ; and what's more, never will cook with them either, after this ; so there now.' > ^ ; " It sarved him right, didn't it ?" "I shouldn't wonder," said Van Dam. "For I've had a . ind to sarve him right, too, often and often; for he always calls me Goose afore folks, because he knows I don't like it." Sais I, " My good friend, give over talkin' nonsense about your name. Instead of bein' ashamed, you have reason to be proud of it. A goose too, so far from being a foolish bird, is a very wise one. A flock of geese saved Rome onct." " I shouldn't wonder," said Master Van, "for a flock of wild ones saved La Halve Island onct. They got overloaded with sleet and wet snow, and lighted on the clcarin' one spring, aud was caught there, and actilly saved the folks from starvation." " Well," sais I, " out of gratitude to these birds, the Italians erected a college for 'em at Rome, and called it the ' Proper Gander* College." " What ! geese in a college ? Mr. Slick, I shouldn't wonder now if that arnt one of your good stories." - ' "Geese in a college," sai^i I; "to be sure, they have them in every college in the world. They always call the head Don an old goose, ott account of his rod nose and his down bed. Very polite .•lJA& .M^y^ r:zcT :i i GOOSE VAN DAM. 287 great cross- use his -wife 3(1 help, and said Goose J 5 them," she n dinner was md the men jd a larfin' to Trace, opened I raw fillet of ,nd peas, and 3 stare, that's ho stared at then at me, I had a pain is the mcanin' . sends cooks.' !, < for there is 'ithout them; after this; so had a . ind vays calls me about your e proud of it. wise one. A ; of wild ones [ith sleet and |d was caught the Italians loper Gander* It wonder now lave them in Id Don an old Very polite birds t^o, arc geese. You never see a flock yet enter a door, even if it was eight foot high, but every one on 'em bows his head." "Well, I shouldn't wonder if that's a fact," said he, "for I've observed it myself." " Oh ! Mr. Slick," said his wife, who enjoyed this banter and non- sense, " what a man you be. You havn't altered a bit." " What !" said he, suddenly, as if some onpleasant suspicion had entered into his mind, " did you over see my wife before ?" "I shouldn't wonder," said I, a-mockiij^ of him; '5 for I have seen everybody amost." But I recollected her speakin' of his bein' jealous. So sais I to her, " Was your name Oxley, before you was married?" ..'■..''■■ /v '.-y'' ... * ':•>'■•*;:' - ,,.,. >^-;f " No," sais she. /„..:■..-.- .'i.. ;... ■- r ■ .v> - • ,\,vi%?v". "WasitZink?" ,, ' • . • :,: -tr * ' "No." '" ■ . ^->• " Well, it must have been Wolf, then ?' ' " - . .^' r • ; " No, it warn't Wolf or Fox either." . . i- •■"..^^r.-iv; " Was it Zwicker ?" .: ' v^ ;>v r^ " No," said she ; " I was a Ilawbolt." " A Hawbolt," sais I. " Was you a Hawbolt of Country Har- bour, to the eastward of Halifax, or a Hawbolt of La Halve?" " From La Halve," said she. " And when you came in, I actilly didn't know you at first from Adam." "Well," sais I, "I knew I had seen you somewhere this side of the grave, too." " The grave ! what grave ?" said Van Dam. Kate looked frightened to death ; her lips opened, as if for brejfth, her colour faded, and she contracted her brows,' as she looked at me, to intreat caution. " Why, grave, a vessel to be sure," sais I ; " there was one on the beach when I was there, and they was a-gravin' of her." ;; 'Vity; ; " I shouldn't wonder," said Goose, who now appeared satisfied with the explanation. " But this is dry work talkin'," suis I, " Goose, and it's awful hot ; that's a good feller, draw a little fresh water from the well." "Yes," said his wife, "and aint there a little brandy in the closet ?" " I shouldn't wonder," said he. " See if there aint." As soon as he absented himself, she drew a long breath. " Oh ! Mr. Slick," said she, " how could you scare me so ? If he was onct to get hold of that story, I should never hear the last of it, he is so jealous." " I see he is," sais I, " and I havn't time now to explain all to you; but I will to-morrow; in the meantime, turn to, and pretend to be jealous of him. You'll cure him in no time. Try him. I will give you an opportunity when ho returns." » J,'""" I ■,:, ^11 !' J -I ' I* ' l.ri I iJ 238 GOOSE VAN DAM. ^■*.; '^V '■Si " I am afraid/' she raid. ^ :•' v.;v»;.> " / tell you try him this once, and see how he li/ces it. It is a rule in life. If a critter makes a charge af/in you, turn the table on him : accuse him, and let him defend himself. It will give him plenty to do. It's a plaguy sight easier to make a charge than to explain one away." .r : t. -,," .^ ?-^, When he returned with the water, I lit a cigar, and went on with the conversation just where we laid it down. " I wonder you don't recollect gravin' that vessel, Goose,'' said I, " for I mind you put the mop into the hot tar, and daubed young Metzler with it for teasing you about Tereza Hebb." -^*' •.•-* " Tereza, who ?" said his wife. ' ' " Tereza Hebb," sais 1, " that he was a-courtin' of at that time." "Who, me?" "Yes, you." . ^ , •';,•. " What, Tereza Hebb ?" "Yes, Tereza Ilebb. You had better pretend now you don't recollect. Ah, Goose !" said I, " you're a sly fellow." " Well, upon my word," said his wife, " this is a pretty spot of work ! Why, Goose, aint you ashamed of yourself ? Tereza Hebb! the bold, forrard, impudent hussy ! She was here no longer ago nor last week. If ever I catch her inside this house agin ! And when she found Goose was to Halifax, Treza — as he calls her so lovin'ly — wouldn't stay with poor me. I'll give her a piece of my mind. Goose, why didn't you tell me of this before ? Oh dear ! how deceit- ful some men are ! Tereza Hebb, eh ? Why, I never heard of this tilf this blessed moment !" "Nor I neither, dear," said he, "so don't take on that way, Kate love." " .^:- ... " Oh ! love me no loves !" said she. " I wish I was in the grave !" And seein' he was a-holdin' down of his head, she gave me a wink at that word 'grave', as much as to say, there would be a plaguy sight more fun there, thu.- foolin' this way. '■:-,'- '^^ "Why, Kate dear," said her husband, "how can you talk so? it's only one. of Mr. Slick's good stories." " Oh ! I dare say you think it a good story. I don't wonder you call it so. Tereza Hebb ; I wish you had married her. Well, I want to know — Mr. Slick, do tell me all about it; let me know the worst." "No"' said I, "I won't. I am sorry 'I mentioned it, but I thought everybody kne.w it. Come, let us change the conversation. Now," sais I, " Van Dam, I'll tell you a story about a goose that happened to Halifax when Prince Edward was there. I had it from an old gentleman that was in the 7th Fusileers at the time." . "Tereza Hebb!" said Kate; "why it aint possible.'' t ".Pooh I" sais I; "I believe you are jealous?" ■ ., , ; risy aoOSE VAN DAM. 239 " I shouldn't wonder," said Oroose. "Wonder!" said she, and I touched her foot under the table to be quiat. ;vV;"<^. The worst of advisein' a woman is, they overdo things, and carry 'em too far, and spoil all j so I jist joggled her foot. '• The 7th Fusileers," said I, " was stationed to Halifax when the Prince was here ; and the mess-man kept an everlastin' large poultry- yard. He used to buy a whole flock of geese at a time, fat 'em, and kill 'em as he wanted them. Well in one of these flocks there was a feller that was onder standard-height, as they call it in the army ; and when all was killed but him, ho was turned over to the next flock, till he should be fit for the table. But whether he didn't like these strange birds, or they didn't like him, or he didn't call on the new-comers and leave his card, and they took ofience or what not, I don't know. At all events, they lived apart, like officers and soldiers, and he made up to the mess-man, and always followed him about the yard everywhere, and he fed it himself. At last the man grew fond of the bird." " Oh ! in course," said Kate; " he is not the first man that grew fond of an under-sized bird; but go on, Mr. Hebb — I mean Slick." " Do be quiet," sais I ; " for every word of this story is true. And he said it shouldn't be killed. It soon became a general pet in the regiment; everybody fed it, and coaxed it, and made much of it. Well, at last it took up its beat with the sentry at the barrack-gate, and used to march up and down with him, and hundreds of people used to go to see this extraordinary goose. Well, there came ano- ther regiment about that time to Halifax, and the Prince ordered two companies into the south barracks, where the 7th were quartered, for there warn't room in the north ones; and lo and behold ! when these soldiers were on guard, the goose used to look at their uniforms, turn round, and off to the poultry-yard, until some of the men of the 7th were on duty, when he regularly marched backwards and forwards with them. No money could have bought that bird. All foreigners and strangers used to go there to see him ; and the Prince took Louis Philippe, who was at Halifax at that time, to see this great attachment between the bird and the regiment. " Well, one night — a very cold night— the sentry, seein' the coast was clear, put down his musket in the box, and cut across the street to a grog-shop, to get a glass of rum ; but the moment the man quit his beat, the goosef thinkin' there was somethin' wrong, ran after him, squeakin' and squealin' like anythin', and kicked up an awful bobbery. So, to rid himself of it, he seized the goose, and wrung his neck till he killed* him. The noise brought out some of the neighbours, and the feller was found out, and the way he was flogged was a caution to sinners, that's a fact.' ;; "That was a faithful goose, >) said Kate; "it wouldn't go after ■^='t ■MAXl:jimmitf'gi '■■,. :..V' 240 GOOSE VAN DAM. ry:\ strange uniforms, or keep company with them, but stuck to its family, and lost its life in their service. To think that I should ever, take Teresa Hebb's leavings. Oh, Mr. Van Dafe !" " Kitty, dear,'' said the great loon, almost blubberin', " there aint a word of truth in it; and Mr. Slick," said he, showin' mo his great sledge-hammer of a fist, " I insist upon knowin' who told you that story.*' 'V .^iv' :.':•, .■■o'-.rv"-- ^■'^■'^''''■tj :):-■'■" "'■.■''■■ "■'' "Sartainly," sais I; "and dig it into him, if it's false, till ho sings out for mercy.'' , , . r " That's just what I will do," said he. " ' ' ' ' '• "Well thou," sais I, givin' him the name of a dead man, "you'll have to dig him up first, for he is a gone goose. It was Conrad Ernst, and suppose the whole is buried in the grave, with him. Come, shake hands and make up ; for jealousy is the meanest, and lowest, and most despiseable thing in natur'. I scorn a jealous man or woman as I do a nigger." :■ -. - ■ ••• v "I shouldn't wonder," said Goose; and they kissed, and were reconciled. " Well," sais I, " Mr. Van Dam, if you weren't such an awful jealous pair, I would like to have that smack passed round ; but as it's too good for me, I'll try this instead (takin' a tumbler of punch). Here's your good health ! long life to both of you ! May there always be a goose in the family !" Sophy dear, sais I to myself, when I turned in, you needn't be afeerd of me; I aint a goose, and I won't be jealous. First, I know I won't have no cause; and second, I consait I am a man no sensible gall like you could help lovin'; and third, if any critter came poachin' about my presarves, as the English landlords say, I rather guess he'd lam I can find food for crows, as well as f hesants. But will 1/ou be jealous, that's the question ? I ainc so sure about that. I'm a man that's fond of talkin' to women naterally, and I can't give up all the world for you, and more nor that, I won't. You'll be all in all to me, but still there js the world left after all. We must onderstand this. If I don't look at other women, I can't compare you with them, and say, how much handsomer you are than this one, or how much more sensible you are than that one, and so on. We must lay doion some rule about jealousy. What shall it he ? Suppose we take the rule about the press. ■ Be free, but not personal ; free, but decent ; free, but not treasonable to each other; free, but not licentious ; free niggersy but not freebooters. There must be some rule, that's a fact. If you don't like that one, let's take the committee rule, each of us shall have an equal voice. .K we can't agree we will adjurn, report progress, and ask leave to sit again ; and if we still differ, I will give the castin' vote as chairman. Take your choice, dear, of either of these rules, for I wouldn't dictate to you for the world. And now that wo onderstand each other; good-night, dear ; God bless you ! ]ml , I A HOT DAY. •a? ;> ■»> - •^^'v'^' 241 " there aint CHAPTER XXIV. A HOT DAY. ■.. J' ■'■'■". "- "■:^>'' ;.«';• <(■■ On the followin' luornin' the household were up and movin' at a very early hour. A hasty breakfast was prepared for Goose, who was obliged to attend an auction on the other side of the river, and did not expect to return until the evenin\ I walked down to the beach with him, assisted him to push off his punt, and begged him to return as early as he could, as it was probably the last time I should ever be in that part of the country again. There was every indication of a very hot day, and as I pointed to the mist ascendin' from the high grounds in slow and sluggish wreaths, I said, " Goose, this day is goin' to be a sneezer, I guess." "I shouldn't wonder," he saidj for not troublin' his head about matters that didn't immediately consarn him, he was seldom sur- prised at any thin'. My prognostications were fully verified ; it was a day of intense heat. As far as the eye could reach eastward, the sea lay like an ocean of melted silver. Not a rimple nor dimple nor motion was perceptible on it. It was two or three hundred yards from the house, so that you could see its bosom heave ; for in a gineral way it undu- lates even in sleep as a female's does, and I've an idea that the rote on the beach is the breathin' that swells it, when restin' in slumber that way. It shone like a lookin'-glass in the sun, it wasn't easy to look at it. The beach is fine white sand, what's called house sand, and that is a brighter, clearer white than the sea, and dazzles and sparkles more. You could actilly see the heat there, for it seemed as if there was fire onderneath. Down the little valley, the stream seemed as if it tried not to make a noise as it took the smoothest course to the sea, and lingered under the spruce boughs, as if it would give any- thin' to go to sleep there. Everythin* was still. There was not a breath of air. Even Kate sat quiet, and didn't talk. The vessels in the offin* were motionless, and their tall slender yaller masts looked like rays of light, not descendin', but ascendin'. The cows stood still in the brook, a ru- minatin' on things in general, and hot days in particular. The birds hid themselves in the trees, pantin' with the heat, and the very in- sects thought it was too much trouble to buzz ; but a nasty senseless locust set up Q, monotonous song, the only one it can sing, the chorus of which sounds amazingly like " Aint this a grand day .. jt locusts ?" If I'd a had my gun there, I would have shot it, for I was listnin' 242 A HOT DAY. Ll to two sounds I do dearly love. It was poor old Minister first ttiugbt mo their beauty. Ho used to say, " Sam, there are two sounds I do dearly love : the ocean's surfy, slow, deep, mellow voice, full of mystery and awe, moaniu' over the dead it holds in its bosom, or lulling th(!m to unbroken slumbers in the chambers of its vasty depths; and the silvery tone of the windin' brook, as it rejoices on its way to the parent sea. I love them. I love to bo alone with them, and to listen to them. Thank God for all His mercies, the capacity for enjoy in' nature, only Ho that gives can take away. No bankruptcy reaches that, no fire destroys it, no tempest can make shipwreck of it. It grows and increases with us till wo see beauty even in abstractions." So do I love them too, as well as Minister. And I love Kate for not talkin' just now. Confound that locust I say, there is no more music in him than a boilin' tea-kettle. Well, jist opposite, in the work-shed, is a man pretendin' to work, but it's all pretence, for he's sittin' down on a pile of shavins, with a spoke-shavo in his hands, a dressin' of a piece of ash that is held in a wooden vice. If that aint the perfection of lazy whitlin', then I want t<) know ! for he uses both hands to the knife, and don't want to hold the stick. Now and then he gets up, stretches himself straight, to see that none of him has got unglued with the heat, then lifts one log up in the air, and then the other, preparin' for his patent foot-bath, and then goes to the well, winds up a bucket of cold water, and puts half of it in one boot, and half in the other, draws a long breath, as if it felt good to have water-tights on, and returns churnin', squish-squash, as he goes back to whittle. Underneath the ox-cart the big black dog is stretched out at full length, and his great red tongue lollin' out of his head, almost as long as his tail. He is too lazy to go to the brook and take a swim, it's too much exertion in the middle of the day for a stout gentleman like him, who has no summer clothes, and has to wear his winter jacket. Now an ^ then he puts up his paw indolently to brush off the flies from his naked nose ; but before the huge foot descends, the flies are off; and as soon as it's withdrawn, back they light to torment the unoffendin' soul again. At last, he loses all patience — and it's very hard to be bothered when you want to go to sleep — opens his mouth, rips out a short oath, makes a grab at them, and kills a dozen of them right off at one snap. But outside of the black dog — not in the shade of the ox-cart, nor under the great beech-tree, but in the fall glare of the sun, with his head uncovered and pillowed iu a mould of sand that fits it beautifully, and face upturned, not only in full defiance of the sun and flies, but in the enjoyment of both— lies black Scipio, What a look of placid happiness is on his face! grateful to the Giver of till good things, especially of hot days, and at peace with himself and all mankind. He is just what a Chris- '■■,>*, '■■•• A HOT RAY. II ' i-^f 2# f I jre 18 no more tian ought to bo, particularly a black one. I liavo often thought of that landscape at Petite Riviere as it lay stretched out afore mo on tliat everlastin' hot day. Once I tried to sketch it, but it was too extensive. The sea- board view was- boundless. The vessels, like them in Dutch paint- ins of calms, tho' true to life, wanted life. They were straight up and down — stiif and ongraceful. The valley and tho groups I got detached, but not together. Some things are pretty to look at, but won't make a pictur'. " Mr. Slick," said Kate. ^^ <:..x*eUl^_.^ • ;.- - '^V-^'. ■•• " What, dear," said I. , " Como and set near me at this window that I may smell your cigar, for it is so hot that I feel faint." " No sooner said than done,'^ said I. " 13tlt hush !" and I put my hand on her arm ; " hush I What is that ? Did you hear that loud, clear, shrill scream ?" « Oh, Mr. Slick !" said she, " do tell me what that is ! That was nothing human ! How piercin' it was !" " Human I" said I ; " I guess not. Seein* you and me together, p'raps that are French officer, whose belt of gold we dug up at Five Houses, has blowed a whistle at us, as much as to say, ' Much good may it do to you.' " " Oh, my sakes I" said she, " I wish I had never touched it !" " Or perhaps it is to warn Goose that I have got nearer his pretty little wife just now than he would approve." "Pooh!" said she. " Well, I shouldn't wonder," said I, imitatin' of him to the life. "Do you believe in ghosts?" said she. /^y-; "Well, I do," sais 1; "that's a fact. At least, I can't say I don't. I try to believe in them." "Tiy !" said she. "Why, how very odd !" ■'- "^ '" " " Yes," said I, " it's the most delightful thing in the world to believe in them. When I die I ^ope I may be permitted to bo one." " Well I never in all my born days !" said she. "Dancin'-in.the sunbean> when it's cool, or in che shady groves when it's warm. No bones to ache, no flesh to pine away, no heart to grieve — all shadowy form, all calm pleasure. How beautiful the world must look, and all that's in it ! and the mysteries of the deep revealed, and dead French captains with belts of doubloons round them in the grave !" " Oh, Mr. Slick !" she said, "now that spoils all. Oh ! go on as you did. That's grand about their being kind of fairies. T like that. Moonlight must be their holiday time, mustn't it ?" " Yes," sais I. " But then I'm aftard ft must be dull music, foi there is no love, you know, no hope, no fear, no heat, no cold. A ■M::^ iH A HOT DAY. :./^'!' k I; kind of SftTAenCss is fairy Hfo, too. Put your arm routid a neat little article of a female fairy and there's nothin' to squeeze. Look up into her face, and there is no eyes, only expression — no mouth, nothiu' but a smile; for if there was, there would bo toothache. If you go to kiss her, your head goes right thro' her head, and her head right through yourn. There are no lips. In th(x long run, p'raps we had better be contented as we be, A livin', solid, corn- fed gall, arter all, may be better than a shadowy, v&pory, cold fairy." " Then why is it you try to believe in them, and want to be one ?" " Because I want to believe, if I can, that them that loved us in this world are about us and around us, watchin over U3, and guardin' us, both asleep and awake, and intercedin' for us." " Ah, now you talk sense," said she. " That's a pretty thought. Oh ! it's a shame for a man who can talk as well as you can to mix up so much nonsense with it. Oh ! that's a beautiful idea of fairies !" Here again the same shriek was heard louder, because nearer than before. It was certainly a startlin' sound — it was so very thrillin'. " Mr. Slick," said she, " I am frightened ! What in the world can it be ?" But I 'didn't know and couldn't exactly guess. But as I never allow myself to be non-plussed, sais I : " It will make you laugh at your own fears when you do know, and see what it is." A man should never say he don't know if he can cut round a corner any way in the world. Men who have the greatest reputatiou for larnin' more nor half the time get the name by pretendin'. A little smatterin', like a drop or two of essence, goes a great way. It's easy to carry, got the right flavour, and no one knows how small a quantity you've got of it. When I was to London, I met a man, who said he knew thirty languages, and he used to write poetry, and pretended they were translations of languages of the dead, or them that were livin' the Lord knows where. Old Polyglot I used to call him. I shall never forget the rise I took out of him onct, and how I made our Minister stare. He was dinin' at the Embassy, and said he : " Mr. Slick, how strange it is that an American seldom speaks any language but his own." Those Britishers have always some fault to find with us, and think nobody knows anythin' but themselves. "Well," sais I, "that's a univarsal one amost. Our two great nations ^ave spread it nearly all over the world. But how many do you understand y" "I'm ashamed to say," said he, pretendin' to look very modest, and talkin' confidential like, " I only know thirty." - a: " Thirty !" sais I, " why that's a vast number for one little tongue to manage, and lick into shape too, aint it? What a wonderful h.^l^l'A.l ne* und a neat little eeze. Look up ion — no mouth, 5 toothache. If r head, and her [u the. long run, ivin', solid, corn- pory, cold fairy." vant to bo one ?" , that loved us in U3, and guardin' a pretty thought. 18 you can to mix 1 idea of fairies \" jcause nearer than 60 very thrillin'. 'hat in tbe world But as I never en you do know, 1 can cut round a greatest reputatiou )y pretendin*. A I a great way. It's nows how small a on, I met a man, write poetry, and he dead, or them glot I used to call m onct, and how le Embassy, and seld9m speaks any with us, and think b. Our two great But bow many do look very modest, "r one little tongue ^bat a wonderful A HOT DAY. 24^' thing the head is, to hold such a library. It always seems to mo to bo like an Indian-rubber bag, however full it is, there is always some room for a little more. I Hhould be almost scared to stuff mine that way, for fear it would squeeze some things out of tother eend; aud when you went to look for 'em you'd find, us a fdler docs who has a thicvin' servant, that they were gone, and all the rest of the ser- vants would swear they never saw 'em, they must have been lost or broken afore they came. Thirty languages! why do tell?" Well, he looked like one of the pyramids, which, every time you see it, seems to stretch up a little higher. " Thirty !" sais I, " well you beat me. I'm a man that never brags or boasts, or sais much, being a silent man, in a general way, and likin' to hear better than talkiu' ; but you beat me all holler. I am willin' to admit my deficiency, I can only understand twenty- five." " Twenty-five !" said he. • " Mr. Slick, give me your hand. I believe you and I may justly boast of bavin' made greater progress than any two men now livin"." " Well," sais I, " I never boast. The more I larn, tli more it appears to me I have to larn. But between you and me, I can go 11 one eend of the continent of America to the other (and so can ^ody that is fool enough to try it, but I didn't say so;. I have Kcca a great deal among the Indians. Can you speak the Mipmao?" "No," said he. '■'■ ^ ''What not the Micmac?" sais I; "it's what the Nova Scotia Indians talk. It's amost a beautiful language, but they use terrible long words. You see they have plenty of leisure to talk, as they don't work^ and are never in a hurry, so they take their time. Now we call a male fowl a cock, for shortness, they call him keequwee- quechnabaoo. The only thing that's short is countin', for that must be done quick, as na-ookt, one ; tah-boo, two ; and so on. Not know Micmac," sais I, " well, it's a pity, for it's the most perfect Indian language there is. Well, there is the Abenaqui, that is the New Brunswick nation." . "No." " AVhy how singular," sais I. " Nor the Red Indians ?" (I didn't tell him they were extinct), "x^o." " Nor the Choctaw ? Iroquois ? Snakes ? Floridas ? "No," sais he, "I don't understand any of them." " Well, north of the Great Slave Lake is another family, divided into the Copper Indians, the Hare Indians, and the Dogribs j away off south is another division of nations, such as the Gallibees, Puel- cliees, and Toupees. The Indian languages are the most beautifu" in the known world. They are Indian-rubber ones, they stretch out It's done by gummification, addin' on extra syllables." 21* .•=■;.., :■ vf i« " .A \ h'iii^ : " "i I!- is . I 246 B?P A^KOT DAY. .r-1 ^V '*'^'" Agglutination, we call ic," said he, correctiu' rae. "I know yen do," sais I, "and most pmbably it's the proper word in your cverlastin' long list of languages, for the folks that spoke them it's likely knew what glue was. Our Indians only know gums. Indeed there aint any glue made in America, except at Charleston and New Orleens, and that is the best in the world, for, instead of the skins of animals, it's made out of nigger-hides, espe- cially old niggers, who are biled down for the purpose. That's the meanin' of our old sayin' ' it sticks like grim death to a dead nigger.' Uncle Tom told me it was a positive fact.'' ■^^ « How shockin'," said he. ,' . -■ -%..:V> " Oh, yes," sais I, lookin' innocent, '^it's shot king good glue. Now gu.-^min' on syllables makes one word express a vrhole sentence, the only iLing is they are shockin' long, long enou ^o. for the stringer of a bridge a'most.'' "Do they write?" said he. , ^ " \t« " Oh yes, they write, and always have from the earliest ages, but it's more marks than letters. Unfortunately they always make them in blood, as you might suppose, but the colour and meanin' of that fades ont in time." , , i ; " I never heard that before," he said, " how singular." " But the most curious inquiry, and most interestin', far beyond Polar discoveries, and all that nonsense," sai,s I, " is, what language Adam and Eve spoke. I have a theory on that, I think it is what the Carribs speak ; for they lived like the Carribs, who still wear Sg. leaved aprons, and that word * car,' is dear or sweet, and ' rib ' i,s a woman or wife. It's a wonderful illustration of Eve's formation, and it's a plausible theory at any rate." " No, Sir," said he, lookin' as wise as I did, " it was Hebrew, I think." Here Minister rose, and we joined the ladies; and Old Polyglot told Embassador I was a man of extraordinary attainments, but of still greater modesty, for he had actually to draw me out, I was so silent. He remarked that I might be said to speak every language bui my own, I was so resarved. Pretend you know, and half the time, if it aint as good az knowin', it will sarve the same purpose. Jfan^ a feller looks fat, who is onhj awelled, as the Germans say. But to get back to Mrs. Van Dam, " Mr. Slick, do you think that's a ghost ?" ♦ " I know it aint," sais I, " for ghosts are only vapours, and the sun's so hot, it would evaporate it right up, make it hiss like a drop of water on a hot stove. Ghosts never walk by of it, says ho, if you've only money in your pocket. Well, I made ?. dacent meal enough, eonsiderin* all things, and took a taste of the cratur', and went to sleep to forget my misfortins ; and what do you think. Father John, they found arter all f I wavn't bad enough for them, for they jest turned me out, and laid me under the fence, for- nenst Tim Maloney's; and when I waked up I peeped over the wall to see if the coast was clear, and off home as fast as my legs could carry me.' " ?. .'-'-'.^ ^'' r ;Vv ' ""'v^'^: ';'- '.: "Well, the priest thought he had delirium tremene, and just turned him out ; but when he came to inquire about it, he found they had picked him up drunk, and let him down into a mir'.n' -shaft out of a bit of a spree, and when he came to, they intoxicated him again, and hauled him up in the tub. So, don't be frightened, dear, if it is a ghost, I'm not afeard of them." " What a strange story, Mr. Slick j do you believe it ?" "Well," pais I, "I give it to you as the parson told it to me; but Irish stories can't all be taken for facts. Some folks tell stories, as if they happened in their own knowledge, and tell 'em so often, they believe them themselves at last. Whether it really took place in his parish, or he made it out of the wKole clo#h, or read it, I don't know; I give it to you just as I got it. But jisfc look out here, Kate; look at that are nigger." At that moment a young, good-lookin' black man made his appear- ance in the road. He had a pair of blue cloth trowsers on, a white deeply-frilled shirt, with high stiff starched collars, and wore a black satinet stock. His hat was rakishly placed on the side of his head, the wool of which was curled, as if it had just come from a carding- mill. In one hand he carried his coat and waistcoat, and with the other swung a little yellow rattan, with an air of great self-satisfac- tion. * ' v When he came to where the old nigger was asleep, baskin' in tho sun, he paused a moment, stooped down, and uttered that terrific scream, which was an imitation of that which the Loon gives when divin' from fright. Mrs. Van Dam gave a screech herself almost as shrill, and springin' up fell over on my breast and shoulders. Fact is, I was scared too, not at the black feller's yell, but at the situation we two was in; for it wasn't just the place for another man's wife, and that a jealous man too, that's a fact. 3o sais I: " Kate, here's Goose ; be quick." It brought her to in a minute. '' Oh, dear !" she said ; " how faint I am 1" and I got up, and handed her a glass of water. "Hadn't you better go and lie down, and compose your/elf, dear ?" "No," said she; "I'm better now. I'm glad I know at last A HOT DAY. U9 ell, I mado iaste of the rhat do you enough for 3 fence, for- ver the wall J legs could ys"^ and just it, he found mir'n' -shaft Dxicated him htened, dear, ,ld it to me ; ;s tell stories, 'cm so often, lly took place or read it, I jist look out .de his appear- rs on, a white wore a black [e of his head, j-om a carding- and with the .t self-satisfac- Ibaskin' in the „ that terrific in gives whcu self almost as )ulders. Fact the situation 3r man's wife, got up. and )ose yourself, know at last what that sound was. Your talk about fairies, and that fellow's screamin', nearly set me crazy." "What de dcbbil do you moan, Caesai;?" said the old man, "by makin' dat are onmcauin', misintelligible noise, you ignorant mis- broughtcn-up nigger ?" " Oh, Uncle Scipio ! I didn't mean no manner of reraaginable harm, only a little fun, I do ressure you, Sar." "Which way is you goin', Caesar, boy?" said the old man, appa- rently satisfied with the apology, " all dress out so pitticular fine, so airly in de day ?" " Goin' to Halifax, uncle, to de great ablution meetin' ob de people ob color." "Much you knows about ablution — don't you, Caesar? Now what does ablution mean ?" :3 .;,'>'.- " It means a great tea-party and ball for free colored people, to be sure," said the beau, with a disdainful toss of his head. " We is to hab de military band to play for us ; for de gubbernor is a great ablutionist." *.;v,^ i '. ^ >•■ •• .•^:'^^'" " Ki," said Scipio, " de gubbernor only tink o' dat. Tat ! yah ! yah ! Is de gubbernor a colored gentleman, Caesar ?" " Oh ! Uncle Scip, you knows better nor dat, what nonsense !'' " What de debil has massa gubbernor or you eider to do withv ablution. Better if both on you minded your own business. Neider of you knows nufiin of what you is a-talkin' of. Come, Ca^ ir, tell me, boy, is you goin' to dine with massa gubbernor ?" " Why, Uncle Scip, I believe you is crazy — me ! wbv no." " Not dine with de gubbernor ! Yah ! yah ! yah ! ^'f;ll dat do beat all." " Why, uncle, I's only a nigger, you know." " What o' dat ? Gubbernor is ablutionist. hisself fust of his pride j and if you and he equal in fact. Dat is what I calls ablution in airnest. Didn't Ad- miral Warren steal me from my good old massa on de Chesapeake, and from my dear missus, and my warm house, and fetch me down liere to starve in dis intensible cold country. Is dat ablution ? Yes, yes, I is an old fool ; but I knows de British took us from our 'Merican massas, but dey didn't take us ii}) to demselves. Now look here, Caesar, for you is a smart man, consideriu' how your edication was so shamefull neglected, nebber havin' been among gentlemen, but only Dutch sour-crouts, up de ribber da, who is most as ignorant as deir oxen. Yes ! you is an understandin' man, and good-lookin' nigger too, considerin' do almighty hard work you has to do ; and dat is to carry de ox- whip all day. Yi^U ! yah ! yah ! Well, Caesar, boy, I'll tell you what ablution is. In winter you know da is a foot of snow on de ground." w ■" ,:'^^ 'Mn course," said Caesar, lookin' very wise, "I knows it." Let him mancipate is equal, make you ■■■■■V in -g^- 250 A HOT DAY. ■/\k i " Well den massa gubbernor, who is ablutionist, sends for his boas, and sais, * You bin good boss, bcry faithful, bcry trusty j I gib you bery good character. Novj I mancipatc you ; you free nigga now.* Well de boss cock up his ear, hold up his head, stick up his tail, and kick up his heels like de debil. Well do medder is all covered "wid snow, and dere's nuffin to eat dere; and off he goes to do farmer's barn-yard; and farmer he set de dogs on him. Den ho take to de woods; but ho don't understand brousin', for ho was broughten up 'mong gentlemen, and he got no straw for bed, and no rug to keep off cold, and he wants to be took back agin. He don't like ablution in cold country. He rader work for some- thin' to eat in winter, dan be free and starve. Dat is all massa gub- bernor knows 'bout ablution. Help mo up now, Coosar, boy, dat is a good feller,'^ and he gave him his left hand; and claspin' it fast, as he rose to his feet, he knocked the dandy's hat off with the right fist, and nearly demolished the crown of it, and then suddenly wheelin' him round, give him two or three good, sound, solid kicks. * "Dare," said he, lettin' him go, "you is emancipated — you is free nigga now ; dat is ablution. Clar off, you pork and cabbage nigga you. Take dat for do onarthly scream you woke me up wid, and frightened de lady to de winder da. So make tracks now, and go , dine wid massa gubbernor. Yah ! yah ! yah !" " Do you feel better now ?" sais I, " Kate, I told you I had no doubt, when you diskivered what that noise was you would laugh at ^ your own fears." " Oh, yes I" she said, " but I must say I was awfully scared at first. That fellow jist got what he wanted, a good kickin'. I hope it will cure him of makin' such unairthly noises. Those free Yankee niggers arc curses to the country. We should have no poor rates if it wasn't for them." " It sarves colonists right," sais I, " they talk of emancipatin' our slaves, why don't they emancipate themselves." " Oh," said Mrs. Van Dam, " I was awfully scared by the nigger." ; " Well," said I, " if you was frighteneu , you weren't half so much as I was when you kinder fainted on m} shoulder that way. Oh dear ! Goose flashed across my mind then, and his great big fists, and I felt a buzzin' kind of noise in my ears, and the jurapin' tooth- ache came, and I saw the sparks flyin' out of my eyes ; if he had a come in, he'd a chawed me right up, I do suppose, afore I'd had time to explain. What a pity it is, he shouldJ)e so jealous, for there it) no happiness where that is." "I know it to my sorrow," fche said. '' Well, then, do you just try the receipt I gave yon yesterday," said I. " Put him on the defensive at once. He ' nows how little cause you iiave, and will soon begin to see how little room there is for .:i^ .■jiSisiL .V 'fj. .<;ia for his hofls, 5 I gib you nigga now.' : up liis tail, 3 all covered goes to de m. Den he , for he was :aw for bed, k back agin, ork for some- 11 massa gub- ir, boy, dat is aspin' it fast, ss'ith the right hen suddenly d, solid kicks. — you is free cabbage nigga ,0 up wid, and s now, and go you I had no would laugh at fully scared at 'ckin'. I hope )se free Yankee LO poor rates if mancipatin' our by the nigger." 't half so much |that way. Oh great big fists, jumpm tooth- if he had a )re I'd had time [us, for there lo lyou yesterday, fnows how little loom there is for OUR COLONIES AND BAILORB. |251 " his fears either. I told him so this mornin*. * Goose,' said I, ' don't be foolish ; I see you are a little jealous.' " *I shouldn't wonder,* said he, 'if I was.' • " < Well I'll tell you how it will eventuate/ sais I; ^you've got as nice a little wife as there is in the provinces, and there's no harm in her ; but if you treat her suspiciously, you will put barm into her head in no time, and she'll get jealous of you, and mind what I tell you, a jealous woman is the deVil ; and besides,' sais I, * Goose,' " and I gave her a wink, " ' when you consider what a handsome feller you are, you ought to be ashamed.' > - ft ^ " ' Well,' said he, *I shouldn't wonder. It shan't fiappen agin, Mr. Slick.' " " Well you have done me a rael kindness," she said, " and I never shall forget you." v/r ''At the same time," sais I, "it's nateral for him to be jealous too-" "How so?" said she, a colourin' up. "Any man," sais I, "that has such an everlastin' handsome wife—" "Phoo," sais she, risin' up, "don't talk nonsense, I must go and see after dinner," and she pinched my ear, as she passed, and said, " any woman that marries you will have good reason to be jealous, I know J for I never saw such a flirtin', gossippin', flatterin' sort of a man coquette in my life. I believe in my heart it's nothin' but the fear of Goose that kept you in order to-day." "I shouldn't wonder," said I. "Nor I either," said she, "for there's many a true word said in jest." • . , , ^ ; ,t..-y,_ ;..: = ■■■;- •■;-.-.«-7_^'-_. Ml( CHAPTER XXV. > OUR COLONIES AND SAILORS. Late in the afternoon, a light sea-breeze sprung up and cooled the heated air of the narrow valley of Petite Riviere. Lightin' a cigar, I strolled down to the beach to await the return of Van Dam. There was a large oak tree a little above the landwash, and under* neath it was a pile of deals that had been sawed at the mill near the bridge at the main road. Mountin' this for a seat, I sat down in, the shade, and was off in a day-dream about Jordan and Sophy in little less than half no time. I was soon so deep in those thoughts, that I did not hear the « ^ifJlh. 252 OUR COLONIES AND SAILORS i^m U\ t . '■*» approach of a sailor, vfho now stood before me, and touchin' his hat, said : " No offence, Sir, I hope, for I wouldn't oiFend you for tho world. Can you tell me the best road to take to St. John, New Brunswick ? I have had the misfortune to be shipwrackcd, and want to get back to England. St John is one of * our colonies,' aint it ?" " Yes," sais I, for it would have been a long lockrum to have told him who I was; " but sit down here, and tell me about your ship- wrack." Our colonies. Come, that's pretty well. Svery English- man, from a member of parliament that ::.ddrcsses you by letter, Hali- fax, Nova Scotia, Upper Canada, and a governor that has nothin' to do now but sign his name to papers, and talks of his measures, who has no measure but what he left at his tailor's in London, down to Jack Tar, says " our colonics/' and thinks he is part owner of these possessions, and looks down on the poor outlandish provincials with a condescendin' air of superiority. Well, the colonists look upon all these wiseacres with the same feelins of pity as men who are not only thick-headed and wrong- headed, but simple people who don't know what they are talking about. Sjich folks with such feelins ain't likely to benefit each other much. The organization is wrong. They are two people, but not one. It shouldn't he England and her colonies, but they should be integral parts of one great whole — all counties of Great Britain. There should be no taxes on colonial produce, and the colonies should not be allowed to tax British manufactures. All should pass free, as from one town to another in England ; the whole of it one vast home-market, from Hong-Kong to Labrador. They should be represented in parliament, help to pass English laws, and show them what laws they wanted themselves. All dis- tinctions should be blotted out for ever. It should be no more a bar to a man's promotion as it is now that he lived beyond seas, than livin' the other side of the channel : it should be our navy, our army, ■our nation. That's a great word ; but the English keep it to them- selves, and colonists have no nationality : they are like our free nig- gers ; they are emancipated, but they hante the same social position as the whites. The fetters are off, but the caste, as they call it to India, still remains. Colonists are the pariahs vf the Enijnre. They have no place, no station, no rank. Honours don't reach them ; coronations are blank days to them ', no brevets go across the water except to the English officers who are on foreign service in our colonies. No knighthood is known there — no stars, no aristoc- racy, no nobility. They are a mixed race ; they have no blood ; they are cocktails. John Bull, you are a fool; you haven't even, the sense of the Onslow blockhead : he said he knew he was a fool, but his brother was a plaguey sight bigger one, and he didn't know it. Blot the ^^l^PWP OUE COLONIES AND SAILORS. ^3 word colonies out altogether, incorporate 'era all with England, body and breeches — one people, one country, one Parliament. Strike off half the Irish Brigade, and give their seats to colonists, who, if they are " lllue-noses," aint potato-headed, at any rate. Ah, Stanley ! you are a young man, but they say you're a chip of the old block : if so, you are just the boy to go ahead. Now hoist that flag, make a party to rally round it, and go in up to the handle on that ticket, and you'll immortalize yourself. Colonists won't stay long as they are : do you lead the way in the right direc- tion. But all this is their look-out, and not mine. When it's too late, they will find out their mistake, or my name ain't Sam Slick, that's all. ^.'.--t, >^;*-'-■=:^--^•> ,-•: ^v-ivV, -':*-■ /'a'- ''::'^:'?" Jack was in stature below the Nova Scotian standard. He was a short, strong-built, but clumsy man, with a thorough English face- broad, open and jolly, but not over-wise. He had on a pair of white canvas trowsers and a check shirt, and carried a wallet on his shoul- ders. Poor fellow ! sailor-like — 'the hot day, and the hospitality of the people, had been too much for him, and he had been imbibin'. "Tell us your story, Jack. Sit down here." "Thank you kindly. Sir; I hope I don't intrude; I wouldn't offend you for the world. I come from a place called Bristol, Sir. Perhaps you may have heard of it. Sir : it's in England. Well, I was one of the crew on board the new ship ' Demerary,' and was hired to bring her down the river. Well, Sir, what does they do, but cast her away, afore she ever got down ; instead of having two little tugs to her, one on each side, they puts only one in front to tow her ; and she swung round, catched right across, and stuck fast. She was ogged in the middle, ogged in the bow, ogged in the starn, and ogged all over. It's a fact. Sir, I assure you ; not a word of a lie in it. It's not likely you ever heard of her, Sir, livin' out in ' our colonies;' but you may ax any one that do know, Sir, and they'll tell you it's a true story, that." "Do you smoke. Jack?" sais I; "because, if you do, smoke away. I like to see a man enjoy his pipe." " Thank you kindly. Sir." While he was lightin' his pipe, I couldn't help thinkin' that this country and its farm-houses resemble each other amazinly in one par- ticular. Every sizeable house has a room in it that aint used ; not that it's a bad room, its often as good as any other, if it aint the best. It aint that they can't furnish it, for they could do it easily. You can't give any reason for it, but so it is. Well, this is the lum- ber-room. Odds and ends are shoved in there; things that's good enough, but aint wanted ; things that's broke, and sot away to bo mended, or that's broke so bad, they'd only do to mend others with ; things that aint fit for their original use, but will some day answer 22 254 OUR COLONIES AND SAILORH. \ ■i'\: capitally for somethin' they weren't intended for; not worth much as a heap, but a very convenient heap of lumber to have. Well, now, every county has a nice little harbour, or big harbour, as the case may be ; but it is one that aint used, and the village there don't grow : nobody can tell why, it's as good as others, and better than ujany that have large thrivin' towns ; but so it is. And here are odds and ends of people stowed away. There don't appear to be no place for 'em ; but they will answer, if opportunity occurs. Critters not fitted for their original business, but that will do capi- tally some day or another for somethin' else. If they aint fit to go alone, they are just what's wanted to yoke with one another. Many of them people you don't expect to find in such a place, and so on. Jack is one of these sort of folks : he is an able-bodied seaman, not fitted for the fisheries, but will do famously on board of a large ship. ,-. .• •„ ,■ .. - -« i :'■' •..'^.^. :■■'■■■ ^ i^--''-''i'!it , " Go on. Jack." - "Well then. Sir, I was sent out with a crew to Prince Edward's Island, to fetch home a new ship just built there, loaded with deals. P'raps you may have heard of that place. Sir ? it's one of ' our colo- nies.' Well, Sir, we set sail, and we was caught in an awful gale near St. Paul's Island, Sir, on the north end of Cape Breton — I don't suppose you ever heard of that place, it's another of * our colo- nies ' — and we was wracked there. Two men was drowned a-gettin' on shore — fact. Sir, I assure you j not a word of a lie in it — ^and the Captain and I was the last to leave, and we landed safe. I only saved, Sir, what I've got on, and what's in this little pack ; and all I have in my pocket is three shillings. No, I haven't, I tell a lie, I have only two shillings and sixpence ; for I stood treat to a Dutch- man, just as I left the tavern there, of a glass apiece ; and what do you think he did, Sir? — I'm blamed if he didn't call me a donkey. Sir ! Fact, I assure you, Sir ; not a word of a lie in it. Oh, no ! I'm not that sort of a man at all. Sais I, ' Friend,' handin' him the glass, here's luck !' " ' Well,' sais he, ' donkey.' " Sais I, ' Friend, I hope there's no offence. I would'nt offend you for the world j' and I slipped off my wallet, and laid it down, and squared off. Sais I, * P'raps you'll make good your words. If J am a donkey, I'm an English one, at any rate !' <'*Well,' said the skipper of the house, 'avast haulin' there! donkey, is Dutch for I thank you.' " Oh !' sais I, * I ax pardon ; that alters the case. But why didn't he speak English V " So I took up ray pack, and walked on. But they do speak dreadful lingo in 'our colonies/ don't they. Sir? Did you ever hear Garlic, Sir ! Oh, Sir ! when I was wracked at Cape North, they all spoke Garlic ! I must tell you about that. I hope I don't intrude. -% ■■: .^ OUR COLONIES AND SAILORS. 1255 rth much as landin' him Sir, and make too free ? I wouldn't offond you, Sir, for the world. "Well, Sir, when Captain and me got ashore, sais I, ' which course shall wo steer. Sir?' " ' Any course you like,' said he. * The voyage is come to an end.* " * Well then,' said I, * I'll steer to our British Council, and he'll take care of mc, and find me a passage homo.' " < There is no Cowncil here,' said he. ' You are in one of ' our own colonies' now.'- • ' * "i^ '< ' Well,' sais I, ' will the authorities do it ?' " No,' sais he, ' you must fish for yourself,' and he gave me some money, and we parted. Oh, Sir !" said Jack, seriously, " if you go to sea, pray the Lord to cast you away anywhere it do seem good to Him, so long as it taate in * one of our colonies.' Everywhere else a poor sailor is taken care off, and sent home (they must do it do you see, for it's English law) ; but in ' our colonics/ they say you're at home already, though how they make out Cape North is Bristol, I don't know. I was wracked once at Tangiers. Well the Council be- haved handsome to us. He was a fine gentleman, that. Ho paid our bills until a vessel offered for England ; but that is a Christian country. "Another time I was cast away at Monty Viddy. We went ashore in awful weather, and the Cowwcil did the same thing. Oh, Sir, steer clear of ' our colonics,' give them a wide berth whatever you do, as they are the worst places in the. world to be wracked in. ' Well, sais I, * if there is no Council to look out for I, the Lord will, until He getteth me a passage ;' so I took the first road I saw, and follered it, for I knew, in course. Sir, a road must lead some- where. " Well, it was almost dark when I comes to a house, and I knocked at the door, and I heard a ooman say someut, but I couldn't make it out J so I lifts the latch, and walks in. Well, there was seven women there ; six of them had spinnin' -wheels, and the old un was cookingk at the fire. " ' Mother,' sais I, * I hope I don't intrude. I wouldn't offend you for the world j but, do you see, I've been shipwracked hard by here. Could you give a poor sailor a mouthful of sumat to eat ?' " But she answered me in Garlic, so I was told arterwards, for I never heard it afore. It warn't French, or Portuguese, or Spanish, I knew, for I had heard them folks talk ; but it was Garlic. Well, the girls all stopt, took a look at me, and then they began to jabber away in Garlic too. Well, the old ooman put a chair for me, and made signs for me to take off my pack, and then sho took a great long iron bar, and lifted off the cover of a bake-pan that had four or five fowls in it, and pufc in a lump of butter as big as my fists, and shut it up again, and covered it all over with live coals. Oh I the smell made me very hungry. Says I, ' Mother, that smells nice.' ■•-*.. 256 OUR COLONIES AND SAILORS. But she larfed, and sliook her head. Well, I turned to the galls, sais I, * Can't any of you speak English ?' But they all answered at onct in Garlic, and what they said I couldn't tell. So I gets up, and I does this. I puts up my right hand this way, as if I was holdin' of a bottle by the neck, and holds up the other as if it had a glass in it, and then pretended to pour out slow, put it up to my mouth, tossed it off, aud smacked my lips. Says I, 'Mother, that's English for a glass of rum.' Oh ! how they all larfed ! They all knew what I meant, in course, and the old ooman took the hint, went to a closet, brought out a jug bottle, and a glass, and sat it down. So I fills it, and offers it to her. '^- : '. '■■ *W"lt''- -^^ ' " ' After you, Marm,' sais I, makin' a bow. ' I couldn't think of takin' it first.' " Well, she took it off, as if she knowd it better than she did English ; and then I filled one, and sais : "'I thank you kindly, Marm; and if ever you are cast away, I hope it won't be in one of our colonies, where there is no British Council. My sarvice to you,' and I made a scrape of my hind leg, and tossed off the whisky. Capital stuff it is too, when you're ship- wracked, and drenched, and cold. ■. ^'f"^"'- '' Well, as I stood by the chimney, the whisky within and the fire without fetched the steam out of my wet clothes like a cloud. 'Look here, galls,' says I, a-pointin' to it, ' how that gets up the steam.' And they larfed like anythin'. They'd soon lam English if a feller had time to teach them, don't you think so, Sir?" and he haw-hawed as merrily as if his troubles were as light as his pack. " Just then. Sir, in comes a critter that was dressed like a man about the upper part of its body and arms, and like a woman about its lower half, havin' a jacket above and a short petticoat below: But it had a beard and a pair of yaller hairy legs, it was rigged like a hemophrodite brig, but it called itself ' Aer,' it spoke a little broken Eoglish, but understood all I said, and it put it into Garlic for them, and it stopped their laughin', for they said ' Oh ! oh ! oh !' and the old oonan threw up both hands, and the galls looked as if it would liot take much to make 'em take pity on me and lam me Garlic. I could see by the way the strange critter went about the house and ordered things, that he was the old oonan's fancy man. Trowsers was scarce there, I suppose, and that's the reason he wore a petti- coat, seein' that there are no tailors in those woods. " Well, the spinnin'-wheels was set a one side, and the table set out, and we had a royal meal, and arterwards I made a motion like dancin', and the old boy gets out a fiddle, and we had a merry night of it. "Well, at last clothes was brought out, and four of the galls turned in in one corner of the room. The other two slept with the old ooman, in a little berth off, and the master mounted guard over mmmm^m OUR OOLONIKS AND SAILORS. 2W the galls, answered [ gets up, i if I was if it had up to my icr, that's They all the hint, md sat it In't think Q she did 3t away, I ao British r hind leg, Du're ship- nd the fire id. ' Look ho steam/ I if a feller law-hawed ike a man man about low: But ;ed like a tie broken ! for them, !' and the f it would Grarlic. I louse and Trowsers re a petti- table set otion like jrry night the galls ; with the ■uard over me, while I took a stretch for it on the hearth. Fact, I assure you, Sir, not a word of a lie in it. Oh, no ! I'm not that sort of a man at all, Sir. Well, in the mornin' four of the galls mounted their wheels on their shoulders, and I found from master's broken English I was to go with them ; so I slung my puck on, and takes up my hat, and I puts my hand in my pocket and pulls out some silver. < Thank you kindly, Sir,' said I, ' but I can afford to pay my way,' and holdin' out my opci hand, says I, ' will you just take whatever your charge is. Sir ?" . v7 >>"*;; ^': ..^••■/iv " Well, he got in a dreadful passion. He clapt both his hands behind him, cocked out his chin, and let go Garlic like a steam- engine ; and his wife got red in the face, and scolded like any thin'. 'Na-ah, na-ah, na-ah,' says they. "Well, I puts the silver back. Sais I, 'I beg your pardon, I didn't mean to intrude, I wouldn't offend you for the world.' And I bowed and scraped, and then held out my empty fin, and shook hands with them both ; and the old ooman spoke some kind words I know, for though it was Garlic it sounded soft, as much as to say, ' Safe homo to you, remember me to your mother.' " Well, we took up marchin' order — the galls first in course, then ]\Iorphroditc Brig, then me ; but as I got to the door, I turned and made the motion of the bottle to the old ooman, and she called back her husDund and brought it out, and he filled a glass, made a speech, and down with it. Then he poured out one for me, and I just dropt one knee down, and handed it to the old lady. ' Couldn't think of it, Marm,' snid I, ' afore you,' and she tossed it off without winkin', and looked racl pleased. And then my turn came, and after a volley of thanks, down it went, when he filled it again. " Well, thinks I, I ain't proud, and though you wouldn't touch my silver, I won't go get mad. I'll just set you a better example, and that drop followed the other, and I felt good. Sais I, ' They ought to make you British CouncW here, for you're the only one can talk English, pays all the bill, and shows the road home. If I see the Governor, I'll make so bold as t9 tell him so.' " Well, his wife wanted to know what pleased him so much, and he told her ; and we shook hands again, and parted. When we got to the gate, Mophrodite Brig came to an anchor, pointed up the road, and then pointed off to the right, as if directin' them ; and me, and the four galls, and four spinnin'-wheels, took a fresh departure, and steered eastward. Very kind people, them; I shall never forget them, though they were Garlic. Well, the galls had all the talk to themselves, and it was dull music. I tried 'em all, but it was no go ; it was all Garlic. Well, in course I convoyed the last of the fleet, though she could sail as fast as any of 'em, and she began to larn English fast; she only wanted a little trainin'. Let me carry your wheel for you, dear,' sais I, and I held out 22* « ( ,*.;«, *- , OUR COLONIES AND 8AIL011S., my hands for it. 'Pon my word, she understood every word of that, and gave mo the wheel to sling over my shoulder; then she went up to the others, and pointed to me and the wheel, and they stopt, put down their wheels, and nearly killed themselves a laughin'. *' Well, arter awhile I see the galls ready for makiu' sail again, and I just passed my right arm round the waist of my little Garlic friend, and lifted her up off the ground, and marched on. She laughed, and struggled, and kicked out like a haddock that is just hooked ; and the other galls enjoyed it first-rate. " Arter awhile I stopt, put out my lips, and bent my head towards her, and told her that was English for a kiss ; but she put up her hands to push my head back ; she didn't onderstand it. " Well, arter a little while I stopped and tried it again. It seemed then as if she had some idea what I meant, but warn't sure ; but the third time she held still, and I gave her an English kiss, and she gave me one in Garlic in return, and I sot her down. Oh ! that gall was very quick at larnin', and .she looked as if it was the same in bo^h languages, only it sounded different in Garlic. " We?l^ Sir, it was pretty much the same travellin' next day, only I hadn't the galls no longer, and here and there there was a little more English. At last I came to the great Bras d'Or Lake, and got^ a cast in a boat to the other side ; and, what do you think ? — upon my honour it's a fact, Sir — not a word of a lie in it — the people were all French! thick as hops. A great big chapel, with a cross on it as large as the foretopsail-yard of a seventy-four. The first fellow I met had shoes on like a leather mitten, a droU-lookin* little man with a pipe in his mouth. " * Hullo ! shipmate/ says I, ' where does the British Council live?' " He shook his head and walked on, and said nothin'. *^'You miserable, yaller-skinncd Frenoh rascal!' said I, 'if you don't give me a civil answer I'll horse you up over the first man's back I meet, and flog you like a school-boy ! — for it would take six such fellers as you to make a maji ! ' "He understood all I said; for he stopped and swore broken English at me, and called me everythin' you can think. Well, I gave chase out of fun ; and the way he ran to the house, and yelped like a dog that is hit with a stone, was as good as a play ! Well, I roared out a-larfin', and turned and got into the road again. Well, I asked two or three, and they spoke very civil, but very broken, and said they didn't know what I meant. At last, I met a man travel- lin' in a nice pha;-a-ton, and axed him. " ' Oh ! ' said he, ' there is no Consul here. This is a British province.' "'British ! ' says I; 'then what the devil are these French fe!- OUR 00L0NIE8 ANJ> BAILORS. 260 tish Counoil [vore broken lows doin' hero, if it's ono of our colonies? Why don't thoy oloor them out ? ' " ' They aro descended from thoso who were hero when wo con- quered it,' says ho; 'they're IJritisii Bubjects.' "If they are,' said I, 'they ought to bo made to speak English. And if I might bo so bold, Sir — I wouldn't oH'cnd you for the world — but who uro them outlandibh people up at Capo ^forth 'i I'm blowed if it aint worth while to call this ono ui urir culonics, when you're the only'nmu in three days journey can speak good English I' "'Why,' says he, 'those people speak Garlic, and aro Iligh- landers.' " ' Highlanders 1 Oh yes I to bo sure,' says I, ' I ought to havo known that. iJut I never know that they didn't speak English, and that t'loir language was Garlic. They aro the same as wo aro — like h6 two peas — only they don't act alike, dress alike, talk alike, or look alike. I thought tho' that little spinnin'-wheel kissed just like one of our English galls do 1 ' "'Jack,' says ho, 'you're a merry fellow. Nobody would think you had only just escaped with your life from a shipwreck ! Here's a dollar for you. Work your way on board of some of thoso vessels at St. Peter's to Halifax, and the merchants there will tell you what to do. Good-bye ! ' " ^ Thiink you kindly. Sir,' said I. ' But I hope I'll never bo cast away lo one of our colonics agin, where ther^ is no British Cowncil, and nothing but Garlic and French.' •' . " Well, Sir, the first vessel I saw was ' Captain Parks,' of this place, and I arrived here last night, and here it's all Dutch." There was no mistakiu' that man for uu. English sailor — jolly, thoughtless, and brave. But I couldn't help thinkin' how flatterin' it must be to colonists, when such a fuller as that calls their country " ourSf" as if ho was one of the joint owners 1 And yet ho has as much right to talk so, as any member of Parliament has who blathers in the House of Commons about them, as if he had made them his study for years, and yet never saw them. There's many a man boasts of bavin' known the Duke, who only saw him in the street ; and many a man knows all about the colonies, who has only seen them on a map. Like a Colonial Secretary, who ordered all Ameri- can prisoners to bo kept for safety at the fortress of Louisburg, which had been blown up and destroyed fifty years before by English engi- neers at the national expense. The British Government always runs to extremes — it eithei gov(3rns too much or too little, holds too tight a rein or takes the bridle off altogether. Tho true sup(3rintcndin' duty is like that of the tame eliphant. When I was to Calcutta, I went up to Meerat with a British officer j and when we came to a haltin'-station, what do you think we saw ? An eliphant in charge of the children. Tho 260 OUR COLONIES A III) SAILORSJ family was at work in the fields at some distance, and this great monstrous matron was left to look after their nursery. There was certain bounds that the youngsters was not to pass. Inside of the limits, they might amuse themselves as they liked, and were not interfered with. If any of them broke limits, the eliphant took 'em up with its trunk and sot 'em back ; and if they played tricks and tried to go beyond the mark often, they got a shake to remind 'em it warn't safe to attempt it. England might take an excellent lesson from the eliphant in rpanagin' her refractory children. She is big enough and strong enough to do it, and ugly enough to frighten 'em without hurtin' them. " I hope I don't intrude, Sir," said Jack, puttin' on his pack and preparin' for a march. "Which way did you say I must steer?" " To Annopolis," said I, " where there is a steamer in which you can work your way to St. John. From that there are constant oppor- tunities for England, and sailors are in great request. But you must inquire your road, or you may have to sleep out all night in the woods. . • "Oh, Sir!" sais he, "this time of the year, to a man like ihiB, who has paced the deck at night in all weathers, that's no great hardship." r " Here's somethin' to help you on the way." ■ "- :-;' "Thank you kindly. Sir." ■ "But stop," sais I, "I am waitin' for a friend here who lives in that house yonder. Hold on until he comes, and he will give you your supper and a night's lodgiu'. It's too late to take the road to-night." . ■ ': ' " Thank you. Sir," said he, resumin' his seat. " Oh, Sir ! a man who goes to all parts of the world seeth strange things now and agin, don't he ? Was you ever in New South Wales, Sir ?" :, "No, never." "Well, perhaps you've heard tell of it. It's another of ^our colonics.' I have been there in a man of war ; though, mind you. Sir, it warn't judges sent nie there. I'm not that sort of a man at all. Perhaps you've heard wc send our convicts to oUr ^colony there ;" and it's a bouuty on breakin' the law, Sir, for they are better off there than at home — fact, I tissure you — I have seen it myself. A block. Sir, at one end of the fcre-yard-arm, with a hemp neckcloth and a clear run aft, Sir, would save a deal of trouble. No, Sir, I didn't go out that way, but in Her Majesty's ship the 'Billyruffian' (Bellerophon). She was christened Billy, Sir, after King William — (xod bless him I — who was a sailor to the back-bone like me, and a ruffian to frighten the Frenchmen and Yankees." '^:( " Easy scared the Yankees, aint they ? " said I. " Well, Sir, they fight well, but they arc like the Irish." mmmm mmmmm OUR COLONIES AND SAILOES. 261 this great rhere was ide of the were not t took 'em ;ricks and ;miud 'em liphant in .nd strong >ut hurtin' 3 pack and steer?" which you tant oppor- But you 1 night in in like me, s no great lives in give you the road Sir ! a man and agin, of 'our mind you, a man at ir 'colony are better it myself, neckcloth No, Sir, I illyruffian' iVilliam — me, and a "How is that?" sais Ij for there is nothin' like hearin' what folks have to say. It's only your friends and your enemies that tell you of your faults. ''"i-; '"■' '■ ■ " ^'.:p-^^''r •-'';'; '' Well, Sir, if three Irishmen get hold of you they fight like devils, one to box you, and two to see fair play, by joinin' him and knockin' you down. And when the Yankees have a ship of heavier metal, and more guns than you, there's no denyin' of it, they do fight like men." I drew a long pufi^, took out my cigar, and spit out on the grass. Thinks I, you're a bigger fool than I took you to be ; but arter all you aint a bit bigger one than your countrymen generally are. " You see. Sir, the * Constitution' frigate — p'raps you may have heard of her ? Well, she was a sixty-four in disguise of a frigate. She was like a razee. Sir. P'raps you may have heard of a razee, though I don't suppose, living in 'our colonics' you ever see one. It's a seventy-four cut down, Sir, as if a razor cut off the upper dc6k. They are powerful vessels, Sir, and sail like the wind. Our admirals ' do nothin'. Sir, but build vessels, and then alter them. Some they cuts in two and lengthens, others they razee, and then shifts tho masts, first here, and then there, alter the rig, and so on. It amuses the old gentlemen, and costs nothin', for there is always plenty of workmen in the dockyards. Some they sell for whalers, becauso their bulwarks is too thick j others because their sterns are too round, and some because they are too sharp ; and some they breaks up to see how much longer they will last, but it's all good for trade. Well, Sir, the 'Constitution' was like a razee. The 'Gerry-arr' frigate was no match for her. But stop a bit, if the ' Billy-ruffian' had a fallen in with her, she'd a handled her pretty, I can tell you." "But you was talkin' of your convicts and colonies," sais I. " Oh yes, Sir," ^iiid he ; " there's a place out there called Swan River, Sir; p'raps you've heard of it? There is good anchorage ground among the islands there. Well, Sir, the captain gave us leave to have a run ashore, and we had the greatest fun you ever see. Sir. We started a kangeroo; p'raps you've heard of a kan- geroo}* It's a razeed giraffe. Sir. A giraffe is all fore-legs, neck, and h6ad, and has hardly any hind-legs j it is as steep as the roof of a house, you can't ride it at all, you slip right off over the tail. Well, Sir, the Lords of the Admiralty in old times there, afore the flood, razeed them, and invented the kangeroos. They are all hind- legs, and scarcely any fore ones at all ; you can't ride them either^ the saddle slips right over their heads. That's just the way they botches our ships. Sir, running from one extreme to the other Well, Sir, we started a kangeroo, and gave chase to it, overhauled it, and captured it, after a desperate struggle. They have a tail like a marlin'-spike, Sir, only its blunt at the end, and the way they strike with that is like a flail. I got a blow from it, Sir, savin* & ml EM- ii^ MIHVPiPHMqil •^^m-- 262 OUR COLONIES AND SAILORS. your presence, that nearly knocked my dead-lights in. When we first seed it, Sir, it was sittin' on a livin' three-legged stool, fact, Sir, I assure you, not a word of a lie in it. Sir, I am not that sort of a man at all, oh no ! Sir. It sat up on its hind-legs, and clapped out its tail stiff against the ground, and that made a nateral stool, and then it took its young ones on its knees and kissed them, and opened a bag it had under its belly, like an India-rubber travelliu'-bag, and stowed them careful away, and then off as hard as it could jump. For its size, perhaps, there is nothing in the world can jump with it, except it's a Portugese flea. Well, we overhauled it, Sir, for them three passengers stowed away in the hold was too much for it. " ' Well,' sais Bill Hodgens, who was full of the devil. Sir, savin* your presence ! says Bill, * boys, let's give it a chance for its life.' " Well, wo looked round, and there was a black swan in the river — black as ink. Sir ; fact, I assure you ; not a word of a lie in it. I never see one before or since. Well, Sir, we off clothes, and into the water arter it j and at last, we tired it out, and caught it." ♦' You ought to have taken that black nigger swan to England,'' sais I, '< to preach up the 'mancipation of their white brother swans, that are held in slavery there." " What's that ? " said he. « I don't understand." ■ - • ^ "Nothin'," saisl. "Goon." ' " ' "Well, Sir, what do you think we did? Says Bill Hodgens, * Let's belay the swan on to the kangaroo, with a slack of a fathom of rope, and let them run for it.' " No sooner said than done. Sir. Away went the kangaroo, with the swan a towin' of it, like a tug-steamer. When they went down hill, over went kangaroo, heels over head, ever so often ; its fore legs was too short. On the plain, it went like the wind ; and up-hill the swan pulled like an engine j and that was the last that ^ve saw of them. Fact, I assure you. Sir; not a word of a lie in it. Oh! no, Sir j I'm not that sort of a man at all. Sir." "Here's the boat," I said; and I rose up, and went to the beach. "Throw us the painter. Captain," said Jack; and as soon as he caught it, he said, " Hold on. Sir;" and pullin' it over his shouldor, he drew the boat up on the beach. " Where shall I belay it, Sir? " said he. " Fasten this killock to it," which he threw to him with as much ease as a biscuit, " and stick it in the sand," said my friend. "How are you. Goose?" said I. "I have been waitin' here some time for you." " Beg your pardon, Sir," said Jack ; " but were you ever in Ba- tavia ? " " No;" said Goose, lookin' puzzled. . - • ,'V' A PICNIC AT LA HAIVE When we il, fact, Sir, it sort of a slapped out ,1 stool, and and opened iu'-bag, and ould jump, imp with it, ir, for them for it. , Sir, savin' r its life.' in the river f a lie in it. les, and into ht it." England,'' other swans, " Because, hearin' your name Goose, reminds me the Dutch Go- vernor's name was Goose Van Dam." "I shouldn't wonder," said Goose. " Fact, I assure you, Sir. I saw him come on board our ship, the ' Billyruffian.' His Mightiness Goose Van Dam — p'raps you've heard of him — he was a Dutchman, Sir; though why they call thenl Dutchmen, when they come from Holland, I don't know." This was one of those remarkable coincidences in life, that some- times happen ; which, if inserted in a book, would be said to be too improbable to believe. He was rewarded by a hearty welcome. " Jack, was there a Oounsnl there ? " said I. "Indeed, there was. Sir. I'd a thousand times rather be ship- wrecked there, than out here in one of ' Our Colonies.' " ; \ . '■, |,'»'*^ CHAPTEE XXVI. - . vss^i^^r A PICNIC AT LA IlAlY^.^..^'h'-.'^^^'':^ffi^i ill Hodgens, of a fathom ingaroo, with y went down ten ; its fore ; and up-hill that ^78 saw in it. Oh I went to the soon as he his shoulder, slay it, Sir?" vith as much •lend, waitin' here ever in Ba- Early the followin' raornin' I was summoned by the pilot to go on board, as the wind was favourable for La Haive. Almost the first person I saw was poor Jack. Rocollectiu' that the nearest road to Annapolis was from that place, aiid not from Petite Riviere, I gave him a cast there on board the ' Black Hawk,' and this saved him a walk of seven or eight miles. La Haive is one of tlie most beautiful rivers in this country, extendin' from the Atlantic nearly across the province into the county of Annapolis, inhabited on either side by a hardy and thriviii' population. At its entrance are several extensive and valuable islands, formin' admirable shelters for vessels of tie largest class. Tradition says tbat in old times they were the resort of pirates, and dreamers have still visions of buried treasures and hidden caskets of Spanish gold. The real riches, however, are in the deep, and the fisheries yield them with less labour and risk. As we rounded the point that opens a view of the river, I was glad to observe a very large collec- tion of persons of both sexes in holiday attire, assembled apparently for some festive occasion. This part of the harbour had evidently been selected for the convenience of those who dwelt on the adjacent shore as well as on the banks of the river, and the green in front of the small cluster of houses was covered with numerous little family groups. •K ■p 264 A PICNIC AT LA HAIVE. ( I il, iii,:,a .S'il 1^, •f It is impossible in minglin' with the people of this coast, who are descended from the Germans and loyalists, and have by intermar- :,' ^> riagc founded, as it were, a new stock of the human family, not to ./'be struck with their personal appearance. The men are the finest ; - epecimens of the Nova Scotian race, and the women are singularly handsome. This remaiJi is applicable to the whole population of the southern shore, includin' Lunenberg and Chester; at the latter place the females are not to be surpassed in beauty by those of any part of the world that I have ever seen. Even Jack said '' We I have handsome galls in our colonies, Sir, their eyes are enpugh to make you wink." '■U-[:*-'-7y-p<:;-^- . .r ■ ■-'.■^: - u , ; v.r After saunterin' a little about among the crowd, T ente^reS a small . tavern to light my cigar, and took a seat at the window to regard this movin' scene. If there is a thing I like, it is to see folks en- joyin' themselves. In all ages there have been feasts as well as fasts in the world, and we wouldn't have had so many senses, and so much relish for pleasure if it was wrong to apply them to their iiat- eral uses. If the duty of life was to call out "Woe, woe," evcr- lastiuly, I guess that duty wouldn't have been rendered so hard by a .-if critter bein' endowed with laughin' faculties. Birds sing, colts race, fish leap, lambs sport, dogs give up barkin' and play roley poley on the grass, and even calves twist up their tails like a slip noose, and kick up their heels while they can, afore they get too stiff. Why shouldn't we do so too ? , • • ■ v . , • f .;« ; • >n -^5f ^ ;,, If the lily of the field has a beautiful white dress on, though there ' '" is nothin' in the quiet valle}"- where she lives to admire it but the bullfrog, why shouldn't a gall in the lone settlement wear one too, though there is so few to see it ? And if that ugly old maid, the sunflower, can hang its head and coquette with its great black eye and yellow lashes while it follows the sun, who is so high above it, and does no more than smile graciously on it, why shouldn't one of , I these handsome galls look up admirin' to me too, as much as to say . " I don't mind if you aint a fancy man, for I have good looks enough ,.:;> for both of us." And if the doves bill and coo and are happy, why , shouldn't wc fall in love and have mates too ? Oh ! but it is a sin to ■ :?jl dance, and a sin to sing, and a sin to go to concerts, and a sin to ■iJ^joke, and a sin so wear fine clothes, and there is a sin in everythin'. Do you know the reason, you pious old sinner ? Well, I'll tell you. You see a sin in all these things, because your own heart is full of sin. Your conscience squints, it looks two ways at once. You pretend to see harm one way where it aint, and yell as if you was a-goin to be stung by a snake ; but the other eye sees it in air- nest, in a sly corner, and you don't say a word, mum's the order of the day then. LookiJt' the wrorKj way puts people on the ivroixj scent. Oh! there is nothin' like a squintin' conscience, yon may depend What do you lay up money for, if you don't want none I i ■ l-l A PICNIC AT LA HAIVE. ^65 Lst, who are y intermar- iuily, not to •e the finest e singularly pulation of it the latter hose of any said "We e enough to ered a small w to regard ee folks en- :s as well as snses, and so to their nat- , woe," ever- so hard by a ig, colts race, )ley poley on ip noose, and stiff. Why though there •e it but the vear one too, d maid, the !at black eye gh above it, dn't one of uch as to say ooks enough happy, why it is a sin to and a sin to n every thin'. Veil, I'll tell own heart is 'ays at once, ■ell as if you ices it in air- the order of n the wrong ce, you may t want none 1 of those things ? Are you a-goin' to buy snares for the devil to noose your children with, you goney ? Well, that is a nice young man there, his hair is brushed down smooth, his shirt bosom is as plain as a white board fence. He don't go to balls, nor taverns, nor tandem clubs, nor to messes, but attends high teas at Dorcas meet- ings, and gives tracts to starvin' people with famishin' children — a model young man. Why don't you let him marry your daughter? " My daughter, Louisa ?" " Yes, your Louisa." "What, that fellow?" " Oh ! no, not that fellow, but that pious excellent young man." " Why, he is as mean as Job's turkey, and as poor as a church- mouse, that has nothin' but hymn-books to feed on." " Oh ! then gold is good ?" " Good ! to be sure it is ! You can't get on without it." "Yes ! but all the enjoyment that gold buys is wicked, so where is the good of it, but to make an image of it to worship ? " You old sinner the devil tempts you to hoard up for the fun of temptin' your children to squander; for he has a delight in takin' a rise out of such fellows as you be. I see how the game will eend. He will bag the whole brood of you some of these fine days, body and soul. Yes, yes ! lolien the fox turns preacher ^ the geese had letter not go to night meetins. " Yes, enjoy yourselves, my pretty girls, and when you begin to dance, I'll astonish your weak narves with the last Paris touch, won't I, Lucy Randall?" " W^hy, Mr. Slick, is that you?" " Yes, Miss, what's left of me, at least." I always say that to fish for what I always get. " Why, Mr. Slick, I never saw you look better in my life." It sounds good to an old bachelor like me, especially now as I want to persuade myself I do for Sophy's sake. " But, Lucy," sais I, a-whisperin' to her, and I returned the com- pliment, for galls like to hear it too. They know how handsome they be as well as you do, but they aint so sure the men think so. "Oh," said she, "Mr. Slick, now you're a-takin' me off." And away she ran, but not before she had promised to dance the^ next set with me. Is there any harm in that, old cock-your-mouth ? How did you court your wife ? The whites of the eyes, when turned up the way you do, aint very enticin'. You must have listened to the insinivation of the devil then, and tried to look killin', or courted as cats do, by starlight. But what are all the folks lookin' at, etarin* down the road that way ? Why, as I'm a livin' sinner, that fellow is a show, that's a factj. He was a tall bony man, with a slight stoop in his shoulders. He wore a Kossuth hat of the largest kind, orna- mented with a silver buckle in front as big as a curtain-band, a blue 23 ' ttfJt/fKmS^ m 266 A PICNIC AT LA HAIVE. y u frock-coat, lined throughout with fine black silk velvet, a satin waist- coat, covered with gold chains, and loose white drill trowsers, gathered in at the waist in large plaits, and surmounted by a red sash ; but the most remarkable thing about him was his beard, which extended nearly to his waist. He walked slowly through the crowd, accosted people as familiarly as if he had known them all his life, and flou- rished a large gold-headed cane. His eyes were small, black, rest- less, and piercin'. I saw as he came near the house, that he was a Yankee, and I felt streaked enough I tell you, for it is such fellers as that, that lowers our great nation, and are taken as specimens of Yankees, and not as exceptions. I drew back from the winder, for I didn't want him to see me. Blushin' for others is the next thing to takirU a Icickin' for them. It aint pleasant. Uut there was no escape — in he came. " Mr. Slick, I presume ?" said he. " I heerd you was here, Sir, and I called to pay my respects to you. I am Mr. Phinny," said he, " of Springfield, jMassachusetts. Perhaps you recollect the trip wo had down the Sound in the steamer, when the sailors> paid off from the frigate to Bostin harbour, were on board, and wanted to lynch their oificers, who happened to be there. I am in the danger- type line," he said, " here, and was a-showin' them my advertise- ment," touching his beard, eyein' his dress, and slyly winkin' at me. " Will you be on board to-night?" " Yes," sais I. " Then I'll call and see you there. I must return now, and go to work. I shall make a good thing of it here to-day. Simple people these. Critters that can eat sourcrout can swaller anythin'. Good mornin'." And he returned as he came, followed by every eye. " Who is that ?" was the general inquiry. " The man who takes your pictur," was the ready answer. His object was gained. He was notorious. His fame was spread far and near. I was glad to be released from him. How strange it is, as sure as you aint shaved the ladies get in to see you. If you have a poor dinner, a critter that is dainty says, " I don't mind if I go and take pot-luck with you to-day." If you are among grand people, a poor relation dressed in his poorest, that has nothin' to brag of but you, shoves right in, and sais, " Sam, how are you? How is Sail? Are you in the clock line yet?" Or if you are among foreigners, actin' up to the character of our great nation, a critter from down east, half-trapper, half-logger, with a touch of the river-rat, dressed like an ourang-outang, whose mother made liis clothes to save a tailor's bill, cuts in and takes a hand in the CMiiversation, so as to make you feel as small as the little end of notliiii' whittled down to a point, while all the rest of the company are splittin' with laughter ready to bust. And shows his wit by A I A PICNIC AT LA HAIVE. m pattin* a pet Spaniel dog of some gentleman on the head, and sud- denly, when he has coaxed him to look up, puttin' his eyes out, and half-chokin' him with a showev of tobacco-juice. " Why don't you chaw, doggy ? Well, I want to know j' ' and then brays out a laugh as loud as a donkey's. Phinny was one of them onexpectcd drift-logs, thivt was floatin* about in the eddy here, just where you didn't want to see him. It disconsartcd me ; so I strolled up stream, and stretched out in the grass under the shade of some spruces, and fell into a musin' fit. How is it that we are so like England as a whole, and differ so in parts, sais I to myself. Jack is a sailor, such as you see in England, but not in the States. Blackbeard Phinny is a travcllin' black-leg, such as you see in the States, but not in England ; but so it is, and it aint confined to those two specimens. Brag in its way is common to both. Jack talks of " our colonies^' as if he owned them all, and Dauger- type talks of " 07ir great nation" as if he was the biggest and best part of it. Now we are two great nations, that's a fact— the great- est, by a long chalk, of any in the world — speak the same language, have the same religion, and our constitution don't differ no great. We ought to draw closer than we do. We are big enough, equal enough, and strong enough not to be jealous of each other. United we are more nor a match for all the other nations put together, and can defy their fleets, armies, and millions. Single, we couldn't stand against all, and if one was to fall, where would the other be ? Mournin' over the grave that covers a relative whose place can never be filled. It is authors of silly books, editors of silly papers, and demagogues of silly parties that help to estrange r.s. I wish there was a gibbet high enough and strong enough to hang up all these enemies of mankind on. I have studied both nations, and love them both ; and after addin' all that is to be counted on one side, and subtractin' all that is to be deducted on the other, I aint candidly and fairly sartified which is the greatest of the two nations. But, on the whole, I think we are, take it altogether. The sum may be stated in this way : England is great in wealth, in population, in larnin', in energy, in manufac- tories, and in her possessions ; but then her weakness is in her size. I knew a man onct who was so tall he didn't know when his feet was cold, they were so far from his heart. That is the case with England and her distant colonies. She don't know the state of fcelin' there, and sore spots are allowed to mortify until amputation is necessary. Giants aint formidable folks in a general way. Their joints are loose, their bodies are too heavy, their motions unwieldy — they knock their heads agin doors, and can't stow away their legs in coaches or under tables, their backs aint fit for daily work, and m itt'/'^. mm 268 A P I N I C AT LA II A I V E . |^ light-built fellers can dance round them, and insult them, without danger of bcin' caught. :, there is no security wlierc tfierc is a Committee of Safety. A sr is hanged on sus- picion there sometimes, but then it's only biu/en-faced fellows that sufier. Golden locks — and your hair is as yaller as a carrot — will save your life anywhere." "Well," sais he, "after all its better nor farmin', aint it? It's sickly tho', they tell me." " Oh, no ! nothin' to speak of. There is the bullet-fevcr, to be sure; but if you keep out of its way it won't hurt you." " But what do you think of Australia ?" " No go," sais I ; "a man can make a fortune of a million or two there in no time ; but when he comes back, if he goes to England (which he would in course, for no man with such a lot of money as that would come back to La Ilaive), folks button up their pockets and edge off. Judges give him a kno\7in' wink, as if they bad seen him afore, and policemen swear they knew him of old about town; and as like as not he will be took up for some one else, for many a handsomer fellow than you bo has been strung up before now. It's no great credit to be a colonist at any time ; but Botany Bay ! Oh ! it's the devil ! It aint much to say you are a bishop there, for folks laugh and say the greater the sinner the greater the saint. You can't even boast of your acquaintance- — no matter if they are great people. You won't raise yourself by gayin' you played cards with Smith O'Brien ; and by turnin' up the Knave of Clubs, won a nug- get of ore that was as heavy as himself, and he hadn't weight enough to stretch a rope ; but still it is a great thing if you are invited among grand people, and dine off of silver, to be able to say my gridiron and my tea-kettle are gold — real pure gold — yellow as saf- fron, and no ailoy." ¥ .int it? It's A PICNIC AT LA HAIVK. 271 " I see," Baid Bluo-nose, " you don't think much of either of them. What locality do you recommend, for this is no place for a smart man ; it was made of a Saturday night when it was late, and the job was only half done ; and it appears to me all the ballast of the ark was throwcd out here," and he looked pleased, as if he said somethin' clever. " Kockyfornia," sais I, "is the country for mo.'* ' ■■' "Rockyfornia !" sais he; "I never heerd of it." " You wouldn't know it," sais I, " if I was to tell you, for you don't onderstand geography ; it aint taught in the school to Bridge- Port; and if I was to show you the map, you wouldn't bo a bit the wiser. That's the place for rich deposits; it beats Melbum and Pacific murder fields of gold all holler." '' Do tell," sais he, " where is it ?" "I knew," said I, "a party of men go there onct, and afore twelve o'clock one day clear two thousand pounds, and in the evenin* two thousand more. What do you think of that, my old boy ?" i sais I, clappin' of him on the shoulder. " Where was that ? Do, for goodness gnicious sake, tell me ?" " Well," sais I, " I will if you can keep a secret, for there aint but few people as knows it. Will you promise me ?" "I'll swear to it," sais he. "Oh! then I won't believe you at all," sais I. "Voluniary oaths aint bindin'. I'll affarm; well, that's an equivocatin' oath. Father used to say that no man affarms, but a critter that likes to lie his own way ; he lifts up his hand, and sais, * Take that for an oath ; it's an oath to you, but it aint to me, for I shut down three fingers, and who cares for the minority?' But, accordin' to my opinion, and I have no prejudices, affarmin' is just as good as swearin' when the truth aiut a-goin' to be told." "Well, I'll kiss the book." "What in natur' is the use in you kissin' a book you can't read?" "Well, on my honour." " Honour ! what's that ? An honourable man pays his grog debts, and cheats his tr;idesman." "Well, I hope I may die, if I do." " Well, you'll die at any rate, whether you do, or whether you don't. Even old Mathusalem had to die at last; and it's my opinion he must have been blind, and deaf, and stupid, like an old dog, many a day afore he did go^ and was in every one's way." " Well, what security can I give you ?" "I'll trust you like a man," sais I; "I'll take you at your word." " Thank you, Sir. Your confidence aint misplaced, I do assure you." " Where is this wonderful country ? a poor despiseable one," said 1, " called Nova Scotia. I saw a thousand barrels of macarel drawn 'I ft ? is 272 A PICNIC AT LA UAiVe/' i in ono soinc, and thoy were worth two pounds a barrel. Now go to school, and learn multiplication-table, and see how much that haul was worth." " Oh, yes," said ho, "but you have to catch them, clean them, and bilrrcl them, and then take them to market, before you touch your pay. But strike the pickaxe into the ground, and out with a nugget worth twenty or thirty pounds — aiut that what wo call short metre, to singin'-school V "Well, it aint a much shorter sum than t'other one," said I. " First, you have got to dig, and then you have to bale out the hole, and then it caves in, and buries the pick-axe, shovel, and basket; and then you go and buy others, and at it agin ; and artcr a while, ague comes, that shakes the bedstead down, like dyin' convulsions; first, it most roasts you, then it most freezes you, and at last you hit the nugget, as big as a piece of chalk, and yoa put it into your pack, buy a pair of pistols, powder and ball, and a long knife, to defend it, and tramp down to town, walkin' all night, and wiukin' all day, aud faintin' almost all the time ; and when you go to sell it, one-third id quartz, one-third dirt, and one-third the real auriferous deposit, scat- tered about in little particles of gold, as big as currant-seeds, in a substance called matrix. Instead of a farm, it will only purchase a night's lodgin', and a new pair of shoes to walk back in. Oh ! go to the diggins, by all means. It is a lottery, to be sure ; but you may draw a prize. The only thing is, that when you come to count the cost, you are apt to look blank yourself; but one blank to a prize aint much out of the way, as lotteries go." "Mr. Slick," said he, "do you think me a fool, to talk to me that way ?" "No," sais I; "I don't think so at all; I know it." "Well, thcn,'^ sais he, "I'll teach you better manners;" and really, them fellers that have Dutch blood in them like fightin' rather better than arguin' ; and Master Pete Fink was in rael airnest, so he began to square off. Thinks I, Sam, you have pushed this a little too far; and if you don't mind your stops, you'll have to lick him, which will do neither of you any good, and will lower your position in society. So I stept back a little, and just then saw old Sorrow, the black cook and fiddler. " Ki !" sais I, and the nigger saw at once what I wanted, and came double quick. " Mr. Pete," sais I, " I warn't brought up to fightin' and wranglin' ; as mother used \jo say, " ' Little children, never let Your angry passions rise, Your little hands were never meant • To tear each other's eyes.' " Oh ! how ravin' mad that made him ! lie fairly hopped agin. Polcin' is toorse than hittin' , any time ; no one can stand it, hardly. A PICNIC AT LA II A I V E 273 " Here is a 'mancipated nigger," saia I, " which you poor dos- pisable Colonists aiiit. Wc look down upon you, and so do the British : and you dou't respect yourselves. You are neither chalk nor cheese J but this coloured gentleman will butt, goudge, fight, or kick shins with you, whichever you please. Sorrow, make this man sing, ' Oh ! be joyful !' " and I strolled on, and left them. Lucy was flirtin* with my friend, the Captin ; and Eunice Snare said that he had put Captain Hooft Hoogstratcn's nose out of joint, and wondered when ho returned from the West Indies what he would think of the way she was behavia'. i "Haven't wo had a pleasant day?" said she. ""Who do you think is the prettiest girl here ; come tell me now. I aint fishin' for compliments, so don't say mo for perliteness, for ' praise to tho face is open disgrace,' but just say now any other. Which do you think is the handsomest young lady?" " There is nobody handsome," sais I, " where you are, Eunice." "Phoo!" said she, "how stupid yoa are; are you as active as you used to be, Mr. Slick, when you could jump over three horses standin' side by side ?" " Suppose we have a race." ;;.• And off we went as hard as we could clip. I noticed wo was be- hind a screen of spruces that concealed us from view, and therefore didn't mind; and away we, went up the windin' road like wink. At last she gave in, and sat down on a windfall-log fairly beat out. Oh, she panted like a hunted hare. Well, in course I sat down along side of her, and had to support her with my arm, and her voice was almost entirely gone, and we had to talk in signs with our lips in- stead of our voices. It was a long time afore she came to, and she had to rest her head on my shoulder, when " Eunice, Eunice," was shouted out as clear as a whistle. It gave her a convulsive fit amost. Slie pressed me so close, and then sprang up as short as a steel-trap. "That is Lucy llandall's voice," said she, "aint it provokin' ? Come, let us return, Mr. Slick. Oh, Lucy dear !" said she, deter- mined to have the first word. " We have been lookin' for you every- where. Mr. Slick said he was sure he saw you come this way; but I said, I thought the Captin had rowed you to the island." What that meant I don't know, but it disconsarted the young lady, who was no match for her rival. She merely said : " Snares arc oftener set in shady places than in public thorough- fares." But this little skirmish ended immediately, and tho two beautiful girls were on the best possible terms with each other in less than no time. It's a charmin' thing to see how lovin' young ladies aio to each other when men are by. I wonder if they are so when thej are by themselves. After a hand is played out you have to shuflSe 274 A PIONIO AT LA HAIVE. K the cards, cut, chango places, and take a new deal ; and Lucy and I was partners again. '•What do you think of Miss Snare?" said she, "Some folks," (layin' great stress upon the some, as if they were plaguey few) " aotilly do say she is very handsome." '" *' Well, she warn't behind the door when beauty was given out, that's a fact." "She is not the gfrl," said she, "to be behind the door at no time," and she looked wicked. " The babes in the woods lost their way, didn't they?" and she laughed like anythin'. " Well," sais I, "you are apt to lose your way, and go round and round in the woods when yo'i are too busy, talkin*, to mind turnin's. Supposin' I row you over to the island ; come let's see what sort of a place that is. They say Captain Hooft Hoogstraten is goin' to build there." " What story is that," said she, and she stopt a minit and coloured up, as she looked inquirinly into my face. " What story \8 that Eunice has been tellin' you of me ? I should like to hear it, for I don't know what it means." " Nord cither," said I, " I only heard you a sparrin' a little, and that's the jibe she gave you. You heard as much as J did. When I walk with young ladies I generally talk to them of themselves and not of others. I wouldn't let any one speak agin you, Lucy; if they did, they would only lower themselves. It's nateral if she did foci kinder jealous of you ; two splendiferous galls, like you two, are like two candles." " How is that ?" s^aid she. " Why, one will light a whole room as clear as day : fetch the second in, and it takes half the power of the other olF and don't make things much brigliter arter all." " That's no reason why one should be blowed out," said she. "No, dear; but if one should go out of itself, you aint left in the dark." " Oh 1 that would scare a body dreadfully, wouldn't it ?" said she, and she larfed as if the idea was not so very frightful arter all. ^ "So you like two strings to your bow, do you?" she said. "I haven't one yet,'' said I, "I wish I had. Now you have three; there is Mr. Hooft Hoogstraten, what a thunderin' hard hame he has got." " Neither he nor his name is anytbin' to me," and she spoke with an angry air ; but I went on. "There is Hoogstraten, or whatever it is, and the Captain and mc ; and you are so hard to please, you want to keep us all." "What flirts all you men are," said she. "But oh, my sakes! aint that tree lovely ? just one mass of flowers. Hold me up please, A PICNIC AT LA IIAIVE, jucy and I me folks," ,guey few) given out, door at no Is lost their > round and [id turnin's. jhat sort of is goin' to ind coloured :ory :s that ear it, for I a little, and did. When mselves and luey ; if they she did foci ou two, are ; i'etch the and don't lid she. flint left in y" said she, 'ul arter all. nv you have oderin' hard e spoke with Captain and all." li, my sakes ! ue up please, Oh dear ! how Mr. Slick, till I get a branch off of that apple-tree, sweet it smells." Well I took her m my arms and lifted her up, but she was a long time a choosin' of a wreath, and that one she put round my bat, and then she gathered some sprigs for a nosegay. " " Don't hold me bo high, please. There smell that, aint it beau- tiful ? I hope I aint a showin' of my ankles." *' Lucy, how my heart beats,'* sais I, and it did too, it thundered like a sledge-hammer : I actilly thought it would have tore my waist- coat buttons off. "Don't you hear it go bump, bump, bump, Lucy ? I wonder if it ever busts like a biler ; for holdin' such a gall as you be, Lucy, in one's arms aint safe, it is as much as one's — " " Don't be silly," said she, larfin', " or I"' get right down this minit. No," she said, " I don't hear it beat j ^ don't believe you've got any heart at all." "There," said 1, bringin' her a little farther forward, "don't you hear it now ? Listen." ''No," said she, "it's nothin* but your watch tickin',"' and she larfed like anyiliin' j '• I thought so." " You haven't got no heart at all, have you ?" sais I. " It never has been tried yet," said she. " I hardly know whether I havi) one or not." " Oh ! then you don't know whether it is in the right place or not." "' Ye?i it is," said she, a pullin' of my whiskers; "yes it is just in the right place, just where it ought to be," and she put my hand on it; "where elst would you have it, dear, but where it is? But, hush !" said she; "I saw Eunice Snare just now; she is a comin* round the turn there. Set me down quick, please. Ain't it pr(>- vokiu'? that gall fairly harnts me. I 'jope she didn't see me in your arms." " I'll lift her up to the tree too," sais I, " if you like ; and then — " " Oh no !" said she, " it aint worth while. I don't care what she Bays or thinks one snap of my finger," and advanein' rapidly, held out the nosegay, and presented it to the Captin. " Ah !" sais I, gazin' sadly over her shoulder, " here comes Sorrow." ^ " Sorrow !" said both the young ladies at onct. " Yes, Sorrow," sais I ; " don't you see him ?" and as they turned round, they both exclaimed : " Why, it's only a niggar !" " Yes, but his name is Sorrow, and he is the bearer of bad news, I know." " Captin," said the darkie messenger, " Massa Pilot say, please, come on board, Sar ; tide is all right fer crossin' de bar, if der is de leastest morsel of wind in de world." " Well that is provokin' !" said Lucy. I ■i- 1 .-T^^m^' ifj 276 A NAREOW ESCAPE, I' ' !l •■ ' \ "Well I do declare, that is too bad !" said Eunice. ' Thinks I to myself, " Ah, sorrow," as poor old Minister used to say, and he was a book of poetry himself, he was full of wise saws, " Ah, sorrow, how close you tread on the heels of enjoyment ! The rose has its thorn, the peach its worm ; and decay lies concealed in the chalice of the flower. All earthly things are doomed to pass away. The feast ceases ; the day expires ; the night wears out at lasv; joy departs when most enjoyed. The cord snaps in twain, and is parted for ever. Life is not a dream, 'tis but a gleam. The sunny spot of the morning, is the shady side of the evening. We have no abidin' place ; we must move with the changing scene, or it leaves and forgets us." How well I remember bis very words, poor dear old man. How mysterious it is, he used to say, that in the midst of gaiety, serious thoughts like unbidden guests, should intrude where they are neither expected nor wanted. All however is not affected alike. The hearse and the mourner pass unobserved in the crowd, one con- tains a dead body and the other an aching heart, while all around is noise, frivolity, or business. Poor old soul, nobody talked like him I do believe. " Yes it is a sudden partin', but it is better that is so, Lucy," thought I, "for we haven't had time to be quite foolish, and the knowledge of that makes even folly agreeable." CHAPTER XXYII. A NARROW ESCAPE. The wind came in slight puffs and died away, sportin' about here and there, just rufflin' the surface in places, but not heavy enough to raise a ripple. The sailors called those spots cat's-paws. It con- tinuv J in this way until the tide had ebbed so far as to obstruct our passage over the bar, and we were compelled to remain where we were until the morning. While walkin' up and down the deck with the Captin, talkin' over the events of the day, we observed a boat put off, and steer for the ' Black Hawk.' There was no mistakin' the man in the stern ; it was Phiuny, the daugertype-man. "Who in the world is that feller !:"' said the Captin. " A countryman of ourn," I said. "And no great credit to us either, I should think," he replied. " It takes a great many strange fellows to make a world ; but I wish ours would stay at home, and not make us ridiculous abroad. No sensible man ever dressed that way, and no honest man would like to publish himself a rogue. What does he want!""' " I'll soon find that out," said I; "for tho' I wouldn't care to be ■er used to wise saws, ent ! The )ncealed in cd to pass 3ars out at ; in twain, earn. The ning. We g scene, or lan. t of gaiety, 2re they are }cted alike, ^d, one con- 11 aroupd is ed like him sr that is so, foolish, and about here enough to s. It con- •bstruct our In where we e deck with h'ved a boat mistakiu' ho replied. but I wish broad. No would like care to be A NARPOW ESCAPE. , 277 : ^ ■ : ' . * ■ seen talkin' to him ashore, I should like to draw him out now we are alone, for he is a character. Such critters look ivell in a jnciur^ tho' there in nofhin' to admire in themselves." lie handed up a small carpet-bag and his gold-headed cane, and mounted the deck with surprisin' agility. ' J ^: \\ " ' " How are you, gcntle-?Hew .^" said he. " What port do you hail from, Captin ?" And without waitin' for a reply went on rapidly from one question to another. '' Walked into the Bluenoses to-day, Mr. Slick, to the tune of four hundred dollars, between sales of prints and daugertypes. Can you set me ashore bymeby, or shall I make this Dytcher wait for rae ? Fde rather he should go. Fellows ■who have no tongues are often all eyes and ears, " All right," said the Captin. " Now, gentle-men," said Phinny, "suppose we go below ?" The Captin larfed at his free-and-easy manner, but continued pacin' the deck, while Mr. Phinny and myself descended to the cabin. " Which is your state-room, Mr. Slick ?" said he, and takin' his carpet-bag in his hand, he entered and closed the door after him. I returned to the deck, and advised Cutler to swaller his disgust, and come and hear the feller talk. What was our astonishment at tindiu' another person there, as onliko the one who came on board as it was possible for any two people in the world to be ! The enor- mous black beard and whiskers were gone ; the velvet coat was ex- changed for a common jacket; and the gold chains and satin waist- coat were superseded by a warm, grey, homespun vest. "Do you know me now. Slick r"' said he; for a feller that don't respect locks, don't mind handles, in a general way. "Do you mind Jaamin Phinny, or Jawin' Phinny, as they used to call me ?" " Y^cs," said I, with a strong revoltin' feeliu' of dislike, mixed up with great curiosity, for he was a noted bird — a bold, darin', on- principled feller. * " Have you got anythin' to drink 7" he said. "Yes. What will you have?" "Anythin' you please,'' he said; "for I am a citizen of the whole univarsal United States world. Drink water in Maine, cham- paigne in New York, cider in" Pennsylvania, and everything in New Oiieens, from whiskey down to red-ink — that they call claret. I aint no ways partikilar : like 'em all but water, as I do the women — all but the old ones. I say, did you see that Snare gall ? aint she a sneezer — a regelar ring-tailed roarer ? T have half a mind to marry that heifer, tho' wives are bothersome critters when you have too nuuiy of them. I have three on hand jist now, and they talk as savage as meat-axes sometimes, about States prison. You can't >"eform 'cm, the only way is to ehlo)-ifoYm. them." "Oh, Lucy!" thinks I, "I am glad you are safe, at any rtite. But still I wish Hoogstraten would make haste back from the West 24 \w> m I- "aM* 278 A NARROW ESCAPE, h* ■* Indies ; for the devil is among you, a-roamin' aboutj seekin' whom he may devour. As for Eunice, she can take care of herself: galls that romp like her, know bow to fend off better than gentler ones like you, Lucy. And, besides, there are two things Phinny don't know — one is, that all natur' has its instincts for self-preservation, and xvolves can't allure, tliey only scare their prey ; and another ia an old farm saw we used to have to Slickville, It aint the noisiest cart that's the easiest upsot always. If he goes to handle Eunice rough, she'll clapper-claw his false beard off in no time ; for she is as springy as a catamount. The country galls are all vartuous, and their arts are only what's common to the sex in general. Innocence is alioays unsuspicious, and is apt to he a little grain too free and easy. If Phinny mistakes that for boldness, the Dutch boys will make La Halve too hot for him, I know." I saw Cutler was gittin' impatient, and I was afraid he would lose his temper with the feller. He didn't know what I do — that there is an hypocracy in vice as well as religion. It's the pride of some folks — like Jaamin — to make you think they surpass all in their line, as it is among others, to make you believe they are saints. The one tries to frighten you into the road he wants you to travel, and the dther to seduce you into confidence. Both masks are fur- nished by the devil. " I had no notion, Mr. Phinny," said I, " that that was a false beard you wore ! What is your object in wearing it ?" " Object !" said he, "why to advertise myself, to be sure. ^ Who is that man with the beard ?' ' The man that takes daugertypes.' Folks won't stop to read yonr hand-hills, but they must look at your chin-hiU. They can't help it nohow they can fix it. And then there is another object : it aint always pleasant to be known, especially if the police are after you ; and a disguise may save you a sore throat some day. I'll tell you how I got it. Last year I was to New Or- leens, a sarvin' of my master as faithful as ever any man did — " " Your master," sais I. " Yes," said he, " my master, the devil. Well, one night I got in a'raost an all-fired row. I never could keep out of them to save my life ; they seem kinder natcral to me. I guess there must have been a row in the house when I was born, for I can't recollect the fust I was in, 1 began so airly. Well, one night I hccred an awful noise in a gamblin'-house there. Everybody was ttvlkin' at ouct, swearin' at onct, and hittin' at onct. It sounded so beautiful and enticin' I couldn't go by, and 1 just up stairs, and dashed right into it like w:nk. They had been playiu' fur one of the most angelife- rous slave-galls I ever seed. She was all but white, a plaguey sight more near white than any Spanish, or Portuguese, or Eyetalien gall you x3vor laid eyes on ; in fact, then^ was uothin' black about her but her hair. A Frenchman owned her, and now claimed her back ■ A NARKOW ESCAPE, 279 !;! on his single resarved throw. The gall stood on a chair in full view, a perfect pictur' of Southern beauty, dressed to the greatest advan- tage, well educated, and a prize fit for President Tyler to win. I worked my way up to where she was, and sais I : ^ > • r " ' Are them your sale papers ?' " ' Yes,' sais she ; ' all .prepared, except the blank for the winner's name.' " ' Put them .in your pocket,' sais I, ' dear. Now is there any way to escape ?' " * Back door,' said she, pointin' to one behind her. " 'All right,' sais I; ' don't be skeered. I'll die for you, but I'll have you.' " The fight was now general, every feller in the room was at it, for they said the owner wis a cheatin' of them. The French and furriners were on one si A NARROW ESCAPE 281 [y like the grain does le marrow •xh, and it lile, began re ; so one first rate, board with ' ho fleeced jin' pretty 3, he chal- _ broke him md dollars, lened. As has got no fc the time bout Cuba, I then. So bat critter? i' a suckin* re will con- jff-side of a tlie pocket- owed it all and stuffed , pretcudiu' ic gambler- ce. I had )t into the d to go to me (for we I will try up, I shall esides, who and there hand, ' and y, lik'^ two of it for " ' Yes,' sais I, 'friend j but if I am sewed up, I aint green. The ftxct is, I never play in luck when I am sober.' But after a great deal of palaver, sais I, 'I'll t«ll you what I'll do; I'll lock it up in the carpel>bag, and if you get the key out of njy trowscrs pocket without wakin' me, you are a cleverer feller than I take you to be.' " So I opens the bag, rams the pocket-book well down, and then locks all up safe, and arter many false dodges, gets into bed, and oifs into a fast sleep in no time. About an hour afore day, the bell rang, there was a movin' on deck, and we was at a landin'-place. Gambler crawls out o' bed cautiously, and as silent as a cut whips up the carpet-bag, and oflFs ashore like a shot ; and away we went up stream agin, puffin' and blowin' as if the engine was wrathy. Just at the first dawn we gets out and goes on deck, and found, sure enough, a man answerin' to gambler, only he had no beard, had gone ashore with a travelliu'-bag in his hand. He fell right into the trap. " New Orleens, Slick, is a better College for edueatin' and finishin' a feller off than Vixburg, arter all. There are more professors and more science in it. Well, as soon as we touched on the other shore, I lauded, took the stage, and cut across the country to Albany, to get out of the critter's boat, for he was a feller that would dog you like a bloodhound. In his bed I found that beard, which was all ho left in exchange for that are valuable }»ocket-book. If he was a good scholar, I guess it wouldn't take him long to count his money. Since then, I have been up and down, and all through our great na- tion ; but it's gettin' to be too small a lot for me to feed in without bciu' put into pound as a stray critter. So I changed ground for new pastures, and have done first-rate in these provinces. " The daugortype line would just suit you, Slick. It's a grand business to study human natur' in. The greatest shine I ever cut was in Canada. It beat the rise I took out of the gambler all holler. I sold five hundred bishops and two thousand priests there. It was a lirst-rate stroke of business. I'll tell you how it was — (this is super- superior brandy of yourn. Slick; it's a sin to spile it with water, and a man should never sin for uothin' ; it makes it too cheap ; it is posi- tively a cordial.) I couldn't do nothin' Avith the French to Canada at first. They were too careful of their money. They wouldn't come near me, nor even look at me. So what does I do, but go to the bishop, and asks him to do me the honour to sit to me, that I might have a likeness of him to present to my honoured and re- spected friend, the Bishop of New Orleens, who was one of the best men that ever lived, and if his life was spared, would convart the whole city — which was greatly needed, for it was an awful wicked place — and begged him to let me duplicate it for himself, as a mark of my veneration for the head of the only true Church, on the face of the universal airth. 24 * k L*U rf^ 282 A NARROW ESCAPE. ,r i " I coazcd him into it, and gave bim bis copy ; but ho behaved handsum, and insisted on payin' for it. Tlic other I put into the winder. The people were delighted with it, and I multiplied them, and sold five hundred at a great advance on the common price — for the last was in course always the only one left on band — and wher- ever I went, I gave one to the priest of the parish, and then he Bot for me, and I sold him in turn by the dozens, and so on all through the piece. A livin' bishop is worth a hundred dead saints any time. There is a way of doin' everythiu', if you only know bow to go about it.'' " Mr. Phinny," said Sorrow, who just then opened the cabin-door, " Captin sais boat is ready, Sar." "Slick," said Phinny, who understood the hint, "your skipper is not an overly civil man ; for two cents I'd chuck him into the boat, and wallop him till he rowed me ashore himself I hate such mealy- mouthed, no-soul, cantin' fellers. He puts me in mind of a Captin I onct sailed with from Charleston to Cuba. He used to call mo in to prayers every night at nine o'clock ; and when that was over, he'd say, ' Come, now, Phinny, let's have a chat about the galls.' Broad- cloth chajps, like your skipper, aint fit for the fisheries, that's a fact. He is out of place, and looks ridiculous, like a man with a pair of canvass trowsers, an old slouched hat, and a bran new, go-to-meetin' coat on." Having delivered himself of this abuse, ho turned to and put on bis. advertisin' dress, as he called it. The long beard, velvet-lined coat, satin waistcoat, and gold chains, were all in their old places j and takin' his carpet-bag and heavy cane, he ascended the deck. " Is toder gentleman goin'," said Sorrow, " dat was in de cabin ?" " Oh, I forgot him," said Phinny, winkin' to me. " Call him, that's a good fellow." In a few minutes, the poor nigger came back, dreadfully fright- ened; bis wool standiu' out straight, his teeth chatterin', and his body tremblin' all over. " He no dare, Sar. I sarch ebbery where, and no sec him ; and call ebbcrywhere, and he no answer." " He must be the devil, then," said Phinny, who sprang into tho boat and pushed off. Sorrow followed him with his eyes a moment or two in silence, and then said, " By Golly ! I tink you is de debbil yousef ; for I'll take my Bible disposition, I see two people down dare in de cabin. Oh, dear ! how stupid dis nigger is ! I wish I had de sensibility to look at his foot. Oh ! he is de debbil, and nuffin' else." " You are right. Sorrow," said I. " He is a devil that." When the poor nigger was prcparin' the cabin for supper, he went on talkin' aloud to himself " What a damnable ting rum and brandy must be, when debbils is so amasin' fond of 'em. By golly, but he ab empteed both hot- A NARROW ESCAPE. 283 ties. He so used to fire, he no mind dat, no more nor a backet do a drop. What ridikilous onhansom disgustin' tings dem long beards be ! How in do world do he eat his soup wid dat great long mop haufrin' down his front, do way bosses hab do tails on behind. Sar- tin it is a dcbblish fashion dat." " That fellow,'' said the Captain, who now came below, " may be called a regular devil." " Ki," said Sorrow. " Now I is certain of do fac, dis here nigga, Massa, made do self-same argument to Massa Slick. But do i)der debil in de carpet-bag was de wusser of de two. As I am a Chris- tian sinner, I heard him with my own blessed ears say, * Come now, Funuy' — dat is de name he gave Massa Slick — ' Come, now. Fun- ny,' said he, ' let's go to prayers fust, and den talk ob de galls.' De onsarcurasised, ondcgenerate, diabolical willains. I is grad we is quit of 'em." '' Supper, Sorrow," said the Captain; "and when that is ready, see that the men have theirs. We are behind time to-night." " Sorrow," sais I, a-lookin' serious, '' what's that behind you ?" " Oh ! Lord ab massy on dis nigger," said he, jumpin' up, and showin' two white rings round his eyes like a wall-eyed boss, " What is it, Massa ? I is so awful frightened, I can't look 1" " It's only your own sbadder," said I. " Come, move quick now. Didn't you hear the Captio ?" '^I is most afeerd to go forrard to-night, dat are a fac," he said; " but dere is de mate now ; he will be more wusser frightened still dan I be." " Tell him the devil is goin' to sue him, Sorrow," sais I, " Yah ! yah ! yah !" was the reply of the nigger. " I go tell him de debil is a lawyer, wid his constable in his bag, yah ! yah I yah 1" and the laugh composed his narvcs. In the mornin' there was a light breeze outside ; but we were becalmed by the high lands of La Halve, and waited impatiently for it to reach us. " Pilot,'^ sais I, " come and sit dovm here. " Was you ever at Canseau, '^^'hcre the great shore mackerel-fishery is ?" " Often and often, 8ir," said he. " Oh ! them's the Nova Scotia gold-diggin's, if the folks only knowd it,- at least, that's my logic. I'll tell you how it is, Sir. To carry on the fishery, there must be a smooth beach to draw the seine on, and a place for huts, stores, hovels, and shops and so on. The fishery is nothin' without the landin'-place, and the shore lots of no value without the fishery. The great thing is to own the land ; and if a sensible man owned that, it would be a fortin to him, and his children arter him in all time to come. I'll give you an idea how it's worked, and of the value "of the catch and the soil too, for the man that has the estate may be said to own the fishery too. I only wish I was able for it; V t'tj 1)// , J' ■ '' 284 A N A II HOW ESCAPE V but I aint rich enough To buy Causcaii, or Fox Island, or Crow Har- bour, and any o' them garrison towns or dockyards of the mackerel. " You could purchase any or all of them, Mr. Slick, for you are well to do in the world, and are an onderstandin' man, and could carry on the business in spite of treaties, men-of-war, Bluc-noso laws, and all. It only wants a little study. Laws aint like fine bait-nets, 80 small squids can't go thro' them, but they are open enough for hake or cod ; and bigger fish break 'em to pieces, and laugh at 'em — that's my logic. Well, we'll say I own the land there; and it wouldn't be the fust lie that has been told about me, if folks did so. All uatur lies hero. The fog lies along the coast ; and the weather lies so you can't depend on it; the tides get on a spree sometimes, and run up the gut of Canseau a whole week on a stretch,, and pre- tend to go up and down twice a-day ; the newspapers lie so, the mo- ment you see a thing in 'em, put it down at once as false; the men lie a-bed, and vow they are goin' ahead; the women take a great shindy to your money, lie like the devil, and say it's you and not your pocket they are in love with. Everythiu' lies but rates, and they come round when they promise ; but they aint above takin' an oatli e^.ther that you are twice as well off as you be, if you don't happen to be on their side; that's my logic at any rate. Well, we'll say I own it. Confound the thing; I can't get beyond that. It's like Ezra Foreman's eyes. "The doctor ordered him to bathe them in brandy and water, but he never could get it higher than his mouth ; he was sure to spill it down there. Well we'll say I own it, and that I follered their wretched systum down there. If so Ide build a lot of poor log-huts twenty feet square, and let them to a crew of six men each — only see what a rent of fish that is ? and a few long sheds of stores, and let them enormous high. Well fishin'-season comes, and black, white, and grey flock down to my land — which is filled like a hive — all makiu' honey for me. Well then comes a man with eight hands, and a large boat with a seine in it. When they see the fish strikin' in along shore, they pay out one hundred and fifty, or two hundred fathom of seine from the boat, havin' furst made one ecnd of the net fast ashore. Well eight men can't haul such a seine as that, so he goes to the shore, and sais : ' Come, and haul the net in, and then dip away, like good fellows, and you shall have half of all your dip." All that pays heavy toll to me. I actilly saw thirteen hundred barrels took at one haul; aij eight dollars each, that is worth two thousand six hundred pounds. Sposin' now, Mr. Slick, you and I owned the place, and conducted it proper, wouldn't we beat Australia and California all to rags. " Sposin' we had our own people there, instead of tag-rag and bob- tail, owned the seines, nets, and dip-scoops, salt, barrels, ana all that, where would we be ? As it is, what is it ? Nothin' but con- A N ARROW ,K SCAPE, 285 Crow Ilar- ) mackerel, or yoa are and could -nose laws, e bait-nets, enough for ;li at 'em — re; and it jlks did so. ,he weather sometimes, li,,and pre- so, the mo- 2j the men ike a great 3 you and I but rates, ibovc takin' f you don't Well, we'll that. It's . water, but 3 to spill it lered their or log-huts each — only stores, and and black, iko a hive with eight ee the tish 'ty, or two one eend a seine as the net in, half of all w thirteen h, that is Mr. Slick, ouldn't we ^ and bob- s, ana all but con- fusion, noise and scramble. Got a deputatiw to sarvo a writ there, and you'll soon find out what it is. What they call to England free- trade and no protection, but main strength. If you and 1 owned it, it wouldn't do to be too strict either. Strictness is a game two oan play at. Gulls and galls don't go near them, there are too many guns and men for 'em together, tho' both on 'em have watery mouths when the season comes. I knew a feller there ouct, who lived about the handiest to tho fisheries, that lost his wife. Well, he \\ent to the next house, and borrowed a sheet to lay her out with, and bein' short o' these things, he buried her in it. Well, what does tho old woman ho got it of do, but ask him for the sheet, if she had done with it, and bothered him so every time she saw hira, he said he would pay her, or give her one every bit as good. lie was so mad at last, he went and dug his wife up, took her in his arms, walked into the house one night, and lay'd her on the table. " Says he, good woman, I am obliged to you for the loan of tho sheet, there it is. When you have taken it off, put my old lady back agin into the grave, will you," and he left her there. If there warnt a hullaballo there then, there aint no cols in Tusket. That comes o' bein' too strict. Give and take, live and let live, that's the word. You can't do without me, for you hante got no pilot, and I can't do without you, for I want your cash, and flour, and pork " ^' Exactly," sui ! T, " Eldad. Jf there is no hook the chain is no good ; hut the chain is ahuai/s (/nnnhlin' orjin the hooh, though all the strain is on it. Every critter Ims his jilace and his purpose." *'If that's the case," said he, '* f should like to know what place and use Jawin' Phinny's is '/" " You oughtn't to ask that," saii I, "for you are a fishorman, and ought to kno\- better. What use is the shark, tho thrasher, and sea-monsters? There muat be human sbariis,, thrashers, and land-monsters too. If a feller can't be coaxed to go strait ahead, he may be frightened into it. That vi; tin would scare you in' miudin' your p's and q's, I know. We don't understand those thing . llicre are finger-posts to shoioyou the road, andgibUts to warn you off the common, v:hen you leave the turnjyikc. ^('frms make oaks take deeper root. Vice makes vartue look iccll to its anchors. It's only allurin' sin that's dangerous:'^ ScrijAur don't icarn us agin wolves, except tchen th'_-/ uave sheep' s-clothin' on. But I aint a preacher, and one man doiv'u make a congregation, any more than one link makes a chain. V/ell, then the seine and in shore fish- eries," sais I, " is worth io-i times as much as what we make ten times more out of!" Slliil! * Horace was of liio same opinion : " Decipit exemplar, vitiis imitabile." IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) <>/ 1.0 I.I • 5 '""^^ IM 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 *• 6" — ► 01 %. t^ (^. .V o w /A Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAh4 ', 'REE» WEBSTER, NY. 14S8C (716) 872-4503 % o 4^ ^ c> <^ % V '^^ ? f/i ^^^ fmmm PIF^WpiPIPB," fm L" 286 A NARROW ESCAPE. " Why, to bo sure it is ; but jou are a riggin' of me now, Mr. Slick." ^-.f ** It would take fi clever feller to rig you, Eldad/' sais I. "You are an understandin' man, and talk sense. I have been talkin' to you man-fashion, strait up and down, because I take you to be a man, that when you speak about the fisheries, knows what you are a talkin' about." " Well, said he, " I do, that's a fact. I warnt born yesterday," and he looked good all over. " Squire, you laugh at me about this. Now, just look here. See how the critter swallowed that. It was a piece of truth — the rael thing, and no soft sawder, but he liked it, jumped at it, an*' ^wal- lowed it. I say again it was a fact ; the man did know what was a talkin' about; but there was a hook in it for all that, and I had him in hand like a trout. Tell you what, fishers of men, and that's a high vocation — such as parsons, lawyers, doctors, politicians, presi- dents, kings, and so on (I say nothin' about women, 'cause they beat 'em all) ; but all these fishers of men ought to know the right bait to use. What the plague does Lord John Russell know about reform \n colleges. Thei'e should be a professor of bait in every col- lege. It's a science. His Lordship has one or two baits, as our coasters have of smelts and clams. He has free trade, extension of franchise, and admission of Jews in Parliament, and has used 'cm till people wont bite no longer. He is obliged to jig them as our folks do macu/el, when they wont rise to the line. Ashley has the low church, and factory children bait. Morpeth has batht, for wash- ing coal-heavers' faces. Both these men have changed their names since I was to England, and hang me if I know their new ones. The English nobility have as many alias's as an Old Bailey convict. O'Connell had the Irish bait. Hume, the economy; and Cobden the Peace Society bait. But the grand mistake they all moke is this — each feller sticks to his own, in season and out of season, and "expects all sorts and sizes to take it. He ought to know every variety of them, and select thsm for the occasion, as a fisherman does his flies and his worms. The devil is the only man of edieation, and the only accomplished gentleman in this line, and he applies it all to bad purposes. That feller can tempt all created critturs to evil. Why shouldn't we tempt 'em to good ? You say this is trick ; I say it's knowledge. You say it's cunnin' ; I say it's con- summate skill. You say it's artifice ; I say it's high art. How is it that a super-superior cook has more pay than a captain in the navy, or a major in the army ? Simply because he is master of bait, and can tempt all the oddest and rarest fish to your net. He can tickle the palate of all ranks, from a nabob, with his lack of rupees, down to a chap like poor Hook, who had a lack of everythin' but wit. It aint the duke who commands good company to his table, mmmmm A NARROW ESCAPE. ' 287 for I know one that can't tell sherry from madeira, but it's hia bait- master-general, his cook. Ah ! Prince Albert, if you want to immor- talize yourself, found a bait professorship at Cambridge ; and if you doubt' me, ask Cardinal Wiseman, if I don'j know what I am talk- ing about; for he is a sensible man, and up to snuff; and the way he hooked Newman and a lot of other chaps, whose mouths were bigger than their eyes, is a caution to sinners. But I must get back to Eldad and the fisheries. - •...•'-•» " Eldad," sais I, " what is the difference between a Sable Island bloater and other macarel V " I'll tell you," said he, " providin' you promise me, if you write a book of your travels, you will set it down." V • '^'-.\Z:'^. "Certainly," sais I. ,; ;.: .= . . ^ v^ ^i^i^^-x " Then you promise me ?" " To be sure I do," sais I. " "What X say I mean, and what I mean I do. That's my rule." " Well then," said he, " I will tell you how they are so much bigger and fatter. They feed on the unburied dead there. Every storm washes up drowned bodies, and they float, for they are as soft as jelly, and full of air, and the macarel eat them, and grow, and thrive, as doctors and lawyers do, who are fond of the same food. All these feed on the dead, and are fat and on wholesome." "I never knew anythin' so shockin'," I said; "I shall never touch, or even look at a Sable Island bloater agin without disgust.'' "I hope not," said he, risin' with much excitement, "nor any other human bein'. I hope that article is done for, and out of market. The truth is, its a long lane that has no turn in it. The last load I brought from there, I got so chiseled in the sale of it by that outfittin' firm of ' Salt and Sienes,' that I vowed vengeance agin 'em, and the time has now come for satisfaction. When you print that story, see whether they will be able to sell bloaters to Boston any more. Honesty is the best policy ; they won't^ain much by havin' cheated me. But, here is the breeze; we must weigh anchor," and in a few minutes, we were slowly sailin' out of the harbour. We had hardly cleared the river, when it failed us again, and the vessel lay motionless on the water. " Here is a shoal of macarel," said he; "would you like to see how we manage?" "Well, I would," said I, "that's a fact;" but the Captin objected stoutly. -'k^^^"''^ " We are within the treaty limits," said he. " That is a solemn compact atween our governments, and we ought to abide by our engagements." "Shol" sais I; "who cares for dead-letter treaties! Fish was made for food, and if the folks here won't take 'em, why I see no- thin' to prevent us. It ain't their property ; it's common stock for all the world, and first come first served is the rule." iHi' -:if^ 288 A NARROW ESCAPE. r-O' r "It's law," said he, f^and that's enough for me." I didn't tell him he had been violatin' law all along the coast, by sellin' things without enterin' of them at the Custom House and payin' the duties, for he warn't used to it, and didn't think of 'it. " Cutler," sais I, " our ambassador used to say there was two sorts of wrong — moral wrong, and legal wrong; that the first couldn't be done on no account, but legal wrong could, because it was more statute regulation: only if you are catched, you must pay the penalty." '' Yes," said he, " that is just on a par with political honesty. 1 can have no hand in it. I am little more than a passenger here, engaged by you. The responsibility rests with you. If you think proper to fish, do so, but excuse me." And ho went below. " Well, well," sais I, " I'll save you harmless, let what will happen." In a few minutes the boat was got ready, the lines fastened to the taffrail, salt and cut food thrown over to make the fish rise well to the surface, and we went at it in airnest. It's amazin' how quick they was taken. Splittin' and saltin' is done in no time. The splitter h provided with a blunt-pointed knife, like a shoemaker's in shape, and gauged with a leather thong, so as to leave about two inches of the blade exposed. With this, he splits the fish down the back, from the nose to the root of the tail, and actilly splits a hun- dred in three minutes, or as fast as two men can hand them to him. If he is a smart hand, as the mate was, he keeps three gibbers a-goin' as fast as they can for their life. The gibber covers his left hand with a mitten, to enable him to have a good grip, and to protect him agin "the bones of the fish, and with the forefinger and thumb of the right hand extracts the gills and garbage. The mackarel is then thrown into a tub and washed, and arter that, salted at the rate of a bushel of salt to a cask. I had heard th^rocess so often described, I knew it well enough, but I never saw it before; and I must say, I was astonished at the rapidity with which it was done. - " Well," sais I, "Eldad, that's quick work we are makin' of it here, aint it ? It's quite excitin' when you see it for the fust time." He was then stretched out at full length on the stern, and was nearly all covered over with a watch-cloak ; but he rose deliberately, and put away his spy-glass on the binnacle. " Yes," said he, " and we are goin' to have quick work made with us too ; and I guess you will find that very excitin' when you are nabbed for the first time." " How is that ?" sais I. "W^ell," said he, "sit down here, Sir, with your back to the men, so as not to draw attention. Do you see that arc square-rigged vessel that's a fetchin' of the breeze down with her, while we lay here like a log ? She is a British man-of-war ; I know her well ; coast, by ouse and ; of 'it. two sorts uldn't be ivas mere pay the nesty. 1 iger bore, you tbink w. what will ned to tbe ise well to how quick me. The maker's in about two I down the its a bun- sm to him. ee gibbers ble him to e fish, and 3 the gills id washed, I cask. I lough, but led at the akin' of it ■ust time." Q, and was iliberately, he, "an*d guess you irst time." ick to the la re-rigged lile we lay her well ; A NARROW ESOAPE. 389 she is the * Spitfire/ Captain Stoker. I was the pilot on board of her last summer in the Bay of Fundy, and he hates the Yankees like pyson. He'll be down on us afore we know where we be, and snap us up as a duck does a June-bag." "Can't we dodge among the islands?" said I. " His boat will cut us off." j^ r «*: ;> "Go into shoal water up the river?" vv. . r.. ^^^►^•.i* j ■ :5>^"'w"l.:^: "Wus and wus ! that way he is sure to nab us." V v.V.. "Well, can't we show him our heels?" "With this breeze that is a comin', he has the heels of ua." " Well," sais I, " Pilot, this is a bad box, and nX) mistake ; but I have got out of many a wus fix afore now, by keepin' a cool head and a steady hand. Face him ; don't let him run arter us. Let us give him chase. " I'll bother him, see if I don't. He won't know what to make of that bold move. It will take him all aback, wus than a shift of wind." " I'll tell you now, though I never mentioned it afore, and don't want it spoke of to anybody. I am an officer of high rank in our Government, and have my commission with me. Let him touch us if he dare. Put her about ; the breeze is here now, and beat up to him." The order was executed in a moment. " Mate," sais I, "do you see that are vessel there ? " , ,; "Well, she is a man-of-war. There is a warrant out arter us. Clear up the deck and swab it as dry as a bone." " We shall be sued," said he, " had up in the Admiralty, and smashed in costs. I know'd that would be the eend of it, all along." "Go forward, you coward," said I, "immediately, and do your work, or I'll appoint another officer in your place. This is no time for drivellin', you blockhead. Send the second mate here. Mr. Bent," said I, " where can we hide these wet lines ? " " I can stow them away," said he, " in the studdin'-sail." "Exactly," sais I. " Do it at once. Get the fish-barrels headed in and loaded with ballast-stones, ready for sinkin', and make all clean and snug." "Aye, aye, Sir." — - • -'' i" ■' '* " Eldad, beat the schooner so as to lose all you get amost. All we want is to gain time." I then went below, and explained all to the Captin. He began immediately to protest against resistance, as we were unlawfully em- ployed; when I said, "Cutler, I will take all responsibility; I must assume command here for a little while;" and I went to the desk, took out the case containin' my commission, letters, &c., and said, "Read them over. Now, Eldad," sais I, as I returned, dressed up 25 t i '■' mmm mifm 290 A NARROW ESCAPE. \ in my embassy official coat, " explain to me the navigation. Is that all open, bold, plain-sailin' between that island and the main ? " " No, Sir, there is a long shoal sand-bar, stretchin' off to the nor'- west. I guess it was onct high land. The channel is between that and the shore." " Jist so. How is it about the islands ? " "Deep enough for a seventy-fbur." v^fNJ**c -;S^*^? -Sf^'^ "Exactly," sais I. "I have two courses before me: to entice him on to that bar and then slip thro' the islands, and dodge him and his guns, or to hail him, and go on board boldly. But I p.-efer the first, for therfe is more fun in it. Don't go one inch beyond the bar, but beat between that and the island, it will make him think the channel is there ; and if his pilot is a Bay-of-Fundy man, I know they aint much acquainted with this part of the South coast. Is all right, Mr. Bent?" " All right. Sir." ^^:C<%>.-r;>-:^ -^.. v. :-\^:,^^'-f^-'Cff^^M " See the decks are covered over with some of the house-sand we took in at Petite Riviere ; it will absorb any moisture left by the swabs ; and when I pass the word, let it be swept off. Mate, hoist the peniant, and place the flag where a commodore's ought to be." " He is nearing us fast, Mr. Slick," said the pilot. -kj*. ,'fvW "Yes; but it is time she sheered off to the left, aint it?" sais 1, " Well, it is," said he. " 'Bout ship, there. Hold up well for the passage between the islands, there, now." " Pilot," sais I, " if he clears the bar, lay the ' Black Hawk' to, and I'll board him, show him my commission, and advise him to be , cautious how he interferes with our fishin' crafts, unless he wants to bring on a war ; talk big in a soft way, and all that. If I don't conflustrigate him, it's a pity, that's all. Mr. Bent, get the gig ready; see the davits are all clear; and do you and four picked hands stand by to jump in at onct. We must lead off fust in this (, game, if wo want to win. Move quick." " Aye, aye, Sir." . - *W~^:.^v.^ j;^ .;[^.;^^^, " Eldad ! Yellow Jack is a trump card ; aint he ? " ^I'^c ■-''"*> -' " Guess he io," said he. " But your father spoiled a good Captin in the navy, to make a wooden clockmaker of you, that's a fact." " This is an awkward scra;/e, and there is no two ways about it. But what in the world does the Britisher mean ? Aint he got a chart on board ? He'll be ashore in a minit as sure as fate. There he is ! I thought so, hard and fast ; it's a wonder his masts didn't go. Ease off the mainsail a bit — there she goes ! Now's our time, in the confusion, for a run. Lay down flat, men, in case he fires. We are all safe now, I believe." ** v .,-,•■ ■ ■ ^^- -•. • .; ■■v> " ^^ Just as I spoke the words, bang went a gun, and a shot skipped by our stern so close as to throw the spray on us. "A miss is as good as a mile," said Eldad. . ; '...''<• /i>;? A NARROW ESCAPE, 291 " Crowd on all sail now, my men, out with the studdin' sails — bu quick there ; steer straight for that headland, and that will keep tie island between us and the Spit^re. Cutler," said I, and he was on deck in a minit, " we are safe now, and I surrender my command to you." " Where is the man-of-war ? " said he, lookin' round. ♦' On the sand bar, on the other side of the island," I replied. " I guess they are goin' to grave her, or perhaps survey the channel, for their chart don't seem no good," and I gave him a wink, but he didn't smile. " Mr. Slick," said he, *' that commission puts it out of your power to act the boy, and play tricks that way. You are the last man that ought to compromise the government." - c- "rf^ ■, '■ >\ " Cutler," sais I, " you are as correct as a Wbt-jack, and I respect your scruples, I admit it was a thoughtless frolic,, aud it shan't happen again." ^ ' ■** " That's right," suid he, " I knew you were only doin' of it out of fun, but there are times when we must not commit ourselves. If any cruiser interferes with us in our lawful pursuits, I will resist to the death, but I never will draw blood in defendin' a wrong act." Cutler was right; if we begin to do lorong in fun, we are apt to eend hy doin' wrong in airnist. " Well, Eldad," said I, " what do you think of that dodge, eh ? I am afeard," said I, winkin' to him, for the mate was within hear- in', " I am afeard we shall all be took up, tried in court, and ruin- ated in damages, for decoyin' that vessel ashore." -. "Oh, Mr. Slick!" ho replied, "let me be," and he hung his head and walked forard. "Well, Mr. Slick," said Eldad, "you are the man for my money, arter all You taU' the most sense and the most nonsense of any person I oversee. You -play with the galls, take rises out of the men, tell stories by the hour, and seem made on purpose for rollickin. On the other hand, no danger scares you, and no difficulty stops you. No other man would have got out of that are scrape but yourself. Not content with that, you have turned the tables on Captain Stoker, and put him into a most a beautiful of a frizzle of a fix." " Well," sais I, " don't say no more for goodness gracious sake, for I have a friend who, when he reads it, will say it's all my vanity. Come, let's go below and liquor ; but I must say m^'self, Eldad, that was a reel 'warroM? escape.' " ;...., ;.- .., .; iB'^ '■..■■. I: ..... -.,■. .. . ::-f ■ -.^ THE END. '. f ^y-. '•: