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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7823-0.txt b/7823-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70d2c1f --- /dev/null +++ b/7823-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9404 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Attache, by Thomas Chandler Haliburton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Attache + or, Sam Slick in England, Complete + +Author: Thomas Chandler Haliburton + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7823] +Posting Date: July 23, 2009 +Last Updated: October 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATTACHE *** + + + + +Produced by Gardner Buchanan + + + + + +THE ATTACHE + +or, SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. + +By Thomas Chandler Haliburton + + +(Greek Text)--GREEK PROVERB. + +Tell you what, report my speeches if you like, but if you put my talk +in, I’ll give you the mitten, as sure as you are born.--SLICKVILLE +TRANSLATION + + + +London, July 3rd, 1843. + +MY DEAR HOPKINSON, + +I have spent so many agreeable hours at Edgeworth heretofore, that my +first visit on leaving London, will be to your hospitable mansion. In +the meantime, I beg leave to introduce to you my “Attache,” who will +precede me several days. His politics are similar to your own; I wish I +could say as much in favour of his humour. His eccentricities will stand +in need of your indulgence; but if you can overlook these, I am not +without hopes that his originality, quaint sayings, and queer views of +things in England, will afford you some amusement. At all events, I feel +assured you will receive him kindly; if not for his own merits, at least +for the sake of + +Yours always, + +THE AUTHOR. + +To EDMUND HOPKINSON ESQ. Edgeworth, Gloucestershire. + + + + CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. + + CHAPTER I. UNCORKING A BOTTLE + CHAPTER II. A JUICY DAY IN THE COUNTRY + CHAPTER III. TYING A NIGHT-CAP + CHAPTER IV. HOME AND THE SEA + CHAPTER V. T’OTHER EEND OF THE GUN + CHAPTER VI. SMALL POTATOES AND FEW IN A HILL + CHAPTER VII. A GENTLEMAN AT LARGE + CHAPTER VIII. SEEING LIVERPOOL + CHAPTER IX. CHANGING A NAME + CHAPTER X. THE NELSON MONUMENT + CHAPTER XI. COTTAGES + CHAPTER XII. STEALING THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE + CHAPTER XIII. NATUR’ + CHAPTER XIV. THE SOCDOLAGER + CHAPTER XV. DINING OUT + + + CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. + + CHAPTER I. THE NOSE OF A SPY + CHAPTER II. THE PATRON; OR, THE COW’S TAIL + CHAPTER III. ASCOT RACES + CHAPTER IV. THE GANDER PULLING + CHAPTER V. THE BLACK STOLE + CHAPTER VI. THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE’S HORSE + CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN THE COUNTRY + CHAPTER VIII. BUNKUM + CHAPTER IX. THROWING THE LAVENDER + CHAPTER X. AIMING HIGH + CHAPTER XI. A SWOI-REE + CHAPTER XII. TATTERSALL’S + CHAPTER XIII. LOOKING BACK + CHAPTER XIV. CROSSING THE BORDER + CHAPTER XV. THE IRISH PREFACE + + + + +THE ATTACHE; OR SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. + + + + +CHAPTER I. UNCORKING A BOTTLE. + +We left New York in the afternoon of -- day of May, 184-, and embarked +on board of the good Packet ship “Tyler” for England. Our party +consisted of the Reverend Mr. Hopewell, Samuel Slick, Esq., myself, and +Jube Japan, a black servant of the Attache. + +I love brevity--I am a man of few words, and, therefore, +constitutionally economical of them; but brevity is apt to degenerate +into obscurity. Writing a book, however, and book-making, are two very +different things: “spinning a yarn” is mechanical, and book-making +savours of trade, and is the employment of a manufacturer. The author +by profession, weaves his web by the piece, and as there is much +competition in this branch of trade, extends it over the greatest +possible surface, so as to make the most of his raw material. Hence +every work of fancy is made to reach to three volumes, otherwise it will +not pay, and a manufacture that does not requite the cost of production, +invariably and inevitably terminates in bankruptcy. A thought, +therefore, like a pound of cotton, must be well spun out to be valuable. +It is very contemptuous to say of a man, that he has but one idea, but +it is the highest meed of praise that can be bestowed on a book. A man, +who writes thus, can write for ever. + +Now, it is not only not my intention to write for ever, or as Mr. Slick +would say “for everlastinly;” but to make my bow and retire very soon +from the press altogether. I might assign many reasons for this modest +course, all of them plausible, and some of them indeed quite dignified. +I like dignity: any man who has lived the greater part of his life in +a colony is so accustomed to it, that he becomes quite enamoured of it, +and wrapping himself up in it as a cloak, stalks abroad the “observed of +all observers.” I could undervalue this species of writing if I +thought proper, affect a contempt for idiomatic humour, or hint at the +employment being inconsistent with the grave discharge of important +official duties, which are so distressingly onerous, as not to leave +me a moment for recreation; but these airs, though dignified, will +unfortunately not avail me. I shall put my dignity into my pocket, +therefore, and disclose the real cause of this diffidence. + +In the year one thousand eight hundred and fourteen, I embarked at +Halifax on board the Buffalo store-ship for England. She was a noble +teak built ship of twelve or thirteen hundred tons burden, had excellent +accommodation, and carried over to merry old England, a very merry party +of passengers, _quorum parva pars fui_, a youngster just emerged from +college. + +On the banks of Newfoundland we were becalmed, and the passengers amused +themselves by throwing overboard a bottle, and shooting at it with ball. +The guns used for this occasion, were the King’s muskets, taken from the +arm-chest on the quarter-deck. The shooting was execrable. It was hard +to say which were worse marksmen, the officers of the ship, or the +passengers. Not a bottle was hit: many reasons were offered for this +failure, but the two principal ones were, that the muskets were bad, and +that it required great skill to overcome the difficulty occasioned by +both, the vessel and the bottle being in motion at the same time, and +that motion dissimilar. + +I lost my patience. I had never practised shooting with ball; I had +frightened a few snipe, and wounded a few partridges, but that was +the extent of my experience. I knew, however, that I could not by any +possibility shoot worse than every body else had done, and might by +accident shoot better. + +“Give me a gun, Captain,” said I, “and I will shew you how to uncork +that bottle.” + +I took the musket, but its weight was beyond my strength of arm. I was +afraid that I could not hold it out steadily, even for a moment, it was +so very heavy--I threw it up with a desperate effort and fired. The neck +of the bottle flew up in the air a full yard, and then disappeared. I +was amazed myself at my success. Every body was surprised, but as every +body attributed it to long practice, they were not so much astonished as +I was, who knew it was wholly owing to chance. It was a lucky hit, and I +made the most of it; success made me arrogant, and boy-like, I became a +boaster. + +“Ah,” said I coolly, “you must be born with a rifle in your hand, +Captain, to shoot well. Every body shoots well in America. I do not call +myself a good shot. I have not had the requisite experience; but there +are those who can take out the eye of a squirrel at a hundred yards.” + +“Can you see the eye of a squirrel at that distance?” said the Captain, +with a knowing wink of his own little ferret eye. + +That question, which raised a general laugh at my expense, was a +puzzler. The absurdity of the story, which I had heard a thousand times, +never struck me so forcibly. But I was not to be pat down so easily. + +“See it!” said I, “why not? Try it and you will find your sight improve +with your shooting. Now, I can’t boast of being a good marksman myself; +my studies” (and here I looked big, for I doubted if he could even read, +much less construe a chapter in the Greek Testament) “did not leave me +much time. A squirrel is too small an object for all but an experienced +man, but a “_large_” mark like a quart bottle can easily be hit at a +hundred yards--that is nothing.” + +“I will take you a bet,” said he, “of a doubloon, you do not do it +again?” + +“Thank you,” I replied with great indifference: “I never bet, and +besides, that gun has so injured my shoulder, that I could not, if I +would.” + +By that accidental shot, I obtained a great name as a marksman, and by +prudence I retained it all the voyage. This is precisely my case now, +gentle reader. I made an accidental hit with the Clockmaker: when he +ceases to speak, I shall cease to write. The little reputation I then +acquired, I do not intend to jeopardize by trying too many experiments. +I know that it was chance--many people think it was skill. If they +choose to think so, they have a right to their opinion, and that opinion +is fame. I value this reputation too highly not to take care of it. + +As I do not intend then to write often, I shall not wire-draw my +subjects, for the mere purpose of filling my pages. Still a book should +be perfect within itself, and intelligible without reference to other +books. Authors are vain people, and vanity as well as dignity is +indigenous to a colony. Like a pastry-cook’s apprentice, I see so much +of both their sweet things around me daily, that I have no appetite for +either of them. + +I might perhaps be pardoned, if I took it for granted, that the +dramatis personae of this work were sufficiently known, not to require +a particular introduction. Dickens assumed the fact that his book on +America would travel wherever the English language was spoken, and, +therefore, called it “Notes for General Circulation.” Even Colonists +say, that this was too bad, and if they say so, it must be so. I shall, +therefore, briefly state, who and what the persons are that composed our +travelling party, as if they were wholly unknown to fame, and then leave +them to speak for themselves. + +The Reverend Mr. Hopewell is a very aged clergyman of the Church of +England, and was educated at Cambridge College, in Massachusetts. +Previously to the revolution, he was appointed rector of a small parish +in Connecticut. When the colonies obtained their independence, he +remained with his little flock in his native land, and continued to +minister to their spiritual wants until within a few years, when his +parishioners becoming Unitarians, gave him his dismissal. Affable in +his manners and simple in his habits, with a mind well stored with human +lore, and a heart full of kindness for his fellow-creatures, he was at +once an agreeable and an instructive companion. Born and educated in the +United States, when they were British dependencies, and possessed of +a thorough knowledge of the causes which led to the rebellion, and the +means used to hasten the crisis, he was at home on all colonial +topics; while his great experience of both monarchical and democratical +governments, derived from a long residence in both, made him a most +valuable authority on politics generally. + +Mr. Samuel Slick is a native of the same parish, and received his +education from Mr. Hopewell. I first became acquainted with him while +travelling in Nova Scotia. He was then a manufacturer and vendor of +wooden clocks. My first impression of him was by no means favourable. He +forced himself most unceremoniously into my company and conversation. I +was disposed to shake him off, but could not. Talk he would, and as his +talk was of that kind, which did not require much reply on my part, he +took my silence for acquiescence, and talked on. I soon found that he +was a character; and, as he knew every part of the lower colonies, and +every body in them, I employed him as my guide. + +I have made at different times three several tours with him, the results +of which I have given in three several series of a work, entitled the +“Clockmaker, or the Sayings and Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick.” Our last +tour terminated at New York, where, in consequence of the celebrity he +obtained from these “Sayings and Doings” he received the appointment of +Attache to the American Legation at the Court of St. James’s. The +object of this work is to continue the record of his observations and +proceedings in England. + +The third person of the party, gentle reader, is your humble servant, +Thomas Poker, Esquire, a native of Nova Scotia, and a retired member of +the Provincial bar. My name will seldom appear in these pages, as I am +uniformly addressed by both my companions as “Squire,” nor shall I have +to perform the disagreeable task of “reporting my own speeches,” for +naturally taciturn, I delight in listening rather than talking, and +modestly prefer the duties of an amanuensis, to the responsibilities of +original composition. + +The last personage is Jube Japan, a black servant of the Attache. + +Such are the persons who composed the little party that embarked at New +York, on board the Packet ship “Tyler,” and sailed on the -- of May, +184-, for England. + +The motto prefixed to this work + + (Greek Text) + +sufficiently explains its character. Classes and not individuals have +been selected for observation. National traits are fair subjects for +satire or for praise, but personal peculiarities claim the privilege of +exemption in right of that hospitality, through whose medium they have +been alone exhibited. Public topics are public property; every body has +a right to use them without leave and without apology. It is only when +we quit the limits of this “common” and enter upon “private grounds,” + that we are guilty of “a trespass.” This distinction is alike obvious to +good sense and right feeling. I have endeavoured to keep it constantly +in view; and if at any time I shall be supposed to have erred (I say +“supposed,” for I am unconscious of having done so) I must claim the +indulgence always granted to involuntary offences. + +Now the patience of my reader may fairly be considered a “private +right.” I shall, therefore, respect its boundaries and proceed at +once with my narrative, having been already quite long enough about +“uncorking a bottle.” + + + + +CHAPTER II. A JUICY DAY IN THE COUNTRY. + +All our preparations for the voyage having been completed, we spent +the last day at our disposal, in visiting Brooklyn. The weather was +uncommonly fine, the sky being perfectly clear and unclouded; and though +the sun shone out brilliantly, the heat was tempered by a cool, bracing, +westwardly wind. Its influence was perceptible on the spirits of every +body on board the ferry-boat that transported us across the harbour. + +“Squire,” said Mr. Slick, aint this as pretty a day as you’ll see atween +this and Nova Scotia?--You can’t beat American weather, when it chooses, +in no part of the world I’ve ever been in yet. This day is a tip-topper, +and it’s the last we’ll see of the kind till we get back agin, _I_ know. +Take a fool’s advice, for once, and stick to it, as long as there is any +of it left, for you’ll see the difference when you get to England. There +never was so rainy a place in the univarse, as that, I don’t think, +unless it’s Ireland, and the only difference atween them two is that it +rains every day amost in England, and in Ireland it rains every day and +every night too. It’s awful, and you must keep out of a country-house in +such weather, or you’ll go for it; it will kill you, that’s sartain. I +shall never forget a juicy day I once spent in one of them dismal old +places. I’ll tell you how I came to be there. + +“The last time I was to England, I was a dinin’ with our consul +to Liverpool, and a very gentleman-like old man he was too; he was +appointed by Washington, and had been there ever since our glorious +revolution. Folks gave him a great name, they said he was a credit to +us. Well, I met at his table one day an old country squire, that lived +somewhere down in Shropshire, close on to Wales, and says he to me, +arter cloth was off and cigars on, ‘Mr. Slick,’ says he, ‘I’ll be very +glad to see you to Norman Manor,’ (that was the place where he staid, +when he was to home). ‘If you will return with me I shall be glad +to shew you the country in my neighbourhood, which is said to be +considerable pretty.’ + +“‘Well,’ says I, ‘as I have nothin’ above particular to see to, I don’t +care if I do go.’ + +“So off we started; and this I will say, he was as kind as he cleverly +knew how to be, and that is sayin’ a great deal for a man that didn’t +know nothin’ out of sight of his own clearin’ hardly. + +“Now, when we got there, the house was chock full of company, and +considerin’ it warn’t an overly large one, and that Britishers won’t +stay in a house, unless every feller gets a separate bed, it’s a wonder +to me, how he stowed away as many as he did. Says he, ‘Excuse your +quarters, Mr. Slick, but I find more company nor I expected here. In +a day or two, some on ‘em will be off, and then you shall be better +provided.’ + +“With that I was showed up a great staircase, and out o’ that by a +door-way into a narrer entry and from that into an old T like looking +building, that stuck out behind the house. It warn’t the common company +sleepin’ room, I expect, but kinder make shifts, tho’ they was good +enough too for the matter o’ that; at all events I don’t want no better. + +“Well, I had hardly got well housed a’most, afore it came on to rain, as +if it was in rael right down airnest. It warn’t just a roarin’, racin’, +sneezin’ rain like a thunder shower, but it kept a steady travellin’ +gait, up hill and down dale, and no breathin’ time nor batin’ spell. +It didn’t look as if it would stop till it was done, that’s a fact. But +still as it was too late to go out agin that arternoon, I didn’t think +much about it then. I hadn’t no notion what was in store for me next +day, no more nor a child; if I had, I’d a double deal sooner hanged +myself, than gone brousing in such place as that, in sticky weather. + +“A wet day is considerable tiresome, any where or any way you can fix +it; but it’s wus at an English country house than any where else, cause +you are among strangers, formal, cold, gallus polite, and as thick in +the head-piece as a puncheon. You hante nothin’ to do yourself and they +never have nothin’ to do; they don’t know nothin’ about America, and +don’t want to. Your talk don’t interest them, and they can’t talk to +interest nobody but themselves; all you’ve got to do, is to pull out +your watch and see how time goes; how much of the day is left, and then +go to the winder and see how the sky looks, and whether there is any +chance of holdin’ up or no. Well, that time I went to bed a little +airlier than common, for I felt considerable sleepy, and considerable +strange too; so as soon as I cleverly could, I off and turned in. + +“Well I am an airly riser myself. I always was from a boy, so I waked up +jist about the time when day ought to break, and was a thinkin’ to get +up; but the shutters was too, and it was as dark as ink in the room, and +I heer’d it rainin’ away for dear life. ‘So,’ sais I to myself, ‘what +the dogs is the use of gittin’ up so airly? I can’t get out and get a +smoke, and I can’t do nothin’ here; so here goes for a second nap.’ Well +I was soon off agin in a most a beautiful of a snore, when all at once +I heard thump-thump agin the shutter--and the most horrid noise I ever +heerd since I was raised; it was sunthin’ quite onairthly. + +“‘Hallo!’ says I to myself, ‘what in natur is all this hubbub about? +Can this here confounded old house be harnted? Is them spirits that’s +jabbering gibberish there, or is I wide awake or no?’ So I sets right +up on my hind legs in bed, rubs my eyes, opens my ears and listens +agin, when whop went every shutter agin, with a dead heavy sound, like +somethin’ or another thrown agin ‘em, or fallin’ agin ‘em, and then +comes the unknown tongues in discord chorus like. Sais I, ‘I know now, +it’s them cussed navigators. They’ve besot the house, and are a givin’ +lip to frighten folks. It’s regular banditti.’ + +“So I jist hops out of bed, and feels for my trunk, and outs with +my talkin’ irons, that was all ready loaded, pokes my way to the +winder--shoves the sash up and outs with the shutter, ready to let slip +among ‘em. And what do you think it was?--Hundreds and hundreds of them +nasty, dirty, filthy, ugly, black devils of rooks, located in the trees +at the back eend of the house. Old Nick couldn’t have slept near ‘em; +caw caw, caw, all mixt up together in one jumble of a sound, like +“jawe.” + +“You black, evil-lookin’, foul-mouthed villains,’ sais I, ‘I’d like +no better sport than jist to sit here, all this blessed day with these +pistols, and drop you one arter another, _I_ know.’ But they was pets, +was them rooks, and of course like all pets, everlastin’ nuisances to +every body else. + +“Well, when a man’s in a feeze, there’s no more sleep that hitch; so I +dresses and sits up; but what was I to do? It was jist half past four, +and as it was a rainin’ like every thing, I know’d breakfast wouldn’t be +ready till eleven o’clock, for nobody wouldn’t get up if they could help +it--they wouldn’t be such fools; so there was jail for six hours and a +half. + +“Well, I walked up and down the room, as easy as I could, not to waken +folks; but three steps and a round turn makes you kinder dizzy, so I +sits down again to chaw the cud of vexation. + +“‘Ain’t this a handsum fix?’ sais I, ‘but it sarves you right, what +busniss had you here at all? you always was a fool, and always will be +to the eend of the chapter.--‘What in natur are you a scoldin’ for?’ +sais I: ‘that won’t mend the matter; how’s time? They must soon be a +stirrin’ now, I guess.’ Well, as I am a livin’ sinner, it was only five +o’clock; ‘oh dear,’ sais I, ‘time is like women and pigs the more you +want it to go, the more it won’t. What on airth shall I do?--guess, I’ll +strap my rasor.’ + +“Well, I strapped and strapped away, until it would cut a single hair +pulled strait up on eend out o’ your head, without bendin’ it--take it +off slick. ‘Now,’ sais I, ‘I’ll mend my trowsers I tore, a goin’ to +see the ruin on the road yesterday; so I takes out Sister Sall’s little +needle-case, and sows away till I got them to look considerable jam +agin; ‘and then,’ sais I, ‘here’s a gallus button off, I’ll jist fix +that,’ and when that was done, there was a hole to my yarn sock, so I +turned too and darned that. + +“‘Now,’ sais I, ‘how goes it? I’m considerable sharp set. It must be +gettin’ tolerable late now.’ It wanted a quarter to six. ‘My! sakes,’ +sais I, ‘five hours and a quarter yet afore feedin’ time; well if that +don’t pass. What shall I do next?’ ‘I’ll tell you what to do,’ sais I, +‘smoke, that will take the edge of your appetite off, and if they don’t +like it, they may lump it; what business have they to keep them horrid +screetchin’ infarnal, sleepless rooks to disturb people that way?’ Well, +I takes a lucifer, and lights a cigar, and I puts my head up the chimbly +to let the smoke off, and it felt good, I promise _you_. I don’t know as +I ever enjoyed one half so much afore. It had a rael first chop flavour +had that cigar. + +“‘When that was done,’ sais I, ‘What do you say to another?’ ‘Well, I +don’t know,’ sais I, ‘I should like it, that’s a fact; but holdin’ of +my head crooked up chimbly that way, has a’ most broke my neck; I’ve got +the cramp in it like.’ + +“So I sot, and shook my head first a one side and then the other, and +then turned it on its hinges as far as it would go, till it felt about +right, and then I lights another, and puts my head in the flue again. + +“Well, smokin’ makes, a feller feel kinder good-natured, and I began to +think it warn’t quite so bad arter all, when whop went my cigar right +out of my mouth into my bosom, atween the shirt and the skin, and burnt +me like a gally nipper. Both my eyes was fill’d at the same time, and +I got a crack on the pate from some critter or another that clawed and +scratched my head like any thing, and then seemed to empty a bushel of +sut on me, and I looked like a chimbly sweep, and felt like old Scratch +himself. My smoke had brought down a chimbly swaller, or a martin, or +some such varmint, for it up and off agin’ afore I could catch it, to +wring its infarnal neck off, that’s a fact. + +“Well, here was somethin’ to do, and no mistake: here was to clean and +groom up agin’ till all was in its right shape; and a pretty job it was, +I tell you. I thought I never should get the sut out of my hair, and +then never get it out of my brush again, and my eyes smarted so, they +did nothing but water, and wink, and make faces. But I did; I worked on +and worked on, till all was sot right once more. + +“‘Now,’ sais I, ‘how’s time?’ ‘half past seven,’ sais I, ‘and three +hours and a half more yet to breakfast. Well,’ sais I, ‘I can’t stand +this--and what’s more I won’t: I begin to get my Ebenezer up, and feel +wolfish. I’ll ring up the handsum chamber-maid, and just fall to, and +chaw her right up--I’m savagerous.’* ‘That’s cowardly,’ sais I, ‘call +the footman, pick a quarrel with him and kick him down stairs, speak but +one word to him, and let that be strong enough to skin the coon arter it +has killed him, the noise will wake up folks _I_ know, and then we shall +have sunthin’ to eat.’ + +[* Footnote: The word “savagerous” is not of “Yankee” but of “Western +origin.”--Its use in this place is best explained by the following +extract from the Third Series of the Clockmaker. “In order that the +sketch which I am now about to give may be fully understood, it may +be necessary to request the reader to recollect that Mr. Slick is a +_Yankee_, a designation the origin of which is now not very obvious, +but it has been assumed by, and conceded by common consent to, the +inhabitants of New England. It is a name, though sometimes satirically +used, of which they have great reason to be proud, as it is descriptive +of a most cultivated, intelligent, enterprising, frugal, and industrious +population, who may well challenge a comparison with the inhabitants of +any other country in the world; but it has only a local application. + +“The United States cover an immense extent of territory, and the +inhabitants of different parts of the Union differ as widely in +character, feelings, and even in appearance, as the people of different +countries usually do. These sections differ also in dialect and in +humour, as much as in other things, and to as great, if not a greater +extent, than the natives of different parts of Great Britain vary from +each other. It is customary in Europe to call all Americans, Yankees; +but it is as much a misnomer as it would be to call all Europeans +Frenchmen. Throughout these works it will be observed, that Mr. Slick’s +pronunciation is that of the Yankee, or an inhabitant of the _rural +districts_ of New England. His conversation is generally purely so; but +in some instances he uses, as his countrymen frequently do from choice, +phrases which, though Americanisms, are not of Eastern origin. Wholly +to exclude these would be to violate the usages of American life; to +introduce them oftener would be to confound two dissimilar dialects, +and to make an equal departure from the truth. Every section has its own +characteristic dialect, a very small portion of which it has imparted +to its neighbours. The dry, quaint humour of New England is occasionally +found in the west, and the rich gasconade and exaggerative language of +the west migrates not unfrequently to the east. This idiomatic +exchange is perceptibly on the increase. It arises from the travelling +propensities of the Americans, and the constant intercourse mutually +maintained by the inhabitants of the different States. A droll or +an original expression is thus imported and adopted, and, though not +indigenous, soon becomes engrafted on the general stock of the language +of the country.”--3rd Series, p. 142.] + +“I was ready to bile right over, when as luck would have it, the rain +stopt all of a sudden, the sun broke out o’ prison, and I thought I +never seed any thing look so green and so beautiful as the country +did. ‘Come,’ sais I, ‘now for a walk down the avenue, and a comfortable +smoke, and if the man at the gate is up and stirrin’, I will just pop in +and breakfast with him and his wife. There is some natur there, but here +it’s all cussed rooks and chimbly swallers, and heavy men and fat +women, and lazy helps, and Sunday every day in the week.’ So I fills my +cigar-case and outs into the passage. + +“But here was a fix! One of the doors opened into the great staircase, +and which was it? ‘Ay,’ sais I, ‘which is it, do you know?’ ‘Upon my +soul, I don’t know,’ sais I; ‘but try, it’s no use to be caged up here +like a painter, and out I will, that’s a fact.’ + +“So I stops and studies, ‘that’s it,’ sais I, and I opens a door: it was +a bedroom--it was the likely chambermaid’s. + +“‘Softly, Sir,’ sais she, a puttin’ of her finger on her lip, ‘don’t +make no noise; Missus will hear you.’ + +“‘Yes,’ sais I, ‘I won’t make no noise;’ and I outs and shuts the door +too arter me gently. + +“‘What next?’ sais I; ‘why you fool, you,’ sais I, ‘why didn’t you ax +the sarvant maid, which door it was?’ ‘Why I was so conflastrigated,’ +sais I, ‘I didn’t think of it. Try that door,’ well I opened another, it +belonged to one o’ the horrid hansum stranger galls that dined at table +yesterday. When she seed me, she gave a scream, popt her head onder the +clothes, like a terrapin, and vanished--well I vanished too. + +“‘Ain’t this too bad?’ sais I; ‘I wish I could open a man’s door, I’d +lick him out of spite; I hope I may be shot if I don’t, and I doubled +up my fist, for I didn’t like it a spec, and opened another door--it was +the housekeeper’s. ‘Come,’ sais I, ‘I won’t be balked no more.’ She sot +up and fixed her cap. A woman never forgets the becomins. + +“‘Anything I can do for you, Sir?’ sais she, and she raelly did look +pretty; all good natur’d people, it appears to me, do look so. + +“‘Will you be so good as to tell me, which door leads to the staircase, +Marm?’ sais I. + +“‘Oh, is that all?’ sais she, (I suppose, she thort I wanted her to +get up and get breakfast for me,) ‘it’s the first on the right, and she +fixed her cap agin’ and laid down, and I took the first on the right and +off like a blowed out candle. There was the staircase. I walked down, +took my hat, onbolted the outer door, and what a beautiful day was +there. I lit my cigar, I breathed freely, and I strolled down the +avenue. + +“The bushes glistened, and the grass glistened, and the air was sweet, +and the birds sung, and there was natur’ once more. I walked to the +lodge; they had breakfasted had the old folks, so I chatted away with +them for a considerable of a spell about matters and things in general, +and then turned towards the house agin’. ‘Hallo!’ sais I, ‘what’s this? +warn’t that a drop of rain?’ I looks up, it was another shower by Gosh. +I pulls foot for dear life: it was tall walking you may depend, but the +shower wins, (comprehens_ive_ as my legs be), and down it comes, as hard +as all possest. ‘Take it easy, Sam,’ sais I, ‘your flint is fixed; you +are wet thro’--runnin’ won’t dry you,’ and I settled down to a careless +walk, quite desperate. + +“‘Nothin’ in natur’, unless it is an Ingin, is so treacherous as the +climate here. It jist clears up on purpose I do believe, to tempt you +out without your umbreller, and jist as sure as you trust it and leave +it to home, it clouds right up, and sarves you out for it--it does +indeed. What a sight of new clothes I’ve spilte here, for the rain has a +sort of dye in it. It stains so, it alters the colour of the cloth, for +the smoke is filled with gas and all sorts of chemicals. Well, back I +goes to my room agin’ to the rooks, chimbly swallers, and all, leavin’ +a great endurin’ streak of wet arter me all the way, like a cracked +pitcher that leaks; onriggs, and puts on dry clothes from head to foot. + +“By this time breakfast is ready; but the English don’t do nothin’ like +other folks; I don’t know whether it’s affectation, or bein’ wrong in +the head--a little of both I guess. Now where do you suppose the solid +part of breakfast is, Squire? Why, it’s on the side-board--I hope I may +be shot if it ain’t--well, the tea and coffee are on the table, to make +it as onconvenient as possible. + +“Says I, to the lady of the house, as I got up to help myself, for I was +hungry enough to make beef ache I know. ‘Aunty,’ sais I, ‘you’ll excuse +me, but why don’t you put the eatables on the table, or else put the +tea on the side-board? They’re like man and wife, they don’t ought to be +separated, them two.’ + +“She looked at me, oh what a look of pity it was”, as much as to +say, ‘Where have you been all your born days, not to know better nor +that?--but I guess you don’t know better in the States--how could you +know any thing there?’ But she only said it was the custom here, for she +was a very purlite old woman, was Aunty. + +“Well sense is sense, let it grow where it will, and I guess we raise +about the best kind, which is common sense, and I warn’t to be put down +with short metre, arter that fashion. So I tried the old man; sais I, +‘Uncle,’ sais I, ‘if you will divorce the eatables from the drinkables +that way, why not let the servants come and tend. It’s monstrous +onconvenient and ridikilous to be a jumpin’ up for everlastinly that +way; you can’t sit still one blessed minit.’ + +“‘We think it pleasant,’ said he, ‘sometimes to dispense with their +attendance.’ + +“‘Exactly,’ sais I, ‘then dispense with sarvants at dinner, for when +the wine is in, the wit is out.’ (I said that to compliment him, for the +critter had no wit in at no time,) ‘and they hear all the talk. But at +breakfast every one is only half awake, (especially when you rise so +airly as you do in this country,’ sais I, but the old critter couldn’t +see a joke, even if he felt it, and he didn’t know I was a funnin’.) +‘Folks are considerably sharp set at breakfast,’ sais I, ‘and not very +talkat_ive_. That’s the right time to have sarvants to tend on you.’ + +“‘What an idea!’ said he, and he puckered up his pictur, and the way he +stared was a caution to an owl. + +“Well, we sot and sot till I was tired, so thinks I, ‘what’s next?’ for +it’s rainin’ agin as hard as ever.’ So I took a turn in the study +to sarch for a book, but there was nothin’ there, but a Guide to the +Sessions, Burn’s Justice, and a book of London club rules, and two or +three novels. He said he got books from the sarkilatin’ library. + +“‘Lunch is ready.’ + +“‘What, eatin’ agin? My goody!’ thinks I, ‘if you are so fond of it, why +the plague don’t you begin airly? If you’d a had it at five o’clock this +morning, I’d a done justice to it; now I couldn’t touch it if I was to +die.’ + +“There it was, though. Help yourself, and no thanks, for there is no +sarvants agin. The rule here is, no talk no sarvants--and when it’s all +talk, it’s all sarvants. + +“Thinks I to myself, ‘now, what shall I do till dinner-time, for it +rains so there is no stirrin’ out?--Waiter, where is eldest son?--he and +I will have a game of billiards, I guess.’ + +“‘He is laying down, sir.’ + +“‘Shows his sense,’ sais I, ‘I see, he is not the fool I took him to be. +If I could sleep in the day, I’de turn in too. Where is second son?’ + +“‘Left this mornin’ in the close carriage, sir.’ + +“‘Oh cuss him, it was him then was it?’ + +“‘What, Sir?’ + +“‘That woke them confounded rooks up, out o’ their fust nap, and kick’t +up such a bobbery. Where is the Parson?’ + +“‘Which one, Sir?’ + +“‘The one that’s so fond of fishing.’ + +“‘Ain’t up yet, Sir.’ + +“‘Well, the old boy, that wore breeches.’ + +“Out on a sick visit to one of the cottages, Sir.’ + +“When he comes in, send him to me, I’m shockin’ sick.’ + +“With that I goes to look arter the two pretty galls in the drawin’ +room; and there was the ladies a chatterin’ away like any thing. The +moment I came in it was as dumb as a quaker’s meetin’. They all hauled +up at once, like a stage-coach to an inn-door, from a hand-gallop to a +stock still stand. I seed men warn’t wanted there, it warn’t the custom +so airly, so I polled out o’ that creek, starn first. They don’t like +men in the mornin’, in England, do the ladies; they think ‘em in the +way. + +“‘What on airth, shall I do?’ says I, ‘it’s nothin’ but rain, rain, +rain--here in this awful dismal country. Nobody smokes, nobody talks, +nobody plays cards, nobody fires at a mark, and nobody trades; only +let me get thro’ this juicy day, and I am done: let me get out of this +scrape, and if I am caught agin, I’ll give you leave to tell me of +it, in meetin’. It tante pretty, I do suppose to be a jawin’ with +the butler, but I’ll make an excuse for a talk, for talk comes kinder +nateral to me, like suction to a snipe.’ + +“‘Waiter?’ + +“‘Sir.’ + +“‘Galls don’t like to be tree’d here of a mornin’ do they?’ + +“‘Sir.’ + +“‘It’s usual for the ladies,’ sais I, ‘to be together in the airly part +of the forenoon here, ain’t it, afore the gentlemen jine them?’ + +“‘Yes, Sir.’ + +“‘It puts me in mind,’ sais I, ‘of the old seals down to Sable +Island--you know where Sable Isle is, don’t you?’ + +“‘Yes, Sir, it’s in the cathedral down here.’ + +“‘No, no, not that, it’s an island on the coast of Nova Scotia. You know +where that is sartainly.’ + +“‘I never heard of it, Sir.’ + +“‘Well, Lord love you! you know what an old seal is?’ + +“‘Oh, yes, sir, I’ll get you my master’s in a moment.’ + +And off he sot full chisel. + +“Cus him! he is as stupid as a rook, that crittur, it’s no use to tell +him a story, and now I think of it, I will go and smoke them black imps +of darkness,--the rooks.’ + +“So I goes up stairs, as slowly as I cleverly could, jist liftin’ one +foot arter another as if it had a fifty-six tied to it, on pupus to +spend time; lit a cigar, opened the window nearest the rooks, and +smoked, but oh the rain killed all the smoke in a minite; it didn’t even +make one on ‘em sneeze. ‘Dull musick this, Sam,’ sais I, ‘ain’t it? Tell +you what: I’ll put on my ile-skin, take an umbreller and go and talk to +the stable helps, for I feel as lonely as a catamount, and as dull as a +bachelor beaver. So I trampousses off to the stable, and says I to the +head man, ‘A smart little hoss that,’ sais I, ‘you are a cleaning of: he +looks like a first chop article that.’ + +“‘Y mae’,’ sais he. + +“‘Hullo,’ sais I, ‘what in natur’ is this? Is it him that can’t speak +English, or me that can’t onderstand? for one on us is a fool, that’s +sartain. I’ll try him agin. + +“So I sais to him, ‘He looks,’ sais I, ‘as if he’d trot a considerable +good stick, that horse,’ sais I, ‘I guess he is a goer.’ + +“Y’ mae, ye un trotter da,’ sais he. + +“‘Creation!’ sais I, ‘if this don’t beat gineral trainin’. I have heerd +in my time, broken French, broken Scotch, broken Irish, broken Yankee, +broken Nigger, and broken Indgin; but I have hearn two pure gene_wine_ +languages to-day, and no mistake, rael rook, and rael Britton, and I +don’t exactly know which I like wus. It’s no use to stand talkin’ to +this critter. Good-bye,’ sais I. + +“Now what do you think he said? Why, you would suppose he’d say good-bye +too, wouldn’t you? Well, he didn’t, nor nothin’ like it, but he jist +ups, and sais, ‘Forwelloaugh,’ he did, upon my soul. I never felt so +stumpt afore in all my life. Sais I, ‘Friend, here is half a dollar for +you; it arn’t often I’m brought to a dead stare, and when I am, I am +willin’ to pay for it.’ + +“There’s two languages, Squire, that’s univarsal: the language of love, +and the language of money; the galls onderstand the one, and the men +onderstand the other, all the wide world over, from Canton to Niagara. I +no sooner showed him the half dollar, than it walked into his pocket, a +plaguy sight quicker than it will walk out, I guess. + +“Sais I, ‘Friend, you’ve taken the consait out of me properly. Captain +Hall said there warn’t a man, woman, or child, in the whole of the +thirteen united univarsal worlds of our great Republic, that could speak +pure English, and I was a goin’ to kick him for it; but he is right, +arter all. There ain’t one livin’ soul on us can; I don’t believe they +ever as much as heerd it, for I never did, till this blessed day, and +there are few things I haven’t either see’d, or heern tell of. Yes, +we can’t speak English, do you take?’ ‘Dim comrag,’ sais he, which in +Yankee, means, “that’s no English,” and he stood, looked puzzled, and +scratched his head, rael hansum, ‘Dim comrag,’ sais he. + +“Well, it made me larf spiteful. I felt kinder wicked, and as _I_ had +a hat on, and I couldn’t scratch my head, I stood jist like him, clown +fashion, with my eyes wanderin’ and my mouth wide open, and put my hand +behind me, and scratched there; and I stared, and looked puzzled too, +and made the same identical vacant face he did, and repeated arter him +slowly, with another scratch, mocking him like, ‘Dim comrag.’ + +“Such a pair o’ fools you never saw, Squire, since the last time you +shaved afore a lookin’ glass; and the stable boys larfed, and he larfed, +and I larfed, and it was the only larf I had all that juicy day. + +“Well, I turns agin to the door; but it’s the old story over +again--rain, rain, rain; spatter, spatter, spatter,--‘I can’t stop +here with these true Brittons,’ sais I, ‘guess I’ll go and see the old +Squire: he is in his study.’ + +“So I goes there: ‘Squire,’ sais I, ‘let me offer you a rael gene_wine_ +Havana cigar; I can recommend it to you.’ He thanks me, he don’t smoke, +but plague take him, he don’t say, ‘If you are fond of smokin’, pray +smoke yourself.’ And he is writing I won’t interrupt him. + +“‘Waiter, order me a post-chaise, to be here in the mornin’, when the +rooks wake.’ + +“‘Yes, Sir.’ + +“Come, I’ll try the women folk in the drawin’-room, agin’. Ladies don’t +mind the rain here; they are used to it. It’s like the musk plant, arter +you put it to your nose once, you can’t smell it a second time. Oh what +beautiful galls they be! What a shame it is to bar a feller out such a +day as this. One on ‘em blushes like a red cabbage, when she speaks to +me, that’s the one, I reckon, I disturbed this mornin’. Cuss the rooks! +I’ll pyson them, and that won’t make no noise. + +“She shows me the consarvitery. ‘Take care, Sir, your coat has caught +this geranium,’ and she onhitches it. ‘Stop, Sir, you’ll break this +jilly flower,’ and she lifts off the coat tail agin; in fact, it’s so +crowded, you can’t squeeze along, scarcely, without a doin’ of mischief +somewhere or another. + +“Next time, she goes first, and then it’s my turn, ‘Stop, Miss,’ sais +I, ‘your frock has this rose tree over,’ and I loosens it; once +more, ‘Miss, this rose has got tangled,’ and I ontangles it from her +furbeloes. + +“I wonder what makes my hand shake so, and my heart it bumps so, it has +bust a button off. If I stay in this consarvitery, I shan’t consarve +myself long, that’s a fact, for this gall has put her whole team on, and +is a runnin’ me off the road. ‘Hullo! what’s that? Bell for dressin’ +for dinner.’ Thank Heavens! I shall escape from myself, and from this +beautiful critter, too, for I’m gettin’ spoony, and shall talk silly +presently. + +“I don’t like to be left alone with a gall, it’s plaguy apt to set me a +soft sawderin’ and a courtin’. There’s a sort of nateral attraction like +in this world. Two ships in a calm, are sure to get up alongside of each +other, if there is no wind, and they have nothin’ to do, but look at +each other; natur’ does it. “Well, even, the tongs and the shovel, won’t +stand alone long; they’re sure to get on the same side of the fire, +and be sociable; one on ‘em has a loadstone and draws ‘tother, that’s +sartain. If that’s the case with hard-hearted things, like oak and +iron, what is it with tender hearted things like humans? Shut me up in +a ‘sarvatory with a hansum gall of a rainy day, and see if I don’t think +she is the sweetest flower in it. Yes, I am glad it is the dinner-bell, +for I ain’t ready to marry yet, and when I am, I guess I must get a gall +where I got my hoss, in Old Connecticut, and that state takes the shine +off of all creation for geese, galls and onions, that’s a fact. + +“Well dinner won’t wait, so I ups agin once more near the rooks, to +brush up a bit; but there it is agin the same old tune, the whole +blessed day, rain, rain, rain. It’s rained all day and don’t talk of +stoppin’ nother. How I hate the sound, and how streaked I feel. I don’t +mind its huskin’ my voice, for there is no one to talk to, but cuss it, +it has softened my bones. + +“Dinner is ready; the rain has damped every body’s spirits, and +squenched ‘em out; even champaign won’t raise ‘em agin; feedin’ is +heavy, talk is heavy, time is heavy, tea is heavy, and there ain’t +musick; the only thing that’s light is a bed room candle--heavens and +airth how glad I am this ‘_juicy day_’ is over!” + + + + +CHAPTER III. TYING A NIGHT-CAP. + +In the preceding sketch I have given Mr. Slick’s account of the English +climate, and his opinion of the dulness of a country house, as nearly +as possible in his own words. It struck me at the time that they were +exaggerated views; but if the weather were unpropitious, and the company +not well selected, I can easily conceive, that the impression on his +mind would be as strong and as unfavourable, as he has described it to +have been. + +The climate of England is healthy, and, as it admits of much out-door +exercise, and is not subject to any very sudden variation, or violent +extremes of heat and cold, it may be said to be good, though not +agreeable; but its great humidity is very sensibly felt by Americans and +other foreigners accustomed to a dry atmosphere and clear sky. That Mr. +Slick should find a rainy day in the country dull, is not to be wondered +at; it is probable it would be so any where, to a man who had so few +resources, within himself, as the Attache. Much of course depends on the +inmates; and the company at the Shropshire house, to which he alludes, +do not appear to have been the best calculated to make the state of the +weather a matter of indifference to him. + +I cannot say, but that I have at times suffered a depression of spirits +from the frequent, and sometimes long continued rains of this country; +but I do not know that, as an ardent admirer of scenery, I would desire +less humidity, if it diminished, as I fear it would, the extraordinary +verdure and great beauty of the English landscape. With respect to my +own visits at country houses, I have generally been fortunate in the +weather, and always in the company; but I can easily conceive, that a +man situated as Mr. Slick appears to have been with respect to both, +would find the combination intolerably dull. But to return to my +narrative. + +Early on the following day we accompanied our luggage to the wharf, +where a small steamer lay to convey us to the usual anchorage ground +of the packets, in the bay. We were attended by a large concourse of +people. The piety, learning, unaffected simplicity, and kind disposition +of my excellent friend, Mr. Hopewell, were well known and fully +appreciated by the people of New York, who were anxious to testify +their respect for his virtues, and their sympathy for his unmerited +persecution, by a personal escort and a cordial farewell. + +“Are all those people going with us, Sam?” said he; “how pleasant it +will be to have so many old friends on board, won’t it?” + +“No, Sir,” said the Attache, “they are only a goin’ to see you on +board--it is a mark of respect to you. They will go down to the “Tyler,” + to take their last farewell of you.” + +“Well, that’s kind now, ain’t it?” he replied. “I suppose they thought +I would feel kinder dull and melancholy like, on leaving my native land +this way; and I must say I don’t feel jist altogether right neither. +Ever so many things rise right up in my mind, not one arter another, but +all together like, so that I can’t take ‘em one by one and reason ‘em +down, but they jist overpower me by numbers. You understand me, Sam, +don’t you?” + +“Poor old critter!” said Mr. Slick to me in an under-tone, “it’s +no wonder he is sad, is it? I must try to cheer him up, if I can. +Understand you, minister!” said he, “to be sure I do. I have been that +way often and often. That was the case when I was to Lowel factories, +with the galls a taking of them off in the paintin’ line. The dear +little critters kept up such an everlastin’ almighty clatter, clatter, +clatter; jabber, jabber, jabber, all talkin’ and chatterin’ at once, +you couldn’t hear no blessed one of them; and they jist fairly stunned a +feller. For nothin’ in natur’, unless it be perpetual motion, can equal +a woman’s tongue. It’s most a pity we hadn’t some of the angeliferous +little dears with us too, for they do make the time pass quick, that’s +a fact. I want some on ‘em to tie a night-cap for me to-night; I don’t +commonly wear one, but I somehow kinder guess, I intend to have one this +time, and no mistake.” + +“A night-cap, Sam!” said he; “why what on airth do you mean?” + +“Why, I’ll tell you, minister,” said he, “you recollect sister Sall, +don’t you.” + +“Indeed, I do,” said he, “and an excellent girl she is, a dutiful +daughter, and a kind and affectionate sister. Yes, she is a good girl is +Sally, a very good girl indeed; but what of her?” + +“Well, she was a most a beautiful critter, to brew a glass of whiskey +toddy, as I ever see’d in all my travels was sister Sall, and I used to +call that tipple, when I took it late, a night-cap; apple jack and +white nose ain’t the smallest part of a circumstance to it. On such an +occasion as this, minister, when a body is leavin’ the greatest nation +atween the poles, to go among benighted, ignorant, insolent foreigners, +you wouldn’t object to a night-cap, now would you?” + +“Well, I don’t know as I would, Sam,” said he; “parting from friends +whether temporally or for ever, is a sad thing, and the former is +typical of the latter. No, I do not know as I would. We may use these +things, but not abuse them. Be temperate, be moderate, but it is a sorry +heart that knows no pleasure. Take your night-cap, Sam, and then commend +yourself to His safe keeping, who rules the wind and the waves to Him +who--” + +“Well then, minister, what a dreadful awful looking thing a night-cap is +without a tassel, ain’t it? Oh! you must put a tassel on it, and that +is another glass. Well then, what is the use of a night-cap, if it has +a tassel on it, but has no string, it will slip off your head the very +first turn you take; and that is another glass you know. But one string +won’t tie a cap; one hand can’t shake hands along with itself: you must +have two strings to it, and that brings one glass more. Well then, what +is the use of two strings if they ain’t fastened? If you want to keep +the cap on, it must be tied, that’s sartain, and that is another go; and +then, minister, what an everlastin’ miserable stingy, ongenteel critter +a feller must be, that won’t drink to the health of the Female Brewer. +Well, that’s another glass to sweethearts and wives, and then turn in +for sleep, and that’s what I intend to do to-night. I guess I’ll tie the +night-cap this hitch, if I never do agin, and that’s a fact.” + +“Oh Sam, Sam,” said Mr. Hopewell, “for a man that is wide awake and +duly sober, I never saw one yet that talked such nonsense as you do. You +said, you understood me, but you don’t, one mite or morsel; but men +are made differently, some people’s narves operate on the brain +sens_itively_ and give them exquisite pain or excessive pleasure; other +folks seem as if they had no narves at all. You understand my words, but +you don’t enter into my feelings. Distressing images rise up in my mind +in such rapid succession, I can’t master them, but they master me. They +come slower to you, and the moment you see their shadows before you, +you turn round to the light, and throw these dark figures behind you. +I can’t do that; I could when I was younger, but I can’t now. Reason +is comparing two ideas, and drawing an inference. Insanity is, when you +have such a rapid succession of ideas, that you can’t compare them. How +great then must be the pain when you are almost pressed into insanity +and yet retain your reason? What is a broken heart? Is it death? I think +it must be very like it, if it is not a figure of speech, for I feel +that my heart is broken, and yet I am as sensitive to pain as ever. +Nature cannot stand this suffering long. You say these good people have +come to take their last farewell of me; most likely, Sam, it _is_ a last +farewell. I am an old man now, I am well stricken in years; shall I ever +live to see my native land again? I know not, the Lord’s will be done! +If I had a wish, I should desire to return to be laid with my kindred, +to repose in death with those that were the companions of my earthly +pilgrimage; but if it be ordered otherwise. I am ready to say with truth +and meekness, ‘Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.’” + +When this excellent old man said that, Mr. Slick did not enter into his +feelings--he did not do him justice. His attachment to and veneration +for his aged pastor and friend were quite filial, and such as to do +honour to his head and heart. Those persons who have made character a +study, will all agree, that the cold exterior of the New England +man arises from other causes than a coldness of feeling; much of the +rhodomontade of the attache, addressed to Mr. Hopewell, was uttered for +the kind purpose of withdrawing his attention from those griefs which +preyed so heavily upon his spirits. + +“Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “come, cheer up, it makes me kinder dismal +to hear you talk so. When Captain McKenzie hanged up them three free and +enlightened citizens of ours on board of the--Somers--he gave ‘em three +cheers. We are worth half a dozen dead men yet, so cheer up. Talk to +these friends of ourn, they might think you considerable starch if +you don’t talk, and talk is cheap, it don’t cost nothin’ but breath, a +scrape of your hind leg, and a jupe of the head, that’s a fact.” + +Having thus engaged him in conversation with his friends, we proceeded +on board the steamer, which, in a short time, was alongside of the great +“Liner.” The day was now spent, and Mr. Hopewell having taken leave of +his escort, retired to his cabin, very much overpowered by his feelings. + +Mr. Slick insisted on his companions taking a parting glass with him, +and I was much amused with the advice given him by some of his young +friends and admirers. He was cautioned to sustain the high character +of the nation abroad; to take care that he returned as he went--a true +American; to insist upon the possession of the Oregon Territory; to +demand and enforce his right position in society; to negotiate the +national loan; and above all never to accede to the right of search +of slave-vessels; all which having been duly promised, they took an +affectionate leave of each other, and we remained on board, intending to +depart in the course of the following morning. + +As soon as they had gone, Mr. Slick ordered materials for brewing, +namely: whisky, hot water, sugar and lemon; and having duly prepared in +regular succession the cap, the tassel, and the two strings, filled his +tumbler again, and said, + +“Come now, Squire, before we turn in, let us _tie the night-cap_.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV. HOME AND THE SEA. + +At eleven o’clock the next day the Tyler having shaken out her pinions, +and spread them to the breeze, commenced at a rapid rate her long and +solitary voyage across the Atlantic. Object after object rose in rapid +succession into distinct view, was approached and passed, until leaving +the calm and sheltered waters of the bay, we emerged into the ocean, and +involuntarily turned to look back upon the land we had left. Long after +the lesser hills and low country had disappeared, a few ambitious peaks +of the highlands still met the eye, appearing as if they had advanced +to the very edge of the water, to prolong the view of us till the last +moment. + +This coast is a portion of my native continent, for though not a subject +of the Republic, I am still an American in its larger sense, having been +born in a British province in this hemisphere. I therefore sympathised +with the feelings of my two companions, whose straining eyes were still +fixed on those dim and distant specks in the horizon. + +“There,” said Mr. Slick, rising from his seat, “I believe we have seen +the last of home till next time; and this I will say, it is the most +glorious country onder the sun; travel where you will, you won’t ditto +it no where. It is the toploftiest place in all creation, ain’t it, +minister?” + +There was no response to all this bombast. It was evident he had not +been heard; and turning to Mr. Hopewell, I observed his eyes were +fixed intently on the distance, and his mind pre-occupied by painful +reflexions, for tears were coursing after each other down his furrowed +but placid cheek. + +“Squire,” said Mr. Slick to me, “this won’t do. We must not allow him to +dwell too long on the thoughts of leaving home, or he’ll droop like any +thing, and p’raps, hang his head and fade right away. He is aged and +feeble, and every thing depends on keeping up his spirits. An old plant +must be shaded, well watered, and tended, or you can’t transplant it no +how, you can fix it, that’s a fact. He won’t give ear to me now, for +he knows I can’t talk serious, if I was to try; but he will listen to +_you_. Try to cheer him up, and I will go down below and give you a +chance.” + +As soon as I addressed him, he started and said, “Oh! is it you, Squire? +come and sit down by me, my friend. I can talk to _you_, and I assure +you I take great pleasure in doing so I cannot always talk to Sam: he +is excited now; he is anticipating great pleasure from his visit to +England, and is quite boisterous in the exuberance of his spirits. I +own I am depressed at times; it is natural I should be, but I shall +endeavour not to be the cause of sadness in others. I not only like +cheerfulness myself, but I like to promote it; it is a sign of an +innocent mind, and a heart in peace with God and in charity with man. +All nature is cheerful, its voice is harmonious, and its countenance +smiling; the very garb in which it is clothed is gay; why then should +man be an exception to every thing around him? Sour sectarians, who +address our fears, rather than our affections, may say what they please, +Sir, but mirth is not inconsistent with religion, but rather an evidence +that our religion is right. If I appear dull, therefore, do not suppose +it is because I think it necessary to be so, but because certain +reflections are natural to me as a clergyman, as a man far advanced in +years, and as a pilgrim who leaves his home at a period of life, when +the probabilities are, he may not be spared to revisit it. + +“I am like yourself, a colonist by birth. At the revolution I took no +part in the struggle; my profession and my habits both exempted me. +Whether the separation was justifiable or not, either on civil or +religious principles, it is not now necessary to discuss. It took place, +however, and the colonies became a nation, and after due consideration, +I concluded to dwell among mine own people. There I have continued, with +the exception of one or two short journeys for the benefit of my health, +to the present period. Parting with those whom I have known so long and +loved so well, is doubtless a trial to one whose heart is still warm, +while his nerves are weak, and whose affections are greater than his +firmness. But I weary you with this egotism?” + +“Not at all,” I replied, “I am both instructed and delighted by your +conversation. Pray proceed, Sir.” + +“Well it is kind, very kind of you,” said he, “to say so. I will explain +these sensations to you, and then endeavour never to allude to +them again. America is my birth-place and my home. Home has two +significations, a restricted one and an enlarged one; in its restricted +sense, it is the place of our abode, it includes our social circle, our +parents, children, and friends, and contains the living and the dead; +the past and the present generations of our race. By a very natural +process, the scene of our affections soon becomes identified with them, +and a portion of our regard is transferred from animate to inanimate +objects. The streams on which we sported, the mountains on which we +clambered, the fields in which we wandered, the school where we were +instructed, the church where we worshipped, the very bell whose pensive +melancholy music recalled our wandering steps in youth, awaken in +after-years many a tender thought, many a pleasing recollection, and +appeal to the heart with the force and eloquence of love. The country +again contains all these things, the sphere is widened, new objects are +included, and this extension of the circle is love of country. It is +thus that the nation is said in an enlarged sense, to be our home also. + +“This love of country is both natural and laudable: so natural, that to +exclude a man from his country, is the greatest punishment that country +can inflict upon him; and so laudable, that when it becomes a principle +of action, it forms the hero and the patriot. How impressive, how +beautiful, how dignified was the answer of the Shunamite woman to +Elisha, who in his gratitude to her for her hospitality and kindness, +made her a tender of his interest at court. ‘Wouldst thou,’ said he, ‘be +spoken for to the king, or to the captain of the host?’--What an offer +was that, to gratify her ambition or flatter her pride!--‘I dwell,’ said +she, ‘among mine own people.’ What a characteristic answer! all history +furnishes no parallel to it. + +“I too dwell ‘among my own people:’ my affections are there, and there +also is the sphere of my duties; and if I am depressed by the thoughts +of parting from ‘my people,’ I will do you the justice to believe, that +you would rather bear with its effects, than witness the absence of such +natural affection. + +“But this is not the sole cause: independently of some afflictions of +a clerical nature in my late parish, to which it is not necessary to +allude, the contemplation of this vast and fathomless ocean, both +from its novelty and its grandeur, overwhelms me. At home I am fond +of tracing the Creator in his works. From the erratic comet in the +firmament, to the flower that blossoms in the field; in all animate, and +inanimate matter; in all that is animal, vegetable or mineral, I see His +infinite wisdom, almighty power, and everlasting glory. + +“But that Home is inland; I have not beheld the sea now for many years. +I never saw it without emotion; I now view it with awe. What an emblem +of eternity!--Its dominion is alone reserved to Him, who made it. +Changing yet changeless--ever varying, yet always the same. How weak +and powerless is man! how short his span of life, when he is viewed +in connexion with the sea! He has left no trace upon it--it will not +receive the impress of his hands; it obeys no laws, but those imposed +upon it by Him, who called it into existence; generation after +generation has looked upon it as we now do--and where are they? Like +yonder waves that press upon each other in regular succession, they have +passed away for ever; and their nation, their language, their temples +and their tombs have perished with them. But there is the Undying one. +When man was formed, the voice of the ocean was heard, as it now is, +speaking of its mysteries, and proclaiming His glory, who alone lifteth +its waves or stilleth the rage thereof. + +“And yet, my dear friend, for so you must allow me to call you, awful as +these considerations are, which it suggests, who are they that go down +to the sea in ships and occupy their business in great waters? The +sordid trader, and the armed and mercenary sailor: gold or blood is +their object, and the fear of God is not always in them. Yet the sea +shall give up its dead, as well as the grave; and all shall-- + +“But it is not my intention to preach to you. To intrude serious topics +upon our friends at all times, has a tendency to make both ourselves and +our topics distasteful. I mention these things to you, not that they are +not obvious to you and every other right-minded man, or that I think +I can clothe them in more attractive language, or utter them with more +effect than others; but merely to account for my absence of mind and +evident air of abstraction. I know my days are numbered, and in the +nature of things, that those that are left, cannot be many. + +“Pardon me, therefore, I pray you, my friend; make allowances for an old +man, unaccustomed to leave home, and uncertain whether he shall ever be +permitted to return to it. I feel deeply and sensibly your kindness in +soliciting my company on this tour, and will endeavour so to regulate +my feelings as not to make you regret your invitation. I shall not again +recur to these topics, or trouble you with any further reflections ‘on +Home and the Sea.’” + + + + +CHAPTER V. T’OTHER EEND OF THE GUN. + +“Squire,” said Mr. Hopewell, one morning when we were alone on the +quarter-deck, “sit down by me, if you please. I wish to have a little +private conversation with you. I am a good deal concerned about Sam. I +never liked this appointment he has received: neither his education, his +habits, nor his manners have qualified him for it. He is fitted for a +trader and for nothing else. He looks upon politics as he does upon his +traffic in clocks, rather as profitable to himself than beneficial to +others. Self is predominant with him. He overrates the importance of +his office, as he will find when he arrives in London; but what is still +worse, he overrates the importance of the opinions of others regarding +the States. + +“He has been reading that foolish book of Cooper’s ‘Gleanings in +Europe,’ and intends to shew fight, he says. He called my attention, +yesterday, to this absurd passage, which he maintains is the most manly +and sensible thing that Cooper ever wrote: ‘This indifference to the +feelings of others, is a dark spot on the national manners of England. +The only way to put it down, is to become belligerent yourself, by +introducing Pauperism, Radicalism, Ireland, the Indies, or some other +sore point. Like all who make butts of others, they do not manifest +the proper forbearance when the tables are turned. Of this, I have had +abundance of proof in my own experience. Sometimes their remarks are +absolutely rude, and personally offensive, as a disregard of one’s +national character, is a disrespect to his principles; but as personal +quarrels on such grounds are to be avoided, I have uniformly retorted in +kind, if there was the smallest opening for such retaliation.” + +“Now, every gentleman in the States repudiates such sentiments as these. +My object in mentioning the subject to you, is to request the favour +of you, to persuade Sam not to be too sensitive on these topics; not +to take offence, where it is not intended; and, above all, rather +to vindicate his nationality by his conduct, than to justify those +aspersions, by his intemperate behaviour. But here he comes; I shall +withdraw and leave you together.” + +Fortunately, Mr. Slick commenced talking upon a topic, which naturally +led to that to which Mr. Hopewell had wished me to direct his attention. + +“Well, Squire,” said he, “I am glad too, you are a goin’ to England +along with me: we will take a rise out of John Bull, won’t we?--We’ve +hit Blue-nose and Brother Jonathan both pretty considerable tarnation +hard, and John has split his sides with larfter. Let’s tickle him now, +by feeling his own short ribs, and see how he will like it; we’ll +soon see whose hide is the thickest, hisn or ourn, won’t we? Let’s see +whether he will say chee, chee, chee, when he gets to the t’other eend +of the gun.” + +“What is the meaning of that saying?” I asked. “I never heard it +before.” + +“Why,” said he, “when I was a considerable of a grown up saplin of a +boy to Slickville, I used to be a gunnin’ for everlastinly amost in our +hickory woods, a shootin’ of squirrels with a rifle, and I got amazin’ +expart at it. I could take the head off of them chatterin’ little imps, +when I got a fair shot at ‘em with a ball, at any reasonable distance, +a’most in nine cases out of ten. + +“Well, one day I was out as usual, and our Irish help Paddy Burke was +along with me, and every time he see’d me a drawin’ of the bead fine +on ‘em, he used to say, ‘Well, you’ve an excellent gun entirely, Master +Sam. Oh by Jakers! the squirrel has no chance with that gun, it’s an +excellent one entirely.’ + +“At last I got tired a hearin’ of him a jawin’ so for ever and a day +about the excellent gun entirely; so, sais I, ‘You fool you, do you +think it’s the gun that does it _entirely_ as you say; ain’t there a +little dust of skill in it? Do you think you could fetch one down?’ + +“‘Oh, it’s a capital gun entirely,’ said he. + +“‘Well,’ said I, ‘if it ‘tis, try it now, and see what sort of a fist +you’ll make of it.’ + +“So Paddy takes the rifle, lookin’ as knowin’ all the time as if he +had ever seed one afore. Well, there was a great red squirrel, on the +tip-top of a limb, chatterin’ away like any thing, chee, chee, chee, +proper frightened; he know’d it warn’t me, that was a parsecutin’ +of him, and he expected he’d be hurt. They know’d me, did the little +critters, when they seed me, and they know’d I never had hurt one on +‘em, my balls never givin’ ‘em a chance to feel what was the matter +of them; but Pat they didn’t know, and they see’d he warn’t the man +to handle ‘old Bull-Dog.’ I used to call my rifle Bull-Dog, cause she +always bit afore she barked. + +“Pat threw one foot out astarn, like a skullin’ oar, and then bent +forrards like a hoop, and fetched the rifle slowly up to the line, and +shot to the right eye. Chee, chee, chee, went the squirrel. He see’d it +was wrong. ‘By the powers!’ sais Pat, ‘this is a left-handed boot,’ and +he brought the gun to the other shoulder, and then shot to his left eye. +‘Fegs!’ sais Pat, ‘this gun was made for a squint eye, for I can’t get +a right strait sight of the critter, either side.’ So I fixt it for him +and told him which eye to sight by. ‘An excellent gun entirely,’ sais +Pat, ‘but it tante made like the rifles we have.’ + +“Ain’t they strange critters, them Irish, Squire? That feller never +handled a rifle afore in all his born days; but unless it was to a +priest, he wouldn’t confess that much for the world. They are as bad as +the English that way; they always pretend they know every thing. + +“‘Come, Pat,’ sais I, ‘blaze away now.’ Back goes the hind leg agin, up +bends the back, and Bull-Dog rises slowly to his shoulder; and then he +stared, and stared, until his arm shook like palsy. Chee, chee, chee, +went the squirrel agin, louder than ever, as much as to say, ‘Why the +plague don’t you fire? I’m not a goin’ to stand here all day, for you +this way,’ and then throwin’ his tail over his back, he jumped on to the +next branch. + +“‘By the piper that played before Moses!’ sais Pat, ‘I’ll stop your +chee, chee, cheein’ for you, you chatterin’ spalpeen of a devil, you’. +So he ups with the rifle agin, takes a fair aim at him, shuts both eyes, +turns his head round, and fires; and “Bull-Dog,” findin’ he didn’t know +how to hold her tight to the shoulder, got mad, and kicked him head over +heels, on the broad of his back. Pat got up, a makin’ awful wry faces, +and began to limp, to show how lame his shoulder was, and to rub his +arm, to see if he had one left, and the squirrel ran about the tree +hoppin’ mad, hollerin’ out as loud as it could scream, chee, chee, chee. + +“‘Oh bad luck to you,’ sais Pat, ‘if you had a been at t’other eend of +the gun,’ and he rubbed his shoulder agin, and cried like a baby, ‘you +wouldn’t have said chee, chee, chee, that way, I know.’ + +“Now when your gun, Squire, was a knockin’ over Blue-nose, and makin’ a +proper fool of him, and a knockin’ over Jonathan, and a spilin’ of his +bran-new clothes, the English sung out chee, chee, chee, till all was +blue agin. You had an excellent gun entirely then: let’s see if they +will sing out chee, chee, chee, now, when we take a shot at _them_. Do +you take?” and he laid his thumb on his nose, as if perfectly satisfied +with the application of his story. “Do you take, Squire? you have an +excellent gun entirely, as Pat says. It’s what I call puttin’ the leake +into ‘em properly. If you had a written this book fust, the English +would have said your gun was no good; it wouldn’t have been like the +rifles they had seen. Lord, I could tell you stories about the English, +that would make even them cryin’ devils the Mississippi crocodiles +laugh, if they was to hear ‘em.” + +“Pardon me, Mr. Slick,” I said, “this is not the temper with which you +should visit England.” + +“What is the temper,” he replied with much warmth, “that they visit us +in? Cuss ‘em! Look at Dickens; was there ever a man made so much of, +except La Fayette? And who was Dickens? Not a Frenchman that is a friend +to us, not a native that has a claim on us; not a colonist, who, though +English by name is still an American by birth, six of one and half a +dozen of t’other, and therefore a kind of half-breed brother. No! he was +a cussed Britisher; and what is wus, a British author; and yet, because +he was a man of genius, because genius has the ‘tarnal globe for its +theme, and the world for its home, and mankind for its readers, and +bean’t a citizen of this state or that state, but a native of the +univarse, why we welcomed him, and feasted him, and leveed him, and +escorted him, and cheered him, and honoured him, did he honour us? What +did he say of us when he returned? Read his book. + +“No, don’t read his book, for it tante worth readin’. Has he said one +word of all that reception in his book? that book that will be read, +translated, and read agin all over Europe--has he said one word of that +reception? Answer me that, will you? Darned the word, his memory was +bad; he lost it over the tafrail when he was sea-sick. But his notebook +was safe under lock and key, and the pigs in New York, and the chap the +rats eat in jail, and the rough man from Kentucky, and the entire raft +of galls emprisoned in one night, and the spittin’ boxes and all that +stuff, warn’t trusted to memory, it was noted down, and printed. + +“But it tante no matter. Let any man give me any sarce in England, about +my country, or not give me the right _po_-sition in society, as Attache +to our Legation, and, as Cooper says, I’ll become belligerent, too, I +will, I snore. I can snuff a candle with a pistol as fast as you can +light it; hang up an orange, and I’ll first peel it with ball and +then quarter it. Heavens! I’ll let daylight dawn through some o’ their +jackets, I know. + +“Jube, you infarnal black scoundrel, you odoriferous nigger you, what’s +that you’ve got there?” + +“An apple, massa.” + +“Take off your cap and put that apple on your head, then stand sideways +by that port-hole, and hold steady, or you might stand a smart chance to +have your wool carded, that’s all.” + +Then taking a pistol out of the side-pocket of his mackintosh, he +deliberately walked over to the other side of the deck, and examined his +priming. + +“Good heavens, Mr. Slick!” said I in great alarm, “what are you about?” + +“I am goin’,” he said with the greatest coolness, but at the same time +with equal sternness, “to bore a hole through that apple, Sir.” + +“For shame! Sir,” I said. “How can you think of such a thing? Suppose +you were to miss your shot, and kill that unfortunate boy?” + +“I won’t suppose no such thing, Sir. I can’t miss it. I couldn’t miss +it if I was to try. Hold your head steady, Jube--and if I did, it’s no +great matter. The onsarcumcised Amalikite ain’t worth over three hundred +dollars at the furthest, that’s a fact; and the way he’d pyson a shark +ain’t no matter. Are you ready, Jube?” + +“Yes, massa.” + +“You shall do no such thing, Sir,” I said, seizing his arm with both my +hands. “If you attempt to shoot at that apple, I shall hold no further +intercourse with you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sir.” + +“Ky! massa,” said Jube, “let him fire, Sar; he no hurt Jube; he no +foozle de hair. I isn’t one mossel afeerd. He often do it, jist to keep +him hand in, Sar. Massa most a grand shot, Sar. He take off de ear oh de +squirrel so slick, he neber miss it, till he go scratchin’ his head. Let +him appel hab it, massa.” + +“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Slick, “he is a Christian is Jube, he is as good as +a white Britisher: same flesh, only a leetle, jist a leetle darker; same +blood, only not quite so old, ain’t quite so much tarter on the bottle +as a lord’s has; oh him and a Britisher is all one brother--oh by all +means-- + + Him fader’s hope--him mudder’s joy, + Him darlin little nigger boy. + +You’d better cry over him, hadn’t you. Buss him, call him brother, hug +him, give him the “Abolition” kiss, write an article on slavery, like +Dickens; marry him to a white gall to England, get him a saint’s darter +with a good fortin, and well soon see whether her father was a talkin’ +cant or no, about niggers. Cuss ‘em, let any o’ these Britishers give +me slack, and I’ll give ‘em cranberry for their goose, I know. I’d jump +right down their throat with spurs on, and gallop their sarce out.” + +“Mr. Slick I’ve done; I shall say no more; we part, and part for ever. I +had no idea whatever, that a man, whose whole conduct has evinced a +kind heart, and cheerful disposition, could have entertained such +a revengeful spirit, or given utterance to such unchristian and +uncharitable language, as you have used to-day. We part”-- + +“No, we don’t,” said he; “don’t kick afore you are spurred. I guess I +have feelins as well as other folks have, that’s a fact; one can’t help +being ryled to hear foreigners talk this way; and these critters are +enough to make a man spotty on the back. I won’t deny I’ve got some +grit, but I ain’t ugly. Pat me on the back and I soon cool down, drop in +a soft word and I won’t bile over; but don’t talk big, don’t threaten, +or I curl directly.” + +“Mr. Slick,” said I, “neither my countrymen, the Nova Scotians, nor your +friends, the Americans, took any thing amiss, in our previous remarks, +because, though satirical, they were good natured. There was nothing +malicious in them. They were not made for the mere purpose of shewing +them up, but were incidental to the topic we were discussing, and their +whole tenor shewed that while “we were alive to the ludicrous, we fully +appreciated, and properly valued their many excellent and sterling +qualities. My countrymen, for whose good I published them, had the most +reason to complain, for I took the liberty to apply ridicule to them +with no sparing hand. They understood the motive, and joined in the +laugh, which was raised at their expense. Let us treat the English in +the same style; let us keep our temper. John Bull is a good-natured +fellow, and has no objection to a joke, provided it is not made the +vehicle of conveying an insult. Don’t adopt Cooper’s maxims; +nobody approves of them, on either side of the water; don’t be too +thin-skinned. If the English have been amused by the sketches their +tourists have drawn of, the Yankees, perhaps the Americans may laugh +over our sketches of the English. Let us make both of them smile, if we +can, and endeavour to offend neither. If Dickens omitted to mention the +festivals that were given in honour of his arrival in the States, he +was doubtless actuated by a desire to avoid the appearance of personal +vanity. A man cannot well make himself the hero of his own book.” + +“Well, well,” said he, “I believe the black ox did tread on my toe that +time. I don’t know but what you’re right. Soft words are good enough in +their way, but still they butter no parsnips, as the sayin’ is. John may +be a good-natured critter, tho’ I never see’d any of it yet; and he may +be fond of a joke, and p’raps is, seein’ that he haw-haws considerable +loud at his own. Let’s try him at all events. We’ll soon see how he +likes other folks’ jokes; I have my scruple about him, I must say. I am +dubersome whether he will say ‘chee, chee, chee’ when he gets ‘T’other +eend of the gun.’” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. SMALL POTATOES AND FEW IN A HILL. + +“Pray Sir,” said one of my fellow passengers, “can you tell me why the +Nova Scotians are called ‘Blue-noses?’” + +“It is the name of a potatoe,” said I, “which they produce in great +perfection, and boast to be the best in the world. The Americans have, +in consequence, given them the nick-name of “Blue-noses.’” + +“And now,” said Mr. Slick,” as you have told the entire stranger, _who_ +a Blue-nose is, I’ll jist up and tell him _what_ he is. + +“One day, Stranger, I was a joggin’ along into Windsor on Old Clay, on +a sort of butter and eggs’ gait (for a fast walk on a journey tires a +horse considerable), and who should I see a settin’ straddle legs “on +the fence, but Squire Gabriel Soogit, with his coat off, a holdin’ of +a hoe in one hand, and his hat in t’other, and a blowin’ like a porpus +proper tired. + +“‘Why, Squire Gabe,’ sais I, ‘what is the matter of you? you look as if +you couldn’t help yourself; who is dead and what is to pay now, eh?’ + +“‘Fairly beat out,’ said he, ‘I am shockin’ tired. I’ve been hard at +work all the mornin’; a body has to stir about considerable smart in +this country, to make a livin’, I tell you.’ + +“I looked over the fence, and I seed he had hoed jist ten hills of +potatoes, and that’s all. Fact I assure you. + +“Sais he, ‘Mr. Slick, tell you what, _of all the work I ever did in my +life I like hoein’ potatoes the best, and I’d rather die than do that, +it makes my back ache so_.” + +“‘Good airth” and seas,’ sais I to myself, ‘what a parfect pictur of a +lazy man that is! How far is it to Windsor?’ + +“‘Three miles,’ sais he. I took out my pocket-book purtendin’ to write +down the distance, but I booked his sayin’ in my way-bill. + +“Yes, _that_ is a _Blue-nose_; is it any wonder, Stranger, he _is small +potatoes and few in a hill_?” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. A GENTLEMAN AT LARGE. + +It is not my intention to record any of the ordinary incidents of a sea +voyage: the subject is too hackneyed and too trite; and besides, +when the topic is seasickness, it is infectious and the description +nauseates. _Hominem pagina nostra sapit_. The proper study of mankind +is man; human nature is what I delight in contemplating; I love to trace +out and delineate the springs of human action. + +Mr. Slick and Mr. Hopewell are both studies. The former is a perfect +master of certain chords; He has practised upon them, not for +philosophical, but for mercenary purposes. He knows the depth, +and strength, and tone of vanity, curiosity, pride, envy, avarice, +superstition, nationality, and local and general prejudice. He has +learned the effect of these, not because they contribute to make him +wiser, but because they make him richer; not to enable him to regulate +his conduct in life, but to promote and secure the increase of his +trade. + +Mr. Hopewell, on the contrary, has studied the human heart as a +philanthropist, as a man whose business it was to minister to it, +to cultivate and improve it. His views are more sound and more +comprehensive than those of the other’s, and his objects are more noble. +They are both extraordinary men. + +They differed, however, materially in their opinion of England and its +institutions. Mr. Slick evidently viewed them with prejudice. Whether +this arose from the supercilious manner of English tourists in America, +or from the ridicule they have thrown upon Republican society, in the +books of travels they have published, after their return to Europe, +I could not discover; but it soon became manifest to me, that Great +Britain did not stand so high in his estimation, as the colonies did. + +Mr. Hopewell, on the contrary, from early associations, cherished a +feeling of regard and respect for England; and when his opinion was +asked, he always gave it with great frankness and impartiality. When +there was any thing he could not approve of, it appeared to be a subject +of regret to him; whereas, the other seized upon it at once as a matter +of great exultation. The first sight we had of land naturally called out +their respective opinions. + +As we were pacing the deck speculating upon the probable termination of +our voyage, Cape Clear was descried by the look-out on the mast-head. + +“Hallo! what’s that? why if it ain’t land ahead, as I’m alive!” said +Mr. Slick. “Well, come this is pleasant too, we have made amost an +everlastin’ short voyage of it, hante we; and I must say I like land +quite as well as sea, in a giniral way, arter all; but, Squire, here is +the first Britisher. That critter that’s a clawin’ up the side of the +vessel like a cat, is the pilot: now do for goodness gracious sake, jist +look at him, and hear him.” + +“What port?” + +“Liverpool.” + +“Keep her up a point.” + +“Do you hear that, Squire? that’s English, or what we used to call to +singing school short metre. The critter don’t say a word, even as much +as ‘by your leave’; but jist goes and takes his post, and don’t ask the +name of the vessel, or pass the time o’ day with the Captin. That ain’t +in the bill, it tante paid for that; if it was, he’d off cap, touch +the deck three times with his forehead, and ‘_Slam_’ like a Turk to his +Honour the Skipper. + +“There’s plenty of civility here to England if you pay for it: you can +buy as much in five minits, as will make you sick for a week; but if you +don’t pay for it, you not only won’t get it, but you get sarce instead +of it, that is if you are fool enough to stand and have it rubbed in. +They are as cold as Presbyterian charity, and mean enough to put the sun +in eclipse, are the English. They hante set up the brazen image here +to worship, but they’ve got a gold one, and that they do adore and no +mistake; it’s all pay, pay, pay; parquisite, parquisite, parquisite; +extortion, extortion, extortion. There is a whole pack of yelpin’ devils +to your heels here, for everlastinly a cringin’, fawnin’ and coaxin’, +or snarlin’, grumblin’ or bullyin’ you out of your money. There’s the +boatman, and tide-waiter, and porter, and custom-er, and truck man as +soon as you land; and the sarvant-man, and chamber-gall, and boots, and +porter again to the inn. And then on the road, there is trunk-lifter, +and coachman, and guard, and beggar-man, and a critter that opens the +coach door, that they calls a waterman, cause he is infarnal dirty, and +never sees water. They are jist like a snarl o’ snakes, their name is +legion and there ain’t no eend to ‘em. + +“The only thing you get for nothin’ here is rain and smoke, the rumatiz, +and scorny airs. If you could buy an Englishman at what he was worth, +and sell him at his own valiation, he would realise as much as a nigger, +and would be worth tradin’ in, that’s a fact; but as it is he ain’t +worth nothin’, there is no market for such critters, no one would buy +him at no price. A Scotchman is wus, for he is prouder and meaner. +Pat ain’t no better nother; he ain’t proud, cause he has a hole in his +breeches and another in his elbow, and he thinks pride won’t patch ‘em, +and he ain’t mean cause he hante got nothin’ to be mean with. Whether it +takes nine tailors to make a man, I can’t jist exactly say, but this +I will say, and take my davy of it too, that it would take three such +goneys as these to make a pattern for one of our rael genu_wine_ free +and enlightened citizens, and then I wouldn’t swap without large boot, +I tell you. Guess I’ll go, and pack up my fixing and have ‘em ready to +land.” + +He now went below, leaving Mr. Hopewell and myself on the deck. All +this tirade of Mr. Slick was uttered in the hearing of the pilot, and +intended rather for his conciliation, than my instruction. The pilot was +immoveable; he let the cause against his country go “by default,” and +left us to our process of “inquiry;” but when Mr. Slick was in the +act of descending to the cabin, he turned and gave him a look of +admeasurement, very similar to that which a grazier gives an ox; a look +which estimates the weight and value of the animal, and I am bound to +admit, that the result of that “sizing or laying” as it is technically +called, was by no means favourable to the Attache”. + +Mr. Hopewell had evidently not attended to it; his eye was fixed on +the bold and precipitous shore of Wales, and the lofty summits of the +everlasting hills, that in the distance, aspired to a companionship with +the clouds. I took my seat at a little distance from him and surveyed +the scene with mingled feelings of curiosity and admiration, until a +thick volume of sulphureous smoke from the copper furnaces of Anglesey +intercepted our view. + +“Squire,” said he, “it is impossible for us to contemplate this country, +that now lies before us, without strong emotion. It is our fatherland. +I recollect when I was a colonist, as you are, we were in the habit of +applying to it, in common with Englishmen, that endearing appellation +“Home,” and I believe you still continue to do so in the provinces. +Our nursery tales, taught our infant lips to lisp in English, and the +ballads, that first exercised our memories, stored the mind with the +traditions of our forefathers; their literature was our literature, +their religion our religion, their history our history. The battle of +Hastings, the murder of Becket, the signature of Runymede, the execution +at Whitehall; the divines, the poets, the orators, the heroes, the +martyrs, each and all were familiar to us. + +“In approaching this country now, after a lapse of many, many years, +and approaching it too for the last time, for mine eyes shall see it no +more, I cannot describe to you the feelings that agitate my heart. I go +to visit the tombs of my ancestors; I go to my home, and my home knoweth +me no more. Great and good, and brave and free are the English; and may +God grant that they may ever continue so!” + +“I cordially join in that prayer, Sir,” said I; “you have a country +of your own. The old colonies having ripened into maturity, formed a +distinct and separate family, in the great community of mankind. You are +now a nation of yourselves, and your attachment to England, is of course +subordinate to that of your own country; you view it as the place that +was in days of yore the home of your forefathers; we regard it as the +paternal estate, continuing to call it ‘Home’ as you have just now +observed. We owe it a debt of gratitude that not only cannot be repaid, +but is too great for expression. Their armies protect us within, and +their fleets defend us, and our commerce without. Their government is +not only paternal and indulgent, but is wholly gratuitous. We neither +pay these forces, nor feed them, nor clothe them. We not only raise no +taxes, but are not expected to do so. The blessings of true religion are +diffused among us, by the pious liberality of England, and a collegiate +establishment at Windsor, supported by British friends, has for years +supplied the Church, the Bar and the Legislature with scholars and +gentlemen. Where the national funds have failed, private contribution +has volunteered its aid, and means are never wanting for any useful or +beneficial object. + +“Our condition is a most enviable one. The history of the world has no +example to offer of such noble disinterestedness and such liberal rule, +as that exhibited by Great Britain to her colonies. If the policy of the +Colonial Office is not always good (which I fear is too much to say) +it is ever liberal; and if we do not mutually derive all the benefit +we might from the connexion, _we_, at least, reap more solid advantages +than we have a right to expect, and more, I am afraid, than our conduct +always deserves. I hope the Secretary for the Colonies may have the +advantage of making your acquaintance, Sir. Your experience is so great, +you might give him a vast deal of useful information, which he could +obtain from no one else. + +“Minister,” said Mr. Slick, who had just mounted the companion-ladder, +“will your honour,” touching his hat, “jist look at your honour’s +plunder, and see it’s all right; remember me, Sir; thank your honour. +This way, Sir; let me help your honour down. Remember me again, Sir. +Thank your honour. Now you may go and break your neck, your honour, as +soon as you please; for I’ve got all out of you I can squeeze, that’s a +fact. That’s English, Squire--that’s English servility, which they call +civility, and English meanness and beggin’, which they call parquisite. +Who was that you wanted to see the Minister, that I heerd you a talkin’ +of when I come on deck?” + +“The Secretary of the Colonies,” I said. + +“Oh for goodness sake don’t send that crittur to him,” said he, “or +minister will have to pay him for his visit, more, p’raps, than he +can afford. John Russell, that had the ribbons afore him, appointed a +settler as a member of Legislative Council to Prince Edward’s Island, +a berth that has no pay, that takes a feller three months a year from +home, and has a horrid sight to do; and what do you think he did? Now +jist guess. You give it up, do you? Well, you might as well, for if you +was five Yankees biled down to one, you wouldn’t guess it. ‘Remember +Secretary’s clerk,’ says he, a touchin’ of his hat, ‘give him a little +tip of thirty pound sterling, your honour.’ Well, colonist had a drop of +Yankee blood in him, which was about one third molasses, and, of course, +one third more of a man than they commonly is, and so he jist ups and +says, ‘I’ll see you and your clerk to Jericho beyond Jordan fust. The +office ain’t worth the fee. Take it and sell it to some one else that +has more money nor wit.’ He did, upon my soul.” + +“No, don’t send State-Secretary to Minister, send him to me at eleven +o’clock to-night, for I shall be the toploftiest feller about that time +you’ve seen this while past, I tell you. Stop till I touch land once +more, that’s all; the way I’ll stretch my legs ain’t no matter.” + +He then uttered the negro ejaculation “chah!--chah!” and putting his +arms a-kimbo, danced in a most extraordinary style to the music of a +song, which he gave with great expression: + + “Oh hab you nebber heerd ob de battle ob Orleens, + Where de dandy Yankee lads gave de Britishers de beans; + Oh de Louisiana boys dey did it pretty slick, + When dey cotch ole Packenham and rode him up a creek. + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey, + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey. + +“Oh yes, send Secretary to me at eleven or twelve to-night, I’ll be in +tune then, jist about up to concart pitch. I’ll smoke with him, or drink +with him, or swap stories with him, or wrastle with him, or make a fool +of him, or lick him, or any thing he likes; and when I’ve done, I’ll +rise up, tweak the fore-top-knot of my head by the nose, bow pretty, and +say ‘Remember me, your honour? Don’t forget the tip?’ Lord, how I long +to walk into some o’ these chaps, and give ‘em the beans! and I will +yet afore I’m many days older, hang me if I don’t. I shall bust, I do +expect; and if I do, them that ain’t drownded will be scalded, I know. +Chah!--chah! + + “Oh de British name is Bull, and de French name is Frog, + And noisy critters too, when a braggin’ on a log,-- + But I is an alligator, a floatin’ down stream. + And I’ll chaw both the bullies up, as I would an ice-cream: + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dee, + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dee. + +“Yes, I’ve been pent up in that drawer-like lookin’ berth, till I’ve +growed like a pine-tree with its branches off--straight up and down. My +legs is like a pair of compasses that’s got wet; they are rusty on the +hinges, and won’t work. I’ll play leapfrog up the street, over every +feller’s head, till I get to the Liners’ Hotel; I hope I may be shot if +I don’t. Jube, you villain, stand still there on the deck, and hold up +stiff, you nigger. Warny once--warny twice--warny three times; now I +come.” + +And he ran forward, and putting a hand on each shoulder, jumped over +him. + +“Turn round agin, you young sucking Satan, you; and don’t give one mite +or morsel, or you might ‘break massa’s precious neck,’ p’raps. Warny +once--warny twice--warny three times.” + +And he repeated the feat again. + +“That’s the way I’ll shin it up street, with a hop, skip and a jump. +Won’t I make Old Bull stare, when he finds his head under my coat tails, +and me jist makin’ a lever of him? He’ll think he has run foul of a +snag, _I_ know. Lord, I’ll shack right over their heads, as they do over +a colonist; only when they do, they never say warny wunst, cuss ‘em, +they arn’t civil enough for that. They arn’t paid for it--there is no +parquisite to be got by it. Won’t I tuck in the Champaine to-night, +that’s all, till I get the steam up right, and make the paddles work? +Won’t I have a lark of the rael Kentuck breed? Won’t I trip up a +policeman’s heels, thunder the knockers of the street doors, and ring +the bells and leave no card? Won’t I have a shy at a lamp, and then off +hot foot to the hotel? Won’t I say, ‘Waiter, how dare you do that?’ + +“‘What, Sir?’ + +“‘Tread on my foot.’ + +“‘I didn’t, Sir.’ + +“‘You did, Sir. Take that!’ knock him down like wink, and help him up on +his feet agin with a kick on his western eend. Kiss the barmaid, about +the quickest and wickedest she ever heerd tell of, and then off to bed +as sober as a judge. ‘Chambermaid, bring a pan of coals and air my bed.’ +‘Yes, Sir.’ Foller close at her heels, jist put a hand on each short +rib, tickle her till she spills the red hot coals all over the floor, +and begins to cry over ‘em to put ‘em out, whip the candle out of her +hand, leave her to her lamentations, and then off to roost in no time. +And when I get there, won’t I strike out all abroad--take up the room of +three men with their clothes on--lay all over and over the bed, and feel +once more I am a free man and a ‘_Gentleman at large_.’” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. SEEING LIVERPOOL. + +On looking back to any given period of our life, we generally find that +the intervening time appears much shorter than it really is. We see at +once the starting-post and the terminus, and the mind takes in at one +view the entire space. + +But this observation is more peculiarly applicable to a short passage +across the Atlantic. Knowing how great the distance is, and accustomed +to consider the voyage as the work of many weeks, we are so astonished +at finding ourselves transported in a few days, from one continent to +another, that we can hardly credit the evidence of our own senses. + +Who is there that on landing has not asked himself the question, “Is it +possible that I am in England? It seems but as yesterday that I was in +America, to-day I am in Europe. Is it a dream, or a reality?” + +The river and the docks--the country and the town--the people and their +accent--the verdure and the climate are all new to me. I have not been +prepared for this; I have not been led on imperceptibly, by travelling +mile after mile by land from my own home, to accustom my senses to the +gradual change of country. There has been no border to pass, where the +language, the dress, the habits, and outward appearances assimilate. +There has been no blending of colours--no dissolving views in the +retrospect--no opening or expanding ones in prospect. I have no +difficulty in ascertaining the point where one terminates and the other +begins. + +The change is sudden and startling. The last time I slept on shore, +was in America--to-night I sleep in England. The effect is magical--one +country is withdrawn from view, and another is suddenly presented to my +astonished gaze. I am bewildered; I rouse myself, and rubbing my eyes, +again ask whether I am awake? Is this England? that great country, that +world of itself; Old England, that place I was taught to call home _par +excellence_, the home of other homes, whose flag, I called our flag? +(no, I am wrong, I have been accustomed to call our flag, the flag of +England; our church, not the Church of Nova Scotia, nor the Colonial nor +the Episcopal, nor the Established, but the Church of England.) Is +it then that England, whose language I speak, whose subject I am, the +mistress of the world, the country of Kings and Queens, and nobles and +prelates, and sages and heroes? + +I have read of it, so have I read of old Rome; but the sight of Rome, +Caesar and the senate would not astonish me more than that of London, +the Queen and the Parliament. Both are yet ideal; the imagination has +sketched them, but when were its sketches ever true to nature? I have +a veneration for both, but, gentle reader, excuse the confessions of an +old man, for I have a soft spot in the heart yet, _I love Old England_. +I love its institutions, its literature, its people. I love its law, +because, while it protects property, it ensures liberty. I love its +church, not only because I believe it is the true church, but because +though armed with power, it is tolerant in practice. I love its +constitution, because it combines the stability of a monarchy, with the +most valuable peculiarities of a republic, and without violating nature +by attempting to make men equal, wisely follow its dictates, by securing +freedom to all. + +I like the people, though not all in the same degree. They are not what +they were. Dissent, reform and agitation have altered their character. +It is necessary to distinguish. A _real_ Englishman is generous, loyal +and brave, manly in his conduct and gentlemanly in his feeling. When I +meet such a man as this, I cannot but respect him; but when I find that +in addition to these good qualities, he has the further recommendation +of being a churchman in his religion and a tory in his politics, I know +then that his heart is in the right place, and I love him. + +The drafts of these chapters were read to Mr. Slick, at his particular +request, that he might be assured they contained nothing that would +injure his election as President of the United States, in the event of +the Slickville ticket becoming hereafter the favourite one. This, he +said, was on the cards, strange as it might seem, for making a fool of +John Bull and turning the laugh on him, would be sure to take and be +popular. The last paragraphs, he said, he affectioned and approbated +with all his heart. + +“It is rather tall talkin’ that,” said he; “I like its patronisin’ tone. +There is sunthin’ goodish in a colonist patronisin’ a Britisher. It’s +turnin’ the tables on ‘em; it’s sarvin’ ‘em out in their own way. Lord, +I think I see old Bull put his eye-glass up and look at you, with a dead +aim, and hear him say, ‘Come, this is cuttin’ it rather fat.’ Or, as +the feller said to his second wife, when she tapped him on the shoulder, +‘Marm, my first wife was a _Pursy_, and she never presumed to take that +liberty.’ Yes, that’s good, Squire. Go it, my shirt-tails! you’ll win if +you get in fust, see if you don’t. Patronizin’ a Britisher!!! A critter +that has Lucifer’s pride, Arkwright’s wealth, and Bedlam’s sense, ain’t +it rich? Oh, wake snakes and walk your chalks, will you! Give me your +figgery-four Squire, I’ll go in up to the handle for you. Hit or miss, +rough or tumble, claw or mud-scraper, any way, you damn please, I’m your +man.” + +But to return to my narrative. I was under the necessity of devoting the +day next after our landing at Liverpool, to writing letters announcing +my safe arrival to my anxious friends in Nova Scotia, and in different +parts of England; and also some few on matters of business. Mr. Slick +was very urgent in his request, that I should defer this work till +the evening, and accompany him in a stroll about the town, and at last +became quite peevish at my reiterated refusal. + +“You remind me, Squire,” said he, “of Rufus Dodge, our great ile +marchant of Boston, and as you won’t walk, p’raps you’ll talk, so I’ll +jist tell you the story. + +“I was once at the Cataract House to Niagara. It is jist a short +distance above the Falls. Out of the winders, you have a view of the +splendid white waters, or the rapids of foam, afore the river takes its +everlastin’ leap over the cliff. + +“Well, Rufus come all the way from Boston to see the Falls: he said he +didn’t care much about them hisself, seein’ that he warn’t in the mill +business; but, as he was a goin’ to England, he didn’t like to say he +hadn’t been there, especially as all the English knowed about America +was, that there was a great big waterfall called Niagara, an everlastin’ +Almighty big river called Mississippi, and a parfect pictur of a wappin’ +big man called Kentuckian there. Both t’other ones he’d seen over and +over agin, but Niagara he’d never sot eyes on. + +“So as soon as he arrives, he goes into the public room, and looks at +the white waters, and, sais he, ‘Waiter,’ sais he, ‘is them the falls +down there?’ a-pintin’ by accident in the direction where the Falls +actilly was. + +“‘Yes, Sir,’ sais the waiter. + +“‘Hem!’ sais Rufe, ‘them’s the Falls of Niagara, eh! So I’ve seen the +Falls at last, eh! Well it’s pretty too: they ain’t bad, that’s a fact. +So them’s the Falls of Niagara! How long is it afore the stage starts?’ + +“‘An hour, Sir.’ + +“‘Go and book me for Boston, and then bring me a paper.’ + +“‘Yes, Sir.’ + +“Well he got his paper and sot there a readin’ of it, and every now +and then, he’d look out of the winder and say: ‘So them’s the Falls of +Niagara, eh? Well, it’s a pretty little mill privilege that too, ain’t +it; but it ain’t just altogether worth comin’ so far to see. So I’ve +seen the Falls at last!’ + +“Arter a while in comes a Britisher. + +“‘Waiter,’ says he, ‘how far is it to the Falls?’ + +“‘Little over a half a mile, Sir.’ + +“‘Which way do you get there?’ + +“‘Turn to the right, and then to the left, and then go a-head.’ + +“Rufe heard all this, and it kinder seemed dark to him; so arter +cypherin’ it over in his head a bit, ‘Waiter,’ says he, ‘ain’t them the +Falls of Niagara, I see there?’ + +“‘No, Sir.’ + +“‘Well, that’s tarnation all over now. Not the Falls?’ + +“‘No, Sir.’ + +“‘Why, you don’t mean to say, that them are ain’t the Falls?’ + +“‘Yes, I do, Sir.’ + +“‘Heaven and airth! I’ve come hundreds of miles a puppus to see ‘em, and +nothin’ else; not a bit of trade, or speckelation, or any airthly thing +but to see them cussed Falls, and come as near as 100 cents to a dollar, +startin’ off without sein’ ‘em arter all. If it hadn’t a been for that +are Britisher I was sold, that’s a fact. Can I run down there and back +in half an hour in time for the stage?’ + +“‘Yes, Sir, but you will have no time to see them.’ + +“‘See ‘em, cuss ‘em, I don’t want to see ‘em, I tell you. I want to look +at ‘em, I want to say I was to the Falls, that’s all. Give me my hat, +quick! So them ain’t the Falls! I ha’n’t see’d the Falls of Niagara +arter all. What a devil of a take-in that is, ain’t it?’ And he dove +down stairs like a Newfoundland dog into a pond arter a stone, and out +of sight in no time. + +“Now, you are as like Rufe, as two peas, Squire. You want to say, you +was to Liverpool, but you don’t want to see nothin’.’ + +“Waiter.” + +“Sir.” + +“Is this Liverpool, I see out of the Winder?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Guess I have seen Liverpool then. So this is the great city of +Liverpool, eh? When does the train start for London?” + +“In half an hour, Sir?” + +“Book me for London then, for I have been to Liverpool and seen the +city. Oh, take your place, Squire, you have seen Liverpool; and if you +see as much of all other places, as you have of this here one, afore you +return home, you will know most as much of England as them do that never +was there at all. + +“I am sorry too, you won’t go, Squire,” added he, “for minister seems +kinder dull.” + +“Don’t say another word, Mr. Slick,” said I; “every thing shall give way +to him.” And locking up my writing-desk I said: “I am ready.” + +“Stop, Squire,” said he, “I’ve got a favour to ask of you. Don’t for +gracious sake, say nothin’ before Mr. Hopewell about that ‘ere lark I +had last night arter landin’, it would sorter worry him, and set him off +a-preachin’, and I’d rather he’d strike me any time amost than lectur, +for he does it so tender and kindly, it hurts my feelins _like_, a +considerable sum. I’ve had a pretty how-do-ye-do about it this mornin’, +and have had to plank down handsum’, and do the thing genteel; but +Mister Landlord found, I reckon, he had no fool to deal with, nother. He +comes to me, as soon as I was cleverly up this mornin’, lookin’ as full +of importance, as Jube Japan did when I put the Legation button on him. + +“‘Bad business this, Sir,’ says he; ‘never had such a scene in my house +before, Sir; have had great difficulty to prevent my sarvants takin’ the +law of you.’ + +“‘Ah,’ sais I to myself, ‘I see how the cat jumps; here’s a little tid +bit of extortion now; but you won’t find that no go, I don’t think.’ + +“‘You will have to satisfy them, Sir,’ says he, ‘or take the +consequences.’ + +“‘Sartainly,’ said I, ‘any thin’ you please: I leave it entirely to you; +jist name what you think proper, and I will liquidate it.’ + +“‘I said, I knew you would behave like a gentleman, Sir,’ sais he, ‘for, +sais I, don’t talk to me of law, name it to the gentleman, and he’ll do +what is right; he’ll behave liberal, you may depend.’ + +“‘You said right,’ sais I, ‘and now, Sir, what’s the damage?’ + +“‘Fifty pounds, I should think about the thing, Sir,’ said he. + +“‘Certainly,’ said I, ‘you shall have the fifty pounds, but you must +give me a receipt in full for it.’ + +“‘By all means,’ said he, and he was a cuttin’ off full chisel to get a +stamp, when I sais, ‘Stop,’ sais I, ‘uncle, mind and put in the receipt, +the bill of items, and charge ‘em separate?’ + +“‘Bill of items? sais he. + +“‘Yes,’ sais I, ‘let me see what each is to get. Well, there’s the +waiter, now. Say to knockin’ down the waiter and kicking him, so much; +then there’s the barmaid so much, and so on. I make no objection, I am +willin’ to pay all you ask, but I want to include all, for I intend to +post a copy of it in the elegant cabins of each of our splendid New York +Liners. This house convenes the Americans--they all know _me_. I want +them to know how their _Attache_ was imposed on, and if any American +ever sets foot in this cussed house agin I will pay his bill, and post +that up too, as a letter of credit for him.’ + +“‘You wouldn’t take that advantage of me, Sir?’ said he. + +“‘I take no advantage,’ sais I. ‘I’ll pay you what you ask, but you +shall never take advantage agin of another free and enlightened American +citizen, I can tell you.’ + +“‘You must keep your money then, Sir,’ said he, ‘but this is not a fair +deal; no gentleman would do it.’ + +“‘What’s fair, I am willin’ to do,’ sais I; ‘what’s onfair, is what +you want to do. Now, look here: I knocked the waiter down; here is two +sovereigns for him; I won’t pay him nothin’ for the kickin’, for that +I give him out of contempt, for not defendin’ of himself. Here’s three +sovereigns for the bar-maid; she don’t ought to have nothin’, for she +never got so innocent a kiss afore, in all her born days I know, for +I didn’t mean no harm, and she never got so good a one afore nother, +that’s a fact; but then _I_ ought to pay, I do suppose, because I hadn’t +ought to treat a lady that way; it was onhansum’, that’s fact; and +besides, it tante right to give the galls a taste for such things. They +come fast enough in the nateral way, do kisses, without inokilatin’ +folks for ‘em. And here’s a sovereign for the scoldin’ and siscerarin’ +you gave the maid, that spilt the coals and that’s an eend of the +matter, and I don’t want no receipt.’ + +“Well, he bowed and walked off, without sayin’ of a word.” + +Here Mr. Hopewell joined us, and we descended to the street, to commence +our perambulation of the city; but it had begun to rain, and we were +compelled to defer it until the next day. + +“Well, it ain’t much matter, Squire,” said Mr. Slick: “ain’t that +Liverpool, I see out of the winder? Well, then I’ve been to Liverpool. +Book me for London. So I have seen Liverpool at last, eh! or, as Rufus +said, I have felt it too, for this wet day reminds me of the rest of his +story. + +“In about a half hour arter Rufus raced off to the Falls, back he +comes as hard as he could tear, a-puffing and a blowin’ like a sizeable +grampus. You never seed such a figure as he was, he was wet through and +through, and the dry dust stickin’ to his clothes, made him look like a +dog, that had jumped into the water, and then took a roll in the road to +dry hisself; he was a caution to look at, that’s a fact. + +“‘Well,’ sais I, ‘Stranger, did you see the Falls?’ + +“‘Yes,’ sais he, ‘I have see’d ‘em and felt ‘em too; them’s very wet +Falls, that’s a fact. I hante a dry rag on me; if it hadn’t a been for +that ere Britisher, I wouldn’t have see’d ‘em at all, and yet a thought +I had been there all the time. It’s a pity too, that that winder don’t +bear on it, for then you could see it without the trouble of goin’ +there, or gettin’ ducked, or gettin’ skeered so. I got an awful fright +there--I shall never forget it, if I live as long as Merusalem. You know +I hadn’t much time left, when. I found out I hadn’t been there arter +all, so I ran all the way, right down as hard as I could clip; and, +seein’ some folks comin’ out from onder the Fall, I pushed strait in, +but the noise actilly stunned me, and the spray wet me through and +through like a piece of sponged cloth; and the great pourin’, bilin’ +flood, blinded me so I couldn’t see a bit; and I hadn’t gone far in, +afore a cold, wet, clammy, dead hand, felt my face all over. I believe +in my soul, it was the Indian squaw that went over the Falls in the +canoe, or the crazy Englisher, that tried to jump across it. + +“‘Oh creation, how cold it was! The moment that spirit rose, mine fell, +and I actilly thought I should have dropt lumpus, I was so skeered. Give +me your hand, said Ghost, for I didn’t see nothin’ but a kinder dark +shadow. Give me your hand. I think it must ha’ been the squaw, for it +begged for all the world, jist like an Indgian. I’d see you hanged fust, +said I; I wouldn’t touch that are dead tacky hand o’ yourn’ for half a +million o’ hard dollars, cash down without any ragged eends; and with +that, I turned to run out, but Lord love you I couldn’t run. The stones +was all wet and slimy, and onnateral slippy, and I expected every +minute, I should heels up and go for it: atween them two critters the +Ghost and the juicy ledge, I felt awful skeered I tell _you_. So I +begins to say my catechism; what’s your name, sais I? Rufus Dodge. Who +gave you that name? Godfather and godmother granny Eells. What did +they promise for you? That I should renounce the devil and all his +works--works--works--I couldn’t get no farther, I stuck fast there, for +I had forgot it. + +“‘The moment I stopt, ghost kinder jumped forward, and seized me by my +mustn’t-mention’ems, and most pulled the seat out. Oh dear! my heart +most went out along with it, for I thought my time had come. You black +she-sinner of a heathen Indgian! sais I; let me go this blessed minite, +for I renounce the devil and all his works, the devil and all his +works--so there now; and I let go a kick behind, the wickedest you ever +see, and took it right in the bread basket. Oh, it yelled and howled +and screached like a wounded hyaena, till my ears fairly cracked agin. +I renounce you, Satan, sais I; I renounce you, and the world, and the +flesh and the devil. And now, sais I, a jumpin’ on terry firm once more, +and turnin’ round and facin’ the enemy, I’ll promise a little dust more +for myself, and that is to renounce Niagara, and Indgian squaws, and +dead Britishers, and the whole seed, breed and generation of ‘em from +this time forth, for evermore. Amen. + +“‘Oh blazes! how cold my face is yet. Waiter, half a pint of clear +cocktail; somethin’ to warm me. Oh, that cold hand! Did you ever touch a +dead man’s hand? it’s awful cold, you may depend. Is there any marks on +my face? do you see the tracks of the fingers there?’ + +“‘No, Sir,’ sais I,’ I can’t say I do.’ + +“‘Well, then I feel them there,’ sais he, ‘as plain as any thing.’ + +“‘Stranger,’ sais I, ‘it was nothin’ but some poor no-souled critter, +like yourself, that was skeered a’most to death, and wanted to be helped +out that’s all.” + +“‘Skeered!’ said he, ‘sarves him right then; he might have knowed how to +feel for other folks, and not funkify them so peskily; I don’t keer if +he never gets out; but I have my doubts about its bein’ a livin’ human, +I tell _you_. If I hadn’t a renounced the devil and all his works that +time, I don’t know what the upshot would have been, for Old Scratch was +there too. I saw him as plain as I see you; he ran out afore me, and +couldn’t stop or look back, as long as I said catekism. He was in his +old shape of the sarpent; he was the matter of a yard long, and as thick +round as my arm and travelled belly-flounder fashion; when I touched +land, he dodged into an eddy, and out of sight in no time. Oh, there is +no mistake, I’ll take my oath of it; I see him, I did upon my soul. It +was the old gentleman hisself; he come there to cool hisself. Oh, it was +the devil, that’s a fact.’ + +“‘It was nothin’ but a fresh water eel,’ sais I; ‘I have seen thousands +of ‘em there; for the crevices of them rocks are chock full of ‘em. +How can you come for to go, for to talk arter that fashion; you are +a disgrace to our great nation, you great lummokin coward, you. An +American citizen is afeerd of nothin’, but a bad spekilation, or bein’ +found oat.’ + +“Well, that posed him, he seemed kinder bothered, and looked down. + +“‘An eel, eh! well, it mought be an eel,’ sais be, ‘that’s a fact. +I didn’t think of that; but then if it was, it was god-mother granny +Eells, that promised I should renounce the devil and all his works, that +took that shape, and come to keep me to my bargain. She died fifty years +ago, poor old soul, and never kept company with Indgians, or niggers, +or any such trash. Heavens and airth! I don’t wonder the Falls wakes the +dead, it makes such an everlastin’ almighty noise, does Niagara. Waiter, +more cocktail, that last was as weak as water.’ + +“‘Yes, Sir,’ and he swallered it like wink. + +“‘The stage is ready, Sir.’ + +“‘Is it?’ said he, and he jumped in all wet as he was; for time is money +and he didn’t want to waste neither. As it drove off, I heerd him say, +‘Well them’s the Falls, eh! So I have seen the Falls of Niagara and felt +‘em too, eh!’ + +“Now, we are better off than Rufus Dodge was, Squire; for we hante got +wet, and we hante got frightened, but we can look out o’ the winder and +say, ‘Well, that’s Liverpool, eh! so I have--seen Liverpool.’” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. CHANGING A NAME. + +The rain having confined us to the house this afternoon, we sat over +our wine after dinner longer than usual. Among the different topics +that were discussed, the most prominent was the state of the political +parties in this country. Mr. Slick, who paid great deference to the +opinions of Mr. Hopewell, was anxious to ascertain from him what +he thought upon the subject, in order to regulate his conduct and +conversation by it hereafter. + +“Minister,” said he, “what do you think of the politics of the British?” + +“I don’t think about them at all, Sam. I hear so much of such matters at +home, that I am heartily tired of them; our political world is divided +into two classes, the knaves and the dupes. Don’t let us talk of such +exciting, things.” + +“But, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “holdin’ the high and dignified station +I do, as Attache, they will be a-pumpin’ me for everlastinly, will the +great men here, and they think a plaguy sight more of our opinion than +you are aware on; we have tried all them things they are a jawin’ about +here, and they naterally want to know the results. Cooper says not one +Tory called on him when he was to England, but Walter Scott; and that +I take it, was more lest folks should think he was jealous of him, than +any thing else; they jist cut him as dead as a skunk; but among the +Whigs, he was quite an oracle on ballot, univarsal suffrage, and all +other democratic institutions.” + +“Well, he was a ninny then, was Cooper, to go and blart it all out to +the world that way; for if no Tory visited him, I should like you to ask +him the next time you see him, how many gentlemen called upon him? Jist +ask him that, and it will stop him from writing such stuff any more.” + +“But, Minister, jist tell us now, here you are, as a body might say in +England, now what are you?” + +“I am a man, Sam; _Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto_.” + +“Well, what’s all that when it’s fried?” + +“Why, that when away from home, I am a citizen of the world. I belong to +no party, but take an interest in the whole human family.” + +“Well, Minister, if you choose to sing dumb, you can, but I should like +to have you answer me one question now, and if you won’t, why you must +jist do t’other thing, that’s all. Are you a Consarvative?” + +“No.” + +“Are you a Whig?” + +“No.” + +“A Radical?” + +“God forbid!” + +“What in natur’ are you then?” + +“A Tory.” + +“A Tory! well, I thought that a Tory and a Consarvative, were as the +Indgians say, “all same one brudder.” Where is the difference?” + +“You will soon find that out, Sam; go and talk to a Consarvative as +a Tory, and you will find he is a Whig: go and talk to him again as a +Whig, and you will find he is a Tory. They are, for all the world, like +a sturgeon. There is very good beef steaks in a sturgeon, and very good +fish too, and yet it tante either fish or flesh. I don’t like taking +a new name, it looks amazing like taking new principles, or, at all +events, like loosenin’ old ones, and I hante seen the creed of this new +sect yet--I don’t know what its tenets are, nor where to go and look for +‘em. It strikes me they don’t accord with the Tories, and yet arn’t in +tune with the Whigs, but are half a note lower than the one, and half +a note higher than t’other. Now, changes in the body politic are always +necessary more or less, in order to meet the changes of time, and the +changes in the condition of man. When they are necessary, make ‘em, and +ha’ done with ‘em. Make ‘em like men, not when you are forced to do so, +and nobody thanks you, but when you see they are wanted, and are proper; +but don’t alter your name. + +“My wardens wanted me to do that; they came to me, and said ‘Minister,’ +says they, ‘we don’t want _you_ to change, we don’t ask it; jist let +us call you a Unitarian, and you can remain Episcopalian still. We are +tired of that old fashioned name, it’s generally thought unsuited to +the times, and behind the enlightment of the age; it’s only fit for +benighted Europeans. Change the name, you needn’t change any thing else. +What is a name?’ + +“‘Every thing,’ says I, ‘every thing, my brethren; one name belongs to a +Christian, and the other don’t; that’s the difference. I’d die before +I surrendered my name; for in surrenderin’ that, I surrender my +principles.’” + +“Exactly,” said Mr. Slick, “that’s what Brother Eldad used to say. +‘Sam,’ said he, ‘a man with an _alias_ is the worst character in the +world; for takin’ a new name, shows he is ashamed of his old one; and +havin’ an old one, shows his new one is a cheat.’” + +“No,” said Mr. Hopewell, “I don’t like that word Consarvative. Them +folks may be good kind of people, and I guess they be, seein’ that the +Tories support ‘em, which is the best thing I see about them; but I +don’t like changin’ a name.” + +“Well, I don’t know,” said Mr. Slick, “p’raps their old name was so +infarnal dry rotted, they wanted to change it for a sound new one. You +recollect when that super-superior villain, Expected Thorne, brought +an action of defamation agin’ me, to Slickville, for takin’ away his +character, about stealing the watch to Nova Scotia; well, I jist pleaded +my own case, and I ups and sais, ‘Gentlemen of the Jury,’ sais I, +“Expected’s character, every soul knows, is about the wust in all +Slickville. If I have taken it away, I have done him a great sarvice, +for he has a smart chance of gettin’ a better one; and if he don’t find +a swap to his mind, why no character is better nor a bad one.’ + +“Well, the old judge and the whole court larfed right out like any +thin’; and the jury, without stirrin’ from the box, returned a vardict +for the defendant. P’raps now, that mought be the case with the Tories.” + +“The difference,” said Mr. Hopewell, is jist this:--your friend, Mr. +Expected Thorne, had a name he had ought to have been ashamed of, and +the Tories one that the whole nation had very great reason to be +proud of. There is some little difference, you must admit. My English +politics, (mind you, I say English, for they hare no reference to +America,) are Tory, and I don’t want to go to Sir Robert Peel, or Lord +John Russell either.” + +“As for Johnny Russell,” said Mr. Slick, “he is a clever little chap +that; he--” + +“Don’t call him Johnny Russell,” said Mr. Hopewell, “or a little chap, +or such flippant names, I don’t like to hear you talk that way. It +neither becomes you as a Christian nor a gentleman. St. Luke and St. +Paul, when addressing people of rank, use the word ‘[Greek text]’ +which, as nearly as possible, answers to the title of ‘your Excellency.’ +Honour, we are told, should be given to those to whom honour is due; +and if we had no such authority on the subject, the omission of titles, +where they are usual and legal, is, to say the least of it, a vulgar +familiarity, ill becoming an Attache of our embassy. But as I was +saying, I do not require to go to either of those statesmen to be +instructed in my politics. I take mine where I take my religion, from +the Bible. ‘Fear God, honour the King, and meddle not with those that +are given to change.’” + +“Oh, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “you mis’t a figur at our glorious +Revolution, you had ought to have held on to the British; they would +have made a bishop of you, and shoved you into the House of Lords, black +apron, lawn sleeves, shovel hat and all, as sure as rates. ‘The right +reverend, the Lord Bishop of Slickville:’ wouldn’t it look well on +the back of a letter, eh? or your signature to one sent to me, signed +‘Joshua Slickville.’ It sounds better, that, than ‘Old Minister,’ don’t +it?” + +“Oh, if you go for to talk that way, Sam, I am done; but I will shew you +that the Tories are the men to govern this great nation. A Tory I may +say ‘_noscitur a sociis_.’” + +“What in natur is that, when it’s biled and the skin took off?” asked +Mr. Slick. + +“Why is it possible you don’t know that? Have you forgotten that common +schoolboy phrase?” + +“Guess I do know; but it don’t tally jist altogether nohow, as it were. +Known as a Socialist, isn’t it?” + +“If, Sir,” said Mr. Hopewell, with much earnestness, “if instead of +ornamenting your conversation with cant terms, and miserable slang, +picked up from the lowest refuse of our population, both east and west, +you had cultivated your mind, and enriched it with quotations from +classical writers, you would have been more like an Attache, and less +like a peddling clockmaker than you are.” + +“Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “I was only in jeest, but you are in +airnest. What you have said is too true for a joke, and I feel it. I was +only a sparrin’; but you took off the gloves, and felt my short ribs in +a way that has given me a stitch in the side. It tante fair to kick that +way afore you are spurred. You’ve hurt me considerable.” + +“Sam, I am old, narvous, and irritable. I was wrong to speak unkindly +to you, very wrong indeed, and I am sorry for it; but don’t teaze me no +more, that’s a good lad; for I feel worse than you do about it. I beg +your pardon, I--” + +“Well,” said Mr. Slick, “to get back to what we was a sayin’, for you do +talk like a book, that’s a fact; ‘_noscitur a sociis_,’ says you.” + +“Ay, ‘Birds of a feather flock together,’ as the old maxim goes. Now, +Sam, who supported the Whigs?” + +“Why, let me see; a few of the lords, a few of the gentry, the +repealers, the manufacturin’ folks, the independents, the baptists, the +dissentin’ Scotch, the socialists, the radicals, the discontented, and +most of the lower orders, and so on.” + +“Well, who supported the Tories?” + +“Why, the majority of the lords, the great body of landed gentry, the +univarsities, the whole of the Church of England, the whole of the +methodists, amost the principal part of the kirk, the great marchants, +capitalists, bankers, lawyers, army and navy officers, and soon.” + +“Now don’t take your politics from me, Sam, for I am no politician; but +as an American citizen, judge for yourself, which of those two parties +is most likely to be right, or which would you like to belong to.” + +“Well, I must say,” replied he, “I _do_ think that the larnin’, piety, +property, and respectability, is on the Tory side; and where all them +things is united, right most commonly is found a-joggin’ along in +company.” + +“Well now, Sam, you know we are a calculatin’ people, a commercial +people, a practical people. Europe laughs at us for it. Perhaps if +they attended better to their own financial affairs, they would be in a +better situation to laugh. But still we must look to facts and results. +How did the Tories, when they went out of office, leave the kingdom?--At +peace?” + +“Yes, with all the world.” + +“How did the Whigs leave it?” + +“With three wars on hand, and one in the vat a-brewin’ with America. +Every great interest injured, some ruined, and all alarmed at the +impendin’ danger--of national bankruptcy.” + +“Well, now for dollars and cents. How did the Tories leave the +treasury?” + +“With a surplus revenue of millions.” + +“How did the Whigs?” + +“With a deficiency that made the nation scratch their head, and stare +agin.” + +“I could go through the details with you, as far as my imperfect +information extends, or more imperfect memory would let me; but it +is all the same, and always will be, here, in France, with us, in the +colonies, and everywhere else. Whenever property, talent, and virtue are +all on one side, and only ignorant numbers, with a mere sprinkling of +property and talent to agitate ‘em and make use of ‘em, or misinformed +or mistaken virtue to sanction ‘em on the other side, no honest man can +take long to deliberate which side he will choose. + +“As to those conservatives, I don’t know what to say, Sam; I should like +to put you right if I could. But I’ll tell you what puzzles me. I ask +myself what is a Tory? I find he is a man who goes the whole figur’ for +the support of the monarchy, in its three orders, of king, lords, and +commons, as by law established; that he is for the connexion of Church +and State and so on; and that as the wealthiest man in England, he +offers to prove his sincerity, by paying the greatest part of the taxes +to uphold these things. Well, then I ask what is Consarvitism? I am told +that it means, what it imports, a conservation of things as they are. +Where, then, is the difference? _If there is no difference, it is a mere +juggle to change the name: if there is a difference, the word is worse +than a juggle, for it don’t import any_.” + +“Tell you what,” said Mr. Slick, “I heerd an old critter to Halifax once +describe ‘em beautiful. He said he could tell a man’s politicks by his +shirt. ‘A Tory, Sir,’ said he, for he was a pompious old boy was old +Blue-Nose; ‘a Tory, Sir,’ said he, ‘is a gentleman every inch of him, +stock, lock, and barrel; and he puts a clean frill shirt on every day. +A Whig, Sir,’ says he, ‘is a gentleman every other inch of him, and +he puts an onfrilled one on every other day. A Radical, Sir, ain’t no +gentleman at all, and he only puts one on of a Sunday. But a Chartist, +Sir, is a loafer; he never puts one on till the old one won’t hold +together no longer, and drops off in, pieces.’” + +“Pooh!” said Mr. Hopewell, “now don’t talk nonsense; but as I was +a-goin’ to say, I am a plain man, and a straightforward man, Sam; what I +say, I mean; and what I mean, I say. Private and public life are subject +to the same rules; and truth and manliness are two qualities that +will carry you through this world much better than policy, or tact, +or expediency, or any other word that ever was devised to conceal, or +mystify a deviation from the straight line. They have a sartificate of +character, these consarvitives, in having the support of the Tories; but +that don’t quite satisfy me. It may, perhaps, mean no more than this, +arter all--they are the best sarvants we have; but not as good as we +want. However, I shall know more about it soon; and when I do, I will +give you my opinion candidly. One thing, however, is certain, a change +in the institutions of a country I could accede to, approve, and +support, if necessary and good; but I never can approve of either an +individual or a party--‘_changing a name_.’” + + + + +CHAPTER X. THE NELSON MONUMENT. + +The following day being dry, we walked out to view the wonders of this +great commercial city of England, Liverpool. The side-paths were filled +with an active and busy population, and the main streets thronged with +heavily-laden waggons, conveying to the docks the manufactures of the +country, or carrying inward the productions of foreign nations. It was +an animating and busy scene. + +“This,” said Mr. Hopewell, “is solitude. It is in a place like this, +that you feel yourself to be an isolated being, when you are surrounded +by multitudes who have no sympathy with you, to whom you are not only +wholly unknown, but not one of whom you have ever seen before. + +“The solitude of the vast American forest is not equal to this. +Encompassed by the great objects of nature, you recognise nature’s God +every where; you feel his presence, and rely on his protection. Every +thing in a city is artificial, the predominant idea is man; and man, +under circumstances like the present, is neither your friend nor +protector. You form no part of the social system here. Gregarious by +nature, you cannot associate; dependent, you cannot attach yourself; a +rational being, you cannot interchange ideas. In seeking the wilderness +you enter the abode of solitude, and are naturally and voluntarily +alone. On visiting a city, on the contrary, you enter the residence of +man, and if you are forced into isolation there, to you it is worse than +a desert. + +“I know of nothing so depressing as this feeling of unconnected +individuality, amidst a dense population like this. But, my friend, +there is One who never forsakes us either in the throng or the +wilderness, whose ear is always open to our petitions, and who has +invited us to rely on his goodness and mercy.” + +“You hadn’t ought to feel lonely here, Minister,” said Mr. Slick. “It’s +a place we have a right to boast of is Liverpool; we built it, and I’ll +tell you what it is, to build two such cities as New York and Liverpool +in the short time we did, is sunthin’ to brag of. If there had been no +New York, there would have been no Liverpool; but if there had been no +Liverpool, there would have been a New York though. They couldn’t do +nothin’ without us. We had to build them elegant line-packets for ‘em; +they couldn’t build one that could sail, and if she sail’d she couldn’t +steer, and if she sail’d and steer’d, she upsot; there was always a +screw loose somewhere. + +“It cost us a great deal too to build them ere great docks. They cover +about seventy acres, I reckon. We have to pay heavy port dues to keep +‘em up, and pay interest on capital. The worst of it is, too, while we +pay for all this, we hante got the direction of the works.” + +“If you have paid for all these things,” said I, “you had better +lay claim to Liverpool. Like the disputed territory (to which it now +appears, you knew you had no legal or equitable claim), it is probable +you will have half of it ceded to you, for the purpose of conciliation. +I admire this boast of yours uncommonly. It reminds me of the +conversation we had some years ago, about the device on your “naval +button,” of the eagle holding an anchor in its claws--that national +emblem of ill-directed ambition and vulgar pretension.” + +“I thank you for that hint,” said Mr. Slick, “I was in jeest like; but +there is more in it, for all that, than you’d think. It ain’t literal +fact, but it is figurative truth. But now I’ll shew you sunthin’ in +this town, that’s as false as parjury, sunthin that’s a disgrace to this +country and an insult to our great nation, and there is no jeest in it +nother, but a downright lie; and, since you go for to throw up to me our +naval button with its ‘eagle and anchor,’ I’ll point out to you sunthin’ +a hundred thousand million times wus. What was the name o’ that English +admiral folks made such a touss about; that cripple-gaited, one-eyed, +one-armed little naval critter?” + +“Do you mean Lord Nelson?” + +“I do,” said he, and pointing to his monument, he continued, “There +he is as big as life, five feet nothin’, with his shoes on. Now examine +that monument, and tell me if the English don’t know how to brag, as +well as some other folks, and whether they don’t brag too sumtimes, when +they hante got no right to. There is four figures there a representing +the four quarters of the globe in chains, and among them America, a +crouchin’ down, and a-beggin’ for life, like a mean heathen Ingin. Well, +jist do the civil now, and tell me when that little braggin’ feller ever +whipped us, will you? Just tell me the day of the year he was ever able +to do it, since his mammy cut the apron string and let him run to seek +his fortin’. Heavens and airth, we’d a chawed him right up! + +“No, there never was an officer among you, that had any thing to brag +of about us but one, and he wasn’t a Britisher--he was a despisable +Blue-nose colonist boy of Halifax. When his captain was took below +wounded, he was leftenant, so he jist ups and takes command o’ the +Shannon, and fit like a tiger and took our splendid frigate the +Chesapeake, and that was sumthing to brag on. And what did he get for +it? Why colony sarce, half-pay, and leave to make room for Englishers +to go over his head; and here is a lyin’ false monument, erected to this +man that never even see’d one of our national ships, much less smelt +thunder and lightning out of one, that English like, has got this for +what he didn’t do. + +“I am sorry Mr. Lett [Footnote: This was the man that blew up the Brock +monument in Canada. _He was a Patriot_.] is dead to Canada, or I’d give +him a hint about this. I’d say, ‘I hope none of our free and enlightened +citizens will blow this lyin’, swaggerin’, bullyin’ monument up? I +should be sorry for ‘em to take notice of such vulgar insolence as this; +for bullies will brag.’ He’d wink and say, ‘I won’t non-concur with you, +Mr. Slick. I hope it won’t be blowed up; but wishes like dreams come +con_trary_ ways sometimes, and I shouldn’t much wonder if it bragged +till it bust some night.’ It would go for it, that’s a fact. For Mr. +Lett has a kind of nateral genius for blowin’ up of monuments. + +“Now you talk of our Eagle takin’ an anchor in its claws as bad taste. +I won’t say it isn’t; but it is a nation sight better nor this. See what +the little admiral critter is about! why he is a stampin’ and a jabbin’ +of the iron heel of his boot into the lifeless body of a fallen foe! +It’s horrid disgustin’, and ain’t overly brave nother; and to make +matters wus, as if this warn’t bad enough, them four emblem figures, +have great heavy iron chains on ‘em, and a great enormous sneezer of +a lion has one part o’ the chain in its mouth, and is a-growlin’ and +a-grinnin’ and a-snarling at ‘em like mad, as much as to say, ‘if you +dare to move the sixteen hundredth part of an inch, I will fall to and +make mincemeat of you, in less than half no time. I don’t think there +never was nothin’ so bad as this, ever seen since the days of old daddy +Adam down to this present blessed day, I don’t indeed. So don’t come for +to go, Squire, to tarnt me with the Eagle and the anchor no more, for I +don’t like it a bit; you’d better look to your ‘_Nelson monument_’ and +let us alone. So come now!” + +Amidst much that was coarse, and more that was exaggerated, there was +still some foundation for the remarks of the Attache. + +“You arrogate a little too much to yourselves,” I observed, “in +considering the United States as all America. At the time these +brilliant deeds were achieved, which this monument is intended to +commemorate, the Spaniards owned a very much greater portion of the +transatlantic continent than you now do, and their navy composed a part +of the hostile fleets which were destroyed by Lord Nelson. At that time, +also, you had no navy, or at all events, so few ships, as scarcely +to deserve the name of one; nor had you won for yourselves that high +character, which you now so justly enjoy, for skill and gallantry. I +agree with you, however, in thinking the monument is in bad taste. The +name of Lord Nelson is its own monument. It will survive when these +perishable structures, which the pride or the gratitude of his +countrymen have erected to perpetuate his fame, shall have mouldered +into dust, and been forgotten for ever. If visible objects are thought +necessary to suggest the mention of his name oftener that it would +otherwise occur to the mind, they should be such as to improve the +taste, as well as awaken the patriotism of the beholder. As an American, +there is nothing to which you have a right to object, but as a critic, +I admit that there is much that you cannot approve in the ‘_Nelson +Monument_.’” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. COTTAGES. + +On the tenth day after we landed at Liverpool, we arrived in London and +settled ourselves very comfortably in lodgings at No. 202, Piccadilly, +where every possible attention was paid to us by our landlord and his +wife, Mr. and Mrs. Weeks. We performed the journey in a post-chaise, +fearing that the rapid motion of a rail car might have an unpleasant +effect upon the health of Mr. Hope well. + +Of the little incidents of travel that occurred to us, or of the various +objects of attraction on the route, it is not my intention to give +any account. Our journey was doubtless much like the journeys of other +people, and every thing of local interest is to be found in Guide Books, +or topographical works, which are within the reach of every body. + +This book, however imperfect its execution may be, is altogether of +another kind. I shall therefore pass over this and other subsequent +journeys, with no other remark, than that they were performed, until +something shall occur illustrative of the objects I have in view. + +On this occasion I shall select from my diary a description of the +labourer’s cottage, and the parish church; because the one shews the +habits, tastes, and condition of the poor of this country, in contrast +with that of America--and the other, the relative means of religious +instruction, and its effect on the lower orders. + +On the Saturday morning, while preparing to resume our journey, which +was now nearly half completed, Mr. Hopewell expressed a desire to remain +at the inn where we were, until the following Monday. As the day was +fine, he said he should like to ramble about the neighbourhood, and +enjoy the fresh air. His attention was soon drawn to some very beautiful +new cottages. + +“These,” said he, “are no doubt erected at the expense, and for the +gratification of some great landed proprietor. They are not the abodes +of ordinary labourers, but designed for some favoured dependant or aged +servant. They are expensive toys, but still they are not without their +use. They diffuse a taste among the peasantry--they present them with +models, which, though they cannot imitate in costliness of material or +finish, they can copy in arrangement, and in that sort of decoration, +which flowers, and vines, and culture, and care can give. Let us seek +one which is peculiarly the poor man’s cottage, and let us go in and see +who and what they are, how they live, and above all, how they think and +talk. Here is a lane, let us follow it, till we come to a habitation.” + +We turned into a grass road, bounded on either side by a high straggling +thorn hedge. At its termination was an irregular cottage with a thatched +roof, which projected over the windows in front. The latter were +latticed with diamond-shaped panes of glass, and were four in number, +one on each side of the door and two just under the roof. The door was +made of two transverse parts, the upper half of which was open. On one +side was a basket-like cage containing a magpie, and on the other, a +cat lay extended on a bench, dozing in the warmth of the sun. The blue +smoke, curling upwards from a crooked chimney, afforded proof of some +one being within. + +We therefore opened a little gate, and proceeded through a neat garden, +in which flowers and vegetables were intermixed. It had a gay appearance +from the pear, apple, thorn and cherry being all in full bloom. We were +received at the door by a middle-aged woman, with the ruddy glow of +health on her cheeks, and dressed in coarse, plain, but remarkably neat +and suitable, attire. As this was a cottage selected at random, and +visited without previous intimation of our intention, I took particular +notice of every thing I saw, because I regarded its appearance as a fair +specimen of its constant and daily state. + +Mr. Hopewell needed no introduction. His appearance told what he was. +His great stature and erect bearing, his intelligent and amiable face, +his noble forehead, his beautiful snow-white locks, his precise and +antique dress, his simplicity of manner, every thing, in short, about +him, at once attracted attention and conciliated favour. + +Mrs. Hodgins, for such was her name, received us with that mixture of +respect and ease, which shewed she was accustomed to converse with her +superiors. She was dressed in a blue homespun gown, (the sleeves of +which were drawn up to her elbows and the lower part tucked through her +pocket-hole,) a black stuff petticoat, black stockings and shoes with +the soles more than half an inch thick. She wore also, a large white +apron, and a neat and by no means unbecoming cap. She informed us her +husband was a gardener’s labourer, that supported his family by his +daily work, and by the proceeds of the little garden attached to the +house, and invited us to come in and sit down. + +The apartment into which the door opened, was a kitchen or common room. +On one side, was a large fire-place, the mantel-piece or shelf, of +which was filled with brass candlesticks, large and small, some queer +old-fashioned lamps, snuffers and trays, polished to a degree of +brightness, that was dazzling. A dresser was carried round the wall, +filled with plates and dishes, and underneath were exhibited the +ordinary culinary utensils, in excellent order. A small table stood +before the fire, with a cloth of spotless whiteness spread upon it, as +if in preparation for a meal. A few stools completed the furniture. + +Passing through this place, we were shewn into the parlour, a small room +with a sanded floor. Against the sides were placed some old, dark, and +highly polished chairs, of antique form and rude workmanship. The +walls were decorated with several coloured prints, illustrative of the +Pilgrim’s Progress and hung in small red frames of about six inches +square. The fire-place was filled with moss, and its mantel-shelf had +its china sheep and sheperdesses, and a small looking-glass, the whole +being surmounted by a gun hung transversely. The Lord’s Prayer and the +Ten Commandments worked in worsted, were suspended in a wooden frame +between the windows, which had white muslin blinds, and opened on +hinges, like a door. A cupboard made to fit the corner, in a manner +to economise room, was filled with china mugs, cups and saucers of +different sizes and patterns, some old tea-spoons and a plated tea-pot. + +There was a small table opposite to the window, which Contained half +a dozen books. One of these was large, handsomely bound, and decorated +with gilt edged paper. Mr. Hopewell opened it, and expressed great +satisfaction at finding such an edition of a bible in such a house. Mrs. +Hodgins explained that this was a present from her eldest son, who had +thus appropriated his first earnings to the gratification of his mother. + +“Creditable to you both, dear,” said Mr. Hopewell: “to you, because it +is a proof how well you have instructed him; and to him, that he so well +appreciated and so faithfully remembered those lessons of duty.” + +He then inquired into the state of her family, whether the boy who was +training a peach-tree against the end of the house was her son, and many +other matters not necessary to record with the same precision that I +have enumerated the furniture. + +“Oh, here is a pretty little child!” said he. “Come here, dear, and +shake hands along with me. What beautiful hair she has! and she looks +so clean and nice, too. Every thing and every body here is so neat, so +tidy, and so appropriate. Kiss me, dear; and then talk to me; for I love +little children. ‘Suffer them to come unto me,’ said our Master, ‘for of +such is the kingdom of Heaven:’ that is, that we should resemble these +little ones in our innocence.” + +He then took her on his knee. “Can you say the Lord’s Prayer, dear?” + +“Yes, Sir.” + +“Very good. And the ten Commandments?” + +“Yes, Sir.” + +“Who taught you?” + +“My mother, Sir; and the parson taught me the Catechism.” + +“Why, Sam, this child can say the Lord’s Prayer, the ten Commandments, +and the Catechism. Ain’t this beautiful? Tell me the fifth, dear.” + +And the child repeated it distinctly and accurately. + +“Right. Now, dear, always bear that in mind, especially towards your +mother. You have an excellent mother; her cares and her toils are many; +and amidst them all, how well she has done her duty to you. The only way +she can be repaid, is to find that you are what she desires you to be, +a good girl. God commands this return to be made, and offers you the +reward of length of days. Here is a piece of money for you. And now, +dear,” placing her again upon her feet, “you never saw so old a man +as me, and never will again; and one, too, that came from a far-off +country, three thousand miles off; it would take you a long time to +count three thousand; it is so far. Whenever you do what you ought not, +think of the advice of the ‘old Minister.’” + +Here Mr. Slick beckoned the mother to the door, and whispered something +to her, of which, the only words that met my ear were “a trump,” “a +brick,” “the other man like him ain’t made yet,” “do it, he’ll talk, +then.” + +To which she replied, “I have--oh yes, Sir--by all means.” + +She then advanced to Mr. Hopewell, and asked him if he would like to +smoke. + +“Indeed I would, dear, but I have no pipe here.” + +She said her old man smoked of an evening, after his work was done, and +that she could give him a pipe and some tobacco, if he would condescend +to use them; and going to the cupboard, she produced a long white clay +pipe and some cut tobacco. + +Having filled and lighted his pipe, Mr. Hopewell said, “What church do +you go to, dear?” + +“The parish church, Sir.” + +“Right; you will hear Sound doctrine and good morals preached there. Oh +this a fortunate country, Sam, for the state provides for the religious +instruction of the poor. Where the voluntary system prevails, the poor +have to give from their poverty, or go without; and their gifts are so +small, that they can purchase but little. It’s a beautiful system, a +charitable system, a Christian system. Who is your landlord?” + +“Squire Merton, Sir; and one of the kindest masters, too, that ever was. +He is so good to the poor; and the ladies. Sir, they are so kind, also. +When my poor daughter Mary was so ill with the lever, I do think she +would have died but for the attentions of those young ladies; and when +she grew better, they sent her wine and nourishing things from their own +table. They will be so glad to see you. Sir, at the Priory. Oh, I wish +you could see them!” + +“There it is, Sam,” he continued “That illustrates what I always told +you of their social system here. We may boast of our independence, but +that independence produces isolation. There is an individuality about +every man and every family in America, that gives no right of inquiry, +and imposes no duty of relief on any one. Sickness, and sorrow, and +trouble, are not divulged; joy, success, and happiness are not imparted. +If we are independent in our thoughts and actions, so are we left to +sustain the burden of our own ills. How applicable to our state is +that passage of Scripture, ‘The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a +stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.’ + +“Now, look at this poor family; here is a clergyman provided for them, +whom they do not, and are not even expected to pay; their spiritual +wants are ministered to, faithfully and zealously, as we see by the +instruction of that little child. Here is a friend upon whom they can +rely in their hour of trouble, as the bereaved mother did on Elisha. +‘And she went up and laid her child that was dead on the bed of the man +of God, and shut the door on him, and went out.’ And when a long train +of agitation, mis-government, and ill-digested changes have deranged +this happy country, as has recently been the case, here is an indulgent +landlord, disposed to lower his rent or give further time for payment, +or if sickness invades any of these cottages, to seek out the sufferer, +to afford the remedies, and by his countenance, his kindness, and +advice, to alleviate their trouble. Here it is, a positive duty arising +from their relative situations of landlord and tenant. The tenants +support the owner, the landlord protects the tenants: the duties are +reciprocal. + +“With _us_ the duties, as far as Christian duties can be said to be +optional, are voluntary; and the voluntary discharge of duties, like +the voluntary support of religion, we know, from sad experience, to be +sometimes imperfectly performed, at others intermitted, and often wholly +neglected. Oh! it is a happy country this, a great and a good country; +and how base, how wicked, how diabolical it is to try to set such +a family as this against their best friends, their pastor and their +landlord; to instil dissatisfaction and distrust into their simple +minds, and to teach them to loathe the hand, that proffers nothing but +regard or relief. It is shocking, isn’t it?” + +“That’s what I often say, Sir,” said Mrs. Hodgins, “to my old man, to +keep away from them Chartists.” + +“Chartists! dear, who are they? I never heard of them.” + +“Why, Sir, they are the men that want the five pints.” + +“Five pints! why you don’t say so; oh! they are bad men, have nothing to +do with them. Five pints! why that is two quarts and a half; that is +too much to drink if it was water; and if any thing else, it is beastly +drunkenness. Have nothing to do with them.” + +“Oh! no, Sir, it is five points of law.” + +“Tut--tut--tut! what have you got to do with law, my dear?” + +“By gosh, Aunty,” said Mr. Slick, “you had better not cut that pie: you +will find it rather sour in the apple sarce, and tough in the paste, I +tell _you_.” + +“Yes, Sir,” she replied, “but they are a unsettling of his mind. What +shall I do? for I don’t like these night meetings, and he always comes +home from ‘em cross and sour-like.” + +“Well, I am sorry to hear that,” said Mr. Hopewell, “I wish I could see +him; but I can’t, for I am bound on a journey. I am sorry to hear +it, dear. Sam, this country is so beautiful, so highly cultivated, so +adorned by nature and art, and contains so much comfort and happiness, +that it resembles almost the garden of Eden. But, Sam, the Serpent is +here, the Serpent is here beyond a doubt. It changes its shape, and +alters its name, and takes a new colour, but still it is the Serpent, +and it ought to be crushed. Sometimes it calls itself liberal, then +radical, then chartist, then agitator, then repealer, then political +dissenter, then anti-corn leaguer, and so on. Sometimes it stings the +clergy, and coils round them, and almost strangles them, for it knows +the Church is its greatest enemy, and it is furious against it. Then it +attacks the peers, and covers them with its froth and slaver, and then +it bites the landlord. Then it changes form, and shoots at the Queen, or +her ministers, and sets fire to buildings, and burns up corn to increase +distress; and, when hunted away, it dives down into the collieries, or +visits the manufactories, and maddens the people, and urges them on to +plunder and destruction. It’s a melancholy thing to think of; but he is +as of old, alive and active, seeing whom he can allure and deceive, and +whoever listens is ruined for ever. + +“Stay, dear, I’ll tell you what I will do for you. I’ll inquire about +these Chartists; and when I go to London, I will write a little tract +so plain that any child may read it and understand it; and call it _The +Chartist_, and get it printed, and I will send you one for your husband, +and two or three others, to give to those whom they may benefit. + +“And now, dear, I must go. You and I will never meet again in this +world; but I shall often think of you, and often speak of you. I shall +tell my people of the comforts, of the neatness, of the beauty of an +English cottage. May God bless you, and so regulate your mind as to +preserve in you a reverence for his holy word, an obedience to the +commands of your Spiritual Pastor, and a respect for all that are placed +in authority over you!” + +“Well, it is pretty, too, is this cottage,” said Mr. Slick, as we +strolled back to the inn, “but the handsumestest thing is to hear that +good old soul talk dictionary that way, aint it? How nateral he is! +Guess they don’t often see such a ‘postle as that in these diggins. Yes, +it’s pretty is this cottage; but it’s small, arter all. You feel like a +squirrel in a cage, in it; you have to run round and round, and don’t go +forward none. What would a man do with a rifle here? For my part, I have +a taste for the wild woods; it comes on me regular in the fall, like the +lake fever, and I up gun, and off for a week or two, and camp out, and +get a snuff of the spruce-wood air, and a good appetite, and a bit of +fresh ven’son to sup on at night. + +“I shall be off to the highlands this fall; but, cuss em, they hante got +no woods there; nothin’ but heather, and thats only high enough to tear +your clothes. That’s the reason the Scotch don’t wear no breeches, they +don’t like to get ‘em ragged up that way for everlastinly, they can’t +afford it; so they let em scratch and tear their skin, for that will +grow agin, and trowsers won’t. + +“Yes, it’s a pretty cottage that, and a nice tidy body that too, is Mrs. +Hodgins. I’ve seen the time when I would have given a good deal to have +been so well housed as that. There is some little difference atween that +cottage and a log hut of a poor back emigrant settler, you and I know +where. Did ever I tell you of the night I spent at Lake Teal, with old +Judge Sandford?” + +“No, not that I recollect.” + +“Well, once upon a time I was a-goin’ from Mill-bridge to Shadbrooke, +on a little matter of bisness, and an awful bad and lonely road it was, +too. There was scarcely no settlers in it, and the road was all made +of sticks, stones, mud holes, and broken bridges. It was een amost +onpassible, and who should I overtake on the way but the Judge, and his +guide, on horseback, and Lawyer Traverse a-joggin’ along in his gig, at +the rate of two miles an hour at the fardest. + +“‘Mornin,’ sais the Judge, for he was a sociable man, and had a kind +word for every body, had the Judge. Few men ‘know’d human natur’ better +nor he did, and what he used to call the philosophy of life. ‘I am +glad to see you on the road, Mr. Slick, sais he, ‘for it is so bad I +am afraid there are places that will require our united efforts to pass +‘em.’ + +“Well, I felt kinder sorry for the delay too, for I know’d we should +make a poor journey on’t, on account of that lawyer critter’s gig, that +hadn’t no more busness on that rough track than a steam engine had. But +I see’d the Judge wanted me to stay company, and help him along, and so +I did. He was fond of a joke, was the old Judge, and sais he, + +“‘I’m afraid we shall illustrate that passage o’ Scriptur’, Mr. Slick,’ +said he, ‘“And their judges shall be overthrown in stony places.” It’s +jist a road for it, ain’t it?’ + +“Well we chattered along the road this way a leetle, jist a leetle +faster than we travelled, for we made a snail’s gallop of it, that’s a +fact; and night overtook us, as I suspected it would, at Obi Rafuse’s, +at the Great Lake; and as it was the only public for fourteen miles, and +dark was settin’ in, we dismounted, but oh, what a house it was! + +“Obi was an emigrant, and those emigrants are ginerally so fond of +ownin’ the soil, that like misers, they carry as much of it about ‘em +on their parsons, in a common way, as they cleverly can. Some on ‘em +are awful dirty folks, that’s a fact, and Obi was one of them. He kept +public, did Obi; the sign said it was a house of entertainment for man +and beast. For critters that ain’t human, I do suppose it spoke the +truth, for it was enough to make a hoss larf, if he could understand it, +that’s a fact; but dirt, wretchedness and rags, don’t have that effect +on me. + +“The house was built of rough spruce logs, (the only thing spruce about +it), with the bark on, and the cracks and seams was stuffed with moss. +The roof was made of coarse slabs, battened and not shingled, and the +chimbly peeped out like a black pot, made of sticks and mud, the way +a crow’s nest is. The winders were half broke out, and stopped up with +shingles and old clothes, and a great bank of mud and straw all round, +reached half way up to the roof, to keep the frost out of the cellar. It +looked like an old hat on a dung heap. I pitied the old Judge, because +he was a man that took the world as he found it, and made no complaints. +He know’d if you got the best, it was no use complainin’ that the best +warn’t good. + +“Well, the house stood alone in the middle of a clearin’, without an +outhouse of any sort or kind about it, or any fence or enclosure, but +jist rose up as a toodstool grows, all alone in the field. Close behind +it was a thick short second growth of young birches, about fifteen feet +high, which was the only shelter it had, and that was on the wrong side, +for it was towards the south. + +“Well, when we alighted, and got the baggage off, away starts the guide +with the Judge’s traps, and ups a path through the woods to a settler’s, +and leaves us. Away down by the edge of the lake was a little barn, +filled up to the roof with grain and hay, and there was no standin’ room +or shelter in it for the hosses. So the lawyer hitches his critter to +a tree, and goes and fetches up some fodder for him, and leaves him for +the night, to weather it as he could. As soon as he goes in, I takes +Old Clay to the barn, for it’s a maxim of mine always to look out arter +number one, opens the door, and pulls out sheaf arter sheaf of grain as +fast as I could, and throws it out, till I got a place big enough for +him to crawl in. + +“‘Now,’ sais I, ‘old boy,’ as I shot to the door arter him, ‘if that +hole ain’t big enough for you, eat away till it is, that’s all.’ + +“I had hardly got to the house afore the rain, that had threatened all +day, came down like smoke, and the wind got up, and it blew like a young +hurricane, and the lake roared dismal; it was an awful night, and it was +hard to say which was wus, the Storm or the shelter. + +“‘Of two evils,’ sais I to the lawyer, ‘choose the least. It ain’t a bad +thing to be well housed in a night like this, is it?’ + +“The critter groaned, for both cases was so ‘bad he didn’t know which +to take up to defend, so he grinned horrid and said nothin’; and it was +enough to make him grin too, that’s a fact. He looked as if he had got +hold on a bill o’ pains and penalties instead of a bill of costs that +time, you may depend. + +“Inside of the house was three rooms, the keepin’ room, where we was all +half circled round the fire, and two sleepin’ rooms off of it. One of +these Obi had, who was a-bed, groanin’, coughin’, and turnin’ over and +over all the time on the creakin’ bedstead with pleurisy; t’other was +for the judge. The loft was for the old woman, his mother, and the +hearth, or any other soft place we could find, was allocated for lawyer +and me. + +“What a scarecrow lookin’ critter old aunty was, warn’t she? She was all +in rags and tatters, and though she lived ‘longside of the lake the +best part of her emigrant life, had never used water since she was +christened. Her eyes were so sunk in her head, they looked like two +burnt holes in a blanket. Her hair was pushed back, and tied so tight +with an eel-skin behind her head, it seemed to take the hide with it. +I ‘most wonder how she ever shot to her eyes to go to sleep. She had no +stockins on her legs, and no heels to her shoes, so she couldn’t lift +her feet up, for fear of droppin’ off her slippers; but she just shoved +and slid about as if she was on ice. She had a small pipe in her mouth, +with about an inch of a stem, to keep her nose warm, and her skin was +so yaller and wrinkled, and hard and oily, she looked jist like a dried +smoked red herrin’, she did upon my soul. + +“The floor of the room was blacker nor ink, because that is pale +sometimes; and the utenshils, oh, if the fire didn’t purify ‘em now +and ag’in, all the scrubbin’ in the world wouldn’t, they was past that. +Whenever the door was opened, in run the pigs, and the old woman hobbled +round arter them, bangin’ them with a fryin’ pan, till she seemed out +o’ breath. Every time she took less and less notice of ‘em, for she +was ‘most beat out herself, and was busy a gettin’ of the tea-kettle to +bile, and it appeared to me she was a-goin’ to give in and let ‘em sleep +with me and the lawyer, near the fire. + +“So I jist puts the tongs in the sparklin’ coals and heats the eends on +‘em red hot, and the next time they comes in, I watches a chance, outs +with the tongs, and seizes the old sow by the tail, and holds on till +I singes it beautiful. The way she let go ain’t no matter, but if she +didn’t yell it’s a pity, that’s all. She made right straight for the +door, dashed in atween old aunty’s legs, and carries her out on her +back, ridin’ straddle-legs like a man, and tumbles her head over heels +in the duck pond of dirty water outside, and then lays down along side +of her, to put the fire out in its tail and cool itself. + +“Aunty took up the screamin’ then, where the pig left off; but her voice +warn’t so good, poor thing! she was too old for that, it sounded like a +cracked bell; it was loud enough, but it warn’t jist so clear. She came +in drippin’ and cryin’ and scoldin’; she hated water, and what was wus, +this water made her dirtier. It ran off of her like a gutter. The way +she let out agin pigs, travellers and houses of entertainment, was a +caution to sinners. She vowed she’d stop public next mornin’, and bile +her kettle with the sign; folks might entertain themselves and be hanged +to ‘em, for all her, that they might. Then she mounted a ladder and goes +up into the loft-to change. + +“‘Judge’ sais I, ‘I am sorry, too, I singed that pig’s tail arter that +fashion, for the smell of pork chops makes me feel kinder hungry, and if +we had ‘em, no soul could eat ‘em here in such a stye as this. But, dear +me,’ sais I, ‘You’d better move, Sir; that old woman is juicy, and I +see it a comin’ through the cracks of the floor above, like a streak of +molasses. + +“‘Mr. Slick,’ sais he, ‘this is dreadful. I never saw any thing so bad +before in all this country; but what can’t be cured must be endured, I +do suppose. We must only be good-natured and do the best we can, that’s +all. An emigrant house is no place to stop at, is it? There is a tin +case,’ sais he, ‘containin’ a cold tongue and some biscuits, in my +portmanter; please to get them out. You must act as butler to-night, if +you please; for I can’t eat any thing that old woman touches.’ + +“So I spreads one of his napkins on the table, and gets out the +eatables, and then he produced a pocket pistol, for he was a sensible +man was the judge, and we made a small check, for there warn’t enough +for a feed. + +“Arter that, he takes out a night-cap, and fits it on tight, and then +puts on his cloak, and wraps the hood of it close over his head, and +foldin’ himself up in it, he went and laid down without ondressin’. The +lawyer took a stretch for it on the bench, with his gig cushions for a +pillar, and I makes up the fire, sits down on the chair, puts my legs up +on the jamb, draws my hat over my eyes, and folds my arms for sleep. + +“‘But fust and foremost,’ sais I, ‘aunty, take a drop of the strong +waters: arter goin’ the whole hog that way, you must need some,’ and I +poured her out a stiff corker into one of her mugs, put some sugar and +hot water to it, and she tossed it off as if she railly did like it. + +“‘Darn that pig,’ said she, ‘it is so poor, its back is as sharp as a +knife. It hurt me properly, that’s a fact, and has most broke my crupper +bone.’ And she put her hand behind her, and moaned piteous. + +“‘Pig skin,’ sais I, ‘aunty, is well enough when made into a saddle, but +it ain’t over pleasant to ride on bare back that way,’ sais I, ‘is it? +And them bristles ain’t quite so soft as feathers, I do suppose.’ + +“I thought I should a died a holdin’ in of a haw haw that way. Stifling +a larf a’most stifles oneself, that’s a fact. I felt sorry for her, too, +but sorrow won’t always keep you from larfin’, unless you be sorry for +yourself. So as I didn’t want to offend her I ups legs agin to the jam, +and shot my eyes and tried to go to sleep. + +“Well, I can snooze through most any thin’, but I couldn’t get much +sleep that night. The pigs kept close to the door, a shovin’ agin it +every now and then, to see all was right for a dash in, if the bears +came; and the geese kept sentry too agin the foxes; and one old feller +would squake out “all’s well” every five minuts, as he marched up and +down and back agin on the bankin’ of the house. + +“But the turkeys was the wust. They was perched upon the lee side of the +roof, and sometimes an eddy of wind would take a feller right slap off +his legs, and send him floppin’ and rollin’ and sprawlin’ and screamin’ +down to the ground, and then he’d make most as much fuss a-gettin’ up +into line agin. They are very fond of straight, lines is turkeys. I +never see an old gobbler, with his gorget, that I don’t think of a +kernel of a marchin’ regiment, and if you’ll listen to him and watch +him, he’ll strut jist like one, and say, ‘halt! dress!’ oh, he is a +military man is a turkey cock: he wears long spurs, carries a stiff +neck, and charges at red cloth, like a trooper. + +“Well then a little cowardly good natured cur, that lodged in an empty +flour barrel, near the wood pile, gave out a long doleful howl, now and +agin, to show these outside passengers, if he couldn’t fight for ‘em, he +could at all events cry for ‘em, and it ain’t every goose has a mourner +to her funeral, that’s a fact, unless it be the owner. + +“In the mornin’ I wakes up, and looks round for lawyer, but he was gone. +So I gathers up the brans, and makes up the fire, and walks out. The +pigs didn’t try to come in agin, you may depend, when they see’d me; +they didn’t like the curlin’ tongs, as much as some folks do, and pigs’ +tails kinder curl naterally. But there was lawyer a-standin’ up by the +grove, lookin’ as peeked and as forlorn, as an onmated loon. + +“‘What’s the matter of you, Squire?’ sais I. ‘You look like a man that +was ready to make a speech; but your witness hadn’t come, or you hadn’t +got no jury.’ + +“‘Somebody has stole my horse,’ said he. + +“Well, I know’d he was near-sighted, was lawyer, and couldn’t see a pint +clear of his nose, unless it was a pint o’ law. So I looks all round and +there was his hoss, a-standin’ on the bridge, with his long tail hanging +down straight at one eend, and his long neck and head a banging down +straight at t’other eend, so that you couldn’t tell one from t’other or +which eend was towards you. It was a clear cold mornin’. The storm was +over and the wind down, and there was a frost on the ground. The critter +was cold I suppose, and had broke the rope and walked off to stretch his +legs. It was a monstrous mean night to be out in, that’s sartain. + +“‘There is your hoss,’ sais I. + +“‘Where?’ sais he. + +“‘Why on the bridge,’ sais I; “he has got his head down and is a-lookin’ +atween his fore-legs to see where his tail is, for he is so cold, I do +suppose he can’t feel it.’ + +“Well, as soon as we could, we started; but afore we left, sais the +Judge to me, ‘Mr. Slick,’ sais he, ‘here is a plaister,’ taking out +a pound note, ‘a plaister for the skin the pig rubbed off of the old +woman. Give it to her, I hope it is big enough to cover it.’ And he fell +back on the bed, and larfed and coughed, and coughed and larfed, till +the tears ran down his cheeks. + +“Yes,” said Mr. Slick, “yes, Squire, this is a pretty cottage of Marm +Hodgins; but we have cottages quite as pretty as this, our side of the +water, arter all. They are not all like Obi Rafuses, the immigrant. The +natives have different guess places, where you might eat off the floor +a’most, all’s so clean. P’raps we hante the hedges, and flowers, and +vines and fixin’s, and what-nots.” + +“Which, alone,” I said, “make a most important difference. No, Mr. +Slick’, there is nothing to be compared to this little cottage. + +“I perfectly agree with you, Squire,” said Mr. Hopewell, “it is quite +unique. There is not only nothing equal to it, but nothing of its kind +at all like--_an English cottage_.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII. STEALING THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE. + +Shortly after our return to the inn, a carriage drove up to the door, +and the cards of Mr. Merton, and the Reverend Mr. Homily, which +were presented by the servant, were soon followed by the gentlemen +themselves. + +Mr. Merton said he had been informed by Mrs. Hodgins of our visit to her +cottage, and from her account of our conversation and persons, he was +convinced we could be no other than the party described in the “Sayings +and Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick,” as about to visit England with the +Attache. He expressed great pleasure in having the opportunity of making +our acquaintance, and entreated us to spend a few days with him at the +Priory. This invitation we were unfortunately compelled to decline, in +consequence of urgent business in London, where our immediate presence +was indispensable. + +The rector then pressed Mr. Hopewell to preach for him, on the following +day at the parish church, which he also declined. He said, that he +had no sermons with him, and that he had very great objections to +extemporaneous preaching, which he thought should never be resorted to +except in cases of absolute necessity. He, however, at last consented to +do so, on condition that Mrs. Hodgins and her husband attended, and +upon being assured that it was their invariable custom to be present, +he said, he thought it not impossible, that he might make an impression +upon _him_, and as it was his maxim never to omit an opportunity of +doing good, he would with the blessing of God, make the attempt. + +The next day was remarkably fine, and as the scene was new to me, +and most probably will be so to most of my colonial readers, I shall +endeavour to describe it with some minuteness. + +We walked to the church by a path over the hills, and heard the bells of +a number of little churches, summoning the surrounding population to the +House of God. The roads and the paths were crowded with the peasantry +and their children, approaching the church-yard in different directions. +The church and the rectory were contiguous to each other, and situated +in a deep dell. + +The former was a long and rather low structure, originally built of +light coloured stone, which had grown grey with time. It had a large +square steeple, with pointed corners, like turrets, each of which was +furnished with a vane, but some of these ornaments were loose and turned +round in a circle, while others stood still and appeared to be examining +with true rustic curiosity, the condition of their neighbours. + +The old rectory stood close to the church and was very irregularly +built, one part looking as if it had stepped forward to take a peep at +us, and another as if endeavouring to conceal itself from view, behind +a screen of ivy. The windows which were constructed of diamond-shaped +glass, were almost square, and opened on hinges. Nearly half of the +house was covered by a rose-tree, from which the lattices peered very +inquisitively upon the assembled congregation. Altogether it looked like +the residence of a vigilant man, who could both see and be unseen if he +pleased. + +Near the door of the church were groups of men in their clean +smock-frocks and straw hats, and of women in their tidy dark dresses and +white aprons. The children all looked clean, healthy, and cheerful. + +The interior of the church was so unlike that of an American one, that +my attention was irresistibly drawn to its peculiarities. It was low, +and divided in the centre by an arch. The floor was of stone, and from +long and constant use, very uneven in places. The pews were much higher +on the sides than ours, and were unpainted and roughly put together; +while the pulpit was a rude square box, and was placed in the corner. +Near the door stood an ancient stone font, of rough workmanship, and +much worn. + +The windows were long and narrow, and placed very high in the walls. On +the one over the altar was a very old painting, on stained glass, of the +Virgin, with a hoop and yellow petticoat, crimson vest, a fly cap, and +very thick shoes. The light of this window was still further subdued by +a fine old yew-tree, which stood in the yard close behind it. + +There was another window of beautifully stained glass, the light of +which fell on a large monument, many feet square, of white marble. In +the centre of this ancient and beautiful work of art, were two principal +figures, with smaller ones kneeling on each side, having the hands +raised in the attitude of prayer. They were intended to represent some +of the ancestors of the Merton family. The date was as old as 1575. On +various parts of the wall were other and ruder monuments of slate-stone, +the inscriptions and dates of which were nearly effaced by time. + +The roof was of a construction now never seen in America; and the old +oak rafters, which were more numerous, than was requisite, either for +strength or ornament, were massive and curiously put together, giving +this part of the building a heavy and gloomy appearance. + +As we entered the church, Mr. Hopewell said he had selected a text +suitable to the times, and that he would endeavour to save the +poor people in the neighbourhood from the delusions of the chartist +demagogues, who, it appeared, were endeavouring to undermine the throne +and the altar, and bring universal ruin upon the country. + +When he ascended the pulpit to preach, his figure, his great age, and +his sensible and benevolent countenance, attracted universal attention. +I had never seen him officiate till this day; but if I was struck with +his venerable appearance before, I was now lost in admiration of his +rich and deep-toned voice, his peculiar manner, and simple style of +eloquence. + +He took for his text these words: “So Absalom stole the hearts of the +men of Israel.” He depicted, in a very striking manner, the arts of this +intriguing and ungrateful man to ingratiate himself with the people, and +render the government unpopular. He traced his whole course, from his +standing at the crowded thoroughfare, and lamenting that the king had +deputed no one to hear and decide upon the controversies of the people, +to his untimely end, and the destruction of his ignorant followers. He +made a powerful application of the seditious words of Absalom: “Oh that +_I_ were a judge in the land, that every man which hath a suit or cause +might come unto me, and _I_ would do him justice.” He showed the effect +of these empty and wicked promises upon his followers, who in the holy +record of this unnatural rebellion are described as “men who went out in +their simplicity, and knew not anything.” + +He then said that similar arts were used in all ages for similar +purposes; and that these professions of disinterested patriotism were +the common pretences by which wicked men availed themselves of the +animal force of those “who assemble in their simplicity, and know not +any thing,” to achieve their own personal aggrandisement, and warned +them, to give no heed to such dishonest people. He then drew a picture +of the real blessings they enjoyed in this happy country, which, though +not without an admixture of evil, were as many and as great as the +imperfect and unequal condition of man was capable either of imparting +or receiving. + +Among the first of these, he placed the provision made by the state for +the instruction of the poor, by means of an established Church. He said +they would doubtless hear this wise and pious deed of their forefathers +attacked also by unprincipled men; and falsehood and ridicule would be +invoked to aid in the assault; but that he was a witness on its behalf, +from the distant wilderness of North America, where the voice of +gratitude was raised to England, whose missionaries had planted a church +there similar to their own, and had proclaimed the glad tidings of +salvation to those who would otherwise have still continued to live +without its pale. + +He then pourtrayed in a rapid and most masterly manner the sin and the +disastrous consequences of rebellion; pointed out the necessity that +existed for vigilance and defined their respective duties to God, and +to those who, by his permission, were set in authority over them; and +concluded with the usual benediction, which, though I had heard it +on similar occasions all my life, seemed now more efficacious, more +paternal, and more touching than ever, when uttered by him, in his +peculiarly patriarchal manner. + +The abstract I have just given, I regret to say, cannot convey any +adequate idea of this powerful, excellent, and appropriate sermon. It +was listened to with intense interest by the congregation, many of whom +were affected to tears. In the afternoon we attended church again, when +we heard a good, plain, and practical discourse from the rector; but, +unfortunately, he had neither the talent, nor the natural eloquence of +our friend, and, although it satisfied the judgment, it did not affect, +the heart like that of the “Old Minister.” + +At the door we met, on our return, Mrs. Hodgins. “Ah! my dear,” said Mr. +Hopewell, “how do you do? I am going to your cottage; but I am an old +man now; take my arm--it will support me in my walk.” + +It was thus that this good man, while honouring this poor woman, avoided +the appearance of condescension, and received her arm as a favour to +himself. + +She commenced thanking him for his sermon in the morning. She said it +had convinced her William of the sin of the Chartist agitation, and that +he had firmly resolved never to meet them again. It had saved him from +ruin, and made her a happy woman. + +“Glad to hear it has done him good, my dear,” said he; “it does me good, +too, to hear its effect. Now, never remind him of past errors, never +allude to them: make his home cheerful, make it the pleasantest place +he can find any where, and he won’t want to seek amusement elsewhere, +or excitement either; for these seditious meetings intoxicate by their +excitement. Oh! I am very glad I have touched him; that I have prevented +these seditious men from ‘stealing his heart.’” + +In this way they chatted, until they arrived at the cottage, which +Hodgins had just reached by a shorter, but more rugged path. + +“It is such a lovely afternoon,” said Mr. Hopewell, “I believe I will +rest in this arbour here awhile, and enjoy the fresh breeze, and the +perfume of your honeysuckles and flowers.” + +“Wouldn’t a pipe be better, Minister?” said Mr. Slick. “For my part, I +don’t think any thing equal to the flavour of rael good gene_wine_ first +chop tobacco.” + +“Well, it is a great refreshment, is tobacco,” said Mr. Hopewell. “I +don’t care if I do take a pipe. Bring me one, Mr. Hodgins, and one for +yourself also, and I will smoke and talk with you awhile, for they seem +as natural to each other, as eating and drinking do.” + +As soon as these were produced, Mr. Slick and I retired, and requested +Mrs. Hodgins to leave the Minister and her husband together for a while, +for as Mr. Slick observed, “The old man will talk it into him like a +book; for if he was possessed of the spirit of a devil, instead of a +Chartist, he is jist the boy to drive it out of him. Let him be awhile, +and he’ll tame old uncle there, like a cossit sheep; jist see if he +don’t, that’s all.” + +We then walked up and down the shady lane, smoking our cigars, and Mr. +Slick observed, “Well, there is a nation sight of difference, too, ain’t +there, atween this country church, and a country meetin’ house our side +of the water; I won’t say in your country or my country; but I say _our_ +side of the water--and then it won’t rile nobody; for your folks will +say I mean the States, and our citizens will say I mean the colonies; +but you and I know who the cap fits, one or t’other, or both, don’t we? + +“Now here, this old-fashioned church, ain’t quite up to the notch, and +is a leetle behind the enlightment of the age like, with its queer old +fixin’s and what not; but still it looks solemcoly’ don’t it, and the +dim light seems as if we warn’t expected to be a lookin’ about, and as +if outer world was shot out, from sight and thort, and it warn’t _man’s_ +house nother. + +“I don’t know whether it was that dear old man’s preachin’, and he is +a brick ain’t he? or, whether it’s the place, or the place and him +together; but somehow, or somehow else, I feel more serious to-day +than common, that’s a fact. The people too are all so plain dressed, so +decent, so devout and no show, it looks like airnest. + +“The only fashionable people here was the Squire’s sarvants; and they +_did_ look genteel, and no mistake. Elegant men, and most splendid +lookin’ women they was too. I thought it was some noble, or aid’s, +or big bug’s family; but Mrs. Hodgins says they are the people of +the Squire’s about here, the butlers and ladies’ maids; and superfine +uppercrust lookin’ folks they be too. + +“Then every body walks here, even Squire Merton and his splendiriferous +galls walked like the poorest of the poor, there was no carriage to the +door, nor no hosses hitched to the gate, or tied to the back of waggons, +or people gossipin’ outside; but all come in and minded their business, +as if it was worth attendin’ to; and then arter church was finished off, +I liked the way the big folks talked to the little folks, and enquired +arter their families. It may he actin’, but if it is, it’s plaguy good +actin’, I _tell_ you. + +“I’m a thinkin’ it tante a rael gentleman that’s proud, but only a hop. +You’ve seen a hop grow, hante you? It shoots up in a night, the matter +of several inches right out of the ground, as stiff as a poker, straight +up and down, with a spick and span new green coat and a red nose, as +proud as Lucifer. Well, I call all upstarts ‘hops,’ and I believe it’s +only “hops” arter all that’s scorny. + +“Yes, I kinder like an English country church, only it’s a leetle, jist +a leetle too old fashioned for me. Folks look a leetle too much like +grandfather Slick, and the boys used to laugh at him, and call him a +benighted Britisher. Perhaps that’s the cause of my prejudice, and yet I +must say, British or no British, it tante bad, is it? + +“The meetin’ houses ‘our side of the water,’ no matter where, but away +up in the back country, how teetotally different they be! bean’t they? +A great big, handsome wooden house, chock full of winders, painted so +white as to put your eyes out, and so full of light within, that inside +seems all out-doors, and no tree nor bush, nor nothin’ near it but +the road fence, with a man to preach in it, that is so strict and +straight-laced he will do _any thing_ of a week day, and _nothin’_ of +a Sunday. Congregations are rigged out in their spic and span bran new +clothes, silks, satins, ribbins, leghorns, palmetters, kiss-me-quicks, +and all sorts of rigs, and the men in their long-tail-blues, pig-skin +pads calf-skin boots and sheep-skin saddle-cloths. Here they publish a +book of fashions, there they publish ‘em in meetin’; and instead of a +pictur, have the rael naked truth. + +“Preacher there don’t preach morals, because that’s churchy, and he +don’t like neither the church nor its morals; but he preaches doctrine, +which doctrine is, there’s no Christians but themselves. Well, the +fences outside of the meetin’ house, for a quarter of a mile or so, +each side of the house, and each side of the road, ain’t to be seen for +hosses and waggons, and gigs hitched there; poor devils of hosses +that have ploughed, or hauled, or harrowed, or logged, or snaked, or +somethin’ or another all the week, and rest of a Sunday by alterin’ +their gait, as a man rests on a journey by a alterin’ of his sturup, a +hole higher or a hole lower. Women that has all their finery on can’t +walk, and some things is ondecent. It’s as ondecent for a woman to +be seen walkin’ to meetin’, as it is to be caught at--what shall I +say?--why caught at attendin’ to her business to home. + +“The women are the fust and the last to meetin’; fine clothes cost +sunthin’, and if they ain’t showed, what’s the use of them? The men folk +remind me of the hosses to Sable Island. It’s a long low sand-bank on +Nova Scotia coast, thirty miles long and better is Sable Island, and not +much higher than the water. It has awful breakers round it, and picks +up a shockin’ sight of vessels does that island. Government keeps a +super-intender there and twelve men to save wracked people, and there is +a herd of three hundred wild hosses kept there for food for saved crews +that land there, when provision is short, or for super-intender to catch +and break for use, as the case may be. + +“Well, if he wants a new hoss, he mounts his folks on his tame hosses, +and makes a dash into the herd, and runs a wild feller down, lugs him +off to the stable-yard, and breaks him in, in no time. A smart little +hoss he is too, but he always has an _eye to natur’_ arterwards; _the +change is too sudden_, and he’ll off, if he gets a chance. + +“Now that’s the case with these country congregations, we know where. +The women and old tame men folk are, inside; the young wild boys and +ontamed men folk are on the fences, outside a settin’ on the top rail, a +speculatin’ on times or marriages, or markets, or what not, or a walkin’ +round and studyin’ hoss flesh, or a talkin’ of a swap to be completed of +a Monday, or a leadin’ off of two hosses on the sly of the old deacon’s, +takin’ a lick of a half mile on a bye road, right slap a-head, and +swearin’ the hosses had got loose, and they was just a fetchin’ of them +back. + +“‘Whose side-saddle is this?’ + +“‘Slim Sall Dowdie’s.’ + +“‘Shift it on to the deacon’s beast, and put his on to her’n and tie the +two critters together by the tail. This is old Mother Pitcher’s waggon; +her hoss kicks like a grasshopper. Lengthen the breechin’, and when +aunty starts, he’ll make all fly agin into shavin’s, like a plane. Who +is that a comin’ along full split there a horseback?’ + +“‘It’s old Booby’s son, Tom. Well, it’s the old man’s shaft hoss; call +out whoh! and he’ll stop short, and pitch Tom right over his head on the +broad of his back, whap. + +“Tim Fish, and Ned Pike, come scale up here with us boys on the fence.’ +The weight is too great; away goes the fence, and away goes the boys, +all flyin’; legs, arms, hats, poles, stakes, withes, and all, with an +awful crash and an awful shout; and away goes two or three hosses that +have broke their bridles, and off home like wink. + +“Out comes Elder Sourcrout. ‘Them as won’t come in had better stay to +home,’ sais he. And when he hears that them as are in had better stay in +when they be there, he takes the hint and goes back agin. ‘Come, boys, +let’s go to Black Stump Swamp and sarch for honey. We shall be back +in time to walk home with the galls from night meetin’, by airly +candle-light. Let’s go.’ + +“Well, when they want to recruit the stock of tame ones inside meetin’, +they sarcumvent some o’ these wild ones outside; make a dash on ‘em, +catch ‘em, dip ‘em, and give ‘em a name; for all sects don’t always +baptise ‘em as we do, when children, but let ‘em grow up wild in the +herd till they are wanted. They have hard work to break ‘em in, for they +are smart ones, that’s a fact, but, like the hosses of Sable Island, +they have always _an eye to natur’_ arterwards; _the change is too +sudden_, you can’t trust ‘em, at least I never see one as _I_ could, +that’s all. + +“Well, when they come out o’ meetin’, look at the dignity and sanctity, +and pride o’ humility o’ the tame old ones. Read their faces. ‘How does +the print go?’ Why this way, ‘I am a sinner, at least I was once, +but thank fortin’ I ain’t like you, you onconverted, benighted, +good-for-nothin’ critter you.’ Read the ontamed one’s face, what’s the +print there? Why it’s this. As soon as he sees over-righteous stalk by +arter that fashion, it says, ‘How good we are, ain’t we? Who wet his hay +to the lake tother day, on his way to market, and made two tons weigh +two tons and a half? You’d better look as if butter wouldn’t melt in +your mouth, hadn’t you, old Sugar-cane?’ + +“Now jist foller them two rulin’ elders, Sourcrout and Coldslaugh; they +are plaguy jealous of their neighbour, elder Josh Chisel, that exhorted +to-day. ‘How did you like Brother Josh, to-day?’ says Sourcrout, a +utterin’ of it through his nose. Good men always speak through the nose. +It’s what comes out o’ the mouth that defiles a man; but there is no +mistake in the nose; it’s the porch of the temple that. ‘How did you +like Brother Josh?’ + +“‘Well, he wasn’t very peeowerful.’ + +“‘Was he ever peeowerful?’ + +“‘Well, when a boy, they say he was considerable sum as a wrastler.’ + +“Sourcrout won’t larf, because it’s agin rules; but he gig goggles like +a turkey-cock, and says he, ‘It’s for ever and ever the same thing with +Brother Josh. He is like an over-shot mill, one everlastin’ wishy-washy +stream.’ + +“‘When the water ain’t quite enough to turn the wheel, and only +spatters, spatters, spatters,’ says Coldslaugh. + +“Sourcrout gig goggles again, as if he was swallerin’ shelled corn +whole. ‘That trick of wettin’ the hay,’ says he, ‘to make it weigh +heavy, warn’t cleverly done; it ain’t pretty to be caught; it’s only +bunglers do that.’ + +“‘He is so fond of temperance,’ says Coldslaugh, ‘he wanted to make his +hay jine society, and drink cold water, too.’ + +“Sourcrout gig goggles ag’in, till he takes a fit of the asmy, sets down +on a stump, claps both hands on his sides, and coughs, and coughs till +he finds coughing no joke no more. Oh dear, dear convarted men, though +they won’t larf themselves, make others larf the worst kind, sometimes; +don’t they? + +“I do believe, on my soul, if religion was altogether left to the +voluntary in this world, it would die a nateral death; not that _men +wouldn’t support it_, but because it would be supported _under false +pretences_. Truth can’t be long upheld by falsehood. Hypocrisy would +change its features, and intolerance its name; and religion would +soon degenerate into a cold, intriguing, onprincipled, marciless +superstition, that’s a fact. + +“Yes, on the whole, I rather like these plain, decent, onpretendin’, +country churches here, although t’other ones remind me of old times, +when I was an ontamed one too. Yes, I like an English church; but as +for Minister pretendin’ for to come for to go for to preach agin that +beautiful long-haired young rebel, Squire Absalom, for ‘stealin’ the +hearts of the people,’ why it’s rather takin’ the rag off the bush, +ain’t it? + +“Tell you what, Squire; there ain’t a man in their whole church here, +from Lord Canter Berry that preaches afore the Queen, to Parson Homily +that preached afore us, nor never was, nor never will be equal to Old +Minister hisself for ‘stealin’ the hearts of the people.’” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. NATUR’. + +In the course of our journey, the conversation turned upon the several +series of the “Clockmaker” I had published, and their relative merits. +Mr. Slick appeared to think they all owed their popularity mainly to the +freshness and originality of character incidental to a new country. + +“You are in the wrong pew here, Squire,” said he; “you are, upon my +soul. If you think to sketch the English in a way any one will stop to +look at, you have missed a figur’, that’s all. You can’t do it nohow; +you can’t fix it. There is no contrasts here, no variation of colours, +no light and shade, no nothin’. What sort of a pictur’ would straight +lines of any thing make? Take a parcel of sodjers, officers and all, and +stretch ‘em out in a row, and paint ‘em, and then engrave ‘em, and put +it into one of our annuals, and see how folks would larf, and ask, ‘What +boardin’-school gall did that? Who pulled her up out of standin’ corn, +and sot her up on eend for an artist? they’d say. + +“There is nothin’ here to take hold on. It’s so plaguy smooth and high +polished, the hands slip off; you can’t get a grip of it. Now, take Lord +First Chop, who is the most fashionable man in London, dress him in +the last cut coat, best trowsers, French boots, Paris gloves, and +grape-vine-root cane, don’t forget his whiskers, or mous-stache, or +breast-pins, or gold chains, or any thing; and what have you got?--a +tailor’s print-card, and nothin’ else. + +“Take a lady, and dress her in a’most a beautiful long habit, man’s hat, +stand-up collar and stock, clap a beautiful little cow-hide whip in her +hand, and mount her on a’most a splendiferous white hoss, with long tail +and flowin’ mane, a rairin’ and a cavortin’ like mad, and a champin’ +and a chawin’ of its bit, and makin’ the froth fly from its mouth, a +spatterin’ and white-spottin’ of her beautiful trailin’, skirt like any +thing. And what have you got?--why a print like the posted hand-bills of +a circus. + +“Now spit on your fingers, and rub Lord First Chop out of the slate, and +draw an Irish labourer, with his coat off, in his shirt-sleeves, with +his breeches loose and ontied at the knees, his yarn stockings and thick +shoes on; a little dudeen in his mouth, as black as ink and as short as +nothin’; his hat with devilish little rim and no crown to it, and a hod +on his shoulders, filled with bricks, and him lookin’ as if he was a +singin’ away as merry as a cricket: + + When I was young and unmarried, + my shoes they were new. + But now I am old and am married, + the water runs troo,’ + +Do that, and you have got sunthin’ worth lookin’ at, quite +pictures-quee, as Sister Sall used to say. And because why? _You have +got sunthin’ nateral_. + +“Well, take the angylyferous dear a horseback, and rub her out, well, I +won’t say that nother, for I’m fond of the little critturs, dressed or +not dressed for company, or any way they like, yes, I like woman-natur’, +I tell _you_. But turn over the slate, and draw on t’other side on’t +an old woman, with a red cloak, and a striped petticoat, and a poor +pinched-up, old, squashed-in bonnet on, bendin’ forrard, with a staff +in her hand, a leadin’ of a donkey that has a pair of yaller willow +saddle-bags on, with coloured vegetables and flowers, and red beet-tops, +a goin’ to market. And what have you got? Why a pictur’ worth lookin’ +at, too. Why?--_because it’s natur’_. + +“Now, look here, Squire; let Copley, if he was alive, but he ain’t; and +it’s a pity too, for it would have kinder happified the old man, to see +his son in the House of Lords, wouldn’t it? Squire Copley, you know, was +a Boston man; and a credit to our great nation too. P’raps Europe never +has dittoed him since. + +“Well, if he was above ground now, alive, and stirrin’, why take him +and fetch him to an upper crust London party; and sais you, ‘Old Tenor,’ +sais you, ‘paint all them silver plates, and silver dishes, and silver +coverlids, and what nots; and then paint them lords with their _stars_, +and them ladies’ (Lord if he would paint them with their garters, folks +would buy the pictur, cause that’s nateral) ‘them ladies with their +jewels, and their sarvants with their liveries, as large as life, and +twice as nateral.’ + +“Well, he’d paint it, if you paid him for it, that’s a fact; for there +is no better bait to fish for us Yankees arter all, than a dollar. That +old boy never turned up his nose at a dollar, except when he thought +he ought to get two. And if he painted it, it wouldn’t be bad, I tell +_you_. + +“‘Now,’ sais you, ‘you have done high life, do low life for me, and I +will pay you well. I’ll come down hansum, and do the thing genteel, you +may depend. Then,’ sais you, ‘put in for a back ground that noble, old +Noah-like lookin’ wood, that’s as dark as comingo. Have you done?’ sais +you. + +“‘I guess so,’ sais he. + +“‘Then put in a brook jist in front of it, runnin’ over stones, and +foamin’ and a bubblin’ up like any thing.’ + +“‘It’s in,’ sais he. + +“‘Then jab two forked sticks in the ground ten feet apart, this side of +the brook,’ sais you, ‘and clap a pole across atween the forks. Is that +down?’ sais you. + +“‘Yes,’ sais he. + +“‘Then,’ sais you, ‘hang a pot on that horizontal pole, make a clear +little wood fire onderneath; paint two covered carts near it. Let an +old hoss drink at the stream, and two donkeys make a feed off a patch of +thistles. Have-you stuck that in?’ + +“‘Stop a bit,’ says he, ‘paintin’ an’t quite as fast done as writin’. +Have a little grain of patience, will you? It’s tall paintin’, makin’ +the brush walk at that price. Now there you are,’ sais he. ‘What’s +next? But, mind I’ve most filled my canvass; it will cost you a pretty +considerable penny, if you want all them critters in, when I come to +cypher all the pictur up, and sumtotalize the whole of it.’ + +“‘Oh! cuss the cost!’ sais you. ‘Do you jist obey orders, and break +owners, that’s all you have to do, Old Loyalist.’ + +“‘Very well,’ sais he, ‘here goes.’ + +“‘Well, then,’ sais you, ‘paint a party of gipsies there; mind their +different coloured clothes, and different attitudes, and different +occupations. Here a man mendin’ a harness, there a woman pickin’ a +stolen fowl, there a man skinnin’ a rabbit, there a woman with her +petticoat up, a puttin’ of a patch in it. Here two boys a fishin’, and +there a little gall a playin’ with a dog, that’s a racin’ and a yelpin’, +and a barkin’ like mad.’ + +“‘Well, when he’s done,’ sais you, ‘which pictur do you reckon is the +best now, Squire Copely? speak candid for I want to know, and I ask you +now as a countryman.’ + +“‘Well’ he’ll jist up and tell you, ‘Mr. Poker,’ sais he, ‘your +fashionable party is the devil, that’s a fact. Man made the town, but +God made the country. Your company is as formal, and as stiff, and as +oninterestin’ as a row of poplars; but your gipsy scene is beautiful, +because it’s nateral. It was me painted old Chatham’s death in the House +of Lords; folks praised it a good deal; but it was no great shakes, +_there was no natur’ in it_. The scene was real, the likenesses was +good, and there was spirit in it, but their damned uniform toggery, +spiled the whole thing--it was artificial, and wanted life and natur. +Now, suppose, such a thing in Congress, or suppose some feller skiverd +the speaker with a bowie knife as happened to Arkansaw, if I was to +paint it, it would be beautiful. Our free and enlightened people is so +different, so characteristic and peculiar, it would give a great field +to a painter. To sketch the different style of man of each state, so +that any citizen would sing right out; Heavens and airth if that don’t +beat all! Why, as I am a livin’ sinner that’s the Hoosier of Indiana, or +the Sucker of Illinois, or the Puke of Missouri, or the Bucky of +Ohio, or the Red Horse of Kentucky, or the Mudhead of Tennesee, or the +Wolverine of Michigan or the Eel of New England, or the Corn Cracker of +Virginia! That’s the thing that gives inspiration. That’s the glass of +talabogus that raises your spirits. There is much of elegance, and more +of comfort in England. It is a great and a good country, Mr. Poker, but +there is no natur in it.’ + +“It is as true as gospel,” said Mr. Slick, “I’m tellin’ you no lie. It’s +a fact. If you expect to paint them English, as you have the Blue-Noses +and us, you’ll pull your line up without a fish, oftener than you are +a-thinkin’ on; that’s the reason all our folks have failed. ‘Rush’s book +is jist molasses and water, not quite so sweet as ‘lasses, and not quite +so good as water; but a spilin’ of both. And why? His pictur was of +polished life, where there is no natur. Washington Irving’s book is like +a Dutch paintin’, it is good, because it is faithful; the mop has the +right number of yarns, and each yarn has the right number of twists, +(altho’ he mistook the mop of the grandfather, for the mop of the man of +the present day) and the pewter plates are on the kitchen dresser, and +the other little notions are all there. He has done the most that could +be done for them, but the painter desarves more praise than the subject. + +“Why is it every man’s sketches of America takes? Do you suppose it is +the sketches? No. Do you reckon it is the interest we create? No. Is it +our grand experiments? No. They don’t care a brass button for us, or our +country, or experiments nother. What is it then? It is because they are +sketches of natur. Natur in every grade and every variety of form; from +the silver plate, and silver fork, to the finger and huntin’ knife. Our +artificials Britishers laugh at; they are bad copies, that’s a fact; I +give them up. Let them laugh, and be darned; but I stick to my natur, +and I stump them to produce the like. + +“Oh, Squire, if you ever sketch me, for goodness gracious sake, don’t +sketch me as an Attache to our embassy, with the Legation button, on the +coat, and black Jube Japan in livery. Don’t do that; but paint me in my +old waggon to Nova Scotier, with old Clay before me, you by my side, +a segar in my mouth, and natur all round me. And if that is too +artificial; oh, paint me in the back woods, with my huntin’ coat on, my +leggins, my cap, my belt, and my powder-horn. Paint me with my talkin’ +iron in my hand, wipin’ her, chargin’ her, selectin’ the bullet, placin’ +it in the greased wad, and rammin’ it down. Then draw a splendid oak +openin’ so as to give a good view, paint a squirrel on the tip top of +the highest branch, of the loftiest tree, place me off at a hundred +yards, drawin’ a bead on him fine, then show the smoke, and young squire +squirrel comin’ tumblin’ down head over heels lumpus’, to see whether +the ground was as hard as dead squirrels said it was. Paint me nateral, +I besech you; for I tell you now, as I told you before, and ever shall +say, there is nothin’ worth havin’ or knowin’, or hearin’, or readin’, +or seein’, or tastin’, or smellin’, or feelin’ and above all and more +than all, nothin’ worth affectionin’ but _Natur_. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. THE SOCDOLAGER. + +As soon as I found my friend Mr. Hopewell comfortably settled in his +lodgings, I went to the office of the Belgian Consul and other persons +to obtain the necessary passports for visiting Germany, where I had a +son at school. Mr. Slick proceeded at the same time to the residence of +his Excellency Abednego Layman, who had been sent to this country by the +United States on a special mission, relative to the Tariff. + +On my return from the city in the afternoon, he told me he had presented +his credentials to “the Socdolager,” and was most graciously and +cordially received; but still, I could not fail to observe that there +was an evident air of disappointment about him. + +“Pray, what is the meaning of the Socdolager?” I asked. “I never heard +of the term before.” + +“Possible!” said he, “never heerd tell of ‘the Socdolager,’ why you +don’t say so! The Socdolager is the President of the lakes--he is the +whale of the intarnal seas--the Indgians worshipped him once on a time, +as the king of fishes. He lives in great state in the deep waters, does +the old boy, and he don’t often shew himself. I never see’d him myself, +nor any one that ever had sot eyes on him; but the old Indgians have +see’d him and know him well. He won’t take no bait, will the Socdolager; +he can’t be caught, no how you can fix, he is so ‘tarnal knowin’, and he +can’t be speared nother, for the moment he sees aim taken, he ryles the +water and is out of sight in no tune. _He_ can take in whole shoals of +others hisself, tho’ at a mouthful. He’s a whapper, that’s a fact. I +call our Minister here ‘the Socdolager,’ for our _di_plomaters were +never known to be hooked once yet, and actilly beat all natur’ for +knowin’ the soundin’s, smellin’ the bait, givin’ the dodge, or rylin’ +the water; so no soul can see thro’ it but themselves. Yes, he is ‘a +Socdolager,’ or a whale among _di_plomaters. + +“Well, I rigs up this morning, full fig, calls a cab, and proceeds +in state to our embassy, gives what Cooper calls a lord’s beat of six +thund’rin’ raps of the knocker, presents the legation ticket, and was +admitted to where ambassador was. He is a very pretty man all up his +shirt, and he talks pretty, and smiles pretty, and bows pretty, and he +has got the whitest hand you ever see, it looks as white, as a new bread +and milk poultice. It does indeed. + +“‘Sam Slick,’ sais he, ‘as I’m alive. Well, how do you do, Mr. Slick? I +am ‘nation glad to see you, I affection you as a member of our legation. +I feel kinder proud to have the first literary man of our great nation +as my Attache.’ + +“‘Your knowledge of human natur, (added to your’n of soft sawder,’ sais +I,) ‘will raise our great nation, I guess, in the scale o’ European +estimation.’ + +“He is as sensitive as a skinned eel, is Layman, and he winced at that +poke at his soft sawder like any thing, and puckered a little about +the mouth, but he didn’t say nothin’, he only bowed. He was a Unitarian +preacher once, was Abednego, but he swapt preachin’ for politics, and a +good trade he made of it too; that’s a fact. + +“‘A great change,’ sais I, ‘Abednego, since you was a preachin’ to +Connecticut and I was a vendin’ of clocks to Nova Scotia, ain’t it? +Who’d a thought then, you’d a been “a Socdolager,” and me your “pilot +fish,” eh!’ + +“It was a raw spot, that, and I always touched him on it for fun. + +“‘Sam,’ said he, and his face fell like an empty puss, when it gets a +few cents put into each eend on it, the weight makes it grow twice as +long in a minute. ‘Sam,’ said he, ‘don’t call me that are, except when +we are alone here, that’s a good soul; not that I am proud, for I am +a true Republican;’ and he put his hand on his heart, bowed and smiled +hansum, ‘but these people will make a nickname of it, and we shall never +hear the last of it; that’s a fact. We must respect ourselves, afore +others will respect us. You onderstand, don’t you?’ + +“‘Oh, don’t I,’ sais I, ‘that’s all? It’s only here I talks this way, +because we are at home now; but I can’t help a thinkin’ how strange +things do turn up sometimes. Do you recollect, when I heard you +a-preachin’ about Hope a-pitchin’ of her tent on a hill? By gosh, +it struck me then, you’d pitch, your tent high some day; you did it +beautiful.’ + +“He know’d I didn’t like this change, that Mr. Hopewell had kinder +inoculated me with other guess views on these matters, so he began to +throw up bankments and to picket in the ground, all round for defence +like. + +“‘Hope,’ sais he, ‘is the attribute of a Christian, Slick, for he hopes +beyond this world; but I changed on principle.’ + +“‘Well,’ sais I, ‘I changed on interest; now if our great nation is +backed by principal and interest here, I guess its credit is kinder well +built. And atween you and me, Abednego, that’s more than the soft-horned +British will ever see from all our States. Some on ‘em are intarmined to +pay neither debt nor interest, and give nothin’ but lip in retarn.’ + +“‘Now,’ sais he, a pretendin’ to take no notice of this,’ you know we +have the Voluntary with us, Mr. Slick.’ He said “_Mister_” that time, +for he began to get formal on puppus to stop jokes; but, dear me, where +all men are equal what’s the use of one man tryin’ to look big? He must +take to growin’ agin I guess to do that. ‘You know we have the Voluntary +with us, Mr. Slick,’ sais he. + +“‘Jist so,’ sais I. + +“‘Well, what’s the meanin’ of that?’ + +“‘Why,’ sais I, ‘that you support religion or let it alone, as you like; +that you can take it up as a pedlar does his pack, carry it till you are +tired, then lay it down, set on it, and let it support you.” + +“‘Exactly,’ sais he; ‘it is voluntary on the hearer, and it’s jist so +with the minister, too; for his preachin’ is voluntary also. He can +preach or lot it alone, as he likes. It’s voluntary all through. It’s a +bad rule that won’t work both ways.’ + +“‘Well,’ says I, ‘there is a good deal in that, too.’ I said that just +to lead him on. + +“‘A good deal!’ sais he, ‘why it’s every thing. But I didn’t rest on +that alone; I propounded this maxim to myself. Every man, sais I, is +bound to sarve his fellow citizens to his utmost. That’s true; ain’t it, +Mr. Slick?’ + +“‘Guess so,’ sais I. + +“‘Well then, I asked myself this here question: Can I sarve my fellow +citizens best by bein’ minister to Peach settlement, ‘tendin’ on a +little village of two thousand souls, and preachin’ my throat sore, or +bein’ special minister to Saint Jimses, and sarvin’ our great Republic +and its thirteen millions? Why, no reasonable man can doubt; so I give +up preachin’.’ + +“‘Well,’ sais I, ‘Abednego, you are a Socdolager, that’s a fact; you are +a great man, and a great scholard. Now a great scholard, when he can’t +do a sum the way it’s stated, jist states it so--he _can_ do it. Now the +right way to state that sum is arter this fashion: “Which is best, to +endeavour to save the souls of two thousand people under my spiritual +charge, or let them go to Old Nick and save a piece of wild land in +Maine, get pay for an old steamer burnt to Canada, and uphold the slave +trade for the interest of the States.’ + +“‘That’s specious, but not true,’ said he; ‘but it’s a matter rather for +my consideration than your’n,’ and he looked as a feller does when he +buttons his trowsers’ pocket, as much as to say, you have no right to be +a puttin’ of your pickers and stealers in there, that’s mine. ‘We will +do better to be less selfish,’ said he, ‘and talk of our great nation.’ + +“‘Well,’ says I, ‘how do we stand here in Europe? Do we maintain the +high pitch we had, or do we sing a note lower than we did?’ + +“Well, he walked up and down the room, with his hands onder his +coat-tails, for ever so long, without a sayin’ of a word. At last, sais +he, with a beautiful smile that was jist skin deep, for it played on his +face as a cat’s-paw does on the calm waters, ‘What was you a sayin.’ of, +Mr. Slick?’ saw he. + +“‘What’s our position to Europe?’ sais I, ‘jist now; is it letter A, +No. 1?’ + +“‘Oh!’ sais he, and he walked up and down agin, cypherin’ like to +himself; and then says he, ‘I’ll tell you; that word Socdolager, and the +trade of preachin’, and clockmakin’, it would be as well to sink here; +neither on ‘em convene with dignity. Don’t you think so?’ + +“‘Sartainly,’ sais I; ‘it’s only fit for talk over a cigar, alone. It +don’t always answer a good, purpose to blart every thing out. But our +_po_sition,’ says I, among the nations of the airth, is it what our +everlastin’ Union is entitled to?’ + +“‘Because,’ sais he, ‘some day when I am asked out to dinner, some +wag or another of a lord will call me parson, and ask me to crave a +blessin’, jist to raise the larf agin me for havin’ been a preacher.’ + +“‘If he does,’ sais I,’ jist say, my Attache does that, and I’ll jist up +first and give it to him atween the two eyes; and when that’s done, sais +you, my Lord, that’s _your grace_ afore meat; pr’aps your lordship will +_return thanks_ arter dinner. Let him try it, that’s all. But our great +nation,’ sais I, ‘tell me, hante that noble stand we made on the right +of sarch, raised us about the toploftiest?’ + +“‘Oh,’ says he ‘right of sarch! right of sarch! I’ve been tryin’ to +sarch my memory, but can’t find it. I don’t recollect that sarmont about +Hope pitchin’ her tent on the hill. When was it?’ + +“‘It was afore the juvenile-united-democratic-republican association to +Funnel Hall,’ sais I. + +“‘Oh,’ says he, ‘that was an oration--it was an oration that.’ + +“Oh!” sais I, “we won’t say no more about that; I only meant it as a +joke, and nothin’ more. But railly now, Abednego, what is the state of +our legation?” + +“‘I don’t see nothin’ ridikilous,’ sais he, ‘in that are expression, of +Hope pitchin’ her tent on a hill. It’s figurativ’ and poetic, but it’s +within the line that divides taste from bombast. Hope pitchin’ her tent +on a hill! What is there to reprehend in that?’ + +“Good airth and seas,’ sais I, ‘let’s pitch Hope, and her tent, and the +hill, all to Old Nick in a heap together, and talk of somethin’ else. +You needn’t be so perkily ashamed of havin’ preached, man. Cromwell was +a great preacher all his life, but it didn’t spile him as a Socdolager +one bit, but rather helped him, that’s a fact. How ‘av we held our +footin’ here?’ + +“‘Not well, I am grieved to say,’ sais he; ‘not well. The failure of the +United States’ Bank, the repudiation of debts by several of our States, +the foolish opposition we made to the suppression of the slave-trade, +and above all, the bad faith in the business of the boundary question +has lowered us down, down, e’en a’most to the bottom of the shaft.’ + +“‘Abednego,’ sais I, ‘we want somethin’ besides boastin’ and talkin’ +big; we want a dash--a great stroke of policy. Washington hanging Andre +that time, gained more than a battle. Jackson by hanging Arbuthnot and +Anbristher, gained his election. M’Kennie for havin’ hanged them three +citizens will be made an admiral of yet, see if he don’t. Now if Captain +Tyler had said, in his message to Congress, ‘Any State that repudiates +its foreign debts, we will first fine it in the whole amount, and then +cut it off from our great, free, enlightened, moral and intellectual +republic, he would have gained by the dash his next election, and run up +our flag to the mast-head in Europe. He would have been popular to home, +and respected abroad, that’s as clear as mud,’ + +“‘He would have done right, Sir, if he had done that,’ said Abednego, +‘and the right thing is always approved of in the eend, and always +esteemed all through the piece. A dash, as a stroke of policy,’ said he, +‘has sometimes a good effect. General Jackson threatening France with a +war, if they didn’t pay the indemnity, when he knew the King would make +‘em pay it whether or no, was a masterpiece; and General Cass tellin’ +France if she signed the right of sarch treaty, we would fight both her +and England together single-handed, was the best move on the political +chess-board, this century. All these, Sir, are very well in their way, +to produce an effect; but there’s a better policy nor all that, a far +better policy, and one, too, that some of our States and legislators, +and presidents, and Socdolagers, as you call ‘em, in my mind have got to +larn yet, Sam.’ + +“‘What’s that?’ sais I. “For I don’t believe in my soul there is nothin’ +a’most our diplomaters don’t know. They are a body o’ men that does +honour to our great nation. What policy are you a indicatin’ of?’ + +“‘Why,’ sais he, ‘_that honesty is the best policy_.’ + +“When I heerd him say that, I springs right up on eend, like a rope +dancer. ‘Give me your hand, Abednego,’ sais I; ‘you are a man, every +inch of you,’ and I squeezed it so hard, it made his eyes water. ‘I +always knowed you had an excellent head-piece,’ sais I, ‘and now I +see the heart is in the right place too. If you have thrown preachin’ +overboard, you have kept your morals for ballast, any how. I feel kinder +proud of you; you are jist a fit representat_ive_ for our great nation. +You are a Socdolager, that’s a fact. I approbate your notion; it’s as +correct as a bootjack. For nations or individuals, it’s all the same, +honesty _is_ the best policy, and no mistake. That,’ sais I, ‘is the +hill, Abednego, for Hope to pitch her tent on, and no mistake,’ and I +put my finger to my nose, and winked. + +“‘Well,’ sais he, ‘it is; but you are a droll feller, Slick, there is +no standin’ your jokes. I’ll give you leave to larf if you like, but you +must give me leave to win if I can. Good bye. But mind, Sam, our +dignity is at stake. Let’s have no more of Socdolagers, or Preachin’, or +Clockmakin’, or Hope pitchin’ her tent. A word to the wise. Good bye.’ + +“Yes,” said Mr. Slick, “I rather like Abednego’s talk myself. I kinder +think that it will be respectable to be Attache to such a man as that. +But he is goin’ out of town for some time, is the Socdolager. There is +an agricultural dinner, where he has to make a conciliation speech; and +a scientific association, where there is a piece of delicate brag and +a bit of soft sawder to do, and then there are visits to the nobility, +peep at manufactures, and all that sort of work, so he won’t be in town +for a good spell, and until then, I can’t go to Court, for he is to +introduce me himself. Pity that, but then it’ll give me lots o’ time to +study human natur, that is, if there is any of it left here, for I have +some doubts about that. Yes, he is an able lead horse, is Abednego; he +is a’most a grand preacher, a good poet, a first chop orator, a +great diplomater, and a top sawyer of a man, in short--he _is_ a +_Socdolager_.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV. DINING OUT. + +My visit to Germany was protracted beyond the period I had originally +designed; and, during my absence, Mr. Slick had been constantly in +company, either “dining out” daily, when in town, or visiting from one +house to another in the country. + +I found him in great spirits. He assured me he had many capital stories +to tell me, and that he rather guessed he knew as much of the English, +and a leetle, jist a leetle, grain more, p’raps, than they knew of the +Yankees. + +“They are considerable large print are the Bull family,” said he; “you +can read them by moonlight. Indeed, their faces ain’t onlike the moon +in a gineral way; only one has got a man in it, and the other hain’t +always. It tante a bright face; you can look into it without winkin’. +It’s a cloudy one here too, especially in November; and most all the +time makes you rather sad and solemncoly. Yes, John is a moony man, +that’s a fact, and at the full a little queer sometimes. + +“England is a stupid country compared to our’n. _There it no variety +where there it no natur_. You have class variety here, but no +individiality. They are insipid, and call it perlite. The men dress +alike, talk alike, and look as much alike as Providence will let ‘em. +The club-houses and the tailors have done a good deal towards this, and +so has whiggism and dissent; for they have destroyed distinctions. + +“But this is too deep for me. Ask Minister, he will tell you the cause; +I only tell you the fact. + +“Dinin’ out here, is both heavy work, and light feedin’. It’s monstrous +stupid. One dinner like one rainy day (it’s rained ever since I +been here a’most), is like another; one drawin’-room like another +drawin’-room; one peer’s entertainment, in a general way, is +like another peer’s. The same powdered, liveried, lazy, idle, +good-for-nothin’, do-little, stand-in-the-way-of-each-other, +useless sarvants. Same picturs, same plate, same fixin’s, same +don’t-know-what-to-do-with-your-self-kinder-o’-lookin’-master. Great +folks are like great folks, marchants like marchants, and so on. It’s a +pictur, it looks like life, but’ it tante. The animal is tamed here; he +is fatter than the wild one, but he hante the spirit. + +“You have seen-Old Clay in a pastur, a racin’ about, free from harness, +head and tail up, snortin’, cavortin’, attitudinisin’ of himself. Mane +flowin’ in the wind, eye-ball startin’ out, nostrils inside out a’most, +ears pricked up. _A nateral hoss_; put him in a waggon, with a rael spic +and span harness, all covered over with brass buckles and brass knobs, +and ribbons in his bridle, rael jam. Curb him up, talk Yankee to him, +and get his ginger up. Well, he looks well; but he is ‘_a broke hoss_.’ +He reminds you of Sam Slick; cause when you see a hoss, you think of his +master: but he don’t remind you of the rael ‘_Old Clay_,’ that’s a fact. + +“Take a day here, now in town; and they are so identical the same, that +one day sartificates for another. You can’t get out a bed afore twelve, +in winter, the days is so short, and the fires ain’t made, or the room +dusted, or the breakfast can’t be got, or sunthin’ or another. And if +you did, what’s the use? There is no one to talk to, and books only +weaken your understandin’, as water does brandy. They make you let +others guess for you, instead of guessin’ for yourself. Sarvants spile +your habits here, and books spite your mind. I wouldn’t swap ideas with +any man. I make my own opinions, as I used to do my own clocks; and I +find they are truer than other men’s. The Turks are so cussed heavy, +they have people to dance for ‘em; the English are wus, for they hire +people to think for ‘em. Never read a book, Squire, always think for +yourself. + +“Well, arter breakfast, it’s on hat and coat, ombrella in hand, (don’t +never forget that, for the rumatiz, like the perlice, is always on the +look out here, to grab hold of a feller,) and go somewhere where +there is somebody, or another, and smoke, and then wash it down with a +sherry-cobbler; (the drinks ain’t good here; they hante no variety in +them nother; no white-nose, apple-jack, stone-wall, chain-lightning, +rail-road, hail-storm, ginsling-talabogus, switchel-flip, gum-ticklers, +phlem-cutters, juleps, skate-iron, cast-steel, cock-tail, or nothin’, +but that heavy stupid black fat porter;) then down to the coffee-house, +see what vessels have arrived, how markets is, whether there is a chance +of doin’ any thin’ in cotton or tobacco, whose broke to home, and so +on. Then go to the park, and see what’s a goin’ on there; whether those +pretty critturs, the rads are a holdin’ a prime minister ‘parsonally +responsible,’ by shootin’ at him; or whether there is a levee, or the +Queen is ridin’ out, or what not; take a look at the world, make a visit +or two to kill time, when all at once it’s dark. Home then, smoke a +cigar, dress for dinner, and arrive at a quarter past seven. + +“Folks are up to the notch here when dinner is in question, that’s a +fact, fat, gouty, broken-winded, and foundered as they be. It’s rap, +rap, rap, for twenty minutes at the door, and in they come, one arter +the other, as fast as the sarvants can carry up their names. Cuss +them sarvants! it takes seven or eight of ‘em to carry a man’s name up +stairs, they are so awful lazy, and so shockin’ full of porter. If a +feller was so lame he had to be carried up himself, I don’t believe on +my soul, the whole gang of them, from the Butler that dresses in the +same clothes as his master, to Boots that ain’t dressed at all, could +make out to bowse him up stairs, upon my soul I don’t. + +“Well, you go in along with your name, walk up to old aunty, and make a +scrape, and the same to old uncle, and then fall back. This is done +as solemn, as if a feller’s name was called out to take his place in a +funeral; that and the mistakes is the fun of it. There is a sarvant at +a house I visit at, that I suspicion is a bit of a bam, and the critter +shows both his wit and sense. He never does it to a ‘somebody,’ ‘cause +that would cost him his place, but when a ‘nobody’ has a droll name, +he jist gives an accent, or a sly twist to it, that folks can’t help a +larfin’, no more than Mr. Nobody can feelin’ like a fool. He’s a droll +boy, that; I should like to know him. + +“Well, arter ‘nouncin’ is done, then comes two questions--do I know +anybody here? and if I do, does he look like talk or not? Well, seein’ +that you have no handle to your name, and a stranger, it’s most likely +you can’t answer these questions right; so you stand and use your eyes, +and put your tongue up in its case till it’s wanted. Company are all +come, and now they have to be marshalled two and two, lock and lock, and +go into the dinin’-room to feed. + +“When I first came I was nation proud of that title, ‘the Attache;’ now +I am happified it’s nothin’ but ‘only an Attache,’ and I’ll tell you +why. The great guns, and big bugs, have to take in each other’s ladies, +so these old ones have to herd together. Well, the nobodies go together +too, and sit together, and I’ve observed these nobodies are the +pleasantest people at table, and they have the pleasantest places, +because they sit down with each other, and are jist like yourself, +plaguy glad to get some one to talk to. Somebody can only visit +somebody, but nobody can go anywhere, and therefore nobody sees and +knows twice as much as somebody does. Somebodies must be axed, if they +are as stupid as a pump; but nobodies needn’t, and never are, unless +they are spicy sort o’ folks, so you are sure of them, and they have all +the fun and wit of the table at their eend, and no mistake. + +“I wouldn’t take a title if they would give it to me, for if I had one, +I should have a fat old parblind dowager detailed on to me to take in +to dinner; and what the plague is her jewels and laces, and silks and +sattins, and wigs to me? As it is, I have a chance to have a gall to +take in that’s a jewel herself--one that don’t want no settin’ off, and +carries her diamonds in her eyes, and so on. I’ve told our minister not +to introduce me as an Attache no more, but as Mr. Nobody, from the State +of Nothin’, in America, _that’s natur agin_. + +“But to get back to the dinner. Arter you are in marchin’ order, you +move in through two rows of sarvants in uniform. I used to think they +was placed there for show, but it’s to keep the air off of folks a goin’ +through the entry, and it ain’t a bad thought, nother. + +“Lord, the first time I went to one o’ these grand let offs I felt +kinder skeery, and as nobody was allocated to me to take in, I goes in +alone, not knowin’ where I was to settle down as a squatter, and kinder +lagged behind; when the butler comes and rams a napkin in my hand, and +gives me a shove, and sais he, ‘Go and stand behind your master, sir,’ +sais he. Oh Solomon! how that waked me up. How I curled inwardly when he +did that. ‘You’ve mistaken the child,’ sais I mildly, and I held out +the napkin, and jist as he went to take it, I gave him a sly poke in the +bread basket, that made him bend forward and say ‘eugh.’ ‘Wake Snakes, +and walk your chalks,’ sais I, ‘will you?’ and down I pops on the fust +empty chair. Lord, how white he looked about the gills arterwards; +I thought I should a split when I looked at him. Guess he’ll know an +Attache when he sees him next time. + +“Well, there is dinner. One sarvice of plate is like another sarvice +of plate, any one dozen of sarvants are like another dozen of sarvants, +hock is hock, and champaigne is champaigne--and one dinner is like +another dinner. The only difference is in the thing itself that’s +cooked. Veal, to be good, must look like any thing else but veal; you +mustn’t know it when you see it, or it’s vulgar; mutton must be incog. +too; beef must have a mask on; any thin’ that looks solid, take a spoon +to; any thin’ that looks light, cut with a knife; if a thing looks like +fish, you may take your oath it is flesh; and if it seems rael flesh, +it’s only disguised, for it’s sure to be fish; nothin’ must be +nateral, natur is out of fashion here. This is a manufacturin’ country, +everything is done by machinery, and that that ain’t must be made to +look like it; and I must say, the dinner machinery is parfect. + +“Sarvants keep goin’ round and round in a ring, slow, but sartain, and +for ever, like the arms of a great big windmill, shovin’ dish after +dish, in dum show, afore your nose, for you to see how you like the +flavour; when your glass is empty it’s filled; when your eyes is off +your plate, it’s off too, afore you can say Nick Biddle. + +“Folks speak low here; steam is valuable, and noise onpolite. They call +it a “_subdued tone_.” Poor tame things, they are subdued, that’s a +fact; slaves to an arbitrary tyrannical fashion that don’t leave ‘em no +free will at all. You don’t often speak across a table any more nor you +do across a street, but p’raps Mr. Somebody of West Eend of town, will +say to a Mr. Nobody from West Eend of America: ‘Niagara is noble.’ +Mr. Nobody will say, ‘Guess it is, it got its patent afore the “Norman +_Conquest_,” I reckon, and afore the “_subdued_ tone” come in fashion.’ +Then Mr. Somebody will look like an oracle, and say, ‘Great rivers and +great trees in America. You speak good English.’ And then he will seem +surprised, but not say it, only you can read the words on his face, +‘Upon my soul, you are a’most as white as us.’ + +“Dinner is over. It’s time for ladies to cut stick. Aunt Goosey looks +at the next oldest goosey, and ducks her head, as if she was a goin’ +through a gate, and then they all come to their feet, and the goslins +come to their feet, and they all toddle off to the drawin’ room +together. + +“The decanters now take the “grand tour” of the table, and, like most +travellers, go out with full pockets, and return with empty ones. Talk +has a pair of stays here, and is laced up tight and stiff. Larnin’ is +pedantic; politics is onsafe; religion ain’t fashionable. You must tread +on neutral ground. Well, neutral ground gets so trampled down by both +sides, and so plundered by all, there ain’t any thing fresh or good +grows on it, and it has no cover for game nother. + +“Housundever, the ground is tried, it’s well beat, but nothin’ is put +up, and you get back to where you started. Uncle Gander looks at next +oldest gander hard, bobs his head, and lifts one leg, all ready for a +go, and says, ‘Will you take any more wine?’ ‘No, sais he, ‘but I take +the hint, let’s jine the ladies.’ + +“Well, when the whole flock is gathered in the goose pastur, the +drawin’-room, other little flocks come troopin’ in, and stand, or walk, +or down on chairs; and them that know each other talk, and them that +don’t twirl their thumbs over their fingers; and when they are tired of +that, twirl their fingers over their thumbs. I’m nobody, and so I goes +and sets side-ways on an ottarman, like a gall on a side-saddle, and +look at what’s afore me. And fust I always look at the galls. + +“Now, this I will say, they are amazin’ fine critters are the women +kind here, when they are taken proper care of. The English may stump the +univarse a’most for trainin’ hosses and galls. They give ‘em both plenty +of walkin’ exercise, feed ‘em regular, shoe ‘em well, trim ‘em neat, and +keep a beautiful skin on ‘em. They keep, ‘em in good health, and don’t +house ‘em too much. They are clippers, that’s a fact. There is few +things in natur, equal to a hoss and a gall, that’s well trained and in +good condition. I could stand all day and look at ‘em, and I call myself +a considerable of a judge. It’s singular how much they are alike too, +the moment the trainin’ is over or neglected, neither of ‘em is fit to +be seen; they grow out of shape, and look coarse. + +“They are considerable knowin’ in this kind o’ ware too, are the +English; they vamp ‘em up so well, it’s hard to tell their age, and I +ain’t sure they don’t make ‘em live longer, than where the art ain’t +so well pract_ised_. The mark o’ mouth is kept up in a hoss here by the +file, and a hay-cutter saves his teeth, and helps his digestion. Well, +a dentist does the same good turn for a woman; it makes her pass for +several years younger; and helps her looks, mends her voice, and makes +her as smart as a three year old. + +“What’s that? It’s music. Well, that’s artificial too, it’s scientific +they say, it’s done by rule. Jist look at that gall to the piany: first +comes a little Garman thunder. Good airth and seas, what a crash! it +seems as if she’d bang the instrument all to a thousand pieces. I guess +she’s vexed at somebody and is a peggin’ it into the piany out of spite. +Now comes the singin’; see what faces she makes, how she stretches her +mouth open, like a barn door, and turns up the white of her eyes, like +a duck in thunder. She is in a musical ecstasy is that gall, she feels +good all over, her soul is a goin’ out along with that ere music. Oh, +it’s divine, and she is an angel, ain’t she? Yes, I guess she is, and +when I’m an angel, I will fall in love with her; but as I’m a man, at +least what’s left of me, I’d jist as soon fall in love with one that +was a leetle, jist a leetle more of a woman, and a leetle, jist a leetle +less of an angel. But hullo! what onder the sun is she about, why her +voice is goin’ down her own throat, to gain strength, and here it comes +out agin as deep toned as a man’s; while that dandy feller along side +of her, is singin’ what they call falsetter. They’ve actilly changed +voices. The gall sings like a man, and that screamer like a woman. This +is science: this is taste: this is fashion; but hang me if it’s natur. +I’m tired to death of it, but one good thing is, you needn’t listen +without you like, for every body is talking as, loud as ever. + +“Lord, how extremes meet sometimes, as Minister says. _Here_, how, +fashion is the top of the pot, and that pot hangs on the highest hook on +the crane. In _America_, natur can’t go no farther; it’s the rael thing. +Look at the women kind, now. An Indgian gall, down South, goes most +naked. Well, a splendiferous company gall, here, when she is _full +dressed_ is only _half covered_, and neither of ‘em attract you one mite +or morsel. We dine at two and sup at seven; _here_ they lunch at two, +and dine at seven. The words are different, but they are identical +the same. Well, the singin’ is amazin’ like, too. Who ever heerd them +Italian singers recitin’ their jabber, showin’ their teeth, and cuttin’ +didoes at a great private consart, that wouldn’t take his oath he had +heerd niggers at a dignity ball, down South, sing jist the same, and +jist as well. And then do, for goodness’ gracious’ sake, hear that great +absent man, belongin’ to the House o’ Commons, when the chaplain says +‘Let us pray!’ sing right out at once, as if he was to home, ‘Oh! by all +means,’ as much as to say, ‘me and the powers above are ready to hear +you; but don’t be long about it.’ + +“Ain’t that for all the world like a camp-meetin’, when a reformed +ring-tail roarer calls out to the minister, ‘That’s a fact, Welly Fobus, +by Gosh; amen!’ or when preacher says, ‘Who will be saved?’ answers, ‘Me +and the boys, throw us a hen-coop; the galls will drift down stream on a +bale o’ cotton.’ Well then, _our_ very lowest, and _their_ very highest, +don’t always act pretty, that’s a fact. Sometimes ‘_they repudiate_.’ +You take, don’t you? + +“There is another party to-night; the flock is a thinnin’ off agin; and +as I want a cigar most amazin’ly, let’s go to a divan, and some other +time, I’ll tell you what a swoi_ree_ is. But answer me this here +question now, Squire: when this same thing is acted over and over, day +after day, and no variation, from July to etarnity, don’t you think +you’d get a leetle--jist a leetle more tired of it every day, and wish +for natur once more. If you wouldn’t I would, that’s all.” + + + + +THE SECOND VOLUME. + + + + +CHAPTER I. THE NOSE OF A SPY + +“Squire.” said Mr. Hopewell, “you know Sam well enough, I hope, to make +all due allowances for the exuberance of his fancy. The sketch he has +just given you of London society, like the novels of the present +day, though founded on fact, is very unlike the reality. There may be +assemblages of persons in this great city, and no doubt there are, quite +as insipid and absurd as the one he has just pourtrayed; but you must +not suppose it is at all a fair specimen of the society of this place. +My own experience is quite the reverse. I think it the most refined, +the most agreeable, and the most instructive in the world. Whatever +your favourite study or pursuit may be, here you are sure to find +well-informed and enthusiastic associates. If you have merit, it is +appreciated; and for an aristocratic country, that merit places you on +a level with your superiors in rank in a manner that is quite +incomprehensible to a republican. Money is the great leveller of +distinctions with us; here, it is talent. Fashion spreads many tables +here, but talent is always found seated at the best, if it thinks proper +to comply with certain usages, without which, even genius ceases to be +attractive. + +“On some future occasion, I will enter more at large on this subject; +but now it is too late; I have already exceeded my usual hour for +retiring. ‘Excuse me, Sam,’ said he. ‘I know you will not be offended +with me, but Squire there are some subjects on which Sam may amuse, but +cannot instruct you, and one is, fashionable life in London. You must +judge for yourself, Sir. Good night, my children.’” + +Mr. Slick rose, and opened the door for him, and as he passed, bowed and +held out his hand. “Remember me, your honour, no man opens the door in +this country without being paid for it. Remember me, Sir.” + +“True, Sam,” said the Minister, “and it is unlucky that it does not +extend to opening the mouth, if it did, you would soon make your +fortune, for you can’t keep yours shut. Good night.” + +The society to which I have subsequently had the good fortune to be +admitted, fully justifies the eulogium of Mr. Hopewell. Though many +persons can write well, few can talk well; but the number of those who +excel in conversation is much greater in certain circles in London, than +in any other place. By talking well, I do not mean talking wisely or +learnedly; but agreeably, for relaxation and pleasure, are the principal +objects of social assemblies. This can only be illustrated by instancing +some very remarkable persons, who are the pride and pleasure of every +table they honour and delight with their presence But this may not be. +For obvious reasons, I could not do it if I would; and most assuredly, +I would not do it if I could. No more certain mode could be devised +of destroying conversation, than by showing, that when the citadel is +unguarded, the approach of a friend is as unsafe as that of an enemy. + +Alas! poor Hook! who can read the unkind notice of thee in a late +periodical, and not feel, that on some occasions you must have admitted +to your confidence men who were as unworthy of that distinction as, they +were incapable of appreciating it, and that they who will disregard the +privileges of a table, will not hesitate to violate even the sanctity +of the tomb. Cant may talk of your “_inter pocula_” errors with pious +horror; and pretension, now that its indulgence is safe, may affect to +disclaim your acquaintance; but kinder, and better, and truer men than +those who furnished your biographer with his facts will not fail to +recollect your talents with pride, and your wit and your humour with +wonder and delight. + +We do not require such flagrant examples as these to teach us our duty, +but they are not without their use in increasing our caution. + +When Mr. Hopewell withdrew, Mr. Slick observed: + +“Ain’t that ere old man a trump? He is always in the right place. +Whenever you want to find him, jist go and look for him where he +ought to be, and there you will find him as sure as there is snakes in +Varginy. He is a brick, that’s a fact. Still, for all that, he ain’t +jist altogether a citizen of this world nother. He fishes in deep water, +with a sinker to his hook. He can’t throw a fly as I can, reel out his +line, run down stream, and then wind up, wind up, wind up, and let out, +and wind up again, till he lands his fish, as I do. He looks deep into +things, is a better religionist, polititioner, and bookster than I be: +but then that’s all he does know. If you want to find your way about, or +read a man, come to me, that’s all; for I’m the boy that jist can do +it. If I can’t walk into a man, I can dodge round him; and if he is too +nimble for that, I can jump over him; and if he is too tall for that, +although I don’t like the play, yet I can whip him. + +“Now, Squire, I have been a good deal to England, and crossed this big +pond here the matter of seven times, and know a good deal about it, more +than a great many folks that have writtin’ books on it, p’raps. Mind +what I tell you, the English ain’t what they was. I’m not speakin’ in +jeest now, or in prejudice. I hante a grain of prejudice in me. I’ve +see’d too much of the world for that I reckon. I call myself a candid +man, and I tell you the English are no more like what the English used +to be, when pigs were swine, and Turkey chewed tobacky, than they are +like the Picts or Scots, or Norman, French, or Saxons, or nothin’.” + +“Not what they used to be?” I said. “Pray, what do you mean?” + +“I mean,” said he, “jist what I say. They ain’t the same people no +more. They are as proud, and overbearin’, and concaited, and haughty +to foreigners as ever; but, then they ain’t so manly, open-hearted, and +noble as they used to be, once upon a time. They have the Spy System +now, in full operation here; so jist take my advice, and mind your +potatoe-trap, or you will be in trouble afore you are ten days older, +see if you ain’t.” + +“The Spy System!” I replied. “Good Heavens, Mr. Slick, how can you talk +such nonsense, and yet have the modesty to say you have no prejudice?” + +“Yes, the Spy System,” said he, “and I’ll prove it. You know Dr. +Mc’Dougall to Nova Scotia; well, he knows all about mineralogy, and +geology, and astrology, and every thing a’most, except what he ought to +know, and that is dollar-ology. For he ain’t over and above half well +off, that’s a fact. Well, a critter of the name of Oatmeal, down to +Pictou, said to another Scotchman there one day, ‘The great nateralist +Dr. Mc’Dougall is come to town.’ + +“‘Who?’ says Sawney. + +“‘Dr. Mc’Dougall, the nateralist,’ says Oatmeal. + +“‘Hout, mon,’ says Sawney, ‘he is nae nateral, that chiel; he kens mair +than maist men; he is nae that fool you take him to be.’ + +“Now, I am not such a fool as you take _me_ to be, Squire. Whenever I +did a sum to, school, Minister used to say, ‘Prove it, Sam, and if it +won’t prove, do it over agin, till it will; a sum ain’t right when it +won’t prove.’ Now, I say the English have the Spy System, and I’ll prove +it; nay, more than that, they have the nastiest, dirtiest, meanest, +sneakenest system in the world. It is ten times as bad as the French +plan. In France they have bar-keepers, waiters, chamber galls, guides, +quotillions,--” + +“Postilions, you mean,” I said. + +“Well, postilions then, for the French have queer names for people, +that’s a fact; disbanded sodgers, and such trash, for spies. In England +they have airls and countesses, Parliament men, and them that call +themselves gentlemen and ladies, for spies.” + +“How very absurd!” I said. + +“Oh yes, very absurd,” said Mr. Slick; “whenever I say anythin’ agin +England, it’s very absurd, it’s all prejudice. Nothin’ is strange, +though, when it is said of us, and the absurder it is, the truer it is. +I can bam as well as any man when bam is the word, but when fact is the +play, I am right up and down, and true as a trivet. I won’t deceive you; +I’ll prove it. + +“There was a Kurnel Dun--dun--plague take his name, I can’t recollect +it, but it makes no odds--I know _he_ is Dun for, though, that’s a fact. +Well, he was a British kurnel, that was out to Halifax when I was there. +I know’d him by sight, I didn’t know him by talk, for I didn’t fill then +the dignified situation I now do, of Attache. I was only a clockmaker +then, and I suppose he wouldn’t have dirtied the tip eend of his white +glove with me then, any more than I would sile mine with him now, and +very expensive and troublesome things them white gloves be too; there is +no keepin’ of them clean. For my part, I don’t see why a man can’t make +his own skin as clean as a kid’s, any time; and if a feller can’t be let +shake hands with a gall except he has a glove on, why ain’t he made to +cover his lips, and kiss thro’ kid skin too. + +“But to get back to the kurnel, and it’s a pity he hadn’t had a glove +over his mouth, that’s a fact. Well, he went home to England with his +regiment, and one night when he was dinin’ among some first chop men, +nobles and so on, they sot up considerable late over their claret; and +poor thin cold stuff it is too, is claret. A man _may_ get drowned in +it, but how the plague he can get drunk with it is dark to me. It’s like +every thing else French, it has no substance in it; it’s nothin’ but red +ink, that’s a fact. Well, how it was I don’t know, but so it eventuated, +that about daylight he was mops and brooms, and began to talk somethin’ +or another he hadn’t ought to; somethin’ he didn’t know himself, and +somethin’ he didn’t mean, and didn’t remember. + +“Faith, next mornin’ he was booked; and the first thing he see’d when he +waked was another man a tryin’ on of his shoes, to see how they’d fit to +march to the head of his regiment with. Fact, I assure you, and a fact +too that shows what Englishmen has come to; I despise ‘em, I hate ‘em, I +scorn such critters as I do oncarcumcised niggers.” + +“What a strange perversion of facts,” I replied. + +But he would admit of no explanation. “Oh yes, quite parvarted; not a +word of truth in it; there never is when England is consarned. There is +no beam in an Englishman’s eye; no not a smell of one; he has pulled it +out long ago; that’s the reason he can see the mote in other folks’s +so plain. Oh, of course it ain’t true; it’s a Yankee invention; it’s a +hickory ham and a wooden nutmeg. + +“Well, then, there was another feller got bagged t’other day, as +innocent as could be, for givin’ his opinion when folks was a talkin’ +about matters and things in gineral, and this here one in partikilar. I +can’t tell the words, for I don’t know ‘em, nor care about ‘em; and if I +did, I couldn’t carry ‘em about so long; but it was for sayin’ it +hadn’t ought to have been taken notice of, considerin’ it jist popt out +permiscuous like with the bottle-cork. If he hadn’t a had the clear +grit in him, and showed teeth and claws, they’d a nullified him so, you +wouldn’t have see’d a grease spot of him no more. What do you call that, +now? Do you call that liberty? Do you call that old English? Do you call +it pretty, say now? Thank God, it tante Yankee.” + +“I see you have no prejudice, Mr. Slick,” I replied. + +“Not one mite or morsel,” he replied. “Tho’ I was born in Connecticut, I +have travelled all over the thirteen united univarsal worlds of ourn and +am a citizen at large. No, I have no prejudice. You say I am mistaken; +p’raps I am, I hope I be, and a stranger may get hold of the wrong eend +of a thing sometimes, that’s a fact. But I don’t think I be wrong, or +else the papers don’t tell the truth; and I read it in all the jarnals; +I did, upon my soul. Why man, it’s history now, if such nasty mean doins +is worth puttin’ into a book. + +“What makes this Spy System to England wuss, is that these +eaves-droppers are obliged to hear all that’s said, or lose what +commission they hold; at least so folks tell me. I recollect when I was +there last, for it’s some years since Government first sot up the Spy +System; there was a great feed given to a Mr. Robe, or Robie, or some +such name, an out and out Tory. Well, sunthin’ or another was said over +their cups, that might as well have been let alone, I do suppose, tho’ +dear me, what is the use of wine but to onloosen the tongue, and what +is the use of the tongue, but to talk. Oh, cuss ‘em, I have no patience +with them. Well, there was an officer of a marchin’ regiment there, who +it seems ought to have took down the words and sent ‘em up to the head +Gineral, but he was a knowin’ coon, was officer, and _didn’t hear it_. +No sooner said than done; some one else did the dirty work for him; but +you can’t have a substitute for this, you must sarve in person, so the +old Gineral hawls him right up for it. + +“‘Why the plague, didn’t you make a fuss?’ sais the General, ‘why didn’t +you get right up, and break up the party?’ + +“‘I didn’t hear it,’ sais he. + +“‘You didn’t hear it!’ sais Old Sword-belt, ‘then you had ought to have +heerd it; and for two pins, I’d sharpen your hearin’ for you, so that a +snore of a fly would wake you up, as if a byler had bust.’ + +“Oh, how it has lowered the English in the eyes of foreigners! How +sneakin’ it makes ‘em look! They seem for all the world like scared +dogs; and a dog when he slopes off with his head down, his tail atween +his legs, and his back so mean it won’t bristle, is a caution to +sinners. Lord. I wish I was Queen!” + +“What, of such a degraded race as you say the English are, of such a +mean-spirited, sneaking nation?” + +“Well, they warn’t always so,” he replied. “I will say that, for I +have no prejudice. By natur, there is sunthin’ noble and manly in a +Britisher, and always was, till this cussed Spy System got into fashion. +They tell me it was the Liberals first brought it into vogue. How that +is. I don’t know; but I shouldn’t wonder if it was them, for I know +this, if a feller talks _very_ liberal in politics, put him into office, +and see what a tyrant he’ll make. If he talks very liberal in religion, +it’s because he hante got none at all. If he talks very liberal to the +poor, talk is all the poor will ever get out of him. If he talks liberal +about corn law, it tante to feed the hungry, but to lower wages, and +so on in every thing a most. None is so liberal as those as hante got +nothin’. The most liberal feller I know on is “Old Scratch himself.” If +ever the liberals come in, they should make him Prime Minister. He is +very liberal in religion and would jine them in excludin’ the Bible from +common schools I know. He is very liberal about the criminal code, for +he can’t bear to see criminals punished. He is very liberal in politics, +for he don’t approbate restraint, and likes to let every critter ‘go +to the devil’ his own way. Oh, he should be Head Spy and Prime Minister +that feller. + +“But without jokin’ tho’, if I was Queen, the fust time any o’ my +ministers came to me to report what the spies had said, I’d jist up and +say, ‘Minister,’ I’d say, ‘it is a cussed oninglish, onmanly, niggerly +business, is this of pumpin’, and spyin’, and tattlin’. I don’t like it +a bit. I’ll have neither art nor part in it; I wash my hands clear of +it. It will jist break the spirit of my people. So, minister look here. +The next report that is brought to me of a spy, I’ll whip his tongue out +and whop your ear off, or my name ain’t Queen. So jist mind what I say; +first spy pokes his nose into your office, chop it off and clap it up +over Temple Bar, where they puts the heads of traitors and write these +words over, with your own fist, that they may know the handwritin’, and +not mistake the meanin’, _This is the nose of a Spy_.” + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE PATRON; OR, THE COW’S TAIL. + +Nothing is so fatiguing as sight-seeing. The number and variety of +objects to which your attention is called, and the rapid succession in +which they pass in review, at once wearies and perplexes the mind; and +unless you take notes to refresh your memory, you are apt to find you +carry away with you but an imperfect and indistinct recollection. + +Yesterday was devoted to an inspection of the Tunnel and an +examination of the Tower, two things that ought always to be viewed +in juxta-position; one being the greatest evidence of the science and +wealth of modern times; and the other of the power and pomp of our +forefathers. + +It is a long time before a stranger can fully appreciate the extent +of population and wealth of this vast metropolis. At first, he is +astonished and confused; his vision is indistinct. By degrees he begins +to understand its localities, the ground plan becomes intelligible and +he can take it all in at a view. The map is a large one; it is a chart +of the world. He knows the capes and the bays; he has sailed round them, +and knows their relative distance, and at last becomes aware of the +magnitude of the whole. Object after object becomes more familiar. He +can estimate the population; he compares the amount of it with that +of countries that he is acquainted with, and finds that this one town +contains within it nearly as great a number of souls as all British +North America. He estimates the incomes of the inhabitants, and finds +figures almost inadequate to express the amount. He asks for the +sources from whence it is derived. He resorts to his maxims of political +economy, and they cannot inform him. He calculates the number of acres +of land in England, adds up the rental, and is again at fault. He +inquires into the statistics of the Exchange, and discovers that even +that is inadequate; and, as a last resource, concludes that the whole +world is tributary to this Queen of Cities. It is the heart of the +Universe. All the circulation centres here, and hence are derived all +those streams that give life and strength to the extremities. How vast, +how populous, how rich, how well regulated, how well supplied, how +clean, how well ventilated, how healthy!--what a splendid city! How +worthy of such an empire and such a people! + +What is the result of his experience? _It is, that there is no such +country in the world as England, and no such place in England as London; +that London is better than any other town in winter, and quite as good +as any other place in summer; that containing not only all that he +requires, but all that he can wish, in the greatest perfection, he +desires never to leave it._ + +Local description, however, is not my object; I shall therefore, return +to my narrative. + +Our examination of the Tower and the Tunnel occupied the whole day, and +though much gratified, we were no less fatigued. On returning to our +lodgings, I found letters from Nova Scotia. Among others, was one +from the widow of an old friend, enclosing a memorial to the +Commander-in-Chief, setting forth the important and gratuitous services +of her late husband to the local government of the province, and +soliciting for her son some small situation in the ordnance department, +which had just fallen vacant at Halifax. I knew that it was not only +out of my power to aid her, but that it was impossible for her, however +strong the claims of her husband might be, to obtain her request. These +things are required for friends and dependants in England; and in the +race of competition, what chance of success has a colonist? + +I made up my mind at once to forward her memorial as requested, but +pondered on the propriety of adding to it a recommendation. It could do +no good. At most, it would only be the certificate of an unknown man; of +one who had neither of the two great qualifications, namely, county or +parliamentary interest, but it might do harm. It might, by engendering +ridicule from the insolence of office, weaken a claim, otherwise well +founded. “Who the devil is this Mr. Thomas Poker, that recommends the +prayer of the petition? The fellow imagines all the world must have +heard of him. A droll fellow that, I take it from his name: but all +colonists are queer fellows, eh?” + +“Bad news from home?” said Mr. Slick, who had noticed my abstraction. +“No screw loose there, I hope. You don’t look as if you liked the +flavour of that ere nut you are crackin’ of. Whose dead? and what is to +pay now?” + +I read the letter and the memorial, and then explained from my own +knowledge how numerous and how valuable were the services of my +deceased friend, and expressed my regret at not being able to serve the +memorialist. + +“Poor woman!” said Mr. Hopewell, “I pity her. A colonist has no chance +for these things; they have no patron. In this country merit will always +obtain a patron--in the provinces never. The English are a noble-minded, +generous people, and whoever here deserves encouragement or reward, +is certain to obtain either or both: but it must be a brilliant man, +indeed, whose light can be perceived across the Atlantic.” + +“I entertain, Sir,” I said, “a very strong prejudice against relying +on patrons. Dr. Johnson, after a long and fruitless attendance on Lord +Chesterfield, says: ‘Seven years, my Lord, have now past, since I waited +in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time +I have been pushing on my work, through difficulties, of which it +is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of +publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, +or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never bad +a patron before.” + +“Ah!” said Mr. Hopewell, “a man who feels that he is wrong, is always +angry with somebody else. Dr. Johnson, is not so much to be admired +for the independence that dictated that letter, as condemned for the +meanness and servility of seven years of voluntary degradation. It is no +wonder he spoke with bitterness; for, while he censured his Lordship, +he must have despised himself. There is a great difference between a +literary and a political patron. The former is not needed, and a man +does better without one; the latter is essential. A good book, like +good wine, needs no bush; but to get an office, you want merits or +patrons;--merits so great, that they cannot be passed over, or friends +so powerful, they cannot be refused.” + +“Oh! you can’t do nothin’, Squire,” said Mr. Sick, “send it back to Old +Marm; tell her you have the misfortin to be a colonist; that if her son +would like to be a constable, or a Hogreave, or a thistle-viewer, or +sunthin’ or another of that kind, you are her man: but she has got the +wrong cow by the tail this time. I never hear of a patron, I don’t think +of a frolic I once had with a cow’s tail; and, by hanging on to it like +a snappin’ turtle, I jist saved my life, that’s a fact. + +“Tell you what it is, Squire, take a fool’s advice, for once. Here you +are; I have made you considerable well-known, that’s a fact; and will +introduce you to court, to king and queen, or any body you please. For +our legation, though they can’t dance, p’raps, as well as the French one +can, could set all Europe a dancin’ in wide awake airnest, if it chose. +They darsent refuse us nothin’, or we would fust embargo, and then go +to war. Any one you want to know, I’ll give you the ticket. Look round, +select a good critter, and hold on to the tail, for dear life, and see +if you hante a patron, worth havin’. You don’t want none yourself, but +you might want one some time or another, for them that’s a comin’ arter +you. + +“When I was a half grow’d lad, the bears came down from Nor-West one +year in droves, as a body might say, and our woods near Slickville was +jist full of ‘em. It warn’t safe to go a-wanderin’ about there a-doin’ +of nothin’, I tell _you_. Well, one arternoon, father sends me into the +back pastur’, to bring home the cows, ‘And,’ says he, ‘keep a stirrin’, +Sam, go ahead right away, and be out of the bushes afore sun-set, on +account of the bears, for that’s about the varmints’ supper-time.’ + +“Well, I looks to the sky, and I sees it was a considerable of a piece +yet to daylight down, so I begins to pick strawberries as I goes along, +and you never see any thing so thick as they were, and wherever +the grass was long, they’d stand up like a little bush, and hang in +clusters, most as big and twice as good, to my likin’, as garden ones. +Well, the sun, it appears to me, is like a hoss, when it comes near dark +it mends its pace, and gets on like smoke, so afore I know’d where I +was, twilight had come peepin’ over the spruce tops. + +“Off I sot, hot foot, into the bushes, arter the cows, and as always +eventuates when you are in a hurry, they was further back than common +that time, away ever so fur back to a brook, clean off to the rear of +the farm, so that day was gone afore I got out of the woods, and I got +proper frightened. Every noise I heerd I thought it was a bear, and when +I looked round a one side, I guessed I heerd one on the other, and I +hardly turned to look there before, I reckoned it was behind me, I was +e’en a’most skeered to death. + +“Thinks I, ‘I shall never be able to keep up to the cows if a bear comes +arter ‘em and chases ‘em, and if I fall astarn, he’ll just snap up a +plump little corn fed feller like me in less than half no time. Cryin’,’ +says I, ‘though, will do no good. You must be up and doin’, Sam, or it’s +gone goose with you.’ + +“So a thought struck me. Father had always been a-talkin’ to me about +the leadin’ men, and makin’ acquaintance with the political big bugs +when I growed up and havin’ a patron, and so on. Thinks I, I’ll take +the leadin’ cow for my patron. So I jist goes and cuts a long tough ash +saplin, and takes the little limbs off of it, and then walks along side +of Mooley, as meachin’ as you please, so she mightn’t suspect nothin’, +and then grabs right hold of her tail, and yelled and screamed like mad, +and wallopped away at her like any thing. + +“Well, the way she cut dirt was cautionary; she cleared stumps, ditches, +windfalls and every thing, and made a straight track of it for home as +the crow flies. Oh, she was a dipper: she fairly flow again, and if ever +she flagged, I laid it into her with the ash saplin, and away we started +agin, as if Old Nick himself was arter us. + +“But afore I reached home, the rest of the cows came a bellowin’, and a +roarin’ and a-racin’ like mad arter us, and gained on us too, so as most +to overtake us, jist as I come to the bars of the cow yard, over went +Mooler, like a fox, brought me whap up agin ‘em, which knocked all the +wind out of my lungs and the fire out of my eyes, and laid me sprawlin +on the ground, and every one of the flock went right slap over me, all +but one--poor Brindle. She never came home agin. Bear nabbed her, and +tore her most ridiculous. He eat what he wanted, which was no trifle, I +can tell you, and left the rest till next time. + +“Don’t talk to me, Squire, about merits. We all want a lift in this +world; sunthin’ or another to lay hold on, to help us along--_we want +the cow’s tail_. + +“Tell your friend, the female widder, she has got hold of the wrong cow +by the tail in gettin’ hold of you, for you are nothin’ but a despisable +colonist; but to look out for some patron here, some leadin’ man, or +great lord, to clinch fast hold of him, and stick to him like a leach, +and if he flags, (for patrons, like old Mooley, get tired sometimes), to +recollect the ash saplin, to lay into him well, and keep him at it, and +no fear but he’ll carry her through. He’ll fetch her home safe at last, +and no mistake, depend on it, Squire. The best lesson that little boy +could be taught, is, that of _the Patron, or the Cows Tail_.” + + + + +CHAPTER III. ASCOT RACES. + +To-day I visited Ascot. Race-courses are similar every where, and +present the same objects; good horses, cruel riders, knowing men, dupes, +jockeys, gamblers, and a large assemblage of mixed company. But this +is a gayer scene than most others; and every epithet, appropriate to a +course, diminutive or otherwise, must be in the superlative degree when +applied to Ascot. This is the general, and often the only impression +that most men carry away with them. + +Mr. Slick, who regards these things practically, called my attention to +another view of it. + +“Squire,” said he, “I’d a plaguy sight sooner see Ascot than any thing +else to England. There ain’t nothin’ like it. I don’t mean the racin’, +because they can’t go ahead like us, if they was to die for it. We have +colts that can whip chain lightnin’, on a pinch. Old Clay trotted with +it once all round an orchard, and beat it his whole length, but it +singed his tail properly as he passed it, you may depend. It ain’t its +runnin’ I speak of, therefore, though that ain’t mean nother; but it’s +got another featur’, that you’ll know it by from all others. Oh it’s an +everlastin’ pity you warn’t here, when I was to England last time. Queen +was there then; and where she is, of coarse all the world and its wife +is too. She warn’t there this year, and it sarves folks right. If I was +an angelyferous queen, like her, I wouldn’t go nowhere till I had a +tory minister, and then a feller that had a “trigger-eye” would stand +a chance to get a white hemp-neckcloth. I don’t wonder Hume don’t like +young England; for when that boy grows up, he’ll teach some folks that +they had better let some folks alone, or some folks had better take care +of some folks’ ampersands that’s all. + +“The time I speak of, people went in their carriages, and not by +railroad. Now, pr’aps you don’t know, in fact you can’t know, for you +can’t cypher, colonists ain’t no good at figurs, but if you did know, +the way to judge of a nation is by its private carriages. From Hyde Park +corner to Ascot Heath, is twenty odd miles. Well, there was one whole +endurin’ stream of carriages all the way, sometimes havin’ one or two +eddies, and where the toll-gates stood, havin’ still water for ever so +far. Well, it flowed and flowed on for hours and hours without stoppin’, +like a river; and when you got up to the race-ground, there was the +matter of two or three tiers of carriages, with the hosses off, packed +as close as pins in a paper. + +“It costs near hand to twelve hundred dollars a-year to keep up a +carriage here. Now for goodness’ sake jist multiply that everlastin’ +string of carriages by three hundred pounds each, and see what’s spent +in that way every year, and then multiply that by ten hundred thousand +more that’s in other places to England you don’t see, and then tell me +if rich people here ain’t as thick as huckleberries.” + +“Well, when you’ve done, go to France, to Belgium, and to Prussia, three +sizeable places for Europe, and rake and scrape every private carriage +they’ve got, and they ain’t no touch to what Ascot can show. Well, when +you’ve done your cypherin’, come right back to London, as hard as you +can clip from the race-course, and you won’t miss any of ‘em; the town +is as full as ever, to your eyes. A knowin’ old coon, bred and born to +London, might, but you couldn’t. + +“Arter that’s over, go and pitch the whole bilin’ of ‘em into the +Thames, hosses, carriages, people, and all; and next day, if it warn’t +for the black weepers and long faces of them that’s lost money by it, +and the black crape and happy faces of them that’s got money, or +titles, or what not by it, you wouldn’t know nothin’ about it. Carriages +wouldn’t rise ten cents in the pound in the market. A stranger, like +you, if you warn’t told, wouldn’t know nothin’ was the matter above +common. There ain’t nothin’ to England shows its wealth like this. + +“Says father to me when I came back, ‘Sam,’ sais he, ‘what struck you +most?’ + +“‘Ascot Races,’ sais I. + +“‘Jist like you,’ sais he. ‘Hosses and galls is all you think of. +Wherever they be, there you are, that’s a fact. You’re a chip of the old +block, my boy. There ain’t nothin’ lake ‘em; is there?’ + +“Well, he was half right, was father. It’s worth seein’ for hosses and +galls too; but it’s worth seein’ for its carriage wealth alone. Heavens +and airth, what a rich country it must be that has such a show in that +line as England. Don’t talk of stock, for it may fail; or silver-smiths’ +shops, for you can’t tell what’s plated; or jewels, for they may be +paste; or goods, for they may be worth only half nothin’; but talk of +the carriages, them’s the witnesses that don’t lie. + +“And what do they say? ‘Calcutta keeps me, and China keeps me, and +Bot’ney Bay keeps me, and Canada keeps me, and Nova Scotia keeps me, and +the whales keep me, and the white bears keep me, and every thing on the +airth keeps me, every thing under the airth keeps me. In short, all the +world keeps me.’” + +“No, not all the world, Sam,” said Mr. Hopewell; “there are some +repudiative States that _don’t keep me_; and if you go to the auction +rooms, you’ll see some beautiful carriages for sale, that say, ‘the +United States’ Bank used to keep me,’ and some more that say, ‘Nick +Biddle put me down.’” + +“Minister, I won’t stand that,” said Mr. Slick. “I won’t stay here and +hear you belittle Uncle Sam that way for nothin’. He ain’t wuss than +John Bull, arter all. Ain’t there no swindle-banks here? Jist tell me +that. Don’t our liners fetch over, every trip, fellers that cut and run +from England, with their fobs filled with other men’s money? Ain’t +there lords in this country that know how to “repudiate” as well as +ring-tail-roarers in ourn. So come now, don’t throw stones till you put +your window-shutters to, or you may stand a smart chance of gettin’ your +own glass broke, that’s a fact.’ + +“And then, Squire, jist look at the carriages. I’ll bet you a goose and +trimmin’s you can’t find their ditto nowhere. They _are_ carriages, and +no mistake, that’s a fact. Look at the hosses, the harness, the paint, +the linin’s, the well-dressed, lazy, idle, infarnal hansum servants, +(these rascals, I suspicion, are picked out for their looks), look at +the whole thing all through the piece, take it, by and large, stock, +lock, and barrel, and it’s the dandy, that’s a fact. Don’t it cost +money, that’s all? Sumtotalize it then, and see what it all comes to. +It would make your hair stand on eend, I know. If it was all put into +figure, it would reach clean across the river; and if it was all put +into dollars, it would make a solid tire of silver, and hoop the world +round and round, like a wheel. + +“If you want to give a man an idea of England, Squire, tell him of +Ascot; and if you want to cram him, get old Multiplication-table Joe H-- +to cast it up; for he’ll make it come to twice as much as it railly is, +and that will choke him. Yes, Squire, _stick to Ascot_.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE GANDER PULLING. + +A cunning man is generally a suspicious one, and is as often led into +error himself by his own misconceptions, as protected from imposition by +his habitual caution. + +Mr. Slick, who always acted on a motive, and never on an impulse, and +who concealed his real objects behind ostensible ones, imagined that +everybody else was governed by the same principle of action; and, +therefore, frequently deceived himself by attributing designs to others +that never existed but in his own imagination. + +Whether the following story of the gander pulling was a fancy sketch of +the Attache, or a narrative of facts, _I_ had no means of ascertaining. +Strange interviews and queer conversations he constantly had with +official as well as private individuals, but as he often gave his +opinions the form of an anecdote, for the purpose of interesting his +hearers, it was not always easy to decide whether his stories were facts +or fictions. + +If, on the present occasion, it was of the latter description, it is +manifest that he entertained no very high opinion of the constitutional +changes effected in the government of the colonies by the Whigs, +during their long and perilous rule. If of the former kind, it is to +be lamented that he concealed his deliberate convictions under an +allegorical piece of humour. His disposition to “humbug” was so great, +it was difficult to obtain a plain straightforward reply from him; but +had the Secretary of State put the question to him in direct terms, what +he thought of Lord Durham’s “Responsible government,” and the +practical working of it under Lord Sydenham’s and Sir Charles Bagot’s +administration, he would have obtained a plain and intelligible answer. +If the interview to which he alludes ever did take place, (which I am +bound to add, is very doubtful, notwithstanding the minuteness with +which it is detailed), it is deeply to be regretted that he was not +addressed in that frank manner which could alone elicit his real +sentiments; for I know of no man so competent to offer an opinion on +these subjects as himself. + +To govern England successfully, it is necessary to know the temper of +Englishmen. Obvious as this appears to be, the frequent relinquishment +of government measures, by the dominant party, shows that their own +statesmen are sometimes deficient in this knowledge. + +Mr. Slick says, that if Sir James Graham had consulted him, _he_ could +have shown him how to carry the educational clauses of his favourite +bill This, perhaps, is rather an instance of Mr. Slick’s vanity, than a +proof of his sagacity. But if this species of information is not easy of +attainment here, even by natives, how difficult must it be to govern a +people three thousand miles off, who differ most materially in thought, +word, and deed, from their official rulers. + +Mr. Slick, when we had not met during the day, generally visited me at +night, about the time I usually returned from a dinner-party, and amused +me by a recital of his adventures. + +“Squire,” said he, “I have had a most curious capur to-day, and one that +will interest you, I guess. Jist as I was a settin’ down to breakfast +this mornin’, and was a turnin’ of an egg inside out into a wine-glass, +to salt, pepper and batter it for Red-lane Alley, I received a note from +a Mister Pen, saying the Right Honourable Mr. Tact would be glad, if it +was convenient, if I would call down to his office, to Downin’ Street, +to-day, at four o’clock. Thinks says I to myself, ‘What’s to pay now? Is +it the Boundary Line, or Creole Case, or Colonial Trade, or the Burnin’ +of the Caroline, or Right o’ Sarch? or what national subject is on the +carpet to-day? Howsundever,’ sais I, ‘let the charge be what it will, +slugs, rifle-bullets, or powder, go I must, that’s a fact.’ So I tips +him a shot right off; here’s the draft, Sir; it’s in reg’lar state +lingo. + + “Sir, + + “I have the high honour to acknowledge the receipt of + your letter of this present first of June instant and + note its contents. The conference (subject unknown), + proffered by the Right Honourable Mr. Tact, I accede + to hereby protesting and resarving all rights of + conformation and reniggin’ of our Extraordinary + Embassador, now absent from London, at the great + agricultural meetin’. I would suggest, next time, it + would better convene to business, to insart subject + of discussion, to prevent being taken at a short. + + “I have to assure you of the high consideration of + your most obedient servant to command. + + “THE HON. SAM SLICK, + + “Attache”. + +“Well, when the time comes, I rigs up, puts on the legation coat, calls +a cab, and downs to Downing Street, and looks as dignified as I cleverly +knew how. + +“When I enters the outer door, I sees a man in an arm-chair in the +entry, and he looked like a buster, I tell you, jist ready to blow up +with the steam of all the secrets he had in his byler. + +“‘Can I see Mr. Tact?’ sais I. + +“‘Tell you directly,’ sais he, jist short like; for Englishmen are +kinder costive of words; they don’t use more nor will do, at no time; +and he rings a bell. This brings in his second in command; and sais he, +‘Pray walk in here, if you please, Sir,’ and he led me into a little +plain, stage-coach-house lookin’ room, with nothin’ but a table and two +or three chairs in it; and says he, ‘Who shall I say, Sir?’ + +“‘The Honourable Mr. Slick,’ sais I, ‘Attache of the American Legation +to the court of Saint Jimses’ Victoria.’ + +“Off he sot; and there I waited and waited for ever so long, but he +didn’t come back. Well, I walked to the winder and looked out, but there +was nothin’ to see there; and then I turned and looked at a great big +map on the wall, and there was nothin’ I didn’t know there; and then +I took out my pen-knife to whittle, but my nails was all whittled off +already, except one, and that was made into a pen, and I didn’t like to +spile that; and as there wasn’t any thing I could get hold of, I jist +slivered a great big bit off the leg of the chair, and began to make +a toothpick of it. And when I had got that finished, I begins to get +tired; for nothin’ makes me so peskilly oneasy as to be kept waitin’; +for if a Clockmaker don’t know the valy of time, who the plague does? + +“So jist to pass it away, I began to hum ‘Jim Brown.’ Did you ever hear +it, Squire? it’s a’most a beautiful air, as most all them nigger +songs are. I’ll make you a varse, that will suit a despisable colonist +exactly. + + “I went up to London, the capital of the nation, + To see Lord Stanley, and get a sitivation. + Says he to me, ‘Sam Slick, what can you do?’ + Says I, ‘Lord Stanley, jist as much as you. + Liberate the rebels, and ‘mancipate the niggers. + Hurror for our side, and damn thimble-riggers. + +“Airth and seas! If you was to sing that ‘ere song there, how it would +make ‘em stare; wouldn’t it? Such words as them was never heerd in that +patronage office, I guess; and yet folks must have often thort it too; +that’s a fact. + +“I was a hummin’ the rael ‘Jim Brown,’ and got as far as: + + Play upon the banjo, play upon the fiddle, + Walk about the town, and abuse old Biddle, + +when I stopped right in the middle of it, for it kinder sorter struck it +me warn’t dignified to be a singin’ of nigger-catches that way. So says +I to myself, ‘This ain’t respectful to our great nation to keep a high +functionary a waitin’ arter this fashion, is it? Guess I’d better assart +the honour of our republic by goin’ away; and let him see that it warn’t +me that was his lackey last year.’ + +“Well, jist as I had taken the sleeve of my coat and given my hat a +rub over with it, (a good hat will carry off an old suit of clothes any +time, but a new suit of clothes will never carry off an old hat, so I +likes to keep my hat in good order in a general way). Well, jist as I +had done, in walks the porter’s first leftenant; and sais he, ‘Mr. Tact +will see you, Sir.’ + +“‘He come plaguy near not seein’ of me, then,’ sais I; ‘for I had jist +commenced makin’ tracks as you come in. The next time he sends for me, +tell him not to send till he is ready, will you? For it’s a rule o’ mine +to tag arter no man.’ + +“The critter jist stopped short, and began to see whether that spelt +treason or no. He never heerd freedom o’ speech afore, that feller, I +guess, unless it was somebody a jawin’ of him, up hill and down dale; so +sais I, ‘Lead off, my old ‘coon, and I will foller you, and no mistake, +if you blaze the line well.’ + +“So he led me up stairs, opened a door, and ‘nounced me; and there was +Mr. Tact, sittin’ at a large table, all alone. + +“‘How do you do, Mr. Slick,’ says he. ‘I am very glad to see you. Pray +be seated.’ He really was a very gentlemanlike man, was Squire Tact, +that’s a fact. Sorry I kept you waitin’ so long,’ sais he, ‘but the +Turkish Ambassador was here at the time, and I was compelled to wait +until he went. I sent for you, Sir, a-hem!’ and he rubbed his hand +acrost his mouth, and looked’ up at the cornish, and said, ‘I sent for +you, Sir, ahem!’--(thinks I, I see now. All you will say for half an +hour is only throw’d up for a brush fence, to lay down behind to take +aim through; and arter that, the first shot is the one that’s aimed at +the bird), ‘to explain to you about this African Slave Treaty,’ said he. +‘Your government don’t seem to comprehend me in reference to this Right +of Sarch. Lookin’ a man in the face, to see he is the right man, and +sarchin’ his pockets, are two very different things. You take, don’t +you?’ + +“‘I’m up to snuff, Sir,’ sais I, ‘and no mistake.’ I know’d well enough +that warn’t what he sent for me for, by the way he humm’d and hawed when +he began. + +“‘Taking up a trunk, as every hotel-keeper does and has a right to +do, and examinin’ the name on the brass plate to the eend on’t, is one +thing; forcin’ the lock and ransackin’ the contents, is another. One is +precaution, the other is burglary.’ + +“‘It tante burglary,’ sais I, ‘unless the lodger sleeps in his trunk. +It’s only--’ + +“‘Well,’ says he, a colourin’ up, ‘that’s technical. I leave these +matters to my law officers.’ + +“I larnt that little matter of law from brother Eldad, the lawyer, but +I guess I was wrong there. I don’t think I had ought to have given him +that sly poke; but I didn’t like his talkin’ that way to me. Whenever a +feller tries to pull the wool over your eyes, it’s a sign he don’t think +high of your onderstandin’. It isn’t complimental, that’s a fact. ‘One +is a serious offence, I mean, sais he; ‘the other is not. We don’t want +to sarch; we only want to look a slaver in the face, and see whether +he is a free and enlightened American or not. If he is, the _flag of +liberty_ protects him and _his slaves_; if he ain’t, it don’t protect +him, nor them nother.’ + +“Then he did a leadin’ article on slavery, and a paragraph on +non-intervention, and spoke a little soft sawder about America, and +wound up by askin’ me if he had made himself onderstood. + +“‘Plain as a boot-jack,’ sais I. + +“When that was over, he took breath. He sot back on his chair, put one +leg over the other, and took a fresh departur’ agin. + +“‘I have read your books, Mr. Slick,’ said he, ‘and read ‘em, too, with +great pleasure. You have been a great traveller in your day. You’ve been +round the world a’most, haven’t you?’ + +“‘Well,’ sais I, ‘I sharn’t say I hante.’ + +“‘What a deal of information a man of your observation must have +acquired.’ (He is a gentlemanly man, that you may depend. I don’t know +when I’ve see’d one so well mannered.) + +“‘Not so much, Sir, as you would suppose,’ sais I. + +“‘Why how so?’ sais he. + +“‘Why,’ sais I, ‘the first time a man goes round the world, he is plaguy +skeered for fear of fallin’ off the edge; the second time he gets used +to it, and larns a good deal.’ + +“‘Fallin’ off the edge!’ sais he; ‘what an original idea that is. That’s +one of your best. I like your works for that they are original. We have +nothin’ but imitations now. Fallin’ off the the edge, that’s capital. I +must tell Peel that; for he is very fond of that sort of thing.’ + +“He was a very pretty spoken man, was Mr. Tact; he is quite the +gentleman, that’s a fact. I love to hear him talk; he is so very +perlite, and seems to take a likin’ to me parsonally.” + +Few men are so open to flattery as Mr. Slick; and although “soft sawder” + is one of the artifices he constantly uses in his intercourse with +others, he is often thrown off of his guard by it himself. How much +easier it is to discover the weaknesses of others than to see our own! + +But to resume the story. + +“‘You have been a good deal in the colonies, haven’t you?’ said he. + +“‘Considerable sum,’ sais I. Now, sais I to myself, this is the rael +object he sent for me for; but I won’t tell him nothin’. If he’d a up +and askt me right off the reel, like a man, he’d a found me up to the +notch; but he thort to play me off. Now I’ll sarve him out his own way; +so here goes. + +“‘Your long acquaintance with the provinces, and familiar intercourse +with the people,’ sais he, ‘must have made you quite at home on all +colonial topics.’ + +“‘I thought so once,’ sais I; ‘but I don’t think so now no more, Sir.’ + +“‘Why how is that?’ sais he. + +“‘Why, Sir,’ sais I, ‘you can hold a book so near your eyes as not to be +able to read a word of it; hold it off further, and get the right focus, +and you can read beautiful. Now the right distance to see a colony, and +know all about it, is England. Three thousand miles is the right focus +for a political spy-glass. A man livin’ here, and who never was out of +England, knows twice as much about the provinces as I do.’ + +“‘Oh, you are joking,’ sais he. + +“Not a bit,’ sais I. ‘I find folks here that not only know every thing +about them countries, but have no doubts upon any matter, and ask no +questions; in fact, they not only know more than me, but more than the +people themselves do, what they want. It’s curious, but it’s a fact. A +colonist is the most beautiful crittur in natur to try experiments on, +you ever see; for he is so simple and good-natured he don’t know no +better; and so weak, he couldn’t help himself if he did. There’s great +fun in making these experiments, too. It puts me in mind of “Gander +Pulling;” you know what this is, don’t you?’ + +“‘No,’ he said. ‘I never heard of it. Is it an American sport?’ + +“‘Yes,’ sais I, ‘it is; and the most excitin’ thing, too, you ever see.’ + +“‘You are a very droll man. Mr Slick,’ said he, ‘a very droll man +indeed. In all your books there is a great deal of fun; but in all +your fun, there is a meanin’. Your jokes hit, and hit pretty hard, too, +sometimes. They make a man think as well as laugh. But, describe this +Gander Pulling.’ + +“‘Well, I’ll tell you how it is,’ sais I. ‘First and foremost, a +ring-road is formed, like a small race-course; then, two great long +posts is fixed into the ground, one on each side of the road, and a rope +made fast by the eends to each post, leavin’ the middle of the rope to +hang loose in a curve. Well, then they take a gander and pick his neck +as clean as a babby’s, and then grease it most beautiful all the way +from the breast to the head, till it becomes as slippery as a soaped +eel. Then they tie both his legs together with a strong piece of cord, +of the size of a halyard, and hang him by the feet to the middle of the +swingin’ rope, with his head downward. All the youngsters, all round the +county, come to see the sport, mounted a horseback. + +“‘Well, the owner of the goose goes round with his hat, and gets so much +a-piece in it from every one that enters for the “Pullin’;” and when all +have entered, they bring their hosses in a line, one arter another; and +at the words, ‘Go ahead!’ off they set, as hard as they can split; and +as they pass under the goose, make a grab at him; and whoever carries +off the head, wins. + +“‘Well, the goose dodges his head and flaps his wings, and swings about +so, it ain’t no easy matter to clutch his neck; and when you do, it’s so +greasy, it slips right through the fingers, like, nothin’. Sometimes it +takes so long, that the hosses are fairly beat out, and can’t scarcely +raise a gallop; and then a man stands by the post, with a heavy loaded +whip, to lash ‘em on, so that they mayn’t stand under the goose, which +ain’t fair. The whoopin’, and hollerin’, and screamin’, and bettin’, +and excitement, beats all; there ain’t hardly no sport equal to it. It’s +great fun _to all except the poor goosey-gander_. + +“‘The game of colony government to Canady, for some years back, puts me +in mind of that exactly. Colonist has had his heels put where his head +used to be, this some time past. He has had his legs tied, and his neck +properly greased, I tell _you_; and the way every parliament man, and +governor, and secretary, gallops round and round, one arter another, a +grabbin’ at poor colonist, ain’t no matter. Every new one on ‘em that +comes, is confident he is a goin’ to settle it; but it slips through his +hand, and off he goes, properly larfed at. + +“‘They have pretty nearly fixed goosey colonist, though; he has got his +neck wrung several times; it’s twisted all a one side, his tongue hangs +out, and he squeaks piteous, that’s a fact. Another good grab or two +will put him out o’ pain; and it’s a pity it wouldn’t, for no created +critter can live long, turned wrong eend up, that way. But the sport +will last long arter that; for arter his neck is broke, it ain’t no easy +matter to get the head off; the cords that tie that on, are as thick +as your finger. It’s the greatest fun out there you ever see, _to all +except poor goosey colonist_. + +“‘I’ve larfed ready to kill myself at it. Some o’ these Englishers that +come out, mounted for the sport, and expect a peerage as a reward for +bringin’ home the head and settlin’ the business for colonist, do cut +such figurs, it would make you split; and they are all so everlastin’ +consaited, they won’t take no advice. The way they can’t do it is +cautionary. One gets throwed, another gets all covered with grease, a +third loses his hat, a fourth gets run away with by his horse, a fifth +sees he can’t do it, makes some excuse, and leaves the ground afore the +sport is over; and now and then, an unfortunate critter gets a hyste +that breaks his own neck. There is only one on ‘em that I have see’d out +there, that can do it right. + +“It requires some experience, that’s a fact. But let John Bull alone for +that; he is a critter that thinks he knows every thing; and if you told +him he didn’t, he wouldn’t believe you, not he. He’d only pity your +ignorance, and look dreadful sorry for you. Oh if you want to see high +life, come and see “a colonial gander pulling.” + +“‘Tying up a goose, Sir, is no great harm,’ sais I, ‘seein’ that a goose +was made to be killed, picked and devoured, and nothin’ else. Tyin’ up +a colonist by the heels is another thing. I don’t think it right; but +I don’t know nothin’; I’ve had the book too close to my eyes. Joe H--e, +that never was there, can tell you twice as much as I can about the +colonies. The focus to see right, as I said afore, is three thousand +miles off.’ + +“‘Well,’ sais he, ‘that’s a capital illustration, Mr. Slick. There is +more in that than meets the ear. Don’t tell me you don’t know nothin’ +about the colonies; few men know so much as you do. I wish to heavens +you was a colonist,’ sais he; ‘if you were, I would offer you a +government.’ + +“‘I don’t doubt it,’ sais I; ‘seein’ that your department have advanced +or rewarded so many colonists already.’ But I don’t think he heard that +shot, and I warn’t sorry for it; for it’s not right to be a pokin’ it +into a perlite man, is it? + +“‘I must tell the Queen that story of _the Gander Pulling_,’ sais he; ‘I +like it amazingly. It’s a capital caricature. I’ll send the idea to H. +B. Pray name some day when you are disengaged; I hope you will give me +the pleasure of dining with me. Will this day fortnight suit you?’ + +“‘Thank you,’ sais I, ‘I shall have great pleasure.’ + +“He railly was a gentlemany man that. He was so good natured, and took +the joke so well, I was kinder sorry I played it off on him. I hante +see’d no man to England I affection so much as Mr. Tact, I swear! I +begin to think, arter all, it was the right of _sarchin’ vessels_ he +wanted to talk to me about, instead of _sarchin’ me_, as I suspicioned. +It don’t do always _to look for motives, men often act without any_. The +next time, if he axes me, I’ll talk plain, and jist tell him what I +_do_ think; but still, if he reads that riddle right, he may larn a good +deal, too, from the story of “the Gander Pulling,” mayn’t he?” + + + + +CHAPTER V. THE BLACK STOLE. + +The foregoing sketch exhibits a personal trait in Mr. Slick’s character, +the present a national one. In the interview, whether real or fanciful, +that he alleges to have had with one of the Secretaries of State, he was +not disposed to give a direct reply, because his habitual caution led +him to suspect that an attempt was made to draw him out on a particular +topic without his being made aware of the object. On the present +occasion, he exhibits that irritability, which is so common among all +his countrymen, at the absurd accounts that travellers give of the +United States in general, and the gross exaggerations they publish of +the state of slavery in particular. + +That there is a party in this country, whose morbid sensibility is +pandered to on the subject of negro emancipation there can be no doubt, +as is proved by the experiment made by Mr. Slick, recorded in this +chapter. + +On this subject every man has a right to his own opinions, but any +interference with the municipal regulations of another country, is so +utterly unjustifiable, that it cannot be wondered at that the Americans +resent the conduct of the European abolishionists, in the most +unqualified and violent manner. + +The conversation that I am now about to repeat, took place on the +Thames. Our visits, hitherto, had been restricted by the rain to London. +To-day, the weather being fine, we took passage on board of a steamer, +and went to Greenwich. + +While we were walking up and down the deck, Mr. Slick again adverted to +the story of the government spies with great warmth. I endeavoured, but +in vain, to persuade him that no regular organized system of espionage +existed in England. He had obtained a garbled account of one or two +occurrences, and his prejudice, (which, notwithstanding his disavowal, +I knew to be so strong, as to warp all his opinions of England and the +English), immediately built up a system, which nothing I could say, +could at all shake. + +I assured him the instances he had mentioned were isolated and +unauthorized acts, told in a very distorted manner but mitigated, as +they really were, when truly related, they were at the time received +with the unanimous disapprobation of every right-thinking man in the +kingdom, and that the odium which had fallen on the relators, was so +immeasurably greater than what had been bestowed on the thoughtless +principals, that there was no danger of such things again occurring in +our day. But he was immovable. + +“Oh, of course, it isn’t true,” he said, “and every Englishman will +swear it’s a falsehood. But you must not expect us to disbelieve it, +nevertheless; for your travellers who come to America, pick up here and +there, some absurd ontruth or another; or, if they are all picked up +already, invent one; and although every man, woman, and child is ready +to take their bible oaths it is a bam, yet the English believe this one +false witness in preference to the whole nation. + +“You must excuse me, Squire; you have a right to your opinion, though +it seems you have no right to blart it out always; but I am a freeman, +I was raised in Slickville, Onion County, State of Connecticut, United +States of America, which _is_ a free country, and no mistake; and I have +a right to my opinion, and a right to speak it, too; and let me see the +man, airl or commoner, parliamenterer or sodger officer, that dare to +report me, I guess he’d wish he’d been born a week later, that’s all. +I’d make a caution of him, _I_ know. I’d polish his dial-plate fust, and +then I’d feel his short ribs, so as to make him larf, a leetle jist a +leetle the loudest he ever heerd. Lord, he’d think thunder and lightnin’ +a mint julip to it. I’d ring him in the nose as they do pigs in my +country, to prevent them rootin’ up what they hadn’t ought.” + +Having excited himself by his own story, he first imagined a case and +then resented it, as if it had occurred. I expressed to him my great +regret that he should visit England with these feelings and prejudices, +as I had hoped his conversation would have been as rational and as +amusing as it was in Nova Scotia, and concluded by saying that I felt +assured he would find that no such prejudice existed here against his +countrymen, as he entertained towards the English. + +“Lord love you!” said he, “I have no prejudice. I am the most candid man +you ever see. I have got some grit, but I ain’t ugly, I ain’t indeed.” + +“But you are wrong about the English; and I’ll prove it to you. Do you +see that turkey there?” said he. + +“Where?” I asked. “I see no turkey; indeed, I have seen none on board. +What do you mean?” + +“Why that slight, pale-faced, student-like Britisher; he is a turkey, +that feller. He has been all over the Union, and he is a goin’ to write +a book. He was at New York when we left, and was introduced to me in the +street. To make it liquorish, he has got all the advertisements about +runaway slaves, sales of niggers, cruel mistresses and licentious +masters, that he could pick up. He is a caterer and panderer to English +hypocrisy. There is nothin’ too gross for him to swaller. We call them +turkeys; first because they travel so fast--for no bird travels hot foot +that way, except it be an ostrich--and second, because they gobble +up every thing that comes in their way. Them fellers will swaller a +falsehood as fast as a turkey does a grasshopper; take it right down +whole, without winkin’. + +“Now, as we have nothin’ above particular to do, ‘I’ll cram him’ for +you; I will show you how hungry he’ll bite at a tale of horror, let it +be never so onlikely; how readily he will believe it, because it is agin +us; and then, when his book comes out, you shall see that all England +will credit it, though I swear I invented it as a cram, and you swear +you heard it told as a joke. They’ve drank in so much that is strong, +in this way, have the English, they require somethin’ sharp enough to +tickle their palates now. Wine hante no taste for a man that drinks +grog, that’s a fact. It’s as weak as Taunton water. Come and walk up and +down deck along with me once or twice, and then we will sit down by him, +promiscuously like; and as soon as I get his appetite sharp, see how I +will cram him.” + +“This steam-boat is very onsteady to-day. Sir,” said Mr. Slick; “it’s +not overly convenient walking, is it?” + +The ice was broken. Mr. Slick led him on by degrees to his travels, +commencing with New England, which the traveller eulogised very much. +He then complimented him on the accuracy of his remarks and the depth +of his reflections, and concluded by expressing a hope that he would +publish his observations soon, as few tourists were so well qualified +for the task as himself. + +Finding these preliminary remarks taken in good part, he commenced the +process of “cramming.” + +“But oh, my friend,” said he, with a most sanctimonious air, “did you +visit, and I am ashamed as an American citizen to ask the question, I +feel the blood a tannin’ of my cheek when I inquire, did you visit the +South? That land that is polluted with slavery, that land where +the boastin’ and crackin’ of freemen pile up the agony pangs on the +corroding wounds inflicted by the iron chains of the slave, until natur +can’t stand it no more; my heart bleeds like a stuck critter, when I +think of this plague spot on the body politic. I ought not to speak +thus; prudence forbids it, national pride forbids it; but genu_wine_ +feelings is too strong for polite forms. ‘Out of the fulness of the +heart the mouth speaketh.’ Have you been there?” + +“Turkey” was thrown off his guard, he opened his wallet, which was well +stocked, and retailed his stories, many of them so very rich, that I +doubted the capacity of the Attache to out-Herod him. Mr. Slick received +these tales with evident horror, and complimented the narrator with a +well simulated groan; and when he had done, said, “Ah, I see how it +is, they have purposely kept dark about the most atrocious features of +slavery. Have you never seen the Gougin’ School?” + +“No, never.” + +“What, not seen the Gougin’ School?” + +“No, Sir; I never heard of it.” + +“Why, you don’t mean to say so?” + +“I do, indeed, I assure you.” + +“Well, if that don’t pass! And you never even heerd tell of it, eh?” + +“Never, Sir. I have never either seen it or heard of it.” + +“I thought as much,” said Mr. Slick. “I doubt if any Britisher ever did +or ever will see it. Well, Sir, in South Carolina, there is a man called +Josiah Wormwood; I am ashamed to say he is a Connecticut man. For a +considerable of a spell, he was a strollin’ preacher, but it didn’t +pay in the long run. There is so much competition in that line in our +country, that he consaited the business was overdone, and he opened a +Lyceum to Charleston South Car, for boxin’, wrestlin’ and other purlite +British accomplishments; and a most a beautiful sparrer he is, too; I +don’t know as I ever see a more scientific gentleman than he is, in +that line. Lately, he has halfed on to it the art of gougin’ or +‘monokolisin,’ as he calls it, to sound grand; and if it weren’t so +dreadful in its consequences, it sartinly is amost allurin’ thing, is +gougin’. The sleight-of-hand is beautiful. All other sleights we know +are tricks; but this is reality; there is the eye of your adversary in +your hand; there is no mistake. It’s the real thing. You feel you have +him; that you have set your mark on him, and that you have took your +satisfaction. The throb of delight felt by a ‘monokolister’ is beyond +all conception.” + +“Oh heavens!” said the traveller, “Oh horror of horrors! I never heard +any thing so dreadful. Your manner of telling it, too, adds to its +terrors. You appear to view the practice with a proper Christian +disgust; and yet you talk like an amateur. Oh, the thing is sickening.” + +“It is, indeed,” said Mr. Slick, “particularly to him that loses his +peeper. But the dexterity, you know, is another thing. It is very +scientific. He has two niggers, has Squire Wormwood, who teach the +wrastlin’ and gouge-sparrin’; but practisin’ for the eye is done for +punishment of runaways. He has plenty of subjects. All the planters +send their fugit_ive_ niggers there to be practised on for an eye. The +scholars ain’t allowed to take more than one eye out of them; if they +do, they have to pay for the nigger; for he is no sort o’ good after, +for nothin’ but to pick oakum. I could go through the form, and give you +the cries to the life, but I won’t; it is too horrid; it really is too +dreadful.” + +“Oh do, I beg of you,” said the traveller. + +“I cannot, indeed; it is too shocking. It will disgust you.” + +“Oh, not at all,” said Turkey, “when I know it is simulated, and not +real, it is another thing.” + +“I cannot, indeed,” said Mr. Slick. “It would shock your philanthropic +soul, and set your very teeth of humanity on edge. But have you ever +seen--the Black Stole?” + +“No.” + +“Never seen the Black Stole?” + +“No, never.” + +“Why, it ain’t possible? Did you never hear of it nother?” + +“No, never. Well now, do tell!” + +“So you never heerd tell of it, nor never sot eyes on it?” + +“Certainly never.” + +“Well, that bangs the bush, now! I suppose you didn’t. Guess you never +did, and never will, nor no other traveller, nother, that ever slept +in shoe-leather. They keep dark about these atrocities. Well, the Black +Stole is a loose kind of shirt-coat, like an English carter’s frock; +only, it is of a different colour. It is black instead of white, and +made of nigger hide, beautifully tanned, and dressed as soft as a glove. +It ain’t every nigger’s hide that’s fit for a stole. If they are too +young, it is too much like kid; if they are too old, it’s like sole +leather, it’s so tough; and if they have been whipt, as all on ‘em have +a’most, why the back is all cut to pieces, and the hide ruined. It +takes several sound nigger skins to make a stole; but when made, it’s a +beautiful article, that’s a fact. + +“It is used on a plantation for punishment. When the whip don’t do its +work, strip a slave, and jist clap on to him the Black Stole. Dress +him up in a dead man’s skin, and it frightens him near about to death. +You’ll hear him screetch for a mile a’most, so ‘tarnally skeered. And +the best of the fun is, that all the rest of the herd, bulls, cows, and +calves, run away from him, jist as if he was a panther.” + +“Fun, Sir! Do you call this fun?” + +“Why sartainly I do. Ain’t it better nor whippin’ to death? “What’s +a Stole arter all? It’s nothin’ but a coat. Philosophizin’ on it, +Stranger, there is nothin’ to shock a man. The dead don’t feel. +Skinnin’, then, ain’t cruel, nor is it immoral. To bury a good hide, is, +waste--waste is wicked. There are more good hides buried in the +States, black and white, every year, than would pay the poor-rates and +state-taxes. They make excellent huntin’-coats, and would make beautiful +razor-straps, bindin’ for books, and such like things; it would make a +noble export. Tannin’ in hemlock bark cures the horrid nigger flavour. +But then, we hante arrived at that state of philosophy; and when it is +confined to one class of the human family, it would be dangerous. +The skin of a crippled slave might be worth more than the critter was +himself; and I make no doubt, we should soon hear of a stray nigger +being shot for his hide, as you do of a moose for his skin, and a bear +for his fur. + +“Indeed, that is the reason (though I shouldn’t mention it as an +Attache), that our government won’t now concur to suppress the slave +trade. They say the prisoners will all be murdered, and their peels +sold; and that vessels, instead of taking, in at Africa a cargo of +humans, will take in a cargo of hides, as they do to South America. As a +Christian, a philanthropist, indeed, as a man, this is a horrid subject +to contemplate, ain’t it?” + +“Indeed it is,” said Turkey. “I feel a little overcome--my head swims--I +am oppressed with nausea--I must go below.” + +“How the goney swallered it all, didn’t he?” said Mr. Slick, with great +glee. “Hante he a most a beautiful twist that feller? How he gobbled it +down, tank, shank and flank at a gulp, didn’t he. Oh! he is a Turkey +and no mistake, that chap. But see here, Squire; jist look through the +skylight. See the goney, how his pencil is a leggin’ it off, for dear +life. Oh, there is great fun in crammin’ those fellers. + +“Now tell me candid, Squire; do you think there is no prejudice in the +Britishers agin us and our free and enlightened country, when they can +swaller such stuff as the Gougin’ School and _Black Stole_?” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE’S HORSE. + +“There is more in that story, Squire,” said Mr. Hopewell, “of the +Patron, and Sam’s queer illustration of the Cow’s Tail, than you are +aware of. The machinery of the colonies is good enough in itself, but +it wants a safety valve. When the pressure within is too great, there +should be something devised to let off the steam. This is a subject +well worthy of your consideration; and if you have an opportunity of +conversing with any of the ministry, pray draw their attention to it. By +not understanding this, the English have caused one revolution at home, +and another in America.” + +“Exactly,” said Mr. Slick. “It reminds me of what I once saw done by the +Prince de Joinville’s horse, on the Halifax road.” + +“Pardon me,” said Mr. Hopewell, “you shall have an opportunity presently +of telling your story of the Prince’s horse, but suffer me to proceed. + +“England, besides other outlets, has a never-failing one in the +colonies, but the colonies have no outlet. Cromwell and Hampden were +actually embarked on board of a vessel in the Thames, for Boston, when +they were prevented from sailing by an Order in Council. What was the +consequence? The sovereign was dethroned. Instead of leading a small +sect of fanatical puritans, and being the first men of a village in +Massachussets, they aspired to be the first men in an empire, and +succeeded. So in the old colonies. Had Washington been sent abroad +in command of a regiment, Adams to govern a colony, Franklin to make +experiments in an observatory like that at Greenwich, and a more +extended field been opened to colonial talent, the United States would +still have continued to be dependencies of Great Britain. + +“There is no room for men of talent in British America; and by not +affording them an opportunity of distinguishing themselves, or rewarding +them when they do, they are always ready to make one, by opposition. In +comparing their situation with that of the inhabitants of the British +Isles, they feel that they labour under disabilities; these disabilities +they feel as a degradation; and as those who impose that degradation +live three thousand miles off, it becomes a question whether it is +better to suffer or resist.” + +“The Prince de Joinville’s horse,” said Mr. Slick, “is a case in pint.” + +“One moment, Sam,” said Mr. Hopewell. + +“The very word ‘dependencies’ shows the state of the colonies. If they +are to be retained, they should be incorporated with Great Britain. +The people should be made to feel, not that they are colonists, but +Englishmen. They may tinker at constitutions as much as they please; +the root of the evil lies deeper than statesmen are aware of. O’Connell, +when he agitates for a repeal of the Union, if he really has no ulterior +objects beyond that of an Irish Parliament, does not know what he is +talking about. If his request were granted, Ireland would become a +province, and descend from being an integral part of the empire, into +a dependency. Had he ever lived in a colony, he would have known the +tendencies of such a condition. + +“What I desire to see, is the very reverse. Now that steam has united +the two continents of Europe and America, in such a manner that you +can travel from Nova Scotia to England, in as short a time as it +once required to go from Dublin to London, I should hope for a united +legislature. Recollect that the distance from New Orleans to the head +of the River is greater than from Halifax N. S., to Liverpool. I do +not want to see colonists and Englishmen arrayed against each other, as +different races, but united as one people, having the same rights and +privileges, each bearing a share of the public burdens, and all having a +voice in the general government. + +“The love of distinction is natural to man. Three millions of people +cannot be shut up in a colony. They will either turn on each other, or +unite against their keepers. The road that leads to retirement in the +provinces, should be open to those whom the hope of distinction invites +to return and contend for the honours of the empire. At present, the +egress is practically closed.” + +“If you was to talk for ever, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “you couldn’t +say more than the Prince de Joinville’s hoss on that subject.” + +The interruption was very annoying; for no man I ever met, so thoroughly +understands the subject of colonial government as Mr. Hopewell. His +experience is greater than that of any man now living, and his views +more enlarged and more philosophical. + +“Go on, Sam,” said he with great good humour. “Let us hear what the +Prince’s horse said.” + +“Well,” said Mr. Slick, “I don’t jist exactly mean to say he spoke, as +Balaam’s donkey did, in good English or French nother; but he did that +that spoke a whole book, with a handsum wood-cut to the fore, and that’s +a fact. + +“About two years ago, one mortal brilin’ hot day, as I was a pokin’ +along the road from Halifax to Windsor, with Old Clay in the waggon, +with my coat off, a ridin’ in my shirt-sleeves, and a thinkin’ how slick +a mint-julep would travel down red-lane, if I had it, I heard such a +chatterin’, and laughin’, and screamin’ as I never a’most heerd afore, +since I was raised. + +“‘What in natur’ is this,’ sais I, as I gave Old Clay a crack of the +whip, to push on. ‘There is some critters here, I guess, that have found +a haw haw’s nest, with a tee hee’s egg in it. What’s in the wind now?’ +Well, a sudden turn of the road brought me to where they was, and who +should they be but French officers from the Prince’s ship, travellin’ +incog. in plain clothes. But, Lord bless you, cook a Frenchman any way +you please, and you can’t disguise him. Natur’ will out, in spite of +all, and the name of a Frencher is written as plain as any thing in his +whiskers, and his hair, and his skin, and his coat, and his boots, and +his air, and his gait, and in everythin’, but only let him open his +mouth, and the cat’s out of the bag in no time, ain’t it? They are droll +boys, is the French, that’s a fact. + +“Well, there was four on ‘em dismounted, a holdin’ of their hosses by +the bridle, and a standin’ near a spring of nice cool water; and there +was a fifth, and he was a layin’ down belly flounder on the ground, a +tryin’ to drink out of the runnin’ spring. + +“‘Parley vous French,’ sais I, ‘Mountsheer?’ At that, they sot to, and +larfed again more than ever, I thought they would have gone into the +high strikes, they hee-hawed so. + +“Well, one on ‘em, that was a Duke, as I found out afterwards, said ‘O +yees, Saar, we spoked English too.’ + +“‘Lawful heart!’ sais I, ‘what’s the joke?’ + +“‘Why,’ sais he, ‘look there, Sare.’ And then they larfed agin, ready to +split; and sore enough, no sooner had the Leftenant layed down to drink, +than the Prince’s hoss kneeled down, and put his head jist over his +neck, and began to drink too. Well, the officer couldn’t get up for the +hoss, and he couldn’t keep his face out of the water for the hoss, and +he couldn’t drink for the hoss, and he was almost choked to death, and +as black in the face as your hat. And the Prince and the officers larfed +so, they couldn’t help him, if they was to die for it. + +“Sais I to myself, ‘A joke is a joke, if it tante carried too far, +but this critter win be strangled, as sure as a gun, if he lays here +splutterin’ this way much longer.’ So I jist gives the hoss a dab in +the mouth, and made him git up; and then sais I, ‘Prince,’ sais I, for I +know’d him by his beard, he had one exactly like one of the old +saint’s heads in an Eyetalian pictur, all dressed to a pint, so sais I, +‘Prince,’ and a plaguy handsum man he is too, and as full of fun as a +kitten, so sais I, ‘Prince,’ and what’s better, all his officers seemed +plaguy proud and fond of him too; so sais I, ‘Prince, voila le condition +of one colonist, which,’ sais I, ‘Prince, means in English, that +leftenant is jist like a colonist.’ + +“‘Commong,’ sais he, ‘how is dat?’ + +“‘Why’ sais I, ‘Prince, whenever a colonist goes for to drink at a +spring of the good things in this world, (and plaguy small springs we +have here too,) and fairly lays down to it, jist as he gets his lips +cleverly to it, for a swig, there is some cussed neck or another, of +some confounded Britisher, pops right over him, and pins him there. He +can’t get up, he can’t back out, and he can’t drink, and he is blacked +and blued in the face, and most choked with the weight.’ + +“‘What country was you man of?’ said he, for he spoke very good for a +Frenchman. + +“With that I straightened myself up, and looked dignified, for I know’d +I had a right to be proud, and no mistake; sais I, ‘Prince, I am an +American citizen.’ How them two words altered him. P’raps there beant no +two words to ditto ‘em. He looked for all the world like a different man +when he seed I wasn’t a mean uncircumcised colonist. + +“‘Very glad to see you, Mr. Yankee,’ said he, ‘very glad indeed. Shall I +have de honour to ride with you a little way in your carriage?’ + +“‘As for the matter of that,’ sais I, ‘Mountsheer Prince, the honour is +all the other way,’ for I can be as civil as any man, if he sets out to +act pretty and do the thing genteel. + +“With that he jumped right in, and then he said somethin’ in French +to the officers; some order or another, I suppose, about comin on and +fetchin’ his hoss with them. I have hearn in my time, a good many men +speak French, but I never see the man yet, that could hold a candle +to _him_. Oh, it was like lightnin’, jist one long endurin’ streak; it +seemed all one sentence and one word. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t +onderstand it, it was so everlastin’ fast. + +“‘Now,’ sais he, ‘set sail.’ And off we sot, at the rate of sixteen +notts an hour. Old Clay pleased him, you may depend; he turned round and +clapped his hands, and larfed, and waved his hat to his officers to +come on; and they whipped, and spurred, and galloped, and raced for dear +life; but we dropped ‘em astarn like any thing, and he larfed again, +heartier than ever There is no people a’most, like to ride so fast as +sailors; they crack on, like a house a fire. + +“Well, arter a while, sais he, ‘Back topsails,’ and I hauled up, and +he jumped down, and outs with a pocket book, and takes a beautiful gold +coronation medal. (It was solid gold, no pinchback, but the rael yaller +stuff, jist fresh from King’s shop to Paris, where his money is made), +and sais he, ‘Mr. Yankee, will you accept that to remember the Prince de +Joinville and his horse by?’ And then he took off his hat and made me a +bow, and if that warn’t a bow, then I never see one, that’s all. I don’t +believe mortal man, unless it was a Philadelphia nigger, could make such +a bow. It was enough to sprain his ankle he curled so low. And then off +he went with a hop, skip, and a jump, sailor fashion, back to meet his +people. + +“Now, Squire, if you see Lord Stanley, tell him that story of the Prince +de Joinville’s horse; but before you get so far as that, pin him by +admissions. When you want to get a man on the hip, ax him a question +or two, and get his answers, and then you have him in a corner, he must +stand and let you put on the bridle. He cant help it no how, he can fix +it. + +“Says you, ‘My Lord’--don’t forget his title--every man likes the sound +of that, it’s music to his ears, it’s like our splendid national air, +Yankee Doodle, you never get tired of it. ‘My Lord,’ sais you, ‘what do +you suppose is the reason the French keep Algiers?’ Well, he’ll up +and say, it’s an outlet for the fiery spirits of France, it gives them +employment and an opportunity to distinguish themselves, and what the +climate and the inimy spare, become valuable officers. It makes good +soldiers out of bad subjects. + +“‘Do you call that good policy?’ sais you. + +“Well, he’s a trump, is Mr. Stanley, at least folks say so; and he’ll +say right off the reel ‘onquestionably it is--excellent policy.’ + +“When he says that, you have him bagged, he may flounder and spring like +a salmon jist caught; but he can’t out of the landin’ net. You’ve got +him, and no mistake. Sais you ‘what outlet have you for the colonies?’ + +“Well, he’ll scratch his head and stare at that, for a space. He’ll +hum and haw a little to get breath, for he never thought of that afore, +since he grow’d up; but he’s no fool, I can tell you, and he’ll out with +his mould, run an answer and be ready for you in no time. He’ll say, +‘They don’t require none. Sir. They have no redundant population. They +are an outlet themselves.’ + +“Sais you, ‘I wasn’t talking of an outlet for population, for France or +the provinces nother. I was talking of an outlet for the clever men, for +the onquiet ones, for the fiery spirits.’ + +“‘For that. Sir,’ he will say, ‘they have the local patronage.’ + +“‘Oh!’ sais you, ‘I warn’t aware. I beg pardon, I have been absent some +time, as long as twenty days or perhaps twenty-five, there must have +been great changes, since I left.’ + +“‘The garrison,’ sais you. + +“‘Is English,’ sais he. + +“‘The armed ships in the harbour?’ + +“‘English.’ + +“‘The governor and his secretary?’ + +“‘English.’ + +“‘The principal officer of customs and principal part of his deputies?’ + +“‘English.’ + +“‘The commissariat and the staff?’ + +“‘English to a man.’ + +“‘The dockyard people?’ + +“‘English.’ + +“‘The postmaster giniral?’ + +“‘English.’ + +“‘What, English?’ sais you, and look all surprise, as if you didn’t +know. ‘I thought he was a colonist, seein’ the province pays so much for +the mails.’ + +“‘No,’ he’ll say, ‘not now; we have jist sent an English one over, for +we find it’s a good thing that.’ + +“‘One word more,’ sais you, ‘and I have done. If your army officers out +there, get leave of absence, do you stop their pay?’ + +“‘No.’ + +“‘Do you sarve native colonists the same way?’ + +“‘No, we stop half their salaries.’ + +“‘Exactly,’ sais you, ‘make them feel the difference. Always make a +nigger feel he is a nigger, or he’ll get sassy, you may depend. As for +patronage,’ sais you, ‘you know as well as I do, that all that’s +not worth havin’, is jist left to poor colonist. He is an officer of +militia, gets no pay and finds his own fit out. Like Don Quixote’s +tailor, he works for nothin’ and finds thread. Any other little matters +of the same kind, that nobody wants, and nobody else will take; if +Blue-nose makes interest for, and has good luck, he can get as a great +favour, to conciliate his countrymen. No, Minister,’ sais you, ‘you are +a clever man, every body sais you are a brick; and if you ain’t, you +talk more like one, than any body I have seen this while past. I don’t +want no office myself, if I did p’raps, I wouldn’t talk about patronage +this way; but I am a colonist, I want to see the colonists remain so. +They _are_ attached to England, that is a fact, keep them so, by making +them Englishmen. Throw the door wide open; patronise them; enlist them +in the imperial sarvice, allow them a chance to contend for honours and +let them win them, if they can. If they don’t, it’s their own fault, and +cuss ‘em they ought to be kicked, for if they ain’t too lazy, there is +no mistake in ‘em, that’s a fact. The country will be proud of them, if +they go ahead. Their language will change then. It will be _our_ army, +the delighted critters will say, not the English army; _our_ navy, _our_ +church, _our_ parliament, _our_ aristocracy, &c., and the word English +will be left out holus-bolus, and that proud, that endearin’ word +“our” will be insarted. Do this, and you will shew yourself the first +statesman of modern times. You’ll rise right up to the top of the pot, +you’ll go clean over Peel’s head, as your folks go over ourn, not by +jumpin’ over him, but by takin’ him by the neck and squeezin’ him +down. You ‘mancipated the blacks, now liberate the colonists and make +Englishmen of them, and see whether the goneys won’t grin from ear to +ear, and shew their teeth, as well as the niggers did. Don’t let +Yankee clockmakers, (you may say that if you like, if it will help your +argument,) don’t let travellin’ Yankee clockmakers tell such stories, +against _your_ justice and _our_ pride as that of the Prince de +Joinville and his horse.’” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. + +“Here,” said Mr. Sick, “is an invitation for you and me, and minister to +go and visit Sir Littleeared Bighead, down to Yorkshire. You can go if +you like, and for once, p’raps it’s worth goin’ to see how these chaps +first kill time, and then how time kills them in turn. Eatin’, +drinkin’, sleepin’, growlin’, fowlin’, and huntin’ kills time; and +gout, aperplexy, dispepsy, and blue devils kills them. They are like two +fightin’ dogs, one dies of the thrashin’ he gets, and t’other dies of +the wounds he got a killin’ of him. Tit for tat; what’s sarce for the +goose, is sarce for the gander. + +“If you want to go, Minister will go with you; but hang me if I do. The +only thing is, it’ll puzzle you to get him away, if he gets down there. +You never see such a crotchical old critter in your life as he is. He +flies right off the handle for nothin’. He goes strayin’ away off in the +fields and gullies, a browsin’ about with a hammer, crackin’ up bits of +stones like walnuts, or pickin’ up old weeds, faded flowers, and what +not; and stands starin’ at ‘em for ever so long, through his eye-glass, +and keeps a savin’ to himself, ‘Wonderful provision of natur!’ Airth and +seas! what does he mean? How long would a man live on such provision, I +should like to know, as them bitter yarbs. + +“Well, then, he’ll jist as soon set down and jaw away by the hour +together with a dirty-faced, stupid little poodle lookin’ child, as +if it was a nice spry little dog he was a trainin’ of for treein’ +partridges; or talk poetry with the galls, or corn-law with the +patriots, or any thing. Nothin’ comes amiss to him. + +“But what provokes me, is to hear him go blartin’ all over the country +about home scenes, and beautiful landscape, and rich vardure. My sakes, +the vardure here is so deep, it looks like mournin’; it’s actilly +dismal. Then there’s no water to give light to the pictur, and no sun to +cheer it; and the hedges are all square; and the lime trees are as stiff +as an old gall that was once pretty, and has grow’d proud on the memory +of it. + +“I don’t like their landscape a bit, there ain’t no natur in it. Oh! if +you go, take him along with you, for he will put you in consait of all +you see, except reform, dissent, and things o’ that kind; for he is an +out and out old Tory, and thinks nothin’ can be changed here for the +better, except them that don’t agree with him. + +“He was a warnin’ you t’other day not to take all I said for Gospel +about society here; but you’ll see who’s right and who’s wrong afore +you’ve done, I know. I described to you, when you returned from Germany, +_Dinin’ out_ to London. Now I’ll give you my opinion of “Life in the +Country.” And fust of all, as I was a sayin’, there is no such thing as +natur’ here. Every thing is artificial; every thing of its kind alike; +and every thing oninterestin’ and tiresome. + +“Well, if London is dull, in the way of West Eend people, the country, I +guess, is a little mucher. Life in the country is different, of course, +from life in town; but still life itself is alike there, exceptin’ again +_class difference_. That is, nobility is all alike, as far as their +order goes; and country gents is alike, as far as their class goes; and +the last especially, when they hante travelled none, everlastin’ flat, +in their own way. Take a lord, now, and visit him to his country seat, +and I’ll tell you what you will find--a sort of Washington State +house place. It is either a rail old castle of the genuine kind, or a +gingerbread crinkum crankum imitation of a thing that only existed in +fancy, but never was seen afore--a thing that’s made modern for use, and +in ancient stile for shew; or else it’s a great cold, formal, slice of a +London terrace, stack on a hill in a wood. + +“Well, there is lawn, park, artificial pond called a lake, deer that’s +fashionablized and civilized, and as little natur in ‘em as the humans +have. Kennel and hounds for parsicutin’ foxes--presarves (not what we +call presarves, quinces and apple sarce, and green gages done in sugar, +but preserves for breedin’ tame partridges and peasants to shoot at), +H’aviaries, Hive-eries, H’yew-veris, Hot Houses, and so on; for they put +an H before every word do these critters, and then tell us Yankees we +don’t speak English. + +“Well, when you have seen an old and a new house of these folks, you +have seen all. Featurs differ a little, but face of all is so alike, +that though p’raps you wouldn’t mistake one for another, yet you’d say +they was all of one family. The king is their father. + +“Now it may seem kinder odd to you, and I do suppose it will, but what +little natur there is to England is among these upper crust nobility. +_Extremes meet_. The most elegant critter in America is an Indgian +chief. The most elegant one in England is a noble. There is natur in +both. You will vow that’s a crotchet of mine, but it’s a fact; and I +will tell you how it is, some other time. For I opine the most charmin’, +most nateral, least artificial, kindest, and condescendenest people here +are rael nobles. Younger children are the devil, half rank makes ‘em +proud, and entire poverty makes ‘em sour. _Strap pride on an empty puss, +and it puts a most beautiful edge on, it cuts like a razor_. They have +to assart their dignity, tother one’s dignity don’t want no assartin’. +It speaks for itself. + +“I won’t enter into particulars now. I want to shew you country life; +because if you don’t want to hang yourself, don’t tarry there, that’s +all; go and look at ‘em, but don’t stay there. If you can’t help it no +how, you can fix it, do it in three days; one to come, one to see, and +one to go. If you do that, and make the fust late, and the last airly, +you’ll get through it; for it won’t only make a day and a half, when +sumtotalized. We’ll fancy it, that’s better than the rael thing, any +time. + +“So lets go to a country gentleman’s house, or “landed,” as they call +‘em, cause they are so infarnally heavy. Well, his house is either an +old onconvenient up and down, crooked-laned place, bad lighted, bad +warmed, and shockin’ cut up in small rooms; or a spic and span formal, +new one, havin’ all or most, according to his puss, of those things, +about lord’s houses, only on a smaller scale. + +“Well, I’ll arrive in time for dinner, I’ll titivate myself up, and down +to drawin’-room, and whose the company that’s to dine there? Why, cuss +‘em, half a dozen of these gents own the country for miles round, so +they have to keep some company at the house, and the rest is neighbours. + +“Now for goodness gracious sake, jist let’s see who they be! Why one or +two poor parsons, that have nothin’ new in ‘em, and nothin’ new on +‘em, goodish sort of people too, only they larf a leetle, jist a leetle +louder at host’s jokes, than at mine, at least, I suspicion it, ‘cause I +never could see nothin’ to larf at in his jokes. One or two country nobs +of brother landed gents, that look as big as if the whole of the three +per cent consols was in their breeches pockets; one or two damsels, that +was young once, but have confessed to bein’ old maids, drop’t the word +‘Miss,’ ‘cause it sounded ridikilous, and took the title of ‘Mrs.’ +to look like widders. Two or three wivewomen of the Chinese stock, a +bustin’ of their stays off a’most, and as fat as show-beef; an oldest +son or two, with the eend of the silver spoon he was born with, a +peepin’ out o’ the corner of his mouth, and his face as vacant as a horn +lantern without a candle in it; a younger son or so jist from college, +who looks as if he had an idea he’d have to airn his livin’, and whose +lantern face looks as if it had had a candle in it, that had e’en amost +burnt the sides out, rather thin and pale, with streaks of Latin and +Greek in it; one or two everlastin’ pretty young galls, so pretty as +there is nothin’ to do, you can’t hardly help bein’ spooney on ‘em. + +“Matchless galls, they be too, for there is no matches for ‘em. The +primur-genitur boy takes all so they have no fortin. Well, a younger son +won’t do for ‘em, for he has no fortin; and t’other primo geno there, +couldn’t if he would, for he wants the estate next to hisn, and has to +take the gall that owns it, or he won’t get it. I pity them galls, I +do upon my soul. It’s a hard fate, that, as Minster sais, in his pretty +talk, to bud, unfold, bloom, wither, and die on the parent stock, and +have no one to pluck the rose, and put it in his bosom, aint it? + +“Dinner is ready, and you lock and lock, and march off two and two, to +t’other room, and feed. Well, the dinner is like town dinner, there aint +much difference, there is some; there is a difference atween a country +coat, and a London coat; but still they look alike, and are intended to +be as near the same as they can. The appetite is better than town folks, +and there is more eatin’ and less talkin’, but the talkin’, like the +eatin’, is heavy and solemcoloy. + +“Now do, Mr. Poker, that’s a good soul, now do, Squire, look at the +sarvants. Do you hear that feller, a blowin’ and a wheesin’ like a hoss +that’s got the heaves? Well he is so fat and lazy, and murders beef and +beer so, he has got the assmy, and walkin’ puts him out o’ breath--aint +it beautiful! Faithful old sarvant that, so attached to the family! +which means the family prog. Always to home! which means he is always +eatin’ and drinkin’, and hante time to go out. So respectful! which +means bowin’ is an everlastin’ sight easier, and safer too, nor talkin’ +is. So honest! which means, parquisites covers all he takes. Keeps every +thin’ in such good order! which means he makes the women do his work. +Puts every thin’ in it’s place, he is so methodical! which means, there +is no young children in the house, and old aunty always puts things back +where she takes ‘em from. For she is a good bit of stuff is aunty, as +thin, tough, and soople as a painter’s palate knife. Oh, Lord! how I +would like to lick him with a bran new cow hide whip, round and round +the park, every day, an hour afore breakfast, to improve his wind, and +teach him how to mend his pace. I’d repair his old bellowses for him, I +know. + +“Then look at the butler, how he tordles like a Terrapin; he has got the +gout, that feller, and no wonder, nother. Every decanter that comes in +has jist half a bottle in it, the rest goes in tastin’, to see it aint +corked. His character would suffer if a bit o’ cork floated in it. Every +other bottle is corked, so he drinks that bottle, and opens another, and +gives master half of it. The housekeeper pets him, calls him Mr., asks +him if he has heard from Sir Philip lately, hintin’ that he is of gentle +blood, only the wrong side of the blanket, and that pleases him. They +are both well to do in the world. Vails count up in time, and they talk +big sometimes, when alone together, and hint at warnin’ off the old +knight, marryin’, and settin’ up a tripe shop, some o’ these days; don’t +that hint about wedlock bring him a nice little hot supper that night, +and don’t that little supper bring her a tumbler of nice mulled wine, +and don’t both on ‘em look as knowin’ as a boiled codfish, and a shelled +oyster, that’s all. + +“He once got warned himself, did old Thomas, so said he, ‘Where do you +intend to go master?’ ‘Me,’ said the old man, scratchin’ his head, and +lookin’ puzzled ‘nowhere.’ ‘Oh, I thought _you_ intend to leave, said +Thomas for _I_ don’t.’ ‘Very good that, Thomas, come I like that.’ The +old knight’s got an anecdote by that, and nanny-goats aint picked +up every day in the country. He tells that to every stranger, every +stranger larfs, and the two parsons larf, and the old ‘Sir’ larfs so, he +wakes up an old sleepin’ cough that most breaks his ribs, and Thomas is +set up for a character. + +“Well, arter servants is gone, and women folks made themselves scarce, +we haul up closer to the table, have more room for legs, and then comes +the most interestin’ part. Poor rates, quarter sessions, turnpikes, +corn-laws, next assizes, rail-roads and parish matters, with a touch +of the horse and dog between primo and secondo genitur, for variety. If +politics turn up, you can read who host is in a gineral way with half an +eye. If he is an ante-corn-lawer, then he is a manufacturer that wants +to grind the poor instead of grain. He is a _new man_ and reformer. If +he goes up to the bob for corn-law, then he wants to live and let live, +is _of an old family_, and a tory. Talk of test oaths bein’ done away +with. Why Lord love you, they are in full force here yet. See what a +feller swears by--that’s his test, and no mistake. + +“Well, you wouldn’t guess now there was so much to talk of, would you? +But hear ‘em over and over every day, the same everlastin’ round, and +you would think the topics not so many arter all, I can tell you. It +soon runs out, and when it does, you must wait till the next rain, for +another freshet to float these heavy logs on. + +“Coffee comes, and then it’s up and jine the ladies. Well, then talk +is tried agin, but it’s no go; they can’t come it, and one of the +good-natured fat old lady-birds goes to the piany, and sits on the music +stool. Oh, Hedges! how it creaks, but it’s good stuff, I guess, it +will carry double this hitch; and she sings ‘I wish I was a butterfly.’ +Heavens and airth! the fust time I heard one of these hugeaceous +critters come out with that queer idee, I thought I should a dropt right +off of the otter man on the floor, and rolled over and over a-laughin’, +it tickled me so, it makes me larf now only to think of it. Well, the +wings don’t come, such big butterflies have to grub it in spite of Old +Nick, and after wishin’ and wishin’ ever so long in vain, one of the +young galls sits down and sings in rael right down airnest, ‘I _won’t_ +be a nun.’ Poor critter! there is some sense in that, but I guess she +will be bleeged to be, for all that. + +“Now eatin’ is done, talkin’ is done, and singin’ is done; so here is +chamber candles, and off to bed, that is if you are a-stayin’ there. +If you ain’t, ‘Mr. Weather Mutton’s carriage is ready, Sir,’ and Mr. +Weather Mutton and Mrs. Weather Mutton and the entire stranger get in, +and when you do, you are in for it, I can tell you. You are in for a +seven mile heat at least of cross country roads, axletree deep, rain +pour-in’ straight up and down like Niagara, high hedges, deep ditches +full of water, dark as Egypt; ain’t room to pass nothin’ if you meet +it, and don’t feel jist altogether easy about them cussed alligators and +navigators, critters that work on rail-roads all day, and on houses and +travellers by night. + +“If you come with Mr. Weather Mutton, you seed the carriage in course. +It’s an old one, a family one, and as heavy as an ox cart. The hosses +are old, family hosses, everlastin’ fat, almighty lazy, and the way +they travel is a caution to a snail. It’s vulgar to go fast, its only +butcher’s hosses trot quick, and besides, there is no hurry--there is +nothin’ to do to home. Affectionate couple! happy man! he takes his +wife’s hand in his--kisses it? No, not he, but he puts his head back in +the corner of the carriage, and goes to sleep, and dreams--of her? Not +he indeed, but of a saddle of mutton and curren’ jelly. + +“Well, if you are a-stoppin’ at Sir Littleeared Bighead’s, you escape +the flight by night, and go to bed and think of homeland natur’. Next +mornin’, or rather next noon, down to breakfast. Oh, it’s awfully +stupid! That second nap in the mornin’ always fuddles the head, and +makes it as mothery as ryled cyder grounds. Nobody looks as sweet as +sugar candy quite, except them two beautiful galls and their honey +lips. But them is only to look at. If you want honey, there is some on +a little cut glass, dug out of a dish. But you can’t eat it, for lookin’ +at the genu_wine_, at least I can’t, and never could. I don’t know what +you can do. + +“P’raps you’d like to look at the picture, it will sarve to pass away +time. They are family ones. And family picture, sarve as a history. Our +Mexican Indgians did all their history in picture. Let’s go round the +room and look. Lawful heart! what a big “Brown ox” that is. Old “Star +and Garters;” father fatted him. He was a prize ox; he eat a thousand +bushel of turnips, a thousand pound of oil cake, a thousand of hay, and +a thousand weight of mangel wurzel, and took a thousand days to fat, and +weighed ever so many thousands too. I don’t believe it, but I don’t +say so, out of manners, for I’ll take my oath he was fatted on porter, +because he looks exactly like the footman on all fours. He is a walking +“_Brown Stout_,” that feller. + +“There is a hunter, come, I like hosses; but this brute was painted when +at grass, and is too fat to look well, guess he was a goodish hoss in +his day though. He ain’t a bad cut that’s a fact. + +“Hullo! what’s this pictur? Why, this is from our side of the water, as +I am a livin’ sinner, this is a New-Foundlander, this dog; yes, and he +is of the true genu_wine_ breed too, look at his broad forehead--his +dew-claws--his little ears; (Sir Littleeared must have been named arter +him), his long hair--his beautiful eye. He is a first chop article +that; but, oh Lord, he is too shockin’ fat altogether. He is like Mother +Gary’s chickens, they are all fat and feathers. A wick run through ‘em +makes a candle. This critter is all hair and blubber, if he goes too +near the grate, he’ll catch into a blaze and set fire to the house. + +“There’s our friend the host with cap and gold tassel on, ridin’ on +his back, and there’s his younger brother, (that died to Cambridge from +settin’ up all night for his degree, and suppin’ on dry mathematics, and +swallerin’ “Newton” whole) younger brother like, walkin’ on foot, and +leadin’ the dog by the head, while the heir is a scoldin’ him for not +goin’ faster. + +“Then, there is an old aunty that a forten come from. She looks like a +bale o’ cotton, fust screwed as tight as possible, and then corded hard. +Lord, if they had only a given her a pinch of snuff, when she was full +dressed and trussed, and sot her a sneezin’, she’d a blowed up, and the +fortin would have come twenty years sooner. + +“Yes, it’s a family pictur, indeed, they are all family picture. They +are all fine animals, but over fed and under worked. + +“Now it’s up and take a turn in the gardens. There is some splendid +flowers on that slope. You and the galls go to look at ‘em, and jist as +you get there, the grass is juicy from the everlastin’ rain, and awful +slippy; up go your heels, and down goes stranger on the broad of his +back, slippin’ and slidin’ and coastin’ right down the bank, slap over +the light mud-earth bed, and crushin’ the flowers as flat as a pancake, +and you yaller ochered all over, clean away from the scruff of your +neck, down to the tip eend of your heel. The galls larf, the helps larf, +and the, bed-room maid larfs; and who the plague can blame them? Old +Marm don’t larf though, because she is too perlite, and besides, she’s +lost her flowers, and that’s no larfin’ matter; and you don’t larf, +‘cause you feel a little the nastiest you ever did, and jist as near +like a fool as to be taken for one, in the dark, that’s a fact. + +“Well, you renew the outer man, and try it agin, and it’s look at the +stable and hosses with Sir Host, and the dogs, and the carriages, +and two American trees, and a peacock, and a guinea hen, and a gold +pheasant, and a silver pheasant, and all that, and then lunch. Who the +plague can eat lunch, that’s only jist breakfasted? + +“So away goes lunch, and off goes you and the ‘Sir,’ a trampousin’ and a +trapsein’ over the wet grass agin (I should like to know what ain’t wet +in this country), and ploughed fields, and wide ditches chock full of +dirty water, if you slip in, to souse you most ridikelous; and over +gates that’s nailed up, and stiles that’s got no steps for fear of +thoroughfare, and through underwood that’s loaded with rain-drops, away +off to tother eend of the estate, to see the most beautiful field of +turnips that ever was seen, only the flies eat all the plants up; and +then back by another path, that’s slumpier than t’other, and twice +as long, that you may see an old wall with two broke-out winders, all +covered with ivy, which is called a ruin. And well named it is, too, for +I tore a bran new pair of trousers, most onhandsum, a scramblin’ over +the fences to see it, and ruined a pair of shoes that was all squashed +out of shape by the wet and mud. + +“Well, arter all this day of pleasure, it is time to rig up in your +go-to-meetin’ clothes for dinner; and that is the same as yesterday, +only stupider, if that’s possible; and that is Life in the Country. + +“How the plague can it be otherwise than dull? If there is nothin’ +to see, there can’t be nothin’ to talk about. Now the town is full of +things to see. There is Babbage’s machine, and Bank Governor’s machine, +and the Yankee woman’s machine, and the flyin’ machine, and all sorts of +machines, and galleries, and tunnels, and mesmerisers, and theatres, and +flower-shows, and cattle-shows, and beast-shows, and every kind of show, +and what’s better nor all, beautiful got-up women, and men turned out in +fust chop style, too. + +“I don’t mean to say country women ain’t handsum here, ‘cause they be. +There is no sun here; and how in natur’ can it be otherways than that +they have good complexions. But it tante safe to be caged with them in +a house out o’ town. Fust thing you both do, is to get spooney, makin’ +eyes and company-faces at each other, and then think of matin’, like +a pair of doves, and that won’t answer for the like of you and me. The +fact is, Squire, if you want to see _women_, you musn’t go to a house +in the country, nor to mere good company in town for it, tho’ there +be first chop articles in both; but you must go among the big bugs the +top-lofty nobility, in London; for since the days of old marm Eve, down +to this instant present time, I don’t think there ever was or ever will +be such splendiferous galls as is there. Lord, the fust time I seed ‘em +it put me in mind of what happened to me at New Brunswick once. Governor +of Maine sent me over to their Governor’s, official-like, with a state +letter, and the British officers axed me to dine to their mess. Well, +the English brags so like niggers, I thought I’d prove ‘em, and set ‘em +off on their old trade jist for fun. So, says I, stranger captain, sais +I, is all these forks and spoons, and plates and covers, and urns, +and what nots, rael genu_wine_ solid silver, the clear thing, and no +mistake. ‘Sartainly,’ said he, ‘we have nothin’ but silver here.’ He +did, upon my soul, just as cool, as if it was all true; well you can’t +tell a mili_tary_ what he sais ain’t credible, or you have to fight +him. It’s considered ongenteel, so I jist puts my finger on my nose, and +winks, as much as to say, ‘I ain’t such a cussed fool as you take me to +be, I can tell you.’ + +“When he seed I’d found him out, he larfed like any thing. Guess he +found that was no go, for I warn’t born in the woods to be scared by +an owl, that’s a fact. Well, the fust time I went to lord’s party, I +thought it was another brag agin; I never see nothin’ like it. Heavens +and airth, I most jumpt out o’ my skin. Where onder the sun, sais I to +myself, did he rake and scrape together such super-superior galls as +these. This party is a kind o’ consarvitory, he has got all the raree +plants and sweetest roses in England here, and must have ransacked the +whole country for ‘em. Knowin’ I was a judge of woman kind, he wants me +to think they are all this way; but it’s onpossible. They are only +“shew frigates” arter all; it don’t stand to reason, they can’t be all +clippers. He can’t put the leake into me that way, so it tante no +use tryin’. Well, the next time, I seed jist such another covey of +partridges, same plumage, same step, and same breed. Well done, sais I, +they are intarmed to pull the wool over my eyes, that’s a fact, but they +won’t find that no easy matter, I know. Guess they must be done now, +they can’t show another presarve like them agin in all Britain. What +trouble they do take to brag here, don’t they? Well, to make a long +story short; how do you think it eventuated, Squire? Why every party I +went to, had as grand a shew as them, only some on ‘em was better, fact +I assure you, it’s gospel truth; there ain’t a word of a lie in it, +text to the letter. I never see nothin’ like it, since I was raised, nor +dreamed nothin’ like it, and what’s more, I don’t think the world has +nothin’ like it nother. It beats all natur. It takes the rag off quite. +If that old Turk, Mahomed, had seed these galls, he wouldn’t a bragged +about his beautiful ones in paradise so for everlastinly, I know; for +these English heifers would have beat ‘em all holler, that’s a fact. For +my part, I call myself a judge. I have an eye there ain’t no deceivin’. +I have made it a study, and know every pint about a woman, as well as I +do about a hoss; therefore, if I say so, it must be so, and no mistake. +I make all allowances for the gear, and the gettin’ up, and the vampin’, +and all that sort o’ flash; but toggery won’t make an ugly gall handsum, +nohow you can fix it. It may lower her ugliness a leetle, but it won’t +raise her beauty, if she hante got none. But I warn’t a talkin’ of +nobility; I was a talkin’ of Life in the Country. But the wust of it is, +when galls come on the carpet, I could talk all day; for the dear little +critters, I _do_ love ‘em, that’s a fact. Lick! it sets me crazy a’most. +Well, where was we? for petticoats always puts every thing out o’ my +head. Whereabouts was we?” + +“You were saying that there were more things to be seen in London than +in the country.” + +“Exactly; now I have it. I’ve got the thread agin. So there is. + +“There’s England’s Queen, and England’s Prince, and Hanover’s King, and +the old Swordbelt that whopped Bony; and he is better worth seem’ than +any man now livin’ on the face of the univarsal airth, let t’other one +be where he will, that’s a fact. He is a great man, all through the +piece, and no mistake. If there was--what do you call that word, when +one man’s breath pops into ‘nother man’s body, changin’ lodgins, like?” + +“Do you mean transmigration?” + +“Yes; if there was such a thing as that, I should say it was old Liveoak +himself, Mr. Washington, that was transmigrated into him, and that’s no +mean thing to say of him, I tell you. + +“Well now, there’s none o’ these things to the country; and it’s so +everlastin’ stupid, it’s only a Britisher and a nigger that could live +in an English country-house. A nigger don’t like movin’, and it would +jist suit him, if it warn’t so awful wet and cold. + + “Oh if I was President of these here United States, + I’d suck sugar candy and swing upon de gates; + And them I didn’t like, I’d strike ‘em off de docket, + And the way we’d go ahead, would be akin to Davy Crockit. + With my zippy dooden, dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey, + With my zippy dooden, dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey. + +“It might do for a nigger, suckin’ sugar candy and drinkin’ mint-julep; +but it won’t do for a free and enlightened citizen like me. A country +house--oh goody gracious! the Lord presarve me from it, I say. If ever +any soul ever catches me there agin, I’ll give ‘em leave to tell me of +it, that’s all. Oh go, Squire, by all means; you will find it monstrous +pleasant, I know you will. Go and spend a week there; it will make you +feel up in the stirrups, I know. Pr’aps nothin’ can exceed it. It takes +the rag off the bush quite. It caps all, that’s a fact, does ‘Life in +the Country.’” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. BUNKUM. + +I am not surprised at the views expressed by Mr. Slick in the previous +chapter. He has led too active a life, and his habits and thoughts are +too business-like to admit of his enjoying retirement, or accommodating +himself to the formal restraints of polished society. And yet, after +making this allowance for his erratic life, it is but fair to add that +his descriptions were always exaggerated; and, wearied as he no doubt +was by the uniformity of country life, yet in describing it, he has +evidently seized on the most striking features, and made them more +prominent than they really appeared, even to his fatigued and prejudiced +vision. + +In other respects, they are just the sentiments we may suppose would +be naturally entertained by a man like the Attache, under such +circumstances. On the evening after that on which he had described “Life +in the Country” to me, he called with two “orders” for admission to the +House of Commons, and took me down with him to hear the debates. + +“It’s a great sight,” said he. “We shall see all their uppercrust +men put their best foot out. There’s a great musterin’ of the tribes, +to-night, and the Sachems will come out with a great talk. There’ll be +some sport, I guess; some hard hittin’, scalpin’, and tomahawkin’. To +see a Britisher scalp a Britisher is equal to a bullfight, anytime. You +don’t keer whether the bull, or the horse, or the rider is killed, none +of ‘em is nothin’ to you; so you can enjoy it, and hurror for him that +wins. I don’t keer who carries the day, the valy of a treat of julep, +but I want to see the sport. It’s excitin’, them things. Come, let’s +go.” + +We were shown into a small gallery, at one end of the legislative +wall (the two side ones being appropriated to members), and with some +difficulty found sitting room in a place that commanded a view of the +whole house. We were unfortunate. All the great speakers, Lord Stanley, +Sir Robert Peel, Sir James Graham, Shiel, and Lord John Russell, had +either already addressed the Chair, and were thereby precluded by the +rules of the House from coming forward again, or did not choose to +answer second-rate men. Those whom we did hear, made a most wretched +exhibition. About one o’clock, the adjournment took place, and we +returned, fatigued and disappointed. + +“Did you ever see the beat of that, Squire?” said Mr. Slick. “Don’t that +take the rag off quite? Cuss them fellers that spoke, they are wuss than +assembly men, hang me if they aint; and _they_ aint fit to tend a bear +trap, for they’d be sure to catch themselves, if they did, in their own +pit-fall. + +“Did you hear that Irishman a latherin’ away with both arms, as if he +was tryin’ to thrash out wheat, and see how bothered he looked, as if +he couldn’t find nothin’ but dust and chaff in the straw? Well, that +critter was agin the Bill, in course, and Irish like, used every +argument in favour of it. Like a pig swimmin’ agin stream, every time +he struck out, he was a cuttin’ of his own throat. He then blob blob +blobbered, and gog gog goggled, till he choked with words and passion, +and then sot down. + +“Then that English Radical feller, that spoke with great voice, and +little sense. Aint he a beauty, without paint, that critter? He know’d +he had to vote agin the Bill, ‘cause it was a Government Bill, and be +know’d he had to speak for _Bunkum_, and therefore--” + +“_Bunkum!_” I said, “pray, what is that?” + +“Did you never hear of Bunkum?” + +“No, never.” + +“Why, you don’t mean to say you don’t know what that is?” + +“I do not indeed.” + +“Not Bunkum? Why, there is more of it to Nova Scotia every winter, than +would paper every room in Government House, and then curl the hair of +every gall in the town. Not heer of _Bunkum_? why how you talk!” + +“No, never.” + +“Well, if that don’t pass! I thought every body know’d that word. I’ll +tell you then, what Bunkum is. All over America, every place likes to +hear of its members to Congress, and see their speeches, and if they +don’t, they send a piece to the paper, enquirin’ if their member died a +nateral death, or was skivered with a bowie knife, for they hante seen +his speeches lately, and his friends are anxious to know his fate. Our +free and enlightened citizens don’t approbate silent members; it don’t +seem to them as if Squashville, or Punkinville, or Lumbertown was right +represented, unless Squashville, or Punkinville, or Lumbertown, makes +itself heard and known, ay, and feared too. So every feller in bounden +duty, talks, and talks big too, and the smaller the State, the louder, +bigger, and fiercer its members talk. + +“Well, when a critter talks for talk sake, jist to have a speech in +the paper to send to home, and not for any other airthly puppus but +electioneering, our folks call it _Bunkum_. Now the State o’ Maine is a +great place for _Bunkum_--its members for years threatened to run foul +of England, with all steam on, and sink her, about the boundary line, +voted a million of dollars, payable in pine logs and spruce boards, up +to Bangor mills--and called out a hundred thousand militia, (only they +never come,) to captur’ a saw mill to New Brunswick--that’s _Bunkum_. +All that flourish about Right o’ Sarch was _Bunkum_--all that brag about +hangin’ your Canada sheriff was _Bunkum_. All the speeches about the +Caroline, and Creole, and Right of Sarch, was _Bunkum_, In short, +almost all that’s said _in Congress_ in _the colonies_, (for we set +the fashions to them, as Paris galls do to our milliners,) and all over +America is _Bunkum_. + +“Well, they talk Bunkum here too, as well as there. Slavery speeches are +all Bunkum; so are reform speeches, too. Do you think them fellers that +keep up such an everlastin’ gab about representation, care one cent +about the extension of franchise? Why no, not they; it’s only to secure +their seats to gull their constituents, to get a name. Do you think +them goneys that make such a touss about the Arms’ Bill, care about the +Irish? No, not they; they want Irish votes, that’s all--it’s _Bunkum_. +Do you jist go and mesmerise John Russell, and Macauley, and the other +officers of the regiment of Reformers, and then take the awkward squad +of recruits--fellers that were made drunk with excitement, and then +enlisted with the promise of a shillin’, which they never got, the +sargeants having drank it all; go and mesmerise them all, from General +Russell down to Private Chartist, clap ‘em into a caterwaulin’ or +catalapsin’ sleep, or whatever the word is, and make ‘em tell the +secrets of their hearts, as Dupotet did the Clear-voyancing gall, and +jist hear what they’ll tell you. + +“Lord John will say--‘I was sincere!’ (and I believe on my soul he was. +He is wrong beyond all doubt, but he is an honest man, and a clever man, +and if he had taken his _own_ way more, and given Powlet Thompson _his_ +less, he would a’ been a great colony secretary; and more’s the pity +he is in such company. He’ll get off his beam ends, and right +himself though, yet, I guess.) Well, he’d say--‘I was sincere, I was +disinterested; but I am disappointed. I have awakened a pack of hungry +villains who have sharp teeth, long claws, and the appetite of the +devil. They have swallered all I gave ‘em, and now would eat me up +without salt, if they could. Oh, that I could hark back! _there is no +satisfyin’ a movement party_.’ + +“Now what do the men say, (I don’t mean men of rank, but the men in +the ranks),--‘Where’s all the fine things we were promised when Reform +gained the day?’ sais they, ‘ay, where are they? for we are wuss off +than ever, now, havin’ lost all our old friends, and got bilked by our +new ones tarnationly. What did all their fine speeches end in at last? +Bunkum; damn the thing but Bunkum. + +“But that aint the wust of it, nother. Bunkum, like lyin’, is plaguy apt +to make a man believe his own bams at last. From telling ‘em so often, +he forgets whether he grow’d ‘em or dreamt ‘em, and so he stands’ +right up on end, kisses the book, and swears to ‘em, as positive as the +Irishman did to the gun, which he said he know’d ever since it was a +pistol. Now, _that’s Bunkum_. + +“But to get back to what we was a talkin’ of, did you ever hear such bad +speakin’ in your life, now tell me candid? because if you have, I never +did, that’s all. Both sides was bad, it aint easy to say which is wus, +six of one and half a dozen of t’other, nothin to brag of nary way. That +government man, that spoke in their favour, warn’t his speech rich? + +“Lord love you! I aint no speaker, I never made but one speech since I +was raised, and that was afore a Slickville legislatur, and then I broke +down. I know’d who I was a talkin’ afore; they was men that had cut +their eye-teeth, and that you could’nt pull the wool over their eyes, +nohow you could fix it, and I was young then. Now I’m growed up, I +guess, and I’ve got my narves in the right place, and as taught as a +drum; and I _could_ speak if I was in the House o’ Commons, that’s a +fact. If a man was to try there, that was worth any thin’, he’d find he +was a flute without knowin’ it. They don’t onderstand nothin’ but Latin +and Greek, and I’d buoy out them sand banks, keep the lead agoin’, stick +to the channel, and never take ground, I know. The way I’d cut water +aint no matter. Oh Solomon! what a field for good speakin’ that question +was to-night, if they only had half an eye, them fellers, and what +a’most a beautiful mess they made of it on both sides! + +“I ain’t a vain man, and never was. You know, Squire, I hante a mossel +of it in my composition; no, if you was to look at me with a ship’s +glass you wouldn’t see a grease spot of it in me. I don’t think any of +us Yankees is vain people; it’s a thing don’t grow in our diggins. We +have too much sense in a giniral way for that; indeed if we wanted any, +we couldn’t get none for love nor money, for John Bull has a monopoly +of it. He won’t open the trade. It’s a home market he looks to, and the +best of it is, he thinks he hante none to spare. + +“Oh, John Bull, John Bull, when you are full rigged, with your white +cravat and white waistcoat like Young England, and have got your +go-to-meetin’ clothes on, if you ain’t a sneezer, it’s a pity, that’s +all. No, I ain’t a vain man, I despise it, as I do a nigger; but, +Squire, what a glorious field the subject to-night is for a man that +knows what’s what, and was up to snuff, ain’t it? Airth and seas! if I +was there, I could speak on either side; for like Waterloo it’s a fair +field; it’s good ground for both parties. Heavens what a speech I could +make! I’d electrify ‘em and kill ‘em dead like lightnin’, and +then galvanise ‘em and fetch’ em to life agin, and then give them +exhiliratin’ gass and set ‘em a larfin’, till they fairly wet themselves +agin with cryin’. Wouldn’t it be fun, that’s all? I could sting Peel +so if I liked, he’d think a galley nipper had bit him, and he’d spring +right off the floor on to the table at one jump, gout or no gout, ravin’ +mad with pain and say, ‘I’m bit thro’ the boot by Gosh;’ or if I was +to take his side, for I care so little about the British, all sides is +alike to me, I’d make them Irish members dance like ravin’, distractin’ +bed bugs. I’d make ‘em howl, first wicked and then dismal, I know. + +“But they can’t do it, to save their souls alive; some has it in ‘em and +can’t get it out, physic ‘em as you would, first with vanity, and then +with office; others have got a way out, but have nothin’ to drive thro’ +the gate; some is so timid, they can’t go ahead; and others are in such +an infarnal hurry, they spend the whole time in false starts. + +“No, there, is no good oratory to parliament now, and the English brag +so, I doubt if it ever was so good, as they say it was in old times. At +any rate, it’s all got down to “Bunkum” now. It’s makin’ a speech for +newspapers and not for the House. It’s to tell on voters and not on +members. Then, what a row they make, don’t they? Hear, hear, hear; +divide, divide, divide; oh, oh, oh; haw, haw, haw. It tante much +different from stump oratory in America arter all, or speakin’ off a +whiskey barrel, is it? It’s a sort of divil me-kear-kind o’ audience; +independent critters, that look at a feller full in the face, as sarcy +as the divil; as much as to say, ‘Talk away, my old ‘coon, you won’t +alter me, I can tell you, it’s all _Bunkum_.’ + +“Lord, I shall never forget poor old Davy Crocket’s last speech; there +was no “bunkum” in that. He despised it; all good shots do, they aim +right straight for the mark and hit it. There’s no shootin’ round the +ring, with them kinder men. Poor old feller, he was a great hunter; a +great shot with the rifle, a great wit, and a great man. He didn’t leave +his _span_ behind him, when he slipt off the handle, I know. + +“Well he stood for an election and lost it, just afore he left the +States; so when it was over, he slings his powder horn on, over his +shoulders, takes his “Betsey,” which was his best rifle, onder his arm, +and mounts on a barrel, to talk it into his constituents, and take leave +of ‘em. + +“‘Feller citizens,’ sais he, ‘we’ve had a fair stand-up fight for it, +and I’m whipped, that are a fact; and thar is no denyin’ of it. I’ve +come now to take my leave of you. You may all go to H--l, and I’ll go to +Texas.’ + +“And he stepped right down, and went over the boundary, and jined the +patriots agin Mexico, and was killed there. + +“Why it will never be forgot, that speech. It struck into the bull’s eye +of the heart. It was noble. It said so much in a few words, and left +the mind to fill the gaps up. The last words is a sayin’ now, and +always will be, to all etarnity. Whenever a feller wants to shew how +indifferent he is, he jist sais, ‘you may go to (hem, hem, you know,) +and I’ll go to Texas.’ There is no _Bunkum_ in that, Squire. + +“Yes, there is no good speakin’ there, speakin’ is no use. Every +feller is pledged and supports his party. A speech don’t alter no man’s +opinions; yes it _may_ alter his _opinions_, but it don’t alter his +vote, that ain’t his’n, it’s his party’s. Still, there is some credit +in a good speech, and some fun too. No feller there has any ridicule; he +has got no ginger in him, he can neither crack his whip, nor lay it on; +he can neither cut the hide nor sting it. Heavens! if I was there I and +I’m sure it’s no great boastin’ to say I’m better than such fellers, as +them small fry of white bait is. If I was there, give me a good subject +like that to-night, give me a good horn of lignum vitae--” + +“Lignum vitae--what’s that?” + +“Lord-o-massy on us! you don’t know nothin’, Squire. Where have you been +all your born days, not to know what lignum vitae is? why lignum vitae, +is hot brandy and water to be sure, pipin’ hot, scald an iron pot amost, +and spiced with cloves and sugar in it, stiff enough to make a tea-spoon +stand up in it, as straight as a dead nigger. Wine ain’t no good, it +goes off as quick as the white beads off of champaign does, and then +leaves a stupid head-ache behind it. But give me the subject and a horn +of lignum vitae (of the wickedest kind), and then let a feller rile me, +so as to get my back up like a fightin’ cat’s, and I’ll tell you +what I’d do, I’d sarve him as our Slickville boys sarve the cows to +California. One on ‘em lays hold of the tail, and the other skins her +as she runs strait an eend. Next year, it’s all growed ready for another +flayin’. Fact, I assure you. Lord! I’d skin a feller so, his hide would +never grow agin; I’d make a caution of him to sinners, I know. + +“Only hear them fellers now talk of extendin’ of the representation; +why the house is a mob now, plaguy little better, I assure you. Like the +house in Cromwell’s time, they want “Sam Slick’s” purge. But talkin’ +of mobs, puts me in mind of a Swoi-ree, I told you I’d describe that to +you, and I don’t care if I do now, for I’ve jist got my talkin’ tacks +aboard. A Swoi-ree is-- + +“We’ll talk of that some other time, Mr. Slick,” said I; “it is now near +two o’clock, I must retire.” + +“Well, well,” said he, “I suppose it is e’en a’most time to be a movin’. +But, Squire, you are a Britisher, why the plague don’t you get into the +house? you know more about colony matters than the whole bilin’ of” them +put together, quite as much about other things, and speak like a--” + +“Come, come, Mr. Slick,” said I, rising and lighting my bed-room candle, +“it is now high time to bid you good night, for you are beginning to +talk _Bunkum_.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. THROWING THE LAVENDER. + +Mr. Slick’s character, like that of many of his countrymen, is not so +easily understood as a person might suppose. We err more often than we +are aware of, when we judge of others by ourselves. English tourists +have all fallen into this mistake, in their, estimate of the Americans. +They judge them by their own standard; they attribute effects to wrong +causes, forgetting that a different tone of feeling, produced by a +different social and political state from their own, must naturally +produce dissimilar results. + +Any person reading the last sketch containing the account, given by Mr. +Slick of the House of Commons, his opinion of his own abilities as a +speaker, and his aspiration after a seat in that body, for the purpose +of “skinning,” as he calls it, impertinent or stupid members, could not +avoid coming to the conclusion that he was a conceited block-head; and +that if his countrymen talked in that absurd manner, they must be the +weakest, and most vain-glorious people in the world. + +That he is a vain man, cannot be denied--self-taught men are apt to be +so every where; but those who understand the New England humour, will +at once perceive, that he has spoken in his own name merely as a +personification, and that the whole passage means after all, when +transposed into that phraseology which an Englishman would use, very +little more than this, that the House of Commons presented a noble +field for a man of abilities as a public speaker; but that in fact, it +contained very few such persons. We must not judge of words or phrases, +when used by foreigners, by the sense we attribute to them, but +endeavour to understand the meaning they attach to them themselves. + +In Mexico, if you admire any thing, the proprietor immediately says, +“Pray do me the honour to consider it yours, I shall be most happy, if +you will permit me, to place it upon you, (if it be an ornament), or to +send it to your hotel,” if it be of a different description. All +this means in English, a present; in Mexican Spanish, a civil speech, +purporting that the owner is gratified, that it meets the approbation +of his visiter. A Frenchman, who heard this grandiloquent reply to his +praises of a horse, astonished his friend, by thanking him in terms +equally amplified, accepting it, and riding it home. + +Mr. Slick would be no less amazed, if understood literally. He has used +a peculiar style; here again, a stranger would be in error, in supposing +the phraseology common to all Americans. It is peculiar only to a +certain class of persons in a certain state of life, and in a particular +section of the States. Of this class, Mr. Slick is a specimen. I do +not mean to say he is not a vain man, but merely that a portion only of +that, which appears so to us, is vanity, and that the rest and by far +the greater portion too, is local or provincial peculiarity. + +This explanation is due to the Americans, who have been grossly +misrepresented, and to the English, who have been egregiously deceived, +by persons attempting to delineate character, who were utterly incapable +of perceiving those minute lights and shades, without which, a portrait +becomes a contemptible daub, or at most a mere caricature. + +“A droll scene that at the house o’ represen_tatives_ last night,” said +Mr. Slick when we next met, “warn’t it? A sort o’ rookery, like that +at the Shropshire Squire’s, where I spent the juicy day. What a darned +cau-cau-cawin’ they keep, don’t they? These members are jist like the +rooks, too, fond of old houses, old woods, old trees, and old harnts. +And they are jist as proud, too, as they be. Cuss ‘em, they won’t visit +a new man, or new plantation. They are too aristocratic for that. They +have a circle of their own. Like the rooks, too, they are privileged to +scour over the farmers’ fields all round home, and play the very devil. + +“And then a fellow can’t hear himself speak for ‘em; divide, divide, +divide, question, question, question; cau, cau, cau, cau, cau, cau. Oh! +we must go there again. I want you to see Peel, Stanley, Graham, Shiel, +Russell, Macauley, Old Joe, and so on. These men are all upper crust +here. Fust of all, I want to hear your opinion of ‘em. I take you to be +a considerable of a good judge in these matters.” + +“No Bunkum, Mr. Slick.” + +“D---- that word Bunkum! If you say that ‘ere agin, I won’t say another +syllable, so come now. Don’t I know who you are? You know every mite, +and morsel as well as I do, that you be a considerable of a judge of +these critters, though you are nothin’ but an outlandish colonist; and +are an everlastin’ sight better judge, too, if you come to that, than +them that judge _you_. Cuss ‘em, the state would be a nation sight +better sarved, if one o’ these old rooks was sent out to try trover for +a goose, and larceny for an old hat, to Nova Scotia, and you was sent +for to take the ribbons o’ the state coach here; hang me if it wouldn’t. +You know that, and feel your oats, too, as well as any one. So don’t be +so infarnal mealy-mouthed, with your mock modesty face, a turnin’ up +of the whites of your eyes as if you was a chokin’, and savin’ ‘No +_Bun-kum_, Mr. Slick.’ Cuss that word Bunkum! I am sorry I ever told you +that are story, you will be for everlastinly a throwin’ up of that are, +to me now. + +“Do you think if I warnted to soft sawder you, I’d take the white-wash +brush to you, and slobber it, on, as a nigger wench does to a board +fence, or a kitchen wall to home, and put your eyes out with the lime? +No, not I; but I could tickel you though, and have done it afore now, +jist for practice, and you warn’t a bit the wiser. Lord, I’d take a +camel’s-hair brush to you, knowin’ how skittish and ticklesome you are, +and do it so it would feel good. I’d make you feel kinder pleasant, I +know, and you’d jist bend your face over to it, and take it as kindly as +a gall does a whisper, when your lips keep jist a brushin’ of the cheek +while you are a talkin’. I wouldn’t go to shock you by a doin’ of it +coarse; you are too quick, and too knowin’ for that. You should smell +the otter o’ roses, and sniff, sniff it up your nostrils, and say to +yourself, ‘How nice that is, ain’t it? Come, I like that, how sweet +it stinks!’ I wouldn’t go for to dash scented water on your face, as a +hired lady does on a winder to wash it, it would make you start back, +take out your pocket-handkercher, and say, “Come, _Mister_ Slick, no +nonsense, if you please.” I’d do it delicate, I know my man: I’d use a +light touch, a soft brush, and a smooth oily rouge.” + +“Pardon me,” I said, “you overrate your own powers, and over-estimate +my vanity. You are flattering yourself now, you can’t flatter me, for I +detest it.” + +“Creation, man,” said Mr. Slick, “I have done it now afore your face, +these last five minutes, and you didn’t know it. Well, if that don’t +bang the bush. It’s tarnation all over that. Tellin’ you, you was so +knowin’, so shy if touched on the flanks; how difficult you was to +take-in, bein’ a sensible, knowin’ man, what’s that but soft sawder? You +swallowed it all. You took it off without winkin’, and opened your mouth +as wide as a young blind robbin does for another worm, and then down +went the Bunkum about making you a Secretary of State, which was rather +a large bolus to swaller, without a draft; down, down it went, like a +greased-wad through a smooth rifle bore; it did, upon my soul. Heavens! +what a take in! what a splendid sleight-of-hand! I never did nothin’ +better in all my born days. I hope I may be shot, if I did. Ha! ha! ha! +ain’t it rich? Don’t it cut six inches on the rib of clear shear, that. +Oh! it’s han_sum_, that’s a fact.” + +“It’s no use to talk about it, Mr. Slick,” I replied; “I plead guilty. +You took me in then. You touched a weak point. You insensibly flattered +my vanity, by assenting to my self-sufficiency, in supposing I was +exempt from that universal frailty of human nature; you “_threw the +Lavender_” well.” + +“I did put the leake into you, Squire, that’s a fact,” said he; “but let +me alone, I know what I am about; let me talk on, my own way. Swaller +what you like, spit out what is too strong for you; but don’t put a +drag-chain on to me, when I am a doin’ tall talkin’, and set my wheels +as fast as pine stumps. You know me, and I know you. You know my speed, +and I know your bottom don’t throw back in the breetchin’ for nothin’ +that way.” + +“Well, as I was a-sayin’, I want you to see these great men, as they +call ‘em. Let’s weigh ‘em, and measure ‘em, and handle ‘em, and then +price ‘em, and see what their market valy is. Don’t consider ‘em as +Tories, or Whigs, or Radicals; we hante got nothin’ to do with none o’ +them; but consider ‘em as statesmen. It’s pot-luck with ‘em all; take +your fork as the pot biles up, jab it in, and fetch a feller up, see +whether he is beef, pork or mutton; partridge, rabbit or lobster; +what his name, grain and flavour is, and how you like him. Treat ‘em +indifferent, and treat ‘em independent. + +“I don’t care a chaw o’ tobacky for the whole on ‘em; and none on ‘em +care a pinch o’ snuff for you or any Hortentort of a colonist that ever +was or ever will be. Lord love you! if you was to write like Scott, and +map the human mind like Bacon, would it advance you a bit in prefarment? +Not it. They have done enough for the colonists, they have turned ‘em +upside down, and given ‘em responsible government? What more do the +rascals want? Do they ask to be made equal to us? No, look at their +social system, and their political system, and tell ‘em your opinion +like a man. You have heard enough of their opinions of colonies, and +suffered enough from their erroneous ones too. You have had Durham +reports, and commissioners’ reports, and parliament reports till your +stomach refuses any more on ‘em. And what are they? a bundle of mistakes +and misconceptions, from beginnin’ to eend. They have travelled by +stumblin’, and have measured every thing by the length of their knee, +as they fell on the ground, as a milliner measures lace, by the bendin’ +down of the forefinger--cuss ‘em! Turn the tables on ‘em. Report on +_them_, measure _them_, but take care to keep your feet though, don’t be +caught trippin’, don’t make no mistakes. + +“Then we’ll go to the Lords’ House--I don’t mean to meetin’ house, +though we must go there too, and hear Me Neil and Chalmers, and them +sort o’ cattle; but I mean the house where the nobles meet, pick out +the big bugs, and see what sort o’ stuff they are made of. Let’s take +minister with us--he is a great judge of these things. I should like you +to hear his opinion; he knows every thin’ a’most, though the ways of the +world bother him a little sometimes; but for valyin’ a man, or stating +principles, or talkin’ politics, there ain’t no man equal to him, +hardly. He is a book, that’s a fact; it’s all there what you want; all +you’ve got to do is to cut the leaves. Name the word in the index, he’ll +turn to the page, and give you day, date, and fact, for it. There is no +mistake in him. + +“That cussed provokin’ visit of yours to Scotland will shove them things +into the next book, I’m afeered. But it don’t signify nothin’; you can’t +cram all into one, and we hante only broke the crust yet, and p’rhaps +it’s as well to look afore you leap too, or you might make as big a fool +of yourself, as some of the Britishers have a-writin’ about us and the +provinces. Oh yes, it’s a great advantage havin’ minister with you. +He’ll fell the big stiff trees for you; and I’m the boy for the +saplin’s, I’ve got the eye and the stroke for them. They spring so +confoundedly under the axe, does second growth and underwood, it’s +dangerous work, but I’ve got the sleight o’ hand for that, and we’ll +make a clean field of it. + +“Then come and survey; take your compass and chain to the ground and +measure, and lay that off--branch and bark the spars for snakin’ off the +ground; cord up the fire-wood, tie up the hoop poles, and then burn off +the trash and rubbish. Do it workman-like. Take your time to it as if +you was workin’ by the day. Don’t hurry, like job work; don’t slobber it +over, and leave half-burnt trees and logs strewed about the surface, but +make smack smooth work. Do that, Squire, do it well, and that is, only +half as good as you can, if you choose, and then--” + +“And then,” said I, “I make no doubt you will have great pleasure ‘_in +throwin’ the Lavender again_.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. AIMING HIGH. + +“What do you intend to do, Squire, with your two youngest boys?” said +Mr. Slick to me to-day, as we were walking in the Park. + +“I design them,” I said, “for professions. One I shall educate for a +lawyer, and the other for a clergyman.” + +“Where?” + +“In Nova Scotia.” + +“Exactly,” says he. “It shews your sense; it’s the very place for ‘em. +It’s a fine field for a young man; I don’t know no better one no where +in the whole univarsal world. When I was a boy larnin’ to shoot, sais +father to me, one day, ‘Sam,’ sais he, ‘I’ll give you a lesson in +gunnin’ that’s worth knowin’. “_Aim high_,” my boy; your gun naterally +settles down a little takin’ sight, cause your arm gets tired, and +wabbles, and the ball settles a little while it’s a travellin’, +accordin’ to a law of natur, called Franklin’s law; and I obsarve you +always hit below the mark. Now, make allowances for these things in +gunnin’, and “aim high,” for your life, always. And, Sam,’ sais he, +‘I’ve seed a great deal of the world, all mili_tary_ men do. ‘I was to +Bunker’s Hill durin’ the engagement, and I saw Washington the day he was +made President, and in course must know more nor most men of my age; +and I’ll give you another bit of advice, “Aim high” in life, and if you +don’t hit the bull’s eye, you’ll hit the “fust circles,” and that ain’t +a bad shot nother.’ + +“‘Father,’ sais I, ‘I guess I’ve seed more of the world than you have, +arter all.’ + +“‘How so, Sam?’ sais he. + +“‘Why,’ sais I, ‘father, you’ve only been to Bunker’s Hill, and that’s +nothin’; no part of it ain’t too steep to plough; it’s only a sizeable +hillock, arter all. But I’ve been to the Notch on the White Mountain, +so high up, that the snow don’t melt there, and seed five States all to +once, and half way over to England, and then I’ve seed Jim Crow dance. +So there now?’ He jist up with the flat of his hand, and gave me a wipe +with it on the side of my face, that knocked me over; and as I fell, he +lent me a kick on my musn’t-mention-it, that sent me a rod or so afore I +took ground on all fours. + +“‘Take that, you young scoundrel!’ said he, ‘and larn to speak +respectful next time to an old man, a mili_tary_ man, and your father, +too.’ + +“It hurt me properly, you may depend. ‘Why,’ sais I, as I picked myself +up, ‘didn’t you tell me to “aim high,” father? So I thought I’d do it, +and beat your brag, that’s all.’ + +“Truth is, Squire, I never could let a joke pass all my life, without +havin’ a lark with it. I was fond of one, ever since I was knee high to +a goose, or could recollect any thin’ amost; I have got into a horrid +sight of scrapes by ‘em, that’s a fact. I never forgot that lesson +though, it was kicked into me: and lessons that are larnt on the right +eend, ain’t never forgot amost. I _have_ “aimed high” ever since, and +see where I be now. Here I am an Attache, made out of a wooden clock +pedlar. Tell you what, I shall be “embassador” yet, made out of nothin’ +but an “Attache,” and I’ll be President of our great Republic, and +almighty nation in the eend, made out of an embassador, see if I don’t. +That comes of “aimin’ high.” What do you call that water near your +coach-house?” + +“A pond.” + +“Is there any brook runnin’ in, or any stream runnin’ out?” + +“No.” + +“Well, that’s the difference between a lake and a pond. Now, set that +down for a traveller’s fact. Now, where do you go to fish?” + +“To the lakes, of course; there are no fish in the ponds.” + +“Exactly,” said Mr. Slick, “that is what I want to bring you to; there +is no fish in a pond, there is nothin’ but frogs. Nova Scotia is only +a pond, and so is New Brunswick, and such outlandish, out o’ the way, +little crampt up, stagnant places. There is no ‘big fish’ there, nor +never can be; there ain’t no food for ‘em. A colony frog!! Heavens and +airth, what an odd fish that is? A colony pollywog! do, for gracious +sake, catch one, put him into a glass bottle full of spirits, and send +him to the Museum as a curiosity in natur. So you are a goin’ to make +your two nice pretty little smart boys a pair of colony frogs, eh? Oh! +do, by all means. + +“You’ll have great comfort in ‘em, Squire. Monstrous comfort. It will +do your old heart good to go down to the edge of the pond on the fust of +May, or thereabouts, accordin’ to the season, jist at sun down, and hear +‘em sing. You’ll see the little fellers swell out their cheeks, and roar +away like young suckin’ thunders. For the frogs beat all natur there for +noise; they have no notion of it here at all. I’ve seed Englishmen that +couldn’t sleep all night, for the everlastin’ noise these critters made. +Their frogs have somethin’ else to do here besides singin’. Ain’t it a +splendid prospect that, havin’ these young frogs settled all round you +in the same mud-hole, all gathered in a nice little musical family +party. All fine fun this, till some fine day we Yankee storks will come +down and gobble them all up, and make clear work of it. + +“No, Squire, take my advice now for once; jist go to your colony +minister when he is alone. Don’t set down, but stand up as if you was in +airnest, and didn’t come to gossip, and tell him, ‘Turn these ponds into +a lake,’ sais you, my lord minister, give them an inlet and an outlet. +Let them be kept pure, and sweet, and wholesome, by a stream, runnin’ +through. Fish will live there then if you put them in, and they will +breed there, and keep up the stock. At present they die; it ain’t big +enough; there ain’t room. If he sais he hante time to hear you, and asks +you to put it into writin’, do you jist walk over to his table, take up +his lignum vitae ruler into your fist, put your back to the door, and +say ‘By the ‘tarnal empire, you _shall_ hear me; you don’t go out of +this, till I give you the butt eend of my mind, I can tell you. I am an +old bull frog now; the Nova Scotia pond is big enough for me; I’ll get +drowned if I get into a bigger one, for I hante got no fins, nothin’ but +legs and arms to swim with, and deep water wouldn’t suit me, I ain’t fit +for it, and I must live and die there, that’s my fate as sure as rates.’ +If he gets tired, and goes to get up or to move, do you shake the big +ruler at him, as fierce as a painter, and say, ‘Don’t you stir for your +life; I don’t want to lay nothin’ _on_ your head, I only want to put +somethin’ _in_ it. I am a father and have got youngsters. I am a native, +and have got countrymen. Enlarge our sphere, give us a chance in the +world.’ ‘Let me out,’ he’ll say, ‘this minute, Sir, or I’ll put you in +charge of a policeman.’ ‘Let you out is it,’ sais you. ‘Oh! you feel +bein’ pent up, do you? I am glad of it. The tables are turned now, +that’s what we complain of. You’ve stood at the door, and kept us in; +now I’ll keep you in awhile. I want to talk to you, that’s more than you +ever did to us. How do you like bein’ shut in? Does it feel good? Does +it make your dander rise?’ ‘Let me out,’ he’ll say agin, ‘this moment, +Sir, how dare you.’ Oh! you are in a hurry, are you?’ sais you. ‘You’ve +kept me in all my life; don’t be oneasy if I keep you in five minutes.’ + +“‘Well, what do you want then?’ he’ll say, kinder peevish; ‘what do you +want?’ ‘I don’t want nothin’ for myself,’ sais you. ‘I’ve got all I +can get in that pond; and I got that from the Whigs, fellers I’ve been +abusin’ all my life; and I’m glad to make amends by acknowledging this +good turn they did me; for I am a tory, and no mistake. I don’t want +nothin’; but I want to be an _Englishman_. I don’t want to be an +English _subject_; do you understand that now? If you don’t, this is the +meanin’, that there is no fun in bein’ a fag, if you are never to have a +fag yourself. Give us all fair play. Don’t move now,’ sais you, ‘for I’m +gettin’ warm; I’m gettin’ spotty on the back, my bristles is up, and I +might hurt you with this ruler; it’s a tender pint this, for I’ve rubbed +the skin off of a sore place; but I’ll tell you a gospel truth, and mind +what I tell you, for nobody else has sense enough, and if they had, they +hante courage enough. If you don’t make _Englishmen of us_, the force of +circumstances will _make Yankees_ of us, as sure as you are born.’ He’ll +stare at that. He is a clever man, and aint wantin’ in gumption. He +is no fool, that’s a fact. ‘Is it no compliment to you and your +institutions this?’ sais you. ‘Don’t it make you feel proud that even +independence won’t tempt us to dissolve the connexion? Ain’t it a noble +proof of your good qualities that, instead of agitatin’ for Repeal of +the Union, we want a closer union? But have we no pride too? We would be +onworthy of the name of Englishmen, if we hadn’t it, and we won’t stand +beggin’ for ever I tell _you_. Here’s our hands, give us yourn; let’s +be all Englishmen together. Give us a chance, and if us, young English +boys, don’t astonish you old English, my name ain’t Tom Poker, that’s +all.’ ‘Sit down,’ he’ll say, ‘Mr. Poker;’ there is a great deal in that; +sit down; I am interested.’ + +“The instant he sais that, take your ruler, lay it down on the table, +pick up your hat, make a scrape with your hind leg, and say, ‘I regret +I have detained you so long, Sir. I am most peskily afraid my warmth +has kinder betrayed me into rudeness. I really beg pardon, I do upon +my soul. I feel I have smashed down all decency, I am horrid ashamed of +myself.’ Well, he won’t say you hante rode the high hoss, and done the +unhandsum thing, because it wouldn’t be true if he did; but he’ll say, +‘Pray be seated. I can make allowances, Sir, even for intemperate zeal. +And this is a very important subject, very indeed. There is a monstrous +deal in what you say, though you have, I must say, rather a peculiar, +an unusual, way of puttin’ it.’ Don’t you stay another minit though, +nor say another word, for your life; but bow, beg pardon, hold in your +breath, that your face may look red, as if you was blushin’, and back +out, starn fust. Whenever you make an impression on a man, stop; your +reasonin’ and details may ruin you. Like a feller who sais a good thing, +he’d better shove off, and leave every one larfin’ at his wit, than stop +and tire them out, till they say what a great screw augur that is. Well, +if you find he opens the colonies, and patronises the smart folks, leave +your sons there if you like, and let ‘em work up, and work out of it, if +they are fit, and time and opportunity offers. But one thing is sartain, +_the very openin’ of the door will open their minds_, as a matter of +course. If he don’t do it, and I can tell you before hand he won’t--for +they actilly hante got time here, to think of these things--send your +boys here into the great world. Sais you to the young Lawyer, ‘Bob,’ +sais you, ‘“aim high.” If you don’t get to be Lord Chancellor, I shall +never die in peace. I’ve set my heart on it. It’s within your reach, if +you are good for anything. Let me see the great seal--let me handle it +before I die--do, that’s a dear; if not, go back to your Colony pond, +and sing with your provincial frogs, and I hope to Heaven the fust +long-legged bittern that comes there will make a supper of you.” + +“Then sais you to the young parson, ‘Arthur,’ sais you ‘Natur jist +made you for a clergyman. Now, do you jist make yourself ‘Archbishop of +Canterbury.’ My death-bed scene will be an awful one, if I don’t see you +‘the Primate’; for my affections, my hopes, my heart, is fixed on it. +I shall be willin’ to die then, I shall depart in peace, and leave this +world happy. And, Arthur,’ sais you, ‘they talk and brag here till one +is sick of the sound a’most about “Addison’s death-bed.” Good people +refer to it as an example, authors as a theatrical scene and hypocrites +as a grand illustration for them to turn up the whites of their cold +cantin’ eyes at. Lord love you, my son,’ sais you, ‘let them brag of it; +but what would it be to mine; you congratulatin’ me on goin’ to a better +world, and me congratulatin’ you on bein’ “Archbishop.” Then,’ sais you, +in a starn voice like a boatsan’s trumpet--for if you want things to be +remembered, give ‘em effect, “Aim high,” Sir,’ sais you. Then like my +old father, fetch him a kick on his western eend, that will lift him +clean over the table, and say ‘that’s the way to rise in the world, you +young sucking parson you. “Aim high,” Sir.’ + +“Neither of them will ever forget it as long as they live. The hit does +that; for a kick is a very _striking_ thing, that’s a fact. There +has been _no good scholars since birch rods went out o’ school, and +sentiment went in_.” + +“But you know,” I said, “Mr. Slick, that those high prizes in the +lottery of life, can, in the nature of things, be drawn but by few +people, and how many blanks are there to one-prize in this world.” + +“Well, what’s to prevent your boys gettin’ those prizes, if colonists +was made Christians of, instead of outlawed, exiled, transported, +oncarcumcised heathen Indgean niggers, as they be. If people don’t put +into a lottery, how the devil can they get prizes? will you tell +me that. Look at the critters here, look at the publicans, taylors, +barbers, and porters’ sons, how the’ve rose here, ‘in this big lake,’ +to be chancellors and archbishops; how did they get them? They ‘aimed +high,’ and besides, all that, like father’s story of the gun, by ‘aiming +high,’ though they may miss the mark, they will be sure to hit the +upper circles. Oh, Squire, there is nothing like ‘aiming high,’ in this +world.” + +“I quite agree with you, Sam,” said Mr. Hopewell. “I never heard you +speak so sensibly before. Nothing can be better for young men than +“Aiming high.” Though they may not attain to the highest honours, +they may, as you say, reach to a most respectable station. But surely, +Squire, you will never so far forget the respect that is due to so high +an officer as a Secretary of State, or, indeed, so far forget yourself +as to adopt a course, which from its eccentricity, violence, and +impropriety, must leave the impression that your intellects are +disordered. Surely you will never be tempted to make the experiment?” + +“I should think not, indeed,” I said. “I have no desire to become an +inmate of a lunatic asylum.” + +“Good,” said he; “I am satisfied. I quite agree with Sam, though. +Indeed, I go further. I do not think he has advised you to recommend +your boys to ‘aim high enough.’” + +“Creation! said Mr. Slick, “how much higher do you want provincial frogs +to go, than to be ‘Chancellor’ and ‘Primate?’ + +“I’ll tell you, Sam; I’d advise them to ‘aim higher’ than earthly +honours. I would advise them to do their duty, in any station of life in +which it shall please Providence to place them; and instead of striving +after unattainable objects here, to be unceasing in their endeavours to +obtain that which, on certain conditions, is promised to all hereafter. +In their worldly pursuits, as men, it is right for them to ‘_aim high_;’ +but as Christians, it is also their duty to ‘_aim higher_.’” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. A SWOI-REE. + +Mr. Slick visited me late last night, dressed as if he had been at a +party, but very cross, and, as usual when in that frame of mind, he +vented his ill-humour on the English. + +“Where have you been to-night, Mr. Slick?” + +“Jist where the English hosses will be,” he replied, “when Old Clay +comes here to this country;--no where. I have been on a stair-case, +that’s where I have been; and a pretty place to see company in, ain’t +it? I have been jammed to death in an entry, and what’s wus than all, I +have given one gall a black eye with my elbow, tore another one’s frock +off with my buttons, and near about cut a third one’s leg in two with my +hat. Pretty well for one night’s work, ain’t it? and for me too, that’s +so fond of the dear little critturs, I wouldn’t hurt a hair of their +head, if I could help it, to save my soul alive. What a spot o’ work! + +“What the plague do people mean here by askin’ a mob to their house, +and invitin’ twice as many as can get into it? If they think it’s +complimental, they are infarnally mistaken, that’s all: it’s an insult +and nothin’ else, makin’ a fool of a body that way. Heavens and airth! I +am wringing wet! I’m ready to faint! Where’s the key of your cellaret? I +want some brandy and water. I’m dead; bury me quick, for I won’t be +nice directly. Oh dear! how that lean gall hurt me! How horrid sharp her +bones are! + +“I wish to goodness you’d go to a Swoi-ree oncet, Squire, jist oncet--a +grand let off, one that’s upper crust and rael jam. It’s worth seein’ +oncet jist as a show, I tell _you_, for you have no more notion of it +than a child. All Halifax, if it was swept up clean and shook out into a +room, wouldn’t make one swoi-ree. I have been to three to night, and all +on ‘em was mobs--regular mobs. The English are horrid fond of mobs, and +I wonder at it too; for of all the cowardly, miserable, scarry mobs, +that ever was seen in this blessed world, the English is the wust. +Two dragoons will clear a whole street as quick as wink, any time. The +instant they see ‘em, they jist run like a flock of sheep afore a couple +of bull dogs, and slope off properly skeered. Lawful heart, I wish +they’d send for a dragoon, all booted, and spurred, and mounted, and let +him gallop into a swoi-ree, and charge the mob there. He’d clear ‘em out +_I_ know, double quick: he’d chase one quarter of ‘em down stairs head +over heels, and another quarter would jump out o’ the winders, and break +their confounded necks to save their lives, and then the half that’s +left, would he jist about half too many for comfort. + +“My first party to-night wus a conversation one; that is for them that +_could_ talk; as for me I couldn’t talk a bit, and all I could think +was, ‘how infarnal hot it is! I wish I could get in!’ or, ‘oh dear, if +I could only get out!’ It was a scientific party, a mob o’ men. Well, +every body expected somebody would be squashed to death, and so ladies +went, for they always go to executions. They’ve got a kinder nateral +taste for the horrors, have women. They like to see people hanged or +trod to death, when they can get a chance. It _was_ a conversation +warn’t it? that’s all. I couldn’t understand a word I heard. Trap shale +Greywachy; a petrified snail, the most important discovery of modern +times. Bank governor’s machine weighs sovereigns, light ones go to the +right, and heavy ones to the left. + +“‘Stop,’ says I, ‘if you mean the sovereign people here, there are none +on ‘em light. Right and left is both monstrous heavy; all over weight, +every one on ‘em. I’m squeezed to death.’ + +“‘Very good, Mr. Slick. Let me introduce you to ----,’ they are whipt +off in the current, and I don’t see ‘em again no more. ‘A beautiful shew +of flowers, Madam, at the garden: they are all in full blow now. The +rhododendron--had a tooth pulled when she was asleep.’ ‘Please to let me +pass, Sir.’ ‘With all my heart, Miss, if I could; but I can’t move; if I +could I would down on the carpet, and you should walk over me. Take care +of your feet, Miss, I am off of mine. Lord bless me! what’s this? why as +I am a livin’ sinner, it’s half her frock hitched on to my coat button. +Now I know what that scream meant.’ + +“‘How do you do, Mr. Slick? When did you come?’ ‘Why I came--’ he +is turned round, and shoved out o’ hearin.’ ‘Xanthian marbles at the +British Museum are quite wonderful; got into his throat, the doctor +turned him upside down, stood him on his head, and out it came--his own +tunnel was too small.’ ‘Oh, Sir, you are cuttin’ me.’ ‘Me, Miss! Where +had I the pleasure of seein’ you before, I never cut a lady in my life, +could’nt do so rude a thing. Havn’t the honour to recollect you.’ ‘Oh, +Sir, take it away, it cuts me.’ Poor thing, she is distracted, I don’t +wonder. She’s drove crazy, though I think she must have been mad to come +here at all. ‘Your hat, Sir.’ ‘Oh, that cussed French hat is it? Well, +the rim is as stiff and as sharp as a cleaver, that’s a fact, I don’t +wonder it cut you.’ ‘Eddis’s pictur--capital painting, fell out of the +barge, and was drowned.’ ‘Having been beat on the shillin’ duty; they +will attach him on the fourpence, and thimble rigg him out of that.’ +‘They say Sugden is in town, hung in a bad light, at the Temple +Church.’----‘Who is that?’ ‘Lady Fobus; paired off for the Session; +Brodie operated.’----Lady Francis; got the Life Guards; there will be +a division to-night.’----That’s Sam Slick; I’ll introduce you; +made a capital speech in the House of Lords, in answer to +Brougham--Lobelia--voted for the bill--The Duchess is very fond +of----Irish Arms--’ + +“Oh! now I’m in the entry. How tired I am! It feels shockin’ cold here, +too, arter comin’ out o’ that hot room. Guess I’ll go to the grand +musical party. Come, this will do; this is Christian-like, there is room +here; but the singin’ is in next room, I will go and hear them. Oh! here +they are agin; it’s a proper mob this. Cuss, these English, they can’t +live out of mobs. Prince Albert is there in that room; I must go and see +him. He is popular; he is a renderin’ of himself very agreeable to the +English, is Prince: he mixes with them as much as he can; and shews +his sense in that. Church steeples are very pretty things: that one to +Antwerp is splendiriferous; it’s everlastin’ high, it most breaks your +neck layin’ back your head to look at it; bend backward like a hoop, and +stare at it once with all your eyes, and you can’t look up agin, you are +satisfied. It tante no use for a Prince to carry a head so high as that, +Albert knows this; he don’t want to be called the highest steeple, +cause all the world knows he is about the top loftiest; but he want’s to +descend to the world we live in. + +“With a Queen all men love, and a Prince all men like, royalty has a +root in the heart here. Pity, too, for the English don’t desarve to have +a Queen; and such a Queen as they have got too, hang me if they do. They +ain’t men, they hante the feelin’s or pride o’ men in ‘em; they ain’t +what they used to be, the nasty, dirty, mean-spirited, sneakin’ skunks, +for if they had a heart as big as a pea--and that ain’t any great size, +nother--cuss ‘em, when any feller pinted a finger at her to hurt her, or +even frighten her, they’d string him right up on the spot, to the lamp +post. Lynch him like a dog that steals sheep right off the reel, and +save mad-doctors, skary judges, and Chartist papers all the trouble of +findin’ excuses. And, if that didn’t do, Chinese like, they’d take the +whole crowd present and sarve _them_ out. They’d be sure to catch the +right one then. I wouldn’t shed blood, because that’s horrid; it shocks +all Christian people, philosophisin’ legislators, sentimental ladies, +and spooney gentlemen. It’s horrid barbarous that, is sheddin’ blood; I +wouldn’t do that, I’d jist hang him. A strong cord tied tight round his +neck would keep that precious mixtur, traitor’s blood, all in as close +as if his mouth was corked, wired, and white-leaded, like a champagne +bottle. + +“Oh dear! these are the fellers that come out a travellin’ among us, +and sayin’ the difference atween you and us is ‘the absence of loyalty.’ +I’ve heard tell a great deal of that loyalty, but I’ve seen precious +little of it, since I’ve been here, that’s a fact. I’ve always told you +these folks ain’t what they used to be, and I see more and more, on +‘em every day. Yes, the English are like their hosses, they are so fine +bred, there is nothin’ left of ‘em now but the hide, hair, and shoes. + +“So Prince Albert is there in that room; I must get in there and see +him, for I have never sot eyes on him since I’ve been here, so here +goes. Onder, below there, look out for your corns, hawl your feet in, +like turtles, for I am a comin’. Take care o’ your ribs, my old ‘coons, +for my elbows are crooked. Who wants to grow? I’ll squeeze you out as a +rollin’-pin does dough, and make you ten inches taller. I’ll make good +figures of you, my fat boys and galls, I know. Look out for scaldin’s +there. Here I am: it’s me, Sam Slick, make way, or I’ll walk right over +you, and cronch you like lobsters. ‘Cheap talkin’, or rather thinkin’, +sais I; for in course I couldn’t bawl that out in company here; they +don’t understand fun, and would think it rude, and ongenteel. I have to +be shockin’ cautious what I say here, for fear I might lower our great +nation in the eyes of foreigners. I have to look big and talk big the +whole blessed time, and I am tired of it. It ain’t nateral to me; and, +besides braggin’ and repudiatin’ at the same time, is most as bad as +cantin’ and swearin’. It kinder chokes me. I thought it all though, and +said it all to myself. ‘And,’ sais I, ‘take your time, Sam; you can’t do +it, no how, you can fix-it. You must wait your time, like other folks. +Your legs is tied, and your arms is tied down by the crowd, and you +can’t move an inch beyond your nose. The only way is, watch your chance, +wait till you can get your hands up, then turn the fust two persons +that’s next to you right round, and slip between them like a turn stile +in the park, and work your passage that way. Which is the Prince? That’s +him with the hair carefully divided, him with the moustaches. I’ve seed +him; a plaguy handsum man he is, too. Let me out now. I’m stifled, I’m +choked. My jaws stick together, I can’t open ‘em no more; and my wind +won’t hold out another minute. + +“I have it now, I’ve got an idea. See if I don’t put the leake into +‘em. Won’t I _do_ them, that’s all? Clear the way there, the Prince is a +comin’, _and_ so is the Duke. And a way is opened: waves o’ the sea roll +hack at these words, and I walks right out, as large as life, and the +fust Egyptian that follers is drowned, for the water has closed +over him. Sarves him right, too, what business had he to grasp my +life-preserver without leave. I have enough to do to get along by my own +wit, without carry in’ double. + +“‘Where is the Prince? Didn’t they say he was a comin’? Who was that +went out? He don’t look like the Prince; he ain’t half so handsum, that +feller, he looks, like a Yankee.’ ‘Why, that was Sam Slick.’ ‘Capital, +that! What a droll feller he is; he is always so ready! He desarves +credit for that trick.’ Guess I do; but let old Connecticut alone; +us Slickville boys always find a way to dodge in or out embargo or no +embargo, blockade or no blockade, we larnt that last war. + +“Here I am in the street agin; the air feels handsum. I have another +invitation to-night, shall I go? Guess I will. All the world is at these +two last places, I reckin there will be breathin’ room at the next; and +I want an ice cream to cool my coppers, shockin’ bad.--Creation! It is +wus than ever; this party beats t’other ones all holler. They ain’t no +touch to it. I’ll jist go and make a scrape to old uncle and aunty, and +then cut stick; for I hante strength to swiggle my way through another +mob. + +“‘You had better get in fust, though, hadn’t you, Sam? for here you +are agin wracked, by gosh, drove right slap ashore atween them two fat +women, and fairly wedged in and bilged. You can’t get through, and can’t +get out, if you was to die for it.’ ‘Can’t I though? I’ll try; for I +never give in, till I can’t help it. So here’s at it. Heave off, put +all steam on, and back out, starn fust, and then swing round into the +stream. That’s the ticket, Sam.’ It’s done; but my elbow has took that +lady that’s two steps furder down on the stairs, jist in the eye, and +knocked in her dead light. How she cries! how I apologize, don’t I? +And the more I beg pardon, the wus she carries on. But it’s no go; if I +stay, I must fust fight somebody, and then marry _her_; for I’ve spiled +her beauty, and that’s the rule here, they tell me.’ + +“So I sets studen sail booms, and cracks on all sail, and steers for +home, and here I am once more; at least what’s left of me, and that +ain’t much more nor my shader. Oh dear! I’m tired, shockin’ tired, +almost dead, and awful thirsty; for Heaven’s sake, give me some lignum +vitae, for I am so dry, I’ll blow away in dust. + +“This is a Swoi-ree, Squire, this is London society; this is rational +enjoyment, this is a meeting of friends, who are so infarnal friendly +they are jammed together so they can’t leave each other. Inseparable +friends; you must choke ‘em off, or you can’t part ‘em. Well, I ain’t +jist so thick and intimate with none o’ them in this country as all that +comes to nother. I won’t lay down my life for none on ‘em; I don’t see +no occasion for it, _do you_? + +“I’ll dine with you, John Bull, if you axe me; and I ain’t nothin’ above +particular to do, and the cab hire don’t cost more nor the price of a +dinner; but hang me if ever I go to a Swoi-ree agin. I’ve had enough of +that, to last me _my_ life, I know. A dinner I hante no objection to, +though that ain’t quite so bright as a pewter button nother, when you +don’t know you’re right and left, hand man. And an evenin’ party, I +wouldn’t take my oath I wouldn’t go to, though I don’t know hardly what +to talk about, except America; and I’ve bragged so much about that, I’m +tired of the subject. But a _Swoi-ree is the devil, that’s a fact_.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII. TATTERSALL’S OR, THE ELDER AND THE GRAVE DIGGER. + +“Squire,” said Mr. Slick, “it ain’t rainin’ to-day; suppose you come +along with me to Tattersall’s. I have been studyin’ that place a +considerable sum to see whether it is a safe shop to trade in or no. But +I’m dubersome; I don’t like the cut of the sportin’ folks here. If I can +see both eends of the rope, and only one man has hold of one eend, and +me of the tother, why I know what I am about; but if I can only see my +own eend, I don’t know who I am a pullin’ agin. I intend to take a rise +out o’ some o’ the knowin’ ones here, that will make ‘em scratch their +heads, and stare, I know. But here we are. Cut round this corner, into +this Lane. Here it is; this is it to the right.” + +We entered a sort of coach-yard, which was filled with a motley and +mixed crowd of people. I was greatly disappointed in Tattersall’s. +Indeed, few things in London have answered my expectations. They have +either exceeded or fallen short of the description I had heard of them. +I was prepared, both from what I was told by Mr. Slick, and heard, from +others, to find that there were but very few gentlemen-like looking men +there; and that by far the greater number neither were, nor affected to +be, any thing but “knowing ones.” I was led to believe that there +would be a plentiful use of the terms _of art_, a variety of provincial +accent, and that the conversation of the jockeys and grooms would be +liberally garnished with appropriate slang. + +The gentry portion of the throng, with some few exceptions, it was said, +wore a dissipated look, and had that peculiar appearance of incipient +disease, that indicates a life of late hours, of excitement, and +bodily exhaustion. Lower down in the scale of life, I was informed, +intemperance had left its indelible marks. And that still further down, +were to be found the worthless lees of this foul and polluted stream of +sporting gentlemen, spendthrifts, gamblers, bankrupts, sots, sharpers +and jockeys. + +This was by no means the case. It was just what a man might have +expected to have found a great sporting exchange and auction mart, of +horses and carriages, to have been, in a great city like London, had he +been merely told that such was the object of the place, and then left +to imagine the scene. It was, as I have before said, a mixed and motley +crowd; and must necessarily be so, where agents attend to bid for their +principals, where servants are in waiting upon their masters, and above +all, where the ingress is open to every one. + +It is, however, unquestionably the resort of gentlemen. In a great and +rich country like this, there must, unavoidably, be a Tattersall’s; and +the wonder is, not that it is not better, but that it is not infinitely +worse. Lake all striking pictures, it had strong lights and shades. +Those who have suffered, are apt to retaliate; and a man who has been +duped, too often thinks he has a right to make reprisals. Tattersall’s, +therefore, is not without its privateers. Many persons of rank and +character patronize sporting, from a patriotic but mistaken notion, +that it is to the turf alone the excellence of the English horse is +attributable. + +One person of this description, whom I saw there for a short time, I had +the pleasure of knowing before; and from him I learned many interesting +anecdotes of individuals whom he pointed out as having been once well +known about town, but whose attachment to gambling had effected their +ruin. Personal stories of this kind are, however, not within the scope +of this work. + +As soon as we entered, Mr. Slick called my attention to the carriages +which were exhibited for sale, to their elegant shape and “beautiful +fixins,” as he termed it; but ridiculed, in no measured terms, their +enormous weight. “It is no wonder,” said he, “they have to get fresh +hosses here every ten miles, and travellin’ costs so much, when the +carriage alone is enough to kill beasts. What would Old Bull say, if +I was to tell him of one pair of hosses carryin’ three or four people, +forty or fifty miles a-day, day in and day out, hand runnin’ for a +fortnight? Why, he’d either be too civil to tell me it was a lie, or +bein’ afeerd I’d jump down his throat if he did, he’d sing dumb, and let +me see by his looks, he thought so, though. + +“I intend to take the consait out of these chaps, and that’s a fact. If +I don’t put the leak into ‘em afore I’ve done with them, my name ain’t +Sam Slick, that’s a fact. I’m studyin’ the ins and the outs of this +place, so as to know what I am about, afore I take hold; for I feel +kinder skittish about my men. Gentlemen are the lowest, lyinest, +bullyinest, blackguards there is, when they choose to be; ‘specially if +they have rank as well as money. A thoroughbred cheat, of good blood, +is a clipper, that’s a fact. They ain’t right up-and-down, like a cow’s +tail, in their dealin’s; and they’ve got accomplices, fellers that +will lie for ‘em like any thing, for the honour of their company; and +bettin’, onder such circumstances, ain’t safe. + +“But, I’ll tell you what is, if you have got a hoss that can do it, and +no mistake: back him, hoss agin hoss, or what’s safer still, hoss agin +time, and you can’t be tricked. Now, I’ll send for Old Clay, to come in +Cunard’s steamer, and cuss ‘em they ought to bring over the old hoss and +his fixins, free, for it was me first started that line. The way old Mr. +Glenelg stared, when I told him it was thirty-six miles shorter to go +from Bristol to New York by the way of Halifax, than to go direct warn’t +slow. It stopt steam for that hitch, that’s a fact, for he thort I was +mad. He sent it down to the Admiralty to get it ciphered right, and it +took them old seagulls, the Admirals a month to find it out. + +“And when they did, what did they say? Why, cuss ‘em, says they, ‘any +fool knows that.’ Says I, ‘If that’s the case you are jist the boys then +that ought to have found it out right off at oncet.’ + +“Yes, Old Clay ought to go free, but he won’t; and guess I am able to +pay freight for him, and no thanks to nobody. Now, I’ll tell you what, +English trottin’ is about a mile in two minutes and forty-seven seconds, +and that don’t happen oftener than oncet in fifty years, if it was ever +done at all, for the English brag so there is no telling right. Old Clay +_can_ do his mile in two minutes and thirty-eight seconds. He _has_ done +that, and I guess he _could_ do more. I have got a car, that is as light +as whalebone, and I’ll bet to do it with wheels and drive myself. I’ll +go in up to the handle, on Old Clay. I have a hundred thousand dollars +of hard cash made in the colonies, I’ll go half of it on the old hoss, +hang me if I don’t, and I’ll make him as well knowd to England as he is +to Nova Scotia. + +“I’ll allow him to be beat at fust, so as to lead ‘em on, and Clay is +as cunnin’ as a coon too, if he don’t get the word g’lang (go along) +and the Indgian skelpin’ yell with it, he knows I ain’t in airnest, and +he’ll allow me to beat him and bully him like nothin’. He’ll pretend to +do his best, and sputter away like a hen scratchin’ gravel, but he won’t +go one mossel faster, for he knows I never lick a free hoss. + +“Won’t it be beautiful? How they’ll all larf and crow, when they see me +a thrashin’ away at the hoss, and then him goin’ slower, the faster I +thrash, and me a threatenin’ to shoot the brute, and a talkin’ at the +tip eend of my tongue like a ravin’ distracted bed bug, and offerin’ +to back him agin, if they dare, and planken down the pewter all round, +takin’ every one up that will go the figur’, till I raise the bets to +the tune of fifty thousand dollars. When I get that far, they may +stop their larfin’ till next time, I guess. That’s the turn of the +fever--that’s the crisis--that’s my time to larf then. + +“I’ll mount the car then, take the bits of list up, put ‘em into right +shape, talk a little Connecticut Yankee to the old hoss, to set his +ebenezer up, and make him rise inwardly, and then give the yell,” (which +he uttered in his excitement in earnest; and a most diabolical one it +was. It pierced me through and through, and curdled my very blood, it +was the death shout of a savage.) “G’lang you skunk, and turn out your +toes pretty,” said he, and he again repeated this long protracted, +shrill, infernal yell, a second time. + +Every eye was instantly turned upon us. Even Tattersall suspended his +“he is five years old--a good hack--and is to be sold,” to give time for +the general exclamation of surprise. “Who the devil is that? Is he +mad? Where did _he_ come from? Does any body know him? He is a devilish +keen-lookin’ fellow that; what an eye he has! He looks like a Yankee, +that fellow.” + +“He’s been here, your honour, several days, examines every thing and +says nothing; looks like a knowing one, your honour. He handles a hoss +as if he’d seen one afore to-day, Sir.” + +“Who is that gentleman with him?” + +“Don’t know, your honour, never saw him before; he looks like a +furriner, too.” + +“Come, Mr. Slick,” said I, “we are attracting too much attention here, +let us go.” + +“Cuss ‘em,” said he, “I’ll attract more attention afore I’ve done yet, +when Old Clay comes, and then I’ll tell ‘em who I am--Sam Slick, +from Slickville, Onion County, State of Connecticut, United States of +America. But I do suppose we had as good make tracks, for I don’t want +folks to know me yet. I’m plaguy sorry I let put that countersign of Old +Clay too, but they won’t onderstand it. Critters like the English, that +know everything have generally weak eyes, from studyin’ so hard. + +“Did you take notice of that critter I was a handlin’ of, Squire? that +one that’s all drawed up in the middle like a devil’s darnin’ needle; +her hair a standin’ upon eend as if she was amazed at herself, and +a look out of her eye, as if she thort the dogs would find the steak +kinder tough, when they got her for dinner. Well, that’s a great mare +that ‘are, and there ain’t nothin’ onder the sun the matter of her, +except the groom has stole her oats, forgot to give her water, and let +her make a supper sometimes off of her nasty, mouldy, filthy beddin’. I +hante see’d a hoss here equal to her a’most--short back, beautiful rake +to the shoulder, great depth of chest, elegant quarter, great stifle, +amazin’ strong arm, monstrous nice nostrils, eyes like a weasel, all +outside, game ears, first chop bone and fine flat leg, with no gum on no +part of it. She’s a sneezer that; but she’ll be knocked down for twenty +or thirty pound, because she looks as if she was used up. + +“I intended to a had that mare, for I’d a made her worth twelve hundred +dollars. It was a dreadful pity, I let go, that time, for I actilly +forgot where I was. I’ll know better next hitch, for boughten wit is +the best in a general way. Yes, I’m peskily sorry about that mare. Well, +swappin’ I’ve studied, but I doubt if it’s as much the fashion here as +with us; and besides, swappin’ where you don’t know the county and its +tricks, (for every county has its own tricks, different from others), is +dangersome too. I’ve seen swaps where both sides got took in. Did ever I +tell you the story of the “Elder and the grave-digger?” + +“Never,” I replied; “but here we are at our lodgings. Come in, and tell +it to me.” + +“Well,” said he, “I must have a glass of mint julip fust, to wash down +that ere disappointment about the mare. It was a dreadful go that. I +jist lost a thousand dollars by it, as slick as grease. But it’s an +excitin’ thing is a trottin’ race, too. When you mount, hear the word +‘Start!’ and shout out ‘G’lang!’ and give the pass word.” + +Good heavens! what a yell he perpetrated again. I put both hands to my +ears, to exclude the reverberations of it from the walls. + +“Don’t be skeered, Squire; don’t be skeered. We are alone now: there is +no mare to lose. Ain’t it pretty? It makes me feel all dandery and on +wires like.” + +“But the grave-digger?” said I. + +“Well,” says he, “the year afore I knowed you, I was a-goin’ in the +fall, down to Clare, about sixty miles below Annapolis, to collect some +debts due to me there from the French. And as I was a-joggin’ on along +the road, who should I overtake but Elder Stephen Grab, of Beechmeadows, +a mounted on a considerable of a clever-lookin’ black mare. The Elder +was a pious man; at least he looked like one, and spoke like one too. +His face was as long as the moral law, and p’rhaps an inch longer, and +as smooth as a hone; and his voice was so soft and sweet, and his tongue +moved so ily on its hinges, you’d a thought you might a trusted him with +ontold gold, if you didn’t care whether you ever got it agin or no. He +had a bran new hat on, with a brim that was none of the smallest, to +keep the sun from makin’ his inner man wink, and his go-to-meetin’ +clothes on, and a pair of silver mounted spurs, and a beautiful white +cravat, tied behind, so as to have no bows to it, and look meek. If +there was a good man on airth, you’d a said it was him. And he seemed to +feel it, and know it too, for there was a kind of look o’ triumph about +him, as if he had conquered the Evil One, and was considerable well +satisfied with himself. + +“‘H’are you,’ sais I, ‘Elder, to-day? Which way are you from?” + +“‘From the General Christian Assembly, sais he, ‘to Goose Creek. We had +a “_most refreshin’ time on’t_.” There was a great “_outpourin’ of the +spirit_.”’ + +“‘Well, that’s awful,’ says I, ‘too. The magistrates ought to see to +that; it ain’t right, when folks assemble that way to worship, to be +a-sellin’ of rum; and gin, and brandy, and spirits, is it?’ + +“‘I don’t mean that,’ sais he, ‘although, p’rhaps, there was too much of +that wicked traffic too, I mean the preachin’. It was very peeowerful; +there was “_many sinners saved_.” + +“‘I guess there was plenty of room for it,’ sais I, ‘onless that +neighbourhood has much improved since I knowed it last.’ + +“‘It’s a sweet thing,’ sais he. ‘Have you ever “_made profession_,” Mr. +Slick?’ + +“‘Come,’ sais I to myself, ‘this is cuttin’ it rather too fat. I must +put a stop to this. This ain’t a subject for conversation with such a +cheatin’, cantin’, hippocrytical skunk as this is. Yes,’ sais I, ‘long +ago. My profession is that of a clockmaker, and I make no pretension +to nothin’ else. But come, let’s water our hosses here and liquor +ourselves.’ + +“And we dismounted, and gave ‘em a drop to wet their mouths. + +“‘Now,’ sais I, a-takin’ out of a pocket-pistol that I generally +travelled with, ‘I think I’ll take a drop of grog;’ and arter helpin’ +myself, I gives the silver cover of the flask a dip in the brook, (for +a clean rinse is better than a dirty wipe, any time), and sais I, ‘Will +you have a little of the “_outpourin’ of the spirit?_” What do you say, +Elder?’ + +“‘Thank you,’ sais he, ‘friend Slick. I never touch liquor, it’s agin +our rules.’ + +“And he stooped down and filled it with water, and took a mouthful, and +then makin’ a face like a frog afore he goes to sing, and swellin’ his +cheeks out like a Scotch bagpiper, he spit it all out. Sais he, ‘That +is so warm, it makes me sick; and as I ain’t otherwise well, from the +celestial exhaustion of a protracted meetin’, I believe I will take a +little drop, as medicine.’ + +“Confound him! if he’d a said he’d only leave a little drop, it would a +been more like the thing; for he e’en a’most emptied the whole into the +cup, and drank it off clean, without winkin’. + +“‘It’s a “_very refreshin’ time_,”’ sais I, ‘ain’t’ it?’ But he didn’t +make no answer. Sais I, ‘that’s a likely beast of yourn, Elder,’ and I +opened her mouth, and took a look at her, and no easy matter nother, I +tell you, for she held on like a bear trap, with her jaws. “‘She won’t +suit you,’ sais he, “with a smile, ‘Mr. Slick.’ + +“‘I guess not,’ sais I. + +“‘But she’ll jist suit the French,’ sais he. + +“‘It’s lucky she don’t speak French then,’ sais I, ‘or they’d soon +find her tongue was too big for her mouth. That critter will never see +five-and-twenty, and I’m a thinkin’, she’s thirty year old, if she is a +day.’ + +“‘I was a thinkin’, said he, with a sly look out o’ the corner of his +eye, as if her age warn’t no secret to him. ‘I was a thinkin’ it’s time +to put her off, and she’ll jist suit the French. They hante much for +hosses to do, in a giniral way, but to ride about; and you won’t say +nothin’ about her age, will you? it might endamnify a sale.’ + +“‘Not I,’ sais I, ‘I skin my own foxes, and let other folks skin +their’n. I have enough to do to mind my own business, without +interferin’ with other people’s.’ + +“‘She’ll jist suit the French,’ sais he; ‘they don’t know nothin’ about +hosses, or any thing else. They are a simple people, and always will be, +for their priests keep ‘em in ignorance. It’s an awful thing to see them +kept in the outer porch of darkness that way, ain’t it?’ + +“‘I guess you’ll put a new pane o’ glass in their porch,’ sais I, ‘and +help some o’ them to see better; for whoever gets that mare, will have +his eyes opened, sooner nor he bargains for, I know.’ + +“Sais he, ‘she ain’t a bad mare; and if she could eat bay, might do a +good deal of work yet,’ and he gave a kinder chuckle laugh at his own +joke, that sounded like the rattles in his throat, it was so dismal and +deep, for he was one o’ them kind of fellers that’s too good to larf, +was Steve. + +“Well, the horn o’ grog he took, began to onloosen his tongue; and I got +out of him, that she come near dyin’ the winter afore, her teeth was +so bad, and that he had kept her all summer in a dyke pasture up to her +fetlocks in white clover, and ginn’ her ground oats, and Indgian meal, +and nothin’ to do all summer; and in the fore part of the fall, biled +potatoes, and he’d got her as fat as a seal, and her skin as slick as an +otter’s. She fairly shined agin, in the sun. + +“‘She’ll jist suit the French’, said he, ‘they are a simple people and +don’t know nothin’, and if they don’t like the mare, they must blame +their priests for not teachin’ ‘em better. I shall keep within the +strict line of truth, as becomes a Christian man. I scorn to take a man +in.’ + +“Well, we chatted away arter this fashion, he a openin’ of himself and +me a walk in’ into him; and we jogged along till we came to Charles +Tarrio’s to Montagon, and there was the matter of a thousand French +people gathered there, a chatterin’, and laughin’, and jawin’, and +quarrellin’, and racin’, and wrastlin’, and all a givin’ tongue, like a +pack of village dogs, when an Indgian comes to town. It was town meetin’ +day. + +“Well, there was a critter there, called by nickname, ‘Goodish Greevoy,’ +a mounted on a white pony, one o’ the scariest little screamers, you +ever see since you was born. He was a tryin’ to get up a race, was +Goodish, and banterin’ every one that had a hoss to run with him. + +“His face was a fortin’ to a painter. His forehead was high and narrer, +shewin’ only a long strip o’ tawny skin, in a line with his nose, the +rest bein’ covered with hair, as black as ink, and as iley as a seal’s +mane. His brows was thick, bushy and overhangin’, like young brush-wood +on a cliff, and onderneath, was two black peerin’ little eyes, that kept +a-movin’ about, keen, good-natured, and roguish, but sot far into his +skull, and looked like the eyes of a fox peepin’ out of his den, when +he warn’t to home to company hisself. His nose was high, sharp, and +crooked, like the back of a reapin’ hook, and gave a plaguy sight +of character to his face, while his thinnish lips, that closed on a +straight line, curlin’ up at one eend, and down at the other, shewed, if +his dander was raised, he could be a jumpin’, tarin’, rampagenous devil +if he chose. The pint of his chin projected and turned up gently, as if +it expected, when Goodish lost his teeth, to rise in the world in rank +next to the nose. When good natur’ sat on the box, and drove, it warn’t +a bad face; when Old Nick was coachman, I guess it would be as well to +give Master Frenchman the road. + +“He had a red cap on his head, his beard hadn’t been cut since last +sheep shearin’, and he looked as hairy as a tarrier; his shirt collar, +‘which was of yaller flannel, fell on his shoulders loose, and a black +hankercher was tied round his neck, slack like a sailor’s. He wore a +round jacket and loose trowsers of homespun with no waistcoat, and his +trowsers was held up by a gallus of leather on one side, and of old cord +on the other. Either Goodish had growed since his clothes was made, or +his jacket and trowsers warn’t on speakin’ tarms, for they didn’t meet +by three or four inches, and the shirt shewed atween them like a yaller +militia sash round him. His feet was covered with moccasins of ontanned +moose hide, and one heel was sot off with an old spur and looked sly +and wicked. He was a sneezer that, and when he flourished his great long +withe of a whip stick, that looked like a fishin’ rod, over his head, +and yelled like all possessed, he was a caution, that’s a fact. + +“A knowin’ lookin’ little hoss, it was too, that he was mounted on. Its +tail was cut close off to the stump, which squared up his rump, and made +him look awful strong in the hind quarters. His mane was “hogged” which +fulled out the swell and crest of the neck, and his ears being +cropped, the critter had a game look about him. There was a proper good +onderstandin’ between him and his rider: they looked as if they had +growed together, and made one critter--half hoss, half man with a touch +of the devil. + +“Goodish was all up on eend by what he drank, and dashed in and out of +the crowd arter a fashion, that was quite cautionary, callin’ out, ‘Here +comes “the grave-digger.” Don’t be skeered, if any of you get killed, +here is the hoss that will dig his grave for nothin’. Who’ll run a lick +of a quarter of a mile, for a pint of rum. Will you run?’ said he, a +spunkin’ up to the Elder, ‘come, let’s run, and whoever wins, shall go +the treat.’ + +“The Elder smiled as sweet as sugar candy, but backed out; he was too +old, he said, now to run. + +“‘Will you swap hosses, old broad cloth then?’ said the other, ‘because +if you will, here’s at you.’ + +“Steve took a squint at pony, to see whether that cat would jump or no, +but the cropt ears, the stump of a tail, the rakish look of the horse, +didn’t jist altogether convene to the taste or the sanctified habits of +the preacher. The word no, hung on his lips, like a wormy apple, jist +ready to drop the fust shake; but before it let go, the great strength, +the spryness, and the oncommon obedience of pony to the bit, seemed to +kinder balance the objections; while the sartan and ontimely eend that +hung over his own mare, during the comin’ winter, death by starvation, +turned the scale. + +“‘Well,’ said he, slowly, ‘if we like each other’s beasts, friend, and +can agree as to the boot, I don’t know as I wouldn’t trade; for I don’t +care to raise colts, havin’ plenty of hoss stock on hand, and perhaps +you do.’ + +“‘How old is your hoss?’ said the Frenchman. + +“‘I didn’t raise it,’ sais Steve, ‘Ned Wheelock, I believe, brought her +to our parts.’ + +“‘How old do you take her to be?’ + +“‘Poor critter, she’d tell you herself, if she could,’ said he, ‘for +she knows best, but she can’t speak; and I didn’t see her, when she was +foalded.’ + +“‘How old do you think?’ + +“‘Age,’ sais Steve, ‘depens on use, not on years. A hoss at five, if ill +used, is old; a hoss at eight, if well used is young.’ + +“‘Sacry footry!’ sais Goodish, ‘why don’t you speak out like a man? Lie +or no lie, how old is she?’ + +“‘Well, I don’t like to say,’ sais Steve, ‘I know she is eight for +sartain, and it may be she’s nine. If I was to say eight, and it turned +out nine, you might be thinkin’ hard of me. I didn’t raise it. You can +see what condition she is in; old hosses ain’t commonly so fat as that, +at least I never, see one that was.’ + +“A long banter then growed out of the ‘boot money.’ The Elder, asked +7 pounds 10s. Goodish swore he wouldn’t give that for him and his hoss +together; that if they were both put up to auction that blessed minute, +they wouldn’t bring it. The Elder hung on to it, as long as there was +any chance of the boot, and then fort the ground like a man, only givin’ +an inch or so at a time, till he drawed up and made a dead stand, on one +pound. + +“Goodish seemed willing to come to tarms too; but like a prudent man, +resolved to take a look at the old mare’s mouth, and make some kind of +a guess at her age; but the critter knowed how to keep her own secrets, +and it was ever so long, afore he forced her jaws open, and when he did, +he came plaguy near losin’ of a finger, for his curiosity; and as he +hopped and danced about with pain, he let fly such a string of oaths, +and sacry-cussed the Elder and his mare, in such an all-fired passion, +that Steve put both his hands up to his ears, and said, ‘Oh, my dear +friend, don’t swear, don’t swear; it’s very wicked. I’ll take your pony, +I’ll ask no boot, if you will only promise not to swear. You shall have +the mare as she stands. I’ll give up and swap even; and there shall be +no after claps, nor ruin bargains, nor recantin’, nor nother, only don’t +swear.’ + +“Well, the trade was made, the saddles and bridles was shifted, and +both parties mounted their new hosses. ‘Mr. Slick,’ sais Steve,’ who was +afraid he would lose the pony, if he staid any longer, ‘Mr. Slick,’ +sais he, ‘the least said, is the soonest mended, let’s be a movin’, this +scene of noise and riot is shockin’ to a religious man, ain’t it?’ and +he let go a groan, as long as the embargo a’most. + +“Well, we had no sooner turned to go, than the French people sot up a +cheer that made all ring again; and they sung out, “La Fossy Your,” “La +Fossy Your,” and shouted it agin and agin ever so loud. + +“‘What’s that?’ sais Steve. + +“Well, I didn’t know, for I never heerd the word afore; but it don’t do +to say you don’t know, it lowers you in the eyes of other folks. If you +don’t know What another man knows he is shocked at your ignorance. But +if he don’t know what you do, he can find an excuse in a minute. Never +say you don’t know. + +“‘So,’ sais I, ‘they jabber so everlastin’ fast, it ain’t no easy matter +to say what they mean; but it sounds like “good bye,” you’d better +turn round and make ‘em a bow, for they are very polite people, is the +French.’ + +“So Steve turns and takes off his hat, and makes them a low bow, and +they larfs wus than ever, and calls out again, “La Fossy Your,” “La +Fossy Your.” He was kinder ryled, was the Elder. His honey had begun +to farment, and smell vinegery. ‘May be, next Christmas,’ sais he, ‘you +won’t larf so loud, when you find the mare is dead. Goodish and the old +mare are jist alike, they are all tongue them critters. I rather think +it’s me,’ sais he, ‘has the right to larf, for I’ve got the best of this +bargain, and no mistake. This is as smart a little hoss as ever I see. +I know where I can put him off to great advantage. I shall make a good +day’s work of this. It is about as good a hoss trade as I ever made. The +French don’t know nothin’ about hosses; they are a simple people, their +priests keep ‘em in ignorance on purpose, and they don’t know nothin’.’ + +“He cracked and bragged considerable, and as we progressed we came +to Montagon Bridge. The moment pony sot foot on it, he stopped short, +pricked up the latter eends of his ears, snorted, squeeled and refused +to budge an inch. The Elder got mad. He first coaxed and patted, and +soft sawdered him, and then whipt and spurred, and thrashed him like any +thing. Pony got mad too, for hosses has tempers as well as Elders; so he +turned to, and kicked right straight up on eend, like Old Scratch, and +kept on without stoppin’ till he sent the Elder right slap over his +head slantendicularly, on the broad of his back into the river, and he +floated down thro’ the bridge and scrambled out at t’other side. + +“Creation! how he looked. He was so mad, he was ready to bile over; and +as it was he smoked in the sun, like a tea-kettle. His clothes stuck +close down to him, as a cat’s fur does to her skin, when she’s out in +the rain, and every step he took his boots went squish, squash, like an +old woman churnin’ butter; and his wet trowsers chafed with a noise like +a wet flappin’ sail. He was a shew, and when he got up to his hoss, and +held on to his mane, and first lifted up one leg and then the other to +let the water run out of his boots. I couldn’t hold in no longer, but +laid back and larfed till I thought on my soul I’d fall off into the +river too. + +“‘Elder,’ says I, ‘I thought when a man jined your sect, ‘he could never +“_fall off agin_,” but I see you ain’t no safer than other folks arter +all.’ + +“‘Come,’ says he, ‘let me be, that’s a good soul, it’s bad enough, +without being larfed at, that’s a fact. I can’t account for this caper, +no how.’ + +“‘It’s very strange too, ain’t it! What on airth got into the hoss to +make him act so ugly. Can you tell, Mr. Slick?’ + +“‘Why,’ sais I, ‘he don’t know English yet, that’s all. He waited for +them beautiful French oaths that Goodish used. Stop the fust Frenchman +you meet and give him a shillin’ to teach you to swear, and he’ll go +like a lamb.’ + +“I see’d what was the matter of the hoss by his action as soon as we +started; but I warn’t agoin’ for to let on to him about it. I wanted to +see the sport. Well, he took his hoss by the bridle and led him over the +bridge, and he follered kindly, then he mounted, and no hoss could go +better. Arter a little, we came to another bridge agin, and the same +play was acted anew, same coaxin’, same threatenin’, and same thrashin’; +at last pony put down his head, and began to shake his tail, a gettin’ +ready for another bout of kickin’; when Steve got off and led him, and +did the same to every bridge we come to. + +“‘It’s no use,’ sais I, ‘you must larn them oaths, he’s used to ‘em +and misses them shocking. A sailor, a hoss, and a nigger ain’t no good +without you swear at ‘em; it comes kinder nateral to them, and they look +for it, fact I assure you. Whips wear out, and so do spurs, but a good +sneezer of a cuss hain’t no wear out to it; it’s always the same.’ + +“‘I’ll larn him sunthin’, sais he, ‘when I get him to home, and out o’ +sight that will do him good, and that he won’t forget for one while, I +know.’ + +“Soon arter this we came to Everett’s public-house on the bay, and +I galloped up to the door, and went as close as I cleverly could on +purpose, and then reined up short and sudden, when whap goes the pony +right agin the side of the house, and nearly killed himself. He never +stirred for the matter of two or three minutes. I actilly did think he +had gone for it, and Steve went right thro’ the winder on to the floor, +with a holler noise, like a log o’ wood thrown on to the deck of a +vessel. ‘Eugh!’ says he, and he cut himself with the broken glass quite +ridikilous. + +“‘Why,’ sais Everett, ‘as I am a livin’ sinner this is “the +Grave-digger,” he’ll kill you, man, as sure as you are born, he is the +wickedest hoss that ever was seen in these clearins here; and he is +as blind as a bat too. No man in Nova Scotia can manage that hoss but +Goodish Greevoy, and he’d manage the devil that feller, for he is man, +horse, shark, and sarpent all in one, that Frenchman. What possessed you +to buy such a varmint as that?’ + +“‘Grave digger!’ said doleful Steve, ‘what is that?’ + +“‘Why,’ sais he, ‘they went one day to bury a man, down to Clare did +the French, and when they got to the grave, who should be in it but the +pony. He couldn’t see, and as he was a feedin’ about, he tumbled in head +over heels and they called him always arterwards ‘the Grave-digger.’” + +“‘Very simple people them French,’ sais I, ‘Elder; they don’t know +nothin’ about hosses, do they? Their priests keep them in ignorance on +purpose.’ + +“Steve winced and squinched his face properly; and said the glass in +his hands hurt him. Well, arter we sot all to rights, we began to jog +on towards Digby. The Elder didn’t say much, he was as chop fallen as +a wounded moose; at last, says he, ‘I’ll ship him to St. John, and sell +him. I’ll put him on board of Captain Ned Leonard’s vessel, as soon as I +get to Digby.’ Well, as I turned my head to answer him, and sot eyes on +him agin, it most sot me a haw, hawin’ a second time, he _did_ look so +like Old Scratch. Oh Hedges! how haggardised he was! His new hat was +smashed down like a cap on the crown of his head, his white cravat was +bloody, his face all scratched, as if he had been clapper-clawed by a +woman, and his hands was bound up with rags, where the glass cut ‘em. +The white sand of the floor of Everett’s parlour had stuck to his +damp clothes, and he looked like an old half corned miller, that was a +returnin’ to his wife, arter a spree. A leetle crest fallen for what he +had got, a leetle mean for the way he looked, and a leetle skeered +for what he’d catch, when he got to home. The way he sloped warn’t no +matter. He was a pictur, and a pictur I must say, I liked to look at. + +“And now Squire, do you take him off too, ingrave him, and bind him up +in your book, and let others look at it, and put onder it ‘_the Elder +and the Grave-digger_.’” + +“Well, when we got to town, the tide was high, and the vessel jist ready +to cast off, and Steve, knowin’ how skeer’d pony was of the water, got +off to lead him, but the critter guessed it warn’t a bridge, for he +smelt salt water on both sides of him, and ahead too, and budge he +wouldn’t. Well, they beat him most to death, but he beat back agin with +his heels, and it was a drawd fight. Then they goes to the fence and +gets a great strong pole, and puts it across his hams, two men at each +eend of the pole, and shoved away, and shoved away, till they progressed +a yard or so; when pony squatted right down on the pole, throwd over the +men, and most broke their legs, with his weight. + +“At last, the captain fetched a rope, and fixes it round his neck, with +a slip knot, fastens it to the windlass, and dragged him in as they do +an anchor, and tied him by his bridle to the boom; and then shoved off, +and got under weigh. + +“Steve and I sot down on the wharf, for it was a beautiful day, and +looked at them driftin’ out in the stream, and hystin’ sail, while the +folks was gettin’ somethin’ ready for us to the inn. + +“When they had got out into the middle of the channel, took the breeze, +and was all under way, and we was about turnin’ to go back, I saw the +pony loose, he had slipped his bridle, and not likin’ the motion of the +vessel, he jist walked overboard, head fust, with a most a beautiful +splunge. + +“‘_A most refreshin’ time_,’ said I, ‘Elder, that critter has of it. I +hope _that sinner will be saved_.’ + +“He sprung right up on eend, as if he had been stung by a galley nipper, +did Steve, ‘Let me alone,’ said he. ‘What have I done to be jobed, that +way? Didn’t I keep within the strict line o’ truth? Did I tell that +Frenchman one mossel of a lie? Answer me, that, will you? I’ve been +cheated awful; but I scorn to take the advantage of any man. You +had better look to your own dealin’s, and let me alone, you pedlin’, +cheatin’ Yankee clockmaker you.’ + +“‘Elder,’ sais I, ‘if you warn’t too mean to rile a man, I’d give you a +kick on your pillion, that would send you a divin’ arter your hoss; but +you ain’t worth it. Don’t call me names tho’, or I’ll settle your coffee +for you, without a fish skin, afore you are ready to swaller it I can +_tell_ you. So keep your mouth shut, my old coon, or your teeth might +get sun-burnt. You think you are angry with me; but you aint; you are +angry with yourself. You know you have showd yourself a proper fool for +to come, for to go, for to talk to a man that has seed so much of the +world as I have, bout “_refreshin’ time_,” and “_outpourin’ of spirit_,” + and “_makin’ profession_” and what not; and you know you showd yourself +an everlastin’ rogue, a meditatin’ of cheatin’ that Frenchman all +summer. It’s biter bit, and I don’t pity you one mossel; it sarves +you right. But look at the grave-digger; he looks to me as if he was a +diggin’ of his own grave in rael right down airnest.’ + +“The captain havin’ his boat histed, and thinkin’ the hoss would swim +ashore of hisself, kept right straight on; and the hoss swam this way, +and that way, and every way but the right road, jist as the eddies took +him. At last, he got into the ripps off of Johnston’s pint, and they +wheeled him right round and round like a whip-top. Poor pony! he got +his match at last. He struggled, and jumpt, and plunged and fort, like +a man, for dear life. Fust went up his knowin’ little head, that had no +ears; and he tried to jump up and rear out of it, as he used to did +out of a mire hole or honey pot ashore; but there was no bottom there; +nothin’ for his hind foot to spring from; so down he went agin ever so +deep: and then he tried t’other eend, and up went his broad rump, that +had no tail; but there was nothin’ for the fore feet to rest on nother; +so he made a summerset, and as he went over, he gave out a great long +end wise kick to the full stretch of his hind legs. + +“Poor feller! it was the last kick he ever gave in this world; he sent +his heels straight up on eend, like a pair of kitchen tongs, and the +last I see of him was a bright dazzle, as the sun shined on his iron +shoes, afore the water closed over him for ever. + +“I railly felt sorry for the poor old ‘grave-digger,’ I did upon my +soul, for hosses and ladies are two things, that a body can’t help +likin’. Indeed, a feller that hante no taste that way ain’t a man at +all, in my opinion. Yes, I felt ugly for poor ‘grave-digger,’ though I +didn’t feel one single bit so for that cantin’ cheatin’, old Elder. So +when I turns to go, sais I, ‘Elder,’ sais I, and I jist repeated his own +words--‘I guess it’s your turn to laugh now, for you have got the best +of the bargain, and no mistake. Goodish and the old mare are jist alike, +all tongue, ain’t they? But these French is a simple people, so they +be; they don’t know nothin’, that’s a fact. Their priests keep ‘em in +ignorance a puppus. + +“The next time you tell your experience to the great Christian meetin’ +to Goose Creek, jist up and tell ‘em, from beginnin’ to eend, the story +of the--‘_Elder and the Grave-digger_.’” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. LOOKING BACK. + +In the course of the evening, Mr. Hopewell adverted to his return as +a matter of professional duty, and spoke of it in such a feeling and +earnest manner, as to leave no doubt upon my mind, that we should not be +able to detain him long in this country, unless his attention should be +kept fully occupied by a constant change of scene. + +Mr. Slick expressed to me the same fear, and, knowing that I had been +talking of going to Scotland, entreated me not to be long absent, for he +felt convinced that as soon as he should be left alone, his thoughts and +wishes would at once revert to America. + +“I will try to keep him up,” said he, “as well as I can, but I can’t do +it alone. If you do go, don’t leave us long. Whenever I find him dull, +and can’t cheer him up no how I can fix it, by talk, or fun, or sight +seein’ or nothin’, I make him vexed, and that excites him, stirs him up +with a pot stick, and is of great sarvice to him. I don’t mean actilly +makin’ him wrathy in airnest, but jist rilin of him for his own good, by +pokin’ a mistake at him. I’ll shew you, presently, how I do it.” + +As soon as Mr. Hopewell rejoined us, he began to inquire into the +probable duration of our visit to this country, and expressed a wish to +return, as soon as possible, to Slickville. + +“Come, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, tapping him on the shoulder, “as +father used to say, we must ‘right about face’ now. When we are at home +let us think of home, when we are here, let us think of this place. Let +us look a-head, don’t let’s look back, for we can’t see nothin’ there.” + +“Indeed, Sam,” said he, with a sad and melancholy air, “it would be +better for us all if we looked back oftener than we do. From the errors +of the past, we might rectify our course for the future. Prospective sin +is often clothed in very alluring garments; past sin appears in all its +naked deformity. Looking back, therefore--” + +“Is very well,” said Mr. Slick, “in the way of preachin’; but lookin’ +back when you can’t see nothin’, as you are now, is only a hurtin’ of +your eyes. I never hear that word, ‘lookin’ back,’ that I don’t think of +that funny story of Lot’s wife.” + +“Funny story of Lot’s wife, Sir! Do you call that a funny story, Sir?” + +“I do, Sir.” + +“You do, Sir?” + +“Yes, I do, Sir; and I defy you or any other man to say it ain’t a funny +story.” + +“Oh dear, dear,” said Mr. Hopewell, “that I should have lived to see +the day when you, my son, would dare to speak of a Divine judgment as a +funny story, and that you should presume so to address me.” + +“A judgment, Sir?” + +“Yes, a judgment, Sir.” + +“Do you call the story of Lot’s wife a judgment?” + +“Yes, I do call the story of Lot’s wife a judgment; a monument of the +Divine wrath for the sin of disobedience.” + +“What! Mrs. Happy Lot? Do you call her a monument of wrath? Well, well, +if that don’t beat all, Minister. If you had a been a-tyin’ of the +night-cap last night I shouldn’t a wondered at your talkin’ at that +pace. But to call that dear little woman, Mrs. Happy Lot, that dancin’, +laughin’ tormentin’, little critter, a monument of wrath, beats all to +immortal smash.” + +“Why who are you a-talkin’ of, Sam?” + +“Why, Mrs. Happy Lot, the wife of the Honourable Cranbery Lot, of +Umbagog, to be sure. Who did you think I was a-talkin’ of?” + +“Well, I thought you was a-talkin’ of--of--ahem--of subjects too serious +to be talked of in that manner; but I did you wrong, Sam; I did you +injustice. Give me your hand, my boy. It’s better for me to mistake and +apologize, than for you to sin and repent. I don’t think I ever heard of +Mr. Lot, of Umbagog, or of his wife either. Sit down here, and tell me +the story, for ‘with thee conversing, I forget all time.’” + +“Well, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “I’ll tell you the ins and outs of it; +and a droll story it is too. Miss Lot was the darter of Enoch Mosher, +the rich miser of Goshen; as beautiful a little critter too, as ever +slept in shoe-leather. She looked for all the world like one of the +Paris fashion prints, for she was a parfect pictur’, that’s a fact. +Her complexion was made of white and red roses, mixed so beautiful, you +couldn’t tell where the white eended, or the red begun, natur’ had +used the blendin’ brush so delicate. Her eyes were screw augurs, I tell +_you_; they bored right into your heart, and kinder agitated you, and +made your breath come and go, and your pulse flutter. I never felt +nothin’ like ‘em. When lit up, they sparkled like lamp reflectors; and +at other tunes, they was as soft, and mild, and clear as dew-drops that +hang on the bushes at sun-rise. When she loved, she loved; and when she +hated, she hated about the wickedest you ever see. Her lips were like +heart cherries of the carnation kind; so plump, and fall, and hard, you +felt as if you could fall to and eat ‘em right up. Her voice was like a +grand piany, all sorts o’ power in it; canary-birds’ notes at one eend, +and thunder at t’other, accordin’ to the humour she was in, for she +was a’most a grand bit of stuff was Happy, she’d put an edge on a knife +a’most. She was a rael steel. Her figur’ was as light as a fairy’s, and +her waist was so taper and tiny, it seemed jist made for puttin’ an +arm round in walkin’. She was as ac_tive_ and springy on her feet as a +catamount, and near about as touch me-not a sort of customer too. +She actilly did seem as if she was made out of steel springs and +chicken-hawk. If old Cran, was to slip off the handle, I think I should +make up to her, for she is ‘a salt,’ that’s a fact, a most a heavenly +splice. + +“Well, the Honourable Cranbery Lot put in for her, won her, and married +her. A good speculation it turned out too, for he got the matter of one +hundred thousand of dollars by her, if he got a cent. As soon as they +were fairly welded, off they sot to take the tour of Europe, and they +larfed and cried, and kissed and quarrelled, and fit and made up all +over the Continent, for her temper was as onsartain as the climate +here--rain one minit and sun the next; but more rain nor sun. + +“He was a fool, was Cranbery. He didn’t know how to manage her. His +bridle hand warn’t good, I tell you. A spry, mettlesome hoss, and a dull +critter with no action, don’t mate well in harness, that’s a fact. + +“After goin’ every where, and every where else amost, where should they +get to but the Alps. One arternoon, a sincerely cold one it was too, and +the weather, violent slippy, dark overtook them before they reached the +top of one of the highest and steepest of them mountains, and they had +to spend the night at a poor squatter’s shanty. + +“Well, next mornin’, jist at day-break, and sun-rise on them everlastin’ +hills is tall sun-rise, and no mistake, p’rhaps nothin was ever seen so +fine except the first one, since creation. It takes the rag off quite. +Well, she was an enterprisin’ little toad, was Miss Lot too, afeered of +nothin’ a’most; so nothin’ would sarve her but she must out and have a +scramb up to the tip-topest part of the peak afore breakfast. + +“Well, the squatter there, who was a kind o’ guide, did what he could to +dispersuade her, but all to no purpose; go she would, and a headstrong +woman and a runaway hoss are jist two things it’s out of all reason to +try to stop; The only way is to urge ‘em on, and then, bein’ contr_ary_ +by natur’, they stop of themselves. + +“‘Well,’ sais the guide, ‘if you will go, marm, do take this pike staff, +marm,’ sais he; (a sort of walkin’-stick with a spike to the eend of +it), ‘for you can’t get either up or down them slopes without it, it is +so almighty slippy there.’ So she took the staff, and off she sot and +climbed and climbed ever so far, till she didn’t look no bigger than a +snowbird. + +“At last she came to a small flat place, like a table, and then she +turned round to rest, get breath, and take a look at the glorious view; +and jist as she hove-to, up went her little heels, and away went her +stick, right over a big parpendicular cliff, hundreds and hundreds, and +thousands of feet deep. So deep, you couldn’t see the bottom for the +shadows, for the very snow looked black down there. There is no way in, +it is so steep, but over the cliff; and no way out, but one, and that +leads to t’other world. I can’t describe it to you, though. I have see’d +it since myself. There are some things too big to lift; some, too big +to carry after they be lifted; and some too grand for the tongue to +describe too. There’s a notch where dictionary can’t go no farther, as +well as every other created thing, that’s a fact. P’rhaps if I was to +say it looked like the mould that that ‘are very peak was cast in, afore +it was cold and stiff, and sot up on eend, I should come as near the +mark as any thing I know on. + +“Well away she slid, feet and hands out, all flat on her face, right +away, arter her pike staff. Most people would have ginn it up as gone +goose, and others been so frightened as not to do any thing at all; or +at most only jist to think of a prayer, for there was no time to say +one. + +“But not so Lot’s ‘wife. She was of a conquerin’ natur’. She never gave +nothin’ up, till she couldn’t hold on no longer. She was one o’ them +critters that go to bed mistress, and rise master; and just as she +got to the edge of the precipice, her head hangin’ over, and her eyes +lookin’ down, and she all but ready to shoot out and launch away into +bottomless space, the ten commandments brought her right short up. Oh, +she sais, the sudden joy of that sudden stop swelled her heart so big, +she thought it would have bust like a byler; and, as it was, the great +endurin’ long breath she drew, arter such an alfired escape, almost +killed her at the ebb, it hurt her so.” + +“But,” said Mr. Hopewell, “how did the ten commandments save her? Do you +mean that figuratively, or literally. Was it her reliance on providence, +arising from a conscious observance of the decalogue all her life, or +was it a book containing them, that caught against some thing, and stopt +her descent. It is very interesting. Many a person, Sam, has been saved +when at the brink of destruction, by laying fast hold on the bible. Who +can doubt, that the commandments had a Divine origin? Short, simple and +yet comprehensive; the first four point to our duty to our Maker, the +last six, towards our social duties. In this respect there is a great +similarity of structure, to that excellent prayer given us--” + +“Oh, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “I beg your pardon, I do, indeed, I +don’t mean that at all; and I do declare and vow now, I wasn’t a playin’ +possum with you, nother. I won’t do it no more, I won’t, indeed.” + +“Well, what did you mean then?” + +“Why I meant her ten fingers, to be sure. When a woman clapper claws her +husband, we have a cant tarm with us boys of Slickville, savin’ she gave +him her ten commandments.” + +“And a very improper expression too, Sir,” said Mr. Hopewell; “a very +irreverent, indecent, and I may say profane expression; I am quite +shocked. But as you say you didn’t mean it, are sorry for it, and will +not repeat it again, I accept your apology, and rely on your promise. Go +on, Sir.” + +“Well, as I was a savin’, the moment she found herself a coasting of it +that way, flounder fashion, she hung on by her ten com--I mean her ten +fingers, and her ten toes, like grim death to a dead nigger, and it +brought her up jist in time. But how to get back was the question? To +let go the hold of any one hand was sartain death, and there was nobody +to help her, and yet to hold on long that way, she couldn’t, no how she +could fix it. + +“So what does she do, (for nothin’ equals a woman for contrivances), but +move one finger at a time, and then one toe at a time, till she gets +a new hold, and then crawls backward, like a span-worm, an inch at a +hitch. Well, she works her passage this way, wrong eend foremost, by +backin’ of her paddles for the matter of half an hour or so, till she +gets to where it was roughish, and somethin’ like standin’ ground, when +who should come by but a tall handsome man, with a sort of a half coat, +half cloak-like coverin’ on, fastened round the waist with a belt, and +havin’ a hood up, to ambush the head. + +“The moment she clapt eyes on him, she called to him for help. ‘Oh,’ +sais she, ‘for heaven’s sake, good man, help me up! Jist take hold of my +leg and draw me back, will you, that’s a good soul?’ And then she +held up fust one leg for him, and then the other, most beseechin’, but +nothin’ would move him. He jist stopt, looked back for a moment and then +progressed agin. + +“Well, it ryled her considerable. Her eyes actilly snapped with fire, +like a hemlock log at Christmas: (for nothin’ makes a woman so mad as a +parsonal slight, and them little ankles of hern were enough to move the +heart of a stone, and make it jump out o’ the ground, that’s a fact, +they were such fine-spun glass ones), it made her so mad, it gave her +fresh strength; and makin’ two or three onnateral efforts, she got clear +back to the path, and sprung right up on eend, as wicked as a she-bear +with a sore head. But when she got upright agin, she then see’d what a +beautiful frizzle of a fix she was in. She couldn’t hope to climb far; +and, indeed, she didn’t ambition to; she’d had enough of that, for one +spell. But climbin’ up was nothin’, compared to goin’ down hill without +her staff; so what to do, she didn’t know. + +“At last, a thought struck her. She intarmined to make that man help +her, in spite of him. So she sprung forward for a space, like a painter, +for life or death, and caught right hold of his cloak. ‘Help--help me!’ +said she, ‘or I shall go for it, that’s sartain. Here’s my puss, my +rings, my watch, and all I have got; but oh, help me! for the love of +God, help me, or my flint is fixed for good and all.’ + +“With that, the man turned round, and took one glance at her, as if he +kinder relented, and then, all at once, wheeled back again, as amazed as +if he was jist born, gave an awful yell, and started off as fast as he +could clip, though that warn’t very tall runnin’ nother, considerin’ the +ground. But she warn’t to be shook off that way. She held fast to his +cloak, like a burr to a sheep’s tail, and raced arter him, screamin’ and +screechin’ like mad; and the more she cried, the louder he yelled, till +the mountains all echoed it and re-echoed it, so that you would have +thought a thousand devils had broke loose, a’most. + +“Such a gettin’ up stairs you never did see. + +“Well, they kept up this tantrum for the space of two or three hundred +yards, when they came to a small, low, dismal-lookin’ house, when +the man gave the door a kick, that sent the latch a flyin’ off to the +t’other eend of the room, and fell right in on the floor, on his face, +as flat as a flounder, a groanin’ and a moanin’ like any thing, and +lookin’ as mean as a critter that was sent for, and couldn’t come, and +as obstinate as a pine stump. + +“‘What ails you?’ sais she, ‘to act like Old Scratch that way? You ought +to be ashamed of yourself, to behave so to a woman. What on airth is +there about me to frighten you so, you great onmannerly, onmarciful, +coward, you. Come, scratch up, this minute.’ + +“Well, the more she talked, the more he groaned; but the devil a word, +good or bad, could she get out of him at all. With that, she stoops +down, and catches up his staff, and says she, ‘I have as great a mind to +give you a jab with this here toothpick, where your mother used to spank +you, as ever I had in all my life. But if you want it, my old ‘coon, you +must come and get it; for if you won’t help me, I shall help myself.’ + +“Jist at that moment, her eyes being better accustomed to the dim light +of the place, she see’d a man, a sittin’ at the fur eend of the room, +with his back to the wall, larfin’ ready to kill himself. He grinned +so, he showed his corn-crackers from ear to ear. She said, he stript his +teeth like a catamount, he look’d so all mouth. + +“Well, that encouraged her, for there ain’t much harm in a larfin’ man; +it’s only them that never larf that’s fearfulsome. So sais she ‘My good +man, will you he so kind as to lend me your arm down this awful peak, +and I will reward you handsomely, you may depend.’ + +“Well, he made no answer, nother; and thinkin’ he didn’t onderstand +English, she tried him in Italian, and then in broken French, and then +bungled out a little German; but no, still no answer. He took no more +notice of her and her mister, and senior, and mountsheer, and mynheer, +than if he never heerd them titles, but jist larfed on. + +“She stopped a minit, and looked at him full in the face, to see what he +meant by all this ongenteel behaviour, when all of a sudden, jist as she +moved one step nearer to him, she saw he was a dead man, and had been so +long there, part of the flesh had dropt off or dried off his face; and +it was that that made him grin that way, like a fox-trap. It was the +bone-house they was in. The place where poor, benighted, snow-squalled +stragglers, that perish on the mountains, are located, for their friends +to come and get them, if they want ‘em; and if there ain’t any body that +knows ‘em or cares for ‘em, why they are left there for ever, to dry +into nothin’ but parchment and atomy, as it’s no joke diggin’ a grave in +that frozen region. + +“As soon as she see’d this, she never said another blessed word, but +jist walked off with the livin’ man’s pike, and began to poke her way +down the mountain as careful as she cleverly could, dreadful tired, and +awful frighted. + +“Well, she hadn’t gone far, afore she heard her name echoed all round +her--Happy! Happy! Happy! It seemed from the echoes agin, as if there +was a hundred people a yelling it put all at once. + +“Oh, very happy,’ said she, ‘very happy, indeed; guess you’d find it +so if you was here. I know I should feel very happy if I was out of it, +that’s all; for I believe, on my soul, this is harnted ground, and the +people in it are possessed. Oh, if I was only to home, to dear Umbagog +agin, no soul should ever ketch me in this outlandish place any more, +_I_ know.’ + +“Well, the sound increased and increased so, like young thunder she was +e’en a’most skeared to death, and in a twitteration all over; and her +knees began to shake so, she expected to go for it every minute; when a +sudden turn of the path show’d her her husband and the poor squatter a +sarchin’ for her. + +“She was so overcome with fright and joy, she could hardly speak--and it +warn’t a trifle that would toggle her tongue, that’s a fact. It was +some time after she arrived at the house afore she could up and tell the +story onderstandable; and when she did, she had to tell it twice over, +first in short hand, and then in long metre, afore she could make out +the whole bill o’ parcels. Indeed, she hante done tellin’ it yet, and +wherever she is, she works round, and works round, till she gets Europe +spoke of, and then she begins, ‘That reminds me of a most remarkable +fact. Jist after I was married to Mr. Lot, we was to the Alps.’ + +“If ever you see her, and she begins that way, up hat and cut stick, +double quick, or you’ll find the road over the Alps to Umbagog, a little +the longest you’ve ever travelled, I know. + +“Well, she had no sooner done than Cranbery jumps up on eend, and sais +he to the guide, ‘Uncle,’ sais he, ‘jist come along with me, that’s a +good feller, will you? We must return that good Samaritan’s’ cane to +him; and as he must be considerable cold there, I’ll jist warm his hide +a bit for him, to make his blood sarculate. If he thinks I’ll put that +treatment to my wife, Miss Lot, into my pocket, and walk off with it, +he’s mistaken in the child, that’s all, Sir. He may be stubbeder than I +be, Uncle, that’s a fact; but if he was twice as stubbed, I’d walk +into him like a thousand of bricks. I’ll give him a taste of my breed. +Insultin’ a lady is a weed we don’t suffer to grow in our fields +to Umbagog. Let him be who the devil he will, log-leg or +leather-breeches--green-shirt or blanket-coat--land-trotter or +river-roller, I’ll let him know there is a warrant out arter him, I +know.” + +“‘Why,’ sais the guide, ‘he couldn’t help himself, no how he could work +it. He is a friar, or a monk, or a hermit, or a pilgrim, or somethin’ +or another of that kind, for there is no eend to them, they are so many +different sorts; but the breed he is of, have a vow never to look at a +woman, or talk to a woman, or touch a woman, and if they do, there is a +penance, as long as into the middle of next week.’ + +“‘Not look at a woman?’ sais Cran, ‘why, what sort of a guess world +would this be without petticoats?--what a superfine superior tarnation +fool he must be, to jine such a tee-total society as that. Mint julip I +could give up, I _do_ suppose, though I had a plaguy sight sooner not +do it, that’s a fact: but as for womankind, why the angeliferous +little torments, there is no livin’ without _them_. What do you think, +stranger?’ + +“‘Sartainly,’ said Squatter; ‘but seein’ that the man had a vow, why it +warn’t his fault, for he couldn’t do nothin’ else. Where _he_ did wrong, +was _to look back_; if he hadn’t a _looked back_, he wouldn’t have +sinned.’ + +“‘Well, well,’ sais Cran, ‘if that’s the case, it is a hoss of another +colour, that. I won’t look back nother, then. Let him he. But he is +erroneous considerable.’ + +“So you see, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “where there is nothin’ to be +gained, and harm done, by this retrospection, as you call it, why I +think lookin’ a-head is far better than--_lookin’ back_.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. CROSSING THE BORDER. + +The time had now arrived when it was necessary for me to go to +Scotland, for a few days. I had two very powerful reasons for this +excursion:--first, because an old and valued friend of mine was there, +whom I had not met for many years, and whom I could not think of leaving +this country without seeing again; and secondly, because I was desirous +of visiting the residence of my forefathers on the Tweed, which, +although it had passed out of their possession many years ago, was still +endeared to me as their home, as the scene of the family traditions; and +above all, as their burial place. + +The grave is the first stage on the journey, from this to the other +world. We are permitted to escort our friends so far, and no further; it +is there we part for ever. It is there the human form is deposited, when +mortality is changed for immortality. This burial place contains no one +that I have ever seen or known; but it contains the remains of those +from whom I derived my lineage and my name. I therefore naturally +desired to see it. + +Having communicated my intention to my two American companions, I was +very much struck with the different manner in which they received the +announcement. + +“Come back soon, Squire,” said Mr. Slick; “go and see your old friend, +if you must, and go to the old campin’ grounds of your folks; though the +wigwam I expect has gone long ago, but don’t look at anythin’ else. +I want we should visit the country together. I have an idea from what +little I have seed of it, Scotland is over-rated. I guess there is a +good deal of romance about their old times; and that, if we knowed all, +their old lairds warn’t much better, or much richer than our Ingian +chiefs; much of a muchness. Kinder sorter so, and kinder sorter not so, +no great odds. Both hardy, both fierce; both as poor as Job’s Turkey, +and both tarnation proud, at least, that’s my idea to a notch. + +“I have often axed myself what sort of a gall that splenderiferous, +‘Lady of the Lake’ of Scott’s was, and I kinder guess she was a +red-headed Scotch heifer, with her hair filled with heather, and +feather, and lint, with no shoes and stockings to her feet, and that + + “Her lips apart + Like monument of Grecian art” + +meant that she stared with her eyes and mouth wide open, like other +county galls that never see’d nothing before--a regilar screetch owl +in petticoats. And I suspicion, that Mr. Rob Roy was a sort of thievin’ +devil of a white Mohawk, that found it easier to steal cattle, than +raise them himself; and that Loch Katrin, that they make such a touss +about, is jist about equal to a good sizeable duck-pond in our country; +at least, that’s my idea. For I tell you it does not do to follow arter +a poet, and take all he says for gospel. + +“Yes, let’s go and see Sawney in his “Ould _Reeky_.” Airth and seas! if +I have any nose at all, there never was a place so well named as that. +Phew! let me light a cigar to get rid of the fogo of it. + +“Then let’s cross over and see “Pat at Home;” let’s look into +matters and things there, and see what “Big Dan” is about, with his +“association” and “agitation” and “repail” and “tee-totals.” Let’s see +whether it’s John Bull or Patlander that’s to blame, or both on ‘em; six +of one and half-a-dozen of tother. By Gosh! Minister would talk, more +sense in one day to Ireland, than has been talked there since the +rebellion; for common sense is a word that don’t grow like Jacob’s +ladder, in them diggins, I guess. It’s about, as stunted as Gineral +Nichodemus Ott’s corn was. + +“The Gineral was takin’ a ride with a southerner one day over his farm +to Bangor in Maine, to see his crops, fixin mill privileges and what +not, and the southerner was a turning up his nose at every thing amost, +proper scorney, and braggin’ how things growed on his estate down south. +At last the Gineral’s ebenezer began to rise, and he got as mad as a +hatter, and was intarmed to take a rise out of him. + +“‘So,’ says he, ‘stranger,’ says he, ‘you talk about your Indgian corn, +as if nobody else raised any but yourself. Now I’ll bet you a thousand +dollars, I have corn that’s growd so wonderful, you can’t reach the top +of it a standin’ on your horse.’ + +“‘Done,’ sais Southener, and ‘Done,’ sais the General, and done it was. + +“‘Now,’ sais the Giniral, ‘stand up on your saddle like a circus rider, +for the field is round that corner of the wood there.’ And the entire +stranger stood up as stiff as a poker. ‘Tall corn, I guess,’ sais he, +‘if I can’t reach it, any how, for I can e’en a’most reach the top o’ +them trees. I think I feel them thousand dollars of yourn, a marchin’ +quick step into my pocket, four deep. Reach your corn, to be sure I +will. Who the plague, ever see’d corn so tall, that a man couldn’t reach +it a horseback.’ + +“‘Try it,’ sais the Gineral, as he led him into the field, where the +corn was only a foot high, the land was so monstrous, mean and so +beggarly poor. + +“‘Reach it,’ sais the Gineral. + +“‘What a damned Yankee trick,’ sais the Southener. ‘What a take in +this is, ain’t it?’ and he leapt, and hopt, and jumped like a snappin’ +turtle, he was so mad. Yes, common sense to Ireland, is like Indgian +corn to Bangor, it ain’t overly tall growin’, that’s a fact. We must see +both these countries together. It is like the nigger’s pig to the West +Indies “little and dam old.” + +“Oh, come back soon, Squire, I have a thousand things, I want to tell +you, and I shall forget one half o’ them, if you don’t; and besides,” + said he in an onder tone, “_he_” (nodding his head towards Mr. +Hopewell,) “will miss you shockingly. He frets horridly about his flock. +He says, ‘’Mancipation and Temperance have superceded the Scriptures +in the States. That formerly they preached religion there, but now they +only preach about niggers and rum.’ Good bye, Squire.” + +“You do right, Squire,” said Mr. Hopewell, “to go. That which has to +be done, should be done soon, for we have not always the command of our +time. See your friend, for the claims of friendship are sacred; and see +your family tomb-stones also, for the sight of them, will awaken a train +of reflections in a mind like yours, at once melancholy and elevating; +but I will not deprive you of the pleasure you will derive from first +impressions, by stripping them of their novelty. You will be pleased +with the Scotch; they are a frugal, industrious, moral and intellectual +people. I should like to see their agriculture, I am told it is by far +the best in Europe. + +“But, Squire, I shall hope to see you soon, for I sometimes think duty +calls me home again. Although my little flock has chosen other shepherds +and quitted my fold, some of them may have seen their error, and wish to +return. And ought I not to be there to receive them? It is true, I am no +longer a labourer in the vineyard, but my heart is there. I should like +to walk round and round the wall that encloses it, and climb up, and +look into it, and talk to them that are at work there. I might give some +advice that would be valuable to them. The blossoms require shelter, and +the fruit requires heat, and the roots need covering in Winter. The vine +too is luxuriant, and must be pruned, or it will produce nothing but +wood. It demands constant care and constant labour; I had decorated the +little place with flowers too, to make it attractive and pleasant. + +“But, ah me! dissent will pull all these up like weeds, and throw them +out; and scepticism will raise nothing but gaudy annuals. The perennials +will not flourish without cultivating and enriching the ground; _their +roots are in the heart_. The religion of our Church, which is the same +as this of England, is a religion which inculcates love: filial love +towards God; paternal love to those committed to our care; brotherly +love, to our neighbour, nay, something more than is known by that term +in its common acceptation, for we are instructed to love our neighbour +as ourselves. + +“We are directed to commence our prayer with “Our Father.” How much +of love, of tenderness, of forbearance, of kindness, of liberality, is +embodied in that word--children: of the same father, members of the same +great human family I Love is the bond of union--love dwelleth in the +heart; and the heart must be cultivated, that the seeds of affection may +germinate in it. + +“Dissent is cold and sour; it never appeals to the affections, but it +scatters denunciations, and rules by terror. Scepticism is proud +and self-sufficient. It refuses to believe in mysteries and deals in +rhetoric and sophistry, and flatters the vanity, by exalting human +reason. My poor lost flock will see the change, and I fear, feel it too. +Besides, absence is a temporary death. Now I am gone from them, they +will forget my frailties and infirmities, and dwell on what little good +might have been in me, and, perhaps, yearn towards me. + +“If I was to return, perhaps I could make an impression on the minds of +some, and recall two or three, if not more, to a sense of duty. What a +great thing that would be, wouldn’t it? And if I did, I would get our +bishop to send me a pious, zealous, humble-minded, affectionate, able +young man, as a successor; and I would leave my farm, and orchard, and +little matters, as a glebe for the Church. And who knows but the +Lord may yet rescue Slickville from the inroads of ignorant fanatics, +political dissenters, and wicked infidels? + +“And besides, my good friend, I have much to say to you, relative to +the present condition and future prospects of this great country. I have +lived to see a few ambitious lawyers, restless demagogues, political +preachers, and unemployed local officers of provincial regiments, +agitate and sever thirteen colonies at one time from the government of +England. I have witnessed the struggle. It was a fearful, a bloody and +an unnatural one. My opinions, therefore, are strong in proportion as my +experience is great. I have abstained on account of their appearing like +preconceptions from saying much to you yet, for I want to see more of +this country, and to be certain, that I am quite right before I speak. + +“When you return, I will give you my views on some of the great +questions of the day. Don’t adopt them, hear them and compare them with +your own. I would have you think for yourself, for I am an old man now +and sometimes I distrust my powers of mind. + +“The state of this country you, in your situation, ought to be +thoroughly acquainted with. It is a very perilous one. Its prosperity, +its integrity, nay its existence as a first-rate power, hangs by a +thread, and that thread but little better and stronger than a cotton +one. _Quem Deus vult perdere prius dementat_. I look in vain for that +constitutional vigour, and intellectual power, which once ruled the +destinies of this great nation. + +“There is an aberration of intellect, and a want of self-possession here +that alarms me. I say, alarms me, for American as I am by birth, and +republican as I am from the force of circumstances, I cannot but regard +England with great interest, and with great affection. What a beautiful +country! What a noble constitution! What a high minded, intelligent, and +generous people! When the Whigs came into office, the Tories were not +a party, they were the people of England. Where and what are they now? +Will they ever have a lucid interval, or again recognise the sound of +their own name? And yet, Sam, doubtful as the prospect of their recovery +is, and fearful as the consequences of a continuance of their malady +appear to be, one thing is most certain, _a Tory government is the +proper government for a monarchy, a suitable one for any country, but +it is the only one for England_. I do not mean an ultra one, for I am +a moderate man, and all extremes are equally to be avoided. I mean a +temperate, but firm one: steady to its friends, just to its enemies, and +inflexible to all. “When compelled to yield, it should be by the force +of reason, and never by the power of agitation. Its measures should be +actuated by a sense of what is right, and not what is expedient, for +to concede is to recede--to recede is to evince weakness--and to betray +weakness is to invite attack. + +“I am a stranger here. I do not understand this new word, Conservatism. +I comprehend the other two, Toryism and Liberalism. The one is a +monarchical, and the other a republican word. The term, Conservatism, +I suppose, designates a party formed out of the moderate men of both +sides, or rather, composed of Low-toned Tories and High Whigs. I do not +like to express a decided opinion yet, but my first impression is always +adverse to mixtures, for a mixture renders impure the elements of which +it is compounded. Every thing will depend on the preponderance of the +wholesome over the deleterious ingredients. I will analyse it carefully. +See how one neutralizes or improves the other, and what the effect of +the compound is likely to be on the constitution. I will request our +Ambassador, Everett, or Sam’s friend, the Minister Extraordinary, +Abednego Layman, to introduce me to Sir Robert Peel, and will endeavour +to obtain all possible information from the best possible source. + +“On your return I will give you a candid and deliberate opinion.” + +After a silence of some minutes, during which he walked up and down +the room in a fit of abstraction, he suddenly paused, and said, as if +thinking aloud-- + +“Hem, hem--so you are going to cross the border, eh? That northern +intellect is strong. Able men the Scotch, a little too radical in +politics, and a little too liberal, as it is called, in a matter of much +greater consequence; but a superior people, on the whole. They will give +you a warm reception, will the Scotch. Your name will insure that; and +they are clannish; and another warm reception will, I assure you, await +you here, when, returning, you again _Cross the Border_.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV. THE IRISH PREFACE. + +Gentle reader, + +If an Irishman were asked what a preface was, he would, without +hesitation reply, that it was the last chapter of a book, and we should +unquestionably pronounce that answer to be a bull; for how can prefatory +remarks be valedictory ones? A few moments’ consideration, however, +would induce us to withdraw such a hasty opinion, and convince us that +his idea is, after all, a correct one. It is almost always the part +that is last written, and _we_ perpetrate the bull, by placing it at the +beginning instead of the end of the book, and denominating our parting +words introductory remarks. + +The result of our arrangement is, that nobody reads it. The public do +not want to hear an apology or explanation, until it first ascertains, +whether the one can be accepted, or the other is required. This +contemptuous neglect arises from two causes, first because it is out +of place, and secondly because it too often contains a great deal +of twaddle. Unfortunately, one half of what is said in this world is +unmeaning compliment. A man who wishes to mark his respect for you, +among other inconvenient methods of shewing it, offers to accompany you +to the Hall. You are in consequence arrested in your progress. You are +compelled to turn on your pursuer, and entreat him not to come to the +door. After a good deal of lost time he is prevailed upon to return. +This is not fair. Every man should be suffered to depart in peace. + +Now, it is my intention to adopt the Irish definition. The word preface +is a misnomer. What I have to say I shall put into my last chapter, and +assign to it its proper place. I shall also adopt another improvement, +on the usual practice. I shall make it as short as possible, and speak +to the point. + +My intention then, gentle reader, was when I commenced this work, to +write but one volume, and at some future time to publish a second. +The materials, however, were so abundant, that selection became very +difficult, and compression much more so. To touch as many topics as I +designed, I was compelled to extend it to its present size, and I still +feel that the work is only half done. Whether I shall ever be able to +supply this deficiency I cannot say. I do not doubt your kind reception; +I have experienced too much indulgence and favour at your hands, to +suppose that you will withdraw it from one whom you have honoured with +repeated marks of approbation; but I entertain some fears that I shall +not be able to obtain the time that is necessary for its completion, +and that if I can command the leisure, my health will insist on a prior +claim to its disposal. + +If, however, I shall be enabled so to do, it is my intention, hereafter +to add another series of the Sayings and Doings of the Attache, so as to +make the work as complete as possible. + +I am quite confident it is not necessary to add, that the sentiments +uttered by Mr. Slick, are not designed either as an expression of those +of the author, or of the Americans who visit this country. With respect +to myself no disavowal is necessary; but I feel it due to my American +friends, for whose kindness I can never be sufficiently grateful, +and whose good opinion I value too highly to jeopardise it by any +misapprehension, to state distinctly, that I have not the most remote +idea of putting Mr. Slick forward, as a representative of any opinions, +but his own individual ones. They are peculiar to himself. +They naturally result from his shrewdness--knowledge of human +nature--quickness of perception and appreciation of the ridiculous on +the one hand; and on the other from his defective education, ignorance +of the usages of society, and sudden elevation, from the lower walks of +life, to a station for which he was wholly unqualified. + +I have endeavoured, as far as it was possible, in a work of this kind, +to avoid all personal allusions to _private_ persons, or in any way to +refer to scenes that may be supposed to have such a hearing. Should any +one imagine that he can trace any resemblance, to any private occurrence +I can only assure him that such resemblance is quite accidental. + +On the other hand, I have lost no opportunity of inculcating what I +conceive to be good sound constitutional doctrines. Loyal myself, a +great admirer of the monarchical form of government; attached to British +Institutions, and a devoted advocate for the permanent connexion +between the parent State, and its transatlantic possessions, I have not +hesitated to give utterance to these opinions. Born a Colonist, it is +natural I should have the feelings of one, and if I have obtruded +local matters on the notice of the reader oftener than may be thought +necessary, it must be remembered that an inhabitant of those distant +countries has seldom an opportunity of being heard. I should feel, +therefore, if I were to pass over in silence our claims or our +interests, I was affording the best justification for that neglect, +which for the last half century, has cramped our energies, paralized our +efforts, and discouraged and disheartened ourselves. England is liberal +in concessions, and munificent in her pecuniary grants to us; but is +so much engrossed with domestic politics, that she will bestow upon us +neither time nor consideration. + +It has been my object, therefore, to convey to the public some important +truths, under a humorous cover, which, without the amusement afforded by +the wrapper would never be even looked at. + +This portion of the work requires no apology. To do as I have done, is +a duty incumbent on any person who has the means of doing good, afforded +him by such an extensive circulation of his works, as I have been +honoured with. + +I have already expressed some doubts whether I shall be enabled to +furnish a second series of this work or not. In this uncertainty, I will +not omit this, perhaps my only opportunity, of making my most grateful +acknowledgments, for the very great measure of indulgence I have +received, from the public on both sides of the Atlantic, and of +expressing a hope that Mr. Slick, who has been so popular as a +Clockmaker may prove himself equally deserving of favour as “an +Attache.” + +I have the honour to subscribe myself, + +Your most obedient servant, + +THE AUTHOR. + +London, July 1st., 1843. + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Attache, by Thomas Chandler Haliburton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATTACHE *** + +***** This file should be named 7823-0.txt or 7823-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/2/7823/ + +Produced by Gardner Buchanan + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/7823-0.zip b/7823-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d27b7e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/7823-0.zip diff --git a/7823-h.zip b/7823-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..19c967b --- /dev/null +++ b/7823-h.zip diff --git a/7823-h/7823-h.htm b/7823-h/7823-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e619210 --- /dev/null +++ b/7823-h/7823-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10777 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Attache, by Thomas Chandler Haliburton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Attache, by Thomas Chandler Haliburton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Attache + or, Sam Slick in England, Complete + +Author: Thomas Chandler Haliburton + +Release Date: July 23, 2009 [EBook #7823] +Last Updated: October 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATTACHE *** + + + + +Produced by Gardner Buchanan, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE ATTACHE + </h1> + <h2> + or, SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Thomas Chandler Haliburton + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + (Greek Text)—GREEK PROVERB. + </p> + <p> + Tell you what, report my speeches if you like, but if you put my talk in, + I’ll give you the mitten, as sure as you are born.—SLICKVILLE + TRANSLATION + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + London, July 3rd, 1843. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR HOPKINSON, + </p> + <p> + I have spent so many agreeable hours at Edgeworth heretofore, that my + first visit on leaving London, will be to your hospitable mansion. In the + meantime, I beg leave to introduce to you my “Attache,” who will precede + me several days. His politics are similar to your own; I wish I could say + as much in favour of his humour. His eccentricities will stand in need of + your indulgence; but if you can overlook these, I am not without hopes + that his originality, quaint sayings, and queer views of things in + England, will afford you some amusement. At all events, I feel assured you + will receive him kindly; if not for his own merits, at least for the sake + of + </p> + <p> + Yours always, + </p> + <p> + THE AUTHOR. + </p> + <p> + To EDMUND HOPKINSON ESQ. Edgeworth, Gloucestershire. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>THE ATTACHE; OR SAM SLICK IN + ENGLAND.</b></big> </a><br /><br /> <big><b>FIRST VOLUME</b></big> <br /><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> UNCORKING A BOTTLE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> A JUICY + DAY IN THE COUNTRY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> TYING + A NIGHT-CAP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> HOME + AND THE SEA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> T’OTHER + EEND OF THE GUN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> SMALL + POTATOES AND FEW IN A HILL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER + VII. </a> A GENTLEMAN AT LARGE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> SEEING LIVERPOOL + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> CHANGING + A NAME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE + NELSON MONUMENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> COTTAGES + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> STEALING + THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER + XIII. </a> NATUR’ <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE SOCDOLAGER <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> DINING OUT <br /><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> <big><b>THE SECOND VOLUME.</b></big> </a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE NOSE OF A SPY + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE + PATRON; OR, THE COW’S TAIL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER + III. </a> ASCOT RACES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> + CHAPTER IV. </a> THE GANDER PULLING <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE BLACK STOLE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER VI. </a> THE PRINCE DE + JOINVILLE’S HORSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER VII. </a> LIFE + IN THE COUNTRY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> BUNKUM + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THROWING + THE LAVENDER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER X. </a> AIMING + HIGH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XI. </a> A + SWOI-REE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XII. </a> TATTERSALL’S + OR, THE ELDER AND THE GRAVE DIGGER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> + CHAPTER XIII. </a> LOOKING BACK <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> CROSSING THE BORDER + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XV. </a> THE + IRISH PREFACE <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE ATTACHE; OR SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. UNCORKING A BOTTLE. + </h2> + <p> + We left New York in the afternoon of — day of May, 184-, and + embarked on board of the good Packet ship “Tyler” for England. Our party + consisted of the Reverend Mr. Hopewell, Samuel Slick, Esq., myself, and + Jube Japan, a black servant of the Attache. + </p> + <p> + I love brevity—I am a man of few words, and, therefore, + constitutionally economical of them; but brevity is apt to degenerate into + obscurity. Writing a book, however, and book-making, are two very + different things: “spinning a yarn” is mechanical, and book-making savours + of trade, and is the employment of a manufacturer. The author by + profession, weaves his web by the piece, and as there is much competition + in this branch of trade, extends it over the greatest possible surface, so + as to make the most of his raw material. Hence every work of fancy is made + to reach to three volumes, otherwise it will not pay, and a manufacture + that does not requite the cost of production, invariably and inevitably + terminates in bankruptcy. A thought, therefore, like a pound of cotton, + must be well spun out to be valuable. It is very contemptuous to say of a + man, that he has but one idea, but it is the highest meed of praise that + can be bestowed on a book. A man, who writes thus, can write for ever. + </p> + <p> + Now, it is not only not my intention to write for ever, or as Mr. Slick + would say “for everlastinly;” but to make my bow and retire very soon from + the press altogether. I might assign many reasons for this modest course, + all of them plausible, and some of them indeed quite dignified. I like + dignity: any man who has lived the greater part of his life in a colony is + so accustomed to it, that he becomes quite enamoured of it, and wrapping + himself up in it as a cloak, stalks abroad the “observed of all + observers.” I could undervalue this species of writing if I thought + proper, affect a contempt for idiomatic humour, or hint at the employment + being inconsistent with the grave discharge of important official duties, + which are so distressingly onerous, as not to leave me a moment for + recreation; but these airs, though dignified, will unfortunately not avail + me. I shall put my dignity into my pocket, therefore, and disclose the + real cause of this diffidence. + </p> + <p> + In the year one thousand eight hundred and fourteen, I embarked at Halifax + on board the Buffalo store-ship for England. She was a noble teak built + ship of twelve or thirteen hundred tons burden, had excellent + accommodation, and carried over to merry old England, a very merry party + of passengers, <i>quorum parva pars fui</i>, a youngster just emerged from + college. + </p> + <p> + On the banks of Newfoundland we were becalmed, and the passengers amused + themselves by throwing overboard a bottle, and shooting at it with ball. + The guns used for this occasion, were the King’s muskets, taken from the + arm-chest on the quarter-deck. The shooting was execrable. It was hard to + say which were worse marksmen, the officers of the ship, or the + passengers. Not a bottle was hit: many reasons were offered for this + failure, but the two principal ones were, that the muskets were bad, and + that it required great skill to overcome the difficulty occasioned by + both, the vessel and the bottle being in motion at the same time, and that + motion dissimilar. + </p> + <p> + I lost my patience. I had never practised shooting with ball; I had + frightened a few snipe, and wounded a few partridges, but that was the + extent of my experience. I knew, however, that I could not by any + possibility shoot worse than every body else had done, and might by + accident shoot better. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a gun, Captain,” said I, “and I will shew you how to uncork that + bottle.” + </p> + <p> + I took the musket, but its weight was beyond my strength of arm. I was + afraid that I could not hold it out steadily, even for a moment, it was so + very heavy—I threw it up with a desperate effort and fired. The neck + of the bottle flew up in the air a full yard, and then disappeared. I was + amazed myself at my success. Every body was surprised, but as every body + attributed it to long practice, they were not so much astonished as I was, + who knew it was wholly owing to chance. It was a lucky hit, and I made the + most of it; success made me arrogant, and boy-like, I became a boaster. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said I coolly, “you must be born with a rifle in your hand, Captain, + to shoot well. Every body shoots well in America. I do not call myself a + good shot. I have not had the requisite experience; but there are those + who can take out the eye of a squirrel at a hundred yards.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you see the eye of a squirrel at that distance?” said the Captain, + with a knowing wink of his own little ferret eye. + </p> + <p> + That question, which raised a general laugh at my expense, was a puzzler. + The absurdity of the story, which I had heard a thousand times, never + struck me so forcibly. But I was not to be pat down so easily. + </p> + <p> + “See it!” said I, “why not? Try it and you will find your sight improve + with your shooting. Now, I can’t boast of being a good marksman myself; my + studies” (and here I looked big, for I doubted if he could even read, much + less construe a chapter in the Greek Testament) “did not leave me much + time. A squirrel is too small an object for all but an experienced man, + but a “<i>large</i>” mark like a quart bottle can easily be hit at a + hundred yards—that is nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take you a bet,” said he, “of a doubloon, you do not do it again?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” I replied with great indifference: “I never bet, and besides, + that gun has so injured my shoulder, that I could not, if I would.” + </p> + <p> + By that accidental shot, I obtained a great name as a marksman, and by + prudence I retained it all the voyage. This is precisely my case now, + gentle reader. I made an accidental hit with the Clockmaker: when he + ceases to speak, I shall cease to write. The little reputation I then + acquired, I do not intend to jeopardize by trying too many experiments. I + know that it was chance—many people think it was skill. If they + choose to think so, they have a right to their opinion, and that opinion + is fame. I value this reputation too highly not to take care of it. + </p> + <p> + As I do not intend then to write often, I shall not wire-draw my subjects, + for the mere purpose of filling my pages. Still a book should be perfect + within itself, and intelligible without reference to other books. Authors + are vain people, and vanity as well as dignity is indigenous to a colony. + Like a pastry-cook’s apprentice, I see so much of both their sweet things + around me daily, that I have no appetite for either of them. + </p> + <p> + I might perhaps be pardoned, if I took it for granted, that the dramatis + personae of this work were sufficiently known, not to require a particular + introduction. Dickens assumed the fact that his book on America would + travel wherever the English language was spoken, and, therefore, called it + “Notes for General Circulation.” Even Colonists say, that this was too + bad, and if they say so, it must be so. I shall, therefore, briefly state, + who and what the persons are that composed our travelling party, as if + they were wholly unknown to fame, and then leave them to speak for + themselves. + </p> + <p> + The Reverend Mr. Hopewell is a very aged clergyman of the Church of + England, and was educated at Cambridge College, in Massachusetts. + Previously to the revolution, he was appointed rector of a small parish in + Connecticut. When the colonies obtained their independence, he remained + with his little flock in his native land, and continued to minister to + their spiritual wants until within a few years, when his parishioners + becoming Unitarians, gave him his dismissal. Affable in his manners and + simple in his habits, with a mind well stored with human lore, and a heart + full of kindness for his fellow-creatures, he was at once an agreeable and + an instructive companion. Born and educated in the United States, when + they were British dependencies, and possessed of a thorough knowledge of + the causes which led to the rebellion, and the means used to hasten the + crisis, he was at home on all colonial topics; while his great experience + of both monarchical and democratical governments, derived from a long + residence in both, made him a most valuable authority on politics + generally. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Samuel Slick is a native of the same parish, and received his + education from Mr. Hopewell. I first became acquainted with him while + travelling in Nova Scotia. He was then a manufacturer and vendor of wooden + clocks. My first impression of him was by no means favourable. He forced + himself most unceremoniously into my company and conversation. I was + disposed to shake him off, but could not. Talk he would, and as his talk + was of that kind, which did not require much reply on my part, he took my + silence for acquiescence, and talked on. I soon found that he was a + character; and, as he knew every part of the lower colonies, and every + body in them, I employed him as my guide. + </p> + <p> + I have made at different times three several tours with him, the results + of which I have given in three several series of a work, entitled the + “Clockmaker, or the Sayings and Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick.” Our last tour + terminated at New York, where, in consequence of the celebrity he obtained + from these “Sayings and Doings” he received the appointment of Attache to + the American Legation at the Court of St. James’s. The object of this work + is to continue the record of his observations and proceedings in England. + </p> + <p> + The third person of the party, gentle reader, is your humble servant, + Thomas Poker, Esquire, a native of Nova Scotia, and a retired member of + the Provincial bar. My name will seldom appear in these pages, as I am + uniformly addressed by both my companions as “Squire,” nor shall I have to + perform the disagreeable task of “reporting my own speeches,” for + naturally taciturn, I delight in listening rather than talking, and + modestly prefer the duties of an amanuensis, to the responsibilities of + original composition. + </p> + <p> + The last personage is Jube Japan, a black servant of the Attache. + </p> + <p> + Such are the persons who composed the little party that embarked at New + York, on board the Packet ship “Tyler,” and sailed on the — of May, + 184-, for England. + </p> + <p> + The motto prefixed to this work + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Greek Text) +</pre> + <p> + sufficiently explains its character. Classes and not individuals have been + selected for observation. National traits are fair subjects for satire or + for praise, but personal peculiarities claim the privilege of exemption in + right of that hospitality, through whose medium they have been alone + exhibited. Public topics are public property; every body has a right to + use them without leave and without apology. It is only when we quit the + limits of this “common” and enter upon “private grounds,” that we are + guilty of “a trespass.” This distinction is alike obvious to good sense + and right feeling. I have endeavoured to keep it constantly in view; and + if at any time I shall be supposed to have erred (I say “supposed,” for I + am unconscious of having done so) I must claim the indulgence always + granted to involuntary offences. + </p> + <p> + Now the patience of my reader may fairly be considered a “private right.” + I shall, therefore, respect its boundaries and proceed at once with my + narrative, having been already quite long enough about “uncorking a + bottle.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. A JUICY DAY IN THE COUNTRY. + </h2> + <p> + All our preparations for the voyage having been completed, we spent the + last day at our disposal, in visiting Brooklyn. The weather was uncommonly + fine, the sky being perfectly clear and unclouded; and though the sun + shone out brilliantly, the heat was tempered by a cool, bracing, + westwardly wind. Its influence was perceptible on the spirits of every + body on board the ferry-boat that transported us across the harbour. + </p> + <p> + “Squire,” said Mr. Slick, aint this as pretty a day as you’ll see atween + this and Nova Scotia?—You can’t beat American weather, when it + chooses, in no part of the world I’ve ever been in yet. This day is a + tip-topper, and it’s the last we’ll see of the kind till we get back agin, + <i>I</i> know. Take a fool’s advice, for once, and stick to it, as long as + there is any of it left, for you’ll see the difference when you get to + England. There never was so rainy a place in the univarse, as that, I + don’t think, unless it’s Ireland, and the only difference atween them two + is that it rains every day amost in England, and in Ireland it rains every + day and every night too. It’s awful, and you must keep out of a + country-house in such weather, or you’ll go for it; it will kill you, + that’s sartain. I shall never forget a juicy day I once spent in one of + them dismal old places. I’ll tell you how I came to be there. + </p> + <p> + “The last time I was to England, I was a dinin’ with our consul to + Liverpool, and a very gentleman-like old man he was too; he was appointed + by Washington, and had been there ever since our glorious revolution. + Folks gave him a great name, they said he was a credit to us. Well, I met + at his table one day an old country squire, that lived somewhere down in + Shropshire, close on to Wales, and says he to me, arter cloth was off and + cigars on, ‘Mr. Slick,’ says he, ‘I’ll be very glad to see you to Norman + Manor,’ (that was the place where he staid, when he was to home). ‘If you + will return with me I shall be glad to shew you the country in my + neighbourhood, which is said to be considerable pretty.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ says I, ‘as I have nothin’ above particular to see to, I don’t + care if I do go.’ + </p> + <p> + “So off we started; and this I will say, he was as kind as he cleverly + knew how to be, and that is sayin’ a great deal for a man that didn’t know + nothin’ out of sight of his own clearin’ hardly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, when we got there, the house was chock full of company, and + considerin’ it warn’t an overly large one, and that Britishers won’t stay + in a house, unless every feller gets a separate bed, it’s a wonder to me, + how he stowed away as many as he did. Says he, ‘Excuse your quarters, Mr. + Slick, but I find more company nor I expected here. In a day or two, some + on ‘em will be off, and then you shall be better provided.’ + </p> + <p> + “With that I was showed up a great staircase, and out o’ that by a + door-way into a narrer entry and from that into an old T like looking + building, that stuck out behind the house. It warn’t the common company + sleepin’ room, I expect, but kinder make shifts, tho’ they was good enough + too for the matter o’ that; at all events I don’t want no better. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I had hardly got well housed a’most, afore it came on to rain, as + if it was in rael right down airnest. It warn’t just a roarin’, racin’, + sneezin’ rain like a thunder shower, but it kept a steady travellin’ gait, + up hill and down dale, and no breathin’ time nor batin’ spell. It didn’t + look as if it would stop till it was done, that’s a fact. But still as it + was too late to go out agin that arternoon, I didn’t think much about it + then. I hadn’t no notion what was in store for me next day, no more nor a + child; if I had, I’d a double deal sooner hanged myself, than gone + brousing in such place as that, in sticky weather. + </p> + <p> + “A wet day is considerable tiresome, any where or any way you can fix it; + but it’s wus at an English country house than any where else, cause you + are among strangers, formal, cold, gallus polite, and as thick in the + head-piece as a puncheon. You hante nothin’ to do yourself and they never + have nothin’ to do; they don’t know nothin’ about America, and don’t want + to. Your talk don’t interest them, and they can’t talk to interest nobody + but themselves; all you’ve got to do, is to pull out your watch and see + how time goes; how much of the day is left, and then go to the winder and + see how the sky looks, and whether there is any chance of holdin’ up or + no. Well, that time I went to bed a little airlier than common, for I felt + considerable sleepy, and considerable strange too; so as soon as I + cleverly could, I off and turned in. + </p> + <p> + “Well I am an airly riser myself. I always was from a boy, so I waked up + jist about the time when day ought to break, and was a thinkin’ to get up; + but the shutters was too, and it was as dark as ink in the room, and I + heer’d it rainin’ away for dear life. ‘So,’ sais I to myself, ‘what the + dogs is the use of gittin’ up so airly? I can’t get out and get a smoke, + and I can’t do nothin’ here; so here goes for a second nap.’ Well I was + soon off agin in a most a beautiful of a snore, when all at once I heard + thump-thump agin the shutter—and the most horrid noise I ever heerd + since I was raised; it was sunthin’ quite onairthly. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hallo!’ says I to myself, ‘what in natur is all this hubbub about? Can + this here confounded old house be harnted? Is them spirits that’s + jabbering gibberish there, or is I wide awake or no?’ So I sets right up + on my hind legs in bed, rubs my eyes, opens my ears and listens agin, when + whop went every shutter agin, with a dead heavy sound, like somethin’ or + another thrown agin ‘em, or fallin’ agin ‘em, and then comes the unknown + tongues in discord chorus like. Sais I, ‘I know now, it’s them cussed + navigators. They’ve besot the house, and are a givin’ lip to frighten + folks. It’s regular banditti.’ + </p> + <p> + “So I jist hops out of bed, and feels for my trunk, and outs with my + talkin’ irons, that was all ready loaded, pokes my way to the winder—shoves + the sash up and outs with the shutter, ready to let slip among ‘em. And + what do you think it was?—Hundreds and hundreds of them nasty, + dirty, filthy, ugly, black devils of rooks, located in the trees at the + back eend of the house. Old Nick couldn’t have slept near ‘em; caw caw, + caw, all mixt up together in one jumble of a sound, like “jawe.” + </p> + <p> + “You black, evil-lookin’, foul-mouthed villains,’ sais I, ‘I’d like no + better sport than jist to sit here, all this blessed day with these + pistols, and drop you one arter another, <i>I</i> know.’ But they was + pets, was them rooks, and of course like all pets, everlastin’ nuisances + to every body else. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when a man’s in a feeze, there’s no more sleep that hitch; so I + dresses and sits up; but what was I to do? It was jist half past four, and + as it was a rainin’ like every thing, I know’d breakfast wouldn’t be ready + till eleven o’clock, for nobody wouldn’t get up if they could help it—they + wouldn’t be such fools; so there was jail for six hours and a half. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I walked up and down the room, as easy as I could, not to waken + folks; but three steps and a round turn makes you kinder dizzy, so I sits + down again to chaw the cud of vexation. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ain’t this a handsum fix?’ sais I, ‘but it sarves you right, what + busniss had you here at all? you always was a fool, and always will be to + the eend of the chapter.—‘What in natur are you a scoldin’ for?’ + sais I: ‘that won’t mend the matter; how’s time? They must soon be a + stirrin’ now, I guess.’ Well, as I am a livin’ sinner, it was only five + o’clock; ‘oh dear,’ sais I, ‘time is like women and pigs the more you want + it to go, the more it won’t. What on airth shall I do?—guess, I’ll + strap my rasor.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, I strapped and strapped away, until it would cut a single hair + pulled strait up on eend out o’ your head, without bendin’ it—take + it off slick. ‘Now,’ sais I, ‘I’ll mend my trowsers I tore, a goin’ to see + the ruin on the road yesterday; so I takes out Sister Sall’s little + needle-case, and sows away till I got them to look considerable jam agin; + ‘and then,’ sais I, ‘here’s a gallus button off, I’ll jist fix that,’ and + when that was done, there was a hole to my yarn sock, so I turned too and + darned that. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now,’ sais I, ‘how goes it? I’m considerable sharp set. It must be + gettin’ tolerable late now.’ It wanted a quarter to six. ‘My! sakes,’ sais + I, ‘five hours and a quarter yet afore feedin’ time; well if that don’t + pass. What shall I do next?’ ‘I’ll tell you what to do,’ sais I, ‘smoke, + that will take the edge of your appetite off, and if they don’t like it, + they may lump it; what business have they to keep them horrid screetchin’ + infarnal, sleepless rooks to disturb people that way?’ Well, I takes a + lucifer, and lights a cigar, and I puts my head up the chimbly to let the + smoke off, and it felt good, I promise <i>you</i>. I don’t know as I ever + enjoyed one half so much afore. It had a rael first chop flavour had that + cigar. + </p> + <p> + “‘When that was done,’ sais I, ‘What do you say to another?’ ‘Well, I + don’t know,’ sais I, ‘I should like it, that’s a fact; but holdin’ of my + head crooked up chimbly that way, has a’ most broke my neck; I’ve got the + cramp in it like.’ + </p> + <p> + “So I sot, and shook my head first a one side and then the other, and then + turned it on its hinges as far as it would go, till it felt about right, + and then I lights another, and puts my head in the flue again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, smokin’ makes, a feller feel kinder good-natured, and I began to + think it warn’t quite so bad arter all, when whop went my cigar right out + of my mouth into my bosom, atween the shirt and the skin, and burnt me + like a gally nipper. Both my eyes was fill’d at the same time, and I got a + crack on the pate from some critter or another that clawed and scratched + my head like any thing, and then seemed to empty a bushel of sut on me, + and I looked like a chimbly sweep, and felt like old Scratch himself. My + smoke had brought down a chimbly swaller, or a martin, or some such + varmint, for it up and off agin’ afore I could catch it, to wring its + infarnal neck off, that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here was somethin’ to do, and no mistake: here was to clean and + groom up agin’ till all was in its right shape; and a pretty job it was, I + tell you. I thought I never should get the sut out of my hair, and then + never get it out of my brush again, and my eyes smarted so, they did + nothing but water, and wink, and make faces. But I did; I worked on and + worked on, till all was sot right once more. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now,’ sais I, ‘how’s time?’ ‘half past seven,’ sais I, ‘and three hours + and a half more yet to breakfast. Well,’ sais I, ‘I can’t stand this—and + what’s more I won’t: I begin to get my Ebenezer up, and feel wolfish. I’ll + ring up the handsum chamber-maid, and just fall to, and chaw her right up—I’m + savagerous.‘* ‘That’s cowardly,’ sais I, ‘call the footman, pick a quarrel + with him and kick him down stairs, speak but one word to him, and let that + be strong enough to skin the coon arter it has killed him, the noise will + wake up folks <i>I</i> know, and then we shall have sunthin’ to eat.’ + </p> + <p> + [* Footnote: The word “savagerous” is not of “Yankee” but of “Western + origin.”—Its use in this place is best explained by the following + extract from the Third Series of the Clockmaker. “In order that the sketch + which I am now about to give may be fully understood, it may be necessary + to request the reader to recollect that Mr. Slick is a <i>Yankee</i>, a + designation the origin of which is now not very obvious, but it has been + assumed by, and conceded by common consent to, the inhabitants of New + England. It is a name, though sometimes satirically used, of which they + have great reason to be proud, as it is descriptive of a most cultivated, + intelligent, enterprising, frugal, and industrious population, who may + well challenge a comparison with the inhabitants of any other country in + the world; but it has only a local application. + </p> + <p> + “The United States cover an immense extent of territory, and the + inhabitants of different parts of the Union differ as widely in character, + feelings, and even in appearance, as the people of different countries + usually do. These sections differ also in dialect and in humour, as much + as in other things, and to as great, if not a greater extent, than the + natives of different parts of Great Britain vary from each other. It is + customary in Europe to call all Americans, Yankees; but it is as much a + misnomer as it would be to call all Europeans Frenchmen. Throughout these + works it will be observed, that Mr. Slick’s pronunciation is that of the + Yankee, or an inhabitant of the <i>rural districts</i> of New England. His + conversation is generally purely so; but in some instances he uses, as his + countrymen frequently do from choice, phrases which, though Americanisms, + are not of Eastern origin. Wholly to exclude these would be to violate the + usages of American life; to introduce them oftener would be to confound + two dissimilar dialects, and to make an equal departure from the truth. + Every section has its own characteristic dialect, a very small portion of + which it has imparted to its neighbours. The dry, quaint humour of New + England is occasionally found in the west, and the rich gasconade and + exaggerative language of the west migrates not unfrequently to the east. + This idiomatic exchange is perceptibly on the increase. It arises from the + travelling propensities of the Americans, and the constant intercourse + mutually maintained by the inhabitants of the different States. A droll or + an original expression is thus imported and adopted, and, though not + indigenous, soon becomes engrafted on the general stock of the language of + the country.”—3rd Series, p. 142.] + </p> + <p> + “I was ready to bile right over, when as luck would have it, the rain + stopt all of a sudden, the sun broke out o’ prison, and I thought I never + seed any thing look so green and so beautiful as the country did. ‘Come,’ + sais I, ‘now for a walk down the avenue, and a comfortable smoke, and if + the man at the gate is up and stirrin’, I will just pop in and breakfast + with him and his wife. There is some natur there, but here it’s all cussed + rooks and chimbly swallers, and heavy men and fat women, and lazy helps, + and Sunday every day in the week.’ So I fills my cigar-case and outs into + the passage. + </p> + <p> + “But here was a fix! One of the doors opened into the great staircase, and + which was it? ‘Ay,’ sais I, ‘which is it, do you know?’ ‘Upon my soul, I + don’t know,’ sais I; ‘but try, it’s no use to be caged up here like a + painter, and out I will, that’s a fact.’ + </p> + <p> + “So I stops and studies, ‘that’s it,’ sais I, and I opens a door: it was a + bedroom—it was the likely chambermaid’s. + </p> + <p> + “‘Softly, Sir,’ sais she, a puttin’ of her finger on her lip, ‘don’t make + no noise; Missus will hear you.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ sais I, ‘I won’t make no noise;’ and I outs and shuts the door too + arter me gently. + </p> + <p> + “‘What next?’ sais I; ‘why you fool, you,’ sais I, ‘why didn’t you ax the + sarvant maid, which door it was?’ ‘Why I was so conflastrigated,’ sais I, + ‘I didn’t think of it. Try that door,’ well I opened another, it belonged + to one o’ the horrid hansum stranger galls that dined at table yesterday. + When she seed me, she gave a scream, popt her head onder the clothes, like + a terrapin, and vanished—well I vanished too. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ain’t this too bad?’ sais I; ‘I wish I could open a man’s door, I’d lick + him out of spite; I hope I may be shot if I don’t, and I doubled up my + fist, for I didn’t like it a spec, and opened another door—it was + the housekeeper’s. ‘Come,’ sais I, ‘I won’t be balked no more.’ She sot up + and fixed her cap. A woman never forgets the becomins. + </p> + <p> + “‘Anything I can do for you, Sir?’ sais she, and she raelly did look + pretty; all good natur’d people, it appears to me, do look so. + </p> + <p> + “‘Will you be so good as to tell me, which door leads to the staircase, + Marm?’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, is that all?’ sais she, (I suppose, she thort I wanted her to get up + and get breakfast for me,) ‘it’s the first on the right, and she fixed her + cap agin’ and laid down, and I took the first on the right and off like a + blowed out candle. There was the staircase. I walked down, took my hat, + onbolted the outer door, and what a beautiful day was there. I lit my + cigar, I breathed freely, and I strolled down the avenue. + </p> + <p> + “The bushes glistened, and the grass glistened, and the air was sweet, and + the birds sung, and there was natur’ once more. I walked to the lodge; + they had breakfasted had the old folks, so I chatted away with them for a + considerable of a spell about matters and things in general, and then + turned towards the house agin’. ‘Hallo!’ sais I, ‘what’s this? warn’t that + a drop of rain?’ I looks up, it was another shower by Gosh. I pulls foot + for dear life: it was tall walking you may depend, but the shower wins, + (comprehens<i>ive</i> as my legs be), and down it comes, as hard as all + possest. ‘Take it easy, Sam,’ sais I, ‘your flint is fixed; you are wet + thro’—runnin’ won’t dry you,’ and I settled down to a careless walk, + quite desperate. + </p> + <p> + “‘Nothin’ in natur’, unless it is an Ingin, is so treacherous as the + climate here. It jist clears up on purpose I do believe, to tempt you out + without your umbreller, and jist as sure as you trust it and leave it to + home, it clouds right up, and sarves you out for it—it does indeed. + What a sight of new clothes I’ve spilte here, for the rain has a sort of + dye in it. It stains so, it alters the colour of the cloth, for the smoke + is filled with gas and all sorts of chemicals. Well, back I goes to my + room agin’ to the rooks, chimbly swallers, and all, leavin’ a great + endurin’ streak of wet arter me all the way, like a cracked pitcher that + leaks; onriggs, and puts on dry clothes from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “By this time breakfast is ready; but the English don’t do nothin’ like + other folks; I don’t know whether it’s affectation, or bein’ wrong in the + head—a little of both I guess. Now where do you suppose the solid + part of breakfast is, Squire? Why, it’s on the side-board—I hope I + may be shot if it ain’t—well, the tea and coffee are on the table, + to make it as onconvenient as possible. + </p> + <p> + “Says I, to the lady of the house, as I got up to help myself, for I was + hungry enough to make beef ache I know. ‘Aunty,’ sais I, ‘you’ll excuse + me, but why don’t you put the eatables on the table, or else put the tea + on the side-board? They’re like man and wife, they don’t ought to be + separated, them two.’ + </p> + <p> + “She looked at me, oh what a look of pity it was”, as much as to say, + ‘Where have you been all your born days, not to know better nor that?—but + I guess you don’t know better in the States—how could you know any + thing there?’ But she only said it was the custom here, for she was a very + purlite old woman, was Aunty. + </p> + <p> + “Well sense is sense, let it grow where it will, and I guess we raise + about the best kind, which is common sense, and I warn’t to be put down + with short metre, arter that fashion. So I tried the old man; sais I, + ‘Uncle,’ sais I, ‘if you will divorce the eatables from the drinkables + that way, why not let the servants come and tend. It’s monstrous + onconvenient and ridikilous to be a jumpin’ up for everlastinly that way; + you can’t sit still one blessed minit.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘We think it pleasant,’ said he, ‘sometimes to dispense with their + attendance.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Exactly,’ sais I, ‘then dispense with sarvants at dinner, for when the + wine is in, the wit is out.’ (I said that to compliment him, for the + critter had no wit in at no time,) ‘and they hear all the talk. But at + breakfast every one is only half awake, (especially when you rise so airly + as you do in this country,’ sais I, but the old critter couldn’t see a + joke, even if he felt it, and he didn’t know I was a funnin’.) ‘Folks are + considerably sharp set at breakfast,’ sais I, ‘and not very talkat<i>ive</i>. + That’s the right time to have sarvants to tend on you.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What an idea!’ said he, and he puckered up his pictur, and the way he + stared was a caution to an owl. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we sot and sot till I was tired, so thinks I, ‘what’s next?’ for + it’s rainin’ agin as hard as ever.’ So I took a turn in the study to sarch + for a book, but there was nothin’ there, but a Guide to the Sessions, + Burn’s Justice, and a book of London club rules, and two or three novels. + He said he got books from the sarkilatin’ library. + </p> + <p> + “‘Lunch is ready.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What, eatin’ agin? My goody!’ thinks I, ‘if you are so fond of it, why + the plague don’t you begin airly? If you’d a had it at five o’clock this + morning, I’d a done justice to it; now I couldn’t touch it if I was to + die.’ + </p> + <p> + “There it was, though. Help yourself, and no thanks, for there is no + sarvants agin. The rule here is, no talk no sarvants—and when it’s + all talk, it’s all sarvants. + </p> + <p> + “Thinks I to myself, ‘now, what shall I do till dinner-time, for it rains + so there is no stirrin’ out?—Waiter, where is eldest son?—he + and I will have a game of billiards, I guess.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He is laying down, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Shows his sense,’ sais I, ‘I see, he is not the fool I took him to be. + If I could sleep in the day, I’de turn in too. Where is second son?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Left this mornin’ in the close carriage, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh cuss him, it was him then was it?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What, Sir?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That woke them confounded rooks up, out o’ their fust nap, and kick’t up + such a bobbery. Where is the Parson?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Which one, Sir?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The one that’s so fond of fishing.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ain’t up yet, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, the old boy, that wore breeches.’ + </p> + <p> + “Out on a sick visit to one of the cottages, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “When he comes in, send him to me, I’m shockin’ sick.’ + </p> + <p> + “With that I goes to look arter the two pretty galls in the drawin’ room; + and there was the ladies a chatterin’ away like any thing. The moment I + came in it was as dumb as a quaker’s meetin’. They all hauled up at once, + like a stage-coach to an inn-door, from a hand-gallop to a stock still + stand. I seed men warn’t wanted there, it warn’t the custom so airly, so I + polled out o’ that creek, starn first. They don’t like men in the mornin’, + in England, do the ladies; they think ‘em in the way. + </p> + <p> + “‘What on airth, shall I do?’ says I, ‘it’s nothin’ but rain, rain, rain—here + in this awful dismal country. Nobody smokes, nobody talks, nobody plays + cards, nobody fires at a mark, and nobody trades; only let me get thro’ + this juicy day, and I am done: let me get out of this scrape, and if I am + caught agin, I’ll give you leave to tell me of it, in meetin’. It tante + pretty, I do suppose to be a jawin’ with the butler, but I’ll make an + excuse for a talk, for talk comes kinder nateral to me, like suction to a + snipe.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Waiter?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Galls don’t like to be tree’d here of a mornin’ do they?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s usual for the ladies,’ sais I, ‘to be together in the airly part of + the forenoon here, ain’t it, afore the gentlemen jine them?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It puts me in mind,’ sais I, ‘of the old seals down to Sable Island—you + know where Sable Isle is, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, Sir, it’s in the cathedral down here.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No, no, not that, it’s an island on the coast of Nova Scotia. You know + where that is sartainly.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I never heard of it, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, Lord love you! you know what an old seal is?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, yes, sir, I’ll get you my master’s in a moment.’ + </p> + <p> + And off he sot full chisel. + </p> + <p> + “Cus him! he is as stupid as a rook, that crittur, it’s no use to tell him + a story, and now I think of it, I will go and smoke them black imps of + darkness,—the rooks.’ + </p> + <p> + “So I goes up stairs, as slowly as I cleverly could, jist liftin’ one foot + arter another as if it had a fifty-six tied to it, on pupus to spend time; + lit a cigar, opened the window nearest the rooks, and smoked, but oh the + rain killed all the smoke in a minite; it didn’t even make one on ‘em + sneeze. ‘Dull musick this, Sam,’ sais I, ‘ain’t it? Tell you what: I’ll + put on my ile-skin, take an umbreller and go and talk to the stable helps, + for I feel as lonely as a catamount, and as dull as a bachelor beaver. So + I trampousses off to the stable, and says I to the head man, ‘A smart + little hoss that,’ sais I, ‘you are a cleaning of: he looks like a first + chop article that.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Y mae’,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hullo,’ sais I, ‘what in natur’ is this? Is it him that can’t speak + English, or me that can’t onderstand? for one on us is a fool, that’s + sartain. I’ll try him agin. + </p> + <p> + “So I sais to him, ‘He looks,’ sais I, ‘as if he’d trot a considerable + good stick, that horse,’ sais I, ‘I guess he is a goer.’ + </p> + <p> + “Y’ mae, ye un trotter da,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Creation!’ sais I, ‘if this don’t beat gineral trainin’. I have heerd in + my time, broken French, broken Scotch, broken Irish, broken Yankee, broken + Nigger, and broken Indgin; but I have hearn two pure gene<i>wine</i> + languages to-day, and no mistake, rael rook, and rael Britton, and I don’t + exactly know which I like wus. It’s no use to stand talkin’ to this + critter. Good-bye,’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “Now what do you think he said? Why, you would suppose he’d say good-bye + too, wouldn’t you? Well, he didn’t, nor nothin’ like it, but he jist ups, + and sais, ‘Forwelloaugh,’ he did, upon my soul. I never felt so stumpt + afore in all my life. Sais I, ‘Friend, here is half a dollar for you; it + arn’t often I’m brought to a dead stare, and when I am, I am willin’ to + pay for it.’ + </p> + <p> + “There’s two languages, Squire, that’s univarsal: the language of love, + and the language of money; the galls onderstand the one, and the men + onderstand the other, all the wide world over, from Canton to Niagara. I + no sooner showed him the half dollar, than it walked into his pocket, a + plaguy sight quicker than it will walk out, I guess. + </p> + <p> + “Sais I, ‘Friend, you’ve taken the consait out of me properly. Captain + Hall said there warn’t a man, woman, or child, in the whole of the + thirteen united univarsal worlds of our great Republic, that could speak + pure English, and I was a goin’ to kick him for it; but he is right, arter + all. There ain’t one livin’ soul on us can; I don’t believe they ever as + much as heerd it, for I never did, till this blessed day, and there are + few things I haven’t either see’d, or heern tell of. Yes, we can’t speak + English, do you take?’ ‘Dim comrag,’ sais he, which in Yankee, means, + “that’s no English,” and he stood, looked puzzled, and scratched his head, + rael hansum, ‘Dim comrag,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it made me larf spiteful. I felt kinder wicked, and as <i>I</i> had + a hat on, and I couldn’t scratch my head, I stood jist like him, clown + fashion, with my eyes wanderin’ and my mouth wide open, and put my hand + behind me, and scratched there; and I stared, and looked puzzled too, and + made the same identical vacant face he did, and repeated arter him slowly, + with another scratch, mocking him like, ‘Dim comrag.’ + </p> + <p> + “Such a pair o’ fools you never saw, Squire, since the last time you + shaved afore a lookin’ glass; and the stable boys larfed, and he larfed, + and I larfed, and it was the only larf I had all that juicy day. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I turns agin to the door; but it’s the old story over again—rain, + rain, rain; spatter, spatter, spatter,—‘I can’t stop here with these + true Brittons,’ sais I, ‘guess I’ll go and see the old Squire: he is in + his study.’ + </p> + <p> + “So I goes there: ‘Squire,’ sais I, ‘let me offer you a rael gene<i>wine</i> + Havana cigar; I can recommend it to you.’ He thanks me, he don’t smoke, + but plague take him, he don’t say, ‘If you are fond of smokin’, pray smoke + yourself.’ And he is writing I won’t interrupt him. + </p> + <p> + “‘Waiter, order me a post-chaise, to be here in the mornin’, when the + rooks wake.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “Come, I’ll try the women folk in the drawin’-room, agin’. Ladies don’t + mind the rain here; they are used to it. It’s like the musk plant, arter + you put it to your nose once, you can’t smell it a second time. Oh what + beautiful galls they be! What a shame it is to bar a feller out such a day + as this. One on ‘em blushes like a red cabbage, when she speaks to me, + that’s the one, I reckon, I disturbed this mornin’. Cuss the rooks! I’ll + pyson them, and that won’t make no noise. + </p> + <p> + “She shows me the consarvitery. ‘Take care, Sir, your coat has caught this + geranium,’ and she onhitches it. ‘Stop, Sir, you’ll break this jilly + flower,’ and she lifts off the coat tail agin; in fact, it’s so crowded, + you can’t squeeze along, scarcely, without a doin’ of mischief somewhere + or another. + </p> + <p> + “Next time, she goes first, and then it’s my turn, ‘Stop, Miss,’ sais I, + ‘your frock has this rose tree over,’ and I loosens it; once more, ‘Miss, + this rose has got tangled,’ and I ontangles it from her furbeloes. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what makes my hand shake so, and my heart it bumps so, it has + bust a button off. If I stay in this consarvitery, I shan’t consarve + myself long, that’s a fact, for this gall has put her whole team on, and + is a runnin’ me off the road. ‘Hullo! what’s that? Bell for dressin’ for + dinner.’ Thank Heavens! I shall escape from myself, and from this + beautiful critter, too, for I’m gettin’ spoony, and shall talk silly + presently. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like to be left alone with a gall, it’s plaguy apt to set me a + soft sawderin’ and a courtin’. There’s a sort of nateral attraction like + in this world. Two ships in a calm, are sure to get up alongside of each + other, if there is no wind, and they have nothin’ to do, but look at each + other; natur’ does it. “Well, even, the tongs and the shovel, won’t stand + alone long; they’re sure to get on the same side of the fire, and be + sociable; one on ‘em has a loadstone and draws ‘tother, that’s sartain. If + that’s the case with hard-hearted things, like oak and iron, what is it + with tender hearted things like humans? Shut me up in a ‘sarvatory with a + hansum gall of a rainy day, and see if I don’t think she is the sweetest + flower in it. Yes, I am glad it is the dinner-bell, for I ain’t ready to + marry yet, and when I am, I guess I must get a gall where I got my hoss, + in Old Connecticut, and that state takes the shine off of all creation for + geese, galls and onions, that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “Well dinner won’t wait, so I ups agin once more near the rooks, to brush + up a bit; but there it is agin the same old tune, the whole blessed day, + rain, rain, rain. It’s rained all day and don’t talk of stoppin’ nother. + How I hate the sound, and how streaked I feel. I don’t mind its huskin’ my + voice, for there is no one to talk to, but cuss it, it has softened my + bones. + </p> + <p> + “Dinner is ready; the rain has damped every body’s spirits, and squenched + ‘em out; even champaign won’t raise ‘em agin; feedin’ is heavy, talk is + heavy, time is heavy, tea is heavy, and there ain’t musick; the only thing + that’s light is a bed room candle—heavens and airth how glad I am + this ‘<i>juicy day</i>’ is over!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. TYING A NIGHT-CAP. + </h2> + <p> + In the preceding sketch I have given Mr. Slick’s account of the English + climate, and his opinion of the dulness of a country house, as nearly as + possible in his own words. It struck me at the time that they were + exaggerated views; but if the weather were unpropitious, and the company + not well selected, I can easily conceive, that the impression on his mind + would be as strong and as unfavourable, as he has described it to have + been. + </p> + <p> + The climate of England is healthy, and, as it admits of much out-door + exercise, and is not subject to any very sudden variation, or violent + extremes of heat and cold, it may be said to be good, though not + agreeable; but its great humidity is very sensibly felt by Americans and + other foreigners accustomed to a dry atmosphere and clear sky. That Mr. + Slick should find a rainy day in the country dull, is not to be wondered + at; it is probable it would be so any where, to a man who had so few + resources, within himself, as the Attache. Much of course depends on the + inmates; and the company at the Shropshire house, to which he alludes, do + not appear to have been the best calculated to make the state of the + weather a matter of indifference to him. + </p> + <p> + I cannot say, but that I have at times suffered a depression of spirits + from the frequent, and sometimes long continued rains of this country; but + I do not know that, as an ardent admirer of scenery, I would desire less + humidity, if it diminished, as I fear it would, the extraordinary verdure + and great beauty of the English landscape. With respect to my own visits + at country houses, I have generally been fortunate in the weather, and + always in the company; but I can easily conceive, that a man situated as + Mr. Slick appears to have been with respect to both, would find the + combination intolerably dull. But to return to my narrative. + </p> + <p> + Early on the following day we accompanied our luggage to the wharf, where + a small steamer lay to convey us to the usual anchorage ground of the + packets, in the bay. We were attended by a large concourse of people. The + piety, learning, unaffected simplicity, and kind disposition of my + excellent friend, Mr. Hopewell, were well known and fully appreciated by + the people of New York, who were anxious to testify their respect for his + virtues, and their sympathy for his unmerited persecution, by a personal + escort and a cordial farewell. + </p> + <p> + “Are all those people going with us, Sam?” said he; “how pleasant it will + be to have so many old friends on board, won’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir,” said the Attache, “they are only a goin’ to see you on board—it + is a mark of respect to you. They will go down to the “Tyler,” to take + their last farewell of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s kind now, ain’t it?” he replied. “I suppose they thought I + would feel kinder dull and melancholy like, on leaving my native land this + way; and I must say I don’t feel jist altogether right neither. Ever so + many things rise right up in my mind, not one arter another, but all + together like, so that I can’t take ‘em one by one and reason ‘em down, + but they jist overpower me by numbers. You understand me, Sam, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old critter!” said Mr. Slick to me in an under-tone, “it’s no wonder + he is sad, is it? I must try to cheer him up, if I can. Understand you, + minister!” said he, “to be sure I do. I have been that way often and + often. That was the case when I was to Lowel factories, with the galls a + taking of them off in the paintin’ line. The dear little critters kept up + such an everlastin’ almighty clatter, clatter, clatter; jabber, jabber, + jabber, all talkin’ and chatterin’ at once, you couldn’t hear no blessed + one of them; and they jist fairly stunned a feller. For nothin’ in natur’, + unless it be perpetual motion, can equal a woman’s tongue. It’s most a + pity we hadn’t some of the angeliferous little dears with us too, for they + do make the time pass quick, that’s a fact. I want some on ‘em to tie a + night-cap for me to-night; I don’t commonly wear one, but I somehow kinder + guess, I intend to have one this time, and no mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “A night-cap, Sam!” said he; “why what on airth do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I’ll tell you, minister,” said he, “you recollect sister Sall, don’t + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I do,” said he, “and an excellent girl she is, a dutiful + daughter, and a kind and affectionate sister. Yes, she is a good girl is + Sally, a very good girl indeed; but what of her?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she was a most a beautiful critter, to brew a glass of whiskey + toddy, as I ever see’d in all my travels was sister Sall, and I used to + call that tipple, when I took it late, a night-cap; apple jack and white + nose ain’t the smallest part of a circumstance to it. On such an occasion + as this, minister, when a body is leavin’ the greatest nation atween the + poles, to go among benighted, ignorant, insolent foreigners, you wouldn’t + object to a night-cap, now would you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t know as I would, Sam,” said he; “parting from friends + whether temporally or for ever, is a sad thing, and the former is typical + of the latter. No, I do not know as I would. We may use these things, but + not abuse them. Be temperate, be moderate, but it is a sorry heart that + knows no pleasure. Take your night-cap, Sam, and then commend yourself to + His safe keeping, who rules the wind and the waves to Him who—” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, minister, what a dreadful awful looking thing a night-cap is + without a tassel, ain’t it? Oh! you must put a tassel on it, and that is + another glass. Well then, what is the use of a night-cap, if it has a + tassel on it, but has no string, it will slip off your head the very first + turn you take; and that is another glass you know. But one string won’t + tie a cap; one hand can’t shake hands along with itself: you must have two + strings to it, and that brings one glass more. Well then, what is the use + of two strings if they ain’t fastened? If you want to keep the cap on, it + must be tied, that’s sartain, and that is another go; and then, minister, + what an everlastin’ miserable stingy, ongenteel critter a feller must be, + that won’t drink to the health of the Female Brewer. Well, that’s another + glass to sweethearts and wives, and then turn in for sleep, and that’s + what I intend to do to-night. I guess I’ll tie the night-cap this hitch, + if I never do agin, and that’s a fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh Sam, Sam,” said Mr. Hopewell, “for a man that is wide awake and duly + sober, I never saw one yet that talked such nonsense as you do. You said, + you understood me, but you don’t, one mite or morsel; but men are made + differently, some people’s narves operate on the brain sens<i>itively</i> + and give them exquisite pain or excessive pleasure; other folks seem as if + they had no narves at all. You understand my words, but you don’t enter + into my feelings. Distressing images rise up in my mind in such rapid + succession, I can’t master them, but they master me. They come slower to + you, and the moment you see their shadows before you, you turn round to + the light, and throw these dark figures behind you. I can’t do that; I + could when I was younger, but I can’t now. Reason is comparing two ideas, + and drawing an inference. Insanity is, when you have such a rapid + succession of ideas, that you can’t compare them. How great then must be + the pain when you are almost pressed into insanity and yet retain your + reason? What is a broken heart? Is it death? I think it must be very like + it, if it is not a figure of speech, for I feel that my heart is broken, + and yet I am as sensitive to pain as ever. Nature cannot stand this + suffering long. You say these good people have come to take their last + farewell of me; most likely, Sam, it <i>is</i> a last farewell. I am an + old man now, I am well stricken in years; shall I ever live to see my + native land again? I know not, the Lord’s will be done! If I had a wish, I + should desire to return to be laid with my kindred, to repose in death + with those that were the companions of my earthly pilgrimage; but if it be + ordered otherwise. I am ready to say with truth and meekness, ‘Lord, now + lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.’” + </p> + <p> + When this excellent old man said that, Mr. Slick did not enter into his + feelings—he did not do him justice. His attachment to and veneration + for his aged pastor and friend were quite filial, and such as to do honour + to his head and heart. Those persons who have made character a study, will + all agree, that the cold exterior of the New England man arises from other + causes than a coldness of feeling; much of the rhodomontade of the + attache, addressed to Mr. Hopewell, was uttered for the kind purpose of + withdrawing his attention from those griefs which preyed so heavily upon + his spirits. + </p> + <p> + “Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “come, cheer up, it makes me kinder dismal to + hear you talk so. When Captain McKenzie hanged up them three free and + enlightened citizens of ours on board of the—Somers—he gave + ‘em three cheers. We are worth half a dozen dead men yet, so cheer up. + Talk to these friends of ourn, they might think you considerable starch if + you don’t talk, and talk is cheap, it don’t cost nothin’ but breath, a + scrape of your hind leg, and a jupe of the head, that’s a fact.” + </p> + <p> + Having thus engaged him in conversation with his friends, we proceeded on + board the steamer, which, in a short time, was alongside of the great + “Liner.” The day was now spent, and Mr. Hopewell having taken leave of his + escort, retired to his cabin, very much overpowered by his feelings. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slick insisted on his companions taking a parting glass with him, and + I was much amused with the advice given him by some of his young friends + and admirers. He was cautioned to sustain the high character of the nation + abroad; to take care that he returned as he went—a true American; to + insist upon the possession of the Oregon Territory; to demand and enforce + his right position in society; to negotiate the national loan; and above + all never to accede to the right of search of slave-vessels; all which + having been duly promised, they took an affectionate leave of each other, + and we remained on board, intending to depart in the course of the + following morning. + </p> + <p> + As soon as they had gone, Mr. Slick ordered materials for brewing, namely: + whisky, hot water, sugar and lemon; and having duly prepared in regular + succession the cap, the tassel, and the two strings, filled his tumbler + again, and said, + </p> + <p> + “Come now, Squire, before we turn in, let us <i>tie the night-cap</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. HOME AND THE SEA. + </h2> + <p> + At eleven o’clock the next day the Tyler having shaken out her pinions, + and spread them to the breeze, commenced at a rapid rate her long and + solitary voyage across the Atlantic. Object after object rose in rapid + succession into distinct view, was approached and passed, until leaving + the calm and sheltered waters of the bay, we emerged into the ocean, and + involuntarily turned to look back upon the land we had left. Long after + the lesser hills and low country had disappeared, a few ambitious peaks of + the highlands still met the eye, appearing as if they had advanced to the + very edge of the water, to prolong the view of us till the last moment. + </p> + <p> + This coast is a portion of my native continent, for though not a subject + of the Republic, I am still an American in its larger sense, having been + born in a British province in this hemisphere. I therefore sympathised + with the feelings of my two companions, whose straining eyes were still + fixed on those dim and distant specks in the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Mr. Slick, rising from his seat, “I believe we have seen the + last of home till next time; and this I will say, it is the most glorious + country onder the sun; travel where you will, you won’t ditto it no where. + It is the toploftiest place in all creation, ain’t it, minister?” + </p> + <p> + There was no response to all this bombast. It was evident he had not been + heard; and turning to Mr. Hopewell, I observed his eyes were fixed + intently on the distance, and his mind pre-occupied by painful reflexions, + for tears were coursing after each other down his furrowed but placid + cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Squire,” said Mr. Slick to me, “this won’t do. We must not allow him to + dwell too long on the thoughts of leaving home, or he’ll droop like any + thing, and p’raps, hang his head and fade right away. He is aged and + feeble, and every thing depends on keeping up his spirits. An old plant + must be shaded, well watered, and tended, or you can’t transplant it no + how, you can fix it, that’s a fact. He won’t give ear to me now, for he + knows I can’t talk serious, if I was to try; but he will listen to <i>you</i>. + Try to cheer him up, and I will go down below and give you a chance.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as I addressed him, he started and said, “Oh! is it you, Squire? + come and sit down by me, my friend. I can talk to <i>you</i>, and I assure + you I take great pleasure in doing so I cannot always talk to Sam: he is + excited now; he is anticipating great pleasure from his visit to England, + and is quite boisterous in the exuberance of his spirits. I own I am + depressed at times; it is natural I should be, but I shall endeavour not + to be the cause of sadness in others. I not only like cheerfulness myself, + but I like to promote it; it is a sign of an innocent mind, and a heart in + peace with God and in charity with man. All nature is cheerful, its voice + is harmonious, and its countenance smiling; the very garb in which it is + clothed is gay; why then should man be an exception to every thing around + him? Sour sectarians, who address our fears, rather than our affections, + may say what they please, Sir, but mirth is not inconsistent with + religion, but rather an evidence that our religion is right. If I appear + dull, therefore, do not suppose it is because I think it necessary to be + so, but because certain reflections are natural to me as a clergyman, as a + man far advanced in years, and as a pilgrim who leaves his home at a + period of life, when the probabilities are, he may not be spared to + revisit it. + </p> + <p> + “I am like yourself, a colonist by birth. At the revolution I took no part + in the struggle; my profession and my habits both exempted me. Whether the + separation was justifiable or not, either on civil or religious + principles, it is not now necessary to discuss. It took place, however, + and the colonies became a nation, and after due consideration, I concluded + to dwell among mine own people. There I have continued, with the exception + of one or two short journeys for the benefit of my health, to the present + period. Parting with those whom I have known so long and loved so well, is + doubtless a trial to one whose heart is still warm, while his nerves are + weak, and whose affections are greater than his firmness. But I weary you + with this egotism?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” I replied, “I am both instructed and delighted by your + conversation. Pray proceed, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well it is kind, very kind of you,” said he, “to say so. I will explain + these sensations to you, and then endeavour never to allude to them again. + America is my birth-place and my home. Home has two significations, a + restricted one and an enlarged one; in its restricted sense, it is the + place of our abode, it includes our social circle, our parents, children, + and friends, and contains the living and the dead; the past and the + present generations of our race. By a very natural process, the scene of + our affections soon becomes identified with them, and a portion of our + regard is transferred from animate to inanimate objects. The streams on + which we sported, the mountains on which we clambered, the fields in which + we wandered, the school where we were instructed, the church where we + worshipped, the very bell whose pensive melancholy music recalled our + wandering steps in youth, awaken in after-years many a tender thought, + many a pleasing recollection, and appeal to the heart with the force and + eloquence of love. The country again contains all these things, the sphere + is widened, new objects are included, and this extension of the circle is + love of country. It is thus that the nation is said in an enlarged sense, + to be our home also. + </p> + <p> + “This love of country is both natural and laudable: so natural, that to + exclude a man from his country, is the greatest punishment that country + can inflict upon him; and so laudable, that when it becomes a principle of + action, it forms the hero and the patriot. How impressive, how beautiful, + how dignified was the answer of the Shunamite woman to Elisha, who in his + gratitude to her for her hospitality and kindness, made her a tender of + his interest at court. ‘Wouldst thou,’ said he, ‘be spoken for to the + king, or to the captain of the host?’—What an offer was that, to + gratify her ambition or flatter her pride!—‘I dwell,’ said she, + ‘among mine own people.’ What a characteristic answer! all history + furnishes no parallel to it. + </p> + <p> + “I too dwell ‘among my own people:’ my affections are there, and there + also is the sphere of my duties; and if I am depressed by the thoughts of + parting from ‘my people,’ I will do you the justice to believe, that you + would rather bear with its effects, than witness the absence of such + natural affection. + </p> + <p> + “But this is not the sole cause: independently of some afflictions of a + clerical nature in my late parish, to which it is not necessary to allude, + the contemplation of this vast and fathomless ocean, both from its novelty + and its grandeur, overwhelms me. At home I am fond of tracing the Creator + in his works. From the erratic comet in the firmament, to the flower that + blossoms in the field; in all animate, and inanimate matter; in all that + is animal, vegetable or mineral, I see His infinite wisdom, almighty + power, and everlasting glory. + </p> + <p> + “But that Home is inland; I have not beheld the sea now for many years. I + never saw it without emotion; I now view it with awe. What an emblem of + eternity!—Its dominion is alone reserved to Him, who made it. + Changing yet changeless—ever varying, yet always the same. How weak + and powerless is man! how short his span of life, when he is viewed in + connexion with the sea! He has left no trace upon it—it will not + receive the impress of his hands; it obeys no laws, but those imposed upon + it by Him, who called it into existence; generation after generation has + looked upon it as we now do—and where are they? Like yonder waves + that press upon each other in regular succession, they have passed away + for ever; and their nation, their language, their temples and their tombs + have perished with them. But there is the Undying one. When man was + formed, the voice of the ocean was heard, as it now is, speaking of its + mysteries, and proclaiming His glory, who alone lifteth its waves or + stilleth the rage thereof. + </p> + <p> + “And yet, my dear friend, for so you must allow me to call you, awful as + these considerations are, which it suggests, who are they that go down to + the sea in ships and occupy their business in great waters? The sordid + trader, and the armed and mercenary sailor: gold or blood is their object, + and the fear of God is not always in them. Yet the sea shall give up its + dead, as well as the grave; and all shall— + </p> + <p> + “But it is not my intention to preach to you. To intrude serious topics + upon our friends at all times, has a tendency to make both ourselves and + our topics distasteful. I mention these things to you, not that they are + not obvious to you and every other right-minded man, or that I think I can + clothe them in more attractive language, or utter them with more effect + than others; but merely to account for my absence of mind and evident air + of abstraction. I know my days are numbered, and in the nature of things, + that those that are left, cannot be many. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, therefore, I pray you, my friend; make allowances for an old + man, unaccustomed to leave home, and uncertain whether he shall ever be + permitted to return to it. I feel deeply and sensibly your kindness in + soliciting my company on this tour, and will endeavour so to regulate my + feelings as not to make you regret your invitation. I shall not again + recur to these topics, or trouble you with any further reflections ‘on + Home and the Sea.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. T’OTHER EEND OF THE GUN. + </h2> + <p> + “Squire,” said Mr. Hopewell, one morning when we were alone on the + quarter-deck, “sit down by me, if you please. I wish to have a little + private conversation with you. I am a good deal concerned about Sam. I + never liked this appointment he has received: neither his education, his + habits, nor his manners have qualified him for it. He is fitted for a + trader and for nothing else. He looks upon politics as he does upon his + traffic in clocks, rather as profitable to himself than beneficial to + others. Self is predominant with him. He overrates the importance of his + office, as he will find when he arrives in London; but what is still + worse, he overrates the importance of the opinions of others regarding the + States. + </p> + <p> + “He has been reading that foolish book of Cooper’s ‘Gleanings in Europe,’ + and intends to shew fight, he says. He called my attention, yesterday, to + this absurd passage, which he maintains is the most manly and sensible + thing that Cooper ever wrote: ‘This indifference to the feelings of + others, is a dark spot on the national manners of England. The only way to + put it down, is to become belligerent yourself, by introducing Pauperism, + Radicalism, Ireland, the Indies, or some other sore point. Like all who + make butts of others, they do not manifest the proper forbearance when the + tables are turned. Of this, I have had abundance of proof in my own + experience. Sometimes their remarks are absolutely rude, and personally + offensive, as a disregard of one’s national character, is a disrespect to + his principles; but as personal quarrels on such grounds are to be + avoided, I have uniformly retorted in kind, if there was the smallest + opening for such retaliation.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, every gentleman in the States repudiates such sentiments as these. + My object in mentioning the subject to you, is to request the favour of + you, to persuade Sam not to be too sensitive on these topics; not to take + offence, where it is not intended; and, above all, rather to vindicate his + nationality by his conduct, than to justify those aspersions, by his + intemperate behaviour. But here he comes; I shall withdraw and leave you + together.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, Mr. Slick commenced talking upon a topic, which naturally led + to that to which Mr. Hopewell had wished me to direct his attention. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Squire,” said he, “I am glad too, you are a goin’ to England along + with me: we will take a rise out of John Bull, won’t we?—We’ve hit + Blue-nose and Brother Jonathan both pretty considerable tarnation hard, + and John has split his sides with larfter. Let’s tickle him now, by + feeling his own short ribs, and see how he will like it; we’ll soon see + whose hide is the thickest, hisn or ourn, won’t we? Let’s see whether he + will say chee, chee, chee, when he gets to the t’other eend of the gun.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of that saying?” I asked. “I never heard it before.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said he, “when I was a considerable of a grown up saplin of a boy + to Slickville, I used to be a gunnin’ for everlastinly amost in our + hickory woods, a shootin’ of squirrels with a rifle, and I got amazin’ + expart at it. I could take the head off of them chatterin’ little imps, + when I got a fair shot at ‘em with a ball, at any reasonable distance, + a’most in nine cases out of ten. + </p> + <p> + “Well, one day I was out as usual, and our Irish help Paddy Burke was + along with me, and every time he see’d me a drawin’ of the bead fine on + ‘em, he used to say, ‘Well, you’ve an excellent gun entirely, Master Sam. + Oh by Jakers! the squirrel has no chance with that gun, it’s an excellent + one entirely.’ + </p> + <p> + “At last I got tired a hearin’ of him a jawin’ so for ever and a day about + the excellent gun entirely; so, sais I, ‘You fool you, do you think it’s + the gun that does it <i>entirely</i> as you say; ain’t there a little dust + of skill in it? Do you think you could fetch one down?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, it’s a capital gun entirely,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ said I, ‘if it ‘tis, try it now, and see what sort of a fist + you’ll make of it.’ + </p> + <p> + “So Paddy takes the rifle, lookin’ as knowin’ all the time as if he had + ever seed one afore. Well, there was a great red squirrel, on the tip-top + of a limb, chatterin’ away like any thing, chee, chee, chee, proper + frightened; he know’d it warn’t me, that was a parsecutin’ of him, and he + expected he’d be hurt. They know’d me, did the little critters, when they + seed me, and they know’d I never had hurt one on ‘em, my balls never + givin’ ‘em a chance to feel what was the matter of them; but Pat they + didn’t know, and they see’d he warn’t the man to handle ‘old Bull-Dog.’ I + used to call my rifle Bull-Dog, cause she always bit afore she barked. + </p> + <p> + “Pat threw one foot out astarn, like a skullin’ oar, and then bent + forrards like a hoop, and fetched the rifle slowly up to the line, and + shot to the right eye. Chee, chee, chee, went the squirrel. He see’d it + was wrong. ‘By the powers!’ sais Pat, ‘this is a left-handed boot,’ and he + brought the gun to the other shoulder, and then shot to his left eye. + ‘Fegs!’ sais Pat, ‘this gun was made for a squint eye, for I can’t get a + right strait sight of the critter, either side.’ So I fixt it for him and + told him which eye to sight by. ‘An excellent gun entirely,’ sais Pat, + ‘but it tante made like the rifles we have.’ + </p> + <p> + “Ain’t they strange critters, them Irish, Squire? That feller never + handled a rifle afore in all his born days; but unless it was to a priest, + he wouldn’t confess that much for the world. They are as bad as the + English that way; they always pretend they know every thing. + </p> + <p> + “‘Come, Pat,’ sais I, ‘blaze away now.’ Back goes the hind leg agin, up + bends the back, and Bull-Dog rises slowly to his shoulder; and then he + stared, and stared, until his arm shook like palsy. Chee, chee, chee, went + the squirrel agin, louder than ever, as much as to say, ‘Why the plague + don’t you fire? I’m not a goin’ to stand here all day, for you this way,’ + and then throwin’ his tail over his back, he jumped on to the next branch. + </p> + <p> + “‘By the piper that played before Moses!’ sais Pat, ‘I’ll stop your chee, + chee, cheein’ for you, you chatterin’ spalpeen of a devil, you’. So he ups + with the rifle agin, takes a fair aim at him, shuts both eyes, turns his + head round, and fires; and “Bull-Dog,” findin’ he didn’t know how to hold + her tight to the shoulder, got mad, and kicked him head over heels, on the + broad of his back. Pat got up, a makin’ awful wry faces, and began to + limp, to show how lame his shoulder was, and to rub his arm, to see if he + had one left, and the squirrel ran about the tree hoppin’ mad, hollerin’ + out as loud as it could scream, chee, chee, chee. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh bad luck to you,’ sais Pat, ‘if you had a been at t’other eend of the + gun,’ and he rubbed his shoulder agin, and cried like a baby, ‘you + wouldn’t have said chee, chee, chee, that way, I know.’ + </p> + <p> + “Now when your gun, Squire, was a knockin’ over Blue-nose, and makin’ a + proper fool of him, and a knockin’ over Jonathan, and a spilin’ of his + bran-new clothes, the English sung out chee, chee, chee, till all was blue + agin. You had an excellent gun entirely then: let’s see if they will sing + out chee, chee, chee, now, when we take a shot at <i>them</i>. Do you + take?” and he laid his thumb on his nose, as if perfectly satisfied with + the application of his story. “Do you take, Squire? you have an excellent + gun entirely, as Pat says. It’s what I call puttin’ the leake into ‘em + properly. If you had a written this book fust, the English would have said + your gun was no good; it wouldn’t have been like the rifles they had seen. + Lord, I could tell you stories about the English, that would make even + them cryin’ devils the Mississippi crocodiles laugh, if they was to hear + ‘em.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Mr. Slick,” I said, “this is not the temper with which you + should visit England.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the temper,” he replied with much warmth, “that they visit us in? + Cuss ‘em! Look at Dickens; was there ever a man made so much of, except La + Fayette? And who was Dickens? Not a Frenchman that is a friend to us, not + a native that has a claim on us; not a colonist, who, though English by + name is still an American by birth, six of one and half a dozen of + t’other, and therefore a kind of half-breed brother. No! he was a cussed + Britisher; and what is wus, a British author; and yet, because he was a + man of genius, because genius has the ‘tarnal globe for its theme, and the + world for its home, and mankind for its readers, and bean’t a citizen of + this state or that state, but a native of the univarse, why we welcomed + him, and feasted him, and leveed him, and escorted him, and cheered him, + and honoured him, did he honour us? What did he say of us when he + returned? Read his book. + </p> + <p> + “No, don’t read his book, for it tante worth readin’. Has he said one word + of all that reception in his book? that book that will be read, + translated, and read agin all over Europe—has he said one word of + that reception? Answer me that, will you? Darned the word, his memory was + bad; he lost it over the tafrail when he was sea-sick. But his notebook + was safe under lock and key, and the pigs in New York, and the chap the + rats eat in jail, and the rough man from Kentucky, and the entire raft of + galls emprisoned in one night, and the spittin’ boxes and all that stuff, + warn’t trusted to memory, it was noted down, and printed. + </p> + <p> + “But it tante no matter. Let any man give me any sarce in England, about + my country, or not give me the right <i>po</i>-sition in society, as + Attache to our Legation, and, as Cooper says, I’ll become belligerent, + too, I will, I snore. I can snuff a candle with a pistol as fast as you + can light it; hang up an orange, and I’ll first peel it with ball and then + quarter it. Heavens! I’ll let daylight dawn through some o’ their jackets, + I know. + </p> + <p> + “Jube, you infarnal black scoundrel, you odoriferous nigger you, what’s + that you’ve got there?” + </p> + <p> + “An apple, massa.” + </p> + <p> + “Take off your cap and put that apple on your head, then stand sideways by + that port-hole, and hold steady, or you might stand a smart chance to have + your wool carded, that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + Then taking a pistol out of the side-pocket of his mackintosh, he + deliberately walked over to the other side of the deck, and examined his + priming. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, Mr. Slick!” said I in great alarm, “what are you about?” + </p> + <p> + “I am goin’,” he said with the greatest coolness, but at the same time + with equal sternness, “to bore a hole through that apple, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame! Sir,” I said. “How can you think of such a thing? Suppose you + were to miss your shot, and kill that unfortunate boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t suppose no such thing, Sir. I can’t miss it. I couldn’t miss it + if I was to try. Hold your head steady, Jube—and if I did, it’s no + great matter. The onsarcumcised Amalikite ain’t worth over three hundred + dollars at the furthest, that’s a fact; and the way he’d pyson a shark + ain’t no matter. Are you ready, Jube?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, massa.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall do no such thing, Sir,” I said, seizing his arm with both my + hands. “If you attempt to shoot at that apple, I shall hold no further + intercourse with you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Ky! massa,” said Jube, “let him fire, Sar; he no hurt Jube; he no foozle + de hair. I isn’t one mossel afeerd. He often do it, jist to keep him hand + in, Sar. Massa most a grand shot, Sar. He take off de ear oh de squirrel + so slick, he neber miss it, till he go scratchin’ his head. Let him appel + hab it, massa.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said Mr. Slick, “he is a Christian is Jube, he is as good as a + white Britisher: same flesh, only a leetle, jist a leetle darker; same + blood, only not quite so old, ain’t quite so much tarter on the bottle as + a lord’s has; oh him and a Britisher is all one brother—oh by all + means— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Him fader’s hope—him mudder’s joy, + Him darlin little nigger boy. +</pre> + <p> + You’d better cry over him, hadn’t you. Buss him, call him brother, hug + him, give him the “Abolition” kiss, write an article on slavery, like + Dickens; marry him to a white gall to England, get him a saint’s darter + with a good fortin, and well soon see whether her father was a talkin’ + cant or no, about niggers. Cuss ‘em, let any o’ these Britishers give me + slack, and I’ll give ‘em cranberry for their goose, I know. I’d jump right + down their throat with spurs on, and gallop their sarce out.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Slick I’ve done; I shall say no more; we part, and part for ever. I + had no idea whatever, that a man, whose whole conduct has evinced a kind + heart, and cheerful disposition, could have entertained such a revengeful + spirit, or given utterance to such unchristian and uncharitable language, + as you have used to-day. We part”— + </p> + <p> + “No, we don’t,” said he; “don’t kick afore you are spurred. I guess I have + feelins as well as other folks have, that’s a fact; one can’t help being + ryled to hear foreigners talk this way; and these critters are enough to + make a man spotty on the back. I won’t deny I’ve got some grit, but I + ain’t ugly. Pat me on the back and I soon cool down, drop in a soft word + and I won’t bile over; but don’t talk big, don’t threaten, or I curl + directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Slick,” said I, “neither my countrymen, the Nova Scotians, nor your + friends, the Americans, took any thing amiss, in our previous remarks, + because, though satirical, they were good natured. There was nothing + malicious in them. They were not made for the mere purpose of shewing them + up, but were incidental to the topic we were discussing, and their whole + tenor shewed that while “we were alive to the ludicrous, we fully + appreciated, and properly valued their many excellent and sterling + qualities. My countrymen, for whose good I published them, had the most + reason to complain, for I took the liberty to apply ridicule to them with + no sparing hand. They understood the motive, and joined in the laugh, + which was raised at their expense. Let us treat the English in the same + style; let us keep our temper. John Bull is a good-natured fellow, and has + no objection to a joke, provided it is not made the vehicle of conveying + an insult. Don’t adopt Cooper’s maxims; nobody approves of them, on either + side of the water; don’t be too thin-skinned. If the English have been + amused by the sketches their tourists have drawn of, the Yankees, perhaps + the Americans may laugh over our sketches of the English. Let us make both + of them smile, if we can, and endeavour to offend neither. If Dickens + omitted to mention the festivals that were given in honour of his arrival + in the States, he was doubtless actuated by a desire to avoid the + appearance of personal vanity. A man cannot well make himself the hero of + his own book.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said he, “I believe the black ox did tread on my toe that + time. I don’t know but what you’re right. Soft words are good enough in + their way, but still they butter no parsnips, as the sayin’ is. John may + be a good-natured critter, tho’ I never see’d any of it yet; and he may be + fond of a joke, and p’raps is, seein’ that he haw-haws considerable loud + at his own. Let’s try him at all events. We’ll soon see how he likes other + folks’ jokes; I have my scruple about him, I must say. I am dubersome + whether he will say ‘chee, chee, chee’ when he gets ‘T’other eend of the + gun.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. SMALL POTATOES AND FEW IN A HILL. + </h2> + <p> + “Pray Sir,” said one of my fellow passengers, “can you tell me why the + Nova Scotians are called ‘Blue-noses?’” + </p> + <p> + “It is the name of a potatoe,” said I, “which they produce in great + perfection, and boast to be the best in the world. The Americans have, in + consequence, given them the nick-name of “Blue-noses.’” + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Mr. Slick,” as you have told the entire stranger, <i>who</i> + a Blue-nose is, I’ll jist up and tell him <i>what</i> he is. + </p> + <p> + “One day, Stranger, I was a joggin’ along into Windsor on Old Clay, on a + sort of butter and eggs’ gait (for a fast walk on a journey tires a horse + considerable), and who should I see a settin’ straddle legs “on the fence, + but Squire Gabriel Soogit, with his coat off, a holdin’ of a hoe in one + hand, and his hat in t’other, and a blowin’ like a porpus proper tired. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, Squire Gabe,’ sais I, ‘what is the matter of you? you look as if + you couldn’t help yourself; who is dead and what is to pay now, eh?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Fairly beat out,’ said he, ‘I am shockin’ tired. I’ve been hard at work + all the mornin’; a body has to stir about considerable smart in this + country, to make a livin’, I tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + “I looked over the fence, and I seed he had hoed jist ten hills of + potatoes, and that’s all. Fact I assure you. + </p> + <p> + “Sais he, ‘Mr. Slick, tell you what, <i>of all the work I ever did in my + life I like hoein’ potatoes the best, and I’d rather die than do that, it + makes my back ache so</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Good airth” and seas,’ sais I to myself, ‘what a parfect pictur of a + lazy man that is! How far is it to Windsor?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Three miles,’ sais he. I took out my pocket-book purtendin’ to write + down the distance, but I booked his sayin’ in my way-bill. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, <i>that</i> is a <i>Blue-nose</i>; is it any wonder, Stranger, he <i>is + small potatoes and few in a hill</i>?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. A GENTLEMAN AT LARGE. + </h2> + <p> + It is not my intention to record any of the ordinary incidents of a sea + voyage: the subject is too hackneyed and too trite; and besides, when the + topic is seasickness, it is infectious and the description nauseates. <i>Hominem + pagina nostra sapit</i>. The proper study of mankind is man; human nature + is what I delight in contemplating; I love to trace out and delineate the + springs of human action. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slick and Mr. Hopewell are both studies. The former is a perfect + master of certain chords; He has practised upon them, not for + philosophical, but for mercenary purposes. He knows the depth, and + strength, and tone of vanity, curiosity, pride, envy, avarice, + superstition, nationality, and local and general prejudice. He has learned + the effect of these, not because they contribute to make him wiser, but + because they make him richer; not to enable him to regulate his conduct in + life, but to promote and secure the increase of his trade. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopewell, on the contrary, has studied the human heart as a + philanthropist, as a man whose business it was to minister to it, to + cultivate and improve it. His views are more sound and more comprehensive + than those of the other’s, and his objects are more noble. They are both + extraordinary men. + </p> + <p> + They differed, however, materially in their opinion of England and its + institutions. Mr. Slick evidently viewed them with prejudice. Whether this + arose from the supercilious manner of English tourists in America, or from + the ridicule they have thrown upon Republican society, in the books of + travels they have published, after their return to Europe, I could not + discover; but it soon became manifest to me, that Great Britain did not + stand so high in his estimation, as the colonies did. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopewell, on the contrary, from early associations, cherished a + feeling of regard and respect for England; and when his opinion was asked, + he always gave it with great frankness and impartiality. When there was + any thing he could not approve of, it appeared to be a subject of regret + to him; whereas, the other seized upon it at once as a matter of great + exultation. The first sight we had of land naturally called out their + respective opinions. + </p> + <p> + As we were pacing the deck speculating upon the probable termination of + our voyage, Cape Clear was descried by the look-out on the mast-head. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! what’s that? why if it ain’t land ahead, as I’m alive!” said Mr. + Slick. “Well, come this is pleasant too, we have made amost an everlastin’ + short voyage of it, hante we; and I must say I like land quite as well as + sea, in a giniral way, arter all; but, Squire, here is the first + Britisher. That critter that’s a clawin’ up the side of the vessel like a + cat, is the pilot: now do for goodness gracious sake, jist look at him, + and hear him.” + </p> + <p> + “What port?” + </p> + <p> + “Liverpool.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep her up a point.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear that, Squire? that’s English, or what we used to call to + singing school short metre. The critter don’t say a word, even as much as + ‘by your leave’; but jist goes and takes his post, and don’t ask the name + of the vessel, or pass the time o’ day with the Captin. That ain’t in the + bill, it tante paid for that; if it was, he’d off cap, touch the deck + three times with his forehead, and ‘<i>Slam</i>’ like a Turk to his Honour + the Skipper. + </p> + <p> + “There’s plenty of civility here to England if you pay for it: you can buy + as much in five minits, as will make you sick for a week; but if you don’t + pay for it, you not only won’t get it, but you get sarce instead of it, + that is if you are fool enough to stand and have it rubbed in. They are as + cold as Presbyterian charity, and mean enough to put the sun in eclipse, + are the English. They hante set up the brazen image here to worship, but + they’ve got a gold one, and that they do adore and no mistake; it’s all + pay, pay, pay; parquisite, parquisite, parquisite; extortion, extortion, + extortion. There is a whole pack of yelpin’ devils to your heels here, for + everlastinly a cringin’, fawnin’ and coaxin’, or snarlin’, grumblin’ or + bullyin’ you out of your money. There’s the boatman, and tide-waiter, and + porter, and custom-er, and truck man as soon as you land; and the + sarvant-man, and chamber-gall, and boots, and porter again to the inn. And + then on the road, there is trunk-lifter, and coachman, and guard, and + beggar-man, and a critter that opens the coach door, that they calls a + waterman, cause he is infarnal dirty, and never sees water. They are jist + like a snarl o’ snakes, their name is legion and there ain’t no eend to + ‘em. + </p> + <p> + “The only thing you get for nothin’ here is rain and smoke, the rumatiz, + and scorny airs. If you could buy an Englishman at what he was worth, and + sell him at his own valiation, he would realise as much as a nigger, and + would be worth tradin’ in, that’s a fact; but as it is he ain’t worth + nothin’, there is no market for such critters, no one would buy him at no + price. A Scotchman is wus, for he is prouder and meaner. Pat ain’t no + better nother; he ain’t proud, cause he has a hole in his breeches and + another in his elbow, and he thinks pride won’t patch ‘em, and he ain’t + mean cause he hante got nothin’ to be mean with. Whether it takes nine + tailors to make a man, I can’t jist exactly say, but this I will say, and + take my davy of it too, that it would take three such goneys as these to + make a pattern for one of our rael genu<i>wine</i> free and enlightened + citizens, and then I wouldn’t swap without large boot, I tell you. Guess + I’ll go, and pack up my fixing and have ‘em ready to land.” + </p> + <p> + He now went below, leaving Mr. Hopewell and myself on the deck. All this + tirade of Mr. Slick was uttered in the hearing of the pilot, and intended + rather for his conciliation, than my instruction. The pilot was + immoveable; he let the cause against his country go “by default,” and left + us to our process of “inquiry;” but when Mr. Slick was in the act of + descending to the cabin, he turned and gave him a look of admeasurement, + very similar to that which a grazier gives an ox; a look which estimates + the weight and value of the animal, and I am bound to admit, that the + result of that “sizing or laying” as it is technically called, was by no + means favourable to the Attache”. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopewell had evidently not attended to it; his eye was fixed on the + bold and precipitous shore of Wales, and the lofty summits of the + everlasting hills, that in the distance, aspired to a companionship with + the clouds. I took my seat at a little distance from him and surveyed the + scene with mingled feelings of curiosity and admiration, until a thick + volume of sulphureous smoke from the copper furnaces of Anglesey + intercepted our view. + </p> + <p> + “Squire,” said he, “it is impossible for us to contemplate this country, + that now lies before us, without strong emotion. It is our fatherland. I + recollect when I was a colonist, as you are, we were in the habit of + applying to it, in common with Englishmen, that endearing appellation + “Home,” and I believe you still continue to do so in the provinces. Our + nursery tales, taught our infant lips to lisp in English, and the ballads, + that first exercised our memories, stored the mind with the traditions of + our forefathers; their literature was our literature, their religion our + religion, their history our history. The battle of Hastings, the murder of + Becket, the signature of Runymede, the execution at Whitehall; the + divines, the poets, the orators, the heroes, the martyrs, each and all + were familiar to us. + </p> + <p> + “In approaching this country now, after a lapse of many, many years, and + approaching it too for the last time, for mine eyes shall see it no more, + I cannot describe to you the feelings that agitate my heart. I go to visit + the tombs of my ancestors; I go to my home, and my home knoweth me no + more. Great and good, and brave and free are the English; and may God + grant that they may ever continue so!” + </p> + <p> + “I cordially join in that prayer, Sir,” said I; “you have a country of + your own. The old colonies having ripened into maturity, formed a distinct + and separate family, in the great community of mankind. You are now a + nation of yourselves, and your attachment to England, is of course + subordinate to that of your own country; you view it as the place that was + in days of yore the home of your forefathers; we regard it as the paternal + estate, continuing to call it ‘Home’ as you have just now observed. We owe + it a debt of gratitude that not only cannot be repaid, but is too great + for expression. Their armies protect us within, and their fleets defend + us, and our commerce without. Their government is not only paternal and + indulgent, but is wholly gratuitous. We neither pay these forces, nor feed + them, nor clothe them. We not only raise no taxes, but are not expected to + do so. The blessings of true religion are diffused among us, by the pious + liberality of England, and a collegiate establishment at Windsor, + supported by British friends, has for years supplied the Church, the Bar + and the Legislature with scholars and gentlemen. Where the national funds + have failed, private contribution has volunteered its aid, and means are + never wanting for any useful or beneficial object. + </p> + <p> + “Our condition is a most enviable one. The history of the world has no + example to offer of such noble disinterestedness and such liberal rule, as + that exhibited by Great Britain to her colonies. If the policy of the + Colonial Office is not always good (which I fear is too much to say) it is + ever liberal; and if we do not mutually derive all the benefit we might + from the connexion, <i>we</i>, at least, reap more solid advantages than + we have a right to expect, and more, I am afraid, than our conduct always + deserves. I hope the Secretary for the Colonies may have the advantage of + making your acquaintance, Sir. Your experience is so great, you might give + him a vast deal of useful information, which he could obtain from no one + else. + </p> + <p> + “Minister,” said Mr. Slick, who had just mounted the companion-ladder, + “will your honour,” touching his hat, “jist look at your honour’s plunder, + and see it’s all right; remember me, Sir; thank your honour. This way, + Sir; let me help your honour down. Remember me again, Sir. Thank your + honour. Now you may go and break your neck, your honour, as soon as you + please; for I’ve got all out of you I can squeeze, that’s a fact. That’s + English, Squire—that’s English servility, which they call civility, + and English meanness and beggin’, which they call parquisite. Who was that + you wanted to see the Minister, that I heerd you a talkin’ of when I come + on deck?” + </p> + <p> + “The Secretary of the Colonies,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh for goodness sake don’t send that crittur to him,” said he, “or + minister will have to pay him for his visit, more, p’raps, than he can + afford. John Russell, that had the ribbons afore him, appointed a settler + as a member of Legislative Council to Prince Edward’s Island, a berth that + has no pay, that takes a feller three months a year from home, and has a + horrid sight to do; and what do you think he did? Now jist guess. You give + it up, do you? Well, you might as well, for if you was five Yankees biled + down to one, you wouldn’t guess it. ‘Remember Secretary’s clerk,’ says he, + a touchin’ of his hat, ‘give him a little tip of thirty pound sterling, + your honour.’ Well, colonist had a drop of Yankee blood in him, which was + about one third molasses, and, of course, one third more of a man than + they commonly is, and so he jist ups and says, ‘I’ll see you and your + clerk to Jericho beyond Jordan fust. The office ain’t worth the fee. Take + it and sell it to some one else that has more money nor wit.’ He did, upon + my soul.” + </p> + <p> + “No, don’t send State-Secretary to Minister, send him to me at eleven + o’clock to-night, for I shall be the toploftiest feller about that time + you’ve seen this while past, I tell you. Stop till I touch land once more, + that’s all; the way I’ll stretch my legs ain’t no matter.” + </p> + <p> + He then uttered the negro ejaculation “chah!—chah!” and putting his + arms a-kimbo, danced in a most extraordinary style to the music of a song, + which he gave with great expression: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh hab you nebber heerd ob de battle ob Orleens, + Where de dandy Yankee lads gave de Britishers de beans; + Oh de Louisiana boys dey did it pretty slick, + When dey cotch ole Packenham and rode him up a creek. + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey, + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey. +</pre> + <p> + “Oh yes, send Secretary to me at eleven or twelve to-night, I’ll be in + tune then, jist about up to concart pitch. I’ll smoke with him, or drink + with him, or swap stories with him, or wrastle with him, or make a fool of + him, or lick him, or any thing he likes; and when I’ve done, I’ll rise up, + tweak the fore-top-knot of my head by the nose, bow pretty, and say + ‘Remember me, your honour? Don’t forget the tip?’ Lord, how I long to walk + into some o’ these chaps, and give ‘em the beans! and I will yet afore I’m + many days older, hang me if I don’t. I shall bust, I do expect; and if I + do, them that ain’t drownded will be scalded, I know. Chah!—chah! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh de British name is Bull, and de French name is Frog, + And noisy critters too, when a braggin’ on a log,— + But I is an alligator, a floatin’ down stream. + And I’ll chaw both the bullies up, as I would an ice-cream: + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dee, + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dee. +</pre> + <p> + “Yes, I’ve been pent up in that drawer-like lookin’ berth, till I’ve + growed like a pine-tree with its branches off—straight up and down. + My legs is like a pair of compasses that’s got wet; they are rusty on the + hinges, and won’t work. I’ll play leapfrog up the street, over every + feller’s head, till I get to the Liners’ Hotel; I hope I may be shot if I + don’t. Jube, you villain, stand still there on the deck, and hold up + stiff, you nigger. Warny once—warny twice—warny three times; + now I come.” + </p> + <p> + And he ran forward, and putting a hand on each shoulder, jumped over him. + </p> + <p> + “Turn round agin, you young sucking Satan, you; and don’t give one mite or + morsel, or you might ‘break massa’s precious neck,’ p’raps. Warny once—warny + twice—warny three times.” + </p> + <p> + And he repeated the feat again. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the way I’ll shin it up street, with a hop, skip and a jump. Won’t + I make Old Bull stare, when he finds his head under my coat tails, and me + jist makin’ a lever of him? He’ll think he has run foul of a snag, <i>I</i> + know. Lord, I’ll shack right over their heads, as they do over a colonist; + only when they do, they never say warny wunst, cuss ‘em, they arn’t civil + enough for that. They arn’t paid for it—there is no parquisite to be + got by it. Won’t I tuck in the Champaine to-night, that’s all, till I get + the steam up right, and make the paddles work? Won’t I have a lark of the + rael Kentuck breed? Won’t I trip up a policeman’s heels, thunder the + knockers of the street doors, and ring the bells and leave no card? Won’t + I have a shy at a lamp, and then off hot foot to the hotel? Won’t I say, + ‘Waiter, how dare you do that?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What, Sir?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Tread on my foot.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I didn’t, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You did, Sir. Take that!’ knock him down like wink, and help him up on + his feet agin with a kick on his western eend. Kiss the barmaid, about the + quickest and wickedest she ever heerd tell of, and then off to bed as + sober as a judge. ‘Chambermaid, bring a pan of coals and air my bed.’ + ‘Yes, Sir.’ Foller close at her heels, jist put a hand on each short rib, + tickle her till she spills the red hot coals all over the floor, and + begins to cry over ‘em to put ‘em out, whip the candle out of her hand, + leave her to her lamentations, and then off to roost in no time. And when + I get there, won’t I strike out all abroad—take up the room of three + men with their clothes on—lay all over and over the bed, and feel + once more I am a free man and a ‘<i>Gentleman at large</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. SEEING LIVERPOOL. + </h2> + <p> + On looking back to any given period of our life, we generally find that + the intervening time appears much shorter than it really is. We see at + once the starting-post and the terminus, and the mind takes in at one view + the entire space. + </p> + <p> + But this observation is more peculiarly applicable to a short passage + across the Atlantic. Knowing how great the distance is, and accustomed to + consider the voyage as the work of many weeks, we are so astonished at + finding ourselves transported in a few days, from one continent to + another, that we can hardly credit the evidence of our own senses. + </p> + <p> + Who is there that on landing has not asked himself the question, “Is it + possible that I am in England? It seems but as yesterday that I was in + America, to-day I am in Europe. Is it a dream, or a reality?” + </p> + <p> + The river and the docks—the country and the town—the people + and their accent—the verdure and the climate are all new to me. I + have not been prepared for this; I have not been led on imperceptibly, by + travelling mile after mile by land from my own home, to accustom my senses + to the gradual change of country. There has been no border to pass, where + the language, the dress, the habits, and outward appearances assimilate. + There has been no blending of colours—no dissolving views in the + retrospect—no opening or expanding ones in prospect. I have no + difficulty in ascertaining the point where one terminates and the other + begins. + </p> + <p> + The change is sudden and startling. The last time I slept on shore, was in + America—to-night I sleep in England. The effect is magical—one + country is withdrawn from view, and another is suddenly presented to my + astonished gaze. I am bewildered; I rouse myself, and rubbing my eyes, + again ask whether I am awake? Is this England? that great country, that + world of itself; Old England, that place I was taught to call home <i>par + excellence</i>, the home of other homes, whose flag, I called our flag? + (no, I am wrong, I have been accustomed to call our flag, the flag of + England; our church, not the Church of Nova Scotia, nor the Colonial nor + the Episcopal, nor the Established, but the Church of England.) Is it then + that England, whose language I speak, whose subject I am, the mistress of + the world, the country of Kings and Queens, and nobles and prelates, and + sages and heroes? + </p> + <p> + I have read of it, so have I read of old Rome; but the sight of Rome, + Caesar and the senate would not astonish me more than that of London, the + Queen and the Parliament. Both are yet ideal; the imagination has sketched + them, but when were its sketches ever true to nature? I have a veneration + for both, but, gentle reader, excuse the confessions of an old man, for I + have a soft spot in the heart yet, <i>I love Old England</i>. I love its + institutions, its literature, its people. I love its law, because, while + it protects property, it ensures liberty. I love its church, not only + because I believe it is the true church, but because though armed with + power, it is tolerant in practice. I love its constitution, because it + combines the stability of a monarchy, with the most valuable peculiarities + of a republic, and without violating nature by attempting to make men + equal, wisely follow its dictates, by securing freedom to all. + </p> + <p> + I like the people, though not all in the same degree. They are not what + they were. Dissent, reform and agitation have altered their character. It + is necessary to distinguish. A <i>real</i> Englishman is generous, loyal + and brave, manly in his conduct and gentlemanly in his feeling. When I + meet such a man as this, I cannot but respect him; but when I find that in + addition to these good qualities, he has the further recommendation of + being a churchman in his religion and a tory in his politics, I know then + that his heart is in the right place, and I love him. + </p> + <p> + The drafts of these chapters were read to Mr. Slick, at his particular + request, that he might be assured they contained nothing that would injure + his election as President of the United States, in the event of the + Slickville ticket becoming hereafter the favourite one. This, he said, was + on the cards, strange as it might seem, for making a fool of John Bull and + turning the laugh on him, would be sure to take and be popular. The last + paragraphs, he said, he affectioned and approbated with all his heart. + </p> + <p> + “It is rather tall talkin’ that,” said he; “I like its patronisin’ tone. + There is sunthin’ goodish in a colonist patronisin’ a Britisher. It’s + turnin’ the tables on ‘em; it’s sarvin’ ‘em out in their own way. Lord, I + think I see old Bull put his eye-glass up and look at you, with a dead + aim, and hear him say, ‘Come, this is cuttin’ it rather fat.’ Or, as the + feller said to his second wife, when she tapped him on the shoulder, + ‘Marm, my first wife was a <i>Pursy</i>, and she never presumed to take + that liberty.’ Yes, that’s good, Squire. Go it, my shirt-tails! you’ll win + if you get in fust, see if you don’t. Patronizin’ a Britisher!!! A critter + that has Lucifer’s pride, Arkwright’s wealth, and Bedlam’s sense, ain’t it + rich? Oh, wake snakes and walk your chalks, will you! Give me your + figgery-four Squire, I’ll go in up to the handle for you. Hit or miss, + rough or tumble, claw or mud-scraper, any way, you damn please, I’m your + man.” + </p> + <p> + But to return to my narrative. I was under the necessity of devoting the + day next after our landing at Liverpool, to writing letters announcing my + safe arrival to my anxious friends in Nova Scotia, and in different parts + of England; and also some few on matters of business. Mr. Slick was very + urgent in his request, that I should defer this work till the evening, and + accompany him in a stroll about the town, and at last became quite peevish + at my reiterated refusal. + </p> + <p> + “You remind me, Squire,” said he, “of Rufus Dodge, our great ile marchant + of Boston, and as you won’t walk, p’raps you’ll talk, so I’ll jist tell + you the story. + </p> + <p> + “I was once at the Cataract House to Niagara. It is jist a short distance + above the Falls. Out of the winders, you have a view of the splendid white + waters, or the rapids of foam, afore the river takes its everlastin’ leap + over the cliff. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Rufus come all the way from Boston to see the Falls: he said he + didn’t care much about them hisself, seein’ that he warn’t in the mill + business; but, as he was a goin’ to England, he didn’t like to say he + hadn’t been there, especially as all the English knowed about America was, + that there was a great big waterfall called Niagara, an everlastin’ + Almighty big river called Mississippi, and a parfect pictur of a wappin’ + big man called Kentuckian there. Both t’other ones he’d seen over and over + agin, but Niagara he’d never sot eyes on. + </p> + <p> + “So as soon as he arrives, he goes into the public room, and looks at the + white waters, and, sais he, ‘Waiter,’ sais he, ‘is them the falls down + there?’ a-pintin’ by accident in the direction where the Falls actilly + was. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, Sir,’ sais the waiter. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hem!’ sais Rufe, ‘them’s the Falls of Niagara, eh! So I’ve seen the + Falls at last, eh! Well it’s pretty too: they ain’t bad, that’s a fact. So + them’s the Falls of Niagara! How long is it afore the stage starts?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘An hour, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Go and book me for Boston, and then bring me a paper.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well he got his paper and sot there a readin’ of it, and every now and + then, he’d look out of the winder and say: ‘So them’s the Falls of + Niagara, eh? Well, it’s a pretty little mill privilege that too, ain’t it; + but it ain’t just altogether worth comin’ so far to see. So I’ve seen the + Falls at last!’ + </p> + <p> + “Arter a while in comes a Britisher. + </p> + <p> + “‘Waiter,’ says he, ‘how far is it to the Falls?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Little over a half a mile, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Which way do you get there?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Turn to the right, and then to the left, and then go a-head.’ + </p> + <p> + “Rufe heard all this, and it kinder seemed dark to him; so arter cypherin’ + it over in his head a bit, ‘Waiter,’ says he, ‘ain’t them the Falls of + Niagara, I see there?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, that’s tarnation all over now. Not the Falls?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, you don’t mean to say, that them are ain’t the Falls?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, I do, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Heaven and airth! I’ve come hundreds of miles a puppus to see ‘em, and + nothin’ else; not a bit of trade, or speckelation, or any airthly thing + but to see them cussed Falls, and come as near as 100 cents to a dollar, + startin’ off without sein’ ‘em arter all. If it hadn’t a been for that are + Britisher I was sold, that’s a fact. Can I run down there and back in half + an hour in time for the stage?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, Sir, but you will have no time to see them.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘See ‘em, cuss ‘em, I don’t want to see ‘em, I tell you. I want to look + at ‘em, I want to say I was to the Falls, that’s all. Give me my hat, + quick! So them ain’t the Falls! I ha’n’t see’d the Falls of Niagara arter + all. What a devil of a take-in that is, ain’t it?’ And he dove down stairs + like a Newfoundland dog into a pond arter a stone, and out of sight in no + time. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you are as like Rufe, as two peas, Squire. You want to say, you was + to Liverpool, but you don’t want to see nothin’.’ + </p> + <p> + “Waiter.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this Liverpool, I see out of the Winder?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Guess I have seen Liverpool then. So this is the great city of Liverpool, + eh? When does the train start for London?” + </p> + <p> + “In half an hour, Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Book me for London then, for I have been to Liverpool and seen the city. + Oh, take your place, Squire, you have seen Liverpool; and if you see as + much of all other places, as you have of this here one, afore you return + home, you will know most as much of England as them do that never was + there at all. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry too, you won’t go, Squire,” added he, “for minister seems + kinder dull.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t say another word, Mr. Slick,” said I; “every thing shall give way + to him.” And locking up my writing-desk I said: “I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Squire,” said he, “I’ve got a favour to ask of you. Don’t for + gracious sake, say nothin’ before Mr. Hopewell about that ‘ere lark I had + last night arter landin’, it would sorter worry him, and set him off + a-preachin’, and I’d rather he’d strike me any time amost than lectur, for + he does it so tender and kindly, it hurts my feelins <i>like</i>, a + considerable sum. I’ve had a pretty how-do-ye-do about it this mornin’, + and have had to plank down handsum’, and do the thing genteel; but Mister + Landlord found, I reckon, he had no fool to deal with, nother. He comes to + me, as soon as I was cleverly up this mornin’, lookin’ as full of + importance, as Jube Japan did when I put the Legation button on him. + </p> + <p> + “‘Bad business this, Sir,’ says he; ‘never had such a scene in my house + before, Sir; have had great difficulty to prevent my sarvants takin’ the + law of you.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah,’ sais I to myself, ‘I see how the cat jumps; here’s a little tid bit + of extortion now; but you won’t find that no go, I don’t think.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You will have to satisfy them, Sir,’ says he, ‘or take the + consequences.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sartainly,’ said I, ‘any thin’ you please: I leave it entirely to you; + jist name what you think proper, and I will liquidate it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I said, I knew you would behave like a gentleman, Sir,’ sais he, ‘for, + sais I, don’t talk to me of law, name it to the gentleman, and he’ll do + what is right; he’ll behave liberal, you may depend.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You said right,’ sais I, ‘and now, Sir, what’s the damage?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Fifty pounds, I should think about the thing, Sir,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Certainly,’ said I, ‘you shall have the fifty pounds, but you must give + me a receipt in full for it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘By all means,’ said he, and he was a cuttin’ off full chisel to get a + stamp, when I sais, ‘Stop,’ sais I, ‘uncle, mind and put in the receipt, + the bill of items, and charge ‘em separate?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Bill of items? sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ sais I, ‘let me see what each is to get. Well, there’s the waiter, + now. Say to knockin’ down the waiter and kicking him, so much; then + there’s the barmaid so much, and so on. I make no objection, I am willin’ + to pay all you ask, but I want to include all, for I intend to post a copy + of it in the elegant cabins of each of our splendid New York Liners. This + house convenes the Americans—they all know <i>me</i>. I want them to + know how their <i>Attache</i> was imposed on, and if any American ever + sets foot in this cussed house agin I will pay his bill, and post that up + too, as a letter of credit for him.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You wouldn’t take that advantage of me, Sir?’ said he. + </p> + <p> + “‘I take no advantage,’ sais I. ‘I’ll pay you what you ask, but you shall + never take advantage agin of another free and enlightened American + citizen, I can tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You must keep your money then, Sir,’ said he, ‘but this is not a fair + deal; no gentleman would do it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What’s fair, I am willin’ to do,’ sais I; ‘what’s onfair, is what you + want to do. Now, look here: I knocked the waiter down; here is two + sovereigns for him; I won’t pay him nothin’ for the kickin’, for that I + give him out of contempt, for not defendin’ of himself. Here’s three + sovereigns for the bar-maid; she don’t ought to have nothin’, for she + never got so innocent a kiss afore, in all her born days I know, for I + didn’t mean no harm, and she never got so good a one afore nother, that’s + a fact; but then <i>I</i> ought to pay, I do suppose, because I hadn’t + ought to treat a lady that way; it was onhansum’, that’s fact; and + besides, it tante right to give the galls a taste for such things. They + come fast enough in the nateral way, do kisses, without inokilatin’ folks + for ‘em. And here’s a sovereign for the scoldin’ and siscerarin’ you gave + the maid, that spilt the coals and that’s an eend of the matter, and I + don’t want no receipt.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, he bowed and walked off, without sayin’ of a word.” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Hopewell joined us, and we descended to the street, to commence + our perambulation of the city; but it had begun to rain, and we were + compelled to defer it until the next day. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it ain’t much matter, Squire,” said Mr. Slick: “ain’t that + Liverpool, I see out of the winder? Well, then I’ve been to Liverpool. + Book me for London. So I have seen Liverpool at last, eh! or, as Rufus + said, I have felt it too, for this wet day reminds me of the rest of his + story. + </p> + <p> + “In about a half hour arter Rufus raced off to the Falls, back he comes as + hard as he could tear, a-puffing and a blowin’ like a sizeable grampus. + You never seed such a figure as he was, he was wet through and through, + and the dry dust stickin’ to his clothes, made him look like a dog, that + had jumped into the water, and then took a roll in the road to dry + hisself; he was a caution to look at, that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ sais I, ‘Stranger, did you see the Falls?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ sais he, ‘I have see’d ‘em and felt ‘em too; them’s very wet + Falls, that’s a fact. I hante a dry rag on me; if it hadn’t a been for + that ere Britisher, I wouldn’t have see’d ‘em at all, and yet a thought I + had been there all the time. It’s a pity too, that that winder don’t bear + on it, for then you could see it without the trouble of goin’ there, or + gettin’ ducked, or gettin’ skeered so. I got an awful fright there—I + shall never forget it, if I live as long as Merusalem. You know I hadn’t + much time left, when. I found out I hadn’t been there arter all, so I ran + all the way, right down as hard as I could clip; and, seein’ some folks + comin’ out from onder the Fall, I pushed strait in, but the noise actilly + stunned me, and the spray wet me through and through like a piece of + sponged cloth; and the great pourin’, bilin’ flood, blinded me so I + couldn’t see a bit; and I hadn’t gone far in, afore a cold, wet, clammy, + dead hand, felt my face all over. I believe in my soul, it was the Indian + squaw that went over the Falls in the canoe, or the crazy Englisher, that + tried to jump across it. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh creation, how cold it was! The moment that spirit rose, mine fell, + and I actilly thought I should have dropt lumpus, I was so skeered. Give + me your hand, said Ghost, for I didn’t see nothin’ but a kinder dark + shadow. Give me your hand. I think it must ha’ been the squaw, for it + begged for all the world, jist like an Indgian. I’d see you hanged fust, + said I; I wouldn’t touch that are dead tacky hand o’ yourn’ for half a + million o’ hard dollars, cash down without any ragged eends; and with + that, I turned to run out, but Lord love you I couldn’t run. The stones + was all wet and slimy, and onnateral slippy, and I expected every minute, + I should heels up and go for it: atween them two critters the Ghost and + the juicy ledge, I felt awful skeered I tell <i>you</i>. So I begins to + say my catechism; what’s your name, sais I? Rufus Dodge. Who gave you that + name? Godfather and godmother granny Eells. What did they promise for you? + That I should renounce the devil and all his works—works—works—I + couldn’t get no farther, I stuck fast there, for I had forgot it. + </p> + <p> + “‘The moment I stopt, ghost kinder jumped forward, and seized me by my + mustn’t-mention’ems, and most pulled the seat out. Oh dear! my heart most + went out along with it, for I thought my time had come. You black + she-sinner of a heathen Indgian! sais I; let me go this blessed minite, + for I renounce the devil and all his works, the devil and all his works—so + there now; and I let go a kick behind, the wickedest you ever see, and + took it right in the bread basket. Oh, it yelled and howled and screached + like a wounded hyaena, till my ears fairly cracked agin. I renounce you, + Satan, sais I; I renounce you, and the world, and the flesh and the devil. + And now, sais I, a jumpin’ on terry firm once more, and turnin’ round and + facin’ the enemy, I’ll promise a little dust more for myself, and that is + to renounce Niagara, and Indgian squaws, and dead Britishers, and the + whole seed, breed and generation of ‘em from this time forth, for + evermore. Amen. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh blazes! how cold my face is yet. Waiter, half a pint of clear + cocktail; somethin’ to warm me. Oh, that cold hand! Did you ever touch a + dead man’s hand? it’s awful cold, you may depend. Is there any marks on my + face? do you see the tracks of the fingers there?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No, Sir,’ sais I,’ I can’t say I do.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, then I feel them there,’ sais he, ‘as plain as any thing.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Stranger,’ sais I, ‘it was nothin’ but some poor no-souled critter, like + yourself, that was skeered a’most to death, and wanted to be helped out + that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Skeered!’ said he, ‘sarves him right then; he might have knowed how to + feel for other folks, and not funkify them so peskily; I don’t keer if he + never gets out; but I have my doubts about its bein’ a livin’ human, I + tell <i>you</i>. If I hadn’t a renounced the devil and all his works that + time, I don’t know what the upshot would have been, for Old Scratch was + there too. I saw him as plain as I see you; he ran out afore me, and + couldn’t stop or look back, as long as I said catekism. He was in his old + shape of the sarpent; he was the matter of a yard long, and as thick round + as my arm and travelled belly-flounder fashion; when I touched land, he + dodged into an eddy, and out of sight in no time. Oh, there is no mistake, + I’ll take my oath of it; I see him, I did upon my soul. It was the old + gentleman hisself; he come there to cool hisself. Oh, it was the devil, + that’s a fact.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It was nothin’ but a fresh water eel,’ sais I; ‘I have seen thousands of + ‘em there; for the crevices of them rocks are chock full of ‘em. How can + you come for to go, for to talk arter that fashion; you are a disgrace to + our great nation, you great lummokin coward, you. An American citizen is + afeerd of nothin’, but a bad spekilation, or bein’ found oat.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, that posed him, he seemed kinder bothered, and looked down. + </p> + <p> + “‘An eel, eh! well, it mought be an eel,’ sais be, ‘that’s a fact. I + didn’t think of that; but then if it was, it was god-mother granny Eells, + that promised I should renounce the devil and all his works, that took + that shape, and come to keep me to my bargain. She died fifty years ago, + poor old soul, and never kept company with Indgians, or niggers, or any + such trash. Heavens and airth! I don’t wonder the Falls wakes the dead, it + makes such an everlastin’ almighty noise, does Niagara. Waiter, more + cocktail, that last was as weak as water.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, Sir,’ and he swallered it like wink. + </p> + <p> + “‘The stage is ready, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Is it?’ said he, and he jumped in all wet as he was; for time is money + and he didn’t want to waste neither. As it drove off, I heerd him say, + ‘Well them’s the Falls, eh! So I have seen the Falls of Niagara and felt + ‘em too, eh!’ + </p> + <p> + “Now, we are better off than Rufus Dodge was, Squire; for we hante got + wet, and we hante got frightened, but we can look out o’ the winder and + say, ‘Well, that’s Liverpool, eh! so I have—seen Liverpool.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. CHANGING A NAME. + </h2> + <p> + The rain having confined us to the house this afternoon, we sat over our + wine after dinner longer than usual. Among the different topics that were + discussed, the most prominent was the state of the political parties in + this country. Mr. Slick, who paid great deference to the opinions of Mr. + Hopewell, was anxious to ascertain from him what he thought upon the + subject, in order to regulate his conduct and conversation by it + hereafter. + </p> + <p> + “Minister,” said he, “what do you think of the politics of the British?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think about them at all, Sam. I hear so much of such matters at + home, that I am heartily tired of them; our political world is divided + into two classes, the knaves and the dupes. Don’t let us talk of such + exciting, things.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “holdin’ the high and dignified station I + do, as Attache, they will be a-pumpin’ me for everlastinly, will the great + men here, and they think a plaguy sight more of our opinion than you are + aware on; we have tried all them things they are a jawin’ about here, and + they naterally want to know the results. Cooper says not one Tory called + on him when he was to England, but Walter Scott; and that I take it, was + more lest folks should think he was jealous of him, than any thing else; + they jist cut him as dead as a skunk; but among the Whigs, he was quite an + oracle on ballot, univarsal suffrage, and all other democratic + institutions.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he was a ninny then, was Cooper, to go and blart it all out to the + world that way; for if no Tory visited him, I should like you to ask him + the next time you see him, how many gentlemen called upon him? Jist ask + him that, and it will stop him from writing such stuff any more.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Minister, jist tell us now, here you are, as a body might say in + England, now what are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am a man, Sam; <i>Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what’s all that when it’s fried?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that when away from home, I am a citizen of the world. I belong to + no party, but take an interest in the whole human family.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Minister, if you choose to sing dumb, you can, but I should like to + have you answer me one question now, and if you won’t, why you must jist + do t’other thing, that’s all. Are you a Consarvative?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a Whig?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “A Radical?” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid!” + </p> + <p> + “What in natur’ are you then?” + </p> + <p> + “A Tory.” + </p> + <p> + “A Tory! well, I thought that a Tory and a Consarvative, were as the + Indgians say, “all same one brudder.” Where is the difference?” + </p> + <p> + “You will soon find that out, Sam; go and talk to a Consarvative as a + Tory, and you will find he is a Whig: go and talk to him again as a Whig, + and you will find he is a Tory. They are, for all the world, like a + sturgeon. There is very good beef steaks in a sturgeon, and very good fish + too, and yet it tante either fish or flesh. I don’t like taking a new + name, it looks amazing like taking new principles, or, at all events, like + loosenin’ old ones, and I hante seen the creed of this new sect yet—I + don’t know what its tenets are, nor where to go and look for ‘em. It + strikes me they don’t accord with the Tories, and yet arn’t in tune with + the Whigs, but are half a note lower than the one, and half a note higher + than t’other. Now, changes in the body politic are always necessary more + or less, in order to meet the changes of time, and the changes in the + condition of man. When they are necessary, make ‘em, and ha’ done with + ‘em. Make ‘em like men, not when you are forced to do so, and nobody + thanks you, but when you see they are wanted, and are proper; but don’t + alter your name. + </p> + <p> + “My wardens wanted me to do that; they came to me, and said ‘Minister,’ + says they, ‘we don’t want <i>you</i> to change, we don’t ask it; jist let + us call you a Unitarian, and you can remain Episcopalian still. We are + tired of that old fashioned name, it’s generally thought unsuited to the + times, and behind the enlightment of the age; it’s only fit for benighted + Europeans. Change the name, you needn’t change any thing else. What is a + name?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Every thing,’ says I, ‘every thing, my brethren; one name belongs to a + Christian, and the other don’t; that’s the difference. I’d die before I + surrendered my name; for in surrenderin’ that, I surrender my + principles.’” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Mr. Slick, “that’s what Brother Eldad used to say. ‘Sam,’ + said he, ‘a man with an <i>alias</i> is the worst character in the world; + for takin’ a new name, shows he is ashamed of his old one; and havin’ an + old one, shows his new one is a cheat.’” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mr. Hopewell, “I don’t like that word Consarvative. Them folks + may be good kind of people, and I guess they be, seein’ that the Tories + support ‘em, which is the best thing I see about them; but I don’t like + changin’ a name.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t know,” said Mr. Slick, “p’raps their old name was so + infarnal dry rotted, they wanted to change it for a sound new one. You + recollect when that super-superior villain, Expected Thorne, brought an + action of defamation agin’ me, to Slickville, for takin’ away his + character, about stealing the watch to Nova Scotia; well, I jist pleaded + my own case, and I ups and sais, ‘Gentlemen of the Jury,’ sais I, + “Expected’s character, every soul knows, is about the wust in all + Slickville. If I have taken it away, I have done him a great sarvice, for + he has a smart chance of gettin’ a better one; and if he don’t find a swap + to his mind, why no character is better nor a bad one.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, the old judge and the whole court larfed right out like any thin’; + and the jury, without stirrin’ from the box, returned a vardict for the + defendant. P’raps now, that mought be the case with the Tories.” + </p> + <p> + “The difference,” said Mr. Hopewell, is jist this:—your friend, Mr. + Expected Thorne, had a name he had ought to have been ashamed of, and the + Tories one that the whole nation had very great reason to be proud of. + There is some little difference, you must admit. My English politics, + (mind you, I say English, for they hare no reference to America,) are + Tory, and I don’t want to go to Sir Robert Peel, or Lord John Russell + either.” + </p> + <p> + “As for Johnny Russell,” said Mr. Slick, “he is a clever little chap that; + he—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t call him Johnny Russell,” said Mr. Hopewell, “or a little chap, or + such flippant names, I don’t like to hear you talk that way. It neither + becomes you as a Christian nor a gentleman. St. Luke and St. Paul, when + addressing people of rank, use the word ‘[Greek text]’ which, as nearly as + possible, answers to the title of ‘your Excellency.’ Honour, we are told, + should be given to those to whom honour is due; and if we had no such + authority on the subject, the omission of titles, where they are usual and + legal, is, to say the least of it, a vulgar familiarity, ill becoming an + Attache of our embassy. But as I was saying, I do not require to go to + either of those statesmen to be instructed in my politics. I take mine + where I take my religion, from the Bible. ‘Fear God, honour the King, and + meddle not with those that are given to change.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “you mis’t a figur at our glorious + Revolution, you had ought to have held on to the British; they would have + made a bishop of you, and shoved you into the House of Lords, black apron, + lawn sleeves, shovel hat and all, as sure as rates. ‘The right reverend, + the Lord Bishop of Slickville:’ wouldn’t it look well on the back of a + letter, eh? or your signature to one sent to me, signed ‘Joshua + Slickville.’ It sounds better, that, than ‘Old Minister,’ don’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you go for to talk that way, Sam, I am done; but I will shew you + that the Tories are the men to govern this great nation. A Tory I may say + ‘<i>noscitur a sociis</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + “What in natur is that, when it’s biled and the skin took off?” asked Mr. + Slick. + </p> + <p> + “Why is it possible you don’t know that? Have you forgotten that common + schoolboy phrase?” + </p> + <p> + “Guess I do know; but it don’t tally jist altogether nohow, as it were. + Known as a Socialist, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “If, Sir,” said Mr. Hopewell, with much earnestness, “if instead of + ornamenting your conversation with cant terms, and miserable slang, picked + up from the lowest refuse of our population, both east and west, you had + cultivated your mind, and enriched it with quotations from classical + writers, you would have been more like an Attache, and less like a + peddling clockmaker than you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “I was only in jeest, but you are in airnest. + What you have said is too true for a joke, and I feel it. I was only a + sparrin’; but you took off the gloves, and felt my short ribs in a way + that has given me a stitch in the side. It tante fair to kick that way + afore you are spurred. You’ve hurt me considerable.” + </p> + <p> + “Sam, I am old, narvous, and irritable. I was wrong to speak unkindly to + you, very wrong indeed, and I am sorry for it; but don’t teaze me no more, + that’s a good lad; for I feel worse than you do about it. I beg your + pardon, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mr. Slick, “to get back to what we was a sayin’, for you do + talk like a book, that’s a fact; ‘<i>noscitur a sociis</i>,’ says you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ‘Birds of a feather flock together,’ as the old maxim goes. Now, Sam, + who supported the Whigs?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, let me see; a few of the lords, a few of the gentry, the repealers, + the manufacturin’ folks, the independents, the baptists, the dissentin’ + Scotch, the socialists, the radicals, the discontented, and most of the + lower orders, and so on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, who supported the Tories?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the majority of the lords, the great body of landed gentry, the + univarsities, the whole of the Church of England, the whole of the + methodists, amost the principal part of the kirk, the great marchants, + capitalists, bankers, lawyers, army and navy officers, and soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Now don’t take your politics from me, Sam, for I am no politician; but as + an American citizen, judge for yourself, which of those two parties is + most likely to be right, or which would you like to belong to.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must say,” replied he, “I <i>do</i> think that the larnin’, + piety, property, and respectability, is on the Tory side; and where all + them things is united, right most commonly is found a-joggin’ along in + company.” + </p> + <p> + “Well now, Sam, you know we are a calculatin’ people, a commercial people, + a practical people. Europe laughs at us for it. Perhaps if they attended + better to their own financial affairs, they would be in a better situation + to laugh. But still we must look to facts and results. How did the Tories, + when they went out of office, leave the kingdom?—At peace?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, with all the world.” + </p> + <p> + “How did the Whigs leave it?” + </p> + <p> + “With three wars on hand, and one in the vat a-brewin’ with America. Every + great interest injured, some ruined, and all alarmed at the impendin’ + danger—of national bankruptcy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now for dollars and cents. How did the Tories leave the treasury?” + </p> + <p> + “With a surplus revenue of millions.” + </p> + <p> + “How did the Whigs?” + </p> + <p> + “With a deficiency that made the nation scratch their head, and stare + agin.” + </p> + <p> + “I could go through the details with you, as far as my imperfect + information extends, or more imperfect memory would let me; but it is all + the same, and always will be, here, in France, with us, in the colonies, + and everywhere else. Whenever property, talent, and virtue are all on one + side, and only ignorant numbers, with a mere sprinkling of property and + talent to agitate ‘em and make use of ‘em, or misinformed or mistaken + virtue to sanction ‘em on the other side, no honest man can take long to + deliberate which side he will choose. + </p> + <p> + “As to those conservatives, I don’t know what to say, Sam; I should like + to put you right if I could. But I’ll tell you what puzzles me. I ask + myself what is a Tory? I find he is a man who goes the whole figur’ for + the support of the monarchy, in its three orders, of king, lords, and + commons, as by law established; that he is for the connexion of Church and + State and so on; and that as the wealthiest man in England, he offers to + prove his sincerity, by paying the greatest part of the taxes to uphold + these things. Well, then I ask what is Consarvitism? I am told that it + means, what it imports, a conservation of things as they are. Where, then, + is the difference? <i>If there is no difference, it is a mere juggle to + change the name: if there is a difference, the word is worse than a + juggle, for it don’t import any</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell you what,” said Mr. Slick, “I heerd an old critter to Halifax once + describe ‘em beautiful. He said he could tell a man’s politicks by his + shirt. ‘A Tory, Sir,’ said he, for he was a pompious old boy was old + Blue-Nose; ‘a Tory, Sir,’ said he, ‘is a gentleman every inch of him, + stock, lock, and barrel; and he puts a clean frill shirt on every day. A + Whig, Sir,’ says he, ‘is a gentleman every other inch of him, and he puts + an onfrilled one on every other day. A Radical, Sir, ain’t no gentleman at + all, and he only puts one on of a Sunday. But a Chartist, Sir, is a + loafer; he never puts one on till the old one won’t hold together no + longer, and drops off in, pieces.’” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said Mr. Hopewell, “now don’t talk nonsense; but as I was a-goin’ + to say, I am a plain man, and a straightforward man, Sam; what I say, I + mean; and what I mean, I say. Private and public life are subject to the + same rules; and truth and manliness are two qualities that will carry you + through this world much better than policy, or tact, or expediency, or any + other word that ever was devised to conceal, or mystify a deviation from + the straight line. They have a sartificate of character, these + consarvitives, in having the support of the Tories; but that don’t quite + satisfy me. It may, perhaps, mean no more than this, arter all—they + are the best sarvants we have; but not as good as we want. However, I + shall know more about it soon; and when I do, I will give you my opinion + candidly. One thing, however, is certain, a change in the institutions of + a country I could accede to, approve, and support, if necessary and good; + but I never can approve of either an individual or a party—‘<i>changing + a name</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE NELSON MONUMENT. + </h2> + <p> + The following day being dry, we walked out to view the wonders of this + great commercial city of England, Liverpool. The side-paths were filled + with an active and busy population, and the main streets thronged with + heavily-laden waggons, conveying to the docks the manufactures of the + country, or carrying inward the productions of foreign nations. It was an + animating and busy scene. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Mr. Hopewell, “is solitude. It is in a place like this, that + you feel yourself to be an isolated being, when you are surrounded by + multitudes who have no sympathy with you, to whom you are not only wholly + unknown, but not one of whom you have ever seen before. + </p> + <p> + “The solitude of the vast American forest is not equal to this. + Encompassed by the great objects of nature, you recognise nature’s God + every where; you feel his presence, and rely on his protection. Every + thing in a city is artificial, the predominant idea is man; and man, under + circumstances like the present, is neither your friend nor protector. You + form no part of the social system here. Gregarious by nature, you cannot + associate; dependent, you cannot attach yourself; a rational being, you + cannot interchange ideas. In seeking the wilderness you enter the abode of + solitude, and are naturally and voluntarily alone. On visiting a city, on + the contrary, you enter the residence of man, and if you are forced into + isolation there, to you it is worse than a desert. + </p> + <p> + “I know of nothing so depressing as this feeling of unconnected + individuality, amidst a dense population like this. But, my friend, there + is One who never forsakes us either in the throng or the wilderness, whose + ear is always open to our petitions, and who has invited us to rely on his + goodness and mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “You hadn’t ought to feel lonely here, Minister,” said Mr. Slick. “It’s a + place we have a right to boast of is Liverpool; we built it, and I’ll tell + you what it is, to build two such cities as New York and Liverpool in the + short time we did, is sunthin’ to brag of. If there had been no New York, + there would have been no Liverpool; but if there had been no Liverpool, + there would have been a New York though. They couldn’t do nothin’ without + us. We had to build them elegant line-packets for ‘em; they couldn’t build + one that could sail, and if she sail’d she couldn’t steer, and if she + sail’d and steer’d, she upsot; there was always a screw loose somewhere. + </p> + <p> + “It cost us a great deal too to build them ere great docks. They cover + about seventy acres, I reckon. We have to pay heavy port dues to keep ‘em + up, and pay interest on capital. The worst of it is, too, while we pay for + all this, we hante got the direction of the works.” + </p> + <p> + “If you have paid for all these things,” said I, “you had better lay claim + to Liverpool. Like the disputed territory (to which it now appears, you + knew you had no legal or equitable claim), it is probable you will have + half of it ceded to you, for the purpose of conciliation. I admire this + boast of yours uncommonly. It reminds me of the conversation we had some + years ago, about the device on your “naval button,” of the eagle holding + an anchor in its claws—that national emblem of ill-directed ambition + and vulgar pretension.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you for that hint,” said Mr. Slick, “I was in jeest like; but + there is more in it, for all that, than you’d think. It ain’t literal + fact, but it is figurative truth. But now I’ll shew you sunthin’ in this + town, that’s as false as parjury, sunthin that’s a disgrace to this + country and an insult to our great nation, and there is no jeest in it + nother, but a downright lie; and, since you go for to throw up to me our + naval button with its ‘eagle and anchor,’ I’ll point out to you sunthin’ a + hundred thousand million times wus. What was the name o’ that English + admiral folks made such a touss about; that cripple-gaited, one-eyed, + one-armed little naval critter?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean Lord Nelson?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said he, and pointing to his monument, he continued, “There he is + as big as life, five feet nothin’, with his shoes on. Now examine that + monument, and tell me if the English don’t know how to brag, as well as + some other folks, and whether they don’t brag too sumtimes, when they + hante got no right to. There is four figures there a representing the four + quarters of the globe in chains, and among them America, a crouchin’ down, + and a-beggin’ for life, like a mean heathen Ingin. Well, jist do the civil + now, and tell me when that little braggin’ feller ever whipped us, will + you? Just tell me the day of the year he was ever able to do it, since his + mammy cut the apron string and let him run to seek his fortin’. Heavens + and airth, we’d a chawed him right up! + </p> + <p> + “No, there never was an officer among you, that had any thing to brag of + about us but one, and he wasn’t a Britisher—he was a despisable + Blue-nose colonist boy of Halifax. When his captain was took below + wounded, he was leftenant, so he jist ups and takes command o’ the + Shannon, and fit like a tiger and took our splendid frigate the + Chesapeake, and that was sumthing to brag on. And what did he get for it? + Why colony sarce, half-pay, and leave to make room for Englishers to go + over his head; and here is a lyin’ false monument, erected to this man + that never even see’d one of our national ships, much less smelt thunder + and lightning out of one, that English like, has got this for what he + didn’t do. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry Mr. Lett [Footnote: This was the man that blew up the Brock + monument in Canada. <i>He was a Patriot</i>.] is dead to Canada, or I’d + give him a hint about this. I’d say, ‘I hope none of our free and + enlightened citizens will blow this lyin’, swaggerin’, bullyin’ monument + up? I should be sorry for ‘em to take notice of such vulgar insolence as + this; for bullies will brag.’ He’d wink and say, ‘I won’t non-concur with + you, Mr. Slick. I hope it won’t be blowed up; but wishes like dreams come + con<i>trary</i> ways sometimes, and I shouldn’t much wonder if it bragged + till it bust some night.’ It would go for it, that’s a fact. For Mr. Lett + has a kind of nateral genius for blowin’ up of monuments. + </p> + <p> + “Now you talk of our Eagle takin’ an anchor in its claws as bad taste. I + won’t say it isn’t; but it is a nation sight better nor this. See what the + little admiral critter is about! why he is a stampin’ and a jabbin’ of the + iron heel of his boot into the lifeless body of a fallen foe! It’s horrid + disgustin’, and ain’t overly brave nother; and to make matters wus, as if + this warn’t bad enough, them four emblem figures, have great heavy iron + chains on ‘em, and a great enormous sneezer of a lion has one part o’ the + chain in its mouth, and is a-growlin’ and a-grinnin’ and a-snarling at ‘em + like mad, as much as to say, ‘if you dare to move the sixteen hundredth + part of an inch, I will fall to and make mincemeat of you, in less than + half no time. I don’t think there never was nothin’ so bad as this, ever + seen since the days of old daddy Adam down to this present blessed day, I + don’t indeed. So don’t come for to go, Squire, to tarnt me with the Eagle + and the anchor no more, for I don’t like it a bit; you’d better look to + your ‘<i>Nelson monument</i>’ and let us alone. So come now!” + </p> + <p> + Amidst much that was coarse, and more that was exaggerated, there was + still some foundation for the remarks of the Attache. + </p> + <p> + “You arrogate a little too much to yourselves,” I observed, “in + considering the United States as all America. At the time these brilliant + deeds were achieved, which this monument is intended to commemorate, the + Spaniards owned a very much greater portion of the transatlantic continent + than you now do, and their navy composed a part of the hostile fleets + which were destroyed by Lord Nelson. At that time, also, you had no navy, + or at all events, so few ships, as scarcely to deserve the name of one; + nor had you won for yourselves that high character, which you now so + justly enjoy, for skill and gallantry. I agree with you, however, in + thinking the monument is in bad taste. The name of Lord Nelson is its own + monument. It will survive when these perishable structures, which the + pride or the gratitude of his countrymen have erected to perpetuate his + fame, shall have mouldered into dust, and been forgotten for ever. If + visible objects are thought necessary to suggest the mention of his name + oftener that it would otherwise occur to the mind, they should be such as + to improve the taste, as well as awaken the patriotism of the beholder. As + an American, there is nothing to which you have a right to object, but as + a critic, I admit that there is much that you cannot approve in the ‘<i>Nelson + Monument</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. COTTAGES. + </h2> + <p> + On the tenth day after we landed at Liverpool, we arrived in London and + settled ourselves very comfortably in lodgings at No. 202, Piccadilly, + where every possible attention was paid to us by our landlord and his + wife, Mr. and Mrs. Weeks. We performed the journey in a post-chaise, + fearing that the rapid motion of a rail car might have an unpleasant + effect upon the health of Mr. Hope well. + </p> + <p> + Of the little incidents of travel that occurred to us, or of the various + objects of attraction on the route, it is not my intention to give any + account. Our journey was doubtless much like the journeys of other people, + and every thing of local interest is to be found in Guide Books, or + topographical works, which are within the reach of every body. + </p> + <p> + This book, however imperfect its execution may be, is altogether of + another kind. I shall therefore pass over this and other subsequent + journeys, with no other remark, than that they were performed, until + something shall occur illustrative of the objects I have in view. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion I shall select from my diary a description of the + labourer’s cottage, and the parish church; because the one shews the + habits, tastes, and condition of the poor of this country, in contrast + with that of America—and the other, the relative means of religious + instruction, and its effect on the lower orders. + </p> + <p> + On the Saturday morning, while preparing to resume our journey, which was + now nearly half completed, Mr. Hopewell expressed a desire to remain at + the inn where we were, until the following Monday. As the day was fine, he + said he should like to ramble about the neighbourhood, and enjoy the fresh + air. His attention was soon drawn to some very beautiful new cottages. + </p> + <p> + “These,” said he, “are no doubt erected at the expense, and for the + gratification of some great landed proprietor. They are not the abodes of + ordinary labourers, but designed for some favoured dependant or aged + servant. They are expensive toys, but still they are not without their + use. They diffuse a taste among the peasantry—they present them with + models, which, though they cannot imitate in costliness of material or + finish, they can copy in arrangement, and in that sort of decoration, + which flowers, and vines, and culture, and care can give. Let us seek one + which is peculiarly the poor man’s cottage, and let us go in and see who + and what they are, how they live, and above all, how they think and talk. + Here is a lane, let us follow it, till we come to a habitation.” + </p> + <p> + We turned into a grass road, bounded on either side by a high straggling + thorn hedge. At its termination was an irregular cottage with a thatched + roof, which projected over the windows in front. The latter were latticed + with diamond-shaped panes of glass, and were four in number, one on each + side of the door and two just under the roof. The door was made of two + transverse parts, the upper half of which was open. On one side was a + basket-like cage containing a magpie, and on the other, a cat lay extended + on a bench, dozing in the warmth of the sun. The blue smoke, curling + upwards from a crooked chimney, afforded proof of some one being within. + </p> + <p> + We therefore opened a little gate, and proceeded through a neat garden, in + which flowers and vegetables were intermixed. It had a gay appearance from + the pear, apple, thorn and cherry being all in full bloom. We were + received at the door by a middle-aged woman, with the ruddy glow of health + on her cheeks, and dressed in coarse, plain, but remarkably neat and + suitable, attire. As this was a cottage selected at random, and visited + without previous intimation of our intention, I took particular notice of + every thing I saw, because I regarded its appearance as a fair specimen of + its constant and daily state. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopewell needed no introduction. His appearance told what he was. His + great stature and erect bearing, his intelligent and amiable face, his + noble forehead, his beautiful snow-white locks, his precise and antique + dress, his simplicity of manner, every thing, in short, about him, at once + attracted attention and conciliated favour. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hodgins, for such was her name, received us with that mixture of + respect and ease, which shewed she was accustomed to converse with her + superiors. She was dressed in a blue homespun gown, (the sleeves of which + were drawn up to her elbows and the lower part tucked through her + pocket-hole,) a black stuff petticoat, black stockings and shoes with the + soles more than half an inch thick. She wore also, a large white apron, + and a neat and by no means unbecoming cap. She informed us her husband was + a gardener’s labourer, that supported his family by his daily work, and by + the proceeds of the little garden attached to the house, and invited us to + come in and sit down. + </p> + <p> + The apartment into which the door opened, was a kitchen or common room. On + one side, was a large fire-place, the mantel-piece or shelf, of which was + filled with brass candlesticks, large and small, some queer old-fashioned + lamps, snuffers and trays, polished to a degree of brightness, that was + dazzling. A dresser was carried round the wall, filled with plates and + dishes, and underneath were exhibited the ordinary culinary utensils, in + excellent order. A small table stood before the fire, with a cloth of + spotless whiteness spread upon it, as if in preparation for a meal. A few + stools completed the furniture. + </p> + <p> + Passing through this place, we were shewn into the parlour, a small room + with a sanded floor. Against the sides were placed some old, dark, and + highly polished chairs, of antique form and rude workmanship. The walls + were decorated with several coloured prints, illustrative of the Pilgrim’s + Progress and hung in small red frames of about six inches square. The + fire-place was filled with moss, and its mantel-shelf had its china sheep + and sheperdesses, and a small looking-glass, the whole being surmounted by + a gun hung transversely. The Lord’s Prayer and the Ten Commandments worked + in worsted, were suspended in a wooden frame between the windows, which + had white muslin blinds, and opened on hinges, like a door. A cupboard + made to fit the corner, in a manner to economise room, was filled with + china mugs, cups and saucers of different sizes and patterns, some old + tea-spoons and a plated tea-pot. + </p> + <p> + There was a small table opposite to the window, which Contained half a + dozen books. One of these was large, handsomely bound, and decorated with + gilt edged paper. Mr. Hopewell opened it, and expressed great satisfaction + at finding such an edition of a bible in such a house. Mrs. Hodgins + explained that this was a present from her eldest son, who had thus + appropriated his first earnings to the gratification of his mother. + </p> + <p> + “Creditable to you both, dear,” said Mr. Hopewell: “to you, because it is + a proof how well you have instructed him; and to him, that he so well + appreciated and so faithfully remembered those lessons of duty.” + </p> + <p> + He then inquired into the state of her family, whether the boy who was + training a peach-tree against the end of the house was her son, and many + other matters not necessary to record with the same precision that I have + enumerated the furniture. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, here is a pretty little child!” said he. “Come here, dear, and shake + hands along with me. What beautiful hair she has! and she looks so clean + and nice, too. Every thing and every body here is so neat, so tidy, and so + appropriate. Kiss me, dear; and then talk to me; for I love little + children. ‘Suffer them to come unto me,’ said our Master, ‘for of such is + the kingdom of Heaven:’ that is, that we should resemble these little ones + in our innocence.” + </p> + <p> + He then took her on his knee. “Can you say the Lord’s Prayer, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. And the ten Commandments?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Who taught you?” + </p> + <p> + “My mother, Sir; and the parson taught me the Catechism.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Sam, this child can say the Lord’s Prayer, the ten Commandments, and + the Catechism. Ain’t this beautiful? Tell me the fifth, dear.” + </p> + <p> + And the child repeated it distinctly and accurately. + </p> + <p> + “Right. Now, dear, always bear that in mind, especially towards your + mother. You have an excellent mother; her cares and her toils are many; + and amidst them all, how well she has done her duty to you. The only way + she can be repaid, is to find that you are what she desires you to be, a + good girl. God commands this return to be made, and offers you the reward + of length of days. Here is a piece of money for you. And now, dear,” + placing her again upon her feet, “you never saw so old a man as me, and + never will again; and one, too, that came from a far-off country, three + thousand miles off; it would take you a long time to count three thousand; + it is so far. Whenever you do what you ought not, think of the advice of + the ‘old Minister.’” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Slick beckoned the mother to the door, and whispered something to + her, of which, the only words that met my ear were “a trump,” “a brick,” + “the other man like him ain’t made yet,” “do it, he’ll talk, then.” + </p> + <p> + To which she replied, “I have—oh yes, Sir—by all means.” + </p> + <p> + She then advanced to Mr. Hopewell, and asked him if he would like to + smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I would, dear, but I have no pipe here.” + </p> + <p> + She said her old man smoked of an evening, after his work was done, and + that she could give him a pipe and some tobacco, if he would condescend to + use them; and going to the cupboard, she produced a long white clay pipe + and some cut tobacco. + </p> + <p> + Having filled and lighted his pipe, Mr. Hopewell said, “What church do you + go to, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “The parish church, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Right; you will hear Sound doctrine and good morals preached there. Oh + this a fortunate country, Sam, for the state provides for the religious + instruction of the poor. Where the voluntary system prevails, the poor + have to give from their poverty, or go without; and their gifts are so + small, that they can purchase but little. It’s a beautiful system, a + charitable system, a Christian system. Who is your landlord?” + </p> + <p> + “Squire Merton, Sir; and one of the kindest masters, too, that ever was. + He is so good to the poor; and the ladies. Sir, they are so kind, also. + When my poor daughter Mary was so ill with the lever, I do think she would + have died but for the attentions of those young ladies; and when she grew + better, they sent her wine and nourishing things from their own table. + They will be so glad to see you. Sir, at the Priory. Oh, I wish you could + see them!” + </p> + <p> + “There it is, Sam,” he continued “That illustrates what I always told you + of their social system here. We may boast of our independence, but that + independence produces isolation. There is an individuality about every man + and every family in America, that gives no right of inquiry, and imposes + no duty of relief on any one. Sickness, and sorrow, and trouble, are not + divulged; joy, success, and happiness are not imparted. If we are + independent in our thoughts and actions, so are we left to sustain the + burden of our own ills. How applicable to our state is that passage of + Scripture, ‘The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger + intermeddleth not with its joy.’ + </p> + <p> + “Now, look at this poor family; here is a clergyman provided for them, + whom they do not, and are not even expected to pay; their spiritual wants + are ministered to, faithfully and zealously, as we see by the instruction + of that little child. Here is a friend upon whom they can rely in their + hour of trouble, as the bereaved mother did on Elisha. ‘And she went up + and laid her child that was dead on the bed of the man of God, and shut + the door on him, and went out.’ And when a long train of agitation, + mis-government, and ill-digested changes have deranged this happy country, + as has recently been the case, here is an indulgent landlord, disposed to + lower his rent or give further time for payment, or if sickness invades + any of these cottages, to seek out the sufferer, to afford the remedies, + and by his countenance, his kindness, and advice, to alleviate their + trouble. Here it is, a positive duty arising from their relative + situations of landlord and tenant. The tenants support the owner, the + landlord protects the tenants: the duties are reciprocal. + </p> + <p> + “With <i>us</i> the duties, as far as Christian duties can be said to be + optional, are voluntary; and the voluntary discharge of duties, like the + voluntary support of religion, we know, from sad experience, to be + sometimes imperfectly performed, at others intermitted, and often wholly + neglected. Oh! it is a happy country this, a great and a good country; and + how base, how wicked, how diabolical it is to try to set such a family as + this against their best friends, their pastor and their landlord; to + instil dissatisfaction and distrust into their simple minds, and to teach + them to loathe the hand, that proffers nothing but regard or relief. It is + shocking, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I often say, Sir,” said Mrs. Hodgins, “to my old man, to keep + away from them Chartists.” + </p> + <p> + “Chartists! dear, who are they? I never heard of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Sir, they are the men that want the five pints.” + </p> + <p> + “Five pints! why you don’t say so; oh! they are bad men, have nothing to + do with them. Five pints! why that is two quarts and a half; that is too + much to drink if it was water; and if any thing else, it is beastly + drunkenness. Have nothing to do with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, Sir, it is five points of law.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut—tut—tut! what have you got to do with law, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “By gosh, Aunty,” said Mr. Slick, “you had better not cut that pie: you + will find it rather sour in the apple sarce, and tough in the paste, I + tell <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir,” she replied, “but they are a unsettling of his mind. What + shall I do? for I don’t like these night meetings, and he always comes + home from ‘em cross and sour-like.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am sorry to hear that,” said Mr. Hopewell, “I wish I could see + him; but I can’t, for I am bound on a journey. I am sorry to hear it, + dear. Sam, this country is so beautiful, so highly cultivated, so adorned + by nature and art, and contains so much comfort and happiness, that it + resembles almost the garden of Eden. But, Sam, the Serpent is here, the + Serpent is here beyond a doubt. It changes its shape, and alters its name, + and takes a new colour, but still it is the Serpent, and it ought to be + crushed. Sometimes it calls itself liberal, then radical, then chartist, + then agitator, then repealer, then political dissenter, then anti-corn + leaguer, and so on. Sometimes it stings the clergy, and coils round them, + and almost strangles them, for it knows the Church is its greatest enemy, + and it is furious against it. Then it attacks the peers, and covers them + with its froth and slaver, and then it bites the landlord. Then it changes + form, and shoots at the Queen, or her ministers, and sets fire to + buildings, and burns up corn to increase distress; and, when hunted away, + it dives down into the collieries, or visits the manufactories, and + maddens the people, and urges them on to plunder and destruction. It’s a + melancholy thing to think of; but he is as of old, alive and active, + seeing whom he can allure and deceive, and whoever listens is ruined for + ever. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, dear, I’ll tell you what I will do for you. I’ll inquire about + these Chartists; and when I go to London, I will write a little tract so + plain that any child may read it and understand it; and call it <i>The + Chartist</i>, and get it printed, and I will send you one for your + husband, and two or three others, to give to those whom they may benefit. + </p> + <p> + “And now, dear, I must go. You and I will never meet again in this world; + but I shall often think of you, and often speak of you. I shall tell my + people of the comforts, of the neatness, of the beauty of an English + cottage. May God bless you, and so regulate your mind as to preserve in + you a reverence for his holy word, an obedience to the commands of your + Spiritual Pastor, and a respect for all that are placed in authority over + you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is pretty, too, is this cottage,” said Mr. Slick, as we strolled + back to the inn, “but the handsumestest thing is to hear that good old + soul talk dictionary that way, aint it? How nateral he is! Guess they + don’t often see such a ‘postle as that in these diggins. Yes, it’s pretty + is this cottage; but it’s small, arter all. You feel like a squirrel in a + cage, in it; you have to run round and round, and don’t go forward none. + What would a man do with a rifle here? For my part, I have a taste for the + wild woods; it comes on me regular in the fall, like the lake fever, and I + up gun, and off for a week or two, and camp out, and get a snuff of the + spruce-wood air, and a good appetite, and a bit of fresh ven’son to sup on + at night. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be off to the highlands this fall; but, cuss em, they hante got + no woods there; nothin’ but heather, and thats only high enough to tear + your clothes. That’s the reason the Scotch don’t wear no breeches, they + don’t like to get ‘em ragged up that way for everlastinly, they can’t + afford it; so they let em scratch and tear their skin, for that will grow + agin, and trowsers won’t. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s a pretty cottage that, and a nice tidy body that too, is Mrs. + Hodgins. I’ve seen the time when I would have given a good deal to have + been so well housed as that. There is some little difference atween that + cottage and a log hut of a poor back emigrant settler, you and I know + where. Did ever I tell you of the night I spent at Lake Teal, with old + Judge Sandford?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not that I recollect.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, once upon a time I was a-goin’ from Mill-bridge to Shadbrooke, on a + little matter of bisness, and an awful bad and lonely road it was, too. + There was scarcely no settlers in it, and the road was all made of sticks, + stones, mud holes, and broken bridges. It was een amost onpassible, and + who should I overtake on the way but the Judge, and his guide, on + horseback, and Lawyer Traverse a-joggin’ along in his gig, at the rate of + two miles an hour at the fardest. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mornin,’ sais the Judge, for he was a sociable man, and had a kind word + for every body, had the Judge. Few men ‘know’d human natur’ better nor he + did, and what he used to call the philosophy of life. ‘I am glad to see + you on the road, Mr. Slick, sais he, ‘for it is so bad I am afraid there + are places that will require our united efforts to pass ‘em.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, I felt kinder sorry for the delay too, for I know’d we should make + a poor journey on’t, on account of that lawyer critter’s gig, that hadn’t + no more busness on that rough track than a steam engine had. But I see’d + the Judge wanted me to stay company, and help him along, and so I did. He + was fond of a joke, was the old Judge, and sais he, + </p> + <p> + “‘I’m afraid we shall illustrate that passage o’ Scriptur’, Mr. Slick,’ + said he, ‘“And their judges shall be overthrown in stony places.” It’s + jist a road for it, ain’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + “Well we chattered along the road this way a leetle, jist a leetle faster + than we travelled, for we made a snail’s gallop of it, that’s a fact; and + night overtook us, as I suspected it would, at Obi Rafuse’s, at the Great + Lake; and as it was the only public for fourteen miles, and dark was + settin’ in, we dismounted, but oh, what a house it was! + </p> + <p> + “Obi was an emigrant, and those emigrants are ginerally so fond of ownin’ + the soil, that like misers, they carry as much of it about ‘em on their + parsons, in a common way, as they cleverly can. Some on ‘em are awful + dirty folks, that’s a fact, and Obi was one of them. He kept public, did + Obi; the sign said it was a house of entertainment for man and beast. For + critters that ain’t human, I do suppose it spoke the truth, for it was + enough to make a hoss larf, if he could understand it, that’s a fact; but + dirt, wretchedness and rags, don’t have that effect on me. + </p> + <p> + “The house was built of rough spruce logs, (the only thing spruce about + it), with the bark on, and the cracks and seams was stuffed with moss. The + roof was made of coarse slabs, battened and not shingled, and the chimbly + peeped out like a black pot, made of sticks and mud, the way a crow’s nest + is. The winders were half broke out, and stopped up with shingles and old + clothes, and a great bank of mud and straw all round, reached half way up + to the roof, to keep the frost out of the cellar. It looked like an old + hat on a dung heap. I pitied the old Judge, because he was a man that took + the world as he found it, and made no complaints. He know’d if you got the + best, it was no use complainin’ that the best warn’t good. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the house stood alone in the middle of a clearin’, without an + outhouse of any sort or kind about it, or any fence or enclosure, but jist + rose up as a toodstool grows, all alone in the field. Close behind it was + a thick short second growth of young birches, about fifteen feet high, + which was the only shelter it had, and that was on the wrong side, for it + was towards the south. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when we alighted, and got the baggage off, away starts the guide + with the Judge’s traps, and ups a path through the woods to a settler’s, + and leaves us. Away down by the edge of the lake was a little barn, filled + up to the roof with grain and hay, and there was no standin’ room or + shelter in it for the hosses. So the lawyer hitches his critter to a tree, + and goes and fetches up some fodder for him, and leaves him for the night, + to weather it as he could. As soon as he goes in, I takes Old Clay to the + barn, for it’s a maxim of mine always to look out arter number one, opens + the door, and pulls out sheaf arter sheaf of grain as fast as I could, and + throws it out, till I got a place big enough for him to crawl in. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now,’ sais I, ‘old boy,’ as I shot to the door arter him, ‘if that hole + ain’t big enough for you, eat away till it is, that’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + “I had hardly got to the house afore the rain, that had threatened all + day, came down like smoke, and the wind got up, and it blew like a young + hurricane, and the lake roared dismal; it was an awful night, and it was + hard to say which was wus, the Storm or the shelter. + </p> + <p> + “‘Of two evils,’ sais I to the lawyer, ‘choose the least. It ain’t a bad + thing to be well housed in a night like this, is it?’ + </p> + <p> + “The critter groaned, for both cases was so ‘bad he didn’t know which to + take up to defend, so he grinned horrid and said nothin’; and it was + enough to make him grin too, that’s a fact. He looked as if he had got + hold on a bill o’ pains and penalties instead of a bill of costs that + time, you may depend. + </p> + <p> + “Inside of the house was three rooms, the keepin’ room, where we was all + half circled round the fire, and two sleepin’ rooms off of it. One of + these Obi had, who was a-bed, groanin’, coughin’, and turnin’ over and + over all the time on the creakin’ bedstead with pleurisy; t’other was for + the judge. The loft was for the old woman, his mother, and the hearth, or + any other soft place we could find, was allocated for lawyer and me. + </p> + <p> + “What a scarecrow lookin’ critter old aunty was, warn’t she? She was all + in rags and tatters, and though she lived ‘longside of the lake the best + part of her emigrant life, had never used water since she was christened. + Her eyes were so sunk in her head, they looked like two burnt holes in a + blanket. Her hair was pushed back, and tied so tight with an eel-skin + behind her head, it seemed to take the hide with it. I ‘most wonder how + she ever shot to her eyes to go to sleep. She had no stockins on her legs, + and no heels to her shoes, so she couldn’t lift her feet up, for fear of + droppin’ off her slippers; but she just shoved and slid about as if she + was on ice. She had a small pipe in her mouth, with about an inch of a + stem, to keep her nose warm, and her skin was so yaller and wrinkled, and + hard and oily, she looked jist like a dried smoked red herrin’, she did + upon my soul. + </p> + <p> + “The floor of the room was blacker nor ink, because that is pale + sometimes; and the utenshils, oh, if the fire didn’t purify ‘em now and + ag’in, all the scrubbin’ in the world wouldn’t, they was past that. + Whenever the door was opened, in run the pigs, and the old woman hobbled + round arter them, bangin’ them with a fryin’ pan, till she seemed out o’ + breath. Every time she took less and less notice of ‘em, for she was ‘most + beat out herself, and was busy a gettin’ of the tea-kettle to bile, and it + appeared to me she was a-goin’ to give in and let ‘em sleep with me and + the lawyer, near the fire. + </p> + <p> + “So I jist puts the tongs in the sparklin’ coals and heats the eends on + ‘em red hot, and the next time they comes in, I watches a chance, outs + with the tongs, and seizes the old sow by the tail, and holds on till I + singes it beautiful. The way she let go ain’t no matter, but if she didn’t + yell it’s a pity, that’s all. She made right straight for the door, dashed + in atween old aunty’s legs, and carries her out on her back, ridin’ + straddle-legs like a man, and tumbles her head over heels in the duck pond + of dirty water outside, and then lays down along side of her, to put the + fire out in its tail and cool itself. + </p> + <p> + “Aunty took up the screamin’ then, where the pig left off; but her voice + warn’t so good, poor thing! she was too old for that, it sounded like a + cracked bell; it was loud enough, but it warn’t jist so clear. She came in + drippin’ and cryin’ and scoldin’; she hated water, and what was wus, this + water made her dirtier. It ran off of her like a gutter. The way she let + out agin pigs, travellers and houses of entertainment, was a caution to + sinners. She vowed she’d stop public next mornin’, and bile her kettle + with the sign; folks might entertain themselves and be hanged to ‘em, for + all her, that they might. Then she mounted a ladder and goes up into the + loft-to change. + </p> + <p> + “‘Judge’ sais I, ‘I am sorry, too, I singed that pig’s tail arter that + fashion, for the smell of pork chops makes me feel kinder hungry, and if + we had ‘em, no soul could eat ‘em here in such a stye as this. But, dear + me,’ sais I, ‘You’d better move, Sir; that old woman is juicy, and I see + it a comin’ through the cracks of the floor above, like a streak of + molasses. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mr. Slick,’ sais he, ‘this is dreadful. I never saw any thing so bad + before in all this country; but what can’t be cured must be endured, I do + suppose. We must only be good-natured and do the best we can, that’s all. + An emigrant house is no place to stop at, is it? There is a tin case,’ + sais he, ‘containin’ a cold tongue and some biscuits, in my portmanter; + please to get them out. You must act as butler to-night, if you please; + for I can’t eat any thing that old woman touches.’ + </p> + <p> + “So I spreads one of his napkins on the table, and gets out the eatables, + and then he produced a pocket pistol, for he was a sensible man was the + judge, and we made a small check, for there warn’t enough for a feed. + </p> + <p> + “Arter that, he takes out a night-cap, and fits it on tight, and then puts + on his cloak, and wraps the hood of it close over his head, and foldin’ + himself up in it, he went and laid down without ondressin’. The lawyer + took a stretch for it on the bench, with his gig cushions for a pillar, + and I makes up the fire, sits down on the chair, puts my legs up on the + jamb, draws my hat over my eyes, and folds my arms for sleep. + </p> + <p> + “‘But fust and foremost,’ sais I, ‘aunty, take a drop of the strong + waters: arter goin’ the whole hog that way, you must need some,’ and I + poured her out a stiff corker into one of her mugs, put some sugar and hot + water to it, and she tossed it off as if she railly did like it. + </p> + <p> + “‘Darn that pig,’ said she, ‘it is so poor, its back is as sharp as a + knife. It hurt me properly, that’s a fact, and has most broke my crupper + bone.’ And she put her hand behind her, and moaned piteous. + </p> + <p> + “‘Pig skin,’ sais I, ‘aunty, is well enough when made into a saddle, but + it ain’t over pleasant to ride on bare back that way,’ sais I, ‘is it? And + them bristles ain’t quite so soft as feathers, I do suppose.’ + </p> + <p> + “I thought I should a died a holdin’ in of a haw haw that way. Stifling a + larf a’most stifles oneself, that’s a fact. I felt sorry for her, too, but + sorrow won’t always keep you from larfin’, unless you be sorry for + yourself. So as I didn’t want to offend her I ups legs agin to the jam, + and shot my eyes and tried to go to sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can snooze through most any thin’, but I couldn’t get much sleep + that night. The pigs kept close to the door, a shovin’ agin it every now + and then, to see all was right for a dash in, if the bears came; and the + geese kept sentry too agin the foxes; and one old feller would squake out + “all’s well” every five minuts, as he marched up and down and back agin on + the bankin’ of the house. + </p> + <p> + “But the turkeys was the wust. They was perched upon the lee side of the + roof, and sometimes an eddy of wind would take a feller right slap off his + legs, and send him floppin’ and rollin’ and sprawlin’ and screamin’ down + to the ground, and then he’d make most as much fuss a-gettin’ up into line + agin. They are very fond of straight, lines is turkeys. I never see an old + gobbler, with his gorget, that I don’t think of a kernel of a marchin’ + regiment, and if you’ll listen to him and watch him, he’ll strut jist like + one, and say, ‘halt! dress!’ oh, he is a military man is a turkey cock: he + wears long spurs, carries a stiff neck, and charges at red cloth, like a + trooper. + </p> + <p> + “Well then a little cowardly good natured cur, that lodged in an empty + flour barrel, near the wood pile, gave out a long doleful howl, now and + agin, to show these outside passengers, if he couldn’t fight for ‘em, he + could at all events cry for ‘em, and it ain’t every goose has a mourner to + her funeral, that’s a fact, unless it be the owner. + </p> + <p> + “In the mornin’ I wakes up, and looks round for lawyer, but he was gone. + So I gathers up the brans, and makes up the fire, and walks out. The pigs + didn’t try to come in agin, you may depend, when they see’d me; they + didn’t like the curlin’ tongs, as much as some folks do, and pigs’ tails + kinder curl naterally. But there was lawyer a-standin’ up by the grove, + lookin’ as peeked and as forlorn, as an onmated loon. + </p> + <p> + “‘What’s the matter of you, Squire?’ sais I. ‘You look like a man that was + ready to make a speech; but your witness hadn’t come, or you hadn’t got no + jury.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Somebody has stole my horse,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I know’d he was near-sighted, was lawyer, and couldn’t see a pint + clear of his nose, unless it was a pint o’ law. So I looks all round and + there was his hoss, a-standin’ on the bridge, with his long tail hanging + down straight at one eend, and his long neck and head a banging down + straight at t’other eend, so that you couldn’t tell one from t’other or + which eend was towards you. It was a clear cold mornin’. The storm was + over and the wind down, and there was a frost on the ground. The critter + was cold I suppose, and had broke the rope and walked off to stretch his + legs. It was a monstrous mean night to be out in, that’s sartain. + </p> + <p> + “‘There is your hoss,’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Where?’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why on the bridge,’ sais I; “he has got his head down and is a-lookin’ + atween his fore-legs to see where his tail is, for he is so cold, I do + suppose he can’t feel it.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, as soon as we could, we started; but afore we left, sais the Judge + to me, ‘Mr. Slick,’ sais he, ‘here is a plaister,’ taking out a pound + note, ‘a plaister for the skin the pig rubbed off of the old woman. Give + it to her, I hope it is big enough to cover it.’ And he fell back on the + bed, and larfed and coughed, and coughed and larfed, till the tears ran + down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Slick, “yes, Squire, this is a pretty cottage of Marm + Hodgins; but we have cottages quite as pretty as this, our side of the + water, arter all. They are not all like Obi Rafuses, the immigrant. The + natives have different guess places, where you might eat off the floor + a’most, all’s so clean. P’raps we hante the hedges, and flowers, and vines + and fixin’s, and what-nots.” + </p> + <p> + “Which, alone,” I said, “make a most important difference. No, Mr. Slick’, + there is nothing to be compared to this little cottage. + </p> + <p> + “I perfectly agree with you, Squire,” said Mr. Hopewell, “it is quite + unique. There is not only nothing equal to it, but nothing of its kind at + all like—<i>an English cottage</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. STEALING THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE. + </h2> + <p> + Shortly after our return to the inn, a carriage drove up to the door, and + the cards of Mr. Merton, and the Reverend Mr. Homily, which were presented + by the servant, were soon followed by the gentlemen themselves. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Merton said he had been informed by Mrs. Hodgins of our visit to her + cottage, and from her account of our conversation and persons, he was + convinced we could be no other than the party described in the “Sayings + and Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick,” as about to visit England with the + Attache. He expressed great pleasure in having the opportunity of making + our acquaintance, and entreated us to spend a few days with him at the + Priory. This invitation we were unfortunately compelled to decline, in + consequence of urgent business in London, where our immediate presence was + indispensable. + </p> + <p> + The rector then pressed Mr. Hopewell to preach for him, on the following + day at the parish church, which he also declined. He said, that he had no + sermons with him, and that he had very great objections to extemporaneous + preaching, which he thought should never be resorted to except in cases of + absolute necessity. He, however, at last consented to do so, on condition + that Mrs. Hodgins and her husband attended, and upon being assured that it + was their invariable custom to be present, he said, he thought it not + impossible, that he might make an impression upon <i>him</i>, and as it + was his maxim never to omit an opportunity of doing good, he would with + the blessing of God, make the attempt. + </p> + <p> + The next day was remarkably fine, and as the scene was new to me, and most + probably will be so to most of my colonial readers, I shall endeavour to + describe it with some minuteness. + </p> + <p> + We walked to the church by a path over the hills, and heard the bells of a + number of little churches, summoning the surrounding population to the + House of God. The roads and the paths were crowded with the peasantry and + their children, approaching the church-yard in different directions. The + church and the rectory were contiguous to each other, and situated in a + deep dell. + </p> + <p> + The former was a long and rather low structure, originally built of light + coloured stone, which had grown grey with time. It had a large square + steeple, with pointed corners, like turrets, each of which was furnished + with a vane, but some of these ornaments were loose and turned round in a + circle, while others stood still and appeared to be examining with true + rustic curiosity, the condition of their neighbours. + </p> + <p> + The old rectory stood close to the church and was very irregularly built, + one part looking as if it had stepped forward to take a peep at us, and + another as if endeavouring to conceal itself from view, behind a screen of + ivy. The windows which were constructed of diamond-shaped glass, were + almost square, and opened on hinges. Nearly half of the house was covered + by a rose-tree, from which the lattices peered very inquisitively upon the + assembled congregation. Altogether it looked like the residence of a + vigilant man, who could both see and be unseen if he pleased. + </p> + <p> + Near the door of the church were groups of men in their clean smock-frocks + and straw hats, and of women in their tidy dark dresses and white aprons. + The children all looked clean, healthy, and cheerful. + </p> + <p> + The interior of the church was so unlike that of an American one, that my + attention was irresistibly drawn to its peculiarities. It was low, and + divided in the centre by an arch. The floor was of stone, and from long + and constant use, very uneven in places. The pews were much higher on the + sides than ours, and were unpainted and roughly put together; while the + pulpit was a rude square box, and was placed in the corner. Near the door + stood an ancient stone font, of rough workmanship, and much worn. + </p> + <p> + The windows were long and narrow, and placed very high in the walls. On + the one over the altar was a very old painting, on stained glass, of the + Virgin, with a hoop and yellow petticoat, crimson vest, a fly cap, and + very thick shoes. The light of this window was still further subdued by a + fine old yew-tree, which stood in the yard close behind it. + </p> + <p> + There was another window of beautifully stained glass, the light of which + fell on a large monument, many feet square, of white marble. In the centre + of this ancient and beautiful work of art, were two principal figures, + with smaller ones kneeling on each side, having the hands raised in the + attitude of prayer. They were intended to represent some of the ancestors + of the Merton family. The date was as old as 1575. On various parts of the + wall were other and ruder monuments of slate-stone, the inscriptions and + dates of which were nearly effaced by time. + </p> + <p> + The roof was of a construction now never seen in America; and the old oak + rafters, which were more numerous, than was requisite, either for strength + or ornament, were massive and curiously put together, giving this part of + the building a heavy and gloomy appearance. + </p> + <p> + As we entered the church, Mr. Hopewell said he had selected a text + suitable to the times, and that he would endeavour to save the poor people + in the neighbourhood from the delusions of the chartist demagogues, who, + it appeared, were endeavouring to undermine the throne and the altar, and + bring universal ruin upon the country. + </p> + <p> + When he ascended the pulpit to preach, his figure, his great age, and his + sensible and benevolent countenance, attracted universal attention. I had + never seen him officiate till this day; but if I was struck with his + venerable appearance before, I was now lost in admiration of his rich and + deep-toned voice, his peculiar manner, and simple style of eloquence. + </p> + <p> + He took for his text these words: “So Absalom stole the hearts of the men + of Israel.” He depicted, in a very striking manner, the arts of this + intriguing and ungrateful man to ingratiate himself with the people, and + render the government unpopular. He traced his whole course, from his + standing at the crowded thoroughfare, and lamenting that the king had + deputed no one to hear and decide upon the controversies of the people, to + his untimely end, and the destruction of his ignorant followers. He made a + powerful application of the seditious words of Absalom: “Oh that <i>I</i> + were a judge in the land, that every man which hath a suit or cause might + come unto me, and <i>I</i> would do him justice.” He showed the effect of + these empty and wicked promises upon his followers, who in the holy record + of this unnatural rebellion are described as “men who went out in their + simplicity, and knew not anything.” + </p> + <p> + He then said that similar arts were used in all ages for similar purposes; + and that these professions of disinterested patriotism were the common + pretences by which wicked men availed themselves of the animal force of + those “who assemble in their simplicity, and know not any thing,” to + achieve their own personal aggrandisement, and warned them, to give no + heed to such dishonest people. He then drew a picture of the real + blessings they enjoyed in this happy country, which, though not without an + admixture of evil, were as many and as great as the imperfect and unequal + condition of man was capable either of imparting or receiving. + </p> + <p> + Among the first of these, he placed the provision made by the state for + the instruction of the poor, by means of an established Church. He said + they would doubtless hear this wise and pious deed of their forefathers + attacked also by unprincipled men; and falsehood and ridicule would be + invoked to aid in the assault; but that he was a witness on its behalf, + from the distant wilderness of North America, where the voice of gratitude + was raised to England, whose missionaries had planted a church there + similar to their own, and had proclaimed the glad tidings of salvation to + those who would otherwise have still continued to live without its pale. + </p> + <p> + He then pourtrayed in a rapid and most masterly manner the sin and the + disastrous consequences of rebellion; pointed out the necessity that + existed for vigilance and defined their respective duties to God, and to + those who, by his permission, were set in authority over them; and + concluded with the usual benediction, which, though I had heard it on + similar occasions all my life, seemed now more efficacious, more paternal, + and more touching than ever, when uttered by him, in his peculiarly + patriarchal manner. + </p> + <p> + The abstract I have just given, I regret to say, cannot convey any + adequate idea of this powerful, excellent, and appropriate sermon. It was + listened to with intense interest by the congregation, many of whom were + affected to tears. In the afternoon we attended church again, when we + heard a good, plain, and practical discourse from the rector; but, + unfortunately, he had neither the talent, nor the natural eloquence of our + friend, and, although it satisfied the judgment, it did not affect, the + heart like that of the “Old Minister.” + </p> + <p> + At the door we met, on our return, Mrs. Hodgins. “Ah! my dear,” said Mr. + Hopewell, “how do you do? I am going to your cottage; but I am an old man + now; take my arm—it will support me in my walk.” + </p> + <p> + It was thus that this good man, while honouring this poor woman, avoided + the appearance of condescension, and received her arm as a favour to + himself. + </p> + <p> + She commenced thanking him for his sermon in the morning. She said it had + convinced her William of the sin of the Chartist agitation, and that he + had firmly resolved never to meet them again. It had saved him from ruin, + and made her a happy woman. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to hear it has done him good, my dear,” said he; “it does me good, + too, to hear its effect. Now, never remind him of past errors, never + allude to them: make his home cheerful, make it the pleasantest place he + can find any where, and he won’t want to seek amusement elsewhere, or + excitement either; for these seditious meetings intoxicate by their + excitement. Oh! I am very glad I have touched him; that I have prevented + these seditious men from ‘stealing his heart.’” + </p> + <p> + In this way they chatted, until they arrived at the cottage, which Hodgins + had just reached by a shorter, but more rugged path. + </p> + <p> + “It is such a lovely afternoon,” said Mr. Hopewell, “I believe I will rest + in this arbour here awhile, and enjoy the fresh breeze, and the perfume of + your honeysuckles and flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn’t a pipe be better, Minister?” said Mr. Slick. “For my part, I + don’t think any thing equal to the flavour of rael good gene<i>wine</i> + first chop tobacco.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is a great refreshment, is tobacco,” said Mr. Hopewell. “I don’t + care if I do take a pipe. Bring me one, Mr. Hodgins, and one for yourself + also, and I will smoke and talk with you awhile, for they seem as natural + to each other, as eating and drinking do.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as these were produced, Mr. Slick and I retired, and requested + Mrs. Hodgins to leave the Minister and her husband together for a while, + for as Mr. Slick observed, “The old man will talk it into him like a book; + for if he was possessed of the spirit of a devil, instead of a Chartist, + he is jist the boy to drive it out of him. Let him be awhile, and he’ll + tame old uncle there, like a cossit sheep; jist see if he don’t, that’s + all.” + </p> + <p> + We then walked up and down the shady lane, smoking our cigars, and Mr. + Slick observed, “Well, there is a nation sight of difference, too, ain’t + there, atween this country church, and a country meetin’ house our side of + the water; I won’t say in your country or my country; but I say <i>our</i> + side of the water—and then it won’t rile nobody; for your folks will + say I mean the States, and our citizens will say I mean the colonies; but + you and I know who the cap fits, one or t’other, or both, don’t we? + </p> + <p> + “Now here, this old-fashioned church, ain’t quite up to the notch, and is + a leetle behind the enlightment of the age like, with its queer old + fixin’s and what not; but still it looks solemcoly’ don’t it, and the dim + light seems as if we warn’t expected to be a lookin’ about, and as if + outer world was shot out, from sight and thort, and it warn’t <i>man’s</i> + house nother. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know whether it was that dear old man’s preachin’, and he is a + brick ain’t he? or, whether it’s the place, or the place and him together; + but somehow, or somehow else, I feel more serious to-day than common, + that’s a fact. The people too are all so plain dressed, so decent, so + devout and no show, it looks like airnest. + </p> + <p> + “The only fashionable people here was the Squire’s sarvants; and they <i>did</i> + look genteel, and no mistake. Elegant men, and most splendid lookin’ women + they was too. I thought it was some noble, or aid’s, or big bug’s family; + but Mrs. Hodgins says they are the people of the Squire’s about here, the + butlers and ladies’ maids; and superfine uppercrust lookin’ folks they be + too. + </p> + <p> + “Then every body walks here, even Squire Merton and his splendiriferous + galls walked like the poorest of the poor, there was no carriage to the + door, nor no hosses hitched to the gate, or tied to the back of waggons, + or people gossipin’ outside; but all come in and minded their business, as + if it was worth attendin’ to; and then arter church was finished off, I + liked the way the big folks talked to the little folks, and enquired arter + their families. It may he actin’, but if it is, it’s plaguy good actin’, I + <i>tell</i> you. + </p> + <p> + “I’m a thinkin’ it tante a rael gentleman that’s proud, but only a hop. + You’ve seen a hop grow, hante you? It shoots up in a night, the matter of + several inches right out of the ground, as stiff as a poker, straight up + and down, with a spick and span new green coat and a red nose, as proud as + Lucifer. Well, I call all upstarts ‘hops,’ and I believe it’s only “hops” + arter all that’s scorny. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I kinder like an English country church, only it’s a leetle, jist a + leetle too old fashioned for me. Folks look a leetle too much like + grandfather Slick, and the boys used to laugh at him, and call him a + benighted Britisher. Perhaps that’s the cause of my prejudice, and yet I + must say, British or no British, it tante bad, is it? + </p> + <p> + “The meetin’ houses ‘our side of the water,’ no matter where, but away up + in the back country, how teetotally different they be! bean’t they? A + great big, handsome wooden house, chock full of winders, painted so white + as to put your eyes out, and so full of light within, that inside seems + all out-doors, and no tree nor bush, nor nothin’ near it but the road + fence, with a man to preach in it, that is so strict and straight-laced he + will do <i>any thing</i> of a week day, and <i>nothin’’</i> of a Sunday. + Congregations are rigged out in their spic and span bran new clothes, + silks, satins, ribbins, leghorns, palmetters, kiss-me-quicks, and all + sorts of rigs, and the men in their long-tail-blues, pig-skin pads + calf-skin boots and sheep-skin saddle-cloths. Here they publish a book of + fashions, there they publish ‘em in meetin’; and instead of a pictur, have + the rael naked truth. + </p> + <p> + “Preacher there don’t preach morals, because that’s churchy, and he don’t + like neither the church nor its morals; but he preaches doctrine, which + doctrine is, there’s no Christians but themselves. Well, the fences + outside of the meetin’ house, for a quarter of a mile or so, each side of + the house, and each side of the road, ain’t to be seen for hosses and + waggons, and gigs hitched there; poor devils of hosses that have ploughed, + or hauled, or harrowed, or logged, or snaked, or somethin’ or another all + the week, and rest of a Sunday by alterin’ their gait, as a man rests on a + journey by a alterin’ of his sturup, a hole higher or a hole lower. Women + that has all their finery on can’t walk, and some things is ondecent. It’s + as ondecent for a woman to be seen walkin’ to meetin’, as it is to be + caught at—what shall I say?—why caught at attendin’ to her + business to home. + </p> + <p> + “The women are the fust and the last to meetin’; fine clothes cost + sunthin’, and if they ain’t showed, what’s the use of them? The men folk + remind me of the hosses to Sable Island. It’s a long low sand-bank on Nova + Scotia coast, thirty miles long and better is Sable Island, and not much + higher than the water. It has awful breakers round it, and picks up a + shockin’ sight of vessels does that island. Government keeps a + super-intender there and twelve men to save wracked people, and there is a + herd of three hundred wild hosses kept there for food for saved crews that + land there, when provision is short, or for super-intender to catch and + break for use, as the case may be. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if he wants a new hoss, he mounts his folks on his tame hosses, and + makes a dash into the herd, and runs a wild feller down, lugs him off to + the stable-yard, and breaks him in, in no time. A smart little hoss he is + too, but he always has an <i>eye to natur’’</i> arterwards; <i>the change + is too sudden</i>, and he’ll off, if he gets a chance. + </p> + <p> + “Now that’s the case with these country congregations, we know where. The + women and old tame men folk are, inside; the young wild boys and ontamed + men folk are on the fences, outside a settin’ on the top rail, a + speculatin’ on times or marriages, or markets, or what not, or a walkin’ + round and studyin’ hoss flesh, or a talkin’ of a swap to be completed of a + Monday, or a leadin’ off of two hosses on the sly of the old deacon’s, + takin’ a lick of a half mile on a bye road, right slap a-head, and + swearin’ the hosses had got loose, and they was just a fetchin’ of them + back. + </p> + <p> + “‘Whose side-saddle is this?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Slim Sall Dowdie’s.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Shift it on to the deacon’s beast, and put his on to her’n and tie the + two critters together by the tail. This is old Mother Pitcher’s waggon; + her hoss kicks like a grasshopper. Lengthen the breechin’, and when aunty + starts, he’ll make all fly agin into shavin’s, like a plane. Who is that a + comin’ along full split there a horseback?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s old Booby’s son, Tom. Well, it’s the old man’s shaft hoss; call out + whoh! and he’ll stop short, and pitch Tom right over his head on the broad + of his back, whap. + </p> + <p> + “Tim Fish, and Ned Pike, come scale up here with us boys on the fence.’ + The weight is too great; away goes the fence, and away goes the boys, all + flyin’; legs, arms, hats, poles, stakes, withes, and all, with an awful + crash and an awful shout; and away goes two or three hosses that have + broke their bridles, and off home like wink. + </p> + <p> + “Out comes Elder Sourcrout. ‘Them as won’t come in had better stay to + home,’ sais he. And when he hears that them as are in had better stay in + when they be there, he takes the hint and goes back agin. ‘Come, boys, + let’s go to Black Stump Swamp and sarch for honey. We shall be back in + time to walk home with the galls from night meetin’, by airly + candle-light. Let’s go.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, when they want to recruit the stock of tame ones inside meetin’, + they sarcumvent some o’ these wild ones outside; make a dash on ‘em, catch + ‘em, dip ‘em, and give ‘em a name; for all sects don’t always baptise ‘em + as we do, when children, but let ‘em grow up wild in the herd till they + are wanted. They have hard work to break ‘em in, for they are smart ones, + that’s a fact, but, like the hosses of Sable Island, they have always <i>an + eye to natur’’</i> arterwards; <i>the change is too sudden</i>, you can’t + trust ‘em, at least I never see one as <i>I</i> could, that’s all. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when they come out o’ meetin’, look at the dignity and sanctity, + and pride o’ humility o’ the tame old ones. Read their faces. ‘How does + the print go?’ Why this way, ‘I am a sinner, at least I was once, but + thank fortin’ I ain’t like you, you onconverted, benighted, + good-for-nothin’ critter you.’ Read the ontamed one’s face, what’s the + print there? Why it’s this. As soon as he sees over-righteous stalk by + arter that fashion, it says, ‘How good we are, ain’t we? Who wet his hay + to the lake tother day, on his way to market, and made two tons weigh two + tons and a half? You’d better look as if butter wouldn’t melt in your + mouth, hadn’t you, old Sugar-cane?’ + </p> + <p> + “Now jist foller them two rulin’ elders, Sourcrout and Coldslaugh; they + are plaguy jealous of their neighbour, elder Josh Chisel, that exhorted + to-day. ‘How did you like Brother Josh, to-day?’ says Sourcrout, a + utterin’ of it through his nose. Good men always speak through the nose. + It’s what comes out o’ the mouth that defiles a man; but there is no + mistake in the nose; it’s the porch of the temple that. ‘How did you like + Brother Josh?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, he wasn’t very peeowerful.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Was he ever peeowerful?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, when a boy, they say he was considerable sum as a wrastler.’ + </p> + <p> + “Sourcrout won’t larf, because it’s agin rules; but he gig goggles like a + turkey-cock, and says he, ‘It’s for ever and ever the same thing with + Brother Josh. He is like an over-shot mill, one everlastin’ wishy-washy + stream.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘When the water ain’t quite enough to turn the wheel, and only spatters, + spatters, spatters,’ says Coldslaugh. + </p> + <p> + “Sourcrout gig goggles again, as if he was swallerin’ shelled corn whole. + ‘That trick of wettin’ the hay,’ says he, ‘to make it weigh heavy, warn’t + cleverly done; it ain’t pretty to be caught; it’s only bunglers do that.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He is so fond of temperance,’ says Coldslaugh, ‘he wanted to make his + hay jine society, and drink cold water, too.’ + </p> + <p> + “Sourcrout gig goggles ag’in, till he takes a fit of the asmy, sets down + on a stump, claps both hands on his sides, and coughs, and coughs till he + finds coughing no joke no more. Oh dear, dear convarted men, though they + won’t larf themselves, make others larf the worst kind, sometimes; don’t + they? + </p> + <p> + “I do believe, on my soul, if religion was altogether left to the + voluntary in this world, it would die a nateral death; not that <i>men + wouldn’t support it</i>, but because it would be supported <i>under false + pretences</i>. Truth can’t be long upheld by falsehood. Hypocrisy would + change its features, and intolerance its name; and religion would soon + degenerate into a cold, intriguing, onprincipled, marciless superstition, + that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, on the whole, I rather like these plain, decent, onpretendin’, + country churches here, although t’other ones remind me of old times, when + I was an ontamed one too. Yes, I like an English church; but as for + Minister pretendin’ for to come for to go for to preach agin that + beautiful long-haired young rebel, Squire Absalom, for ‘stealin’ the + hearts of the people,’ why it’s rather takin’ the rag off the bush, ain’t + it? + </p> + <p> + “Tell you what, Squire; there ain’t a man in their whole church here, from + Lord Canter Berry that preaches afore the Queen, to Parson Homily that + preached afore us, nor never was, nor never will be equal to Old Minister + hisself for ‘stealin’ the hearts of the people.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. NATUR’. + </h2> + <p> + In the course of our journey, the conversation turned upon the several + series of the “Clockmaker” I had published, and their relative merits. Mr. + Slick appeared to think they all owed their popularity mainly to the + freshness and originality of character incidental to a new country. + </p> + <p> + “You are in the wrong pew here, Squire,” said he; “you are, upon my soul. + If you think to sketch the English in a way any one will stop to look at, + you have missed a figur’, that’s all. You can’t do it nohow; you can’t fix + it. There is no contrasts here, no variation of colours, no light and + shade, no nothin’. What sort of a pictur’ would straight lines of any + thing make? Take a parcel of sodjers, officers and all, and stretch ‘em + out in a row, and paint ‘em, and then engrave ‘em, and put it into one of + our annuals, and see how folks would larf, and ask, ‘What boardin’-school + gall did that? Who pulled her up out of standin’ corn, and sot her up on + eend for an artist? they’d say. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothin’ here to take hold on. It’s so plaguy smooth and high + polished, the hands slip off; you can’t get a grip of it. Now, take Lord + First Chop, who is the most fashionable man in London, dress him in the + last cut coat, best trowsers, French boots, Paris gloves, and + grape-vine-root cane, don’t forget his whiskers, or mous-stache, or + breast-pins, or gold chains, or any thing; and what have you got?—a + tailor’s print-card, and nothin’ else. + </p> + <p> + “Take a lady, and dress her in a’most a beautiful long habit, man’s hat, + stand-up collar and stock, clap a beautiful little cow-hide whip in her + hand, and mount her on a’most a splendiferous white hoss, with long tail + and flowin’ mane, a rairin’ and a cavortin’ like mad, and a champin’ and a + chawin’ of its bit, and makin’ the froth fly from its mouth, a spatterin’ + and white-spottin’ of her beautiful trailin’, skirt like any thing. And + what have you got?—why a print like the posted hand-bills of a + circus. + </p> + <p> + “Now spit on your fingers, and rub Lord First Chop out of the slate, and + draw an Irish labourer, with his coat off, in his shirt-sleeves, with his + breeches loose and ontied at the knees, his yarn stockings and thick shoes + on; a little dudeen in his mouth, as black as ink and as short as nothin’; + his hat with devilish little rim and no crown to it, and a hod on his + shoulders, filled with bricks, and him lookin’ as if he was a singin’ away + as merry as a cricket: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When I was young and unmarried, + my shoes they were new. + But now I am old and am married, + the water runs troo,’ +</pre> + <p> + Do that, and you have got sunthin’ worth lookin’ at, quite pictures-quee, + as Sister Sall used to say. And because why? <i>You have got sunthin’ + nateral</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Well, take the angylyferous dear a horseback, and rub her out, well, I + won’t say that nother, for I’m fond of the little critturs, dressed or not + dressed for company, or any way they like, yes, I like woman-natur’, I + tell <i>you</i>. But turn over the slate, and draw on t’other side on’t an + old woman, with a red cloak, and a striped petticoat, and a poor + pinched-up, old, squashed-in bonnet on, bendin’ forrard, with a staff in + her hand, a leadin’ of a donkey that has a pair of yaller willow + saddle-bags on, with coloured vegetables and flowers, and red beet-tops, a + goin’ to market. And what have you got? Why a pictur’ worth lookin’ at, + too. Why?—<i>because it’s natur’’</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here, Squire; let Copley, if he was alive, but he ain’t; and + it’s a pity too, for it would have kinder happified the old man, to see + his son in the House of Lords, wouldn’t it? Squire Copley, you know, was a + Boston man; and a credit to our great nation too. P’raps Europe never has + dittoed him since. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if he was above ground now, alive, and stirrin’, why take him and + fetch him to an upper crust London party; and sais you, ‘Old Tenor,’ sais + you, ‘paint all them silver plates, and silver dishes, and silver + coverlids, and what nots; and then paint them lords with their <i>stars</i>, + and them ladies’ (Lord if he would paint them with their garters, folks + would buy the pictur, cause that’s nateral) ‘them ladies with their + jewels, and their sarvants with their liveries, as large as life, and + twice as nateral.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, he’d paint it, if you paid him for it, that’s a fact; for there is + no better bait to fish for us Yankees arter all, than a dollar. That old + boy never turned up his nose at a dollar, except when he thought he ought + to get two. And if he painted it, it wouldn’t be bad, I tell <i>you</i>. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now,’ sais you, ‘you have done high life, do low life for me, and I will + pay you well. I’ll come down hansum, and do the thing genteel, you may + depend. Then,’ sais you, ‘put in for a back ground that noble, old + Noah-like lookin’ wood, that’s as dark as comingo. Have you done?’ sais + you. + </p> + <p> + “‘I guess so,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then put in a brook jist in front of it, runnin’ over stones, and + foamin’ and a bubblin’ up like any thing.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s in,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then jab two forked sticks in the ground ten feet apart, this side of + the brook,’ sais you, ‘and clap a pole across atween the forks. Is that + down?’ sais you. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then,’ sais you, ‘hang a pot on that horizontal pole, make a clear + little wood fire onderneath; paint two covered carts near it. Let an old + hoss drink at the stream, and two donkeys make a feed off a patch of + thistles. Have-you stuck that in?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Stop a bit,’ says he, ‘paintin’ an’t quite as fast done as writin’. Have + a little grain of patience, will you? It’s tall paintin’, makin’ the brush + walk at that price. Now there you are,’ sais he. ‘What’s next? But, mind + I’ve most filled my canvass; it will cost you a pretty considerable penny, + if you want all them critters in, when I come to cypher all the pictur up, + and sumtotalize the whole of it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh! cuss the cost!’ sais you. ‘Do you jist obey orders, and break + owners, that’s all you have to do, Old Loyalist.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Very well,’ sais he, ‘here goes.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, then,’ sais you, ‘paint a party of gipsies there; mind their + different coloured clothes, and different attitudes, and different + occupations. Here a man mendin’ a harness, there a woman pickin’ a stolen + fowl, there a man skinnin’ a rabbit, there a woman with her petticoat up, + a puttin’ of a patch in it. Here two boys a fishin’, and there a little + gall a playin’ with a dog, that’s a racin’ and a yelpin’, and a barkin’ + like mad.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, when he’s done,’ sais you, ‘which pictur do you reckon is the best + now, Squire Copely? speak candid for I want to know, and I ask you now as + a countryman.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well’ he’ll jist up and tell you, ‘Mr. Poker,’ sais he, ‘your + fashionable party is the devil, that’s a fact. Man made the town, but God + made the country. Your company is as formal, and as stiff, and as + oninterestin’ as a row of poplars; but your gipsy scene is beautiful, + because it’s nateral. It was me painted old Chatham’s death in the House + of Lords; folks praised it a good deal; but it was no great shakes, <i>there + was no natur’ in it</i>. The scene was real, the likenesses was good, and + there was spirit in it, but their damned uniform toggery, spiled the whole + thing—it was artificial, and wanted life and natur. Now, suppose, + such a thing in Congress, or suppose some feller skiverd the speaker with + a bowie knife as happened to Arkansaw, if I was to paint it, it would be + beautiful. Our free and enlightened people is so different, so + characteristic and peculiar, it would give a great field to a painter. To + sketch the different style of man of each state, so that any citizen would + sing right out; Heavens and airth if that don’t beat all! Why, as I am a + livin’ sinner that’s the Hoosier of Indiana, or the Sucker of Illinois, or + the Puke of Missouri, or the Bucky of Ohio, or the Red Horse of Kentucky, + or the Mudhead of Tennesee, or the Wolverine of Michigan or the Eel of New + England, or the Corn Cracker of Virginia! That’s the thing that gives + inspiration. That’s the glass of talabogus that raises your spirits. There + is much of elegance, and more of comfort in England. It is a great and a + good country, Mr. Poker, but there is no natur in it.’ + </p> + <p> + “It is as true as gospel,” said Mr. Slick, “I’m tellin’ you no lie. It’s a + fact. If you expect to paint them English, as you have the Blue-Noses and + us, you’ll pull your line up without a fish, oftener than you are + a-thinkin’ on; that’s the reason all our folks have failed. ‘Rush’s book + is jist molasses and water, not quite so sweet as ‘lasses, and not quite + so good as water; but a spilin’ of both. And why? His pictur was of + polished life, where there is no natur. Washington Irving’s book is like a + Dutch paintin’, it is good, because it is faithful; the mop has the right + number of yarns, and each yarn has the right number of twists, (altho’ he + mistook the mop of the grandfather, for the mop of the man of the present + day) and the pewter plates are on the kitchen dresser, and the other + little notions are all there. He has done the most that could be done for + them, but the painter desarves more praise than the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Why is it every man’s sketches of America takes? Do you suppose it is the + sketches? No. Do you reckon it is the interest we create? No. Is it our + grand experiments? No. They don’t care a brass button for us, or our + country, or experiments nother. What is it then? It is because they are + sketches of natur. Natur in every grade and every variety of form; from + the silver plate, and silver fork, to the finger and huntin’ knife. Our + artificials Britishers laugh at; they are bad copies, that’s a fact; I + give them up. Let them laugh, and be darned; but I stick to my natur, and + I stump them to produce the like. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Squire, if you ever sketch me, for goodness gracious sake, don’t + sketch me as an Attache to our embassy, with the Legation button, on the + coat, and black Jube Japan in livery. Don’t do that; but paint me in my + old waggon to Nova Scotier, with old Clay before me, you by my side, a + segar in my mouth, and natur all round me. And if that is too artificial; + oh, paint me in the back woods, with my huntin’ coat on, my leggins, my + cap, my belt, and my powder-horn. Paint me with my talkin’ iron in my + hand, wipin’ her, chargin’ her, selectin’ the bullet, placin’ it in the + greased wad, and rammin’ it down. Then draw a splendid oak openin’ so as + to give a good view, paint a squirrel on the tip top of the highest + branch, of the loftiest tree, place me off at a hundred yards, drawin’ a + bead on him fine, then show the smoke, and young squire squirrel comin’ + tumblin’ down head over heels lumpus’, to see whether the ground was as + hard as dead squirrels said it was. Paint me nateral, I besech you; for I + tell you now, as I told you before, and ever shall say, there is nothin’ + worth havin’ or knowin’, or hearin’, or readin’, or seein’, or tastin’, or + smellin’, or feelin’ and above all and more than all, nothin’ worth + affectionin’ but <i>Natur</i>. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE SOCDOLAGER. + </h2> + <p> + As soon as I found my friend Mr. Hopewell comfortably settled in his + lodgings, I went to the office of the Belgian Consul and other persons to + obtain the necessary passports for visiting Germany, where I had a son at + school. Mr. Slick proceeded at the same time to the residence of his + Excellency Abednego Layman, who had been sent to this country by the + United States on a special mission, relative to the Tariff. + </p> + <p> + On my return from the city in the afternoon, he told me he had presented + his credentials to “the Socdolager,” and was most graciously and cordially + received; but still, I could not fail to observe that there was an evident + air of disappointment about him. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, what is the meaning of the Socdolager?” I asked. “I never heard of + the term before.” + </p> + <p> + “Possible!” said he, “never heerd tell of ‘the Socdolager,’ why you don’t + say so! The Socdolager is the President of the lakes—he is the whale + of the intarnal seas—the Indgians worshipped him once on a time, as + the king of fishes. He lives in great state in the deep waters, does the + old boy, and he don’t often shew himself. I never see’d him myself, nor + any one that ever had sot eyes on him; but the old Indgians have see’d him + and know him well. He won’t take no bait, will the Socdolager; he can’t be + caught, no how you can fix, he is so ‘tarnal knowin’, and he can’t be + speared nother, for the moment he sees aim taken, he ryles the water and + is out of sight in no tune. <i>He</i> can take in whole shoals of others + hisself, tho’ at a mouthful. He’s a whapper, that’s a fact. I call our + Minister here ‘the Socdolager,’ for our <i>di</i>plomaters were never + known to be hooked once yet, and actilly beat all natur’ for knowin’ the + soundin’s, smellin’ the bait, givin’ the dodge, or rylin’ the water; so no + soul can see thro’ it but themselves. Yes, he is ‘a Socdolager,’ or a + whale among <i>di</i>plomaters. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I rigs up this morning, full fig, calls a cab, and proceeds in + state to our embassy, gives what Cooper calls a lord’s beat of six + thund’rin’ raps of the knocker, presents the legation ticket, and was + admitted to where ambassador was. He is a very pretty man all up his + shirt, and he talks pretty, and smiles pretty, and bows pretty, and he has + got the whitest hand you ever see, it looks as white, as a new bread and + milk poultice. It does indeed. + </p> + <p> + “‘Sam Slick,’ sais he, ‘as I’m alive. Well, how do you do, Mr. Slick? I am + ‘nation glad to see you, I affection you as a member of our legation. I + feel kinder proud to have the first literary man of our great nation as my + Attache.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Your knowledge of human natur, (added to your’n of soft sawder,’ sais + I,) ‘will raise our great nation, I guess, in the scale o’ European + estimation.’ + </p> + <p> + “He is as sensitive as a skinned eel, is Layman, and he winced at that + poke at his soft sawder like any thing, and puckered a little about the + mouth, but he didn’t say nothin’, he only bowed. He was a Unitarian + preacher once, was Abednego, but he swapt preachin’ for politics, and a + good trade he made of it too; that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “‘A great change,’ sais I, ‘Abednego, since you was a preachin’ to + Connecticut and I was a vendin’ of clocks to Nova Scotia, ain’t it? Who’d + a thought then, you’d a been “a Socdolager,” and me your “pilot fish,” + eh!’ + </p> + <p> + “It was a raw spot, that, and I always touched him on it for fun. + </p> + <p> + “‘Sam,’ said he, and his face fell like an empty puss, when it gets a few + cents put into each eend on it, the weight makes it grow twice as long in + a minute. ‘Sam,’ said he, ‘don’t call me that are, except when we are + alone here, that’s a good soul; not that I am proud, for I am a true + Republican;’ and he put his hand on his heart, bowed and smiled hansum, + ‘but these people will make a nickname of it, and we shall never hear the + last of it; that’s a fact. We must respect ourselves, afore others will + respect us. You onderstand, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, don’t I,’ sais I, ‘that’s all? It’s only here I talks this way, + because we are at home now; but I can’t help a thinkin’ how strange things + do turn up sometimes. Do you recollect, when I heard you a-preachin’ about + Hope a-pitchin’ of her tent on a hill? By gosh, it struck me then, you’d + pitch, your tent high some day; you did it beautiful.’ + </p> + <p> + “He know’d I didn’t like this change, that Mr. Hopewell had kinder + inoculated me with other guess views on these matters, so he began to + throw up bankments and to picket in the ground, all round for defence + like. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hope,’ sais he, ‘is the attribute of a Christian, Slick, for he hopes + beyond this world; but I changed on principle.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ sais I, ‘I changed on interest; now if our great nation is backed + by principal and interest here, I guess its credit is kinder well built. + And atween you and me, Abednego, that’s more than the soft-horned British + will ever see from all our States. Some on ‘em are intarmined to pay + neither debt nor interest, and give nothin’ but lip in retarn.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Now,’ sais he, a pretendin’ to take no notice of this,’ you know we have + the Voluntary with us, Mr. Slick.’ He said “<i>Mister</i>” that time, for + he began to get formal on puppus to stop jokes; but, dear me, where all + men are equal what’s the use of one man tryin’ to look big? He must take + to growin’ agin I guess to do that. ‘You know we have the Voluntary with + us, Mr. Slick,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Jist so,’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, what’s the meanin’ of that?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why,’ sais I, ‘that you support religion or let it alone, as you like; + that you can take it up as a pedlar does his pack, carry it till you are + tired, then lay it down, set on it, and let it support you.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Exactly,’ sais he; ‘it is voluntary on the hearer, and it’s jist so with + the minister, too; for his preachin’ is voluntary also. He can preach or + lot it alone, as he likes. It’s voluntary all through. It’s a bad rule + that won’t work both ways.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ says I, ‘there is a good deal in that, too.’ I said that just to + lead him on. + </p> + <p> + “‘A good deal!’ sais he, ‘why it’s every thing. But I didn’t rest on that + alone; I propounded this maxim to myself. Every man, sais I, is bound to + sarve his fellow citizens to his utmost. That’s true; ain’t it, Mr. + Slick?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Guess so,’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well then, I asked myself this here question: Can I sarve my fellow + citizens best by bein’ minister to Peach settlement, ‘tendin’ on a little + village of two thousand souls, and preachin’ my throat sore, or bein’ + special minister to Saint Jimses, and sarvin’ our great Republic and its + thirteen millions? Why, no reasonable man can doubt; so I give up + preachin’.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ sais I, ‘Abednego, you are a Socdolager, that’s a fact; you are a + great man, and a great scholard. Now a great scholard, when he can’t do a + sum the way it’s stated, jist states it so—he <i>can</i> do it. Now + the right way to state that sum is arter this fashion: “Which is best, to + endeavour to save the souls of two thousand people under my spiritual + charge, or let them go to Old Nick and save a piece of wild land in Maine, + get pay for an old steamer burnt to Canada, and uphold the slave trade for + the interest of the States.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That’s specious, but not true,’ said he; ‘but it’s a matter rather for + my consideration than your’n,’ and he looked as a feller does when he + buttons his trowsers’ pocket, as much as to say, you have no right to be a + puttin’ of your pickers and stealers in there, that’s mine. ‘We will do + better to be less selfish,’ said he, ‘and talk of our great nation.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ says I, ‘how do we stand here in Europe? Do we maintain the high + pitch we had, or do we sing a note lower than we did?’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, he walked up and down the room, with his hands onder his + coat-tails, for ever so long, without a sayin’ of a word. At last, sais + he, with a beautiful smile that was jist skin deep, for it played on his + face as a cat’s-paw does on the calm waters, ‘What was you a sayin.’ of, + Mr. Slick?’ saw he. + </p> + <p> + “‘What’s our position to Europe?’ sais I, ‘jist now; is it letter A, No. + 1?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh!’ sais he, and he walked up and down agin, cypherin’ like to himself; + and then says he, ‘I’ll tell you; that word Socdolager, and the trade of + preachin’, and clockmakin’, it would be as well to sink here; neither on + ‘em convene with dignity. Don’t you think so?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sartainly,’ sais I; ‘it’s only fit for talk over a cigar, alone. It + don’t always answer a good, purpose to blart every thing out. But our <i>po</i>sition,’ + says I, among the nations of the airth, is it what our everlastin’ Union + is entitled to?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Because,’ sais he, ‘some day when I am asked out to dinner, some wag or + another of a lord will call me parson, and ask me to crave a blessin’, + jist to raise the larf agin me for havin’ been a preacher.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘If he does,’ sais I,’ jist say, my Attache does that, and I’ll jist up + first and give it to him atween the two eyes; and when that’s done, sais + you, my Lord, that’s <i>your grace</i> afore meat; pr’aps your lordship + will <i>return thanks</i> arter dinner. Let him try it, that’s all. But + our great nation,’ sais I, ‘tell me, hante that noble stand we made on the + right of sarch, raised us about the toploftiest?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh,’ says he ‘right of sarch! right of sarch! I’ve been tryin’ to sarch + my memory, but can’t find it. I don’t recollect that sarmont about Hope + pitchin’ her tent on the hill. When was it?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It was afore the juvenile-united-democratic-republican association to + Funnel Hall,’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh,’ says he, ‘that was an oration—it was an oration that.’ + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” sais I, “we won’t say no more about that; I only meant it as a joke, + and nothin’ more. But railly now, Abednego, what is the state of our + legation?” + </p> + <p> + “‘I don’t see nothin’ ridikilous,’ sais he, ‘in that are expression, of + Hope pitchin’ her tent on a hill. It’s figurativ’ and poetic, but it’s + within the line that divides taste from bombast. Hope pitchin’ her tent on + a hill! What is there to reprehend in that?’ + </p> + <p> + “Good airth and seas,’ sais I, ‘let’s pitch Hope, and her tent, and the + hill, all to Old Nick in a heap together, and talk of somethin’ else. You + needn’t be so perkily ashamed of havin’ preached, man. Cromwell was a + great preacher all his life, but it didn’t spile him as a Socdolager one + bit, but rather helped him, that’s a fact. How ‘av we held our footin’ + here?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Not well, I am grieved to say,’ sais he; ‘not well. The failure of the + United States’ Bank, the repudiation of debts by several of our States, + the foolish opposition we made to the suppression of the slave-trade, and + above all, the bad faith in the business of the boundary question has + lowered us down, down, e’en a’most to the bottom of the shaft.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Abednego,’ sais I, ‘we want somethin’ besides boastin’ and talkin’ big; + we want a dash—a great stroke of policy. Washington hanging Andre + that time, gained more than a battle. Jackson by hanging Arbuthnot and + Anbristher, gained his election. M’Kennie for havin’ hanged them three + citizens will be made an admiral of yet, see if he don’t. Now if Captain + Tyler had said, in his message to Congress, ‘Any State that repudiates its + foreign debts, we will first fine it in the whole amount, and then cut it + off from our great, free, enlightened, moral and intellectual republic, he + would have gained by the dash his next election, and run up our flag to + the mast-head in Europe. He would have been popular to home, and respected + abroad, that’s as clear as mud,’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He would have done right, Sir, if he had done that,’ said Abednego, ‘and + the right thing is always approved of in the eend, and always esteemed all + through the piece. A dash, as a stroke of policy,’ said he, ‘has sometimes + a good effect. General Jackson threatening France with a war, if they + didn’t pay the indemnity, when he knew the King would make ‘em pay it + whether or no, was a masterpiece; and General Cass tellin’ France if she + signed the right of sarch treaty, we would fight both her and England + together single-handed, was the best move on the political chess-board, + this century. All these, Sir, are very well in their way, to produce an + effect; but there’s a better policy nor all that, a far better policy, and + one, too, that some of our States and legislators, and presidents, and + Socdolagers, as you call ‘em, in my mind have got to larn yet, Sam.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What’s that?’ sais I. “For I don’t believe in my soul there is nothin’ + a’most our diplomaters don’t know. They are a body o’ men that does honour + to our great nation. What policy are you a indicatin’ of?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why,’ sais he, ‘<i>that honesty is the best policy</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “When I heerd him say that, I springs right up on eend, like a rope + dancer. ‘Give me your hand, Abednego,’ sais I; ‘you are a man, every inch + of you,’ and I squeezed it so hard, it made his eyes water. ‘I always + knowed you had an excellent head-piece,’ sais I, ‘and now I see the heart + is in the right place too. If you have thrown preachin’ overboard, you + have kept your morals for ballast, any how. I feel kinder proud of you; + you are jist a fit representat<i>ive</i> for our great nation. You are a + Socdolager, that’s a fact. I approbate your notion; it’s as correct as a + bootjack. For nations or individuals, it’s all the same, honesty <i>is</i> + the best policy, and no mistake. That,’ sais I, ‘is the hill, Abednego, + for Hope to pitch her tent on, and no mistake,’ and I put my finger to my + nose, and winked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ sais he, ‘it is; but you are a droll feller, Slick, there is no + standin’ your jokes. I’ll give you leave to larf if you like, but you must + give me leave to win if I can. Good bye. But mind, Sam, our dignity is at + stake. Let’s have no more of Socdolagers, or Preachin’, or Clockmakin’, or + Hope pitchin’ her tent. A word to the wise. Good bye.’ + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Slick, “I rather like Abednego’s talk myself. I kinder + think that it will be respectable to be Attache to such a man as that. But + he is goin’ out of town for some time, is the Socdolager. There is an + agricultural dinner, where he has to make a conciliation speech; and a + scientific association, where there is a piece of delicate brag and a bit + of soft sawder to do, and then there are visits to the nobility, peep at + manufactures, and all that sort of work, so he won’t be in town for a good + spell, and until then, I can’t go to Court, for he is to introduce me + himself. Pity that, but then it’ll give me lots o’ time to study human + natur, that is, if there is any of it left here, for I have some doubts + about that. Yes, he is an able lead horse, is Abednego; he is a’most a + grand preacher, a good poet, a first chop orator, a great diplomater, and + a top sawyer of a man, in short—he <i>is</i> a <i>Socdolager</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. DINING OUT. + </h2> + <p> + My visit to Germany was protracted beyond the period I had originally + designed; and, during my absence, Mr. Slick had been constantly in + company, either “dining out” daily, when in town, or visiting from one + house to another in the country. + </p> + <p> + I found him in great spirits. He assured me he had many capital stories to + tell me, and that he rather guessed he knew as much of the English, and a + leetle, jist a leetle, grain more, p’raps, than they knew of the Yankees. + </p> + <p> + “They are considerable large print are the Bull family,” said he; “you can + read them by moonlight. Indeed, their faces ain’t onlike the moon in a + gineral way; only one has got a man in it, and the other hain’t always. It + tante a bright face; you can look into it without winkin’. It’s a cloudy + one here too, especially in November; and most all the time makes you + rather sad and solemncoly. Yes, John is a moony man, that’s a fact, and at + the full a little queer sometimes. + </p> + <p> + “England is a stupid country compared to our’n. <i>There it no variety + where there it no natur</i>. You have class variety here, but no + individiality. They are insipid, and call it perlite. The men dress alike, + talk alike, and look as much alike as Providence will let ‘em. The + club-houses and the tailors have done a good deal towards this, and so has + whiggism and dissent; for they have destroyed distinctions. + </p> + <p> + “But this is too deep for me. Ask Minister, he will tell you the cause; I + only tell you the fact. + </p> + <p> + “Dinin’ out here, is both heavy work, and light feedin’. It’s monstrous + stupid. One dinner like one rainy day (it’s rained ever since I been here + a’most), is like another; one drawin’-room like another drawin’-room; one + peer’s entertainment, in a general way, is like another peer’s. The same + powdered, liveried, lazy, idle, good-for-nothin’, do-little, + stand-in-the-way-of-each-other, useless sarvants. Same picturs, same + plate, same fixin’s, same + don’t-know-what-to-do-with-your-self-kinder-o’-lookin’-master. Great folks + are like great folks, marchants like marchants, and so on. It’s a pictur, + it looks like life, but’ it tante. The animal is tamed here; he is fatter + than the wild one, but he hante the spirit. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen-Old Clay in a pastur, a racin’ about, free from harness, + head and tail up, snortin’, cavortin’, attitudinisin’ of himself. Mane + flowin’ in the wind, eye-ball startin’ out, nostrils inside out a’most, + ears pricked up. <i>A nateral hoss</i>; put him in a waggon, with a rael + spic and span harness, all covered over with brass buckles and brass + knobs, and ribbons in his bridle, rael jam. Curb him up, talk Yankee to + him, and get his ginger up. Well, he looks well; but he is ‘<i>a broke + hoss</i>.’ He reminds you of Sam Slick; cause when you see a hoss, you + think of his master: but he don’t remind you of the rael ‘<i>Old Clay</i>,’ + that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “Take a day here, now in town; and they are so identical the same, that + one day sartificates for another. You can’t get out a bed afore twelve, in + winter, the days is so short, and the fires ain’t made, or the room + dusted, or the breakfast can’t be got, or sunthin’ or another. And if you + did, what’s the use? There is no one to talk to, and books only weaken + your understandin’, as water does brandy. They make you let others guess + for you, instead of guessin’ for yourself. Sarvants spile your habits + here, and books spite your mind. I wouldn’t swap ideas with any man. I + make my own opinions, as I used to do my own clocks; and I find they are + truer than other men’s. The Turks are so cussed heavy, they have people to + dance for ‘em; the English are wus, for they hire people to think for ‘em. + Never read a book, Squire, always think for yourself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, arter breakfast, it’s on hat and coat, ombrella in hand, (don’t + never forget that, for the rumatiz, like the perlice, is always on the + look out here, to grab hold of a feller,) and go somewhere where there is + somebody, or another, and smoke, and then wash it down with a + sherry-cobbler; (the drinks ain’t good here; they hante no variety in them + nother; no white-nose, apple-jack, stone-wall, chain-lightning, rail-road, + hail-storm, ginsling-talabogus, switchel-flip, gum-ticklers, + phlem-cutters, juleps, skate-iron, cast-steel, cock-tail, or nothin’, but + that heavy stupid black fat porter;) then down to the coffee-house, see + what vessels have arrived, how markets is, whether there is a chance of + doin’ any thin’ in cotton or tobacco, whose broke to home, and so on. Then + go to the park, and see what’s a goin’ on there; whether those pretty + critturs, the rads are a holdin’ a prime minister ‘parsonally + responsible,’ by shootin’ at him; or whether there is a levee, or the + Queen is ridin’ out, or what not; take a look at the world, make a visit + or two to kill time, when all at once it’s dark. Home then, smoke a cigar, + dress for dinner, and arrive at a quarter past seven. + </p> + <p> + “Folks are up to the notch here when dinner is in question, that’s a fact, + fat, gouty, broken-winded, and foundered as they be. It’s rap, rap, rap, + for twenty minutes at the door, and in they come, one arter the other, as + fast as the sarvants can carry up their names. Cuss them sarvants! it + takes seven or eight of ‘em to carry a man’s name up stairs, they are so + awful lazy, and so shockin’ full of porter. If a feller was so lame he had + to be carried up himself, I don’t believe on my soul, the whole gang of + them, from the Butler that dresses in the same clothes as his master, to + Boots that ain’t dressed at all, could make out to bowse him up stairs, + upon my soul I don’t. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you go in along with your name, walk up to old aunty, and make a + scrape, and the same to old uncle, and then fall back. This is done as + solemn, as if a feller’s name was called out to take his place in a + funeral; that and the mistakes is the fun of it. There is a sarvant at a + house I visit at, that I suspicion is a bit of a bam, and the critter + shows both his wit and sense. He never does it to a ‘somebody,’ ‘cause + that would cost him his place, but when a ‘nobody’ has a droll name, he + jist gives an accent, or a sly twist to it, that folks can’t help a + larfin’, no more than Mr. Nobody can feelin’ like a fool. He’s a droll + boy, that; I should like to know him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, arter ‘nouncin’ is done, then comes two questions—do I know + anybody here? and if I do, does he look like talk or not? Well, seein’ + that you have no handle to your name, and a stranger, it’s most likely you + can’t answer these questions right; so you stand and use your eyes, and + put your tongue up in its case till it’s wanted. Company are all come, and + now they have to be marshalled two and two, lock and lock, and go into the + dinin’-room to feed. + </p> + <p> + “When I first came I was nation proud of that title, ‘the Attache;’ now I + am happified it’s nothin’ but ‘only an Attache,’ and I’ll tell you why. + The great guns, and big bugs, have to take in each other’s ladies, so + these old ones have to herd together. Well, the nobodies go together too, + and sit together, and I’ve observed these nobodies are the pleasantest + people at table, and they have the pleasantest places, because they sit + down with each other, and are jist like yourself, plaguy glad to get some + one to talk to. Somebody can only visit somebody, but nobody can go + anywhere, and therefore nobody sees and knows twice as much as somebody + does. Somebodies must be axed, if they are as stupid as a pump; but + nobodies needn’t, and never are, unless they are spicy sort o’ folks, so + you are sure of them, and they have all the fun and wit of the table at + their eend, and no mistake. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t take a title if they would give it to me, for if I had one, I + should have a fat old parblind dowager detailed on to me to take in to + dinner; and what the plague is her jewels and laces, and silks and + sattins, and wigs to me? As it is, I have a chance to have a gall to take + in that’s a jewel herself—one that don’t want no settin’ off, and + carries her diamonds in her eyes, and so on. I’ve told our minister not to + introduce me as an Attache no more, but as Mr. Nobody, from the State of + Nothin’, in America, <i>that’s natur agin</i>. + </p> + <p> + “But to get back to the dinner. Arter you are in marchin’ order, you move + in through two rows of sarvants in uniform. I used to think they was + placed there for show, but it’s to keep the air off of folks a goin’ + through the entry, and it ain’t a bad thought, nother. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, the first time I went to one o’ these grand let offs I felt kinder + skeery, and as nobody was allocated to me to take in, I goes in alone, not + knowin’ where I was to settle down as a squatter, and kinder lagged + behind; when the butler comes and rams a napkin in my hand, and gives me a + shove, and sais he, ‘Go and stand behind your master, sir,’ sais he. Oh + Solomon! how that waked me up. How I curled inwardly when he did that. + ‘You’ve mistaken the child,’ sais I mildly, and I held out the napkin, and + jist as he went to take it, I gave him a sly poke in the bread basket, + that made him bend forward and say ‘eugh.’ ‘Wake Snakes, and walk your + chalks,’ sais I, ‘will you?’ and down I pops on the fust empty chair. + Lord, how white he looked about the gills arterwards; I thought I should a + split when I looked at him. Guess he’ll know an Attache when he sees him + next time. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is dinner. One sarvice of plate is like another sarvice of + plate, any one dozen of sarvants are like another dozen of sarvants, hock + is hock, and champaigne is champaigne—and one dinner is like another + dinner. The only difference is in the thing itself that’s cooked. Veal, to + be good, must look like any thing else but veal; you mustn’t know it when + you see it, or it’s vulgar; mutton must be incog. too; beef must have a + mask on; any thin’ that looks solid, take a spoon to; any thin’ that looks + light, cut with a knife; if a thing looks like fish, you may take your + oath it is flesh; and if it seems rael flesh, it’s only disguised, for + it’s sure to be fish; nothin’ must be nateral, natur is out of fashion + here. This is a manufacturin’ country, everything is done by machinery, + and that that ain’t must be made to look like it; and I must say, the + dinner machinery is parfect. + </p> + <p> + “Sarvants keep goin’ round and round in a ring, slow, but sartain, and for + ever, like the arms of a great big windmill, shovin’ dish after dish, in + dum show, afore your nose, for you to see how you like the flavour; when + your glass is empty it’s filled; when your eyes is off your plate, it’s + off too, afore you can say Nick Biddle. + </p> + <p> + “Folks speak low here; steam is valuable, and noise onpolite. They call it + a “<i>subdued tone</i>.” Poor tame things, they are subdued, that’s a + fact; slaves to an arbitrary tyrannical fashion that don’t leave ‘em no + free will at all. You don’t often speak across a table any more nor you do + across a street, but p’raps Mr. Somebody of West Eend of town, will say to + a Mr. Nobody from West Eend of America: ‘Niagara is noble.’ Mr. Nobody + will say, ‘Guess it is, it got its patent afore the “Norman <i>Conquest</i>,” + I reckon, and afore the “<i>subdued</i> tone” come in fashion.’ Then Mr. + Somebody will look like an oracle, and say, ‘Great rivers and great trees + in America. You speak good English.’ And then he will seem surprised, but + not say it, only you can read the words on his face, ‘Upon my soul, you + are a’most as white as us.’ + </p> + <p> + “Dinner is over. It’s time for ladies to cut stick. Aunt Goosey looks at + the next oldest goosey, and ducks her head, as if she was a goin’ through + a gate, and then they all come to their feet, and the goslins come to + their feet, and they all toddle off to the drawin’ room together. + </p> + <p> + “The decanters now take the “grand tour” of the table, and, like most + travellers, go out with full pockets, and return with empty ones. Talk has + a pair of stays here, and is laced up tight and stiff. Larnin’ is + pedantic; politics is onsafe; religion ain’t fashionable. You must tread + on neutral ground. Well, neutral ground gets so trampled down by both + sides, and so plundered by all, there ain’t any thing fresh or good grows + on it, and it has no cover for game nother. + </p> + <p> + “Housundever, the ground is tried, it’s well beat, but nothin’ is put up, + and you get back to where you started. Uncle Gander looks at next oldest + gander hard, bobs his head, and lifts one leg, all ready for a go, and + says, ‘Will you take any more wine?’ ‘No, sais he, ‘but I take the hint, + let’s jine the ladies.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, when the whole flock is gathered in the goose pastur, the + drawin’-room, other little flocks come troopin’ in, and stand, or walk, or + down on chairs; and them that know each other talk, and them that don’t + twirl their thumbs over their fingers; and when they are tired of that, + twirl their fingers over their thumbs. I’m nobody, and so I goes and sets + side-ways on an ottarman, like a gall on a side-saddle, and look at what’s + afore me. And fust I always look at the galls. + </p> + <p> + “Now, this I will say, they are amazin’ fine critters are the women kind + here, when they are taken proper care of. The English may stump the + univarse a’most for trainin’ hosses and galls. They give ‘em both plenty + of walkin’ exercise, feed ‘em regular, shoe ‘em well, trim ‘em neat, and + keep a beautiful skin on ‘em. They keep, ‘em in good health, and don’t + house ‘em too much. They are clippers, that’s a fact. There is few things + in natur, equal to a hoss and a gall, that’s well trained and in good + condition. I could stand all day and look at ‘em, and I call myself a + considerable of a judge. It’s singular how much they are alike too, the + moment the trainin’ is over or neglected, neither of ‘em is fit to be + seen; they grow out of shape, and look coarse. + </p> + <p> + “They are considerable knowin’ in this kind o’ ware too, are the English; + they vamp ‘em up so well, it’s hard to tell their age, and I ain’t sure + they don’t make ‘em live longer, than where the art ain’t so well pract<i>ised</i>. + The mark o’ mouth is kept up in a hoss here by the file, and a hay-cutter + saves his teeth, and helps his digestion. Well, a dentist does the same + good turn for a woman; it makes her pass for several years younger; and + helps her looks, mends her voice, and makes her as smart as a three year + old. + </p> + <p> + “What’s that? It’s music. Well, that’s artificial too, it’s scientific + they say, it’s done by rule. Jist look at that gall to the piany: first + comes a little Garman thunder. Good airth and seas, what a crash! it seems + as if she’d bang the instrument all to a thousand pieces. I guess she’s + vexed at somebody and is a peggin’ it into the piany out of spite. Now + comes the singin’; see what faces she makes, how she stretches her mouth + open, like a barn door, and turns up the white of her eyes, like a duck in + thunder. She is in a musical ecstasy is that gall, she feels good all + over, her soul is a goin’ out along with that ere music. Oh, it’s divine, + and she is an angel, ain’t she? Yes, I guess she is, and when I’m an + angel, I will fall in love with her; but as I’m a man, at least what’s + left of me, I’d jist as soon fall in love with one that was a leetle, jist + a leetle more of a woman, and a leetle, jist a leetle less of an angel. + But hullo! what onder the sun is she about, why her voice is goin’ down + her own throat, to gain strength, and here it comes out agin as deep toned + as a man’s; while that dandy feller along side of her, is singin’ what + they call falsetter. They’ve actilly changed voices. The gall sings like a + man, and that screamer like a woman. This is science: this is taste: this + is fashion; but hang me if it’s natur. I’m tired to death of it, but one + good thing is, you needn’t listen without you like, for every body is + talking as, loud as ever. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, how extremes meet sometimes, as Minister says. <i>Here</i>, how, + fashion is the top of the pot, and that pot hangs on the highest hook on + the crane. In <i>America</i>, natur can’t go no farther; it’s the rael + thing. Look at the women kind, now. An Indgian gall, down South, goes most + naked. Well, a splendiferous company gall, here, when she is <i>full + dressed</i> is only <i>half covered</i>, and neither of ‘em attract you + one mite or morsel. We dine at two and sup at seven; <i>here</i> they + lunch at two, and dine at seven. The words are different, but they are + identical the same. Well, the singin’ is amazin’ like, too. Who ever heerd + them Italian singers recitin’ their jabber, showin’ their teeth, and + cuttin’ didoes at a great private consart, that wouldn’t take his oath he + had heerd niggers at a dignity ball, down South, sing jist the same, and + jist as well. And then do, for goodness’ gracious’ sake, hear that great + absent man, belongin’ to the House o’ Commons, when the chaplain says ‘Let + us pray!’ sing right out at once, as if he was to home, ‘Oh! by all + means,’ as much as to say, ‘me and the powers above are ready to hear you; + but don’t be long about it.’ + </p> + <p> + “Ain’t that for all the world like a camp-meetin’, when a reformed + ring-tail roarer calls out to the minister, ‘That’s a fact, Welly Fobus, + by Gosh; amen!’ or when preacher says, ‘Who will be saved?’ answers, ‘Me + and the boys, throw us a hen-coop; the galls will drift down stream on a + bale o’ cotton.’ Well then, <i>our</i> very lowest, and <i>their</i> very + highest, don’t always act pretty, that’s a fact. Sometimes ‘<i>they + repudiate</i>.’ You take, don’t you? + </p> + <p> + “There is another party to-night; the flock is a thinnin’ off agin; and as + I want a cigar most amazin’ly, let’s go to a divan, and some other time, + I’ll tell you what a swoi<i>ree</i> is. But answer me this here question + now, Squire: when this same thing is acted over and over, day after day, + and no variation, from July to etarnity, don’t you think you’d get a + leetle—jist a leetle more tired of it every day, and wish for natur + once more. If you wouldn’t I would, that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SECOND VOLUME. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE NOSE OF A SPY + </h2> + <p> + “Squire.” said Mr. Hopewell, “you know Sam well enough, I hope, to make + all due allowances for the exuberance of his fancy. The sketch he has just + given you of London society, like the novels of the present day, though + founded on fact, is very unlike the reality. There may be assemblages of + persons in this great city, and no doubt there are, quite as insipid and + absurd as the one he has just pourtrayed; but you must not suppose it is + at all a fair specimen of the society of this place. My own experience is + quite the reverse. I think it the most refined, the most agreeable, and + the most instructive in the world. Whatever your favourite study or + pursuit may be, here you are sure to find well-informed and enthusiastic + associates. If you have merit, it is appreciated; and for an aristocratic + country, that merit places you on a level with your superiors in rank in a + manner that is quite incomprehensible to a republican. Money is the great + leveller of distinctions with us; here, it is talent. Fashion spreads many + tables here, but talent is always found seated at the best, if it thinks + proper to comply with certain usages, without which, even genius ceases to + be attractive. + </p> + <p> + “On some future occasion, I will enter more at large on this subject; but + now it is too late; I have already exceeded my usual hour for retiring. + ‘Excuse me, Sam,’ said he. ‘I know you will not be offended with me, but + Squire there are some subjects on which Sam may amuse, but cannot instruct + you, and one is, fashionable life in London. You must judge for yourself, + Sir. Good night, my children.’” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slick rose, and opened the door for him, and as he passed, bowed and + held out his hand. “Remember me, your honour, no man opens the door in + this country without being paid for it. Remember me, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “True, Sam,” said the Minister, “and it is unlucky that it does not extend + to opening the mouth, if it did, you would soon make your fortune, for you + can’t keep yours shut. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + The society to which I have subsequently had the good fortune to be + admitted, fully justifies the eulogium of Mr. Hopewell. Though many + persons can write well, few can talk well; but the number of those who + excel in conversation is much greater in certain circles in London, than + in any other place. By talking well, I do not mean talking wisely or + learnedly; but agreeably, for relaxation and pleasure, are the principal + objects of social assemblies. This can only be illustrated by instancing + some very remarkable persons, who are the pride and pleasure of every + table they honour and delight with their presence But this may not be. For + obvious reasons, I could not do it if I would; and most assuredly, I would + not do it if I could. No more certain mode could be devised of destroying + conversation, than by showing, that when the citadel is unguarded, the + approach of a friend is as unsafe as that of an enemy. + </p> + <p> + Alas! poor Hook! who can read the unkind notice of thee in a late + periodical, and not feel, that on some occasions you must have admitted to + your confidence men who were as unworthy of that distinction as, they were + incapable of appreciating it, and that they who will disregard the + privileges of a table, will not hesitate to violate even the sanctity of + the tomb. Cant may talk of your “<i>inter pocula</i>” errors with pious + horror; and pretension, now that its indulgence is safe, may affect to + disclaim your acquaintance; but kinder, and better, and truer men than + those who furnished your biographer with his facts will not fail to + recollect your talents with pride, and your wit and your humour with + wonder and delight. + </p> + <p> + We do not require such flagrant examples as these to teach us our duty, + but they are not without their use in increasing our caution. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Hopewell withdrew, Mr. Slick observed: + </p> + <p> + “Ain’t that ere old man a trump? He is always in the right place. Whenever + you want to find him, jist go and look for him where he ought to be, and + there you will find him as sure as there is snakes in Varginy. He is a + brick, that’s a fact. Still, for all that, he ain’t jist altogether a + citizen of this world nother. He fishes in deep water, with a sinker to + his hook. He can’t throw a fly as I can, reel out his line, run down + stream, and then wind up, wind up, wind up, and let out, and wind up + again, till he lands his fish, as I do. He looks deep into things, is a + better religionist, polititioner, and bookster than I be: but then that’s + all he does know. If you want to find your way about, or read a man, come + to me, that’s all; for I’m the boy that jist can do it. If I can’t walk + into a man, I can dodge round him; and if he is too nimble for that, I can + jump over him; and if he is too tall for that, although I don’t like the + play, yet I can whip him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Squire, I have been a good deal to England, and crossed this big + pond here the matter of seven times, and know a good deal about it, more + than a great many folks that have writtin’ books on it, p’raps. Mind what + I tell you, the English ain’t what they was. I’m not speakin’ in jeest + now, or in prejudice. I hante a grain of prejudice in me. I’ve see’d too + much of the world for that I reckon. I call myself a candid man, and I + tell you the English are no more like what the English used to be, when + pigs were swine, and Turkey chewed tobacky, than they are like the Picts + or Scots, or Norman, French, or Saxons, or nothin’.” + </p> + <p> + “Not what they used to be?” I said. “Pray, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” said he, “jist what I say. They ain’t the same people no more. + They are as proud, and overbearin’, and concaited, and haughty to + foreigners as ever; but, then they ain’t so manly, open-hearted, and noble + as they used to be, once upon a time. They have the Spy System now, in + full operation here; so jist take my advice, and mind your potatoe-trap, + or you will be in trouble afore you are ten days older, see if you ain’t.” + </p> + <p> + “The Spy System!” I replied. “Good Heavens, Mr. Slick, how can you talk + such nonsense, and yet have the modesty to say you have no prejudice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the Spy System,” said he, “and I’ll prove it. You know Dr. + Mc’Dougall to Nova Scotia; well, he knows all about mineralogy, and + geology, and astrology, and every thing a’most, except what he ought to + know, and that is dollar-ology. For he ain’t over and above half well off, + that’s a fact. Well, a critter of the name of Oatmeal, down to Pictou, + said to another Scotchman there one day, ‘The great nateralist Dr. + Mc’Dougall is come to town.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Who?’ says Sawney. + </p> + <p> + “‘Dr. Mc’Dougall, the nateralist,’ says Oatmeal. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hout, mon,’ says Sawney, ‘he is nae nateral, that chiel; he kens mair + than maist men; he is nae that fool you take him to be.’ + </p> + <p> + “Now, I am not such a fool as you take <i>me</i> to be, Squire. Whenever I + did a sum to, school, Minister used to say, ‘Prove it, Sam, and if it + won’t prove, do it over agin, till it will; a sum ain’t right when it + won’t prove.’ Now, I say the English have the Spy System, and I’ll prove + it; nay, more than that, they have the nastiest, dirtiest, meanest, + sneakenest system in the world. It is ten times as bad as the French plan. + In France they have bar-keepers, waiters, chamber galls, guides, + quotillions,—” + </p> + <p> + “Postilions, you mean,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, postilions then, for the French have queer names for people, that’s + a fact; disbanded sodgers, and such trash, for spies. In England they have + airls and countesses, Parliament men, and them that call themselves + gentlemen and ladies, for spies.” + </p> + <p> + “How very absurd!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, very absurd,” said Mr. Slick; “whenever I say anythin’ agin + England, it’s very absurd, it’s all prejudice. Nothin’ is strange, though, + when it is said of us, and the absurder it is, the truer it is. I can bam + as well as any man when bam is the word, but when fact is the play, I am + right up and down, and true as a trivet. I won’t deceive you; I’ll prove + it. + </p> + <p> + “There was a Kurnel Dun—dun—plague take his name, I can’t + recollect it, but it makes no odds—I know <i>he</i> is Dun for, + though, that’s a fact. Well, he was a British kurnel, that was out to + Halifax when I was there. I know’d him by sight, I didn’t know him by + talk, for I didn’t fill then the dignified situation I now do, of Attache. + I was only a clockmaker then, and I suppose he wouldn’t have dirtied the + tip eend of his white glove with me then, any more than I would sile mine + with him now, and very expensive and troublesome things them white gloves + be too; there is no keepin’ of them clean. For my part, I don’t see why a + man can’t make his own skin as clean as a kid’s, any time; and if a feller + can’t be let shake hands with a gall except he has a glove on, why ain’t + he made to cover his lips, and kiss thro’ kid skin too. + </p> + <p> + “But to get back to the kurnel, and it’s a pity he hadn’t had a glove over + his mouth, that’s a fact. Well, he went home to England with his regiment, + and one night when he was dinin’ among some first chop men, nobles and so + on, they sot up considerable late over their claret; and poor thin cold + stuff it is too, is claret. A man <i>may</i> get drowned in it, but how + the plague he can get drunk with it is dark to me. It’s like every thing + else French, it has no substance in it; it’s nothin’ but red ink, that’s a + fact. Well, how it was I don’t know, but so it eventuated, that about + daylight he was mops and brooms, and began to talk somethin’ or another he + hadn’t ought to; somethin’ he didn’t know himself, and somethin’ he didn’t + mean, and didn’t remember. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, next mornin’ he was booked; and the first thing he see’d when he + waked was another man a tryin’ on of his shoes, to see how they’d fit to + march to the head of his regiment with. Fact, I assure you, and a fact too + that shows what Englishmen has come to; I despise ‘em, I hate ‘em, I scorn + such critters as I do oncarcumcised niggers.” + </p> + <p> + “What a strange perversion of facts,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + But he would admit of no explanation. “Oh yes, quite parvarted; not a word + of truth in it; there never is when England is consarned. There is no beam + in an Englishman’s eye; no not a smell of one; he has pulled it out long + ago; that’s the reason he can see the mote in other folks’s so plain. Oh, + of course it ain’t true; it’s a Yankee invention; it’s a hickory ham and a + wooden nutmeg. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, there was another feller got bagged t’other day, as innocent + as could be, for givin’ his opinion when folks was a talkin’ about matters + and things in gineral, and this here one in partikilar. I can’t tell the + words, for I don’t know ‘em, nor care about ‘em; and if I did, I couldn’t + carry ‘em about so long; but it was for sayin’ it hadn’t ought to have + been taken notice of, considerin’ it jist popt out permiscuous like with + the bottle-cork. If he hadn’t a had the clear grit in him, and showed + teeth and claws, they’d a nullified him so, you wouldn’t have see’d a + grease spot of him no more. What do you call that, now? Do you call that + liberty? Do you call that old English? Do you call it pretty, say now? + Thank God, it tante Yankee.” + </p> + <p> + “I see you have no prejudice, Mr. Slick,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Not one mite or morsel,” he replied. “Tho’ I was born in Connecticut, I + have travelled all over the thirteen united univarsal worlds of ourn and + am a citizen at large. No, I have no prejudice. You say I am mistaken; + p’raps I am, I hope I be, and a stranger may get hold of the wrong eend of + a thing sometimes, that’s a fact. But I don’t think I be wrong, or else + the papers don’t tell the truth; and I read it in all the jarnals; I did, + upon my soul. Why man, it’s history now, if such nasty mean doins is worth + puttin’ into a book. + </p> + <p> + “What makes this Spy System to England wuss, is that these eaves-droppers + are obliged to hear all that’s said, or lose what commission they hold; at + least so folks tell me. I recollect when I was there last, for it’s some + years since Government first sot up the Spy System; there was a great feed + given to a Mr. Robe, or Robie, or some such name, an out and out Tory. + Well, sunthin’ or another was said over their cups, that might as well + have been let alone, I do suppose, tho’ dear me, what is the use of wine + but to onloosen the tongue, and what is the use of the tongue, but to + talk. Oh, cuss ‘em, I have no patience with them. Well, there was an + officer of a marchin’ regiment there, who it seems ought to have took down + the words and sent ‘em up to the head Gineral, but he was a knowin’ coon, + was officer, and <i>didn’t hear it</i>. No sooner said than done; some one + else did the dirty work for him; but you can’t have a substitute for this, + you must sarve in person, so the old Gineral hawls him right up for it. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why the plague, didn’t you make a fuss?’ sais the General, ‘why didn’t + you get right up, and break up the party?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I didn’t hear it,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘You didn’t hear it!’ sais Old Sword-belt, ‘then you had ought to have + heerd it; and for two pins, I’d sharpen your hearin’ for you, so that a + snore of a fly would wake you up, as if a byler had bust.’ + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how it has lowered the English in the eyes of foreigners! How + sneakin’ it makes ‘em look! They seem for all the world like scared dogs; + and a dog when he slopes off with his head down, his tail atween his legs, + and his back so mean it won’t bristle, is a caution to sinners. Lord. I + wish I was Queen!” + </p> + <p> + “What, of such a degraded race as you say the English are, of such a + mean-spirited, sneaking nation?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they warn’t always so,” he replied. “I will say that, for I have no + prejudice. By natur, there is sunthin’ noble and manly in a Britisher, and + always was, till this cussed Spy System got into fashion. They tell me it + was the Liberals first brought it into vogue. How that is. I don’t know; + but I shouldn’t wonder if it was them, for I know this, if a feller talks + <i>very</i> liberal in politics, put him into office, and see what a + tyrant he’ll make. If he talks very liberal in religion, it’s because he + hante got none at all. If he talks very liberal to the poor, talk is all + the poor will ever get out of him. If he talks liberal about corn law, it + tante to feed the hungry, but to lower wages, and so on in every thing a + most. None is so liberal as those as hante got nothin’. The most liberal + feller I know on is “Old Scratch himself.” If ever the liberals come in, + they should make him Prime Minister. He is very liberal in religion and + would jine them in excludin’ the Bible from common schools I know. He is + very liberal about the criminal code, for he can’t bear to see criminals + punished. He is very liberal in politics, for he don’t approbate + restraint, and likes to let every critter ‘go to the devil’ his own way. + Oh, he should be Head Spy and Prime Minister that feller. + </p> + <p> + “But without jokin’ tho’, if I was Queen, the fust time any o’ my + ministers came to me to report what the spies had said, I’d jist up and + say, ‘Minister,’ I’d say, ‘it is a cussed oninglish, onmanly, niggerly + business, is this of pumpin’, and spyin’, and tattlin’. I don’t like it a + bit. I’ll have neither art nor part in it; I wash my hands clear of it. It + will jist break the spirit of my people. So, minister look here. The next + report that is brought to me of a spy, I’ll whip his tongue out and whop + your ear off, or my name ain’t Queen. So jist mind what I say; first spy + pokes his nose into your office, chop it off and clap it up over Temple + Bar, where they puts the heads of traitors and write these words over, + with your own fist, that they may know the handwritin’, and not mistake + the meanin’, <i>This is the nose of a Spy</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE PATRON; OR, THE COW’S TAIL. + </h2> + <p> + Nothing is so fatiguing as sight-seeing. The number and variety of objects + to which your attention is called, and the rapid succession in which they + pass in review, at once wearies and perplexes the mind; and unless you + take notes to refresh your memory, you are apt to find you carry away with + you but an imperfect and indistinct recollection. + </p> + <p> + Yesterday was devoted to an inspection of the Tunnel and an examination of + the Tower, two things that ought always to be viewed in juxta-position; + one being the greatest evidence of the science and wealth of modern times; + and the other of the power and pomp of our forefathers. + </p> + <p> + It is a long time before a stranger can fully appreciate the extent of + population and wealth of this vast metropolis. At first, he is astonished + and confused; his vision is indistinct. By degrees he begins to understand + its localities, the ground plan becomes intelligible and he can take it + all in at a view. The map is a large one; it is a chart of the world. He + knows the capes and the bays; he has sailed round them, and knows their + relative distance, and at last becomes aware of the magnitude of the + whole. Object after object becomes more familiar. He can estimate the + population; he compares the amount of it with that of countries that he is + acquainted with, and finds that this one town contains within it nearly as + great a number of souls as all British North America. He estimates the + incomes of the inhabitants, and finds figures almost inadequate to express + the amount. He asks for the sources from whence it is derived. He resorts + to his maxims of political economy, and they cannot inform him. He + calculates the number of acres of land in England, adds up the rental, and + is again at fault. He inquires into the statistics of the Exchange, and + discovers that even that is inadequate; and, as a last resource, concludes + that the whole world is tributary to this Queen of Cities. It is the heart + of the Universe. All the circulation centres here, and hence are derived + all those streams that give life and strength to the extremities. How + vast, how populous, how rich, how well regulated, how well supplied, how + clean, how well ventilated, how healthy!—what a splendid city! How + worthy of such an empire and such a people! + </p> + <p> + What is the result of his experience? <i>It is, that there is no such + country in the world as England, and no such place in England as London; + that London is better than any other town in winter, and quite as good as + any other place in summer; that containing not only all that he requires, + but all that he can wish, in the greatest perfection, he desires never to + leave it.</i> + </p> + <p> + Local description, however, is not my object; I shall therefore, return to + my narrative. + </p> + <p> + Our examination of the Tower and the Tunnel occupied the whole day, and + though much gratified, we were no less fatigued. On returning to our + lodgings, I found letters from Nova Scotia. Among others, was one from the + widow of an old friend, enclosing a memorial to the Commander-in-Chief, + setting forth the important and gratuitous services of her late husband to + the local government of the province, and soliciting for her son some + small situation in the ordnance department, which had just fallen vacant + at Halifax. I knew that it was not only out of my power to aid her, but + that it was impossible for her, however strong the claims of her husband + might be, to obtain her request. These things are required for friends and + dependants in England; and in the race of competition, what chance of + success has a colonist? + </p> + <p> + I made up my mind at once to forward her memorial as requested, but + pondered on the propriety of adding to it a recommendation. It could do no + good. At most, it would only be the certificate of an unknown man; of one + who had neither of the two great qualifications, namely, county or + parliamentary interest, but it might do harm. It might, by engendering + ridicule from the insolence of office, weaken a claim, otherwise well + founded. “Who the devil is this Mr. Thomas Poker, that recommends the + prayer of the petition? The fellow imagines all the world must have heard + of him. A droll fellow that, I take it from his name: but all colonists + are queer fellows, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Bad news from home?” said Mr. Slick, who had noticed my abstraction. “No + screw loose there, I hope. You don’t look as if you liked the flavour of + that ere nut you are crackin’ of. Whose dead? and what is to pay now?” + </p> + <p> + I read the letter and the memorial, and then explained from my own + knowledge how numerous and how valuable were the services of my deceased + friend, and expressed my regret at not being able to serve the + memorialist. + </p> + <p> + “Poor woman!” said Mr. Hopewell, “I pity her. A colonist has no chance for + these things; they have no patron. In this country merit will always + obtain a patron—in the provinces never. The English are a + noble-minded, generous people, and whoever here deserves encouragement or + reward, is certain to obtain either or both: but it must be a brilliant + man, indeed, whose light can be perceived across the Atlantic.” + </p> + <p> + “I entertain, Sir,” I said, “a very strong prejudice against relying on + patrons. Dr. Johnson, after a long and fruitless attendance on Lord + Chesterfield, says: ‘Seven years, my Lord, have now past, since I waited + in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I + have been pushing on my work, through difficulties, of which it is useless + to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, + without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of + favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never bad a patron before.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Mr. Hopewell, “a man who feels that he is wrong, is always + angry with somebody else. Dr. Johnson, is not so much to be admired for + the independence that dictated that letter, as condemned for the meanness + and servility of seven years of voluntary degradation. It is no wonder he + spoke with bitterness; for, while he censured his Lordship, he must have + despised himself. There is a great difference between a literary and a + political patron. The former is not needed, and a man does better without + one; the latter is essential. A good book, like good wine, needs no bush; + but to get an office, you want merits or patrons;—merits so great, + that they cannot be passed over, or friends so powerful, they cannot be + refused.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you can’t do nothin’, Squire,” said Mr. Sick, “send it back to Old + Marm; tell her you have the misfortin to be a colonist; that if her son + would like to be a constable, or a Hogreave, or a thistle-viewer, or + sunthin’ or another of that kind, you are her man: but she has got the + wrong cow by the tail this time. I never hear of a patron, I don’t think + of a frolic I once had with a cow’s tail; and, by hanging on to it like a + snappin’ turtle, I jist saved my life, that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “Tell you what it is, Squire, take a fool’s advice, for once. Here you + are; I have made you considerable well-known, that’s a fact; and will + introduce you to court, to king and queen, or any body you please. For our + legation, though they can’t dance, p’raps, as well as the French one can, + could set all Europe a dancin’ in wide awake airnest, if it chose. They + darsent refuse us nothin’, or we would fust embargo, and then go to war. + Any one you want to know, I’ll give you the ticket. Look round, select a + good critter, and hold on to the tail, for dear life, and see if you hante + a patron, worth havin’. You don’t want none yourself, but you might want + one some time or another, for them that’s a comin’ arter you. + </p> + <p> + “When I was a half grow’d lad, the bears came down from Nor-West one year + in droves, as a body might say, and our woods near Slickville was jist + full of ‘em. It warn’t safe to go a-wanderin’ about there a-doin’ of + nothin’, I tell <i>you</i>. Well, one arternoon, father sends me into the + back pastur’, to bring home the cows, ‘And,’ says he, ‘keep a stirrin’, + Sam, go ahead right away, and be out of the bushes afore sun-set, on + account of the bears, for that’s about the varmints’ supper-time.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, I looks to the sky, and I sees it was a considerable of a piece yet + to daylight down, so I begins to pick strawberries as I goes along, and + you never see any thing so thick as they were, and wherever the grass was + long, they’d stand up like a little bush, and hang in clusters, most as + big and twice as good, to my likin’, as garden ones. Well, the sun, it + appears to me, is like a hoss, when it comes near dark it mends its pace, + and gets on like smoke, so afore I know’d where I was, twilight had come + peepin’ over the spruce tops. + </p> + <p> + “Off I sot, hot foot, into the bushes, arter the cows, and as always + eventuates when you are in a hurry, they was further back than common that + time, away ever so fur back to a brook, clean off to the rear of the farm, + so that day was gone afore I got out of the woods, and I got proper + frightened. Every noise I heerd I thought it was a bear, and when I looked + round a one side, I guessed I heerd one on the other, and I hardly turned + to look there before, I reckoned it was behind me, I was e’en a’most + skeered to death. + </p> + <p> + “Thinks I, ‘I shall never be able to keep up to the cows if a bear comes + arter ‘em and chases ‘em, and if I fall astarn, he’ll just snap up a plump + little corn fed feller like me in less than half no time. Cryin’,’ says I, + ‘though, will do no good. You must be up and doin’, Sam, or it’s gone + goose with you.’ + </p> + <p> + “So a thought struck me. Father had always been a-talkin’ to me about the + leadin’ men, and makin’ acquaintance with the political big bugs when I + growed up and havin’ a patron, and so on. Thinks I, I’ll take the leadin’ + cow for my patron. So I jist goes and cuts a long tough ash saplin, and + takes the little limbs off of it, and then walks along side of Mooley, as + meachin’ as you please, so she mightn’t suspect nothin’, and then grabs + right hold of her tail, and yelled and screamed like mad, and wallopped + away at her like any thing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the way she cut dirt was cautionary; she cleared stumps, ditches, + windfalls and every thing, and made a straight track of it for home as the + crow flies. Oh, she was a dipper: she fairly flow again, and if ever she + flagged, I laid it into her with the ash saplin, and away we started agin, + as if Old Nick himself was arter us. + </p> + <p> + “But afore I reached home, the rest of the cows came a bellowin’, and a + roarin’ and a-racin’ like mad arter us, and gained on us too, so as most + to overtake us, jist as I come to the bars of the cow yard, over went + Mooler, like a fox, brought me whap up agin ‘em, which knocked all the + wind out of my lungs and the fire out of my eyes, and laid me sprawlin on + the ground, and every one of the flock went right slap over me, all but + one—poor Brindle. She never came home agin. Bear nabbed her, and + tore her most ridiculous. He eat what he wanted, which was no trifle, I + can tell you, and left the rest till next time. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk to me, Squire, about merits. We all want a lift in this world; + sunthin’ or another to lay hold on, to help us along—<i>we want the + cow’s tail</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Tell your friend, the female widder, she has got hold of the wrong cow by + the tail in gettin’ hold of you, for you are nothin’ but a despisable + colonist; but to look out for some patron here, some leadin’ man, or great + lord, to clinch fast hold of him, and stick to him like a leach, and if he + flags, (for patrons, like old Mooley, get tired sometimes), to recollect + the ash saplin, to lay into him well, and keep him at it, and no fear but + he’ll carry her through. He’ll fetch her home safe at last, and no + mistake, depend on it, Squire. The best lesson that little boy could be + taught, is, that of <i>the Patron, or the Cows Tail</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. ASCOT RACES. + </h2> + <p> + To-day I visited Ascot. Race-courses are similar every where, and present + the same objects; good horses, cruel riders, knowing men, dupes, jockeys, + gamblers, and a large assemblage of mixed company. But this is a gayer + scene than most others; and every epithet, appropriate to a course, + diminutive or otherwise, must be in the superlative degree when applied to + Ascot. This is the general, and often the only impression that most men + carry away with them. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slick, who regards these things practically, called my attention to + another view of it. + </p> + <p> + “Squire,” said he, “I’d a plaguy sight sooner see Ascot than any thing + else to England. There ain’t nothin’ like it. I don’t mean the racin’, + because they can’t go ahead like us, if they was to die for it. We have + colts that can whip chain lightnin’, on a pinch. Old Clay trotted with it + once all round an orchard, and beat it his whole length, but it singed his + tail properly as he passed it, you may depend. It ain’t its runnin’ I + speak of, therefore, though that ain’t mean nother; but it’s got another + featur’, that you’ll know it by from all others. Oh it’s an everlastin’ + pity you warn’t here, when I was to England last time. Queen was there + then; and where she is, of coarse all the world and its wife is too. She + warn’t there this year, and it sarves folks right. If I was an + angelyferous queen, like her, I wouldn’t go nowhere till I had a tory + minister, and then a feller that had a “trigger-eye” would stand a chance + to get a white hemp-neckcloth. I don’t wonder Hume don’t like young + England; for when that boy grows up, he’ll teach some folks that they had + better let some folks alone, or some folks had better take care of some + folks’ ampersands that’s all. + </p> + <p> + “The time I speak of, people went in their carriages, and not by railroad. + Now, pr’aps you don’t know, in fact you can’t know, for you can’t cypher, + colonists ain’t no good at figurs, but if you did know, the way to judge + of a nation is by its private carriages. From Hyde Park corner to Ascot + Heath, is twenty odd miles. Well, there was one whole endurin’ stream of + carriages all the way, sometimes havin’ one or two eddies, and where the + toll-gates stood, havin’ still water for ever so far. Well, it flowed and + flowed on for hours and hours without stoppin’, like a river; and when you + got up to the race-ground, there was the matter of two or three tiers of + carriages, with the hosses off, packed as close as pins in a paper. + </p> + <p> + “It costs near hand to twelve hundred dollars a-year to keep up a carriage + here. Now for goodness’ sake jist multiply that everlastin’ string of + carriages by three hundred pounds each, and see what’s spent in that way + every year, and then multiply that by ten hundred thousand more that’s in + other places to England you don’t see, and then tell me if rich people + here ain’t as thick as huckleberries.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when you’ve done, go to France, to Belgium, and to Prussia, three + sizeable places for Europe, and rake and scrape every private carriage + they’ve got, and they ain’t no touch to what Ascot can show. Well, when + you’ve done your cypherin’, come right back to London, as hard as you can + clip from the race-course, and you won’t miss any of ‘em; the town is as + full as ever, to your eyes. A knowin’ old coon, bred and born to London, + might, but you couldn’t. + </p> + <p> + “Arter that’s over, go and pitch the whole bilin’ of ‘em into the Thames, + hosses, carriages, people, and all; and next day, if it warn’t for the + black weepers and long faces of them that’s lost money by it, and the + black crape and happy faces of them that’s got money, or titles, or what + not by it, you wouldn’t know nothin’ about it. Carriages wouldn’t rise ten + cents in the pound in the market. A stranger, like you, if you warn’t + told, wouldn’t know nothin’ was the matter above common. There ain’t + nothin’ to England shows its wealth like this. + </p> + <p> + “Says father to me when I came back, ‘Sam,’ sais he, ‘what struck you + most?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ascot Races,’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Jist like you,’ sais he. ‘Hosses and galls is all you think of. Wherever + they be, there you are, that’s a fact. You’re a chip of the old block, my + boy. There ain’t nothin’ lake ‘em; is there?’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, he was half right, was father. It’s worth seein’ for hosses and + galls too; but it’s worth seein’ for its carriage wealth alone. Heavens + and airth, what a rich country it must be that has such a show in that + line as England. Don’t talk of stock, for it may fail; or silver-smiths’ + shops, for you can’t tell what’s plated; or jewels, for they may be paste; + or goods, for they may be worth only half nothin’; but talk of the + carriages, them’s the witnesses that don’t lie. + </p> + <p> + “And what do they say? ‘Calcutta keeps me, and China keeps me, and Bot’ney + Bay keeps me, and Canada keeps me, and Nova Scotia keeps me, and the + whales keep me, and the white bears keep me, and every thing on the airth + keeps me, every thing under the airth keeps me. In short, all the world + keeps me.’” + </p> + <p> + “No, not all the world, Sam,” said Mr. Hopewell; “there are some + repudiative States that <i>don’t keep me</i>; and if you go to the auction + rooms, you’ll see some beautiful carriages for sale, that say, ‘the United + States’ Bank used to keep me,’ and some more that say, ‘Nick Biddle put me + down.’” + </p> + <p> + “Minister, I won’t stand that,” said Mr. Slick. “I won’t stay here and + hear you belittle Uncle Sam that way for nothin’. He ain’t wuss than John + Bull, arter all. Ain’t there no swindle-banks here? Jist tell me that. + Don’t our liners fetch over, every trip, fellers that cut and run from + England, with their fobs filled with other men’s money? Ain’t there lords + in this country that know how to “repudiate” as well as ring-tail-roarers + in ourn. So come now, don’t throw stones till you put your window-shutters + to, or you may stand a smart chance of gettin’ your own glass broke, + that’s a fact.’ + </p> + <p> + “And then, Squire, jist look at the carriages. I’ll bet you a goose and + trimmin’s you can’t find their ditto nowhere. They <i>are</i> carriages, + and no mistake, that’s a fact. Look at the hosses, the harness, the paint, + the linin’s, the well-dressed, lazy, idle, infarnal hansum servants, + (these rascals, I suspicion, are picked out for their looks), look at the + whole thing all through the piece, take it, by and large, stock, lock, and + barrel, and it’s the dandy, that’s a fact. Don’t it cost money, that’s + all? Sumtotalize it then, and see what it all comes to. It would make your + hair stand on eend, I know. If it was all put into figure, it would reach + clean across the river; and if it was all put into dollars, it would make + a solid tire of silver, and hoop the world round and round, like a wheel. + </p> + <p> + “If you want to give a man an idea of England, Squire, tell him of Ascot; + and if you want to cram him, get old Multiplication-table Joe H— to + cast it up; for he’ll make it come to twice as much as it railly is, and + that will choke him. Yes, Squire, <i>stick to Ascot</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE GANDER PULLING. + </h2> + <p> + A cunning man is generally a suspicious one, and is as often led into + error himself by his own misconceptions, as protected from imposition by + his habitual caution. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slick, who always acted on a motive, and never on an impulse, and who + concealed his real objects behind ostensible ones, imagined that everybody + else was governed by the same principle of action; and, therefore, + frequently deceived himself by attributing designs to others that never + existed but in his own imagination. + </p> + <p> + Whether the following story of the gander pulling was a fancy sketch of + the Attache, or a narrative of facts, <i>I</i> had no means of + ascertaining. Strange interviews and queer conversations he constantly had + with official as well as private individuals, but as he often gave his + opinions the form of an anecdote, for the purpose of interesting his + hearers, it was not always easy to decide whether his stories were facts + or fictions. + </p> + <p> + If, on the present occasion, it was of the latter description, it is + manifest that he entertained no very high opinion of the constitutional + changes effected in the government of the colonies by the Whigs, during + their long and perilous rule. If of the former kind, it is to be lamented + that he concealed his deliberate convictions under an allegorical piece of + humour. His disposition to “humbug” was so great, it was difficult to + obtain a plain straightforward reply from him; but had the Secretary of + State put the question to him in direct terms, what he thought of Lord + Durham’s “Responsible government,” and the practical working of it under + Lord Sydenham’s and Sir Charles Bagot’s administration, he would have + obtained a plain and intelligible answer. If the interview to which he + alludes ever did take place, (which I am bound to add, is very doubtful, + notwithstanding the minuteness with which it is detailed), it is deeply to + be regretted that he was not addressed in that frank manner which could + alone elicit his real sentiments; for I know of no man so competent to + offer an opinion on these subjects as himself. + </p> + <p> + To govern England successfully, it is necessary to know the temper of + Englishmen. Obvious as this appears to be, the frequent relinquishment of + government measures, by the dominant party, shows that their own statesmen + are sometimes deficient in this knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slick says, that if Sir James Graham had consulted him, <i>he</i> + could have shown him how to carry the educational clauses of his favourite + bill This, perhaps, is rather an instance of Mr. Slick’s vanity, than a + proof of his sagacity. But if this species of information is not easy of + attainment here, even by natives, how difficult must it be to govern a + people three thousand miles off, who differ most materially in thought, + word, and deed, from their official rulers. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slick, when we had not met during the day, generally visited me at + night, about the time I usually returned from a dinner-party, and amused + me by a recital of his adventures. + </p> + <p> + “Squire,” said he, “I have had a most curious capur to-day, and one that + will interest you, I guess. Jist as I was a settin’ down to breakfast this + mornin’, and was a turnin’ of an egg inside out into a wine-glass, to + salt, pepper and batter it for Red-lane Alley, I received a note from a + Mister Pen, saying the Right Honourable Mr. Tact would be glad, if it was + convenient, if I would call down to his office, to Downin’ Street, to-day, + at four o’clock. Thinks says I to myself, ‘What’s to pay now? Is it the + Boundary Line, or Creole Case, or Colonial Trade, or the Burnin’ of the + Caroline, or Right o’ Sarch? or what national subject is on the carpet + to-day? Howsundever,’ sais I, ‘let the charge be what it will, slugs, + rifle-bullets, or powder, go I must, that’s a fact.’ So I tips him a shot + right off; here’s the draft, Sir; it’s in reg’lar state lingo. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Sir, + + “I have the high honour to acknowledge the receipt of + your letter of this present first of June instant and + note its contents. The conference (subject unknown), + proffered by the Right Honourable Mr. Tact, I accede + to hereby protesting and resarving all rights of + conformation and reniggin’ of our Extraordinary + Embassador, now absent from London, at the great + agricultural meetin’. I would suggest, next time, it + would better convene to business, to insart subject + of discussion, to prevent being taken at a short. + + “I have to assure you of the high consideration of + your most obedient servant to command. + + “THE HON. SAM SLICK, + + “Attache”. +</pre> + <p> + “Well, when the time comes, I rigs up, puts on the legation coat, calls a + cab, and downs to Downing Street, and looks as dignified as I cleverly + knew how. + </p> + <p> + “When I enters the outer door, I sees a man in an arm-chair in the entry, + and he looked like a buster, I tell you, jist ready to blow up with the + steam of all the secrets he had in his byler. + </p> + <p> + “‘Can I see Mr. Tact?’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tell you directly,’ sais he, jist short like; for Englishmen are kinder + costive of words; they don’t use more nor will do, at no time; and he + rings a bell. This brings in his second in command; and sais he, ‘Pray + walk in here, if you please, Sir,’ and he led me into a little plain, + stage-coach-house lookin’ room, with nothin’ but a table and two or three + chairs in it; and says he, ‘Who shall I say, Sir?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The Honourable Mr. Slick,’ sais I, ‘Attache of the American Legation to + the court of Saint Jimses’ Victoria.’ + </p> + <p> + “Off he sot; and there I waited and waited for ever so long, but he didn’t + come back. Well, I walked to the winder and looked out, but there was + nothin’ to see there; and then I turned and looked at a great big map on + the wall, and there was nothin’ I didn’t know there; and then I took out + my pen-knife to whittle, but my nails was all whittled off already, except + one, and that was made into a pen, and I didn’t like to spile that; and as + there wasn’t any thing I could get hold of, I jist slivered a great big + bit off the leg of the chair, and began to make a toothpick of it. And + when I had got that finished, I begins to get tired; for nothin’ makes me + so peskilly oneasy as to be kept waitin’; for if a Clockmaker don’t know + the valy of time, who the plague does? + </p> + <p> + “So jist to pass it away, I began to hum ‘Jim Brown.’ Did you ever hear + it, Squire? it’s a’most a beautiful air, as most all them nigger songs + are. I’ll make you a varse, that will suit a despisable colonist exactly. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I went up to London, the capital of the nation, + To see Lord Stanley, and get a sitivation. + Says he to me, ‘Sam Slick, what can you do?’ + Says I, ‘Lord Stanley, jist as much as you. + Liberate the rebels, and ‘mancipate the niggers. + Hurror for our side, and damn thimble-riggers. +</pre> + <p> + “Airth and seas! If you was to sing that ‘ere song there, how it would + make ‘em stare; wouldn’t it? Such words as them was never heerd in that + patronage office, I guess; and yet folks must have often thort it too; + that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “I was a hummin’ the rael ‘Jim Brown,’ and got as far as: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Play upon the banjo, play upon the fiddle, + Walk about the town, and abuse old Biddle, +</pre> + <p> + when I stopped right in the middle of it, for it kinder sorter struck it + me warn’t dignified to be a singin’ of nigger-catches that way. So says I + to myself, ‘This ain’t respectful to our great nation to keep a high + functionary a waitin’ arter this fashion, is it? Guess I’d better assart + the honour of our republic by goin’ away; and let him see that it warn’t + me that was his lackey last year.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, jist as I had taken the sleeve of my coat and given my hat a rub + over with it, (a good hat will carry off an old suit of clothes any time, + but a new suit of clothes will never carry off an old hat, so I likes to + keep my hat in good order in a general way). Well, jist as I had done, in + walks the porter’s first leftenant; and sais he, ‘Mr. Tact will see you, + Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He come plaguy near not seein’ of me, then,’ sais I; ‘for I had jist + commenced makin’ tracks as you come in. The next time he sends for me, + tell him not to send till he is ready, will you? For it’s a rule o’ mine + to tag arter no man.’ + </p> + <p> + “The critter jist stopped short, and began to see whether that spelt + treason or no. He never heerd freedom o’ speech afore, that feller, I + guess, unless it was somebody a jawin’ of him, up hill and down dale; so + sais I, ‘Lead off, my old ‘coon, and I will foller you, and no mistake, if + you blaze the line well.’ + </p> + <p> + “So he led me up stairs, opened a door, and ‘nounced me; and there was Mr. + Tact, sittin’ at a large table, all alone. + </p> + <p> + “‘How do you do, Mr. Slick,’ says he. ‘I am very glad to see you. Pray be + seated.’ He really was a very gentlemanlike man, was Squire Tact, that’s a + fact. Sorry I kept you waitin’ so long,’ sais he, ‘but the Turkish + Ambassador was here at the time, and I was compelled to wait until he + went. I sent for you, Sir, a-hem!’ and he rubbed his hand acrost his + mouth, and looked’ up at the cornish, and said, ‘I sent for you, Sir, + ahem!’—(thinks I, I see now. All you will say for half an hour is + only throw’d up for a brush fence, to lay down behind to take aim through; + and arter that, the first shot is the one that’s aimed at the bird), ‘to + explain to you about this African Slave Treaty,’ said he. ‘Your government + don’t seem to comprehend me in reference to this Right of Sarch. Lookin’ a + man in the face, to see he is the right man, and sarchin’ his pockets, are + two very different things. You take, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I’m up to snuff, Sir,’ sais I, ‘and no mistake.’ I know’d well enough + that warn’t what he sent for me for, by the way he humm’d and hawed when + he began. + </p> + <p> + “‘Taking up a trunk, as every hotel-keeper does and has a right to do, and + examinin’ the name on the brass plate to the eend on’t, is one thing; + forcin’ the lock and ransackin’ the contents, is another. One is + precaution, the other is burglary.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It tante burglary,’ sais I, ‘unless the lodger sleeps in his trunk. It’s + only—’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ says he, a colourin’ up, ‘that’s technical. I leave these matters + to my law officers.’ + </p> + <p> + “I larnt that little matter of law from brother Eldad, the lawyer, but I + guess I was wrong there. I don’t think I had ought to have given him that + sly poke; but I didn’t like his talkin’ that way to me. Whenever a feller + tries to pull the wool over your eyes, it’s a sign he don’t think high of + your onderstandin’. It isn’t complimental, that’s a fact. ‘One is a + serious offence, I mean, sais he; ‘the other is not. We don’t want to + sarch; we only want to look a slaver in the face, and see whether he is a + free and enlightened American or not. If he is, the <i>flag of liberty</i> + protects him and <i>his slaves</i>; if he ain’t, it don’t protect him, nor + them nother.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then he did a leadin’ article on slavery, and a paragraph on + non-intervention, and spoke a little soft sawder about America, and wound + up by askin’ me if he had made himself onderstood. + </p> + <p> + “‘Plain as a boot-jack,’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “When that was over, he took breath. He sot back on his chair, put one leg + over the other, and took a fresh departur’ agin. + </p> + <p> + “‘I have read your books, Mr. Slick,’ said he, ‘and read ‘em, too, with + great pleasure. You have been a great traveller in your day. You’ve been + round the world a’most, haven’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ sais I, ‘I sharn’t say I hante.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What a deal of information a man of your observation must have + acquired.’ (He is a gentlemanly man, that you may depend. I don’t know + when I’ve see’d one so well mannered.) + </p> + <p> + “‘Not so much, Sir, as you would suppose,’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why how so?’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why,’ sais I, ‘the first time a man goes round the world, he is plaguy + skeered for fear of fallin’ off the edge; the second time he gets used to + it, and larns a good deal.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Fallin’ off the edge!’ sais he; ‘what an original idea that is. That’s + one of your best. I like your works for that they are original. We have + nothin’ but imitations now. Fallin’ off the the edge, that’s capital. I + must tell Peel that; for he is very fond of that sort of thing.’ + </p> + <p> + “He was a very pretty spoken man, was Mr. Tact; he is quite the gentleman, + that’s a fact. I love to hear him talk; he is so very perlite, and seems + to take a likin’ to me parsonally.” + </p> + <p> + Few men are so open to flattery as Mr. Slick; and although “soft sawder” + is one of the artifices he constantly uses in his intercourse with others, + he is often thrown off of his guard by it himself. How much easier it is + to discover the weaknesses of others than to see our own! + </p> + <p> + But to resume the story. + </p> + <p> + “‘You have been a good deal in the colonies, haven’t you?’ said he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Considerable sum,’ sais I. Now, sais I to myself, this is the rael + object he sent for me for; but I won’t tell him nothin’. If he’d a up and + askt me right off the reel, like a man, he’d a found me up to the notch; + but he thort to play me off. Now I’ll sarve him out his own way; so here + goes. + </p> + <p> + “‘Your long acquaintance with the provinces, and familiar intercourse with + the people,’ sais he, ‘must have made you quite at home on all colonial + topics.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I thought so once,’ sais I; ‘but I don’t think so now no more, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why how is that?’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, Sir,’ sais I, ‘you can hold a book so near your eyes as not to be + able to read a word of it; hold it off further, and get the right focus, + and you can read beautiful. Now the right distance to see a colony, and + know all about it, is England. Three thousand miles is the right focus for + a political spy-glass. A man livin’ here, and who never was out of + England, knows twice as much about the provinces as I do.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, you are joking,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit,’ sais I. ‘I find folks here that not only know every thing + about them countries, but have no doubts upon any matter, and ask no + questions; in fact, they not only know more than me, but more than the + people themselves do, what they want. It’s curious, but it’s a fact. A + colonist is the most beautiful crittur in natur to try experiments on, you + ever see; for he is so simple and good-natured he don’t know no better; + and so weak, he couldn’t help himself if he did. There’s great fun in + making these experiments, too. It puts me in mind of “Gander Pulling;” you + know what this is, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ he said. ‘I never heard of it. Is it an American sport?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ sais I, ‘it is; and the most excitin’ thing, too, you ever see.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are a very droll man. Mr Slick,’ said he, ‘a very droll man indeed. + In all your books there is a great deal of fun; but in all your fun, there + is a meanin’. Your jokes hit, and hit pretty hard, too, sometimes. They + make a man think as well as laugh. But, describe this Gander Pulling.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, I’ll tell you how it is,’ sais I. ‘First and foremost, a ring-road + is formed, like a small race-course; then, two great long posts is fixed + into the ground, one on each side of the road, and a rope made fast by the + eends to each post, leavin’ the middle of the rope to hang loose in a + curve. Well, then they take a gander and pick his neck as clean as a + babby’s, and then grease it most beautiful all the way from the breast to + the head, till it becomes as slippery as a soaped eel. Then they tie both + his legs together with a strong piece of cord, of the size of a halyard, + and hang him by the feet to the middle of the swingin’ rope, with his head + downward. All the youngsters, all round the county, come to see the sport, + mounted a horseback. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, the owner of the goose goes round with his hat, and gets so much + a-piece in it from every one that enters for the “Pullin’;” and when all + have entered, they bring their hosses in a line, one arter another; and at + the words, ‘Go ahead!’ off they set, as hard as they can split; and as + they pass under the goose, make a grab at him; and whoever carries off the + head, wins. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, the goose dodges his head and flaps his wings, and swings about + so, it ain’t no easy matter to clutch his neck; and when you do, it’s so + greasy, it slips right through the fingers, like, nothin’. Sometimes it + takes so long, that the hosses are fairly beat out, and can’t scarcely + raise a gallop; and then a man stands by the post, with a heavy loaded + whip, to lash ‘em on, so that they mayn’t stand under the goose, which + ain’t fair. The whoopin’, and hollerin’, and screamin’, and bettin’, and + excitement, beats all; there ain’t hardly no sport equal to it. It’s great + fun <i>to all except the poor goosey-gander</i>. + </p> + <p> + “‘The game of colony government to Canady, for some years back, puts me in + mind of that exactly. Colonist has had his heels put where his head used + to be, this some time past. He has had his legs tied, and his neck + properly greased, I tell <i>you</i>; and the way every parliament man, and + governor, and secretary, gallops round and round, one arter another, a + grabbin’ at poor colonist, ain’t no matter. Every new one on ‘em that + comes, is confident he is a goin’ to settle it; but it slips through his + hand, and off he goes, properly larfed at. + </p> + <p> + “‘They have pretty nearly fixed goosey colonist, though; he has got his + neck wrung several times; it’s twisted all a one side, his tongue hangs + out, and he squeaks piteous, that’s a fact. Another good grab or two will + put him out o’ pain; and it’s a pity it wouldn’t, for no created critter + can live long, turned wrong eend up, that way. But the sport will last + long arter that; for arter his neck is broke, it ain’t no easy matter to + get the head off; the cords that tie that on, are as thick as your finger. + It’s the greatest fun out there you ever see, <i>to all except poor goosey + colonist</i>. + </p> + <p> + “‘I’ve larfed ready to kill myself at it. Some o’ these Englishers that + come out, mounted for the sport, and expect a peerage as a reward for + bringin’ home the head and settlin’ the business for colonist, do cut such + figurs, it would make you split; and they are all so everlastin’ + consaited, they won’t take no advice. The way they can’t do it is + cautionary. One gets throwed, another gets all covered with grease, a + third loses his hat, a fourth gets run away with by his horse, a fifth + sees he can’t do it, makes some excuse, and leaves the ground afore the + sport is over; and now and then, an unfortunate critter gets a hyste that + breaks his own neck. There is only one on ‘em that I have see’d out there, + that can do it right. + </p> + <p> + “It requires some experience, that’s a fact. But let John Bull alone for + that; he is a critter that thinks he knows every thing; and if you told + him he didn’t, he wouldn’t believe you, not he. He’d only pity your + ignorance, and look dreadful sorry for you. Oh if you want to see high + life, come and see “a colonial gander pulling.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tying up a goose, Sir, is no great harm,’ sais I, ‘seein’ that a goose + was made to be killed, picked and devoured, and nothin’ else. Tyin’ up a + colonist by the heels is another thing. I don’t think it right; but I + don’t know nothin’; I’ve had the book too close to my eyes. Joe H—e, + that never was there, can tell you twice as much as I can about the + colonies. The focus to see right, as I said afore, is three thousand miles + off.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ sais he, ‘that’s a capital illustration, Mr. Slick. There is more + in that than meets the ear. Don’t tell me you don’t know nothin’ about the + colonies; few men know so much as you do. I wish to heavens you was a + colonist,’ sais he; ‘if you were, I would offer you a government.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I don’t doubt it,’ sais I; ‘seein’ that your department have advanced or + rewarded so many colonists already.’ But I don’t think he heard that shot, + and I warn’t sorry for it; for it’s not right to be a pokin’ it into a + perlite man, is it? + </p> + <p> + “‘I must tell the Queen that story of <i>the Gander Pulling</i>,’ sais he; + ‘I like it amazingly. It’s a capital caricature. I’ll send the idea to H. + B. Pray name some day when you are disengaged; I hope you will give me the + pleasure of dining with me. Will this day fortnight suit you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Thank you,’ sais I, ‘I shall have great pleasure.’ + </p> + <p> + “He railly was a gentlemany man that. He was so good natured, and took the + joke so well, I was kinder sorry I played it off on him. I hante see’d no + man to England I affection so much as Mr. Tact, I swear! I begin to think, + arter all, it was the right of <i>sarchin’ vessels</i> he wanted to talk + to me about, instead of <i>sarchin’ me</i>, as I suspicioned. It don’t do + always <i>to look for motives, men often act without any</i>. The next + time, if he axes me, I’ll talk plain, and jist tell him what I <i>do</i> + think; but still, if he reads that riddle right, he may larn a good deal, + too, from the story of “the Gander Pulling,” mayn’t he?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE BLACK STOLE. + </h2> + <p> + The foregoing sketch exhibits a personal trait in Mr. Slick’s character, + the present a national one. In the interview, whether real or fanciful, + that he alleges to have had with one of the Secretaries of State, he was + not disposed to give a direct reply, because his habitual caution led him + to suspect that an attempt was made to draw him out on a particular topic + without his being made aware of the object. On the present occasion, he + exhibits that irritability, which is so common among all his countrymen, + at the absurd accounts that travellers give of the United States in + general, and the gross exaggerations they publish of the state of slavery + in particular. + </p> + <p> + That there is a party in this country, whose morbid sensibility is + pandered to on the subject of negro emancipation there can be no doubt, as + is proved by the experiment made by Mr. Slick, recorded in this chapter. + </p> + <p> + On this subject every man has a right to his own opinions, but any + interference with the municipal regulations of another country, is so + utterly unjustifiable, that it cannot be wondered at that the Americans + resent the conduct of the European abolishionists, in the most unqualified + and violent manner. + </p> + <p> + The conversation that I am now about to repeat, took place on the Thames. + Our visits, hitherto, had been restricted by the rain to London. To-day, + the weather being fine, we took passage on board of a steamer, and went to + Greenwich. + </p> + <p> + While we were walking up and down the deck, Mr. Slick again adverted to + the story of the government spies with great warmth. I endeavoured, but in + vain, to persuade him that no regular organized system of espionage + existed in England. He had obtained a garbled account of one or two + occurrences, and his prejudice, (which, notwithstanding his disavowal, I + knew to be so strong, as to warp all his opinions of England and the + English), immediately built up a system, which nothing I could say, could + at all shake. + </p> + <p> + I assured him the instances he had mentioned were isolated and + unauthorized acts, told in a very distorted manner but mitigated, as they + really were, when truly related, they were at the time received with the + unanimous disapprobation of every right-thinking man in the kingdom, and + that the odium which had fallen on the relators, was so immeasurably + greater than what had been bestowed on the thoughtless principals, that + there was no danger of such things again occurring in our day. But he was + immovable. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course, it isn’t true,” he said, “and every Englishman will swear + it’s a falsehood. But you must not expect us to disbelieve it, + nevertheless; for your travellers who come to America, pick up here and + there, some absurd ontruth or another; or, if they are all picked up + already, invent one; and although every man, woman, and child is ready to + take their bible oaths it is a bam, yet the English believe this one false + witness in preference to the whole nation. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me, Squire; you have a right to your opinion, though it + seems you have no right to blart it out always; but I am a freeman, I was + raised in Slickville, Onion County, State of Connecticut, United States of + America, which <i>is</i> a free country, and no mistake; and I have a + right to my opinion, and a right to speak it, too; and let me see the man, + airl or commoner, parliamenterer or sodger officer, that dare to report + me, I guess he’d wish he’d been born a week later, that’s all. I’d make a + caution of him, <i>I</i> know. I’d polish his dial-plate fust, and then + I’d feel his short ribs, so as to make him larf, a leetle jist a leetle + the loudest he ever heerd. Lord, he’d think thunder and lightnin’ a mint + julip to it. I’d ring him in the nose as they do pigs in my country, to + prevent them rootin’ up what they hadn’t ought.” + </p> + <p> + Having excited himself by his own story, he first imagined a case and then + resented it, as if it had occurred. I expressed to him my great regret + that he should visit England with these feelings and prejudices, as I had + hoped his conversation would have been as rational and as amusing as it + was in Nova Scotia, and concluded by saying that I felt assured he would + find that no such prejudice existed here against his countrymen, as he + entertained towards the English. + </p> + <p> + “Lord love you!” said he, “I have no prejudice. I am the most candid man + you ever see. I have got some grit, but I ain’t ugly, I ain’t indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are wrong about the English; and I’ll prove it to you. Do you see + that turkey there?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” I asked. “I see no turkey; indeed, I have seen none on board. + What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why that slight, pale-faced, student-like Britisher; he is a turkey, that + feller. He has been all over the Union, and he is a goin’ to write a book. + He was at New York when we left, and was introduced to me in the street. + To make it liquorish, he has got all the advertisements about runaway + slaves, sales of niggers, cruel mistresses and licentious masters, that he + could pick up. He is a caterer and panderer to English hypocrisy. There is + nothin’ too gross for him to swaller. We call them turkeys; first because + they travel so fast—for no bird travels hot foot that way, except it + be an ostrich—and second, because they gobble up every thing that + comes in their way. Them fellers will swaller a falsehood as fast as a + turkey does a grasshopper; take it right down whole, without winkin’. + </p> + <p> + “Now, as we have nothin’ above particular to do, ‘I’ll cram him’ for you; + I will show you how hungry he’ll bite at a tale of horror, let it be never + so onlikely; how readily he will believe it, because it is agin us; and + then, when his book comes out, you shall see that all England will credit + it, though I swear I invented it as a cram, and you swear you heard it + told as a joke. They’ve drank in so much that is strong, in this way, have + the English, they require somethin’ sharp enough to tickle their palates + now. Wine hante no taste for a man that drinks grog, that’s a fact. It’s + as weak as Taunton water. Come and walk up and down deck along with me + once or twice, and then we will sit down by him, promiscuously like; and + as soon as I get his appetite sharp, see how I will cram him.” + </p> + <p> + “This steam-boat is very onsteady to-day. Sir,” said Mr. Slick; “it’s not + overly convenient walking, is it?” + </p> + <p> + The ice was broken. Mr. Slick led him on by degrees to his travels, + commencing with New England, which the traveller eulogised very much. He + then complimented him on the accuracy of his remarks and the depth of his + reflections, and concluded by expressing a hope that he would publish his + observations soon, as few tourists were so well qualified for the task as + himself. + </p> + <p> + Finding these preliminary remarks taken in good part, he commenced the + process of “cramming.” + </p> + <p> + “But oh, my friend,” said he, with a most sanctimonious air, “did you + visit, and I am ashamed as an American citizen to ask the question, I feel + the blood a tannin’ of my cheek when I inquire, did you visit the South? + That land that is polluted with slavery, that land where the boastin’ and + crackin’ of freemen pile up the agony pangs on the corroding wounds + inflicted by the iron chains of the slave, until natur can’t stand it no + more; my heart bleeds like a stuck critter, when I think of this plague + spot on the body politic. I ought not to speak thus; prudence forbids it, + national pride forbids it; but genu<i>wine</i> feelings is too strong for + polite forms. ‘Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh.’ Have + you been there?” + </p> + <p> + “Turkey” was thrown off his guard, he opened his wallet, which was well + stocked, and retailed his stories, many of them so very rich, that I + doubted the capacity of the Attache to out-Herod him. Mr. Slick received + these tales with evident horror, and complimented the narrator with a well + simulated groan; and when he had done, said, “Ah, I see how it is, they + have purposely kept dark about the most atrocious features of slavery. + Have you never seen the Gougin’ School?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never.” + </p> + <p> + “What, not seen the Gougin’ School?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir; I never heard of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you don’t mean to say so?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, indeed, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if that don’t pass! And you never even heerd tell of it, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, Sir. I have never either seen it or heard of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much,” said Mr. Slick. “I doubt if any Britisher ever did or + ever will see it. Well, Sir, in South Carolina, there is a man called + Josiah Wormwood; I am ashamed to say he is a Connecticut man. For a + considerable of a spell, he was a strollin’ preacher, but it didn’t pay in + the long run. There is so much competition in that line in our country, + that he consaited the business was overdone, and he opened a Lyceum to + Charleston South Car, for boxin’, wrestlin’ and other purlite British + accomplishments; and a most a beautiful sparrer he is, too; I don’t know + as I ever see a more scientific gentleman than he is, in that line. + Lately, he has halfed on to it the art of gougin’ or ‘monokolisin,’ as he + calls it, to sound grand; and if it weren’t so dreadful in its + consequences, it sartinly is amost allurin’ thing, is gougin’. The + sleight-of-hand is beautiful. All other sleights we know are tricks; but + this is reality; there is the eye of your adversary in your hand; there is + no mistake. It’s the real thing. You feel you have him; that you have set + your mark on him, and that you have took your satisfaction. The throb of + delight felt by a ‘monokolister’ is beyond all conception.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh heavens!” said the traveller, “Oh horror of horrors! I never heard any + thing so dreadful. Your manner of telling it, too, adds to its terrors. + You appear to view the practice with a proper Christian disgust; and yet + you talk like an amateur. Oh, the thing is sickening.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, indeed,” said Mr. Slick, “particularly to him that loses his + peeper. But the dexterity, you know, is another thing. It is very + scientific. He has two niggers, has Squire Wormwood, who teach the + wrastlin’ and gouge-sparrin’; but practisin’ for the eye is done for + punishment of runaways. He has plenty of subjects. All the planters send + their fugit<i>ive</i> niggers there to be practised on for an eye. The + scholars ain’t allowed to take more than one eye out of them; if they do, + they have to pay for the nigger; for he is no sort o’ good after, for + nothin’ but to pick oakum. I could go through the form, and give you the + cries to the life, but I won’t; it is too horrid; it really is too + dreadful.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh do, I beg of you,” said the traveller. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot, indeed; it is too shocking. It will disgust you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not at all,” said Turkey, “when I know it is simulated, and not real, + it is another thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot, indeed,” said Mr. Slick. “It would shock your philanthropic + soul, and set your very teeth of humanity on edge. But have you ever seen—the + Black Stole?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Never seen the Black Stole?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it ain’t possible? Did you never hear of it nother?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never. Well now, do tell!” + </p> + <p> + “So you never heerd tell of it, nor never sot eyes on it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly never.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that bangs the bush, now! I suppose you didn’t. Guess you never + did, and never will, nor no other traveller, nother, that ever slept in + shoe-leather. They keep dark about these atrocities. Well, the Black Stole + is a loose kind of shirt-coat, like an English carter’s frock; only, it is + of a different colour. It is black instead of white, and made of nigger + hide, beautifully tanned, and dressed as soft as a glove. It ain’t every + nigger’s hide that’s fit for a stole. If they are too young, it is too + much like kid; if they are too old, it’s like sole leather, it’s so tough; + and if they have been whipt, as all on ‘em have a’most, why the back is + all cut to pieces, and the hide ruined. It takes several sound nigger + skins to make a stole; but when made, it’s a beautiful article, that’s a + fact. + </p> + <p> + “It is used on a plantation for punishment. When the whip don’t do its + work, strip a slave, and jist clap on to him the Black Stole. Dress him up + in a dead man’s skin, and it frightens him near about to death. You’ll + hear him screetch for a mile a’most, so ‘tarnally skeered. And the best of + the fun is, that all the rest of the herd, bulls, cows, and calves, run + away from him, jist as if he was a panther.” + </p> + <p> + “Fun, Sir! Do you call this fun?” + </p> + <p> + “Why sartainly I do. Ain’t it better nor whippin’ to death? “What’s a + Stole arter all? It’s nothin’ but a coat. Philosophizin’ on it, Stranger, + there is nothin’ to shock a man. The dead don’t feel. Skinnin’, then, + ain’t cruel, nor is it immoral. To bury a good hide, is, waste—waste + is wicked. There are more good hides buried in the States, black and + white, every year, than would pay the poor-rates and state-taxes. They + make excellent huntin’-coats, and would make beautiful razor-straps, + bindin’ for books, and such like things; it would make a noble export. + Tannin’ in hemlock bark cures the horrid nigger flavour. But then, we + hante arrived at that state of philosophy; and when it is confined to one + class of the human family, it would be dangerous. The skin of a crippled + slave might be worth more than the critter was himself; and I make no + doubt, we should soon hear of a stray nigger being shot for his hide, as + you do of a moose for his skin, and a bear for his fur. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, that is the reason (though I shouldn’t mention it as an Attache), + that our government won’t now concur to suppress the slave trade. They say + the prisoners will all be murdered, and their peels sold; and that + vessels, instead of taking, in at Africa a cargo of humans, will take in a + cargo of hides, as they do to South America. As a Christian, a + philanthropist, indeed, as a man, this is a horrid subject to contemplate, + ain’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it is,” said Turkey. “I feel a little overcome—my head swims—I + am oppressed with nausea—I must go below.” + </p> + <p> + “How the goney swallered it all, didn’t he?” said Mr. Slick, with great + glee. “Hante he a most a beautiful twist that feller? How he gobbled it + down, tank, shank and flank at a gulp, didn’t he. Oh! he is a Turkey and + no mistake, that chap. But see here, Squire; jist look through the + skylight. See the goney, how his pencil is a leggin’ it off, for dear + life. Oh, there is great fun in crammin’ those fellers. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me candid, Squire; do you think there is no prejudice in the + Britishers agin us and our free and enlightened country, when they can + swaller such stuff as the Gougin’ School and <i>Black Stole</i>?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE’S HORSE. + </h2> + <p> + “There is more in that story, Squire,” said Mr. Hopewell, “of the Patron, + and Sam’s queer illustration of the Cow’s Tail, than you are aware of. The + machinery of the colonies is good enough in itself, but it wants a safety + valve. When the pressure within is too great, there should be something + devised to let off the steam. This is a subject well worthy of your + consideration; and if you have an opportunity of conversing with any of + the ministry, pray draw their attention to it. By not understanding this, + the English have caused one revolution at home, and another in America.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Mr. Slick. “It reminds me of what I once saw done by the + Prince de Joinville’s horse, on the Halifax road.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said Mr. Hopewell, “you shall have an opportunity presently + of telling your story of the Prince’s horse, but suffer me to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “England, besides other outlets, has a never-failing one in the colonies, + but the colonies have no outlet. Cromwell and Hampden were actually + embarked on board of a vessel in the Thames, for Boston, when they were + prevented from sailing by an Order in Council. What was the consequence? + The sovereign was dethroned. Instead of leading a small sect of fanatical + puritans, and being the first men of a village in Massachussets, they + aspired to be the first men in an empire, and succeeded. So in the old + colonies. Had Washington been sent abroad in command of a regiment, Adams + to govern a colony, Franklin to make experiments in an observatory like + that at Greenwich, and a more extended field been opened to colonial + talent, the United States would still have continued to be dependencies of + Great Britain. + </p> + <p> + “There is no room for men of talent in British America; and by not + affording them an opportunity of distinguishing themselves, or rewarding + them when they do, they are always ready to make one, by opposition. In + comparing their situation with that of the inhabitants of the British + Isles, they feel that they labour under disabilities; these disabilities + they feel as a degradation; and as those who impose that degradation live + three thousand miles off, it becomes a question whether it is better to + suffer or resist.” + </p> + <p> + “The Prince de Joinville’s horse,” said Mr. Slick, “is a case in pint.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment, Sam,” said Mr. Hopewell. + </p> + <p> + “The very word ‘dependencies’ shows the state of the colonies. If they are + to be retained, they should be incorporated with Great Britain. The people + should be made to feel, not that they are colonists, but Englishmen. They + may tinker at constitutions as much as they please; the root of the evil + lies deeper than statesmen are aware of. O’Connell, when he agitates for a + repeal of the Union, if he really has no ulterior objects beyond that of + an Irish Parliament, does not know what he is talking about. If his + request were granted, Ireland would become a province, and descend from + being an integral part of the empire, into a dependency. Had he ever lived + in a colony, he would have known the tendencies of such a condition. + </p> + <p> + “What I desire to see, is the very reverse. Now that steam has united the + two continents of Europe and America, in such a manner that you can travel + from Nova Scotia to England, in as short a time as it once required to go + from Dublin to London, I should hope for a united legislature. Recollect + that the distance from New Orleans to the head of the River is greater + than from Halifax N. S., to Liverpool. I do not want to see colonists and + Englishmen arrayed against each other, as different races, but united as + one people, having the same rights and privileges, each bearing a share of + the public burdens, and all having a voice in the general government. + </p> + <p> + “The love of distinction is natural to man. Three millions of people + cannot be shut up in a colony. They will either turn on each other, or + unite against their keepers. The road that leads to retirement in the + provinces, should be open to those whom the hope of distinction invites to + return and contend for the honours of the empire. At present, the egress + is practically closed.” + </p> + <p> + “If you was to talk for ever, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “you couldn’t say + more than the Prince de Joinville’s hoss on that subject.” + </p> + <p> + The interruption was very annoying; for no man I ever met, so thoroughly + understands the subject of colonial government as Mr. Hopewell. His + experience is greater than that of any man now living, and his views more + enlarged and more philosophical. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Sam,” said he with great good humour. “Let us hear what the + Prince’s horse said.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mr. Slick, “I don’t jist exactly mean to say he spoke, as + Balaam’s donkey did, in good English or French nother; but he did that + that spoke a whole book, with a handsum wood-cut to the fore, and that’s a + fact. + </p> + <p> + “About two years ago, one mortal brilin’ hot day, as I was a pokin’ along + the road from Halifax to Windsor, with Old Clay in the waggon, with my + coat off, a ridin’ in my shirt-sleeves, and a thinkin’ how slick a + mint-julep would travel down red-lane, if I had it, I heard such a + chatterin’, and laughin’, and screamin’ as I never a’most heerd afore, + since I was raised. + </p> + <p> + “‘What in natur’ is this,’ sais I, as I gave Old Clay a crack of the whip, + to push on. ‘There is some critters here, I guess, that have found a haw + haw’s nest, with a tee hee’s egg in it. What’s in the wind now?’ Well, a + sudden turn of the road brought me to where they was, and who should they + be but French officers from the Prince’s ship, travellin’ incog. in plain + clothes. But, Lord bless you, cook a Frenchman any way you please, and you + can’t disguise him. Natur’ will out, in spite of all, and the name of a + Frencher is written as plain as any thing in his whiskers, and his hair, + and his skin, and his coat, and his boots, and his air, and his gait, and + in everythin’, but only let him open his mouth, and the cat’s out of the + bag in no time, ain’t it? They are droll boys, is the French, that’s a + fact. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there was four on ‘em dismounted, a holdin’ of their hosses by the + bridle, and a standin’ near a spring of nice cool water; and there was a + fifth, and he was a layin’ down belly flounder on the ground, a tryin’ to + drink out of the runnin’ spring. + </p> + <p> + “‘Parley vous French,’ sais I, ‘Mountsheer?’ At that, they sot to, and + larfed again more than ever, I thought they would have gone into the high + strikes, they hee-hawed so. + </p> + <p> + “Well, one on ‘em, that was a Duke, as I found out afterwards, said ‘O + yees, Saar, we spoked English too.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Lawful heart!’ sais I, ‘what’s the joke?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why,’ sais he, ‘look there, Sare.’ And then they larfed agin, ready to + split; and sore enough, no sooner had the Leftenant layed down to drink, + than the Prince’s hoss kneeled down, and put his head jist over his neck, + and began to drink too. Well, the officer couldn’t get up for the hoss, + and he couldn’t keep his face out of the water for the hoss, and he + couldn’t drink for the hoss, and he was almost choked to death, and as + black in the face as your hat. And the Prince and the officers larfed so, + they couldn’t help him, if they was to die for it. + </p> + <p> + “Sais I to myself, ‘A joke is a joke, if it tante carried too far, but + this critter win be strangled, as sure as a gun, if he lays here + splutterin’ this way much longer.’ So I jist gives the hoss a dab in the + mouth, and made him git up; and then sais I, ‘Prince,’ sais I, for I + know’d him by his beard, he had one exactly like one of the old saint’s + heads in an Eyetalian pictur, all dressed to a pint, so sais I, ‘Prince,’ + and a plaguy handsum man he is too, and as full of fun as a kitten, so + sais I, ‘Prince,’ and what’s better, all his officers seemed plaguy proud + and fond of him too; so sais I, ‘Prince, voila le condition of one + colonist, which,’ sais I, ‘Prince, means in English, that leftenant is + jist like a colonist.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Commong,’ sais he, ‘how is dat?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why’ sais I, ‘Prince, whenever a colonist goes for to drink at a spring + of the good things in this world, (and plaguy small springs we have here + too,) and fairly lays down to it, jist as he gets his lips cleverly to it, + for a swig, there is some cussed neck or another, of some confounded + Britisher, pops right over him, and pins him there. He can’t get up, he + can’t back out, and he can’t drink, and he is blacked and blued in the + face, and most choked with the weight.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What country was you man of?’ said he, for he spoke very good for a + Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “With that I straightened myself up, and looked dignified, for I know’d I + had a right to be proud, and no mistake; sais I, ‘Prince, I am an American + citizen.’ How them two words altered him. P’raps there beant no two words + to ditto ‘em. He looked for all the world like a different man when he + seed I wasn’t a mean uncircumcised colonist. + </p> + <p> + “‘Very glad to see you, Mr. Yankee,’ said he, ‘very glad indeed. Shall I + have de honour to ride with you a little way in your carriage?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘As for the matter of that,’ sais I, ‘Mountsheer Prince, the honour is + all the other way,’ for I can be as civil as any man, if he sets out to + act pretty and do the thing genteel. + </p> + <p> + “With that he jumped right in, and then he said somethin’ in French to the + officers; some order or another, I suppose, about comin on and fetchin’ + his hoss with them. I have hearn in my time, a good many men speak French, + but I never see the man yet, that could hold a candle to <i>him</i>. Oh, + it was like lightnin’, jist one long endurin’ streak; it seemed all one + sentence and one word. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t onderstand it, it + was so everlastin’ fast. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now,’ sais he, ‘set sail.’ And off we sot, at the rate of sixteen notts + an hour. Old Clay pleased him, you may depend; he turned round and clapped + his hands, and larfed, and waved his hat to his officers to come on; and + they whipped, and spurred, and galloped, and raced for dear life; but we + dropped ‘em astarn like any thing, and he larfed again, heartier than ever + There is no people a’most, like to ride so fast as sailors; they crack on, + like a house a fire. + </p> + <p> + “Well, arter a while, sais he, ‘Back topsails,’ and I hauled up, and he + jumped down, and outs with a pocket book, and takes a beautiful gold + coronation medal. (It was solid gold, no pinchback, but the rael yaller + stuff, jist fresh from King’s shop to Paris, where his money is made), and + sais he, ‘Mr. Yankee, will you accept that to remember the Prince de + Joinville and his horse by?’ And then he took off his hat and made me a + bow, and if that warn’t a bow, then I never see one, that’s all. I don’t + believe mortal man, unless it was a Philadelphia nigger, could make such a + bow. It was enough to sprain his ankle he curled so low. And then off he + went with a hop, skip, and a jump, sailor fashion, back to meet his + people. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Squire, if you see Lord Stanley, tell him that story of the Prince + de Joinville’s horse; but before you get so far as that, pin him by + admissions. When you want to get a man on the hip, ax him a question or + two, and get his answers, and then you have him in a corner, he must stand + and let you put on the bridle. He cant help it no how, he can fix it. + </p> + <p> + “Says you, ‘My Lord’—don’t forget his title—every man likes + the sound of that, it’s music to his ears, it’s like our splendid national + air, Yankee Doodle, you never get tired of it. ‘My Lord,’ sais you, ‘what + do you suppose is the reason the French keep Algiers?’ Well, he’ll up and + say, it’s an outlet for the fiery spirits of France, it gives them + employment and an opportunity to distinguish themselves, and what the + climate and the inimy spare, become valuable officers. It makes good + soldiers out of bad subjects. + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you call that good policy?’ sais you. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he’s a trump, is Mr. Stanley, at least folks say so; and he’ll say + right off the reel ‘onquestionably it is—excellent policy.’ + </p> + <p> + “When he says that, you have him bagged, he may flounder and spring like a + salmon jist caught; but he can’t out of the landin’ net. You’ve got him, + and no mistake. Sais you ‘what outlet have you for the colonies?’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, he’ll scratch his head and stare at that, for a space. He’ll hum + and haw a little to get breath, for he never thought of that afore, since + he grow’d up; but he’s no fool, I can tell you, and he’ll out with his + mould, run an answer and be ready for you in no time. He’ll say, ‘They + don’t require none. Sir. They have no redundant population. They are an + outlet themselves.’ + </p> + <p> + “Sais you, ‘I wasn’t talking of an outlet for population, for France or + the provinces nother. I was talking of an outlet for the clever men, for + the onquiet ones, for the fiery spirits.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘For that. Sir,’ he will say, ‘they have the local patronage.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh!’ sais you, ‘I warn’t aware. I beg pardon, I have been absent some + time, as long as twenty days or perhaps twenty-five, there must have been + great changes, since I left.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The garrison,’ sais you. + </p> + <p> + “‘Is English,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘The armed ships in the harbour?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘English.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The governor and his secretary?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘English.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The principal officer of customs and principal part of his deputies?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘English.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The commissariat and the staff?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘English to a man.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The dockyard people?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘English.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The postmaster giniral?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘English.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What, English?’ sais you, and look all surprise, as if you didn’t know. + ‘I thought he was a colonist, seein’ the province pays so much for the + mails.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ he’ll say, ‘not now; we have jist sent an English one over, for we + find it’s a good thing that.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘One word more,’ sais you, ‘and I have done. If your army officers out + there, get leave of absence, do you stop their pay?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you sarve native colonists the same way?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No, we stop half their salaries.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Exactly,’ sais you, ‘make them feel the difference. Always make a nigger + feel he is a nigger, or he’ll get sassy, you may depend. As for + patronage,’ sais you, ‘you know as well as I do, that all that’s not worth + havin’, is jist left to poor colonist. He is an officer of militia, gets + no pay and finds his own fit out. Like Don Quixote’s tailor, he works for + nothin’ and finds thread. Any other little matters of the same kind, that + nobody wants, and nobody else will take; if Blue-nose makes interest for, + and has good luck, he can get as a great favour, to conciliate his + countrymen. No, Minister,’ sais you, ‘you are a clever man, every body + sais you are a brick; and if you ain’t, you talk more like one, than any + body I have seen this while past. I don’t want no office myself, if I did + p’raps, I wouldn’t talk about patronage this way; but I am a colonist, I + want to see the colonists remain so. They <i>are</i> attached to England, + that is a fact, keep them so, by making them Englishmen. Throw the door + wide open; patronise them; enlist them in the imperial sarvice, allow them + a chance to contend for honours and let them win them, if they can. If + they don’t, it’s their own fault, and cuss ‘em they ought to be kicked, + for if they ain’t too lazy, there is no mistake in ‘em, that’s a fact. The + country will be proud of them, if they go ahead. Their language will + change then. It will be <i>our</i> army, the delighted critters will say, + not the English army; <i>our</i> navy, <i>our</i> church, <i>our</i> + parliament, <i>our</i> aristocracy, &c., and the word English will be + left out holus-bolus, and that proud, that endearin’ word “our” will be + insarted. Do this, and you will shew yourself the first statesman of + modern times. You’ll rise right up to the top of the pot, you’ll go clean + over Peel’s head, as your folks go over ourn, not by jumpin’ over him, but + by takin’ him by the neck and squeezin’ him down. You ‘mancipated the + blacks, now liberate the colonists and make Englishmen of them, and see + whether the goneys won’t grin from ear to ear, and shew their teeth, as + well as the niggers did. Don’t let Yankee clockmakers, (you may say that + if you like, if it will help your argument,) don’t let travellin’ Yankee + clockmakers tell such stories, against <i>your</i> justice and <i>our</i> + pride as that of the Prince de Joinville and his horse.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. + </h2> + <p> + “Here,” said Mr. Sick, “is an invitation for you and me, and minister to + go and visit Sir Littleeared Bighead, down to Yorkshire. You can go if you + like, and for once, p’raps it’s worth goin’ to see how these chaps first + kill time, and then how time kills them in turn. Eatin’, drinkin’, + sleepin’, growlin’, fowlin’, and huntin’ kills time; and gout, aperplexy, + dispepsy, and blue devils kills them. They are like two fightin’ dogs, one + dies of the thrashin’ he gets, and t’other dies of the wounds he got a + killin’ of him. Tit for tat; what’s sarce for the goose, is sarce for the + gander. + </p> + <p> + “If you want to go, Minister will go with you; but hang me if I do. The + only thing is, it’ll puzzle you to get him away, if he gets down there. + You never see such a crotchical old critter in your life as he is. He + flies right off the handle for nothin’. He goes strayin’ away off in the + fields and gullies, a browsin’ about with a hammer, crackin’ up bits of + stones like walnuts, or pickin’ up old weeds, faded flowers, and what not; + and stands starin’ at ‘em for ever so long, through his eye-glass, and + keeps a savin’ to himself, ‘Wonderful provision of natur!’ Airth and seas! + what does he mean? How long would a man live on such provision, I should + like to know, as them bitter yarbs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, he’ll jist as soon set down and jaw away by the hour together + with a dirty-faced, stupid little poodle lookin’ child, as if it was a + nice spry little dog he was a trainin’ of for treein’ partridges; or talk + poetry with the galls, or corn-law with the patriots, or any thing. + Nothin’ comes amiss to him. + </p> + <p> + “But what provokes me, is to hear him go blartin’ all over the country + about home scenes, and beautiful landscape, and rich vardure. My sakes, + the vardure here is so deep, it looks like mournin’; it’s actilly dismal. + Then there’s no water to give light to the pictur, and no sun to cheer it; + and the hedges are all square; and the lime trees are as stiff as an old + gall that was once pretty, and has grow’d proud on the memory of it. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like their landscape a bit, there ain’t no natur in it. Oh! if + you go, take him along with you, for he will put you in consait of all you + see, except reform, dissent, and things o’ that kind; for he is an out and + out old Tory, and thinks nothin’ can be changed here for the better, + except them that don’t agree with him. + </p> + <p> + “He was a warnin’ you t’other day not to take all I said for Gospel about + society here; but you’ll see who’s right and who’s wrong afore you’ve + done, I know. I described to you, when you returned from Germany, <i>Dinin’ + out</i> to London. Now I’ll give you my opinion of “Life in the Country.” + And fust of all, as I was a sayin’, there is no such thing as natur’ here. + Every thing is artificial; every thing of its kind alike; and every thing + oninterestin’ and tiresome. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if London is dull, in the way of West Eend people, the country, I + guess, is a little mucher. Life in the country is different, of course, + from life in town; but still life itself is alike there, exceptin’ again + <i>class difference</i>. That is, nobility is all alike, as far as their + order goes; and country gents is alike, as far as their class goes; and + the last especially, when they hante travelled none, everlastin’ flat, in + their own way. Take a lord, now, and visit him to his country seat, and + I’ll tell you what you will find—a sort of Washington State house + place. It is either a rail old castle of the genuine kind, or a + gingerbread crinkum crankum imitation of a thing that only existed in + fancy, but never was seen afore—a thing that’s made modern for use, + and in ancient stile for shew; or else it’s a great cold, formal, slice of + a London terrace, stack on a hill in a wood. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is lawn, park, artificial pond called a lake, deer that’s + fashionablized and civilized, and as little natur in ‘em as the humans + have. Kennel and hounds for parsicutin’ foxes—presarves (not what we + call presarves, quinces and apple sarce, and green gages done in sugar, + but preserves for breedin’ tame partridges and peasants to shoot at), + H’aviaries, Hive-eries, H’yew-veris, Hot Houses, and so on; for they put + an H before every word do these critters, and then tell us Yankees we + don’t speak English. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when you have seen an old and a new house of these folks, you have + seen all. Featurs differ a little, but face of all is so alike, that + though p’raps you wouldn’t mistake one for another, yet you’d say they was + all of one family. The king is their father. + </p> + <p> + “Now it may seem kinder odd to you, and I do suppose it will, but what + little natur there is to England is among these upper crust nobility. <i>Extremes + meet</i>. The most elegant critter in America is an Indgian chief. The + most elegant one in England is a noble. There is natur in both. You will + vow that’s a crotchet of mine, but it’s a fact; and I will tell you how it + is, some other time. For I opine the most charmin’, most nateral, least + artificial, kindest, and condescendenest people here are rael nobles. + Younger children are the devil, half rank makes ‘em proud, and entire + poverty makes ‘em sour. <i>Strap pride on an empty puss, and it puts a + most beautiful edge on, it cuts like a razor</i>. They have to assart + their dignity, tother one’s dignity don’t want no assartin’. It speaks for + itself. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t enter into particulars now. I want to shew you country life; + because if you don’t want to hang yourself, don’t tarry there, that’s all; + go and look at ‘em, but don’t stay there. If you can’t help it no how, you + can fix it, do it in three days; one to come, one to see, and one to go. + If you do that, and make the fust late, and the last airly, you’ll get + through it; for it won’t only make a day and a half, when sumtotalized. + We’ll fancy it, that’s better than the rael thing, any time. + </p> + <p> + “So lets go to a country gentleman’s house, or “landed,” as they call ‘em, + cause they are so infarnally heavy. Well, his house is either an old + onconvenient up and down, crooked-laned place, bad lighted, bad warmed, + and shockin’ cut up in small rooms; or a spic and span formal, new one, + havin’ all or most, according to his puss, of those things, about lord’s + houses, only on a smaller scale. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll arrive in time for dinner, I’ll titivate myself up, and down + to drawin’-room, and whose the company that’s to dine there? Why, cuss + ‘em, half a dozen of these gents own the country for miles round, so they + have to keep some company at the house, and the rest is neighbours. + </p> + <p> + “Now for goodness gracious sake, jist let’s see who they be! Why one or + two poor parsons, that have nothin’ new in ‘em, and nothin’ new on ‘em, + goodish sort of people too, only they larf a leetle, jist a leetle louder + at host’s jokes, than at mine, at least, I suspicion it, ‘cause I never + could see nothin’ to larf at in his jokes. One or two country nobs of + brother landed gents, that look as big as if the whole of the three per + cent consols was in their breeches pockets; one or two damsels, that was + young once, but have confessed to bein’ old maids, drop’t the word ‘Miss,’ + ‘cause it sounded ridikilous, and took the title of ‘Mrs.’ to look like + widders. Two or three wivewomen of the Chinese stock, a bustin’ of their + stays off a’most, and as fat as show-beef; an oldest son or two, with the + eend of the silver spoon he was born with, a peepin’ out o’ the corner of + his mouth, and his face as vacant as a horn lantern without a candle in + it; a younger son or so jist from college, who looks as if he had an idea + he’d have to airn his livin’, and whose lantern face looks as if it had + had a candle in it, that had e’en amost burnt the sides out, rather thin + and pale, with streaks of Latin and Greek in it; one or two everlastin’ + pretty young galls, so pretty as there is nothin’ to do, you can’t hardly + help bein’ spooney on ‘em. + </p> + <p> + “Matchless galls, they be too, for there is no matches for ‘em. The + primur-genitur boy takes all so they have no fortin. Well, a younger son + won’t do for ‘em, for he has no fortin; and t’other primo geno there, + couldn’t if he would, for he wants the estate next to hisn, and has to + take the gall that owns it, or he won’t get it. I pity them galls, I do + upon my soul. It’s a hard fate, that, as Minster sais, in his pretty talk, + to bud, unfold, bloom, wither, and die on the parent stock, and have no + one to pluck the rose, and put it in his bosom, aint it? + </p> + <p> + “Dinner is ready, and you lock and lock, and march off two and two, to + t’other room, and feed. Well, the dinner is like town dinner, there aint + much difference, there is some; there is a difference atween a country + coat, and a London coat; but still they look alike, and are intended to be + as near the same as they can. The appetite is better than town folks, and + there is more eatin’ and less talkin’, but the talkin’, like the eatin’, + is heavy and solemcoloy. + </p> + <p> + “Now do, Mr. Poker, that’s a good soul, now do, Squire, look at the + sarvants. Do you hear that feller, a blowin’ and a wheesin’ like a hoss + that’s got the heaves? Well he is so fat and lazy, and murders beef and + beer so, he has got the assmy, and walkin’ puts him out o’ breath—aint + it beautiful! Faithful old sarvant that, so attached to the family! which + means the family prog. Always to home! which means he is always eatin’ and + drinkin’, and hante time to go out. So respectful! which means bowin’ is + an everlastin’ sight easier, and safer too, nor talkin’ is. So honest! + which means, parquisites covers all he takes. Keeps every thin’ in such + good order! which means he makes the women do his work. Puts every thin’ + in it’s place, he is so methodical! which means, there is no young + children in the house, and old aunty always puts things back where she + takes ‘em from. For she is a good bit of stuff is aunty, as thin, tough, + and soople as a painter’s palate knife. Oh, Lord! how I would like to lick + him with a bran new cow hide whip, round and round the park, every day, an + hour afore breakfast, to improve his wind, and teach him how to mend his + pace. I’d repair his old bellowses for him, I know. + </p> + <p> + “Then look at the butler, how he tordles like a Terrapin; he has got the + gout, that feller, and no wonder, nother. Every decanter that comes in has + jist half a bottle in it, the rest goes in tastin’, to see it aint corked. + His character would suffer if a bit o’ cork floated in it. Every other + bottle is corked, so he drinks that bottle, and opens another, and gives + master half of it. The housekeeper pets him, calls him Mr., asks him if he + has heard from Sir Philip lately, hintin’ that he is of gentle blood, only + the wrong side of the blanket, and that pleases him. They are both well to + do in the world. Vails count up in time, and they talk big sometimes, when + alone together, and hint at warnin’ off the old knight, marryin’, and + settin’ up a tripe shop, some o’ these days; don’t that hint about wedlock + bring him a nice little hot supper that night, and don’t that little + supper bring her a tumbler of nice mulled wine, and don’t both on ‘em look + as knowin’ as a boiled codfish, and a shelled oyster, that’s all. + </p> + <p> + “He once got warned himself, did old Thomas, so said he, ‘Where do you + intend to go master?’ ‘Me,’ said the old man, scratchin’ his head, and + lookin’ puzzled ‘nowhere.’ ‘Oh, I thought <i>you</i> intend to leave, said + Thomas for <i>I</i> don’t.’ ‘Very good that, Thomas, come I like that.’ + The old knight’s got an anecdote by that, and nanny-goats aint picked up + every day in the country. He tells that to every stranger, every stranger + larfs, and the two parsons larf, and the old ‘Sir’ larfs so, he wakes up + an old sleepin’ cough that most breaks his ribs, and Thomas is set up for + a character. + </p> + <p> + “Well, arter servants is gone, and women folks made themselves scarce, we + haul up closer to the table, have more room for legs, and then comes the + most interestin’ part. Poor rates, quarter sessions, turnpikes, corn-laws, + next assizes, rail-roads and parish matters, with a touch of the horse and + dog between primo and secondo genitur, for variety. If politics turn up, + you can read who host is in a gineral way with half an eye. If he is an + ante-corn-lawer, then he is a manufacturer that wants to grind the poor + instead of grain. He is a <i>new man</i> and reformer. If he goes up to + the bob for corn-law, then he wants to live and let live, is <i>of an old + family</i>, and a tory. Talk of test oaths bein’ done away with. Why Lord + love you, they are in full force here yet. See what a feller swears by—that’s + his test, and no mistake. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you wouldn’t guess now there was so much to talk of, would you? But + hear ‘em over and over every day, the same everlastin’ round, and you + would think the topics not so many arter all, I can tell you. It soon runs + out, and when it does, you must wait till the next rain, for another + freshet to float these heavy logs on. + </p> + <p> + “Coffee comes, and then it’s up and jine the ladies. Well, then talk is + tried agin, but it’s no go; they can’t come it, and one of the + good-natured fat old lady-birds goes to the piany, and sits on the music + stool. Oh, Hedges! how it creaks, but it’s good stuff, I guess, it will + carry double this hitch; and she sings ‘I wish I was a butterfly.’ Heavens + and airth! the fust time I heard one of these hugeaceous critters come out + with that queer idee, I thought I should a dropt right off of the otter + man on the floor, and rolled over and over a-laughin’, it tickled me so, + it makes me larf now only to think of it. Well, the wings don’t come, such + big butterflies have to grub it in spite of Old Nick, and after wishin’ + and wishin’ ever so long in vain, one of the young galls sits down and + sings in rael right down airnest, ‘I <i>won’t</i> be a nun.’ Poor critter! + there is some sense in that, but I guess she will be bleeged to be, for + all that. + </p> + <p> + “Now eatin’ is done, talkin’ is done, and singin’ is done; so here is + chamber candles, and off to bed, that is if you are a-stayin’ there. If + you ain’t, ‘Mr. Weather Mutton’s carriage is ready, Sir,’ and Mr. Weather + Mutton and Mrs. Weather Mutton and the entire stranger get in, and when + you do, you are in for it, I can tell you. You are in for a seven mile + heat at least of cross country roads, axletree deep, rain pour-in’ + straight up and down like Niagara, high hedges, deep ditches full of + water, dark as Egypt; ain’t room to pass nothin’ if you meet it, and don’t + feel jist altogether easy about them cussed alligators and navigators, + critters that work on rail-roads all day, and on houses and travellers by + night. + </p> + <p> + “If you come with Mr. Weather Mutton, you seed the carriage in course. + It’s an old one, a family one, and as heavy as an ox cart. The hosses are + old, family hosses, everlastin’ fat, almighty lazy, and the way they + travel is a caution to a snail. It’s vulgar to go fast, its only butcher’s + hosses trot quick, and besides, there is no hurry—there is nothin’ + to do to home. Affectionate couple! happy man! he takes his wife’s hand in + his—kisses it? No, not he, but he puts his head back in the corner + of the carriage, and goes to sleep, and dreams—of her? Not he + indeed, but of a saddle of mutton and curren’ jelly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you are a-stoppin’ at Sir Littleeared Bighead’s, you escape the + flight by night, and go to bed and think of homeland natur’. Next mornin’, + or rather next noon, down to breakfast. Oh, it’s awfully stupid! That + second nap in the mornin’ always fuddles the head, and makes it as mothery + as ryled cyder grounds. Nobody looks as sweet as sugar candy quite, except + them two beautiful galls and their honey lips. But them is only to look + at. If you want honey, there is some on a little cut glass, dug out of a + dish. But you can’t eat it, for lookin’ at the genu<i>wine</i>, at least I + can’t, and never could. I don’t know what you can do. + </p> + <p> + “P’raps you’d like to look at the picture, it will sarve to pass away + time. They are family ones. And family picture, sarve as a history. Our + Mexican Indgians did all their history in picture. Let’s go round the room + and look. Lawful heart! what a big “Brown ox” that is. Old “Star and + Garters;” father fatted him. He was a prize ox; he eat a thousand bushel + of turnips, a thousand pound of oil cake, a thousand of hay, and a + thousand weight of mangel wurzel, and took a thousand days to fat, and + weighed ever so many thousands too. I don’t believe it, but I don’t say + so, out of manners, for I’ll take my oath he was fatted on porter, because + he looks exactly like the footman on all fours. He is a walking “<i>Brown + Stout</i>,” that feller. + </p> + <p> + “There is a hunter, come, I like hosses; but this brute was painted when + at grass, and is too fat to look well, guess he was a goodish hoss in his + day though. He ain’t a bad cut that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo! what’s this pictur? Why, this is from our side of the water, as I + am a livin’ sinner, this is a New-Foundlander, this dog; yes, and he is of + the true genu<i>wine</i> breed too, look at his broad forehead—his + dew-claws—his little ears; (Sir Littleeared must have been named + arter him), his long hair—his beautiful eye. He is a first chop + article that; but, oh Lord, he is too shockin’ fat altogether. He is like + Mother Gary’s chickens, they are all fat and feathers. A wick run through + ‘em makes a candle. This critter is all hair and blubber, if he goes too + near the grate, he’ll catch into a blaze and set fire to the house. + </p> + <p> + “There’s our friend the host with cap and gold tassel on, ridin’ on his + back, and there’s his younger brother, (that died to Cambridge from + settin’ up all night for his degree, and suppin’ on dry mathematics, and + swallerin’ “Newton” whole) younger brother like, walkin’ on foot, and + leadin’ the dog by the head, while the heir is a scoldin’ him for not + goin’ faster. + </p> + <p> + “Then, there is an old aunty that a forten come from. She looks like a + bale o’ cotton, fust screwed as tight as possible, and then corded hard. + Lord, if they had only a given her a pinch of snuff, when she was full + dressed and trussed, and sot her a sneezin’, she’d a blowed up, and the + fortin would have come twenty years sooner. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s a family pictur, indeed, they are all family picture. They are + all fine animals, but over fed and under worked. + </p> + <p> + “Now it’s up and take a turn in the gardens. There is some splendid + flowers on that slope. You and the galls go to look at ‘em, and jist as + you get there, the grass is juicy from the everlastin’ rain, and awful + slippy; up go your heels, and down goes stranger on the broad of his back, + slippin’ and slidin’ and coastin’ right down the bank, slap over the light + mud-earth bed, and crushin’ the flowers as flat as a pancake, and you + yaller ochered all over, clean away from the scruff of your neck, down to + the tip eend of your heel. The galls larf, the helps larf, and the, + bed-room maid larfs; and who the plague can blame them? Old Marm don’t + larf though, because she is too perlite, and besides, she’s lost her + flowers, and that’s no larfin’ matter; and you don’t larf, ‘cause you feel + a little the nastiest you ever did, and jist as near like a fool as to be + taken for one, in the dark, that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you renew the outer man, and try it agin, and it’s look at the + stable and hosses with Sir Host, and the dogs, and the carriages, and two + American trees, and a peacock, and a guinea hen, and a gold pheasant, and + a silver pheasant, and all that, and then lunch. Who the plague can eat + lunch, that’s only jist breakfasted? + </p> + <p> + “So away goes lunch, and off goes you and the ‘Sir,’ a trampousin’ and a + trapsein’ over the wet grass agin (I should like to know what ain’t wet in + this country), and ploughed fields, and wide ditches chock full of dirty + water, if you slip in, to souse you most ridikelous; and over gates that’s + nailed up, and stiles that’s got no steps for fear of thoroughfare, and + through underwood that’s loaded with rain-drops, away off to tother eend + of the estate, to see the most beautiful field of turnips that ever was + seen, only the flies eat all the plants up; and then back by another path, + that’s slumpier than t’other, and twice as long, that you may see an old + wall with two broke-out winders, all covered with ivy, which is called a + ruin. And well named it is, too, for I tore a bran new pair of trousers, + most onhandsum, a scramblin’ over the fences to see it, and ruined a pair + of shoes that was all squashed out of shape by the wet and mud. + </p> + <p> + “Well, arter all this day of pleasure, it is time to rig up in your + go-to-meetin’ clothes for dinner; and that is the same as yesterday, only + stupider, if that’s possible; and that is Life in the Country. + </p> + <p> + “How the plague can it be otherwise than dull? If there is nothin’ to see, + there can’t be nothin’ to talk about. Now the town is full of things to + see. There is Babbage’s machine, and Bank Governor’s machine, and the + Yankee woman’s machine, and the flyin’ machine, and all sorts of machines, + and galleries, and tunnels, and mesmerisers, and theatres, and + flower-shows, and cattle-shows, and beast-shows, and every kind of show, + and what’s better nor all, beautiful got-up women, and men turned out in + fust chop style, too. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mean to say country women ain’t handsum here, ‘cause they be. + There is no sun here; and how in natur’ can it be otherways than that they + have good complexions. But it tante safe to be caged with them in a house + out o’ town. Fust thing you both do, is to get spooney, makin’ eyes and + company-faces at each other, and then think of matin’, like a pair of + doves, and that won’t answer for the like of you and me. The fact is, + Squire, if you want to see <i>women</i>, you musn’t go to a house in the + country, nor to mere good company in town for it, tho’ there be first chop + articles in both; but you must go among the big bugs the top-lofty + nobility, in London; for since the days of old marm Eve, down to this + instant present time, I don’t think there ever was or ever will be such + splendiferous galls as is there. Lord, the fust time I seed ‘em it put me + in mind of what happened to me at New Brunswick once. Governor of Maine + sent me over to their Governor’s, official-like, with a state letter, and + the British officers axed me to dine to their mess. Well, the English + brags so like niggers, I thought I’d prove ‘em, and set ‘em off on their + old trade jist for fun. So, says I, stranger captain, sais I, is all these + forks and spoons, and plates and covers, and urns, and what nots, rael + genu<i>wine</i> solid silver, the clear thing, and no mistake. + ‘Sartainly,’ said he, ‘we have nothin’ but silver here.’ He did, upon my + soul, just as cool, as if it was all true; well you can’t tell a mili<i>tary</i> + what he sais ain’t credible, or you have to fight him. It’s considered + ongenteel, so I jist puts my finger on my nose, and winks, as much as to + say, ‘I ain’t such a cussed fool as you take me to be, I can tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + “When he seed I’d found him out, he larfed like any thing. Guess he found + that was no go, for I warn’t born in the woods to be scared by an owl, + that’s a fact. Well, the fust time I went to lord’s party, I thought it + was another brag agin; I never see nothin’ like it. Heavens and airth, I + most jumpt out o’ my skin. Where onder the sun, sais I to myself, did he + rake and scrape together such super-superior galls as these. This party is + a kind o’ consarvitory, he has got all the raree plants and sweetest roses + in England here, and must have ransacked the whole country for ‘em. + Knowin’ I was a judge of woman kind, he wants me to think they are all + this way; but it’s onpossible. They are only “shew frigates” arter all; it + don’t stand to reason, they can’t be all clippers. He can’t put the leake + into me that way, so it tante no use tryin’. Well, the next time, I seed + jist such another covey of partridges, same plumage, same step, and same + breed. Well done, sais I, they are intarmed to pull the wool over my eyes, + that’s a fact, but they won’t find that no easy matter, I know. Guess they + must be done now, they can’t show another presarve like them agin in all + Britain. What trouble they do take to brag here, don’t they? Well, to make + a long story short; how do you think it eventuated, Squire? Why every + party I went to, had as grand a shew as them, only some on ‘em was better, + fact I assure you, it’s gospel truth; there ain’t a word of a lie in it, + text to the letter. I never see nothin’ like it, since I was raised, nor + dreamed nothin’ like it, and what’s more, I don’t think the world has + nothin’ like it nother. It beats all natur. It takes the rag off quite. If + that old Turk, Mahomed, had seed these galls, he wouldn’t a bragged about + his beautiful ones in paradise so for everlastinly, I know; for these + English heifers would have beat ‘em all holler, that’s a fact. For my + part, I call myself a judge. I have an eye there ain’t no deceivin’. I + have made it a study, and know every pint about a woman, as well as I do + about a hoss; therefore, if I say so, it must be so, and no mistake. I + make all allowances for the gear, and the gettin’ up, and the vampin’, and + all that sort o’ flash; but toggery won’t make an ugly gall handsum, nohow + you can fix it. It may lower her ugliness a leetle, but it won’t raise her + beauty, if she hante got none. But I warn’t a talkin’ of nobility; I was a + talkin’ of Life in the Country. But the wust of it is, when galls come on + the carpet, I could talk all day; for the dear little critters, I <i>do</i> + love ‘em, that’s a fact. Lick! it sets me crazy a’most. Well, where was + we? for petticoats always puts every thing out o’ my head. Whereabouts was + we?” + </p> + <p> + “You were saying that there were more things to be seen in London than in + the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly; now I have it. I’ve got the thread agin. So there is. + </p> + <p> + “There’s England’s Queen, and England’s Prince, and Hanover’s King, and + the old Swordbelt that whopped Bony; and he is better worth seem’ than any + man now livin’ on the face of the univarsal airth, let t’other one be + where he will, that’s a fact. He is a great man, all through the piece, + and no mistake. If there was—what do you call that word, when one + man’s breath pops into ‘nother man’s body, changin’ lodgins, like?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean transmigration?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; if there was such a thing as that, I should say it was old Liveoak + himself, Mr. Washington, that was transmigrated into him, and that’s no + mean thing to say of him, I tell you. + </p> + <p> + “Well now, there’s none o’ these things to the country; and it’s so + everlastin’ stupid, it’s only a Britisher and a nigger that could live in + an English country-house. A nigger don’t like movin’, and it would jist + suit him, if it warn’t so awful wet and cold. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh if I was President of these here United States, + I’d suck sugar candy and swing upon de gates; + And them I didn’t like, I’d strike ‘em off de docket, + And the way we’d go ahead, would be akin to Davy Crockit. + With my zippy dooden, dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey, + With my zippy dooden, dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey. +</pre> + <p> + “It might do for a nigger, suckin’ sugar candy and drinkin’ mint-julep; + but it won’t do for a free and enlightened citizen like me. A country + house—oh goody gracious! the Lord presarve me from it, I say. If + ever any soul ever catches me there agin, I’ll give ‘em leave to tell me + of it, that’s all. Oh go, Squire, by all means; you will find it monstrous + pleasant, I know you will. Go and spend a week there; it will make you + feel up in the stirrups, I know. Pr’aps nothin’ can exceed it. It takes + the rag off the bush quite. It caps all, that’s a fact, does ‘Life in the + Country.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. BUNKUM. + </h2> + <p> + I am not surprised at the views expressed by Mr. Slick in the previous + chapter. He has led too active a life, and his habits and thoughts are too + business-like to admit of his enjoying retirement, or accommodating + himself to the formal restraints of polished society. And yet, after + making this allowance for his erratic life, it is but fair to add that his + descriptions were always exaggerated; and, wearied as he no doubt was by + the uniformity of country life, yet in describing it, he has evidently + seized on the most striking features, and made them more prominent than + they really appeared, even to his fatigued and prejudiced vision. + </p> + <p> + In other respects, they are just the sentiments we may suppose would be + naturally entertained by a man like the Attache, under such circumstances. + On the evening after that on which he had described “Life in the Country” + to me, he called with two “orders” for admission to the House of Commons, + and took me down with him to hear the debates. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a great sight,” said he. “We shall see all their uppercrust men put + their best foot out. There’s a great musterin’ of the tribes, to-night, + and the Sachems will come out with a great talk. There’ll be some sport, I + guess; some hard hittin’, scalpin’, and tomahawkin’. To see a Britisher + scalp a Britisher is equal to a bullfight, anytime. You don’t keer whether + the bull, or the horse, or the rider is killed, none of ‘em is nothin’ to + you; so you can enjoy it, and hurror for him that wins. I don’t keer who + carries the day, the valy of a treat of julep, but I want to see the + sport. It’s excitin’, them things. Come, let’s go.” + </p> + <p> + We were shown into a small gallery, at one end of the legislative wall + (the two side ones being appropriated to members), and with some + difficulty found sitting room in a place that commanded a view of the + whole house. We were unfortunate. All the great speakers, Lord Stanley, + Sir Robert Peel, Sir James Graham, Shiel, and Lord John Russell, had + either already addressed the Chair, and were thereby precluded by the + rules of the House from coming forward again, or did not choose to answer + second-rate men. Those whom we did hear, made a most wretched exhibition. + About one o’clock, the adjournment took place, and we returned, fatigued + and disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever see the beat of that, Squire?” said Mr. Slick. “Don’t that + take the rag off quite? Cuss them fellers that spoke, they are wuss than + assembly men, hang me if they aint; and <i>they</i> aint fit to tend a + bear trap, for they’d be sure to catch themselves, if they did, in their + own pit-fall. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear that Irishman a latherin’ away with both arms, as if he was + tryin’ to thrash out wheat, and see how bothered he looked, as if he + couldn’t find nothin’ but dust and chaff in the straw? Well, that critter + was agin the Bill, in course, and Irish like, used every argument in + favour of it. Like a pig swimmin’ agin stream, every time he struck out, + he was a cuttin’ of his own throat. He then blob blob blobbered, and gog + gog goggled, till he choked with words and passion, and then sot down. + </p> + <p> + “Then that English Radical feller, that spoke with great voice, and little + sense. Aint he a beauty, without paint, that critter? He know’d he had to + vote agin the Bill, ‘cause it was a Government Bill, and be know’d he had + to speak for <i>Bunkum</i>, and therefore—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Bunkum!</i>” I said, “pray, what is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you never hear of Bunkum?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you don’t mean to say you don’t know what that is?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Not Bunkum? Why, there is more of it to Nova Scotia every winter, than + would paper every room in Government House, and then curl the hair of + every gall in the town. Not heer of <i>Bunkum</i>? why how you talk!” + </p> + <p> + “No, never.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if that don’t pass! I thought every body know’d that word. I’ll + tell you then, what Bunkum is. All over America, every place likes to hear + of its members to Congress, and see their speeches, and if they don’t, + they send a piece to the paper, enquirin’ if their member died a nateral + death, or was skivered with a bowie knife, for they hante seen his + speeches lately, and his friends are anxious to know his fate. Our free + and enlightened citizens don’t approbate silent members; it don’t seem to + them as if Squashville, or Punkinville, or Lumbertown was right + represented, unless Squashville, or Punkinville, or Lumbertown, makes + itself heard and known, ay, and feared too. So every feller in bounden + duty, talks, and talks big too, and the smaller the State, the louder, + bigger, and fiercer its members talk. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when a critter talks for talk sake, jist to have a speech in the + paper to send to home, and not for any other airthly puppus but + electioneering, our folks call it <i>Bunkum</i>. Now the State o’ Maine is + a great place for <i>Bunkum</i>—its members for years threatened to + run foul of England, with all steam on, and sink her, about the boundary + line, voted a million of dollars, payable in pine logs and spruce boards, + up to Bangor mills—and called out a hundred thousand militia, (only + they never come,) to captur’ a saw mill to New Brunswick—that’s <i>Bunkum</i>. + All that flourish about Right o’ Sarch was <i>Bunkum</i>—all that + brag about hangin’ your Canada sheriff was <i>Bunkum</i>. All the speeches + about the Caroline, and Creole, and Right of Sarch, was <i>Bunkum</i>, In + short, almost all that’s said <i>in Congress</i> in <i>the colonies</i>, + (for we set the fashions to them, as Paris galls do to our milliners,) and + all over America is <i>Bunkum</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they talk Bunkum here too, as well as there. Slavery speeches are + all Bunkum; so are reform speeches, too. Do you think them fellers that + keep up such an everlastin’ gab about representation, care one cent about + the extension of franchise? Why no, not they; it’s only to secure their + seats to gull their constituents, to get a name. Do you think them goneys + that make such a touss about the Arms’ Bill, care about the Irish? No, not + they; they want Irish votes, that’s all—it’s <i>Bunkum</i>. Do you + jist go and mesmerise John Russell, and Macauley, and the other officers + of the regiment of Reformers, and then take the awkward squad of recruits—fellers + that were made drunk with excitement, and then enlisted with the promise + of a shillin’, which they never got, the sargeants having drank it all; go + and mesmerise them all, from General Russell down to Private Chartist, + clap ‘em into a caterwaulin’ or catalapsin’ sleep, or whatever the word + is, and make ‘em tell the secrets of their hearts, as Dupotet did the + Clear-voyancing gall, and jist hear what they’ll tell you. + </p> + <p> + “Lord John will say—‘I was sincere!’ (and I believe on my soul he + was. He is wrong beyond all doubt, but he is an honest man, and a clever + man, and if he had taken his <i>own</i> way more, and given Powlet + Thompson <i>his</i> less, he would a’ been a great colony secretary; and + more’s the pity he is in such company. He’ll get off his beam ends, and + right himself though, yet, I guess.) Well, he’d say—‘I was sincere, + I was disinterested; but I am disappointed. I have awakened a pack of + hungry villains who have sharp teeth, long claws, and the appetite of the + devil. They have swallered all I gave ‘em, and now would eat me up without + salt, if they could. Oh, that I could hark back! <i>there is no satisfyin’ + a movement party</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “Now what do the men say, (I don’t mean men of rank, but the men in the + ranks),—‘Where’s all the fine things we were promised when Reform + gained the day?’ sais they, ‘ay, where are they? for we are wuss off than + ever, now, havin’ lost all our old friends, and got bilked by our new ones + tarnationly. What did all their fine speeches end in at last? Bunkum; damn + the thing but Bunkum. + </p> + <p> + “But that aint the wust of it, nother. Bunkum, like lyin’, is plaguy apt + to make a man believe his own bams at last. From telling ‘em so often, he + forgets whether he grow’d ‘em or dreamt ‘em, and so he stands’ right up on + end, kisses the book, and swears to ‘em, as positive as the Irishman did + to the gun, which he said he know’d ever since it was a pistol. Now, <i>that’s + Bunkum</i>. + </p> + <p> + “But to get back to what we was a talkin’ of, did you ever hear such bad + speakin’ in your life, now tell me candid? because if you have, I never + did, that’s all. Both sides was bad, it aint easy to say which is wus, six + of one and half a dozen of t’other, nothin to brag of nary way. That + government man, that spoke in their favour, warn’t his speech rich? + </p> + <p> + “Lord love you! I aint no speaker, I never made but one speech since I was + raised, and that was afore a Slickville legislatur, and then I broke down. + I know’d who I was a talkin’ afore; they was men that had cut their + eye-teeth, and that you could’nt pull the wool over their eyes, nohow you + could fix it, and I was young then. Now I’m growed up, I guess, and I’ve + got my narves in the right place, and as taught as a drum; and I <i>could</i> + speak if I was in the House o’ Commons, that’s a fact. If a man was to try + there, that was worth any thin’, he’d find he was a flute without knowin’ + it. They don’t onderstand nothin’ but Latin and Greek, and I’d buoy out + them sand banks, keep the lead agoin’, stick to the channel, and never + take ground, I know. The way I’d cut water aint no matter. Oh Solomon! + what a field for good speakin’ that question was to-night, if they only + had half an eye, them fellers, and what a’most a beautiful mess they made + of it on both sides! + </p> + <p> + “I ain’t a vain man, and never was. You know, Squire, I hante a mossel of + it in my composition; no, if you was to look at me with a ship’s glass you + wouldn’t see a grease spot of it in me. I don’t think any of us Yankees is + vain people; it’s a thing don’t grow in our diggins. We have too much + sense in a giniral way for that; indeed if we wanted any, we couldn’t get + none for love nor money, for John Bull has a monopoly of it. He won’t open + the trade. It’s a home market he looks to, and the best of it is, he + thinks he hante none to spare. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, John Bull, John Bull, when you are full rigged, with your white + cravat and white waistcoat like Young England, and have got your + go-to-meetin’ clothes on, if you ain’t a sneezer, it’s a pity, that’s all. + No, I ain’t a vain man, I despise it, as I do a nigger; but, Squire, what + a glorious field the subject to-night is for a man that knows what’s what, + and was up to snuff, ain’t it? Airth and seas! if I was there, I could + speak on either side; for like Waterloo it’s a fair field; it’s good + ground for both parties. Heavens what a speech I could make! I’d electrify + ‘em and kill ‘em dead like lightnin’, and then galvanise ‘em and fetch’ em + to life agin, and then give them exhiliratin’ gass and set ‘em a larfin’, + till they fairly wet themselves agin with cryin’. Wouldn’t it be fun, + that’s all? I could sting Peel so if I liked, he’d think a galley nipper + had bit him, and he’d spring right off the floor on to the table at one + jump, gout or no gout, ravin’ mad with pain and say, ‘I’m bit thro’ the + boot by Gosh;’ or if I was to take his side, for I care so little about + the British, all sides is alike to me, I’d make them Irish members dance + like ravin’, distractin’ bed bugs. I’d make ‘em howl, first wicked and + then dismal, I know. + </p> + <p> + “But they can’t do it, to save their souls alive; some has it in ‘em and + can’t get it out, physic ‘em as you would, first with vanity, and then + with office; others have got a way out, but have nothin’ to drive thro’ + the gate; some is so timid, they can’t go ahead; and others are in such an + infarnal hurry, they spend the whole time in false starts. + </p> + <p> + “No, there, is no good oratory to parliament now, and the English brag so, + I doubt if it ever was so good, as they say it was in old times. At any + rate, it’s all got down to “Bunkum” now. It’s makin’ a speech for + newspapers and not for the House. It’s to tell on voters and not on + members. Then, what a row they make, don’t they? Hear, hear, hear; divide, + divide, divide; oh, oh, oh; haw, haw, haw. It tante much different from + stump oratory in America arter all, or speakin’ off a whiskey barrel, is + it? It’s a sort of divil me-kear-kind o’ audience; independent critters, + that look at a feller full in the face, as sarcy as the divil; as much as + to say, ‘Talk away, my old ‘coon, you won’t alter me, I can tell you, it’s + all <i>Bunkum</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “Lord, I shall never forget poor old Davy Crocket’s last speech; there was + no “bunkum” in that. He despised it; all good shots do, they aim right + straight for the mark and hit it. There’s no shootin’ round the ring, with + them kinder men. Poor old feller, he was a great hunter; a great shot with + the rifle, a great wit, and a great man. He didn’t leave his <i>span</i> + behind him, when he slipt off the handle, I know. + </p> + <p> + “Well he stood for an election and lost it, just afore he left the States; + so when it was over, he slings his powder horn on, over his shoulders, + takes his “Betsey,” which was his best rifle, onder his arm, and mounts on + a barrel, to talk it into his constituents, and take leave of ‘em. + </p> + <p> + “‘Feller citizens,’ sais he, ‘we’ve had a fair stand-up fight for it, and + I’m whipped, that are a fact; and thar is no denyin’ of it. I’ve come now + to take my leave of you. You may all go to H—l, and I’ll go to + Texas.’ + </p> + <p> + “And he stepped right down, and went over the boundary, and jined the + patriots agin Mexico, and was killed there. + </p> + <p> + “Why it will never be forgot, that speech. It struck into the bull’s eye + of the heart. It was noble. It said so much in a few words, and left the + mind to fill the gaps up. The last words is a sayin’ now, and always will + be, to all etarnity. Whenever a feller wants to shew how indifferent he + is, he jist sais, ‘you may go to (hem, hem, you know,) and I’ll go to + Texas.’ There is no <i>Bunkum</i> in that, Squire. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is no good speakin’ there, speakin’ is no use. Every feller is + pledged and supports his party. A speech don’t alter no man’s opinions; + yes it <i>may</i> alter his <i>opinions</i>, but it don’t alter his vote, + that ain’t his’n, it’s his party’s. Still, there is some credit in a good + speech, and some fun too. No feller there has any ridicule; he has got no + ginger in him, he can neither crack his whip, nor lay it on; he can + neither cut the hide nor sting it. Heavens! if I was there I and I’m sure + it’s no great boastin’ to say I’m better than such fellers, as them small + fry of white bait is. If I was there, give me a good subject like that + to-night, give me a good horn of lignum vitae—” + </p> + <p> + “Lignum vitae—what’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord-o-massy on us! you don’t know nothin’, Squire. Where have you been + all your born days, not to know what lignum vitae is? why lignum vitae, is + hot brandy and water to be sure, pipin’ hot, scald an iron pot amost, and + spiced with cloves and sugar in it, stiff enough to make a tea-spoon stand + up in it, as straight as a dead nigger. Wine ain’t no good, it goes off as + quick as the white beads off of champaign does, and then leaves a stupid + head-ache behind it. But give me the subject and a horn of lignum vitae + (of the wickedest kind), and then let a feller rile me, so as to get my + back up like a fightin’ cat’s, and I’ll tell you what I’d do, I’d sarve + him as our Slickville boys sarve the cows to California. One on ‘em lays + hold of the tail, and the other skins her as she runs strait an eend. Next + year, it’s all growed ready for another flayin’. Fact, I assure you. Lord! + I’d skin a feller so, his hide would never grow agin; I’d make a caution + of him to sinners, I know. + </p> + <p> + “Only hear them fellers now talk of extendin’ of the representation; why + the house is a mob now, plaguy little better, I assure you. Like the house + in Cromwell’s time, they want “Sam Slick’s” purge. But talkin’ of mobs, + puts me in mind of a Swoi-ree, I told you I’d describe that to you, and I + don’t care if I do now, for I’ve jist got my talkin’ tacks aboard. A + Swoi-ree is— + </p> + <p> + “We’ll talk of that some other time, Mr. Slick,” said I; “it is now near + two o’clock, I must retire.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said he, “I suppose it is e’en a’most time to be a movin’. + But, Squire, you are a Britisher, why the plague don’t you get into the + house? you know more about colony matters than the whole bilin’ of” them + put together, quite as much about other things, and speak like a—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Mr. Slick,” said I, rising and lighting my bed-room candle, + “it is now high time to bid you good night, for you are beginning to talk + <i>Bunkum</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THROWING THE LAVENDER. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Slick’s character, like that of many of his countrymen, is not so + easily understood as a person might suppose. We err more often than we are + aware of, when we judge of others by ourselves. English tourists have all + fallen into this mistake, in their, estimate of the Americans. They judge + them by their own standard; they attribute effects to wrong causes, + forgetting that a different tone of feeling, produced by a different + social and political state from their own, must naturally produce + dissimilar results. + </p> + <p> + Any person reading the last sketch containing the account, given by Mr. + Slick of the House of Commons, his opinion of his own abilities as a + speaker, and his aspiration after a seat in that body, for the purpose of + “skinning,” as he calls it, impertinent or stupid members, could not avoid + coming to the conclusion that he was a conceited block-head; and that if + his countrymen talked in that absurd manner, they must be the weakest, and + most vain-glorious people in the world. + </p> + <p> + That he is a vain man, cannot be denied—self-taught men are apt to + be so every where; but those who understand the New England humour, will + at once perceive, that he has spoken in his own name merely as a + personification, and that the whole passage means after all, when + transposed into that phraseology which an Englishman would use, very + little more than this, that the House of Commons presented a noble field + for a man of abilities as a public speaker; but that in fact, it contained + very few such persons. We must not judge of words or phrases, when used by + foreigners, by the sense we attribute to them, but endeavour to understand + the meaning they attach to them themselves. + </p> + <p> + In Mexico, if you admire any thing, the proprietor immediately says, “Pray + do me the honour to consider it yours, I shall be most happy, if you will + permit me, to place it upon you, (if it be an ornament), or to send it to + your hotel,” if it be of a different description. All this means in + English, a present; in Mexican Spanish, a civil speech, purporting that + the owner is gratified, that it meets the approbation of his visiter. A + Frenchman, who heard this grandiloquent reply to his praises of a horse, + astonished his friend, by thanking him in terms equally amplified, + accepting it, and riding it home. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slick would be no less amazed, if understood literally. He has used a + peculiar style; here again, a stranger would be in error, in supposing the + phraseology common to all Americans. It is peculiar only to a certain + class of persons in a certain state of life, and in a particular section + of the States. Of this class, Mr. Slick is a specimen. I do not mean to + say he is not a vain man, but merely that a portion only of that, which + appears so to us, is vanity, and that the rest and by far the greater + portion too, is local or provincial peculiarity. + </p> + <p> + This explanation is due to the Americans, who have been grossly + misrepresented, and to the English, who have been egregiously deceived, by + persons attempting to delineate character, who were utterly incapable of + perceiving those minute lights and shades, without which, a portrait + becomes a contemptible daub, or at most a mere caricature. + </p> + <p> + “A droll scene that at the house o’ represen<i>tatives</i> last night,” + said Mr. Slick when we next met, “warn’t it? A sort o’ rookery, like that + at the Shropshire Squire’s, where I spent the juicy day. What a darned + cau-cau-cawin’ they keep, don’t they? These members are jist like the + rooks, too, fond of old houses, old woods, old trees, and old harnts. And + they are jist as proud, too, as they be. Cuss ‘em, they won’t visit a new + man, or new plantation. They are too aristocratic for that. They have a + circle of their own. Like the rooks, too, they are privileged to scour + over the farmers’ fields all round home, and play the very devil. + </p> + <p> + “And then a fellow can’t hear himself speak for ‘em; divide, divide, + divide, question, question, question; cau, cau, cau, cau, cau, cau. Oh! we + must go there again. I want you to see Peel, Stanley, Graham, Shiel, + Russell, Macauley, Old Joe, and so on. These men are all upper crust here. + Fust of all, I want to hear your opinion of ‘em. I take you to be a + considerable of a good judge in these matters.” + </p> + <p> + “No Bunkum, Mr. Slick.” + </p> + <p> + “D—— that word Bunkum! If you say that ‘ere agin, I won’t say + another syllable, so come now. Don’t I know who you are? You know every + mite, and morsel as well as I do, that you be a considerable of a judge of + these critters, though you are nothin’ but an outlandish colonist; and are + an everlastin’ sight better judge, too, if you come to that, than them + that judge <i>you</i>. Cuss ‘em, the state would be a nation sight better + sarved, if one o’ these old rooks was sent out to try trover for a goose, + and larceny for an old hat, to Nova Scotia, and you was sent for to take + the ribbons o’ the state coach here; hang me if it wouldn’t. You know + that, and feel your oats, too, as well as any one. So don’t be so infarnal + mealy-mouthed, with your mock modesty face, a turnin’ up of the whites of + your eyes as if you was a chokin’, and savin’ ‘No <i>Bun-kum</i>, Mr. + Slick.’ Cuss that word Bunkum! I am sorry I ever told you that are story, + you will be for everlastinly a throwin’ up of that are, to me now. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think if I warnted to soft sawder you, I’d take the white-wash + brush to you, and slobber it, on, as a nigger wench does to a board fence, + or a kitchen wall to home, and put your eyes out with the lime? No, not I; + but I could tickel you though, and have done it afore now, jist for + practice, and you warn’t a bit the wiser. Lord, I’d take a camel’s-hair + brush to you, knowin’ how skittish and ticklesome you are, and do it so it + would feel good. I’d make you feel kinder pleasant, I know, and you’d jist + bend your face over to it, and take it as kindly as a gall does a whisper, + when your lips keep jist a brushin’ of the cheek while you are a talkin’. + I wouldn’t go to shock you by a doin’ of it coarse; you are too quick, and + too knowin’ for that. You should smell the otter o’ roses, and sniff, + sniff it up your nostrils, and say to yourself, ‘How nice that is, ain’t + it? Come, I like that, how sweet it stinks!’ I wouldn’t go for to dash + scented water on your face, as a hired lady does on a winder to wash it, + it would make you start back, take out your pocket-handkercher, and say, + “Come, <i>Mister</i> Slick, no nonsense, if you please.” I’d do it + delicate, I know my man: I’d use a light touch, a soft brush, and a smooth + oily rouge.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” I said, “you overrate your own powers, and over-estimate my + vanity. You are flattering yourself now, you can’t flatter me, for I + detest it.” + </p> + <p> + “Creation, man,” said Mr. Slick, “I have done it now afore your face, + these last five minutes, and you didn’t know it. Well, if that don’t bang + the bush. It’s tarnation all over that. Tellin’ you, you was so knowin’, + so shy if touched on the flanks; how difficult you was to take-in, bein’ a + sensible, knowin’ man, what’s that but soft sawder? You swallowed it all. + You took it off without winkin’, and opened your mouth as wide as a young + blind robbin does for another worm, and then down went the Bunkum about + making you a Secretary of State, which was rather a large bolus to + swaller, without a draft; down, down it went, like a greased-wad through a + smooth rifle bore; it did, upon my soul. Heavens! what a take in! what a + splendid sleight-of-hand! I never did nothin’ better in all my born days. + I hope I may be shot, if I did. Ha! ha! ha! ain’t it rich? Don’t it cut + six inches on the rib of clear shear, that. Oh! it’s han<i>sum</i>, that’s + a fact.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no use to talk about it, Mr. Slick,” I replied; “I plead guilty. You + took me in then. You touched a weak point. You insensibly flattered my + vanity, by assenting to my self-sufficiency, in supposing I was exempt + from that universal frailty of human nature; you “<i>threw the Lavender</i>” + well.” + </p> + <p> + “I did put the leake into you, Squire, that’s a fact,” said he; “but let + me alone, I know what I am about; let me talk on, my own way. Swaller what + you like, spit out what is too strong for you; but don’t put a drag-chain + on to me, when I am a doin’ tall talkin’, and set my wheels as fast as + pine stumps. You know me, and I know you. You know my speed, and I know + your bottom don’t throw back in the breetchin’ for nothin’ that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as I was a-sayin’, I want you to see these great men, as they call + ‘em. Let’s weigh ‘em, and measure ‘em, and handle ‘em, and then price ‘em, + and see what their market valy is. Don’t consider ‘em as Tories, or Whigs, + or Radicals; we hante got nothin’ to do with none o’ them; but consider + ‘em as statesmen. It’s pot-luck with ‘em all; take your fork as the pot + biles up, jab it in, and fetch a feller up, see whether he is beef, pork + or mutton; partridge, rabbit or lobster; what his name, grain and flavour + is, and how you like him. Treat ‘em indifferent, and treat ‘em + independent. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care a chaw o’ tobacky for the whole on ‘em; and none on ‘em care + a pinch o’ snuff for you or any Hortentort of a colonist that ever was or + ever will be. Lord love you! if you was to write like Scott, and map the + human mind like Bacon, would it advance you a bit in prefarment? Not it. + They have done enough for the colonists, they have turned ‘em upside down, + and given ‘em responsible government? What more do the rascals want? Do + they ask to be made equal to us? No, look at their social system, and + their political system, and tell ‘em your opinion like a man. You have + heard enough of their opinions of colonies, and suffered enough from their + erroneous ones too. You have had Durham reports, and commissioners’ + reports, and parliament reports till your stomach refuses any more on ‘em. + And what are they? a bundle of mistakes and misconceptions, from beginnin’ + to eend. They have travelled by stumblin’, and have measured every thing + by the length of their knee, as they fell on the ground, as a milliner + measures lace, by the bendin’ down of the forefinger—cuss ‘em! Turn + the tables on ‘em. Report on <i>them</i>, measure <i>them</i>, but take + care to keep your feet though, don’t be caught trippin’, don’t make no + mistakes. + </p> + <p> + “Then we’ll go to the Lords’ House—I don’t mean to meetin’ house, + though we must go there too, and hear Me Neil and Chalmers, and them sort + o’ cattle; but I mean the house where the nobles meet, pick out the big + bugs, and see what sort o’ stuff they are made of. Let’s take minister + with us—he is a great judge of these things. I should like you to + hear his opinion; he knows every thin’ a’most, though the ways of the + world bother him a little sometimes; but for valyin’ a man, or stating + principles, or talkin’ politics, there ain’t no man equal to him, hardly. + He is a book, that’s a fact; it’s all there what you want; all you’ve got + to do is to cut the leaves. Name the word in the index, he’ll turn to the + page, and give you day, date, and fact, for it. There is no mistake in + him. + </p> + <p> + “That cussed provokin’ visit of yours to Scotland will shove them things + into the next book, I’m afeered. But it don’t signify nothin’; you can’t + cram all into one, and we hante only broke the crust yet, and p’rhaps it’s + as well to look afore you leap too, or you might make as big a fool of + yourself, as some of the Britishers have a-writin’ about us and the + provinces. Oh yes, it’s a great advantage havin’ minister with you. He’ll + fell the big stiff trees for you; and I’m the boy for the saplin’s, I’ve + got the eye and the stroke for them. They spring so confoundedly under the + axe, does second growth and underwood, it’s dangerous work, but I’ve got + the sleight o’ hand for that, and we’ll make a clean field of it. + </p> + <p> + “Then come and survey; take your compass and chain to the ground and + measure, and lay that off—branch and bark the spars for snakin’ off + the ground; cord up the fire-wood, tie up the hoop poles, and then burn + off the trash and rubbish. Do it workman-like. Take your time to it as if + you was workin’ by the day. Don’t hurry, like job work; don’t slobber it + over, and leave half-burnt trees and logs strewed about the surface, but + make smack smooth work. Do that, Squire, do it well, and that is, only + half as good as you can, if you choose, and then—” + </p> + <p> + “And then,” said I, “I make no doubt you will have great pleasure ‘<i>in + throwin’ the Lavender again</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. AIMING HIGH. + </h2> + <p> + “What do you intend to do, Squire, with your two youngest boys?” said Mr. + Slick to me to-day, as we were walking in the Park. + </p> + <p> + “I design them,” I said, “for professions. One I shall educate for a + lawyer, and the other for a clergyman.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “In Nova Scotia.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” says he. “It shews your sense; it’s the very place for ‘em. + It’s a fine field for a young man; I don’t know no better one no where in + the whole univarsal world. When I was a boy larnin’ to shoot, sais father + to me, one day, ‘Sam,’ sais he, ‘I’ll give you a lesson in gunnin’ that’s + worth knowin’. “<i>Aim high</i>,” my boy; your gun naterally settles down + a little takin’ sight, cause your arm gets tired, and wabbles, and the + ball settles a little while it’s a travellin’, accordin’ to a law of + natur, called Franklin’s law; and I obsarve you always hit below the mark. + Now, make allowances for these things in gunnin’, and “aim high,” for your + life, always. And, Sam,’ sais he, ‘I’ve seed a great deal of the world, + all mili<i>tary</i> men do. ‘I was to Bunker’s Hill durin’ the engagement, + and I saw Washington the day he was made President, and in course must + know more nor most men of my age; and I’ll give you another bit of advice, + “Aim high” in life, and if you don’t hit the bull’s eye, you’ll hit the + “fust circles,” and that ain’t a bad shot nother.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Father,’ sais I, ‘I guess I’ve seed more of the world than you have, + arter all.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How so, Sam?’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why,’ sais I, ‘father, you’ve only been to Bunker’s Hill, and that’s + nothin’; no part of it ain’t too steep to plough; it’s only a sizeable + hillock, arter all. But I’ve been to the Notch on the White Mountain, so + high up, that the snow don’t melt there, and seed five States all to once, + and half way over to England, and then I’ve seed Jim Crow dance. So there + now?’ He jist up with the flat of his hand, and gave me a wipe with it on + the side of my face, that knocked me over; and as I fell, he lent me a + kick on my musn’t-mention-it, that sent me a rod or so afore I took ground + on all fours. + </p> + <p> + “‘Take that, you young scoundrel!’ said he, ‘and larn to speak respectful + next time to an old man, a mili<i>tary</i> man, and your father, too.’ + </p> + <p> + “It hurt me properly, you may depend. ‘Why,’ sais I, as I picked myself + up, ‘didn’t you tell me to “aim high,” father? So I thought I’d do it, and + beat your brag, that’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + “Truth is, Squire, I never could let a joke pass all my life, without + havin’ a lark with it. I was fond of one, ever since I was knee high to a + goose, or could recollect any thin’ amost; I have got into a horrid sight + of scrapes by ‘em, that’s a fact. I never forgot that lesson though, it + was kicked into me: and lessons that are larnt on the right eend, ain’t + never forgot amost. I <i>have</i> “aimed high” ever since, and see where I + be now. Here I am an Attache, made out of a wooden clock pedlar. Tell you + what, I shall be “embassador” yet, made out of nothin’ but an “Attache,” + and I’ll be President of our great Republic, and almighty nation in the + eend, made out of an embassador, see if I don’t. That comes of “aimin’ + high.” What do you call that water near your coach-house?” + </p> + <p> + “A pond.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any brook runnin’ in, or any stream runnin’ out?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s the difference between a lake and a pond. Now, set that down + for a traveller’s fact. Now, where do you go to fish?” + </p> + <p> + “To the lakes, of course; there are no fish in the ponds.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Mr. Slick, “that is what I want to bring you to; there is + no fish in a pond, there is nothin’ but frogs. Nova Scotia is only a pond, + and so is New Brunswick, and such outlandish, out o’ the way, little + crampt up, stagnant places. There is no ‘big fish’ there, nor never can + be; there ain’t no food for ‘em. A colony frog!! Heavens and airth, what + an odd fish that is? A colony pollywog! do, for gracious sake, catch one, + put him into a glass bottle full of spirits, and send him to the Museum as + a curiosity in natur. So you are a goin’ to make your two nice pretty + little smart boys a pair of colony frogs, eh? Oh! do, by all means. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have great comfort in ‘em, Squire. Monstrous comfort. It will do + your old heart good to go down to the edge of the pond on the fust of May, + or thereabouts, accordin’ to the season, jist at sun down, and hear ‘em + sing. You’ll see the little fellers swell out their cheeks, and roar away + like young suckin’ thunders. For the frogs beat all natur there for noise; + they have no notion of it here at all. I’ve seed Englishmen that couldn’t + sleep all night, for the everlastin’ noise these critters made. Their + frogs have somethin’ else to do here besides singin’. Ain’t it a splendid + prospect that, havin’ these young frogs settled all round you in the same + mud-hole, all gathered in a nice little musical family party. All fine fun + this, till some fine day we Yankee storks will come down and gobble them + all up, and make clear work of it. + </p> + <p> + “No, Squire, take my advice now for once; jist go to your colony minister + when he is alone. Don’t set down, but stand up as if you was in airnest, + and didn’t come to gossip, and tell him, ‘Turn these ponds into a lake,’ + sais you, my lord minister, give them an inlet and an outlet. Let them be + kept pure, and sweet, and wholesome, by a stream, runnin’ through. Fish + will live there then if you put them in, and they will breed there, and + keep up the stock. At present they die; it ain’t big enough; there ain’t + room. If he sais he hante time to hear you, and asks you to put it into + writin’, do you jist walk over to his table, take up his lignum vitae + ruler into your fist, put your back to the door, and say ‘By the ‘tarnal + empire, you <i>shall</i> hear me; you don’t go out of this, till I give + you the butt eend of my mind, I can tell you. I am an old bull frog now; + the Nova Scotia pond is big enough for me; I’ll get drowned if I get into + a bigger one, for I hante got no fins, nothin’ but legs and arms to swim + with, and deep water wouldn’t suit me, I ain’t fit for it, and I must live + and die there, that’s my fate as sure as rates.’ If he gets tired, and + goes to get up or to move, do you shake the big ruler at him, as fierce as + a painter, and say, ‘Don’t you stir for your life; I don’t want to lay + nothin’ <i>on</i> your head, I only want to put somethin’ <i>in</i> it. I + am a father and have got youngsters. I am a native, and have got + countrymen. Enlarge our sphere, give us a chance in the world.’ ‘Let me + out,’ he’ll say, ‘this minute, Sir, or I’ll put you in charge of a + policeman.’ ‘Let you out is it,’ sais you. ‘Oh! you feel bein’ pent up, do + you? I am glad of it. The tables are turned now, that’s what we complain + of. You’ve stood at the door, and kept us in; now I’ll keep you in awhile. + I want to talk to you, that’s more than you ever did to us. How do you + like bein’ shut in? Does it feel good? Does it make your dander rise?’ + ‘Let me out,’ he’ll say agin, ‘this moment, Sir, how dare you.’ Oh! you + are in a hurry, are you?’ sais you. ‘You’ve kept me in all my life; don’t + be oneasy if I keep you in five minutes.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, what do you want then?’ he’ll say, kinder peevish; ‘what do you + want?’ ‘I don’t want nothin’ for myself,’ sais you. ‘I’ve got all I can + get in that pond; and I got that from the Whigs, fellers I’ve been abusin’ + all my life; and I’m glad to make amends by acknowledging this good turn + they did me; for I am a tory, and no mistake. I don’t want nothin’; but I + want to be an <i>Englishman</i>. I don’t want to be an English <i>subject</i>; + do you understand that now? If you don’t, this is the meanin’, that there + is no fun in bein’ a fag, if you are never to have a fag yourself. Give us + all fair play. Don’t move now,’ sais you, ‘for I’m gettin’ warm; I’m + gettin’ spotty on the back, my bristles is up, and I might hurt you with + this ruler; it’s a tender pint this, for I’ve rubbed the skin off of a + sore place; but I’ll tell you a gospel truth, and mind what I tell you, + for nobody else has sense enough, and if they had, they hante courage + enough. If you don’t make <i>Englishmen of us</i>, the force of + circumstances will <i>make Yankees</i> of us, as sure as you are born.’ + He’ll stare at that. He is a clever man, and aint wantin’ in gumption. He + is no fool, that’s a fact. ‘Is it no compliment to you and your + institutions this?’ sais you. ‘Don’t it make you feel proud that even + independence won’t tempt us to dissolve the connexion? Ain’t it a noble + proof of your good qualities that, instead of agitatin’ for Repeal of the + Union, we want a closer union? But have we no pride too? We would be + onworthy of the name of Englishmen, if we hadn’t it, and we won’t stand + beggin’ for ever I tell <i>you</i>. Here’s our hands, give us yourn; let’s + be all Englishmen together. Give us a chance, and if us, young English + boys, don’t astonish you old English, my name ain’t Tom Poker, that’s + all.’ ‘Sit down,’ he’ll say, ‘Mr. Poker;’ there is a great deal in that; + sit down; I am interested.’ + </p> + <p> + “The instant he sais that, take your ruler, lay it down on the table, pick + up your hat, make a scrape with your hind leg, and say, ‘I regret I have + detained you so long, Sir. I am most peskily afraid my warmth has kinder + betrayed me into rudeness. I really beg pardon, I do upon my soul. I feel + I have smashed down all decency, I am horrid ashamed of myself.’ Well, he + won’t say you hante rode the high hoss, and done the unhandsum thing, + because it wouldn’t be true if he did; but he’ll say, ‘Pray be seated. I + can make allowances, Sir, even for intemperate zeal. And this is a very + important subject, very indeed. There is a monstrous deal in what you say, + though you have, I must say, rather a peculiar, an unusual, way of puttin’ + it.’ Don’t you stay another minit though, nor say another word, for your + life; but bow, beg pardon, hold in your breath, that your face may look + red, as if you was blushin’, and back out, starn fust. Whenever you make + an impression on a man, stop; your reasonin’ and details may ruin you. + Like a feller who sais a good thing, he’d better shove off, and leave + every one larfin’ at his wit, than stop and tire them out, till they say + what a great screw augur that is. Well, if you find he opens the colonies, + and patronises the smart folks, leave your sons there if you like, and let + ‘em work up, and work out of it, if they are fit, and time and opportunity + offers. But one thing is sartain, <i>the very openin’ of the door will + open their minds</i>, as a matter of course. If he don’t do it, and I can + tell you before hand he won’t—for they actilly hante got time here, + to think of these things—send your boys here into the great world. + Sais you to the young Lawyer, ‘Bob,’ sais you, ‘“aim high.” If you don’t + get to be Lord Chancellor, I shall never die in peace. I’ve set my heart + on it. It’s within your reach, if you are good for anything. Let me see + the great seal—let me handle it before I die—do, that’s a + dear; if not, go back to your Colony pond, and sing with your provincial + frogs, and I hope to Heaven the fust long-legged bittern that comes there + will make a supper of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then sais you to the young parson, ‘Arthur,’ sais you ‘Natur jist made + you for a clergyman. Now, do you jist make yourself ‘Archbishop of + Canterbury.’ My death-bed scene will be an awful one, if I don’t see you + ‘the Primate’; for my affections, my hopes, my heart, is fixed on it. I + shall be willin’ to die then, I shall depart in peace, and leave this + world happy. And, Arthur,’ sais you, ‘they talk and brag here till one is + sick of the sound a’most about “Addison’s death-bed.” Good people refer to + it as an example, authors as a theatrical scene and hypocrites as a grand + illustration for them to turn up the whites of their cold cantin’ eyes at. + Lord love you, my son,’ sais you, ‘let them brag of it; but what would it + be to mine; you congratulatin’ me on goin’ to a better world, and me + congratulatin’ you on bein’ “Archbishop.” Then,’ sais you, in a starn + voice like a boatsan’s trumpet—for if you want things to be + remembered, give ‘em effect, “Aim high,” Sir,’ sais you. Then like my old + father, fetch him a kick on his western eend, that will lift him clean + over the table, and say ‘that’s the way to rise in the world, you young + sucking parson you. “Aim high,” Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “Neither of them will ever forget it as long as they live. The hit does + that; for a kick is a very <i>striking</i> thing, that’s a fact. There has + been <i>no good scholars since birch rods went out o’ school, and + sentiment went in</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know,” I said, “Mr. Slick, that those high prizes in the lottery + of life, can, in the nature of things, be drawn but by few people, and how + many blanks are there to one-prize in this world.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what’s to prevent your boys gettin’ those prizes, if colonists was + made Christians of, instead of outlawed, exiled, transported, + oncarcumcised heathen Indgean niggers, as they be. If people don’t put + into a lottery, how the devil can they get prizes? will you tell me that. + Look at the critters here, look at the publicans, taylors, barbers, and + porters’ sons, how the’ve rose here, ‘in this big lake,’ to be chancellors + and archbishops; how did they get them? They ‘aimed high,’ and besides, + all that, like father’s story of the gun, by ‘aiming high,’ though they + may miss the mark, they will be sure to hit the upper circles. Oh, Squire, + there is nothing like ‘aiming high,’ in this world.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you, Sam,” said Mr. Hopewell. “I never heard you speak + so sensibly before. Nothing can be better for young men than “Aiming + high.” Though they may not attain to the highest honours, they may, as you + say, reach to a most respectable station. But surely, Squire, you will + never so far forget the respect that is due to so high an officer as a + Secretary of State, or, indeed, so far forget yourself as to adopt a + course, which from its eccentricity, violence, and impropriety, must leave + the impression that your intellects are disordered. Surely you will never + be tempted to make the experiment?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not, indeed,” I said. “I have no desire to become an + inmate of a lunatic asylum.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said he; “I am satisfied. I quite agree with Sam, though. Indeed, + I go further. I do not think he has advised you to recommend your boys to + ‘aim high enough.’” + </p> + <p> + “Creation! said Mr. Slick, “how much higher do you want provincial frogs + to go, than to be ‘Chancellor’ and ‘Primate?’ + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you, Sam; I’d advise them to ‘aim higher’ than earthly honours. + I would advise them to do their duty, in any station of life in which it + shall please Providence to place them; and instead of striving after + unattainable objects here, to be unceasing in their endeavours to obtain + that which, on certain conditions, is promised to all hereafter. In their + worldly pursuits, as men, it is right for them to ‘<i>aim high</i>;’ but + as Christians, it is also their duty to ‘<i>aim higher</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. A SWOI-REE. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Slick visited me late last night, dressed as if he had been at a + party, but very cross, and, as usual when in that frame of mind, he vented + his ill-humour on the English. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been to-night, Mr. Slick?” + </p> + <p> + “Jist where the English hosses will be,” he replied, “when Old Clay comes + here to this country;—no where. I have been on a stair-case, that’s + where I have been; and a pretty place to see company in, ain’t it? I have + been jammed to death in an entry, and what’s wus than all, I have given + one gall a black eye with my elbow, tore another one’s frock off with my + buttons, and near about cut a third one’s leg in two with my hat. Pretty + well for one night’s work, ain’t it? and for me too, that’s so fond of the + dear little critturs, I wouldn’t hurt a hair of their head, if I could + help it, to save my soul alive. What a spot o’ work! + </p> + <p> + “What the plague do people mean here by askin’ a mob to their house, and + invitin’ twice as many as can get into it? If they think it’s + complimental, they are infarnally mistaken, that’s all: it’s an insult and + nothin’ else, makin’ a fool of a body that way. Heavens and airth! I am + wringing wet! I’m ready to faint! Where’s the key of your cellaret? I want + some brandy and water. I’m dead; bury me quick, for I won’t be nice + directly. Oh dear! how that lean gall hurt me! How horrid sharp her bones + are! + </p> + <p> + “I wish to goodness you’d go to a Swoi-ree oncet, Squire, jist oncet—a + grand let off, one that’s upper crust and rael jam. It’s worth seein’ + oncet jist as a show, I tell <i>you</i>, for you have no more notion of it + than a child. All Halifax, if it was swept up clean and shook out into a + room, wouldn’t make one swoi-ree. I have been to three to night, and all + on ‘em was mobs—regular mobs. The English are horrid fond of mobs, + and I wonder at it too; for of all the cowardly, miserable, scarry mobs, + that ever was seen in this blessed world, the English is the wust. Two + dragoons will clear a whole street as quick as wink, any time. The instant + they see ‘em, they jist run like a flock of sheep afore a couple of bull + dogs, and slope off properly skeered. Lawful heart, I wish they’d send for + a dragoon, all booted, and spurred, and mounted, and let him gallop into a + swoi-ree, and charge the mob there. He’d clear ‘em out <i>I</i> know, + double quick: he’d chase one quarter of ‘em down stairs head over heels, + and another quarter would jump out o’ the winders, and break their + confounded necks to save their lives, and then the half that’s left, would + he jist about half too many for comfort. + </p> + <p> + “My first party to-night wus a conversation one; that is for them that <i>could</i> + talk; as for me I couldn’t talk a bit, and all I could think was, ‘how + infarnal hot it is! I wish I could get in!’ or, ‘oh dear, if I could only + get out!’ It was a scientific party, a mob o’ men. Well, every body + expected somebody would be squashed to death, and so ladies went, for they + always go to executions. They’ve got a kinder nateral taste for the + horrors, have women. They like to see people hanged or trod to death, when + they can get a chance. It <i>was</i> a conversation warn’t it? that’s all. + I couldn’t understand a word I heard. Trap shale Greywachy; a petrified + snail, the most important discovery of modern times. Bank governor’s + machine weighs sovereigns, light ones go to the right, and heavy ones to + the left. + </p> + <p> + “‘Stop,’ says I, ‘if you mean the sovereign people here, there are none on + ‘em light. Right and left is both monstrous heavy; all over weight, every + one on ‘em. I’m squeezed to death.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Very good, Mr. Slick. Let me introduce you to ——,’ they are + whipt off in the current, and I don’t see ‘em again no more. ‘A beautiful + shew of flowers, Madam, at the garden: they are all in full blow now. The + rhododendron—had a tooth pulled when she was asleep.’ ‘Please to let + me pass, Sir.’ ‘With all my heart, Miss, if I could; but I can’t move; if + I could I would down on the carpet, and you should walk over me. Take care + of your feet, Miss, I am off of mine. Lord bless me! what’s this? why as I + am a livin’ sinner, it’s half her frock hitched on to my coat button. Now + I know what that scream meant.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How do you do, Mr. Slick? When did you come?’ ‘Why I came—’ he is + turned round, and shoved out o’ hearin.’ ‘Xanthian marbles at the British + Museum are quite wonderful; got into his throat, the doctor turned him + upside down, stood him on his head, and out it came—his own tunnel + was too small.’ ‘Oh, Sir, you are cuttin’ me.’ ‘Me, Miss! Where had I the + pleasure of seein’ you before, I never cut a lady in my life, could’nt do + so rude a thing. Havn’t the honour to recollect you.’ ‘Oh, Sir, take it + away, it cuts me.’ Poor thing, she is distracted, I don’t wonder. She’s + drove crazy, though I think she must have been mad to come here at all. + ‘Your hat, Sir.’ ‘Oh, that cussed French hat is it? Well, the rim is as + stiff and as sharp as a cleaver, that’s a fact, I don’t wonder it cut + you.’ ‘Eddis’s pictur—capital painting, fell out of the barge, and + was drowned.’ ‘Having been beat on the shillin’ duty; they will attach him + on the fourpence, and thimble rigg him out of that.’ ‘They say Sugden is + in town, hung in a bad light, at the Temple Church.’——‘Who is + that?’ ‘Lady Fobus; paired off for the Session; Brodie operated.’——Lady + Francis; got the Life Guards; there will be a division to-night.’——That’s + Sam Slick; I’ll introduce you; made a capital speech in the House of + Lords, in answer to Brougham—Lobelia—voted for the bill—The + Duchess is very fond of——Irish Arms—’ + </p> + <p> + “Oh! now I’m in the entry. How tired I am! It feels shockin’ cold here, + too, arter comin’ out o’ that hot room. Guess I’ll go to the grand musical + party. Come, this will do; this is Christian-like, there is room here; but + the singin’ is in next room, I will go and hear them. Oh! here they are + agin; it’s a proper mob this. Cuss, these English, they can’t live out of + mobs. Prince Albert is there in that room; I must go and see him. He is + popular; he is a renderin’ of himself very agreeable to the English, is + Prince: he mixes with them as much as he can; and shews his sense in that. + Church steeples are very pretty things: that one to Antwerp is + splendiriferous; it’s everlastin’ high, it most breaks your neck layin’ + back your head to look at it; bend backward like a hoop, and stare at it + once with all your eyes, and you can’t look up agin, you are satisfied. It + tante no use for a Prince to carry a head so high as that, Albert knows + this; he don’t want to be called the highest steeple, cause all the world + knows he is about the top loftiest; but he want’s to descend to the world + we live in. + </p> + <p> + “With a Queen all men love, and a Prince all men like, royalty has a root + in the heart here. Pity, too, for the English don’t desarve to have a + Queen; and such a Queen as they have got too, hang me if they do. They + ain’t men, they hante the feelin’s or pride o’ men in ‘em; they ain’t what + they used to be, the nasty, dirty, mean-spirited, sneakin’ skunks, for if + they had a heart as big as a pea—and that ain’t any great size, + nother—cuss ‘em, when any feller pinted a finger at her to hurt her, + or even frighten her, they’d string him right up on the spot, to the lamp + post. Lynch him like a dog that steals sheep right off the reel, and save + mad-doctors, skary judges, and Chartist papers all the trouble of findin’ + excuses. And, if that didn’t do, Chinese like, they’d take the whole crowd + present and sarve <i>them</i> out. They’d be sure to catch the right one + then. I wouldn’t shed blood, because that’s horrid; it shocks all + Christian people, philosophisin’ legislators, sentimental ladies, and + spooney gentlemen. It’s horrid barbarous that, is sheddin’ blood; I + wouldn’t do that, I’d jist hang him. A strong cord tied tight round his + neck would keep that precious mixtur, traitor’s blood, all in as close as + if his mouth was corked, wired, and white-leaded, like a champagne bottle. + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear! these are the fellers that come out a travellin’ among us, and + sayin’ the difference atween you and us is ‘the absence of loyalty.’ I’ve + heard tell a great deal of that loyalty, but I’ve seen precious little of + it, since I’ve been here, that’s a fact. I’ve always told you these folks + ain’t what they used to be, and I see more and more, on ‘em every day. + Yes, the English are like their hosses, they are so fine bred, there is + nothin’ left of ‘em now but the hide, hair, and shoes. + </p> + <p> + “So Prince Albert is there in that room; I must get in there and see him, + for I have never sot eyes on him since I’ve been here, so here goes. + Onder, below there, look out for your corns, hawl your feet in, like + turtles, for I am a comin’. Take care o’ your ribs, my old ‘coons, for my + elbows are crooked. Who wants to grow? I’ll squeeze you out as a + rollin’-pin does dough, and make you ten inches taller. I’ll make good + figures of you, my fat boys and galls, I know. Look out for scaldin’s + there. Here I am: it’s me, Sam Slick, make way, or I’ll walk right over + you, and cronch you like lobsters. ‘Cheap talkin’, or rather thinkin’, + sais I; for in course I couldn’t bawl that out in company here; they don’t + understand fun, and would think it rude, and ongenteel. I have to be + shockin’ cautious what I say here, for fear I might lower our great nation + in the eyes of foreigners. I have to look big and talk big the whole + blessed time, and I am tired of it. It ain’t nateral to me; and, besides + braggin’ and repudiatin’ at the same time, is most as bad as cantin’ and + swearin’. It kinder chokes me. I thought it all though, and said it all to + myself. ‘And,’ sais I, ‘take your time, Sam; you can’t do it, no how, you + can fix-it. You must wait your time, like other folks. Your legs is tied, + and your arms is tied down by the crowd, and you can’t move an inch beyond + your nose. The only way is, watch your chance, wait till you can get your + hands up, then turn the fust two persons that’s next to you right round, + and slip between them like a turn stile in the park, and work your passage + that way. Which is the Prince? That’s him with the hair carefully divided, + him with the moustaches. I’ve seed him; a plaguy handsum man he is, too. + Let me out now. I’m stifled, I’m choked. My jaws stick together, I can’t + open ‘em no more; and my wind won’t hold out another minute. + </p> + <p> + “I have it now, I’ve got an idea. See if I don’t put the leake into ‘em. + Won’t I <i>do</i> them, that’s all? Clear the way there, the Prince is a + comin’, <i>and</i> so is the Duke. And a way is opened: waves o’ the sea + roll hack at these words, and I walks right out, as large as life, and the + fust Egyptian that follers is drowned, for the water has closed over him. + Sarves him right, too, what business had he to grasp my life-preserver + without leave. I have enough to do to get along by my own wit, without + carry in’ double. + </p> + <p> + “‘Where is the Prince? Didn’t they say he was a comin’? Who was that went + out? He don’t look like the Prince; he ain’t half so handsum, that feller, + he looks, like a Yankee.’ ‘Why, that was Sam Slick.’ ‘Capital, that! What + a droll feller he is; he is always so ready! He desarves credit for that + trick.’ Guess I do; but let old Connecticut alone; us Slickville boys + always find a way to dodge in or out embargo or no embargo, blockade or no + blockade, we larnt that last war. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am in the street agin; the air feels handsum. I have another + invitation to-night, shall I go? Guess I will. All the world is at these + two last places, I reckin there will be breathin’ room at the next; and I + want an ice cream to cool my coppers, shockin’ bad.—Creation! It is + wus than ever; this party beats t’other ones all holler. They ain’t no + touch to it. I’ll jist go and make a scrape to old uncle and aunty, and + then cut stick; for I hante strength to swiggle my way through another + mob. + </p> + <p> + “‘You had better get in fust, though, hadn’t you, Sam? for here you are + agin wracked, by gosh, drove right slap ashore atween them two fat women, + and fairly wedged in and bilged. You can’t get through, and can’t get out, + if you was to die for it.’ ‘Can’t I though? I’ll try; for I never give in, + till I can’t help it. So here’s at it. Heave off, put all steam on, and + back out, starn fust, and then swing round into the stream. That’s the + ticket, Sam.’ It’s done; but my elbow has took that lady that’s two steps + furder down on the stairs, jist in the eye, and knocked in her dead light. + How she cries! how I apologize, don’t I? And the more I beg pardon, the + wus she carries on. But it’s no go; if I stay, I must fust fight somebody, + and then marry <i>her</i>; for I’ve spiled her beauty, and that’s the rule + here, they tell me.’ + </p> + <p> + “So I sets studen sail booms, and cracks on all sail, and steers for home, + and here I am once more; at least what’s left of me, and that ain’t much + more nor my shader. Oh dear! I’m tired, shockin’ tired, almost dead, and + awful thirsty; for Heaven’s sake, give me some lignum vitae, for I am so + dry, I’ll blow away in dust. + </p> + <p> + “This is a Swoi-ree, Squire, this is London society; this is rational + enjoyment, this is a meeting of friends, who are so infarnal friendly they + are jammed together so they can’t leave each other. Inseparable friends; + you must choke ‘em off, or you can’t part ‘em. Well, I ain’t jist so thick + and intimate with none o’ them in this country as all that comes to + nother. I won’t lay down my life for none on ‘em; I don’t see no occasion + for it, <i>do you</i>? + </p> + <p> + “I’ll dine with you, John Bull, if you axe me; and I ain’t nothin’ above + particular to do, and the cab hire don’t cost more nor the price of a + dinner; but hang me if ever I go to a Swoi-ree agin. I’ve had enough of + that, to last me <i>my</i> life, I know. A dinner I hante no objection to, + though that ain’t quite so bright as a pewter button nother, when you + don’t know you’re right and left, hand man. And an evenin’ party, I + wouldn’t take my oath I wouldn’t go to, though I don’t know hardly what to + talk about, except America; and I’ve bragged so much about that, I’m tired + of the subject. But a <i>Swoi-ree is the devil, that’s a fact</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. TATTERSALL’S OR, THE ELDER AND THE GRAVE DIGGER. + </h2> + <p> + “Squire,” said Mr. Slick, “it ain’t rainin’ to-day; suppose you come along + with me to Tattersall’s. I have been studyin’ that place a considerable + sum to see whether it is a safe shop to trade in or no. But I’m dubersome; + I don’t like the cut of the sportin’ folks here. If I can see both eends + of the rope, and only one man has hold of one eend, and me of the tother, + why I know what I am about; but if I can only see my own eend, I don’t + know who I am a pullin’ agin. I intend to take a rise out o’ some o’ the + knowin’ ones here, that will make ‘em scratch their heads, and stare, I + know. But here we are. Cut round this corner, into this Lane. Here it is; + this is it to the right.” + </p> + <p> + We entered a sort of coach-yard, which was filled with a motley and mixed + crowd of people. I was greatly disappointed in Tattersall’s. Indeed, few + things in London have answered my expectations. They have either exceeded + or fallen short of the description I had heard of them. I was prepared, + both from what I was told by Mr. Slick, and heard, from others, to find + that there were but very few gentlemen-like looking men there; and that by + far the greater number neither were, nor affected to be, any thing but + “knowing ones.” I was led to believe that there would be a plentiful use + of the terms <i>of art</i>, a variety of provincial accent, and that the + conversation of the jockeys and grooms would be liberally garnished with + appropriate slang. + </p> + <p> + The gentry portion of the throng, with some few exceptions, it was said, + wore a dissipated look, and had that peculiar appearance of incipient + disease, that indicates a life of late hours, of excitement, and bodily + exhaustion. Lower down in the scale of life, I was informed, intemperance + had left its indelible marks. And that still further down, were to be + found the worthless lees of this foul and polluted stream of sporting + gentlemen, spendthrifts, gamblers, bankrupts, sots, sharpers and jockeys. + </p> + <p> + This was by no means the case. It was just what a man might have expected + to have found a great sporting exchange and auction mart, of horses and + carriages, to have been, in a great city like London, had he been merely + told that such was the object of the place, and then left to imagine the + scene. It was, as I have before said, a mixed and motley crowd; and must + necessarily be so, where agents attend to bid for their principals, where + servants are in waiting upon their masters, and above all, where the + ingress is open to every one. + </p> + <p> + It is, however, unquestionably the resort of gentlemen. In a great and + rich country like this, there must, unavoidably, be a Tattersall’s; and + the wonder is, not that it is not better, but that it is not infinitely + worse. Lake all striking pictures, it had strong lights and shades. Those + who have suffered, are apt to retaliate; and a man who has been duped, too + often thinks he has a right to make reprisals. Tattersall’s, therefore, is + not without its privateers. Many persons of rank and character patronize + sporting, from a patriotic but mistaken notion, that it is to the turf + alone the excellence of the English horse is attributable. + </p> + <p> + One person of this description, whom I saw there for a short time, I had + the pleasure of knowing before; and from him I learned many interesting + anecdotes of individuals whom he pointed out as having been once well + known about town, but whose attachment to gambling had effected their + ruin. Personal stories of this kind are, however, not within the scope of + this work. + </p> + <p> + As soon as we entered, Mr. Slick called my attention to the carriages + which were exhibited for sale, to their elegant shape and “beautiful + fixins,” as he termed it; but ridiculed, in no measured terms, their + enormous weight. “It is no wonder,” said he, “they have to get fresh + hosses here every ten miles, and travellin’ costs so much, when the + carriage alone is enough to kill beasts. What would Old Bull say, if I was + to tell him of one pair of hosses carryin’ three or four people, forty or + fifty miles a-day, day in and day out, hand runnin’ for a fortnight? Why, + he’d either be too civil to tell me it was a lie, or bein’ afeerd I’d jump + down his throat if he did, he’d sing dumb, and let me see by his looks, he + thought so, though. + </p> + <p> + “I intend to take the consait out of these chaps, and that’s a fact. If I + don’t put the leak into ‘em afore I’ve done with them, my name ain’t Sam + Slick, that’s a fact. I’m studyin’ the ins and the outs of this place, so + as to know what I am about, afore I take hold; for I feel kinder skittish + about my men. Gentlemen are the lowest, lyinest, bullyinest, blackguards + there is, when they choose to be; ‘specially if they have rank as well as + money. A thoroughbred cheat, of good blood, is a clipper, that’s a fact. + They ain’t right up-and-down, like a cow’s tail, in their dealin’s; and + they’ve got accomplices, fellers that will lie for ‘em like any thing, for + the honour of their company; and bettin’, onder such circumstances, ain’t + safe. + </p> + <p> + “But, I’ll tell you what is, if you have got a hoss that can do it, and no + mistake: back him, hoss agin hoss, or what’s safer still, hoss agin time, + and you can’t be tricked. Now, I’ll send for Old Clay, to come in Cunard’s + steamer, and cuss ‘em they ought to bring over the old hoss and his + fixins, free, for it was me first started that line. The way old Mr. + Glenelg stared, when I told him it was thirty-six miles shorter to go from + Bristol to New York by the way of Halifax, than to go direct warn’t slow. + It stopt steam for that hitch, that’s a fact, for he thort I was mad. He + sent it down to the Admiralty to get it ciphered right, and it took them + old seagulls, the Admirals a month to find it out. + </p> + <p> + “And when they did, what did they say? Why, cuss ‘em, says they, ‘any fool + knows that.’ Says I, ‘If that’s the case you are jist the boys then that + ought to have found it out right off at oncet.’ + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Old Clay ought to go free, but he won’t; and guess I am able to pay + freight for him, and no thanks to nobody. Now, I’ll tell you what, English + trottin’ is about a mile in two minutes and forty-seven seconds, and that + don’t happen oftener than oncet in fifty years, if it was ever done at + all, for the English brag so there is no telling right. Old Clay <i>can</i> + do his mile in two minutes and thirty-eight seconds. He <i>has</i> done + that, and I guess he <i>could</i> do more. I have got a car, that is as + light as whalebone, and I’ll bet to do it with wheels and drive myself. + I’ll go in up to the handle, on Old Clay. I have a hundred thousand + dollars of hard cash made in the colonies, I’ll go half of it on the old + hoss, hang me if I don’t, and I’ll make him as well knowd to England as he + is to Nova Scotia. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll allow him to be beat at fust, so as to lead ‘em on, and Clay is as + cunnin’ as a coon too, if he don’t get the word g’lang (go along) and the + Indgian skelpin’ yell with it, he knows I ain’t in airnest, and he’ll + allow me to beat him and bully him like nothin’. He’ll pretend to do his + best, and sputter away like a hen scratchin’ gravel, but he won’t go one + mossel faster, for he knows I never lick a free hoss. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t it be beautiful? How they’ll all larf and crow, when they see me a + thrashin’ away at the hoss, and then him goin’ slower, the faster I + thrash, and me a threatenin’ to shoot the brute, and a talkin’ at the tip + eend of my tongue like a ravin’ distracted bed bug, and offerin’ to back + him agin, if they dare, and planken down the pewter all round, takin’ + every one up that will go the figur’, till I raise the bets to the tune of + fifty thousand dollars. When I get that far, they may stop their larfin’ + till next time, I guess. That’s the turn of the fever—that’s the + crisis—that’s my time to larf then. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll mount the car then, take the bits of list up, put ‘em into right + shape, talk a little Connecticut Yankee to the old hoss, to set his + ebenezer up, and make him rise inwardly, and then give the yell,” (which + he uttered in his excitement in earnest; and a most diabolical one it was. + It pierced me through and through, and curdled my very blood, it was the + death shout of a savage.) “G’lang you skunk, and turn out your toes + pretty,” said he, and he again repeated this long protracted, shrill, + infernal yell, a second time. + </p> + <p> + Every eye was instantly turned upon us. Even Tattersall suspended his “he + is five years old—a good hack—and is to be sold,” to give time + for the general exclamation of surprise. “Who the devil is that? Is he + mad? Where did <i>he</i> come from? Does any body know him? He is a + devilish keen-lookin’ fellow that; what an eye he has! He looks like a + Yankee, that fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s been here, your honour, several days, examines every thing and says + nothing; looks like a knowing one, your honour. He handles a hoss as if + he’d seen one afore to-day, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that gentleman with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t know, your honour, never saw him before; he looks like a furriner, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Mr. Slick,” said I, “we are attracting too much attention here, let + us go.” + </p> + <p> + “Cuss ‘em,” said he, “I’ll attract more attention afore I’ve done yet, + when Old Clay comes, and then I’ll tell ‘em who I am—Sam Slick, from + Slickville, Onion County, State of Connecticut, United States of America. + But I do suppose we had as good make tracks, for I don’t want folks to + know me yet. I’m plaguy sorry I let put that countersign of Old Clay too, + but they won’t onderstand it. Critters like the English, that know + everything have generally weak eyes, from studyin’ so hard. + </p> + <p> + “Did you take notice of that critter I was a handlin’ of, Squire? that one + that’s all drawed up in the middle like a devil’s darnin’ needle; her hair + a standin’ upon eend as if she was amazed at herself, and a look out of + her eye, as if she thort the dogs would find the steak kinder tough, when + they got her for dinner. Well, that’s a great mare that ‘are, and there + ain’t nothin’ onder the sun the matter of her, except the groom has stole + her oats, forgot to give her water, and let her make a supper sometimes + off of her nasty, mouldy, filthy beddin’. I hante see’d a hoss here equal + to her a’most—short back, beautiful rake to the shoulder, great + depth of chest, elegant quarter, great stifle, amazin’ strong arm, + monstrous nice nostrils, eyes like a weasel, all outside, game ears, first + chop bone and fine flat leg, with no gum on no part of it. She’s a sneezer + that; but she’ll be knocked down for twenty or thirty pound, because she + looks as if she was used up. + </p> + <p> + “I intended to a had that mare, for I’d a made her worth twelve hundred + dollars. It was a dreadful pity, I let go, that time, for I actilly forgot + where I was. I’ll know better next hitch, for boughten wit is the best in + a general way. Yes, I’m peskily sorry about that mare. Well, swappin’ I’ve + studied, but I doubt if it’s as much the fashion here as with us; and + besides, swappin’ where you don’t know the county and its tricks, (for + every county has its own tricks, different from others), is dangersome + too. I’ve seen swaps where both sides got took in. Did ever I tell you the + story of the “Elder and the grave-digger?” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” I replied; “but here we are at our lodgings. Come in, and tell it + to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “I must have a glass of mint julip fust, to wash down + that ere disappointment about the mare. It was a dreadful go that. I jist + lost a thousand dollars by it, as slick as grease. But it’s an excitin’ + thing is a trottin’ race, too. When you mount, hear the word ‘Start!’ and + shout out ‘G’lang!’ and give the pass word.” + </p> + <p> + Good heavens! what a yell he perpetrated again. I put both hands to my + ears, to exclude the reverberations of it from the walls. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be skeered, Squire; don’t be skeered. We are alone now: there is no + mare to lose. Ain’t it pretty? It makes me feel all dandery and on wires + like.” + </p> + <p> + “But the grave-digger?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says he, “the year afore I knowed you, I was a-goin’ in the fall, + down to Clare, about sixty miles below Annapolis, to collect some debts + due to me there from the French. And as I was a-joggin’ on along the road, + who should I overtake but Elder Stephen Grab, of Beechmeadows, a mounted + on a considerable of a clever-lookin’ black mare. The Elder was a pious + man; at least he looked like one, and spoke like one too. His face was as + long as the moral law, and p’rhaps an inch longer, and as smooth as a + hone; and his voice was so soft and sweet, and his tongue moved so ily on + its hinges, you’d a thought you might a trusted him with ontold gold, if + you didn’t care whether you ever got it agin or no. He had a bran new hat + on, with a brim that was none of the smallest, to keep the sun from makin’ + his inner man wink, and his go-to-meetin’ clothes on, and a pair of silver + mounted spurs, and a beautiful white cravat, tied behind, so as to have no + bows to it, and look meek. If there was a good man on airth, you’d a said + it was him. And he seemed to feel it, and know it too, for there was a + kind of look o’ triumph about him, as if he had conquered the Evil One, + and was considerable well satisfied with himself. + </p> + <p> + “‘H’are you,’ sais I, ‘Elder, to-day? Which way are you from?” + </p> + <p> + “‘From the General Christian Assembly, sais he, ‘to Goose Creek. We had a + “<i>most refreshin’ time on’t</i>.” There was a great “<i>outpourin’ of + the spirit</i>.”’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, that’s awful,’ says I, ‘too. The magistrates ought to see to that; + it ain’t right, when folks assemble that way to worship, to be a-sellin’ + of rum; and gin, and brandy, and spirits, is it?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I don’t mean that,’ sais he, ‘although, p’rhaps, there was too much of + that wicked traffic too, I mean the preachin’. It was very peeowerful; + there was “<i>many sinners saved</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “‘I guess there was plenty of room for it,’ sais I, ‘onless that + neighbourhood has much improved since I knowed it last.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s a sweet thing,’ sais he. ‘Have you ever “<i>made profession</i>,” + Mr. Slick?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Come,’ sais I to myself, ‘this is cuttin’ it rather too fat. I must put + a stop to this. This ain’t a subject for conversation with such a + cheatin’, cantin’, hippocrytical skunk as this is. Yes,’ sais I, ‘long + ago. My profession is that of a clockmaker, and I make no pretension to + nothin’ else. But come, let’s water our hosses here and liquor ourselves.’ + </p> + <p> + “And we dismounted, and gave ‘em a drop to wet their mouths. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now,’ sais I, a-takin’ out of a pocket-pistol that I generally travelled + with, ‘I think I’ll take a drop of grog;’ and arter helpin’ myself, I + gives the silver cover of the flask a dip in the brook, (for a clean rinse + is better than a dirty wipe, any time), and sais I, ‘Will you have a + little of the “<i>outpourin’ of the spirit?</i>” What do you say, Elder?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Thank you,’ sais he, ‘friend Slick. I never touch liquor, it’s agin our + rules.’ + </p> + <p> + “And he stooped down and filled it with water, and took a mouthful, and + then makin’ a face like a frog afore he goes to sing, and swellin’ his + cheeks out like a Scotch bagpiper, he spit it all out. Sais he, ‘That is + so warm, it makes me sick; and as I ain’t otherwise well, from the + celestial exhaustion of a protracted meetin’, I believe I will take a + little drop, as medicine.’ + </p> + <p> + “Confound him! if he’d a said he’d only leave a little drop, it would a + been more like the thing; for he e’en a’most emptied the whole into the + cup, and drank it off clean, without winkin’. + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s a “<i>very refreshin’ time</i>,”’ sais I, ‘ain’t’ it?’ But he + didn’t make no answer. Sais I, ‘that’s a likely beast of yourn, Elder,’ + and I opened her mouth, and took a look at her, and no easy matter nother, + I tell you, for she held on like a bear trap, with her jaws. “‘She won’t + suit you,’ sais he, “with a smile, ‘Mr. Slick.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I guess not,’ sais I. + </p> + <p> + “‘But she’ll jist suit the French,’ sais he. + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s lucky she don’t speak French then,’ sais I, ‘or they’d soon find + her tongue was too big for her mouth. That critter will never see + five-and-twenty, and I’m a thinkin’, she’s thirty year old, if she is a + day.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I was a thinkin’, said he, with a sly look out o’ the corner of his eye, + as if her age warn’t no secret to him. ‘I was a thinkin’ it’s time to put + her off, and she’ll jist suit the French. They hante much for hosses to + do, in a giniral way, but to ride about; and you won’t say nothin’ about + her age, will you? it might endamnify a sale.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Not I,’ sais I, ‘I skin my own foxes, and let other folks skin their’n. + I have enough to do to mind my own business, without interferin’ with + other people’s.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘She’ll jist suit the French,’ sais he; ‘they don’t know nothin’ about + hosses, or any thing else. They are a simple people, and always will be, + for their priests keep ‘em in ignorance. It’s an awful thing to see them + kept in the outer porch of darkness that way, ain’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I guess you’ll put a new pane o’ glass in their porch,’ sais I, ‘and + help some o’ them to see better; for whoever gets that mare, will have his + eyes opened, sooner nor he bargains for, I know.’ + </p> + <p> + “Sais he, ‘she ain’t a bad mare; and if she could eat bay, might do a good + deal of work yet,’ and he gave a kinder chuckle laugh at his own joke, + that sounded like the rattles in his throat, it was so dismal and deep, + for he was one o’ them kind of fellers that’s too good to larf, was Steve. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the horn o’ grog he took, began to onloosen his tongue; and I got + out of him, that she come near dyin’ the winter afore, her teeth was so + bad, and that he had kept her all summer in a dyke pasture up to her + fetlocks in white clover, and ginn’ her ground oats, and Indgian meal, and + nothin’ to do all summer; and in the fore part of the fall, biled + potatoes, and he’d got her as fat as a seal, and her skin as slick as an + otter’s. She fairly shined agin, in the sun. + </p> + <p> + “‘She’ll jist suit the French’, said he, ‘they are a simple people and + don’t know nothin’, and if they don’t like the mare, they must blame their + priests for not teachin’ ‘em better. I shall keep within the strict line + of truth, as becomes a Christian man. I scorn to take a man in.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, we chatted away arter this fashion, he a openin’ of himself and me + a walk in’ into him; and we jogged along till we came to Charles Tarrio’s + to Montagon, and there was the matter of a thousand French people gathered + there, a chatterin’, and laughin’, and jawin’, and quarrellin’, and + racin’, and wrastlin’, and all a givin’ tongue, like a pack of village + dogs, when an Indgian comes to town. It was town meetin’ day. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there was a critter there, called by nickname, ‘Goodish Greevoy,’ a + mounted on a white pony, one o’ the scariest little screamers, you ever + see since you was born. He was a tryin’ to get up a race, was Goodish, and + banterin’ every one that had a hoss to run with him. + </p> + <p> + “His face was a fortin’ to a painter. His forehead was high and narrer, + shewin’ only a long strip o’ tawny skin, in a line with his nose, the rest + bein’ covered with hair, as black as ink, and as iley as a seal’s mane. + His brows was thick, bushy and overhangin’, like young brush-wood on a + cliff, and onderneath, was two black peerin’ little eyes, that kept + a-movin’ about, keen, good-natured, and roguish, but sot far into his + skull, and looked like the eyes of a fox peepin’ out of his den, when he + warn’t to home to company hisself. His nose was high, sharp, and crooked, + like the back of a reapin’ hook, and gave a plaguy sight of character to + his face, while his thinnish lips, that closed on a straight line, curlin’ + up at one eend, and down at the other, shewed, if his dander was raised, + he could be a jumpin’, tarin’, rampagenous devil if he chose. The pint of + his chin projected and turned up gently, as if it expected, when Goodish + lost his teeth, to rise in the world in rank next to the nose. When good + natur’ sat on the box, and drove, it warn’t a bad face; when Old Nick was + coachman, I guess it would be as well to give Master Frenchman the road. + </p> + <p> + “He had a red cap on his head, his beard hadn’t been cut since last sheep + shearin’, and he looked as hairy as a tarrier; his shirt collar, ‘which + was of yaller flannel, fell on his shoulders loose, and a black hankercher + was tied round his neck, slack like a sailor’s. He wore a round jacket and + loose trowsers of homespun with no waistcoat, and his trowsers was held up + by a gallus of leather on one side, and of old cord on the other. Either + Goodish had growed since his clothes was made, or his jacket and trowsers + warn’t on speakin’ tarms, for they didn’t meet by three or four inches, + and the shirt shewed atween them like a yaller militia sash round him. His + feet was covered with moccasins of ontanned moose hide, and one heel was + sot off with an old spur and looked sly and wicked. He was a sneezer that, + and when he flourished his great long withe of a whip stick, that looked + like a fishin’ rod, over his head, and yelled like all possessed, he was a + caution, that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “A knowin’ lookin’ little hoss, it was too, that he was mounted on. Its + tail was cut close off to the stump, which squared up his rump, and made + him look awful strong in the hind quarters. His mane was “hogged” which + fulled out the swell and crest of the neck, and his ears being cropped, + the critter had a game look about him. There was a proper good + onderstandin’ between him and his rider: they looked as if they had growed + together, and made one critter—half hoss, half man with a touch of + the devil. + </p> + <p> + “Goodish was all up on eend by what he drank, and dashed in and out of the + crowd arter a fashion, that was quite cautionary, callin’ out, ‘Here comes + “the grave-digger.” Don’t be skeered, if any of you get killed, here is + the hoss that will dig his grave for nothin’. Who’ll run a lick of a + quarter of a mile, for a pint of rum. Will you run?’ said he, a spunkin’ + up to the Elder, ‘come, let’s run, and whoever wins, shall go the treat.’ + </p> + <p> + “The Elder smiled as sweet as sugar candy, but backed out; he was too old, + he said, now to run. + </p> + <p> + “‘Will you swap hosses, old broad cloth then?’ said the other, ‘because if + you will, here’s at you.’ + </p> + <p> + “Steve took a squint at pony, to see whether that cat would jump or no, + but the cropt ears, the stump of a tail, the rakish look of the horse, + didn’t jist altogether convene to the taste or the sanctified habits of + the preacher. The word no, hung on his lips, like a wormy apple, jist + ready to drop the fust shake; but before it let go, the great strength, + the spryness, and the oncommon obedience of pony to the bit, seemed to + kinder balance the objections; while the sartan and ontimely eend that + hung over his own mare, during the comin’ winter, death by starvation, + turned the scale. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ said he, slowly, ‘if we like each other’s beasts, friend, and can + agree as to the boot, I don’t know as I wouldn’t trade; for I don’t care + to raise colts, havin’ plenty of hoss stock on hand, and perhaps you do.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How old is your hoss?’ said the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “‘I didn’t raise it,’ sais Steve, ‘Ned Wheelock, I believe, brought her to + our parts.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How old do you take her to be?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Poor critter, she’d tell you herself, if she could,’ said he, ‘for she + knows best, but she can’t speak; and I didn’t see her, when she was + foalded.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How old do you think?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Age,’ sais Steve, ‘depens on use, not on years. A hoss at five, if ill + used, is old; a hoss at eight, if well used is young.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sacry footry!’ sais Goodish, ‘why don’t you speak out like a man? Lie or + no lie, how old is she?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, I don’t like to say,’ sais Steve, ‘I know she is eight for + sartain, and it may be she’s nine. If I was to say eight, and it turned + out nine, you might be thinkin’ hard of me. I didn’t raise it. You can see + what condition she is in; old hosses ain’t commonly so fat as that, at + least I never, see one that was.’ + </p> + <p> + “A long banter then growed out of the ‘boot money.’ The Elder, asked 7 + pounds 10s. Goodish swore he wouldn’t give that for him and his hoss + together; that if they were both put up to auction that blessed minute, + they wouldn’t bring it. The Elder hung on to it, as long as there was any + chance of the boot, and then fort the ground like a man, only givin’ an + inch or so at a time, till he drawed up and made a dead stand, on one + pound. + </p> + <p> + “Goodish seemed willing to come to tarms too; but like a prudent man, + resolved to take a look at the old mare’s mouth, and make some kind of a + guess at her age; but the critter knowed how to keep her own secrets, and + it was ever so long, afore he forced her jaws open, and when he did, he + came plaguy near losin’ of a finger, for his curiosity; and as he hopped + and danced about with pain, he let fly such a string of oaths, and + sacry-cussed the Elder and his mare, in such an all-fired passion, that + Steve put both his hands up to his ears, and said, ‘Oh, my dear friend, + don’t swear, don’t swear; it’s very wicked. I’ll take your pony, I’ll ask + no boot, if you will only promise not to swear. You shall have the mare as + she stands. I’ll give up and swap even; and there shall be no after claps, + nor ruin bargains, nor recantin’, nor nother, only don’t swear.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, the trade was made, the saddles and bridles was shifted, and both + parties mounted their new hosses. ‘Mr. Slick,’ sais Steve,’ who was afraid + he would lose the pony, if he staid any longer, ‘Mr. Slick,’ sais he, ‘the + least said, is the soonest mended, let’s be a movin’, this scene of noise + and riot is shockin’ to a religious man, ain’t it?’ and he let go a groan, + as long as the embargo a’most. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we had no sooner turned to go, than the French people sot up a + cheer that made all ring again; and they sung out, “La Fossy Your,” “La + Fossy Your,” and shouted it agin and agin ever so loud. + </p> + <p> + “‘What’s that?’ sais Steve. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I didn’t know, for I never heerd the word afore; but it don’t do to + say you don’t know, it lowers you in the eyes of other folks. If you don’t + know What another man knows he is shocked at your ignorance. But if he + don’t know what you do, he can find an excuse in a minute. Never say you + don’t know. + </p> + <p> + “‘So,’ sais I, ‘they jabber so everlastin’ fast, it ain’t no easy matter + to say what they mean; but it sounds like “good bye,” you’d better turn + round and make ‘em a bow, for they are very polite people, is the French.’ + </p> + <p> + “So Steve turns and takes off his hat, and makes them a low bow, and they + larfs wus than ever, and calls out again, “La Fossy Your,” “La Fossy + Your.” He was kinder ryled, was the Elder. His honey had begun to farment, + and smell vinegery. ‘May be, next Christmas,’ sais he, ‘you won’t larf so + loud, when you find the mare is dead. Goodish and the old mare are jist + alike, they are all tongue them critters. I rather think it’s me,’ sais + he, ‘has the right to larf, for I’ve got the best of this bargain, and no + mistake. This is as smart a little hoss as ever I see. I know where I can + put him off to great advantage. I shall make a good day’s work of this. It + is about as good a hoss trade as I ever made. The French don’t know + nothin’ about hosses; they are a simple people, their priests keep ‘em in + ignorance on purpose, and they don’t know nothin’.’ + </p> + <p> + “He cracked and bragged considerable, and as we progressed we came to + Montagon Bridge. The moment pony sot foot on it, he stopped short, pricked + up the latter eends of his ears, snorted, squeeled and refused to budge an + inch. The Elder got mad. He first coaxed and patted, and soft sawdered + him, and then whipt and spurred, and thrashed him like any thing. Pony got + mad too, for hosses has tempers as well as Elders; so he turned to, and + kicked right straight up on eend, like Old Scratch, and kept on without + stoppin’ till he sent the Elder right slap over his head slantendicularly, + on the broad of his back into the river, and he floated down thro’ the + bridge and scrambled out at t’other side. + </p> + <p> + “Creation! how he looked. He was so mad, he was ready to bile over; and as + it was he smoked in the sun, like a tea-kettle. His clothes stuck close + down to him, as a cat’s fur does to her skin, when she’s out in the rain, + and every step he took his boots went squish, squash, like an old woman + churnin’ butter; and his wet trowsers chafed with a noise like a wet + flappin’ sail. He was a shew, and when he got up to his hoss, and held on + to his mane, and first lifted up one leg and then the other to let the + water run out of his boots. I couldn’t hold in no longer, but laid back + and larfed till I thought on my soul I’d fall off into the river too. + </p> + <p> + “‘Elder,’ says I, ‘I thought when a man jined your sect, ‘he could never “<i>fall + off agin</i>,” but I see you ain’t no safer than other folks arter all.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Come,’ says he, ‘let me be, that’s a good soul, it’s bad enough, without + being larfed at, that’s a fact. I can’t account for this caper, no how.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s very strange too, ain’t it! What on airth got into the hoss to make + him act so ugly. Can you tell, Mr. Slick?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why,’ sais I, ‘he don’t know English yet, that’s all. He waited for them + beautiful French oaths that Goodish used. Stop the fust Frenchman you meet + and give him a shillin’ to teach you to swear, and he’ll go like a lamb.’ + </p> + <p> + “I see’d what was the matter of the hoss by his action as soon as we + started; but I warn’t agoin’ for to let on to him about it. I wanted to + see the sport. Well, he took his hoss by the bridle and led him over the + bridge, and he follered kindly, then he mounted, and no hoss could go + better. Arter a little, we came to another bridge agin, and the same play + was acted anew, same coaxin’, same threatenin’, and same thrashin’; at + last pony put down his head, and began to shake his tail, a gettin’ ready + for another bout of kickin’; when Steve got off and led him, and did the + same to every bridge we come to. + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s no use,’ sais I, ‘you must larn them oaths, he’s used to ‘em and + misses them shocking. A sailor, a hoss, and a nigger ain’t no good without + you swear at ‘em; it comes kinder nateral to them, and they look for it, + fact I assure you. Whips wear out, and so do spurs, but a good sneezer of + a cuss hain’t no wear out to it; it’s always the same.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I’ll larn him sunthin’, sais he, ‘when I get him to home, and out o’ + sight that will do him good, and that he won’t forget for one while, I + know.’ + </p> + <p> + “Soon arter this we came to Everett’s public-house on the bay, and I + galloped up to the door, and went as close as I cleverly could on purpose, + and then reined up short and sudden, when whap goes the pony right agin + the side of the house, and nearly killed himself. He never stirred for the + matter of two or three minutes. I actilly did think he had gone for it, + and Steve went right thro’ the winder on to the floor, with a holler + noise, like a log o’ wood thrown on to the deck of a vessel. ‘Eugh!’ says + he, and he cut himself with the broken glass quite ridikilous. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why,’ sais Everett, ‘as I am a livin’ sinner this is “the Grave-digger,” + he’ll kill you, man, as sure as you are born, he is the wickedest hoss + that ever was seen in these clearins here; and he is as blind as a bat + too. No man in Nova Scotia can manage that hoss but Goodish Greevoy, and + he’d manage the devil that feller, for he is man, horse, shark, and + sarpent all in one, that Frenchman. What possessed you to buy such a + varmint as that?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Grave digger!’ said doleful Steve, ‘what is that?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why,’ sais he, ‘they went one day to bury a man, down to Clare did the + French, and when they got to the grave, who should be in it but the pony. + He couldn’t see, and as he was a feedin’ about, he tumbled in head over + heels and they called him always arterwards ‘the Grave-digger.’” + </p> + <p> + “‘Very simple people them French,’ sais I, ‘Elder; they don’t know nothin’ + about hosses, do they? Their priests keep them in ignorance on purpose.’ + </p> + <p> + “Steve winced and squinched his face properly; and said the glass in his + hands hurt him. Well, arter we sot all to rights, we began to jog on + towards Digby. The Elder didn’t say much, he was as chop fallen as a + wounded moose; at last, says he, ‘I’ll ship him to St. John, and sell him. + I’ll put him on board of Captain Ned Leonard’s vessel, as soon as I get to + Digby.’ Well, as I turned my head to answer him, and sot eyes on him agin, + it most sot me a haw, hawin’ a second time, he <i>did</i> look so like Old + Scratch. Oh Hedges! how haggardised he was! His new hat was smashed down + like a cap on the crown of his head, his white cravat was bloody, his face + all scratched, as if he had been clapper-clawed by a woman, and his hands + was bound up with rags, where the glass cut ‘em. The white sand of the + floor of Everett’s parlour had stuck to his damp clothes, and he looked + like an old half corned miller, that was a returnin’ to his wife, arter a + spree. A leetle crest fallen for what he had got, a leetle mean for the + way he looked, and a leetle skeered for what he’d catch, when he got to + home. The way he sloped warn’t no matter. He was a pictur, and a pictur I + must say, I liked to look at. + </p> + <p> + “And now Squire, do you take him off too, ingrave him, and bind him up in + your book, and let others look at it, and put onder it ‘<i>the Elder and + the Grave-digger</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when we got to town, the tide was high, and the vessel jist ready + to cast off, and Steve, knowin’ how skeer’d pony was of the water, got off + to lead him, but the critter guessed it warn’t a bridge, for he smelt salt + water on both sides of him, and ahead too, and budge he wouldn’t. Well, + they beat him most to death, but he beat back agin with his heels, and it + was a drawd fight. Then they goes to the fence and gets a great strong + pole, and puts it across his hams, two men at each eend of the pole, and + shoved away, and shoved away, till they progressed a yard or so; when pony + squatted right down on the pole, throwd over the men, and most broke their + legs, with his weight. + </p> + <p> + “At last, the captain fetched a rope, and fixes it round his neck, with a + slip knot, fastens it to the windlass, and dragged him in as they do an + anchor, and tied him by his bridle to the boom; and then shoved off, and + got under weigh. + </p> + <p> + “Steve and I sot down on the wharf, for it was a beautiful day, and looked + at them driftin’ out in the stream, and hystin’ sail, while the folks was + gettin’ somethin’ ready for us to the inn. + </p> + <p> + “When they had got out into the middle of the channel, took the breeze, + and was all under way, and we was about turnin’ to go back, I saw the pony + loose, he had slipped his bridle, and not likin’ the motion of the vessel, + he jist walked overboard, head fust, with a most a beautiful splunge. + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>A most refreshin’ time</i>,’ said I, ‘Elder, that critter has of it. + I hope <i>that sinner will be saved</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “He sprung right up on eend, as if he had been stung by a galley nipper, + did Steve, ‘Let me alone,’ said he. ‘What have I done to be jobed, that + way? Didn’t I keep within the strict line o’ truth? Did I tell that + Frenchman one mossel of a lie? Answer me, that, will you? I’ve been + cheated awful; but I scorn to take the advantage of any man. You had + better look to your own dealin’s, and let me alone, you pedlin’, cheatin’ + Yankee clockmaker you.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Elder,’ sais I, ‘if you warn’t too mean to rile a man, I’d give you a + kick on your pillion, that would send you a divin’ arter your hoss; but + you ain’t worth it. Don’t call me names tho’, or I’ll settle your coffee + for you, without a fish skin, afore you are ready to swaller it I can <i>tell</i> + you. So keep your mouth shut, my old coon, or your teeth might get + sun-burnt. You think you are angry with me; but you aint; you are angry + with yourself. You know you have showd yourself a proper fool for to come, + for to go, for to talk to a man that has seed so much of the world as I + have, bout “<i>refreshin’ time</i>,” and “<i>outpourin’ of spirit</i>,” + and “<i>makin’ profession</i>” and what not; and you know you showd + yourself an everlastin’ rogue, a meditatin’ of cheatin’ that Frenchman all + summer. It’s biter bit, and I don’t pity you one mossel; it sarves you + right. But look at the grave-digger; he looks to me as if he was a diggin’ + of his own grave in rael right down airnest.’ + </p> + <p> + “The captain havin’ his boat histed, and thinkin’ the hoss would swim + ashore of hisself, kept right straight on; and the hoss swam this way, and + that way, and every way but the right road, jist as the eddies took him. + At last, he got into the ripps off of Johnston’s pint, and they wheeled + him right round and round like a whip-top. Poor pony! he got his match at + last. He struggled, and jumpt, and plunged and fort, like a man, for dear + life. Fust went up his knowin’ little head, that had no ears; and he tried + to jump up and rear out of it, as he used to did out of a mire hole or + honey pot ashore; but there was no bottom there; nothin’ for his hind foot + to spring from; so down he went agin ever so deep: and then he tried + t’other eend, and up went his broad rump, that had no tail; but there was + nothin’ for the fore feet to rest on nother; so he made a summerset, and + as he went over, he gave out a great long end wise kick to the full + stretch of his hind legs. + </p> + <p> + “Poor feller! it was the last kick he ever gave in this world; he sent his + heels straight up on eend, like a pair of kitchen tongs, and the last I + see of him was a bright dazzle, as the sun shined on his iron shoes, afore + the water closed over him for ever. + </p> + <p> + “I railly felt sorry for the poor old ‘grave-digger,’ I did upon my soul, + for hosses and ladies are two things, that a body can’t help likin’. + Indeed, a feller that hante no taste that way ain’t a man at all, in my + opinion. Yes, I felt ugly for poor ‘grave-digger,’ though I didn’t feel + one single bit so for that cantin’ cheatin’, old Elder. So when I turns to + go, sais I, ‘Elder,’ sais I, and I jist repeated his own words—‘I + guess it’s your turn to laugh now, for you have got the best of the + bargain, and no mistake. Goodish and the old mare are jist alike, all + tongue, ain’t they? But these French is a simple people, so they be; they + don’t know nothin’, that’s a fact. Their priests keep ‘em in ignorance a + puppus. + </p> + <p> + “The next time you tell your experience to the great Christian meetin’ to + Goose Creek, jist up and tell ‘em, from beginnin’ to eend, the story of + the—‘<i>Elder and the Grave-digger</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. LOOKING BACK. + </h2> + <p> + In the course of the evening, Mr. Hopewell adverted to his return as a + matter of professional duty, and spoke of it in such a feeling and earnest + manner, as to leave no doubt upon my mind, that we should not be able to + detain him long in this country, unless his attention should be kept fully + occupied by a constant change of scene. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slick expressed to me the same fear, and, knowing that I had been + talking of going to Scotland, entreated me not to be long absent, for he + felt convinced that as soon as he should be left alone, his thoughts and + wishes would at once revert to America. + </p> + <p> + “I will try to keep him up,” said he, “as well as I can, but I can’t do it + alone. If you do go, don’t leave us long. Whenever I find him dull, and + can’t cheer him up no how I can fix it, by talk, or fun, or sight seein’ + or nothin’, I make him vexed, and that excites him, stirs him up with a + pot stick, and is of great sarvice to him. I don’t mean actilly makin’ him + wrathy in airnest, but jist rilin of him for his own good, by pokin’ a + mistake at him. I’ll shew you, presently, how I do it.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as Mr. Hopewell rejoined us, he began to inquire into the probable + duration of our visit to this country, and expressed a wish to return, as + soon as possible, to Slickville. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, tapping him on the shoulder, “as father + used to say, we must ‘right about face’ now. When we are at home let us + think of home, when we are here, let us think of this place. Let us look + a-head, don’t let’s look back, for we can’t see nothin’ there.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Sam,” said he, with a sad and melancholy air, “it would be better + for us all if we looked back oftener than we do. From the errors of the + past, we might rectify our course for the future. Prospective sin is often + clothed in very alluring garments; past sin appears in all its naked + deformity. Looking back, therefore—” + </p> + <p> + “Is very well,” said Mr. Slick, “in the way of preachin’; but lookin’ back + when you can’t see nothin’, as you are now, is only a hurtin’ of your + eyes. I never hear that word, ‘lookin’ back,’ that I don’t think of that + funny story of Lot’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Funny story of Lot’s wife, Sir! Do you call that a funny story, Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You do, Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do, Sir; and I defy you or any other man to say it ain’t a funny + story.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, dear,” said Mr. Hopewell, “that I should have lived to see the + day when you, my son, would dare to speak of a Divine judgment as a funny + story, and that you should presume so to address me.” + </p> + <p> + “A judgment, Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a judgment, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you call the story of Lot’s wife a judgment?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do call the story of Lot’s wife a judgment; a monument of the + Divine wrath for the sin of disobedience.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Mrs. Happy Lot? Do you call her a monument of wrath? Well, well, if + that don’t beat all, Minister. If you had a been a-tyin’ of the night-cap + last night I shouldn’t a wondered at your talkin’ at that pace. But to + call that dear little woman, Mrs. Happy Lot, that dancin’, laughin’ + tormentin’, little critter, a monument of wrath, beats all to immortal + smash.” + </p> + <p> + “Why who are you a-talkin’ of, Sam?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mrs. Happy Lot, the wife of the Honourable Cranbery Lot, of Umbagog, + to be sure. Who did you think I was a-talkin’ of?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I thought you was a-talkin’ of—of—ahem—of + subjects too serious to be talked of in that manner; but I did you wrong, + Sam; I did you injustice. Give me your hand, my boy. It’s better for me to + mistake and apologize, than for you to sin and repent. I don’t think I + ever heard of Mr. Lot, of Umbagog, or of his wife either. Sit down here, + and tell me the story, for ‘with thee conversing, I forget all time.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “I’ll tell you the ins and outs of it; + and a droll story it is too. Miss Lot was the darter of Enoch Mosher, the + rich miser of Goshen; as beautiful a little critter too, as ever slept in + shoe-leather. She looked for all the world like one of the Paris fashion + prints, for she was a parfect pictur’, that’s a fact. Her complexion was + made of white and red roses, mixed so beautiful, you couldn’t tell where + the white eended, or the red begun, natur’ had used the blendin’ brush so + delicate. Her eyes were screw augurs, I tell <i>you</i>; they bored right + into your heart, and kinder agitated you, and made your breath come and + go, and your pulse flutter. I never felt nothin’ like ‘em. When lit up, + they sparkled like lamp reflectors; and at other tunes, they was as soft, + and mild, and clear as dew-drops that hang on the bushes at sun-rise. When + she loved, she loved; and when she hated, she hated about the wickedest + you ever see. Her lips were like heart cherries of the carnation kind; so + plump, and fall, and hard, you felt as if you could fall to and eat ‘em + right up. Her voice was like a grand piany, all sorts o’ power in it; + canary-birds’ notes at one eend, and thunder at t’other, accordin’ to the + humour she was in, for she was a’most a grand bit of stuff was Happy, + she’d put an edge on a knife a’most. She was a rael steel. Her figur’ was + as light as a fairy’s, and her waist was so taper and tiny, it seemed jist + made for puttin’ an arm round in walkin’. She was as ac<i>tive</i> and + springy on her feet as a catamount, and near about as touch me-not a sort + of customer too. She actilly did seem as if she was made out of steel + springs and chicken-hawk. If old Cran, was to slip off the handle, I think + I should make up to her, for she is ‘a salt,’ that’s a fact, a most a + heavenly splice. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the Honourable Cranbery Lot put in for her, won her, and married + her. A good speculation it turned out too, for he got the matter of one + hundred thousand of dollars by her, if he got a cent. As soon as they were + fairly welded, off they sot to take the tour of Europe, and they larfed + and cried, and kissed and quarrelled, and fit and made up all over the + Continent, for her temper was as onsartain as the climate here—rain + one minit and sun the next; but more rain nor sun. + </p> + <p> + “He was a fool, was Cranbery. He didn’t know how to manage her. His bridle + hand warn’t good, I tell you. A spry, mettlesome hoss, and a dull critter + with no action, don’t mate well in harness, that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + “After goin’ every where, and every where else amost, where should they + get to but the Alps. One arternoon, a sincerely cold one it was too, and + the weather, violent slippy, dark overtook them before they reached the + top of one of the highest and steepest of them mountains, and they had to + spend the night at a poor squatter’s shanty. + </p> + <p> + “Well, next mornin’, jist at day-break, and sun-rise on them everlastin’ + hills is tall sun-rise, and no mistake, p’rhaps nothin was ever seen so + fine except the first one, since creation. It takes the rag off quite. + Well, she was an enterprisin’ little toad, was Miss Lot too, afeered of + nothin’ a’most; so nothin’ would sarve her but she must out and have a + scramb up to the tip-topest part of the peak afore breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the squatter there, who was a kind o’ guide, did what he could to + dispersuade her, but all to no purpose; go she would, and a headstrong + woman and a runaway hoss are jist two things it’s out of all reason to try + to stop; The only way is to urge ‘em on, and then, bein’ contr<i>ary</i> + by natur’, they stop of themselves. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ sais the guide, ‘if you will go, marm, do take this pike staff, + marm,’ sais he; (a sort of walkin’-stick with a spike to the eend of it), + ‘for you can’t get either up or down them slopes without it, it is so + almighty slippy there.’ So she took the staff, and off she sot and climbed + and climbed ever so far, till she didn’t look no bigger than a snowbird. + </p> + <p> + “At last she came to a small flat place, like a table, and then she turned + round to rest, get breath, and take a look at the glorious view; and jist + as she hove-to, up went her little heels, and away went her stick, right + over a big parpendicular cliff, hundreds and hundreds, and thousands of + feet deep. So deep, you couldn’t see the bottom for the shadows, for the + very snow looked black down there. There is no way in, it is so steep, but + over the cliff; and no way out, but one, and that leads to t’other world. + I can’t describe it to you, though. I have see’d it since myself. There + are some things too big to lift; some, too big to carry after they be + lifted; and some too grand for the tongue to describe too. There’s a notch + where dictionary can’t go no farther, as well as every other created + thing, that’s a fact. P’rhaps if I was to say it looked like the mould + that that ‘are very peak was cast in, afore it was cold and stiff, and sot + up on eend, I should come as near the mark as any thing I know on. + </p> + <p> + “Well away she slid, feet and hands out, all flat on her face, right away, + arter her pike staff. Most people would have ginn it up as gone goose, and + others been so frightened as not to do any thing at all; or at most only + jist to think of a prayer, for there was no time to say one. + </p> + <p> + “But not so Lot’s ‘wife. She was of a conquerin’ natur’. She never gave + nothin’ up, till she couldn’t hold on no longer. She was one o’ them + critters that go to bed mistress, and rise master; and just as she got to + the edge of the precipice, her head hangin’ over, and her eyes lookin’ + down, and she all but ready to shoot out and launch away into bottomless + space, the ten commandments brought her right short up. Oh, she sais, the + sudden joy of that sudden stop swelled her heart so big, she thought it + would have bust like a byler; and, as it was, the great endurin’ long + breath she drew, arter such an alfired escape, almost killed her at the + ebb, it hurt her so.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Mr. Hopewell, “how did the ten commandments save her? Do you + mean that figuratively, or literally. Was it her reliance on providence, + arising from a conscious observance of the decalogue all her life, or was + it a book containing them, that caught against some thing, and stopt her + descent. It is very interesting. Many a person, Sam, has been saved when + at the brink of destruction, by laying fast hold on the bible. Who can + doubt, that the commandments had a Divine origin? Short, simple and yet + comprehensive; the first four point to our duty to our Maker, the last + six, towards our social duties. In this respect there is a great + similarity of structure, to that excellent prayer given us—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “I beg your pardon, I do, indeed, I don’t + mean that at all; and I do declare and vow now, I wasn’t a playin’ possum + with you, nother. I won’t do it no more, I won’t, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what did you mean then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why I meant her ten fingers, to be sure. When a woman clapper claws her + husband, we have a cant tarm with us boys of Slickville, savin’ she gave + him her ten commandments.” + </p> + <p> + “And a very improper expression too, Sir,” said Mr. Hopewell; “a very + irreverent, indecent, and I may say profane expression; I am quite + shocked. But as you say you didn’t mean it, are sorry for it, and will not + repeat it again, I accept your apology, and rely on your promise. Go on, + Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as I was a savin’, the moment she found herself a coasting of it + that way, flounder fashion, she hung on by her ten com—I mean her + ten fingers, and her ten toes, like grim death to a dead nigger, and it + brought her up jist in time. But how to get back was the question? To let + go the hold of any one hand was sartain death, and there was nobody to + help her, and yet to hold on long that way, she couldn’t, no how she could + fix it. + </p> + <p> + “So what does she do, (for nothin’ equals a woman for contrivances), but + move one finger at a time, and then one toe at a time, till she gets a new + hold, and then crawls backward, like a span-worm, an inch at a hitch. + Well, she works her passage this way, wrong eend foremost, by backin’ of + her paddles for the matter of half an hour or so, till she gets to where + it was roughish, and somethin’ like standin’ ground, when who should come + by but a tall handsome man, with a sort of a half coat, half cloak-like + coverin’ on, fastened round the waist with a belt, and havin’ a hood up, + to ambush the head. + </p> + <p> + “The moment she clapt eyes on him, she called to him for help. ‘Oh,’ sais + she, ‘for heaven’s sake, good man, help me up! Jist take hold of my leg + and draw me back, will you, that’s a good soul?’ And then she held up fust + one leg for him, and then the other, most beseechin’, but nothin’ would + move him. He jist stopt, looked back for a moment and then progressed + agin. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it ryled her considerable. Her eyes actilly snapped with fire, like + a hemlock log at Christmas: (for nothin’ makes a woman so mad as a + parsonal slight, and them little ankles of hern were enough to move the + heart of a stone, and make it jump out o’ the ground, that’s a fact, they + were such fine-spun glass ones), it made her so mad, it gave her fresh + strength; and makin’ two or three onnateral efforts, she got clear back to + the path, and sprung right up on eend, as wicked as a she-bear with a sore + head. But when she got upright agin, she then see’d what a beautiful + frizzle of a fix she was in. She couldn’t hope to climb far; and, indeed, + she didn’t ambition to; she’d had enough of that, for one spell. But + climbin’ up was nothin’, compared to goin’ down hill without her staff; so + what to do, she didn’t know. + </p> + <p> + “At last, a thought struck her. She intarmined to make that man help her, + in spite of him. So she sprung forward for a space, like a painter, for + life or death, and caught right hold of his cloak. ‘Help—help me!’ + said she, ‘or I shall go for it, that’s sartain. Here’s my puss, my rings, + my watch, and all I have got; but oh, help me! for the love of God, help + me, or my flint is fixed for good and all.’ + </p> + <p> + “With that, the man turned round, and took one glance at her, as if he + kinder relented, and then, all at once, wheeled back again, as amazed as + if he was jist born, gave an awful yell, and started off as fast as he + could clip, though that warn’t very tall runnin’ nother, considerin’ the + ground. But she warn’t to be shook off that way. She held fast to his + cloak, like a burr to a sheep’s tail, and raced arter him, screamin’ and + screechin’ like mad; and the more she cried, the louder he yelled, till + the mountains all echoed it and re-echoed it, so that you would have + thought a thousand devils had broke loose, a’most. + </p> + <p> + “Such a gettin’ up stairs you never did see. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they kept up this tantrum for the space of two or three hundred + yards, when they came to a small, low, dismal-lookin’ house, when the man + gave the door a kick, that sent the latch a flyin’ off to the t’other eend + of the room, and fell right in on the floor, on his face, as flat as a + flounder, a groanin’ and a moanin’ like any thing, and lookin’ as mean as + a critter that was sent for, and couldn’t come, and as obstinate as a pine + stump. + </p> + <p> + “‘What ails you?’ sais she, ‘to act like Old Scratch that way? You ought + to be ashamed of yourself, to behave so to a woman. What on airth is there + about me to frighten you so, you great onmannerly, onmarciful, coward, + you. Come, scratch up, this minute.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, the more she talked, the more he groaned; but the devil a word, + good or bad, could she get out of him at all. With that, she stoops down, + and catches up his staff, and says she, ‘I have as great a mind to give + you a jab with this here toothpick, where your mother used to spank you, + as ever I had in all my life. But if you want it, my old ‘coon, you must + come and get it; for if you won’t help me, I shall help myself.’ + </p> + <p> + “Jist at that moment, her eyes being better accustomed to the dim light of + the place, she see’d a man, a sittin’ at the fur eend of the room, with + his back to the wall, larfin’ ready to kill himself. He grinned so, he + showed his corn-crackers from ear to ear. She said, he stript his teeth + like a catamount, he look’d so all mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that encouraged her, for there ain’t much harm in a larfin’ man; + it’s only them that never larf that’s fearfulsome. So sais she ‘My good + man, will you he so kind as to lend me your arm down this awful peak, and + I will reward you handsomely, you may depend.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, he made no answer, nother; and thinkin’ he didn’t onderstand + English, she tried him in Italian, and then in broken French, and then + bungled out a little German; but no, still no answer. He took no more + notice of her and her mister, and senior, and mountsheer, and mynheer, + than if he never heerd them titles, but jist larfed on. + </p> + <p> + “She stopped a minit, and looked at him full in the face, to see what he + meant by all this ongenteel behaviour, when all of a sudden, jist as she + moved one step nearer to him, she saw he was a dead man, and had been so + long there, part of the flesh had dropt off or dried off his face; and it + was that that made him grin that way, like a fox-trap. It was the + bone-house they was in. The place where poor, benighted, snow-squalled + stragglers, that perish on the mountains, are located, for their friends + to come and get them, if they want ‘em; and if there ain’t any body that + knows ‘em or cares for ‘em, why they are left there for ever, to dry into + nothin’ but parchment and atomy, as it’s no joke diggin’ a grave in that + frozen region. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as she see’d this, she never said another blessed word, but jist + walked off with the livin’ man’s pike, and began to poke her way down the + mountain as careful as she cleverly could, dreadful tired, and awful + frighted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she hadn’t gone far, afore she heard her name echoed all round her—Happy! + Happy! Happy! It seemed from the echoes agin, as if there was a hundred + people a yelling it put all at once. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very happy,’ said she, ‘very happy, indeed; guess you’d find it so if + you was here. I know I should feel very happy if I was out of it, that’s + all; for I believe, on my soul, this is harnted ground, and the people in + it are possessed. Oh, if I was only to home, to dear Umbagog agin, no soul + should ever ketch me in this outlandish place any more, <i>I</i> know.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, the sound increased and increased so, like young thunder she was + e’en a’most skeared to death, and in a twitteration all over; and her + knees began to shake so, she expected to go for it every minute; when a + sudden turn of the path show’d her her husband and the poor squatter a + sarchin’ for her. + </p> + <p> + “She was so overcome with fright and joy, she could hardly speak—and + it warn’t a trifle that would toggle her tongue, that’s a fact. It was + some time after she arrived at the house afore she could up and tell the + story onderstandable; and when she did, she had to tell it twice over, + first in short hand, and then in long metre, afore she could make out the + whole bill o’ parcels. Indeed, she hante done tellin’ it yet, and wherever + she is, she works round, and works round, till she gets Europe spoke of, + and then she begins, ‘That reminds me of a most remarkable fact. Jist + after I was married to Mr. Lot, we was to the Alps.’ + </p> + <p> + “If ever you see her, and she begins that way, up hat and cut stick, + double quick, or you’ll find the road over the Alps to Umbagog, a little + the longest you’ve ever travelled, I know. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she had no sooner done than Cranbery jumps up on eend, and sais he + to the guide, ‘Uncle,’ sais he, ‘jist come along with me, that’s a good + feller, will you? We must return that good Samaritan’s’ cane to him; and + as he must be considerable cold there, I’ll jist warm his hide a bit for + him, to make his blood sarculate. If he thinks I’ll put that treatment to + my wife, Miss Lot, into my pocket, and walk off with it, he’s mistaken in + the child, that’s all, Sir. He may be stubbeder than I be, Uncle, that’s a + fact; but if he was twice as stubbed, I’d walk into him like a thousand of + bricks. I’ll give him a taste of my breed. Insultin’ a lady is a weed we + don’t suffer to grow in our fields to Umbagog. Let him be who the devil he + will, log-leg or leather-breeches—green-shirt or blanket-coat—land-trotter + or river-roller, I’ll let him know there is a warrant out arter him, I + know.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Why,’ sais the guide, ‘he couldn’t help himself, no how he could work + it. He is a friar, or a monk, or a hermit, or a pilgrim, or somethin’ or + another of that kind, for there is no eend to them, they are so many + different sorts; but the breed he is of, have a vow never to look at a + woman, or talk to a woman, or touch a woman, and if they do, there is a + penance, as long as into the middle of next week.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Not look at a woman?’ sais Cran, ‘why, what sort of a guess world would + this be without petticoats?—what a superfine superior tarnation fool + he must be, to jine such a tee-total society as that. Mint julip I could + give up, I <i>do</i> suppose, though I had a plaguy sight sooner not do + it, that’s a fact: but as for womankind, why the angeliferous little + torments, there is no livin’ without <i>them</i>. What do you think, + stranger?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Sartainly,’ said Squatter; ‘but seein’ that the man had a vow, why it + warn’t his fault, for he couldn’t do nothin’ else. Where <i>he</i> did + wrong, was <i>to look back</i>; if he hadn’t a <i>looked back</i>, he + wouldn’t have sinned.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, well,’ sais Cran, ‘if that’s the case, it is a hoss of another + colour, that. I won’t look back nother, then. Let him he. But he is + erroneous considerable.’ + </p> + <p> + “So you see, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “where there is nothin’ to be + gained, and harm done, by this retrospection, as you call it, why I think + lookin’ a-head is far better than—<i>lookin’ back</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. CROSSING THE BORDER. + </h2> + <p> + The time had now arrived when it was necessary for me to go to Scotland, + for a few days. I had two very powerful reasons for this excursion:—first, + because an old and valued friend of mine was there, whom I had not met for + many years, and whom I could not think of leaving this country without + seeing again; and secondly, because I was desirous of visiting the + residence of my forefathers on the Tweed, which, although it had passed + out of their possession many years ago, was still endeared to me as their + home, as the scene of the family traditions; and above all, as their + burial place. + </p> + <p> + The grave is the first stage on the journey, from this to the other world. + We are permitted to escort our friends so far, and no further; it is there + we part for ever. It is there the human form is deposited, when mortality + is changed for immortality. This burial place contains no one that I have + ever seen or known; but it contains the remains of those from whom I + derived my lineage and my name. I therefore naturally desired to see it. + </p> + <p> + Having communicated my intention to my two American companions, I was very + much struck with the different manner in which they received the + announcement. + </p> + <p> + “Come back soon, Squire,” said Mr. Slick; “go and see your old friend, if + you must, and go to the old campin’ grounds of your folks; though the + wigwam I expect has gone long ago, but don’t look at anythin’ else. I want + we should visit the country together. I have an idea from what little I + have seed of it, Scotland is over-rated. I guess there is a good deal of + romance about their old times; and that, if we knowed all, their old + lairds warn’t much better, or much richer than our Ingian chiefs; much of + a muchness. Kinder sorter so, and kinder sorter not so, no great odds. + Both hardy, both fierce; both as poor as Job’s Turkey, and both tarnation + proud, at least, that’s my idea to a notch. + </p> + <p> + “I have often axed myself what sort of a gall that splenderiferous, ‘Lady + of the Lake’ of Scott’s was, and I kinder guess she was a red-headed + Scotch heifer, with her hair filled with heather, and feather, and lint, + with no shoes and stockings to her feet, and that + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Her lips apart + Like monument of Grecian art” + </pre> + <p> + meant that she stared with her eyes and mouth wide open, like other county + galls that never see’d nothing before—a regilar screetch owl in + petticoats. And I suspicion, that Mr. Rob Roy was a sort of thievin’ devil + of a white Mohawk, that found it easier to steal cattle, than raise them + himself; and that Loch Katrin, that they make such a touss about, is jist + about equal to a good sizeable duck-pond in our country; at least, that’s + my idea. For I tell you it does not do to follow arter a poet, and take + all he says for gospel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let’s go and see Sawney in his “Ould <i>Reeky</i>.” Airth and seas! + if I have any nose at all, there never was a place so well named as that. + Phew! let me light a cigar to get rid of the fogo of it. + </p> + <p> + “Then let’s cross over and see “Pat at Home;” let’s look into matters and + things there, and see what “Big Dan” is about, with his “association” and + “agitation” and “repail” and “tee-totals.” Let’s see whether it’s John + Bull or Patlander that’s to blame, or both on ‘em; six of one and + half-a-dozen of tother. By Gosh! Minister would talk, more sense in one + day to Ireland, than has been talked there since the rebellion; for common + sense is a word that don’t grow like Jacob’s ladder, in them diggins, I + guess. It’s about, as stunted as Gineral Nichodemus Ott’s corn was. + </p> + <p> + “The Gineral was takin’ a ride with a southerner one day over his farm to + Bangor in Maine, to see his crops, fixin mill privileges and what not, and + the southerner was a turning up his nose at every thing amost, proper + scorney, and braggin’ how things growed on his estate down south. At last + the Gineral’s ebenezer began to rise, and he got as mad as a hatter, and + was intarmed to take a rise out of him. + </p> + <p> + “‘So,’ says he, ‘stranger,’ says he, ‘you talk about your Indgian corn, as + if nobody else raised any but yourself. Now I’ll bet you a thousand + dollars, I have corn that’s growd so wonderful, you can’t reach the top of + it a standin’ on your horse.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Done,’ sais Southener, and ‘Done,’ sais the General, and done it was. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now,’ sais the Giniral, ‘stand up on your saddle like a circus rider, + for the field is round that corner of the wood there.’ And the entire + stranger stood up as stiff as a poker. ‘Tall corn, I guess,’ sais he, ‘if + I can’t reach it, any how, for I can e’en a’most reach the top o’ them + trees. I think I feel them thousand dollars of yourn, a marchin’ quick + step into my pocket, four deep. Reach your corn, to be sure I will. Who + the plague, ever see’d corn so tall, that a man couldn’t reach it a + horseback.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Try it,’ sais the Gineral, as he led him into the field, where the corn + was only a foot high, the land was so monstrous, mean and so beggarly + poor. + </p> + <p> + “‘Reach it,’ sais the Gineral. + </p> + <p> + “‘What a damned Yankee trick,’ sais the Southener. ‘What a take in this + is, ain’t it?’ and he leapt, and hopt, and jumped like a snappin’ turtle, + he was so mad. Yes, common sense to Ireland, is like Indgian corn to + Bangor, it ain’t overly tall growin’, that’s a fact. We must see both + these countries together. It is like the nigger’s pig to the West Indies + “little and dam old.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come back soon, Squire, I have a thousand things, I want to tell you, + and I shall forget one half o’ them, if you don’t; and besides,” said he + in an onder tone, “<i>he</i>” (nodding his head towards Mr. Hopewell,) + “will miss you shockingly. He frets horridly about his flock. He says, + ‘’Mancipation and Temperance have superceded the Scriptures in the States. + That formerly they preached religion there, but now they only preach about + niggers and rum.’ Good bye, Squire.” + </p> + <p> + “You do right, Squire,” said Mr. Hopewell, “to go. That which has to be + done, should be done soon, for we have not always the command of our time. + See your friend, for the claims of friendship are sacred; and see your + family tomb-stones also, for the sight of them, will awaken a train of + reflections in a mind like yours, at once melancholy and elevating; but I + will not deprive you of the pleasure you will derive from first + impressions, by stripping them of their novelty. You will be pleased with + the Scotch; they are a frugal, industrious, moral and intellectual people. + I should like to see their agriculture, I am told it is by far the best in + Europe. + </p> + <p> + “But, Squire, I shall hope to see you soon, for I sometimes think duty + calls me home again. Although my little flock has chosen other shepherds + and quitted my fold, some of them may have seen their error, and wish to + return. And ought I not to be there to receive them? It is true, I am no + longer a labourer in the vineyard, but my heart is there. I should like to + walk round and round the wall that encloses it, and climb up, and look + into it, and talk to them that are at work there. I might give some advice + that would be valuable to them. The blossoms require shelter, and the + fruit requires heat, and the roots need covering in Winter. The vine too + is luxuriant, and must be pruned, or it will produce nothing but wood. It + demands constant care and constant labour; I had decorated the little + place with flowers too, to make it attractive and pleasant. + </p> + <p> + “But, ah me! dissent will pull all these up like weeds, and throw them + out; and scepticism will raise nothing but gaudy annuals. The perennials + will not flourish without cultivating and enriching the ground; <i>their + roots are in the heart</i>. The religion of our Church, which is the same + as this of England, is a religion which inculcates love: filial love + towards God; paternal love to those committed to our care; brotherly love, + to our neighbour, nay, something more than is known by that term in its + common acceptation, for we are instructed to love our neighbour as + ourselves. + </p> + <p> + “We are directed to commence our prayer with “Our Father.” How much of + love, of tenderness, of forbearance, of kindness, of liberality, is + embodied in that word—children: of the same father, members of the + same great human family I Love is the bond of union—love dwelleth in + the heart; and the heart must be cultivated, that the seeds of affection + may germinate in it. + </p> + <p> + “Dissent is cold and sour; it never appeals to the affections, but it + scatters denunciations, and rules by terror. Scepticism is proud and + self-sufficient. It refuses to believe in mysteries and deals in rhetoric + and sophistry, and flatters the vanity, by exalting human reason. My poor + lost flock will see the change, and I fear, feel it too. Besides, absence + is a temporary death. Now I am gone from them, they will forget my + frailties and infirmities, and dwell on what little good might have been + in me, and, perhaps, yearn towards me. + </p> + <p> + “If I was to return, perhaps I could make an impression on the minds of + some, and recall two or three, if not more, to a sense of duty. What a + great thing that would be, wouldn’t it? And if I did, I would get our + bishop to send me a pious, zealous, humble-minded, affectionate, able + young man, as a successor; and I would leave my farm, and orchard, and + little matters, as a glebe for the Church. And who knows but the Lord may + yet rescue Slickville from the inroads of ignorant fanatics, political + dissenters, and wicked infidels? + </p> + <p> + “And besides, my good friend, I have much to say to you, relative to the + present condition and future prospects of this great country. I have lived + to see a few ambitious lawyers, restless demagogues, political preachers, + and unemployed local officers of provincial regiments, agitate and sever + thirteen colonies at one time from the government of England. I have + witnessed the struggle. It was a fearful, a bloody and an unnatural one. + My opinions, therefore, are strong in proportion as my experience is + great. I have abstained on account of their appearing like preconceptions + from saying much to you yet, for I want to see more of this country, and + to be certain, that I am quite right before I speak. + </p> + <p> + “When you return, I will give you my views on some of the great questions + of the day. Don’t adopt them, hear them and compare them with your own. I + would have you think for yourself, for I am an old man now and sometimes I + distrust my powers of mind. + </p> + <p> + “The state of this country you, in your situation, ought to be thoroughly + acquainted with. It is a very perilous one. Its prosperity, its integrity, + nay its existence as a first-rate power, hangs by a thread, and that + thread but little better and stronger than a cotton one. <i>Quem Deus vult + perdere prius dementat</i>. I look in vain for that constitutional vigour, + and intellectual power, which once ruled the destinies of this great + nation. + </p> + <p> + “There is an aberration of intellect, and a want of self-possession here + that alarms me. I say, alarms me, for American as I am by birth, and + republican as I am from the force of circumstances, I cannot but regard + England with great interest, and with great affection. What a beautiful + country! What a noble constitution! What a high minded, intelligent, and + generous people! When the Whigs came into office, the Tories were not a + party, they were the people of England. Where and what are they now? Will + they ever have a lucid interval, or again recognise the sound of their own + name? And yet, Sam, doubtful as the prospect of their recovery is, and + fearful as the consequences of a continuance of their malady appear to be, + one thing is most certain, <i>a Tory government is the proper government + for a monarchy, a suitable one for any country, but it is the only one for + England</i>. I do not mean an ultra one, for I am a moderate man, and all + extremes are equally to be avoided. I mean a temperate, but firm one: + steady to its friends, just to its enemies, and inflexible to all. “When + compelled to yield, it should be by the force of reason, and never by the + power of agitation. Its measures should be actuated by a sense of what is + right, and not what is expedient, for to concede is to recede—to + recede is to evince weakness—and to betray weakness is to invite + attack. + </p> + <p> + “I am a stranger here. I do not understand this new word, Conservatism. I + comprehend the other two, Toryism and Liberalism. The one is a + monarchical, and the other a republican word. The term, Conservatism, I + suppose, designates a party formed out of the moderate men of both sides, + or rather, composed of Low-toned Tories and High Whigs. I do not like to + express a decided opinion yet, but my first impression is always adverse + to mixtures, for a mixture renders impure the elements of which it is + compounded. Every thing will depend on the preponderance of the wholesome + over the deleterious ingredients. I will analyse it carefully. See how one + neutralizes or improves the other, and what the effect of the compound is + likely to be on the constitution. I will request our Ambassador, Everett, + or Sam’s friend, the Minister Extraordinary, Abednego Layman, to introduce + me to Sir Robert Peel, and will endeavour to obtain all possible + information from the best possible source. + </p> + <p> + “On your return I will give you a candid and deliberate opinion.” + </p> + <p> + After a silence of some minutes, during which he walked up and down the + room in a fit of abstraction, he suddenly paused, and said, as if thinking + aloud— + </p> + <p> + “Hem, hem—so you are going to cross the border, eh? That northern + intellect is strong. Able men the Scotch, a little too radical in + politics, and a little too liberal, as it is called, in a matter of much + greater consequence; but a superior people, on the whole. They will give + you a warm reception, will the Scotch. Your name will insure that; and + they are clannish; and another warm reception will, I assure you, await + you here, when, returning, you again <i>Cross the Border</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE IRISH PREFACE. + </h2> + <h3> + Gentle reader, + </h3> + <p> + If an Irishman were asked what a preface was, he would, without hesitation + reply, that it was the last chapter of a book, and we should + unquestionably pronounce that answer to be a bull; for how can prefatory + remarks be valedictory ones? A few moments’ consideration, however, would + induce us to withdraw such a hasty opinion, and convince us that his idea + is, after all, a correct one. It is almost always the part that is last + written, and <i>we</i> perpetrate the bull, by placing it at the beginning + instead of the end of the book, and denominating our parting words + introductory remarks. + </p> + <p> + The result of our arrangement is, that nobody reads it. The public do not + want to hear an apology or explanation, until it first ascertains, whether + the one can be accepted, or the other is required. This contemptuous + neglect arises from two causes, first because it is out of place, and + secondly because it too often contains a great deal of twaddle. + Unfortunately, one half of what is said in this world is unmeaning + compliment. A man who wishes to mark his respect for you, among other + inconvenient methods of shewing it, offers to accompany you to the Hall. + You are in consequence arrested in your progress. You are compelled to + turn on your pursuer, and entreat him not to come to the door. After a + good deal of lost time he is prevailed upon to return. This is not fair. + Every man should be suffered to depart in peace. + </p> + <p> + Now, it is my intention to adopt the Irish definition. The word preface is + a misnomer. What I have to say I shall put into my last chapter, and + assign to it its proper place. I shall also adopt another improvement, on + the usual practice. I shall make it as short as possible, and speak to the + point. + </p> + <p> + My intention then, gentle reader, was when I commenced this work, to write + but one volume, and at some future time to publish a second. The + materials, however, were so abundant, that selection became very + difficult, and compression much more so. To touch as many topics as I + designed, I was compelled to extend it to its present size, and I still + feel that the work is only half done. Whether I shall ever be able to + supply this deficiency I cannot say. I do not doubt your kind reception; I + have experienced too much indulgence and favour at your hands, to suppose + that you will withdraw it from one whom you have honoured with repeated + marks of approbation; but I entertain some fears that I shall not be able + to obtain the time that is necessary for its completion, and that if I can + command the leisure, my health will insist on a prior claim to its + disposal. + </p> + <p> + If, however, I shall be enabled so to do, it is my intention, hereafter to + add another series of the Sayings and Doings of the Attache, so as to make + the work as complete as possible. + </p> + <p> + I am quite confident it is not necessary to add, that the sentiments + uttered by Mr. Slick, are not designed either as an expression of those of + the author, or of the Americans who visit this country. With respect to + myself no disavowal is necessary; but I feel it due to my American + friends, for whose kindness I can never be sufficiently grateful, and + whose good opinion I value too highly to jeopardise it by any + misapprehension, to state distinctly, that I have not the most remote idea + of putting Mr. Slick forward, as a representative of any opinions, but his + own individual ones. They are peculiar to himself. They naturally result + from his shrewdness—knowledge of human nature—quickness of + perception and appreciation of the ridiculous on the one hand; and on the + other from his defective education, ignorance of the usages of society, + and sudden elevation, from the lower walks of life, to a station for which + he was wholly unqualified. + </p> + <p> + I have endeavoured, as far as it was possible, in a work of this kind, to + avoid all personal allusions to <i>private</i> persons, or in any way to + refer to scenes that may be supposed to have such a hearing. Should any + one imagine that he can trace any resemblance, to any private occurrence I + can only assure him that such resemblance is quite accidental. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, I have lost no opportunity of inculcating what I + conceive to be good sound constitutional doctrines. Loyal myself, a great + admirer of the monarchical form of government; attached to British + Institutions, and a devoted advocate for the permanent connexion between + the parent State, and its transatlantic possessions, I have not hesitated + to give utterance to these opinions. Born a Colonist, it is natural I + should have the feelings of one, and if I have obtruded local matters on + the notice of the reader oftener than may be thought necessary, it must be + remembered that an inhabitant of those distant countries has seldom an + opportunity of being heard. I should feel, therefore, if I were to pass + over in silence our claims or our interests, I was affording the best + justification for that neglect, which for the last half century, has + cramped our energies, paralized our efforts, and discouraged and + disheartened ourselves. England is liberal in concessions, and munificent + in her pecuniary grants to us; but is so much engrossed with domestic + politics, that she will bestow upon us neither time nor consideration. + </p> + <p> + It has been my object, therefore, to convey to the public some important + truths, under a humorous cover, which, without the amusement afforded by + the wrapper would never be even looked at. + </p> + <p> + This portion of the work requires no apology. To do as I have done, is a + duty incumbent on any person who has the means of doing good, afforded him + by such an extensive circulation of his works, as I have been honoured + with. + </p> + <p> + I have already expressed some doubts whether I shall be enabled to furnish + a second series of this work or not. In this uncertainty, I will not omit + this, perhaps my only opportunity, of making my most grateful + acknowledgments, for the very great measure of indulgence I have received, + from the public on both sides of the Atlantic, and of expressing a hope + that Mr. Slick, who has been so popular as a Clockmaker may prove himself + equally deserving of favour as “an Attache.” + </p> + <p> + I have the honour to subscribe myself, + </p> + <p> + Your most obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + THE AUTHOR. + </p> + <p> + London, July 1st., 1843. + </p> + <p> + THE END. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Attache, by Thomas Chandler Haliburton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATTACHE *** + +***** This file should be named 7823-h.htm or 7823-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/2/7823/ + +Produced by Gardner Buchanan, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Attache + or, Sam Slick in England, Complete + +Author: Thomas Chandler Haliburton + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7823] +Posting Date: July 23, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATTACHE *** + + + + +Produced by Gardner Buchanan + + + + + +THE ATTACHE + +or, SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. + +By Thomas Chandler Haliburton + + +(Greek Text)--GREEK PROVERB. + +Tell you what, report my speeches if you like, but if you put my talk +in, I'll give you the mitten, as sure as you are born.--SLICKVILLE +TRANSLATION + + + +London, July 3rd, 1843. + +MY DEAR HOPKINSON, + +I have spent so many agreeable hours at Edgeworth heretofore, that my +first visit on leaving London, will be to your hospitable mansion. In +the meantime, I beg leave to introduce to you my "Attache," who will +precede me several days. His politics are similar to your own; I wish I +could say as much in favour of his humour. His eccentricities will stand +in need of your indulgence; but if you can overlook these, I am not +without hopes that his originality, quaint sayings, and queer views of +things in England, will afford you some amusement. At all events, I feel +assured you will receive him kindly; if not for his own merits, at least +for the sake of + +Yours always, + +THE AUTHOR. + +To EDMUND HOPKINSON ESQ. Edgeworth, Gloucestershire. + + + + CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. + + CHAPTER I. UNCORKING A BOTTLE + CHAPTER II. A JUICY DAY IN THE COUNTRY + CHAPTER III. TYING A NIGHT-CAP + CHAPTER IV. HOME AND THE SEA + CHAPTER V. T'OTHER EEND OF THE GUN + CHAPTER VI. SMALL POTATOES AND FEW IN A HILL + CHAPTER VII. A GENTLEMAN AT LARGE + CHAPTER VIII. SEEING LIVERPOOL + CHAPTER IX. CHANGING A NAME + CHAPTER X. THE NELSON MONUMENT + CHAPTER XI. COTTAGES + CHAPTER XII. STEALING THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE + CHAPTER XIII. NATUR' + CHAPTER XIV. THE SOCDOLAGER + CHAPTER XV. DINING OUT + + + CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. + + CHAPTER I. THE NOSE OF A SPY + CHAPTER II. THE PATRON; OR, THE COW'S TAIL + CHAPTER III. ASCOT RACES + CHAPTER IV. THE GANDER PULLING + CHAPTER V. THE BLACK STOLE + CHAPTER VI. THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE'S HORSE + CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN THE COUNTRY + CHAPTER VIII. BUNKUM + CHAPTER IX. THROWING THE LAVENDER + CHAPTER X. AIMING HIGH + CHAPTER XI. A SWOI-REE + CHAPTER XII. TATTERSALL'S + CHAPTER XIII. LOOKING BACK + CHAPTER XIV. CROSSING THE BORDER + CHAPTER XV. THE IRISH PREFACE + + + + +THE ATTACHE; OR SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. + + + + +CHAPTER I. UNCORKING A BOTTLE. + +We left New York in the afternoon of -- day of May, 184-, and embarked +on board of the good Packet ship "Tyler" for England. Our party +consisted of the Reverend Mr. Hopewell, Samuel Slick, Esq., myself, and +Jube Japan, a black servant of the Attache. + +I love brevity--I am a man of few words, and, therefore, +constitutionally economical of them; but brevity is apt to degenerate +into obscurity. Writing a book, however, and book-making, are two very +different things: "spinning a yarn" is mechanical, and book-making +savours of trade, and is the employment of a manufacturer. The author +by profession, weaves his web by the piece, and as there is much +competition in this branch of trade, extends it over the greatest +possible surface, so as to make the most of his raw material. Hence +every work of fancy is made to reach to three volumes, otherwise it will +not pay, and a manufacture that does not requite the cost of production, +invariably and inevitably terminates in bankruptcy. A thought, +therefore, like a pound of cotton, must be well spun out to be valuable. +It is very contemptuous to say of a man, that he has but one idea, but +it is the highest meed of praise that can be bestowed on a book. A man, +who writes thus, can write for ever. + +Now, it is not only not my intention to write for ever, or as Mr. Slick +would say "for everlastinly;" but to make my bow and retire very soon +from the press altogether. I might assign many reasons for this modest +course, all of them plausible, and some of them indeed quite dignified. +I like dignity: any man who has lived the greater part of his life in +a colony is so accustomed to it, that he becomes quite enamoured of it, +and wrapping himself up in it as a cloak, stalks abroad the "observed of +all observers." I could undervalue this species of writing if I +thought proper, affect a contempt for idiomatic humour, or hint at the +employment being inconsistent with the grave discharge of important +official duties, which are so distressingly onerous, as not to leave +me a moment for recreation; but these airs, though dignified, will +unfortunately not avail me. I shall put my dignity into my pocket, +therefore, and disclose the real cause of this diffidence. + +In the year one thousand eight hundred and fourteen, I embarked at +Halifax on board the Buffalo store-ship for England. She was a noble +teak built ship of twelve or thirteen hundred tons burden, had excellent +accommodation, and carried over to merry old England, a very merry party +of passengers, _quorum parva pars fui_, a youngster just emerged from +college. + +On the banks of Newfoundland we were becalmed, and the passengers amused +themselves by throwing overboard a bottle, and shooting at it with ball. +The guns used for this occasion, were the King's muskets, taken from the +arm-chest on the quarter-deck. The shooting was execrable. It was hard +to say which were worse marksmen, the officers of the ship, or the +passengers. Not a bottle was hit: many reasons were offered for this +failure, but the two principal ones were, that the muskets were bad, and +that it required great skill to overcome the difficulty occasioned by +both, the vessel and the bottle being in motion at the same time, and +that motion dissimilar. + +I lost my patience. I had never practised shooting with ball; I had +frightened a few snipe, and wounded a few partridges, but that was +the extent of my experience. I knew, however, that I could not by any +possibility shoot worse than every body else had done, and might by +accident shoot better. + +"Give me a gun, Captain," said I, "and I will shew you how to uncork +that bottle." + +I took the musket, but its weight was beyond my strength of arm. I was +afraid that I could not hold it out steadily, even for a moment, it was +so very heavy--I threw it up with a desperate effort and fired. The neck +of the bottle flew up in the air a full yard, and then disappeared. I +was amazed myself at my success. Every body was surprised, but as every +body attributed it to long practice, they were not so much astonished as +I was, who knew it was wholly owing to chance. It was a lucky hit, and I +made the most of it; success made me arrogant, and boy-like, I became a +boaster. + +"Ah," said I coolly, "you must be born with a rifle in your hand, +Captain, to shoot well. Every body shoots well in America. I do not call +myself a good shot. I have not had the requisite experience; but there +are those who can take out the eye of a squirrel at a hundred yards." + +"Can you see the eye of a squirrel at that distance?" said the Captain, +with a knowing wink of his own little ferret eye. + +That question, which raised a general laugh at my expense, was a +puzzler. The absurdity of the story, which I had heard a thousand times, +never struck me so forcibly. But I was not to be pat down so easily. + +"See it!" said I, "why not? Try it and you will find your sight improve +with your shooting. Now, I can't boast of being a good marksman myself; +my studies" (and here I looked big, for I doubted if he could even read, +much less construe a chapter in the Greek Testament) "did not leave me +much time. A squirrel is too small an object for all but an experienced +man, but a "_large_" mark like a quart bottle can easily be hit at a +hundred yards--that is nothing." + +"I will take you a bet," said he, "of a doubloon, you do not do it +again?" + +"Thank you," I replied with great indifference: "I never bet, and +besides, that gun has so injured my shoulder, that I could not, if I +would." + +By that accidental shot, I obtained a great name as a marksman, and by +prudence I retained it all the voyage. This is precisely my case now, +gentle reader. I made an accidental hit with the Clockmaker: when he +ceases to speak, I shall cease to write. The little reputation I then +acquired, I do not intend to jeopardize by trying too many experiments. +I know that it was chance--many people think it was skill. If they +choose to think so, they have a right to their opinion, and that opinion +is fame. I value this reputation too highly not to take care of it. + +As I do not intend then to write often, I shall not wire-draw my +subjects, for the mere purpose of filling my pages. Still a book should +be perfect within itself, and intelligible without reference to other +books. Authors are vain people, and vanity as well as dignity is +indigenous to a colony. Like a pastry-cook's apprentice, I see so much +of both their sweet things around me daily, that I have no appetite for +either of them. + +I might perhaps be pardoned, if I took it for granted, that the +dramatis personae of this work were sufficiently known, not to require +a particular introduction. Dickens assumed the fact that his book on +America would travel wherever the English language was spoken, and, +therefore, called it "Notes for General Circulation." Even Colonists +say, that this was too bad, and if they say so, it must be so. I shall, +therefore, briefly state, who and what the persons are that composed our +travelling party, as if they were wholly unknown to fame, and then leave +them to speak for themselves. + +The Reverend Mr. Hopewell is a very aged clergyman of the Church of +England, and was educated at Cambridge College, in Massachusetts. +Previously to the revolution, he was appointed rector of a small parish +in Connecticut. When the colonies obtained their independence, he +remained with his little flock in his native land, and continued to +minister to their spiritual wants until within a few years, when his +parishioners becoming Unitarians, gave him his dismissal. Affable in +his manners and simple in his habits, with a mind well stored with human +lore, and a heart full of kindness for his fellow-creatures, he was at +once an agreeable and an instructive companion. Born and educated in the +United States, when they were British dependencies, and possessed of +a thorough knowledge of the causes which led to the rebellion, and the +means used to hasten the crisis, he was at home on all colonial +topics; while his great experience of both monarchical and democratical +governments, derived from a long residence in both, made him a most +valuable authority on politics generally. + +Mr. Samuel Slick is a native of the same parish, and received his +education from Mr. Hopewell. I first became acquainted with him while +travelling in Nova Scotia. He was then a manufacturer and vendor of +wooden clocks. My first impression of him was by no means favourable. He +forced himself most unceremoniously into my company and conversation. I +was disposed to shake him off, but could not. Talk he would, and as his +talk was of that kind, which did not require much reply on my part, he +took my silence for acquiescence, and talked on. I soon found that he +was a character; and, as he knew every part of the lower colonies, and +every body in them, I employed him as my guide. + +I have made at different times three several tours with him, the results +of which I have given in three several series of a work, entitled the +"Clockmaker, or the Sayings and Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick." Our last +tour terminated at New York, where, in consequence of the celebrity he +obtained from these "Sayings and Doings" he received the appointment of +Attache to the American Legation at the Court of St. James's. The +object of this work is to continue the record of his observations and +proceedings in England. + +The third person of the party, gentle reader, is your humble servant, +Thomas Poker, Esquire, a native of Nova Scotia, and a retired member of +the Provincial bar. My name will seldom appear in these pages, as I am +uniformly addressed by both my companions as "Squire," nor shall I have +to perform the disagreeable task of "reporting my own speeches," for +naturally taciturn, I delight in listening rather than talking, and +modestly prefer the duties of an amanuensis, to the responsibilities of +original composition. + +The last personage is Jube Japan, a black servant of the Attache. + +Such are the persons who composed the little party that embarked at New +York, on board the Packet ship "Tyler," and sailed on the -- of May, +184-, for England. + +The motto prefixed to this work + + (Greek Text) + +sufficiently explains its character. Classes and not individuals have +been selected for observation. National traits are fair subjects for +satire or for praise, but personal peculiarities claim the privilege of +exemption in right of that hospitality, through whose medium they have +been alone exhibited. Public topics are public property; every body has +a right to use them without leave and without apology. It is only when +we quit the limits of this "common" and enter upon "private grounds," +that we are guilty of "a trespass." This distinction is alike obvious to +good sense and right feeling. I have endeavoured to keep it constantly +in view; and if at any time I shall be supposed to have erred (I say +"supposed," for I am unconscious of having done so) I must claim the +indulgence always granted to involuntary offences. + +Now the patience of my reader may fairly be considered a "private +right." I shall, therefore, respect its boundaries and proceed at +once with my narrative, having been already quite long enough about +"uncorking a bottle." + + + + +CHAPTER II. A JUICY DAY IN THE COUNTRY. + +All our preparations for the voyage having been completed, we spent +the last day at our disposal, in visiting Brooklyn. The weather was +uncommonly fine, the sky being perfectly clear and unclouded; and though +the sun shone out brilliantly, the heat was tempered by a cool, bracing, +westwardly wind. Its influence was perceptible on the spirits of every +body on board the ferry-boat that transported us across the harbour. + +"Squire," said Mr. Slick, aint this as pretty a day as you'll see atween +this and Nova Scotia?--You can't beat American weather, when it chooses, +in no part of the world I've ever been in yet. This day is a tip-topper, +and it's the last we'll see of the kind till we get back agin, _I_ know. +Take a fool's advice, for once, and stick to it, as long as there is any +of it left, for you'll see the difference when you get to England. There +never was so rainy a place in the univarse, as that, I don't think, +unless it's Ireland, and the only difference atween them two is that it +rains every day amost in England, and in Ireland it rains every day and +every night too. It's awful, and you must keep out of a country-house in +such weather, or you'll go for it; it will kill you, that's sartain. I +shall never forget a juicy day I once spent in one of them dismal old +places. I'll tell you how I came to be there. + +"The last time I was to England, I was a dinin' with our consul +to Liverpool, and a very gentleman-like old man he was too; he was +appointed by Washington, and had been there ever since our glorious +revolution. Folks gave him a great name, they said he was a credit to +us. Well, I met at his table one day an old country squire, that lived +somewhere down in Shropshire, close on to Wales, and says he to me, +arter cloth was off and cigars on, 'Mr. Slick,' says he, 'I'll be very +glad to see you to Norman Manor,' (that was the place where he staid, +when he was to home). 'If you will return with me I shall be glad +to shew you the country in my neighbourhood, which is said to be +considerable pretty.' + +"'Well,' says I, 'as I have nothin' above particular to see to, I don't +care if I do go.' + +"So off we started; and this I will say, he was as kind as he cleverly +knew how to be, and that is sayin' a great deal for a man that didn't +know nothin' out of sight of his own clearin' hardly. + +"Now, when we got there, the house was chock full of company, and +considerin' it warn't an overly large one, and that Britishers won't +stay in a house, unless every feller gets a separate bed, it's a wonder +to me, how he stowed away as many as he did. Says he, 'Excuse your +quarters, Mr. Slick, but I find more company nor I expected here. In +a day or two, some on 'em will be off, and then you shall be better +provided.' + +"With that I was showed up a great staircase, and out o' that by a +door-way into a narrer entry and from that into an old T like looking +building, that stuck out behind the house. It warn't the common company +sleepin' room, I expect, but kinder make shifts, tho' they was good +enough too for the matter o' that; at all events I don't want no better. + +"Well, I had hardly got well housed a'most, afore it came on to rain, as +if it was in rael right down airnest. It warn't just a roarin', racin', +sneezin' rain like a thunder shower, but it kept a steady travellin' +gait, up hill and down dale, and no breathin' time nor batin' spell. +It didn't look as if it would stop till it was done, that's a fact. But +still as it was too late to go out agin that arternoon, I didn't think +much about it then. I hadn't no notion what was in store for me next +day, no more nor a child; if I had, I'd a double deal sooner hanged +myself, than gone brousing in such place as that, in sticky weather. + +"A wet day is considerable tiresome, any where or any way you can fix +it; but it's wus at an English country house than any where else, cause +you are among strangers, formal, cold, gallus polite, and as thick in +the head-piece as a puncheon. You hante nothin' to do yourself and they +never have nothin' to do; they don't know nothin' about America, and +don't want to. Your talk don't interest them, and they can't talk to +interest nobody but themselves; all you've got to do, is to pull out +your watch and see how time goes; how much of the day is left, and then +go to the winder and see how the sky looks, and whether there is any +chance of holdin' up or no. Well, that time I went to bed a little +airlier than common, for I felt considerable sleepy, and considerable +strange too; so as soon as I cleverly could, I off and turned in. + +"Well I am an airly riser myself. I always was from a boy, so I waked up +jist about the time when day ought to break, and was a thinkin' to get +up; but the shutters was too, and it was as dark as ink in the room, and +I heer'd it rainin' away for dear life. 'So,' sais I to myself, 'what +the dogs is the use of gittin' up so airly? I can't get out and get a +smoke, and I can't do nothin' here; so here goes for a second nap.' Well +I was soon off agin in a most a beautiful of a snore, when all at once +I heard thump-thump agin the shutter--and the most horrid noise I ever +heerd since I was raised; it was sunthin' quite onairthly. + +"'Hallo!' says I to myself, 'what in natur is all this hubbub about? +Can this here confounded old house be harnted? Is them spirits that's +jabbering gibberish there, or is I wide awake or no?' So I sets right +up on my hind legs in bed, rubs my eyes, opens my ears and listens +agin, when whop went every shutter agin, with a dead heavy sound, like +somethin' or another thrown agin 'em, or fallin' agin 'em, and then +comes the unknown tongues in discord chorus like. Sais I, 'I know now, +it's them cussed navigators. They've besot the house, and are a givin' +lip to frighten folks. It's regular banditti.' + +"So I jist hops out of bed, and feels for my trunk, and outs with +my talkin' irons, that was all ready loaded, pokes my way to the +winder--shoves the sash up and outs with the shutter, ready to let slip +among 'em. And what do you think it was?--Hundreds and hundreds of them +nasty, dirty, filthy, ugly, black devils of rooks, located in the trees +at the back eend of the house. Old Nick couldn't have slept near 'em; +caw caw, caw, all mixt up together in one jumble of a sound, like +"jawe." + +"You black, evil-lookin', foul-mouthed villains,' sais I, 'I'd like +no better sport than jist to sit here, all this blessed day with these +pistols, and drop you one arter another, _I_ know.' But they was pets, +was them rooks, and of course like all pets, everlastin' nuisances to +every body else. + +"Well, when a man's in a feeze, there's no more sleep that hitch; so I +dresses and sits up; but what was I to do? It was jist half past four, +and as it was a rainin' like every thing, I know'd breakfast wouldn't be +ready till eleven o'clock, for nobody wouldn't get up if they could help +it--they wouldn't be such fools; so there was jail for six hours and a +half. + +"Well, I walked up and down the room, as easy as I could, not to waken +folks; but three steps and a round turn makes you kinder dizzy, so I +sits down again to chaw the cud of vexation. + +"'Ain't this a handsum fix?' sais I, 'but it sarves you right, what +busniss had you here at all? you always was a fool, and always will be +to the eend of the chapter.--'What in natur are you a scoldin' for?' +sais I: 'that won't mend the matter; how's time? They must soon be a +stirrin' now, I guess.' Well, as I am a livin' sinner, it was only five +o'clock; 'oh dear,' sais I, 'time is like women and pigs the more you +want it to go, the more it won't. What on airth shall I do?--guess, I'll +strap my rasor.' + +"Well, I strapped and strapped away, until it would cut a single hair +pulled strait up on eend out o' your head, without bendin' it--take it +off slick. 'Now,' sais I, 'I'll mend my trowsers I tore, a goin' to +see the ruin on the road yesterday; so I takes out Sister Sall's little +needle-case, and sows away till I got them to look considerable jam +agin; 'and then,' sais I, 'here's a gallus button off, I'll jist fix +that,' and when that was done, there was a hole to my yarn sock, so I +turned too and darned that. + +"'Now,' sais I, 'how goes it? I'm considerable sharp set. It must be +gettin' tolerable late now.' It wanted a quarter to six. 'My! sakes,' +sais I, 'five hours and a quarter yet afore feedin' time; well if that +don't pass. What shall I do next?' 'I'll tell you what to do,' sais I, +'smoke, that will take the edge of your appetite off, and if they don't +like it, they may lump it; what business have they to keep them horrid +screetchin' infarnal, sleepless rooks to disturb people that way?' Well, +I takes a lucifer, and lights a cigar, and I puts my head up the chimbly +to let the smoke off, and it felt good, I promise _you_. I don't know as +I ever enjoyed one half so much afore. It had a rael first chop flavour +had that cigar. + +"'When that was done,' sais I, 'What do you say to another?' 'Well, I +don't know,' sais I, 'I should like it, that's a fact; but holdin' of +my head crooked up chimbly that way, has a' most broke my neck; I've got +the cramp in it like.' + +"So I sot, and shook my head first a one side and then the other, and +then turned it on its hinges as far as it would go, till it felt about +right, and then I lights another, and puts my head in the flue again. + +"Well, smokin' makes, a feller feel kinder good-natured, and I began to +think it warn't quite so bad arter all, when whop went my cigar right +out of my mouth into my bosom, atween the shirt and the skin, and burnt +me like a gally nipper. Both my eyes was fill'd at the same time, and +I got a crack on the pate from some critter or another that clawed and +scratched my head like any thing, and then seemed to empty a bushel of +sut on me, and I looked like a chimbly sweep, and felt like old Scratch +himself. My smoke had brought down a chimbly swaller, or a martin, or +some such varmint, for it up and off agin' afore I could catch it, to +wring its infarnal neck off, that's a fact. + +"Well, here was somethin' to do, and no mistake: here was to clean and +groom up agin' till all was in its right shape; and a pretty job it was, +I tell you. I thought I never should get the sut out of my hair, and +then never get it out of my brush again, and my eyes smarted so, they +did nothing but water, and wink, and make faces. But I did; I worked on +and worked on, till all was sot right once more. + +"'Now,' sais I, 'how's time?' 'half past seven,' sais I, 'and three +hours and a half more yet to breakfast. Well,' sais I, 'I can't stand +this--and what's more I won't: I begin to get my Ebenezer up, and feel +wolfish. I'll ring up the handsum chamber-maid, and just fall to, and +chaw her right up--I'm savagerous.'* 'That's cowardly,' sais I, 'call +the footman, pick a quarrel with him and kick him down stairs, speak but +one word to him, and let that be strong enough to skin the coon arter it +has killed him, the noise will wake up folks _I_ know, and then we shall +have sunthin' to eat.' + +[* Footnote: The word "savagerous" is not of "Yankee" but of "Western +origin."--Its use in this place is best explained by the following +extract from the Third Series of the Clockmaker. "In order that the +sketch which I am now about to give may be fully understood, it may +be necessary to request the reader to recollect that Mr. Slick is a +_Yankee_, a designation the origin of which is now not very obvious, +but it has been assumed by, and conceded by common consent to, the +inhabitants of New England. It is a name, though sometimes satirically +used, of which they have great reason to be proud, as it is descriptive +of a most cultivated, intelligent, enterprising, frugal, and industrious +population, who may well challenge a comparison with the inhabitants of +any other country in the world; but it has only a local application. + +"The United States cover an immense extent of territory, and the +inhabitants of different parts of the Union differ as widely in +character, feelings, and even in appearance, as the people of different +countries usually do. These sections differ also in dialect and in +humour, as much as in other things, and to as great, if not a greater +extent, than the natives of different parts of Great Britain vary from +each other. It is customary in Europe to call all Americans, Yankees; +but it is as much a misnomer as it would be to call all Europeans +Frenchmen. Throughout these works it will be observed, that Mr. Slick's +pronunciation is that of the Yankee, or an inhabitant of the _rural +districts_ of New England. His conversation is generally purely so; but +in some instances he uses, as his countrymen frequently do from choice, +phrases which, though Americanisms, are not of Eastern origin. Wholly +to exclude these would be to violate the usages of American life; to +introduce them oftener would be to confound two dissimilar dialects, +and to make an equal departure from the truth. Every section has its own +characteristic dialect, a very small portion of which it has imparted +to its neighbours. The dry, quaint humour of New England is occasionally +found in the west, and the rich gasconade and exaggerative language of +the west migrates not unfrequently to the east. This idiomatic +exchange is perceptibly on the increase. It arises from the travelling +propensities of the Americans, and the constant intercourse mutually +maintained by the inhabitants of the different States. A droll or +an original expression is thus imported and adopted, and, though not +indigenous, soon becomes engrafted on the general stock of the language +of the country."--3rd Series, p. 142.] + +"I was ready to bile right over, when as luck would have it, the rain +stopt all of a sudden, the sun broke out o' prison, and I thought I +never seed any thing look so green and so beautiful as the country +did. 'Come,' sais I, 'now for a walk down the avenue, and a comfortable +smoke, and if the man at the gate is up and stirrin', I will just pop in +and breakfast with him and his wife. There is some natur there, but here +it's all cussed rooks and chimbly swallers, and heavy men and fat +women, and lazy helps, and Sunday every day in the week.' So I fills my +cigar-case and outs into the passage. + +"But here was a fix! One of the doors opened into the great staircase, +and which was it? 'Ay,' sais I, 'which is it, do you know?' 'Upon my +soul, I don't know,' sais I; 'but try, it's no use to be caged up here +like a painter, and out I will, that's a fact.' + +"So I stops and studies, 'that's it,' sais I, and I opens a door: it was +a bedroom--it was the likely chambermaid's. + +"'Softly, Sir,' sais she, a puttin' of her finger on her lip, 'don't +make no noise; Missus will hear you.' + +"'Yes,' sais I, 'I won't make no noise;' and I outs and shuts the door +too arter me gently. + +"'What next?' sais I; 'why you fool, you,' sais I, 'why didn't you ax +the sarvant maid, which door it was?' 'Why I was so conflastrigated,' +sais I, 'I didn't think of it. Try that door,' well I opened another, it +belonged to one o' the horrid hansum stranger galls that dined at table +yesterday. When she seed me, she gave a scream, popt her head onder the +clothes, like a terrapin, and vanished--well I vanished too. + +"'Ain't this too bad?' sais I; 'I wish I could open a man's door, I'd +lick him out of spite; I hope I may be shot if I don't, and I doubled +up my fist, for I didn't like it a spec, and opened another door--it was +the housekeeper's. 'Come,' sais I, 'I won't be balked no more.' She sot +up and fixed her cap. A woman never forgets the becomins. + +"'Anything I can do for you, Sir?' sais she, and she raelly did look +pretty; all good natur'd people, it appears to me, do look so. + +"'Will you be so good as to tell me, which door leads to the staircase, +Marm?' sais I. + +"'Oh, is that all?' sais she, (I suppose, she thort I wanted her to +get up and get breakfast for me,) 'it's the first on the right, and she +fixed her cap agin' and laid down, and I took the first on the right and +off like a blowed out candle. There was the staircase. I walked down, +took my hat, onbolted the outer door, and what a beautiful day was +there. I lit my cigar, I breathed freely, and I strolled down the +avenue. + +"The bushes glistened, and the grass glistened, and the air was sweet, +and the birds sung, and there was natur' once more. I walked to the +lodge; they had breakfasted had the old folks, so I chatted away with +them for a considerable of a spell about matters and things in general, +and then turned towards the house agin'. 'Hallo!' sais I, 'what's this? +warn't that a drop of rain?' I looks up, it was another shower by Gosh. +I pulls foot for dear life: it was tall walking you may depend, but the +shower wins, (comprehens_ive_ as my legs be), and down it comes, as hard +as all possest. 'Take it easy, Sam,' sais I, 'your flint is fixed; you +are wet thro'--runnin' won't dry you,' and I settled down to a careless +walk, quite desperate. + +"'Nothin' in natur', unless it is an Ingin, is so treacherous as the +climate here. It jist clears up on purpose I do believe, to tempt you +out without your umbreller, and jist as sure as you trust it and leave +it to home, it clouds right up, and sarves you out for it--it does +indeed. What a sight of new clothes I've spilte here, for the rain has a +sort of dye in it. It stains so, it alters the colour of the cloth, for +the smoke is filled with gas and all sorts of chemicals. Well, back I +goes to my room agin' to the rooks, chimbly swallers, and all, leavin' +a great endurin' streak of wet arter me all the way, like a cracked +pitcher that leaks; onriggs, and puts on dry clothes from head to foot. + +"By this time breakfast is ready; but the English don't do nothin' like +other folks; I don't know whether it's affectation, or bein' wrong in +the head--a little of both I guess. Now where do you suppose the solid +part of breakfast is, Squire? Why, it's on the side-board--I hope I may +be shot if it ain't--well, the tea and coffee are on the table, to make +it as onconvenient as possible. + +"Says I, to the lady of the house, as I got up to help myself, for I was +hungry enough to make beef ache I know. 'Aunty,' sais I, 'you'll excuse +me, but why don't you put the eatables on the table, or else put the +tea on the side-board? They're like man and wife, they don't ought to be +separated, them two.' + +"She looked at me, oh what a look of pity it was", as much as to +say, 'Where have you been all your born days, not to know better nor +that?--but I guess you don't know better in the States--how could you +know any thing there?' But she only said it was the custom here, for she +was a very purlite old woman, was Aunty. + +"Well sense is sense, let it grow where it will, and I guess we raise +about the best kind, which is common sense, and I warn't to be put down +with short metre, arter that fashion. So I tried the old man; sais I, +'Uncle,' sais I, 'if you will divorce the eatables from the drinkables +that way, why not let the servants come and tend. It's monstrous +onconvenient and ridikilous to be a jumpin' up for everlastinly that +way; you can't sit still one blessed minit.' + +"'We think it pleasant,' said he, 'sometimes to dispense with their +attendance.' + +"'Exactly,' sais I, 'then dispense with sarvants at dinner, for when +the wine is in, the wit is out.' (I said that to compliment him, for the +critter had no wit in at no time,) 'and they hear all the talk. But at +breakfast every one is only half awake, (especially when you rise so +airly as you do in this country,' sais I, but the old critter couldn't +see a joke, even if he felt it, and he didn't know I was a funnin'.) +'Folks are considerably sharp set at breakfast,' sais I, 'and not very +talkat_ive_. That's the right time to have sarvants to tend on you.' + +"'What an idea!' said he, and he puckered up his pictur, and the way he +stared was a caution to an owl. + +"Well, we sot and sot till I was tired, so thinks I, 'what's next?' for +it's rainin' agin as hard as ever.' So I took a turn in the study +to sarch for a book, but there was nothin' there, but a Guide to the +Sessions, Burn's Justice, and a book of London club rules, and two or +three novels. He said he got books from the sarkilatin' library. + +"'Lunch is ready.' + +"'What, eatin' agin? My goody!' thinks I, 'if you are so fond of it, why +the plague don't you begin airly? If you'd a had it at five o'clock this +morning, I'd a done justice to it; now I couldn't touch it if I was to +die.' + +"There it was, though. Help yourself, and no thanks, for there is no +sarvants agin. The rule here is, no talk no sarvants--and when it's all +talk, it's all sarvants. + +"Thinks I to myself, 'now, what shall I do till dinner-time, for it +rains so there is no stirrin' out?--Waiter, where is eldest son?--he and +I will have a game of billiards, I guess.' + +"'He is laying down, sir.' + +"'Shows his sense,' sais I, 'I see, he is not the fool I took him to be. +If I could sleep in the day, I'de turn in too. Where is second son?' + +"'Left this mornin' in the close carriage, sir.' + +"'Oh cuss him, it was him then was it?' + +"'What, Sir?' + +"'That woke them confounded rooks up, out o' their fust nap, and kick't +up such a bobbery. Where is the Parson?' + +"'Which one, Sir?' + +"'The one that's so fond of fishing.' + +"'Ain't up yet, Sir.' + +"'Well, the old boy, that wore breeches.' + +"Out on a sick visit to one of the cottages, Sir.' + +"When he comes in, send him to me, I'm shockin' sick.' + +"With that I goes to look arter the two pretty galls in the drawin' +room; and there was the ladies a chatterin' away like any thing. The +moment I came in it was as dumb as a quaker's meetin'. They all hauled +up at once, like a stage-coach to an inn-door, from a hand-gallop to a +stock still stand. I seed men warn't wanted there, it warn't the custom +so airly, so I polled out o' that creek, starn first. They don't like +men in the mornin', in England, do the ladies; they think 'em in the +way. + +"'What on airth, shall I do?' says I, 'it's nothin' but rain, rain, +rain--here in this awful dismal country. Nobody smokes, nobody talks, +nobody plays cards, nobody fires at a mark, and nobody trades; only +let me get thro' this juicy day, and I am done: let me get out of this +scrape, and if I am caught agin, I'll give you leave to tell me of +it, in meetin'. It tante pretty, I do suppose to be a jawin' with +the butler, but I'll make an excuse for a talk, for talk comes kinder +nateral to me, like suction to a snipe.' + +"'Waiter?' + +"'Sir.' + +"'Galls don't like to be tree'd here of a mornin' do they?' + +"'Sir.' + +"'It's usual for the ladies,' sais I, 'to be together in the airly part +of the forenoon here, ain't it, afore the gentlemen jine them?' + +"'Yes, Sir.' + +"'It puts me in mind,' sais I, 'of the old seals down to Sable +Island--you know where Sable Isle is, don't you?' + +"'Yes, Sir, it's in the cathedral down here.' + +"'No, no, not that, it's an island on the coast of Nova Scotia. You know +where that is sartainly.' + +"'I never heard of it, Sir.' + +"'Well, Lord love you! you know what an old seal is?' + +"'Oh, yes, sir, I'll get you my master's in a moment.' + +And off he sot full chisel. + +"Cus him! he is as stupid as a rook, that crittur, it's no use to tell +him a story, and now I think of it, I will go and smoke them black imps +of darkness,--the rooks.' + +"So I goes up stairs, as slowly as I cleverly could, jist liftin' one +foot arter another as if it had a fifty-six tied to it, on pupus to +spend time; lit a cigar, opened the window nearest the rooks, and +smoked, but oh the rain killed all the smoke in a minite; it didn't even +make one on 'em sneeze. 'Dull musick this, Sam,' sais I, 'ain't it? Tell +you what: I'll put on my ile-skin, take an umbreller and go and talk to +the stable helps, for I feel as lonely as a catamount, and as dull as a +bachelor beaver. So I trampousses off to the stable, and says I to the +head man, 'A smart little hoss that,' sais I, 'you are a cleaning of: he +looks like a first chop article that.' + +"'Y mae',' sais he. + +"'Hullo,' sais I, 'what in natur' is this? Is it him that can't speak +English, or me that can't onderstand? for one on us is a fool, that's +sartain. I'll try him agin. + +"So I sais to him, 'He looks,' sais I, 'as if he'd trot a considerable +good stick, that horse,' sais I, 'I guess he is a goer.' + +"Y' mae, ye un trotter da,' sais he. + +"'Creation!' sais I, 'if this don't beat gineral trainin'. I have heerd +in my time, broken French, broken Scotch, broken Irish, broken Yankee, +broken Nigger, and broken Indgin; but I have hearn two pure gene_wine_ +languages to-day, and no mistake, rael rook, and rael Britton, and I +don't exactly know which I like wus. It's no use to stand talkin' to +this critter. Good-bye,' sais I. + +"Now what do you think he said? Why, you would suppose he'd say good-bye +too, wouldn't you? Well, he didn't, nor nothin' like it, but he jist +ups, and sais, 'Forwelloaugh,' he did, upon my soul. I never felt so +stumpt afore in all my life. Sais I, 'Friend, here is half a dollar for +you; it arn't often I'm brought to a dead stare, and when I am, I am +willin' to pay for it.' + +"There's two languages, Squire, that's univarsal: the language of love, +and the language of money; the galls onderstand the one, and the men +onderstand the other, all the wide world over, from Canton to Niagara. I +no sooner showed him the half dollar, than it walked into his pocket, a +plaguy sight quicker than it will walk out, I guess. + +"Sais I, 'Friend, you've taken the consait out of me properly. Captain +Hall said there warn't a man, woman, or child, in the whole of the +thirteen united univarsal worlds of our great Republic, that could speak +pure English, and I was a goin' to kick him for it; but he is right, +arter all. There ain't one livin' soul on us can; I don't believe they +ever as much as heerd it, for I never did, till this blessed day, and +there are few things I haven't either see'd, or heern tell of. Yes, +we can't speak English, do you take?' 'Dim comrag,' sais he, which in +Yankee, means, "that's no English," and he stood, looked puzzled, and +scratched his head, rael hansum, 'Dim comrag,' sais he. + +"Well, it made me larf spiteful. I felt kinder wicked, and as _I_ had +a hat on, and I couldn't scratch my head, I stood jist like him, clown +fashion, with my eyes wanderin' and my mouth wide open, and put my hand +behind me, and scratched there; and I stared, and looked puzzled too, +and made the same identical vacant face he did, and repeated arter him +slowly, with another scratch, mocking him like, 'Dim comrag.' + +"Such a pair o' fools you never saw, Squire, since the last time you +shaved afore a lookin' glass; and the stable boys larfed, and he larfed, +and I larfed, and it was the only larf I had all that juicy day. + +"Well, I turns agin to the door; but it's the old story over +again--rain, rain, rain; spatter, spatter, spatter,--'I can't stop +here with these true Brittons,' sais I, 'guess I'll go and see the old +Squire: he is in his study.' + +"So I goes there: 'Squire,' sais I, 'let me offer you a rael gene_wine_ +Havana cigar; I can recommend it to you.' He thanks me, he don't smoke, +but plague take him, he don't say, 'If you are fond of smokin', pray +smoke yourself.' And he is writing I won't interrupt him. + +"'Waiter, order me a post-chaise, to be here in the mornin', when the +rooks wake.' + +"'Yes, Sir.' + +"Come, I'll try the women folk in the drawin'-room, agin'. Ladies don't +mind the rain here; they are used to it. It's like the musk plant, arter +you put it to your nose once, you can't smell it a second time. Oh what +beautiful galls they be! What a shame it is to bar a feller out such a +day as this. One on 'em blushes like a red cabbage, when she speaks to +me, that's the one, I reckon, I disturbed this mornin'. Cuss the rooks! +I'll pyson them, and that won't make no noise. + +"She shows me the consarvitery. 'Take care, Sir, your coat has caught +this geranium,' and she onhitches it. 'Stop, Sir, you'll break this +jilly flower,' and she lifts off the coat tail agin; in fact, it's so +crowded, you can't squeeze along, scarcely, without a doin' of mischief +somewhere or another. + +"Next time, she goes first, and then it's my turn, 'Stop, Miss,' sais +I, 'your frock has this rose tree over,' and I loosens it; once +more, 'Miss, this rose has got tangled,' and I ontangles it from her +furbeloes. + +"I wonder what makes my hand shake so, and my heart it bumps so, it has +bust a button off. If I stay in this consarvitery, I shan't consarve +myself long, that's a fact, for this gall has put her whole team on, and +is a runnin' me off the road. 'Hullo! what's that? Bell for dressin' +for dinner.' Thank Heavens! I shall escape from myself, and from this +beautiful critter, too, for I'm gettin' spoony, and shall talk silly +presently. + +"I don't like to be left alone with a gall, it's plaguy apt to set me a +soft sawderin' and a courtin'. There's a sort of nateral attraction like +in this world. Two ships in a calm, are sure to get up alongside of each +other, if there is no wind, and they have nothin' to do, but look at +each other; natur' does it. "Well, even, the tongs and the shovel, won't +stand alone long; they're sure to get on the same side of the fire, +and be sociable; one on 'em has a loadstone and draws 'tother, that's +sartain. If that's the case with hard-hearted things, like oak and +iron, what is it with tender hearted things like humans? Shut me up in +a 'sarvatory with a hansum gall of a rainy day, and see if I don't think +she is the sweetest flower in it. Yes, I am glad it is the dinner-bell, +for I ain't ready to marry yet, and when I am, I guess I must get a gall +where I got my hoss, in Old Connecticut, and that state takes the shine +off of all creation for geese, galls and onions, that's a fact. + +"Well dinner won't wait, so I ups agin once more near the rooks, to +brush up a bit; but there it is agin the same old tune, the whole +blessed day, rain, rain, rain. It's rained all day and don't talk of +stoppin' nother. How I hate the sound, and how streaked I feel. I don't +mind its huskin' my voice, for there is no one to talk to, but cuss it, +it has softened my bones. + +"Dinner is ready; the rain has damped every body's spirits, and +squenched 'em out; even champaign won't raise 'em agin; feedin' is +heavy, talk is heavy, time is heavy, tea is heavy, and there ain't +musick; the only thing that's light is a bed room candle--heavens and +airth how glad I am this '_juicy day_' is over!" + + + + +CHAPTER III. TYING A NIGHT-CAP. + +In the preceding sketch I have given Mr. Slick's account of the English +climate, and his opinion of the dulness of a country house, as nearly +as possible in his own words. It struck me at the time that they were +exaggerated views; but if the weather were unpropitious, and the company +not well selected, I can easily conceive, that the impression on his +mind would be as strong and as unfavourable, as he has described it to +have been. + +The climate of England is healthy, and, as it admits of much out-door +exercise, and is not subject to any very sudden variation, or violent +extremes of heat and cold, it may be said to be good, though not +agreeable; but its great humidity is very sensibly felt by Americans and +other foreigners accustomed to a dry atmosphere and clear sky. That Mr. +Slick should find a rainy day in the country dull, is not to be wondered +at; it is probable it would be so any where, to a man who had so few +resources, within himself, as the Attache. Much of course depends on the +inmates; and the company at the Shropshire house, to which he alludes, +do not appear to have been the best calculated to make the state of the +weather a matter of indifference to him. + +I cannot say, but that I have at times suffered a depression of spirits +from the frequent, and sometimes long continued rains of this country; +but I do not know that, as an ardent admirer of scenery, I would desire +less humidity, if it diminished, as I fear it would, the extraordinary +verdure and great beauty of the English landscape. With respect to my +own visits at country houses, I have generally been fortunate in the +weather, and always in the company; but I can easily conceive, that a +man situated as Mr. Slick appears to have been with respect to both, +would find the combination intolerably dull. But to return to my +narrative. + +Early on the following day we accompanied our luggage to the wharf, +where a small steamer lay to convey us to the usual anchorage ground +of the packets, in the bay. We were attended by a large concourse of +people. The piety, learning, unaffected simplicity, and kind disposition +of my excellent friend, Mr. Hopewell, were well known and fully +appreciated by the people of New York, who were anxious to testify +their respect for his virtues, and their sympathy for his unmerited +persecution, by a personal escort and a cordial farewell. + +"Are all those people going with us, Sam?" said he; "how pleasant it +will be to have so many old friends on board, won't it?" + +"No, Sir," said the Attache, "they are only a goin' to see you on +board--it is a mark of respect to you. They will go down to the "Tyler," +to take their last farewell of you." + +"Well, that's kind now, ain't it?" he replied. "I suppose they thought +I would feel kinder dull and melancholy like, on leaving my native land +this way; and I must say I don't feel jist altogether right neither. +Ever so many things rise right up in my mind, not one arter another, but +all together like, so that I can't take 'em one by one and reason 'em +down, but they jist overpower me by numbers. You understand me, Sam, +don't you?" + +"Poor old critter!" said Mr. Slick to me in an under-tone, "it's +no wonder he is sad, is it? I must try to cheer him up, if I can. +Understand you, minister!" said he, "to be sure I do. I have been that +way often and often. That was the case when I was to Lowel factories, +with the galls a taking of them off in the paintin' line. The dear +little critters kept up such an everlastin' almighty clatter, clatter, +clatter; jabber, jabber, jabber, all talkin' and chatterin' at once, +you couldn't hear no blessed one of them; and they jist fairly stunned a +feller. For nothin' in natur', unless it be perpetual motion, can equal +a woman's tongue. It's most a pity we hadn't some of the angeliferous +little dears with us too, for they do make the time pass quick, that's +a fact. I want some on 'em to tie a night-cap for me to-night; I don't +commonly wear one, but I somehow kinder guess, I intend to have one this +time, and no mistake." + +"A night-cap, Sam!" said he; "why what on airth do you mean?" + +"Why, I'll tell you, minister," said he, "you recollect sister Sall, +don't you." + +"Indeed, I do," said he, "and an excellent girl she is, a dutiful +daughter, and a kind and affectionate sister. Yes, she is a good girl is +Sally, a very good girl indeed; but what of her?" + +"Well, she was a most a beautiful critter, to brew a glass of whiskey +toddy, as I ever see'd in all my travels was sister Sall, and I used to +call that tipple, when I took it late, a night-cap; apple jack and +white nose ain't the smallest part of a circumstance to it. On such an +occasion as this, minister, when a body is leavin' the greatest nation +atween the poles, to go among benighted, ignorant, insolent foreigners, +you wouldn't object to a night-cap, now would you?" + +"Well, I don't know as I would, Sam," said he; "parting from friends +whether temporally or for ever, is a sad thing, and the former is +typical of the latter. No, I do not know as I would. We may use these +things, but not abuse them. Be temperate, be moderate, but it is a sorry +heart that knows no pleasure. Take your night-cap, Sam, and then commend +yourself to His safe keeping, who rules the wind and the waves to Him +who--" + +"Well then, minister, what a dreadful awful looking thing a night-cap is +without a tassel, ain't it? Oh! you must put a tassel on it, and that +is another glass. Well then, what is the use of a night-cap, if it has +a tassel on it, but has no string, it will slip off your head the very +first turn you take; and that is another glass you know. But one string +won't tie a cap; one hand can't shake hands along with itself: you must +have two strings to it, and that brings one glass more. Well then, what +is the use of two strings if they ain't fastened? If you want to keep +the cap on, it must be tied, that's sartain, and that is another go; and +then, minister, what an everlastin' miserable stingy, ongenteel critter +a feller must be, that won't drink to the health of the Female Brewer. +Well, that's another glass to sweethearts and wives, and then turn in +for sleep, and that's what I intend to do to-night. I guess I'll tie the +night-cap this hitch, if I never do agin, and that's a fact." + +"Oh Sam, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell, "for a man that is wide awake and +duly sober, I never saw one yet that talked such nonsense as you do. You +said, you understood me, but you don't, one mite or morsel; but men +are made differently, some people's narves operate on the brain +sens_itively_ and give them exquisite pain or excessive pleasure; other +folks seem as if they had no narves at all. You understand my words, but +you don't enter into my feelings. Distressing images rise up in my mind +in such rapid succession, I can't master them, but they master me. They +come slower to you, and the moment you see their shadows before you, +you turn round to the light, and throw these dark figures behind you. +I can't do that; I could when I was younger, but I can't now. Reason +is comparing two ideas, and drawing an inference. Insanity is, when you +have such a rapid succession of ideas, that you can't compare them. How +great then must be the pain when you are almost pressed into insanity +and yet retain your reason? What is a broken heart? Is it death? I think +it must be very like it, if it is not a figure of speech, for I feel +that my heart is broken, and yet I am as sensitive to pain as ever. +Nature cannot stand this suffering long. You say these good people have +come to take their last farewell of me; most likely, Sam, it _is_ a last +farewell. I am an old man now, I am well stricken in years; shall I ever +live to see my native land again? I know not, the Lord's will be done! +If I had a wish, I should desire to return to be laid with my kindred, +to repose in death with those that were the companions of my earthly +pilgrimage; but if it be ordered otherwise. I am ready to say with truth +and meekness, 'Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.'" + +When this excellent old man said that, Mr. Slick did not enter into his +feelings--he did not do him justice. His attachment to and veneration +for his aged pastor and friend were quite filial, and such as to do +honour to his head and heart. Those persons who have made character a +study, will all agree, that the cold exterior of the New England +man arises from other causes than a coldness of feeling; much of the +rhodomontade of the attache, addressed to Mr. Hopewell, was uttered for +the kind purpose of withdrawing his attention from those griefs which +preyed so heavily upon his spirits. + +"Minister," said Mr. Slick, "come, cheer up, it makes me kinder dismal +to hear you talk so. When Captain McKenzie hanged up them three free and +enlightened citizens of ours on board of the--Somers--he gave 'em three +cheers. We are worth half a dozen dead men yet, so cheer up. Talk to +these friends of ourn, they might think you considerable starch if +you don't talk, and talk is cheap, it don't cost nothin' but breath, a +scrape of your hind leg, and a jupe of the head, that's a fact." + +Having thus engaged him in conversation with his friends, we proceeded +on board the steamer, which, in a short time, was alongside of the great +"Liner." The day was now spent, and Mr. Hopewell having taken leave of +his escort, retired to his cabin, very much overpowered by his feelings. + +Mr. Slick insisted on his companions taking a parting glass with him, +and I was much amused with the advice given him by some of his young +friends and admirers. He was cautioned to sustain the high character +of the nation abroad; to take care that he returned as he went--a true +American; to insist upon the possession of the Oregon Territory; to +demand and enforce his right position in society; to negotiate the +national loan; and above all never to accede to the right of search +of slave-vessels; all which having been duly promised, they took an +affectionate leave of each other, and we remained on board, intending to +depart in the course of the following morning. + +As soon as they had gone, Mr. Slick ordered materials for brewing, +namely: whisky, hot water, sugar and lemon; and having duly prepared in +regular succession the cap, the tassel, and the two strings, filled his +tumbler again, and said, + +"Come now, Squire, before we turn in, let us _tie the night-cap_." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. HOME AND THE SEA. + +At eleven o'clock the next day the Tyler having shaken out her pinions, +and spread them to the breeze, commenced at a rapid rate her long and +solitary voyage across the Atlantic. Object after object rose in rapid +succession into distinct view, was approached and passed, until leaving +the calm and sheltered waters of the bay, we emerged into the ocean, and +involuntarily turned to look back upon the land we had left. Long after +the lesser hills and low country had disappeared, a few ambitious peaks +of the highlands still met the eye, appearing as if they had advanced +to the very edge of the water, to prolong the view of us till the last +moment. + +This coast is a portion of my native continent, for though not a subject +of the Republic, I am still an American in its larger sense, having been +born in a British province in this hemisphere. I therefore sympathised +with the feelings of my two companions, whose straining eyes were still +fixed on those dim and distant specks in the horizon. + +"There," said Mr. Slick, rising from his seat, "I believe we have seen +the last of home till next time; and this I will say, it is the most +glorious country onder the sun; travel where you will, you won't ditto +it no where. It is the toploftiest place in all creation, ain't it, +minister?" + +There was no response to all this bombast. It was evident he had not +been heard; and turning to Mr. Hopewell, I observed his eyes were +fixed intently on the distance, and his mind pre-occupied by painful +reflexions, for tears were coursing after each other down his furrowed +but placid cheek. + +"Squire," said Mr. Slick to me, "this won't do. We must not allow him to +dwell too long on the thoughts of leaving home, or he'll droop like any +thing, and p'raps, hang his head and fade right away. He is aged and +feeble, and every thing depends on keeping up his spirits. An old plant +must be shaded, well watered, and tended, or you can't transplant it no +how, you can fix it, that's a fact. He won't give ear to me now, for +he knows I can't talk serious, if I was to try; but he will listen to +_you_. Try to cheer him up, and I will go down below and give you a +chance." + +As soon as I addressed him, he started and said, "Oh! is it you, Squire? +come and sit down by me, my friend. I can talk to _you_, and I assure +you I take great pleasure in doing so I cannot always talk to Sam: he +is excited now; he is anticipating great pleasure from his visit to +England, and is quite boisterous in the exuberance of his spirits. I +own I am depressed at times; it is natural I should be, but I shall +endeavour not to be the cause of sadness in others. I not only like +cheerfulness myself, but I like to promote it; it is a sign of an +innocent mind, and a heart in peace with God and in charity with man. +All nature is cheerful, its voice is harmonious, and its countenance +smiling; the very garb in which it is clothed is gay; why then should +man be an exception to every thing around him? Sour sectarians, who +address our fears, rather than our affections, may say what they please, +Sir, but mirth is not inconsistent with religion, but rather an evidence +that our religion is right. If I appear dull, therefore, do not suppose +it is because I think it necessary to be so, but because certain +reflections are natural to me as a clergyman, as a man far advanced in +years, and as a pilgrim who leaves his home at a period of life, when +the probabilities are, he may not be spared to revisit it. + +"I am like yourself, a colonist by birth. At the revolution I took no +part in the struggle; my profession and my habits both exempted me. +Whether the separation was justifiable or not, either on civil or +religious principles, it is not now necessary to discuss. It took place, +however, and the colonies became a nation, and after due consideration, +I concluded to dwell among mine own people. There I have continued, with +the exception of one or two short journeys for the benefit of my health, +to the present period. Parting with those whom I have known so long and +loved so well, is doubtless a trial to one whose heart is still warm, +while his nerves are weak, and whose affections are greater than his +firmness. But I weary you with this egotism?" + +"Not at all," I replied, "I am both instructed and delighted by your +conversation. Pray proceed, Sir." + +"Well it is kind, very kind of you," said he, "to say so. I will explain +these sensations to you, and then endeavour never to allude to +them again. America is my birth-place and my home. Home has two +significations, a restricted one and an enlarged one; in its restricted +sense, it is the place of our abode, it includes our social circle, our +parents, children, and friends, and contains the living and the dead; +the past and the present generations of our race. By a very natural +process, the scene of our affections soon becomes identified with them, +and a portion of our regard is transferred from animate to inanimate +objects. The streams on which we sported, the mountains on which we +clambered, the fields in which we wandered, the school where we were +instructed, the church where we worshipped, the very bell whose pensive +melancholy music recalled our wandering steps in youth, awaken in +after-years many a tender thought, many a pleasing recollection, and +appeal to the heart with the force and eloquence of love. The country +again contains all these things, the sphere is widened, new objects are +included, and this extension of the circle is love of country. It is +thus that the nation is said in an enlarged sense, to be our home also. + +"This love of country is both natural and laudable: so natural, that to +exclude a man from his country, is the greatest punishment that country +can inflict upon him; and so laudable, that when it becomes a principle +of action, it forms the hero and the patriot. How impressive, how +beautiful, how dignified was the answer of the Shunamite woman to +Elisha, who in his gratitude to her for her hospitality and kindness, +made her a tender of his interest at court. 'Wouldst thou,' said he, 'be +spoken for to the king, or to the captain of the host?'--What an offer +was that, to gratify her ambition or flatter her pride!--'I dwell,' said +she, 'among mine own people.' What a characteristic answer! all history +furnishes no parallel to it. + +"I too dwell 'among my own people:' my affections are there, and there +also is the sphere of my duties; and if I am depressed by the thoughts +of parting from 'my people,' I will do you the justice to believe, that +you would rather bear with its effects, than witness the absence of such +natural affection. + +"But this is not the sole cause: independently of some afflictions of +a clerical nature in my late parish, to which it is not necessary to +allude, the contemplation of this vast and fathomless ocean, both +from its novelty and its grandeur, overwhelms me. At home I am fond +of tracing the Creator in his works. From the erratic comet in the +firmament, to the flower that blossoms in the field; in all animate, and +inanimate matter; in all that is animal, vegetable or mineral, I see His +infinite wisdom, almighty power, and everlasting glory. + +"But that Home is inland; I have not beheld the sea now for many years. +I never saw it without emotion; I now view it with awe. What an emblem +of eternity!--Its dominion is alone reserved to Him, who made it. +Changing yet changeless--ever varying, yet always the same. How weak +and powerless is man! how short his span of life, when he is viewed +in connexion with the sea! He has left no trace upon it--it will not +receive the impress of his hands; it obeys no laws, but those imposed +upon it by Him, who called it into existence; generation after +generation has looked upon it as we now do--and where are they? Like +yonder waves that press upon each other in regular succession, they have +passed away for ever; and their nation, their language, their temples +and their tombs have perished with them. But there is the Undying one. +When man was formed, the voice of the ocean was heard, as it now is, +speaking of its mysteries, and proclaiming His glory, who alone lifteth +its waves or stilleth the rage thereof. + +"And yet, my dear friend, for so you must allow me to call you, awful as +these considerations are, which it suggests, who are they that go down +to the sea in ships and occupy their business in great waters? The +sordid trader, and the armed and mercenary sailor: gold or blood is +their object, and the fear of God is not always in them. Yet the sea +shall give up its dead, as well as the grave; and all shall-- + +"But it is not my intention to preach to you. To intrude serious topics +upon our friends at all times, has a tendency to make both ourselves and +our topics distasteful. I mention these things to you, not that they are +not obvious to you and every other right-minded man, or that I think +I can clothe them in more attractive language, or utter them with more +effect than others; but merely to account for my absence of mind and +evident air of abstraction. I know my days are numbered, and in the +nature of things, that those that are left, cannot be many. + +"Pardon me, therefore, I pray you, my friend; make allowances for an old +man, unaccustomed to leave home, and uncertain whether he shall ever be +permitted to return to it. I feel deeply and sensibly your kindness in +soliciting my company on this tour, and will endeavour so to regulate +my feelings as not to make you regret your invitation. I shall not again +recur to these topics, or trouble you with any further reflections 'on +Home and the Sea.'" + + + + +CHAPTER V. T'OTHER EEND OF THE GUN. + +"Squire," said Mr. Hopewell, one morning when we were alone on the +quarter-deck, "sit down by me, if you please. I wish to have a little +private conversation with you. I am a good deal concerned about Sam. I +never liked this appointment he has received: neither his education, his +habits, nor his manners have qualified him for it. He is fitted for a +trader and for nothing else. He looks upon politics as he does upon his +traffic in clocks, rather as profitable to himself than beneficial to +others. Self is predominant with him. He overrates the importance of +his office, as he will find when he arrives in London; but what is still +worse, he overrates the importance of the opinions of others regarding +the States. + +"He has been reading that foolish book of Cooper's 'Gleanings in +Europe,' and intends to shew fight, he says. He called my attention, +yesterday, to this absurd passage, which he maintains is the most manly +and sensible thing that Cooper ever wrote: 'This indifference to the +feelings of others, is a dark spot on the national manners of England. +The only way to put it down, is to become belligerent yourself, by +introducing Pauperism, Radicalism, Ireland, the Indies, or some other +sore point. Like all who make butts of others, they do not manifest +the proper forbearance when the tables are turned. Of this, I have had +abundance of proof in my own experience. Sometimes their remarks are +absolutely rude, and personally offensive, as a disregard of one's +national character, is a disrespect to his principles; but as personal +quarrels on such grounds are to be avoided, I have uniformly retorted in +kind, if there was the smallest opening for such retaliation." + +"Now, every gentleman in the States repudiates such sentiments as these. +My object in mentioning the subject to you, is to request the favour +of you, to persuade Sam not to be too sensitive on these topics; not +to take offence, where it is not intended; and, above all, rather +to vindicate his nationality by his conduct, than to justify those +aspersions, by his intemperate behaviour. But here he comes; I shall +withdraw and leave you together." + +Fortunately, Mr. Slick commenced talking upon a topic, which naturally +led to that to which Mr. Hopewell had wished me to direct his attention. + +"Well, Squire," said he, "I am glad too, you are a goin' to England +along with me: we will take a rise out of John Bull, won't we?--We've +hit Blue-nose and Brother Jonathan both pretty considerable tarnation +hard, and John has split his sides with larfter. Let's tickle him now, +by feeling his own short ribs, and see how he will like it; we'll +soon see whose hide is the thickest, hisn or ourn, won't we? Let's see +whether he will say chee, chee, chee, when he gets to the t'other eend +of the gun." + +"What is the meaning of that saying?" I asked. "I never heard it +before." + +"Why," said he, "when I was a considerable of a grown up saplin of a +boy to Slickville, I used to be a gunnin' for everlastinly amost in our +hickory woods, a shootin' of squirrels with a rifle, and I got amazin' +expart at it. I could take the head off of them chatterin' little imps, +when I got a fair shot at 'em with a ball, at any reasonable distance, +a'most in nine cases out of ten. + +"Well, one day I was out as usual, and our Irish help Paddy Burke was +along with me, and every time he see'd me a drawin' of the bead fine +on 'em, he used to say, 'Well, you've an excellent gun entirely, Master +Sam. Oh by Jakers! the squirrel has no chance with that gun, it's an +excellent one entirely.' + +"At last I got tired a hearin' of him a jawin' so for ever and a day +about the excellent gun entirely; so, sais I, 'You fool you, do you +think it's the gun that does it _entirely_ as you say; ain't there a +little dust of skill in it? Do you think you could fetch one down?' + +"'Oh, it's a capital gun entirely,' said he. + +"'Well,' said I, 'if it 'tis, try it now, and see what sort of a fist +you'll make of it.' + +"So Paddy takes the rifle, lookin' as knowin' all the time as if he +had ever seed one afore. Well, there was a great red squirrel, on the +tip-top of a limb, chatterin' away like any thing, chee, chee, chee, +proper frightened; he know'd it warn't me, that was a parsecutin' +of him, and he expected he'd be hurt. They know'd me, did the little +critters, when they seed me, and they know'd I never had hurt one on +'em, my balls never givin' 'em a chance to feel what was the matter +of them; but Pat they didn't know, and they see'd he warn't the man +to handle 'old Bull-Dog.' I used to call my rifle Bull-Dog, cause she +always bit afore she barked. + +"Pat threw one foot out astarn, like a skullin' oar, and then bent +forrards like a hoop, and fetched the rifle slowly up to the line, and +shot to the right eye. Chee, chee, chee, went the squirrel. He see'd it +was wrong. 'By the powers!' sais Pat, 'this is a left-handed boot,' and +he brought the gun to the other shoulder, and then shot to his left eye. +'Fegs!' sais Pat, 'this gun was made for a squint eye, for I can't get +a right strait sight of the critter, either side.' So I fixt it for him +and told him which eye to sight by. 'An excellent gun entirely,' sais +Pat, 'but it tante made like the rifles we have.' + +"Ain't they strange critters, them Irish, Squire? That feller never +handled a rifle afore in all his born days; but unless it was to a +priest, he wouldn't confess that much for the world. They are as bad as +the English that way; they always pretend they know every thing. + +"'Come, Pat,' sais I, 'blaze away now.' Back goes the hind leg agin, up +bends the back, and Bull-Dog rises slowly to his shoulder; and then he +stared, and stared, until his arm shook like palsy. Chee, chee, chee, +went the squirrel agin, louder than ever, as much as to say, 'Why the +plague don't you fire? I'm not a goin' to stand here all day, for you +this way,' and then throwin' his tail over his back, he jumped on to the +next branch. + +"'By the piper that played before Moses!' sais Pat, 'I'll stop your +chee, chee, cheein' for you, you chatterin' spalpeen of a devil, you'. +So he ups with the rifle agin, takes a fair aim at him, shuts both eyes, +turns his head round, and fires; and "Bull-Dog," findin' he didn't know +how to hold her tight to the shoulder, got mad, and kicked him head over +heels, on the broad of his back. Pat got up, a makin' awful wry faces, +and began to limp, to show how lame his shoulder was, and to rub his +arm, to see if he had one left, and the squirrel ran about the tree +hoppin' mad, hollerin' out as loud as it could scream, chee, chee, chee. + +"'Oh bad luck to you,' sais Pat, 'if you had a been at t'other eend of +the gun,' and he rubbed his shoulder agin, and cried like a baby, 'you +wouldn't have said chee, chee, chee, that way, I know.' + +"Now when your gun, Squire, was a knockin' over Blue-nose, and makin' a +proper fool of him, and a knockin' over Jonathan, and a spilin' of his +bran-new clothes, the English sung out chee, chee, chee, till all was +blue agin. You had an excellent gun entirely then: let's see if they +will sing out chee, chee, chee, now, when we take a shot at _them_. Do +you take?" and he laid his thumb on his nose, as if perfectly satisfied +with the application of his story. "Do you take, Squire? you have an +excellent gun entirely, as Pat says. It's what I call puttin' the leake +into 'em properly. If you had a written this book fust, the English +would have said your gun was no good; it wouldn't have been like the +rifles they had seen. Lord, I could tell you stories about the English, +that would make even them cryin' devils the Mississippi crocodiles +laugh, if they was to hear 'em." + +"Pardon me, Mr. Slick," I said, "this is not the temper with which you +should visit England." + +"What is the temper," he replied with much warmth, "that they visit us +in? Cuss 'em! Look at Dickens; was there ever a man made so much of, +except La Fayette? And who was Dickens? Not a Frenchman that is a friend +to us, not a native that has a claim on us; not a colonist, who, though +English by name is still an American by birth, six of one and half a +dozen of t'other, and therefore a kind of half-breed brother. No! he was +a cussed Britisher; and what is wus, a British author; and yet, because +he was a man of genius, because genius has the 'tarnal globe for its +theme, and the world for its home, and mankind for its readers, and +bean't a citizen of this state or that state, but a native of the +univarse, why we welcomed him, and feasted him, and leveed him, and +escorted him, and cheered him, and honoured him, did he honour us? What +did he say of us when he returned? Read his book. + +"No, don't read his book, for it tante worth readin'. Has he said one +word of all that reception in his book? that book that will be read, +translated, and read agin all over Europe--has he said one word of that +reception? Answer me that, will you? Darned the word, his memory was +bad; he lost it over the tafrail when he was sea-sick. But his notebook +was safe under lock and key, and the pigs in New York, and the chap the +rats eat in jail, and the rough man from Kentucky, and the entire raft +of galls emprisoned in one night, and the spittin' boxes and all that +stuff, warn't trusted to memory, it was noted down, and printed. + +"But it tante no matter. Let any man give me any sarce in England, about +my country, or not give me the right _po_-sition in society, as Attache +to our Legation, and, as Cooper says, I'll become belligerent, too, I +will, I snore. I can snuff a candle with a pistol as fast as you can +light it; hang up an orange, and I'll first peel it with ball and +then quarter it. Heavens! I'll let daylight dawn through some o' their +jackets, I know. + +"Jube, you infarnal black scoundrel, you odoriferous nigger you, what's +that you've got there?" + +"An apple, massa." + +"Take off your cap and put that apple on your head, then stand sideways +by that port-hole, and hold steady, or you might stand a smart chance to +have your wool carded, that's all." + +Then taking a pistol out of the side-pocket of his mackintosh, he +deliberately walked over to the other side of the deck, and examined his +priming. + +"Good heavens, Mr. Slick!" said I in great alarm, "what are you about?" + +"I am goin'," he said with the greatest coolness, but at the same time +with equal sternness, "to bore a hole through that apple, Sir." + +"For shame! Sir," I said. "How can you think of such a thing? Suppose +you were to miss your shot, and kill that unfortunate boy?" + +"I won't suppose no such thing, Sir. I can't miss it. I couldn't miss +it if I was to try. Hold your head steady, Jube--and if I did, it's no +great matter. The onsarcumcised Amalikite ain't worth over three hundred +dollars at the furthest, that's a fact; and the way he'd pyson a shark +ain't no matter. Are you ready, Jube?" + +"Yes, massa." + +"You shall do no such thing, Sir," I said, seizing his arm with both my +hands. "If you attempt to shoot at that apple, I shall hold no further +intercourse with you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sir." + +"Ky! massa," said Jube, "let him fire, Sar; he no hurt Jube; he no +foozle de hair. I isn't one mossel afeerd. He often do it, jist to keep +him hand in, Sar. Massa most a grand shot, Sar. He take off de ear oh de +squirrel so slick, he neber miss it, till he go scratchin' his head. Let +him appel hab it, massa." + +"Oh, yes," said Mr. Slick, "he is a Christian is Jube, he is as good as +a white Britisher: same flesh, only a leetle, jist a leetle darker; same +blood, only not quite so old, ain't quite so much tarter on the bottle +as a lord's has; oh him and a Britisher is all one brother--oh by all +means-- + + Him fader's hope--him mudder's joy, + Him darlin little nigger boy. + +You'd better cry over him, hadn't you. Buss him, call him brother, hug +him, give him the "Abolition" kiss, write an article on slavery, like +Dickens; marry him to a white gall to England, get him a saint's darter +with a good fortin, and well soon see whether her father was a talkin' +cant or no, about niggers. Cuss 'em, let any o' these Britishers give +me slack, and I'll give 'em cranberry for their goose, I know. I'd jump +right down their throat with spurs on, and gallop their sarce out." + +"Mr. Slick I've done; I shall say no more; we part, and part for ever. I +had no idea whatever, that a man, whose whole conduct has evinced a +kind heart, and cheerful disposition, could have entertained such +a revengeful spirit, or given utterance to such unchristian and +uncharitable language, as you have used to-day. We part"-- + +"No, we don't," said he; "don't kick afore you are spurred. I guess I +have feelins as well as other folks have, that's a fact; one can't help +being ryled to hear foreigners talk this way; and these critters are +enough to make a man spotty on the back. I won't deny I've got some +grit, but I ain't ugly. Pat me on the back and I soon cool down, drop in +a soft word and I won't bile over; but don't talk big, don't threaten, +or I curl directly." + +"Mr. Slick," said I, "neither my countrymen, the Nova Scotians, nor your +friends, the Americans, took any thing amiss, in our previous remarks, +because, though satirical, they were good natured. There was nothing +malicious in them. They were not made for the mere purpose of shewing +them up, but were incidental to the topic we were discussing, and their +whole tenor shewed that while "we were alive to the ludicrous, we fully +appreciated, and properly valued their many excellent and sterling +qualities. My countrymen, for whose good I published them, had the most +reason to complain, for I took the liberty to apply ridicule to them +with no sparing hand. They understood the motive, and joined in the +laugh, which was raised at their expense. Let us treat the English in +the same style; let us keep our temper. John Bull is a good-natured +fellow, and has no objection to a joke, provided it is not made the +vehicle of conveying an insult. Don't adopt Cooper's maxims; +nobody approves of them, on either side of the water; don't be too +thin-skinned. If the English have been amused by the sketches their +tourists have drawn of, the Yankees, perhaps the Americans may laugh +over our sketches of the English. Let us make both of them smile, if we +can, and endeavour to offend neither. If Dickens omitted to mention the +festivals that were given in honour of his arrival in the States, he +was doubtless actuated by a desire to avoid the appearance of personal +vanity. A man cannot well make himself the hero of his own book." + +"Well, well," said he, "I believe the black ox did tread on my toe that +time. I don't know but what you're right. Soft words are good enough in +their way, but still they butter no parsnips, as the sayin' is. John may +be a good-natured critter, tho' I never see'd any of it yet; and he may +be fond of a joke, and p'raps is, seein' that he haw-haws considerable +loud at his own. Let's try him at all events. We'll soon see how he +likes other folks' jokes; I have my scruple about him, I must say. I am +dubersome whether he will say 'chee, chee, chee' when he gets 'T'other +eend of the gun.'" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. SMALL POTATOES AND FEW IN A HILL. + +"Pray Sir," said one of my fellow passengers, "can you tell me why the +Nova Scotians are called 'Blue-noses?'" + +"It is the name of a potatoe," said I, "which they produce in great +perfection, and boast to be the best in the world. The Americans have, +in consequence, given them the nick-name of "Blue-noses.'" + +"And now," said Mr. Slick," as you have told the entire stranger, _who_ +a Blue-nose is, I'll jist up and tell him _what_ he is. + +"One day, Stranger, I was a joggin' along into Windsor on Old Clay, on +a sort of butter and eggs' gait (for a fast walk on a journey tires a +horse considerable), and who should I see a settin' straddle legs "on +the fence, but Squire Gabriel Soogit, with his coat off, a holdin' of +a hoe in one hand, and his hat in t'other, and a blowin' like a porpus +proper tired. + +"'Why, Squire Gabe,' sais I, 'what is the matter of you? you look as if +you couldn't help yourself; who is dead and what is to pay now, eh?' + +"'Fairly beat out,' said he, 'I am shockin' tired. I've been hard at +work all the mornin'; a body has to stir about considerable smart in +this country, to make a livin', I tell you.' + +"I looked over the fence, and I seed he had hoed jist ten hills of +potatoes, and that's all. Fact I assure you. + +"Sais he, 'Mr. Slick, tell you what, _of all the work I ever did in my +life I like hoein' potatoes the best, and I'd rather die than do that, +it makes my back ache so_." + +"'Good airth" and seas,' sais I to myself, 'what a parfect pictur of a +lazy man that is! How far is it to Windsor?' + +"'Three miles,' sais he. I took out my pocket-book purtendin' to write +down the distance, but I booked his sayin' in my way-bill. + +"Yes, _that_ is a _Blue-nose_; is it any wonder, Stranger, he _is small +potatoes and few in a hill_?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. A GENTLEMAN AT LARGE. + +It is not my intention to record any of the ordinary incidents of a sea +voyage: the subject is too hackneyed and too trite; and besides, +when the topic is seasickness, it is infectious and the description +nauseates. _Hominem pagina nostra sapit_. The proper study of mankind +is man; human nature is what I delight in contemplating; I love to trace +out and delineate the springs of human action. + +Mr. Slick and Mr. Hopewell are both studies. The former is a perfect +master of certain chords; He has practised upon them, not for +philosophical, but for mercenary purposes. He knows the depth, +and strength, and tone of vanity, curiosity, pride, envy, avarice, +superstition, nationality, and local and general prejudice. He has +learned the effect of these, not because they contribute to make him +wiser, but because they make him richer; not to enable him to regulate +his conduct in life, but to promote and secure the increase of his +trade. + +Mr. Hopewell, on the contrary, has studied the human heart as a +philanthropist, as a man whose business it was to minister to it, +to cultivate and improve it. His views are more sound and more +comprehensive than those of the other's, and his objects are more noble. +They are both extraordinary men. + +They differed, however, materially in their opinion of England and its +institutions. Mr. Slick evidently viewed them with prejudice. Whether +this arose from the supercilious manner of English tourists in America, +or from the ridicule they have thrown upon Republican society, in the +books of travels they have published, after their return to Europe, +I could not discover; but it soon became manifest to me, that Great +Britain did not stand so high in his estimation, as the colonies did. + +Mr. Hopewell, on the contrary, from early associations, cherished a +feeling of regard and respect for England; and when his opinion was +asked, he always gave it with great frankness and impartiality. When +there was any thing he could not approve of, it appeared to be a subject +of regret to him; whereas, the other seized upon it at once as a matter +of great exultation. The first sight we had of land naturally called out +their respective opinions. + +As we were pacing the deck speculating upon the probable termination of +our voyage, Cape Clear was descried by the look-out on the mast-head. + +"Hallo! what's that? why if it ain't land ahead, as I'm alive!" said +Mr. Slick. "Well, come this is pleasant too, we have made amost an +everlastin' short voyage of it, hante we; and I must say I like land +quite as well as sea, in a giniral way, arter all; but, Squire, here is +the first Britisher. That critter that's a clawin' up the side of the +vessel like a cat, is the pilot: now do for goodness gracious sake, jist +look at him, and hear him." + +"What port?" + +"Liverpool." + +"Keep her up a point." + +"Do you hear that, Squire? that's English, or what we used to call to +singing school short metre. The critter don't say a word, even as much +as 'by your leave'; but jist goes and takes his post, and don't ask the +name of the vessel, or pass the time o' day with the Captin. That ain't +in the bill, it tante paid for that; if it was, he'd off cap, touch +the deck three times with his forehead, and '_Slam_' like a Turk to his +Honour the Skipper. + +"There's plenty of civility here to England if you pay for it: you can +buy as much in five minits, as will make you sick for a week; but if you +don't pay for it, you not only won't get it, but you get sarce instead +of it, that is if you are fool enough to stand and have it rubbed in. +They are as cold as Presbyterian charity, and mean enough to put the sun +in eclipse, are the English. They hante set up the brazen image here +to worship, but they've got a gold one, and that they do adore and no +mistake; it's all pay, pay, pay; parquisite, parquisite, parquisite; +extortion, extortion, extortion. There is a whole pack of yelpin' devils +to your heels here, for everlastinly a cringin', fawnin' and coaxin', +or snarlin', grumblin' or bullyin' you out of your money. There's the +boatman, and tide-waiter, and porter, and custom-er, and truck man as +soon as you land; and the sarvant-man, and chamber-gall, and boots, and +porter again to the inn. And then on the road, there is trunk-lifter, +and coachman, and guard, and beggar-man, and a critter that opens the +coach door, that they calls a waterman, cause he is infarnal dirty, and +never sees water. They are jist like a snarl o' snakes, their name is +legion and there ain't no eend to 'em. + +"The only thing you get for nothin' here is rain and smoke, the rumatiz, +and scorny airs. If you could buy an Englishman at what he was worth, +and sell him at his own valiation, he would realise as much as a nigger, +and would be worth tradin' in, that's a fact; but as it is he ain't +worth nothin', there is no market for such critters, no one would buy +him at no price. A Scotchman is wus, for he is prouder and meaner. +Pat ain't no better nother; he ain't proud, cause he has a hole in his +breeches and another in his elbow, and he thinks pride won't patch 'em, +and he ain't mean cause he hante got nothin' to be mean with. Whether it +takes nine tailors to make a man, I can't jist exactly say, but this +I will say, and take my davy of it too, that it would take three such +goneys as these to make a pattern for one of our rael genu_wine_ free +and enlightened citizens, and then I wouldn't swap without large boot, +I tell you. Guess I'll go, and pack up my fixing and have 'em ready to +land." + +He now went below, leaving Mr. Hopewell and myself on the deck. All +this tirade of Mr. Slick was uttered in the hearing of the pilot, and +intended rather for his conciliation, than my instruction. The pilot was +immoveable; he let the cause against his country go "by default," and +left us to our process of "inquiry;" but when Mr. Slick was in the +act of descending to the cabin, he turned and gave him a look of +admeasurement, very similar to that which a grazier gives an ox; a look +which estimates the weight and value of the animal, and I am bound to +admit, that the result of that "sizing or laying" as it is technically +called, was by no means favourable to the Attache". + +Mr. Hopewell had evidently not attended to it; his eye was fixed on +the bold and precipitous shore of Wales, and the lofty summits of the +everlasting hills, that in the distance, aspired to a companionship with +the clouds. I took my seat at a little distance from him and surveyed +the scene with mingled feelings of curiosity and admiration, until a +thick volume of sulphureous smoke from the copper furnaces of Anglesey +intercepted our view. + +"Squire," said he, "it is impossible for us to contemplate this country, +that now lies before us, without strong emotion. It is our fatherland. +I recollect when I was a colonist, as you are, we were in the habit of +applying to it, in common with Englishmen, that endearing appellation +"Home," and I believe you still continue to do so in the provinces. +Our nursery tales, taught our infant lips to lisp in English, and the +ballads, that first exercised our memories, stored the mind with the +traditions of our forefathers; their literature was our literature, +their religion our religion, their history our history. The battle of +Hastings, the murder of Becket, the signature of Runymede, the execution +at Whitehall; the divines, the poets, the orators, the heroes, the +martyrs, each and all were familiar to us. + +"In approaching this country now, after a lapse of many, many years, +and approaching it too for the last time, for mine eyes shall see it no +more, I cannot describe to you the feelings that agitate my heart. I go +to visit the tombs of my ancestors; I go to my home, and my home knoweth +me no more. Great and good, and brave and free are the English; and may +God grant that they may ever continue so!" + +"I cordially join in that prayer, Sir," said I; "you have a country +of your own. The old colonies having ripened into maturity, formed a +distinct and separate family, in the great community of mankind. You are +now a nation of yourselves, and your attachment to England, is of course +subordinate to that of your own country; you view it as the place that +was in days of yore the home of your forefathers; we regard it as the +paternal estate, continuing to call it 'Home' as you have just now +observed. We owe it a debt of gratitude that not only cannot be repaid, +but is too great for expression. Their armies protect us within, and +their fleets defend us, and our commerce without. Their government is +not only paternal and indulgent, but is wholly gratuitous. We neither +pay these forces, nor feed them, nor clothe them. We not only raise no +taxes, but are not expected to do so. The blessings of true religion are +diffused among us, by the pious liberality of England, and a collegiate +establishment at Windsor, supported by British friends, has for years +supplied the Church, the Bar and the Legislature with scholars and +gentlemen. Where the national funds have failed, private contribution +has volunteered its aid, and means are never wanting for any useful or +beneficial object. + +"Our condition is a most enviable one. The history of the world has no +example to offer of such noble disinterestedness and such liberal rule, +as that exhibited by Great Britain to her colonies. If the policy of the +Colonial Office is not always good (which I fear is too much to say) +it is ever liberal; and if we do not mutually derive all the benefit +we might from the connexion, _we_, at least, reap more solid advantages +than we have a right to expect, and more, I am afraid, than our conduct +always deserves. I hope the Secretary for the Colonies may have the +advantage of making your acquaintance, Sir. Your experience is so great, +you might give him a vast deal of useful information, which he could +obtain from no one else. + +"Minister," said Mr. Slick, who had just mounted the companion-ladder, +"will your honour," touching his hat, "jist look at your honour's +plunder, and see it's all right; remember me, Sir; thank your honour. +This way, Sir; let me help your honour down. Remember me again, Sir. +Thank your honour. Now you may go and break your neck, your honour, as +soon as you please; for I've got all out of you I can squeeze, that's a +fact. That's English, Squire--that's English servility, which they call +civility, and English meanness and beggin', which they call parquisite. +Who was that you wanted to see the Minister, that I heerd you a talkin' +of when I come on deck?" + +"The Secretary of the Colonies," I said. + +"Oh for goodness sake don't send that crittur to him," said he, "or +minister will have to pay him for his visit, more, p'raps, than he +can afford. John Russell, that had the ribbons afore him, appointed a +settler as a member of Legislative Council to Prince Edward's Island, +a berth that has no pay, that takes a feller three months a year from +home, and has a horrid sight to do; and what do you think he did? Now +jist guess. You give it up, do you? Well, you might as well, for if you +was five Yankees biled down to one, you wouldn't guess it. 'Remember +Secretary's clerk,' says he, a touchin' of his hat, 'give him a little +tip of thirty pound sterling, your honour.' Well, colonist had a drop of +Yankee blood in him, which was about one third molasses, and, of course, +one third more of a man than they commonly is, and so he jist ups and +says, 'I'll see you and your clerk to Jericho beyond Jordan fust. The +office ain't worth the fee. Take it and sell it to some one else that +has more money nor wit.' He did, upon my soul." + +"No, don't send State-Secretary to Minister, send him to me at eleven +o'clock to-night, for I shall be the toploftiest feller about that time +you've seen this while past, I tell you. Stop till I touch land once +more, that's all; the way I'll stretch my legs ain't no matter." + +He then uttered the negro ejaculation "chah!--chah!" and putting his +arms a-kimbo, danced in a most extraordinary style to the music of a +song, which he gave with great expression: + + "Oh hab you nebber heerd ob de battle ob Orleens, + Where de dandy Yankee lads gave de Britishers de beans; + Oh de Louisiana boys dey did it pretty slick, + When dey cotch ole Packenham and rode him up a creek. + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey, + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey. + +"Oh yes, send Secretary to me at eleven or twelve to-night, I'll be in +tune then, jist about up to concart pitch. I'll smoke with him, or drink +with him, or swap stories with him, or wrastle with him, or make a fool +of him, or lick him, or any thing he likes; and when I've done, I'll +rise up, tweak the fore-top-knot of my head by the nose, bow pretty, and +say 'Remember me, your honour? Don't forget the tip?' Lord, how I long +to walk into some o' these chaps, and give 'em the beans! and I will +yet afore I'm many days older, hang me if I don't. I shall bust, I do +expect; and if I do, them that ain't drownded will be scalded, I know. +Chah!--chah! + + "Oh de British name is Bull, and de French name is Frog, + And noisy critters too, when a braggin' on a log,-- + But I is an alligator, a floatin' down stream. + And I'll chaw both the bullies up, as I would an ice-cream: + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dee, + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dee. + +"Yes, I've been pent up in that drawer-like lookin' berth, till I've +growed like a pine-tree with its branches off--straight up and down. My +legs is like a pair of compasses that's got wet; they are rusty on the +hinges, and won't work. I'll play leapfrog up the street, over every +feller's head, till I get to the Liners' Hotel; I hope I may be shot if +I don't. Jube, you villain, stand still there on the deck, and hold up +stiff, you nigger. Warny once--warny twice--warny three times; now I +come." + +And he ran forward, and putting a hand on each shoulder, jumped over +him. + +"Turn round agin, you young sucking Satan, you; and don't give one mite +or morsel, or you might 'break massa's precious neck,' p'raps. Warny +once--warny twice--warny three times." + +And he repeated the feat again. + +"That's the way I'll shin it up street, with a hop, skip and a jump. +Won't I make Old Bull stare, when he finds his head under my coat tails, +and me jist makin' a lever of him? He'll think he has run foul of a +snag, _I_ know. Lord, I'll shack right over their heads, as they do over +a colonist; only when they do, they never say warny wunst, cuss 'em, +they arn't civil enough for that. They arn't paid for it--there is no +parquisite to be got by it. Won't I tuck in the Champaine to-night, +that's all, till I get the steam up right, and make the paddles work? +Won't I have a lark of the rael Kentuck breed? Won't I trip up a +policeman's heels, thunder the knockers of the street doors, and ring +the bells and leave no card? Won't I have a shy at a lamp, and then off +hot foot to the hotel? Won't I say, 'Waiter, how dare you do that?' + +"'What, Sir?' + +"'Tread on my foot.' + +"'I didn't, Sir.' + +"'You did, Sir. Take that!' knock him down like wink, and help him up on +his feet agin with a kick on his western eend. Kiss the barmaid, about +the quickest and wickedest she ever heerd tell of, and then off to bed +as sober as a judge. 'Chambermaid, bring a pan of coals and air my bed.' +'Yes, Sir.' Foller close at her heels, jist put a hand on each short +rib, tickle her till she spills the red hot coals all over the floor, +and begins to cry over 'em to put 'em out, whip the candle out of her +hand, leave her to her lamentations, and then off to roost in no time. +And when I get there, won't I strike out all abroad--take up the room of +three men with their clothes on--lay all over and over the bed, and feel +once more I am a free man and a '_Gentleman at large_.'" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. SEEING LIVERPOOL. + +On looking back to any given period of our life, we generally find that +the intervening time appears much shorter than it really is. We see at +once the starting-post and the terminus, and the mind takes in at one +view the entire space. + +But this observation is more peculiarly applicable to a short passage +across the Atlantic. Knowing how great the distance is, and accustomed +to consider the voyage as the work of many weeks, we are so astonished +at finding ourselves transported in a few days, from one continent to +another, that we can hardly credit the evidence of our own senses. + +Who is there that on landing has not asked himself the question, "Is it +possible that I am in England? It seems but as yesterday that I was in +America, to-day I am in Europe. Is it a dream, or a reality?" + +The river and the docks--the country and the town--the people and their +accent--the verdure and the climate are all new to me. I have not been +prepared for this; I have not been led on imperceptibly, by travelling +mile after mile by land from my own home, to accustom my senses to the +gradual change of country. There has been no border to pass, where the +language, the dress, the habits, and outward appearances assimilate. +There has been no blending of colours--no dissolving views in the +retrospect--no opening or expanding ones in prospect. I have no +difficulty in ascertaining the point where one terminates and the other +begins. + +The change is sudden and startling. The last time I slept on shore, +was in America--to-night I sleep in England. The effect is magical--one +country is withdrawn from view, and another is suddenly presented to my +astonished gaze. I am bewildered; I rouse myself, and rubbing my eyes, +again ask whether I am awake? Is this England? that great country, that +world of itself; Old England, that place I was taught to call home _par +excellence_, the home of other homes, whose flag, I called our flag? +(no, I am wrong, I have been accustomed to call our flag, the flag of +England; our church, not the Church of Nova Scotia, nor the Colonial nor +the Episcopal, nor the Established, but the Church of England.) Is +it then that England, whose language I speak, whose subject I am, the +mistress of the world, the country of Kings and Queens, and nobles and +prelates, and sages and heroes? + +I have read of it, so have I read of old Rome; but the sight of Rome, +Caesar and the senate would not astonish me more than that of London, +the Queen and the Parliament. Both are yet ideal; the imagination has +sketched them, but when were its sketches ever true to nature? I have +a veneration for both, but, gentle reader, excuse the confessions of an +old man, for I have a soft spot in the heart yet, _I love Old England_. +I love its institutions, its literature, its people. I love its law, +because, while it protects property, it ensures liberty. I love its +church, not only because I believe it is the true church, but because +though armed with power, it is tolerant in practice. I love its +constitution, because it combines the stability of a monarchy, with the +most valuable peculiarities of a republic, and without violating nature +by attempting to make men equal, wisely follow its dictates, by securing +freedom to all. + +I like the people, though not all in the same degree. They are not what +they were. Dissent, reform and agitation have altered their character. +It is necessary to distinguish. A _real_ Englishman is generous, loyal +and brave, manly in his conduct and gentlemanly in his feeling. When I +meet such a man as this, I cannot but respect him; but when I find that +in addition to these good qualities, he has the further recommendation +of being a churchman in his religion and a tory in his politics, I know +then that his heart is in the right place, and I love him. + +The drafts of these chapters were read to Mr. Slick, at his particular +request, that he might be assured they contained nothing that would +injure his election as President of the United States, in the event of +the Slickville ticket becoming hereafter the favourite one. This, he +said, was on the cards, strange as it might seem, for making a fool of +John Bull and turning the laugh on him, would be sure to take and be +popular. The last paragraphs, he said, he affectioned and approbated +with all his heart. + +"It is rather tall talkin' that," said he; "I like its patronisin' tone. +There is sunthin' goodish in a colonist patronisin' a Britisher. It's +turnin' the tables on 'em; it's sarvin' 'em out in their own way. Lord, +I think I see old Bull put his eye-glass up and look at you, with a dead +aim, and hear him say, 'Come, this is cuttin' it rather fat.' Or, as +the feller said to his second wife, when she tapped him on the shoulder, +'Marm, my first wife was a _Pursy_, and she never presumed to take that +liberty.' Yes, that's good, Squire. Go it, my shirt-tails! you'll win if +you get in fust, see if you don't. Patronizin' a Britisher!!! A critter +that has Lucifer's pride, Arkwright's wealth, and Bedlam's sense, ain't +it rich? Oh, wake snakes and walk your chalks, will you! Give me your +figgery-four Squire, I'll go in up to the handle for you. Hit or miss, +rough or tumble, claw or mud-scraper, any way, you damn please, I'm your +man." + +But to return to my narrative. I was under the necessity of devoting the +day next after our landing at Liverpool, to writing letters announcing +my safe arrival to my anxious friends in Nova Scotia, and in different +parts of England; and also some few on matters of business. Mr. Slick +was very urgent in his request, that I should defer this work till +the evening, and accompany him in a stroll about the town, and at last +became quite peevish at my reiterated refusal. + +"You remind me, Squire," said he, "of Rufus Dodge, our great ile +marchant of Boston, and as you won't walk, p'raps you'll talk, so I'll +jist tell you the story. + +"I was once at the Cataract House to Niagara. It is jist a short +distance above the Falls. Out of the winders, you have a view of the +splendid white waters, or the rapids of foam, afore the river takes its +everlastin' leap over the cliff. + +"Well, Rufus come all the way from Boston to see the Falls: he said he +didn't care much about them hisself, seein' that he warn't in the mill +business; but, as he was a goin' to England, he didn't like to say he +hadn't been there, especially as all the English knowed about America +was, that there was a great big waterfall called Niagara, an everlastin' +Almighty big river called Mississippi, and a parfect pictur of a wappin' +big man called Kentuckian there. Both t'other ones he'd seen over and +over agin, but Niagara he'd never sot eyes on. + +"So as soon as he arrives, he goes into the public room, and looks at +the white waters, and, sais he, 'Waiter,' sais he, 'is them the falls +down there?' a-pintin' by accident in the direction where the Falls +actilly was. + +"'Yes, Sir,' sais the waiter. + +"'Hem!' sais Rufe, 'them's the Falls of Niagara, eh! So I've seen the +Falls at last, eh! Well it's pretty too: they ain't bad, that's a fact. +So them's the Falls of Niagara! How long is it afore the stage starts?' + +"'An hour, Sir.' + +"'Go and book me for Boston, and then bring me a paper.' + +"'Yes, Sir.' + +"Well he got his paper and sot there a readin' of it, and every now +and then, he'd look out of the winder and say: 'So them's the Falls of +Niagara, eh? Well, it's a pretty little mill privilege that too, ain't +it; but it ain't just altogether worth comin' so far to see. So I've +seen the Falls at last!' + +"Arter a while in comes a Britisher. + +"'Waiter,' says he, 'how far is it to the Falls?' + +"'Little over a half a mile, Sir.' + +"'Which way do you get there?' + +"'Turn to the right, and then to the left, and then go a-head.' + +"Rufe heard all this, and it kinder seemed dark to him; so arter +cypherin' it over in his head a bit, 'Waiter,' says he, 'ain't them the +Falls of Niagara, I see there?' + +"'No, Sir.' + +"'Well, that's tarnation all over now. Not the Falls?' + +"'No, Sir.' + +"'Why, you don't mean to say, that them are ain't the Falls?' + +"'Yes, I do, Sir.' + +"'Heaven and airth! I've come hundreds of miles a puppus to see 'em, and +nothin' else; not a bit of trade, or speckelation, or any airthly thing +but to see them cussed Falls, and come as near as 100 cents to a dollar, +startin' off without sein' 'em arter all. If it hadn't a been for that +are Britisher I was sold, that's a fact. Can I run down there and back +in half an hour in time for the stage?' + +"'Yes, Sir, but you will have no time to see them.' + +"'See 'em, cuss 'em, I don't want to see 'em, I tell you. I want to look +at 'em, I want to say I was to the Falls, that's all. Give me my hat, +quick! So them ain't the Falls! I ha'n't see'd the Falls of Niagara +arter all. What a devil of a take-in that is, ain't it?' And he dove +down stairs like a Newfoundland dog into a pond arter a stone, and out +of sight in no time. + +"Now, you are as like Rufe, as two peas, Squire. You want to say, you +was to Liverpool, but you don't want to see nothin'.' + +"Waiter." + +"Sir." + +"Is this Liverpool, I see out of the Winder?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Guess I have seen Liverpool then. So this is the great city of +Liverpool, eh? When does the train start for London?" + +"In half an hour, Sir?" + +"Book me for London then, for I have been to Liverpool and seen the +city. Oh, take your place, Squire, you have seen Liverpool; and if you +see as much of all other places, as you have of this here one, afore you +return home, you will know most as much of England as them do that never +was there at all. + +"I am sorry too, you won't go, Squire," added he, "for minister seems +kinder dull." + +"Don't say another word, Mr. Slick," said I; "every thing shall give way +to him." And locking up my writing-desk I said: "I am ready." + +"Stop, Squire," said he, "I've got a favour to ask of you. Don't for +gracious sake, say nothin' before Mr. Hopewell about that 'ere lark I +had last night arter landin', it would sorter worry him, and set him off +a-preachin', and I'd rather he'd strike me any time amost than lectur, +for he does it so tender and kindly, it hurts my feelins _like_, a +considerable sum. I've had a pretty how-do-ye-do about it this mornin', +and have had to plank down handsum', and do the thing genteel; but +Mister Landlord found, I reckon, he had no fool to deal with, nother. He +comes to me, as soon as I was cleverly up this mornin', lookin' as full +of importance, as Jube Japan did when I put the Legation button on him. + +"'Bad business this, Sir,' says he; 'never had such a scene in my house +before, Sir; have had great difficulty to prevent my sarvants takin' the +law of you.' + +"'Ah,' sais I to myself, 'I see how the cat jumps; here's a little tid +bit of extortion now; but you won't find that no go, I don't think.' + +"'You will have to satisfy them, Sir,' says he, 'or take the +consequences.' + +"'Sartainly,' said I, 'any thin' you please: I leave it entirely to you; +jist name what you think proper, and I will liquidate it.' + +"'I said, I knew you would behave like a gentleman, Sir,' sais he, 'for, +sais I, don't talk to me of law, name it to the gentleman, and he'll do +what is right; he'll behave liberal, you may depend.' + +"'You said right,' sais I, 'and now, Sir, what's the damage?' + +"'Fifty pounds, I should think about the thing, Sir,' said he. + +"'Certainly,' said I, 'you shall have the fifty pounds, but you must +give me a receipt in full for it.' + +"'By all means,' said he, and he was a cuttin' off full chisel to get a +stamp, when I sais, 'Stop,' sais I, 'uncle, mind and put in the receipt, +the bill of items, and charge 'em separate?' + +"'Bill of items? sais he. + +"'Yes,' sais I, 'let me see what each is to get. Well, there's the +waiter, now. Say to knockin' down the waiter and kicking him, so much; +then there's the barmaid so much, and so on. I make no objection, I am +willin' to pay all you ask, but I want to include all, for I intend to +post a copy of it in the elegant cabins of each of our splendid New York +Liners. This house convenes the Americans--they all know _me_. I want +them to know how their _Attache_ was imposed on, and if any American +ever sets foot in this cussed house agin I will pay his bill, and post +that up too, as a letter of credit for him.' + +"'You wouldn't take that advantage of me, Sir?' said he. + +"'I take no advantage,' sais I. 'I'll pay you what you ask, but you +shall never take advantage agin of another free and enlightened American +citizen, I can tell you.' + +"'You must keep your money then, Sir,' said he, 'but this is not a fair +deal; no gentleman would do it.' + +"'What's fair, I am willin' to do,' sais I; 'what's onfair, is what +you want to do. Now, look here: I knocked the waiter down; here is two +sovereigns for him; I won't pay him nothin' for the kickin', for that +I give him out of contempt, for not defendin' of himself. Here's three +sovereigns for the bar-maid; she don't ought to have nothin', for she +never got so innocent a kiss afore, in all her born days I know, for +I didn't mean no harm, and she never got so good a one afore nother, +that's a fact; but then _I_ ought to pay, I do suppose, because I hadn't +ought to treat a lady that way; it was onhansum', that's fact; and +besides, it tante right to give the galls a taste for such things. They +come fast enough in the nateral way, do kisses, without inokilatin' +folks for 'em. And here's a sovereign for the scoldin' and siscerarin' +you gave the maid, that spilt the coals and that's an eend of the +matter, and I don't want no receipt.' + +"Well, he bowed and walked off, without sayin' of a word." + +Here Mr. Hopewell joined us, and we descended to the street, to commence +our perambulation of the city; but it had begun to rain, and we were +compelled to defer it until the next day. + +"Well, it ain't much matter, Squire," said Mr. Slick: "ain't that +Liverpool, I see out of the winder? Well, then I've been to Liverpool. +Book me for London. So I have seen Liverpool at last, eh! or, as Rufus +said, I have felt it too, for this wet day reminds me of the rest of his +story. + +"In about a half hour arter Rufus raced off to the Falls, back he +comes as hard as he could tear, a-puffing and a blowin' like a sizeable +grampus. You never seed such a figure as he was, he was wet through and +through, and the dry dust stickin' to his clothes, made him look like a +dog, that had jumped into the water, and then took a roll in the road to +dry hisself; he was a caution to look at, that's a fact. + +"'Well,' sais I, 'Stranger, did you see the Falls?' + +"'Yes,' sais he, 'I have see'd 'em and felt 'em too; them's very wet +Falls, that's a fact. I hante a dry rag on me; if it hadn't a been for +that ere Britisher, I wouldn't have see'd 'em at all, and yet a thought +I had been there all the time. It's a pity too, that that winder don't +bear on it, for then you could see it without the trouble of goin' +there, or gettin' ducked, or gettin' skeered so. I got an awful fright +there--I shall never forget it, if I live as long as Merusalem. You know +I hadn't much time left, when. I found out I hadn't been there arter +all, so I ran all the way, right down as hard as I could clip; and, +seein' some folks comin' out from onder the Fall, I pushed strait in, +but the noise actilly stunned me, and the spray wet me through and +through like a piece of sponged cloth; and the great pourin', bilin' +flood, blinded me so I couldn't see a bit; and I hadn't gone far in, +afore a cold, wet, clammy, dead hand, felt my face all over. I believe +in my soul, it was the Indian squaw that went over the Falls in the +canoe, or the crazy Englisher, that tried to jump across it. + +"'Oh creation, how cold it was! The moment that spirit rose, mine fell, +and I actilly thought I should have dropt lumpus, I was so skeered. Give +me your hand, said Ghost, for I didn't see nothin' but a kinder dark +shadow. Give me your hand. I think it must ha' been the squaw, for it +begged for all the world, jist like an Indgian. I'd see you hanged fust, +said I; I wouldn't touch that are dead tacky hand o' yourn' for half a +million o' hard dollars, cash down without any ragged eends; and with +that, I turned to run out, but Lord love you I couldn't run. The stones +was all wet and slimy, and onnateral slippy, and I expected every +minute, I should heels up and go for it: atween them two critters the +Ghost and the juicy ledge, I felt awful skeered I tell _you_. So I +begins to say my catechism; what's your name, sais I? Rufus Dodge. Who +gave you that name? Godfather and godmother granny Eells. What did +they promise for you? That I should renounce the devil and all his +works--works--works--I couldn't get no farther, I stuck fast there, for +I had forgot it. + +"'The moment I stopt, ghost kinder jumped forward, and seized me by my +mustn't-mention'ems, and most pulled the seat out. Oh dear! my heart +most went out along with it, for I thought my time had come. You black +she-sinner of a heathen Indgian! sais I; let me go this blessed minite, +for I renounce the devil and all his works, the devil and all his +works--so there now; and I let go a kick behind, the wickedest you ever +see, and took it right in the bread basket. Oh, it yelled and howled +and screached like a wounded hyaena, till my ears fairly cracked agin. +I renounce you, Satan, sais I; I renounce you, and the world, and the +flesh and the devil. And now, sais I, a jumpin' on terry firm once more, +and turnin' round and facin' the enemy, I'll promise a little dust more +for myself, and that is to renounce Niagara, and Indgian squaws, and +dead Britishers, and the whole seed, breed and generation of 'em from +this time forth, for evermore. Amen. + +"'Oh blazes! how cold my face is yet. Waiter, half a pint of clear +cocktail; somethin' to warm me. Oh, that cold hand! Did you ever touch a +dead man's hand? it's awful cold, you may depend. Is there any marks on +my face? do you see the tracks of the fingers there?' + +"'No, Sir,' sais I,' I can't say I do.' + +"'Well, then I feel them there,' sais he, 'as plain as any thing.' + +"'Stranger,' sais I, 'it was nothin' but some poor no-souled critter, +like yourself, that was skeered a'most to death, and wanted to be helped +out that's all." + +"'Skeered!' said he, 'sarves him right then; he might have knowed how to +feel for other folks, and not funkify them so peskily; I don't keer if +he never gets out; but I have my doubts about its bein' a livin' human, +I tell _you_. If I hadn't a renounced the devil and all his works that +time, I don't know what the upshot would have been, for Old Scratch was +there too. I saw him as plain as I see you; he ran out afore me, and +couldn't stop or look back, as long as I said catekism. He was in his +old shape of the sarpent; he was the matter of a yard long, and as thick +round as my arm and travelled belly-flounder fashion; when I touched +land, he dodged into an eddy, and out of sight in no time. Oh, there is +no mistake, I'll take my oath of it; I see him, I did upon my soul. It +was the old gentleman hisself; he come there to cool hisself. Oh, it was +the devil, that's a fact.' + +"'It was nothin' but a fresh water eel,' sais I; 'I have seen thousands +of 'em there; for the crevices of them rocks are chock full of 'em. +How can you come for to go, for to talk arter that fashion; you are +a disgrace to our great nation, you great lummokin coward, you. An +American citizen is afeerd of nothin', but a bad spekilation, or bein' +found oat.' + +"Well, that posed him, he seemed kinder bothered, and looked down. + +"'An eel, eh! well, it mought be an eel,' sais be, 'that's a fact. +I didn't think of that; but then if it was, it was god-mother granny +Eells, that promised I should renounce the devil and all his works, that +took that shape, and come to keep me to my bargain. She died fifty years +ago, poor old soul, and never kept company with Indgians, or niggers, +or any such trash. Heavens and airth! I don't wonder the Falls wakes the +dead, it makes such an everlastin' almighty noise, does Niagara. Waiter, +more cocktail, that last was as weak as water.' + +"'Yes, Sir,' and he swallered it like wink. + +"'The stage is ready, Sir.' + +"'Is it?' said he, and he jumped in all wet as he was; for time is money +and he didn't want to waste neither. As it drove off, I heerd him say, +'Well them's the Falls, eh! So I have seen the Falls of Niagara and felt +'em too, eh!' + +"Now, we are better off than Rufus Dodge was, Squire; for we hante got +wet, and we hante got frightened, but we can look out o' the winder and +say, 'Well, that's Liverpool, eh! so I have--seen Liverpool.'" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. CHANGING A NAME. + +The rain having confined us to the house this afternoon, we sat over +our wine after dinner longer than usual. Among the different topics +that were discussed, the most prominent was the state of the political +parties in this country. Mr. Slick, who paid great deference to the +opinions of Mr. Hopewell, was anxious to ascertain from him what +he thought upon the subject, in order to regulate his conduct and +conversation by it hereafter. + +"Minister," said he, "what do you think of the politics of the British?" + +"I don't think about them at all, Sam. I hear so much of such matters at +home, that I am heartily tired of them; our political world is divided +into two classes, the knaves and the dupes. Don't let us talk of such +exciting, things." + +"But, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "holdin' the high and dignified station +I do, as Attache, they will be a-pumpin' me for everlastinly, will the +great men here, and they think a plaguy sight more of our opinion than +you are aware on; we have tried all them things they are a jawin' about +here, and they naterally want to know the results. Cooper says not one +Tory called on him when he was to England, but Walter Scott; and that +I take it, was more lest folks should think he was jealous of him, than +any thing else; they jist cut him as dead as a skunk; but among the +Whigs, he was quite an oracle on ballot, univarsal suffrage, and all +other democratic institutions." + +"Well, he was a ninny then, was Cooper, to go and blart it all out to +the world that way; for if no Tory visited him, I should like you to ask +him the next time you see him, how many gentlemen called upon him? Jist +ask him that, and it will stop him from writing such stuff any more." + +"But, Minister, jist tell us now, here you are, as a body might say in +England, now what are you?" + +"I am a man, Sam; _Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto_." + +"Well, what's all that when it's fried?" + +"Why, that when away from home, I am a citizen of the world. I belong to +no party, but take an interest in the whole human family." + +"Well, Minister, if you choose to sing dumb, you can, but I should like +to have you answer me one question now, and if you won't, why you must +jist do t'other thing, that's all. Are you a Consarvative?" + +"No." + +"Are you a Whig?" + +"No." + +"A Radical?" + +"God forbid!" + +"What in natur' are you then?" + +"A Tory." + +"A Tory! well, I thought that a Tory and a Consarvative, were as the +Indgians say, "all same one brudder." Where is the difference?" + +"You will soon find that out, Sam; go and talk to a Consarvative as +a Tory, and you will find he is a Whig: go and talk to him again as a +Whig, and you will find he is a Tory. They are, for all the world, like +a sturgeon. There is very good beef steaks in a sturgeon, and very good +fish too, and yet it tante either fish or flesh. I don't like taking +a new name, it looks amazing like taking new principles, or, at all +events, like loosenin' old ones, and I hante seen the creed of this new +sect yet--I don't know what its tenets are, nor where to go and look for +'em. It strikes me they don't accord with the Tories, and yet arn't in +tune with the Whigs, but are half a note lower than the one, and half +a note higher than t'other. Now, changes in the body politic are always +necessary more or less, in order to meet the changes of time, and the +changes in the condition of man. When they are necessary, make 'em, and +ha' done with 'em. Make 'em like men, not when you are forced to do so, +and nobody thanks you, but when you see they are wanted, and are proper; +but don't alter your name. + +"My wardens wanted me to do that; they came to me, and said 'Minister,' +says they, 'we don't want _you_ to change, we don't ask it; jist let +us call you a Unitarian, and you can remain Episcopalian still. We are +tired of that old fashioned name, it's generally thought unsuited to +the times, and behind the enlightment of the age; it's only fit for +benighted Europeans. Change the name, you needn't change any thing else. +What is a name?' + +"'Every thing,' says I, 'every thing, my brethren; one name belongs to a +Christian, and the other don't; that's the difference. I'd die before +I surrendered my name; for in surrenderin' that, I surrender my +principles.'" + +"Exactly," said Mr. Slick, "that's what Brother Eldad used to say. +'Sam,' said he, 'a man with an _alias_ is the worst character in the +world; for takin' a new name, shows he is ashamed of his old one; and +havin' an old one, shows his new one is a cheat.'" + +"No," said Mr. Hopewell, "I don't like that word Consarvative. Them +folks may be good kind of people, and I guess they be, seein' that the +Tories support 'em, which is the best thing I see about them; but I +don't like changin' a name." + +"Well, I don't know," said Mr. Slick, "p'raps their old name was so +infarnal dry rotted, they wanted to change it for a sound new one. You +recollect when that super-superior villain, Expected Thorne, brought +an action of defamation agin' me, to Slickville, for takin' away his +character, about stealing the watch to Nova Scotia; well, I jist pleaded +my own case, and I ups and sais, 'Gentlemen of the Jury,' sais I, +"Expected's character, every soul knows, is about the wust in all +Slickville. If I have taken it away, I have done him a great sarvice, +for he has a smart chance of gettin' a better one; and if he don't find +a swap to his mind, why no character is better nor a bad one.' + +"Well, the old judge and the whole court larfed right out like any +thin'; and the jury, without stirrin' from the box, returned a vardict +for the defendant. P'raps now, that mought be the case with the Tories." + +"The difference," said Mr. Hopewell, is jist this:--your friend, Mr. +Expected Thorne, had a name he had ought to have been ashamed of, and +the Tories one that the whole nation had very great reason to be +proud of. There is some little difference, you must admit. My English +politics, (mind you, I say English, for they hare no reference to +America,) are Tory, and I don't want to go to Sir Robert Peel, or Lord +John Russell either." + +"As for Johnny Russell," said Mr. Slick, "he is a clever little chap +that; he--" + +"Don't call him Johnny Russell," said Mr. Hopewell, "or a little chap, +or such flippant names, I don't like to hear you talk that way. It +neither becomes you as a Christian nor a gentleman. St. Luke and St. +Paul, when addressing people of rank, use the word '[Greek text]' +which, as nearly as possible, answers to the title of 'your Excellency.' +Honour, we are told, should be given to those to whom honour is due; +and if we had no such authority on the subject, the omission of titles, +where they are usual and legal, is, to say the least of it, a vulgar +familiarity, ill becoming an Attache of our embassy. But as I was +saying, I do not require to go to either of those statesmen to be +instructed in my politics. I take mine where I take my religion, from +the Bible. 'Fear God, honour the King, and meddle not with those that +are given to change.'" + +"Oh, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "you mis't a figur at our glorious +Revolution, you had ought to have held on to the British; they would +have made a bishop of you, and shoved you into the House of Lords, black +apron, lawn sleeves, shovel hat and all, as sure as rates. 'The right +reverend, the Lord Bishop of Slickville:' wouldn't it look well on +the back of a letter, eh? or your signature to one sent to me, signed +'Joshua Slickville.' It sounds better, that, than 'Old Minister,' don't +it?" + +"Oh, if you go for to talk that way, Sam, I am done; but I will shew you +that the Tories are the men to govern this great nation. A Tory I may +say '_noscitur a sociis_.'" + +"What in natur is that, when it's biled and the skin took off?" asked +Mr. Slick. + +"Why is it possible you don't know that? Have you forgotten that common +schoolboy phrase?" + +"Guess I do know; but it don't tally jist altogether nohow, as it were. +Known as a Socialist, isn't it?" + +"If, Sir," said Mr. Hopewell, with much earnestness, "if instead of +ornamenting your conversation with cant terms, and miserable slang, +picked up from the lowest refuse of our population, both east and west, +you had cultivated your mind, and enriched it with quotations from +classical writers, you would have been more like an Attache, and less +like a peddling clockmaker than you are." + +"Minister," said Mr. Slick, "I was only in jeest, but you are in +airnest. What you have said is too true for a joke, and I feel it. I was +only a sparrin'; but you took off the gloves, and felt my short ribs in +a way that has given me a stitch in the side. It tante fair to kick that +way afore you are spurred. You've hurt me considerable." + +"Sam, I am old, narvous, and irritable. I was wrong to speak unkindly +to you, very wrong indeed, and I am sorry for it; but don't teaze me no +more, that's a good lad; for I feel worse than you do about it. I beg +your pardon, I--" + +"Well," said Mr. Slick, "to get back to what we was a sayin', for you do +talk like a book, that's a fact; '_noscitur a sociis_,' says you." + +"Ay, 'Birds of a feather flock together,' as the old maxim goes. Now, +Sam, who supported the Whigs?" + +"Why, let me see; a few of the lords, a few of the gentry, the +repealers, the manufacturin' folks, the independents, the baptists, the +dissentin' Scotch, the socialists, the radicals, the discontented, and +most of the lower orders, and so on." + +"Well, who supported the Tories?" + +"Why, the majority of the lords, the great body of landed gentry, the +univarsities, the whole of the Church of England, the whole of the +methodists, amost the principal part of the kirk, the great marchants, +capitalists, bankers, lawyers, army and navy officers, and soon." + +"Now don't take your politics from me, Sam, for I am no politician; but +as an American citizen, judge for yourself, which of those two parties +is most likely to be right, or which would you like to belong to." + +"Well, I must say," replied he, "I _do_ think that the larnin', piety, +property, and respectability, is on the Tory side; and where all them +things is united, right most commonly is found a-joggin' along in +company." + +"Well now, Sam, you know we are a calculatin' people, a commercial +people, a practical people. Europe laughs at us for it. Perhaps if +they attended better to their own financial affairs, they would be in a +better situation to laugh. But still we must look to facts and results. +How did the Tories, when they went out of office, leave the kingdom?--At +peace?" + +"Yes, with all the world." + +"How did the Whigs leave it?" + +"With three wars on hand, and one in the vat a-brewin' with America. +Every great interest injured, some ruined, and all alarmed at the +impendin' danger--of national bankruptcy." + +"Well, now for dollars and cents. How did the Tories leave the +treasury?" + +"With a surplus revenue of millions." + +"How did the Whigs?" + +"With a deficiency that made the nation scratch their head, and stare +agin." + +"I could go through the details with you, as far as my imperfect +information extends, or more imperfect memory would let me; but it +is all the same, and always will be, here, in France, with us, in the +colonies, and everywhere else. Whenever property, talent, and virtue are +all on one side, and only ignorant numbers, with a mere sprinkling of +property and talent to agitate 'em and make use of 'em, or misinformed +or mistaken virtue to sanction 'em on the other side, no honest man can +take long to deliberate which side he will choose. + +"As to those conservatives, I don't know what to say, Sam; I should like +to put you right if I could. But I'll tell you what puzzles me. I ask +myself what is a Tory? I find he is a man who goes the whole figur' for +the support of the monarchy, in its three orders, of king, lords, and +commons, as by law established; that he is for the connexion of Church +and State and so on; and that as the wealthiest man in England, he +offers to prove his sincerity, by paying the greatest part of the taxes +to uphold these things. Well, then I ask what is Consarvitism? I am told +that it means, what it imports, a conservation of things as they are. +Where, then, is the difference? _If there is no difference, it is a mere +juggle to change the name: if there is a difference, the word is worse +than a juggle, for it don't import any_." + +"Tell you what," said Mr. Slick, "I heerd an old critter to Halifax once +describe 'em beautiful. He said he could tell a man's politicks by his +shirt. 'A Tory, Sir,' said he, for he was a pompious old boy was old +Blue-Nose; 'a Tory, Sir,' said he, 'is a gentleman every inch of him, +stock, lock, and barrel; and he puts a clean frill shirt on every day. +A Whig, Sir,' says he, 'is a gentleman every other inch of him, and +he puts an onfrilled one on every other day. A Radical, Sir, ain't no +gentleman at all, and he only puts one on of a Sunday. But a Chartist, +Sir, is a loafer; he never puts one on till the old one won't hold +together no longer, and drops off in, pieces.'" + +"Pooh!" said Mr. Hopewell, "now don't talk nonsense; but as I was +a-goin' to say, I am a plain man, and a straightforward man, Sam; what I +say, I mean; and what I mean, I say. Private and public life are subject +to the same rules; and truth and manliness are two qualities that +will carry you through this world much better than policy, or tact, +or expediency, or any other word that ever was devised to conceal, or +mystify a deviation from the straight line. They have a sartificate of +character, these consarvitives, in having the support of the Tories; but +that don't quite satisfy me. It may, perhaps, mean no more than this, +arter all--they are the best sarvants we have; but not as good as we +want. However, I shall know more about it soon; and when I do, I will +give you my opinion candidly. One thing, however, is certain, a change +in the institutions of a country I could accede to, approve, and +support, if necessary and good; but I never can approve of either an +individual or a party--'_changing a name_.'" + + + + +CHAPTER X. THE NELSON MONUMENT. + +The following day being dry, we walked out to view the wonders of this +great commercial city of England, Liverpool. The side-paths were filled +with an active and busy population, and the main streets thronged with +heavily-laden waggons, conveying to the docks the manufactures of the +country, or carrying inward the productions of foreign nations. It was +an animating and busy scene. + +"This," said Mr. Hopewell, "is solitude. It is in a place like this, +that you feel yourself to be an isolated being, when you are surrounded +by multitudes who have no sympathy with you, to whom you are not only +wholly unknown, but not one of whom you have ever seen before. + +"The solitude of the vast American forest is not equal to this. +Encompassed by the great objects of nature, you recognise nature's God +every where; you feel his presence, and rely on his protection. Every +thing in a city is artificial, the predominant idea is man; and man, +under circumstances like the present, is neither your friend nor +protector. You form no part of the social system here. Gregarious by +nature, you cannot associate; dependent, you cannot attach yourself; a +rational being, you cannot interchange ideas. In seeking the wilderness +you enter the abode of solitude, and are naturally and voluntarily +alone. On visiting a city, on the contrary, you enter the residence of +man, and if you are forced into isolation there, to you it is worse than +a desert. + +"I know of nothing so depressing as this feeling of unconnected +individuality, amidst a dense population like this. But, my friend, +there is One who never forsakes us either in the throng or the +wilderness, whose ear is always open to our petitions, and who has +invited us to rely on his goodness and mercy." + +"You hadn't ought to feel lonely here, Minister," said Mr. Slick. "It's +a place we have a right to boast of is Liverpool; we built it, and I'll +tell you what it is, to build two such cities as New York and Liverpool +in the short time we did, is sunthin' to brag of. If there had been no +New York, there would have been no Liverpool; but if there had been no +Liverpool, there would have been a New York though. They couldn't do +nothin' without us. We had to build them elegant line-packets for 'em; +they couldn't build one that could sail, and if she sail'd she couldn't +steer, and if she sail'd and steer'd, she upsot; there was always a +screw loose somewhere. + +"It cost us a great deal too to build them ere great docks. They cover +about seventy acres, I reckon. We have to pay heavy port dues to keep +'em up, and pay interest on capital. The worst of it is, too, while we +pay for all this, we hante got the direction of the works." + +"If you have paid for all these things," said I, "you had better +lay claim to Liverpool. Like the disputed territory (to which it now +appears, you knew you had no legal or equitable claim), it is probable +you will have half of it ceded to you, for the purpose of conciliation. +I admire this boast of yours uncommonly. It reminds me of the +conversation we had some years ago, about the device on your "naval +button," of the eagle holding an anchor in its claws--that national +emblem of ill-directed ambition and vulgar pretension." + +"I thank you for that hint," said Mr. Slick, "I was in jeest like; but +there is more in it, for all that, than you'd think. It ain't literal +fact, but it is figurative truth. But now I'll shew you sunthin' in +this town, that's as false as parjury, sunthin that's a disgrace to this +country and an insult to our great nation, and there is no jeest in it +nother, but a downright lie; and, since you go for to throw up to me our +naval button with its 'eagle and anchor,' I'll point out to you sunthin' +a hundred thousand million times wus. What was the name o' that English +admiral folks made such a touss about; that cripple-gaited, one-eyed, +one-armed little naval critter?" + +"Do you mean Lord Nelson?" + +"I do," said he, and pointing to his monument, he continued, "There +he is as big as life, five feet nothin', with his shoes on. Now examine +that monument, and tell me if the English don't know how to brag, as +well as some other folks, and whether they don't brag too sumtimes, when +they hante got no right to. There is four figures there a representing +the four quarters of the globe in chains, and among them America, a +crouchin' down, and a-beggin' for life, like a mean heathen Ingin. Well, +jist do the civil now, and tell me when that little braggin' feller ever +whipped us, will you? Just tell me the day of the year he was ever able +to do it, since his mammy cut the apron string and let him run to seek +his fortin'. Heavens and airth, we'd a chawed him right up! + +"No, there never was an officer among you, that had any thing to brag +of about us but one, and he wasn't a Britisher--he was a despisable +Blue-nose colonist boy of Halifax. When his captain was took below +wounded, he was leftenant, so he jist ups and takes command o' the +Shannon, and fit like a tiger and took our splendid frigate the +Chesapeake, and that was sumthing to brag on. And what did he get for +it? Why colony sarce, half-pay, and leave to make room for Englishers +to go over his head; and here is a lyin' false monument, erected to this +man that never even see'd one of our national ships, much less smelt +thunder and lightning out of one, that English like, has got this for +what he didn't do. + +"I am sorry Mr. Lett [Footnote: This was the man that blew up the Brock +monument in Canada. _He was a Patriot_.] is dead to Canada, or I'd give +him a hint about this. I'd say, 'I hope none of our free and enlightened +citizens will blow this lyin', swaggerin', bullyin' monument up? I +should be sorry for 'em to take notice of such vulgar insolence as this; +for bullies will brag.' He'd wink and say, 'I won't non-concur with you, +Mr. Slick. I hope it won't be blowed up; but wishes like dreams come +con_trary_ ways sometimes, and I shouldn't much wonder if it bragged +till it bust some night.' It would go for it, that's a fact. For Mr. +Lett has a kind of nateral genius for blowin' up of monuments. + +"Now you talk of our Eagle takin' an anchor in its claws as bad taste. +I won't say it isn't; but it is a nation sight better nor this. See what +the little admiral critter is about! why he is a stampin' and a jabbin' +of the iron heel of his boot into the lifeless body of a fallen foe! +It's horrid disgustin', and ain't overly brave nother; and to make +matters wus, as if this warn't bad enough, them four emblem figures, +have great heavy iron chains on 'em, and a great enormous sneezer of +a lion has one part o' the chain in its mouth, and is a-growlin' and +a-grinnin' and a-snarling at 'em like mad, as much as to say, 'if you +dare to move the sixteen hundredth part of an inch, I will fall to and +make mincemeat of you, in less than half no time. I don't think there +never was nothin' so bad as this, ever seen since the days of old daddy +Adam down to this present blessed day, I don't indeed. So don't come for +to go, Squire, to tarnt me with the Eagle and the anchor no more, for I +don't like it a bit; you'd better look to your '_Nelson monument_' and +let us alone. So come now!" + +Amidst much that was coarse, and more that was exaggerated, there was +still some foundation for the remarks of the Attache. + +"You arrogate a little too much to yourselves," I observed, "in +considering the United States as all America. At the time these +brilliant deeds were achieved, which this monument is intended to +commemorate, the Spaniards owned a very much greater portion of the +transatlantic continent than you now do, and their navy composed a part +of the hostile fleets which were destroyed by Lord Nelson. At that time, +also, you had no navy, or at all events, so few ships, as scarcely +to deserve the name of one; nor had you won for yourselves that high +character, which you now so justly enjoy, for skill and gallantry. I +agree with you, however, in thinking the monument is in bad taste. The +name of Lord Nelson is its own monument. It will survive when these +perishable structures, which the pride or the gratitude of his +countrymen have erected to perpetuate his fame, shall have mouldered +into dust, and been forgotten for ever. If visible objects are thought +necessary to suggest the mention of his name oftener that it would +otherwise occur to the mind, they should be such as to improve the +taste, as well as awaken the patriotism of the beholder. As an American, +there is nothing to which you have a right to object, but as a critic, +I admit that there is much that you cannot approve in the '_Nelson +Monument_.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. COTTAGES. + +On the tenth day after we landed at Liverpool, we arrived in London and +settled ourselves very comfortably in lodgings at No. 202, Piccadilly, +where every possible attention was paid to us by our landlord and his +wife, Mr. and Mrs. Weeks. We performed the journey in a post-chaise, +fearing that the rapid motion of a rail car might have an unpleasant +effect upon the health of Mr. Hope well. + +Of the little incidents of travel that occurred to us, or of the various +objects of attraction on the route, it is not my intention to give +any account. Our journey was doubtless much like the journeys of other +people, and every thing of local interest is to be found in Guide Books, +or topographical works, which are within the reach of every body. + +This book, however imperfect its execution may be, is altogether of +another kind. I shall therefore pass over this and other subsequent +journeys, with no other remark, than that they were performed, until +something shall occur illustrative of the objects I have in view. + +On this occasion I shall select from my diary a description of the +labourer's cottage, and the parish church; because the one shews the +habits, tastes, and condition of the poor of this country, in contrast +with that of America--and the other, the relative means of religious +instruction, and its effect on the lower orders. + +On the Saturday morning, while preparing to resume our journey, which +was now nearly half completed, Mr. Hopewell expressed a desire to remain +at the inn where we were, until the following Monday. As the day was +fine, he said he should like to ramble about the neighbourhood, and +enjoy the fresh air. His attention was soon drawn to some very beautiful +new cottages. + +"These," said he, "are no doubt erected at the expense, and for the +gratification of some great landed proprietor. They are not the abodes +of ordinary labourers, but designed for some favoured dependant or aged +servant. They are expensive toys, but still they are not without their +use. They diffuse a taste among the peasantry--they present them with +models, which, though they cannot imitate in costliness of material or +finish, they can copy in arrangement, and in that sort of decoration, +which flowers, and vines, and culture, and care can give. Let us seek +one which is peculiarly the poor man's cottage, and let us go in and see +who and what they are, how they live, and above all, how they think and +talk. Here is a lane, let us follow it, till we come to a habitation." + +We turned into a grass road, bounded on either side by a high straggling +thorn hedge. At its termination was an irregular cottage with a thatched +roof, which projected over the windows in front. The latter were +latticed with diamond-shaped panes of glass, and were four in number, +one on each side of the door and two just under the roof. The door was +made of two transverse parts, the upper half of which was open. On one +side was a basket-like cage containing a magpie, and on the other, a +cat lay extended on a bench, dozing in the warmth of the sun. The blue +smoke, curling upwards from a crooked chimney, afforded proof of some +one being within. + +We therefore opened a little gate, and proceeded through a neat garden, +in which flowers and vegetables were intermixed. It had a gay appearance +from the pear, apple, thorn and cherry being all in full bloom. We were +received at the door by a middle-aged woman, with the ruddy glow of +health on her cheeks, and dressed in coarse, plain, but remarkably neat +and suitable, attire. As this was a cottage selected at random, and +visited without previous intimation of our intention, I took particular +notice of every thing I saw, because I regarded its appearance as a fair +specimen of its constant and daily state. + +Mr. Hopewell needed no introduction. His appearance told what he was. +His great stature and erect bearing, his intelligent and amiable face, +his noble forehead, his beautiful snow-white locks, his precise and +antique dress, his simplicity of manner, every thing, in short, about +him, at once attracted attention and conciliated favour. + +Mrs. Hodgins, for such was her name, received us with that mixture of +respect and ease, which shewed she was accustomed to converse with her +superiors. She was dressed in a blue homespun gown, (the sleeves of +which were drawn up to her elbows and the lower part tucked through her +pocket-hole,) a black stuff petticoat, black stockings and shoes with +the soles more than half an inch thick. She wore also, a large white +apron, and a neat and by no means unbecoming cap. She informed us her +husband was a gardener's labourer, that supported his family by his +daily work, and by the proceeds of the little garden attached to the +house, and invited us to come in and sit down. + +The apartment into which the door opened, was a kitchen or common room. +On one side, was a large fire-place, the mantel-piece or shelf, of +which was filled with brass candlesticks, large and small, some queer +old-fashioned lamps, snuffers and trays, polished to a degree of +brightness, that was dazzling. A dresser was carried round the wall, +filled with plates and dishes, and underneath were exhibited the +ordinary culinary utensils, in excellent order. A small table stood +before the fire, with a cloth of spotless whiteness spread upon it, as +if in preparation for a meal. A few stools completed the furniture. + +Passing through this place, we were shewn into the parlour, a small room +with a sanded floor. Against the sides were placed some old, dark, and +highly polished chairs, of antique form and rude workmanship. The +walls were decorated with several coloured prints, illustrative of the +Pilgrim's Progress and hung in small red frames of about six inches +square. The fire-place was filled with moss, and its mantel-shelf had +its china sheep and sheperdesses, and a small looking-glass, the whole +being surmounted by a gun hung transversely. The Lord's Prayer and the +Ten Commandments worked in worsted, were suspended in a wooden frame +between the windows, which had white muslin blinds, and opened on +hinges, like a door. A cupboard made to fit the corner, in a manner +to economise room, was filled with china mugs, cups and saucers of +different sizes and patterns, some old tea-spoons and a plated tea-pot. + +There was a small table opposite to the window, which Contained half +a dozen books. One of these was large, handsomely bound, and decorated +with gilt edged paper. Mr. Hopewell opened it, and expressed great +satisfaction at finding such an edition of a bible in such a house. Mrs. +Hodgins explained that this was a present from her eldest son, who had +thus appropriated his first earnings to the gratification of his mother. + +"Creditable to you both, dear," said Mr. Hopewell: "to you, because it +is a proof how well you have instructed him; and to him, that he so well +appreciated and so faithfully remembered those lessons of duty." + +He then inquired into the state of her family, whether the boy who was +training a peach-tree against the end of the house was her son, and many +other matters not necessary to record with the same precision that I +have enumerated the furniture. + +"Oh, here is a pretty little child!" said he. "Come here, dear, and +shake hands along with me. What beautiful hair she has! and she looks +so clean and nice, too. Every thing and every body here is so neat, so +tidy, and so appropriate. Kiss me, dear; and then talk to me; for I love +little children. 'Suffer them to come unto me,' said our Master, 'for of +such is the kingdom of Heaven:' that is, that we should resemble these +little ones in our innocence." + +He then took her on his knee. "Can you say the Lord's Prayer, dear?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"Very good. And the ten Commandments?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"Who taught you?" + +"My mother, Sir; and the parson taught me the Catechism." + +"Why, Sam, this child can say the Lord's Prayer, the ten Commandments, +and the Catechism. Ain't this beautiful? Tell me the fifth, dear." + +And the child repeated it distinctly and accurately. + +"Right. Now, dear, always bear that in mind, especially towards your +mother. You have an excellent mother; her cares and her toils are many; +and amidst them all, how well she has done her duty to you. The only way +she can be repaid, is to find that you are what she desires you to be, +a good girl. God commands this return to be made, and offers you the +reward of length of days. Here is a piece of money for you. And now, +dear," placing her again upon her feet, "you never saw so old a man +as me, and never will again; and one, too, that came from a far-off +country, three thousand miles off; it would take you a long time to +count three thousand; it is so far. Whenever you do what you ought not, +think of the advice of the 'old Minister.'" + +Here Mr. Slick beckoned the mother to the door, and whispered something +to her, of which, the only words that met my ear were "a trump," "a +brick," "the other man like him ain't made yet," "do it, he'll talk, +then." + +To which she replied, "I have--oh yes, Sir--by all means." + +She then advanced to Mr. Hopewell, and asked him if he would like to +smoke. + +"Indeed I would, dear, but I have no pipe here." + +She said her old man smoked of an evening, after his work was done, and +that she could give him a pipe and some tobacco, if he would condescend +to use them; and going to the cupboard, she produced a long white clay +pipe and some cut tobacco. + +Having filled and lighted his pipe, Mr. Hopewell said, "What church do +you go to, dear?" + +"The parish church, Sir." + +"Right; you will hear Sound doctrine and good morals preached there. Oh +this a fortunate country, Sam, for the state provides for the religious +instruction of the poor. Where the voluntary system prevails, the poor +have to give from their poverty, or go without; and their gifts are so +small, that they can purchase but little. It's a beautiful system, a +charitable system, a Christian system. Who is your landlord?" + +"Squire Merton, Sir; and one of the kindest masters, too, that ever was. +He is so good to the poor; and the ladies. Sir, they are so kind, also. +When my poor daughter Mary was so ill with the lever, I do think she +would have died but for the attentions of those young ladies; and when +she grew better, they sent her wine and nourishing things from their own +table. They will be so glad to see you. Sir, at the Priory. Oh, I wish +you could see them!" + +"There it is, Sam," he continued "That illustrates what I always told +you of their social system here. We may boast of our independence, but +that independence produces isolation. There is an individuality about +every man and every family in America, that gives no right of inquiry, +and imposes no duty of relief on any one. Sickness, and sorrow, and +trouble, are not divulged; joy, success, and happiness are not imparted. +If we are independent in our thoughts and actions, so are we left to +sustain the burden of our own ills. How applicable to our state is +that passage of Scripture, 'The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a +stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.' + +"Now, look at this poor family; here is a clergyman provided for them, +whom they do not, and are not even expected to pay; their spiritual +wants are ministered to, faithfully and zealously, as we see by the +instruction of that little child. Here is a friend upon whom they can +rely in their hour of trouble, as the bereaved mother did on Elisha. +'And she went up and laid her child that was dead on the bed of the man +of God, and shut the door on him, and went out.' And when a long train +of agitation, mis-government, and ill-digested changes have deranged +this happy country, as has recently been the case, here is an indulgent +landlord, disposed to lower his rent or give further time for payment, +or if sickness invades any of these cottages, to seek out the sufferer, +to afford the remedies, and by his countenance, his kindness, and +advice, to alleviate their trouble. Here it is, a positive duty arising +from their relative situations of landlord and tenant. The tenants +support the owner, the landlord protects the tenants: the duties are +reciprocal. + +"With _us_ the duties, as far as Christian duties can be said to be +optional, are voluntary; and the voluntary discharge of duties, like +the voluntary support of religion, we know, from sad experience, to be +sometimes imperfectly performed, at others intermitted, and often wholly +neglected. Oh! it is a happy country this, a great and a good country; +and how base, how wicked, how diabolical it is to try to set such +a family as this against their best friends, their pastor and their +landlord; to instil dissatisfaction and distrust into their simple +minds, and to teach them to loathe the hand, that proffers nothing but +regard or relief. It is shocking, isn't it?" + +"That's what I often say, Sir," said Mrs. Hodgins, "to my old man, to +keep away from them Chartists." + +"Chartists! dear, who are they? I never heard of them." + +"Why, Sir, they are the men that want the five pints." + +"Five pints! why you don't say so; oh! they are bad men, have nothing to +do with them. Five pints! why that is two quarts and a half; that is +too much to drink if it was water; and if any thing else, it is beastly +drunkenness. Have nothing to do with them." + +"Oh! no, Sir, it is five points of law." + +"Tut--tut--tut! what have you got to do with law, my dear?" + +"By gosh, Aunty," said Mr. Slick, "you had better not cut that pie: you +will find it rather sour in the apple sarce, and tough in the paste, I +tell _you_." + +"Yes, Sir," she replied, "but they are a unsettling of his mind. What +shall I do? for I don't like these night meetings, and he always comes +home from 'em cross and sour-like." + +"Well, I am sorry to hear that," said Mr. Hopewell, "I wish I could see +him; but I can't, for I am bound on a journey. I am sorry to hear +it, dear. Sam, this country is so beautiful, so highly cultivated, so +adorned by nature and art, and contains so much comfort and happiness, +that it resembles almost the garden of Eden. But, Sam, the Serpent is +here, the Serpent is here beyond a doubt. It changes its shape, and +alters its name, and takes a new colour, but still it is the Serpent, +and it ought to be crushed. Sometimes it calls itself liberal, then +radical, then chartist, then agitator, then repealer, then political +dissenter, then anti-corn leaguer, and so on. Sometimes it stings the +clergy, and coils round them, and almost strangles them, for it knows +the Church is its greatest enemy, and it is furious against it. Then it +attacks the peers, and covers them with its froth and slaver, and then +it bites the landlord. Then it changes form, and shoots at the Queen, or +her ministers, and sets fire to buildings, and burns up corn to increase +distress; and, when hunted away, it dives down into the collieries, or +visits the manufactories, and maddens the people, and urges them on to +plunder and destruction. It's a melancholy thing to think of; but he is +as of old, alive and active, seeing whom he can allure and deceive, and +whoever listens is ruined for ever. + +"Stay, dear, I'll tell you what I will do for you. I'll inquire about +these Chartists; and when I go to London, I will write a little tract +so plain that any child may read it and understand it; and call it _The +Chartist_, and get it printed, and I will send you one for your husband, +and two or three others, to give to those whom they may benefit. + +"And now, dear, I must go. You and I will never meet again in this +world; but I shall often think of you, and often speak of you. I shall +tell my people of the comforts, of the neatness, of the beauty of an +English cottage. May God bless you, and so regulate your mind as to +preserve in you a reverence for his holy word, an obedience to the +commands of your Spiritual Pastor, and a respect for all that are placed +in authority over you!" + +"Well, it is pretty, too, is this cottage," said Mr. Slick, as we +strolled back to the inn, "but the handsumestest thing is to hear that +good old soul talk dictionary that way, aint it? How nateral he is! +Guess they don't often see such a 'postle as that in these diggins. Yes, +it's pretty is this cottage; but it's small, arter all. You feel like a +squirrel in a cage, in it; you have to run round and round, and don't go +forward none. What would a man do with a rifle here? For my part, I have +a taste for the wild woods; it comes on me regular in the fall, like the +lake fever, and I up gun, and off for a week or two, and camp out, and +get a snuff of the spruce-wood air, and a good appetite, and a bit of +fresh ven'son to sup on at night. + +"I shall be off to the highlands this fall; but, cuss em, they hante got +no woods there; nothin' but heather, and thats only high enough to tear +your clothes. That's the reason the Scotch don't wear no breeches, they +don't like to get 'em ragged up that way for everlastinly, they can't +afford it; so they let em scratch and tear their skin, for that will +grow agin, and trowsers won't. + +"Yes, it's a pretty cottage that, and a nice tidy body that too, is Mrs. +Hodgins. I've seen the time when I would have given a good deal to have +been so well housed as that. There is some little difference atween that +cottage and a log hut of a poor back emigrant settler, you and I know +where. Did ever I tell you of the night I spent at Lake Teal, with old +Judge Sandford?" + +"No, not that I recollect." + +"Well, once upon a time I was a-goin' from Mill-bridge to Shadbrooke, +on a little matter of bisness, and an awful bad and lonely road it was, +too. There was scarcely no settlers in it, and the road was all made +of sticks, stones, mud holes, and broken bridges. It was een amost +onpassible, and who should I overtake on the way but the Judge, and his +guide, on horseback, and Lawyer Traverse a-joggin' along in his gig, at +the rate of two miles an hour at the fardest. + +"'Mornin,' sais the Judge, for he was a sociable man, and had a kind +word for every body, had the Judge. Few men 'know'd human natur' better +nor he did, and what he used to call the philosophy of life. 'I am +glad to see you on the road, Mr. Slick, sais he, 'for it is so bad I +am afraid there are places that will require our united efforts to pass +'em.' + +"Well, I felt kinder sorry for the delay too, for I know'd we should +make a poor journey on't, on account of that lawyer critter's gig, that +hadn't no more busness on that rough track than a steam engine had. But +I see'd the Judge wanted me to stay company, and help him along, and so +I did. He was fond of a joke, was the old Judge, and sais he, + +"'I'm afraid we shall illustrate that passage o' Scriptur', Mr. Slick,' +said he, '"And their judges shall be overthrown in stony places." It's +jist a road for it, ain't it?' + +"Well we chattered along the road this way a leetle, jist a leetle +faster than we travelled, for we made a snail's gallop of it, that's a +fact; and night overtook us, as I suspected it would, at Obi Rafuse's, +at the Great Lake; and as it was the only public for fourteen miles, and +dark was settin' in, we dismounted, but oh, what a house it was! + +"Obi was an emigrant, and those emigrants are ginerally so fond of +ownin' the soil, that like misers, they carry as much of it about 'em +on their parsons, in a common way, as they cleverly can. Some on 'em +are awful dirty folks, that's a fact, and Obi was one of them. He kept +public, did Obi; the sign said it was a house of entertainment for man +and beast. For critters that ain't human, I do suppose it spoke the +truth, for it was enough to make a hoss larf, if he could understand it, +that's a fact; but dirt, wretchedness and rags, don't have that effect +on me. + +"The house was built of rough spruce logs, (the only thing spruce about +it), with the bark on, and the cracks and seams was stuffed with moss. +The roof was made of coarse slabs, battened and not shingled, and the +chimbly peeped out like a black pot, made of sticks and mud, the way +a crow's nest is. The winders were half broke out, and stopped up with +shingles and old clothes, and a great bank of mud and straw all round, +reached half way up to the roof, to keep the frost out of the cellar. It +looked like an old hat on a dung heap. I pitied the old Judge, because +he was a man that took the world as he found it, and made no complaints. +He know'd if you got the best, it was no use complainin' that the best +warn't good. + +"Well, the house stood alone in the middle of a clearin', without an +outhouse of any sort or kind about it, or any fence or enclosure, but +jist rose up as a toodstool grows, all alone in the field. Close behind +it was a thick short second growth of young birches, about fifteen feet +high, which was the only shelter it had, and that was on the wrong side, +for it was towards the south. + +"Well, when we alighted, and got the baggage off, away starts the guide +with the Judge's traps, and ups a path through the woods to a settler's, +and leaves us. Away down by the edge of the lake was a little barn, +filled up to the roof with grain and hay, and there was no standin' room +or shelter in it for the hosses. So the lawyer hitches his critter to +a tree, and goes and fetches up some fodder for him, and leaves him for +the night, to weather it as he could. As soon as he goes in, I takes +Old Clay to the barn, for it's a maxim of mine always to look out arter +number one, opens the door, and pulls out sheaf arter sheaf of grain as +fast as I could, and throws it out, till I got a place big enough for +him to crawl in. + +"'Now,' sais I, 'old boy,' as I shot to the door arter him, 'if that +hole ain't big enough for you, eat away till it is, that's all.' + +"I had hardly got to the house afore the rain, that had threatened all +day, came down like smoke, and the wind got up, and it blew like a young +hurricane, and the lake roared dismal; it was an awful night, and it was +hard to say which was wus, the Storm or the shelter. + +"'Of two evils,' sais I to the lawyer, 'choose the least. It ain't a bad +thing to be well housed in a night like this, is it?' + +"The critter groaned, for both cases was so 'bad he didn't know which +to take up to defend, so he grinned horrid and said nothin'; and it was +enough to make him grin too, that's a fact. He looked as if he had got +hold on a bill o' pains and penalties instead of a bill of costs that +time, you may depend. + +"Inside of the house was three rooms, the keepin' room, where we was all +half circled round the fire, and two sleepin' rooms off of it. One of +these Obi had, who was a-bed, groanin', coughin', and turnin' over and +over all the time on the creakin' bedstead with pleurisy; t'other was +for the judge. The loft was for the old woman, his mother, and the +hearth, or any other soft place we could find, was allocated for lawyer +and me. + +"What a scarecrow lookin' critter old aunty was, warn't she? She was all +in rags and tatters, and though she lived 'longside of the lake the +best part of her emigrant life, had never used water since she was +christened. Her eyes were so sunk in her head, they looked like two +burnt holes in a blanket. Her hair was pushed back, and tied so tight +with an eel-skin behind her head, it seemed to take the hide with it. +I 'most wonder how she ever shot to her eyes to go to sleep. She had no +stockins on her legs, and no heels to her shoes, so she couldn't lift +her feet up, for fear of droppin' off her slippers; but she just shoved +and slid about as if she was on ice. She had a small pipe in her mouth, +with about an inch of a stem, to keep her nose warm, and her skin was +so yaller and wrinkled, and hard and oily, she looked jist like a dried +smoked red herrin', she did upon my soul. + +"The floor of the room was blacker nor ink, because that is pale +sometimes; and the utenshils, oh, if the fire didn't purify 'em now +and ag'in, all the scrubbin' in the world wouldn't, they was past that. +Whenever the door was opened, in run the pigs, and the old woman hobbled +round arter them, bangin' them with a fryin' pan, till she seemed out +o' breath. Every time she took less and less notice of 'em, for she +was 'most beat out herself, and was busy a gettin' of the tea-kettle to +bile, and it appeared to me she was a-goin' to give in and let 'em sleep +with me and the lawyer, near the fire. + +"So I jist puts the tongs in the sparklin' coals and heats the eends on +'em red hot, and the next time they comes in, I watches a chance, outs +with the tongs, and seizes the old sow by the tail, and holds on till +I singes it beautiful. The way she let go ain't no matter, but if she +didn't yell it's a pity, that's all. She made right straight for the +door, dashed in atween old aunty's legs, and carries her out on her +back, ridin' straddle-legs like a man, and tumbles her head over heels +in the duck pond of dirty water outside, and then lays down along side +of her, to put the fire out in its tail and cool itself. + +"Aunty took up the screamin' then, where the pig left off; but her voice +warn't so good, poor thing! she was too old for that, it sounded like a +cracked bell; it was loud enough, but it warn't jist so clear. She came +in drippin' and cryin' and scoldin'; she hated water, and what was wus, +this water made her dirtier. It ran off of her like a gutter. The way +she let out agin pigs, travellers and houses of entertainment, was a +caution to sinners. She vowed she'd stop public next mornin', and bile +her kettle with the sign; folks might entertain themselves and be hanged +to 'em, for all her, that they might. Then she mounted a ladder and goes +up into the loft-to change. + +"'Judge' sais I, 'I am sorry, too, I singed that pig's tail arter that +fashion, for the smell of pork chops makes me feel kinder hungry, and if +we had 'em, no soul could eat 'em here in such a stye as this. But, dear +me,' sais I, 'You'd better move, Sir; that old woman is juicy, and I +see it a comin' through the cracks of the floor above, like a streak of +molasses. + +"'Mr. Slick,' sais he, 'this is dreadful. I never saw any thing so bad +before in all this country; but what can't be cured must be endured, I +do suppose. We must only be good-natured and do the best we can, that's +all. An emigrant house is no place to stop at, is it? There is a tin +case,' sais he, 'containin' a cold tongue and some biscuits, in my +portmanter; please to get them out. You must act as butler to-night, if +you please; for I can't eat any thing that old woman touches.' + +"So I spreads one of his napkins on the table, and gets out the +eatables, and then he produced a pocket pistol, for he was a sensible +man was the judge, and we made a small check, for there warn't enough +for a feed. + +"Arter that, he takes out a night-cap, and fits it on tight, and then +puts on his cloak, and wraps the hood of it close over his head, and +foldin' himself up in it, he went and laid down without ondressin'. The +lawyer took a stretch for it on the bench, with his gig cushions for a +pillar, and I makes up the fire, sits down on the chair, puts my legs up +on the jamb, draws my hat over my eyes, and folds my arms for sleep. + +"'But fust and foremost,' sais I, 'aunty, take a drop of the strong +waters: arter goin' the whole hog that way, you must need some,' and I +poured her out a stiff corker into one of her mugs, put some sugar and +hot water to it, and she tossed it off as if she railly did like it. + +"'Darn that pig,' said she, 'it is so poor, its back is as sharp as a +knife. It hurt me properly, that's a fact, and has most broke my crupper +bone.' And she put her hand behind her, and moaned piteous. + +"'Pig skin,' sais I, 'aunty, is well enough when made into a saddle, but +it ain't over pleasant to ride on bare back that way,' sais I, 'is it? +And them bristles ain't quite so soft as feathers, I do suppose.' + +"I thought I should a died a holdin' in of a haw haw that way. Stifling +a larf a'most stifles oneself, that's a fact. I felt sorry for her, too, +but sorrow won't always keep you from larfin', unless you be sorry for +yourself. So as I didn't want to offend her I ups legs agin to the jam, +and shot my eyes and tried to go to sleep. + +"Well, I can snooze through most any thin', but I couldn't get much +sleep that night. The pigs kept close to the door, a shovin' agin it +every now and then, to see all was right for a dash in, if the bears +came; and the geese kept sentry too agin the foxes; and one old feller +would squake out "all's well" every five minuts, as he marched up and +down and back agin on the bankin' of the house. + +"But the turkeys was the wust. They was perched upon the lee side of the +roof, and sometimes an eddy of wind would take a feller right slap off +his legs, and send him floppin' and rollin' and sprawlin' and screamin' +down to the ground, and then he'd make most as much fuss a-gettin' up +into line agin. They are very fond of straight, lines is turkeys. I +never see an old gobbler, with his gorget, that I don't think of a +kernel of a marchin' regiment, and if you'll listen to him and watch +him, he'll strut jist like one, and say, 'halt! dress!' oh, he is a +military man is a turkey cock: he wears long spurs, carries a stiff +neck, and charges at red cloth, like a trooper. + +"Well then a little cowardly good natured cur, that lodged in an empty +flour barrel, near the wood pile, gave out a long doleful howl, now and +agin, to show these outside passengers, if he couldn't fight for 'em, he +could at all events cry for 'em, and it ain't every goose has a mourner +to her funeral, that's a fact, unless it be the owner. + +"In the mornin' I wakes up, and looks round for lawyer, but he was gone. +So I gathers up the brans, and makes up the fire, and walks out. The +pigs didn't try to come in agin, you may depend, when they see'd me; +they didn't like the curlin' tongs, as much as some folks do, and pigs' +tails kinder curl naterally. But there was lawyer a-standin' up by the +grove, lookin' as peeked and as forlorn, as an onmated loon. + +"'What's the matter of you, Squire?' sais I. 'You look like a man that +was ready to make a speech; but your witness hadn't come, or you hadn't +got no jury.' + +"'Somebody has stole my horse,' said he. + +"Well, I know'd he was near-sighted, was lawyer, and couldn't see a pint +clear of his nose, unless it was a pint o' law. So I looks all round and +there was his hoss, a-standin' on the bridge, with his long tail hanging +down straight at one eend, and his long neck and head a banging down +straight at t'other eend, so that you couldn't tell one from t'other or +which eend was towards you. It was a clear cold mornin'. The storm was +over and the wind down, and there was a frost on the ground. The critter +was cold I suppose, and had broke the rope and walked off to stretch his +legs. It was a monstrous mean night to be out in, that's sartain. + +"'There is your hoss,' sais I. + +"'Where?' sais he. + +"'Why on the bridge,' sais I; "he has got his head down and is a-lookin' +atween his fore-legs to see where his tail is, for he is so cold, I do +suppose he can't feel it.' + +"Well, as soon as we could, we started; but afore we left, sais the +Judge to me, 'Mr. Slick,' sais he, 'here is a plaister,' taking out +a pound note, 'a plaister for the skin the pig rubbed off of the old +woman. Give it to her, I hope it is big enough to cover it.' And he fell +back on the bed, and larfed and coughed, and coughed and larfed, till +the tears ran down his cheeks. + +"Yes," said Mr. Slick, "yes, Squire, this is a pretty cottage of Marm +Hodgins; but we have cottages quite as pretty as this, our side of the +water, arter all. They are not all like Obi Rafuses, the immigrant. The +natives have different guess places, where you might eat off the floor +a'most, all's so clean. P'raps we hante the hedges, and flowers, and +vines and fixin's, and what-nots." + +"Which, alone," I said, "make a most important difference. No, Mr. +Slick', there is nothing to be compared to this little cottage. + +"I perfectly agree with you, Squire," said Mr. Hopewell, "it is quite +unique. There is not only nothing equal to it, but nothing of its kind +at all like--_an English cottage_." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. STEALING THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE. + +Shortly after our return to the inn, a carriage drove up to the door, +and the cards of Mr. Merton, and the Reverend Mr. Homily, which +were presented by the servant, were soon followed by the gentlemen +themselves. + +Mr. Merton said he had been informed by Mrs. Hodgins of our visit to her +cottage, and from her account of our conversation and persons, he was +convinced we could be no other than the party described in the "Sayings +and Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick," as about to visit England with the +Attache. He expressed great pleasure in having the opportunity of making +our acquaintance, and entreated us to spend a few days with him at the +Priory. This invitation we were unfortunately compelled to decline, in +consequence of urgent business in London, where our immediate presence +was indispensable. + +The rector then pressed Mr. Hopewell to preach for him, on the following +day at the parish church, which he also declined. He said, that he +had no sermons with him, and that he had very great objections to +extemporaneous preaching, which he thought should never be resorted to +except in cases of absolute necessity. He, however, at last consented to +do so, on condition that Mrs. Hodgins and her husband attended, and +upon being assured that it was their invariable custom to be present, +he said, he thought it not impossible, that he might make an impression +upon _him_, and as it was his maxim never to omit an opportunity of +doing good, he would with the blessing of God, make the attempt. + +The next day was remarkably fine, and as the scene was new to me, +and most probably will be so to most of my colonial readers, I shall +endeavour to describe it with some minuteness. + +We walked to the church by a path over the hills, and heard the bells of +a number of little churches, summoning the surrounding population to the +House of God. The roads and the paths were crowded with the peasantry +and their children, approaching the church-yard in different directions. +The church and the rectory were contiguous to each other, and situated +in a deep dell. + +The former was a long and rather low structure, originally built of +light coloured stone, which had grown grey with time. It had a large +square steeple, with pointed corners, like turrets, each of which was +furnished with a vane, but some of these ornaments were loose and turned +round in a circle, while others stood still and appeared to be examining +with true rustic curiosity, the condition of their neighbours. + +The old rectory stood close to the church and was very irregularly +built, one part looking as if it had stepped forward to take a peep at +us, and another as if endeavouring to conceal itself from view, behind +a screen of ivy. The windows which were constructed of diamond-shaped +glass, were almost square, and opened on hinges. Nearly half of the +house was covered by a rose-tree, from which the lattices peered very +inquisitively upon the assembled congregation. Altogether it looked like +the residence of a vigilant man, who could both see and be unseen if he +pleased. + +Near the door of the church were groups of men in their clean +smock-frocks and straw hats, and of women in their tidy dark dresses and +white aprons. The children all looked clean, healthy, and cheerful. + +The interior of the church was so unlike that of an American one, that +my attention was irresistibly drawn to its peculiarities. It was low, +and divided in the centre by an arch. The floor was of stone, and from +long and constant use, very uneven in places. The pews were much higher +on the sides than ours, and were unpainted and roughly put together; +while the pulpit was a rude square box, and was placed in the corner. +Near the door stood an ancient stone font, of rough workmanship, and +much worn. + +The windows were long and narrow, and placed very high in the walls. On +the one over the altar was a very old painting, on stained glass, of the +Virgin, with a hoop and yellow petticoat, crimson vest, a fly cap, and +very thick shoes. The light of this window was still further subdued by +a fine old yew-tree, which stood in the yard close behind it. + +There was another window of beautifully stained glass, the light of +which fell on a large monument, many feet square, of white marble. In +the centre of this ancient and beautiful work of art, were two principal +figures, with smaller ones kneeling on each side, having the hands +raised in the attitude of prayer. They were intended to represent some +of the ancestors of the Merton family. The date was as old as 1575. On +various parts of the wall were other and ruder monuments of slate-stone, +the inscriptions and dates of which were nearly effaced by time. + +The roof was of a construction now never seen in America; and the old +oak rafters, which were more numerous, than was requisite, either for +strength or ornament, were massive and curiously put together, giving +this part of the building a heavy and gloomy appearance. + +As we entered the church, Mr. Hopewell said he had selected a text +suitable to the times, and that he would endeavour to save the +poor people in the neighbourhood from the delusions of the chartist +demagogues, who, it appeared, were endeavouring to undermine the throne +and the altar, and bring universal ruin upon the country. + +When he ascended the pulpit to preach, his figure, his great age, and +his sensible and benevolent countenance, attracted universal attention. +I had never seen him officiate till this day; but if I was struck with +his venerable appearance before, I was now lost in admiration of his +rich and deep-toned voice, his peculiar manner, and simple style of +eloquence. + +He took for his text these words: "So Absalom stole the hearts of the +men of Israel." He depicted, in a very striking manner, the arts of this +intriguing and ungrateful man to ingratiate himself with the people, and +render the government unpopular. He traced his whole course, from his +standing at the crowded thoroughfare, and lamenting that the king had +deputed no one to hear and decide upon the controversies of the people, +to his untimely end, and the destruction of his ignorant followers. He +made a powerful application of the seditious words of Absalom: "Oh that +_I_ were a judge in the land, that every man which hath a suit or cause +might come unto me, and _I_ would do him justice." He showed the effect +of these empty and wicked promises upon his followers, who in the holy +record of this unnatural rebellion are described as "men who went out in +their simplicity, and knew not anything." + +He then said that similar arts were used in all ages for similar +purposes; and that these professions of disinterested patriotism were +the common pretences by which wicked men availed themselves of the +animal force of those "who assemble in their simplicity, and know not +any thing," to achieve their own personal aggrandisement, and warned +them, to give no heed to such dishonest people. He then drew a picture +of the real blessings they enjoyed in this happy country, which, though +not without an admixture of evil, were as many and as great as the +imperfect and unequal condition of man was capable either of imparting +or receiving. + +Among the first of these, he placed the provision made by the state for +the instruction of the poor, by means of an established Church. He said +they would doubtless hear this wise and pious deed of their forefathers +attacked also by unprincipled men; and falsehood and ridicule would be +invoked to aid in the assault; but that he was a witness on its behalf, +from the distant wilderness of North America, where the voice of +gratitude was raised to England, whose missionaries had planted a church +there similar to their own, and had proclaimed the glad tidings of +salvation to those who would otherwise have still continued to live +without its pale. + +He then pourtrayed in a rapid and most masterly manner the sin and the +disastrous consequences of rebellion; pointed out the necessity that +existed for vigilance and defined their respective duties to God, and +to those who, by his permission, were set in authority over them; and +concluded with the usual benediction, which, though I had heard it +on similar occasions all my life, seemed now more efficacious, more +paternal, and more touching than ever, when uttered by him, in his +peculiarly patriarchal manner. + +The abstract I have just given, I regret to say, cannot convey any +adequate idea of this powerful, excellent, and appropriate sermon. It +was listened to with intense interest by the congregation, many of whom +were affected to tears. In the afternoon we attended church again, when +we heard a good, plain, and practical discourse from the rector; but, +unfortunately, he had neither the talent, nor the natural eloquence of +our friend, and, although it satisfied the judgment, it did not affect, +the heart like that of the "Old Minister." + +At the door we met, on our return, Mrs. Hodgins. "Ah! my dear," said Mr. +Hopewell, "how do you do? I am going to your cottage; but I am an old +man now; take my arm--it will support me in my walk." + +It was thus that this good man, while honouring this poor woman, avoided +the appearance of condescension, and received her arm as a favour to +himself. + +She commenced thanking him for his sermon in the morning. She said it +had convinced her William of the sin of the Chartist agitation, and that +he had firmly resolved never to meet them again. It had saved him from +ruin, and made her a happy woman. + +"Glad to hear it has done him good, my dear," said he; "it does me good, +too, to hear its effect. Now, never remind him of past errors, never +allude to them: make his home cheerful, make it the pleasantest place +he can find any where, and he won't want to seek amusement elsewhere, +or excitement either; for these seditious meetings intoxicate by their +excitement. Oh! I am very glad I have touched him; that I have prevented +these seditious men from 'stealing his heart.'" + +In this way they chatted, until they arrived at the cottage, which +Hodgins had just reached by a shorter, but more rugged path. + +"It is such a lovely afternoon," said Mr. Hopewell, "I believe I will +rest in this arbour here awhile, and enjoy the fresh breeze, and the +perfume of your honeysuckles and flowers." + +"Wouldn't a pipe be better, Minister?" said Mr. Slick. "For my part, I +don't think any thing equal to the flavour of rael good gene_wine_ first +chop tobacco." + +"Well, it is a great refreshment, is tobacco," said Mr. Hopewell. "I +don't care if I do take a pipe. Bring me one, Mr. Hodgins, and one for +yourself also, and I will smoke and talk with you awhile, for they seem +as natural to each other, as eating and drinking do." + +As soon as these were produced, Mr. Slick and I retired, and requested +Mrs. Hodgins to leave the Minister and her husband together for a while, +for as Mr. Slick observed, "The old man will talk it into him like a +book; for if he was possessed of the spirit of a devil, instead of a +Chartist, he is jist the boy to drive it out of him. Let him be awhile, +and he'll tame old uncle there, like a cossit sheep; jist see if he +don't, that's all." + +We then walked up and down the shady lane, smoking our cigars, and Mr. +Slick observed, "Well, there is a nation sight of difference, too, ain't +there, atween this country church, and a country meetin' house our side +of the water; I won't say in your country or my country; but I say _our_ +side of the water--and then it won't rile nobody; for your folks will +say I mean the States, and our citizens will say I mean the colonies; +but you and I know who the cap fits, one or t'other, or both, don't we? + +"Now here, this old-fashioned church, ain't quite up to the notch, and +is a leetle behind the enlightment of the age like, with its queer old +fixin's and what not; but still it looks solemcoly' don't it, and the +dim light seems as if we warn't expected to be a lookin' about, and as +if outer world was shot out, from sight and thort, and it warn't _man's_ +house nother. + +"I don't know whether it was that dear old man's preachin', and he is +a brick ain't he? or, whether it's the place, or the place and him +together; but somehow, or somehow else, I feel more serious to-day +than common, that's a fact. The people too are all so plain dressed, so +decent, so devout and no show, it looks like airnest. + +"The only fashionable people here was the Squire's sarvants; and they +_did_ look genteel, and no mistake. Elegant men, and most splendid +lookin' women they was too. I thought it was some noble, or aid's, +or big bug's family; but Mrs. Hodgins says they are the people of +the Squire's about here, the butlers and ladies' maids; and superfine +uppercrust lookin' folks they be too. + +"Then every body walks here, even Squire Merton and his splendiriferous +galls walked like the poorest of the poor, there was no carriage to the +door, nor no hosses hitched to the gate, or tied to the back of waggons, +or people gossipin' outside; but all come in and minded their business, +as if it was worth attendin' to; and then arter church was finished off, +I liked the way the big folks talked to the little folks, and enquired +arter their families. It may he actin', but if it is, it's plaguy good +actin', I _tell_ you. + +"I'm a thinkin' it tante a rael gentleman that's proud, but only a hop. +You've seen a hop grow, hante you? It shoots up in a night, the matter +of several inches right out of the ground, as stiff as a poker, straight +up and down, with a spick and span new green coat and a red nose, as +proud as Lucifer. Well, I call all upstarts 'hops,' and I believe it's +only "hops" arter all that's scorny. + +"Yes, I kinder like an English country church, only it's a leetle, jist +a leetle too old fashioned for me. Folks look a leetle too much like +grandfather Slick, and the boys used to laugh at him, and call him a +benighted Britisher. Perhaps that's the cause of my prejudice, and yet I +must say, British or no British, it tante bad, is it? + +"The meetin' houses 'our side of the water,' no matter where, but away +up in the back country, how teetotally different they be! bean't they? +A great big, handsome wooden house, chock full of winders, painted so +white as to put your eyes out, and so full of light within, that inside +seems all out-doors, and no tree nor bush, nor nothin' near it but +the road fence, with a man to preach in it, that is so strict and +straight-laced he will do _any thing_ of a week day, and _nothin'_ of +a Sunday. Congregations are rigged out in their spic and span bran new +clothes, silks, satins, ribbins, leghorns, palmetters, kiss-me-quicks, +and all sorts of rigs, and the men in their long-tail-blues, pig-skin +pads calf-skin boots and sheep-skin saddle-cloths. Here they publish a +book of fashions, there they publish 'em in meetin'; and instead of a +pictur, have the rael naked truth. + +"Preacher there don't preach morals, because that's churchy, and he +don't like neither the church nor its morals; but he preaches doctrine, +which doctrine is, there's no Christians but themselves. Well, the +fences outside of the meetin' house, for a quarter of a mile or so, +each side of the house, and each side of the road, ain't to be seen for +hosses and waggons, and gigs hitched there; poor devils of hosses +that have ploughed, or hauled, or harrowed, or logged, or snaked, or +somethin' or another all the week, and rest of a Sunday by alterin' +their gait, as a man rests on a journey by a alterin' of his sturup, a +hole higher or a hole lower. Women that has all their finery on can't +walk, and some things is ondecent. It's as ondecent for a woman to +be seen walkin' to meetin', as it is to be caught at--what shall I +say?--why caught at attendin' to her business to home. + +"The women are the fust and the last to meetin'; fine clothes cost +sunthin', and if they ain't showed, what's the use of them? The men folk +remind me of the hosses to Sable Island. It's a long low sand-bank on +Nova Scotia coast, thirty miles long and better is Sable Island, and not +much higher than the water. It has awful breakers round it, and picks +up a shockin' sight of vessels does that island. Government keeps a +super-intender there and twelve men to save wracked people, and there is +a herd of three hundred wild hosses kept there for food for saved crews +that land there, when provision is short, or for super-intender to catch +and break for use, as the case may be. + +"Well, if he wants a new hoss, he mounts his folks on his tame hosses, +and makes a dash into the herd, and runs a wild feller down, lugs him +off to the stable-yard, and breaks him in, in no time. A smart little +hoss he is too, but he always has an _eye to natur'_ arterwards; _the +change is too sudden_, and he'll off, if he gets a chance. + +"Now that's the case with these country congregations, we know where. +The women and old tame men folk are, inside; the young wild boys and +ontamed men folk are on the fences, outside a settin' on the top rail, a +speculatin' on times or marriages, or markets, or what not, or a walkin' +round and studyin' hoss flesh, or a talkin' of a swap to be completed of +a Monday, or a leadin' off of two hosses on the sly of the old deacon's, +takin' a lick of a half mile on a bye road, right slap a-head, and +swearin' the hosses had got loose, and they was just a fetchin' of them +back. + +"'Whose side-saddle is this?' + +"'Slim Sall Dowdie's.' + +"'Shift it on to the deacon's beast, and put his on to her'n and tie the +two critters together by the tail. This is old Mother Pitcher's waggon; +her hoss kicks like a grasshopper. Lengthen the breechin', and when +aunty starts, he'll make all fly agin into shavin's, like a plane. Who +is that a comin' along full split there a horseback?' + +"'It's old Booby's son, Tom. Well, it's the old man's shaft hoss; call +out whoh! and he'll stop short, and pitch Tom right over his head on the +broad of his back, whap. + +"Tim Fish, and Ned Pike, come scale up here with us boys on the fence.' +The weight is too great; away goes the fence, and away goes the boys, +all flyin'; legs, arms, hats, poles, stakes, withes, and all, with an +awful crash and an awful shout; and away goes two or three hosses that +have broke their bridles, and off home like wink. + +"Out comes Elder Sourcrout. 'Them as won't come in had better stay to +home,' sais he. And when he hears that them as are in had better stay in +when they be there, he takes the hint and goes back agin. 'Come, boys, +let's go to Black Stump Swamp and sarch for honey. We shall be back +in time to walk home with the galls from night meetin', by airly +candle-light. Let's go.' + +"Well, when they want to recruit the stock of tame ones inside meetin', +they sarcumvent some o' these wild ones outside; make a dash on 'em, +catch 'em, dip 'em, and give 'em a name; for all sects don't always +baptise 'em as we do, when children, but let 'em grow up wild in the +herd till they are wanted. They have hard work to break 'em in, for they +are smart ones, that's a fact, but, like the hosses of Sable Island, +they have always _an eye to natur'_ arterwards; _the change is too +sudden_, you can't trust 'em, at least I never see one as _I_ could, +that's all. + +"Well, when they come out o' meetin', look at the dignity and sanctity, +and pride o' humility o' the tame old ones. Read their faces. 'How does +the print go?' Why this way, 'I am a sinner, at least I was once, +but thank fortin' I ain't like you, you onconverted, benighted, +good-for-nothin' critter you.' Read the ontamed one's face, what's the +print there? Why it's this. As soon as he sees over-righteous stalk by +arter that fashion, it says, 'How good we are, ain't we? Who wet his hay +to the lake tother day, on his way to market, and made two tons weigh +two tons and a half? You'd better look as if butter wouldn't melt in +your mouth, hadn't you, old Sugar-cane?' + +"Now jist foller them two rulin' elders, Sourcrout and Coldslaugh; they +are plaguy jealous of their neighbour, elder Josh Chisel, that exhorted +to-day. 'How did you like Brother Josh, to-day?' says Sourcrout, a +utterin' of it through his nose. Good men always speak through the nose. +It's what comes out o' the mouth that defiles a man; but there is no +mistake in the nose; it's the porch of the temple that. 'How did you +like Brother Josh?' + +"'Well, he wasn't very peeowerful.' + +"'Was he ever peeowerful?' + +"'Well, when a boy, they say he was considerable sum as a wrastler.' + +"Sourcrout won't larf, because it's agin rules; but he gig goggles like +a turkey-cock, and says he, 'It's for ever and ever the same thing with +Brother Josh. He is like an over-shot mill, one everlastin' wishy-washy +stream.' + +"'When the water ain't quite enough to turn the wheel, and only +spatters, spatters, spatters,' says Coldslaugh. + +"Sourcrout gig goggles again, as if he was swallerin' shelled corn +whole. 'That trick of wettin' the hay,' says he, 'to make it weigh +heavy, warn't cleverly done; it ain't pretty to be caught; it's only +bunglers do that.' + +"'He is so fond of temperance,' says Coldslaugh, 'he wanted to make his +hay jine society, and drink cold water, too.' + +"Sourcrout gig goggles ag'in, till he takes a fit of the asmy, sets down +on a stump, claps both hands on his sides, and coughs, and coughs till +he finds coughing no joke no more. Oh dear, dear convarted men, though +they won't larf themselves, make others larf the worst kind, sometimes; +don't they? + +"I do believe, on my soul, if religion was altogether left to the +voluntary in this world, it would die a nateral death; not that _men +wouldn't support it_, but because it would be supported _under false +pretences_. Truth can't be long upheld by falsehood. Hypocrisy would +change its features, and intolerance its name; and religion would +soon degenerate into a cold, intriguing, onprincipled, marciless +superstition, that's a fact. + +"Yes, on the whole, I rather like these plain, decent, onpretendin', +country churches here, although t'other ones remind me of old times, +when I was an ontamed one too. Yes, I like an English church; but as +for Minister pretendin' for to come for to go for to preach agin that +beautiful long-haired young rebel, Squire Absalom, for 'stealin' the +hearts of the people,' why it's rather takin' the rag off the bush, +ain't it? + +"Tell you what, Squire; there ain't a man in their whole church here, +from Lord Canter Berry that preaches afore the Queen, to Parson Homily +that preached afore us, nor never was, nor never will be equal to Old +Minister hisself for 'stealin' the hearts of the people.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. NATUR'. + +In the course of our journey, the conversation turned upon the several +series of the "Clockmaker" I had published, and their relative merits. +Mr. Slick appeared to think they all owed their popularity mainly to the +freshness and originality of character incidental to a new country. + +"You are in the wrong pew here, Squire," said he; "you are, upon my +soul. If you think to sketch the English in a way any one will stop to +look at, you have missed a figur', that's all. You can't do it nohow; +you can't fix it. There is no contrasts here, no variation of colours, +no light and shade, no nothin'. What sort of a pictur' would straight +lines of any thing make? Take a parcel of sodjers, officers and all, and +stretch 'em out in a row, and paint 'em, and then engrave 'em, and put +it into one of our annuals, and see how folks would larf, and ask, 'What +boardin'-school gall did that? Who pulled her up out of standin' corn, +and sot her up on eend for an artist? they'd say. + +"There is nothin' here to take hold on. It's so plaguy smooth and high +polished, the hands slip off; you can't get a grip of it. Now, take Lord +First Chop, who is the most fashionable man in London, dress him in +the last cut coat, best trowsers, French boots, Paris gloves, and +grape-vine-root cane, don't forget his whiskers, or mous-stache, or +breast-pins, or gold chains, or any thing; and what have you got?--a +tailor's print-card, and nothin' else. + +"Take a lady, and dress her in a'most a beautiful long habit, man's hat, +stand-up collar and stock, clap a beautiful little cow-hide whip in her +hand, and mount her on a'most a splendiferous white hoss, with long tail +and flowin' mane, a rairin' and a cavortin' like mad, and a champin' +and a chawin' of its bit, and makin' the froth fly from its mouth, a +spatterin' and white-spottin' of her beautiful trailin', skirt like any +thing. And what have you got?--why a print like the posted hand-bills of +a circus. + +"Now spit on your fingers, and rub Lord First Chop out of the slate, and +draw an Irish labourer, with his coat off, in his shirt-sleeves, with +his breeches loose and ontied at the knees, his yarn stockings and thick +shoes on; a little dudeen in his mouth, as black as ink and as short as +nothin'; his hat with devilish little rim and no crown to it, and a hod +on his shoulders, filled with bricks, and him lookin' as if he was a +singin' away as merry as a cricket: + + When I was young and unmarried, + my shoes they were new. + But now I am old and am married, + the water runs troo,' + +Do that, and you have got sunthin' worth lookin' at, quite +pictures-quee, as Sister Sall used to say. And because why? _You have +got sunthin' nateral_. + +"Well, take the angylyferous dear a horseback, and rub her out, well, I +won't say that nother, for I'm fond of the little critturs, dressed or +not dressed for company, or any way they like, yes, I like woman-natur', +I tell _you_. But turn over the slate, and draw on t'other side on't +an old woman, with a red cloak, and a striped petticoat, and a poor +pinched-up, old, squashed-in bonnet on, bendin' forrard, with a staff +in her hand, a leadin' of a donkey that has a pair of yaller willow +saddle-bags on, with coloured vegetables and flowers, and red beet-tops, +a goin' to market. And what have you got? Why a pictur' worth lookin' +at, too. Why?--_because it's natur'_. + +"Now, look here, Squire; let Copley, if he was alive, but he ain't; and +it's a pity too, for it would have kinder happified the old man, to see +his son in the House of Lords, wouldn't it? Squire Copley, you know, was +a Boston man; and a credit to our great nation too. P'raps Europe never +has dittoed him since. + +"Well, if he was above ground now, alive, and stirrin', why take him +and fetch him to an upper crust London party; and sais you, 'Old Tenor,' +sais you, 'paint all them silver plates, and silver dishes, and silver +coverlids, and what nots; and then paint them lords with their _stars_, +and them ladies' (Lord if he would paint them with their garters, folks +would buy the pictur, cause that's nateral) 'them ladies with their +jewels, and their sarvants with their liveries, as large as life, and +twice as nateral.' + +"Well, he'd paint it, if you paid him for it, that's a fact; for there +is no better bait to fish for us Yankees arter all, than a dollar. That +old boy never turned up his nose at a dollar, except when he thought +he ought to get two. And if he painted it, it wouldn't be bad, I tell +_you_. + +"'Now,' sais you, 'you have done high life, do low life for me, and I +will pay you well. I'll come down hansum, and do the thing genteel, you +may depend. Then,' sais you, 'put in for a back ground that noble, old +Noah-like lookin' wood, that's as dark as comingo. Have you done?' sais +you. + +"'I guess so,' sais he. + +"'Then put in a brook jist in front of it, runnin' over stones, and +foamin' and a bubblin' up like any thing.' + +"'It's in,' sais he. + +"'Then jab two forked sticks in the ground ten feet apart, this side of +the brook,' sais you, 'and clap a pole across atween the forks. Is that +down?' sais you. + +"'Yes,' sais he. + +"'Then,' sais you, 'hang a pot on that horizontal pole, make a clear +little wood fire onderneath; paint two covered carts near it. Let an +old hoss drink at the stream, and two donkeys make a feed off a patch of +thistles. Have-you stuck that in?' + +"'Stop a bit,' says he, 'paintin' an't quite as fast done as writin'. +Have a little grain of patience, will you? It's tall paintin', makin' +the brush walk at that price. Now there you are,' sais he. 'What's +next? But, mind I've most filled my canvass; it will cost you a pretty +considerable penny, if you want all them critters in, when I come to +cypher all the pictur up, and sumtotalize the whole of it.' + +"'Oh! cuss the cost!' sais you. 'Do you jist obey orders, and break +owners, that's all you have to do, Old Loyalist.' + +"'Very well,' sais he, 'here goes.' + +"'Well, then,' sais you, 'paint a party of gipsies there; mind their +different coloured clothes, and different attitudes, and different +occupations. Here a man mendin' a harness, there a woman pickin' a +stolen fowl, there a man skinnin' a rabbit, there a woman with her +petticoat up, a puttin' of a patch in it. Here two boys a fishin', and +there a little gall a playin' with a dog, that's a racin' and a yelpin', +and a barkin' like mad.' + +"'Well, when he's done,' sais you, 'which pictur do you reckon is the +best now, Squire Copely? speak candid for I want to know, and I ask you +now as a countryman.' + +"'Well' he'll jist up and tell you, 'Mr. Poker,' sais he, 'your +fashionable party is the devil, that's a fact. Man made the town, but +God made the country. Your company is as formal, and as stiff, and as +oninterestin' as a row of poplars; but your gipsy scene is beautiful, +because it's nateral. It was me painted old Chatham's death in the House +of Lords; folks praised it a good deal; but it was no great shakes, +_there was no natur' in it_. The scene was real, the likenesses was +good, and there was spirit in it, but their damned uniform toggery, +spiled the whole thing--it was artificial, and wanted life and natur. +Now, suppose, such a thing in Congress, or suppose some feller skiverd +the speaker with a bowie knife as happened to Arkansaw, if I was to +paint it, it would be beautiful. Our free and enlightened people is so +different, so characteristic and peculiar, it would give a great field +to a painter. To sketch the different style of man of each state, so +that any citizen would sing right out; Heavens and airth if that don't +beat all! Why, as I am a livin' sinner that's the Hoosier of Indiana, or +the Sucker of Illinois, or the Puke of Missouri, or the Bucky of +Ohio, or the Red Horse of Kentucky, or the Mudhead of Tennesee, or the +Wolverine of Michigan or the Eel of New England, or the Corn Cracker of +Virginia! That's the thing that gives inspiration. That's the glass of +talabogus that raises your spirits. There is much of elegance, and more +of comfort in England. It is a great and a good country, Mr. Poker, but +there is no natur in it.' + +"It is as true as gospel," said Mr. Slick, "I'm tellin' you no lie. It's +a fact. If you expect to paint them English, as you have the Blue-Noses +and us, you'll pull your line up without a fish, oftener than you are +a-thinkin' on; that's the reason all our folks have failed. 'Rush's book +is jist molasses and water, not quite so sweet as 'lasses, and not quite +so good as water; but a spilin' of both. And why? His pictur was of +polished life, where there is no natur. Washington Irving's book is like +a Dutch paintin', it is good, because it is faithful; the mop has the +right number of yarns, and each yarn has the right number of twists, +(altho' he mistook the mop of the grandfather, for the mop of the man of +the present day) and the pewter plates are on the kitchen dresser, and +the other little notions are all there. He has done the most that could +be done for them, but the painter desarves more praise than the subject. + +"Why is it every man's sketches of America takes? Do you suppose it is +the sketches? No. Do you reckon it is the interest we create? No. Is it +our grand experiments? No. They don't care a brass button for us, or our +country, or experiments nother. What is it then? It is because they are +sketches of natur. Natur in every grade and every variety of form; from +the silver plate, and silver fork, to the finger and huntin' knife. Our +artificials Britishers laugh at; they are bad copies, that's a fact; I +give them up. Let them laugh, and be darned; but I stick to my natur, +and I stump them to produce the like. + +"Oh, Squire, if you ever sketch me, for goodness gracious sake, don't +sketch me as an Attache to our embassy, with the Legation button, on the +coat, and black Jube Japan in livery. Don't do that; but paint me in my +old waggon to Nova Scotier, with old Clay before me, you by my side, +a segar in my mouth, and natur all round me. And if that is too +artificial; oh, paint me in the back woods, with my huntin' coat on, my +leggins, my cap, my belt, and my powder-horn. Paint me with my talkin' +iron in my hand, wipin' her, chargin' her, selectin' the bullet, placin' +it in the greased wad, and rammin' it down. Then draw a splendid oak +openin' so as to give a good view, paint a squirrel on the tip top of +the highest branch, of the loftiest tree, place me off at a hundred +yards, drawin' a bead on him fine, then show the smoke, and young squire +squirrel comin' tumblin' down head over heels lumpus', to see whether +the ground was as hard as dead squirrels said it was. Paint me nateral, +I besech you; for I tell you now, as I told you before, and ever shall +say, there is nothin' worth havin' or knowin', or hearin', or readin', +or seein', or tastin', or smellin', or feelin' and above all and more +than all, nothin' worth affectionin' but _Natur_. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. THE SOCDOLAGER. + +As soon as I found my friend Mr. Hopewell comfortably settled in his +lodgings, I went to the office of the Belgian Consul and other persons +to obtain the necessary passports for visiting Germany, where I had a +son at school. Mr. Slick proceeded at the same time to the residence of +his Excellency Abednego Layman, who had been sent to this country by the +United States on a special mission, relative to the Tariff. + +On my return from the city in the afternoon, he told me he had presented +his credentials to "the Socdolager," and was most graciously and +cordially received; but still, I could not fail to observe that there +was an evident air of disappointment about him. + +"Pray, what is the meaning of the Socdolager?" I asked. "I never heard +of the term before." + +"Possible!" said he, "never heerd tell of 'the Socdolager,' why you +don't say so! The Socdolager is the President of the lakes--he is the +whale of the intarnal seas--the Indgians worshipped him once on a time, +as the king of fishes. He lives in great state in the deep waters, does +the old boy, and he don't often shew himself. I never see'd him myself, +nor any one that ever had sot eyes on him; but the old Indgians have +see'd him and know him well. He won't take no bait, will the Socdolager; +he can't be caught, no how you can fix, he is so 'tarnal knowin', and he +can't be speared nother, for the moment he sees aim taken, he ryles the +water and is out of sight in no tune. _He_ can take in whole shoals of +others hisself, tho' at a mouthful. He's a whapper, that's a fact. I +call our Minister here 'the Socdolager,' for our _di_plomaters were +never known to be hooked once yet, and actilly beat all natur' for +knowin' the soundin's, smellin' the bait, givin' the dodge, or rylin' +the water; so no soul can see thro' it but themselves. Yes, he is 'a +Socdolager,' or a whale among _di_plomaters. + +"Well, I rigs up this morning, full fig, calls a cab, and proceeds +in state to our embassy, gives what Cooper calls a lord's beat of six +thund'rin' raps of the knocker, presents the legation ticket, and was +admitted to where ambassador was. He is a very pretty man all up his +shirt, and he talks pretty, and smiles pretty, and bows pretty, and he +has got the whitest hand you ever see, it looks as white, as a new bread +and milk poultice. It does indeed. + +"'Sam Slick,' sais he, 'as I'm alive. Well, how do you do, Mr. Slick? I +am 'nation glad to see you, I affection you as a member of our legation. +I feel kinder proud to have the first literary man of our great nation +as my Attache.' + +"'Your knowledge of human natur, (added to your'n of soft sawder,' sais +I,) 'will raise our great nation, I guess, in the scale o' European +estimation.' + +"He is as sensitive as a skinned eel, is Layman, and he winced at that +poke at his soft sawder like any thing, and puckered a little about +the mouth, but he didn't say nothin', he only bowed. He was a Unitarian +preacher once, was Abednego, but he swapt preachin' for politics, and a +good trade he made of it too; that's a fact. + +"'A great change,' sais I, 'Abednego, since you was a preachin' to +Connecticut and I was a vendin' of clocks to Nova Scotia, ain't it? +Who'd a thought then, you'd a been "a Socdolager," and me your "pilot +fish," eh!' + +"It was a raw spot, that, and I always touched him on it for fun. + +"'Sam,' said he, and his face fell like an empty puss, when it gets a +few cents put into each eend on it, the weight makes it grow twice as +long in a minute. 'Sam,' said he, 'don't call me that are, except when +we are alone here, that's a good soul; not that I am proud, for I am +a true Republican;' and he put his hand on his heart, bowed and smiled +hansum, 'but these people will make a nickname of it, and we shall never +hear the last of it; that's a fact. We must respect ourselves, afore +others will respect us. You onderstand, don't you?' + +"'Oh, don't I,' sais I, 'that's all? It's only here I talks this way, +because we are at home now; but I can't help a thinkin' how strange +things do turn up sometimes. Do you recollect, when I heard you +a-preachin' about Hope a-pitchin' of her tent on a hill? By gosh, +it struck me then, you'd pitch, your tent high some day; you did it +beautiful.' + +"He know'd I didn't like this change, that Mr. Hopewell had kinder +inoculated me with other guess views on these matters, so he began to +throw up bankments and to picket in the ground, all round for defence +like. + +"'Hope,' sais he, 'is the attribute of a Christian, Slick, for he hopes +beyond this world; but I changed on principle.' + +"'Well,' sais I, 'I changed on interest; now if our great nation is +backed by principal and interest here, I guess its credit is kinder well +built. And atween you and me, Abednego, that's more than the soft-horned +British will ever see from all our States. Some on 'em are intarmined to +pay neither debt nor interest, and give nothin' but lip in retarn.' + +"'Now,' sais he, a pretendin' to take no notice of this,' you know we +have the Voluntary with us, Mr. Slick.' He said "_Mister_" that time, +for he began to get formal on puppus to stop jokes; but, dear me, where +all men are equal what's the use of one man tryin' to look big? He must +take to growin' agin I guess to do that. 'You know we have the Voluntary +with us, Mr. Slick,' sais he. + +"'Jist so,' sais I. + +"'Well, what's the meanin' of that?' + +"'Why,' sais I, 'that you support religion or let it alone, as you like; +that you can take it up as a pedlar does his pack, carry it till you are +tired, then lay it down, set on it, and let it support you." + +"'Exactly,' sais he; 'it is voluntary on the hearer, and it's jist so +with the minister, too; for his preachin' is voluntary also. He can +preach or lot it alone, as he likes. It's voluntary all through. It's a +bad rule that won't work both ways.' + +"'Well,' says I, 'there is a good deal in that, too.' I said that just +to lead him on. + +"'A good deal!' sais he, 'why it's every thing. But I didn't rest on +that alone; I propounded this maxim to myself. Every man, sais I, is +bound to sarve his fellow citizens to his utmost. That's true; ain't it, +Mr. Slick?' + +"'Guess so,' sais I. + +"'Well then, I asked myself this here question: Can I sarve my fellow +citizens best by bein' minister to Peach settlement, 'tendin' on a +little village of two thousand souls, and preachin' my throat sore, or +bein' special minister to Saint Jimses, and sarvin' our great Republic +and its thirteen millions? Why, no reasonable man can doubt; so I give +up preachin'.' + +"'Well,' sais I, 'Abednego, you are a Socdolager, that's a fact; you are +a great man, and a great scholard. Now a great scholard, when he can't +do a sum the way it's stated, jist states it so--he _can_ do it. Now the +right way to state that sum is arter this fashion: "Which is best, to +endeavour to save the souls of two thousand people under my spiritual +charge, or let them go to Old Nick and save a piece of wild land in +Maine, get pay for an old steamer burnt to Canada, and uphold the slave +trade for the interest of the States.' + +"'That's specious, but not true,' said he; 'but it's a matter rather for +my consideration than your'n,' and he looked as a feller does when he +buttons his trowsers' pocket, as much as to say, you have no right to be +a puttin' of your pickers and stealers in there, that's mine. 'We will +do better to be less selfish,' said he, 'and talk of our great nation.' + +"'Well,' says I, 'how do we stand here in Europe? Do we maintain the +high pitch we had, or do we sing a note lower than we did?' + +"Well, he walked up and down the room, with his hands onder his +coat-tails, for ever so long, without a sayin' of a word. At last, sais +he, with a beautiful smile that was jist skin deep, for it played on his +face as a cat's-paw does on the calm waters, 'What was you a sayin.' of, +Mr. Slick?' saw he. + +"'What's our position to Europe?' sais I, 'jist now; is it letter A, +No. 1?' + +"'Oh!' sais he, and he walked up and down agin, cypherin' like to +himself; and then says he, 'I'll tell you; that word Socdolager, and the +trade of preachin', and clockmakin', it would be as well to sink here; +neither on 'em convene with dignity. Don't you think so?' + +"'Sartainly,' sais I; 'it's only fit for talk over a cigar, alone. It +don't always answer a good, purpose to blart every thing out. But our +_po_sition,' says I, among the nations of the airth, is it what our +everlastin' Union is entitled to?' + +"'Because,' sais he, 'some day when I am asked out to dinner, some +wag or another of a lord will call me parson, and ask me to crave a +blessin', jist to raise the larf agin me for havin' been a preacher.' + +"'If he does,' sais I,' jist say, my Attache does that, and I'll jist up +first and give it to him atween the two eyes; and when that's done, sais +you, my Lord, that's _your grace_ afore meat; pr'aps your lordship will +_return thanks_ arter dinner. Let him try it, that's all. But our great +nation,' sais I, 'tell me, hante that noble stand we made on the right +of sarch, raised us about the toploftiest?' + +"'Oh,' says he 'right of sarch! right of sarch! I've been tryin' to +sarch my memory, but can't find it. I don't recollect that sarmont about +Hope pitchin' her tent on the hill. When was it?' + +"'It was afore the juvenile-united-democratic-republican association to +Funnel Hall,' sais I. + +"'Oh,' says he, 'that was an oration--it was an oration that.' + +"Oh!" sais I, "we won't say no more about that; I only meant it as a +joke, and nothin' more. But railly now, Abednego, what is the state of +our legation?" + +"'I don't see nothin' ridikilous,' sais he, 'in that are expression, of +Hope pitchin' her tent on a hill. It's figurativ' and poetic, but it's +within the line that divides taste from bombast. Hope pitchin' her tent +on a hill! What is there to reprehend in that?' + +"Good airth and seas,' sais I, 'let's pitch Hope, and her tent, and the +hill, all to Old Nick in a heap together, and talk of somethin' else. +You needn't be so perkily ashamed of havin' preached, man. Cromwell was +a great preacher all his life, but it didn't spile him as a Socdolager +one bit, but rather helped him, that's a fact. How 'av we held our +footin' here?' + +"'Not well, I am grieved to say,' sais he; 'not well. The failure of the +United States' Bank, the repudiation of debts by several of our States, +the foolish opposition we made to the suppression of the slave-trade, +and above all, the bad faith in the business of the boundary question +has lowered us down, down, e'en a'most to the bottom of the shaft.' + +"'Abednego,' sais I, 'we want somethin' besides boastin' and talkin' +big; we want a dash--a great stroke of policy. Washington hanging Andre +that time, gained more than a battle. Jackson by hanging Arbuthnot and +Anbristher, gained his election. M'Kennie for havin' hanged them three +citizens will be made an admiral of yet, see if he don't. Now if Captain +Tyler had said, in his message to Congress, 'Any State that repudiates +its foreign debts, we will first fine it in the whole amount, and then +cut it off from our great, free, enlightened, moral and intellectual +republic, he would have gained by the dash his next election, and run up +our flag to the mast-head in Europe. He would have been popular to home, +and respected abroad, that's as clear as mud,' + +"'He would have done right, Sir, if he had done that,' said Abednego, +'and the right thing is always approved of in the eend, and always +esteemed all through the piece. A dash, as a stroke of policy,' said he, +'has sometimes a good effect. General Jackson threatening France with a +war, if they didn't pay the indemnity, when he knew the King would make +'em pay it whether or no, was a masterpiece; and General Cass tellin' +France if she signed the right of sarch treaty, we would fight both her +and England together single-handed, was the best move on the political +chess-board, this century. All these, Sir, are very well in their way, +to produce an effect; but there's a better policy nor all that, a far +better policy, and one, too, that some of our States and legislators, +and presidents, and Socdolagers, as you call 'em, in my mind have got to +larn yet, Sam.' + +"'What's that?' sais I. "For I don't believe in my soul there is nothin' +a'most our diplomaters don't know. They are a body o' men that does +honour to our great nation. What policy are you a indicatin' of?' + +"'Why,' sais he, '_that honesty is the best policy_.' + +"When I heerd him say that, I springs right up on eend, like a rope +dancer. 'Give me your hand, Abednego,' sais I; 'you are a man, every +inch of you,' and I squeezed it so hard, it made his eyes water. 'I +always knowed you had an excellent head-piece,' sais I, 'and now I +see the heart is in the right place too. If you have thrown preachin' +overboard, you have kept your morals for ballast, any how. I feel kinder +proud of you; you are jist a fit representat_ive_ for our great nation. +You are a Socdolager, that's a fact. I approbate your notion; it's as +correct as a bootjack. For nations or individuals, it's all the same, +honesty _is_ the best policy, and no mistake. That,' sais I, 'is the +hill, Abednego, for Hope to pitch her tent on, and no mistake,' and I +put my finger to my nose, and winked. + +"'Well,' sais he, 'it is; but you are a droll feller, Slick, there is +no standin' your jokes. I'll give you leave to larf if you like, but you +must give me leave to win if I can. Good bye. But mind, Sam, our +dignity is at stake. Let's have no more of Socdolagers, or Preachin', or +Clockmakin', or Hope pitchin' her tent. A word to the wise. Good bye.' + +"Yes," said Mr. Slick, "I rather like Abednego's talk myself. I kinder +think that it will be respectable to be Attache to such a man as that. +But he is goin' out of town for some time, is the Socdolager. There is +an agricultural dinner, where he has to make a conciliation speech; and +a scientific association, where there is a piece of delicate brag and +a bit of soft sawder to do, and then there are visits to the nobility, +peep at manufactures, and all that sort of work, so he won't be in town +for a good spell, and until then, I can't go to Court, for he is to +introduce me himself. Pity that, but then it'll give me lots o' time to +study human natur, that is, if there is any of it left here, for I have +some doubts about that. Yes, he is an able lead horse, is Abednego; he +is a'most a grand preacher, a good poet, a first chop orator, a +great diplomater, and a top sawyer of a man, in short--he _is_ a +_Socdolager_." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. DINING OUT. + +My visit to Germany was protracted beyond the period I had originally +designed; and, during my absence, Mr. Slick had been constantly in +company, either "dining out" daily, when in town, or visiting from one +house to another in the country. + +I found him in great spirits. He assured me he had many capital stories +to tell me, and that he rather guessed he knew as much of the English, +and a leetle, jist a leetle, grain more, p'raps, than they knew of the +Yankees. + +"They are considerable large print are the Bull family," said he; "you +can read them by moonlight. Indeed, their faces ain't onlike the moon +in a gineral way; only one has got a man in it, and the other hain't +always. It tante a bright face; you can look into it without winkin'. +It's a cloudy one here too, especially in November; and most all the +time makes you rather sad and solemncoly. Yes, John is a moony man, +that's a fact, and at the full a little queer sometimes. + +"England is a stupid country compared to our'n. _There it no variety +where there it no natur_. You have class variety here, but no +individiality. They are insipid, and call it perlite. The men dress +alike, talk alike, and look as much alike as Providence will let 'em. +The club-houses and the tailors have done a good deal towards this, and +so has whiggism and dissent; for they have destroyed distinctions. + +"But this is too deep for me. Ask Minister, he will tell you the cause; +I only tell you the fact. + +"Dinin' out here, is both heavy work, and light feedin'. It's monstrous +stupid. One dinner like one rainy day (it's rained ever since I +been here a'most), is like another; one drawin'-room like another +drawin'-room; one peer's entertainment, in a general way, is +like another peer's. The same powdered, liveried, lazy, idle, +good-for-nothin', do-little, stand-in-the-way-of-each-other, +useless sarvants. Same picturs, same plate, same fixin's, same +don't-know-what-to-do-with-your-self-kinder-o'-lookin'-master. Great +folks are like great folks, marchants like marchants, and so on. It's a +pictur, it looks like life, but' it tante. The animal is tamed here; he +is fatter than the wild one, but he hante the spirit. + +"You have seen-Old Clay in a pastur, a racin' about, free from harness, +head and tail up, snortin', cavortin', attitudinisin' of himself. Mane +flowin' in the wind, eye-ball startin' out, nostrils inside out a'most, +ears pricked up. _A nateral hoss_; put him in a waggon, with a rael spic +and span harness, all covered over with brass buckles and brass knobs, +and ribbons in his bridle, rael jam. Curb him up, talk Yankee to him, +and get his ginger up. Well, he looks well; but he is '_a broke hoss_.' +He reminds you of Sam Slick; cause when you see a hoss, you think of his +master: but he don't remind you of the rael '_Old Clay_,' that's a fact. + +"Take a day here, now in town; and they are so identical the same, that +one day sartificates for another. You can't get out a bed afore twelve, +in winter, the days is so short, and the fires ain't made, or the room +dusted, or the breakfast can't be got, or sunthin' or another. And if +you did, what's the use? There is no one to talk to, and books only +weaken your understandin', as water does brandy. They make you let +others guess for you, instead of guessin' for yourself. Sarvants spile +your habits here, and books spite your mind. I wouldn't swap ideas with +any man. I make my own opinions, as I used to do my own clocks; and I +find they are truer than other men's. The Turks are so cussed heavy, +they have people to dance for 'em; the English are wus, for they hire +people to think for 'em. Never read a book, Squire, always think for +yourself. + +"Well, arter breakfast, it's on hat and coat, ombrella in hand, (don't +never forget that, for the rumatiz, like the perlice, is always on the +look out here, to grab hold of a feller,) and go somewhere where +there is somebody, or another, and smoke, and then wash it down with a +sherry-cobbler; (the drinks ain't good here; they hante no variety in +them nother; no white-nose, apple-jack, stone-wall, chain-lightning, +rail-road, hail-storm, ginsling-talabogus, switchel-flip, gum-ticklers, +phlem-cutters, juleps, skate-iron, cast-steel, cock-tail, or nothin', +but that heavy stupid black fat porter;) then down to the coffee-house, +see what vessels have arrived, how markets is, whether there is a chance +of doin' any thin' in cotton or tobacco, whose broke to home, and so +on. Then go to the park, and see what's a goin' on there; whether those +pretty critturs, the rads are a holdin' a prime minister 'parsonally +responsible,' by shootin' at him; or whether there is a levee, or the +Queen is ridin' out, or what not; take a look at the world, make a visit +or two to kill time, when all at once it's dark. Home then, smoke a +cigar, dress for dinner, and arrive at a quarter past seven. + +"Folks are up to the notch here when dinner is in question, that's a +fact, fat, gouty, broken-winded, and foundered as they be. It's rap, +rap, rap, for twenty minutes at the door, and in they come, one arter +the other, as fast as the sarvants can carry up their names. Cuss +them sarvants! it takes seven or eight of 'em to carry a man's name up +stairs, they are so awful lazy, and so shockin' full of porter. If a +feller was so lame he had to be carried up himself, I don't believe on +my soul, the whole gang of them, from the Butler that dresses in the +same clothes as his master, to Boots that ain't dressed at all, could +make out to bowse him up stairs, upon my soul I don't. + +"Well, you go in along with your name, walk up to old aunty, and make a +scrape, and the same to old uncle, and then fall back. This is done +as solemn, as if a feller's name was called out to take his place in a +funeral; that and the mistakes is the fun of it. There is a sarvant at +a house I visit at, that I suspicion is a bit of a bam, and the critter +shows both his wit and sense. He never does it to a 'somebody,' 'cause +that would cost him his place, but when a 'nobody' has a droll name, +he jist gives an accent, or a sly twist to it, that folks can't help a +larfin', no more than Mr. Nobody can feelin' like a fool. He's a droll +boy, that; I should like to know him. + +"Well, arter 'nouncin' is done, then comes two questions--do I know +anybody here? and if I do, does he look like talk or not? Well, seein' +that you have no handle to your name, and a stranger, it's most likely +you can't answer these questions right; so you stand and use your eyes, +and put your tongue up in its case till it's wanted. Company are all +come, and now they have to be marshalled two and two, lock and lock, and +go into the dinin'-room to feed. + +"When I first came I was nation proud of that title, 'the Attache;' now +I am happified it's nothin' but 'only an Attache,' and I'll tell you +why. The great guns, and big bugs, have to take in each other's ladies, +so these old ones have to herd together. Well, the nobodies go together +too, and sit together, and I've observed these nobodies are the +pleasantest people at table, and they have the pleasantest places, +because they sit down with each other, and are jist like yourself, +plaguy glad to get some one to talk to. Somebody can only visit +somebody, but nobody can go anywhere, and therefore nobody sees and +knows twice as much as somebody does. Somebodies must be axed, if they +are as stupid as a pump; but nobodies needn't, and never are, unless +they are spicy sort o' folks, so you are sure of them, and they have all +the fun and wit of the table at their eend, and no mistake. + +"I wouldn't take a title if they would give it to me, for if I had one, +I should have a fat old parblind dowager detailed on to me to take in +to dinner; and what the plague is her jewels and laces, and silks and +sattins, and wigs to me? As it is, I have a chance to have a gall to +take in that's a jewel herself--one that don't want no settin' off, and +carries her diamonds in her eyes, and so on. I've told our minister not +to introduce me as an Attache no more, but as Mr. Nobody, from the State +of Nothin', in America, _that's natur agin_. + +"But to get back to the dinner. Arter you are in marchin' order, you +move in through two rows of sarvants in uniform. I used to think they +was placed there for show, but it's to keep the air off of folks a goin' +through the entry, and it ain't a bad thought, nother. + +"Lord, the first time I went to one o' these grand let offs I felt +kinder skeery, and as nobody was allocated to me to take in, I goes in +alone, not knowin' where I was to settle down as a squatter, and kinder +lagged behind; when the butler comes and rams a napkin in my hand, and +gives me a shove, and sais he, 'Go and stand behind your master, sir,' +sais he. Oh Solomon! how that waked me up. How I curled inwardly when he +did that. 'You've mistaken the child,' sais I mildly, and I held out +the napkin, and jist as he went to take it, I gave him a sly poke in the +bread basket, that made him bend forward and say 'eugh.' 'Wake Snakes, +and walk your chalks,' sais I, 'will you?' and down I pops on the fust +empty chair. Lord, how white he looked about the gills arterwards; +I thought I should a split when I looked at him. Guess he'll know an +Attache when he sees him next time. + +"Well, there is dinner. One sarvice of plate is like another sarvice +of plate, any one dozen of sarvants are like another dozen of sarvants, +hock is hock, and champaigne is champaigne--and one dinner is like +another dinner. The only difference is in the thing itself that's +cooked. Veal, to be good, must look like any thing else but veal; you +mustn't know it when you see it, or it's vulgar; mutton must be incog. +too; beef must have a mask on; any thin' that looks solid, take a spoon +to; any thin' that looks light, cut with a knife; if a thing looks like +fish, you may take your oath it is flesh; and if it seems rael flesh, +it's only disguised, for it's sure to be fish; nothin' must be +nateral, natur is out of fashion here. This is a manufacturin' country, +everything is done by machinery, and that that ain't must be made to +look like it; and I must say, the dinner machinery is parfect. + +"Sarvants keep goin' round and round in a ring, slow, but sartain, and +for ever, like the arms of a great big windmill, shovin' dish after +dish, in dum show, afore your nose, for you to see how you like the +flavour; when your glass is empty it's filled; when your eyes is off +your plate, it's off too, afore you can say Nick Biddle. + +"Folks speak low here; steam is valuable, and noise onpolite. They call +it a "_subdued tone_." Poor tame things, they are subdued, that's a +fact; slaves to an arbitrary tyrannical fashion that don't leave 'em no +free will at all. You don't often speak across a table any more nor you +do across a street, but p'raps Mr. Somebody of West Eend of town, will +say to a Mr. Nobody from West Eend of America: 'Niagara is noble.' +Mr. Nobody will say, 'Guess it is, it got its patent afore the "Norman +_Conquest_," I reckon, and afore the "_subdued_ tone" come in fashion.' +Then Mr. Somebody will look like an oracle, and say, 'Great rivers and +great trees in America. You speak good English.' And then he will seem +surprised, but not say it, only you can read the words on his face, +'Upon my soul, you are a'most as white as us.' + +"Dinner is over. It's time for ladies to cut stick. Aunt Goosey looks +at the next oldest goosey, and ducks her head, as if she was a goin' +through a gate, and then they all come to their feet, and the goslins +come to their feet, and they all toddle off to the drawin' room +together. + +"The decanters now take the "grand tour" of the table, and, like most +travellers, go out with full pockets, and return with empty ones. Talk +has a pair of stays here, and is laced up tight and stiff. Larnin' is +pedantic; politics is onsafe; religion ain't fashionable. You must tread +on neutral ground. Well, neutral ground gets so trampled down by both +sides, and so plundered by all, there ain't any thing fresh or good +grows on it, and it has no cover for game nother. + +"Housundever, the ground is tried, it's well beat, but nothin' is put +up, and you get back to where you started. Uncle Gander looks at next +oldest gander hard, bobs his head, and lifts one leg, all ready for a +go, and says, 'Will you take any more wine?' 'No, sais he, 'but I take +the hint, let's jine the ladies.' + +"Well, when the whole flock is gathered in the goose pastur, the +drawin'-room, other little flocks come troopin' in, and stand, or walk, +or down on chairs; and them that know each other talk, and them that +don't twirl their thumbs over their fingers; and when they are tired of +that, twirl their fingers over their thumbs. I'm nobody, and so I goes +and sets side-ways on an ottarman, like a gall on a side-saddle, and +look at what's afore me. And fust I always look at the galls. + +"Now, this I will say, they are amazin' fine critters are the women +kind here, when they are taken proper care of. The English may stump the +univarse a'most for trainin' hosses and galls. They give 'em both plenty +of walkin' exercise, feed 'em regular, shoe 'em well, trim 'em neat, and +keep a beautiful skin on 'em. They keep, 'em in good health, and don't +house 'em too much. They are clippers, that's a fact. There is few +things in natur, equal to a hoss and a gall, that's well trained and in +good condition. I could stand all day and look at 'em, and I call myself +a considerable of a judge. It's singular how much they are alike too, +the moment the trainin' is over or neglected, neither of 'em is fit to +be seen; they grow out of shape, and look coarse. + +"They are considerable knowin' in this kind o' ware too, are the +English; they vamp 'em up so well, it's hard to tell their age, and I +ain't sure they don't make 'em live longer, than where the art ain't +so well pract_ised_. The mark o' mouth is kept up in a hoss here by the +file, and a hay-cutter saves his teeth, and helps his digestion. Well, +a dentist does the same good turn for a woman; it makes her pass for +several years younger; and helps her looks, mends her voice, and makes +her as smart as a three year old. + +"What's that? It's music. Well, that's artificial too, it's scientific +they say, it's done by rule. Jist look at that gall to the piany: first +comes a little Garman thunder. Good airth and seas, what a crash! it +seems as if she'd bang the instrument all to a thousand pieces. I guess +she's vexed at somebody and is a peggin' it into the piany out of spite. +Now comes the singin'; see what faces she makes, how she stretches her +mouth open, like a barn door, and turns up the white of her eyes, like +a duck in thunder. She is in a musical ecstasy is that gall, she feels +good all over, her soul is a goin' out along with that ere music. Oh, +it's divine, and she is an angel, ain't she? Yes, I guess she is, and +when I'm an angel, I will fall in love with her; but as I'm a man, at +least what's left of me, I'd jist as soon fall in love with one that +was a leetle, jist a leetle more of a woman, and a leetle, jist a leetle +less of an angel. But hullo! what onder the sun is she about, why her +voice is goin' down her own throat, to gain strength, and here it comes +out agin as deep toned as a man's; while that dandy feller along side +of her, is singin' what they call falsetter. They've actilly changed +voices. The gall sings like a man, and that screamer like a woman. This +is science: this is taste: this is fashion; but hang me if it's natur. +I'm tired to death of it, but one good thing is, you needn't listen +without you like, for every body is talking as, loud as ever. + +"Lord, how extremes meet sometimes, as Minister says. _Here_, how, +fashion is the top of the pot, and that pot hangs on the highest hook on +the crane. In _America_, natur can't go no farther; it's the rael thing. +Look at the women kind, now. An Indgian gall, down South, goes most +naked. Well, a splendiferous company gall, here, when she is _full +dressed_ is only _half covered_, and neither of 'em attract you one mite +or morsel. We dine at two and sup at seven; _here_ they lunch at two, +and dine at seven. The words are different, but they are identical +the same. Well, the singin' is amazin' like, too. Who ever heerd them +Italian singers recitin' their jabber, showin' their teeth, and cuttin' +didoes at a great private consart, that wouldn't take his oath he had +heerd niggers at a dignity ball, down South, sing jist the same, and +jist as well. And then do, for goodness' gracious' sake, hear that great +absent man, belongin' to the House o' Commons, when the chaplain says +'Let us pray!' sing right out at once, as if he was to home, 'Oh! by all +means,' as much as to say, 'me and the powers above are ready to hear +you; but don't be long about it.' + +"Ain't that for all the world like a camp-meetin', when a reformed +ring-tail roarer calls out to the minister, 'That's a fact, Welly Fobus, +by Gosh; amen!' or when preacher says, 'Who will be saved?' answers, 'Me +and the boys, throw us a hen-coop; the galls will drift down stream on a +bale o' cotton.' Well then, _our_ very lowest, and _their_ very highest, +don't always act pretty, that's a fact. Sometimes '_they repudiate_.' +You take, don't you? + +"There is another party to-night; the flock is a thinnin' off agin; and +as I want a cigar most amazin'ly, let's go to a divan, and some other +time, I'll tell you what a swoi_ree_ is. But answer me this here +question now, Squire: when this same thing is acted over and over, day +after day, and no variation, from July to etarnity, don't you think +you'd get a leetle--jist a leetle more tired of it every day, and wish +for natur once more. If you wouldn't I would, that's all." + + + + +THE SECOND VOLUME. + + + + +CHAPTER I. THE NOSE OF A SPY + +"Squire." said Mr. Hopewell, "you know Sam well enough, I hope, to make +all due allowances for the exuberance of his fancy. The sketch he has +just given you of London society, like the novels of the present +day, though founded on fact, is very unlike the reality. There may be +assemblages of persons in this great city, and no doubt there are, quite +as insipid and absurd as the one he has just pourtrayed; but you must +not suppose it is at all a fair specimen of the society of this place. +My own experience is quite the reverse. I think it the most refined, +the most agreeable, and the most instructive in the world. Whatever +your favourite study or pursuit may be, here you are sure to find +well-informed and enthusiastic associates. If you have merit, it is +appreciated; and for an aristocratic country, that merit places you on +a level with your superiors in rank in a manner that is quite +incomprehensible to a republican. Money is the great leveller of +distinctions with us; here, it is talent. Fashion spreads many tables +here, but talent is always found seated at the best, if it thinks proper +to comply with certain usages, without which, even genius ceases to be +attractive. + +"On some future occasion, I will enter more at large on this subject; +but now it is too late; I have already exceeded my usual hour for +retiring. 'Excuse me, Sam,' said he. 'I know you will not be offended +with me, but Squire there are some subjects on which Sam may amuse, but +cannot instruct you, and one is, fashionable life in London. You must +judge for yourself, Sir. Good night, my children.'" + +Mr. Slick rose, and opened the door for him, and as he passed, bowed and +held out his hand. "Remember me, your honour, no man opens the door in +this country without being paid for it. Remember me, Sir." + +"True, Sam," said the Minister, "and it is unlucky that it does not +extend to opening the mouth, if it did, you would soon make your +fortune, for you can't keep yours shut. Good night." + +The society to which I have subsequently had the good fortune to be +admitted, fully justifies the eulogium of Mr. Hopewell. Though many +persons can write well, few can talk well; but the number of those who +excel in conversation is much greater in certain circles in London, than +in any other place. By talking well, I do not mean talking wisely or +learnedly; but agreeably, for relaxation and pleasure, are the principal +objects of social assemblies. This can only be illustrated by instancing +some very remarkable persons, who are the pride and pleasure of every +table they honour and delight with their presence But this may not be. +For obvious reasons, I could not do it if I would; and most assuredly, +I would not do it if I could. No more certain mode could be devised +of destroying conversation, than by showing, that when the citadel is +unguarded, the approach of a friend is as unsafe as that of an enemy. + +Alas! poor Hook! who can read the unkind notice of thee in a late +periodical, and not feel, that on some occasions you must have admitted +to your confidence men who were as unworthy of that distinction as, they +were incapable of appreciating it, and that they who will disregard the +privileges of a table, will not hesitate to violate even the sanctity +of the tomb. Cant may talk of your "_inter pocula_" errors with pious +horror; and pretension, now that its indulgence is safe, may affect to +disclaim your acquaintance; but kinder, and better, and truer men than +those who furnished your biographer with his facts will not fail to +recollect your talents with pride, and your wit and your humour with +wonder and delight. + +We do not require such flagrant examples as these to teach us our duty, +but they are not without their use in increasing our caution. + +When Mr. Hopewell withdrew, Mr. Slick observed: + +"Ain't that ere old man a trump? He is always in the right place. +Whenever you want to find him, jist go and look for him where he +ought to be, and there you will find him as sure as there is snakes in +Varginy. He is a brick, that's a fact. Still, for all that, he ain't +jist altogether a citizen of this world nother. He fishes in deep water, +with a sinker to his hook. He can't throw a fly as I can, reel out his +line, run down stream, and then wind up, wind up, wind up, and let out, +and wind up again, till he lands his fish, as I do. He looks deep into +things, is a better religionist, polititioner, and bookster than I be: +but then that's all he does know. If you want to find your way about, or +read a man, come to me, that's all; for I'm the boy that jist can do +it. If I can't walk into a man, I can dodge round him; and if he is too +nimble for that, I can jump over him; and if he is too tall for that, +although I don't like the play, yet I can whip him. + +"Now, Squire, I have been a good deal to England, and crossed this big +pond here the matter of seven times, and know a good deal about it, more +than a great many folks that have writtin' books on it, p'raps. Mind +what I tell you, the English ain't what they was. I'm not speakin' in +jeest now, or in prejudice. I hante a grain of prejudice in me. I've +see'd too much of the world for that I reckon. I call myself a candid +man, and I tell you the English are no more like what the English used +to be, when pigs were swine, and Turkey chewed tobacky, than they are +like the Picts or Scots, or Norman, French, or Saxons, or nothin'." + +"Not what they used to be?" I said. "Pray, what do you mean?" + +"I mean," said he, "jist what I say. They ain't the same people no +more. They are as proud, and overbearin', and concaited, and haughty +to foreigners as ever; but, then they ain't so manly, open-hearted, and +noble as they used to be, once upon a time. They have the Spy System +now, in full operation here; so jist take my advice, and mind your +potatoe-trap, or you will be in trouble afore you are ten days older, +see if you ain't." + +"The Spy System!" I replied. "Good Heavens, Mr. Slick, how can you talk +such nonsense, and yet have the modesty to say you have no prejudice?" + +"Yes, the Spy System," said he, "and I'll prove it. You know Dr. +Mc'Dougall to Nova Scotia; well, he knows all about mineralogy, and +geology, and astrology, and every thing a'most, except what he ought to +know, and that is dollar-ology. For he ain't over and above half well +off, that's a fact. Well, a critter of the name of Oatmeal, down to +Pictou, said to another Scotchman there one day, 'The great nateralist +Dr. Mc'Dougall is come to town.' + +"'Who?' says Sawney. + +"'Dr. Mc'Dougall, the nateralist,' says Oatmeal. + +"'Hout, mon,' says Sawney, 'he is nae nateral, that chiel; he kens mair +than maist men; he is nae that fool you take him to be.' + +"Now, I am not such a fool as you take _me_ to be, Squire. Whenever I +did a sum to, school, Minister used to say, 'Prove it, Sam, and if it +won't prove, do it over agin, till it will; a sum ain't right when it +won't prove.' Now, I say the English have the Spy System, and I'll prove +it; nay, more than that, they have the nastiest, dirtiest, meanest, +sneakenest system in the world. It is ten times as bad as the French +plan. In France they have bar-keepers, waiters, chamber galls, guides, +quotillions,--" + +"Postilions, you mean," I said. + +"Well, postilions then, for the French have queer names for people, +that's a fact; disbanded sodgers, and such trash, for spies. In England +they have airls and countesses, Parliament men, and them that call +themselves gentlemen and ladies, for spies." + +"How very absurd!" I said. + +"Oh yes, very absurd," said Mr. Slick; "whenever I say anythin' agin +England, it's very absurd, it's all prejudice. Nothin' is strange, +though, when it is said of us, and the absurder it is, the truer it is. +I can bam as well as any man when bam is the word, but when fact is the +play, I am right up and down, and true as a trivet. I won't deceive you; +I'll prove it. + +"There was a Kurnel Dun--dun--plague take his name, I can't recollect +it, but it makes no odds--I know _he_ is Dun for, though, that's a fact. +Well, he was a British kurnel, that was out to Halifax when I was there. +I know'd him by sight, I didn't know him by talk, for I didn't fill then +the dignified situation I now do, of Attache. I was only a clockmaker +then, and I suppose he wouldn't have dirtied the tip eend of his white +glove with me then, any more than I would sile mine with him now, and +very expensive and troublesome things them white gloves be too; there is +no keepin' of them clean. For my part, I don't see why a man can't make +his own skin as clean as a kid's, any time; and if a feller can't be let +shake hands with a gall except he has a glove on, why ain't he made to +cover his lips, and kiss thro' kid skin too. + +"But to get back to the kurnel, and it's a pity he hadn't had a glove +over his mouth, that's a fact. Well, he went home to England with his +regiment, and one night when he was dinin' among some first chop men, +nobles and so on, they sot up considerable late over their claret; and +poor thin cold stuff it is too, is claret. A man _may_ get drowned in +it, but how the plague he can get drunk with it is dark to me. It's like +every thing else French, it has no substance in it; it's nothin' but red +ink, that's a fact. Well, how it was I don't know, but so it eventuated, +that about daylight he was mops and brooms, and began to talk somethin' +or another he hadn't ought to; somethin' he didn't know himself, and +somethin' he didn't mean, and didn't remember. + +"Faith, next mornin' he was booked; and the first thing he see'd when he +waked was another man a tryin' on of his shoes, to see how they'd fit to +march to the head of his regiment with. Fact, I assure you, and a fact +too that shows what Englishmen has come to; I despise 'em, I hate 'em, I +scorn such critters as I do oncarcumcised niggers." + +"What a strange perversion of facts," I replied. + +But he would admit of no explanation. "Oh yes, quite parvarted; not a +word of truth in it; there never is when England is consarned. There is +no beam in an Englishman's eye; no not a smell of one; he has pulled it +out long ago; that's the reason he can see the mote in other folks's +so plain. Oh, of course it ain't true; it's a Yankee invention; it's a +hickory ham and a wooden nutmeg. + +"Well, then, there was another feller got bagged t'other day, as +innocent as could be, for givin' his opinion when folks was a talkin' +about matters and things in gineral, and this here one in partikilar. I +can't tell the words, for I don't know 'em, nor care about 'em; and if I +did, I couldn't carry 'em about so long; but it was for sayin' it +hadn't ought to have been taken notice of, considerin' it jist popt out +permiscuous like with the bottle-cork. If he hadn't a had the clear +grit in him, and showed teeth and claws, they'd a nullified him so, you +wouldn't have see'd a grease spot of him no more. What do you call that, +now? Do you call that liberty? Do you call that old English? Do you call +it pretty, say now? Thank God, it tante Yankee." + +"I see you have no prejudice, Mr. Slick," I replied. + +"Not one mite or morsel," he replied. "Tho' I was born in Connecticut, I +have travelled all over the thirteen united univarsal worlds of ourn and +am a citizen at large. No, I have no prejudice. You say I am mistaken; +p'raps I am, I hope I be, and a stranger may get hold of the wrong eend +of a thing sometimes, that's a fact. But I don't think I be wrong, or +else the papers don't tell the truth; and I read it in all the jarnals; +I did, upon my soul. Why man, it's history now, if such nasty mean doins +is worth puttin' into a book. + +"What makes this Spy System to England wuss, is that these +eaves-droppers are obliged to hear all that's said, or lose what +commission they hold; at least so folks tell me. I recollect when I was +there last, for it's some years since Government first sot up the Spy +System; there was a great feed given to a Mr. Robe, or Robie, or some +such name, an out and out Tory. Well, sunthin' or another was said over +their cups, that might as well have been let alone, I do suppose, tho' +dear me, what is the use of wine but to onloosen the tongue, and what +is the use of the tongue, but to talk. Oh, cuss 'em, I have no patience +with them. Well, there was an officer of a marchin' regiment there, who +it seems ought to have took down the words and sent 'em up to the head +Gineral, but he was a knowin' coon, was officer, and _didn't hear it_. +No sooner said than done; some one else did the dirty work for him; but +you can't have a substitute for this, you must sarve in person, so the +old Gineral hawls him right up for it. + +"'Why the plague, didn't you make a fuss?' sais the General, 'why didn't +you get right up, and break up the party?' + +"'I didn't hear it,' sais he. + +"'You didn't hear it!' sais Old Sword-belt, 'then you had ought to have +heerd it; and for two pins, I'd sharpen your hearin' for you, so that a +snore of a fly would wake you up, as if a byler had bust.' + +"Oh, how it has lowered the English in the eyes of foreigners! How +sneakin' it makes 'em look! They seem for all the world like scared +dogs; and a dog when he slopes off with his head down, his tail atween +his legs, and his back so mean it won't bristle, is a caution to +sinners. Lord. I wish I was Queen!" + +"What, of such a degraded race as you say the English are, of such a +mean-spirited, sneaking nation?" + +"Well, they warn't always so," he replied. "I will say that, for I +have no prejudice. By natur, there is sunthin' noble and manly in a +Britisher, and always was, till this cussed Spy System got into fashion. +They tell me it was the Liberals first brought it into vogue. How that +is. I don't know; but I shouldn't wonder if it was them, for I know +this, if a feller talks _very_ liberal in politics, put him into office, +and see what a tyrant he'll make. If he talks very liberal in religion, +it's because he hante got none at all. If he talks very liberal to the +poor, talk is all the poor will ever get out of him. If he talks liberal +about corn law, it tante to feed the hungry, but to lower wages, and +so on in every thing a most. None is so liberal as those as hante got +nothin'. The most liberal feller I know on is "Old Scratch himself." If +ever the liberals come in, they should make him Prime Minister. He is +very liberal in religion and would jine them in excludin' the Bible from +common schools I know. He is very liberal about the criminal code, for +he can't bear to see criminals punished. He is very liberal in politics, +for he don't approbate restraint, and likes to let every critter 'go +to the devil' his own way. Oh, he should be Head Spy and Prime Minister +that feller. + +"But without jokin' tho', if I was Queen, the fust time any o' my +ministers came to me to report what the spies had said, I'd jist up and +say, 'Minister,' I'd say, 'it is a cussed oninglish, onmanly, niggerly +business, is this of pumpin', and spyin', and tattlin'. I don't like it +a bit. I'll have neither art nor part in it; I wash my hands clear of +it. It will jist break the spirit of my people. So, minister look here. +The next report that is brought to me of a spy, I'll whip his tongue out +and whop your ear off, or my name ain't Queen. So jist mind what I say; +first spy pokes his nose into your office, chop it off and clap it up +over Temple Bar, where they puts the heads of traitors and write these +words over, with your own fist, that they may know the handwritin', and +not mistake the meanin', _This is the nose of a Spy_." + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE PATRON; OR, THE COW'S TAIL. + +Nothing is so fatiguing as sight-seeing. The number and variety of +objects to which your attention is called, and the rapid succession in +which they pass in review, at once wearies and perplexes the mind; and +unless you take notes to refresh your memory, you are apt to find you +carry away with you but an imperfect and indistinct recollection. + +Yesterday was devoted to an inspection of the Tunnel and an +examination of the Tower, two things that ought always to be viewed +in juxta-position; one being the greatest evidence of the science and +wealth of modern times; and the other of the power and pomp of our +forefathers. + +It is a long time before a stranger can fully appreciate the extent +of population and wealth of this vast metropolis. At first, he is +astonished and confused; his vision is indistinct. By degrees he begins +to understand its localities, the ground plan becomes intelligible and +he can take it all in at a view. The map is a large one; it is a chart +of the world. He knows the capes and the bays; he has sailed round them, +and knows their relative distance, and at last becomes aware of the +magnitude of the whole. Object after object becomes more familiar. He +can estimate the population; he compares the amount of it with that +of countries that he is acquainted with, and finds that this one town +contains within it nearly as great a number of souls as all British +North America. He estimates the incomes of the inhabitants, and finds +figures almost inadequate to express the amount. He asks for the +sources from whence it is derived. He resorts to his maxims of political +economy, and they cannot inform him. He calculates the number of acres +of land in England, adds up the rental, and is again at fault. He +inquires into the statistics of the Exchange, and discovers that even +that is inadequate; and, as a last resource, concludes that the whole +world is tributary to this Queen of Cities. It is the heart of the +Universe. All the circulation centres here, and hence are derived all +those streams that give life and strength to the extremities. How vast, +how populous, how rich, how well regulated, how well supplied, how +clean, how well ventilated, how healthy!--what a splendid city! How +worthy of such an empire and such a people! + +What is the result of his experience? _It is, that there is no such +country in the world as England, and no such place in England as London; +that London is better than any other town in winter, and quite as good +as any other place in summer; that containing not only all that he +requires, but all that he can wish, in the greatest perfection, he +desires never to leave it._ + +Local description, however, is not my object; I shall therefore, return +to my narrative. + +Our examination of the Tower and the Tunnel occupied the whole day, and +though much gratified, we were no less fatigued. On returning to our +lodgings, I found letters from Nova Scotia. Among others, was one +from the widow of an old friend, enclosing a memorial to the +Commander-in-Chief, setting forth the important and gratuitous services +of her late husband to the local government of the province, and +soliciting for her son some small situation in the ordnance department, +which had just fallen vacant at Halifax. I knew that it was not only +out of my power to aid her, but that it was impossible for her, however +strong the claims of her husband might be, to obtain her request. These +things are required for friends and dependants in England; and in the +race of competition, what chance of success has a colonist? + +I made up my mind at once to forward her memorial as requested, but +pondered on the propriety of adding to it a recommendation. It could do +no good. At most, it would only be the certificate of an unknown man; of +one who had neither of the two great qualifications, namely, county or +parliamentary interest, but it might do harm. It might, by engendering +ridicule from the insolence of office, weaken a claim, otherwise well +founded. "Who the devil is this Mr. Thomas Poker, that recommends the +prayer of the petition? The fellow imagines all the world must have +heard of him. A droll fellow that, I take it from his name: but all +colonists are queer fellows, eh?" + +"Bad news from home?" said Mr. Slick, who had noticed my abstraction. +"No screw loose there, I hope. You don't look as if you liked the +flavour of that ere nut you are crackin' of. Whose dead? and what is to +pay now?" + +I read the letter and the memorial, and then explained from my own +knowledge how numerous and how valuable were the services of my +deceased friend, and expressed my regret at not being able to serve the +memorialist. + +"Poor woman!" said Mr. Hopewell, "I pity her. A colonist has no chance +for these things; they have no patron. In this country merit will always +obtain a patron--in the provinces never. The English are a noble-minded, +generous people, and whoever here deserves encouragement or reward, +is certain to obtain either or both: but it must be a brilliant man, +indeed, whose light can be perceived across the Atlantic." + +"I entertain, Sir," I said, "a very strong prejudice against relying +on patrons. Dr. Johnson, after a long and fruitless attendance on Lord +Chesterfield, says: 'Seven years, my Lord, have now past, since I waited +in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time +I have been pushing on my work, through difficulties, of which it +is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of +publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, +or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never bad +a patron before." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Hopewell, "a man who feels that he is wrong, is always +angry with somebody else. Dr. Johnson, is not so much to be admired +for the independence that dictated that letter, as condemned for the +meanness and servility of seven years of voluntary degradation. It is no +wonder he spoke with bitterness; for, while he censured his Lordship, +he must have despised himself. There is a great difference between a +literary and a political patron. The former is not needed, and a man +does better without one; the latter is essential. A good book, like +good wine, needs no bush; but to get an office, you want merits or +patrons;--merits so great, that they cannot be passed over, or friends +so powerful, they cannot be refused." + +"Oh! you can't do nothin', Squire," said Mr. Sick, "send it back to Old +Marm; tell her you have the misfortin to be a colonist; that if her son +would like to be a constable, or a Hogreave, or a thistle-viewer, or +sunthin' or another of that kind, you are her man: but she has got the +wrong cow by the tail this time. I never hear of a patron, I don't think +of a frolic I once had with a cow's tail; and, by hanging on to it like +a snappin' turtle, I jist saved my life, that's a fact. + +"Tell you what it is, Squire, take a fool's advice, for once. Here you +are; I have made you considerable well-known, that's a fact; and will +introduce you to court, to king and queen, or any body you please. For +our legation, though they can't dance, p'raps, as well as the French one +can, could set all Europe a dancin' in wide awake airnest, if it chose. +They darsent refuse us nothin', or we would fust embargo, and then go +to war. Any one you want to know, I'll give you the ticket. Look round, +select a good critter, and hold on to the tail, for dear life, and see +if you hante a patron, worth havin'. You don't want none yourself, but +you might want one some time or another, for them that's a comin' arter +you. + +"When I was a half grow'd lad, the bears came down from Nor-West one +year in droves, as a body might say, and our woods near Slickville was +jist full of 'em. It warn't safe to go a-wanderin' about there a-doin' +of nothin', I tell _you_. Well, one arternoon, father sends me into the +back pastur', to bring home the cows, 'And,' says he, 'keep a stirrin', +Sam, go ahead right away, and be out of the bushes afore sun-set, on +account of the bears, for that's about the varmints' supper-time.' + +"Well, I looks to the sky, and I sees it was a considerable of a piece +yet to daylight down, so I begins to pick strawberries as I goes along, +and you never see any thing so thick as they were, and wherever +the grass was long, they'd stand up like a little bush, and hang in +clusters, most as big and twice as good, to my likin', as garden ones. +Well, the sun, it appears to me, is like a hoss, when it comes near dark +it mends its pace, and gets on like smoke, so afore I know'd where I +was, twilight had come peepin' over the spruce tops. + +"Off I sot, hot foot, into the bushes, arter the cows, and as always +eventuates when you are in a hurry, they was further back than common +that time, away ever so fur back to a brook, clean off to the rear of +the farm, so that day was gone afore I got out of the woods, and I got +proper frightened. Every noise I heerd I thought it was a bear, and when +I looked round a one side, I guessed I heerd one on the other, and I +hardly turned to look there before, I reckoned it was behind me, I was +e'en a'most skeered to death. + +"Thinks I, 'I shall never be able to keep up to the cows if a bear comes +arter 'em and chases 'em, and if I fall astarn, he'll just snap up a +plump little corn fed feller like me in less than half no time. Cryin',' +says I, 'though, will do no good. You must be up and doin', Sam, or it's +gone goose with you.' + +"So a thought struck me. Father had always been a-talkin' to me about +the leadin' men, and makin' acquaintance with the political big bugs +when I growed up and havin' a patron, and so on. Thinks I, I'll take +the leadin' cow for my patron. So I jist goes and cuts a long tough ash +saplin, and takes the little limbs off of it, and then walks along side +of Mooley, as meachin' as you please, so she mightn't suspect nothin', +and then grabs right hold of her tail, and yelled and screamed like mad, +and wallopped away at her like any thing. + +"Well, the way she cut dirt was cautionary; she cleared stumps, ditches, +windfalls and every thing, and made a straight track of it for home as +the crow flies. Oh, she was a dipper: she fairly flow again, and if ever +she flagged, I laid it into her with the ash saplin, and away we started +agin, as if Old Nick himself was arter us. + +"But afore I reached home, the rest of the cows came a bellowin', and a +roarin' and a-racin' like mad arter us, and gained on us too, so as most +to overtake us, jist as I come to the bars of the cow yard, over went +Mooler, like a fox, brought me whap up agin 'em, which knocked all the +wind out of my lungs and the fire out of my eyes, and laid me sprawlin +on the ground, and every one of the flock went right slap over me, all +but one--poor Brindle. She never came home agin. Bear nabbed her, and +tore her most ridiculous. He eat what he wanted, which was no trifle, I +can tell you, and left the rest till next time. + +"Don't talk to me, Squire, about merits. We all want a lift in this +world; sunthin' or another to lay hold on, to help us along--_we want +the cow's tail_. + +"Tell your friend, the female widder, she has got hold of the wrong cow +by the tail in gettin' hold of you, for you are nothin' but a despisable +colonist; but to look out for some patron here, some leadin' man, or +great lord, to clinch fast hold of him, and stick to him like a leach, +and if he flags, (for patrons, like old Mooley, get tired sometimes), to +recollect the ash saplin, to lay into him well, and keep him at it, and +no fear but he'll carry her through. He'll fetch her home safe at last, +and no mistake, depend on it, Squire. The best lesson that little boy +could be taught, is, that of _the Patron, or the Cows Tail_." + + + + +CHAPTER III. ASCOT RACES. + +To-day I visited Ascot. Race-courses are similar every where, and +present the same objects; good horses, cruel riders, knowing men, dupes, +jockeys, gamblers, and a large assemblage of mixed company. But this +is a gayer scene than most others; and every epithet, appropriate to a +course, diminutive or otherwise, must be in the superlative degree when +applied to Ascot. This is the general, and often the only impression +that most men carry away with them. + +Mr. Slick, who regards these things practically, called my attention to +another view of it. + +"Squire," said he, "I'd a plaguy sight sooner see Ascot than any thing +else to England. There ain't nothin' like it. I don't mean the racin', +because they can't go ahead like us, if they was to die for it. We have +colts that can whip chain lightnin', on a pinch. Old Clay trotted with +it once all round an orchard, and beat it his whole length, but it +singed his tail properly as he passed it, you may depend. It ain't its +runnin' I speak of, therefore, though that ain't mean nother; but it's +got another featur', that you'll know it by from all others. Oh it's an +everlastin' pity you warn't here, when I was to England last time. Queen +was there then; and where she is, of coarse all the world and its wife +is too. She warn't there this year, and it sarves folks right. If I was +an angelyferous queen, like her, I wouldn't go nowhere till I had a +tory minister, and then a feller that had a "trigger-eye" would stand +a chance to get a white hemp-neckcloth. I don't wonder Hume don't like +young England; for when that boy grows up, he'll teach some folks that +they had better let some folks alone, or some folks had better take care +of some folks' ampersands that's all. + +"The time I speak of, people went in their carriages, and not by +railroad. Now, pr'aps you don't know, in fact you can't know, for you +can't cypher, colonists ain't no good at figurs, but if you did know, +the way to judge of a nation is by its private carriages. From Hyde Park +corner to Ascot Heath, is twenty odd miles. Well, there was one whole +endurin' stream of carriages all the way, sometimes havin' one or two +eddies, and where the toll-gates stood, havin' still water for ever so +far. Well, it flowed and flowed on for hours and hours without stoppin', +like a river; and when you got up to the race-ground, there was the +matter of two or three tiers of carriages, with the hosses off, packed +as close as pins in a paper. + +"It costs near hand to twelve hundred dollars a-year to keep up a +carriage here. Now for goodness' sake jist multiply that everlastin' +string of carriages by three hundred pounds each, and see what's spent +in that way every year, and then multiply that by ten hundred thousand +more that's in other places to England you don't see, and then tell me +if rich people here ain't as thick as huckleberries." + +"Well, when you've done, go to France, to Belgium, and to Prussia, three +sizeable places for Europe, and rake and scrape every private carriage +they've got, and they ain't no touch to what Ascot can show. Well, when +you've done your cypherin', come right back to London, as hard as you +can clip from the race-course, and you won't miss any of 'em; the town +is as full as ever, to your eyes. A knowin' old coon, bred and born to +London, might, but you couldn't. + +"Arter that's over, go and pitch the whole bilin' of 'em into the +Thames, hosses, carriages, people, and all; and next day, if it warn't +for the black weepers and long faces of them that's lost money by it, +and the black crape and happy faces of them that's got money, or +titles, or what not by it, you wouldn't know nothin' about it. Carriages +wouldn't rise ten cents in the pound in the market. A stranger, like +you, if you warn't told, wouldn't know nothin' was the matter above +common. There ain't nothin' to England shows its wealth like this. + +"Says father to me when I came back, 'Sam,' sais he, 'what struck you +most?' + +"'Ascot Races,' sais I. + +"'Jist like you,' sais he. 'Hosses and galls is all you think of. +Wherever they be, there you are, that's a fact. You're a chip of the old +block, my boy. There ain't nothin' lake 'em; is there?' + +"Well, he was half right, was father. It's worth seein' for hosses and +galls too; but it's worth seein' for its carriage wealth alone. Heavens +and airth, what a rich country it must be that has such a show in that +line as England. Don't talk of stock, for it may fail; or silver-smiths' +shops, for you can't tell what's plated; or jewels, for they may be +paste; or goods, for they may be worth only half nothin'; but talk of +the carriages, them's the witnesses that don't lie. + +"And what do they say? 'Calcutta keeps me, and China keeps me, and +Bot'ney Bay keeps me, and Canada keeps me, and Nova Scotia keeps me, and +the whales keep me, and the white bears keep me, and every thing on the +airth keeps me, every thing under the airth keeps me. In short, all the +world keeps me.'" + +"No, not all the world, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell; "there are some +repudiative States that _don't keep me_; and if you go to the auction +rooms, you'll see some beautiful carriages for sale, that say, 'the +United States' Bank used to keep me,' and some more that say, 'Nick +Biddle put me down.'" + +"Minister, I won't stand that," said Mr. Slick. "I won't stay here and +hear you belittle Uncle Sam that way for nothin'. He ain't wuss than +John Bull, arter all. Ain't there no swindle-banks here? Jist tell me +that. Don't our liners fetch over, every trip, fellers that cut and run +from England, with their fobs filled with other men's money? Ain't +there lords in this country that know how to "repudiate" as well as +ring-tail-roarers in ourn. So come now, don't throw stones till you put +your window-shutters to, or you may stand a smart chance of gettin' your +own glass broke, that's a fact.' + +"And then, Squire, jist look at the carriages. I'll bet you a goose and +trimmin's you can't find their ditto nowhere. They _are_ carriages, and +no mistake, that's a fact. Look at the hosses, the harness, the paint, +the linin's, the well-dressed, lazy, idle, infarnal hansum servants, +(these rascals, I suspicion, are picked out for their looks), look at +the whole thing all through the piece, take it, by and large, stock, +lock, and barrel, and it's the dandy, that's a fact. Don't it cost +money, that's all? Sumtotalize it then, and see what it all comes to. +It would make your hair stand on eend, I know. If it was all put into +figure, it would reach clean across the river; and if it was all put +into dollars, it would make a solid tire of silver, and hoop the world +round and round, like a wheel. + +"If you want to give a man an idea of England, Squire, tell him of +Ascot; and if you want to cram him, get old Multiplication-table Joe H-- +to cast it up; for he'll make it come to twice as much as it railly is, +and that will choke him. Yes, Squire, _stick to Ascot_." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE GANDER PULLING. + +A cunning man is generally a suspicious one, and is as often led into +error himself by his own misconceptions, as protected from imposition by +his habitual caution. + +Mr. Slick, who always acted on a motive, and never on an impulse, and +who concealed his real objects behind ostensible ones, imagined that +everybody else was governed by the same principle of action; and, +therefore, frequently deceived himself by attributing designs to others +that never existed but in his own imagination. + +Whether the following story of the gander pulling was a fancy sketch of +the Attache, or a narrative of facts, _I_ had no means of ascertaining. +Strange interviews and queer conversations he constantly had with +official as well as private individuals, but as he often gave his +opinions the form of an anecdote, for the purpose of interesting his +hearers, it was not always easy to decide whether his stories were facts +or fictions. + +If, on the present occasion, it was of the latter description, it is +manifest that he entertained no very high opinion of the constitutional +changes effected in the government of the colonies by the Whigs, +during their long and perilous rule. If of the former kind, it is to +be lamented that he concealed his deliberate convictions under an +allegorical piece of humour. His disposition to "humbug" was so great, +it was difficult to obtain a plain straightforward reply from him; but +had the Secretary of State put the question to him in direct terms, what +he thought of Lord Durham's "Responsible government," and the +practical working of it under Lord Sydenham's and Sir Charles Bagot's +administration, he would have obtained a plain and intelligible answer. +If the interview to which he alludes ever did take place, (which I am +bound to add, is very doubtful, notwithstanding the minuteness with +which it is detailed), it is deeply to be regretted that he was not +addressed in that frank manner which could alone elicit his real +sentiments; for I know of no man so competent to offer an opinion on +these subjects as himself. + +To govern England successfully, it is necessary to know the temper of +Englishmen. Obvious as this appears to be, the frequent relinquishment +of government measures, by the dominant party, shows that their own +statesmen are sometimes deficient in this knowledge. + +Mr. Slick says, that if Sir James Graham had consulted him, _he_ could +have shown him how to carry the educational clauses of his favourite +bill This, perhaps, is rather an instance of Mr. Slick's vanity, than a +proof of his sagacity. But if this species of information is not easy of +attainment here, even by natives, how difficult must it be to govern a +people three thousand miles off, who differ most materially in thought, +word, and deed, from their official rulers. + +Mr. Slick, when we had not met during the day, generally visited me at +night, about the time I usually returned from a dinner-party, and amused +me by a recital of his adventures. + +"Squire," said he, "I have had a most curious capur to-day, and one that +will interest you, I guess. Jist as I was a settin' down to breakfast +this mornin', and was a turnin' of an egg inside out into a wine-glass, +to salt, pepper and batter it for Red-lane Alley, I received a note from +a Mister Pen, saying the Right Honourable Mr. Tact would be glad, if it +was convenient, if I would call down to his office, to Downin' Street, +to-day, at four o'clock. Thinks says I to myself, 'What's to pay now? Is +it the Boundary Line, or Creole Case, or Colonial Trade, or the Burnin' +of the Caroline, or Right o' Sarch? or what national subject is on the +carpet to-day? Howsundever,' sais I, 'let the charge be what it will, +slugs, rifle-bullets, or powder, go I must, that's a fact.' So I tips +him a shot right off; here's the draft, Sir; it's in reg'lar state +lingo. + + "Sir, + + "I have the high honour to acknowledge the receipt of + your letter of this present first of June instant and + note its contents. The conference (subject unknown), + proffered by the Right Honourable Mr. Tact, I accede + to hereby protesting and resarving all rights of + conformation and reniggin' of our Extraordinary + Embassador, now absent from London, at the great + agricultural meetin'. I would suggest, next time, it + would better convene to business, to insart subject + of discussion, to prevent being taken at a short. + + "I have to assure you of the high consideration of + your most obedient servant to command. + + "THE HON. SAM SLICK, + + "Attache". + +"Well, when the time comes, I rigs up, puts on the legation coat, calls +a cab, and downs to Downing Street, and looks as dignified as I cleverly +knew how. + +"When I enters the outer door, I sees a man in an arm-chair in the +entry, and he looked like a buster, I tell you, jist ready to blow up +with the steam of all the secrets he had in his byler. + +"'Can I see Mr. Tact?' sais I. + +"'Tell you directly,' sais he, jist short like; for Englishmen are +kinder costive of words; they don't use more nor will do, at no time; +and he rings a bell. This brings in his second in command; and sais he, +'Pray walk in here, if you please, Sir,' and he led me into a little +plain, stage-coach-house lookin' room, with nothin' but a table and two +or three chairs in it; and says he, 'Who shall I say, Sir?' + +"'The Honourable Mr. Slick,' sais I, 'Attache of the American Legation +to the court of Saint Jimses' Victoria.' + +"Off he sot; and there I waited and waited for ever so long, but he +didn't come back. Well, I walked to the winder and looked out, but there +was nothin' to see there; and then I turned and looked at a great big +map on the wall, and there was nothin' I didn't know there; and then +I took out my pen-knife to whittle, but my nails was all whittled off +already, except one, and that was made into a pen, and I didn't like to +spile that; and as there wasn't any thing I could get hold of, I jist +slivered a great big bit off the leg of the chair, and began to make +a toothpick of it. And when I had got that finished, I begins to get +tired; for nothin' makes me so peskilly oneasy as to be kept waitin'; +for if a Clockmaker don't know the valy of time, who the plague does? + +"So jist to pass it away, I began to hum 'Jim Brown.' Did you ever hear +it, Squire? it's a'most a beautiful air, as most all them nigger +songs are. I'll make you a varse, that will suit a despisable colonist +exactly. + + "I went up to London, the capital of the nation, + To see Lord Stanley, and get a sitivation. + Says he to me, 'Sam Slick, what can you do?' + Says I, 'Lord Stanley, jist as much as you. + Liberate the rebels, and 'mancipate the niggers. + Hurror for our side, and damn thimble-riggers. + +"Airth and seas! If you was to sing that 'ere song there, how it would +make 'em stare; wouldn't it? Such words as them was never heerd in that +patronage office, I guess; and yet folks must have often thort it too; +that's a fact. + +"I was a hummin' the rael 'Jim Brown,' and got as far as: + + Play upon the banjo, play upon the fiddle, + Walk about the town, and abuse old Biddle, + +when I stopped right in the middle of it, for it kinder sorter struck it +me warn't dignified to be a singin' of nigger-catches that way. So says +I to myself, 'This ain't respectful to our great nation to keep a high +functionary a waitin' arter this fashion, is it? Guess I'd better assart +the honour of our republic by goin' away; and let him see that it warn't +me that was his lackey last year.' + +"Well, jist as I had taken the sleeve of my coat and given my hat a +rub over with it, (a good hat will carry off an old suit of clothes any +time, but a new suit of clothes will never carry off an old hat, so I +likes to keep my hat in good order in a general way). Well, jist as I +had done, in walks the porter's first leftenant; and sais he, 'Mr. Tact +will see you, Sir.' + +"'He come plaguy near not seein' of me, then,' sais I; 'for I had jist +commenced makin' tracks as you come in. The next time he sends for me, +tell him not to send till he is ready, will you? For it's a rule o' mine +to tag arter no man.' + +"The critter jist stopped short, and began to see whether that spelt +treason or no. He never heerd freedom o' speech afore, that feller, I +guess, unless it was somebody a jawin' of him, up hill and down dale; so +sais I, 'Lead off, my old 'coon, and I will foller you, and no mistake, +if you blaze the line well.' + +"So he led me up stairs, opened a door, and 'nounced me; and there was +Mr. Tact, sittin' at a large table, all alone. + +"'How do you do, Mr. Slick,' says he. 'I am very glad to see you. Pray +be seated.' He really was a very gentlemanlike man, was Squire Tact, +that's a fact. Sorry I kept you waitin' so long,' sais he, 'but the +Turkish Ambassador was here at the time, and I was compelled to wait +until he went. I sent for you, Sir, a-hem!' and he rubbed his hand +acrost his mouth, and looked' up at the cornish, and said, 'I sent for +you, Sir, ahem!'--(thinks I, I see now. All you will say for half an +hour is only throw'd up for a brush fence, to lay down behind to take +aim through; and arter that, the first shot is the one that's aimed at +the bird), 'to explain to you about this African Slave Treaty,' said he. +'Your government don't seem to comprehend me in reference to this Right +of Sarch. Lookin' a man in the face, to see he is the right man, and +sarchin' his pockets, are two very different things. You take, don't +you?' + +"'I'm up to snuff, Sir,' sais I, 'and no mistake.' I know'd well enough +that warn't what he sent for me for, by the way he humm'd and hawed when +he began. + +"'Taking up a trunk, as every hotel-keeper does and has a right to +do, and examinin' the name on the brass plate to the eend on't, is one +thing; forcin' the lock and ransackin' the contents, is another. One is +precaution, the other is burglary.' + +"'It tante burglary,' sais I, 'unless the lodger sleeps in his trunk. +It's only--' + +"'Well,' says he, a colourin' up, 'that's technical. I leave these +matters to my law officers.' + +"I larnt that little matter of law from brother Eldad, the lawyer, but +I guess I was wrong there. I don't think I had ought to have given him +that sly poke; but I didn't like his talkin' that way to me. Whenever a +feller tries to pull the wool over your eyes, it's a sign he don't think +high of your onderstandin'. It isn't complimental, that's a fact. 'One +is a serious offence, I mean, sais he; 'the other is not. We don't want +to sarch; we only want to look a slaver in the face, and see whether +he is a free and enlightened American or not. If he is, the _flag of +liberty_ protects him and _his slaves_; if he ain't, it don't protect +him, nor them nother.' + +"Then he did a leadin' article on slavery, and a paragraph on +non-intervention, and spoke a little soft sawder about America, and +wound up by askin' me if he had made himself onderstood. + +"'Plain as a boot-jack,' sais I. + +"When that was over, he took breath. He sot back on his chair, put one +leg over the other, and took a fresh departur' agin. + +"'I have read your books, Mr. Slick,' said he, 'and read 'em, too, with +great pleasure. You have been a great traveller in your day. You've been +round the world a'most, haven't you?' + +"'Well,' sais I, 'I sharn't say I hante.' + +"'What a deal of information a man of your observation must have +acquired.' (He is a gentlemanly man, that you may depend. I don't know +when I've see'd one so well mannered.) + +"'Not so much, Sir, as you would suppose,' sais I. + +"'Why how so?' sais he. + +"'Why,' sais I, 'the first time a man goes round the world, he is plaguy +skeered for fear of fallin' off the edge; the second time he gets used +to it, and larns a good deal.' + +"'Fallin' off the edge!' sais he; 'what an original idea that is. That's +one of your best. I like your works for that they are original. We have +nothin' but imitations now. Fallin' off the the edge, that's capital. I +must tell Peel that; for he is very fond of that sort of thing.' + +"He was a very pretty spoken man, was Mr. Tact; he is quite the +gentleman, that's a fact. I love to hear him talk; he is so very +perlite, and seems to take a likin' to me parsonally." + +Few men are so open to flattery as Mr. Slick; and although "soft sawder" +is one of the artifices he constantly uses in his intercourse with +others, he is often thrown off of his guard by it himself. How much +easier it is to discover the weaknesses of others than to see our own! + +But to resume the story. + +"'You have been a good deal in the colonies, haven't you?' said he. + +"'Considerable sum,' sais I. Now, sais I to myself, this is the rael +object he sent for me for; but I won't tell him nothin'. If he'd a up +and askt me right off the reel, like a man, he'd a found me up to the +notch; but he thort to play me off. Now I'll sarve him out his own way; +so here goes. + +"'Your long acquaintance with the provinces, and familiar intercourse +with the people,' sais he, 'must have made you quite at home on all +colonial topics.' + +"'I thought so once,' sais I; 'but I don't think so now no more, Sir.' + +"'Why how is that?' sais he. + +"'Why, Sir,' sais I, 'you can hold a book so near your eyes as not to be +able to read a word of it; hold it off further, and get the right focus, +and you can read beautiful. Now the right distance to see a colony, and +know all about it, is England. Three thousand miles is the right focus +for a political spy-glass. A man livin' here, and who never was out of +England, knows twice as much about the provinces as I do.' + +"'Oh, you are joking,' sais he. + +"Not a bit,' sais I. 'I find folks here that not only know every thing +about them countries, but have no doubts upon any matter, and ask no +questions; in fact, they not only know more than me, but more than the +people themselves do, what they want. It's curious, but it's a fact. A +colonist is the most beautiful crittur in natur to try experiments on, +you ever see; for he is so simple and good-natured he don't know no +better; and so weak, he couldn't help himself if he did. There's great +fun in making these experiments, too. It puts me in mind of "Gander +Pulling;" you know what this is, don't you?' + +"'No,' he said. 'I never heard of it. Is it an American sport?' + +"'Yes,' sais I, 'it is; and the most excitin' thing, too, you ever see.' + +"'You are a very droll man. Mr Slick,' said he, 'a very droll man +indeed. In all your books there is a great deal of fun; but in all +your fun, there is a meanin'. Your jokes hit, and hit pretty hard, too, +sometimes. They make a man think as well as laugh. But, describe this +Gander Pulling.' + +"'Well, I'll tell you how it is,' sais I. 'First and foremost, a +ring-road is formed, like a small race-course; then, two great long +posts is fixed into the ground, one on each side of the road, and a rope +made fast by the eends to each post, leavin' the middle of the rope to +hang loose in a curve. Well, then they take a gander and pick his neck +as clean as a babby's, and then grease it most beautiful all the way +from the breast to the head, till it becomes as slippery as a soaped +eel. Then they tie both his legs together with a strong piece of cord, +of the size of a halyard, and hang him by the feet to the middle of the +swingin' rope, with his head downward. All the youngsters, all round the +county, come to see the sport, mounted a horseback. + +"'Well, the owner of the goose goes round with his hat, and gets so much +a-piece in it from every one that enters for the "Pullin';" and when all +have entered, they bring their hosses in a line, one arter another; and +at the words, 'Go ahead!' off they set, as hard as they can split; and +as they pass under the goose, make a grab at him; and whoever carries +off the head, wins. + +"'Well, the goose dodges his head and flaps his wings, and swings about +so, it ain't no easy matter to clutch his neck; and when you do, it's so +greasy, it slips right through the fingers, like, nothin'. Sometimes it +takes so long, that the hosses are fairly beat out, and can't scarcely +raise a gallop; and then a man stands by the post, with a heavy loaded +whip, to lash 'em on, so that they mayn't stand under the goose, which +ain't fair. The whoopin', and hollerin', and screamin', and bettin', +and excitement, beats all; there ain't hardly no sport equal to it. It's +great fun _to all except the poor goosey-gander_. + +"'The game of colony government to Canady, for some years back, puts me +in mind of that exactly. Colonist has had his heels put where his head +used to be, this some time past. He has had his legs tied, and his neck +properly greased, I tell _you_; and the way every parliament man, and +governor, and secretary, gallops round and round, one arter another, a +grabbin' at poor colonist, ain't no matter. Every new one on 'em that +comes, is confident he is a goin' to settle it; but it slips through his +hand, and off he goes, properly larfed at. + +"'They have pretty nearly fixed goosey colonist, though; he has got his +neck wrung several times; it's twisted all a one side, his tongue hangs +out, and he squeaks piteous, that's a fact. Another good grab or two +will put him out o' pain; and it's a pity it wouldn't, for no created +critter can live long, turned wrong eend up, that way. But the sport +will last long arter that; for arter his neck is broke, it ain't no easy +matter to get the head off; the cords that tie that on, are as thick +as your finger. It's the greatest fun out there you ever see, _to all +except poor goosey colonist_. + +"'I've larfed ready to kill myself at it. Some o' these Englishers that +come out, mounted for the sport, and expect a peerage as a reward for +bringin' home the head and settlin' the business for colonist, do cut +such figurs, it would make you split; and they are all so everlastin' +consaited, they won't take no advice. The way they can't do it is +cautionary. One gets throwed, another gets all covered with grease, a +third loses his hat, a fourth gets run away with by his horse, a fifth +sees he can't do it, makes some excuse, and leaves the ground afore the +sport is over; and now and then, an unfortunate critter gets a hyste +that breaks his own neck. There is only one on 'em that I have see'd out +there, that can do it right. + +"It requires some experience, that's a fact. But let John Bull alone for +that; he is a critter that thinks he knows every thing; and if you told +him he didn't, he wouldn't believe you, not he. He'd only pity your +ignorance, and look dreadful sorry for you. Oh if you want to see high +life, come and see "a colonial gander pulling." + +"'Tying up a goose, Sir, is no great harm,' sais I, 'seein' that a goose +was made to be killed, picked and devoured, and nothin' else. Tyin' up +a colonist by the heels is another thing. I don't think it right; but +I don't know nothin'; I've had the book too close to my eyes. Joe H--e, +that never was there, can tell you twice as much as I can about the +colonies. The focus to see right, as I said afore, is three thousand +miles off.' + +"'Well,' sais he, 'that's a capital illustration, Mr. Slick. There is +more in that than meets the ear. Don't tell me you don't know nothin' +about the colonies; few men know so much as you do. I wish to heavens +you was a colonist,' sais he; 'if you were, I would offer you a +government.' + +"'I don't doubt it,' sais I; 'seein' that your department have advanced +or rewarded so many colonists already.' But I don't think he heard that +shot, and I warn't sorry for it; for it's not right to be a pokin' it +into a perlite man, is it? + +"'I must tell the Queen that story of _the Gander Pulling_,' sais he; 'I +like it amazingly. It's a capital caricature. I'll send the idea to H. +B. Pray name some day when you are disengaged; I hope you will give me +the pleasure of dining with me. Will this day fortnight suit you?' + +"'Thank you,' sais I, 'I shall have great pleasure.' + +"He railly was a gentlemany man that. He was so good natured, and took +the joke so well, I was kinder sorry I played it off on him. I hante +see'd no man to England I affection so much as Mr. Tact, I swear! I +begin to think, arter all, it was the right of _sarchin' vessels_ he +wanted to talk to me about, instead of _sarchin' me_, as I suspicioned. +It don't do always _to look for motives, men often act without any_. The +next time, if he axes me, I'll talk plain, and jist tell him what I +_do_ think; but still, if he reads that riddle right, he may larn a good +deal, too, from the story of "the Gander Pulling," mayn't he?" + + + + +CHAPTER V. THE BLACK STOLE. + +The foregoing sketch exhibits a personal trait in Mr. Slick's character, +the present a national one. In the interview, whether real or fanciful, +that he alleges to have had with one of the Secretaries of State, he was +not disposed to give a direct reply, because his habitual caution led +him to suspect that an attempt was made to draw him out on a particular +topic without his being made aware of the object. On the present +occasion, he exhibits that irritability, which is so common among all +his countrymen, at the absurd accounts that travellers give of the +United States in general, and the gross exaggerations they publish of +the state of slavery in particular. + +That there is a party in this country, whose morbid sensibility is +pandered to on the subject of negro emancipation there can be no doubt, +as is proved by the experiment made by Mr. Slick, recorded in this +chapter. + +On this subject every man has a right to his own opinions, but any +interference with the municipal regulations of another country, is so +utterly unjustifiable, that it cannot be wondered at that the Americans +resent the conduct of the European abolishionists, in the most +unqualified and violent manner. + +The conversation that I am now about to repeat, took place on the +Thames. Our visits, hitherto, had been restricted by the rain to London. +To-day, the weather being fine, we took passage on board of a steamer, +and went to Greenwich. + +While we were walking up and down the deck, Mr. Slick again adverted to +the story of the government spies with great warmth. I endeavoured, but +in vain, to persuade him that no regular organized system of espionage +existed in England. He had obtained a garbled account of one or two +occurrences, and his prejudice, (which, notwithstanding his disavowal, +I knew to be so strong, as to warp all his opinions of England and the +English), immediately built up a system, which nothing I could say, +could at all shake. + +I assured him the instances he had mentioned were isolated and +unauthorized acts, told in a very distorted manner but mitigated, as +they really were, when truly related, they were at the time received +with the unanimous disapprobation of every right-thinking man in the +kingdom, and that the odium which had fallen on the relators, was so +immeasurably greater than what had been bestowed on the thoughtless +principals, that there was no danger of such things again occurring in +our day. But he was immovable. + +"Oh, of course, it isn't true," he said, "and every Englishman will +swear it's a falsehood. But you must not expect us to disbelieve it, +nevertheless; for your travellers who come to America, pick up here and +there, some absurd ontruth or another; or, if they are all picked up +already, invent one; and although every man, woman, and child is ready +to take their bible oaths it is a bam, yet the English believe this one +false witness in preference to the whole nation. + +"You must excuse me, Squire; you have a right to your opinion, though +it seems you have no right to blart it out always; but I am a freeman, +I was raised in Slickville, Onion County, State of Connecticut, United +States of America, which _is_ a free country, and no mistake; and I have +a right to my opinion, and a right to speak it, too; and let me see the +man, airl or commoner, parliamenterer or sodger officer, that dare to +report me, I guess he'd wish he'd been born a week later, that's all. +I'd make a caution of him, _I_ know. I'd polish his dial-plate fust, and +then I'd feel his short ribs, so as to make him larf, a leetle jist a +leetle the loudest he ever heerd. Lord, he'd think thunder and lightnin' +a mint julip to it. I'd ring him in the nose as they do pigs in my +country, to prevent them rootin' up what they hadn't ought." + +Having excited himself by his own story, he first imagined a case and +then resented it, as if it had occurred. I expressed to him my great +regret that he should visit England with these feelings and prejudices, +as I had hoped his conversation would have been as rational and as +amusing as it was in Nova Scotia, and concluded by saying that I felt +assured he would find that no such prejudice existed here against his +countrymen, as he entertained towards the English. + +"Lord love you!" said he, "I have no prejudice. I am the most candid man +you ever see. I have got some grit, but I ain't ugly, I ain't indeed." + +"But you are wrong about the English; and I'll prove it to you. Do you +see that turkey there?" said he. + +"Where?" I asked. "I see no turkey; indeed, I have seen none on board. +What do you mean?" + +"Why that slight, pale-faced, student-like Britisher; he is a turkey, +that feller. He has been all over the Union, and he is a goin' to write +a book. He was at New York when we left, and was introduced to me in the +street. To make it liquorish, he has got all the advertisements about +runaway slaves, sales of niggers, cruel mistresses and licentious +masters, that he could pick up. He is a caterer and panderer to English +hypocrisy. There is nothin' too gross for him to swaller. We call them +turkeys; first because they travel so fast--for no bird travels hot foot +that way, except it be an ostrich--and second, because they gobble +up every thing that comes in their way. Them fellers will swaller a +falsehood as fast as a turkey does a grasshopper; take it right down +whole, without winkin'. + +"Now, as we have nothin' above particular to do, 'I'll cram him' for +you; I will show you how hungry he'll bite at a tale of horror, let it +be never so onlikely; how readily he will believe it, because it is agin +us; and then, when his book comes out, you shall see that all England +will credit it, though I swear I invented it as a cram, and you swear +you heard it told as a joke. They've drank in so much that is strong, +in this way, have the English, they require somethin' sharp enough to +tickle their palates now. Wine hante no taste for a man that drinks +grog, that's a fact. It's as weak as Taunton water. Come and walk up and +down deck along with me once or twice, and then we will sit down by him, +promiscuously like; and as soon as I get his appetite sharp, see how I +will cram him." + +"This steam-boat is very onsteady to-day. Sir," said Mr. Slick; "it's +not overly convenient walking, is it?" + +The ice was broken. Mr. Slick led him on by degrees to his travels, +commencing with New England, which the traveller eulogised very much. +He then complimented him on the accuracy of his remarks and the depth +of his reflections, and concluded by expressing a hope that he would +publish his observations soon, as few tourists were so well qualified +for the task as himself. + +Finding these preliminary remarks taken in good part, he commenced the +process of "cramming." + +"But oh, my friend," said he, with a most sanctimonious air, "did you +visit, and I am ashamed as an American citizen to ask the question, I +feel the blood a tannin' of my cheek when I inquire, did you visit the +South? That land that is polluted with slavery, that land where +the boastin' and crackin' of freemen pile up the agony pangs on the +corroding wounds inflicted by the iron chains of the slave, until natur +can't stand it no more; my heart bleeds like a stuck critter, when I +think of this plague spot on the body politic. I ought not to speak +thus; prudence forbids it, national pride forbids it; but genu_wine_ +feelings is too strong for polite forms. 'Out of the fulness of the +heart the mouth speaketh.' Have you been there?" + +"Turkey" was thrown off his guard, he opened his wallet, which was well +stocked, and retailed his stories, many of them so very rich, that I +doubted the capacity of the Attache to out-Herod him. Mr. Slick received +these tales with evident horror, and complimented the narrator with a +well simulated groan; and when he had done, said, "Ah, I see how it +is, they have purposely kept dark about the most atrocious features of +slavery. Have you never seen the Gougin' School?" + +"No, never." + +"What, not seen the Gougin' School?" + +"No, Sir; I never heard of it." + +"Why, you don't mean to say so?" + +"I do, indeed, I assure you." + +"Well, if that don't pass! And you never even heerd tell of it, eh?" + +"Never, Sir. I have never either seen it or heard of it." + +"I thought as much," said Mr. Slick. "I doubt if any Britisher ever did +or ever will see it. Well, Sir, in South Carolina, there is a man called +Josiah Wormwood; I am ashamed to say he is a Connecticut man. For a +considerable of a spell, he was a strollin' preacher, but it didn't +pay in the long run. There is so much competition in that line in our +country, that he consaited the business was overdone, and he opened a +Lyceum to Charleston South Car, for boxin', wrestlin' and other purlite +British accomplishments; and a most a beautiful sparrer he is, too; I +don't know as I ever see a more scientific gentleman than he is, in +that line. Lately, he has halfed on to it the art of gougin' or +'monokolisin,' as he calls it, to sound grand; and if it weren't so +dreadful in its consequences, it sartinly is amost allurin' thing, is +gougin'. The sleight-of-hand is beautiful. All other sleights we know +are tricks; but this is reality; there is the eye of your adversary in +your hand; there is no mistake. It's the real thing. You feel you have +him; that you have set your mark on him, and that you have took your +satisfaction. The throb of delight felt by a 'monokolister' is beyond +all conception." + +"Oh heavens!" said the traveller, "Oh horror of horrors! I never heard +any thing so dreadful. Your manner of telling it, too, adds to its +terrors. You appear to view the practice with a proper Christian +disgust; and yet you talk like an amateur. Oh, the thing is sickening." + +"It is, indeed," said Mr. Slick, "particularly to him that loses his +peeper. But the dexterity, you know, is another thing. It is very +scientific. He has two niggers, has Squire Wormwood, who teach the +wrastlin' and gouge-sparrin'; but practisin' for the eye is done for +punishment of runaways. He has plenty of subjects. All the planters +send their fugit_ive_ niggers there to be practised on for an eye. The +scholars ain't allowed to take more than one eye out of them; if they +do, they have to pay for the nigger; for he is no sort o' good after, +for nothin' but to pick oakum. I could go through the form, and give you +the cries to the life, but I won't; it is too horrid; it really is too +dreadful." + +"Oh do, I beg of you," said the traveller. + +"I cannot, indeed; it is too shocking. It will disgust you." + +"Oh, not at all," said Turkey, "when I know it is simulated, and not +real, it is another thing." + +"I cannot, indeed," said Mr. Slick. "It would shock your philanthropic +soul, and set your very teeth of humanity on edge. But have you ever +seen--the Black Stole?" + +"No." + +"Never seen the Black Stole?" + +"No, never." + +"Why, it ain't possible? Did you never hear of it nother?" + +"No, never. Well now, do tell!" + +"So you never heerd tell of it, nor never sot eyes on it?" + +"Certainly never." + +"Well, that bangs the bush, now! I suppose you didn't. Guess you never +did, and never will, nor no other traveller, nother, that ever slept +in shoe-leather. They keep dark about these atrocities. Well, the Black +Stole is a loose kind of shirt-coat, like an English carter's frock; +only, it is of a different colour. It is black instead of white, and +made of nigger hide, beautifully tanned, and dressed as soft as a glove. +It ain't every nigger's hide that's fit for a stole. If they are too +young, it is too much like kid; if they are too old, it's like sole +leather, it's so tough; and if they have been whipt, as all on 'em have +a'most, why the back is all cut to pieces, and the hide ruined. It +takes several sound nigger skins to make a stole; but when made, it's a +beautiful article, that's a fact. + +"It is used on a plantation for punishment. When the whip don't do its +work, strip a slave, and jist clap on to him the Black Stole. Dress +him up in a dead man's skin, and it frightens him near about to death. +You'll hear him screetch for a mile a'most, so 'tarnally skeered. And +the best of the fun is, that all the rest of the herd, bulls, cows, and +calves, run away from him, jist as if he was a panther." + +"Fun, Sir! Do you call this fun?" + +"Why sartainly I do. Ain't it better nor whippin' to death? "What's +a Stole arter all? It's nothin' but a coat. Philosophizin' on it, +Stranger, there is nothin' to shock a man. The dead don't feel. +Skinnin', then, ain't cruel, nor is it immoral. To bury a good hide, is, +waste--waste is wicked. There are more good hides buried in the +States, black and white, every year, than would pay the poor-rates and +state-taxes. They make excellent huntin'-coats, and would make beautiful +razor-straps, bindin' for books, and such like things; it would make a +noble export. Tannin' in hemlock bark cures the horrid nigger flavour. +But then, we hante arrived at that state of philosophy; and when it is +confined to one class of the human family, it would be dangerous. +The skin of a crippled slave might be worth more than the critter was +himself; and I make no doubt, we should soon hear of a stray nigger +being shot for his hide, as you do of a moose for his skin, and a bear +for his fur. + +"Indeed, that is the reason (though I shouldn't mention it as an +Attache), that our government won't now concur to suppress the slave +trade. They say the prisoners will all be murdered, and their peels +sold; and that vessels, instead of taking, in at Africa a cargo of +humans, will take in a cargo of hides, as they do to South America. As a +Christian, a philanthropist, indeed, as a man, this is a horrid subject +to contemplate, ain't it?" + +"Indeed it is," said Turkey. "I feel a little overcome--my head swims--I +am oppressed with nausea--I must go below." + +"How the goney swallered it all, didn't he?" said Mr. Slick, with great +glee. "Hante he a most a beautiful twist that feller? How he gobbled it +down, tank, shank and flank at a gulp, didn't he. Oh! he is a Turkey +and no mistake, that chap. But see here, Squire; jist look through the +skylight. See the goney, how his pencil is a leggin' it off, for dear +life. Oh, there is great fun in crammin' those fellers. + +"Now tell me candid, Squire; do you think there is no prejudice in the +Britishers agin us and our free and enlightened country, when they can +swaller such stuff as the Gougin' School and _Black Stole_?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE'S HORSE. + +"There is more in that story, Squire," said Mr. Hopewell, "of the +Patron, and Sam's queer illustration of the Cow's Tail, than you are +aware of. The machinery of the colonies is good enough in itself, but +it wants a safety valve. When the pressure within is too great, there +should be something devised to let off the steam. This is a subject +well worthy of your consideration; and if you have an opportunity of +conversing with any of the ministry, pray draw their attention to it. By +not understanding this, the English have caused one revolution at home, +and another in America." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Slick. "It reminds me of what I once saw done by the +Prince de Joinville's horse, on the Halifax road." + +"Pardon me," said Mr. Hopewell, "you shall have an opportunity presently +of telling your story of the Prince's horse, but suffer me to proceed. + +"England, besides other outlets, has a never-failing one in the +colonies, but the colonies have no outlet. Cromwell and Hampden were +actually embarked on board of a vessel in the Thames, for Boston, when +they were prevented from sailing by an Order in Council. What was the +consequence? The sovereign was dethroned. Instead of leading a small +sect of fanatical puritans, and being the first men of a village in +Massachussets, they aspired to be the first men in an empire, and +succeeded. So in the old colonies. Had Washington been sent abroad +in command of a regiment, Adams to govern a colony, Franklin to make +experiments in an observatory like that at Greenwich, and a more +extended field been opened to colonial talent, the United States would +still have continued to be dependencies of Great Britain. + +"There is no room for men of talent in British America; and by not +affording them an opportunity of distinguishing themselves, or rewarding +them when they do, they are always ready to make one, by opposition. In +comparing their situation with that of the inhabitants of the British +Isles, they feel that they labour under disabilities; these disabilities +they feel as a degradation; and as those who impose that degradation +live three thousand miles off, it becomes a question whether it is +better to suffer or resist." + +"The Prince de Joinville's horse," said Mr. Slick, "is a case in pint." + +"One moment, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell. + +"The very word 'dependencies' shows the state of the colonies. If they +are to be retained, they should be incorporated with Great Britain. +The people should be made to feel, not that they are colonists, but +Englishmen. They may tinker at constitutions as much as they please; +the root of the evil lies deeper than statesmen are aware of. O'Connell, +when he agitates for a repeal of the Union, if he really has no ulterior +objects beyond that of an Irish Parliament, does not know what he is +talking about. If his request were granted, Ireland would become a +province, and descend from being an integral part of the empire, into +a dependency. Had he ever lived in a colony, he would have known the +tendencies of such a condition. + +"What I desire to see, is the very reverse. Now that steam has united +the two continents of Europe and America, in such a manner that you +can travel from Nova Scotia to England, in as short a time as it +once required to go from Dublin to London, I should hope for a united +legislature. Recollect that the distance from New Orleans to the head +of the River is greater than from Halifax N. S., to Liverpool. I do +not want to see colonists and Englishmen arrayed against each other, as +different races, but united as one people, having the same rights and +privileges, each bearing a share of the public burdens, and all having a +voice in the general government. + +"The love of distinction is natural to man. Three millions of people +cannot be shut up in a colony. They will either turn on each other, or +unite against their keepers. The road that leads to retirement in the +provinces, should be open to those whom the hope of distinction invites +to return and contend for the honours of the empire. At present, the +egress is practically closed." + +"If you was to talk for ever, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "you couldn't +say more than the Prince de Joinville's hoss on that subject." + +The interruption was very annoying; for no man I ever met, so thoroughly +understands the subject of colonial government as Mr. Hopewell. His +experience is greater than that of any man now living, and his views +more enlarged and more philosophical. + +"Go on, Sam," said he with great good humour. "Let us hear what the +Prince's horse said." + +"Well," said Mr. Slick, "I don't jist exactly mean to say he spoke, as +Balaam's donkey did, in good English or French nother; but he did that +that spoke a whole book, with a handsum wood-cut to the fore, and that's +a fact. + +"About two years ago, one mortal brilin' hot day, as I was a pokin' +along the road from Halifax to Windsor, with Old Clay in the waggon, +with my coat off, a ridin' in my shirt-sleeves, and a thinkin' how slick +a mint-julep would travel down red-lane, if I had it, I heard such a +chatterin', and laughin', and screamin' as I never a'most heerd afore, +since I was raised. + +"'What in natur' is this,' sais I, as I gave Old Clay a crack of the +whip, to push on. 'There is some critters here, I guess, that have found +a haw haw's nest, with a tee hee's egg in it. What's in the wind now?' +Well, a sudden turn of the road brought me to where they was, and who +should they be but French officers from the Prince's ship, travellin' +incog. in plain clothes. But, Lord bless you, cook a Frenchman any way +you please, and you can't disguise him. Natur' will out, in spite of +all, and the name of a Frencher is written as plain as any thing in his +whiskers, and his hair, and his skin, and his coat, and his boots, and +his air, and his gait, and in everythin', but only let him open his +mouth, and the cat's out of the bag in no time, ain't it? They are droll +boys, is the French, that's a fact. + +"Well, there was four on 'em dismounted, a holdin' of their hosses by +the bridle, and a standin' near a spring of nice cool water; and there +was a fifth, and he was a layin' down belly flounder on the ground, a +tryin' to drink out of the runnin' spring. + +"'Parley vous French,' sais I, 'Mountsheer?' At that, they sot to, and +larfed again more than ever, I thought they would have gone into the +high strikes, they hee-hawed so. + +"Well, one on 'em, that was a Duke, as I found out afterwards, said 'O +yees, Saar, we spoked English too.' + +"'Lawful heart!' sais I, 'what's the joke?' + +"'Why,' sais he, 'look there, Sare.' And then they larfed agin, ready to +split; and sore enough, no sooner had the Leftenant layed down to drink, +than the Prince's hoss kneeled down, and put his head jist over his +neck, and began to drink too. Well, the officer couldn't get up for the +hoss, and he couldn't keep his face out of the water for the hoss, and +he couldn't drink for the hoss, and he was almost choked to death, and +as black in the face as your hat. And the Prince and the officers larfed +so, they couldn't help him, if they was to die for it. + +"Sais I to myself, 'A joke is a joke, if it tante carried too far, +but this critter win be strangled, as sure as a gun, if he lays here +splutterin' this way much longer.' So I jist gives the hoss a dab in +the mouth, and made him git up; and then sais I, 'Prince,' sais I, for I +know'd him by his beard, he had one exactly like one of the old +saint's heads in an Eyetalian pictur, all dressed to a pint, so sais I, +'Prince,' and a plaguy handsum man he is too, and as full of fun as a +kitten, so sais I, 'Prince,' and what's better, all his officers seemed +plaguy proud and fond of him too; so sais I, 'Prince, voila le condition +of one colonist, which,' sais I, 'Prince, means in English, that +leftenant is jist like a colonist.' + +"'Commong,' sais he, 'how is dat?' + +"'Why' sais I, 'Prince, whenever a colonist goes for to drink at a +spring of the good things in this world, (and plaguy small springs we +have here too,) and fairly lays down to it, jist as he gets his lips +cleverly to it, for a swig, there is some cussed neck or another, of +some confounded Britisher, pops right over him, and pins him there. He +can't get up, he can't back out, and he can't drink, and he is blacked +and blued in the face, and most choked with the weight.' + +"'What country was you man of?' said he, for he spoke very good for a +Frenchman. + +"With that I straightened myself up, and looked dignified, for I know'd +I had a right to be proud, and no mistake; sais I, 'Prince, I am an +American citizen.' How them two words altered him. P'raps there beant no +two words to ditto 'em. He looked for all the world like a different man +when he seed I wasn't a mean uncircumcised colonist. + +"'Very glad to see you, Mr. Yankee,' said he, 'very glad indeed. Shall I +have de honour to ride with you a little way in your carriage?' + +"'As for the matter of that,' sais I, 'Mountsheer Prince, the honour is +all the other way,' for I can be as civil as any man, if he sets out to +act pretty and do the thing genteel. + +"With that he jumped right in, and then he said somethin' in French +to the officers; some order or another, I suppose, about comin on and +fetchin' his hoss with them. I have hearn in my time, a good many men +speak French, but I never see the man yet, that could hold a candle +to _him_. Oh, it was like lightnin', jist one long endurin' streak; it +seemed all one sentence and one word. It was beautiful, but I couldn't +onderstand it, it was so everlastin' fast. + +"'Now,' sais he, 'set sail.' And off we sot, at the rate of sixteen +notts an hour. Old Clay pleased him, you may depend; he turned round and +clapped his hands, and larfed, and waved his hat to his officers to +come on; and they whipped, and spurred, and galloped, and raced for dear +life; but we dropped 'em astarn like any thing, and he larfed again, +heartier than ever There is no people a'most, like to ride so fast as +sailors; they crack on, like a house a fire. + +"Well, arter a while, sais he, 'Back topsails,' and I hauled up, and +he jumped down, and outs with a pocket book, and takes a beautiful gold +coronation medal. (It was solid gold, no pinchback, but the rael yaller +stuff, jist fresh from King's shop to Paris, where his money is made), +and sais he, 'Mr. Yankee, will you accept that to remember the Prince de +Joinville and his horse by?' And then he took off his hat and made me a +bow, and if that warn't a bow, then I never see one, that's all. I don't +believe mortal man, unless it was a Philadelphia nigger, could make such +a bow. It was enough to sprain his ankle he curled so low. And then off +he went with a hop, skip, and a jump, sailor fashion, back to meet his +people. + +"Now, Squire, if you see Lord Stanley, tell him that story of the Prince +de Joinville's horse; but before you get so far as that, pin him by +admissions. When you want to get a man on the hip, ax him a question +or two, and get his answers, and then you have him in a corner, he must +stand and let you put on the bridle. He cant help it no how, he can fix +it. + +"Says you, 'My Lord'--don't forget his title--every man likes the sound +of that, it's music to his ears, it's like our splendid national air, +Yankee Doodle, you never get tired of it. 'My Lord,' sais you, 'what do +you suppose is the reason the French keep Algiers?' Well, he'll up +and say, it's an outlet for the fiery spirits of France, it gives them +employment and an opportunity to distinguish themselves, and what the +climate and the inimy spare, become valuable officers. It makes good +soldiers out of bad subjects. + +"'Do you call that good policy?' sais you. + +"Well, he's a trump, is Mr. Stanley, at least folks say so; and he'll +say right off the reel 'onquestionably it is--excellent policy.' + +"When he says that, you have him bagged, he may flounder and spring like +a salmon jist caught; but he can't out of the landin' net. You've got +him, and no mistake. Sais you 'what outlet have you for the colonies?' + +"Well, he'll scratch his head and stare at that, for a space. He'll +hum and haw a little to get breath, for he never thought of that afore, +since he grow'd up; but he's no fool, I can tell you, and he'll out with +his mould, run an answer and be ready for you in no time. He'll say, +'They don't require none. Sir. They have no redundant population. They +are an outlet themselves.' + +"Sais you, 'I wasn't talking of an outlet for population, for France or +the provinces nother. I was talking of an outlet for the clever men, for +the onquiet ones, for the fiery spirits.' + +"'For that. Sir,' he will say, 'they have the local patronage.' + +"'Oh!' sais you, 'I warn't aware. I beg pardon, I have been absent some +time, as long as twenty days or perhaps twenty-five, there must have +been great changes, since I left.' + +"'The garrison,' sais you. + +"'Is English,' sais he. + +"'The armed ships in the harbour?' + +"'English.' + +"'The governor and his secretary?' + +"'English.' + +"'The principal officer of customs and principal part of his deputies?' + +"'English.' + +"'The commissariat and the staff?' + +"'English to a man.' + +"'The dockyard people?' + +"'English.' + +"'The postmaster giniral?' + +"'English.' + +"'What, English?' sais you, and look all surprise, as if you didn't +know. 'I thought he was a colonist, seein' the province pays so much for +the mails.' + +"'No,' he'll say, 'not now; we have jist sent an English one over, for +we find it's a good thing that.' + +"'One word more,' sais you, 'and I have done. If your army officers out +there, get leave of absence, do you stop their pay?' + +"'No.' + +"'Do you sarve native colonists the same way?' + +"'No, we stop half their salaries.' + +"'Exactly,' sais you, 'make them feel the difference. Always make a +nigger feel he is a nigger, or he'll get sassy, you may depend. As for +patronage,' sais you, 'you know as well as I do, that all that's +not worth havin', is jist left to poor colonist. He is an officer of +militia, gets no pay and finds his own fit out. Like Don Quixote's +tailor, he works for nothin' and finds thread. Any other little matters +of the same kind, that nobody wants, and nobody else will take; if +Blue-nose makes interest for, and has good luck, he can get as a great +favour, to conciliate his countrymen. No, Minister,' sais you, 'you are +a clever man, every body sais you are a brick; and if you ain't, you +talk more like one, than any body I have seen this while past. I don't +want no office myself, if I did p'raps, I wouldn't talk about patronage +this way; but I am a colonist, I want to see the colonists remain so. +They _are_ attached to England, that is a fact, keep them so, by making +them Englishmen. Throw the door wide open; patronise them; enlist them +in the imperial sarvice, allow them a chance to contend for honours and +let them win them, if they can. If they don't, it's their own fault, and +cuss 'em they ought to be kicked, for if they ain't too lazy, there is +no mistake in 'em, that's a fact. The country will be proud of them, if +they go ahead. Their language will change then. It will be _our_ army, +the delighted critters will say, not the English army; _our_ navy, _our_ +church, _our_ parliament, _our_ aristocracy, &c., and the word English +will be left out holus-bolus, and that proud, that endearin' word +"our" will be insarted. Do this, and you will shew yourself the first +statesman of modern times. You'll rise right up to the top of the pot, +you'll go clean over Peel's head, as your folks go over ourn, not by +jumpin' over him, but by takin' him by the neck and squeezin' him +down. You 'mancipated the blacks, now liberate the colonists and make +Englishmen of them, and see whether the goneys won't grin from ear to +ear, and shew their teeth, as well as the niggers did. Don't let +Yankee clockmakers, (you may say that if you like, if it will help your +argument,) don't let travellin' Yankee clockmakers tell such stories, +against _your_ justice and _our_ pride as that of the Prince de +Joinville and his horse.'" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. + +"Here," said Mr. Sick, "is an invitation for you and me, and minister to +go and visit Sir Littleeared Bighead, down to Yorkshire. You can go if +you like, and for once, p'raps it's worth goin' to see how these chaps +first kill time, and then how time kills them in turn. Eatin', +drinkin', sleepin', growlin', fowlin', and huntin' kills time; and +gout, aperplexy, dispepsy, and blue devils kills them. They are like two +fightin' dogs, one dies of the thrashin' he gets, and t'other dies of +the wounds he got a killin' of him. Tit for tat; what's sarce for the +goose, is sarce for the gander. + +"If you want to go, Minister will go with you; but hang me if I do. The +only thing is, it'll puzzle you to get him away, if he gets down there. +You never see such a crotchical old critter in your life as he is. He +flies right off the handle for nothin'. He goes strayin' away off in the +fields and gullies, a browsin' about with a hammer, crackin' up bits of +stones like walnuts, or pickin' up old weeds, faded flowers, and what +not; and stands starin' at 'em for ever so long, through his eye-glass, +and keeps a savin' to himself, 'Wonderful provision of natur!' Airth and +seas! what does he mean? How long would a man live on such provision, I +should like to know, as them bitter yarbs. + +"Well, then, he'll jist as soon set down and jaw away by the hour +together with a dirty-faced, stupid little poodle lookin' child, as +if it was a nice spry little dog he was a trainin' of for treein' +partridges; or talk poetry with the galls, or corn-law with the +patriots, or any thing. Nothin' comes amiss to him. + +"But what provokes me, is to hear him go blartin' all over the country +about home scenes, and beautiful landscape, and rich vardure. My sakes, +the vardure here is so deep, it looks like mournin'; it's actilly +dismal. Then there's no water to give light to the pictur, and no sun to +cheer it; and the hedges are all square; and the lime trees are as stiff +as an old gall that was once pretty, and has grow'd proud on the memory +of it. + +"I don't like their landscape a bit, there ain't no natur in it. Oh! if +you go, take him along with you, for he will put you in consait of all +you see, except reform, dissent, and things o' that kind; for he is an +out and out old Tory, and thinks nothin' can be changed here for the +better, except them that don't agree with him. + +"He was a warnin' you t'other day not to take all I said for Gospel +about society here; but you'll see who's right and who's wrong afore +you've done, I know. I described to you, when you returned from Germany, +_Dinin' out_ to London. Now I'll give you my opinion of "Life in the +Country." And fust of all, as I was a sayin', there is no such thing as +natur' here. Every thing is artificial; every thing of its kind alike; +and every thing oninterestin' and tiresome. + +"Well, if London is dull, in the way of West Eend people, the country, I +guess, is a little mucher. Life in the country is different, of course, +from life in town; but still life itself is alike there, exceptin' again +_class difference_. That is, nobility is all alike, as far as their +order goes; and country gents is alike, as far as their class goes; and +the last especially, when they hante travelled none, everlastin' flat, +in their own way. Take a lord, now, and visit him to his country seat, +and I'll tell you what you will find--a sort of Washington State +house place. It is either a rail old castle of the genuine kind, or a +gingerbread crinkum crankum imitation of a thing that only existed in +fancy, but never was seen afore--a thing that's made modern for use, and +in ancient stile for shew; or else it's a great cold, formal, slice of a +London terrace, stack on a hill in a wood. + +"Well, there is lawn, park, artificial pond called a lake, deer that's +fashionablized and civilized, and as little natur in 'em as the humans +have. Kennel and hounds for parsicutin' foxes--presarves (not what we +call presarves, quinces and apple sarce, and green gages done in sugar, +but preserves for breedin' tame partridges and peasants to shoot at), +H'aviaries, Hive-eries, H'yew-veris, Hot Houses, and so on; for they put +an H before every word do these critters, and then tell us Yankees we +don't speak English. + +"Well, when you have seen an old and a new house of these folks, you +have seen all. Featurs differ a little, but face of all is so alike, +that though p'raps you wouldn't mistake one for another, yet you'd say +they was all of one family. The king is their father. + +"Now it may seem kinder odd to you, and I do suppose it will, but what +little natur there is to England is among these upper crust nobility. +_Extremes meet_. The most elegant critter in America is an Indgian +chief. The most elegant one in England is a noble. There is natur in +both. You will vow that's a crotchet of mine, but it's a fact; and I +will tell you how it is, some other time. For I opine the most charmin', +most nateral, least artificial, kindest, and condescendenest people here +are rael nobles. Younger children are the devil, half rank makes 'em +proud, and entire poverty makes 'em sour. _Strap pride on an empty puss, +and it puts a most beautiful edge on, it cuts like a razor_. They have +to assart their dignity, tother one's dignity don't want no assartin'. +It speaks for itself. + +"I won't enter into particulars now. I want to shew you country life; +because if you don't want to hang yourself, don't tarry there, that's +all; go and look at 'em, but don't stay there. If you can't help it no +how, you can fix it, do it in three days; one to come, one to see, and +one to go. If you do that, and make the fust late, and the last airly, +you'll get through it; for it won't only make a day and a half, when +sumtotalized. We'll fancy it, that's better than the rael thing, any +time. + +"So lets go to a country gentleman's house, or "landed," as they call +'em, cause they are so infarnally heavy. Well, his house is either an +old onconvenient up and down, crooked-laned place, bad lighted, bad +warmed, and shockin' cut up in small rooms; or a spic and span formal, +new one, havin' all or most, according to his puss, of those things, +about lord's houses, only on a smaller scale. + +"Well, I'll arrive in time for dinner, I'll titivate myself up, and down +to drawin'-room, and whose the company that's to dine there? Why, cuss +'em, half a dozen of these gents own the country for miles round, so +they have to keep some company at the house, and the rest is neighbours. + +"Now for goodness gracious sake, jist let's see who they be! Why one or +two poor parsons, that have nothin' new in 'em, and nothin' new on +'em, goodish sort of people too, only they larf a leetle, jist a leetle +louder at host's jokes, than at mine, at least, I suspicion it, 'cause I +never could see nothin' to larf at in his jokes. One or two country nobs +of brother landed gents, that look as big as if the whole of the three +per cent consols was in their breeches pockets; one or two damsels, that +was young once, but have confessed to bein' old maids, drop't the word +'Miss,' 'cause it sounded ridikilous, and took the title of 'Mrs.' +to look like widders. Two or three wivewomen of the Chinese stock, a +bustin' of their stays off a'most, and as fat as show-beef; an oldest +son or two, with the eend of the silver spoon he was born with, a +peepin' out o' the corner of his mouth, and his face as vacant as a horn +lantern without a candle in it; a younger son or so jist from college, +who looks as if he had an idea he'd have to airn his livin', and whose +lantern face looks as if it had had a candle in it, that had e'en amost +burnt the sides out, rather thin and pale, with streaks of Latin and +Greek in it; one or two everlastin' pretty young galls, so pretty as +there is nothin' to do, you can't hardly help bein' spooney on 'em. + +"Matchless galls, they be too, for there is no matches for 'em. The +primur-genitur boy takes all so they have no fortin. Well, a younger son +won't do for 'em, for he has no fortin; and t'other primo geno there, +couldn't if he would, for he wants the estate next to hisn, and has to +take the gall that owns it, or he won't get it. I pity them galls, I +do upon my soul. It's a hard fate, that, as Minster sais, in his pretty +talk, to bud, unfold, bloom, wither, and die on the parent stock, and +have no one to pluck the rose, and put it in his bosom, aint it? + +"Dinner is ready, and you lock and lock, and march off two and two, to +t'other room, and feed. Well, the dinner is like town dinner, there aint +much difference, there is some; there is a difference atween a country +coat, and a London coat; but still they look alike, and are intended to +be as near the same as they can. The appetite is better than town folks, +and there is more eatin' and less talkin', but the talkin', like the +eatin', is heavy and solemcoloy. + +"Now do, Mr. Poker, that's a good soul, now do, Squire, look at the +sarvants. Do you hear that feller, a blowin' and a wheesin' like a hoss +that's got the heaves? Well he is so fat and lazy, and murders beef and +beer so, he has got the assmy, and walkin' puts him out o' breath--aint +it beautiful! Faithful old sarvant that, so attached to the family! +which means the family prog. Always to home! which means he is always +eatin' and drinkin', and hante time to go out. So respectful! which +means bowin' is an everlastin' sight easier, and safer too, nor talkin' +is. So honest! which means, parquisites covers all he takes. Keeps every +thin' in such good order! which means he makes the women do his work. +Puts every thin' in it's place, he is so methodical! which means, there +is no young children in the house, and old aunty always puts things back +where she takes 'em from. For she is a good bit of stuff is aunty, as +thin, tough, and soople as a painter's palate knife. Oh, Lord! how I +would like to lick him with a bran new cow hide whip, round and round +the park, every day, an hour afore breakfast, to improve his wind, and +teach him how to mend his pace. I'd repair his old bellowses for him, I +know. + +"Then look at the butler, how he tordles like a Terrapin; he has got the +gout, that feller, and no wonder, nother. Every decanter that comes in +has jist half a bottle in it, the rest goes in tastin', to see it aint +corked. His character would suffer if a bit o' cork floated in it. Every +other bottle is corked, so he drinks that bottle, and opens another, and +gives master half of it. The housekeeper pets him, calls him Mr., asks +him if he has heard from Sir Philip lately, hintin' that he is of gentle +blood, only the wrong side of the blanket, and that pleases him. They +are both well to do in the world. Vails count up in time, and they talk +big sometimes, when alone together, and hint at warnin' off the old +knight, marryin', and settin' up a tripe shop, some o' these days; don't +that hint about wedlock bring him a nice little hot supper that night, +and don't that little supper bring her a tumbler of nice mulled wine, +and don't both on 'em look as knowin' as a boiled codfish, and a shelled +oyster, that's all. + +"He once got warned himself, did old Thomas, so said he, 'Where do you +intend to go master?' 'Me,' said the old man, scratchin' his head, and +lookin' puzzled 'nowhere.' 'Oh, I thought _you_ intend to leave, said +Thomas for _I_ don't.' 'Very good that, Thomas, come I like that.' The +old knight's got an anecdote by that, and nanny-goats aint picked +up every day in the country. He tells that to every stranger, every +stranger larfs, and the two parsons larf, and the old 'Sir' larfs so, he +wakes up an old sleepin' cough that most breaks his ribs, and Thomas is +set up for a character. + +"Well, arter servants is gone, and women folks made themselves scarce, +we haul up closer to the table, have more room for legs, and then comes +the most interestin' part. Poor rates, quarter sessions, turnpikes, +corn-laws, next assizes, rail-roads and parish matters, with a touch +of the horse and dog between primo and secondo genitur, for variety. If +politics turn up, you can read who host is in a gineral way with half an +eye. If he is an ante-corn-lawer, then he is a manufacturer that wants +to grind the poor instead of grain. He is a _new man_ and reformer. If +he goes up to the bob for corn-law, then he wants to live and let live, +is _of an old family_, and a tory. Talk of test oaths bein' done away +with. Why Lord love you, they are in full force here yet. See what a +feller swears by--that's his test, and no mistake. + +"Well, you wouldn't guess now there was so much to talk of, would you? +But hear 'em over and over every day, the same everlastin' round, and +you would think the topics not so many arter all, I can tell you. It +soon runs out, and when it does, you must wait till the next rain, for +another freshet to float these heavy logs on. + +"Coffee comes, and then it's up and jine the ladies. Well, then talk +is tried agin, but it's no go; they can't come it, and one of the +good-natured fat old lady-birds goes to the piany, and sits on the music +stool. Oh, Hedges! how it creaks, but it's good stuff, I guess, it +will carry double this hitch; and she sings 'I wish I was a butterfly.' +Heavens and airth! the fust time I heard one of these hugeaceous +critters come out with that queer idee, I thought I should a dropt right +off of the otter man on the floor, and rolled over and over a-laughin', +it tickled me so, it makes me larf now only to think of it. Well, the +wings don't come, such big butterflies have to grub it in spite of Old +Nick, and after wishin' and wishin' ever so long in vain, one of the +young galls sits down and sings in rael right down airnest, 'I _won't_ +be a nun.' Poor critter! there is some sense in that, but I guess she +will be bleeged to be, for all that. + +"Now eatin' is done, talkin' is done, and singin' is done; so here is +chamber candles, and off to bed, that is if you are a-stayin' there. +If you ain't, 'Mr. Weather Mutton's carriage is ready, Sir,' and Mr. +Weather Mutton and Mrs. Weather Mutton and the entire stranger get in, +and when you do, you are in for it, I can tell you. You are in for a +seven mile heat at least of cross country roads, axletree deep, rain +pour-in' straight up and down like Niagara, high hedges, deep ditches +full of water, dark as Egypt; ain't room to pass nothin' if you meet +it, and don't feel jist altogether easy about them cussed alligators and +navigators, critters that work on rail-roads all day, and on houses and +travellers by night. + +"If you come with Mr. Weather Mutton, you seed the carriage in course. +It's an old one, a family one, and as heavy as an ox cart. The hosses +are old, family hosses, everlastin' fat, almighty lazy, and the way +they travel is a caution to a snail. It's vulgar to go fast, its only +butcher's hosses trot quick, and besides, there is no hurry--there is +nothin' to do to home. Affectionate couple! happy man! he takes his +wife's hand in his--kisses it? No, not he, but he puts his head back in +the corner of the carriage, and goes to sleep, and dreams--of her? Not +he indeed, but of a saddle of mutton and curren' jelly. + +"Well, if you are a-stoppin' at Sir Littleeared Bighead's, you escape +the flight by night, and go to bed and think of homeland natur'. Next +mornin', or rather next noon, down to breakfast. Oh, it's awfully +stupid! That second nap in the mornin' always fuddles the head, and +makes it as mothery as ryled cyder grounds. Nobody looks as sweet as +sugar candy quite, except them two beautiful galls and their honey +lips. But them is only to look at. If you want honey, there is some on +a little cut glass, dug out of a dish. But you can't eat it, for lookin' +at the genu_wine_, at least I can't, and never could. I don't know what +you can do. + +"P'raps you'd like to look at the picture, it will sarve to pass away +time. They are family ones. And family picture, sarve as a history. Our +Mexican Indgians did all their history in picture. Let's go round the +room and look. Lawful heart! what a big "Brown ox" that is. Old "Star +and Garters;" father fatted him. He was a prize ox; he eat a thousand +bushel of turnips, a thousand pound of oil cake, a thousand of hay, and +a thousand weight of mangel wurzel, and took a thousand days to fat, and +weighed ever so many thousands too. I don't believe it, but I don't +say so, out of manners, for I'll take my oath he was fatted on porter, +because he looks exactly like the footman on all fours. He is a walking +"_Brown Stout_," that feller. + +"There is a hunter, come, I like hosses; but this brute was painted when +at grass, and is too fat to look well, guess he was a goodish hoss in +his day though. He ain't a bad cut that's a fact. + +"Hullo! what's this pictur? Why, this is from our side of the water, as +I am a livin' sinner, this is a New-Foundlander, this dog; yes, and he +is of the true genu_wine_ breed too, look at his broad forehead--his +dew-claws--his little ears; (Sir Littleeared must have been named arter +him), his long hair--his beautiful eye. He is a first chop article +that; but, oh Lord, he is too shockin' fat altogether. He is like Mother +Gary's chickens, they are all fat and feathers. A wick run through 'em +makes a candle. This critter is all hair and blubber, if he goes too +near the grate, he'll catch into a blaze and set fire to the house. + +"There's our friend the host with cap and gold tassel on, ridin' on +his back, and there's his younger brother, (that died to Cambridge from +settin' up all night for his degree, and suppin' on dry mathematics, and +swallerin' "Newton" whole) younger brother like, walkin' on foot, and +leadin' the dog by the head, while the heir is a scoldin' him for not +goin' faster. + +"Then, there is an old aunty that a forten come from. She looks like a +bale o' cotton, fust screwed as tight as possible, and then corded hard. +Lord, if they had only a given her a pinch of snuff, when she was full +dressed and trussed, and sot her a sneezin', she'd a blowed up, and the +fortin would have come twenty years sooner. + +"Yes, it's a family pictur, indeed, they are all family picture. They +are all fine animals, but over fed and under worked. + +"Now it's up and take a turn in the gardens. There is some splendid +flowers on that slope. You and the galls go to look at 'em, and jist as +you get there, the grass is juicy from the everlastin' rain, and awful +slippy; up go your heels, and down goes stranger on the broad of his +back, slippin' and slidin' and coastin' right down the bank, slap over +the light mud-earth bed, and crushin' the flowers as flat as a pancake, +and you yaller ochered all over, clean away from the scruff of your +neck, down to the tip eend of your heel. The galls larf, the helps larf, +and the, bed-room maid larfs; and who the plague can blame them? Old +Marm don't larf though, because she is too perlite, and besides, she's +lost her flowers, and that's no larfin' matter; and you don't larf, +'cause you feel a little the nastiest you ever did, and jist as near +like a fool as to be taken for one, in the dark, that's a fact. + +"Well, you renew the outer man, and try it agin, and it's look at the +stable and hosses with Sir Host, and the dogs, and the carriages, +and two American trees, and a peacock, and a guinea hen, and a gold +pheasant, and a silver pheasant, and all that, and then lunch. Who the +plague can eat lunch, that's only jist breakfasted? + +"So away goes lunch, and off goes you and the 'Sir,' a trampousin' and a +trapsein' over the wet grass agin (I should like to know what ain't wet +in this country), and ploughed fields, and wide ditches chock full of +dirty water, if you slip in, to souse you most ridikelous; and over +gates that's nailed up, and stiles that's got no steps for fear of +thoroughfare, and through underwood that's loaded with rain-drops, away +off to tother eend of the estate, to see the most beautiful field of +turnips that ever was seen, only the flies eat all the plants up; and +then back by another path, that's slumpier than t'other, and twice +as long, that you may see an old wall with two broke-out winders, all +covered with ivy, which is called a ruin. And well named it is, too, for +I tore a bran new pair of trousers, most onhandsum, a scramblin' over +the fences to see it, and ruined a pair of shoes that was all squashed +out of shape by the wet and mud. + +"Well, arter all this day of pleasure, it is time to rig up in your +go-to-meetin' clothes for dinner; and that is the same as yesterday, +only stupider, if that's possible; and that is Life in the Country. + +"How the plague can it be otherwise than dull? If there is nothin' +to see, there can't be nothin' to talk about. Now the town is full of +things to see. There is Babbage's machine, and Bank Governor's machine, +and the Yankee woman's machine, and the flyin' machine, and all sorts of +machines, and galleries, and tunnels, and mesmerisers, and theatres, and +flower-shows, and cattle-shows, and beast-shows, and every kind of show, +and what's better nor all, beautiful got-up women, and men turned out in +fust chop style, too. + +"I don't mean to say country women ain't handsum here, 'cause they be. +There is no sun here; and how in natur' can it be otherways than that +they have good complexions. But it tante safe to be caged with them in +a house out o' town. Fust thing you both do, is to get spooney, makin' +eyes and company-faces at each other, and then think of matin', like +a pair of doves, and that won't answer for the like of you and me. The +fact is, Squire, if you want to see _women_, you musn't go to a house +in the country, nor to mere good company in town for it, tho' there +be first chop articles in both; but you must go among the big bugs the +top-lofty nobility, in London; for since the days of old marm Eve, down +to this instant present time, I don't think there ever was or ever will +be such splendiferous galls as is there. Lord, the fust time I seed 'em +it put me in mind of what happened to me at New Brunswick once. Governor +of Maine sent me over to their Governor's, official-like, with a state +letter, and the British officers axed me to dine to their mess. Well, +the English brags so like niggers, I thought I'd prove 'em, and set 'em +off on their old trade jist for fun. So, says I, stranger captain, sais +I, is all these forks and spoons, and plates and covers, and urns, +and what nots, rael genu_wine_ solid silver, the clear thing, and no +mistake. 'Sartainly,' said he, 'we have nothin' but silver here.' He +did, upon my soul, just as cool, as if it was all true; well you can't +tell a mili_tary_ what he sais ain't credible, or you have to fight +him. It's considered ongenteel, so I jist puts my finger on my nose, and +winks, as much as to say, 'I ain't such a cussed fool as you take me to +be, I can tell you.' + +"When he seed I'd found him out, he larfed like any thing. Guess he +found that was no go, for I warn't born in the woods to be scared by +an owl, that's a fact. Well, the fust time I went to lord's party, I +thought it was another brag agin; I never see nothin' like it. Heavens +and airth, I most jumpt out o' my skin. Where onder the sun, sais I to +myself, did he rake and scrape together such super-superior galls as +these. This party is a kind o' consarvitory, he has got all the raree +plants and sweetest roses in England here, and must have ransacked the +whole country for 'em. Knowin' I was a judge of woman kind, he wants me +to think they are all this way; but it's onpossible. They are only +"shew frigates" arter all; it don't stand to reason, they can't be all +clippers. He can't put the leake into me that way, so it tante no +use tryin'. Well, the next time, I seed jist such another covey of +partridges, same plumage, same step, and same breed. Well done, sais I, +they are intarmed to pull the wool over my eyes, that's a fact, but they +won't find that no easy matter, I know. Guess they must be done now, +they can't show another presarve like them agin in all Britain. What +trouble they do take to brag here, don't they? Well, to make a long +story short; how do you think it eventuated, Squire? Why every party I +went to, had as grand a shew as them, only some on 'em was better, fact +I assure you, it's gospel truth; there ain't a word of a lie in it, +text to the letter. I never see nothin' like it, since I was raised, nor +dreamed nothin' like it, and what's more, I don't think the world has +nothin' like it nother. It beats all natur. It takes the rag off quite. +If that old Turk, Mahomed, had seed these galls, he wouldn't a bragged +about his beautiful ones in paradise so for everlastinly, I know; for +these English heifers would have beat 'em all holler, that's a fact. For +my part, I call myself a judge. I have an eye there ain't no deceivin'. +I have made it a study, and know every pint about a woman, as well as I +do about a hoss; therefore, if I say so, it must be so, and no mistake. +I make all allowances for the gear, and the gettin' up, and the vampin', +and all that sort o' flash; but toggery won't make an ugly gall handsum, +nohow you can fix it. It may lower her ugliness a leetle, but it won't +raise her beauty, if she hante got none. But I warn't a talkin' of +nobility; I was a talkin' of Life in the Country. But the wust of it is, +when galls come on the carpet, I could talk all day; for the dear little +critters, I _do_ love 'em, that's a fact. Lick! it sets me crazy a'most. +Well, where was we? for petticoats always puts every thing out o' my +head. Whereabouts was we?" + +"You were saying that there were more things to be seen in London than +in the country." + +"Exactly; now I have it. I've got the thread agin. So there is. + +"There's England's Queen, and England's Prince, and Hanover's King, and +the old Swordbelt that whopped Bony; and he is better worth seem' than +any man now livin' on the face of the univarsal airth, let t'other one +be where he will, that's a fact. He is a great man, all through the +piece, and no mistake. If there was--what do you call that word, when +one man's breath pops into 'nother man's body, changin' lodgins, like?" + +"Do you mean transmigration?" + +"Yes; if there was such a thing as that, I should say it was old Liveoak +himself, Mr. Washington, that was transmigrated into him, and that's no +mean thing to say of him, I tell you. + +"Well now, there's none o' these things to the country; and it's so +everlastin' stupid, it's only a Britisher and a nigger that could live +in an English country-house. A nigger don't like movin', and it would +jist suit him, if it warn't so awful wet and cold. + + "Oh if I was President of these here United States, + I'd suck sugar candy and swing upon de gates; + And them I didn't like, I'd strike 'em off de docket, + And the way we'd go ahead, would be akin to Davy Crockit. + With my zippy dooden, dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey, + With my zippy dooden, dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey. + +"It might do for a nigger, suckin' sugar candy and drinkin' mint-julep; +but it won't do for a free and enlightened citizen like me. A country +house--oh goody gracious! the Lord presarve me from it, I say. If ever +any soul ever catches me there agin, I'll give 'em leave to tell me of +it, that's all. Oh go, Squire, by all means; you will find it monstrous +pleasant, I know you will. Go and spend a week there; it will make you +feel up in the stirrups, I know. Pr'aps nothin' can exceed it. It takes +the rag off the bush quite. It caps all, that's a fact, does 'Life in +the Country.'" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. BUNKUM. + +I am not surprised at the views expressed by Mr. Slick in the previous +chapter. He has led too active a life, and his habits and thoughts are +too business-like to admit of his enjoying retirement, or accommodating +himself to the formal restraints of polished society. And yet, after +making this allowance for his erratic life, it is but fair to add that +his descriptions were always exaggerated; and, wearied as he no doubt +was by the uniformity of country life, yet in describing it, he has +evidently seized on the most striking features, and made them more +prominent than they really appeared, even to his fatigued and prejudiced +vision. + +In other respects, they are just the sentiments we may suppose would +be naturally entertained by a man like the Attache, under such +circumstances. On the evening after that on which he had described "Life +in the Country" to me, he called with two "orders" for admission to the +House of Commons, and took me down with him to hear the debates. + +"It's a great sight," said he. "We shall see all their uppercrust +men put their best foot out. There's a great musterin' of the tribes, +to-night, and the Sachems will come out with a great talk. There'll be +some sport, I guess; some hard hittin', scalpin', and tomahawkin'. To +see a Britisher scalp a Britisher is equal to a bullfight, anytime. You +don't keer whether the bull, or the horse, or the rider is killed, none +of 'em is nothin' to you; so you can enjoy it, and hurror for him that +wins. I don't keer who carries the day, the valy of a treat of julep, +but I want to see the sport. It's excitin', them things. Come, let's +go." + +We were shown into a small gallery, at one end of the legislative +wall (the two side ones being appropriated to members), and with some +difficulty found sitting room in a place that commanded a view of the +whole house. We were unfortunate. All the great speakers, Lord Stanley, +Sir Robert Peel, Sir James Graham, Shiel, and Lord John Russell, had +either already addressed the Chair, and were thereby precluded by the +rules of the House from coming forward again, or did not choose to +answer second-rate men. Those whom we did hear, made a most wretched +exhibition. About one o'clock, the adjournment took place, and we +returned, fatigued and disappointed. + +"Did you ever see the beat of that, Squire?" said Mr. Slick. "Don't that +take the rag off quite? Cuss them fellers that spoke, they are wuss than +assembly men, hang me if they aint; and _they_ aint fit to tend a bear +trap, for they'd be sure to catch themselves, if they did, in their own +pit-fall. + +"Did you hear that Irishman a latherin' away with both arms, as if he +was tryin' to thrash out wheat, and see how bothered he looked, as if +he couldn't find nothin' but dust and chaff in the straw? Well, that +critter was agin the Bill, in course, and Irish like, used every +argument in favour of it. Like a pig swimmin' agin stream, every time +he struck out, he was a cuttin' of his own throat. He then blob blob +blobbered, and gog gog goggled, till he choked with words and passion, +and then sot down. + +"Then that English Radical feller, that spoke with great voice, and +little sense. Aint he a beauty, without paint, that critter? He know'd +he had to vote agin the Bill, 'cause it was a Government Bill, and be +know'd he had to speak for _Bunkum_, and therefore--" + +"_Bunkum!_" I said, "pray, what is that?" + +"Did you never hear of Bunkum?" + +"No, never." + +"Why, you don't mean to say you don't know what that is?" + +"I do not indeed." + +"Not Bunkum? Why, there is more of it to Nova Scotia every winter, than +would paper every room in Government House, and then curl the hair of +every gall in the town. Not heer of _Bunkum_? why how you talk!" + +"No, never." + +"Well, if that don't pass! I thought every body know'd that word. I'll +tell you then, what Bunkum is. All over America, every place likes to +hear of its members to Congress, and see their speeches, and if they +don't, they send a piece to the paper, enquirin' if their member died a +nateral death, or was skivered with a bowie knife, for they hante seen +his speeches lately, and his friends are anxious to know his fate. Our +free and enlightened citizens don't approbate silent members; it don't +seem to them as if Squashville, or Punkinville, or Lumbertown was right +represented, unless Squashville, or Punkinville, or Lumbertown, makes +itself heard and known, ay, and feared too. So every feller in bounden +duty, talks, and talks big too, and the smaller the State, the louder, +bigger, and fiercer its members talk. + +"Well, when a critter talks for talk sake, jist to have a speech in +the paper to send to home, and not for any other airthly puppus but +electioneering, our folks call it _Bunkum_. Now the State o' Maine is a +great place for _Bunkum_--its members for years threatened to run foul +of England, with all steam on, and sink her, about the boundary line, +voted a million of dollars, payable in pine logs and spruce boards, up +to Bangor mills--and called out a hundred thousand militia, (only they +never come,) to captur' a saw mill to New Brunswick--that's _Bunkum_. +All that flourish about Right o' Sarch was _Bunkum_--all that brag about +hangin' your Canada sheriff was _Bunkum_. All the speeches about the +Caroline, and Creole, and Right of Sarch, was _Bunkum_, In short, +almost all that's said _in Congress_ in _the colonies_, (for we set +the fashions to them, as Paris galls do to our milliners,) and all over +America is _Bunkum_. + +"Well, they talk Bunkum here too, as well as there. Slavery speeches are +all Bunkum; so are reform speeches, too. Do you think them fellers that +keep up such an everlastin' gab about representation, care one cent +about the extension of franchise? Why no, not they; it's only to secure +their seats to gull their constituents, to get a name. Do you think +them goneys that make such a touss about the Arms' Bill, care about the +Irish? No, not they; they want Irish votes, that's all--it's _Bunkum_. +Do you jist go and mesmerise John Russell, and Macauley, and the other +officers of the regiment of Reformers, and then take the awkward squad +of recruits--fellers that were made drunk with excitement, and then +enlisted with the promise of a shillin', which they never got, the +sargeants having drank it all; go and mesmerise them all, from General +Russell down to Private Chartist, clap 'em into a caterwaulin' or +catalapsin' sleep, or whatever the word is, and make 'em tell the +secrets of their hearts, as Dupotet did the Clear-voyancing gall, and +jist hear what they'll tell you. + +"Lord John will say--'I was sincere!' (and I believe on my soul he was. +He is wrong beyond all doubt, but he is an honest man, and a clever man, +and if he had taken his _own_ way more, and given Powlet Thompson _his_ +less, he would a' been a great colony secretary; and more's the pity +he is in such company. He'll get off his beam ends, and right +himself though, yet, I guess.) Well, he'd say--'I was sincere, I was +disinterested; but I am disappointed. I have awakened a pack of hungry +villains who have sharp teeth, long claws, and the appetite of the +devil. They have swallered all I gave 'em, and now would eat me up +without salt, if they could. Oh, that I could hark back! _there is no +satisfyin' a movement party_.' + +"Now what do the men say, (I don't mean men of rank, but the men in +the ranks),--'Where's all the fine things we were promised when Reform +gained the day?' sais they, 'ay, where are they? for we are wuss off +than ever, now, havin' lost all our old friends, and got bilked by our +new ones tarnationly. What did all their fine speeches end in at last? +Bunkum; damn the thing but Bunkum. + +"But that aint the wust of it, nother. Bunkum, like lyin', is plaguy apt +to make a man believe his own bams at last. From telling 'em so often, +he forgets whether he grow'd 'em or dreamt 'em, and so he stands' +right up on end, kisses the book, and swears to 'em, as positive as the +Irishman did to the gun, which he said he know'd ever since it was a +pistol. Now, _that's Bunkum_. + +"But to get back to what we was a talkin' of, did you ever hear such bad +speakin' in your life, now tell me candid? because if you have, I never +did, that's all. Both sides was bad, it aint easy to say which is wus, +six of one and half a dozen of t'other, nothin to brag of nary way. That +government man, that spoke in their favour, warn't his speech rich? + +"Lord love you! I aint no speaker, I never made but one speech since I +was raised, and that was afore a Slickville legislatur, and then I broke +down. I know'd who I was a talkin' afore; they was men that had cut +their eye-teeth, and that you could'nt pull the wool over their eyes, +nohow you could fix it, and I was young then. Now I'm growed up, I +guess, and I've got my narves in the right place, and as taught as a +drum; and I _could_ speak if I was in the House o' Commons, that's a +fact. If a man was to try there, that was worth any thin', he'd find he +was a flute without knowin' it. They don't onderstand nothin' but Latin +and Greek, and I'd buoy out them sand banks, keep the lead agoin', stick +to the channel, and never take ground, I know. The way I'd cut water +aint no matter. Oh Solomon! what a field for good speakin' that question +was to-night, if they only had half an eye, them fellers, and what +a'most a beautiful mess they made of it on both sides! + +"I ain't a vain man, and never was. You know, Squire, I hante a mossel +of it in my composition; no, if you was to look at me with a ship's +glass you wouldn't see a grease spot of it in me. I don't think any of +us Yankees is vain people; it's a thing don't grow in our diggins. We +have too much sense in a giniral way for that; indeed if we wanted any, +we couldn't get none for love nor money, for John Bull has a monopoly +of it. He won't open the trade. It's a home market he looks to, and the +best of it is, he thinks he hante none to spare. + +"Oh, John Bull, John Bull, when you are full rigged, with your white +cravat and white waistcoat like Young England, and have got your +go-to-meetin' clothes on, if you ain't a sneezer, it's a pity, that's +all. No, I ain't a vain man, I despise it, as I do a nigger; but, +Squire, what a glorious field the subject to-night is for a man that +knows what's what, and was up to snuff, ain't it? Airth and seas! if I +was there, I could speak on either side; for like Waterloo it's a fair +field; it's good ground for both parties. Heavens what a speech I could +make! I'd electrify 'em and kill 'em dead like lightnin', and +then galvanise 'em and fetch' em to life agin, and then give them +exhiliratin' gass and set 'em a larfin', till they fairly wet themselves +agin with cryin'. Wouldn't it be fun, that's all? I could sting Peel +so if I liked, he'd think a galley nipper had bit him, and he'd spring +right off the floor on to the table at one jump, gout or no gout, ravin' +mad with pain and say, 'I'm bit thro' the boot by Gosh;' or if I was +to take his side, for I care so little about the British, all sides is +alike to me, I'd make them Irish members dance like ravin', distractin' +bed bugs. I'd make 'em howl, first wicked and then dismal, I know. + +"But they can't do it, to save their souls alive; some has it in 'em and +can't get it out, physic 'em as you would, first with vanity, and then +with office; others have got a way out, but have nothin' to drive thro' +the gate; some is so timid, they can't go ahead; and others are in such +an infarnal hurry, they spend the whole time in false starts. + +"No, there, is no good oratory to parliament now, and the English brag +so, I doubt if it ever was so good, as they say it was in old times. At +any rate, it's all got down to "Bunkum" now. It's makin' a speech for +newspapers and not for the House. It's to tell on voters and not on +members. Then, what a row they make, don't they? Hear, hear, hear; +divide, divide, divide; oh, oh, oh; haw, haw, haw. It tante much +different from stump oratory in America arter all, or speakin' off a +whiskey barrel, is it? It's a sort of divil me-kear-kind o' audience; +independent critters, that look at a feller full in the face, as sarcy +as the divil; as much as to say, 'Talk away, my old 'coon, you won't +alter me, I can tell you, it's all _Bunkum_.' + +"Lord, I shall never forget poor old Davy Crocket's last speech; there +was no "bunkum" in that. He despised it; all good shots do, they aim +right straight for the mark and hit it. There's no shootin' round the +ring, with them kinder men. Poor old feller, he was a great hunter; a +great shot with the rifle, a great wit, and a great man. He didn't leave +his _span_ behind him, when he slipt off the handle, I know. + +"Well he stood for an election and lost it, just afore he left the +States; so when it was over, he slings his powder horn on, over his +shoulders, takes his "Betsey," which was his best rifle, onder his arm, +and mounts on a barrel, to talk it into his constituents, and take leave +of 'em. + +"'Feller citizens,' sais he, 'we've had a fair stand-up fight for it, +and I'm whipped, that are a fact; and thar is no denyin' of it. I've +come now to take my leave of you. You may all go to H--l, and I'll go to +Texas.' + +"And he stepped right down, and went over the boundary, and jined the +patriots agin Mexico, and was killed there. + +"Why it will never be forgot, that speech. It struck into the bull's eye +of the heart. It was noble. It said so much in a few words, and left +the mind to fill the gaps up. The last words is a sayin' now, and +always will be, to all etarnity. Whenever a feller wants to shew how +indifferent he is, he jist sais, 'you may go to (hem, hem, you know,) +and I'll go to Texas.' There is no _Bunkum_ in that, Squire. + +"Yes, there is no good speakin' there, speakin' is no use. Every +feller is pledged and supports his party. A speech don't alter no man's +opinions; yes it _may_ alter his _opinions_, but it don't alter his +vote, that ain't his'n, it's his party's. Still, there is some credit +in a good speech, and some fun too. No feller there has any ridicule; he +has got no ginger in him, he can neither crack his whip, nor lay it on; +he can neither cut the hide nor sting it. Heavens! if I was there I and +I'm sure it's no great boastin' to say I'm better than such fellers, as +them small fry of white bait is. If I was there, give me a good subject +like that to-night, give me a good horn of lignum vitae--" + +"Lignum vitae--what's that?" + +"Lord-o-massy on us! you don't know nothin', Squire. Where have you been +all your born days, not to know what lignum vitae is? why lignum vitae, +is hot brandy and water to be sure, pipin' hot, scald an iron pot amost, +and spiced with cloves and sugar in it, stiff enough to make a tea-spoon +stand up in it, as straight as a dead nigger. Wine ain't no good, it +goes off as quick as the white beads off of champaign does, and then +leaves a stupid head-ache behind it. But give me the subject and a horn +of lignum vitae (of the wickedest kind), and then let a feller rile me, +so as to get my back up like a fightin' cat's, and I'll tell you +what I'd do, I'd sarve him as our Slickville boys sarve the cows to +California. One on 'em lays hold of the tail, and the other skins her +as she runs strait an eend. Next year, it's all growed ready for another +flayin'. Fact, I assure you. Lord! I'd skin a feller so, his hide would +never grow agin; I'd make a caution of him to sinners, I know. + +"Only hear them fellers now talk of extendin' of the representation; +why the house is a mob now, plaguy little better, I assure you. Like the +house in Cromwell's time, they want "Sam Slick's" purge. But talkin' +of mobs, puts me in mind of a Swoi-ree, I told you I'd describe that to +you, and I don't care if I do now, for I've jist got my talkin' tacks +aboard. A Swoi-ree is-- + +"We'll talk of that some other time, Mr. Slick," said I; "it is now near +two o'clock, I must retire." + +"Well, well," said he, "I suppose it is e'en a'most time to be a movin'. +But, Squire, you are a Britisher, why the plague don't you get into the +house? you know more about colony matters than the whole bilin' of" them +put together, quite as much about other things, and speak like a--" + +"Come, come, Mr. Slick," said I, rising and lighting my bed-room candle, +"it is now high time to bid you good night, for you are beginning to +talk _Bunkum_." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. THROWING THE LAVENDER. + +Mr. Slick's character, like that of many of his countrymen, is not so +easily understood as a person might suppose. We err more often than we +are aware of, when we judge of others by ourselves. English tourists +have all fallen into this mistake, in their, estimate of the Americans. +They judge them by their own standard; they attribute effects to wrong +causes, forgetting that a different tone of feeling, produced by a +different social and political state from their own, must naturally +produce dissimilar results. + +Any person reading the last sketch containing the account, given by Mr. +Slick of the House of Commons, his opinion of his own abilities as a +speaker, and his aspiration after a seat in that body, for the purpose +of "skinning," as he calls it, impertinent or stupid members, could not +avoid coming to the conclusion that he was a conceited block-head; and +that if his countrymen talked in that absurd manner, they must be the +weakest, and most vain-glorious people in the world. + +That he is a vain man, cannot be denied--self-taught men are apt to be +so every where; but those who understand the New England humour, will +at once perceive, that he has spoken in his own name merely as a +personification, and that the whole passage means after all, when +transposed into that phraseology which an Englishman would use, very +little more than this, that the House of Commons presented a noble +field for a man of abilities as a public speaker; but that in fact, it +contained very few such persons. We must not judge of words or phrases, +when used by foreigners, by the sense we attribute to them, but +endeavour to understand the meaning they attach to them themselves. + +In Mexico, if you admire any thing, the proprietor immediately says, +"Pray do me the honour to consider it yours, I shall be most happy, if +you will permit me, to place it upon you, (if it be an ornament), or to +send it to your hotel," if it be of a different description. All +this means in English, a present; in Mexican Spanish, a civil speech, +purporting that the owner is gratified, that it meets the approbation +of his visiter. A Frenchman, who heard this grandiloquent reply to his +praises of a horse, astonished his friend, by thanking him in terms +equally amplified, accepting it, and riding it home. + +Mr. Slick would be no less amazed, if understood literally. He has used +a peculiar style; here again, a stranger would be in error, in supposing +the phraseology common to all Americans. It is peculiar only to a +certain class of persons in a certain state of life, and in a particular +section of the States. Of this class, Mr. Slick is a specimen. I do +not mean to say he is not a vain man, but merely that a portion only of +that, which appears so to us, is vanity, and that the rest and by far +the greater portion too, is local or provincial peculiarity. + +This explanation is due to the Americans, who have been grossly +misrepresented, and to the English, who have been egregiously deceived, +by persons attempting to delineate character, who were utterly incapable +of perceiving those minute lights and shades, without which, a portrait +becomes a contemptible daub, or at most a mere caricature. + +"A droll scene that at the house o' represen_tatives_ last night," said +Mr. Slick when we next met, "warn't it? A sort o' rookery, like that +at the Shropshire Squire's, where I spent the juicy day. What a darned +cau-cau-cawin' they keep, don't they? These members are jist like the +rooks, too, fond of old houses, old woods, old trees, and old harnts. +And they are jist as proud, too, as they be. Cuss 'em, they won't visit +a new man, or new plantation. They are too aristocratic for that. They +have a circle of their own. Like the rooks, too, they are privileged to +scour over the farmers' fields all round home, and play the very devil. + +"And then a fellow can't hear himself speak for 'em; divide, divide, +divide, question, question, question; cau, cau, cau, cau, cau, cau. Oh! +we must go there again. I want you to see Peel, Stanley, Graham, Shiel, +Russell, Macauley, Old Joe, and so on. These men are all upper crust +here. Fust of all, I want to hear your opinion of 'em. I take you to be +a considerable of a good judge in these matters." + +"No Bunkum, Mr. Slick." + +"D---- that word Bunkum! If you say that 'ere agin, I won't say another +syllable, so come now. Don't I know who you are? You know every mite, +and morsel as well as I do, that you be a considerable of a judge of +these critters, though you are nothin' but an outlandish colonist; and +are an everlastin' sight better judge, too, if you come to that, than +them that judge _you_. Cuss 'em, the state would be a nation sight +better sarved, if one o' these old rooks was sent out to try trover for +a goose, and larceny for an old hat, to Nova Scotia, and you was sent +for to take the ribbons o' the state coach here; hang me if it wouldn't. +You know that, and feel your oats, too, as well as any one. So don't be +so infarnal mealy-mouthed, with your mock modesty face, a turnin' up +of the whites of your eyes as if you was a chokin', and savin' 'No +_Bun-kum_, Mr. Slick.' Cuss that word Bunkum! I am sorry I ever told you +that are story, you will be for everlastinly a throwin' up of that are, +to me now. + +"Do you think if I warnted to soft sawder you, I'd take the white-wash +brush to you, and slobber it, on, as a nigger wench does to a board +fence, or a kitchen wall to home, and put your eyes out with the lime? +No, not I; but I could tickel you though, and have done it afore now, +jist for practice, and you warn't a bit the wiser. Lord, I'd take a +camel's-hair brush to you, knowin' how skittish and ticklesome you are, +and do it so it would feel good. I'd make you feel kinder pleasant, I +know, and you'd jist bend your face over to it, and take it as kindly as +a gall does a whisper, when your lips keep jist a brushin' of the cheek +while you are a talkin'. I wouldn't go to shock you by a doin' of it +coarse; you are too quick, and too knowin' for that. You should smell +the otter o' roses, and sniff, sniff it up your nostrils, and say to +yourself, 'How nice that is, ain't it? Come, I like that, how sweet +it stinks!' I wouldn't go for to dash scented water on your face, as a +hired lady does on a winder to wash it, it would make you start back, +take out your pocket-handkercher, and say, "Come, _Mister_ Slick, no +nonsense, if you please." I'd do it delicate, I know my man: I'd use a +light touch, a soft brush, and a smooth oily rouge." + +"Pardon me," I said, "you overrate your own powers, and over-estimate +my vanity. You are flattering yourself now, you can't flatter me, for I +detest it." + +"Creation, man," said Mr. Slick, "I have done it now afore your face, +these last five minutes, and you didn't know it. Well, if that don't +bang the bush. It's tarnation all over that. Tellin' you, you was so +knowin', so shy if touched on the flanks; how difficult you was to +take-in, bein' a sensible, knowin' man, what's that but soft sawder? You +swallowed it all. You took it off without winkin', and opened your mouth +as wide as a young blind robbin does for another worm, and then down +went the Bunkum about making you a Secretary of State, which was rather +a large bolus to swaller, without a draft; down, down it went, like a +greased-wad through a smooth rifle bore; it did, upon my soul. Heavens! +what a take in! what a splendid sleight-of-hand! I never did nothin' +better in all my born days. I hope I may be shot, if I did. Ha! ha! ha! +ain't it rich? Don't it cut six inches on the rib of clear shear, that. +Oh! it's han_sum_, that's a fact." + +"It's no use to talk about it, Mr. Slick," I replied; "I plead guilty. +You took me in then. You touched a weak point. You insensibly flattered +my vanity, by assenting to my self-sufficiency, in supposing I was +exempt from that universal frailty of human nature; you "_threw the +Lavender_" well." + +"I did put the leake into you, Squire, that's a fact," said he; "but let +me alone, I know what I am about; let me talk on, my own way. Swaller +what you like, spit out what is too strong for you; but don't put a +drag-chain on to me, when I am a doin' tall talkin', and set my wheels +as fast as pine stumps. You know me, and I know you. You know my speed, +and I know your bottom don't throw back in the breetchin' for nothin' +that way." + +"Well, as I was a-sayin', I want you to see these great men, as they +call 'em. Let's weigh 'em, and measure 'em, and handle 'em, and then +price 'em, and see what their market valy is. Don't consider 'em as +Tories, or Whigs, or Radicals; we hante got nothin' to do with none o' +them; but consider 'em as statesmen. It's pot-luck with 'em all; take +your fork as the pot biles up, jab it in, and fetch a feller up, see +whether he is beef, pork or mutton; partridge, rabbit or lobster; +what his name, grain and flavour is, and how you like him. Treat 'em +indifferent, and treat 'em independent. + +"I don't care a chaw o' tobacky for the whole on 'em; and none on 'em +care a pinch o' snuff for you or any Hortentort of a colonist that ever +was or ever will be. Lord love you! if you was to write like Scott, and +map the human mind like Bacon, would it advance you a bit in prefarment? +Not it. They have done enough for the colonists, they have turned 'em +upside down, and given 'em responsible government? What more do the +rascals want? Do they ask to be made equal to us? No, look at their +social system, and their political system, and tell 'em your opinion +like a man. You have heard enough of their opinions of colonies, and +suffered enough from their erroneous ones too. You have had Durham +reports, and commissioners' reports, and parliament reports till your +stomach refuses any more on 'em. And what are they? a bundle of mistakes +and misconceptions, from beginnin' to eend. They have travelled by +stumblin', and have measured every thing by the length of their knee, +as they fell on the ground, as a milliner measures lace, by the bendin' +down of the forefinger--cuss 'em! Turn the tables on 'em. Report on +_them_, measure _them_, but take care to keep your feet though, don't be +caught trippin', don't make no mistakes. + +"Then we'll go to the Lords' House--I don't mean to meetin' house, +though we must go there too, and hear Me Neil and Chalmers, and them +sort o' cattle; but I mean the house where the nobles meet, pick out +the big bugs, and see what sort o' stuff they are made of. Let's take +minister with us--he is a great judge of these things. I should like you +to hear his opinion; he knows every thin' a'most, though the ways of the +world bother him a little sometimes; but for valyin' a man, or stating +principles, or talkin' politics, there ain't no man equal to him, +hardly. He is a book, that's a fact; it's all there what you want; all +you've got to do is to cut the leaves. Name the word in the index, he'll +turn to the page, and give you day, date, and fact, for it. There is no +mistake in him. + +"That cussed provokin' visit of yours to Scotland will shove them things +into the next book, I'm afeered. But it don't signify nothin'; you can't +cram all into one, and we hante only broke the crust yet, and p'rhaps +it's as well to look afore you leap too, or you might make as big a fool +of yourself, as some of the Britishers have a-writin' about us and the +provinces. Oh yes, it's a great advantage havin' minister with you. +He'll fell the big stiff trees for you; and I'm the boy for the +saplin's, I've got the eye and the stroke for them. They spring so +confoundedly under the axe, does second growth and underwood, it's +dangerous work, but I've got the sleight o' hand for that, and we'll +make a clean field of it. + +"Then come and survey; take your compass and chain to the ground and +measure, and lay that off--branch and bark the spars for snakin' off the +ground; cord up the fire-wood, tie up the hoop poles, and then burn off +the trash and rubbish. Do it workman-like. Take your time to it as if +you was workin' by the day. Don't hurry, like job work; don't slobber it +over, and leave half-burnt trees and logs strewed about the surface, but +make smack smooth work. Do that, Squire, do it well, and that is, only +half as good as you can, if you choose, and then--" + +"And then," said I, "I make no doubt you will have great pleasure '_in +throwin' the Lavender again_." + + + + +CHAPTER X. AIMING HIGH. + +"What do you intend to do, Squire, with your two youngest boys?" said +Mr. Slick to me to-day, as we were walking in the Park. + +"I design them," I said, "for professions. One I shall educate for a +lawyer, and the other for a clergyman." + +"Where?" + +"In Nova Scotia." + +"Exactly," says he. "It shews your sense; it's the very place for 'em. +It's a fine field for a young man; I don't know no better one no where +in the whole univarsal world. When I was a boy larnin' to shoot, sais +father to me, one day, 'Sam,' sais he, 'I'll give you a lesson in +gunnin' that's worth knowin'. "_Aim high_," my boy; your gun naterally +settles down a little takin' sight, cause your arm gets tired, and +wabbles, and the ball settles a little while it's a travellin', +accordin' to a law of natur, called Franklin's law; and I obsarve you +always hit below the mark. Now, make allowances for these things in +gunnin', and "aim high," for your life, always. And, Sam,' sais he, +'I've seed a great deal of the world, all mili_tary_ men do. 'I was to +Bunker's Hill durin' the engagement, and I saw Washington the day he was +made President, and in course must know more nor most men of my age; +and I'll give you another bit of advice, "Aim high" in life, and if you +don't hit the bull's eye, you'll hit the "fust circles," and that ain't +a bad shot nother.' + +"'Father,' sais I, 'I guess I've seed more of the world than you have, +arter all.' + +"'How so, Sam?' sais he. + +"'Why,' sais I, 'father, you've only been to Bunker's Hill, and that's +nothin'; no part of it ain't too steep to plough; it's only a sizeable +hillock, arter all. But I've been to the Notch on the White Mountain, +so high up, that the snow don't melt there, and seed five States all to +once, and half way over to England, and then I've seed Jim Crow dance. +So there now?' He jist up with the flat of his hand, and gave me a wipe +with it on the side of my face, that knocked me over; and as I fell, he +lent me a kick on my musn't-mention-it, that sent me a rod or so afore I +took ground on all fours. + +"'Take that, you young scoundrel!' said he, 'and larn to speak +respectful next time to an old man, a mili_tary_ man, and your father, +too.' + +"It hurt me properly, you may depend. 'Why,' sais I, as I picked myself +up, 'didn't you tell me to "aim high," father? So I thought I'd do it, +and beat your brag, that's all.' + +"Truth is, Squire, I never could let a joke pass all my life, without +havin' a lark with it. I was fond of one, ever since I was knee high to +a goose, or could recollect any thin' amost; I have got into a horrid +sight of scrapes by 'em, that's a fact. I never forgot that lesson +though, it was kicked into me: and lessons that are larnt on the right +eend, ain't never forgot amost. I _have_ "aimed high" ever since, and +see where I be now. Here I am an Attache, made out of a wooden clock +pedlar. Tell you what, I shall be "embassador" yet, made out of nothin' +but an "Attache," and I'll be President of our great Republic, and +almighty nation in the eend, made out of an embassador, see if I don't. +That comes of "aimin' high." What do you call that water near your +coach-house?" + +"A pond." + +"Is there any brook runnin' in, or any stream runnin' out?" + +"No." + +"Well, that's the difference between a lake and a pond. Now, set that +down for a traveller's fact. Now, where do you go to fish?" + +"To the lakes, of course; there are no fish in the ponds." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Slick, "that is what I want to bring you to; there +is no fish in a pond, there is nothin' but frogs. Nova Scotia is only +a pond, and so is New Brunswick, and such outlandish, out o' the way, +little crampt up, stagnant places. There is no 'big fish' there, nor +never can be; there ain't no food for 'em. A colony frog!! Heavens and +airth, what an odd fish that is? A colony pollywog! do, for gracious +sake, catch one, put him into a glass bottle full of spirits, and send +him to the Museum as a curiosity in natur. So you are a goin' to make +your two nice pretty little smart boys a pair of colony frogs, eh? Oh! +do, by all means. + +"You'll have great comfort in 'em, Squire. Monstrous comfort. It will +do your old heart good to go down to the edge of the pond on the fust of +May, or thereabouts, accordin' to the season, jist at sun down, and hear +'em sing. You'll see the little fellers swell out their cheeks, and roar +away like young suckin' thunders. For the frogs beat all natur there for +noise; they have no notion of it here at all. I've seed Englishmen that +couldn't sleep all night, for the everlastin' noise these critters made. +Their frogs have somethin' else to do here besides singin'. Ain't it a +splendid prospect that, havin' these young frogs settled all round you +in the same mud-hole, all gathered in a nice little musical family +party. All fine fun this, till some fine day we Yankee storks will come +down and gobble them all up, and make clear work of it. + +"No, Squire, take my advice now for once; jist go to your colony +minister when he is alone. Don't set down, but stand up as if you was in +airnest, and didn't come to gossip, and tell him, 'Turn these ponds into +a lake,' sais you, my lord minister, give them an inlet and an outlet. +Let them be kept pure, and sweet, and wholesome, by a stream, runnin' +through. Fish will live there then if you put them in, and they will +breed there, and keep up the stock. At present they die; it ain't big +enough; there ain't room. If he sais he hante time to hear you, and asks +you to put it into writin', do you jist walk over to his table, take up +his lignum vitae ruler into your fist, put your back to the door, and +say 'By the 'tarnal empire, you _shall_ hear me; you don't go out of +this, till I give you the butt eend of my mind, I can tell you. I am an +old bull frog now; the Nova Scotia pond is big enough for me; I'll get +drowned if I get into a bigger one, for I hante got no fins, nothin' but +legs and arms to swim with, and deep water wouldn't suit me, I ain't fit +for it, and I must live and die there, that's my fate as sure as rates.' +If he gets tired, and goes to get up or to move, do you shake the big +ruler at him, as fierce as a painter, and say, 'Don't you stir for your +life; I don't want to lay nothin' _on_ your head, I only want to put +somethin' _in_ it. I am a father and have got youngsters. I am a native, +and have got countrymen. Enlarge our sphere, give us a chance in the +world.' 'Let me out,' he'll say, 'this minute, Sir, or I'll put you in +charge of a policeman.' 'Let you out is it,' sais you. 'Oh! you feel +bein' pent up, do you? I am glad of it. The tables are turned now, +that's what we complain of. You've stood at the door, and kept us in; +now I'll keep you in awhile. I want to talk to you, that's more than you +ever did to us. How do you like bein' shut in? Does it feel good? Does +it make your dander rise?' 'Let me out,' he'll say agin, 'this moment, +Sir, how dare you.' Oh! you are in a hurry, are you?' sais you. 'You've +kept me in all my life; don't be oneasy if I keep you in five minutes.' + +"'Well, what do you want then?' he'll say, kinder peevish; 'what do you +want?' 'I don't want nothin' for myself,' sais you. 'I've got all I +can get in that pond; and I got that from the Whigs, fellers I've been +abusin' all my life; and I'm glad to make amends by acknowledging this +good turn they did me; for I am a tory, and no mistake. I don't want +nothin'; but I want to be an _Englishman_. I don't want to be an +English _subject_; do you understand that now? If you don't, this is the +meanin', that there is no fun in bein' a fag, if you are never to have a +fag yourself. Give us all fair play. Don't move now,' sais you, 'for I'm +gettin' warm; I'm gettin' spotty on the back, my bristles is up, and I +might hurt you with this ruler; it's a tender pint this, for I've rubbed +the skin off of a sore place; but I'll tell you a gospel truth, and mind +what I tell you, for nobody else has sense enough, and if they had, they +hante courage enough. If you don't make _Englishmen of us_, the force of +circumstances will _make Yankees_ of us, as sure as you are born.' He'll +stare at that. He is a clever man, and aint wantin' in gumption. He +is no fool, that's a fact. 'Is it no compliment to you and your +institutions this?' sais you. 'Don't it make you feel proud that even +independence won't tempt us to dissolve the connexion? Ain't it a noble +proof of your good qualities that, instead of agitatin' for Repeal of +the Union, we want a closer union? But have we no pride too? We would be +onworthy of the name of Englishmen, if we hadn't it, and we won't stand +beggin' for ever I tell _you_. Here's our hands, give us yourn; let's +be all Englishmen together. Give us a chance, and if us, young English +boys, don't astonish you old English, my name ain't Tom Poker, that's +all.' 'Sit down,' he'll say, 'Mr. Poker;' there is a great deal in that; +sit down; I am interested.' + +"The instant he sais that, take your ruler, lay it down on the table, +pick up your hat, make a scrape with your hind leg, and say, 'I regret +I have detained you so long, Sir. I am most peskily afraid my warmth +has kinder betrayed me into rudeness. I really beg pardon, I do upon +my soul. I feel I have smashed down all decency, I am horrid ashamed of +myself.' Well, he won't say you hante rode the high hoss, and done the +unhandsum thing, because it wouldn't be true if he did; but he'll say, +'Pray be seated. I can make allowances, Sir, even for intemperate zeal. +And this is a very important subject, very indeed. There is a monstrous +deal in what you say, though you have, I must say, rather a peculiar, +an unusual, way of puttin' it.' Don't you stay another minit though, +nor say another word, for your life; but bow, beg pardon, hold in your +breath, that your face may look red, as if you was blushin', and back +out, starn fust. Whenever you make an impression on a man, stop; your +reasonin' and details may ruin you. Like a feller who sais a good thing, +he'd better shove off, and leave every one larfin' at his wit, than stop +and tire them out, till they say what a great screw augur that is. Well, +if you find he opens the colonies, and patronises the smart folks, leave +your sons there if you like, and let 'em work up, and work out of it, if +they are fit, and time and opportunity offers. But one thing is sartain, +_the very openin' of the door will open their minds_, as a matter of +course. If he don't do it, and I can tell you before hand he won't--for +they actilly hante got time here, to think of these things--send your +boys here into the great world. Sais you to the young Lawyer, 'Bob,' +sais you, '"aim high." If you don't get to be Lord Chancellor, I shall +never die in peace. I've set my heart on it. It's within your reach, if +you are good for anything. Let me see the great seal--let me handle it +before I die--do, that's a dear; if not, go back to your Colony pond, +and sing with your provincial frogs, and I hope to Heaven the fust +long-legged bittern that comes there will make a supper of you." + +"Then sais you to the young parson, 'Arthur,' sais you 'Natur jist +made you for a clergyman. Now, do you jist make yourself 'Archbishop of +Canterbury.' My death-bed scene will be an awful one, if I don't see you +'the Primate'; for my affections, my hopes, my heart, is fixed on it. +I shall be willin' to die then, I shall depart in peace, and leave this +world happy. And, Arthur,' sais you, 'they talk and brag here till one +is sick of the sound a'most about "Addison's death-bed." Good people +refer to it as an example, authors as a theatrical scene and hypocrites +as a grand illustration for them to turn up the whites of their cold +cantin' eyes at. Lord love you, my son,' sais you, 'let them brag of it; +but what would it be to mine; you congratulatin' me on goin' to a better +world, and me congratulatin' you on bein' "Archbishop." Then,' sais you, +in a starn voice like a boatsan's trumpet--for if you want things to be +remembered, give 'em effect, "Aim high," Sir,' sais you. Then like my +old father, fetch him a kick on his western eend, that will lift him +clean over the table, and say 'that's the way to rise in the world, you +young sucking parson you. "Aim high," Sir.' + +"Neither of them will ever forget it as long as they live. The hit does +that; for a kick is a very _striking_ thing, that's a fact. There +has been _no good scholars since birch rods went out o' school, and +sentiment went in_." + +"But you know," I said, "Mr. Slick, that those high prizes in the +lottery of life, can, in the nature of things, be drawn but by few +people, and how many blanks are there to one-prize in this world." + +"Well, what's to prevent your boys gettin' those prizes, if colonists +was made Christians of, instead of outlawed, exiled, transported, +oncarcumcised heathen Indgean niggers, as they be. If people don't put +into a lottery, how the devil can they get prizes? will you tell +me that. Look at the critters here, look at the publicans, taylors, +barbers, and porters' sons, how the've rose here, 'in this big lake,' +to be chancellors and archbishops; how did they get them? They 'aimed +high,' and besides, all that, like father's story of the gun, by 'aiming +high,' though they may miss the mark, they will be sure to hit the +upper circles. Oh, Squire, there is nothing like 'aiming high,' in this +world." + +"I quite agree with you, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell. "I never heard you +speak so sensibly before. Nothing can be better for young men than +"Aiming high." Though they may not attain to the highest honours, +they may, as you say, reach to a most respectable station. But surely, +Squire, you will never so far forget the respect that is due to so high +an officer as a Secretary of State, or, indeed, so far forget yourself +as to adopt a course, which from its eccentricity, violence, and +impropriety, must leave the impression that your intellects are +disordered. Surely you will never be tempted to make the experiment?" + +"I should think not, indeed," I said. "I have no desire to become an +inmate of a lunatic asylum." + +"Good," said he; "I am satisfied. I quite agree with Sam, though. +Indeed, I go further. I do not think he has advised you to recommend +your boys to 'aim high enough.'" + +"Creation! said Mr. Slick, "how much higher do you want provincial frogs +to go, than to be 'Chancellor' and 'Primate?' + +"I'll tell you, Sam; I'd advise them to 'aim higher' than earthly +honours. I would advise them to do their duty, in any station of life in +which it shall please Providence to place them; and instead of striving +after unattainable objects here, to be unceasing in their endeavours to +obtain that which, on certain conditions, is promised to all hereafter. +In their worldly pursuits, as men, it is right for them to '_aim high_;' +but as Christians, it is also their duty to '_aim higher_.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. A SWOI-REE. + +Mr. Slick visited me late last night, dressed as if he had been at a +party, but very cross, and, as usual when in that frame of mind, he +vented his ill-humour on the English. + +"Where have you been to-night, Mr. Slick?" + +"Jist where the English hosses will be," he replied, "when Old Clay +comes here to this country;--no where. I have been on a stair-case, +that's where I have been; and a pretty place to see company in, ain't +it? I have been jammed to death in an entry, and what's wus than all, I +have given one gall a black eye with my elbow, tore another one's frock +off with my buttons, and near about cut a third one's leg in two with my +hat. Pretty well for one night's work, ain't it? and for me too, that's +so fond of the dear little critturs, I wouldn't hurt a hair of their +head, if I could help it, to save my soul alive. What a spot o' work! + +"What the plague do people mean here by askin' a mob to their house, +and invitin' twice as many as can get into it? If they think it's +complimental, they are infarnally mistaken, that's all: it's an insult +and nothin' else, makin' a fool of a body that way. Heavens and airth! I +am wringing wet! I'm ready to faint! Where's the key of your cellaret? I +want some brandy and water. I'm dead; bury me quick, for I won't be +nice directly. Oh dear! how that lean gall hurt me! How horrid sharp her +bones are! + +"I wish to goodness you'd go to a Swoi-ree oncet, Squire, jist oncet--a +grand let off, one that's upper crust and rael jam. It's worth seein' +oncet jist as a show, I tell _you_, for you have no more notion of it +than a child. All Halifax, if it was swept up clean and shook out into a +room, wouldn't make one swoi-ree. I have been to three to night, and all +on 'em was mobs--regular mobs. The English are horrid fond of mobs, and +I wonder at it too; for of all the cowardly, miserable, scarry mobs, +that ever was seen in this blessed world, the English is the wust. +Two dragoons will clear a whole street as quick as wink, any time. The +instant they see 'em, they jist run like a flock of sheep afore a couple +of bull dogs, and slope off properly skeered. Lawful heart, I wish +they'd send for a dragoon, all booted, and spurred, and mounted, and let +him gallop into a swoi-ree, and charge the mob there. He'd clear 'em out +_I_ know, double quick: he'd chase one quarter of 'em down stairs head +over heels, and another quarter would jump out o' the winders, and break +their confounded necks to save their lives, and then the half that's +left, would he jist about half too many for comfort. + +"My first party to-night wus a conversation one; that is for them that +_could_ talk; as for me I couldn't talk a bit, and all I could think +was, 'how infarnal hot it is! I wish I could get in!' or, 'oh dear, if +I could only get out!' It was a scientific party, a mob o' men. Well, +every body expected somebody would be squashed to death, and so ladies +went, for they always go to executions. They've got a kinder nateral +taste for the horrors, have women. They like to see people hanged or +trod to death, when they can get a chance. It _was_ a conversation +warn't it? that's all. I couldn't understand a word I heard. Trap shale +Greywachy; a petrified snail, the most important discovery of modern +times. Bank governor's machine weighs sovereigns, light ones go to the +right, and heavy ones to the left. + +"'Stop,' says I, 'if you mean the sovereign people here, there are none +on 'em light. Right and left is both monstrous heavy; all over weight, +every one on 'em. I'm squeezed to death.' + +"'Very good, Mr. Slick. Let me introduce you to ----,' they are whipt +off in the current, and I don't see 'em again no more. 'A beautiful shew +of flowers, Madam, at the garden: they are all in full blow now. The +rhododendron--had a tooth pulled when she was asleep.' 'Please to let me +pass, Sir.' 'With all my heart, Miss, if I could; but I can't move; if I +could I would down on the carpet, and you should walk over me. Take care +of your feet, Miss, I am off of mine. Lord bless me! what's this? why as +I am a livin' sinner, it's half her frock hitched on to my coat button. +Now I know what that scream meant.' + +"'How do you do, Mr. Slick? When did you come?' 'Why I came--' he +is turned round, and shoved out o' hearin.' 'Xanthian marbles at the +British Museum are quite wonderful; got into his throat, the doctor +turned him upside down, stood him on his head, and out it came--his own +tunnel was too small.' 'Oh, Sir, you are cuttin' me.' 'Me, Miss! Where +had I the pleasure of seein' you before, I never cut a lady in my life, +could'nt do so rude a thing. Havn't the honour to recollect you.' 'Oh, +Sir, take it away, it cuts me.' Poor thing, she is distracted, I don't +wonder. She's drove crazy, though I think she must have been mad to come +here at all. 'Your hat, Sir.' 'Oh, that cussed French hat is it? Well, +the rim is as stiff and as sharp as a cleaver, that's a fact, I don't +wonder it cut you.' 'Eddis's pictur--capital painting, fell out of the +barge, and was drowned.' 'Having been beat on the shillin' duty; they +will attach him on the fourpence, and thimble rigg him out of that.' +'They say Sugden is in town, hung in a bad light, at the Temple +Church.'----'Who is that?' 'Lady Fobus; paired off for the Session; +Brodie operated.'----Lady Francis; got the Life Guards; there will be +a division to-night.'----That's Sam Slick; I'll introduce you; +made a capital speech in the House of Lords, in answer to +Brougham--Lobelia--voted for the bill--The Duchess is very fond +of----Irish Arms--' + +"Oh! now I'm in the entry. How tired I am! It feels shockin' cold here, +too, arter comin' out o' that hot room. Guess I'll go to the grand +musical party. Come, this will do; this is Christian-like, there is room +here; but the singin' is in next room, I will go and hear them. Oh! here +they are agin; it's a proper mob this. Cuss, these English, they can't +live out of mobs. Prince Albert is there in that room; I must go and see +him. He is popular; he is a renderin' of himself very agreeable to the +English, is Prince: he mixes with them as much as he can; and shews +his sense in that. Church steeples are very pretty things: that one to +Antwerp is splendiriferous; it's everlastin' high, it most breaks your +neck layin' back your head to look at it; bend backward like a hoop, and +stare at it once with all your eyes, and you can't look up agin, you are +satisfied. It tante no use for a Prince to carry a head so high as that, +Albert knows this; he don't want to be called the highest steeple, +cause all the world knows he is about the top loftiest; but he want's to +descend to the world we live in. + +"With a Queen all men love, and a Prince all men like, royalty has a +root in the heart here. Pity, too, for the English don't desarve to have +a Queen; and such a Queen as they have got too, hang me if they do. They +ain't men, they hante the feelin's or pride o' men in 'em; they ain't +what they used to be, the nasty, dirty, mean-spirited, sneakin' skunks, +for if they had a heart as big as a pea--and that ain't any great size, +nother--cuss 'em, when any feller pinted a finger at her to hurt her, or +even frighten her, they'd string him right up on the spot, to the lamp +post. Lynch him like a dog that steals sheep right off the reel, and +save mad-doctors, skary judges, and Chartist papers all the trouble of +findin' excuses. And, if that didn't do, Chinese like, they'd take the +whole crowd present and sarve _them_ out. They'd be sure to catch the +right one then. I wouldn't shed blood, because that's horrid; it shocks +all Christian people, philosophisin' legislators, sentimental ladies, +and spooney gentlemen. It's horrid barbarous that, is sheddin' blood; I +wouldn't do that, I'd jist hang him. A strong cord tied tight round his +neck would keep that precious mixtur, traitor's blood, all in as close +as if his mouth was corked, wired, and white-leaded, like a champagne +bottle. + +"Oh dear! these are the fellers that come out a travellin' among us, +and sayin' the difference atween you and us is 'the absence of loyalty.' +I've heard tell a great deal of that loyalty, but I've seen precious +little of it, since I've been here, that's a fact. I've always told you +these folks ain't what they used to be, and I see more and more, on +'em every day. Yes, the English are like their hosses, they are so fine +bred, there is nothin' left of 'em now but the hide, hair, and shoes. + +"So Prince Albert is there in that room; I must get in there and see +him, for I have never sot eyes on him since I've been here, so here +goes. Onder, below there, look out for your corns, hawl your feet in, +like turtles, for I am a comin'. Take care o' your ribs, my old 'coons, +for my elbows are crooked. Who wants to grow? I'll squeeze you out as a +rollin'-pin does dough, and make you ten inches taller. I'll make good +figures of you, my fat boys and galls, I know. Look out for scaldin's +there. Here I am: it's me, Sam Slick, make way, or I'll walk right over +you, and cronch you like lobsters. 'Cheap talkin', or rather thinkin', +sais I; for in course I couldn't bawl that out in company here; they +don't understand fun, and would think it rude, and ongenteel. I have to +be shockin' cautious what I say here, for fear I might lower our great +nation in the eyes of foreigners. I have to look big and talk big the +whole blessed time, and I am tired of it. It ain't nateral to me; and, +besides braggin' and repudiatin' at the same time, is most as bad as +cantin' and swearin'. It kinder chokes me. I thought it all though, and +said it all to myself. 'And,' sais I, 'take your time, Sam; you can't do +it, no how, you can fix-it. You must wait your time, like other folks. +Your legs is tied, and your arms is tied down by the crowd, and you +can't move an inch beyond your nose. The only way is, watch your chance, +wait till you can get your hands up, then turn the fust two persons +that's next to you right round, and slip between them like a turn stile +in the park, and work your passage that way. Which is the Prince? That's +him with the hair carefully divided, him with the moustaches. I've seed +him; a plaguy handsum man he is, too. Let me out now. I'm stifled, I'm +choked. My jaws stick together, I can't open 'em no more; and my wind +won't hold out another minute. + +"I have it now, I've got an idea. See if I don't put the leake into +'em. Won't I _do_ them, that's all? Clear the way there, the Prince is a +comin', _and_ so is the Duke. And a way is opened: waves o' the sea roll +hack at these words, and I walks right out, as large as life, and the +fust Egyptian that follers is drowned, for the water has closed +over him. Sarves him right, too, what business had he to grasp my +life-preserver without leave. I have enough to do to get along by my own +wit, without carry in' double. + +"'Where is the Prince? Didn't they say he was a comin'? Who was that +went out? He don't look like the Prince; he ain't half so handsum, that +feller, he looks, like a Yankee.' 'Why, that was Sam Slick.' 'Capital, +that! What a droll feller he is; he is always so ready! He desarves +credit for that trick.' Guess I do; but let old Connecticut alone; +us Slickville boys always find a way to dodge in or out embargo or no +embargo, blockade or no blockade, we larnt that last war. + +"Here I am in the street agin; the air feels handsum. I have another +invitation to-night, shall I go? Guess I will. All the world is at these +two last places, I reckin there will be breathin' room at the next; and +I want an ice cream to cool my coppers, shockin' bad.--Creation! It is +wus than ever; this party beats t'other ones all holler. They ain't no +touch to it. I'll jist go and make a scrape to old uncle and aunty, and +then cut stick; for I hante strength to swiggle my way through another +mob. + +"'You had better get in fust, though, hadn't you, Sam? for here you +are agin wracked, by gosh, drove right slap ashore atween them two fat +women, and fairly wedged in and bilged. You can't get through, and can't +get out, if you was to die for it.' 'Can't I though? I'll try; for I +never give in, till I can't help it. So here's at it. Heave off, put +all steam on, and back out, starn fust, and then swing round into the +stream. That's the ticket, Sam.' It's done; but my elbow has took that +lady that's two steps furder down on the stairs, jist in the eye, and +knocked in her dead light. How she cries! how I apologize, don't I? +And the more I beg pardon, the wus she carries on. But it's no go; if I +stay, I must fust fight somebody, and then marry _her_; for I've spiled +her beauty, and that's the rule here, they tell me.' + +"So I sets studen sail booms, and cracks on all sail, and steers for +home, and here I am once more; at least what's left of me, and that +ain't much more nor my shader. Oh dear! I'm tired, shockin' tired, +almost dead, and awful thirsty; for Heaven's sake, give me some lignum +vitae, for I am so dry, I'll blow away in dust. + +"This is a Swoi-ree, Squire, this is London society; this is rational +enjoyment, this is a meeting of friends, who are so infarnal friendly +they are jammed together so they can't leave each other. Inseparable +friends; you must choke 'em off, or you can't part 'em. Well, I ain't +jist so thick and intimate with none o' them in this country as all that +comes to nother. I won't lay down my life for none on 'em; I don't see +no occasion for it, _do you_? + +"I'll dine with you, John Bull, if you axe me; and I ain't nothin' above +particular to do, and the cab hire don't cost more nor the price of a +dinner; but hang me if ever I go to a Swoi-ree agin. I've had enough of +that, to last me _my_ life, I know. A dinner I hante no objection to, +though that ain't quite so bright as a pewter button nother, when you +don't know you're right and left, hand man. And an evenin' party, I +wouldn't take my oath I wouldn't go to, though I don't know hardly what +to talk about, except America; and I've bragged so much about that, I'm +tired of the subject. But a _Swoi-ree is the devil, that's a fact_." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. TATTERSALL'S OR, THE ELDER AND THE GRAVE DIGGER. + +"Squire," said Mr. Slick, "it ain't rainin' to-day; suppose you come +along with me to Tattersall's. I have been studyin' that place a +considerable sum to see whether it is a safe shop to trade in or no. But +I'm dubersome; I don't like the cut of the sportin' folks here. If I can +see both eends of the rope, and only one man has hold of one eend, and +me of the tother, why I know what I am about; but if I can only see my +own eend, I don't know who I am a pullin' agin. I intend to take a rise +out o' some o' the knowin' ones here, that will make 'em scratch their +heads, and stare, I know. But here we are. Cut round this corner, into +this Lane. Here it is; this is it to the right." + +We entered a sort of coach-yard, which was filled with a motley and +mixed crowd of people. I was greatly disappointed in Tattersall's. +Indeed, few things in London have answered my expectations. They have +either exceeded or fallen short of the description I had heard of them. +I was prepared, both from what I was told by Mr. Slick, and heard, from +others, to find that there were but very few gentlemen-like looking men +there; and that by far the greater number neither were, nor affected to +be, any thing but "knowing ones." I was led to believe that there +would be a plentiful use of the terms _of art_, a variety of provincial +accent, and that the conversation of the jockeys and grooms would be +liberally garnished with appropriate slang. + +The gentry portion of the throng, with some few exceptions, it was said, +wore a dissipated look, and had that peculiar appearance of incipient +disease, that indicates a life of late hours, of excitement, and +bodily exhaustion. Lower down in the scale of life, I was informed, +intemperance had left its indelible marks. And that still further down, +were to be found the worthless lees of this foul and polluted stream of +sporting gentlemen, spendthrifts, gamblers, bankrupts, sots, sharpers +and jockeys. + +This was by no means the case. It was just what a man might have +expected to have found a great sporting exchange and auction mart, of +horses and carriages, to have been, in a great city like London, had he +been merely told that such was the object of the place, and then left +to imagine the scene. It was, as I have before said, a mixed and motley +crowd; and must necessarily be so, where agents attend to bid for their +principals, where servants are in waiting upon their masters, and above +all, where the ingress is open to every one. + +It is, however, unquestionably the resort of gentlemen. In a great and +rich country like this, there must, unavoidably, be a Tattersall's; and +the wonder is, not that it is not better, but that it is not infinitely +worse. Lake all striking pictures, it had strong lights and shades. +Those who have suffered, are apt to retaliate; and a man who has been +duped, too often thinks he has a right to make reprisals. Tattersall's, +therefore, is not without its privateers. Many persons of rank and +character patronize sporting, from a patriotic but mistaken notion, +that it is to the turf alone the excellence of the English horse is +attributable. + +One person of this description, whom I saw there for a short time, I had +the pleasure of knowing before; and from him I learned many interesting +anecdotes of individuals whom he pointed out as having been once well +known about town, but whose attachment to gambling had effected their +ruin. Personal stories of this kind are, however, not within the scope +of this work. + +As soon as we entered, Mr. Slick called my attention to the carriages +which were exhibited for sale, to their elegant shape and "beautiful +fixins," as he termed it; but ridiculed, in no measured terms, their +enormous weight. "It is no wonder," said he, "they have to get fresh +hosses here every ten miles, and travellin' costs so much, when the +carriage alone is enough to kill beasts. What would Old Bull say, if +I was to tell him of one pair of hosses carryin' three or four people, +forty or fifty miles a-day, day in and day out, hand runnin' for a +fortnight? Why, he'd either be too civil to tell me it was a lie, or +bein' afeerd I'd jump down his throat if he did, he'd sing dumb, and let +me see by his looks, he thought so, though. + +"I intend to take the consait out of these chaps, and that's a fact. If +I don't put the leak into 'em afore I've done with them, my name ain't +Sam Slick, that's a fact. I'm studyin' the ins and the outs of this +place, so as to know what I am about, afore I take hold; for I feel +kinder skittish about my men. Gentlemen are the lowest, lyinest, +bullyinest, blackguards there is, when they choose to be; 'specially if +they have rank as well as money. A thoroughbred cheat, of good blood, +is a clipper, that's a fact. They ain't right up-and-down, like a cow's +tail, in their dealin's; and they've got accomplices, fellers that +will lie for 'em like any thing, for the honour of their company; and +bettin', onder such circumstances, ain't safe. + +"But, I'll tell you what is, if you have got a hoss that can do it, and +no mistake: back him, hoss agin hoss, or what's safer still, hoss agin +time, and you can't be tricked. Now, I'll send for Old Clay, to come in +Cunard's steamer, and cuss 'em they ought to bring over the old hoss and +his fixins, free, for it was me first started that line. The way old Mr. +Glenelg stared, when I told him it was thirty-six miles shorter to go +from Bristol to New York by the way of Halifax, than to go direct warn't +slow. It stopt steam for that hitch, that's a fact, for he thort I was +mad. He sent it down to the Admiralty to get it ciphered right, and it +took them old seagulls, the Admirals a month to find it out. + +"And when they did, what did they say? Why, cuss 'em, says they, 'any +fool knows that.' Says I, 'If that's the case you are jist the boys then +that ought to have found it out right off at oncet.' + +"Yes, Old Clay ought to go free, but he won't; and guess I am able to +pay freight for him, and no thanks to nobody. Now, I'll tell you what, +English trottin' is about a mile in two minutes and forty-seven seconds, +and that don't happen oftener than oncet in fifty years, if it was ever +done at all, for the English brag so there is no telling right. Old Clay +_can_ do his mile in two minutes and thirty-eight seconds. He _has_ done +that, and I guess he _could_ do more. I have got a car, that is as light +as whalebone, and I'll bet to do it with wheels and drive myself. I'll +go in up to the handle, on Old Clay. I have a hundred thousand dollars +of hard cash made in the colonies, I'll go half of it on the old hoss, +hang me if I don't, and I'll make him as well knowd to England as he is +to Nova Scotia. + +"I'll allow him to be beat at fust, so as to lead 'em on, and Clay is +as cunnin' as a coon too, if he don't get the word g'lang (go along) +and the Indgian skelpin' yell with it, he knows I ain't in airnest, and +he'll allow me to beat him and bully him like nothin'. He'll pretend to +do his best, and sputter away like a hen scratchin' gravel, but he won't +go one mossel faster, for he knows I never lick a free hoss. + +"Won't it be beautiful? How they'll all larf and crow, when they see me +a thrashin' away at the hoss, and then him goin' slower, the faster I +thrash, and me a threatenin' to shoot the brute, and a talkin' at the +tip eend of my tongue like a ravin' distracted bed bug, and offerin' +to back him agin, if they dare, and planken down the pewter all round, +takin' every one up that will go the figur', till I raise the bets to +the tune of fifty thousand dollars. When I get that far, they may +stop their larfin' till next time, I guess. That's the turn of the +fever--that's the crisis--that's my time to larf then. + +"I'll mount the car then, take the bits of list up, put 'em into right +shape, talk a little Connecticut Yankee to the old hoss, to set his +ebenezer up, and make him rise inwardly, and then give the yell," (which +he uttered in his excitement in earnest; and a most diabolical one it +was. It pierced me through and through, and curdled my very blood, it +was the death shout of a savage.) "G'lang you skunk, and turn out your +toes pretty," said he, and he again repeated this long protracted, +shrill, infernal yell, a second time. + +Every eye was instantly turned upon us. Even Tattersall suspended his +"he is five years old--a good hack--and is to be sold," to give time for +the general exclamation of surprise. "Who the devil is that? Is he +mad? Where did _he_ come from? Does any body know him? He is a devilish +keen-lookin' fellow that; what an eye he has! He looks like a Yankee, +that fellow." + +"He's been here, your honour, several days, examines every thing and +says nothing; looks like a knowing one, your honour. He handles a hoss +as if he'd seen one afore to-day, Sir." + +"Who is that gentleman with him?" + +"Don't know, your honour, never saw him before; he looks like a +furriner, too." + +"Come, Mr. Slick," said I, "we are attracting too much attention here, +let us go." + +"Cuss 'em," said he, "I'll attract more attention afore I've done yet, +when Old Clay comes, and then I'll tell 'em who I am--Sam Slick, +from Slickville, Onion County, State of Connecticut, United States of +America. But I do suppose we had as good make tracks, for I don't want +folks to know me yet. I'm plaguy sorry I let put that countersign of Old +Clay too, but they won't onderstand it. Critters like the English, that +know everything have generally weak eyes, from studyin' so hard. + +"Did you take notice of that critter I was a handlin' of, Squire? that +one that's all drawed up in the middle like a devil's darnin' needle; +her hair a standin' upon eend as if she was amazed at herself, and +a look out of her eye, as if she thort the dogs would find the steak +kinder tough, when they got her for dinner. Well, that's a great mare +that 'are, and there ain't nothin' onder the sun the matter of her, +except the groom has stole her oats, forgot to give her water, and let +her make a supper sometimes off of her nasty, mouldy, filthy beddin'. I +hante see'd a hoss here equal to her a'most--short back, beautiful rake +to the shoulder, great depth of chest, elegant quarter, great stifle, +amazin' strong arm, monstrous nice nostrils, eyes like a weasel, all +outside, game ears, first chop bone and fine flat leg, with no gum on no +part of it. She's a sneezer that; but she'll be knocked down for twenty +or thirty pound, because she looks as if she was used up. + +"I intended to a had that mare, for I'd a made her worth twelve hundred +dollars. It was a dreadful pity, I let go, that time, for I actilly +forgot where I was. I'll know better next hitch, for boughten wit is +the best in a general way. Yes, I'm peskily sorry about that mare. Well, +swappin' I've studied, but I doubt if it's as much the fashion here as +with us; and besides, swappin' where you don't know the county and its +tricks, (for every county has its own tricks, different from others), is +dangersome too. I've seen swaps where both sides got took in. Did ever I +tell you the story of the "Elder and the grave-digger?" + +"Never," I replied; "but here we are at our lodgings. Come in, and tell +it to me." + +"Well," said he, "I must have a glass of mint julip fust, to wash down +that ere disappointment about the mare. It was a dreadful go that. I +jist lost a thousand dollars by it, as slick as grease. But it's an +excitin' thing is a trottin' race, too. When you mount, hear the word +'Start!' and shout out 'G'lang!' and give the pass word." + +Good heavens! what a yell he perpetrated again. I put both hands to my +ears, to exclude the reverberations of it from the walls. + +"Don't be skeered, Squire; don't be skeered. We are alone now: there is +no mare to lose. Ain't it pretty? It makes me feel all dandery and on +wires like." + +"But the grave-digger?" said I. + +"Well," says he, "the year afore I knowed you, I was a-goin' in the +fall, down to Clare, about sixty miles below Annapolis, to collect some +debts due to me there from the French. And as I was a-joggin' on along +the road, who should I overtake but Elder Stephen Grab, of Beechmeadows, +a mounted on a considerable of a clever-lookin' black mare. The Elder +was a pious man; at least he looked like one, and spoke like one too. +His face was as long as the moral law, and p'rhaps an inch longer, and +as smooth as a hone; and his voice was so soft and sweet, and his tongue +moved so ily on its hinges, you'd a thought you might a trusted him with +ontold gold, if you didn't care whether you ever got it agin or no. He +had a bran new hat on, with a brim that was none of the smallest, to +keep the sun from makin' his inner man wink, and his go-to-meetin' +clothes on, and a pair of silver mounted spurs, and a beautiful white +cravat, tied behind, so as to have no bows to it, and look meek. If +there was a good man on airth, you'd a said it was him. And he seemed to +feel it, and know it too, for there was a kind of look o' triumph about +him, as if he had conquered the Evil One, and was considerable well +satisfied with himself. + +"'H'are you,' sais I, 'Elder, to-day? Which way are you from?" + +"'From the General Christian Assembly, sais he, 'to Goose Creek. We had +a "_most refreshin' time on't_." There was a great "_outpourin' of the +spirit_."' + +"'Well, that's awful,' says I, 'too. The magistrates ought to see to +that; it ain't right, when folks assemble that way to worship, to be +a-sellin' of rum; and gin, and brandy, and spirits, is it?' + +"'I don't mean that,' sais he, 'although, p'rhaps, there was too much of +that wicked traffic too, I mean the preachin'. It was very peeowerful; +there was "_many sinners saved_." + +"'I guess there was plenty of room for it,' sais I, 'onless that +neighbourhood has much improved since I knowed it last.' + +"'It's a sweet thing,' sais he. 'Have you ever "_made profession_," Mr. +Slick?' + +"'Come,' sais I to myself, 'this is cuttin' it rather too fat. I must +put a stop to this. This ain't a subject for conversation with such a +cheatin', cantin', hippocrytical skunk as this is. Yes,' sais I, 'long +ago. My profession is that of a clockmaker, and I make no pretension +to nothin' else. But come, let's water our hosses here and liquor +ourselves.' + +"And we dismounted, and gave 'em a drop to wet their mouths. + +"'Now,' sais I, a-takin' out of a pocket-pistol that I generally +travelled with, 'I think I'll take a drop of grog;' and arter helpin' +myself, I gives the silver cover of the flask a dip in the brook, (for +a clean rinse is better than a dirty wipe, any time), and sais I, 'Will +you have a little of the "_outpourin' of the spirit?_" What do you say, +Elder?' + +"'Thank you,' sais he, 'friend Slick. I never touch liquor, it's agin +our rules.' + +"And he stooped down and filled it with water, and took a mouthful, and +then makin' a face like a frog afore he goes to sing, and swellin' his +cheeks out like a Scotch bagpiper, he spit it all out. Sais he, 'That +is so warm, it makes me sick; and as I ain't otherwise well, from the +celestial exhaustion of a protracted meetin', I believe I will take a +little drop, as medicine.' + +"Confound him! if he'd a said he'd only leave a little drop, it would a +been more like the thing; for he e'en a'most emptied the whole into the +cup, and drank it off clean, without winkin'. + +"'It's a "_very refreshin' time_,"' sais I, 'ain't' it?' But he didn't +make no answer. Sais I, 'that's a likely beast of yourn, Elder,' and I +opened her mouth, and took a look at her, and no easy matter nother, I +tell you, for she held on like a bear trap, with her jaws. "'She won't +suit you,' sais he, "with a smile, 'Mr. Slick.' + +"'I guess not,' sais I. + +"'But she'll jist suit the French,' sais he. + +"'It's lucky she don't speak French then,' sais I, 'or they'd soon +find her tongue was too big for her mouth. That critter will never see +five-and-twenty, and I'm a thinkin', she's thirty year old, if she is a +day.' + +"'I was a thinkin', said he, with a sly look out o' the corner of his +eye, as if her age warn't no secret to him. 'I was a thinkin' it's time +to put her off, and she'll jist suit the French. They hante much for +hosses to do, in a giniral way, but to ride about; and you won't say +nothin' about her age, will you? it might endamnify a sale.' + +"'Not I,' sais I, 'I skin my own foxes, and let other folks skin +their'n. I have enough to do to mind my own business, without +interferin' with other people's.' + +"'She'll jist suit the French,' sais he; 'they don't know nothin' about +hosses, or any thing else. They are a simple people, and always will be, +for their priests keep 'em in ignorance. It's an awful thing to see them +kept in the outer porch of darkness that way, ain't it?' + +"'I guess you'll put a new pane o' glass in their porch,' sais I, 'and +help some o' them to see better; for whoever gets that mare, will have +his eyes opened, sooner nor he bargains for, I know.' + +"Sais he, 'she ain't a bad mare; and if she could eat bay, might do a +good deal of work yet,' and he gave a kinder chuckle laugh at his own +joke, that sounded like the rattles in his throat, it was so dismal and +deep, for he was one o' them kind of fellers that's too good to larf, +was Steve. + +"Well, the horn o' grog he took, began to onloosen his tongue; and I got +out of him, that she come near dyin' the winter afore, her teeth was +so bad, and that he had kept her all summer in a dyke pasture up to her +fetlocks in white clover, and ginn' her ground oats, and Indgian meal, +and nothin' to do all summer; and in the fore part of the fall, biled +potatoes, and he'd got her as fat as a seal, and her skin as slick as an +otter's. She fairly shined agin, in the sun. + +"'She'll jist suit the French', said he, 'they are a simple people and +don't know nothin', and if they don't like the mare, they must blame +their priests for not teachin' 'em better. I shall keep within the +strict line of truth, as becomes a Christian man. I scorn to take a man +in.' + +"Well, we chatted away arter this fashion, he a openin' of himself and +me a walk in' into him; and we jogged along till we came to Charles +Tarrio's to Montagon, and there was the matter of a thousand French +people gathered there, a chatterin', and laughin', and jawin', and +quarrellin', and racin', and wrastlin', and all a givin' tongue, like a +pack of village dogs, when an Indgian comes to town. It was town meetin' +day. + +"Well, there was a critter there, called by nickname, 'Goodish Greevoy,' +a mounted on a white pony, one o' the scariest little screamers, you +ever see since you was born. He was a tryin' to get up a race, was +Goodish, and banterin' every one that had a hoss to run with him. + +"His face was a fortin' to a painter. His forehead was high and narrer, +shewin' only a long strip o' tawny skin, in a line with his nose, the +rest bein' covered with hair, as black as ink, and as iley as a seal's +mane. His brows was thick, bushy and overhangin', like young brush-wood +on a cliff, and onderneath, was two black peerin' little eyes, that kept +a-movin' about, keen, good-natured, and roguish, but sot far into his +skull, and looked like the eyes of a fox peepin' out of his den, when +he warn't to home to company hisself. His nose was high, sharp, and +crooked, like the back of a reapin' hook, and gave a plaguy sight +of character to his face, while his thinnish lips, that closed on a +straight line, curlin' up at one eend, and down at the other, shewed, if +his dander was raised, he could be a jumpin', tarin', rampagenous devil +if he chose. The pint of his chin projected and turned up gently, as if +it expected, when Goodish lost his teeth, to rise in the world in rank +next to the nose. When good natur' sat on the box, and drove, it warn't +a bad face; when Old Nick was coachman, I guess it would be as well to +give Master Frenchman the road. + +"He had a red cap on his head, his beard hadn't been cut since last +sheep shearin', and he looked as hairy as a tarrier; his shirt collar, +'which was of yaller flannel, fell on his shoulders loose, and a black +hankercher was tied round his neck, slack like a sailor's. He wore a +round jacket and loose trowsers of homespun with no waistcoat, and his +trowsers was held up by a gallus of leather on one side, and of old cord +on the other. Either Goodish had growed since his clothes was made, or +his jacket and trowsers warn't on speakin' tarms, for they didn't meet +by three or four inches, and the shirt shewed atween them like a yaller +militia sash round him. His feet was covered with moccasins of ontanned +moose hide, and one heel was sot off with an old spur and looked sly +and wicked. He was a sneezer that, and when he flourished his great long +withe of a whip stick, that looked like a fishin' rod, over his head, +and yelled like all possessed, he was a caution, that's a fact. + +"A knowin' lookin' little hoss, it was too, that he was mounted on. Its +tail was cut close off to the stump, which squared up his rump, and made +him look awful strong in the hind quarters. His mane was "hogged" which +fulled out the swell and crest of the neck, and his ears being +cropped, the critter had a game look about him. There was a proper good +onderstandin' between him and his rider: they looked as if they had +growed together, and made one critter--half hoss, half man with a touch +of the devil. + +"Goodish was all up on eend by what he drank, and dashed in and out of +the crowd arter a fashion, that was quite cautionary, callin' out, 'Here +comes "the grave-digger." Don't be skeered, if any of you get killed, +here is the hoss that will dig his grave for nothin'. Who'll run a lick +of a quarter of a mile, for a pint of rum. Will you run?' said he, a +spunkin' up to the Elder, 'come, let's run, and whoever wins, shall go +the treat.' + +"The Elder smiled as sweet as sugar candy, but backed out; he was too +old, he said, now to run. + +"'Will you swap hosses, old broad cloth then?' said the other, 'because +if you will, here's at you.' + +"Steve took a squint at pony, to see whether that cat would jump or no, +but the cropt ears, the stump of a tail, the rakish look of the horse, +didn't jist altogether convene to the taste or the sanctified habits of +the preacher. The word no, hung on his lips, like a wormy apple, jist +ready to drop the fust shake; but before it let go, the great strength, +the spryness, and the oncommon obedience of pony to the bit, seemed to +kinder balance the objections; while the sartan and ontimely eend that +hung over his own mare, during the comin' winter, death by starvation, +turned the scale. + +"'Well,' said he, slowly, 'if we like each other's beasts, friend, and +can agree as to the boot, I don't know as I wouldn't trade; for I don't +care to raise colts, havin' plenty of hoss stock on hand, and perhaps +you do.' + +"'How old is your hoss?' said the Frenchman. + +"'I didn't raise it,' sais Steve, 'Ned Wheelock, I believe, brought her +to our parts.' + +"'How old do you take her to be?' + +"'Poor critter, she'd tell you herself, if she could,' said he, 'for +she knows best, but she can't speak; and I didn't see her, when she was +foalded.' + +"'How old do you think?' + +"'Age,' sais Steve, 'depens on use, not on years. A hoss at five, if ill +used, is old; a hoss at eight, if well used is young.' + +"'Sacry footry!' sais Goodish, 'why don't you speak out like a man? Lie +or no lie, how old is she?' + +"'Well, I don't like to say,' sais Steve, 'I know she is eight for +sartain, and it may be she's nine. If I was to say eight, and it turned +out nine, you might be thinkin' hard of me. I didn't raise it. You can +see what condition she is in; old hosses ain't commonly so fat as that, +at least I never, see one that was.' + +"A long banter then growed out of the 'boot money.' The Elder, asked +7 pounds 10s. Goodish swore he wouldn't give that for him and his hoss +together; that if they were both put up to auction that blessed minute, +they wouldn't bring it. The Elder hung on to it, as long as there was +any chance of the boot, and then fort the ground like a man, only givin' +an inch or so at a time, till he drawed up and made a dead stand, on one +pound. + +"Goodish seemed willing to come to tarms too; but like a prudent man, +resolved to take a look at the old mare's mouth, and make some kind of +a guess at her age; but the critter knowed how to keep her own secrets, +and it was ever so long, afore he forced her jaws open, and when he did, +he came plaguy near losin' of a finger, for his curiosity; and as he +hopped and danced about with pain, he let fly such a string of oaths, +and sacry-cussed the Elder and his mare, in such an all-fired passion, +that Steve put both his hands up to his ears, and said, 'Oh, my dear +friend, don't swear, don't swear; it's very wicked. I'll take your pony, +I'll ask no boot, if you will only promise not to swear. You shall have +the mare as she stands. I'll give up and swap even; and there shall be +no after claps, nor ruin bargains, nor recantin', nor nother, only don't +swear.' + +"Well, the trade was made, the saddles and bridles was shifted, and +both parties mounted their new hosses. 'Mr. Slick,' sais Steve,' who was +afraid he would lose the pony, if he staid any longer, 'Mr. Slick,' +sais he, 'the least said, is the soonest mended, let's be a movin', this +scene of noise and riot is shockin' to a religious man, ain't it?' and +he let go a groan, as long as the embargo a'most. + +"Well, we had no sooner turned to go, than the French people sot up a +cheer that made all ring again; and they sung out, "La Fossy Your," "La +Fossy Your," and shouted it agin and agin ever so loud. + +"'What's that?' sais Steve. + +"Well, I didn't know, for I never heerd the word afore; but it don't do +to say you don't know, it lowers you in the eyes of other folks. If you +don't know What another man knows he is shocked at your ignorance. But +if he don't know what you do, he can find an excuse in a minute. Never +say you don't know. + +"'So,' sais I, 'they jabber so everlastin' fast, it ain't no easy matter +to say what they mean; but it sounds like "good bye," you'd better +turn round and make 'em a bow, for they are very polite people, is the +French.' + +"So Steve turns and takes off his hat, and makes them a low bow, and +they larfs wus than ever, and calls out again, "La Fossy Your," "La +Fossy Your." He was kinder ryled, was the Elder. His honey had begun +to farment, and smell vinegery. 'May be, next Christmas,' sais he, 'you +won't larf so loud, when you find the mare is dead. Goodish and the old +mare are jist alike, they are all tongue them critters. I rather think +it's me,' sais he, 'has the right to larf, for I've got the best of this +bargain, and no mistake. This is as smart a little hoss as ever I see. +I know where I can put him off to great advantage. I shall make a good +day's work of this. It is about as good a hoss trade as I ever made. The +French don't know nothin' about hosses; they are a simple people, their +priests keep 'em in ignorance on purpose, and they don't know nothin'.' + +"He cracked and bragged considerable, and as we progressed we came +to Montagon Bridge. The moment pony sot foot on it, he stopped short, +pricked up the latter eends of his ears, snorted, squeeled and refused +to budge an inch. The Elder got mad. He first coaxed and patted, and +soft sawdered him, and then whipt and spurred, and thrashed him like any +thing. Pony got mad too, for hosses has tempers as well as Elders; so he +turned to, and kicked right straight up on eend, like Old Scratch, and +kept on without stoppin' till he sent the Elder right slap over his +head slantendicularly, on the broad of his back into the river, and he +floated down thro' the bridge and scrambled out at t'other side. + +"Creation! how he looked. He was so mad, he was ready to bile over; and +as it was he smoked in the sun, like a tea-kettle. His clothes stuck +close down to him, as a cat's fur does to her skin, when she's out in +the rain, and every step he took his boots went squish, squash, like an +old woman churnin' butter; and his wet trowsers chafed with a noise like +a wet flappin' sail. He was a shew, and when he got up to his hoss, and +held on to his mane, and first lifted up one leg and then the other to +let the water run out of his boots. I couldn't hold in no longer, but +laid back and larfed till I thought on my soul I'd fall off into the +river too. + +"'Elder,' says I, 'I thought when a man jined your sect, 'he could never +"_fall off agin_," but I see you ain't no safer than other folks arter +all.' + +"'Come,' says he, 'let me be, that's a good soul, it's bad enough, +without being larfed at, that's a fact. I can't account for this caper, +no how.' + +"'It's very strange too, ain't it! What on airth got into the hoss to +make him act so ugly. Can you tell, Mr. Slick?' + +"'Why,' sais I, 'he don't know English yet, that's all. He waited for +them beautiful French oaths that Goodish used. Stop the fust Frenchman +you meet and give him a shillin' to teach you to swear, and he'll go +like a lamb.' + +"I see'd what was the matter of the hoss by his action as soon as we +started; but I warn't agoin' for to let on to him about it. I wanted to +see the sport. Well, he took his hoss by the bridle and led him over the +bridge, and he follered kindly, then he mounted, and no hoss could go +better. Arter a little, we came to another bridge agin, and the same +play was acted anew, same coaxin', same threatenin', and same thrashin'; +at last pony put down his head, and began to shake his tail, a gettin' +ready for another bout of kickin'; when Steve got off and led him, and +did the same to every bridge we come to. + +"'It's no use,' sais I, 'you must larn them oaths, he's used to 'em +and misses them shocking. A sailor, a hoss, and a nigger ain't no good +without you swear at 'em; it comes kinder nateral to them, and they look +for it, fact I assure you. Whips wear out, and so do spurs, but a good +sneezer of a cuss hain't no wear out to it; it's always the same.' + +"'I'll larn him sunthin', sais he, 'when I get him to home, and out o' +sight that will do him good, and that he won't forget for one while, I +know.' + +"Soon arter this we came to Everett's public-house on the bay, and +I galloped up to the door, and went as close as I cleverly could on +purpose, and then reined up short and sudden, when whap goes the pony +right agin the side of the house, and nearly killed himself. He never +stirred for the matter of two or three minutes. I actilly did think he +had gone for it, and Steve went right thro' the winder on to the floor, +with a holler noise, like a log o' wood thrown on to the deck of a +vessel. 'Eugh!' says he, and he cut himself with the broken glass quite +ridikilous. + +"'Why,' sais Everett, 'as I am a livin' sinner this is "the +Grave-digger," he'll kill you, man, as sure as you are born, he is the +wickedest hoss that ever was seen in these clearins here; and he is +as blind as a bat too. No man in Nova Scotia can manage that hoss but +Goodish Greevoy, and he'd manage the devil that feller, for he is man, +horse, shark, and sarpent all in one, that Frenchman. What possessed you +to buy such a varmint as that?' + +"'Grave digger!' said doleful Steve, 'what is that?' + +"'Why,' sais he, 'they went one day to bury a man, down to Clare did +the French, and when they got to the grave, who should be in it but the +pony. He couldn't see, and as he was a feedin' about, he tumbled in head +over heels and they called him always arterwards 'the Grave-digger.'" + +"'Very simple people them French,' sais I, 'Elder; they don't know +nothin' about hosses, do they? Their priests keep them in ignorance on +purpose.' + +"Steve winced and squinched his face properly; and said the glass in +his hands hurt him. Well, arter we sot all to rights, we began to jog +on towards Digby. The Elder didn't say much, he was as chop fallen as +a wounded moose; at last, says he, 'I'll ship him to St. John, and sell +him. I'll put him on board of Captain Ned Leonard's vessel, as soon as I +get to Digby.' Well, as I turned my head to answer him, and sot eyes on +him agin, it most sot me a haw, hawin' a second time, he _did_ look so +like Old Scratch. Oh Hedges! how haggardised he was! His new hat was +smashed down like a cap on the crown of his head, his white cravat was +bloody, his face all scratched, as if he had been clapper-clawed by a +woman, and his hands was bound up with rags, where the glass cut 'em. +The white sand of the floor of Everett's parlour had stuck to his +damp clothes, and he looked like an old half corned miller, that was a +returnin' to his wife, arter a spree. A leetle crest fallen for what he +had got, a leetle mean for the way he looked, and a leetle skeered +for what he'd catch, when he got to home. The way he sloped warn't no +matter. He was a pictur, and a pictur I must say, I liked to look at. + +"And now Squire, do you take him off too, ingrave him, and bind him up +in your book, and let others look at it, and put onder it '_the Elder +and the Grave-digger_.'" + +"Well, when we got to town, the tide was high, and the vessel jist ready +to cast off, and Steve, knowin' how skeer'd pony was of the water, got +off to lead him, but the critter guessed it warn't a bridge, for he +smelt salt water on both sides of him, and ahead too, and budge he +wouldn't. Well, they beat him most to death, but he beat back agin with +his heels, and it was a drawd fight. Then they goes to the fence and +gets a great strong pole, and puts it across his hams, two men at each +eend of the pole, and shoved away, and shoved away, till they progressed +a yard or so; when pony squatted right down on the pole, throwd over the +men, and most broke their legs, with his weight. + +"At last, the captain fetched a rope, and fixes it round his neck, with +a slip knot, fastens it to the windlass, and dragged him in as they do +an anchor, and tied him by his bridle to the boom; and then shoved off, +and got under weigh. + +"Steve and I sot down on the wharf, for it was a beautiful day, and +looked at them driftin' out in the stream, and hystin' sail, while the +folks was gettin' somethin' ready for us to the inn. + +"When they had got out into the middle of the channel, took the breeze, +and was all under way, and we was about turnin' to go back, I saw the +pony loose, he had slipped his bridle, and not likin' the motion of the +vessel, he jist walked overboard, head fust, with a most a beautiful +splunge. + +"'_A most refreshin' time_,' said I, 'Elder, that critter has of it. I +hope _that sinner will be saved_.' + +"He sprung right up on eend, as if he had been stung by a galley nipper, +did Steve, 'Let me alone,' said he. 'What have I done to be jobed, that +way? Didn't I keep within the strict line o' truth? Did I tell that +Frenchman one mossel of a lie? Answer me, that, will you? I've been +cheated awful; but I scorn to take the advantage of any man. You +had better look to your own dealin's, and let me alone, you pedlin', +cheatin' Yankee clockmaker you.' + +"'Elder,' sais I, 'if you warn't too mean to rile a man, I'd give you a +kick on your pillion, that would send you a divin' arter your hoss; but +you ain't worth it. Don't call me names tho', or I'll settle your coffee +for you, without a fish skin, afore you are ready to swaller it I can +_tell_ you. So keep your mouth shut, my old coon, or your teeth might +get sun-burnt. You think you are angry with me; but you aint; you are +angry with yourself. You know you have showd yourself a proper fool for +to come, for to go, for to talk to a man that has seed so much of the +world as I have, bout "_refreshin' time_," and "_outpourin' of spirit_," +and "_makin' profession_" and what not; and you know you showd yourself +an everlastin' rogue, a meditatin' of cheatin' that Frenchman all +summer. It's biter bit, and I don't pity you one mossel; it sarves +you right. But look at the grave-digger; he looks to me as if he was a +diggin' of his own grave in rael right down airnest.' + +"The captain havin' his boat histed, and thinkin' the hoss would swim +ashore of hisself, kept right straight on; and the hoss swam this way, +and that way, and every way but the right road, jist as the eddies took +him. At last, he got into the ripps off of Johnston's pint, and they +wheeled him right round and round like a whip-top. Poor pony! he got +his match at last. He struggled, and jumpt, and plunged and fort, like +a man, for dear life. Fust went up his knowin' little head, that had no +ears; and he tried to jump up and rear out of it, as he used to did +out of a mire hole or honey pot ashore; but there was no bottom there; +nothin' for his hind foot to spring from; so down he went agin ever so +deep: and then he tried t'other eend, and up went his broad rump, that +had no tail; but there was nothin' for the fore feet to rest on nother; +so he made a summerset, and as he went over, he gave out a great long +end wise kick to the full stretch of his hind legs. + +"Poor feller! it was the last kick he ever gave in this world; he sent +his heels straight up on eend, like a pair of kitchen tongs, and the +last I see of him was a bright dazzle, as the sun shined on his iron +shoes, afore the water closed over him for ever. + +"I railly felt sorry for the poor old 'grave-digger,' I did upon my +soul, for hosses and ladies are two things, that a body can't help +likin'. Indeed, a feller that hante no taste that way ain't a man at +all, in my opinion. Yes, I felt ugly for poor 'grave-digger,' though I +didn't feel one single bit so for that cantin' cheatin', old Elder. So +when I turns to go, sais I, 'Elder,' sais I, and I jist repeated his own +words--'I guess it's your turn to laugh now, for you have got the best +of the bargain, and no mistake. Goodish and the old mare are jist alike, +all tongue, ain't they? But these French is a simple people, so they +be; they don't know nothin', that's a fact. Their priests keep 'em in +ignorance a puppus. + +"The next time you tell your experience to the great Christian meetin' +to Goose Creek, jist up and tell 'em, from beginnin' to eend, the story +of the--'_Elder and the Grave-digger_.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. LOOKING BACK. + +In the course of the evening, Mr. Hopewell adverted to his return as +a matter of professional duty, and spoke of it in such a feeling and +earnest manner, as to leave no doubt upon my mind, that we should not be +able to detain him long in this country, unless his attention should be +kept fully occupied by a constant change of scene. + +Mr. Slick expressed to me the same fear, and, knowing that I had been +talking of going to Scotland, entreated me not to be long absent, for he +felt convinced that as soon as he should be left alone, his thoughts and +wishes would at once revert to America. + +"I will try to keep him up," said he, "as well as I can, but I can't do +it alone. If you do go, don't leave us long. Whenever I find him dull, +and can't cheer him up no how I can fix it, by talk, or fun, or sight +seein' or nothin', I make him vexed, and that excites him, stirs him up +with a pot stick, and is of great sarvice to him. I don't mean actilly +makin' him wrathy in airnest, but jist rilin of him for his own good, by +pokin' a mistake at him. I'll shew you, presently, how I do it." + +As soon as Mr. Hopewell rejoined us, he began to inquire into the +probable duration of our visit to this country, and expressed a wish to +return, as soon as possible, to Slickville. + +"Come, Minister," said Mr. Slick, tapping him on the shoulder, "as +father used to say, we must 'right about face' now. When we are at home +let us think of home, when we are here, let us think of this place. Let +us look a-head, don't let's look back, for we can't see nothin' there." + +"Indeed, Sam," said he, with a sad and melancholy air, "it would be +better for us all if we looked back oftener than we do. From the errors +of the past, we might rectify our course for the future. Prospective sin +is often clothed in very alluring garments; past sin appears in all its +naked deformity. Looking back, therefore--" + +"Is very well," said Mr. Slick, "in the way of preachin'; but lookin' +back when you can't see nothin', as you are now, is only a hurtin' of +your eyes. I never hear that word, 'lookin' back,' that I don't think of +that funny story of Lot's wife." + +"Funny story of Lot's wife, Sir! Do you call that a funny story, Sir?" + +"I do, Sir." + +"You do, Sir?" + +"Yes, I do, Sir; and I defy you or any other man to say it ain't a funny +story." + +"Oh dear, dear," said Mr. Hopewell, "that I should have lived to see +the day when you, my son, would dare to speak of a Divine judgment as a +funny story, and that you should presume so to address me." + +"A judgment, Sir?" + +"Yes, a judgment, Sir." + +"Do you call the story of Lot's wife a judgment?" + +"Yes, I do call the story of Lot's wife a judgment; a monument of the +Divine wrath for the sin of disobedience." + +"What! Mrs. Happy Lot? Do you call her a monument of wrath? Well, well, +if that don't beat all, Minister. If you had a been a-tyin' of the +night-cap last night I shouldn't a wondered at your talkin' at that +pace. But to call that dear little woman, Mrs. Happy Lot, that dancin', +laughin' tormentin', little critter, a monument of wrath, beats all to +immortal smash." + +"Why who are you a-talkin' of, Sam?" + +"Why, Mrs. Happy Lot, the wife of the Honourable Cranbery Lot, of +Umbagog, to be sure. Who did you think I was a-talkin' of?" + +"Well, I thought you was a-talkin' of--of--ahem--of subjects too serious +to be talked of in that manner; but I did you wrong, Sam; I did you +injustice. Give me your hand, my boy. It's better for me to mistake and +apologize, than for you to sin and repent. I don't think I ever heard of +Mr. Lot, of Umbagog, or of his wife either. Sit down here, and tell me +the story, for 'with thee conversing, I forget all time.'" + +"Well, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "I'll tell you the ins and outs of it; +and a droll story it is too. Miss Lot was the darter of Enoch Mosher, +the rich miser of Goshen; as beautiful a little critter too, as ever +slept in shoe-leather. She looked for all the world like one of the +Paris fashion prints, for she was a parfect pictur', that's a fact. +Her complexion was made of white and red roses, mixed so beautiful, you +couldn't tell where the white eended, or the red begun, natur' had +used the blendin' brush so delicate. Her eyes were screw augurs, I tell +_you_; they bored right into your heart, and kinder agitated you, and +made your breath come and go, and your pulse flutter. I never felt +nothin' like 'em. When lit up, they sparkled like lamp reflectors; and +at other tunes, they was as soft, and mild, and clear as dew-drops that +hang on the bushes at sun-rise. When she loved, she loved; and when she +hated, she hated about the wickedest you ever see. Her lips were like +heart cherries of the carnation kind; so plump, and fall, and hard, you +felt as if you could fall to and eat 'em right up. Her voice was like a +grand piany, all sorts o' power in it; canary-birds' notes at one eend, +and thunder at t'other, accordin' to the humour she was in, for she +was a'most a grand bit of stuff was Happy, she'd put an edge on a knife +a'most. She was a rael steel. Her figur' was as light as a fairy's, and +her waist was so taper and tiny, it seemed jist made for puttin' an +arm round in walkin'. She was as ac_tive_ and springy on her feet as a +catamount, and near about as touch me-not a sort of customer too. +She actilly did seem as if she was made out of steel springs and +chicken-hawk. If old Cran, was to slip off the handle, I think I should +make up to her, for she is 'a salt,' that's a fact, a most a heavenly +splice. + +"Well, the Honourable Cranbery Lot put in for her, won her, and married +her. A good speculation it turned out too, for he got the matter of one +hundred thousand of dollars by her, if he got a cent. As soon as they +were fairly welded, off they sot to take the tour of Europe, and they +larfed and cried, and kissed and quarrelled, and fit and made up all +over the Continent, for her temper was as onsartain as the climate +here--rain one minit and sun the next; but more rain nor sun. + +"He was a fool, was Cranbery. He didn't know how to manage her. His +bridle hand warn't good, I tell you. A spry, mettlesome hoss, and a dull +critter with no action, don't mate well in harness, that's a fact. + +"After goin' every where, and every where else amost, where should they +get to but the Alps. One arternoon, a sincerely cold one it was too, and +the weather, violent slippy, dark overtook them before they reached the +top of one of the highest and steepest of them mountains, and they had +to spend the night at a poor squatter's shanty. + +"Well, next mornin', jist at day-break, and sun-rise on them everlastin' +hills is tall sun-rise, and no mistake, p'rhaps nothin was ever seen so +fine except the first one, since creation. It takes the rag off quite. +Well, she was an enterprisin' little toad, was Miss Lot too, afeered of +nothin' a'most; so nothin' would sarve her but she must out and have a +scramb up to the tip-topest part of the peak afore breakfast. + +"Well, the squatter there, who was a kind o' guide, did what he could to +dispersuade her, but all to no purpose; go she would, and a headstrong +woman and a runaway hoss are jist two things it's out of all reason to +try to stop; The only way is to urge 'em on, and then, bein' contr_ary_ +by natur', they stop of themselves. + +"'Well,' sais the guide, 'if you will go, marm, do take this pike staff, +marm,' sais he; (a sort of walkin'-stick with a spike to the eend of +it), 'for you can't get either up or down them slopes without it, it is +so almighty slippy there.' So she took the staff, and off she sot and +climbed and climbed ever so far, till she didn't look no bigger than a +snowbird. + +"At last she came to a small flat place, like a table, and then she +turned round to rest, get breath, and take a look at the glorious view; +and jist as she hove-to, up went her little heels, and away went her +stick, right over a big parpendicular cliff, hundreds and hundreds, and +thousands of feet deep. So deep, you couldn't see the bottom for the +shadows, for the very snow looked black down there. There is no way in, +it is so steep, but over the cliff; and no way out, but one, and that +leads to t'other world. I can't describe it to you, though. I have see'd +it since myself. There are some things too big to lift; some, too big +to carry after they be lifted; and some too grand for the tongue to +describe too. There's a notch where dictionary can't go no farther, as +well as every other created thing, that's a fact. P'rhaps if I was to +say it looked like the mould that that 'are very peak was cast in, afore +it was cold and stiff, and sot up on eend, I should come as near the +mark as any thing I know on. + +"Well away she slid, feet and hands out, all flat on her face, right +away, arter her pike staff. Most people would have ginn it up as gone +goose, and others been so frightened as not to do any thing at all; or +at most only jist to think of a prayer, for there was no time to say +one. + +"But not so Lot's 'wife. She was of a conquerin' natur'. She never gave +nothin' up, till she couldn't hold on no longer. She was one o' them +critters that go to bed mistress, and rise master; and just as she +got to the edge of the precipice, her head hangin' over, and her eyes +lookin' down, and she all but ready to shoot out and launch away into +bottomless space, the ten commandments brought her right short up. Oh, +she sais, the sudden joy of that sudden stop swelled her heart so big, +she thought it would have bust like a byler; and, as it was, the great +endurin' long breath she drew, arter such an alfired escape, almost +killed her at the ebb, it hurt her so." + +"But," said Mr. Hopewell, "how did the ten commandments save her? Do you +mean that figuratively, or literally. Was it her reliance on providence, +arising from a conscious observance of the decalogue all her life, or +was it a book containing them, that caught against some thing, and stopt +her descent. It is very interesting. Many a person, Sam, has been saved +when at the brink of destruction, by laying fast hold on the bible. Who +can doubt, that the commandments had a Divine origin? Short, simple and +yet comprehensive; the first four point to our duty to our Maker, the +last six, towards our social duties. In this respect there is a great +similarity of structure, to that excellent prayer given us--" + +"Oh, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "I beg your pardon, I do, indeed, I +don't mean that at all; and I do declare and vow now, I wasn't a playin' +possum with you, nother. I won't do it no more, I won't, indeed." + +"Well, what did you mean then?" + +"Why I meant her ten fingers, to be sure. When a woman clapper claws her +husband, we have a cant tarm with us boys of Slickville, savin' she gave +him her ten commandments." + +"And a very improper expression too, Sir," said Mr. Hopewell; "a very +irreverent, indecent, and I may say profane expression; I am quite +shocked. But as you say you didn't mean it, are sorry for it, and will +not repeat it again, I accept your apology, and rely on your promise. Go +on, Sir." + +"Well, as I was a savin', the moment she found herself a coasting of it +that way, flounder fashion, she hung on by her ten com--I mean her ten +fingers, and her ten toes, like grim death to a dead nigger, and it +brought her up jist in time. But how to get back was the question? To +let go the hold of any one hand was sartain death, and there was nobody +to help her, and yet to hold on long that way, she couldn't, no how she +could fix it. + +"So what does she do, (for nothin' equals a woman for contrivances), but +move one finger at a time, and then one toe at a time, till she gets +a new hold, and then crawls backward, like a span-worm, an inch at a +hitch. Well, she works her passage this way, wrong eend foremost, by +backin' of her paddles for the matter of half an hour or so, till she +gets to where it was roughish, and somethin' like standin' ground, when +who should come by but a tall handsome man, with a sort of a half coat, +half cloak-like coverin' on, fastened round the waist with a belt, and +havin' a hood up, to ambush the head. + +"The moment she clapt eyes on him, she called to him for help. 'Oh,' +sais she, 'for heaven's sake, good man, help me up! Jist take hold of my +leg and draw me back, will you, that's a good soul?' And then she +held up fust one leg for him, and then the other, most beseechin', but +nothin' would move him. He jist stopt, looked back for a moment and then +progressed agin. + +"Well, it ryled her considerable. Her eyes actilly snapped with fire, +like a hemlock log at Christmas: (for nothin' makes a woman so mad as a +parsonal slight, and them little ankles of hern were enough to move the +heart of a stone, and make it jump out o' the ground, that's a fact, +they were such fine-spun glass ones), it made her so mad, it gave her +fresh strength; and makin' two or three onnateral efforts, she got clear +back to the path, and sprung right up on eend, as wicked as a she-bear +with a sore head. But when she got upright agin, she then see'd what a +beautiful frizzle of a fix she was in. She couldn't hope to climb far; +and, indeed, she didn't ambition to; she'd had enough of that, for one +spell. But climbin' up was nothin', compared to goin' down hill without +her staff; so what to do, she didn't know. + +"At last, a thought struck her. She intarmined to make that man help +her, in spite of him. So she sprung forward for a space, like a painter, +for life or death, and caught right hold of his cloak. 'Help--help me!' +said she, 'or I shall go for it, that's sartain. Here's my puss, my +rings, my watch, and all I have got; but oh, help me! for the love of +God, help me, or my flint is fixed for good and all.' + +"With that, the man turned round, and took one glance at her, as if he +kinder relented, and then, all at once, wheeled back again, as amazed as +if he was jist born, gave an awful yell, and started off as fast as he +could clip, though that warn't very tall runnin' nother, considerin' the +ground. But she warn't to be shook off that way. She held fast to his +cloak, like a burr to a sheep's tail, and raced arter him, screamin' and +screechin' like mad; and the more she cried, the louder he yelled, till +the mountains all echoed it and re-echoed it, so that you would have +thought a thousand devils had broke loose, a'most. + +"Such a gettin' up stairs you never did see. + +"Well, they kept up this tantrum for the space of two or three hundred +yards, when they came to a small, low, dismal-lookin' house, when +the man gave the door a kick, that sent the latch a flyin' off to the +t'other eend of the room, and fell right in on the floor, on his face, +as flat as a flounder, a groanin' and a moanin' like any thing, and +lookin' as mean as a critter that was sent for, and couldn't come, and +as obstinate as a pine stump. + +"'What ails you?' sais she, 'to act like Old Scratch that way? You ought +to be ashamed of yourself, to behave so to a woman. What on airth is +there about me to frighten you so, you great onmannerly, onmarciful, +coward, you. Come, scratch up, this minute.' + +"Well, the more she talked, the more he groaned; but the devil a word, +good or bad, could she get out of him at all. With that, she stoops +down, and catches up his staff, and says she, 'I have as great a mind to +give you a jab with this here toothpick, where your mother used to spank +you, as ever I had in all my life. But if you want it, my old 'coon, you +must come and get it; for if you won't help me, I shall help myself.' + +"Jist at that moment, her eyes being better accustomed to the dim light +of the place, she see'd a man, a sittin' at the fur eend of the room, +with his back to the wall, larfin' ready to kill himself. He grinned +so, he showed his corn-crackers from ear to ear. She said, he stript his +teeth like a catamount, he look'd so all mouth. + +"Well, that encouraged her, for there ain't much harm in a larfin' man; +it's only them that never larf that's fearfulsome. So sais she 'My good +man, will you he so kind as to lend me your arm down this awful peak, +and I will reward you handsomely, you may depend.' + +"Well, he made no answer, nother; and thinkin' he didn't onderstand +English, she tried him in Italian, and then in broken French, and then +bungled out a little German; but no, still no answer. He took no more +notice of her and her mister, and senior, and mountsheer, and mynheer, +than if he never heerd them titles, but jist larfed on. + +"She stopped a minit, and looked at him full in the face, to see what he +meant by all this ongenteel behaviour, when all of a sudden, jist as she +moved one step nearer to him, she saw he was a dead man, and had been so +long there, part of the flesh had dropt off or dried off his face; and +it was that that made him grin that way, like a fox-trap. It was the +bone-house they was in. The place where poor, benighted, snow-squalled +stragglers, that perish on the mountains, are located, for their friends +to come and get them, if they want 'em; and if there ain't any body that +knows 'em or cares for 'em, why they are left there for ever, to dry +into nothin' but parchment and atomy, as it's no joke diggin' a grave in +that frozen region. + +"As soon as she see'd this, she never said another blessed word, but +jist walked off with the livin' man's pike, and began to poke her way +down the mountain as careful as she cleverly could, dreadful tired, and +awful frighted. + +"Well, she hadn't gone far, afore she heard her name echoed all round +her--Happy! Happy! Happy! It seemed from the echoes agin, as if there +was a hundred people a yelling it put all at once. + +"Oh, very happy,' said she, 'very happy, indeed; guess you'd find it +so if you was here. I know I should feel very happy if I was out of it, +that's all; for I believe, on my soul, this is harnted ground, and the +people in it are possessed. Oh, if I was only to home, to dear Umbagog +agin, no soul should ever ketch me in this outlandish place any more, +_I_ know.' + +"Well, the sound increased and increased so, like young thunder she was +e'en a'most skeared to death, and in a twitteration all over; and her +knees began to shake so, she expected to go for it every minute; when a +sudden turn of the path show'd her her husband and the poor squatter a +sarchin' for her. + +"She was so overcome with fright and joy, she could hardly speak--and it +warn't a trifle that would toggle her tongue, that's a fact. It was +some time after she arrived at the house afore she could up and tell the +story onderstandable; and when she did, she had to tell it twice over, +first in short hand, and then in long metre, afore she could make out +the whole bill o' parcels. Indeed, she hante done tellin' it yet, and +wherever she is, she works round, and works round, till she gets Europe +spoke of, and then she begins, 'That reminds me of a most remarkable +fact. Jist after I was married to Mr. Lot, we was to the Alps.' + +"If ever you see her, and she begins that way, up hat and cut stick, +double quick, or you'll find the road over the Alps to Umbagog, a little +the longest you've ever travelled, I know. + +"Well, she had no sooner done than Cranbery jumps up on eend, and sais +he to the guide, 'Uncle,' sais he, 'jist come along with me, that's a +good feller, will you? We must return that good Samaritan's' cane to +him; and as he must be considerable cold there, I'll jist warm his hide +a bit for him, to make his blood sarculate. If he thinks I'll put that +treatment to my wife, Miss Lot, into my pocket, and walk off with it, +he's mistaken in the child, that's all, Sir. He may be stubbeder than I +be, Uncle, that's a fact; but if he was twice as stubbed, I'd walk +into him like a thousand of bricks. I'll give him a taste of my breed. +Insultin' a lady is a weed we don't suffer to grow in our fields +to Umbagog. Let him be who the devil he will, log-leg or +leather-breeches--green-shirt or blanket-coat--land-trotter or +river-roller, I'll let him know there is a warrant out arter him, I +know." + +"'Why,' sais the guide, 'he couldn't help himself, no how he could work +it. He is a friar, or a monk, or a hermit, or a pilgrim, or somethin' +or another of that kind, for there is no eend to them, they are so many +different sorts; but the breed he is of, have a vow never to look at a +woman, or talk to a woman, or touch a woman, and if they do, there is a +penance, as long as into the middle of next week.' + +"'Not look at a woman?' sais Cran, 'why, what sort of a guess world +would this be without petticoats?--what a superfine superior tarnation +fool he must be, to jine such a tee-total society as that. Mint julip I +could give up, I _do_ suppose, though I had a plaguy sight sooner not +do it, that's a fact: but as for womankind, why the angeliferous +little torments, there is no livin' without _them_. What do you think, +stranger?' + +"'Sartainly,' said Squatter; 'but seein' that the man had a vow, why it +warn't his fault, for he couldn't do nothin' else. Where _he_ did wrong, +was _to look back_; if he hadn't a _looked back_, he wouldn't have +sinned.' + +"'Well, well,' sais Cran, 'if that's the case, it is a hoss of another +colour, that. I won't look back nother, then. Let him he. But he is +erroneous considerable.' + +"So you see, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "where there is nothin' to be +gained, and harm done, by this retrospection, as you call it, why I +think lookin' a-head is far better than--_lookin' back_." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. CROSSING THE BORDER. + +The time had now arrived when it was necessary for me to go to +Scotland, for a few days. I had two very powerful reasons for this +excursion:--first, because an old and valued friend of mine was there, +whom I had not met for many years, and whom I could not think of leaving +this country without seeing again; and secondly, because I was desirous +of visiting the residence of my forefathers on the Tweed, which, +although it had passed out of their possession many years ago, was still +endeared to me as their home, as the scene of the family traditions; and +above all, as their burial place. + +The grave is the first stage on the journey, from this to the other +world. We are permitted to escort our friends so far, and no further; it +is there we part for ever. It is there the human form is deposited, when +mortality is changed for immortality. This burial place contains no one +that I have ever seen or known; but it contains the remains of those +from whom I derived my lineage and my name. I therefore naturally +desired to see it. + +Having communicated my intention to my two American companions, I was +very much struck with the different manner in which they received the +announcement. + +"Come back soon, Squire," said Mr. Slick; "go and see your old friend, +if you must, and go to the old campin' grounds of your folks; though the +wigwam I expect has gone long ago, but don't look at anythin' else. +I want we should visit the country together. I have an idea from what +little I have seed of it, Scotland is over-rated. I guess there is a +good deal of romance about their old times; and that, if we knowed all, +their old lairds warn't much better, or much richer than our Ingian +chiefs; much of a muchness. Kinder sorter so, and kinder sorter not so, +no great odds. Both hardy, both fierce; both as poor as Job's Turkey, +and both tarnation proud, at least, that's my idea to a notch. + +"I have often axed myself what sort of a gall that splenderiferous, +'Lady of the Lake' of Scott's was, and I kinder guess she was a +red-headed Scotch heifer, with her hair filled with heather, and +feather, and lint, with no shoes and stockings to her feet, and that + + "Her lips apart + Like monument of Grecian art" + +meant that she stared with her eyes and mouth wide open, like other +county galls that never see'd nothing before--a regilar screetch owl +in petticoats. And I suspicion, that Mr. Rob Roy was a sort of thievin' +devil of a white Mohawk, that found it easier to steal cattle, than +raise them himself; and that Loch Katrin, that they make such a touss +about, is jist about equal to a good sizeable duck-pond in our country; +at least, that's my idea. For I tell you it does not do to follow arter +a poet, and take all he says for gospel. + +"Yes, let's go and see Sawney in his "Ould _Reeky_." Airth and seas! if +I have any nose at all, there never was a place so well named as that. +Phew! let me light a cigar to get rid of the fogo of it. + +"Then let's cross over and see "Pat at Home;" let's look into +matters and things there, and see what "Big Dan" is about, with his +"association" and "agitation" and "repail" and "tee-totals." Let's see +whether it's John Bull or Patlander that's to blame, or both on 'em; six +of one and half-a-dozen of tother. By Gosh! Minister would talk, more +sense in one day to Ireland, than has been talked there since the +rebellion; for common sense is a word that don't grow like Jacob's +ladder, in them diggins, I guess. It's about, as stunted as Gineral +Nichodemus Ott's corn was. + +"The Gineral was takin' a ride with a southerner one day over his farm +to Bangor in Maine, to see his crops, fixin mill privileges and what +not, and the southerner was a turning up his nose at every thing amost, +proper scorney, and braggin' how things growed on his estate down south. +At last the Gineral's ebenezer began to rise, and he got as mad as a +hatter, and was intarmed to take a rise out of him. + +"'So,' says he, 'stranger,' says he, 'you talk about your Indgian corn, +as if nobody else raised any but yourself. Now I'll bet you a thousand +dollars, I have corn that's growd so wonderful, you can't reach the top +of it a standin' on your horse.' + +"'Done,' sais Southener, and 'Done,' sais the General, and done it was. + +"'Now,' sais the Giniral, 'stand up on your saddle like a circus rider, +for the field is round that corner of the wood there.' And the entire +stranger stood up as stiff as a poker. 'Tall corn, I guess,' sais he, +'if I can't reach it, any how, for I can e'en a'most reach the top o' +them trees. I think I feel them thousand dollars of yourn, a marchin' +quick step into my pocket, four deep. Reach your corn, to be sure I +will. Who the plague, ever see'd corn so tall, that a man couldn't reach +it a horseback.' + +"'Try it,' sais the Gineral, as he led him into the field, where the +corn was only a foot high, the land was so monstrous, mean and so +beggarly poor. + +"'Reach it,' sais the Gineral. + +"'What a damned Yankee trick,' sais the Southener. 'What a take in +this is, ain't it?' and he leapt, and hopt, and jumped like a snappin' +turtle, he was so mad. Yes, common sense to Ireland, is like Indgian +corn to Bangor, it ain't overly tall growin', that's a fact. We must see +both these countries together. It is like the nigger's pig to the West +Indies "little and dam old." + +"Oh, come back soon, Squire, I have a thousand things, I want to tell +you, and I shall forget one half o' them, if you don't; and besides," +said he in an onder tone, "_he_" (nodding his head towards Mr. +Hopewell,) "will miss you shockingly. He frets horridly about his flock. +He says, ''Mancipation and Temperance have superceded the Scriptures +in the States. That formerly they preached religion there, but now they +only preach about niggers and rum.' Good bye, Squire." + +"You do right, Squire," said Mr. Hopewell, "to go. That which has to +be done, should be done soon, for we have not always the command of our +time. See your friend, for the claims of friendship are sacred; and see +your family tomb-stones also, for the sight of them, will awaken a train +of reflections in a mind like yours, at once melancholy and elevating; +but I will not deprive you of the pleasure you will derive from first +impressions, by stripping them of their novelty. You will be pleased +with the Scotch; they are a frugal, industrious, moral and intellectual +people. I should like to see their agriculture, I am told it is by far +the best in Europe. + +"But, Squire, I shall hope to see you soon, for I sometimes think duty +calls me home again. Although my little flock has chosen other shepherds +and quitted my fold, some of them may have seen their error, and wish to +return. And ought I not to be there to receive them? It is true, I am no +longer a labourer in the vineyard, but my heart is there. I should like +to walk round and round the wall that encloses it, and climb up, and +look into it, and talk to them that are at work there. I might give some +advice that would be valuable to them. The blossoms require shelter, and +the fruit requires heat, and the roots need covering in Winter. The vine +too is luxuriant, and must be pruned, or it will produce nothing but +wood. It demands constant care and constant labour; I had decorated the +little place with flowers too, to make it attractive and pleasant. + +"But, ah me! dissent will pull all these up like weeds, and throw them +out; and scepticism will raise nothing but gaudy annuals. The perennials +will not flourish without cultivating and enriching the ground; _their +roots are in the heart_. The religion of our Church, which is the same +as this of England, is a religion which inculcates love: filial love +towards God; paternal love to those committed to our care; brotherly +love, to our neighbour, nay, something more than is known by that term +in its common acceptation, for we are instructed to love our neighbour +as ourselves. + +"We are directed to commence our prayer with "Our Father." How much +of love, of tenderness, of forbearance, of kindness, of liberality, is +embodied in that word--children: of the same father, members of the same +great human family I Love is the bond of union--love dwelleth in the +heart; and the heart must be cultivated, that the seeds of affection may +germinate in it. + +"Dissent is cold and sour; it never appeals to the affections, but it +scatters denunciations, and rules by terror. Scepticism is proud +and self-sufficient. It refuses to believe in mysteries and deals in +rhetoric and sophistry, and flatters the vanity, by exalting human +reason. My poor lost flock will see the change, and I fear, feel it too. +Besides, absence is a temporary death. Now I am gone from them, they +will forget my frailties and infirmities, and dwell on what little good +might have been in me, and, perhaps, yearn towards me. + +"If I was to return, perhaps I could make an impression on the minds of +some, and recall two or three, if not more, to a sense of duty. What a +great thing that would be, wouldn't it? And if I did, I would get our +bishop to send me a pious, zealous, humble-minded, affectionate, able +young man, as a successor; and I would leave my farm, and orchard, and +little matters, as a glebe for the Church. And who knows but the +Lord may yet rescue Slickville from the inroads of ignorant fanatics, +political dissenters, and wicked infidels? + +"And besides, my good friend, I have much to say to you, relative to +the present condition and future prospects of this great country. I have +lived to see a few ambitious lawyers, restless demagogues, political +preachers, and unemployed local officers of provincial regiments, +agitate and sever thirteen colonies at one time from the government of +England. I have witnessed the struggle. It was a fearful, a bloody and +an unnatural one. My opinions, therefore, are strong in proportion as my +experience is great. I have abstained on account of their appearing like +preconceptions from saying much to you yet, for I want to see more of +this country, and to be certain, that I am quite right before I speak. + +"When you return, I will give you my views on some of the great +questions of the day. Don't adopt them, hear them and compare them with +your own. I would have you think for yourself, for I am an old man now +and sometimes I distrust my powers of mind. + +"The state of this country you, in your situation, ought to be +thoroughly acquainted with. It is a very perilous one. Its prosperity, +its integrity, nay its existence as a first-rate power, hangs by a +thread, and that thread but little better and stronger than a cotton +one. _Quem Deus vult perdere prius dementat_. I look in vain for that +constitutional vigour, and intellectual power, which once ruled the +destinies of this great nation. + +"There is an aberration of intellect, and a want of self-possession here +that alarms me. I say, alarms me, for American as I am by birth, and +republican as I am from the force of circumstances, I cannot but regard +England with great interest, and with great affection. What a beautiful +country! What a noble constitution! What a high minded, intelligent, and +generous people! When the Whigs came into office, the Tories were not +a party, they were the people of England. Where and what are they now? +Will they ever have a lucid interval, or again recognise the sound of +their own name? And yet, Sam, doubtful as the prospect of their recovery +is, and fearful as the consequences of a continuance of their malady +appear to be, one thing is most certain, _a Tory government is the +proper government for a monarchy, a suitable one for any country, but +it is the only one for England_. I do not mean an ultra one, for I am +a moderate man, and all extremes are equally to be avoided. I mean a +temperate, but firm one: steady to its friends, just to its enemies, and +inflexible to all. "When compelled to yield, it should be by the force +of reason, and never by the power of agitation. Its measures should be +actuated by a sense of what is right, and not what is expedient, for +to concede is to recede--to recede is to evince weakness--and to betray +weakness is to invite attack. + +"I am a stranger here. I do not understand this new word, Conservatism. +I comprehend the other two, Toryism and Liberalism. The one is a +monarchical, and the other a republican word. The term, Conservatism, +I suppose, designates a party formed out of the moderate men of both +sides, or rather, composed of Low-toned Tories and High Whigs. I do not +like to express a decided opinion yet, but my first impression is always +adverse to mixtures, for a mixture renders impure the elements of which +it is compounded. Every thing will depend on the preponderance of the +wholesome over the deleterious ingredients. I will analyse it carefully. +See how one neutralizes or improves the other, and what the effect of +the compound is likely to be on the constitution. I will request our +Ambassador, Everett, or Sam's friend, the Minister Extraordinary, +Abednego Layman, to introduce me to Sir Robert Peel, and will endeavour +to obtain all possible information from the best possible source. + +"On your return I will give you a candid and deliberate opinion." + +After a silence of some minutes, during which he walked up and down +the room in a fit of abstraction, he suddenly paused, and said, as if +thinking aloud-- + +"Hem, hem--so you are going to cross the border, eh? That northern +intellect is strong. Able men the Scotch, a little too radical in +politics, and a little too liberal, as it is called, in a matter of much +greater consequence; but a superior people, on the whole. They will give +you a warm reception, will the Scotch. Your name will insure that; and +they are clannish; and another warm reception will, I assure you, await +you here, when, returning, you again _Cross the Border_." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. THE IRISH PREFACE. + +Gentle reader, + +If an Irishman were asked what a preface was, he would, without +hesitation reply, that it was the last chapter of a book, and we should +unquestionably pronounce that answer to be a bull; for how can prefatory +remarks be valedictory ones? A few moments' consideration, however, +would induce us to withdraw such a hasty opinion, and convince us that +his idea is, after all, a correct one. It is almost always the part +that is last written, and _we_ perpetrate the bull, by placing it at the +beginning instead of the end of the book, and denominating our parting +words introductory remarks. + +The result of our arrangement is, that nobody reads it. The public do +not want to hear an apology or explanation, until it first ascertains, +whether the one can be accepted, or the other is required. This +contemptuous neglect arises from two causes, first because it is out +of place, and secondly because it too often contains a great deal +of twaddle. Unfortunately, one half of what is said in this world is +unmeaning compliment. A man who wishes to mark his respect for you, +among other inconvenient methods of shewing it, offers to accompany you +to the Hall. You are in consequence arrested in your progress. You are +compelled to turn on your pursuer, and entreat him not to come to the +door. After a good deal of lost time he is prevailed upon to return. +This is not fair. Every man should be suffered to depart in peace. + +Now, it is my intention to adopt the Irish definition. The word preface +is a misnomer. What I have to say I shall put into my last chapter, and +assign to it its proper place. I shall also adopt another improvement, +on the usual practice. I shall make it as short as possible, and speak +to the point. + +My intention then, gentle reader, was when I commenced this work, to +write but one volume, and at some future time to publish a second. +The materials, however, were so abundant, that selection became very +difficult, and compression much more so. To touch as many topics as I +designed, I was compelled to extend it to its present size, and I still +feel that the work is only half done. Whether I shall ever be able to +supply this deficiency I cannot say. I do not doubt your kind reception; +I have experienced too much indulgence and favour at your hands, to +suppose that you will withdraw it from one whom you have honoured with +repeated marks of approbation; but I entertain some fears that I shall +not be able to obtain the time that is necessary for its completion, +and that if I can command the leisure, my health will insist on a prior +claim to its disposal. + +If, however, I shall be enabled so to do, it is my intention, hereafter +to add another series of the Sayings and Doings of the Attache, so as to +make the work as complete as possible. + +I am quite confident it is not necessary to add, that the sentiments +uttered by Mr. Slick, are not designed either as an expression of those +of the author, or of the Americans who visit this country. With respect +to myself no disavowal is necessary; but I feel it due to my American +friends, for whose kindness I can never be sufficiently grateful, +and whose good opinion I value too highly to jeopardise it by any +misapprehension, to state distinctly, that I have not the most remote +idea of putting Mr. Slick forward, as a representative of any opinions, +but his own individual ones. They are peculiar to himself. +They naturally result from his shrewdness--knowledge of human +nature--quickness of perception and appreciation of the ridiculous on +the one hand; and on the other from his defective education, ignorance +of the usages of society, and sudden elevation, from the lower walks of +life, to a station for which he was wholly unqualified. + +I have endeavoured, as far as it was possible, in a work of this kind, +to avoid all personal allusions to _private_ persons, or in any way to +refer to scenes that may be supposed to have such a hearing. Should any +one imagine that he can trace any resemblance, to any private occurrence +I can only assure him that such resemblance is quite accidental. + +On the other hand, I have lost no opportunity of inculcating what I +conceive to be good sound constitutional doctrines. Loyal myself, a +great admirer of the monarchical form of government; attached to British +Institutions, and a devoted advocate for the permanent connexion +between the parent State, and its transatlantic possessions, I have not +hesitated to give utterance to these opinions. Born a Colonist, it is +natural I should have the feelings of one, and if I have obtruded +local matters on the notice of the reader oftener than may be thought +necessary, it must be remembered that an inhabitant of those distant +countries has seldom an opportunity of being heard. I should feel, +therefore, if I were to pass over in silence our claims or our +interests, I was affording the best justification for that neglect, +which for the last half century, has cramped our energies, paralized our +efforts, and discouraged and disheartened ourselves. England is liberal +in concessions, and munificent in her pecuniary grants to us; but is +so much engrossed with domestic politics, that she will bestow upon us +neither time nor consideration. + +It has been my object, therefore, to convey to the public some important +truths, under a humorous cover, which, without the amusement afforded by +the wrapper would never be even looked at. + +This portion of the work requires no apology. To do as I have done, is +a duty incumbent on any person who has the means of doing good, afforded +him by such an extensive circulation of his works, as I have been +honoured with. + +I have already expressed some doubts whether I shall be enabled to +furnish a second series of this work or not. In this uncertainty, I will +not omit this, perhaps my only opportunity, of making my most grateful +acknowledgments, for the very great measure of indulgence I have +received, from the public on both sides of the Atlantic, and of +expressing a hope that Mr. Slick, who has been so popular as a +Clockmaker may prove himself equally deserving of favour as "an +Attache." + +I have the honour to subscribe myself, + +Your most obedient servant, + +THE AUTHOR. + +London, July 1st., 1843. + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Attache, by Thomas Chandler Haliburton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATTACHE *** + +***** This file should be named 7823.txt or 7823.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/2/7823/ + +Produced by Gardner Buchanan + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Attache; or, Sam Slick in England + +Author: Thomas Chandler Haliburton + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7823] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on May 19, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATTACHE *** + + + + +This etext was produced by Gardner Buchanan. + + + + + +THE ATTACHE; OR, +SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. + +BY THOMAS CHANDLER HALIBURTON. + + + + +(Greek Text)--GREEK PROVERB. + +Tell you what, report my speeches if you like, but if +you put my talk in, I'll give you the mitten, as sure as +you are born.--SLICKVILLE TRANSLATION + + + + +London, July 3rd, 1843. + +MY DEAR HOPKINSON, + +I have spent so many agreeable hours at Edgeworth +heretofore, that my first visit on leaving London, will +be to your hospitable mansion. In the meantime, I beg +leave to introduce to you my "Attache," who will precede +me several days. His politics are similar to your own; +I wish I could say as much in favour of his humour. His +eccentricities will stand in need of your indulgence; +but if you can overlook these, I am not without hopes +that his originality, quaint sayings, and queer views of +things in England, will afford you some amusement. At +all events, I feel assured you will receive him kindly; +if not for his own merits, at least for the sake of + +Yours always, + +THE AUTHOR. + +To EDMUND HOPKINSON ESQ. +Edgeworth, +Gloucestershire. + + + + +CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. + +CHAPTER I. UNCORKING A BOTTLE +CHAPTER II. A JUICY DAY IN THE COUNTRY +CHAPTER III. TYING A NIGHT-CAP +CHAPTER IV. HOME AND THE SEA +CHAPTER V. T'OTHER EEND OF THE GUN +CHAPTER VI. SMALL POTATOES AND FEW IN A HILL +CHAPTER VII. A GENTLEMAN AT LARGE +CHAPTER VIII. SEEING LIVERPOOL +CHAPTER IX. CHANGING A NAME +CHAPTER X. THE NELSON MONUMENT +CHAPTER XI. COTTAGES +CHAPTER XII. STEALING THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE +CHAPTER XIII. NATUR' +CHAPTER XIV. THE SOCDOLAGER +CHAPTER XV. DINING OUT + + +CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. + +CHAPTER I. THE NOSE OF A SPY +CHAPTER II. THE PATRON; OR, THE COW'S TAIL +CHAPTER III. ASCOT RACES +CHAPTER IV. THE GANDER PULLING +CHAPTER V. THE BLACK STOLE +CHAPTER VI. THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE'S HORSE +CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN THE COUNTRY +CHAPTER VIII. BUNKUM +CHAPTER IX. THROWING THE LAVENDER +CHAPTER X. AIMING HIGH +CHAPTER XI. A SWOI-REE +CHAPTER XII. TATTERSALL'S +CHAPTER XIII. LOOKING BACK +CHAPTER XIV. CROSSING THE BORDER +CHAPTER XV. THE IRISH PREFACE + + + + +THE ATTACHE; OR SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +UNCORKING A BOTTLE. + +We left New York in the afternoon of -- day of May, 184-, +and embarked on board of the good Packet ship "Tyler" +for England. Our party consisted of the Reverend Mr. +Hopewell, Samuel Slick, Esq., myself, and Jube Japan, a +black servant of the Attache. + +I love brevity--I am a man of few words, and, therefore, +constitutionally economical of them; but brevity is apt +to degenerate into obscurity. Writing a book, however, +and book-making, are two very different things: "spinning +a yarn" is mechanical, and book-making savours of trade, +and is the employment of a manufacturer. The author by +profession, weaves his web by the piece, and as there is +much competition in this branch of trade, extends it over +the greatest possible surface, so as to make the most of +his raw material. Hence every work of fancy is made to +reach to three volumes, otherwise it will not pay, and +a manufacture that does not requite the cost of production, +invariably and inevitably terminates in bankruptcy. A +thought, therefore, like a pound of cotton, must be well +spun out to be valuable. It is very contemptuous to say +of a man, that he has but one idea, but it is the highest +meed of praise that can be bestowed on a book. A man, +who writes thus, can write for ever. + +Now, it is not only not my intention to write for ever, +or as Mr. Slick would say "for everlastinly;" but to make +my bow and retire very soon from the press altogether. +I might assign many reasons for this modest course, all +of them plausible, and some of them indeed quite dignified. +I like dignity: any man who has lived the greater part +of his life in a colony is so accustomed to it, that he +becomes quite enamoured of it, and wrapping himself up +in it as a cloak, stalks abroad the "observed of all +observers." I could undervalue this species of writing +if I thought proper, affect a contempt for idiomatic +humour, or hint at the employment being inconsistent with +the grave discharge of important official duties, which +are so distressingly onerous, as not to leave me a moment +for recreation; but these airs, though dignified, will +unfortunately not avail me. I shall put my dignity into +my pocket, therefore, and disclose the real cause of this +diffidence. + +In the year one thousand eight hundred and fourteen, I +embarked at Halifax on board the Buffalo store-ship for +England. She was a noble teak built ship of twelve or +thirteen hundred tons burden, had excellent accommodation, +and carried over to merry old England, a very merry party +of passengers, _quorum parva pars fui_, a youngster just +emerged from college. + +On the banks of Newfoundland we were becalmed, and the +passengers amused themselves by throwing overboard a +bottle, and shooting at it with ball. The guns used for +this occasion, were the King's muskets, taken from the +arm-chest on the quarter-deck. The shooting was execrable. +It was hard to say which were worse marksmen, the officers +of the ship, or the passengers. Not a bottle was hit: +many reasons were offered for this failure, but the two +principal ones were, that the muskets were bad, and that +it required great skill to overcome the difficulty +occasioned by both, the vessel and the bottle being in +motion at the same time, and that motion dissimilar. + +I lost my patience. I had never practised shooting with +ball; I had frightened a few snipe, and wounded a few +partridges, but that was the extent of my experience. I +knew, however, that I could not by any possibility shoot +worse than every body else had done, and might by accident +shoot better. + +"Give me a gun, Captain," said I, "and I will shew you +how to uncork that bottle." + +I took the musket, but its weight was beyond my strength +of arm. I was afraid that I could not hold it out steadily, +even for a moment, it was so very heavy--I threw it up +with a desperate effort and fired. The neck of the bottle +flew up in the air a full yard, and then disappeared. I +was amazed myself at my success. Every body was surprised, +but as every body attributed it to long practice, they +were not so much astonished as I was, who knew it was +wholly owing to chance. It was a lucky hit, and I made +the most of it; success made me arrogant, and boy-like, +I became a boaster. + +"Ah," said I coolly, "you must be born with a rifle in +your hand, Captain, to shoot well. Every body shoots well +in America. I do not call myself a good shot. I have not +had the requisite experience; but there are those who +can take out the eye of a squirrel at a hundred yards." + +"Can you see the eye of a squirrel at that distance?" +said the Captain, with a knowing wink of his own little +ferret eye. + +That question, which raised a general laugh at my expense, +was a puzzler. The absurdity of the story, which I had +heard a thousand times, never struck me so forcibly. But +I was not to be pat down so easily. + +"See it!" said I, "why not? Try it and you will find your +sight improve with your shooting. Now, I can't boast of +being a good marksman myself; my studies" (and here I +looked big, for I doubted if he could even read, much +less construe a chapter in the Greek Testament) "did not +leave me much time. A squirrel is too small an object +for all but an experienced man, but a "_large_" mark like +a quart bottle can easily be hit at a hundred yards--that +is nothing." + +"I will take you a bet," said he, "of a doubloon, you do +not do it again?" + +"Thank you," I replied with great indifference: "I never +bet, and besides, that gun has so injured my shoulder, +that I could not, if I would." + +By that accidental shot, I obtained a great name as a +marksman, and by prudence I retained it all the voyage. +This is precisely my case now, gentle reader. I made an +accidental hit with the Clockmaker: when he ceases to +speak, I shall cease to write. The little reputation I +then acquired, I do not intend to jeopardize by trying +too many experiments. I know that it was chance--many +people think it was skill. If they choose to think so, +they have a right to their opinion, and that opinion is +fame. I value this reputation too highly not to take +care of it. + +As I do not intend then to write often, I shall not +wire-draw my subjects, for the mere purpose of filling +my pages. Still a book should be perfect within itself, +and intelligible without reference to other books. Authors +are vain people, and vanity as well as dignity is indigenous +to a colony. Like a pastry-cook's apprentice, I see so +much of both their sweet things around me daily, that I +have no appetite for either of them. + +I might perhaps be pardoned, if I took it for granted, +that the dramatis personae of this work were sufficiently +known, not to require a particular introduction. Dickens +assumed the fact that his book on America would travel +wherever the English language was spoken, and, therefore, +called it "Notes for General Circulation." Even Colonists +say, that this was too bad, and if they say so, it must +be so. I shall, therefore, briefly state, who and what +the persons are that composed our travelling party, as +if they were wholly unknown to fame, and then leave them +to speak for themselves. + +The Reverend Mr. Hopewell is a very aged clergyman of +the Church of England, and was educated at Cambridge +College, in Massachusetts. Previously to the revolution, +he was appointed rector of a small parish in Connecticut. +When the colonies obtained their independence, he remained +with his little flock in his native land, and continued +to minister to their spiritual wants until within a few +years, when his parishioners becoming Unitarians, gave +him his dismissal. Affable in his manners and simple in +his habits, with a mind well stored with human lore, and +a heart full of kindness for his fellow-creatures, he +was at once an agreeable and an instructive companion. +Born and educated in the United States, when they were +British dependencies, and possessed of a thorough knowledge +of the causes which led to the rebellion, and the means +used to hasten the crisis, he was at home on all colonial +topics; while his great experience of both monarchical +and democratical governments, derived from a long residence +in both, made him a most valuable authority on politics +generally. + +Mr. Samuel Slick is a native of the same parish, and +received his education from Mr. Hopewell. I first became +acquainted with him while travelling in Nova Scotia. He +was then a manufacturer and vendor of wooden clocks. My +first impression of him was by no means favourable. He +forced himself most unceremoniously into my company and +conversation. I was disposed to shake him off, but could +not. Talk he would, and as his talk was of that kind, +which did not require much reply on my part, he took my +silence for acquiescence, and talked on. I soon found +that he was a character; and, as he knew every part of +the lower colonies, and every body in them, I employed +him as my guide. + +I have made at different times three several tours with +him, the results of which I have given in three several +series of a work, entitled the "Clockmaker, or the Sayings +and Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick." Our last tour terminated +at New York, where, in consequence of the celebrity he +obtained from these "Sayings and Doings" he received the +appointment of Attache to the American Legation at the +Court of St. James's. The object of this work is to +continue the record of his observations and proceedings +in England. + +The third person of the party, gentle reader, is your +humble servant, Thomas Poker, Esquire, a native of Nova +Scotia, and a retired member of the Provincial bar. My +name will seldom appear in these pages, as I am uniformly +addressed by both my companions as "Squire," nor shall +I have to perform the disagreeable task of "reporting my +own speeches," for naturally taciturn, I delight in +listening rather than talking, and modestly prefer the +duties of an amanuensis, to the responsibilities of +original composition. + +The last personage is Jube Japan, a black servant of the +Attache. + +Such are the persons who composed the little party that +embarked at New York, on board the Packet ship "Tyler," +and sailed on the -- of May, 184-, for England. + +The motto prefixed to this work + + (Greek Text) + +sufficiently explains its character. Classes and not +individuals have been selected for observation. National +traits are fair subjects for satire or for praise, but +personal peculiarities claim the privilege of exemption +in right of that hospitality, through whose medium they +have been alone exhibited. Public topics are public +property; every body has a right to use them without +leave and without apology. It is only when we quit the +limits of this "common" and enter upon "private grounds," +that we are guilty of "a trespass." This distinction is +alike obvious to good sense and right feeling. I have +endeavoured to keep it constantly in view; and if at any +time I shall be supposed to have erred (I say "supposed," +for I am unconscious of having done so) I must claim the +indulgence always granted to involuntary offences. + +Now the patience of my reader may fairly be considered +a "private right." I shall, therefore, respect its +boundaries and proceed at once with my narrative, having +been already quite long enough about "uncorking a bottle." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A JUICY DAY IN THE COUNTRY. + +All our preparations for the voyage having been completed, +we spent the last day at our disposal, in visiting +Brooklyn. The weather was uncommonly fine, the sky being +perfectly clear and unclouded; and though the sun shone +out brilliantly, the heat was tempered by a cool, bracing, +westwardly wind. Its influence was perceptible on the +spirits of every body on board the ferry-boat that +transported us across the harbour. + +"Squire," said Mr. Slick, aint this as pretty a day as +you'll see atween this and Nova Scotia?--You can't beat +American weather, when it chooses, in no part of the +world I've ever been in yet. This day is a tip-topper, +and it's the last we'll see of the kind till we get back +agin, _I_ know. Take a fool's advice, for once, and stick +to it, as long as there is any of it left, for you'll +see the difference when you get to England. There never +was so rainy a place in the univarse, as that, I don't +think, unless it's Ireland, and the only difference atween +them two is that it rains every day amost in England, +and in Ireland it rains every day and every night too. +It's awful, and you must keep out of a country-house in +such weather, or you'll go for it; it will kill you, +that's sartain. I shall never forget a juicy day I once +spent in one of them dismal old places. I'll tell you +how I came to be there. + +"The last time I was to England, I was a dinin' with our +consul to Liverpool, and a very gentleman-like old man +he was too; he was appointed by Washington, and had been +there ever since our glorious revolution. Folks gave him +a great name, they said he was a credit to us. Well, I +met at his table one day an old country squire, that +lived somewhere down in Shropshire, close on to Wales, +and says he to me, arter cloth was off and cigars on, +'Mr. Slick,' says he, 'I'll be very glad to see you to +Norman Manor,' (that was the place where he staid, when +he was to home). 'If you will return with me I shall be +glad to shew you the country in my neighbourhood, which +is said to be considerable pretty.' + +"'Well,' says I, 'as I have nothin' above particular to +see to, I don't care if I do go.' + +"So off we started; and this I will say, he was as kind +as he cleverly knew how to be, and that is sayin' a great +deal for a man that didn't know nothin' out of sight of +his own clearin' hardly. + +"Now, when we got there, the house was chock full of +company, and considerin' it warn't an overly large one, +and that Britishers won't stay in a house, unless every +feller gets a separate bed, it's a wonder to me, how he +stowed away as many as he did. Says he, 'Excuse your +quarters, Mr. Slick, but I find more company nor I expected +here. In a day or two, some on 'em will be off, and then +you shall be better provided.' + +"With that I was showed up a great staircase, and out o' +that by a door-way into a narrer entry and from that into +an old T like looking building, that stuck out behind +the house. It warn't the common company sleepin' room, +I expect, but kinder make shifts, tho' they was good +enough too for the matter o' that; at all events I don't +want no better. + +"Well, I had hardly got well housed a'most, afore it came +on to rain, as if it was in rael right down airnest. It +warn't just a roarin', racin', sneezin' rain like a +thunder shower, but it kept a steady travellin' gait, up +hill and down dale, and no breathin' time nor batin' +spell. It didn't look as if it would stop till it was +done, that's a fact. But still as it was too late to go +out agin that arternoon, I didn't think much about it +then. I hadn't no notion what was in store for me next +day, no more nor a child; if I had, I'd a double deal +sooner hanged myself, than gone brousing in such place +as that, in sticky weather. + +"A wet day is considerable tiresome, any where or any +way you can fix it; but it's wus at an English country +house than any where else, cause you are among strangers, +formal, cold, gallus polite, and as thick in the head-piece +as a puncheon. You hante nothin' to do yourself and they +never have nothin' to do; they don't know nothin' about +America, and don't want to. Your talk don't interest +them, and they can't talk to interest nobody but themselves; +all you've got to do, is to pull out your watch and see +how time goes; how much of the day is left, and then go +to the winder and see how the sky looks, and whether +there is any chance of holdin' up or no. Well, that time +I went to bed a little airlier than common, for I felt +considerable sleepy, and considerable strange too; so as +soon as I cleverly could, I off and turned in. + +"Well I am an airly riser myself. I always was from a +boy, so I waked up jist about the time when day ought to +break, and was a thinkin' to get up; but the shutters +was too, and it was as dark as ink in the room, and I +heer'd it rainin' away for dear life. 'So,' sais I to +myself, 'what the dogs is the use of gittin' up so airly? +I can't get out and get a smoke, and I can't do nothin' +here; so here goes for a second nap.' Well I was soon +off agin in a most a beautiful of a snore, when all at +once I heard thump-thump agin the shutter--and the most +horrid noise I ever heerd since I was raised; it was +sunthin' quite onairthly. + +"'Hallo!' says I to myself, 'what in natur is all this +hubbub about? Can this here confounded old house be +harnted? Is them spirits that's jabbering gibberish there, +or is I wide awake or no?' So I sets right up on my hind +legs in bed, rubs my eyes, opens my ears and listens +agin, when whop went every shutter agin, with a dead +heavy sound, like somethin' or another thrown agin 'em, +or fallin' agin 'em, and then comes the unknown tongues +in discord chorus like. Sais I, 'I know now, it's them +cussed navigators. They've besot the house, and are a +givin' lip to frighten folks. It's regular banditti.' + +"So I jist hops out of bed, and feels for my trunk, and +outs with my talkin' irons, that was all ready loaded, +pokes my way to the winder--shoves the sash up and outs +with the shutter, ready to let slip among 'em. And what +do you think it was?--Hundreds and hundreds of them nasty, +dirty, filthy, ugly, black devils of rooks, located in +the trees at the back eend of the house. Old Nick couldn't +have slept near 'em; caw caw, caw, all mixt up together +in one jumble of a sound, like "jawe." + +"You black, evil-lookin', foul-mouthed villains,' sais +I, 'I'd like no better sport than jist to sit here, all +this blessed day with these pistols, and drop you one +arter another, _I_ know.' But they was pets, was them +rooks, and of course like all pets, everlastin' nuisances +to every body else. + +"Well, when a man's in a feeze, there's no more sleep +that hitch; so I dresses and sits up; but what was I to +do? It was jist half past four, and as it was a rainin' +like every thing, I know'd breakfast wouldn't be ready +till eleven o'clock, for nobody wouldn't get up if they +could help it--they wouldn't be such fools; so there was +jail for six hours and a half. + +"Well, I walked up and down the room, as easy as I could, +not to waken folks; but three steps and a round turn +makes you kinder dizzy, so I sits down again to chaw the +cud of vexation. + +"'Ain't this a handsum fix?' sais I, 'but it sarves you +right, what busniss had you here at all? you always was +a fool, and always will be to the eend of the chapter. +--'What in natur are you a scoldin' for?' sais I: 'that +won't mend the matter; how's time? They must soon be a +stirrin' now, I guess.' Well, as I am a livin' sinner, +it was only five o'clock; 'oh dear,' sais I, 'time is +like women and pigs the more you want it to go, the more +it won't. What on airth shall I do?--guess, I'll strap +my rasor.' + +"Well, I strapped and strapped away, until it would cut +a single hair pulled strait up on eend out o' your head, +without bendin' it--take it off slick. 'Now,' sais I, +'I'll mend my trowsers I tore, a goin' to see the ruin +on the road yesterday; so I takes out Sister Sall's little +needle-case, and sows away till I got them to look +considerable jam agin; 'and then,' sais I, 'here's a +gallus button off, I'll jist fix that,' and when that +was done, there was a hole to my yarn sock, so I turned +too and darned that. + +"'Now,' sais I, 'how goes it? I'm considerable sharp set. +It must be gettin' tolerable late now.' It wanted a +quarter to six. 'My! sakes,' sais I, 'five hours and a +quarter yet afore feedin' time; well if that don't pass. +What shall I do next?' 'I'll tell you what to do,' sais +I, 'smoke, that will take the edge of your appetite off, +and if they don't like it, they may lump it; what business +have they to keep them horrid screetchin' infarnal, +sleepless rooks to disturb people that way?' Well, I +takes a lucifer, and lights a cigar, and I puts my head up +the chimbly to let the smoke off, and it felt good, I +promise _you_. I don't know as I ever enjoyed one half so +much afore. It had a rael first chop flavour had that cigar. + +"'When that was done,' sais I, 'What do you say to +another?' 'Well, I don't know,' sais I, 'I should like +it, that's a fact; but holdin' of my head crooked up +chimbly that way, has a' most broke my neck; I've got +the cramp in it like.' + +"So I sot, and shook my head first a one side and then +the other, and then turned it on its hinges as far as it +would go, till it felt about right, and then I lights +another, and puts my head in the flue again. + +"Well, smokin' makes, a feller feel kinder good-natured, +and I began to think it warn't quite so bad arter all, +when whop went my cigar right out of my mouth into my +bosom, atween the shirt and the skin, and burnt me like +a gally nipper. Both my eyes was fill'd at the same time, +and I got a crack on the pate from some critter or another +that clawed and scratched my head like any thing, and +then seemed to empty a bushel of sut on me, and I looked +like a chimbly sweep, and felt like old Scratch himself. +My smoke had brought down a chimbly swaller, or a martin, +or some such varmint, for it up and off agin' afore I +could catch it, to wring its infarnal neck off, that's +a fact. + +"Well, here was somethin' to do, and no mistake: here +was to clean and groom up agin' till all was in its right +shape; and a pretty job it was, I tell you. I thought +I never should get the sut out of my hair, and then never +get it out of my brush again, and my eyes smarted so, +they did nothing but water, and wink, and make faces. +But I did; I worked on and worked on, till all was sot +right once more. + +"'Now,' sais I, 'how's time?' 'half past seven,' sais I, +'and three hours and a half more yet to breakfast. Well,' +sais I, 'I can't stand this--and what's more I won't: I +begin to get my Ebenezer up, and feel wolfish. I'll ring +up the handsum chamber-maid, and just fall to, and chaw +her right up--I'm savagerous.'* 'That's cowardly,' sais +I, 'call the footman, pick a quarrel with him and kick +him down stairs, speak but one word to him, and let that +be strong enough to skin the coon arter it has killed +him, the noise will wake up folks _I_ know, and then we +shall have sunthin' to eat.' + +[* Footnote: The word "savagerous" is not of "Yankee" +but of "Western origin."--Its use in this place is best +explained by the following extract from the Third Series +of the Clockmaker. "In order that the sketch which I am +now about to give may be fully understood, it may be +necessary to request the reader to recollect that Mr. +Slick is a _Yankee_, a designation the origin of which +is now not very obvious, but it has been assumed by, and +conceded by common consent to, the inhabitants of New +England. It is a name, though sometimes satirically used, +of which they have great reason to be proud, as it is +descriptive of a most cultivated, intelligent, enterprising, +frugal, and industrious population, who may well challenge +a comparison with the inhabitants of any other country +in the world; but it has only a local application. + +"The United States cover an immense extent of territory, +and the inhabitants of different parts of the Union differ +as widely in character, feelings, and even in appearance, +as the people of different countries usually do. These +sections differ also in dialect and in humour, as much +as in other things, and to as great, if not a greater +extent, than the natives of different parts of Great +Britain vary from each other. It is customary in Europe +to call all Americans, Yankees; but it is as much a +misnomer as it would be to call all Europeans Frenchmen. +Throughout these works it will be observed, that Mr. +Slick's pronunciation is that of the Yankee, or an +inhabitant of the _rural districts_ of New England. His +conversation is generally purely so; but in some instances +he uses, as his countrymen frequently do from choice, +phrases which, though Americanisms, are not of Eastern +origin. Wholly to exclude these would be to violate the +usages of American life; to introduce them oftener would +be to confound two dissimilar dialects, and to make an +equal departure from the truth. Every section has its +own characteristic dialect, a very small portion of which +it has imparted to its neighbours. The dry, quaint humour +of New England is occasionally found in the west, and +the rich gasconade and exaggerative language of the west +migrates not unfrequently to the east. This idiomatic +exchange is perceptibly on the increase. It arises from +the travelling propensities of the Americans, and the +constant intercourse mutually maintained by the inhabitants +of the different States. A droll or an original expression +is thus imported and adopted, and, though not indigenous, +soon becomes engrafted on the general stock of the language +of the country."--3rd Series, p. 142.] + +"I was ready to bile right over, when as luck would have +it, the rain stopt all of a sudden, the sun broke out o' +prison, and I thought I never seed any thing look so +green and so beautiful as the country did. 'Come,' sais +I, 'now for a walk down the avenue, and a comfortable +smoke, and if the man at the gate is up and stirrin', I +will just pop in and breakfast with him and his wife. +There is some natur there, but here it's all cussed rooks +and chimbly swallers, and heavy men and fat women, and +lazy helps, and Sunday every day in the week.' So I fills +my cigar-case and outs into the passage. + +"But here was a fix! One of the doors opened into the +great staircase, and which was it? 'Ay,' sais I, 'which +is it, do you know?' 'Upon my soul, I don't know,' sais +I; 'but try, it's no use to be caged up here like a +painter, and out I will, that's a fact.' + +"So I stops and studies, 'that's it,' sais I, and I opens +a door: it was a bedroom--it was the likely chambermaid's. + +"'Softly, Sir,' sais she, a puttin' of her finger on her +lip, 'don't make no noise; Missus will hear you.' + +"'Yes,' sais I, 'I won't make no noise;' and I outs and +shuts the door too arter me gently. + +"'What next?' sais I; 'why you fool, you,' sais I, 'why +didn't you ax the sarvant maid, which door it was?' 'Why +I was so conflastrigated,' sais I, 'I didn't think of +it. Try that door,' well I opened another, it belonged +to one o' the horrid hansum stranger galls that dined at +table yesterday. When she seed me, she gave a scream, +popt her head onder the clothes, like a terrapin, and +vanished--well I vanished too. + +"'Ain't this too bad?' sais I; 'I wish I could open a +man's door, I'd lick him out of spite; I hope I may be +shot if I don't, and I doubled up my fist, for I didn't +like it a spec, and opened another door--it was the +housekeeper's. 'Come,' sais I, 'I won't be balked no +more.' She sot up and fixed her cap. A woman never forgets +the becomins. + +'"Anything I can do for you, Sir?' sais she, and she +raelly did look pretty; all good natur'd people, it +appears to me, do look so. + +"'Will you be so good as to tell me, which door leads to +the staircase, Marm?' sais I. + +"'Oh, is that all?' sais she, (I suppose, she thort I +wanted her to get up and get breakfast for me,) 'it's +the first on the right, and she fixed her cap agin' and +laid down, and I took the first on the right and off like +a blowed out candle. There was the staircase. I walked +down, took my hat, onbolted the outer door, and what a +beautiful day was there. I lit my cigar, I breathed +freely, and I strolled down the avenue. + +"The bushes glistened, and the grass glistened, and the +air was sweet, and the birds sung, and there was natur' +once more. I walked to the lodge; they had breakfasted +had the old folks, so I chatted away with them for a +considerable of a spell about matters and things in +general, and then turned towards the house agin'. 'Hallo!' +sais I, 'what's this? warn't that a drop of rain?' I +looks up, it was another shower by Gosh. I pulls foot +for dear life: it was tall walking you may depend, but +the shower wins, (comprehens_ive_ as my legs be), and +down it comes, as hard as all possest. 'Take it easy, +Sam,' sais I, 'your flint is fixed; you are wet +thro'--runnin' won't dry you,' and I settled down to a +careless walk, quite desperate. + +"'Nothin' in natur', unless it is an Ingin, is so +treacherous as the climate here. It jist clears up on +purpose I do believe, to tempt you out without your +umbreller, and jist as sure as you trust it and leave it +to home, it clouds right up, and sarves you out for it--it +does indeed. What a sight of new clothes I've spilte +here, for the rain has a sort of dye in it. It stains +so, it alters the colour of the cloth, for the smoke is +filled with gas and all sorts of chemicals. Well, back +I goes to my room agin' to the rooks, chimbly swallers, +and all, leavin' a great endurin' streak of wet arter me +all the way, like a cracked pitcher that leaks; onriggs, +and puts on dry clothes from head to foot. + +"By this time breakfast is ready; but the English don't +do nothin' like other folks; I don't know whether it's +affectation, or bein' wrong in the head--a little of both +I guess. Now where do you suppose the solid part of +breakfast is, Squire? Why, it's on the side-board--I hope +I may be shot if it ain't--well, the tea and coffee are +on the table, to make it as onconvenient as possible. + +"Says I, to the lady of the house, as I got up to help +myself, for I was hungry enough to make beef ache I know. +'Aunty,' sais I, 'you'll excuse me, but why don't you +put the eatables on the table, or else put the tea on +the side-board? They're like man and wife, they don't +ought to be separated, them two.' + +"She looked at me, oh what a look of pity it was", as +much as to say, 'Where have you been all your born days, +not to know better nor that?--but I guess you don't know +better in the States--how could you know any thing there?' +But she only said it was the custom here, for she was a +very purlite old woman, was Aunty. + +"Well sense is sense, let it grow where it will, and I +guess we raise about the best kind, which is common sense, +and I warn't to be put down with short metre, arter that +fashion. So I tried the old man; sais I, 'Uncle,' sais +I, 'if you will divorce the eatables from the drinkables +that way, why not let the servants come and tend. It's +monstrous onconvenient and ridikilous to be a jumpin' up +for everlastinly that way; you can't sit still one blessed +minit.' + +"'We think it pleasant,' said he, 'sometimes to dispense +with their attendance.' + +"'Exactly,' sais I, 'then dispense with sarvants at +dinner, for when the wine is in, the wit is out.' (I said +that to compliment him, for the critter had no wit in at +no time,) 'and they hear all the talk. But at breakfast +every one is only half awake, (especially when you rise +so airly as you do in this country,' sais I, but the old +critter couldn't see a joke, even if he felt it, and he +didn't know I was a funnin'.) 'Folks are considerably +sharp set at breakfast,' sais I, 'and not very talkat_ive_. +That's the right time to have sarvants to tend on you.' + +"'What an idea!' said he, and he puckered up his pictur, +and the way he stared was a caution to an owl. + +"Well, we sot and sot till I was tired, so thinks I, +'what's next?' for it's rainin' agin as hard as ever.' +So I took a turn in the study to sarch for a book, but +there was nothin' there, but a Guide to the Sessions, +Burn's Justice, and a book of London club rules, and two +or three novels. He said he got books from the sarkilatin' +library. + +"'Lunch is ready.' + +"'What, eatin' agin? My goody!' thinks I, 'if you are so +fond of it, why the plague don't you begin airly? If +you'd a had it at five o'clock this morning, I'd a done +justice to it; now I couldn't touch it if I was to die.' + +"There it was, though. Help yourself, and no thanks, for +there is no sarvants agin. The rule here is, no talk no +sarvants--and when it's all talk, it's all sarvants. + +"Thinks I to myself, 'now, what shall I do till dinner-time, +for it rains so there is no stirrin' out?--Waiter, where +is eldest son?--he and I will have a game of billiards, +I guess.' + +"'He is laying down, sir.' + +"'Shows his sense,' sais I, 'I see, he is not the fool +I took him to be. If I could sleep in the day, I'de turn +in too. Where is second son?' + +"'Left this mornin' in the close carriage, sir.' + +"'Oh cuss him, it was him then was it?' + +"'What, Sir?' + +"'That woke them confounded rooks up, out o' their fust +nap, and kick't up such a bobbery. Where is the Parson?' + +"'Which one, Sir?' + +"'The one that's so fond of fishing.' + +"'Ain't up yet, Sir.' + +"'Well, the old boy, that wore breeches.' + +"Out on a sick visit to one of the cottages, Sir.' + +"When he comes in, send him to me, I'm shockin' sick.' + +"With that I goes to look arter the two pretty galls in +the drawin' room; and there was the ladies a chatterin' +away like any thing. The moment I came in it was as dumb +as a quaker's meetin'. They all hauled up at once, like +a stage-coach to an inn-door, from a hand-gallop to a +stock still stand. I seed men warn't wanted there, it +warn't the custom so airly, so I polled out o' that creek, +starn first. They don't like men in the mornin', in +England, do the ladies; they think 'em in the way. + +"'What on airth, shall I do?' says I, 'it's nothin' but +rain, rain, rain--here in this awful dismal country. +Nobody smokes, nobody talks, nobody plays cards, nobody +fires at a mark, and nobody trades; only let me get thro' +this juicy day, and I am done: let me get out of this +scrape, and if I am caught agin, I'll give you leave to +tell me of it, in meetin'. It tante pretty, I do suppose +to be a jawin' with the butler, but I'll make an excuse +for a talk, for talk comes kinder nateral to me, like +suction to a snipe.' + +"'Waiter?' + +"'Sir.' + +"'Galls don't like to be tree'd here of a mornin' do +they?' + +"'Sir.' + +"'It's usual for the ladies,' sais I, 'to be together in +the airly part of the forenoon here, ain't it, afore the +gentlemen jine them?' + +'"Yes, Sir.' + +"'It puts me in mind,' sais I, 'of the old seals down to +Sable Island--you know where Sable Isle is, don't you?' + +"'Yes, Sir, it's in the cathedral down here.' + +"'No, no, not that, it's an island on the coast of Nova +Scotia. You know where that is sartainly.' + +"'I never heard of it, Sir.' + +"'Well, Lord love you! you know what an old seal is?' + +"'Oh, yes, sir, I'll get you my master's in a moment.' + +And off he sot full chisel. + +"Cus him! he is as stupid as a rook, that crittur, it's +no use to tell him a story, and now I think of it, I will +go and smoke them black imps of darkness,--the rooks.' + +"So I goes up stairs, as slowly as I cleverly could, jist +liftin' one foot arter another as if it had a fifty-six +tied to it, on pupus to spend time; lit a cigar, opened +the window nearest the rooks, and smoked, but oh the rain +killed all the smoke in a minite; it didn't even make +one on 'em sneeze. 'Dull musick this, Sam,' sais I, 'ain't +it? Tell you what: I'll put on my ile-skin, take an +umbreller and go and talk to the stable helps, for I feel +as lonely as a catamount, and as dull as a bachelor +beaver. So I trampousses off to the stable, and says I +to the head man, 'A smart little hoss that,' sais I, 'you +are a cleaning of: he looks like a first chop article +that.' + +"'Y mae',' sais he. + +"'Hullo,' sais I, 'what in natur' is this? Is it him that +can't speak English, or me that can't onderstand? for +one on us is a fool, that's sartain. I'll try him agin. + +"So I sais to him, 'He looks,' sais I, 'as if he'd trot +a considerable good stick, that horse,' sais I, 'I guess +he is a goer.' + +"Y' mae, ye un trotter da,' sais he. + +"'Creation!' sais I, 'if this don't beat gineral trainin'. +I have heerd in my time, broken French, broken Scotch, +broken Irish, broken Yankee, broken Nigger, and broken +Indgin; but I have hearn two pure gene_wine_ languages +to-day, and no mistake, rael rook, and rael Britton, and +I don't exactly know which I like wus. It's no use to +stand talkin' to this critter. Good-bye,' sais I. + +"Now what do you think he said? Why, you would suppose +he'd say good-bye too, wouldn't you? Well, he didn't, +nor nothin' like it, but he jist ups, and sais, +'Forwelloaugh,' he did, upon my soul. I never felt so +stumpt afore in all my life. Sais I, 'Friend, here is +half a dollar for you; it arn't often I'm brought to a +dead stare, and when I am, I am willin' to pay for it.' + +"There's two languages, Squire, that's univarsal: the +language of love, and the language of money; the galls +onderstand the one, and the men onderstand the other, +all the wide world over, from Canton to Niagara. I no +sooner showed him the half dollar, than it walked into +his pocket, a plaguy sight quicker than it will walk out, +I guess. + +"Sais I, 'Friend, you've taken the consait out of me +properly. Captain Hall said there warn't a man, woman, +or child, in the whole of the thirteen united univarsal +worlds of our great Republic, that could speak pure +English, and I was a goin' to kick him for it; but he is +right, arter all. There ain't one livin' soul on us can; +I don't believe they ever as much as heerd it, for I +never did, till this blessed day, and there are few things +I haven't either see'd, or heern tell of. Yes, we can't +speak English, do you take?' 'Dim comrag,' sais he, which +in Yankee, means, "that's no English," and he stood, +looked puzzled, and scratched his head, rael hansum, 'Dim +comrag,' sais he. + +"Well, it made me larf spiteful. I felt kinder wicked, +and as _I_ had a hat on, and I couldn't scratch my head, +I stood jist like him, clown fashion, with my eyes +wanderin' and my mouth wide open, and put my hand behind +me, and scratched there; and I stared, and looked puzzled +too, and made the same identical vacant face he did, and +repeated arter him slowly, with another scratch, mocking +him like, 'Dim comrag.' + +"Such a pair o' fools you never saw, Squire, since the +last time you shaved afore a lookin' glass; and the stable +boys larfed, and he larfed, and I larfed, and it was the +only larf I had all that juicy day. + +"Well, I turns agin to the door; but it's the old story +over again--rain, rain, rain; spatter, spatter, spatter,--'I +can't stop here with these true Brittons,' sais I, 'guess +I'll go and see the old Squire: he is in his study.' + +"So I goes there: 'Squire,' sais I, 'let me offer you a +rael gene_wine_ Havana cigar; I can recommend it to you.' +He thanks me, he don't smoke, but plague take him, he +don't say, 'If you are fond of smokin', pray smoke +yourself.' And he is writing I won't interrupt him. + +"'Waiter, order me a post-chaise, to be here in the +mornin', when the rooks wake.' + +"'Yes, Sir.' + +"Come, I'll try the women folk in the drawin'-room, agin'. +Ladies don't mind the rain here; they are used to it. +It's like the musk plant, arter you put it to your nose +once, you can't smell it a second time. Oh what beautiful +galls they be! What a shame it is to bar a feller out +such a day as this. One on 'em blushes like a red cabbage, +when she speaks to me, that's the one, I reckon, I +disturbed this mornin'. Cuss the rooks! I'll pyson them, +and that won't make no noise. + +"She shows me the consarvitery. 'Take care, Sir, your +coat has caught this geranium,' and she onhitches it. +'Stop, Sir, you'll break this jilly flower,' and she +lifts off the coat tail agin; in fact, it's so crowded, +you can't squeeze along, scarcely, without a doin' of +mischief somewhere or another. + +"Next time, she goes first, and then it's my turn, 'Stop, +Miss,' sais I, 'your frock has this rose tree over,' and +I loosens it; once more, 'Miss, this rose has got tangled,' +and I ontangles it from her furbeloes. + +"I wonder what makes my hand shake so, and my heart it +bumps so, it has bust a button off. If I stay in this +consarvitery, I shan't consarve myself long, that's a +fact, for this gall has put her whole team on, and is a +runnin' me off the road. 'Hullo! what's that? Bell for +dressin' for dinner.' Thank Heavens! I shall escape from +myself, and from this beautiful critter, too, for I'm +gettin' spoony, and shall talk silly presently. + +"I don't like to be left alone with a gall, it's plaguy +apt to set me a soft sawderin' and a courtin'. There's +a sort of nateral attraction like in this world. Two +ships in a calm, are sure to get up alongside of each +other, if there is no wind, and they have nothin' to do, +but look at each other; natur' does it. "Well, even, the +tongs and the shovel, won't stand alone long; they're +sure to get on the same side of the fire, and be sociable; +one on 'em has a loadstone and draws 'tother, that's +sartain. If that's the case with hard-hearted things, +like oak and iron, what is it with tender hearted things +like humans? Shut me up in a 'sarvatory with a hansum +gall of a rainy day, and see if I don't think she is the +sweetest flower in it. Yes, I am glad it is the dinner-bell, +for I ain't ready to marry yet, and when I am, I guess +I must get a gall where I got my hoss, in Old Connecticut, +and that state takes the shine off of all creation for +geese, galls and onions, that's a fact. + +"Well dinner won't wait, so I ups agin once more near +the rooks, to brush up a bit; but there it is agin the +same old tune, the whole blessed day, rain, rain, rain. +It's rained all day and don't talk of stoppin' nother. +How I hate the sound, and how streaked I feel. I don't +mind its huskin' my voice, for there is no one to talk +to, but cuss it, it has softened my bones. + +"Dinner is ready; the rain has damped every body's spirits, +and squenched 'em out; even champaign won't raise 'em +agin; feedin' is heavy, talk is heavy, time is heavy, +tea is heavy, and there ain't musick; the only thing +that's light is a bed room candle--heavens and airth how +glad I am this '_juicy day_' is over!" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +TYING A NIGHT-CAP. + +In the preceding sketch I have given Mr. Slick's account +of the English climate, and his opinion of the dulness +of a country house, as nearly as possible in his own +words. It struck me at the time that they were exaggerated +views; but if the weather were unpropitious, and the +company not well selected, I can easily conceive, that +the impression on his mind would be as strong and as +unfavourable, as he has described it to have been. + +The climate of England is healthy, and, as it admits of +much out-door exercise, and is not subject to any very +sudden variation, or violent extremes of heat and cold, +it may be said to be good, though not agreeable; but its +great humidity is very sensibly felt by Americans and +other foreigners accustomed to a dry atmosphere and clear +sky. That Mr. Slick should find a rainy day in the +country dull, is not to be wondered at; it is probable +it would be so any where, to a man who had so few resources, +within himself, as the Attache. Much of course depends +on the inmates; and the company at the Shropshire house, +to which he alludes, do not appear to have been the best +calculated to make the state of the weather a matter of +indifference to him. + +I cannot say, but that I have at times suffered a depression +of spirits from the frequent, and sometimes long continued +rains of this country; but I do not know that, as an +ardent admirer of scenery, I would desire less humidity, +if it diminished, as I fear it would, the extraordinary +verdure and great beauty of the English landscape. With +respect to my own visits at country houses, I have +generally been fortunate in the weather, and always in +the company; but I can easily conceive, that a man situated +as Mr. Slick appears to have been with respect to both, +would find the combination intolerably dull. But to return +to my narrative. + +Early on the following day we accompanied our luggage to +the wharf, where a small steamer lay to convey us to the +usual anchorage ground of the packets, in the bay. We +were attended by a large concourse of people. The piety, +learning, unaffected simplicity, and kind disposition of +my excellent friend, Mr. Hopewell, were well known and +fully appreciated by the people of New York, who were +anxious to testify their respect for his virtues, and +their sympathy for his unmerited persecution, by a personal +escort and a cordial farewell. + +"Are all those people going with us, Sam?" said he; "how +pleasant it will be to have so many old friends on board, +won't it?" + +"No, Sir," said the Attache, "they are only a goin' to +see you on board--it is a mark of respect to you. They +will go down to the "Tyler," to take their last farewell +of you." + +"Well, that's kind now, ain't it?" he replied. "I suppose +they thought I would feel kinder dull and melancholy +like, on leaving my native land this way; and I must say +I don't feel jist altogether right neither. Ever so many +things rise right up in my mind, not one arter another, +but all together like, so that I can't take 'em one by +one and reason 'em down, but they jist overpower me by +numbers. You understand me, Sam, don't you?" + +"Poor old critter!" said Mr. Slick to me in an under-tone, +"it's no wonder he is sad, is it? I must try to cheer +him up, if I can. Understand you, minister!" said he, +"to be sure I do. I have been that way often and often. +That was the case when I was to Lowel factories, with +the galls a taking of them off in the paintin' line. The +dear little critters kept up such an everlastin' almighty +clatter, clatter, clatter; jabber, jabber, jabber, all +talkin' and chatterin' at once, you couldn't hear no +blessed one of them; and they jist fairly stunned a +feller. For nothin' in natur', unless it be perpetual +motion, can equal a woman's tongue. It's most a pity we +hadn't some of the angeliferous little dears with us too, +for they do make the time pass quick, that's a fact. I +want some on 'em to tie a night-cap for me to-night; I +don't commonly wear one, but I somehow kinder guess, I +intend to have one this time, and no mistake." + +"A night-cap, Sam!" said he; "why what on airth do you +mean?" + +"Why, I'll tell you, minister," said he, "you recollect +sister Sall, don't you." + +"Indeed, I do," said he, "and an excellent girl she is, +a dutiful daughter, and a kind and affectionate sister. +Yes, she is a good girl is Sally, a very good girl indeed; +but what of her?" + +"Well, she was a most a beautiful critter, to brew a +glass of whiskey toddy, as I ever see'd in all my travels +was sister Sall, and I used to call that tipple, when I +took it late, a night-cap; apple jack and white nose +ain't the smallest part of a circumstance to it. On such +an occasion as this, minister, when a body is leavin' +the greatest nation atween the poles, to go among benighted, +ignorant, insolent foreigners, you wouldn't object to a +night-cap, now would you?" + +"Well, I don't know as I would, Sam," said he; "parting +from friends whether temporally or for ever, is a sad +thing, and the former is typical of the latter. No, I do +not know as I would. We may use these things, but not +abuse them. Be temperate, be moderate, but it is a sorry +heart that knows no pleasure. Take your night-cap, Sam, +and then commend yourself to His safe keeping, who rules +the wind and the waves to Him who--" + +"Well then, minister, what a dreadful awful looking thing +a night-cap is without a tassel, ain't it? Oh! you must +put a tassel on it, and that is another glass. Well +then, what is the use of a night-cap, if it has a tassel +on it, but has no string, it will slip off your head the +very first turn you take; and that is another glass you +know. But one string won't tie a cap; one hand can't +shake hands along with itself: you must have two strings +to it, and that brings one glass more. Well then, what +is the use of two strings if they ain't fastened? If you +want to keep the cap on, it must be tied, that's sartain, +and that is another go; and then, minister, what an +everlastin' miserable stingy, ongenteel critter a feller +must be, that won't drink to the health of the Female +Brewer. Well, that's another glass to sweethearts and +wives, and then turn in for sleep, and that's what I +intend to do to-night. I guess I'll tie the night-cap +this hitch, if I never do agin, and that's a fact." + +"Oh Sam, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell, "for a man that is wide +awake and duly sober, I never saw one yet that talked +such nonsense as you do. You said, you understood me, +but you don't, one mite or morsel; but men are made +differently, some people's narves operate on the brain +sens_itively_ and give them exquisite pain or excessive +pleasure; other folks seem as if they had no narves at +all. You understand my words, but you don't enter into +my feelings. Distressing images rise up in my mind in +such rapid succession, I can't master them, but they +master me. They come slower to you, and the moment you +see their shadows before you, you turn round to the light, +and throw these dark figures behind you. I can't do that; +I could when I was younger, but I can't now. Reason is +comparing two ideas, and drawing an inference. Insanity +is, when you have such a rapid succession of ideas, that +you can't compare them. How great then must be the pain +when you are almost pressed into insanity and yet retain +your reason? What is a broken heart? Is it death? I think +it must be very like it, if it is not a figure of speech, +for I feel that my heart is broken, and yet I am as +sensitive to pain as ever. Nature cannot stand this +suffering long. You say these good people have come to +take their last farewell of me; most likely, Sam, it _is_ +a last farewell. I am an old man now, I am well stricken +in years; shall I ever live to see my native land again? +I know not, the Lord's will be done! If I had a wish, I +should desire to return to be laid with my kindred, to +repose in death with those that were the companions of +my earthly pilgrimage; but if it be ordered otherwise. +I am ready to say with truth and meekness, 'Lord, now +lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.'" + +When this excellent old man said that, Mr. Slick did not +enter into his feelings--he did not do him justice. His +attachment to and veneration for his aged pastor and +friend were quite filial, and such as to do honour to +his head and heart. Those persons who have made character +a study, will all agree, that the cold exterior of the +New England man arises from other causes than a coldness +of feeling; much of the rhodomontade of the attache, +addressed to Mr. Hopewell, was uttered for the kind +purpose of withdrawing his attention from those griefs +which preyed so heavily upon his spirits. + +"Minister," said Mr. Slick, "come, cheer up, it makes me +kinder dismal to hear you talk so. When Captain McKenzie +hanged up them three free and enlightened citizens of +ours on board of the--Somers--he gave 'em three cheers. +We are worth half a dozen dead men yet, so cheer up. Talk +to these friends of ourn, they might think you considerable +starch if you don't talk, and talk is cheap, it don't +cost nothin' but breath, a scrape of your hind leg, and +a jupe of the head, that's a fact." + +Having thus engaged him in conversation with his friends, +we proceeded on board the steamer, which, in a short +time, was alongside of the great "Liner." The day was +now spent, and Mr. Hopewell having taken leave of his +escort, retired to his cabin, very much overpowered by +his feelings. + +Mr. Slick insisted on his companions taking a parting +glass with him, and I was much amused with the advice +given him by some of his young friends and admirers. He +was cautioned to sustain the high character of the nation +abroad; to take care that he returned as he went--a true +American; to insist upon the possession of the Oregon +Territory; to demand and enforce his right position in +society; to negotiate the national loan; and above all +never to accede to the right of search of slave-vessels; +all which having been duly promised, they took an +affectionate leave of each other, and we remained on +board, intending to depart in the course of the following +morning. + +As soon as they had gone, Mr. Slick ordered materials +for brewing, namely: whisky, hot water, sugar and lemon; +and having duly prepared in regular succession the cap, +the tassel, and the two strings, filled his tumbler again, +and said, + +"Come now, Squire, before we turn in, let us _tie the +night-cap_." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +HOME AND THE SEA. + +At eleven o'clock the next day the Tyler having shaken +out her pinions, and spread them to the breeze, commenced +at a rapid rate her long and solitary voyage across the +Atlantic. Object after object rose in rapid succession +into distinct view, was approached and passed, until +leaving the calm and sheltered waters of the bay, we +emerged into the ocean, and involuntarily turned to look +back upon the land we had left. Long after the lesser +hills and low country had disappeared, a few ambitious +peaks of the highlands still met the eye, appearing as +if they had advanced to the very edge of the water, to +prolong the view of us till the last moment. + +This coast is a portion of my native continent, for though +not a subject of the Republic, I am still an American in +its larger sense, having been born in a British province +in this hemisphere. I therefore sympathised with the +feelings of my two companions, whose straining eyes were +still fixed on those dim and distant specks in the horizon. + +"There," said Mr. Slick, rising from his seat, "I believe +we have seen the last of home till next time; and this +I will say, it is the most glorious country onder the +sun; travel where you will, you won't ditto it no where. +It is the toploftiest place in all creation, ain't it, +minister?" + +There was no response to all this bombast. It was evident +he had not been heard; and turning to Mr. Hopewell, I +observed his eyes were fixed intently on the distance, +and his mind pre-occupied by painful reflexions, for +tears were coursing after each other down his furrowed +but placid cheek. + +"Squire," said Mr. Slick to me, "this won't do. We must +not allow him to dwell too long on the thoughts of leaving +home, or he'll droop like any thing, and p'raps, hang +his head and fade right away. He is aged and feeble, +and every thing depends on keeping up his spirits. An +old plant must be shaded, well watered, and tended, or +you can't transplant it no how, you can fix it, that's +a fact. He won't give ear to me now, for he knows I can't +talk serious, if I was to try; but he will listen to +_you_. Try to cheer him up, and I will go down below and +give you a chance." + +As soon as I addressed him, he started and said, "Oh! is +it you, Squire? come and sit down by me, my friend. I +can talk to _you_, and I assure you I take great pleasure +in doing so I cannot always talk to Sam: he is excited +now; he is anticipating great pleasure from his visit to +England, and is quite boisterous in the exuberance of +his spirits. I own I am depressed at times; it is natural +I should be, but I shall endeavour not to be the cause +of sadness in others. I not only like cheerfulness myself, +but I like to promote it; it is a sign of an innocent +mind, and a heart in peace with God and in charity with +man. All nature is cheerful, its voice is harmonious, +and its countenance smiling; the very garb in which it +is clothed is gay; why then should man be an exception +to every thing around him? Sour sectarians, who address +our fears, rather than our affections, may say what they +please, Sir, but mirth is not inconsistent with religion, +but rather an evidence that our religion is right. If I +appear dull, therefore, do not suppose it is because I +think it necessary to be so, but because certain reflections +are natural to me as a clergyman, as a man far advanced +in years, and as a pilgrim who leaves his home at a period +of life, when the probabilities are, he may not be spared +to revisit it. + +"I am like yourself, a colonist by birth. At the revolution +I took no part in the struggle; my profession and my +habits both exempted me. Whether the separation was +justifiable or not, either on civil or religious principles, +it is not now necessary to discuss. It took place, however, +and the colonies became a nation, and after due +consideration, I concluded to dwell among mine own people. +There I have continued, with the exception of one or two +short journeys for the benefit of my health, to the +present period. Parting with those whom I have known so +long and loved so well, is doubtless a trial to one whose +heart is still warm, while his nerves are weak, and whose +affections are greater than his firmness. But I weary +you with this egotism?" + +"Not at all," I replied, "I am both instructed and +delighted by your conversation. Pray proceed, Sir." + +"Well it is kind, very kind of you," said he, "to say +so. I will explain these sensations to you, and then +endeavour never to allude to them again. America is my +birth-place and my home. Home has two significations, a +restricted one and an enlarged one; in its restricted +sense, it is the place of our abode, it includes our +social circle, our parents, children, and friends, and +contains the living and the dead; the past and the present +generations of our race. By a very natural process, the +scene of our affections soon becomes identified with +them, and a portion of our regard is transferred from +animate to inanimate objects. The streams on which we +sported, the mountains on which we clambered, the fields +in which we wandered, the school where we were instructed, +the church where we worshipped, the very bell whose +pensive melancholy music recalled our wandering steps in +youth, awaken in after-years many a tender thought, many +a pleasing recollection, and appeal to the heart with +the force and eloquence of love. The country again contains +all these things, the sphere is widened, new objects are +included, and this extension of the circle is love of +country. It is thus that the nation is said in an enlarged +sense, to be our home also. + +"This love of country is both natural and laudable: so +natural, that to exclude a man from his country, is the +greatest punishment that country can inflict upon him; +and so laudable, that when it becomes a principle of +action, it forms the hero and the patriot. How impressive, +how beautiful, how dignified was the answer of the +Shunamite woman to Elisha, who in his gratitude to her +for her hospitality and kindness, made her a tender of +his interest at court. 'Wouldst thou,' said he, 'be spoken +for to the king, or to the captain of the host?'--What +an offer was that, to gratify her ambition or flatter +her pride!--'I dwell,' said she, 'among mine own people.' +What a characteristic answer! all history furnishes no +parallel to it. + +"I too dwell 'among my own people:' my affections are +there, and there also is the sphere of my duties; and if +I am depressed by the thoughts of parting from 'my people,' +I will do you the justice to believe, that you would +rather bear with its effects, than witness the absence +of such natural affection. + +"But this is not the sole cause: independently of some +afflictions of a clerical nature in my late parish, to +which it is not necessary to allude, the contemplation +of this vast and fathomless ocean, both from its novelty +and its grandeur, overwhelms me. At home I am fond of +tracing the Creator in his works. From the erratic comet +in the firmament, to the flower that blossoms in the +field; in all animate, and inanimate matter; in all that +is animal, vegetable or mineral, I see His infinite +wisdom, almighty power, and everlasting glory. + +"But that Home is inland; I have not beheld the sea now +for many years. I never saw it without emotion; I now +view it with awe. What an emblem of eternity!--Its dominion +is alone reserved to Him, who made it. Changing yet +changeless--ever varying, yet always the same. How weak +and powerless is man! how short his span of life, when +he is viewed in connexion with the sea! He has left no +trace upon it--it will not receive the impress of his +hands; it obeys no laws, but those imposed upon it by +Him, who called it into existence; generation after +generation has looked upon it as we now do--and where +are they? Like yonder waves that press upon each other +in regular succession, they have passed away for ever; +and their nation, their language, their temples and their +tombs have perished with them. But there is the Undying +one. When man was formed, the voice of the ocean was +heard, as it now is, speaking of its mysteries, and +proclaiming His glory, who alone lifteth its waves or +stilleth the rage thereof. + +"And yet, my dear friend, for so you must allow me to +call you, awful as these considerations are, which it +suggests, who are they that go down to the sea in ships +and occupy their business in great waters? The sordid +trader, and the armed and mercenary sailor: gold or blood +is their object, and the fear of God is not always in +them. Yet the sea shall give up its dead, as well as the +grave; and all shall-- + +"But it is not my intention to preach to you. To intrude +serious topics upon our friends at all times, has a +tendency to make both ourselves and our topics distasteful. +I mention these things to you, not that they are not +obvious to you and every other right-minded man, or that +I think I can clothe them in more attractive language, +or utter them with more effect than others; but merely +to account for my absence of mind and evident air of +abstraction. I know my days are numbered, and in the +nature of things, that those that are left, cannot be +many. + +"Pardon me, therefore, I pray you, my friend; make +allowances for an old man, unaccustomed to leave home, +and uncertain whether he shall ever be permitted to return +to it. I feel deeply and sensibly your kindness in +soliciting my company on this tour, and will endeavour +so to regulate my feelings as not to make you regret your +invitation. I shall not again recur to these topics, or +trouble you with any further reflections 'on Home and +the Sea.'" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +T'OTHER EEND OF THE GUN. + +"Squire," said Mr. Hopewell, one morning when we were +alone on the quarter-deck, "sit down by me, if you please. +I wish to have a little private conversation with you. +I am a good deal concerned about Sam. I never liked this +appointment he has received: neither his education, his +habits, nor his manners have qualified him for it. He is +fitted for a trader and for nothing else. He looks upon +politics as he does upon his traffic in clocks, rather +as profitable to himself than beneficial to others. Self +is predominant with him. He overrates the importance of +his office, as he will find when he arrives in London; +but what is still worse, he overrates the importance of +the opinions of others regarding the States. + +"He has been reading that foolish book of Cooper's +'Gleanings in Europe,' and intends to shew fight, he +says. He called my attention, yesterday, to this absurd +passage, which he maintains is the most manly and sensible +thing that Cooper ever wrote: 'This indifference to the +feelings of others, is a dark spot on the national manners +of England. The only way to put it down, is to become +belligerent yourself, by introducing Pauperism, Radicalism, +Ireland, the Indies, or some other sore point. Like all +who make butts of others, they do not manifest the proper +forbearance when the tables are turned. Of this, I have +had abundance of proof in my own experience. Sometimes +their remarks are absolutely rude, and personally offensive, +as a disregard of one's national character, is a disrespect +to his principles; but as personal quarrels on such +grounds are to be avoided, I have uniformly retorted in +kind, if there was the smallest opening for such +retaliation." + +"Now, every gentleman in the States repudiates such +sentiments as these. My object in mentioning the subject +to you, is to request the favour of you, to persuade Sam +not to be too sensitive on these topics; not to take +offence, where it is not intended; and, above all, rather +to vindicate his nationality by his conduct, than to +justify those aspersions, by his intemperate behaviour. +But here he comes; I shall withdraw and leave you together." + +Fortunately, Mr. Slick commenced talking upon a topic, +which naturally led to that to which Mr. Hopewell had +wished me to direct his attention. + +"Well, Squire," said he, "I am glad too, you are a goin' +to England along with me: we will take a rise out of John +Bull, won't we?--We've hit Blue-nose and Brother Jonathan +both pretty considerable tarnation hard, and John has +split his sides with larfter. Let's tickle him now, by +feeling his own short ribs, and see how he will like it; +we'll soon see whose hide is the thickest, hisn or ourn, +won't we? Let's see whether he will say chee, chee, chee, +when he gets to the t'other eend of the gun." + +"What is the meaning of that saying?" I asked. "I never +heard it before." + +"Why," said he, "when I was a considerable of a grown up +saplin of a boy to Slickville, I used to be a gunnin' +for everlastinly amost in our hickory woods, a shootin' +of squirrels with a rifle, and I got amazin' expart at +it. I could take the head off of them chatterin' little +imps, when I got a fair shot at 'em with a ball, at any +reasonable distance, a'most in nine cases out of ten. + +"Well, one day I was out as usual, and our Irish help +Paddy Burke was along with me, and every time he see'd +me a drawin' of the bead fine on 'em, he used to say, +'Well, you've an excellent gun entirely, Master Sam. Oh +by Jakers! the squirrel has no chance with that gun, +it's an excellent one entirely.' + +"At last I got tired a hearin' of him a jawin' so for +ever and a day about the excellent gun entirely; so, sais +I, 'You fool you, do you think it's the gun that does it +_entirely_ as you say; ain't there a little dust of skill +in it? Do you think you could fetch one down?' + +"'Oh, it's a capital gun entirely,' said he. + +"'Well,' said I, 'if it 'tis, try it now, and see what +sort of a fist you'll make of it.' + +"So Paddy takes the rifle, lookin' as knowin' all the +time as if he had ever seed one afore. Well, there was +a great red squirrel, on the tip-top of a limb, chatterin' +away like any thing, chee, chee, chee, proper frightened; +he know'd it warn't me, that was a parsecutin' of him, +and he expected he'd be hurt. They know'd me, did the +little critters, when they seed me, and they know'd I +never had hurt one on 'em, my balls never givin' 'em a +chance to feel what was the matter of them; but Pat they +didn't know, and they see'd he warn't the man to handle +'old Bull-Dog.' I used to call my rifle Bull-Dog, cause +she always bit afore she barked. + +"Pat threw one foot out astarn, like a skullin' oar, and +then bent forrards like a hoop, and fetched the rifle +slowly up to the line, and shot to the right eye. Chee, +chee, chee, went the squirrel. He see'd it was wrong. +'By the powers!' sais Pat, 'this is a left-handed boot,' +and he brought the gun to the other shoulder, and then +shot to his left eye. 'Fegs!' sais Pat, 'this gun was +made for a squint eye, for I can't get a right strait +sight of the critter, either side.' So I fixt it for him +and told him which eye to sight by. 'An excellent gun +entirely,' sais Pat, 'but it tante made like the rifles +we have.' + +"Ain't they strange critters, them Irish, Squire? That +feller never handled a rifle afore in all his born days; +but unless it was to a priest, he wouldn't confess that +much for the world. They are as bad as the English that +way; they always pretend they know every thing. + +"'Come, Pat,' sais I, 'blaze away now.' Back goes the +hind leg agin, up bends the back, and Bull-Dog rises +slowly to his shoulder; and then he stared, and stared, +until his arm shook like palsy. Chee, chee, chee, went +the squirrel agin, louder than ever, as much as to say, +'Why the plague don't you fire? I'm not a goin' to stand +here all day, for you this way,' and then throwin' his +tail over his back, he jumped on to the next branch. + +"'By the piper that played before Moses!' sais Pat, 'I'll +stop your chee, chee, cheein' for you, you chatterin' +spalpeen of a devil, you'. So he ups with the rifle agin, +takes a fair aim at him, shuts both eyes, turns his head +round, and fires; and "Bull-Dog," findin' he didn't know +how to hold her tight to the shoulder, got mad, and kicked +him head over heels, on the broad of his back. Pat got +up, a makin' awful wry faces, and began to limp, to show +how lame his shoulder was, and to rub his arm, to see if +he had one left, and the squirrel ran about the tree +hoppin' mad, hollerin' out as loud as it could scream, +chee, chee, chee. + +"'Oh bad luck to you,' sais Pat, 'if you had a been at +t'other eend of the gun,' and he rubbed his shoulder +agin, and cried like a baby, 'you wouldn't have said +chee, chee, chee, that way, I know.' + +"Now when your gun, Squire, was a knockin' over Blue-nose, +and makin' a proper fool of him, and a knockin' over +Jonathan, and a spilin' of his bran-new clothes, the +English sung out chee, chee, chee, till all was blue +agin. You had an excellent gun entirely then: let's see +if they will sing out chee, chee, chee, now, when we take +a shot at _them_. Do you take?" and he laid his thumb on +his nose, as if perfectly satisfied with the application +of his story. "Do you take, Squire? you have an excellent +gun entirely, as Pat says. It's what I call puttin' the +leake into 'em properly. If you had a written this book +fust, the English would have said your gun was no good; +it wouldn't have been like the rifles they had seen. +Lord, I could tell you stories about the English, that +would make even them cryin' devils the Mississippi +crocodiles laugh, if they was to hear 'em." + +"Pardon me, Mr. Slick," I said, "this is not the temper +with which you should visit England." + +"What is the temper," he replied with much warmth, "that +they visit us in? Cuss 'em! Look at Dickens; was there +ever a man made so much of, except La Fayette? And who +was Dickens? Not a Frenchman that is a friend to us, not +a native that has a claim on us; not a colonist, who, +though English by name is still an American by birth, +six of one and half a dozen of t'other, and therefore a +kind of half-breed brother. No! he was a cussed Britisher; +and what is wus, a British author; and yet, because he +was a man of genius, because genius has the 'tarnal globe +for its theme, and the world for its home, and mankind +for its readers, and bean't a citizen of this state or +that state, but a native of the univarse, why we welcomed +him, and feasted him, and leveed him, and escorted him, +and cheered him, and honoured him, did he honour us? What +did he say of us when he returned? Read his book. + +"No, don't read his book, for it tante worth readin'. +Has he said one word of all that reception in his book? +that book that will be read, translated, and read agin +all over Europe--has he said one word of that reception? +Answer me that, will you? Darned the word, his memory +was bad; he lost it over the tafrail when he was sea-sick. +But his notebook was safe under lock and key, and the +pigs in New York, and the chap the rats eat in jail, and +the rough man from Kentucky, and the entire raft of galls +emprisoned in one night, and the spittin' boxes and all +that stuff, warn't trusted to memory, it was noted down, +and printed. + +"But it tante no matter. Let any man give me any sarce +in England, about my country, or not give me the right +_po_-sition in society, as Attache to our Legation, and, +as Cooper says, I'll become belligerent, too, I will, I +snore. I can snuff a candle with a pistol as fast as +you can light it; hang up an orange, and I'll first peel +it with ball and then quarter it. Heavens! I'll let +daylight dawn through some o' their jackets, I know. + +"Jube, you infarnal black scoundrel, you odoriferous +nigger you, what's that you've got there?" + +"An apple, massa." + +"Take off your cap and put that apple on your head, then +stand sideways by that port-hole, and hold steady, or +you might stand a smart chance to have your wool carded, +that's all." + +Then taking a pistol out of the side-pocket of his +mackintosh, he deliberately walked over to the other side +of the deck, and examined his priming. + +"Good heavens, Mr. Slick!" said I in great alarm, "what +are you about?" + +"I am goin'," he said with the greatest coolness, but at +the same time with equal sternness, "to bore a hole +through that apple, Sir." + +"For shame! Sir," I said. "How can you think of such a +thing? Suppose you were to miss your shot, and kill that +unfortunate boy?" + +"I won't suppose no such thing, Sir. I can't miss it. +I couldn't miss it if I was to try. Hold your head steady, +Jube--and if I did, it's no great matter. The onsarcumcised +Amalikite ain't worth over three hundred dollars at the +furthest, that's a fact; and the way he'd pyson a shark +ain't no matter. Are you ready, Jube?" + +"Yes, massa." + +"You shall do no such thing, Sir," I said, seizing his +arm with both my hands. "If you attempt to shoot at that +apple, I shall hold no further intercourse with you. You +ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sir." + +"Ky! massa," said Jube, "let him fire, Sar; he no hurt +Jube; he no foozle de hair. I isn't one mossel afeerd. +He often do it, jist to keep him hand in, Sar. Massa +most a grand shot, Sar. He take off de ear oh de squirrel +so slick, he neber miss it, till he go scratchin' his +head. Let him appel hab it, massa." + +"Oh, yes," said Mr. Slick, "he is a Christian is Jube, +he is as good as a white Britisher: same flesh, only a +leetle, jist a leetle darker; same blood, only not quite +so old, ain't quite so much tarter on the bottle as a +lord's has; oh him and a Britisher is all one brother--oh +by all means-- + + Him fader's hope--him mudder's joy, + Him darlin little nigger boy. + +You'd better cry over him, hadn't you. Buss him, call +him brother, hug him, give him the "Abolition" kiss, +write an article on slavery, like Dickens; marry him to +a white gall to England, get him a saint's darter with +a good fortin, and well soon see whether her father was +a talkin' cant or no, about niggers. Cuss 'em, let any +o' these Britishers give me slack, and I'll give 'em +cranberry for their goose, I know. I'd jump right down +their throat with spurs on, and gallop their sarce out." + +"Mr. Slick I've done; I shall say no more; we part, and +part for ever. I had no idea whatever, that a man, whose +whole conduct has evinced a kind heart, and cheerful +disposition, could have entertained such a revengeful +spirit, or given utterance to such unchristian and +uncharitable language, as you have used to-day. We part"-- + +"No, we don't," said he; "don't kick afore you are spurred. +I guess I have feelins as well as other folks have, that's +a fact; one can't help being ryled to hear foreigners +talk this way; and these critters are enough to make a +man spotty on the back. I won't deny I've got some grit, +but I ain't ugly. Pat me on the back and I soon cool +down, drop in a soft word and I won't bile over; but +don't talk big, don't threaten, or I curl directly." + +"Mr. Slick," said I, "neither my countrymen, the Nova +Scotians, nor your friends, the Americans, took any thing +amiss, in our previous remarks, because, though satirical, +they were good natured. There was nothing malicious in +them. They were not made for the mere purpose of shewing +them up, but were incidental to the topic we were +discussing, and their whole tenor shewed that while "we +were alive to the ludicrous, we fully appreciated, and +properly valued their many excellent and sterling qualities. +My countrymen, for whose good I published them, had the +most reason to complain, for I took the liberty to apply +ridicule to them with no sparing hand. They understood +the motive, and joined in the laugh, which was raised at +their expense. Let us treat the English in the same style; +let us keep our temper. John Bull is a good-natured +fellow, and has no objection to a joke, provided it is +not made the vehicle of conveying an insult. Don't adopt +Cooper's maxims; nobody approves of them, on either side +of the water; don't be too thin-skinned. If the English +have been amused by the sketches their tourists have +drawn of, the Yankees, perhaps the Americans may laugh +over our sketches of the English. Let us make both of +them smile, if we can, and endeavour to offend neither. +If Dickens omitted to mention the festivals that were +given in honour of his arrival in the States, he was +doubtless actuated by a desire to avoid the appearance +of personal vanity. A man cannot well make himself the +hero of his own book." + +"Well, well," said he, "I believe the black ox did tread +on my toe that time. I don't know but what you're right. +Soft words are good enough in their way, but still they +butter no parsnips, as the sayin' is. John may be a +good-natured critter, tho' I never see'd any of it yet; +and he may be fond of a joke, and p'raps is, seein' that +he haw-haws considerable loud at his own. Let's try him +at all events. We'll soon see how he likes other folks' +jokes; I have my scruple about him, I must say. I am +dubersome whether he will say 'chee, chee, chee' when he +gets 'T'other eend of the gun.'" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +SMALL POTATOES AND FEW IN A HILL. + +"Pray Sir," said one of my fellow passengers, "can you +tell me why the Nova Scotians are called 'Blue-noses?'" + +"It is the name of a potatoe," said I, "which they produce +in great perfection, and boast to be the best in the +world. The Americans have, in consequence, given them +the nick-name of "Blue-noses.'" + +"And now," said Mr. Slick," as you have told the entire +stranger, _who_ a Blue-nose is, I'll jist up and tell +him _what_ he is. + +"One day, Stranger, I was a joggin' along into Windsor +on Old Clay, on a sort of butter and eggs' gait (for a +fast walk on a journey tires a horse considerable), and +who should I see a settin' straddle legs "on the fence, +but Squire Gabriel Soogit, with his coat off, a holdin' +of a hoe in one hand, and his hat in t'other, and a +blowin' like a porpus proper tired. + +"'Why, Squire Gabe,' sais I, 'what is the matter of you? +you look as if you couldn't help yourself; who is dead +and what is to pay now, eh?' + +"'Fairly beat out,' said he, 'I am shockin' tired. I've +been hard at work all the mornin'; a body has to stir +about considerable smart in this country, to make a +livin', I tell you.' + +"I looked over the fence, and I seed he had hoed jist +ten hills of potatoes, and that's all. Fact I assure you. + +"Sais he, 'Mr. Slick, tell you what, _of all the work I +ever did in my life I like hoein' potatoes the best, and +I'd rather die than do that, it makes my back ache so_." + +"'Good airth" and seas,' sais I to myself, 'what a parfect +pictur of a lazy man that is! How far is it to Windsor?' + +"'Three miles,' sais he. I took out my pocket-book +purtendin' to write down the distance, but I booked his +sayin' in my way-bill. + +"Yes, _that_ is a _Blue-nose_; is it any wonder, Stranger, +he _is small potatoes and few in a hill_?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +A GENTLEMAN AT LARGE. + +It is not my intention to record any of the ordinary +incidents of a sea voyage: the subject is too hackneyed +and too trite; and besides, when the topic is seasickness, +it is infectious and the description nauseates. _Hominem +pagina nostra sapit_. The proper study of mankind is man; +human nature is what I delight in contemplating; I love +to trace out and delineate the springs of human action. + +Mr. Slick and Mr. Hopewell are both studies. The former +is a perfect master of certain chords; He has practised +upon them, not for philosophical, but for mercenary +purposes. He knows the depth, and strength, and tone of +vanity, curiosity, pride, envy, avarice, superstition, +nationality, and local and general prejudice. He has +learned the effect of these, not because they contribute +to make him wiser, but because they make him richer; not +to enable him to regulate his conduct in life, but to +promote and secure the increase of his trade. + +Mr. Hopewell, on the contrary, has studied the human +heart as a philanthropist, as a man whose business it +was to minister to it, to cultivate and improve it. His +views are more sound and more comprehensive than those +of the other's, and his objects are more noble. They are +both extraordinary men. + +They differed, however, materially in their opinion of +England and its institutions. Mr. Slick evidently viewed +them with prejudice. Whether this arose from the +supercilious manner of English tourists in America, or +from the ridicule they have thrown upon Republican society, +in the books of travels they have published, after their +return to Europe, I could not discover; but it soon became +manifest to me, that Great Britain did not stand so high +in his estimation, as the colonies did. + +Mr. Hopewell, on the contrary, from early associations, +cherished a feeling of regard and respect for England; +and when his opinion was asked, he always gave it with +great frankness and impartiality. When there was any +thing he could not approve of, it appeared to be a subject +of regret to him; whereas, the other seized upon it at +once as a matter of great exultation. The first sight we +had of land naturally called out their respective opinions. + +As we were pacing the deck speculating upon the probable +termination of our voyage, Cape Clear was descried by +the look-out on the mast-head. + +"Hallo! what's that? why if it ain't land ahead, as I'm +alive!" said Mr. Slick. "Well, come this is pleasant +too, we have made amost an everlastin' short voyage of +it, hante we; and I must say I like land quite as well +as sea, in a giniral way, arter all; but, Squire, here +is the first Britisher. That critter that's a clawin' up +the side of the vessel like a cat, is the pilot: now do +for goodness gracious sake, jist look at him, and hear +him." + +"What port?" + +"Liverpool." + +"Keep her up a point." + +"Do you hear that, Squire? that's English, or what we +used to call to singing school short metre. The critter +don't say a word, even as much as 'by your leave'; but +jist goes and takes his post, and don't ask the name of +the vessel, or pass the time o' day with the Captin. That +ain't in the bill, it tante paid for that; if it was, +he'd off cap, touch the deck three times with his forehead, +and '_Slam_' like a Turk to his Honour the Skipper. + +"There's plenty of civility here to England if you pay +for it: you can buy as much in five minits, as will make +you sick for a week; but if you don't pay for it, you +not only won't get it, but you get sarce instead of it, +that is if you are fool enough to stand and have it rubbed +in. They are as cold as Presbyterian charity, and mean +enough to put the sun in eclipse, are the English. They +hante set up the brazen image here to worship, but they've +got a gold one, and that they do adore and no mistake; +it's all pay, pay, pay; parquisite, parquisite, parquisite; +extortion, extortion, extortion. There is a whole pack +of yelpin' devils to your heels here, for everlastinly +a cringin', fawnin' and coaxin', or snarlin', grumblin' +or bullyin' you out of your money. There's the boatman, +and tide-waiter, and porter, and custom-er, and truck +man as soon as you land; and the sarvant-man, and +chamber-gall, and boots, and porter again to the inn. +And then on the road, there is trunk-lifter, and coachman, +and guard, and beggar-man, and a critter that opens the +coach door, that they calls a waterman, cause he is +infarnal dirty, and never sees water. They are jist like +a snarl o' snakes, their name is legion and there ain't +no eend to 'em. + +"The only thing you get for nothin' here is rain and +smoke, the rumatiz, and scorny airs. If you could buy an +Englishman at what he was worth, and sell him at his own +valiation, he would realise as much as a nigger, and +would be worth tradin' in, that's a fact; but as it is +he ain't worth nothin', there is no market for such +critters, no one would buy him at no price. A Scotchman +is wus, for he is prouder and meaner. Pat ain't no better +nother; he ain't proud, cause he has a hole in his breeches +and another in his elbow, and he thinks pride won't patch +'em, and he ain't mean cause he hante got nothin' to be +mean with. Whether it takes nine tailors to make a man, +I can't jist exactly say, but this I will say, and take +my davy of it too, that it would take three such goneys +as these to make a pattern for one of our rael genu_wine_ +free and enlightened citizens, and then I wouldn't swap +without large boot, I tell you. Guess I'll go, and pack +up my fixing and have 'em ready to land." + +He now went below, leaving Mr. Hopewell and myself on +the deck. All this tirade of Mr. Slick was uttered in +the hearing of the pilot, and intended rather for his +conciliation, than my instruction. The pilot was immoveable; +he let the cause against his country go "by default," +and left us to our process of "inquiry;" but when Mr. +Slick was in the act of descending to the cabin, be turned +and gave him a look of admeasurement, very similar to +that which a grazier gives an ox; a look which estimates +the weight and value of the animal, and I am bound to +admit, that the result of that "sizing or laying" as it +is technically called, was by no means favourable to the +Attache". + +Mr. Hopewell had evidently not attended to it; his eye +was fixed on the bold and precipitous shore of Wales, +and the lofty summits of the everlasting hills, that in +the distance, aspired to a companionship with the clouds. +I took my seat at a little distance from him and surveyed +the scene with mingled feelings of curiosity and admiration, +until a thick volume of sulphureous smoke from the copper +furnaces of Anglesey intercepted our view. + +"Squire," said he, "it is impossible for us to contemplate +this country, that now lies before us, without strong +emotion. It is our fatherland. I recollect when I was a +colonist, as you are, we were in the habit of applying +to it, in common with Englishmen, that endearing appellation +"Home," and I believe you still continue to do so in the +provinces. Our nursery tales, taught our infant lips to +lisp in English, and the ballads, that first exercised +our memories, stored the mind with the traditions of our +forefathers; their literature was our literature, their +religion our religion, their history our history. The +battle of Hastings, the murder of Becket, the signature +of Runymede, the execution at Whitehall; the divines, +the poets, the orators, the heroes, the martyrs, each +and all were familiar to us. + +"In approaching this country now, after a lapse of many, +many years, and approaching it too for the last time, +for mine eyes shall see it no more, I cannot describe to +you the feelings that agitate my heart. I go to visit +the tombs of my ancestors; I go to my home, and my home +knoweth me no more. Great and good, and brave and free +are the English; and may God grant that they may ever +continue so!" + +"I cordially join in that prayer, Sir," said I; "you have +a country of your own. The old colonies having ripened +into maturity, formed a distinct and separate family, in +the great community of mankind. You are now a nation of +yourselves, and your attachment to England, is of course +subordinate to that of your own country; you view it as +the place that was in days of yore the home of your +forefathers; we regard it as the paternal estate, continuing +to call it 'Home' as you have just now observed. We owe +it a debt of gratitude that not only cannot be repaid, +but is too great for expression. Their armies protect us +within, and their fleets defend us, and our commerce +without. Their government is not only paternal and +indulgent, but is wholly gratuitous. We neither pay these +forces, nor feed them, nor clothe them. We not only raise +no taxes, but are not expected to do so. The blessings +of true religion are diffused among us, by the pious +liberality of England, and a collegiate establishment at +Windsor, supported by British friends, has for years +supplied the Church, the Bar and the Legislature with +scholars and gentlemen. Where the national funds have +failed, private contribution has volunteered its aid, +and means are never wanting for any useful or beneficial +object. + +"Our condition is a most enviable one. The history of +the world has no example to offer of such noble +disinterestedness and such liberal rule, as that exhibited +by Great Britain to her colonies. If the policy of the +Colonial Office is not always good (which I fear is too +much to say) it is ever liberal; and if we do not mutually +derive all the benefit we might from the connexion, _we_, +at least, reap more solid advantages than we have a right +to expect, and more, I am afraid, than our conduct always +deserves. I hope the Secretary for the Colonies may have +the advantage of making your acquaintance, Sir. Your +experience is so great, you might give him a vast deal +of useful information, which he could obtain from no one +else. + +"Minister," said Mr. Slick, who had just mounted the +companion-ladder, "will your honour," touching his hat, +"jist look at your honour's plunder, and see it's all +right; remember me, Sir; thank your honour. This way, +Sir; let me help your honour down. Remember me again, +Sir. Thank your honour. Now you may go and break your +neck, your honour, as soon as you please; for I've got +all out of you I can squeeze, that's a fact. That's +English, Squire--that's English servility, which they +call civility, and English meanness and beggin', which +they call parquisite. Who was that you wanted to see the +Minister, that I heerd you a talkin' of when I come on +deck?" + +"The Secretary of the Colonies," I said. + +"Oh for goodness sake don't send that crittur to him," +said he, "or minister will have to pay him for his visit, +more, p'raps, than he can afford. John Russell, that had +the ribbons afore him, appointed a settler as a member +of Legislative Council to Prince Edward's Island, a berth +that has no pay, that takes a feller three months a year +from home, and has a horrid sight to do; and what do you +think he did? Now jist guess. You give it up, do you? +Well, you might as well, for if you was five Yankees +biled down to one, you wouldn't guess it. 'Remember +Secretary's clerk,' says he, a touchin' of his hat, 'give +him a little tip of thirty pound sterling, your honour.' +Well, colonist had a drop of Yankee blood in him, which +was about one third molasses, and, of course, one third +more of a man than they commonly is, and so he jist ups +and says, 'I'll see you and your clerk to Jericho beyond +Jordan fust. The office ain't worth the fee. Take it and +sell it to some one else that has more money nor wit.' +He did, upon my soul." + +"No, don't send State-Secretary to Minister, send him to +me at eleven o'clock to-night, for I shall be the +toploftiest feller about that time you've seen this while +past, I tell you. Stop till I touch land once more, that's +all; the way I'll stretch my legs ain't no matter." + +He then uttered the negro ejaculation "chah!--chah!" and +putting his arms a-kimbo, danced in a most extraordinary +style to the music of a song, which he gave with great +expression: + + "Oh hab you nebber heerd ob de battle ob Orleens, + Where de dandy Yankee lads gave de Britishers de beans; + Oh de Louisiana boys dey did it pretty slick, + When dey cotch ole Packenham and rode him up a creek. + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey, + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey. + +"Oh yes, send Secretary to me at eleven or twelve to-night, +I'll be in tune then, jist about up to concart pitch. +I'll smoke with him, or drink with him, or swap stories +with him, or wrastle with him, or make a fool of him, or +lick him, or any thing he likes; and when I've done, I'll +rise up, tweak the fore-top-knot of my head by the nose, +bow pretty, and say 'Remember me, your honour? Don't +forget the tip?' Lord, how I long to walk into some o' +these chaps, and give 'em the beans! and I will yet afore +I'm many days older, hang me if I don't. I shall bust, +I do expect; and if I do, them that ain't drownded will +be scalded, I know. Chah!--chah! + + "Oh de British name is Bull, and de French name is Frog, + And noisy critters too, when a braggin' on a log,-- + But I is an alligator, a floatin' down stream. + And I'll chaw both the bullies up, as I would an ice-cream: + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dee, + Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dee. + +"Yes, I've been pent up in that drawer-like lookin' berth, +till I've growed like a pine-tree with its branches off-- +straight up and down. My legs is like a pair of compasses +that's got wet; they are rusty on the hinges, and won't +work. I'll play leapfrog up the street, over every +feller's head, till I get to the Liners' Hotel; I hope +I may be shot if I don't. Jube, you villain, stand still +there on the deck, and hold up stiff, you nigger. Warny +once--warny twice--warny three times; now I come." + +And he ran forward, and putting a hand on each shoulder, +jumped over him. + +"Turn round agin, you young sucking Satan, you; and don't +give one mite or morsel, or you might 'break massa's +precious neck,' p'raps. Warny once--warny twice--warny +three times." + +And he repeated the feat again. + +"That's the way I'll shin it up street, with a hop, skip +and a jump. Won't I make Old Bull stare, when he finds +his head under my coat tails, and me jist makin' a lever +of him? He'll think he has run foul of a snag, _I_ know. +Lord, I'll shack right over their heads, as they do over +a colonist; only when they do, they never say warny wunst, +cuss 'em, they arn't civil enough for that. They arn't +paid for it--there is no parquisite to be got by it. +Won't I tuck in the Champaine to-night, that's all, till +I get the steam up right, and make the paddles work? +Won't I have a lark of the rael Kentuck breed? Won't I +trip up a policeman's heels, thunder the knockers of the +street doors, and ring the bells and leave no card? Won't +I have a shy at a lamp, and then off hot foot to the +hotel? Won't I say, 'Waiter, how dare you do that?' + +"'What, Sir?' + +"'Tread on my foot.' + +"'I didn't, Sir.' + +"'You did, Sir. Take that!' knock him down like wink, +and help him up on his feet agin with a kick on his +western eend. Kiss the barmaid, about the quickest and +wickedest she ever heerd tell of, and then off to bed as +sober as a judge. 'Chambermaid, bring a pan of coals and +air my bed.' 'Yes, Sir.' Foller close at her heels, jist +put a hand on each short rib, tickle her till she spills +the red hot coals all over the floor, and begins to cry +over 'em to put 'em out, whip the candle out of her hand, +leave her to her lamentations, and then off to roost in +no time. And when I get there, won't I strike out all +abroad--take up the room of three men with their clothes +on--lay all over and over the bed, and feel once more I +am a free man and a '_Gentleman at large_.'" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +SEEING LIVERPOOL. + +On looking back to any given period of our life, we +generally find that the intervening time appears much +shorter than it really is. We see at once the starting-post +and the terminus, and the mind takes in at one view the +entire space. + +But this observation is more peculiarly applicable to a +short passage across the Atlantic. Knowing how great the +distance is, and accustomed to consider the voyage as +the work of many weeks, we are so astonished at finding +ourselves transported in a few days, from one continent +to another, that we can hardly credit the evidence of +our own senses. + +Who is there that on landing has not asked himself the +question, "Is it possible that I am in England? It seems +but as yesterday that I was in America, to-day I am in +Europe. Is it a dream, or a reality?" + +The river and the docks--the country and the town--the +people and their accent--the verdure and the climate are +all new to me. I have not been prepared for this; I have +not been led on imperceptibly, by travelling mile after +mile by land from my own home, to accustom my senses to +the gradual change of country. There has been no border +to pass, where the language, the dress, the habits, and +outward appearances assimilate. There has been no blending +of colours--no dissolving views in the retrospect--no +opening or expanding ones in prospect. I have no difficulty +in ascertaining the point where one terminates and the +other begins. + +The change is sudden and startling. The last time I +slept on shore, was in America--to-night I sleep in +England. The effect is magical--one country is withdrawn +from view, and another is suddenly presented to my +astonished gaze. I am bewildered; I rouse myself, and +rubbing my eyes, again ask whether I am awake? Is this +England? that great country, that world of itself; Old +England, that place I was taught to call home _par +excellence_, the home of other homes, whose flag, I called +our flag? (no, I am wrong, I have been accustomed to call +our flag, the flag of England; our church, not the Church +of Nova Scotia, nor the Colonial nor the Episcopal, nor +the Established, but the Church of England.) Is it then +that England, whose language I speak, whose subject I +am, the mistress of the world, the country of Kings and +Queens, and nobles and prelates, and sages and heroes? + +I have read of it, so have I read of old Rome; but the +sight of Rome, Caesar and the senate would not astonish +me more than that of London, the Queen and the Parliament. +Both are yet ideal; the imagination has sketched them, +but when were its sketches ever true to nature? I have +a veneration for both, but, gentle reader, excuse the +confessions of an old man, for I have a soft spot in the +heart yet, _I love Old England_. I love its institutions, +its literature, its people. I love its law, because, +while it protects property, it ensures liberty. I love +its church, not only because I believe it is the true +church, but because though armed with power, it is tolerant +in practice. I love its constitution, because it combines +the stability of a monarchy, with the most valuable +peculiarities of a republic, and without violating nature +by attempting to make men equal, wisely follow its +dictates, by securing freedom to all. + +I like the people, though not all in the same degree. +They are not what they were. Dissent, reform and agitation +have altered their character. It is necessary to +distinguish. A _real_ Englishman is generous, loyal and +brave, manly in his conduct and gentlemanly in his feeling. +When I meet such a man as this, I cannot but respect him; +but when I find that in addition to these good qualities, +he has the further recommendation of being a churchman +in his religion and a tory in his politics, I know then +that his heart is in the right place, and I love him. + +The drafts of these chapters were read to Mr. Slick, at +his particular request, that he might be assured they +contained nothing that would injure his election as +President of the United States, in the event of the +Slickville ticket becoming hereafter the favourite one. +This, he said, was on the cards, strange as it might +seem, for making a fool of John Bull and turning the +laugh on him, would he sure to take and be popular. The +last paragraphs, he said, he affectioned and approbated +with all his heart. + +"It is rather tall talkin' that," said he; "I like its +patronisin' tone. There is sunthin' goodish in a colonist +patronisin' a Britisher. It's turnin' the tables on 'em; +it's sarvin' 'em out in their own way. Lord, I think I +see old Bull put his eye-glass up and look at you, with +a dead aim, and hear him say, 'Come, this is cuttin' it +rather fat.' Or, as the feller said to his second wife, +when she tapped him on the shoulder, 'Marm, my first wife +was a _Pursy_, and she never presumed to take that +liberty.' Yes, that's good, Squire. Go it, my shirt-tails! +you'll win if you get in fust, see if you don't. +Patronizin' a Britisher!!! A critter that has Lucifer's +pride, Arkwright's wealth, and Bedlam's sense, ain't it +rich? Oh, wake snakes and walk your chalks, will you! +Give me your figgery-four Squire, I'll go in up to the +handle for you. Hit or miss, rough or tumble, claw or +mud-scraper, any way, you damn please, I'm your man." + +But to return to my narrative. I was under the necessity +of devoting the day next after our landing at Liverpool, +to writing letters announcing my safe arrival to my +anxious friends in Nova Scotia, and in different parts +of England; and also some few on matters of business. +Mr. Slick was very urgent in his request, that I should +defer this work till the evening, and accompany him in +a stroll about the town, and at last became quite peevish +at my reiterated refusal. + +"You remind me, Squire," said he, "of Rufus Dodge, our +great ile marchant of Boston, and as you won't walk, +p'raps you'll talk, so I'll jist tell you the story. + +"I was once at the Cataract House to Niagara. It is jist +a short distance above the Falls. Out of the winders, +you have a view of the splendid white waters, or the +rapids of foam, afore the river takes its everlastin' +leap over the cliff. + +"Well, Rufus come all the way from Boston to see the +Falls: he said he didn't care much about them hisself, +seein' that he warn't in the mill business; but, as he +was a goin' to England, he didn't like to say he hadn't +been there, especially as all the English knowed about +America was, that there was a great big waterfall called +Niagara, an everlastin' Almighty big river called +Mississippi, and a parfect pictur of a wappin' big man +called Kentuckian there. Both t'other ones he'd seen over +and over agin, but Niagara he'd never sot eyes on. + +"So as soon as he arrives, he goes into the public room, +and looks at the white waters, and, sais he, 'Waiter,' +sais he, 'is them the falls down there?' a-pintin' by +accident in the direction where the Falls actilly was. + +"'Yes, Sir,' sais the waiter. + +"'Hem!' sais Rufe, 'them's the Falls of Niagara, eh! So +I've seen the Falls at last, eh! Well it's pretty too: +they ain't bad, that's a fact. So them's the Falls of +Niagara! How long is it afore the stage starts?' + +"'An hour, Sir.' + +"'Go and book me for Boston, and then bring me a paper.' + +"'Yes, Sir.' + +"Well he got his paper and sot there a readin' of it, +and every now and then, he'd look out of the winder and +say: 'So them's the Falls of Niagara, eh? Well, it's a +pretty little mill privilege that too, ain't it; but it +ain't just altogether worth comin' so far to see. So I've +seen the Falls at last!' + +"Arter a while in comes a Britisher. + +"'Waiter,' says he, 'how far is it to the Falls?' + +"'Little over a half a mile, Sir.' + +"'Which way do you get there?' + +"'Turn to the right, and then to the left, and then go +a-head.' + +"Rufe heard all this, and it kinder seemed dark to him; +so arter cypherin' it over in his head a bit, 'Waiter,' +says he, 'ain't them the Falls of Niagara, I see there?' + +"'No, Sir.' + +"'Well, that's tarnation all over now. Not the Falls?' + +"'No, Sir.' + +"'Why, you don't mean to say, that them are ain't the +Falls?' + +'"Yes, I do, Sir.' + +"'Heaven and airth! I've come hundreds of miles a puppus +to see 'em, and nothin' else; not a bit of trade, or +speckelation, or any airthly thing but to see them cussed +Falls, and come as near as 100 cents to a dollar, startin' +off without sein' 'em arter all. If it hadn't a been for +that are Britisher I was sold, that's a fact. Can I run +down there and back in half an hour in time for the +stage?' + +"'Yes, Sir, but you will have no time to see them.' + +"'See 'em, cuss 'em, I don't want to see 'em, I tell you. +I want to look at 'em, I want to say I was to the Falls, +that's all. Give me my hat, quick! So them ain't the +Falls! I ha'n't see'd the Falls of Niagara arter all. +What a devil of a take-in that is, ain't it?' And he dove +down stairs like a Newfoundland dog into a pond arter a +stone, and out of sight in no time. + +"Now, you are as like Rufe, as two peas, Squire. You want +to say, you was to Liverpool, but you don't want to see +nothin'.' + +"Waiter." + +"Sir." + +"Is this Liverpool, I see out of the Winder?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Guess I have seen Liverpool then. So this is the great +city of Liverpool, eh? When does the train start for +London?" + +"In half an hour, Sir?" + +"Book me for London then, for I have been to Liverpool +and seen the city. Oh, take your place, Squire, you have +seen Liverpool; and if you see as much of all other +places, as you have of this here one, afore you return +home, you will know most as much of England as them do +that never was there at all. + +"I am sorry too, you won't go, Squire," added he, "for +minister seems kinder dull." + +"Don't say another word, Mr. Slick," said I; "every thing +shall give way to him." And locking up my writing-desk +I said: "I am ready." + +"Stop, Squire," said he, "I've got a favour to ask of +you. Don't for gracious sake, say nothin' before Mr. +Hopewell about that 'ere lark I had last night arter +landin', it would sorter worry him, and set him off +a-preachin', and I'd rather he'd strike me any time amost +than lectur, for he does it so tender and kindly, it +hurts my feelins _like_, a considerable sum. I've had a +pretty how-do-ye-do about it this mornin', and have had +to plank down handsum', and do the thing genteel; but +Mister Landlord found, I reckon, he had no fool to deal +with, nother. He comes to me, as soon as I was cleverly +up this mornin', lookin' as full of importance, as Jube +Japan did when I put the Legation button on him. + +"'Bad business this, Sir,' says he; 'never had such a +scene in my house before, Sir; have had great difficulty +to prevent my sarvants takin' the law of you.' + +"'Ah,' sais I to myself, 'I see how the cat jumps; here's +a little tid bit of extortion now; but you won't find +that no go, I don't think.' + +"'You will have to satisfy them, Sir,' says he, 'or take +the consequences.' + +"'Sartainly,' said I, 'any thin' you please: I leave it +entirely to you; jist name what you think proper, and I +will liquidate it.' + +"'I said, I knew you would behave like a gentleman, Sir,' +sais he, 'for, sais I, don't talk to me of law, name it +to the gentleman, and he'll do what is right; he'll behave +liberal, you may depend.' + +"'You said right,' sais I, 'and now, Sir, what's the +damage?' + +"'Fifty pounds, I should think about the thing, Sir,' +said he. + +"'Certainly,' said I, 'you shall have the fifty pounds, +but you must give me a receipt in full for it.' + +"'By all means,' said he, and he was a cuttin' off full +chisel to get a stamp, when I sais, 'Stop,' sais I, +'uncle, mind and put in the receipt, the bill of items, +and charge 'em separate?' + +"'Bill of items? sais he. + +"'Yes,' sais I, 'let me see what each is to get. Well, +there's the waiter, now. Say to knockin' down the waiter +and kicking him, so much; then there's the barmaid so +much, and so on. I make no objection, I am willin' to +pay all you ask, but I want to include all, for I intend +to post a copy of it in the elegant cabins of each of +our splendid New York Liners. This house convenes the +Americans--they all know _me_. I want them to know how +their _Attache_ was imposed on, and if any American ever +sets foot in this cussed house agin I will pay his bill, +and post that up too, as a letter of credit for him.' + +"'You wouldn't take that advantage of me, Sir?' said he. + +"'I take no advantage,' sais I. 'I'll pay you what you +ask, but you shall never take advantage agin of another +free and enlightened American citizen, I can tell you.' + +"'You must keep your money then, Sir,' said he, 'but this +is not a fair deal; no gentleman would do it.' + +"'What's fair, I am willin' to do,' sais I; 'what's +onfair, is what you want to do. Now, look here: I knocked +the waiter down; here is two sovereigns for him; I won't +pay him nothin' for the kickin', for that I give him out +of contempt, for not defendin' of himself. Here's three +sovereigns for the bar-maid; she don't ought to have +nothin', for she never got so innocent a kiss afore, in +all her born days I know, for I didn't mean no harm, and +she never got so good a one afore nother, that's a fact; +but then _I_ ought to pay, I do suppose, because I hadn't +ought to treat a lady that way; it was onhansum', that's +fact; and besides, it tante right to give the galls a +taste for such things. They come fast enough in the +nateral way, do kisses, without inokilatin' folks for +'em. And here's a sovereign for the scoldin' and siscerarin' +you gave the maid, that spilt the coals and that's an +eend of the matter, and I don't want no receipt.' + +"Well, he bowed and walked off, without sayin' of a word." + +Here Mr. Hopewell joined us, and we descended to the +street, to commence our perambulation of the city; but +it had begun to rain, and we were compelled to defer it +until the next day. + +"Well, it ain't much matter, Squire," said Mr. Slick: +"ain't that Liverpool, I see out of the winder? Well, +then I've been to Liverpool. Book me for London. So I +have seen Liverpool at last, eh! or, as Rufus said, I +have felt it too, for this wet day reminds me of the rest +of his story. + +"In about a half hour arter Rufus raced off to the Falls, +back he comes as hard as he could tear, a-puffing and a +blowin' like a sizeable grampus. You never seed such a +figure as he was, he was wet through and through, and +the dry dust stickin' to his clothes, made him look like +a dog, that had jumped into the water, and then took a +roll in the road to dry hisself; he was a caution to look +at, that's a fact. + +"'Well,' sais I, 'Stranger, did you see the Falls?' + +"'Yes,' sais he, 'I have see'd 'em and felt 'em too; +them's very wet Falls, that's a fact. I hante a dry rag +on me; if it hadn't a been for that ere Britisher, I +wouldn't have see'd 'em at all, and yet a thought I had +been there all the time. It's a pity too, that that winder +don't bear on it, for then you could see it without the +trouble of goin' there, or gettin' ducked, or gettin' +skeered so. I got an awful fright there--I shall never +forget it, if I live as long as Merusalem. You know I +hadn't much time left, when. I found out I hadn't been +there arter all, so I ran all the way, right down as hard +as I could clip; and, seein' some folks comin' out from +onder the Fall, I pushed strait in, but the noise actilly +stunned me, and the spray wet me through and through like +a piece of sponged cloth; and the great pourin', bilin' +flood, blinded me so I couldn't see a bit; and I hadn't +gone far in, afore a cold, wet, clammy, dead hand, felt +my face all over. I believe in my soul, it was the Indian +squaw that went over the Falls in the canoe, or the crazy +Englisher, that tried to jump across it. + +"'Oh creation, how cold it was! The moment that spirit +rose, mine fell, and I actilly thought I should have +dropt lumpus, I was so skeered. Give me your hand, said +Ghost, for I didn't see nothin' but a kinder dark shadow. +Give me your hand. I think it must ha' been the squaw, +for it begged for all the world, jist like an Indgian. +I'd see you hanged fust, said I; I wouldn't touch that +are dead tacky hand o' yourn' for half a million o' hard +dollars, cash down without any ragged eends; and with +that, I turned to run out, but Lord love you I couldn't +run. The stones was all wet and slimy, and onnateral +slippy, and I expected every minute, I should heels up +and go for it: atween them two critters the Ghost and +the juicy ledge, I felt awful skeered I tell _you_. So +I begins to say my catechism; what's your name, sais I? +Rufus Dodge. Who gave you that name? Godfather and +godmother granny Eells. What did they promise for you? +That I should renounce the devil and all his +works--works--works--I couldn't get no farther, I stuck +fast there, for I had forgot it. + +"'The moment I stopt, ghost kinder jumped forward, and +seized me by my mustn't-mention'ems, and most pulled the +seat out. Oh dear! my heart most went out along with it, +for I thought my time had come. You black she-sinner of +a heathen Indgian! sais I; let me go this blessed minite, +for I renounce the devil and all his works, the devil +and all his works--so there now; and I let go a kick +behind, the wickedest you ever see, and took it right in +the bread basket. Oh, it yelled and howled and screached +like a wounded hyaena, till my ears fairly cracked agin. +I renounce you, Satan, sais I; I renounce you, and the +world, and the flesh and the devil. And now, sais I, a +jumpin' on terry firm once more, and turnin' round and +facin' the enemy, I'll promise a little dust more for +myself, and that is to renounce Niagara, and Indgian +squaws, and dead Britishers, and the whole seed, breed +and generation of 'em from this time forth, for evermore. +Amen. + +"'Oh blazes! how cold my face is yet. Waiter, half a +pint of clear cocktail; somethin' to warm me. Oh, that +cold hand! Did you ever touch a dead man's hand? it's +awful cold, you may depend. Is there any marks on my +face? do you see the tracks of the fingers there?' + +"'No, Sir,' sais I,' I can't say I do.' + +"'Well, then I feel them there,' sais he, 'as plain as +any thing.' + +"'Stranger,' sais I, 'it was nothin' but some poor +no-souled critter, like yourself, that was skeered a'most +to death, and wanted to be helped out that's all." + +"'Skeered!' said he, 'sarves him right then; he might +have knowed how to feel for other folks, and not funkify +them so peskily; I don't keer if he never gets out; but +I have my doubts about its bein' a livin' human, I tell +_you_. If I hadn't a renounced the devil and all his +works that time, I don't know what the upshot would have +been, for Old Scratch was there too. I saw him as plain +as I see you; he ran out afore me, and couldn't stop or +look back, as long as I said catekism. He was in his old +shape of the sarpent; he was the matter of a yard long, +and as thick round as my arm and travelled belly-flounder +fashion; when I touched land, he dodged into an eddy, +and out of sight in no time. Oh, there is no mistake, +I'll take my oath of it; I see him, I did upon my soul. +It was the old gentleman hisself; he come there to cool +hisself. Oh, it was the devil, that's a fact.' + +"'It was nothin' but a fresh water eel,' sais I; 'I have +seen thousands of 'em there; for the crevices of them +rocks are chock full of 'em. How can you come for to go, +for to talk arter that fashion; you are a disgrace to +our great nation, you great lummokin coward, you. An +American citizen is afeerd of nothin', but a bad +spekilation, or bein' found oat.' + +"Well, that posed him, he seemed kinder bothered, and +looked down. + +"'An eel, eh! well, it mought be an eel,' sais be, 'that's +a fact. I didn't think of that; but then if it was, it +was god-mother granny Eells, that promised I should +renounce the devil and all his works, that took that +shape, and come to keep me to my bargain. She died fifty +years ago, poor old soul, and never kept company with +Indgians, or niggers, or any such trash. Heavens and +airth! I don't wonder the Falls wakes the dead, it makes +such an everlastin' almighty noise, does Niagara. Waiter, +more cocktail, that last was as weak as water.' + +"'Yes, Sir,' and he swallered it like wink. + +"'The stage is ready, Sir.' + +"'Is it?' said he, and he jumped in all wet as he was; +for time is money and he didn't want to waste neither. +As it drove off, I heerd him say, 'Well them's the Falls, +eh! So I have seen the Falls of Niagara and felt 'em too, +eh!' + +"Now, we are better off than Rufus Dodge was, Squire; +for we hante got wet, and we hante got frightened, but +we can look out o' the winder and say, 'Well, that's +Liverpool, eh! so I have--seen Liverpool.'" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +CHANGING A NAME. + +The rain having confined us to the house this afternoon, +we sat over our wine after dinner longer than usual. +Among the different topics that were discussed, the most +prominent was the state of the political parties in this +country. Mr. Slick, who paid great deference to the +opinions of Mr. Hopewell, was anxious to ascertain from +him what he thought upon the subject, in order to regulate +his conduct and conversation by it hereafter. + +"Minister," said he, "what do you think of the politics +of the British?" + +"I don't think about them at all, Sam. I hear so much of +such matters at home, that I am heartily tired of them; +our political world is divided into two classes, the +knaves and the dupes. Don't let us talk of such exciting, +things." + +"But, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "holdin' the high and +dignified station I do, as Attache, they will be a-pumpin' +me for everlastinly, will the great men here, and they +think a plaguy sight more of our opinion than you are +aware on; we have tried all them things they are a jawin' +about here, and they naterally want to know the results. +Cooper says not one Tory called on him when he was to +England, but Walter Scott; and that I take it, was more +lest folks should think he was jealous of him, than any +thing else; they jist cut him as dead as a skunk; but +among the Whigs, he was quite an oracle on ballot, +univarsal suffrage, and all other democratic institutions." + +"Well, he was a ninny then, was Cooper, to go and blart +it all out to the world that way; for if no Tory visited +him, I should like you to ask him the next time you see +him, how many gentlemen called upon him? Jist ask him +that, and it will stop him from writing such stuff any +more." + +"But, Minister, jist tell us now, here you are, as a body +might say in England, now what are you?" + +"I am a man, Sam; _Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum +puto_." + +"Well, what's all that when it's fried?" + +"Why, that when away from home, I am a citizen of the +world. I belong to no party, but take an interest in the +whole human family." + +" Well, Minister, if you choose to sing dumb, you can, +but I should like to have you answer me one question now, +and if you won't, why you must jist do t'other thing, +that's all. Are you a Consarvative?" + +"No." + +"Are you a Whig?" + +"No." + +"A Radical?" + +"God forbid!" + +"What in natur' are you then?" + +"A Tory." + +"A Tory! well, I thought that a Tory and a Consarvative, +were as the Indgians say, "all same one brudder." Where +is the difference?" + +"You will soon find that out, Sam; go and talk to a +Consarvative as a Tory, and you will find he is a Whig: +go and talk to him again as a Whig, and you will find he +is a Tory. They are, for all the world, like a sturgeon. +There is very good beef steaks in a sturgeon, and very +good fish too, and yet it tante either fish or flesh. I +don't like taking a new name, it looks amazing like taking +new principles, or, at all events, like loosenin' old +ones, and I hante seen the creed of this new sect yet--I +don't know what its tenets are, nor where to go and look +for 'em. It strikes me they don't accord with the Tories, +and yet arn't in tune with the Whigs, but are half a note +lower than the one, and half a note higher than t'other. +Now, changes in the body politic are always necessary +more or less, in order to meet the changes of time, and +the changes in the condition of man. When they are +necessary, make 'em, and ha' done with 'em. Make 'em like +men, not when you are forced to do so, and nobody thanks +you, but when you see they are wanted, and are proper; +but don't alter your name. + +"My wardens wanted me to do that; they came to me, and +said 'Minister,' says they, 'we don't want _you_ to +change, we don't ask it; jist let us call you a Unitarian, +and you can remain Episcopalian still. We are tired of +that old fashioned name, it's generally thought unsuited +to the times, and behind the enlightment of the age; it's +only fit for benighted Europeans. Change the name, you +needn't change any thing else. What is a name?' + +"'Every thing,' says I, 'every thing, my brethren; one +name belongs to a Christian, and the other don't; that's +the difference. I'd die before I surrendered my name; +for in surrenderin' that, I surrender my principles.'" + +"Exactly," said Mr. Slick, "that's what Brother Eldad +used to say. 'Sam,' said he, 'a man with an _alias_ is +the worst character in the world; for takin' a new name, +shows he is ashamed of his old one; and havin' an old +one, shows his new one is a cheat.'" + +"No," said Mr. Hopewell, "I don't like that word +Consarvative. Them folks may be good kind of people, and +I guess they be, seein' that the Tories support 'em, +which is the best thing I see about them; but I don't +like changin' a name." + +"Well, I don't know," said Mr. Slick, "p'raps their old +name was so infarnal dry rotted, they wanted to change +it for a sound new one. You recollect when that +super-superior villain, Expected Thorne, brought an action +of defamation agin' me, to Slickville, for takin' away +his character, about stealing the watch to Nova Scotia; +well, I jist pleaded my own case, and I ups and sais, +'Gentlemen of the Jury,' sais I, "Expected's character, +every soul knows, is about the wust in all Slickville. +If I have taken it away, I have done him a great sarvice, +for he has a smart chance of gettin' a better one; and +if he don't find a swap to his mind, why no character is +better nor a bad one.' + +"Well, the old judge and the whole court larfed right +out like any thin'; and the jury, without stirrin' from +the box, returned a vardict for the defendant. P'raps +now, that mought be the case with the Tories." + +"The difference," said Mr. Hopewell, is jist this:--your +friend, Mr. Expected Thorne, had a name he had ought to +have been ashamed of, and the Tories one that the whole +nation had very great reason to be proud of. There is +some little difference, you must admit. My English +politics, (mind you, I say English, for they hare no +reference to America,) are Tory, and I don't want to go +to Sir Robert Peel, or Lord John Russell either." + +"As for Johnny Russell," said Mr. Slick, "he is a clever +little chap that; he--" + +"Don't call him Johnny Russell," said Mr. Hopewell, "or +a little chap, or such flippant names, I don't like to +hear you talk that way. It neither becomes you as a +Christian nor a gentleman. St. Luke and St. Paul, when +addressing people of rank, use the word '[Greek text]' +which, as nearly as possible, answers to the title of +'your Excellency.' Honour, we are told, should be given +to those to whom honour is due; and if we had no such +authority on the subject, the omission of titles, where +they are usual and legal, is, to say the least of it, a +vulgar familiarity, ill becoming an Attache of our embassy. +But as I was saying, I do not require to go to either of +those statesmen to be instructed in my politics. I take +mine where I take my religion, from the Bible. 'Fear +God, honour the King, and meddle not with those that are +given to change.'" + +"Oh, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "you mis't a figur at +our glorious Revolution, you had ought to have held on +to the British; they would have made a bishop of you, +and shoved you into the House of Lords, black apron, lawn +sleeves, shovel hat and all, as sure as rates. 'The right +reverend, the Lord Bishop of Slickville:' wouldn't it +look well on the back of a letter, eh? or your signature +to one sent to me, signed 'Joshua Slickville.' It sounds +better, that, than 'Old Minister,' don't it?" + +"Oh, if you go for to talk that way, Sam, I am done; but +I will shew you that the Tories are the men to govern +this great nation. A Tory I may say '_noscitur a sociis_.'" + +"What in natur is that, when it's biled and the skin took +off?" asked Mr. Slick. + +"Why is it possible you don't know that? Have you forgotten +that common schoolboy phrase?" + +"Guess I do know; but it don't tally jist altogether +nohow, as it were. Known as a Socialist, isn't it?" + +"If, Sir," said Mr. Hopewell, with much earnestness, "if +instead of ornamenting your conversation with cant terms, +and miserable slang, picked up from the lowest refuse of +our population, both east and west, you had cultivated +your mind, and enriched it with quotations from classical +writers, you would have been more like an Attache, and +less like a peddling clockmaker than you are." + +"Minister," said Mr. Slick, "I was only in jeest, but +you are in airnest. What you have said is too true for +a joke, and I feel it. I was only a sparrin'; but you +took off the gloves, and felt my short ribs in a way that +has given me a stitch in the side. It tante fair to kick +that way afore you are spurred. You've hurt me +considerable." + +"Sam, I am old, narvous, and irritable. I was wrong to +speak unkindly to you, very wrong indeed, and I am sorry +for it; but don't teaze me no more, that's a good lad; +for I feel worse than you do about it. I beg your pardon, +I--" + +"Well," said Mr. Slick, "to get back to what we was a +sayin', for you do talk like a book, that's a fact; +'_noscitur a sociis_,' says you." + +"Ay, 'Birds of a feather flock together,' as the old +maxim goes. Now, Sam, who supported the Whigs?" + +"Why, let me see; a few of the lords, a few of the gentry, +the repealers, the manufacturin' folks, the independents, +the baptists, the dissentin' Scotch, the socialists, the +radicals, the discontented, and most of the lower orders, +and so on." + +"Well, who supported the Tories?" + +"Why, the majority of the lords, the great body of landed +gentry, the univarsities, the whole of the Church of +England, the whole of the methodists, amost the principal +part of the kirk, the great marchants, capitalists, +bankers, lawyers, army and navy officers, and soon." + +"Now don't take your politics from me, Sam, for I am no +politician; but as an American citizen, judge for yourself, +which of those two parties is most likely to be right, +or which would you like to belong to." + +"Well, I must say," replied he, "I _do_ think that the +larnin', piety, property, and respectability, is on the +Tory side; and where all them things is united, right +most commonly is found a-joggin' along in company." + +"Well now, Sam, you know we are a calculatin' people, a +commercial people, a practical people. Europe laughs at +us for it. Perhaps if they attended better to their own +financial affairs, they would be in a better situation +to laugh. But still we must look to facts and results. +How did the Tories, when they went out of office, leave +the kingdom?--At peace?" + +"Yes, with all the world." + +"How did the Whigs leave it?" + +"With three wars on hand, and one in the vat a-brewin' +with America. Every great interest injured, some ruined, +and all alarmed at the impendin' danger--of national +bankruptcy." + +"Well, now for dollars and cents. How did the Tories +leave the treasury?" + +"With a surplus revenue of millions." + +"How did the Whigs?" + +"With a deficiency that made the nation scratch their +head, and stare agin." + +"I could go through the details with you, as far as my +imperfect information extends, or more imperfect memory +would let me; but it is all the same, and always will +be, here, in France, with us, in the colonies, and +everywhere else. Whenever property, talent, and virtue +are all on one side, and only ignorant numbers, with a +mere sprinkling of property and talent to agitate 'em +and make use of 'em, or misinformed or mistaken virtue +to sanction 'em on the other side, no honest man can take +long to deliberate which side he will choose. + +"As to those conservatives, I don't know what to say, +Sam; I should like to put you right if I could. But I'll +tell you what puzzles me. I ask myself what is a Tory? +I find he is a man who goes the whole figur' for the +support of the monarchy, in its three orders, of king, +lords, and commons, as by law established; that he is +for the connexion of Church and State and so on; and that +as the wealthiest man in England, he offers to prove his +sincerity, by paying the greatest part of the taxes to +uphold these things. Well, then I ask what is Consarvitism? +I am told that it means, what it imports, a conservation +of things as they are. Where, then, is the difference? +_If there is no difference, it is a mere juggle to change +the name: if there is a difference, the word is worse +than a juggle, for it don't import any_." + +"Tell you what," said Mr. Slick, "I heerd an old critter +to Halifax once describe 'em beautiful. He said he could +tell a man's politicks by his shirt. 'A Tory, Sir,' said +he, for he was a pompious old boy was old Blue-Nose; 'a +Tory, Sir,' said he, 'is a gentleman every inch of him, +stock, lock, and barrel; and he puts a clean frill shirt +on every day. A Whig, Sir,' says he, 'is a gentleman +every other inch of him, and he puts an onfrilled one on +every other day. A Radical, Sir, ain't no gentleman at +all, and he only puts one on of a Sunday. But a Chartist, +Sir, is a loafer; he never puts one on till the old one +won't hold together no longer, and drops off in, pieces.'" + +"Pooh!" said Mr. Hopewell, "now don't talk nonsense; but +as I was a-goin' to say, I am a plain man, and a +straightforward man, Sam; what I say, I mean; and what +I mean, I say. Private and public life are subject to +the same rules; and truth and manliness are two qualities +that will carry you through this world much better than +policy, or tact, or expediency, or any other word that +ever was devised to conceal, or mystify a deviation from +the straight line. They have a sartificate of character, +these consarvitives, in having the support of the Tories; +but that don't quite satisfy me. It may, perhaps, mean +no more than this, arter all--they are the best sarvants +we have; but not as good as we want. However, I shall +know more about it soon; and when I do, I will give you +my opinion candidly. One thing, however, is certain, a +change in the institutions of a country I could accede +to, approve, and support, if necessary and good; but I +never can approve of either an individual or a +party--'_changing a name_.' + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE NELSON MONUMENT. + +The following day being dry, we walked out to view the +wonders of this great commercial city of England, Liverpool. +The side-paths were filled with an active and busy +population, and the main streets thronged with heavily-laden +waggons, conveying to the docks the manufactures of the +country, or carrying inward the productions of foreign +nations. It was an animating and busy scene. + +"This," said Mr. Hopewell, "is solitude. It is in a place +like this, that you feel yourself to be an isolated being, +when you are surrounded by multitudes who have no sympathy +with you, to whom you are not only wholly unknown, but +not one of whom you have ever seen before. + +"The solitude of the vast American forest is not equal +to this. Encompassed by the great objects of nature, you +recognise nature's God every where; you feel his presence, +and rely on his protection. Every thing in a city is +artificial, the predominant idea is man; and man, under +circumstances like the present, is neither your friend +nor protector. You form no part of the social system +here. Gregarious by nature, you cannot associate; dependent, +you cannot attach yourself; a rational being, you cannot +interchange ideas. In seeking the wilderness you enter +the abode of solitude, and are naturally and voluntarily +alone. On visiting a city, on the contrary, you enter +the residence of man, and if you are forced into isolation +there, to you it is worse than a desert. + +"I know of nothing so depressing as this feeling of +unconnected individuality, amidst a dense population like +this. But, my friend, there is One who never forsakes us +either in the throng or the wilderness, whose ear is +always open to our petitions, and who has invited us to +rely on his goodness and mercy." + +"You hadn't ought to feel lonely here, Minister," said +Mr. Slick. "It's a place we have a right to boast of is +Liverpool; we built it, and I'll tell you what it is, to +build two such cities as New York and Liverpool in the +short time we did, is sunthin' to brag of. If there had +been no New York, there would have been no Liverpool; +but if there had been no Liverpool, there would have been +a New York though. They couldn't do nothin' without us. +We had to build them elegant line-packets for 'em; they +couldn't build one that could sail, and if she sail'd +she couldn't steer, and if she sail'd and steer'd, she +upsot; there was always a screw loose somewhere. + +"It cost us a great deal too to build them ere great +docks. They cover about seventy acres, I reckon. We have +to pay heavy port dues to keep 'em up, and pay interest +on capital. The worst of it is, too, while we pay for +all this, we hante got the direction of the works." + +"If you have paid for all these things," said I, "you +had better lay claim to Liverpool. Like the disputed +territory (to which it now appears, you knew you had no +legal or equitable claim), it is probable you will have +half of it ceded to you, for the purpose of conciliation. +I admire this boast of yours uncommonly. It reminds me +of the conversation we had some years ago, about the +device on your "naval button," of the eagle holding an +anchor in its claws--that national emblem of ill-directed +ambition and vulgar pretension." + +"I thank you for that hint," said Mr. Slick, "I was in +jeest like; but there is more in it, for all that, than +you'd think. It ain't literal fact, but it is figurative +truth. But now I'll shew you sunthin' in this town, that's +as false as parjury, sunthin that's a disgrace to this +country and an insult to our great nation, and there is +no jeest in it nother, but a downright lie; and, since +you go for to throw up to me our naval button with its +'eagle and anchor,' I'll point out to you sunthin' a +hundred thousand million times wus. What was the name o' +that English admiral folks made such a touss about; that +cripple-gaited, one-eyed, one-armed little naval critter?" + +"Do you mean Lord Nelson?" + +"I do," said he, and pointing to his monument, he continued, +" There he is as big as life, five feet nothin', with +his shoes on. Now examine that monument, and tell me if +the English don't know how to brag, as well as some other +folks, and whether they don't brag too sumtimes, when +they hante got no right to. There is four figures there +a representing the four quarters of the globe in chains, +and among them America, a crouchin' down, and a-beggin' +for life, like a mean heathen Ingin. Well, jist do the +civil now, and tell me when that little braggin' feller +ever whipped us, will you? Just tell me the day of the +year he was ever able to do it, since his mammy cut the +apron string and let him run to seek his fortin'. Heavens +and airth, we'd a chawed him right up! + +"No, there never was an officer among you, that had any +thing to brag of about us but one, and he wasn't a +Britisher--he was a despisable Blue-nose colonist boy of +Halifax. When his captain was took below wounded, he was +leftenant, so he jist ups and takes command o' the Shannon, +and fit like a tiger and took our splendid frigate the +Chesapeake, and that was sumthing to brag on. And what +did he get for it? Why colony sarce, half-pay, and leave +to make room for Englishers to go over his head; and here +is a lyin' false monument, erected to this man that never +even see'd one of our national ships, much less smelt +thunder and lightning out of one, that English like, has +got this for what he didn't do. + +"I am sorry Mr. Lett [Footnote: This was the man that +blew up the Brock monument in Canada. _He was a Patriot_.] +is dead to Canada, or I'd give him a hint about this. +I'd say, 'I hope none of our free and enlightened citizens +will blow this lyin', swaggerin', bullyin' monument up? +I should be sorry for 'em to take notice of such vulgar +insolence as this; for bullies will brag.' He'd wink and +say, 'I won't non-concur with you, Mr. Slick. I hope it +won't be blowed up; but wishes like dreams come con_trary_ +ways sometimes, and I shouldn't much wonder if it bragged +till it bust some night.' It would go for it, that's a +fact. For Mr. Lett has a kind of nateral genius for +blowin' up of monuments. + +"Now you talk of our Eagle takin' an anchor in its claws +as bad taste. I won't say it isn't; but it is a nation +sight better nor this. See what the little admiral critter +is about! why he is a stampin' and a jabbin' of the iron +heel of his boot into the lifeless body of a fallen foe! +It's horrid disgustin', and ain't overly brave nother; +and to make matters wus, as if this warn't bad enough, +them four emblem figures, have great heavy iron chains +on 'em, and a great enormous sneezer of a lion has one +part o' the chain in its mouth, and is a-growlin' and +a-grinnin' and a-snarling at 'em like mad, as much as to +say, 'if you dare to move the sixteen hundredth part of +an inch, I will fall to and make mincemeat of you, in +less than half no time. I don't think there never was +nothin' so bad as this, ever seen since the days of old +daddy Adam down to this present blessed day, I don't +indeed. So don't come for to go, Squire, to tarnt me with +the Eagle and the anchor no more, for I don't like it a +bit; you'd better look to your '_Nelson monument_' and +let us alone. So come now!" + +Amidst much that was coarse, and more that was exaggerated, +there was still some foundation for the remarks of the +Attache. + +"You arrogate a little too much to yourselves," I observed, +"in considering the United States as all America. At the +time these brilliant deeds were achieved, which this +monument is intended to commemorate, the Spaniards owned +a very much greater portion of the transatlantic continent +than you now do, and their navy composed a part of the +hostile fleets which were destroyed by Lord Nelson. At +that time, also, you had no navy, or at all events, so +few ships, as scarcely to deserve the name of one; nor +had you won for yourselves that high character, which +you now so justly enjoy, for skill and gallantry. I agree +with you, however, in thinking the monument is in bad +taste. The name of Lord Nelson is its own monument. It +will survive when these perishable structures, which the +pride or the gratitude of his countrymen have erected to +perpetuate his fame, shall have mouldered into dust, and +been forgotten for ever. If visible objects are thought +necessary to suggest the mention of his name oftener that +it would otherwise occur to the mind, they should be such +as to improve the taste, as well as awaken the patriotism +of the beholder. As an American, there is nothing to +which you have a right to object, but as a critic, I +admit that there is much that you cannot approve in the +'_Nelson Monument_.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +COTTAGES. + +On the tenth day after we landed at Liverpool, we arrived +in London and settled ourselves very comfortably in +lodgings at No. 202, Piccadilly, where every possible +attention was paid to us by our landlord and his wife, +Mr. and Mrs. Weeks. We performed the journey in a +post-chaise, fearing that the rapid motion of a rail car +might have an unpleasant effect upon the health of Mr. +Hope well. + +Of the little incidents of travel that occurred to us, +or of the various objects of attraction on the route, it +is not my intention to give any account. Our journey was +doubtless much like the journeys of other people, and +every thing of local interest is to be found in Guide +Books, or topographical works, which are within the reach +of every body. + +This book, however imperfect its execution may be, is +altogether of another kind. I shall therefore pass over +this and other subsequent journeys, with no other remark, +than that they were performed, until something shall +occur illustrative of the objects I have in view. + +On this occasion I shall select from my diary a description +of the labourer's cottage, and the parish church; because +the one shews the habits, tastes, and condition of the +poor of this country, in contrast with that of America--and +the other, the relative means of religious instruction, +and its effect on the lower orders. + +On the Saturday morning, while preparing to resume our +journey, which was now nearly half completed, Mr. Hopewell +expressed a desire to remain at the inn where we were, +until the following Monday. As the day was fine, he said +he should like to ramble about the neighbourhood, and +enjoy the fresh air. His attention was soon drawn to some +very beautiful new cottages. + +"These," said he, "are no doubt erected at the expense, +and for the gratification of some great landed proprietor. +They are not the abodes of ordinary labourers, but designed +for some favoured dependant or aged servant. They are +expensive toys, but still they are not without their use. +They diffuse a taste among the peasantry--they present +them with models, which, though they cannot imitate in +costliness of material or finish, they can copy in +arrangement, and in that sort of decoration, which flowers, +and vines, and culture, and care can give. Let us seek +one which is peculiarly the poor man's cottage, and let +us go in and see who and what they are, how they live, +and above all, how they think and talk. Here is a lane, +let us follow it, till we come to a habitation." + +We turned into a grass road, bounded on either side by +a high straggling thorn hedge. At its termination was an +irregular cottage with a thatched roof, which projected +over the windows in front. The latter were latticed with +diamond-shaped panes of glass, and were four in number, +one on each side of the door and two just under the roof. +The door was made of two transverse parts, the upper half +of which was open. On one side was a basket-like cage +containing a magpie, and on the other, a cat lay extended +on a bench, dozing in the warmth of the sun. The blue +smoke, curling upwards from a crooked chimney, afforded +proof of some one being within. + +We therefore opened a little gate, and proceeded through +a neat garden, in which flowers and vegetables were +intermixed. It had a gay appearance from the pear, apple, +thorn and cherry being all in full bloom. We were received +at the door by a middle-aged woman, with the ruddy glow +of health on her cheeks, and dressed in coarse, plain, +but remarkably neat and suitable, attire. As this was a +cottage selected at random, and visited without previous +intimation of our intention, I took particular notice of +every thing I saw, because I regarded its appearance as +a fair specimen of its constant and daily state. + +Mr. Hopewell needed no introduction. His appearance told +what he was. His great stature and erect bearing, his +intelligent and amiable face, his noble forehead, his +beautiful snow-white locks, his precise and antique dress, +his simplicity of manner, every thing, in short, about +him, at once attracted attention and conciliated favour. + +Mrs. Hodgins, for such was her name, received us with +that mixture of respect and ease, which shewed she was +accustomed to converse with her superiors. She was +dressed in a blue homespun gown, (the sleeves of which +were drawn up to her elbows and the lower part tucked +through her pocket-hole,) a black stuff petticoat, black +stockings and shoes with the soles more than half an inch +thick. She wore also, a large white apron, and a neat +and by no means unbecoming cap. She informed us her +husband was a gardener's labourer, that supported his +family by his daily work, and by the proceeds of the +little garden attached to the house, and invited us to +come in and sit down. + +The apartment into which the door opened, was a kitchen +or common room. On one side, was a large fire-place, +the mantel-piece or shelf, of which was filled with brass +candlesticks, large and small, some queer old-fashioned +lamps, snuffers and trays, polished to a degree of +brightness, that was dazzling. A dresser was carried +round the wall, filled with plates and dishes, and +underneath were exhibited the ordinary culinary utensils, +in excellent order. A small table stood before the fire, +with a cloth of spotless whiteness spread upon it, as if +in preparation for a meal. A few stools completed the +furniture. + +Passing through this place, we were shewn into the parlour, +a small room with a sanded floor. Against the sides were +placed some old, dark, and highly polished chairs, of +antique form and rude workmanship. The walls were decorated +with several coloured prints, illustrative of the Pilgrim's +Progress and hung in small red frames of about six inches +square. The fire-place was filled with moss, and its +mantel-shelf had its china sheep and sheperdesses, and +a small looking-glass, the whole being surmounted by a +gun hung transversely. The Lord's Prayer and the Ten +Commandments worked in worsted, were suspended in a wooden +frame between the windows, which had white muslin blinds, +and opened on hinges, like a door. A cupboard made to +fit the corner, in a manner to economise room, was filled +with china mugs, cups and saucers of different sizes and +patterns, some old tea-spoons and a plated tea-pot. + +There was a small table opposite to the window, which +Contained half a dozen books. One of these was large, +handsomely bound, and decorated with gilt edged paper. +Mr. Hopewell opened it, and expressed great satisfaction +at finding such an edition of a bible in such a house. +Mrs. Hodgins explained that this was a present from her +eldest son, who had thus appropriated his first earnings +to the gratification of his mother. + +"Creditable to you both, dear," said Mr. Hopewell: "to +you, because it is a proof how well you have instructed +him; and to him, that he so well appreciated and so +faithfully remembered those lessons of duty." + +He then inquired into the state of her family, whether +the boy who was training a peach-tree against the end of +the house was her son, and many other matters not necessary +to record with the same precision that I have enumerated +the furniture. + +"Oh, here is a pretty little child!" said he. "Come here, +dear, and shake hands along with me. What beautiful hair +she has! and she looks so clean and nice, too. Every +thing and every body here is so neat, so tidy, and so +appropriate. Kiss me, dear; and then talk to me; for I +love little children. 'Suffer them to come unto me,' said +our Master, 'for of such is the kingdom of Heaven:' that +is, that we should resemble these little ones in our +innocence." + +He then took her on his knee. "Can you say the Lord's +Prayer, dear?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"Very good. And the ten Commandments?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"Who taught you?" + +"My mother, Sir; and the parson taught me the Catechism." + +"Why, Sam, this child can say the Lord's Prayer, the ten +Commandments, and the Catechism. Ain't this beautiful? +Tell me the fifth, dear." + +And the child repeated it distinctly and accurately. + +"Right. Now, dear, always bear that in mind, especially +towards your mother. You have an excellent mother; her +cares and her toils are many; and amidst them all, how +well she has done her duty to you. The only way she can +be repaid, is to find that you are what she desires you +to be, a good girl. God commands this return to be made, +and offers you the reward of length of days. Here is a +piece of money for you. And now, dear," placing her again +upon her feet, "you never saw so old a man as me, and +never will again; and one, too, that came from a far-off +country, three thousand miles off; it would take you a +long time to count three thousand; it is so far. Whenever +you do what you ought not, think of the advice of the +'old Minister.'" + +Here Mr. Slick beckoned the mother to the door, and +whispered something to her, of which, the only words that +met my ear were "a trump," "a brick," "the other man like +him ain't made yet," "do it, he'll talk, then." + +To which she replied, "I have--oh yes, Sir--by all means." + +She then advanced to Mr. Hopewell, and asked him if he +would like to smoke. + +"Indeed I would, dear, but I have no pipe here." + +She said her old man smoked of an evening, after his work +was done, and that she could give him a pipe and some +tobacco, if he would condescend to use them; and going +to the cupboard, she produced a long white clay pipe and +some cut tobacco. + +Having filled and lighted his pipe, Mr. Hopewell said, +"What church do you go to, dear?" + +"The parish church, Sir." + +"Right; you will hear Sound doctrine and good morals +preached there. Oh this a fortunate country, Sam, for +the state provides for the religious instruction of the +poor. Where the voluntary system prevails, the poor have +to give from their poverty, or go without; and their +gifts are so small, that they can purchase but little. +It's a beautiful system, a charitable system, a Christian +system. Who is your landlord?" + +"Squire Merton, Sir; and one of the kindest masters, too, +that ever was. He is so good to the poor; and the ladies. +Sir, they are so kind, also. When my poor daughter Mary +was so ill with the lever, I do think she would have died +but for the attentions of those young ladies; and when +she grew better, they sent her wine and nourishing things +from their own table. They will be so glad to see you. +Sir, at the Priory. Oh, I wish you could see them!" + +"There it is, Sam," he continued "That illustrates what +I always told you of their social system here. We may +boast of our independence, but that independence produces +isolation. There is an individuality about every man and +every family in America, that gives no right of inquiry, +and imposes no duty of relief on any one. Sickness, and +sorrow, and trouble, are not divulged; joy, success, and +happiness are not imparted. If we are independent in +our thoughts and actions, so are we left to sustain the +burden of our own ills. How applicable to our state is +that passage of Scripture, 'The heart knoweth its own +bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its +joy.' + +"Now, look at this poor family; here is a clergyman +provided for them, whom they do not, and are not even +expected to pay; their spiritual wants are ministered +to, faithfully and zealously, as we see by the instruction +of that little child. Here is a friend upon whom they +can rely in their hour of trouble, as the bereaved mother +did on Elisha. 'And she went up and laid her child that +was dead on the bed of the man of God, and shut the door +on him, and went out.' And when a long train of agitation, +mis-government, and ill-digested changes have deranged +this happy country, as has recently been the case, here +is an indulgent landlord, disposed to lower his rent or +give further time for payment, or if sickness invades +any of these cottages, to seek out the sufferer, to afford +the remedies, and by his countenance, his kindness, and +advice, to alleviate their trouble. Here it is, a positive +duty arising from their relative situations of landlord +and tenant. The tenants support the owner, the landlord +protects the tenants: the duties are reciprocal. + +"With _us_ the duties, as far as Christian duties can be +said to be optional, are voluntary; and the voluntary +discharge of duties, like the voluntary support of +religion, we know, from sad experience, to be sometimes +imperfectly performed, at others intermitted, and often +wholly neglected. Oh! it is a happy country this, a great +and a good country; and how base, how wicked, how diabolical +it is to try to set such a family as this against their +best friends, their pastor and their landlord; to instil +dissatisfaction and distrust into their simple minds, +and to teach them to loathe the hand, that proffers +nothing but regard or relief. It is shocking, isn't it?" + +"That's what I often say, Sir," said Mrs. Hodgins, "to +my old man, to keep away from them Chartists." + +"Chartists! dear, who are they? I never heard of them." + +"Why, Sir, they are the men that want the five pints." + +"Five pints! why you don't say so; oh! they are bad men, +have nothing to do with them. Five pints! why that is +two quarts and a half; that is too much to drink if it +was water; and if any thing else, it is beastly drunkenness. +Have nothing to do with them." + +"Oh! no, Sir, it is five points of law." + +"Tut--tut--tut! what have you got to do with law, my +dear?" + +"By gosh, Aunty," said Mr. Slick, "you had better not +cut that pie: you will find it rather sour in the apple +sarce, and tough in the paste, I tell _you_." + +"Yes, Sir," she replied, "but they are a unsettling of +his mind. What shall I do? for I don't like these night +meetings, and he always comes home from 'em cross and +sour-like." + +"Well, I am sorry to hear that," said Mr. Hopewell, "I +wish I could see him; but I can't, for I am bound on a +journey. I am sorry to hear it, dear. Sam, this country +is so beautiful, so highly cultivated, so adorned by +nature and art, and contains so much comfort and happiness, +that it resembles almost the garden of Eden. But, Sam, +the Serpent is here, the Serpent is here beyond a doubt. +It changes its shape, and alters its name, and takes a +new colour, but still it is the Serpent, and it ought to +be crushed. Sometimes it calls itself liberal, then +radical, then chartist, then agitator, then repealer, +then political dissenter, then anti-corn leaguer, and so +on. Sometimes it stings the clergy, and coils round them, +and almost strangles them, for it knows the Church is +its greatest enemy, and it is furious against it. Then +it attacks the peers, and covers them with its froth and +slaver, and then it bites the landlord. Then it changes +form, and shoots at the Queen, or her ministers, and sets +fire to buildings, and burns up corn to increase distress; +and, when hunted away, it dives down into the collieries, +or visits the manufactories, and maddens the people, and +urges them on to plunder and destruction. It's a melancholy +thing to think of; but he is as of old, alive and active, +seeing whom he can allure and deceive, and whoever listens +is ruined for ever. + +"Stay, dear, I'll tell you what I will do for you. I'll +inquire about these Chartists; and when I go to London, +I will write a little tract so plain that any child may +read it and understand it; and call it _The Chartist_, +and get it printed, and I will send you one for your +husband, and two or three others, to give to those whom +they may benefit. + +"And now, dear, I must go. You and I will never meet +again in this world; but I shall often think of you, and +often speak of you. I shall tell my people of the comforts, +of the neatness, of the beauty of an English cottage. +May God bless you, and so regulate your mind as to preserve +in you a reverence for his holy word, an obedience to +the commands of your Spiritual Pastor, and a respect for +all that are placed in authority over you!" + +"Well, it is pretty, too, is this cottage," said Mr. +Slick, as we strolled back to the inn, "but the +handsumestest thing is to hear that good old soul talk +dictionary that way, aint it? How nateral he is! Guess +they don't often see such a 'postle as that in these +diggins. Yes, it's pretty is this cottage; but it's small, +arter all. You feel like a squirrel in a cage, in it; +you have to run round and round, and don't go forward +none. What would a man do with a rifle here? For my part, +I have a taste for the wild woods; it comes on me regular +in the fall, like the lake fever, and I up gun, and off +for a week or two, and camp out, and get a snuff of the +spruce-wood air, and a good appetite, and a bit of fresh +ven'son to sup on at night. + +"I shall be off to the highlands this fall; but, cuss +em, they hante got no woods there; nothin' but heather, +and thats only high enough to tear your clothes. That's +the reason the Scotch don't wear no breeches, they don't +like to get 'em ragged up that way for everlastinly, they +can't afford it; so they let em scratch and tear their +skin, for that will grow agin, and trowsers won't. + +"Yes, it's a pretty cottage that, and a nice tidy body +that too, is Mrs. Hodgins. I've seen the time when I +would have given a good deal to have been so well housed +as that. There is some little difference atween that +cottage and a log hut of a poor back emigrant settler, +you and I know where. Did ever I tell you of the night +I spent at Lake Teal, with old Judge Sandford?" + +"No, not that I recollect." + +"Well, once upon a time I was a-goin' from Mill-bridge +to Shadbrooke, on a little matter of bisness, and an +awful bad and lonely road it was, too. There was scarcely +no settlers in it, and the road was all made of sticks, +stones, mud holes, and broken bridges. It was een amost +onpassible, and who should I overtake on the way but the +Judge, and his guide, on horseback, and Lawyer Traverse +a-joggin' along in his gig, at the rate of two miles an +hour at the fardest. + +"'Mornin,' sais the Judge, for he was a sociable man, +and had a kind word for every body, had the Judge. Few +men 'know'd human natur' better nor he did, and what he +used to call the philosophy of life. 'I am glad to see +you on the road, Mr. Slick, sais he, 'for it is so bad +I am afraid there are places that will require our united +efforts to pass 'em.' + +"Well, I felt kinder sorry for the delay too, for I know'd +we should make a poor journey on't, on account of that +lawyer critter's gig, that hadn't no more busness on that +rough track than a steam engine had. But I see'd the +Judge wanted me to stay company, and help him along, and +so I did. He was fond of a joke, was the old Judge, and +sais he, + +"'I'm afraid we shall illustrate that passage o' Scriptur', +Mr. Slick,' said he, '"And their judges shall be overthrown +in stony places." It's jist a road for it, ain't it?' + +"Well we chattered along the road this way a leetle, jist +a leetle faster than we travelled, for we made a snail's +gallop of it, that's a fact; and night overtook us, as +I suspected it would, at Obi Rafuse's, at the Great Lake; +and as it was the only public for fourteen miles, and +dark was settin' in, we dismounted, but oh, what a house +it was! + +"Obi was an emigrant, and those emigrants are ginerally +so fond of ownin' the soil, that like misers, they carry +as much of it about 'em on their parsons, in a common +way, as they cleverly can. Some on 'em are awful dirty +folks, that's a fact, and Obi was one of them. He kept +public, did Obi; the sign said it was a house of +entertainment for man and beast. For critters that ain't +human, I do suppose it spoke the truth, for it was enough +to make a hoss larf, if he could understand it, that's +a fact; but dirt, wretchedness and rags, don't have that +effect on me. + +"The house was built of rough spruce logs, (the only +thing spruce about it), with the bark on, and the cracks +and seams was stuffed with moss. The roof was made of +coarse slabs, battened and not shingled, and the chimbly +peeped out like a black pot, made of sticks and mud, the +way a crow's nest is. The winders were half broke out, +and stopped up with shingles and old clothes, and a great +bank of mud and straw all round, reached half way up to +the roof, to keep the frost out of the cellar. It looked +like an old hat on a dung heap. I pitied the old Judge, +because he was a man that took the world as he found it, +and made no complaints. He know'd if you got the best, +it was no use complainin' that the best warn't good. + +"Well, the house stood alone in the middle of a clearin', +without an outhouse of any sort or kind about it, or any +fence or enclosure, but jist rose up as a toodstool grows, +all alone in the field. Close behind it was a thick short +second growth of young birches, about fifteen feet high, +which was the only shelter it had, and that was on the +wrong side, for it was towards the south. + +"Well, when we alighted, and got the baggage off, away +starts the guide with the Judge's traps, and ups a path +through the woods to a settler's, and leaves us. Away +down by the edge of the lake was a little barn, filled +up to the roof with grain and hay, and there was no +standin' room or shelter in it for the hosses. So the +lawyer hitches his critter to a tree, and goes and fetches +up some fodder for him, and leaves him for the night, to +weather it as he could. As soon as he goes in, I takes Old +Clay to the barn, for it's a maxim of mine always to look +out arter number one, opens the door, and pulls out sheaf +arter sheaf of grain as fast as I could, and throws it +out, till I got a place big enough for him to crawl in. + +"'Now,' sais I, 'old boy,' as I shot to the door arter +him, 'if that hole ain't big enough for you, eat away +till it is, that's all.' + +"I had hardly got to the house afore the rain, that had +threatened all day, came down like smoke, and the wind +got up, and it blew like a young hurricane, and the lake +roared dismal; it was an awful night, and it was hard to +say which was wus, the Storm or the shelter. + +"'Of two evils,' sais I to the lawyer, 'choose the least. +It ain't a bad thing to be well housed in a night like +this, is it?' + +"The critter groaned, for both cases was so 'bad he didn't +know which to take up to defend, so he grinned horrid +and said nothin'; and it was enough to make him grin too, +that's a fact. He looked as if he had got hold on a bill +o' pains and penalties instead of a bill of costs that +time, you may depend. + +"Inside of the house was three rooms, the keepin' room, +where we was all half circled round the fire, and two +sleepin' rooms off of it. One of these Obi had, who was +a-bed, groanin', coughin', and turnin' over and over all +the time on the creakin' bedstead with pleurisy; t'other +was for the judge. The loft was for the old woman, his +mother, and the hearth, or any other soft place we could +find, was allocated for lawyer and me. + +"What a scarecrow lookin' critter old aunty was, warn't +she? She was all in rags and tatters, and though she +lived 'longside of the lake the best part of her emigrant +life, had never used water since she was christened. Her +eyes were so sunk in her head, they looked like two burnt +holes in a blanket. Her hair was pushed back, and tied +so tight with an eel-skin behind her head, it seemed to +take the hide with it. I 'most wonder how she ever shot +to her eyes to go to sleep. She had no stockins on her +legs, and no heels to her shoes, so she couldn't lift +her feet up, for fear of droppin' off her slippers; but +she just shoved and slid about as if she was on ice. She +had a small pipe in her mouth, with about an inch of a +stem, to keep her nose warm, and her skin was so yaller +and wrinkled, and hard and oily, she looked jist like a +dried smoked red herrin', she did upon my soul. + +"The floor of the room was blacker nor ink, because that +is pale sometimes; and the utenshils, oh, if the fire +didn't purify 'em now and ag'in, all the scrubbin' in +the world wouldn't, they was past that. Whenever the door +was opened, in run the pigs, and the old woman hobbled +round arter them, bangin' them with a fryin' pan, till +she seemed out o' breath. Every time she took less and +less notice of 'em, for she was 'most beat out herself, +and was busy a gettin' of the tea-kettle to bile, and it +appeared to me she was a-goin' to give in and let 'em +sleep with me and the lawyer, near the fire. + +"So I jist puts the tongs in the sparklin' coals and +heats the eends on 'em red hot, and the next time they +comes in, I watches a chance, outs with the tongs, and +seizes the old sow by the tail, and holds on till I singes +it beautiful. The way she let go ain't no matter, but if +she didn't yell it's a pity, that's all. She made right +straight for the door, dashed in atween old aunty's legs, +and carries her out on her back, ridin' straddle-legs +like a man, and tumbles her head over heels in the duck +pond of dirty water outside, and then lays down along +side of her, to put the fire out in its tail and cool +itself. + +"Aunty took up the screamin' then, where the pig left +off; but her voice warn't so good, poor thing! she was +too old for that, it sounded like a cracked bell; it was +loud enough, but it warn't jist so clear. She came in +drippin' and cryin' and scoldin'; she hated water, and +what was wus, this water made her dirtier. It ran off of +her like a gutter. The way she let out agin pigs, +travellers and houses of entertainment, was a caution to +sinners. She vowed she'd stop public next mornin', and +bile her kettle with the sign; folks might entertain +themselves and be hanged to 'em, for all her, that they +might. Then she mounted a ladder and goes up into the +loft-to change. + +"'Judge' sais I, 'I am sorry, too, I singed that pig's +tail arter that fashion, for the smell of pork chops +makes me feel kinder hungry, and if we had 'em, no soul +could eat 'em here in such a stye as this. But, dear me,' +sais I, 'You'd better move, Sir; that old woman is juicy, +and I see it a comin' through the cracks of the floor +above, like a streak of molasses. + +"'Mr. Slick,' sais he, 'this is dreadful. I never saw +any thing so bad before in all this country; but what +can't be cured must be endured, I do suppose. We must +only be good-natured and do the best we can, that's all. +An emigrant house is no place to stop at, is it? There +is a tin case,' sais he, 'containin' a cold tongue and +some biscuits, in my portmanter; please to get them out. +You must act as butler to-night, if you please; for I +can't eat any thing that old woman touches.' + +"So I spreads one of his napkins on the table, and gets +out the eatables, and then he produced a pocket pistol, +for he was a sensible man was the judge, and we made a +small check, for there warn't enough for a feed. + +"Arter that, he takes out a night-cap, and fits it on +tight, and then puts on his cloak, and wraps the hood of +it close over his head, and foldin' himself up in it, he +went and laid down without ondressin'. The lawyer took +a stretch for it on the bench, with his gig cushions for +a pillar, and I makes up the fire, sits down on the chair, +puts my legs up on the jamb, draws my hat over my eyes, +and folds my arms for sleep. + +"'But fust and foremost,' sais I, 'aunty, take a drop of +the strong waters: arter goin' the whole hog that way, +you must need some,' and I poured her out a stiff corker +into one of her mugs, put some sugar and hot water to +it, and she tossed it off as if she railly did like it. + +"'Darn that pig,' said she, 'it is so poor, its back is +as sharp as a knife. It hurt me properly, that's a fact, +and has most broke my crupper bone.' And she put her hand +behind her, and moaned piteous. + +"'Pig skin,' sais I, 'aunty, is well enough when made +into a saddle, but it ain't over pleasant to ride on bare +back that way,' sais I, 'is it? And them bristles ain't +quite so soft as feathers, I do suppose.' + +"I thought I should a died a holdin' in of a haw haw that +way. Stifling a larf a'most stifles oneself, that's a +fact. I felt sorry for her, too, but sorrow won't always +keep you from larfin', unless you be sorry for yourself. +So as I didn't want to offend her I ups legs agin to the +jam, and shot my eyes and tried to go to sleep. + +"Well, I can snooze through most any thin', but I couldn't +get much sleep that night. The pigs kept close to the +door, a shovin' agin it every now and then, to see all +was right for a dash in, if the bears came; and the geese +kept sentry too agin the foxes; and one old feller would +squake out "all's well" every five minuts, as he marched +up and down and back agin on the bankin' of the house. + +"But the turkeys was the wust. They was perched upon the +lee side of the roof, and sometimes an eddy of wind would +take a feller right slap off his legs, and send him +floppin' and rollin' and sprawlin' and screamin' down to +the ground, and then he'd make most as much fuss a-gettin' +up into line agin. They are very fond of straight, lines +is turkeys. I never see an old gobbler, with his gorget, +that I don't think of a kernel of a marchin' regiment, +and if you'll listen to him and watch him, he'll strut +jist like one, and say, 'halt! dress!' oh, he is a military +man is a turkey cock: he wears long spurs, carries a +stiff neck, and charges at red cloth, like a trooper. + +"Well then a little cowardly good natured cur, that lodged +in an empty flour barrel, near the wood pile, gave out +a long doleful howl, now and agin, to show these outside +passengers, if he couldn't fight for 'em, he could at +all events cry for 'em, and it ain't every goose has a +mourner to her funeral, that's a fact, unless it be the +owner. + +"In the mornin' I wakes up, and looks round for lawyer, +but he was gone. So I gathers up the brans, and makes +up the fire, and walks out. The pigs didn't try to come +in agin, you may depend, when they see'd me; they didn't +like the curlin' tongs, as much as some folks do, and +pigs' tails kinder curl naterally. But there was lawyer +a-standin' up by the grove, lookin' as peeked and as +forlorn, as an onmated loon. + +"'What's the matter of you, Squire?' sais I. 'You look +like a man that was ready to make a speech; but your +witness hadn't come, or you hadn't got no jury.' + +"'Somebody has stole my horse,' said he. + +"Well, I know'd he was near-sighted, was lawyer, and +couldn't see a pint clear of his nose, unless it was a +pint o' law. So I looks all round and there was his +hoss, a-standin' on the bridge, with his long tail hanging +down straight at one eend, and his long neck and head a +banging down straight at t'other eend, so that you couldn't +tell one from t'other or which eend was towards you. It +was a clear cold mornin'. The storm was over and the wind +down, and there was a frost on the ground. The critter +was cold I suppose, and had broke the rope and walked +off to stretch his legs. It was a monstrous mean night +to be out in, that's sartain. + +"'There is your hoss,' sais I. + +"'Where?' sais he. + +"'Why on the bridge,' sais I; "he has got his head down +and is a-lookin' atween his fore-legs to see where his +tail is, for he is so cold, I do suppose he can't feel +it.' + +"Well, as soon as we could, we started ; but afore we +left, sais the Judge to me, 'Mr. Slick,' sais he, 'here +is a plaister,' taking out a pound note, 'a plaister for +the skin the pig rubbed off of the old woman. Give it to +her, I hope it is big enough to cover it.' And he fell +back on the bed, and larfed and coughed, and coughed and +larfed, till the tears ran down his cheeks. + +"Yes," said Mr. Slick, "yes, Squire, this is a pretty +cottage of Marm Hodgins; but we have cottages quite as +pretty as this, our side of the water, arter all. They +are not all like Obi Rafuses, the immigrant. The natives +have different guess places, where you might eat off the +floor a'most, all's so clean. P'raps we hante the hedges, +and flowers, and vines and fixin's, and what-nots." + +"Which, alone," I said, "make a most important difference. +No, Mr. Slick', there is nothing to be compared to this +little cottage. + +"I perfectly agree with you, Squire," said Mr. Hopewell, +"it is quite unique. There is not only nothing equal to +it, but nothing of its kind at all like--_an English +cottage_. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +STEALING THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE. + +Shortly after our return to the inn, a carriage drove up +to the door, and the cards of Mr. Merton, and the Reverend +Mr. Homily, which were presented by the servant, were +soon followed by the gentlemen themselves. + +Mr. Merton said he had been informed by Mrs. Hodgins of +our visit to her cottage, and from her account of our +conversation and persons, he was convinced we could be +no other than the party described in the "Sayings and +Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick," as about to visit England +with the Attache. He expressed great pleasure in having +the opportunity of making our acquaintance, and entreated +us to spend a few days with him at the Priory. This +invitation we were unfortunately compelled to decline, +in consequence of urgent business in London, where our +immediate presence was indispensable. + +The rector then pressed Mr. Hopewell to preach for him, +on the following day at the parish church, which he also +declined. He said, that he had no sermons with him, and +that he had very great objections to extemporaneous +preaching, which he thought should never be resorted to +except in cases of absolute necessity. He, however, at +last consented to do so, on condition that Mrs. Hodgins +and her husband attended, and upon being assured that it +was their invariable custom to be present, he said, he +thought it not impossible, that he might make an impression +upon _him_, and as it was his maxim never to omit an +opportunity of doing good, he would with the blessing of +God, make the attempt. + +The next day was remarkably fine, and as the scene was +new to me, and most probably will be so to most of my +colonial readers, I shall endeavour to describe it with +some minuteness. + +We walked to the church by a path over the hills, and +heard the bells of a number of little churches, summoning +the surrounding population to the House of God. The roads +and the paths were crowded with the peasantry and their +children, approaching the church-yard in different +directions. The church and the rectory were contiguous +to each other, and situated in a deep dell. + +The former was a long and rather low structure, originally +built of light coloured stone, which had grown grey with +time. It had a large square steeple, with pointed corners, +like turrets, each of which was furnished with a vane, +but some of these ornaments were loose and turned round +in a circle, while others stood still and appeared to be +examining with true rustic curiosity, the condition of +their neighbours. + +The old rectory stood close to the church and was very +irregularly built, one part looking as if it had stepped +forward to take a peep at us, and another as if endeavouring +to conceal itself from view, behind a screen of ivy. The +windows which were constructed of diamond-shaped glass, +were almost square, and opened on hinges. Nearly half of +the house was covered by a rose-tree, from which the +lattices peered very inquisitively upon the assembled +congregation. Altogether it looked like the residence +of a vigilant man, who could both see and be unseen if +he pleased. + +Near the door of the church were groups of men in their +clean smock-frocks and straw hats, and of women in their +tidy dark dresses and white aprons. The children all +looked clean, healthy, and cheerful. + +The interior of the church was so unlike that of an +American one, that my attention was irresistibly drawn +to its peculiarities. It was low, and divided in the +centre by an arch. The floor was of stone, and from long +and constant use, very uneven in places. The pews were +much higher on the sides than ours, and were unpainted +and roughly put together; while the pulpit was a rude +square box, and was placed in the corner. Near the door +stood an ancient stone font, of rough workmanship, and +much worn. + +The windows were long and narrow, and placed very high +in the walls. On the one over the altar was a very old +painting, on stained glass, of the Virgin, with a hoop +and yellow petticoat, crimson vest, a fly cap, and very +thick shoes. The light of this window was still further +subdued by a fine old yew-tree, which stood in the yard +close behind it. + +There was another window of beautifully stained glass, +the light of which fell on a large monument, many feet +square, of white marble. In the centre of this ancient +and beautiful work of art, were two principal figures, +with smaller ones kneeling on each side, having the hands +raised in the attitude of prayer. They were intended to +represent some of the ancestors of the Merton family. +The date was as old as 1575. On various parts of the +wall were other and ruder monuments of slate-stone, +the inscriptions and dates of which were nearly +effaced by time. + +The roof was of a construction now never seen in America; +and the old oak rafters, which were more numerous, than +was requisite, either for strength or ornament, were +massive and curiously put together, giving this part of +the building a heavy and gloomy appearance. + +As we entered the church, Mr. Hopewell said he had +selected a text suitable to the times, and that he would +endeavour to save the poor people in the neighbourhood +from the delusions of the chartist demagogues, who, it +appeared, were endeavouring to undermine the throne and +the altar, and bring universal ruin upon the country. + +When he ascended the pulpit to preach, his figure, his +great age, and his sensible and benevolent countenance, +attracted universal attention. I had never seen him +officiate till this day; but if I was struck with his +venerable appearance before, I was now lost in admiration +of his rich and deep-toned voice, his peculiar manner, +and simple style of eloquence. + +He took for his text these words: "So Absalom stole the +hearts of the men of Israel." He depicted, in a very +striking manner, the arts of this intriguing and ungrateful +man to ingratiate himself with the people, and render +the government unpopular. He traced his whole course, +from his standing at the crowded thoroughfare, and +lamenting that the king had deputed no one to hear and +decide upon the controversies of the people, to his +untimely end, and the destruction of his ignorant followers. +He made a powerful application of the seditious words of +Absalom: "Oh that _I_ were a judge in the land, that +every man which hath a suit or cause might come unto me, +and _I_ would do him justice." He showed the effect of +these empty and wicked promises upon his followers, who +in the holy record of this unnatural rebellion are +described as "men who went out in their simplicity, and +knew not anything." + +He then said that similar arts were used in all ages for +similar purposes; and that these professions of +disinterested patriotism were the common pretences by +which wicked men availed themselves of the animal force +of those "who assemble in their simplicity, and know not +any thing," to achieve their own personal aggrandisement, +and warned them, to give no heed to such dishonest people. +He then drew a picture of the real blessings they enjoyed +in this happy country, which, though not without an +admixture of evil, were as many and as great as the +imperfect and unequal condition of man was capable either +of imparting or receiving. + +Among the first of these, he placed the provision made +by the state for the instruction of the poor, by means +of an established Church. He said they would doubtless +hear this wise and pious deed of their forefathers attacked +also by unprincipled men; and falsehood and ridicule +would be invoked to aid in the assault; but that he was +a witness on its behalf, from the distant wilderness of +North America, where the voice of gratitude was raised +to England, whose missionaries had planted a church there +similar to their own, and had proclaimed the glad tidings +of salvation to those who would otherwise have still +continued to live without its pale. + +He then pourtrayed in a rapid and most masterly manner +the sin and the disastrous consequences of rebellion; +pointed out the necessity that existed for vigilance and +defined their respective duties to God, and to those who, +by his permission, were set in authority over them; and +concluded with the usual benediction, which, though I +had heard it on similar occasions all my life, seemed +now more efficacious, more paternal, and more touching +than ever, when uttered by him, in his peculiarly +patriarchal manner. + +The abstract I have just given, I regret to say, cannot +convey any adequate idea of this powerful, excellent, +and appropriate sermon. It was listened to with intense +interest by the congregation, many of whom were affected +to tears. In the afternoon we attended church again, +when we heard a good, plain, and practical discourse from +the rector; but, unfortunately, he had neither the talent, +nor the natural eloquence of our friend, and, although +it satisfied the judgment, it did not affect, the heart +like that of the "Old Minister." + +At the door we met, on our return, Mrs. Hodgins. "Ah! my +dear," said Mr. Hopewell, "how do you do? I am going to +your cottage; but I am an old man now; take my arm--it +will support me in my walk." + +It was thus that this good man, while honouring this poor +woman, avoided the appearance of condescension, and +received her arm as a favour to himself. + +She commenced thanking him for his sermon in the morning. +She said it had convinced her William of the sin of the +Chartist agitation, and that he had firmly resolved never +to meet them again. It had saved him from ruin, and made +her a happy woman. + +"Glad to hear it has done him good, my dear," said he; +"it does me good, too, to hear its effect. Now, never +remind him of past errors, never allude to them: make +his home cheerful, make it the pleasantest place he can +find any where, and he won't want to seek amusement +elsewhere, or excitement either; for these seditious +meetings intoxicate by their excitement. Oh! I am very +glad I have touched him; that I have prevented these +seditious men from 'stealing his heart.'" + +In this way they chatted, until they arrived at the +cottage, which Hodgins had just reached by a shorter, +but more rugged path. + +"It is such a lovely afternoon," said Mr. Hopewell, "I +believe I will rest in this arbour here awhile, and enjoy +the fresh breeze, and the perfume of your honeysuckles +and flowers." + +"Wouldn't a pipe be better, Minister?" said Mr. Slick. +"For my part, I don't think any thing equal to the flavour +of rael good gene_wine_ first chop tobacco." + +"Well, it is a great refreshment, is tobacco," said Mr. +Hopewell. "I don't care if I do take a pipe. Bring me +one, Mr. Hodgins, and one for yourself also, and I will +smoke and talk with you awhile, for they seem as natural +to each other, as eating and drinking do." + +As soon as these were produced, Mr. Slick and I retired, +and requested Mrs. Hodgins to leave the Minister and +her husband together for a while, for as Mr. Slick +observed, "The old man will talk it into him like a book; +for if he was possessed of the spirit of a devil, instead +of a Chartist, he is jist the boy to drive it out of +him. Let him be awhile, and he'll tame old uncle there, +like a cossit sheep; jist see if he don't, that's all." + +We then walked up and down the shady lane, smoking our +cigars, and Mr. Slick observed, "Well, there is a nation +sight of difference, too, ain't there, atween this country +church, and a country meetin' house our side of the water; +I won't say in your country or my country; but I say +_our_ side of the water--and then it won't rile nobody; +for your folks will say I mean the States, and our citizens +will say I mean the colonies; but you and I know who the +cap fits, one or t'other, or both, don't we? + +"Now here, this old-fashioned church, ain't quite up to +the notch, and is a leetle behind the enlightment of the +age like, with its queer old fixin's and what not; but +still it looks solemcoly' don't it, and the dim light +seems as if we warn't expected to be a lookin' about, +and as if outer world was shot out, from sight and thort, +and it warn't _man's_ house nother. + +"I don't know whether it was that dear old man's preachin', +and he is a brick ain't he? or, whether it's the place, +or the place and him together; but somehow, or somehow +else, I feel more serious to-day than common, that's a +fact. The people too are all so plain dressed, so decent, +so devout and no show, it looks like airnest. + +"The only fashionable people here was the Squire's +sarvants; and they _did_ look genteel, and no mistake. +Elegant men, and most splendid lookin' women they was +too. I thought it was some noble, or aid's, or big bug's +family; but Mrs. Hodgins says they are the people of the +Squire's about here, the butlers and ladies' maids; and +superfine uppercrust lookin' folks they be too. + +"Then every body walks here, even Squire Merton and his +splendiriferous galls walked like the poorest of the +poor, there was no carriage to the door, nor no hosses +hitched to the gate, or tied to the back of waggons, or +people gossipin' outside; but all come in and minded +their business, as if it was worth attendin' to; and then +arter church was finished off, I liked the way the big +folks talked to the little folks, and enquired arter +their families. It may he actin', but if it is, it's +plaguy good actin', I _tell_ you. + +"I'm a thinkin' it tante a rael gentleman that's proud, +but only a hop. You've seen a hop grow, hante you? It +shoots up in a night, the matter of several inches right +out of the ground, as stiff as a poker, straight up and +down, with a spick and span new green coat and a red +nose, as proud as Lucifer. Well, I call all upstarts +'hops,' and I believe it's only "hops" arter all that's +scorny. + +"Yes, I kinder like an English country church, only it's +a leetle, jist a leetle too old fashioned for me. Folks +look a leetle too much like grandfather Slick, and the +boys used to laugh at him, and call him a benighted +Britisher. Perhaps that's the cause of my prejudice, and +yet I must say, British or no British, it tante bad, is +it? + +"The meetin' houses 'our side of the water,' no matter +where, but away up in the back country, how teetotally +different they be! bean't they? A great big, handsome +wooden house, chock full of winders, painted so white as +to put your eyes out, and so full of light within, that +inside seems all out-doors, and no tree nor bush, nor +nothin' near it but the road fence, with a man to preach +in it, that is so strict and straight-laced he will do +_any thing_ of a week day, and _nothin'_ of a Sunday. +Congregations are rigged out in their spic and span bran +new clothes, silks, satins, ribbins, leghorns, palmetters, +kiss-me-quicks, and all sorts of rigs, and the men in +their long-tail-blues, pig-skin pads calf-skin boots and +sheep-skin saddle-cloths. Here they publish a book of +fashions, there they publish 'em in meetin'; and instead +of a pictur, have the rael naked truth. + +"Preacher there don't preach morals, because that's +churchy, and he don't like neither the church nor its +morals; but he preaches doctrine, which doctrine is, +there's no Christians but themselves. Well, the fences +outside of the meetin' house, for a quarter of a mile or +so, each side of the house, and each side of the road, +ain't to be seen for hosses and waggons, and gigs hitched +there; poor devils of hosses that have ploughed, or +hauled, or harrowed, or logged, or snaked, or somethin' +or another all the week, and rest of a Sunday by alterin' +their gait, as a man rests on a journey by a alterin' of +his sturup, a hole higher or a hole lower. Women that +has all their finery on can't walk, and some things is +ondecent. It's as ondecent for a woman to be seen walkin' +to meetin', as it is to be caught at--what shall I +say?--why caught at attendin' to her business to home. + +"The women are the fust and the last to meetin'; fine +clothes cost sunthin', and if they ain't showed, what's +the use of them? The men folk remind me of the hosses to +Sable Island. It's a long low sand-bank on Nova Scotia +coast, thirty miles long and better is Sable Island, and +not much higher than the water. It has awful breakers +round it, and picks up a shockin' sight of vessels does +that island. Government keeps a super-intender there and +twelve men to save wracked people, and there is a herd +of three hundred wild hosses kept there for food for +saved crews that land there, when provision is short, or +for super-intender to catch and break for use, as the +case may be. + +"Well, if he wants a new hoss, he mounts his folks on +his tame hosses, and makes a dash into the herd, and runs +a wild feller down, lugs him off to the stable-yard, and +breaks him in, in no time. A smart little hoss he is too, +but he always has an _eye to natur'_ arterwards; _the +change is too sudden_, and he'll off, if he gets a chance. + +"Now that's the case with these country congregations, +we know where. The women and old tame men folk are, +inside; the young wild boys and ontamed men folk are on +the fences, outside a settin' on the top rail, a speculatin' +on times or marriages, or markets, or what not, or a +walkin' round and studyin' hoss flesh, or a talkin' of +a swap to be completed of a Monday, or a leadin' off of +two hosses on the sly of the old deacon's, takin' a lick +of a half mile on a bye road, right slap a-head, and +swearin' the hosses had got loose, and they was just a +fetchin' of them back. + +"'Whose side-saddle is this?' + +"'Slim Sall Dowdie's.' + +"'Shift it on to the deacon's beast, and put his on to +her'n and tie the two critters together by the tail. This +is old Mother Pitcher's waggon; her hoss kicks like a +grasshopper. Lengthen the breechin', and when aunty +starts, he'll make all fly agin into shavin's, like a +plane. Who is that a comin' along full split there a +horseback?' + +"'It's old Booby's son, Tom. Well, it's the old man's +shaft hoss; call out whoh! and he'll stop short, and +pitch Tom right over his head on the broad of his back, +whap. + +"Tim Fish, and Ned Pike, come scale up here with us boys +on the fence.' The weight is too great; away goes the +fence, and away goes the boys, all flyin'; legs, arms, +hats, poles, stakes, withes, and all, with an awful crash +and an awful shout; and away goes two or three hosses +that have broke their bridles, and off home like wink. + +"Out comes Elder Sourcrout. 'Them as won't come in had +better stay to home,' sais he. And when he hears that +them as are in had better stay in when they be there, he +takes the hint and goes back agin. 'Come, boys, let's go +to Black Stump Swamp and sarch for honey. We shall be +back in time to walk home with the galls from night +meetin', by airly candle-light. Let's go.' + +"Well, when they want to recruit the stock of tame ones +inside meetin', they sarcumvent some o' these wild ones +outside; make a dash on 'em, catch 'em, dip 'em, and give +'em a name; for all sects don't always baptise 'em as we +do, when children, but let 'em grow up wild in the herd +till they are wanted. They have hard work to break 'em +in, for they are smart ones, that's a fact, but, like +the hosses of Sable Island, they have always _an eye to +natur'_ arterwards; _the change is too sudden_, you can't +trust 'em, at least I never see one as _I_ could, that's +all. + +"Well, when they come out o' meetin', look at the dignity +and sanctity, and pride o' humility o' the tame old ones. +Read their faces. 'How does the print go?' Why this way, +'I am a sinner, at least I was once, but thank fortin' +I ain't like you, you onconverted, benighted, +good-for-nothin' critter you.' Read the ontamed one's +face, what's the print there? Why it's this. As soon as +he sees over-righteous stalk by arter that fashion, it +says, 'How good we are, ain't we? Who wet his hay to +the lake tother day, on his way to market, and made two +tons weigh two tons and a half? You'd better look as if +butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, hadn't you, old +Sugar-cane?' + +"Now jist foller them two rulin' elders, Sourcrout and +Coldslaugh; they are plaguy jealous of their neighbour, +elder Josh Chisel, that exhorted to-day. 'How did you +like Brother Josh, to-day?' says Sourcrout, a utterin' +of it through his nose. Good men always speak through +the nose. It's what comes out o' the mouth that defiles +a man; but there is no mistake in the nose; it's the +porch of the temple that. 'How did you like Brother Josh?' + +"'Well, he wasn't very peeowerful.' + +"'Was he ever peeowerful?' + +"'Well, when a boy, they say he was considerable sum as +a wrastler.' + +"Sourcrout won't larf, because it's agin rules; but he +gig goggles like a turkey-cock, and says he, 'It's for +ever and ever the same thing with Brother Josh. He is +like an over-shot mill, one everlastin' wishy-washy +stream.' + +"'When the water ain't quite enough to turn the wheel, +and only spatters, spatters, spatters,' says Coldslaugh. + +"Sourcrout gig goggles again, as if he was swallerin' +shelled corn whole. 'That trick of wettin' the hay,' says +he, 'to make it weigh heavy, warn't cleverly done; it +ain't pretty to be caught; it's only bunglers do that.' + +"'He is so fond of temperance,' says Coldslaugh, 'he +wanted to make his hay jine society, and drink cold water, +too.' + +"Sourcrout gig goggles ag'in, till he takes a fit of the +asmy, sets down on a stump, claps both hands on his sides, +and coughs, and coughs till he finds coughing no joke no +more. Oh dear, dear convarted men, though they won't larf +themselves, make others larf the worst kind, sometimes; +don't they? + +"I do believe, on my soul, if religion was altogether +left to the voluntary in this world, it would die a +nateral death; not that _men wouldn't support it_, but +because it would be supported _under false pretences_. +Truth can't be long upheld by falsehood. Hypocrisy would +change its features, and intolerance its name; and religion +would soon degenerate into a cold, intriguing, onprincipled, +marciless superstition, that's a fact. + +"Yes, on the whole, I rather like these plain, decent, +onpretendin', country churches here, although t'other +ones remind me of old times, when I was an ontamed one +too. Yes, I like an English church; but as for Minister +pretendin' for to come for to go for to preach agin that +beautiful long-haired young rebel, Squire Absalom, for +'stealin' the hearts of the people,' why it's rather +takin' the rag off the bush, ain't it? + +"Tell you what, Squire; there ain't a man in their whole +church here, from Lord Canter Berry that preaches afore +the Queen, to Parson Homily that preached afore us, nor +never was, nor never will be equal to Old Minister hisself +for 'stealin' the hearts of the people.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +NATUR'. + +In the course of our journey, the conversation turned +upon the several series of the "Clockmaker" I had published, +and their relative merits. Mr. Slick appeared to think +they all owed their popularity mainly to the freshness +and originality of character incidental to a new country. + +"You are in the wrong pew here, Squire," said he; "you +are, upon my soul. If you think to sketch the English in +a way any one will stop to look at, you have missed a +figur', that's all. You can't do it nohow; you can't fix +it. There is no contrasts here, no variation of colours, +no light and shade, no nothin'. What sort of a pictur' +would straight lines of any thing make? Take a parcel of +sodjers, officers and all, and stretch 'em out in a row, +and paint 'em, and then engrave 'em, and put it into one +of our annuals, and see how folks would larf, and ask, +'What boardin'-school gall did that? Who pulled her up +out of standin' corn, and sot her up on eend for an +artist? they'd say. + +"There is nothin' here to take hold on. It's so plaguy +smooth and high polished, the hands slip off; you can't +get a grip of it. Now, take Lord First Chop, who is the +most fashionable man in London, dress him in the last +cut coat, best trowsers, French boots, Paris gloves, and +grape-vine-root cane, don't forget his whiskers, or +mous-stache, or breast-pins, or gold chains, or any thing; +and what have you got?--a tailor's print-card, and nothin' +else. + +"Take a lady, and dress her in a'most a beautiful long +habit, man's hat, stand-up collar and stock, clap a +beautiful little cow-hide whip in her hand, and mount +her on a'most a splendiferous white hoss, with long tail +and flowin' mane, a rairin' and a cavortin' like mad, +and a champin' and a chawin' of its bit, and makin' the +froth fly from its mouth, a spatterin' and white-spottin' +of her beautiful trailin', skirt like any thing. And what +have you got?--why a print like the posted hand-bills of +a circus. + +"Now spit on your fingers, and rub Lord First Chop out +of the slate, and draw an Irish labourer, with his coat +off, in his shirt-sleeves, with his breeches loose and +ontied at the knees, his yarn stockings and thick shoes +on; a little dudeen in his mouth, as black as ink and as +short as nothin'; his hat with devilish little rim and +no crown to it, and a hod on his shoulders, filled with +bricks, and him lookin' as if he was a singin' away as +merry as a cricket: + + When I was young and unmarried, + my shoes they were new. + But now I am old and am married, + the water runs troo,' + +Do that, and you have got sunthin' worth lookin' at, +quite pictures-quee, as Sister Sall used to say. And +because why? _You have got sunthin' nateral_. + +"Well, take the angylyferous dear a horseback, and rub +her out, well, I won't say that nother, for I'm fond of +the little critturs, dressed or not dressed for company, +or any way they like, yes, I like woman-natur', I tell +_you_. But turn over the slate, and draw on t'other side +on't an old woman, with a red cloak, and a striped +petticoat, and a poor pinched-up, old, squashed-in bonnet +on, bendin' forrard, with a staff in her hand, a leadin' +of a donkey that has a pair of yaller willow saddle-bags +on, with coloured vegetables and flowers, and red beet-tops, +a goin' to market. And what have you got? Why a pictur' +worth lookin' at, too. Why?--_because it's natur'_. + +"Now, look here, Squire; let Copley, if he was alive, +but he ain't; and it's a pity too, for it would have +kinder happified the old man, to see his son in the House +of Lords, wouldn't it? Squire Copley, you know, was a +Boston man; and a credit to our great nation too. P'raps +Europe never has dittoed him since. + +"Well, if he was above ground now, alive, and stirrin', +why take him and fetch him to an upper crust London party; +and sais you, 'Old Tenor,' sais you, 'paint all them +silver plates, and silver dishes, and silver coverlids, +and what nots; and then paint them lords with their +_stars_, and them ladies' (Lord if he would paint them +with their garters, folks would buy the pictur, cause +that's nateral) 'them ladies with their jewels, and their +sarvants with their liveries, as large as life, and twice +as nateral.' + +"Well, he'd paint it, if you paid him for it, that's a +fact; for there is no better bait to fish for us Yankees +arter all, than a dollar. That old boy never turned up +his nose at a dollar, except when he thought he ought to +get two. And if he painted it, it wouldn't be bad, I +tell _you_. + +"'Now,' sais you, 'you have done high life, do low life +for me, and I will pay you well. I'll come down hansum, +and do the thing genteel, you may depend. Then,' sais +you, 'put in for a back ground that noble, old Noah-like +lookin' wood, that's as dark as comingo. Have you done?' +sais you. + +"'I guess so,' sais he. + +"'Then put in a brook jist in front of it, runnin' over +stones, and foamin' and a bubblin' up like any thing.' + +"'It's in,' sais he. + +"'Then jab two forked sticks in the ground ten feet apart, +this side of the brook,' sais you, 'and clap a pole across +atween the forks. Is that down?' sais you. + +"'Yes,' sais he. + +"'Then,' sais you, 'hang a pot on that horizontal pole, +make a clear little wood fire onderneath; paint two +covered carts near it. Let an old hoss drink at the +stream, and two donkeys make a feed off a patch of +thistles. Have-you stuck that in?' + +"'Stop a bit,' says he, 'paintin' an't quite as fast done +as writin'. Have a little grain of patience, will you? +It's tall paintin', makin' the brush walk at that price. +Now there you are,' sais he. 'What's next? But, mind +I've most filled my canvass; it will cost you a pretty +considerable penny, if you want all them critters in, +when I come to cypher all the pictur up, and sumtotalize +the whole of it.' + +"'Oh! cuss the cost!' sais you. 'Do you jist obey orders, +and break owners, that's all you have to do, Old Loyalist.' + +"'Very well,' sais he, 'here goes.' + +"'Well, then,' sais you, 'paint a party of gipsies there; +mind their different coloured clothes, and different +attitudes, and different occupations. Here a man mendin' +a harness, there a woman pickin' a stolen fowl, there a +man skinnin' a rabbit, there a woman with her petticoat +up, a puttin' of a patch in it. Here two boys a fishin', +and there a little gall a playin' with a dog, that's a +racin' and a yelpin', and a barkin' like mad.' + +"'Well, when he's done,' sais you, 'which pictur do you +reckon is the best now, Squire Copely? speak candid for +I want to know, and I ask you now as a countryman.' + +"'Well' he'll jist up and tell you, 'Mr. Poker,' sais +he, 'your fashionable party is the devil, that's a fact. +Man made the town, but God made the country. Your company +is as formal, and as stiff, and as oninterestin' as a +row of poplars; but your gipsy scene is beautiful, because +it's nateral. It was me painted old Chatham's death in +the House of Lords; folks praised it a good deal; but it +was no great shakes, _there was no natur' in it_. The +scene was real, the likenesses was good, and there was +spirit in it, but their damned uniform toggery, spiled +the whole thing--it was artificial, and wanted life and +natur. Now, suppose, such a thing in Congress, or suppose +some feller skiverd the speaker with a bowie knife as +happened to Arkansaw, if I was to paint it, it would be +beautiful. Our free and enlightened people is so different, +so characteristic and peculiar, it would give a great +field to a painter. To sketch the different style of man +of each state, so that any citizen would sing right out; +Heavens and airth if that don't beat all! Why, as I am +a livin' sinner that's the Hoosier of Indiana, or the +Sucker of Illinois, or the Puke of Missouri, or the Bucky +of Ohio, or the Red Horse of Kentucky, or the Mudhead of +Tennesee, or the Wolverine of Michigan or the Eel of New +England, or the Corn Cracker of Virginia! That's the +thing that gives inspiration. That's the glass of talabogus +that raises your spirits. There is much of elegance, +and more of comfort in England. It is a great and a good +country, Mr. Poker, but there is no natur in it.' + +"It is as true as gospel," said Mr. Slick, "I'm tellin' +you no lie. It's a fact. If you expect to paint them +English, as you have the Blue-Noses and us, you'll pull +your line up without a fish, oftener than you are a-thinkin' +on; that's the reason all our folks have failed. 'Rush's +book is jist molasses and water, not quite so sweet as +'lasses, and not quite so good as water; but a spilin' +of both. And why? His pictur was of polished life, where +there is no natur. Washington Irving's book is like a +Dutch paintin', it is good, because it is faithful; the +mop has the right number of yarns, and each yarn has the +right number of twists, (altho' he mistook the mop of +the grandfather, for the mop of the man of the present +day) and the pewter plates are on the kitchen dresser, +and the other little notions are all there. He has done +the most that could be done for them, but the painter +desarves more praise than the subject. + +"Why is it every man's sketches of America takes? Do you +suppose it is the sketches? No. Do you reckon it is the +interest we create? No. Is it our grand experiments? No. +They don't care a brass button for us, or our country, +or experiments nother. What is it then? It is because +they are sketches of natur. Natur in every grade and +every variety of form; from the silver plate, and silver +fork, to the finger and huntin' knife. Our artificials +Britishers laugh at; they are bad copies, that's a fact; +I give them up. Let them laugh, and be darned; but I +stick to my natur, and I stump them to produce the like. + +"Oh, Squire, if you ever sketch me, for goodness gracious +sake, don't sketch me as an Attache to our embassy, with +the Legation button, on the coat, and black Jube Japan +in livery. Don't do that; but paint me in my old waggon +to Nova Scotier, with old Clay before me, you by my side, +a segar in my mouth, and natur all round me. And if that +is too artificial; oh, paint me in the back woods, with +my huntin' coat on, my leggins, my cap, my belt, and my +powder-horn. Paint me with my talkin' iron in my hand, +wipin' her, chargin' her, selectin' the bullet, placin' +it in the greased wad, and rammin' it down. Then draw a +splendid oak openin' so as to give a good view, paint a +squirrel on the tip top of the highest branch, of the +loftiest tree, place me off at a hundred yards, drawin' +a bead on him fine, then show the smoke, and young squire +squirrel comin' tumblin' down head over heels lumpus', +to see whether the ground was as hard as dead squirrels +said it was. Paint me nateral, I besech you; for I tell +you now, as I told you before, and ever shall say, there +is nothin' worth havin' or knowin', or hearin', or readin', +or seein', or tastin', or smellin', or feelin' and above +all and more than all, nothin' worth affectionin' but +_Natur_. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE SOCDOLAGER. + +As soon as I found my friend Mr. Hopewell comfortably +settled in his lodgings, I went to the office of the +Belgian Consul and other persons to obtain the necessary +passports for visiting Germany, where I had a son at +school. Mr. Slick proceeded at the same time to the +residence of his Excellency Abednego Layman, who had been +sent to this country by the United States on a special +mission, relative to the Tariff. + +On my return from the city in the afternoon, he told me +he had presented his credentials to "the Socdolager," +and was most graciously and cordially received; but still, +I could not fail to observe that there was an evident +air of disappointment about him. + +"Pray, what is the meaning of the Socdolager?" I asked. +"I never heard of the term before." + +"Possible!" said he, "never heerd tell of 'the Socdolager,' +why you don't say so! The Socdolager is the President of +the lakes--he is the whale of the intarnal seas--the +Indgians worshipped him once on a time, as the king of +fishes. He lives in great state in the deep waters, does +the old boy, and he don't often shew himself. I never +see'd him myself, nor any one that ever had sot eyes on +him; but the old Indgians have see'd him and know him +well. He won't take no bait, will the Socdolager; he +can't be caught, no how you can fix, he is so 'tarnal +knowin', and he can't be speared nother, for the moment +he sees aim taken, he ryles the water and is out of sight +in no tune. _He_ can take in whole shoals of others +hisself, tho' at a mouthful. He's a whapper, that's a +fact. I call our Minister here 'the Socdolager,' for our +_di_plomaters were never known to be hooked once yet, +and actilly beat all natur' for knowin' the soundin's, +smellin' the bait, givin' the dodge, or rylin' the water; +so no soul can see thro' it but themselves. Yes, he is +'a Socdolager,' or a whale among _di_plomaters. + +"Well, I rigs up this morning, full fig, calls a cab, +and proceeds in state to our embassy, gives what Cooper +calls a lord's beat of six thund'rin' raps of the knocker, +presents the legation ticket, and was admitted to where +ambassador was. He is a very pretty man all up his shirt, +and he talks pretty, and smiles pretty, and bows pretty, +and he has got the whitest hand you ever see, it looks +as white, as a new bread and milk poultice. It does +indeed. + +"'Sam Slick,' sais he, 'as I'm alive. Well, how do you +do, Mr. Slick? I am 'nation glad to see you, I affection +you as a member of our legation. I feel kinder proud to +have the first literary man of our great nation as my +Attache.' + +"'Your knowledge of human natur, (added to your'n of soft +sawder,' sais I,) 'will raise our great nation, I guess, +in the scale o' European estimation.' + +"He is as sensitive as a skinned eel, is Layman, and he +winced at that poke at his soft sawder like any thing, +and puckered a little about the mouth, but he didn't say +nothin', he only bowed. He was a Unitarian preacher once, +was Abednego, but he swapt preachin' for politics, and +a good trade he made of it too; that's a fact. + +"'A great change,' sais I, 'Abednego, since you was a +preachin' to Connecticut and I was a vendin' of clocks +to Nova Scotia, ain't it? Who'd a thought then, you'd a +been "a Socdolager," and me your "pilot fish," eh!' + +"It was a raw spot, that, and I always touched him on it +for fun. + +"'Sam,' said he, and his face fell like an empty puss, +when it gets a few cents put into each eend on it, the +weight makes it grow twice as long in a minute. 'Sam,' +said he, 'don't call me that are, except when we are +alone here, that's a good soul; not that I am proud, for +I am a true Republican;' and he put his hand on his heart, +bowed and smiled hansum, 'but these people will make a +nickname of it, and we shall never hear the last of it; +that's a fact. We must respect ourselves, afore others +will respect us. You onderstand, don't you?' + +"'Oh, don't I,' sais I, 'that's all? It's only here I +talks this way, because we are at home now; but I can't +help a thinkin' how strange things do turn up sometimes. +Do you recollect, when I heard you a-preachin' about Hope +a-pitchin' of her tent on a hill? By gosh, it struck me +then, you'd pitch, your tent high some day; you did it +beautiful.' + +"He know'd I didn't like this change, that Mr. Hopewell +had kinder inoculated me with other guess views on these +matters, so he began to throw up bankments and to picket +in the ground, all round for defence like. + +"'Hope,' sais he, 'is the attribute of a Christian, Slick, +for he hopes beyond this world; but I changed on principle.' + +"'Well,' sais I, 'I changed on interest; now if our great +nation is backed by principal and interest here, I guess +its credit is kinder well built. And atween you and me, +Abednego, that's more than the soft-horned British will +ever see from all our States. Some on 'em are intarmined +to pay neither debt nor interest, and give nothin' but +lip in retarn.' + +"'Now,' sais he, a pretendin' to take no notice of this,' +you know we have the Voluntary with us, Mr. Slick.' He +said "_Mister_" that time, for he began to get formal on +puppus to stop jokes; but, dear me, where all men are +equal what's the use of one man tryin' to look big? He +must take to growin' agin I guess to do that. 'You know +we have the Voluntary with us, Mr. Slick,' sais he. + +"'Jist so,' sais I. + +"'Well, what's the meanin' of that?' + +"'Why,' sais I, 'that you support religion or let it +alone, as you like; that you can take it up as a pedlar +does his pack, carry it till you are tired, then lay it +down, set on it, and let it support you." + +"'Exactly,' sais he; 'it is voluntary on the hearer, and +it's jist so with the minister, too; for his preachin' +is voluntary also. He can preach or lot it alone, as he +likes. It's voluntary all through. It's a bad rule that +won't work both ways.' + +"'Well,' says I, 'there is a good deal in that, too.' I +said that just to lead him on. + +"'A good deal!' sais he, 'why it's every thing. But I +didn't rest on that alone; I propounded this maxim to +myself. Every man, sais I, is bound to sarve his fellow +citizens to his utmost. That's true; ain't it, Mr. Slick?' + +"'Guess so,' sais I. + +"'Well then, I asked myself this here question: Can I +sarve my fellow citizens best by bein' minister to Peach +settlement, 'tendin' on a little village of two thousand +souls, and preachin' my throat sore, or bein' special +minister to Saint Jimses, and sarvin' our great Republic +and its thirteen millions? Why, no reasonable man can +doubt; so I give up preachin'.' + +"'Well,' sais I, 'Abednego, you are a Socdolager, that's +a fact; you are a great man, and a great scholard. Now +a great scholard, when he can't do a sum the way it's +stated, jist states it so--he _can_ do it. Now the right +way to state that sum is arter this fashion: "Which is +best, to endeavour to save the souls of two thousand +people under my spiritual charge, or let them go to Old +Nick and save a piece of wild land in Maine, get pay for +an old steamer burnt to Canada, and uphold the slave +trade for the interest of the States.' + +"'That's specious, but not true,' said he; 'but it's a +matter rather for my consideration than your'n,' and he +looked as a feller does when he buttons his trowsers' +pocket, as much as to say, you have no right to be a +puttin' of your pickers and stealers in there, that's +mine. 'We will do better to be less selfish,' said he, +'and talk of our great nation.' + +"'Well,' says I, 'how do we stand here in Europe? Do we +maintain the high pitch we had, or do we sing a note +lower than we did?' + +"Well, he walked up and down the room, with his hands +onder his coat-tails, for ever so long, without a sayin' +of a word. At last, sais he, with a beautiful smile that +was jist skin deep, for it played on his face as a +cat's-paw does on the calm waters, 'What was you a sayin.' +of, Mr. Slick?' saw he. + +"'What's our position to Europe?' sais I, 'jist now; is +it letter A, No. 1?' + +"'Oh!' sais he, and he walked up and down agin, cypherin' +like to himself; and then says he, 'I'll tell you; that +word Socdolager, and the trade of preachin', and +clockmakin', it would he as well to sink here; neither +on 'em convene with dignity. Don't you think so?' + +"'Sartainly,' sais I; 'it's only fit for talk over a +cigar, alone. It don't always answer a good, purpose to +blart every thing out. But our _po_sition,' says I, among +the nations of the airth, is it what our everlastin' +Union is entitled to?' + +"'Because,' sais he, 'some day when I am asked out to +dinner, some wag or another of a lord will call me parson, +and ask me to crave a blessin', jist to raise the larf +agin me for havin' been a preacher.' + +"'If he does,' sais I,' jist say, my Attache does that, +and I'll jist up first and give it to him atween the two +eyes; and when that's done, sais you, my Lord, that's +_your grace_ afore meat; pr'aps your lordship will _return +thanks_ arter dinner. Let him try it, that's all. But +our great nation,' sais I, 'tell me, hante that noble +stand we made on the right of sarch, raised us about the +toploftiest?' + +"'Oh,' says he 'right of sarch! right of sarch! I've been +tryin' to sarch my memory, but can't find it. I don't +recollect that sarmont about Hope pitchin' her tent on +the hill. When was it?' + +"'It was afore the juvenile-united-democratic-republican +association to Funnel Hall,' sais I. + +"'Oh,' says he, 'that was an oration--it was an oration +that.' + +"Oh!" sais I, "we won't say no more about that; I only +meant it as a joke, and nothin' more. But railly now, +Abednego, what is the state of our legation?" + +"'I don't see nothin' ridikilous,' sais he, 'in that are +expression, of Hope pitchin' her tent on a hill. It's +figurativ' and poetic, but it's within the line that +divides taste from bombast. Hope pitchin' her tent on a +hill! What is there to reprehend in that?' + +"Good airth and seas,' sais I, 'let's pitch Hope, and +her tent, and the hill, all to Old Nick in a heap together, +and talk of somethin' else. You needn't be so perkily +ashamed of havin' preached, man. Cromwell was a great +preacher all his life, but it didn't spile him as a +Socdolager one bit, but rather helped him, that's a fact. +How 'av we held our footin' here?' + +"'Not well, I am grieved to say,' sais he; 'not well. +The failure of the United States' Bank, the repudiation +of debts by several of our States, the foolish opposition +we made to the suppression of the slave-trade, and above +all, the bad faith in the business of the boundary question +has lowered us down, down, e'en a'most to the bottom of +the shaft.' + +"'Abednego,' sais I, 'we want somethin' besides boastin' +and talkin' big; we want a dash--a great stroke of policy. +Washington hanging Andre that time, gained more than a +battle. Jackson by hanging Arbuthnot and Anbristher, +gained his election. M'Kennie for havin' hanged them +three citizens will be made an admiral of yet, see if he +don't. Now if Captain Tyler had said, in his message to +Congress, 'Any State that repudiates its foreign debts, +we will first fine it in the whole amount, and then cut +it off from our great, free, enlightened, moral and +intellectual republic, he would have gained by the dash +his next election, and run up our flag to the mast-head +in Europe. He would have been popular to home, and +respected abroad, that's as clear as mud,' + +"'He would have done right, Sir, if he had done that,' +said Abednego, 'and the right thing is always approved +of in the eend, and always esteemed all through the piece. +A dash, as a stroke of policy,' said he, 'has sometimes +a good effect. General Jackson threatening France with +a war, if they didn't pay the indemnity, when he knew +the King would make 'em pay it whether or no, was a +masterpiece; and General Cass tellin' France if she signed +the right of sarch treaty, we would fight both her and +England together single-handed, was the best move on the +political chess-board, this century. All these, Sir, are +very well in their way, to produce an effect; but there's +a better policy nor all that, a far better policy, and +one, too, that some of our States and legislators, and +presidents, and Socdolagers, as you call 'em, in my mind +have got to larn yet, Sam.' + +"'What's that?' sais I. "For I don't believe in my soul +there is nothin' a'most our diplomaters don't know. They +are a body o' men that does honour to our great nation. +What policy are you a indicatin' of?' + +"'Why,' sais he, '_that honesty is the best policy_.' + +"When I heerd him say that, I springs right up on eend, +like a rope dancer. 'Give me your hand, Abednego,' sais +I; 'you are a man, every inch of you,' and I squeezed it +so hard, it made his eyes water. 'I always knowed you +had an excellent head-piece,' sais I, 'and now I see the +heart is in the right place too. If you have thrown +preachin' overboard, you have kept your morals for ballast, +any how. I feel kinder proud of you; you are jist a fit +representat_ive_ for our great nation. You are a Socdolager, +that's a fact. I approbate your notion; it's as correct +as a bootjack. For nations or individuals, it's all the +same, honesty _is_ the best policy, and no mistake. That,' +sais I, 'is the hill, Abednego, for Hope to pitch her +tent on, and no mistake,' and I put my finger to my nose, +and winked. + +"'Well,' sais he, 'it is; but you are a droll feller, +Slick, there is no standin' your jokes. I'll give you +leave to larf if you like, but you must give me leave to +win if I can. Good bye. But mind, Sam, our dignity is at +stake. Let's have no more of Socdolagers, or Preachin', +or Clockmakin', or Hope pitchin' her tent. A word to +the wise. Good bye.' + +"Yes," said Mr. Slick, "I rather like Abednego's talk +myself. I kinder think that it will be respectable to be +Attache to such a man as that. But he is goin' out of +town for some time, is the Socdolager. There is an +agricultural dinner, where he has to make a conciliation +speech; and a scientific association, where there is a +piece of delicate brag and a bit of soft sawder to do, +and then there are visits to the nobility, peep at +manufactures, and all that sort of work, so he won't be +in town for a good spell, and until then, I can't go to +Court, for he is to introduce me himself. Pity that, but +then it'll give me lots o' time to study human natur, +that is, if there is any of it left here, for I have some +doubts about that. Yes, he is an able lead horse, is +Abednego; he is a'most a grand preacher, a good poet, a +first chop orator, a great diplomater, and a top sawyer +of a man, in short--he _is_ a _Socdolager_." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +DINING OUT. + +My visit to Germany was protracted beyond the period I +had originally designed; and, during my absence, Mr. +Slick had been constantly in company, either "dining out" +daily, when in town, or visiting from one house to another +in the country. + +I found him in great spirits. He assured me he had many +capital stories to tell me, and that he rather guessed +he knew as much of the English, and a leetle, jist a +leetle, grain more, p'raps, than they knew of the Yankees. + +"They are considerable large print are the Bull family," +said he; "you can read them by moonlight. Indeed, their +faces ain't onlike the moon in a gineral way; only one +has got a man in it, and the other hain't always. It +tante a bright face; you can look into it without winkin'. +It's a cloudy one here too, especially in November; and +most all the time makes you rather sad and solemncoly. +Yes, John is a moony man, that's a fact, and at the full +a little queer sometimes. + +"England is a stupid country compared to our'n. _There +it no variety where there it no natur_. You have class +variety here, but no individiality. They are insipid, +and call it perlite. The men dress alike, talk alike, +and look as much alike as Providence will let 'em. The +club-houses and the tailors have done a good deal towards +this, and so has whiggism and dissent; for they have +destroyed distinctions. + +"But this is too deep for me. Ask Minister, he will tell +you the cause; I only tell you the fact. + +"Dinin' out here, is both heavy work, and light feedin'. +It's monstrous stupid. One dinner like one rainy day +(it's rained ever since I been here a'most), is like +another; one drawin'-room like another drawin'-room; one +peer's entertainment, in a general way, is like another +peer's. The same powdered, liveried, lazy, idle, +good-for-nothin', do-little, stand-in-the-way-of-each-other, +useless sarvants. Same picturs, same plate, same fixin's, +same don't-know-what-to-do-with-your-self-kinder-o'- +lookin'-master. Great folks are like great folks, +marchants like marchants, and so on. It's a pictur, it +looks like life, but' it tante. The animal is tamed here; +he is fatter than the wild one, but he hante the spirit. + +"You have seen-Old Clay in a pastur, a racin' about, free +from harness, head and tail up, snortin', cavortin', +attitudinisin' of himself. Mane flowin' in the wind, +eye-ball startin' out, nostrils inside out a'most, ears +pricked up. _A nateral hoss_; put him in a waggon, with +a rael spic and span harness, all covered over with brass +buckles and brass knobs, and ribbons in his bridle, rael +jam. Curb him up, talk Yankee to him, and get his ginger +up. Well, he looks well; but he is '_a broke hoss_.' He +reminds you of Sam Slick; cause when you see a hoss, you +think of his master: but he don't remind you of the rael +'_Old Clay_,' that's a fact. + +"Take a day here, now in town; and they are so identical +the same, that one day sartificates for another. You +can't get out a bed afore twelve, in winter, the days is +so short, and the fires ain't made, or the room dusted, +or the breakfast can't be got, or sunthin' or another. +And if you did, what's the use? There is no one to talk +to, and books only weaken your understandin', as water +does brandy. They make you let others guess for you, +instead of guessin' for yourself. Sarvants spile your +habits here, and books spite your mind. I wouldn't swap +ideas with any man. I make my own opinions, as I used +to do my own clocks; and I find they are truer than other +men's. The Turks are so cussed heavy, they have people +to dance for 'em; the English are wus, for they hire +people to think for 'em. Never read a book, Squire, +always think for yourself. + +"Well, arter breakfast, it's on hat and coat, ombrella +in hand, (don't never forget that, for the rumatiz, like +the perlice, is always on the look out here, to grab hold +of a feller,) and go somewhere where there is somebody, +or another, and smoke, and then wash it down with a +sherry-cobbler; (the drinks ain't good here; they hante +no variety in them nother; no white-nose, apple-jack, +stone-wall, chain-lightning, rail-road, hail-storm, +ginsling-talabogus, switchel-flip, gum-ticklers, +phlem-cutters, juleps, skate-iron, cast-steel, cock-tail, +or nothin', but that heavy stupid black fat porter;) then +down to the coffee-house, see what vessels have arrived, +how markets is, whether there is a chance of doin' any +thin' in cotton or tobacco, whose broke to home, and so +on. Then go to the park, and see what's a goin' on there; +whether those pretty critturs, the rads are a holdin' a +prime minister 'parsonally responsible,' by shootin' at +him; or whether there is a levee, or the Queen is ridin' +out, or what not; take a look at the world, make a visit +or two to kill time, when all at once it's dark. Home +then, smoke a cigar, dress for dinner, and arrive at a +quarter past seven. + +"Folks are up to the notch here when dinner is in question, +that's a fact, fat, gouty, broken-winded, and foundered +as they be. It's rap, rap, rap, for twenty minutes at +the door, and in they come, one arter the other, as fast +as the sarvants can carry up their names. Cuss them +sarvants! it takes seven or eight of 'em to carry a man's +name up stairs, they are so awful lazy, and so shockin' +full of porter. If a feller was so lame he had to be +carried up himself, I don't believe on my soul, the whole +gang of them, from the Butler that dresses in the same +clothes as his master, to Boots that ain't dressed at +all, could make out to bowse him up stairs, upon my soul +I don't. + +"Well, you go in along with your name, walk up to old +aunty, and make a scrape, and the same to old uncle, and +then fall back. This is done as solemn, as if a feller's +name was called out to take his place in a funeral; that +and the mistakes is the fun of it. There is a sarvant at +a house I visit at, that I suspicion is a bit of a bam, +and the critter shows both his wit and sense. He never +does it to a 'somebody,' 'cause that would cost him his +place, but when a 'nobody' has a droll name, he jist +gives an accent, or a sly twist to it, that folks can't +help a larfin', no more than Mr. Nobody can feelin' like +a fool. He's a droll boy, that; I should like to know +him. + +"Well, arter 'nouncin' is done, then comes two questions +--do I know anybody here? and if I do, does he look like +talk or not? Well, seein' that you have no handle to your +name, and a stranger, it's most likely you can't answer +these questions right; so you stand and use your eyes, +and put your tongue up in its case till it's wanted. +Company are all come, and now they have to be marshalled +two and two, lock and lock, and go into the dinin'-room +to feed. + +"When I first came I was nation proud of that title, 'the +Attache;' now I am happified it's nothin' but 'only an +Attache,' and I'll tell you why. The great guns, and big +bugs, have to take in each other's ladies, so these old +ones have to herd together. Well, the nobodies go together +too, and sit together, and I've observed these nobodies +are the pleasantest people at table, and they have the +pleasantest places, because they sit down with each other, +and are jist like yourself, plaguy glad to get some one +to talk to. Somebody can only visit somebody, but nobody +can go anywhere, and therefore nobody sees and knows +twice as much as somebody does. Somebodies must be axed, +if they are as stupid as a pump; but nobodies needn't, +and never are, unless they are spicy sort o' folks, so +you are sure of them, and they have all the fun and wit +of the table at their eend, and no mistake. + +"I wouldn't take a title if they would give it to me, +for if I had one, I should have a fat old parblind dowager +detailed on to me to take in to dinner; and what the +plague is her jewels and laces, and silks and sattins, +and wigs to me? As it is, I have a chance to have a gall +to take in that's a jewel herself--one that don't want +no settin' off, and carries her diamonds in her eyes, +and so on. I've told our minister not to introduce me as +an Attache no more, but as Mr. Nobody, from the State of +Nothin', in America, _that's natur agin_. + +"But to get back to the dinner. Arter you are in marchin' +order, you move in through two rows of sarvants in uniform. +I used to think they was placed there for show, but it's +to keep the air off of folks a goin' through the entry, +and it ain't a bad thought, nother. + +"Lord, the first time I went to one o' these grand let +offs I felt kinder skeery, and as nobody was allocated +to me to take in, I goes in alone, not knowin' where I +was to settle down as a squatter, and kinder lagged +behind; when the butler comes and rams a napkin in my +hand, and gives me a shove, and sais he, 'Go and stand +behind your master, sir,' sais he. Oh Solomon! how that +waked me up. How I curled inwardly when he did that. +'You've mistaken the child,' sais I mildly, and I held +out the napkin, and jist as he went to take it, I gave +him a sly poke in the bread basket, that made him bend +forward and say 'eugh.' 'Wake Snakes, and walk your +chalks,' sais I, 'will you?' and down I pops on the fust +empty chair. Lord, how white he looked about the gills +arterwards; I thought I should a split when I looked at +him. Guess he'll know an Attache when he sees him next +time. + +"Well, there is dinner. One sarvice of plate is like +another sarvice of plate, any one dozen of sarvants are +like another dozen of sarvants, hock is hock, and champaigne +is champaigne--and one dinner is like another dinner. +The only difference is in the thing itself that's cooked. +Veal, to be good, must look like any thing else but veal; +you mustn't know it when you see it, or it's vulgar; +mutton must be incog. too; beef must have a mask on; any +thin' that looks solid, take a spoon to; any thin' that +looks light, cut with a knife; if a thing looks like +fish, you may take your oath it is flesh; and if it seems +rael flesh, it's only disguised, for it's sure to be +fish; nothin' must be nateral, natur is out of fashion +here. This is a manufacturin' country, everything is +done by machinery, and that that ain't must be made to +look like it; and I must say, the dinner machinery is +parfect. + +"Sarvants keep goin' round and round in a ring, slow, +but sartain, and for ever, like the arms of a great big +windmill, shovin' dish after dish, in dum show, afore +your nose, for you to see how you like the flavour; when +your glass is empty it's filled; when your eyes is off +your plate, it's off too, afore you can say Nick Biddle. + +"Folks speak low here; steam is valuable, and noise +onpolite. They call it a "_subdued tone_." Poor tame +things, they are subdued, that's a fact; slaves to an +arbitrary tyrannical fashion that don't leave 'em no free +will at all. You don't often speak across a table any +more nor you do across a street, but p'raps Mr. Somebody +of West Eend of town, will say to a Mr. Nobody from West +Eend of America: 'Niagara is noble.' Mr. Nobody will +say, 'Guess it is, it got its patent afore the "Norman +_Conquest_," I reckon, and afore the "_subdued_ tone" +come in fashion.' Then Mr. Somebody will look like an +oracle, and say, 'Great rivers and great trees in America. +You speak good English.' And then he will seem surprised, +but not say it, only you can read the words on his face, +'Upon my soul, you are a'most as white as us.' + +"Dinner is over. It's time for ladies to cut stick. Aunt +Goosey looks at the next oldest goosey, and ducks her +head, as if she was a goin' through a gate, and then they +all come to their feet, and the goslins come to their +feet, and they all toddle off to the drawin' room together. + +"The decanters now take the "grand tour" of the table, +and, like most travellers, go out with full pockets, and +return with empty ones. Talk has a pair of stays here, +and is laced up tight and stiff. Larnin' is pedantic; +politics is onsafe; religion ain't fashionable. You must +tread on neutral ground. Well, neutral ground gets so +trampled down by both sides, and so plundered by all, +there ain't any thing fresh or good grows on it, and it +has no cover for game nother. + +"Housundever, the ground is tried, it's well beat, but +nothin' is put up, and you get back to where you started. +Uncle Gander looks at next oldest gander hard, bobs his +head, and lifts one leg, all ready for a go, and says, +'Will you take any more wine?' 'No, sais he, 'but I take +the hint, let's jine the ladies.' + +"Well, when the whole flock is gathered in the goose +pastur, the drawin'-room, other little flocks come troopin' +in, and stand, or walk, or down on chairs; and them that +know each other talk, and them that don't twirl their +thumbs over their fingers; and when they are tired of +that, twirl their fingers over their thumbs. I'm nobody, +and so I goes and sets side-ways on an ottarman, like a +gall on a side-saddle, and look at what's afore me. And +fust I always look at the galls. + +"Now, this I will say, they are amazin' fine critters +are the women kind here, when they are taken proper care +of. The English may stump the univarse a'most for trainin' +hosses and galls. They give 'em both plenty of walkin' +exercise, feed 'em regular, shoe 'em well, trim 'em neat, +and keep a beautiful skin on 'em. They keep, 'em in good +health, and don't house 'em too much. They are clippers, +that's a fact. There is few things in natur, equal to a +hoss and a gall, that's well trained and in good condition. +I could stand all day and look at 'em, and I call myself +a considerable of a judge. It's singular how much they +are alike too, the moment the trainin' is over or neglected, +neither of 'em is fit to be seen; they grow out of shape, +and look coarse. + +"They are considerable knowin' in this kind o' ware too, +are the English; they vamp 'em up so well, it's hard to +tell their age, and I ain't sure they don't make 'em live +longer, than where the art ain't so well pract_ised_. +The mark o' mouth is kept up in a hoss here by the file, +and a hay-cutter saves his teeth, and helps his digestion. +Well, a dentist does the same good turn for a woman; it +makes her pass for several years younger; and helps her +looks, mends her voice, and makes her as smart as a three +year old. + +"What's that? It's music. Well, that's artificial too, +it's scientific they say, it's done by rule. Jist look +at that gall to the piany: first comes a little Garman +thunder. Good airth and seas, what a crash! it seems as +if she'd bang the instrument all to a thousand pieces. +I guess she's vexed at somebody and is a peggin' it into +the piany out of spite. Now comes the singin'; see what +faces she makes, how she stretches her mouth open, like +a barn door, and turns up the white of her eyes, like a +duck in thunder. She is in a musical ecstasy is that +gall, she feels good all over, her soul is a goin' out +along with that ere music. Oh, it's divine, and she is +an angel, ain't she? Yes, I guess she is, and when I'm +an angel, I will fall in love with her; but as I'm a man, +at least what's left of me, I'd jist as soon fall in love +with one that was a leetle, jist a leetle more of a woman, +and a leetle, jist a leetle less of an angel. But hullo! +what onder the sun is she about, why her voice is goin' +down her own throat, to gain strength, and here it comes +out agin as deep toned as a man's; while that dandy feller +along side of her, is singin' what they call falsetter. +They've actilly changed voices. The gall sings like a +man, and that screamer like a woman. This is science: +this is taste: this is fashion; but hang me if it's natur. +I'm tired to death of it, but one good thing is, you +needn't listen without you like, for every body is talking +as, loud as ever. + +"Lord, how extremes meet sometimes, as Minister says. +_Here_, how, fashion is the top of the pot, and that pot +hangs on the highest hook on the crane. In _America_, +natur can't go no farther; it's the rael thing. Look at +the women kind, now. An Indgian gall, down South, goes +most naked. Well, a splendiferous company gall, here, +when she is _full dressed_ is only _half covered_, and +neither of 'em attract you one mite or morsel. We dine +at two and sup at seven; _here_ they lunch at two, and +dine at seven. The words are different, but they are +identical the same. Well, the singin' is amazin' like, +too. Who ever heerd them Italian singers recitin' their +jabber, showin' their teeth, and cuttin' didoes at a +great private consart, that wouldn't take his oath he +had heerd niggers at a dignity ball, down South, sing +jist the same, and jist as well. And then do, for goodness' +gracious' sake, hear that great absent man, belongin' to +the House o' Commons, when the chaplain says 'Let us +pray!' sing right out at once, as if he was to home, 'Oh! +by all means,' as much as to say, 'me and the powers +above are ready to hear you; but don't be long about it.' + +"Ain't that for all the world like a camp-meetin', when +a reformed ring-tail roarer calls out to the minister, +'That's a fact, Welly Fobus, by Gosh; amen!' or when +preacher says, 'Who will be saved?' answers, 'Me and the +boys, throw us a hen-coop; the galls will drift down +stream on a bale o' cotton.' Well then, _our_ very lowest, +and _their_ very highest, don't always act pretty, that's +a fact. Sometimes '_they repudiate_.' You take, don't +you? + +"There is another party to-night; the flock is a thinnin' +off agin; and as I want a cigar most amazin'ly, let's go +to a divan, and some other time, I'll tell you what a +swoi_ree_ is. But answer me this here question now, +Squire: when this same thing is acted over and over, day +after day, and no variation, from July to etarnity, don't +you think you'd get a leetle--jist a leetle more tired +of it every day, and wish for natur once more. If you +wouldn't I would, that's all." + + + + +THE SECOND VOLUME. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE NOSE OF A SPY + +"Squire." said Mr. Hopewell, "you know Sam well enough, +I hope, to make all due allowances for the exuberance of +his fancy. The sketch he has just given you of London +society, like the novels of the present day, though +founded on fact, is very unlike the reality. There may +be assemblages of persons in this great city, and no +doubt there are, quite as insipid and absurd as the one +he has just pourtrayed; but you must not suppose it is +at all a fair specimen of the society of this place. My +own experience is quite the reverse. I think it the most +refined, the most agreeable, and the most instructive in +the world. Whatever your favourite study or pursuit may +be, here you are sure to find well-informed and enthusiastic +associates. If you have merit, it is appreciated; and +for an aristocratic country, that merit places you on a +level with your superiors in rank in a manner that is +quite incomprehensible to a republican. Money is the +great leveller of distinctions with us; here, it is +talent. Fashion spreads many tables here, but talent is +always found seated at the best, if it thinks proper to +comply with certain usages, without which, even genius +ceases to be attractive. + +"On some future occasion, I will enter more at large on +this subject; but now it is too late; I have already +exceeded my usual hour for retiring. Excuse me. Sam. +said he. 'I know you will not be offended with me, but +Squire there are some subjects on which Sam may amuse, +but cannot instruct you, and one is, fashionable life in +London. You must judge for yourself, Sir. Good night, +my children." + +Mr. Slick rose, and opened the door for him, and as he +passed, bowed and held out his hand. "Remember me, your +honour, no man opens the door in this country without +being paid for it. Remember me, Sir." + +"True, Sam," said the Minister, "and it is unlucky that +it does not extend to opening the mouth, if it did, you +would soon make your fortune, for you can't keep yours +shut. Good night." + +The society to which I have subsequently had the good +fortune to be admitted, fully justifies the eulogium of +Mr. Hopewell. Though many persons can write well, few +can talk well; but the number of those who excel in +conversation is much greater in certain circles in London, +than in any other place. By talking well, I do not mean +talking wisely or learnedly; but agreeably, for relaxation +and pleasure, are the principal objects of social +assemblies. This can only be illustrated by instancing +some very remarkable persons, who are the pride and +pleasure of every table they honour and delight with +their presence But this may not be. For obvious reasons, +I could not do it if I would; and most assuredly, I would +not do it if I could. No more certain mode could be +devised of destroying conversation, than by showing, that +when the citadel is unguarded, the approach of a friend +is as unsafe as that of an enemy. + +Alas! poor Hook! who can read the unkind notice of thee +in a late periodical, and not feel, that on some occasions +you must have admitted to your confidence men who were +as unworthy of that distinction as, they were incapable +of appreciating it, and that they who will disregard the +privileges of a table, will not hesitate to violate even +the sanctity of the tomb. Cant may talk of your "_inter +pocula_" errors with pious horror; and pretension, now +that its indulgence is safe, may affect to disclaim your +acquaintance; but kinder, and better, and truer men than +those who furnished your biographer with his facts will +not fail to recollect your talents with pride, and your +wit and your humour with wonder and delight. + +We do not require such flagrant examples as these to +teach us our duty, but they are not without their use in +increasing our caution. + +When Mr. Hopewell withdrew, Mr. Slick observed: + +"Ain't that ere old man a trump? He is always in the +right place. Whenever you want to find him, jist go and +look for him where he ought to be, and there you will +find him as sure as there is snakes in Varginy. He is a +brick, that's a fact. Still, for all that, he ain't jist +altogether a citizen of this world nother. He fishes in +deep water, with a sinker to his hook. He can't throw a +fly as I can, reel out his line, run down stream, and +then wind up, wind up, wind up, and let out, and wind up +again, till he lands his fish, as I do. He looks deep +into things, is a better religionist, polititioner, and +bookster than I be: but then that's all he does know. If +you want to find your way about, or read a man, come to +me, that's all; for I'm the boy that jist can do it. If +I can't walk into a man, I can dodge round him; and if +he is too nimble for that, I can jump over him; and if +he is too tall for that, although I don't like the play, +yet I can whip him. + +"Now, Squire, I have been a good deal to England, and +crossed this big pond here the matter of seven times, +and know a good deal about it, more than a great many +folks that have writtin' books on it, p'raps. Mind what +I tell you, the English ain't what they was. I'm not +speakin' in jeest now, or in prejudice. I hante a grain +of prejudice in me. I've see'd too much of the world for +that I reckon. I call myself a candid man, and I tell +you the English are no more like what the English used +to be, when pigs were swine, and Turkey chewed tobacky, +than they are like the Picts or Scots, or Norman, French, +or Saxons, or nothin'." + +"Not what they used to be?" I said. "Pray, what do you +mean?" + +"I mean," said he, "jist what I say. They ain't the same +people no more. They are as proud, and overbearin', and +concaited, and haughty to foreigners as ever; but, then +they ain't so manly, open-hearted, and noble as they used +to be, once upon a time. They have the Spy System now, +in full operation here; so jist take my advice, and mind +your potatoe-trap, or you will be in trouble afore you +are ten days older, see if you ain't." + +"The Spy System!" I replied. "Good Heavens, Mr. Slick, +how can you talk such nonsense, and yet have the modesty +to say you have no prejudice?" + +"Yes, the Spy System," said he, "and I'll prove it. You +know Dr. Mc'Dougall to Nova Scotia; well, he knows all +about mineralogy, and geology, and astrology, and every +thing a'most, except what he ought to know, and that is +dollar-ology. For he ain't over and above half well off, +that's a fact. Well, a critter of the name of Oatmeal, +down to Pictou, said to another Scotchman there one day, +'The great nateralist Dr. Mc'Dougall is come to town.' + +"'Who?' says Sawney. + +"'Dr. Mc'Dougall, the nateralist,' says Oatmeal. + +"'Hout, mon,' says Sawney, 'he is nae nateral, that chiel; +he kens mair than maist men; he is nae that fool you take +him to be.' + +"Now, I am not such a fool as you take _me_ to be, Squire. +Whenever I did a sum to, school, Minister used to say, +'Prove it, Sam, and if it won't prove, do it over agin, +till it will; a sum ain't right when it won't prove.' +Now, I say the English have the Spy System, and I'll +prove it; nay, more than that, they have the nastiest, +dirtiest, meanest, sneakenest system in the world. It is +ten times as bad as the French plan. In France they have +bar-keepers, waiters, chamber galls, guides, +quotillions,--" + +"Postilions, you mean," I said. + +"Well, postilions then, for the French have queer names +for people, that's a fact; disbanded sodgers, and such +trash, for spies. In England they have airls and countesses, +Parliament men, and them that call themselves gentlemen +and ladies, for spies." + +"How very absurd!" I said. + +"Oh yes, very absurd," said Mr. Slick; "whenever I say +anythin' agin England, it's very absurd, it's all prejudice. +Nothin' is strange, though, when it is said of us, and +the absurder it is, the truer it is. I can bam as well +as any man when bam is the word, but when fact is the +play, I am right up and down, and true as a trivet. I +won't deceive you; I'll prove it. + +"There was a Kurnel Dun--dun--plague take his name, I +can't recollect it, but it makes no odds--I know _he_ is +Dun for, though, that's a fact. Well, he was a British +kurnel, that was out to Halifax when I was there. I know'd +him by sight, I didn't know him by talk, for I didn't +fill then the dignified situation I now do, of Attache. +I was only a clockmaker then, and I suppose he wouldn't +have dirtied the tip eend of his white glove with me +then, any more than I would sile mine with him now, and +very expensive and troublesome things them white gloves +be too; there is no keepin' of them clean. For my part, +I don't see why a man can't make his own skin as clean +as a kid's, any time; and if a feller can't be let shake +hands with a gall except he has a glove on, why ain't he +made to cover his lips, and kiss thro' kid skin too. + +"But to get back to the kurnel, and it's a pity he hadn't +had a glove over his mouth, that's a fact. Well, he went +home to England with his regiment, and one night when he +was dinin' among some first chop men, nobles and so on, +they sot up considerable late over their claret; and poor +thin cold stuff it is too, is claret. A man _may_ get +drowned in it, but how the plague he can get drunk with +it is dark to me. It's like every thing else French, it +has no substance in it; it's nothin' but red ink, that's +a fact. Well, how it was I don't know, but so it +eventuated, that about daylight he was mops and brooms, +and began to talk somethin' or another he hadn't ought +to; somethin' he didn't know himself, and somethin' he +didn't mean, and didn't remember. + +"Faith, next mornin' he was booked; and the first thing +he see'd when he waked was another man a tryin' on of +his shoes, to see how they'd fit to march to the head of +his regiment with. Fact, I assure you, and a fact too +that shows what Englishmen has come to; I despise 'em, +I hate 'em, I scorn such critters as I do oncarcumcised +niggers." + +"What a strange perversion of facts," I replied. + +But he would admit of no explanation. "Oh yes, quite +parvarted; not a word of truth in it; there never is when +England is consarned. There is no beam in an Englishman's +eye; no not a smell of one; he has pulled it out long +ago; that's the reason he can see the mote in other +folks's so plain. Oh, of course it ain't true; it's a +Yankee invention; it's a hickory ham and a wooden nutmeg. + +"Well, then, there was another feller got bagged t'other +day, as innocent as could be, for givin' his opinion when +folks was a talkin' about matters and things in gineral, +and this here one in partikilar. I can't tell the words, +for I don't know 'em, nor care about 'em; and if I did, +I couldn't carry 'em about so long; but it was for sayin' +it hadn't ought to have been taken notice of, considerin' +it jist popt out permiscuous like with the bottle-cork. +If he hadn't a had the clear grit in him, and showed +teeth and claws, they'd a nullified him so, you wouldn't +have see'd a grease spot of him no more. What do you call +that, now? Do you call that liberty? Do you call that +old English? Do you call it pretty, say now? Thank God, +it tante Yankee." + +"I see you have no prejudice, Mr. Slick," I replied. + +"Not one mite or morsel," he replied. "Tho' I was born +in Connecticut, I have travelled all over the thirteen +united univarsal worlds of ourn and am a citizen at large. +No, I have no prejudice. You say I am mistaken; p'raps +I am, I hope I be, and a stranger may get hold of the +wrong eend of a thing sometimes, that's a fact. But I +don't think I be wrong, or else the papers don't tell +the truth; and I read it in all the jarnals; I did, upon +my soul. Why man, it's history now, if such nasty mean +doins is worth puttin' into a book. + +"What makes this Spy System to England wuss, is that +these eaves-droppers are obliged to hear all that's said, +or lose what commission they hold; at least so folks tell +me. I recollect when I was there last, for it's some +years since Government first sot up the Spy System; there +was a great feed given to a Mr. Robe, or Robie, or some +such name, an out and out Tory. Well, sunthin' or another +was said over their cups, that might as well have been +let alone, I do suppose, tho' dear me, what is the use +of wine but to onloosen the tongue, and what is the use +of the tongue, but to talk. Oh, cuss 'em, I have no +patience with them. Well, there was an officer of a +marchin' regiment there, who it seems ought to have took +down the words and sent 'em up to the head Gineral, but +he was a knowin' coon, was officer, and _didn't hear it_. +No sooner said than done; some one else did the dirty +work for him; but you can't have a substitute for this, +you must sarve in person, so the old Gineral hawls him +right up for it. + +"'Why the plague, didn't you make a fuss?' sais the +General, 'why didn't you get right up, and break up the +party?' + +"'I didn't hear it,' sais he. + +"'You didn't hear it!' sais Old Sword-belt, 'then you +had ought to have heerd it; and for two pins, I'd sharpen +your hearin' for you, so that a snore of a fly would wake +you up, as if a byler had bust.' + +"Oh, how it has lowered the English in the eyes of +foreigners! How sneakin' it makes 'em look! They seem +for all the world like scared dogs; and a dog when he +slopes off with his head down, his tail atween his legs, +and his back so mean it won't bristle, is a caution to +sinners. Lord. I wish I was Queen!" + +"What, of such a degraded race as you say the English +are, of such a mean-spirited, sneaking nation?" + +"Well, they warn't always so," he replied. "I will say +that, for I have no prejudice. By natur, there is sunthin' +noble and manly in a Britisher, and always was, till this +cussed Spy System got into fashion. They tell me it was +the Liberals first brought it into vogue. How that is. +I don't know; but I shouldn't wonder if it was them, for +I know this, if a feller talks _very_ liberal in politics, +put him into office, and see what a tyrant he'll make. +If he talks very liberal in religion, it's because he +hante got none at all. If he talks very liberal to the +poor, talk is all the poor will ever get out of him. If +he talks liberal about corn law, it tante to feed the +hungry, but to lower wages, and so on in every thing a +most. None is so liberal as those as hante got nothin'. +The most liberal feller I know on is "Old Scratch himself." +If ever the liberals come in, they should make him Prime +Minister. He is very liberal in religion and would jine +them in excludin' the Bible from common schools I know. +He is very liberal about the criminal code, for he can't +bear to see criminals punished. He is very liberal in +politics, for he don't approbate restraint, and likes to +let every critter 'go to the devil' his own way. Oh, he +should be Head Spy and Prime Minister that feller. + +"But without jokin' tho', if I was Queen, the fust time +any o' my ministers came to me to report what the spies +had said, I'd jist up and say, 'Minister,' I'd say, 'it +is a cussed oninglish, onmanly, niggerly business, is +this of pumpin', and spyin', and tattlin'. I don't like +it a bit. I'll have neither art nor part in it; I wash +my hands clear of it. It will jist break the spirit of +my people. So, minister look here. The next report that +is brought to me of a spy, I'll whip his tongue out and +whop your ear off, or my name ain't Queen. So jist mind +what I say; first spy pokes his nose into your office, +chop it off and clap it up over Temple Bar, where they +puts the heads of traitors and write these words over, +with your own fist, that they may know the handwritin', +and not mistake the meanin', _This is the nose of a Spy_." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE PATRON; OR, THE COW'S TAIL. + +Nothing is so fatiguing as sight-seeing. The number and +variety of objects to which your attention is called, +and the rapid succession in which they pass in review, +at once wearies and perplexes the mind; and unless you +take notes to refresh your memory, you are apt to find +you carry away with you but an imperfect and indistinct +recollection. + +Yesterday was devoted to an inspection of the Tunnel and +an examination of the Tower, two things that ought always +to be viewed in juxta-position; one being the greatest +evidence of the science and wealth of modern times; and +the other of the power and pomp of our forefathers. + +It is a long time before a stranger can fully appreciate +the extent of population and wealth of this vast metropolis. +At first, he is astonished and confused; his vision is +indistinct. By degrees he begins to understand its +localities, the ground plan becomes intelligible and he +can take it all in at a view. The map is a large one; it +is a chart of the world. He knows the capes and the bays; +he has sailed round them, and knows their relative +distance, and at last becomes aware of the magnitude of +the whole. Object after object becomes more familiar. He +can estimate the population; he compares the amount of +it with that of countries that he is acquainted with, +and finds that this one town contains within it nearly +as great a number of souls as all British North America. +He estimates the incomes of the inhabitants, and finds +figures almost inadequate to express the amount. He asks +for the sources from whence it is derived. He resorts to +his maxims of political economy, and they cannot inform +him. He calculates the number of acres of land in England, +adds up the rental, and is again at fault. He inquires +into the statistics of the Exchange, and discovers that +even that is inadequate; and, as a last resource, concludes +that the whole world is tributary to this Queen of Cities. +It is the heart of the Universe. All the circulation +centres here, and hence are derived all those streams +that give life and strength to the extremities. How vast, +how populous, how rich, how well regulated, how well +supplied, how clean, how well ventilated, how healthy!--what +a splendid city! How worthy of such an empire and such +a people! + +What is the result of his experience? _It is, that there +is no such country in the world as England, and no such +place in England as London; that London is better than +any other town in winter, and quite as good as any other +place in summer; that containing not only all that he +requires, but all that he can wish, in the greatest +perfection, he desires never to leave it._ + +Local description, however, is not my object; I shall +therefore, return to my narrative. + +Our examination of the Tower and the Tunnel occupied the +whole day, and though much gratified, we were no less +fatigued. On returning to our lodgings, I found letters +from Nova Scotia. Among others, was one from the widow +of an old friend, enclosing a memorial to the +Commander-in-Chief, setting forth the important and +gratuitous services of her late husband to the local +government of the province, and soliciting for her son +some small situation in the ordnance department, which +had just fallen vacant at Halifax. I knew that it was +not only out of my power to aid her, but that it was +impossible for her, however strong the claims of her +husband might be, to obtain her request. These things +are required for friends and dependants in England; and +in the race of competition, what chance of success has +a colonist? + +I made up my mind at once to forward her memorial as +requested, but pondered on the propriety of adding to it +a recommendation. It could do no good. At most, it would +only be the certificate of an unknown man; of one who +had neither of the two great qualifications, namely, +county or parliamentary interest, but it might do harm. +It might, by engendering ridicule from the insolence of +office, weaken a claim, otherwise well founded. "Who the +devil is this Mr. Thomas Poker, that recommends the prayer +of the petition? The fellow imagines all the world must +have heard of him. A droll fellow that, I take it from +his name: but all colonists are queer fellows, eh?" + +"Bad news from home?" said Mr. Slick, who had noticed +my abstraction. "No screw loose there, I hope. You don't +look as if you liked the flavour of that ere nut you are +crackin' of. Whose dead? and what is to pay now?" + +I read the letter and the memorial, and then explained +from my own knowledge how numerous and how valuable were +the services of my deceased friend, and expressed my +regret at not being able to serve the memorialist. + +"Poor woman!" said Mr. Hopewell, "I pity her. A colonist +has no chance for these things; they have no patron. In +this country merit will always obtain a patron--in the +provinces never. The English are a noble-minded, generous +people, and whoever here deserves encouragement or reward, +is certain to obtain either or both: but it must be a +brilliant man, indeed, whose light can be perceived across +the Atlantic." + +"I entertain, Sir," I said, "a very strong prejudice +against relying on patrons. Dr. Johnson, after a long +and fruitless attendance on Lord Chesterfield, says: +'Seven years, my Lord, have now past, since I waited in +your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during +which time I have been pushing on my work, through +difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and +have brought it at last to the verge of publication, +without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, +or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, +for I never bad a patron before." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Hopewell, "a man who feels that he is +wrong, is always angry with somebody else. Dr. Johnson, +is not so much to be admired for the independence that +dictated that letter, as condemned for the meanness and +servility of seven years of voluntary degradation. It is +no wonder he spoke with bitterness; for, while he censured +his Lordship, he must have despised himself. There is +a great difference between a literary and a political +patron. The former is not needed, and a man does better +without one; the latter is essential. A good book, like +good wine, needs no bush; but to get an office, you want +merits or patrons;--merits so great, that they cannot be +passed over, or friends so powerful, they cannot be +refused." + +"Oh! you can't do nothin', Squire," said Mr. Sick, "send +it back to Old Marm; tell her you have the misfortin to +be a colonist; that if her son would like to be a constable, +or a Hogreave, or a thistle-viewer, or sunthin' or another +of that kind, you are her man: but she has got the wrong +cow by the tail this time. I never hear of a patron, I +don't think of a frolic I once had with a cow's tail; +and, by hanging on to it like a snappin' turtle, I jist +saved my life, that's a fact. + +"Tell you what it is, Squire, take a fool's advice, for +once. Here you are; I have made you considerable well-known, +that's a fact; and will introduce you to court, to king +and queen, or any body you please. For our legation, +though they can't dance, p'raps, as well as the French +one can, could set all Europe a dancin' in wide awake +airnest, if it chose. They darsent refuse us nothin', +or we would fust embargo, and then go to war. Any one +you want to know, I'll give you the ticket. Look round, +select a good critter, and hold on to the tail, for dear +life, and see if you hante a patron, worth havin'. You +don't want none yourself, but you might want one some +time or another, for them that's a comin' arter you. + +"When I was a half grow'd lad, the bears came down from +Nor-West one year in droves, as a body might say, and +our woods near Slickville was jist full of 'em. It warn't +safe to go a-wanderin' about there a-doin' of nothin', +I tell _you_. Well, one arternoon, father sends me into +the back pastur', to bring home the cows, 'And,' says +he, 'keep a stirrin', Sam, go ahead right away, and be +out of the bushes afore sun-set, on account of the bears, +for that's about the varmints' supper-time.' + +"Well, I looks to the sky, and I sees it was a considerable +of a piece yet to daylight down, so I begins to pick +strawberries as I goes along, and you never see any thing +so thick as they were, and wherever the grass was long, +they'd stand up like a little bush, and hang in clusters, +most as big and twice as good, to my likin', as garden +ones. Well, the sun, it appears to me, is like a hoss, +when it comes near dark it mends its pace, and gets on +like smoke, so afore I know'd where I was, twilight had +come peepin' over the spruce tops. + +"Off I sot, hot foot, into the bushes, arter the cows, +and as always eventuates when you are in a hurry, they +was further back than common that time, away ever so fur +back to a brook, clean off to the rear of the farm, so +that day was gone afore I got out of the woods, and I +got proper frightened. Every noise I heerd I thought it +was a bear, and when I looked round a one side, I guessed +I heerd one on the other, and I hardly turned to look +there before, I reckoned it was behind me, I was e'en +a'most skeered to death. + +"Thinks I, 'I shall never be able to keep up to the cows +if a bear comes arter 'em and chases 'em, and if I fall +astarn, he'll just snap up a plump little corn fed feller +like me in less than half no time. Cryin',' says I, +'though, will do no good. You must be up and doin', Sam, +or it's gone goose with you.' + +"So a thought struck me. Father had always been a-talkin' +to me about the leadin' men, and makin' acquaintance with +the political big bugs when I growed up and havin' a +patron, and so on. Thinks I, I'll take the leadin' cow +for my patron. So I jist goes and cuts a long tough ash +saplin, and takes the little limbs off of it, and then +walks along side of Mooley, as meachin' as you please, +so she mightn't suspect nothin', and then grabs right +hold of her tail, and yelled and screamed like mad, and +wallopped away at her like any thing. + +"Well, the way she cut dirt was cautionary; she cleared +stumps, ditches, windfalls and every thing, and made a +straight track of it for home as the crow flies. Oh, she +was a dipper: she fairly flow again, and if ever she +flagged, I laid it into her with the ash saplin, and away +we started agin, as if Old Nick himself was arter us. + +"But afore I reached home, the rest of the cows came a +bellowin', and a roarin' and a-racin' like mad arter us, +and gained on us too, so as most to overtake us, jist as +I come to the bars of the cow yard, over went Mooler, +like a fox, brought me whap up agin 'em, which knocked +all the wind out of my lungs and the fire out of my eyes, +and laid me sprawlin on the ground, and every one of the +flock went right slap over me, all but one--poor Brindle. +She never came home agin. Bear nabbed her, and tore her +most ridiculous. He eat what he wanted, which was no +trifle, I can tell you, and left the rest till next time. + +"Don't talk to me. Squire. about merits. We all want a +lift in this world; sunthin' or another to lay hold on, +to help us along--_we want the cow's tail_. + +"Tell your friend, the female widder, she has got hold +of the wrong cow by the tail in gettin' hold of you, for +you are nothin' but a despisable colonist; but to look +out for some patron here, some leadin' man, or great +lord, to clinch fast hold of him, and stick to him like +a leach, and if he flags, (for patrons, like old Mooley, +get tired sometimes), to recollect the ash saplin, to +lay into him well, and keep him at it, and no fear but +he'll carry her through. He'll fetch her home safe at +last, and no mistake, depend on it, Squire. The best +lesson that little boy could be taught, is, that of _the +Patron, or the Cows Tail_." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +ASCOT RACES. + +To-day I visited Ascot. Race-courses are similar every +where, and present the same objects; good horses, cruel +riders, knowing men, dupes, jockeys, gamblers, and a +large assemblage of mixed company. But this is a gayer +scene than most others; and every epithet, appropriate +to a course, diminutive or otherwise, must he in the +superlative degree when applied to Ascot. This is the +general, and often the only impression that most men +carry away with them. + +Mr. Slick, who regards these things practically, called +my attention to another view of it. + +"Squire," said he, "I'd a plaguy sight sooner see Ascot +than any thing else to England. There ain't nothin' like +it. I don't mean the racin', because they can't go ahead +like us, if they was to die for it. We have colts that +can whip chain lightnin', on a pinch. Old Clay trotted +with it once all round an orchard, and beat it his whole +length, but it singed his tail properly as he passed it, +you may depend. It ain't its runnin' I speak of, therefore, +though that ain't mean nother; but it's got another +featur', that you'll know it by from all others. Oh it's +an everlastin' pity you warn't here, when I was to England +last time. Queen was there then; and where she is, of +coarse all the world and its wife is too. She warn't +there this year, and it sarves folks right. If I was an +angelyferous queen, like her, I wouldn't go nowhere till +I had a tory minister, and then a feller that had a +"trigger-eye" would stand a chance to get a white +hemp-neckcloth. I don't wonder Hume don't like young +England; for when that boy grows up, he'll teach some +folks that they had better let some folks alone, or some +folks had better take care of some folks' ampersands +that's all. + +"The time I speak of, people went in their carriages, +and not by railroad. Now, pr'aps you don't know, in fact +you can't know, for you can't cypher, colonists ain't no +good at figurs, but if you did know, the way to judge of +a nation is by its private carriages. From Hyde Park +corner to Ascot Heath, is twenty odd miles. Well, there +was one whole endurin' stream of carriages all the way, +sometimes havin' one or two eddies, and where the toll-gates +stood, havin' still water for ever so far. Well, it flowed +and flowed on for hours and hours without stoppin', like +a river; and when you got up to the race-ground, there +was the matter of two or three tiers of carriages, with +the hosses off, packed as close as pins in a paper. + +"It costs near hand to twelve hundred dollars a-year to +keep up a carriage here. Now for goodness' sake jist +multiply that everlastin' string of carriages by three +hundred pounds each, and see what's spent in that way +every year, and then multiply that by ten hundred thousand +more that's in other places to England you don't see, +and then tell me if rich people here ain't as thick as +huckleberries." + +"Well, when you've done, go to France, to Belgium, and +to Prussia, three sizeable places for Europe, and rake +and scrape every private carriage they've got, and they +ain't no touch to what Ascot can show. Well, when you've +done your cypherin', come right back to London, as hard +as you can clip from the race-course, and you won't miss +any of 'em; the town is as full as ever, to your eyes. +A knowin' old coon, bred and born to London, might, but +you couldn't. + +"Arter that's over, go and pitch the whole bilin' of 'em +into the Thames, hosses, carriages, people, and all; and +next day, if it warn't for the black weepers and long +faces of them that's lost money by it, and the black +crape and happy faces of them that's got money, or titles, +or what not by it, you wouldn't know nothin' about it. +Carriages wouldn't rise ten cents in the pound in the +market. A stranger, like you, if you warn't told, wouldn't +know nothin' was the matter above common. There ain't +nothin' to England shows its wealth like this. + +"Says father to me when I came back, 'Sam,' sais he, +'what struck you most?' + +"'Ascot Races,' sais I. + +"'Jist like you,' sais he. 'Hosses and galls is all you +think of. Wherever they be, there you are, that's a fact. +You're a chip of the old block, my boy. There ain't +nothin' lake 'em; is there?' + +"Well, he was half right, was father. It's worth seein' +for hosses and galls too; but it's worth seein' for its +carriage wealth alone. Heavens and airth, what a rich +country it must be that has such a show in that line as +England. Don't talk of stock, for it may fail; or +silver-smiths' shops, for you can't tell what's plated; +or jewels, for they may be paste; or goods, for they may +be worth only half nothin'; but talk of the carriages, +them's the witnesses that don't lie. + +"And what do they say? 'Calcutta keeps me, and China +keeps me, and Bot'ney Bay keeps me, and Canada keeps me, +and Nova Scotia keeps me, and the whales keep me, and +the white bears keep me, and every thing on the airth +keeps me, every thing under the airth keeps me. In short, +all the world keeps me.'" + +"No, not all the world, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell; "there +are some repudiative States that _don't keep me_; and if +you go to the auction rooms, you'll see some beautiful +carriages for sale, that say, 'the United States' Bank +used to keep me,' and some more that say, 'Nick Biddle +put me down.'" + +"Minister, I won't stand that," said Mr. Slick. "I won't +stay here and hear you belittle Uncle Sam that way for +nothin'. He ain't wuss than John Bull, arter all. Ain't +there no swindle-banks here? Jist tell me that. Don't +our liners fetch over, every trip, fellers that cut and +run from England, with their fobs filled with other men's +money? Ain't there lords in this country that know how +to "repudiate" as well as ring-tail-roarers in ourn. So +come now, don't throw stones till you put your +window-shutters to, or you may stand a smart chance of +gettin' your own glass broke, that's a fact.' + +"And then, Squire, jist look at the carriages. I'll bet +you a goose and trimmin's you can't find their ditto +nowhere. They _are_ carriages, and no mistake, that's +a fact. Look at the hosses, the harness, the paint, the +linin's, the well-dressed, lazy, idle, infarnal hansum +servants, (these rascals, I suspicion, are picked out +for their looks), look at the whole thing all through +the piece, take it, by and large, stock, lock, and barrel, +and it's the dandy, that's a fact. Don't it cost money, +that's all? Sumtotalize it then, and see what it all +comes to. It would make your hair stand on eend, I know. +If it was all put into figure, it would reach clean across +the river; and if it was all put into dollars, it would +make a solid tire of silver, and hoop the world round +and round, like a wheel. + +"If you want to give a man an idea of England, Squire, +tell him of Ascot; and if you want to cram him, get old +Multiplication-table Joe H-- to cast it up; for he'll +make it come to twice as much as it railly is, and that +will choke him. Yes, Squire, _stick to Ascot_. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE GANDER PULLING. + +A cunning man is generally a suspicious one, and is as +often led into error himself by his own misconceptions, +as protected from imposition by his habitual caution. + +Mr. Slick, who always acted on a motive, and never on an +impulse, and who concealed his real objects behind +ostensible ones, imagined that everybody else was governed +by the same principle of action; and, therefore, frequently +deceived himself by attributing designs to others that +never existed but in his own imagination. + +Whether the following story of the gander pulling was a +fancy sketch of the Attache, or a narrative of facts, +_I_ had no means of ascertaining. Strange interviews and +queer conversations he constantly had with official as +well as private individuals, but as he often gave his +opinions the form of an anecdote, for the purpose of +interesting his hearers, it was not always easy to decide +whether his stories were facts or fictions. + +If, on the present occasion, it was of the latter +description, it is manifest that he entertained no very +high opinion of the constitutional changes effected in +the government of the colonies by the Whigs, during their +long and perilous rule. If of the former kind, it is to +be lamented that he concealed his deliberate convictions +under an allegorical piece of humour. His disposition to +"humbug" was so great, it was difficult to obtain a plain +straightforward reply from him; but had the Secretary of +State put the question to him in direct terms, what he +thought of Lord Durham's "Responsible government," and +the practical working of it under Lord Sydenham's and +Sir Charles Bagot's administration, he would have obtained +a plain and intelligible answer. If the interview to +which he alludes ever did take place, (which I am bound +to add, is very doubtful, notwithstanding the minuteness +with which it is detailed), it is deeply to be regretted +that he was not addressed in that frank manner which +could alone elicit his real sentiments; for I know of no +man so competent to offer an opinion on these subjects +as himself. + +To govern England successfully, it is necessary to know +the temper of Englishmen. Obvious as this appears to be, +the frequent relinquishment of government measures, by +the dominant party, shows that their own statesmen are +sometimes deficient in this knowledge. + +Mr. Slick says, that if Sir James Graham had consulted +him, _he_ could have shown him how to carry the educational +clauses of his favourite bill This, perhaps, is rather +an instance of Mr. Slick's vanity, than a proof of his +sagacity. But if this species of information is not easy +of attainment here, even by natives, how difficult must +it be to govern a people three thousand miles off, who +differ most materially in thought, word, and deed, from +their official rulers. + +Mr. Slick, when we had not met during the day, generally +visited me at night, about the time I usually returned +from a dinner-party, and amused me by a recital of his +adventures. + +"Squire," said he, "I have had a most curious capur +to-day, and one that will interest you, I guess. Jist as +I was a settin' down to breakfast this mornin', and was +a turnin' of an egg inside out into a wine-glass, to +salt, pepper and batter it for Red-lane Alley, I received +a note from a Mister Pen, saying the Right Honourable +Mr. Tact would be glad, if it was convenient, if I would +call down to his office, to Downin' Street, to-day, at +four o'clock. Thinks says I to myself, 'What's to pay +now? Is it the Boundary Line, or Creole Case, or Colonial +Trade, or the Burnin' of the Caroline, or Right o' Sarch? +or what national subject is on the carpet to-day? +Howsundever,' sais I, 'let the charge be what it will, +slugs, rifle-bullets, or powder, go I must, that's a +fact.' So I tips him a shot right off; here's the draft, +Sir; it's in reg'lar state lingo. + + "Sir, + + "I have the high honour to acknowledge the receipt of + your letter of this present first of June instant and + note its contents. The conference (subject unknown), + proffered by the Right Honourable Mr. Tact, I accede + to hereby protesting and resarving all rights of + conformation and reniggin' of our Extraordinary + Embassador, now absent from London, at the great + agricultural meetin'. I would suggest, next time, it + would better convene to business, to insart subject + of discussion, to prevent being taken at a short. + + "I have to assure you of the high consideration of + your most obedient servant to command. + + "THE HON. SAM SLICK, + + "Attache". + +"Well, when the time comes, I rigs up, puts on the legation +coat, calls a cab, and downs to Downing Street, and looks +as dignified as I cleverly knew how. + +"When I enters the outer door, I sees a man in an arm-chair +in the entry, and he looked like a buster, I tell you, +jist ready to blow up with the steam of all the secrets +he had in his byler. + +"'Can I see Mr. Tact?' sais I. + +"'Tell you directly,' sais he, jist short like; for +Englishmen are kinder costive of words; they don't use +more nor will do, at no time; and he rings a bell. This +brings in his second in command; and sais he, 'Pray walk +in here, if you please, Sir,' and he led me into a little +plain, stage-coach-house lookin' room, with nothin' but +a table and two or three chairs in it; and says he, 'Who +shall I say, Sir?' + +"'The Honourable Mr. Slick,' sais I, 'Attache of the +American Legation to the court of Saint Jimses' Victoria.' + +"Off he sot; and there I waited and waited for ever so +long, but he didn't come back. Well, I walked to the +winder and looked out, but there was nothin' to see there; +and then I turned and looked at a great big map on the +wall, and there was nothin' I didn't know there; and then +I took out my pen-knife to whittle, but my nails was all +whittled off already, except one, and that was made into +a pen, and I didn't like to spile that; and as there +wasn't any thing I could get hold of, I jist slivered a +great big bit off the leg of the chair, and began to make +a toothpick of it. And when I had got that finished, I +begins to get tired; for nothin' makes me so peskilly +oneasy as to be kept waitin'; for if a Clockmaker don't +know the valy of time, who the plague does? + +"So jist to pass it away, I began to hum 'Jim Brown.' +Did you ever hear it, Squire? it's a'most a beautiful +air, as most all them nigger songs are. I'll make you a +varse, that will suit a despisable colonist exactly. + + "I went up to London, the capital of the nation, + To see Lord Stanley, and get a sitivation. + Says he to me, 'Sam Slick, what can you do?' + Says I, 'Lord Stanley, jist as much as you. + Liberate the rebels, and 'mancipate the niggers. + Hurror for our side, and damn thimble-riggers. + +"Airth and seas! If you was to sing that 'ere song there, +how it would make 'em stare; wouldn't it? Such words as +them was never heerd in that patronage office, I guess; +and yet folks must have often thort it too; that's a +fact. + +"I was a hummin' the rael 'Jim Brown,' and got as far +as: + + Play upon the banjo, play upon the fiddle, + Walk about the town, and abuse old Biddle, + +when I stopped right in the middle of it, for it kinder +sorter struck it me warn't dignified to be a singin' of +nigger-catches that way. So says I to myself, 'This ain't +respectful to our great nation to keep a high functionary +a waitin' arter this fashion, is it? Guess I'd better +assart the honour of our republic by goin' away; and let +him see that it warn't me that was his lackey last year.' + +"Well, jist as I had taken the sleeve of my coat and +given my hat a rub over with it, (a good hat will carry +off an old suit of clothes any time, but a new suit of +clothes will never carry off an old hat, so I likes to +keep my hat in good order in a general way). Well, jist +as I had done, in walks the porter's first leftenant; +and sais he, 'Mr. Tact will see you, Sir.' + +"'He come plaguy near not seein' of me, then,' sais I; +'for I had jist commenced makin' tracks as you come in. +The next time he sends for me, tell him not to send till +he is ready, will you? For it's a rule o' mine to tag +arter no man.' + +"The critter jist stopped short, and began to see whether +that spelt treason or no. He never heerd freedom o' speech +afore, that feller, I guess, unless it was somebody a +jawin' of him, up hill and down dale; so sais I, 'Lead +off, my old 'coon, and I will foller you, and no mistake, +if you blaze the line well.' + +"So he led me up stairs, opened a door, and 'nounced me; +and there was Mr. Tact, sittin' at a large table, all +alone. + +"'How do you do, Mr. Slick,' says he. 'I am very glad to +see you. Pray be seated.' He really was a very gentlemanlike +man, was Squire Tact, that's a fact. Sorry I kept you +waitin' so long,' sais he, 'but the Turkish Ambassador +was here at the time, and I was compelled to wait until +he went. I sent for you, Sir, a-hem!' and he rubbed his +hand acrost his mouth, and looked' up at the cornish, +and said, 'I sent for you, Sir, ahem!'--(thinks I, I see +now. All you will say for half an hour is only throw'd +up for a brush fence, to lay down behind to take aim +through; and arter that, the first shot is the one that's +aimed at the bird), 'to explain to you about this African +Slave Treaty,' said he. 'Your government don't seem to +comprehend me in reference to this Right of Sarch. +Lookin' a man in the face, to see he is the right man, +and sarchin' his pockets, are two very different things. +You take, don't you?' + +"'I'm up to snuff, Sir,' sais I, 'and no mistake.' I +know'd well enough that warn't what he sent for me for, +by the way he humm'd and hawed when he began. + +"'Taking up a trunk, as every hotel-keeper does and has +a right to do, and examinin' the name on the brass plate +to the eend on't, is one thing; forcin' the lock and +ransackin' the contents, is another. One is precaution, +the other is burglary.' + +"'It tante burglary,' sais I, 'unless the lodger sleeps +in his trunk. It's only--' + +"'Well,' says he, a colourin' up, 'that's technical. I +leave these matters to my law officers.' + +"I larnt that little matter of law from brother Eldad, +the lawyer, but I guess I was wrong there. I don't think +I had ought to have given him that sly poke; but I didn't +like his talkin' that way to me. Whenever a feller tries +to pull the wool over your eyes, it's a sign he don't +think high of your onderstandin'. It isn't complimental, +that's a fact. 'One is a serious offence, I mean, sais +he; 'the other is not. We don't want to sarch; we only +want to look a slaver in the face, and see whether he is +a free and enlightened American or not. If he is, the +_flag of liberty_ protects him and _his slaves_; if he +ain't, it don't protect him, nor them nother.' + +"Then he did a leadin' article on slavery, and a paragraph +on non-intervention, and spoke a little soft sawder about +America, and wound up by askin' me if he had made himself +onderstood. + +"'Plain as a boot-jack,' sais I. + +"When that was over, he took breath. He sot back on his +chair, put one leg over the other, and took a fresh +departur' agin. + +"'I have read your books, Mr. Slick,' said he, 'and read +'em, too, with great pleasure. You have been a great +traveller in your day. You've been round the world a'most, +haven't you?' + +"'Well,' sais I, 'I sharn't say I hante.' + +"'What a deal of information a man of your observation +must have acquired.' (He is a gentlemanly man, that you +may depend. I don't know when I've see'd one so well +mannered.) + +"'Not so much, Sir, as you would suppose,' sais I. + +"'Why how so?' sais he. + +"'Why,' sais I, 'the first time a man goes round the +world, he is plaguy skeered for fear of fallin' off the +edge; the second time he gets used to it, and larns a +good deal.' + +"'Fallin' off the edge!' sais he; 'what an original idea +that is. That's one of your best. I like your works for +that they are original. We have nothin' but imitations +now. Fallin' off the the edge, that's capital. I must +tell Peel that; for he is very fond of that sort of +thing.' + +"He was a very pretty spoken man, was Mr. Tact; he is +quite the gentleman, that's a fact. I love to hear him +talk; he is so very perlite, and seems to take a likin' +to me parsonally." + +Few men are so open to flattery as Mr. Slick; and although +"soft sawder" is one of the artifices he constantly uses +in his intercourse with others, he is often thrown off +of his guard by it himself. How much easier it is to +discover the weaknesses of others than to see our own! + +But to resume the story. + +"'You have been a good deal in the colonies, haven't +you?' said he. + +"'Considerable sum,' sais I. Now, sais I to myself, this +is the rael object he sent for me for; but I won't tell +him nothin'. If he'd a up and askt me right off the reel, +like a man, he'd a found me up to the notch; but he thort +to play me off. Now I'll sarve him out his own way; so +here goes. + +"'Your long acquaintance with the provinces, and familiar +intercourse with the people,' sais he, 'must have made +you quite at home on all colonial topics.' + +"'I thought so once,' sais I; 'but I don't think so now +no more, Sir.' + +"'Why how is that?' sais he. + +"'Why, Sir,' sais I, 'you can hold a book so near your +eyes as not to be able to read a word of it; hold it off +further, and get the right focus, and you can read +beautiful. Now the right distance to see a colony, and +know all about it, is England. Three thousand miles is +the right focus for a political spy-glass. A man livin' +here, and who never was out of England, knows twice as +much about the provinces as I do.' + +"'Oh, you are joking,' sais he. + +"Not a bit,' sais I. 'I find folks here that not only +know every thing about them countries, but have no doubts +upon any matter, and ask no questions; in fact, they not +only know more than me, but more than the people themselves +do, what they want. It's curious, but it's a fact. A +colonist is the most beautiful crittur in natur to try +experiments on, you ever see; for he is so simple and +good-natured he don't know no better; and so weak, he +couldn't help himself if he did. There's great fun in +making these experiments, too. It puts me in mind of +"Gander Pulling;" you know what this is, don't you?' + +"'No,' he said. 'I never heard of it. Is it an American +sport?' + +"'Yes,' sais I, 'it is; and the most excitin' thing, too, +you ever see.' + +"'You are a very droll man. Mr Slick,' said he, 'a very +droll man indeed. In all your books there is a great deal +of fun; but in all your fun, there is a meanin'. Your +jokes hit, and hit pretty hard, too, sometimes. They make +a man think as well as laugh. But. describe this Gander +Pulling.' + +"'Well, I'll tell you how it is,' sais I. 'First and +foremost, a ring-road is formed, like a small race-course; +then, two great long posts is fixed into the ground, one +on each side of the road, and a rope made fast by the +eends to each post, leavin' the middle of the rope to +hang loose in a curve. Well, then they take a gander and +pick his neck as clean as a babby's, and then grease it +most beautiful all the way from the breast to the head, +till it becomes as slippery as a soaped eel. Then they +tie both his legs together with a strong piece of cord, +of the size of a halyard, and hang him by the feet to +the middle of the swingin' rope, with his head downward. +All the youngsters, all round the county, come to see +the sport, mounted a horseback. + +"'Well, the owner of the goose goes round with his hat, +and gets so much a-piece in it from every one that enters +for the "Pullin';" and when all have entered, they bring +their hosses in a line, one arter another; and at the +words, 'Go ahead!' off they set, as hard as they can +split; and as they pass under the goose, make a grab at +him; and whoever carries off the head, wins. + +"'Well, the goose dodges his head and flaps his wings, +and swings about so, it ain't no easy matter to clutch +his neck; and when you do, it's so greasy, it slips right +through the fingers, like, nothin'. Sometimes it takes +so long, that the hosses are fairly beat out, and can't +scarcely raise a gallop; and then a man stands by the +post, with a heavy loaded whip, to lash 'em on, so that +they mayn't stand under the goose, which ain't fair. The +whoopin', and hollerin', and screamin', and bettin', and +excitement, beats all; there ain't hardly no sport equal +to it. It's great fun _to all except the poor +goosey-gander_. + +"'The game of colony government to Canady, for some years +back, puts me in mind of that exactly. Colonist has had +his heels put where his head used to be, this some time +past. He has had his legs tied, and his neck properly +greased, I tell _you_; and the way every parliament man, +and governor, and secretary, gallops round and round, +one arter another, a grabbin' at poor colonist, ain't no +matter. Every new one on 'em that comes, is confident he +is a goin' to settle it; but it slips through his hand, +and off he goes, properly larfed at. + +"'They have pretty nearly fixed goosey colonist, though; +he has got his neck wrung several times; it's twisted +all a one side, his tongue hangs out, and he squeaks +piteous, that's a fact. Another good grab or two will +put him out o' pain; and it's a pity it wouldn't, for no +created critter can live long, turned wrong eend up, that +way. But the sport will last long arter that; for arter +his neck is broke, it ain't no easy matter to get the +head off; the cords that tie that on, are as thick as +your finger. It's the greatest fun out there you ever +see, _to all except poor goosey colonist_. + +"'I've larfed ready to kill myself at it. Some o' these +Englishers that come out, mounted for the sport, and +expect a peerage as a reward for bringin' home the head +and settlin' the business for colonist, do cut such +figurs, it would make you split; and they are all so +everlastin' consaited, they won't take no advice. The +way they can't do it is cautionary. One gets throwed, +another gets all covered with grease, a third loses his +hat, a fourth gets run away with by his horse, a fifth +sees he can't do it, makes some excuse, and leaves the +ground afore the sport is over; and now and then, an +unfortunate critter gets a hyste that breaks his own +neck. There is only one on 'em that I have see'd out +there, that can do it right. + +"It requires some experience, that's a fact. But let John +Bull alone for that; he is a critter that thinks he knows +every thing; and if you told him he didn't, he wouldn't +believe you, not he. He'd only pity your ignorance, and +look dreadful sorry for you. Oh if you want to see high +life, come and see "a colonial gander pulling." + +"'Tying up a goose, Sir, is no great harm,' sais I, +'seein' that a goose was made to be killed, picked and +devoured, and nothin' else. Tyin' up a colonist by the +heels is another thing. I don't think it right; but I +don't know nothin'; I've had the book too close to my +eyes. Joe H--e, that never was there, can tell you twice +as much as I can about the colonies. The focus to see +right, as I said afore, is three thousand miles off.' + +"'Well,' sais he, 'that's a capital illustration, Mr. +Slick. There is more in that than meets the ear. Don't +tell me you don't know nothin' about the colonies; few +men know so much as you do. I wish to heavens you was a +colonist,' sais he; 'if you were, I would offer you a +government.' + +"'I don't doubt it,' sais I; 'seein' that your department +have advanced or rewarded so many colonists already.' +But I don't think he heard that shot, and I warn't sorry +for it; for it's not right to be a pokin' it into a +perlite man, is it? + +"'I must tell the Queen that story of _the Gander Pulling_,' +sais he; 'I like it amazingly. It's a capital caricature. +I'll send the idea to H. B. Pray name some day when you +are disengaged; I hope you will give me the pleasure of +dining with me. Will this day fortnight suit you?' + +"'Thank you,' sais I, 'I shall have great pleasure.' + +"He railly was a gentlemany man that. He was so good +natured, and took the joke so well, I was kinder sorry +I played it off on him. I hante see'd no man to England +I affection so much as Mr. Tact, I swear! I begin to +think, arter all, it was the right of _sarchin' vessels_ +he wanted to talk to me about, instead of _sarchin' me_, +as I suspicioned. It don't do always _to look for motives, +men often act without any_. The next time, if he axes +me, I'll talk plain, and jist tell him what I _do_ think; +but still, if he reads that riddle right, he may larn a +good deal, too, from the story of "the Gander Pulling," +mayn't he?" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE BLACK STOLE. + +The foregoing sketch exhibits a personal trait in Mr. +Slick's character, the present a national one. In the +interview, whether real or fanciful, that he alleges to +have had with one of the Secretaries of State, he was +not disposed to give a direct reply, because his habitual +caution led him to suspect that an attempt was made to +draw him out on a particular topic without his being made +aware of the object. On the present occasion, he exhibits +that irritability, which is so common among all his +countrymen, at the absurd accounts that travellers give +of the United States in general, and the gross exaggerations +they publish of the state of slavery in particular. + +That there is a party in this country, whose morbid +sensibility is pandered to on the subject of negro +emancipation there can be no doubt, as is proved by the +experiment made by Mr. Slick, recorded in this chapter. + +On this subject every man has a right to his own opinions, +but any interference with the municipal regulations of +another country, is so utterly unjustifiable, that it +cannot be wondered at that the Americans resent the +conduct of the European abolishionists, in the most +unqualified and violent manner. + +The conversation that I am now about to repeat, took +place on the Thames. Our visits, hitherto, had been +restricted by the rain to London. To-day, the weather +being fine, we took passage on board of a steamer, and +went to Greenwich. + +While we were walking up and down the deck, Mr. Slick +again adverted to the story of the government spies with +great warmth. I endeavoured, but in vain, to persuade +him that no regular organized system of espionage existed +in England. He had obtained a garbled account of one or +two occurrences, and his prejudice, (which, notwithstanding +his disavowal, I knew to be so strong, as to warp all +his opinions of England and the English), immediately +built up a system, which nothing I could say, could at +all shake. + +I assured him the instances he had mentioned were isolated +and unauthorized acts, told in a very distorted manner +but mitigated, as they really were, when truly related, +they were at the time received with the unanimous +disapprobation of every right-thinking man in the kingdom, +and that the odium which had fallen on the relators, was +so immeasurably greater than what had been bestowed on +the thoughtless principals, that there was no danger of +such things again occurring in our day. But he was +immovable. + +"Oh, of course, it isn't true," he said, "and every +Englishman will swear it's a falsehood. But you must not +expect us to disbelieve it, nevertheless; for your +travellers who come to America, pick up here and there, +some absurd ontruth or another; or, if they are all picked +up already, invent one; and although every man, woman, +and child is ready to take their bible oaths it is a bam, +yet the English believe this one false witness in preference +to the whole nation. + +"You must excuse me, Squire; you have a right to your +opinion, though it seems you have no right to blart it +out always; but I am a freeman, I was raised in Slickville, +Onion County, State of Connecticut, United States of +America, which _is_ a free country, and no mistake; and +I have a right to my opinion, and a right to speak it, +too; and let me see the man, airl or commoner, +parliamenterer or sodger officer, that dare to report +me, I guess he'd wish he'd been born a week later, that's +all. I'd make a caution of him, _I_ know. I'd polish his +dial-plate fust, and then I'd feel his short ribs, so as +to make him larf, a leetle jist a leetle the loudest he +ever heerd. Lord, he'd think thunder and lightnin' a mint +julip to it. I'd ring him in the nose as they do pigs in +my country, to prevent them rootin' up what they hadn't +ought." + +Having excited himself by his own story, he first imagined +a case and then resented it, as if it had occurred. I +expressed to him my great regret that he should visit +England with these feelings and prejudices, as I had +hoped his conversation would have been as rational and +as amusing as it was in Nova Scotia, and concluded by +saying that I felt assured he would find that no such +prejudice existed here against his countrymen, as he +entertained towards the English. + +"Lord love you!" said he, "I have no prejudice. I am the +most candid man you ever see. I have got some grit, but +I ain't ugly, I ain't indeed." + +"But you are wrong about the English; and I'll prove it +to you. Do you see that turkey there?" said he. + +"Where?" I asked. "I see no turkey; indeed, I have seen +none on board. What do you mean?" + +"Why that slight, pale-faced, student-like Britisher; he +is a turkey, that feller. He has been all over the Union, +and he is a goin' to write a book. He was at New York +when we left, and was introduced to me in the street. To +make it liquorish, he has got all the advertisements +about runaway slaves, sales of niggers, cruel mistresses +and licentious masters, that he could pick up. He is a +caterer and panderer to English hypocrisy. There is +nothin' too gross for him to swaller. We call them turkeys; +first because they travel so fast--for no bird travels +hot foot that way, except it be an ostrich--and second, +because they gobble up every thing that comes in their +way. Them fellers will swaller a falsehood as fast as a +turkey does a grasshopper; take it right down whole, +without winkin'. + +"Now, as we have nothin' above particular to do, 'I'll +cram him' for you; I will show you how hungry he'll bite +at a tale of horror, let it be never so onlikely; how +readily he will believe it, because it is agin us; and +then, when his book comes out, you shall see that all +England will credit it, though I swear I invented it as +a cram, and you swear you heard it told as a joke. They've +drank in so much that is strong, in this way, have the +English, they require somethin' sharp enough to tickle +their palates now. Wine hante no taste for a man that +drinks grog, that's a fact. It's as weak as Taunton water. +Come and walk up and down deck along with me once or +twice, and then we will sit down by him, promiscuously +like; and as soon as I get his appetite sharp, see how +I will cram him." + +"This steam-boat is very onsteady to-day. Sir," said Mr. +Slick; "it's not overly convenient walking, is it?" + +The ice was broken. Mr. Slick led him on by degrees to +his travels, commencing with New England, which the +traveller eulogised very much. He then complimented him +on the accuracy of his remarks and the depth of his +reflections, and concluded by expressing a hope that he +would publish his observations soon, as few tourists were +so well qualified for the task as himself. + +Finding these preliminary remarks taken in good part, he +commenced the process of "cramming." + +"But oh, my friend," said he, with a most sanctimonious +air, "did you visit, and I am ashamed as an American +citizen to ask the question, I feel the blood a tannin' +of my cheek when I inquire, did you visit the South? That +land that is polluted with slavery, that land where the +boastin' and crackin' of freemen pile up the agony pangs +on the corroding wounds inflicted by the iron chains of +the slave, until natur can't stand it no more; my heart +bleeds like a stuck critter, when I think of this plague +spot on the body politic. I ought not to speak thus; +prudence forbids it, national pride forbids it; but +genu_wine_ feelings is too strong for polite forms. 'Out +of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh.' Have +you been there?" + +"Turkey" was thrown off his guard, he opened his wallet, +which was well stocked, and retailed his stories, many +of them so very rich, that I doubted the capacity of the +Attache to out-Herod him. Mr. Slick received these tales +with evident horror, and complimented the narrator with +a well simulated groan; and when he had done, said, "Ah, +I see how it is, they have purposely kept dark about the +most atrocious features of slavery. Have you never seen +the Gougin' School?" + +"No, never." + +"What, not seen the Gougin' School?" + +"No, Sir; I never heard of it." + +"Why, you don't mean to say so?" + +"I do, indeed, I assure you." + +"Well, if that don't pass! And you never even heerd tell +of it, eh?" + +"Never, Sir. I have never either seen it or heard of it." + +"I thought as much," said Mr. Slick. "I doubt if any +Britisher ever did or ever will see it. Well, Sir, in +South Carolina, there is a man called Josiah Wormwood; +I am ashamed to say he is a Connecticut man. For a +considerable of a spell, he was a strollin' preacher, +but it didn't pay in the long run. There is so much +competition in that line in our country, that he consaited +the business was overdone, and he opened a Lyceum to +Charleston South Car, for boxin', wrestlin' and other +purlite British accomplishments; and a most a beautiful +sparrer he is, too; I don't know as I ever see a more +scientific gentleman than he is, in that line. Lately, +he has halfed on to it the art of gougin' or 'monokolisin,' +as he calls it, to sound grand; and if it weren't so +dreadful in its consequences, it sartinly is amost allurin' +thing, is gougin'. The sleight-of-hand is beautiful. All +other sleights we know are tricks; but this is reality; +there is the eye of your adversary in your hand; there +is no mistake. It's the real thing. You feel you have +him; that you have set your mark on him, and that you +have took your satisfaction. The throb of delight felt +by a 'monokolister' is beyond all conception." + +"Oh heavens!" said the traveller, "Oh horror of horrors! +I never heard any thing so dreadful. Your manner of +telling it, too, adds to its terrors. You appear to view +the practice with a proper Christian disgust; and yet +you talk like an amateur. Oh, the thing is sickening." + +"It is, indeed," said Mr. Slick, "particularly to him +that loses his peeper. But the dexterity, you know, is +another thing. It is very scientific. He has two niggers, +has Squire Wormwood, who teach the wrastlin' and +gouge-sparrin'; but practisin' for the eye is done for +punishment of runaways. He has plenty of subjects. All +the planters send their fugit_ive_ niggers there to be +practised on for an eye. The scholars ain't allowed to +take more than one eye out of them; if they do, they have +to pay for the nigger; for he is no sort o' good after, +for nothin' but to pick oakum. I could go through the +form, and give you the cries to the life, but I won't; +it is too horrid; it really is too dreadful." + +"Oh do, I beg of you," said the traveller. + +"I cannot, indeed; it is too shocking. It will disgust +you." + +"Oh, not at all," said Turkey, "when I know it is simulated, +and not real, it is another thing." + +"I cannot, indeed," said Mr. Slick. "It would shock your +philanthropic soul, and set your very teeth of humanity +on edge. But have you ever seen--the Black Stole?" + +"No." + +"Never seen the Black Stole?" + +"No, never." + +"Why, it ain't possible? Did you never hear of it nother?" + +"No, never. Well now, do tell!" + +"So you never heerd tell of it, nor never sot eyes on +it?" + +"Certainly never." + +"Well, that bangs the bush, now! I suppose you didn't. +Guess you never did, and never will, nor no other traveller, +nother, that ever slept in shoe-leather. They keep dark +about these atrocities. Well, the Black Stole is a loose +kind of shirt-coat, like an English carter's frock; only, +it is of a different colour. It is black instead of white, +and made of nigger hide, beautifully tanned, and dressed +as soft as a glove. It ain't every nigger's hide that's +fit for a stole. If they are too young, it is too much +like kid; if they are too old, it's like sole leather, +it's so tough; and if they have been whipt, as all on +'em have a'most, why the back is all cut to pieces, and +the hide ruined. It takes several sound nigger skins to +make a stole; but when made, it's a beautiful article, +that's a fact. + +"It is used on a plantation for punishment. When the whip +don't do its work, strip a slave, and jist clap on to +him the Black Stole. Dress him up in a dead man's skin, +and it frightens him near about to death. You'll hear +him screetch for a mile a'most, so 'tarnally skeered. +And the best of the fun is, that all the rest of the +herd, bulls, cows, and calves, run away from him, jist +as if he was a panther." + +"Fun, Sir! Do you call this fun?" + +"Why sartainly I do. Ain't it better nor whippin' to +death? "What's a Stole arter all? It's nothin' but a +coat. Philosophizin' on it, Stranger, there is nothin' +to shock a man. The dead don't feel. Skinnin', then, +ain't cruel, nor is it immoral. To bury a good hide, is, +waste--waste is wicked. There are more good hides buried +in the States, black and white, every year, than would +pay the poor-rates and state-taxes. They make excellent +huntin'-coats, and would make beautiful razor-straps, +bindin' for books, and such like things; it would make +a noble export. Tannin' in hemlock bark cures the horrid +nigger flavour. But then, we hante arrived at that state +of philosophy; and when it is confined to one class of +the human family, it would be dangerous. The skin of a +crippled slave might be worth more than the critter was +himself; and I make no doubt, we should soon hear of a +stray nigger being shot for his hide, as you do of a +moose for his skin, and a bear for his fur. + +"Indeed, that is the reason (though I shouldn't mention +it as an Attache), that our government won't now concur +to suppress the slave trade. They say the prisoners will +all be murdered, and their peels sold; and that vessels, +instead of taking, in at Africa a cargo of humans, will +take in a cargo of hides, as they do to South America. +As a Christian, a philanthropist, indeed, as a man, this +is a horrid subject to contemplate, ain't it?" + +"Indeed it is," said Turkey. "I feel a little overcome--my +head swims--I am oppressed with nausea--I must go below." + +"How the goney swallered it all, didn't he?" said Mr. +Slick, with great glee. "Hante he a most a beautiful +twist that feller? How he gobbled it down, tank, shank +and flank at a gulp, didn't he. Oh! he is a Turkey and +no mistake, that chap. But see here, Squire; jist look +through the skylight. See the goney, how his pencil is +a leggin' it off, for dear life. Oh, there is great fun +in crammin' those fellers. + +"Now tell me candid, Squire; do you think there is no +prejudice in the Britishers agin us and our free and +enlightened country, when they can swaller such stuff as +the Gougin' School and _Black Stole_?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE'S HORSE. + +"There is more in that story, Squire," said Mr. Hopewell, +"of the Patron, and Sam's queer illustration of the Cow's +Tail, than you are aware of. The machinery of the colonies +is good enough in itself, but it wants a safety valve. +When the pressure within is too great, there should be +something devised to let off the steam. This is a subject +well worthy of your consideration; and if you have an +opportunity of conversing with any of the ministry, pray +draw their attention to it. By not understanding this, +the English have caused one revolution at home, and +another in America." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Slick. "It reminds me of what I once +saw done by the Prince de Joinville's horse, on the +Halifax road." + +"Pardon me," said Mr. Hopewell, "you shall have an +opportunity presently of telling your story of the Prince's +horse, but suffer me to proceed. + +"England, besides other outlets, has a never-failing one +in the colonies, but the colonies have no outlet. Cromwell +and Hampden were actually embarked on board of a vessel +in the Thames, for Boston, when they were prevented from +sailing by an Order in Council. What was the consequence? +The sovereign was dethroned. Instead of leading a small +sect of fanatical puritans, and being the first men of +a village in Massachussets, they aspired to be the first +men in an empire, and succeeded. So in the old colonies. +Had Washington been sent abroad in command of a regiment, +Adams to govern a colony, Franklin to make experiments +in an observatory like that at Greenwich, and a more +extended field been opened to colonial talent, the United +States would still have continued to be dependencies of +Great Britain. + +"There is no room for men of talent in British America; +and by not affording them an opportunity of distinguishing +themselves, or rewarding them when they do, they are +always ready to make one, by opposition. In comparing +their situation with that of the inhabitants of the +British Isles, they feel that they labour under +disabilities; these disabilities they feel as a degradation; +and as those who impose that degradation live three +thousand miles off, it becomes a question whether it is +better to suffer or resist." + +"The Prince de Joinville's horse," said Mr. Slick, "is +a case in pint." + +"One moment, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell. + +"The very word 'dependencies' shows the state of the +colonies. If they are to be retained, they should he +incorporated with Great Britain. The people should be +made to feel, not that they are colonists, but Englishmen. +They may tinker at constitutions as much as they please; +the root of the evil lies deeper than statesmen are aware +of. O'Connell, when he agitates for a repeal of the +Union, if he really has no ulterior objects beyond that +of an Irish Parliament, does not know what he is talking +about. If his request were granted, Ireland would become +a province, and descend from being an integral part of +the empire, into a dependency. Had he ever lived in a +colony, he would have known the tendencies of such a +condition. + +"What I desire to see, is the very reverse. Now that +steam has united the two continents of Europe and America, +in such a manner that you can travel from Nova Scotia to +England, in as short a time as it once required to go +from Dublin to London, I should hope for a united +legislature. Recollect that the distance from New Orleans +to the head of the River is greater than from Halifax N. +S., to Liverpool. I do not want to see colonists and +Englishmen arrayed against each other, as different races, +but united as one people, having the same rights and +privileges, each bearing a share of the public burdens, +and all having a voice in the general government. + +"The love of distinction is natural to man. Three millions +of people cannot be shut up in a colony. They will either +turn on each other, or unite against their keepers. The +road that leads to retirement in the provinces, should +be open to those whom the hope of distinction invites to +return and contend for the honours of the empire. At +present, the egress is practically closed." + +"If you was to talk for ever, Minister," said Mr. Slick, +"you couldn't say more than the Prince de Joinville's +hoss on that subject." + +The interruption was very annoying; for no man I ever +met, so thoroughly understands the subject of colonial +government as Mr. Hopewell. His experience is greater +than that of any man now living, and his views more +enlarged and more philosophical. + +"Go on, Sam," said he with great good humour. "Let us +hear what the Prince's horse said." + +"Well," said Mr. Slick, "I don't jist exactly mean to +say he spoke, as Balaam's donkey did, in good English or +French nother; but he did that that spoke a whole book, +with a handsum wood-cut to the fore, and that's a fact. + +"About two years ago, one mortal brilin' hot day, as I +was a pokin' along the road from Halifax to Windsor, with +Old Clay in the waggon, with my coat off, a ridin' in my +shirt-sleeves, and a thinkin' how slick a mint-julep +would travel down red-lane, if I had it, I heard such a +chatterin', and laughin', and screamin' as I never a'most +heerd afore, since I was raised. + +"'What in natur' is this,' sais I, as I gave Old Clay a +crack of the whip, to push on. 'There is some critters +here, I guess, that have found a haw haw's nest, with a +tee hee's egg in it. What's in the wind now?' Well, a +sudden turn of the road brought me to where they was, +and who should they be but French officers from the +Prince's ship, travellin' incog. in plain clothes. But, +Lord bless you, cook a Frenchman any way you please, and +you can't disguise him. Natur' will out, in spite of +all, and the name of a Frencher is written as plain as +any thing in his whiskers, and his hair, and his skin, +and his coat, and his boots, and his air, and his gait, +and in everythin', but only let him open his mouth, and +the cat's out of the bag in no time, ain't it? They are +droll boys, is the French, that's a fact. + +"Well, there was four on 'em dismounted, a holdin' of +their hosses by the bridle, and a standin' near a spring +of nice cool water; and there was a fifth, and he was a +layin' down belly flounder on the ground, a tryin' to +drink out of the runnin' spring. + +"'Parley vous French,' sais I, 'Mountsheer?' At that, +they sot to, and larfed again more than ever, I thought +they would have gone into the high strikes, they hee-hawed +so. + +"Well, one on 'em, that was a Duke, as I found out +afterwards, said 'O yees, Saar, we spoked English too.' + +"'Lawful heart!' sais I, 'what's the joke?' + +"'Why,' sais he, 'look there, Sare.' And then they larfed +agin, ready to split; and sore enough, no sooner had the +Leftenant layed down to drink, than the Prince's hoss +kneeled down, and put his head jist over his neck, and +began to drink too. Well, the officer couldn't get up +for the hoss, and he couldn't keep his face out of the +water for the hoss, and he couldn't drink for the hoss, +and he was almost choked to death, and as black in the +face as your hat. And the Prince and the officers larfed +so, they couldn't help him, if they was to die for it. + +"Sais I to myself, 'A joke is a joke, if it tante carried +too far, but this critter win be strangled, as sure as +a gun, if he lays here splutterin' this way much longer.' +So I jist gives the hoss a dab in the mouth, and made +him git up; and then sais I, 'Prince,' sais I, for I +know'd him by his beard, he had one exactly like one of +the old saint's heads in an Eyetalian pictur, all dressed +to a pint, so sais I, 'Prince,' and a plaguy handsum man +he is too, and as full of fun as a kitten, so sais I, +'Prince,' and what's better, all his officers seemed +plaguy proud and fond of him too; so sais I, 'Prince, +voila le condition of one colonist, which,' sais I, +'Prince, means in English, that leftenant is jist like +a colonist.' + +"'Commong,' sais he, 'how is dat?' + +"'Why' sais I, 'Prince, whenever a colonist goes for to +drink at a spring of the good things in this world, (and +plaguy small springs we have here too,) and fairly lays +down to it, jist as he gets his lips cleverly to it, for +a swig, there is some cussed neck or another, of some +confounded Britisher, pops right over him, and pins him +there. He can't get up, he can't back out, and he can't +drink, and he is blacked and blued in the face, and most +choked with the weight.' + +"'What country was you man of?' said he, for he spoke +very good for a Frenchman. + +"With that I straightened myself up, and looked dignified, +for I know'd I had a right to be proud, and no mistake; +sais I, 'Prince, I am an American citizen.' How them two +words altered him. P'raps there beant no two words to +ditto 'em. He looked for all the world like a different +man when he seed I wasn't a mean uncircumcised colonist. + +"'Very glad to see you, Mr. Yankee,' said he, 'very glad +indeed. Shall I have de honour to ride with you a little +way in your carriage?' + +"'As for the matter of that,' sais I, 'Mountsheer Prince, +the honour is all the other way,' for I can be as civil +as any man, if he sets out to act pretty and do the thing +genteel. + +"With that he jumped right in, and then he said somethin' +in French to the officers; some order or another, I +suppose, about comin on and fetchin' his hoss with them. +I have hearn in my time, a good many men speak French, +but I never see the man yet, that could hold a candle to +_him_. Oh, it was like lightnin', jist one long endurin' +streak; it seemed all one sentence and one word. It was +beautiful, but I couldn't onderstand it, it was so +everlastin' fast. + +"'Now,' sais he, 'set sail.' And off we sot, at the rate +of sixteen notts an hour. Old Clay pleased him, you may +depend; he turned round and clapped his hands, and larfed, +and waved his hat to his officers to come on; and they +whipped, and spurred, and galloped, and raced for dear +life; but we dropped 'em astarn like any thing, and he +larfed again, heartier than ever There is no people +a'most, like to ride so fast as sailors; they crack on, +like a house a fire. + +"Well, arter a while, sais he, 'Back topsails,' and I +hauled up, and he jumped down, and outs with a pocket +book, and takes a beautiful gold coronation medal. (It +was solid gold, no pinchback, but the rael yaller stuff, +jist fresh from King's shop to Paris, where his money is +made), and sais he, 'Mr. Yankee, will you accept that to +remember the Prince de Joinville and his horse by?' And +then he took off his hat and made me a bow, and if that +warn't a bow, then I never see one, that's all. I don't +believe mortal man, unless it was a Philadelphia nigger, +could make such a bow. It was enough to sprain his ankle +he curled so low. And then off he went with a hop, skip, +and a jump, sailor fashion, back to meet his people. + +"Now, Squire, if you see Lord Stanley, tell him that +story of the Prince de Joinville's horse; but before you +get so far as that, pin him by admissions. When you want +to get a man on the hip, ax him a question or two, and +get his answers, and then you have him in a corner, he +must stand and let you put on the bridle. He cant help +it no how, he can fix it. + +"Says you, 'My Lord'--don't forget his title--every man +likes the sound of that, it's music to his ears, it's +like our splendid national air, Yankee Doodle, you never +get tired of it. 'My Lord,' sais you, 'what do you suppose +is the reason the French keep Algiers?' Well, he'll up +and say, it's an outlet for the fiery spirits of France, +it gives them employment and an opportunity to distinguish +themselves, and what the climate and the inimy spare, +become valuable officers. It makes good soldiers out of +bad subjects. + +"'Do you call that good policy?' sais you. + +"Well, he's a trump, is Mr. Stanley, at least folks say +so; and he'll say right off the reel 'onquestionably it +is--excellent policy.' + +"When he says that, you have him bagged, he may flounder +and spring like a salmon jist caught; but be can't out +of the landin' net. You've got him, and no mistake. Sais +you 'what outlet have you for the colonies?' + +"Well, he'll scratch his head and stare at that, for a +space. He'll hum and haw a little to get breath, for he +never thought of that afore, since he grow'd up; but he's +no fool, I can tell you, and he'll out with his mould, +run an answer and be ready for you in no time. He'll say, +'They don't require none. Sir. They have no redundant +population. They are an outlet themselves.' + +"Sais you, 'I wasn't talking of an outlet for population, +for France or the provinces nother. I was talking of an +outlet for the clever men, for the onquiet ones, for the +fiery spirits.' + +"'For that. Sir,' he will say, 'they have the local +patronage.' + +"'Oh!' sais you, 'I warn't aware. I beg pardon, I have +been absent some time, as long as twenty days or perhaps +twenty-five, there must have been great changes, since +I left.' + +"'The garrison,' sais you. + +"'Is English,' sais he. + +"'The armed ships in the harbour?' + +"'English.' + +"'The governor and his secretary?' + +"'English.' + +"'The principal officer of customs and principal part of +his deputies?' + +"'English.' + +"'The commissariat and the staff?' + +"'English to a man.' + +"'The dockyard people?' + +"'English.' + +"'The postmaster giniral?' + +"'English.' + +"'What, English?' sais you, and look all surprise, as if +you didn't know. 'I thought he was a colonist, seein' +the province pays so much for the mails.' + +"'No,' he'll say, 'not now; we have jist sent an English +one over, for we find it's a good thing that.' + +"'One word more,' sais you, 'and I have done. If your +army officers out there, get leave of absence, do you +stop their pay?' + +"'No.' + +"'Do you sarve native colonists the same way?' + +"'No, we stop half their salaries.' + +"'Exactly,' sais you, 'make them feel the difference. +Always make a nigger feel he is a nigger, or he'll get +sassy, you may depend. As for patronage,' sais you, 'you +know as well as I do, that all that's not worth havin', +is jist left to poor colonist. He is an officer of militia, +gets no pay and finds his own fit out. Like Don Quixote's +tailor, he works for nothin' and finds thread. Any other +little matters of the same kind, that nobody wants, and +nobody else will take; if Blue-nose makes interest for, +and has good luck, he can get as a great favour, to +conciliate his countrymen. No, Minister,' sais you, 'you +are a clever man, every body sais you are a brick; and +if you ain't, you talk more like one, than any body I +have seen this while past. I don't want no office myself, +if I did p'raps, I wouldn't talk about patronage this +way; but I am a colonist, I want to see the colonists +remain so. They _are_ attached to England, that is a +fact, keep them so, by making them Englishmen. Throw +the door wide open; patronise them; enlist them in the +imperial sarvice, allow them a chance to contend for +honours and let them win them, if they can. If they don't, +it's their own fault, and cuss 'em they ought to be +kicked, for if they ain't too lazy, there is no mistake +in 'em, that's a fact. The country will be proud of them, +if they go ahead. Their language will change then. It +will be _our_ army, the delighted critters will say, not +the English army; _our_ navy, _our_ church, _our_ +parliament, _our_ aristocracy, &c., and the word English +will be left out holus-bolus, and that proud, that +endearin' word "our" will be insarted. Do this, and you +will shew yourself the first statesman of modern times. +You'll rise right up to the top of the pot, you'll go +clean over Peel's head, as your folks go over ourn, not +by jumpin' over him, but by takin' him by the neck and +squeezin' him down. You 'mancipated the blacks, now +liberate the colonists and make Englishmen of them, and +see whether the goneys won't grin from ear to ear, and +shew their teeth, as well as the niggers did. Don't let +Yankee clockmakers, (you may say that if you like, if it +will help your argument,) don't let travellin' Yankee +clockmakers tell such stories, against _your_ justice +and _our_ pride as that of the Prince de Joinville and +his horse.'" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. + +"Here," said Mr. Sick, "is an invitation for you and me, +and minister to go and visit Sir Littleeared Bighead, +down to Yorkshire. You can go if you like, and for once, +p'raps it's worth goin' to see how these chaps first kill +time, and then how time kills them in turn. Eatin', +drinkin', sleepin', growlin', fowlin', and huntin' kills +time; and gout, aperplexy, dispepsy, and blue devils +kills them. They are like two fightin' dogs, one dies of +the thrashin' he gets, and t'other dies of the wounds he +got a killin' of him. Tit for tat; what's sarce for the +goose, is sarce for the gander. + +"If you want to go, Minister will go with you; but hang +me if I do. The only thing is, it'll puzzle you to get +him away, if he gets down there. You never see such a +crotchical old critter in your life as he is. He flies +right off the handle for nothin'. He goes strayin' away +off in the fields and gullies, a browsin' about with a +hammer, crackin' up bits of stones like walnuts, or +pickin' up old weeds, faded flowers, and what not; and +stands starin' at 'em for ever so long, through his +eye-glass, and keeps a savin' to himself, 'Wonderful +provision of natur!' Airth and seas! what does he mean? +How long would a man live on such provision, I should +like to know, as them bitter yarbs. + +"Well, then, he'll jist as soon set down and jaw away by +the hour together with a dirty-faced, stupid little poodle +lookin' child, as if it was a nice spry little dog he +was a trainin' of for treein' partridges; or talk poetry +with the galls, or corn-law with the patriots, or any +thing. Nothin' comes amiss to him. + +"But what provokes me, is to hear him go blartin' all +over the country about home scenes, and beautiful landscape, +and rich vardure. My sakes, the vardure here is so deep, +it looks like mournin'; it's actilly dismal. Then there's +no water to give light to the pictur, and no sun to cheer +it; and the hedges are all square; and the lime trees +are as stiff as an old gall that was once pretty, and +has grow'd proud on the memory of it. + +"I don't like their landscape a bit, there ain't no natur +in it. Oh! if you go, take him along with you, for he +will put you in consait of all you see, except reform, +dissent, and things o' that kind; for he is an out and +out old Tory, and thinks nothin' can be changed here for +the better, except them that don't agree with him. + +"He was a warnin' you t'other day not to take all I said +for Gospel about society here; but you'll see who's right +and who's wrong afore you've done, I know. I described +to you, when you returned from Germany, _Dinin' out_ to +London. Now I'll give you my opinion of "Life in the +Country." And fust of all, as I was a sayin', there is +no such thing as natur' here. Every thing is artificial; +every thing of its kind alike; and every thing oninterestin' +and tiresome. + +"Well, if London is dull, in the way of West Eend people, +the country, I guess, is a little mucher. Life in the +country is different, of course, from life in town; but +still life itself is alike there, exceptin' again _class +difference_. That is, nobility is all alike, as far as +their order goes; and country gents is alike, as far as +their class goes; and the last especially, when they +hante travelled none, everlastin' flat, in their own way. +Take a lord, now, and visit him to his country seat, and +I'll tell you what you will find--a sort of Washington +State house place. It is either a rail old castle of the +genuine kind, or a gingerbread crinkum crankum imitation +of a thing that only existed in fancy, but never was seen +afore--a thing that's made modern for use, and in ancient +stile for shew; or else it's a great cold, formal, slice +of a London terrace, stack on a hill in a wood. + +"Well, there is lawn, park, artificial pond called a +lake, deer that's fashionablized and civilized, and as +little natur in 'em as the humans have. Kennel and hounds +for parsicutin' foxes--presarves (not what we call +presarves, quinces and apple sarce, and green gages done +in sugar, but preserves for breedin' tame partridges and +peasants to shoot at), H'aviaries, Hive-eries, H'yew-veris, +Hot Houses, and so on; for they put an H before every +word do these critters, and then tell us Yankees we don't +speak English. + +"Well, when you have seen an old and a new house of these +folks, you have seen all. Featurs differ a little, but +face of all is so alike, that though p'raps you wouldn't +mistake one for another, yet you'd say they was all of +one family. The king is their father. + +"Now it may seem kinder odd to you, and I do suppose it +will, but what little natur there is to England is among +these upper crust nobility. _Extremes meet_. The most +elegant critter in America is an Indgian chief. The most +elegant one in England is a noble. There is natur in +both. You will vow that's a crotchet of mine, but it's +a fact; and I will tell you how it is, some other time. +For I opine the most charmin', most nateral, least +artificial, kindest, and condescendenest people here are +rael nobles. Younger children are the devil, half rank +makes 'em proud, and entire poverty makes 'em sour. _Strap +pride on an empty puss, and it puts a most beautiful edge +on, it cuts like a razor_. They have to assart their +dignity, tother one's dignity don't want no assartin'. +It speaks for itself. + +"I won't enter into particulars now. I want to shew you +country life; because if you don't want to hang yourself, +don't tarry there, that's all; go and look at 'em, but +don't stay there. If you can't help it no how, you can +fix it, do it in three days; one to come, one to see, +and one to go. If you do that, and make the fust late, +and the last airly, you'll get through it; for it won't +only make a day and a half, when sumtotalized. We'll +fancy it, that's better than the rael thing, any time. + +"So lets go to a country gentleman's house, or "landed," +as they call 'em, cause they are so infarnally heavy. +Well, his house is either an old onconvenient up and +down, crooked-laned place, bad lighted, bad warmed, and +shockin' cut up in small rooms; or a spic and span formal, +new one, havin' all or most, according to his puss, of +those things, about lord's houses, only on a smaller +scale. + +"Well, I'll arrive in time for dinner, I'll titivate +myself up, and down to drawin'-room, and whose the company +that's to dine there? Why, cuss 'em, half a dozen of +these gents own the country for miles round, so they have +to keep some company at the house, and the rest is +neighbours. + +"Now for goodness gracious sake, jist let's see who they +be! Why one or two poor parsons, that have nothin' new +in 'em, and nothin' new on 'em, goodish sort of people +too, only they larf a leetle, jist a leetle louder at +host's jokes, than at mine, at least, I suspicion it, +'cause I never could see nothin' to larf at in his jokes. +One or two country nobs of brother landed gents, that +look as big as if the whole of the three per cent consols +was in their breeches pockets; one or two damsels, that +was young once, but have confessed to bein' old maids, +drop't the word 'Miss,' 'cause it sounded ridikilous, +and took the title of 'Mrs.' to look like widders. Two +or three wivewomen of the Chinese stock, a bustin' of +their stays off a'most, and as fat as show-beef; an oldest +son or two, with the eend of the silver spoon he was born +with, a peepin' out o' the corner of his mouth, and his +face as vacant as a horn lantern without a candle in it; +a younger son or so jist from college, who looks as if +he had an idea he'd have to airn his livin', and whose +lantern face looks as if it had had a candle in it, that +had e'en amost burnt the sides out, rather thin and pale, +with streaks of Latin and Greek in it; one or two +everlastin' pretty young galls, so pretty as there is +nothin' to do, you can't hardly help bein' spooney on +'em. + +"Matchless galls, they be too, for there is no matches +for 'em. The primur-genitur boy takes all so they have +no fortin. Well, a younger son won't do for 'em, for he +has no fortin; and t'other primo geno there, couldn't if +he would, for he wants the estate next to hisn, and has +to take the gall that owns it, or he won't get it. I pity +them galls, I do upon my soul. It's a hard fate, that, +as Minster sais, in his pretty talk, to bud, unfold, +bloom, wither, and die on the parent stock, and have no +one to pluck the rose, and put it in his bosom, aint it? + +"Dinner is ready, and you lock and lock, and march off +two and two, to t'other room, and feed. Well, the dinner +is like town dinner, there aint much difference, there +is some; there is a difference atween a country coat, +and a London coat; but still they look alike, and are +intended to be as near the same as they can. The appetite +is better than town folks, and there is more eatin' and +less talkin', but the talkin', like the eatin', is heavy +and solemcoloy. + +"Now do, Mr. Poker, that's a good soul, now do, Squire, +look at the sarvants. Do you hear that feller, a blowin' +and a wheesin' like a hoss that's got the heaves? Well +he is so fat and lazy, and murders beef and beer so, he +has got the assmy, and walkin' puts him out o' breath--aint +it beautiful! Faithful old sarvant that, so attached to +the family! which means the family prog. Always to home! +which means he is always eatin' and drinkin', and hante +time to go out. So respectful! which means bowin' is an +everlastin' sight easier, and safer too, nor talkin' is. +So honest! which means, parquisites covers all he takes. +Keeps every thin' in such good order! which means he +makes the women do his work. Puts every thin' in it's +place, he is so methodical! which means, there is no +young children in the house, and old aunty always puts +things back where she takes 'em from. For she is a good +bit of stuff is aunty, as thin, tough, and soople as a +painter's palate knife. Oh, Lord! how I would like to +lick him with a bran new cow hide whip, round and round +the park, every day, an hour afore breakfast, to improve +his wind, and teach him how to mend his pace. I'd repair +his old bellowses for him, I know. + +"Then look at the butler, how he tordles like a Terrapin; +he has got the gout, that feller, and no wonder, nother. +Every decanter that comes in has jist half a bottle in +it, the rest goes in tastin', to see it aint corked. His +character would suffer if a bit o' cork floated in it. +Every other bottle is corked, so he drinks that bottle, +and opens another, and gives master half of it. The +housekeeper pets him, calls him Mr., asks him if he has +heard from Sir Philip lately, hintin' that he is of gentle +blood, only the wrong side of the blanket, and that +pleases him. They are both well to do in the world. Vails +count up in time, and they talk big sometimes, when alone +together, and hint at warnin' off the old knight, marryin', +and settin' up a tripe shop, some o' these days; don't +that hint about wedlock bring him a nice little hot supper +that night, and don't that little supper bring her a +tumbler of nice mulled wine, and don't both on 'em look +as knowin' as a boiled codfish, and a shelled oyster, +that's all. + +"He once got warned himself, did old Thomas, so said he, +'Where do you intend to go master?' 'Me,' said the old +man, scratchin' his head, and lookin' puzzled 'nowhere.' +'Oh, I thought _you_ intend to leave, said Thomas for +_I_ don't.' 'Very good that, Thomas, come I like that.' +The old knight's got an anecdote by that, and nanny-goats +aint picked up every day in the country. He tells that +to every stranger, every stranger larfs, and the two +parsons larf, and the old 'Sir' larfs so, he wakes up an +old sleepin' cough that most breaks his ribs, and Thomas +is set up for a character. + +"Well, arter servants is gone, and women folks made +themselves scarce, we haul up closer to the table, have +more room for legs, and then comes the most interestin' +part. Poor rates, quarter sessions, turnpikes, corn-laws, +next assizes, rail-roads and parish matters, with a touch +of the horse and dog between primo and secondo genitur, +for variety. If politics turn up, you can read who host +is in a gineral way with half an eye. If he is an +ante-corn-lawer, then he is a manufacturer that wants to +grind the poor instead of grain. He is a _new man_ and +reformer. If he goes up to the bob for corn-law, then he +wants to live and let live, is _of an old family_, and +a tory. Talk of test oaths bein' done away with. Why Lord +love you, they are in full force here yet. See what a +feller swears by--that's his test, and no mistake. + +"Well, you wouldn't guess now there was so much to talk +of, would you? But hear 'em over and over every day, the +same everlastin' round, and you would think the topics +not so many arter all, I can tell you. It soon runs out, +and when it does, you must wait till the next rain, for +another freshet to float these heavy logs on. + +"Coffee comes, and then it's up and jine the ladies. +Well, then talk is tried agin, but it's no go; they can't +come it, and one of the good-natured fat old lady-birds +goes to the piany, and sits on the music stool. Oh, +Hedges! how it creaks, but it's good stuff, I guess, it +will carry double this hitch; and she sings 'I wish I +was a butterfly.' Heavens and airth! the fust time I +heard one of these hugeaceous critters come out with that +queer idee, I thought I should a dropt right off of the +otter man on the floor, and rolled over and over a-laughin', +it tickled me so, it makes me larf now only to think of +it. Well, the wings don't come, such big butterflies have +to grub it in spite of Old Nick, and after wishin' and +wishin' ever so long in vain, one of the young galls sits +down and sings in rael right down airnest, 'I _won't_ be +a nun.' Poor critter! there is some sense in that, but +I guess she will be bleeged to be, for all that. + +"Now eatin' is done, talkin' is done, and singin' is +done; so here is chamber candles, and off to bed, that +is if you are a-stayin' there. If you ain't, 'Mr. Weather +Mutton's carriage is ready, Sir,' and Mr. Weather Mutton +and Mrs. Weather Mutton and the entire stranger get in, +and when you do, you are in for it, I can tell you. You +are in for a seven mile heat at least of cross country +roads, axletree deep, rain pour-in' straight up and down +like Niagara, high hedges, deep ditches full of water, +dark as Egypt; ain't room to pass nothin' if you meet +it, and don't feel jist altogether easy about them cussed +alligators and navigators, critters that work on rail-roads +all day, and on houses and travellers by night. + +"If you come with Mr. Weather Mutton, you seed the carriage +in course. It's an old one, a family one, and as heavy +as an ox cart. The hosses are old, family hosses, +everlastin' fat, almighty lazy, and the way they travel +is a caution to a snail. It's vulgar to go fast, its only +butcher's hosses trot quick, and besides, there is no +hurry--there is nothin' to do to home. Affectionate +couple! happy man! he takes his wife's hand in his-- +kisses it? No, not he, but he puts his head back in the +corner of the carriage, and goes to sleep, and dreams--of +her? Not he indeed, but of a saddle of mutton and curren' +jelly. + +"Well, if you are a-stoppin' at Sir Littleeared Bighead's, +you escape the flight by night, and go to bed and think +of homeland natur'. Next mornin', or rather next noon, +down to breakfast. Oh, it's awfully stupid! That second +nap in the mornin' always fuddles the head, and makes it +as mothery as ryled cyder grounds. Nobody looks as sweet +as sugar candy quite, except them two beautiful galls +and their honey lips. But them is only to look at. If +you want honey, there is some on a little cut glass, dug +out of a dish. But you can't eat it, for lookin' at the +genu_wine_, at least I can't, and never could. I don't +know what you can do. + +"P'raps you'd like to look at the picture, it will sarve +to pass away time. They are family ones. And family +picture, sarve as a history. Our Mexican Indgians did +all their history in picture. Let's go round the room +and look. Lawful heart! what a big "Brown ox" that is. +Old "Star and Garters;" father fatted him. He was a prize +ox; he eat a thousand bushel of turnips, a thousand pound +of oil cake, a thousand of hay, and a thousand weight of +mangel wurzel, and took a thousand days to fat, and +weighed ever so many thousands too. I don't believe it, +but I don't say so, out of manners, for I'll take my oath +he was fatted on porter, because he looks exactly like +the footman on all fours. He is a walking "_Brown Stout_," +that feller. + +"There is a hunter, come, I like hosses; but this brute +was painted when at grass, and is too fat to look well, +guess he was a goodish hoss in his day though. He ain't +a bad cut that's a fact. + +"Hullo! what's this pictur? Why, this is from our side +of the water, as I am a livin' sinner, this is a +New-Foundlander, this dog; yes, and he is of the true +genu_wine_ breed too, look at his broad forehead--his +dew-claws--his little ears; (Sir Littleeared must have +been named arter him), his long hair--his beautiful eye. +He is a first chop article that; but, oh Lord, he is too +shockin' fat altogether. He is like Mother Gary's +chickens, they are all fat and feathers. A wick run +through 'em makes a candle. This critter is all hair and +blubber, if he goes too near the grate, he'll catch into +a blaze and set fire to the house. + +"There's our friend the host with cap and gold tassel +on, ridin' on his back, and there's his younger brother, +(that died to Cambridge from settin' up all night for +his degree, and suppin' on dry mathematics, and swallerin' +"Newton" whole) younger brother like, walkin' on foot, +and leadin' the dog by the head, while the heir is a +scoldin' him for not goin' faster. + +"Then, there is an old aunty that a forten come from. +She looks like a bale o' cotton, fust screwed as tight +as possible, and then corded hard. Lord, if they had only +a given her a pinch of snuff, when she was full dressed +and trussed, and sot her a sneezin', she'd a blowed up, +and the fortin would have come twenty years sooner. + +"Yes, it's a family pictur, indeed, they are all family +picture. They are all fine animals, but over fed and +under worked. + +"Now it's up and take a turn in the gardens. There is +some splendid flowers on that slope. You and the galls +go to look at 'em, and jist as you get there, the grass +is juicy from the everlastin' rain, and awful slippy; up +go your heels, and down goes stranger on the broad of +his back, slippin' and slidin' and coastin' right down +the bank, slap over the light mud-earth bed, and crushin' +the flowers as flat as a pancake, and you yaller ochered +all over, clean away from the scruff of your neck, down +to the tip eend of your heel. The galls larf, the helps +larf, and the, bed-room maid larfs; and who the plague +can blame them? Old Marm don't larf though, because she +is too perlite, and besides, she's lost her flowers, and +that's no larfin' matter; and you don't larf, 'cause you +feel a little the nastiest you ever did, and jist as near +like a fool as to be taken for one, in the dark, that's +a fact. + +"Well, you renew the outer man, and try it agin, and it's +look at the stable and hosses with Sir Host, and the +dogs, and the carriages, and two American trees, and a +peacock, and a guinea hen, and a gold pheasant, and a +silver pheasant, and all that, and then lunch. Who the +plague can eat lunch, that's only jist breakfasted? + +"So away goes lunch, and off goes you and the 'Sir,' a +trampousin' and a trapsein' over the wet grass agin (I +should like to know what ain't wet in this country), and +ploughed fields, and wide ditches chock full of dirty +water, if you slip in, to souse you most ridikelous; and +over gates that's nailed up, and stiles that's got no +steps for fear of thoroughfare, and through underwood +that's loaded with rain-drops, away off to tother eend +of the estate, to see the most beautiful field of turnips +that ever was seen, only the flies eat all the plants +up; and then back by another path, that's slumpier than +t'other, and twice as long, that you may see an old wall +with two broke-out winders, all covered with ivy, which +is called a ruin. And well named it is, too, for I tore +a bran new pair of trousers, most onhandsum, a scramblin' +over the fences to see it, and ruined a pair of shoes +that was all squashed out of shape by the wet and mud. + +"Well, arter all this day of pleasure, it is time to rig +up in your go-to-meetin' clothes for dinner; and that +is the same as yesterday, only stupider, if that's +possible; and that is Life in the Country. + +"How the plague can it be otherwise than dull? If there +is nothin' to see, there can't be nothin' to talk about. +Now the town is full of things to see. There is Babbage's +machine, and Bank Governor's machine, and the Yankee +woman's machine, and the flyin' machine, and all sorts +of machines, and galleries, and tunnels, and mesmerisers, +and theatres, and flower-shows, and cattle-shows, and +beast-shows, and every kind of show, and what's better +nor all, beautiful got-up women, and men turned out in +fust chop style, too. + +"I don't mean to say country women ain't handsum here, +'cause they be. There is no sun here; and how in natur' +can it be otherways than that they have good complexions. +But it tante safe to be caged with them in a house out +o' town. Fust thing you both do, is to get spooney, makin' +eyes and company-faces at each other, and then think of +matin', like a pair of doves, and that won't answer for +the like of you and me. The fact is, Squire, if you want +to see _women_, you musn't go to a house in the country, +nor to mere good company in town for it, tho' there be +first chop articles in both; but you must go among the +big bugs the top-lofty nobility, in London; for since +the days of old marm Eve, down to this instant present +time, I don't think there ever was or ever will be such +splendiferous galls as is there. Lord, the fust time I +seed 'em it put me in mind of what happened to me at New +Brunswick once. Governor of Maine sent me over to their +Governor's, official-like, with a state letter, and the +British officers axed me to dine to their mess. Well, +the English brags so like niggers, I thought I'd prove +'em, and set 'em off on their old trade jist for fun. +So, says I, stranger captain, sais I, is all these forks +and spoons, and plates and covers, and urns, and what +nots, rael genu_wine_ solid silver, the clear thing, and +no mistake. 'Sartainly,' said he, 'we have nothin' but +silver here.' He did, upon my soul, just as cool, as if +it was all true; well you can't tell a mili_tary_ what +he sais ain't credible, or you have to fight him. It's +considered ongenteel, so I jist puts my finger on my +nose, and winks, as much as to say, 'I ain't such a cussed +fool as you take me to be, I can tell you.' + +"When he seed I'd found him out, he larfed like any thing. +Guess he found that was no go, for I warn't born in the +woods to be scared by an owl, that's a fact. Well, the +fust time I went to lord's party, I thought it was another +brag agin; I never see nothin' like it. Heavens and +airth, I most jumpt out o' my skin. Where onder the sun, +sais I to myself, did he rake and scrape together such +super-superior galls as these. This party is a kind o' +consarvitory, he has got all the raree plants and sweetest +roses in England here, and must have ransacked the whole +country for 'em. Knowin' I was a judge of woman kind, +he wants me to think they are all this way; but it's +onpossible. They are only "shew frigates" arter all; it +don't stand to reason, they can't be all clippers. He +can't put the leake into me that way, so it tante no use +tryin'. Well, the next time, I seed jist such another +covey of partridges, same plumage, same step, and same +breed. Well done, sais I, they are intarmed to pull the +wool over my eyes, that's a fact, but they won't find +that no easy matter, I know. Guess they must be done now, +they can't show another presarve like them agin in all +Britain. What trouble they do take to brag here, don't +they? Well, to make a long story short; how do you think +it eventuated, Squire? Why every party I went to, had as +grand a shew as them, only some on 'em was better, fact +I assure you, it's gospel truth; there ain't a word of +a lie in it, text to the letter. I never see nothin' like +it, since I was raised, nor dreamed nothin' like it, and +what's more, I don't think the world has nothin' like it +nother. It beats all natur. It takes the rag off quite. +If that old Turk, Mahomed, had seed these galls, he +wouldn't a bragged about his beautiful ones in paradise +so for everlastinly, I know; for these English heifers +would have beat 'em all holler, that's a fact. For my +part, I call myself a judge. I have an eye there ain't +no deceivin'. I have made it a study, and know every pint +about a woman, as well as I do about a hoss; therefore, +if I say so, it must be so, and no mistake. I make all +allowances for the gear, and the gettin' up, and the +vampin', and all that sort o' flash; but toggery won't +make an ugly gall handsum, nohow you can fix it. It may +lower her ugliness a leetle, but it won't raise her +beauty, if she hante got none. But I warn't a talkin' of +nobility; I was a talkin' of Life in the Country. But +the wust of it is, when galls come on the carpet, I could +talk all day; for the dear little critters, I _do_ love +'em, that's a fact. Lick! it sets me crazy a'most. Well, +where was we? for petticoats always puts every thing out +o' my head. Whereabouts was we?" + +"You were saying that there were more things to be seen +in London than in the country." + +"Exactly; now I have it. I've got the thread agin. So +there is. + +"There's England's Queen, and England's Prince, and +Hanover's King, and the old Swordbelt that whopped Bony; +and he is better worth seem' than any man now livin' on +the face of the univarsal airth, let t'other one be where +he will, that's a fact. He is a great man, all through +the piece, and no mistake. If there was--what do you +call that word, when one man's breath pops into 'nother +man's body, changin' lodgins, like?" + +"Do you mean transmigration?" + +"Yes; if there was such a thing as that, I should say it +was old Liveoak himself, Mr. Washington, that was +transmigrated into him, and that's no mean thing to say +of him, I tell you. + +"Well now, there's none o' these things to the country; +and it's so everlastin' stupid, it's only a Britisher +and a nigger that could live in an English country-house. +A nigger don't like movin', and it would jist suit him, +if it warn't so awful wet and cold. + + "Oh if I was President of these here United States, + I'd suck sugar candy and swing upon de gates; + And them I didn't like, I'd strike 'em off de docket, + And the way we'd go ahead, would be akin to Davy Crockit. + With my zippy dooden, dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey, + With my zippy dooden, dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey. + +"It might do for a nigger, suckin' sugar candy and drinkin' +mint-julep; but it won't do for a free and enlightened +citizen like me. A country house--oh goody gracious! +the Lord presarve me from it, I say. If ever any soul +ever catches me there agin, I'll give 'em leave to tell +me of it, that's all. Oh go, Squire, by all means; you +will find it monstrous pleasant, I know you will. Go +and spend a week there; it will make you feel up in the +stirrups, I know. Pr'aps nothin' can exceed it. It takes +the rag off the bush quite. It caps all, that's a fact, +does 'Life in the Country.' + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +BUNKUM. + +I am not surprised at the views expressed by Mr. Slick +in the previous chapter. He has led too active a life, +and his habits and thoughts are too business-like to +admit of his enjoying retirement, or accommodating himself +to the formal restraints of polished society. And yet, +after making this allowance for his erratic life, it is +but fair to add that his descriptions were always +exaggerated; and, wearied as he no doubt was by the +uniformity of country life, yet in describing it, he has +evidently seized on the most striking features, and made +them more prominent than they really appeared, even to +his fatigued and prejudiced vision. + +In other respects, they are just the sentiments we may +suppose would be naturally entertained by a man like the +Attache, under such circumstances. On the evening after +that on which he had described "Life in the Country" to +me, he called with two "orders" for admission to the +House of Commons, and took me down with him to hear the +debates. + +"It's a great sight," said he. "We shall see all their +uppercrust men put their best foot out. There's a great +musterin' of the tribes, to-night, and the Sachems will +come out with a great talk. There'll be some sport, I +guess; some hard hittin', scalpin', and tomahawkin'. To +see a Britisher scalp a Britisher is equal to a bullfight, +anytime. You don't keer whether the bull, or the horse, +or the rider is killed, none of 'em is nothin' to you; +so you can enjoy it, and hurror for him that wins. I +don't keer who carries the day, the valy of a treat of +julep, but I want to see the sport. It's excitin', them +things. Come, let's go." + +We were shown into a small gallery, at one end of the +legislative wall (the two side ones being appropriated +to members), and with some difficulty found sitting room +in a place that commanded a view of the whole house. We +were unfortunate. All the great speakers, Lord Stanley, +Sir Robert Peel, Sir James Graham, Shiel, and Lord John +Russell, had either already addressed the Chair, and were +thereby precluded by the rules of the House from coming +forward again, or did not choose to answer second-rate +men. Those whom we did hear, made a most wretched +exhibition. About one o'clock, the adjournment took place, +and we returned, fatigued and disappointed. + +"Did you ever see the beat of that, Squire?" said Mr. +Slick. "Don't that take the rag off quite? Cuss them +fellers that spoke, they are wuss than assembly men, hang +me if they aint; and _they_ aint fit to tend a bear trap, +for they'd be sure to catch themselves, if they did, in +their own pit-fall. + +"Did you hear that Irishman a latherin' away with both +arms, as if he was tryin' to thrash out wheat, and see +how bothered he looked, as if he couldn't find nothin' +but dust and chaff in the straw? Well, that critter was +agin the Bill, in course, and Irish like, used every +argument in favour of it. Like a pig swimmin' agin stream, +every time he struck out, he was a cuttin' of his own +throat. He then blob blob blobbered, and gog gog goggled, +till he choked with words and passion, and then sot down. + +"Then that English Radical feller, that spoke with great +voice, and little sense. Aint he a beauty, without paint, +that critter? He know'd he had to vote agin the Bill, +'cause it was a Government Bill, and be know'd he had to +speak for _Bunkum_, and therefore--" + +"_Bunkum!_" I said, "pray, what is that?" + +"Did you never hear of Bunkum?" + +"No, never." + +"Why, you don't mean to say you don't know what that is?" + +"I do not indeed." + +"Not Bunkum? Why, there is more of it to Nova Scotia +every winter, than would paper every room in Government +House, and then curl the hair of every gall in the town. +Not heer of _Bunkum_? why how you talk!" + +"No, never." + +"Well, if that don't pass! I thought every body know'd +that word. I'll tell you then, what Bunkum is. All over +America, every place likes to hear of its members to +Congress, and see their speeches, and if they don't, they +send a piece to the paper, enquirin' if their member died +a nateral death, or was skivered with a bowie knife, for +they hante seen his speeches lately, and his friends are +anxious to know his fate. Our free and enlightened citizens +don't approbate silent members; it don't seem to them as +if Squashville, or Punkinville, or Lumbertown was right +represented, unless Squashville, or Punkinville, or +Lumbertown, makes itself heard and known, ay, and feared +too. So every feller in bounden duty, talks, and talks +big too, and the smaller the State, the louder, bigger, +and fiercer its members talk. + +"Well, when a critter talks for talk sake, jist to have +a speech in the paper to send to home, and not for any +other airthly puppus but electioneering, our folks call +it _Bunkum_. Now the State o' Maine is a great place +for _Bunkum_--its members for years threatened to run +foul of England, with all steam on, and sink her, about +the boundary line, voted a million of dollars, payable +in pine logs and spruce boards, up to Bangor mills--and +called out a hundred thousand militia, (only they never +come,) to captur' a saw mill to New Brunswick--that's +_Bunkum_. All that flourish about Right o' Sarch was +_Bunkum_--all that brag about hangin' your Canada sheriff +was _Bunkum_. All the speeches about the Caroline, and +Creole, and Right of Sarch, was _Bunkum_, In short, almost +all that's said _in Congress_ in _the colonies_, (for we +set the fashions to them, as Paris galls do to our +milliners,) and all over America is _Bunkum_. + +"Well, they talk Bunkum here too, as well as there. +Slavery speeches are all Bunkum; so are reform speeches, +too. Do you think them fellers that keep up such an +everlastin' gab about representation, care one cent about +the extension of franchise? Why no, not they; it's only +to secure their seats to gull their constituents, to get +a name. Do you think them goneys that make such a touss +about the Arms' Bill, care about the Irish? No, not they; +they want Irish votes, that's all--it's _Bunkum_. Do you +jist go and mesmerise John Russell, and Macauley, and +the other officers of the regiment of Reformers, and then +take the awkward squad of recruits--fellers that were +made drunk with excitement, and then enlisted with the +promise of a shillin', which they never got, the sargeants +having drank it all; go and mesmerise them all, from +General Russell down to Private Chartist, clap 'em into +a caterwaulin' or catalapsin' sleep, or whatever the word +is, and make 'em tell the secrets of their hearts, as +Dupotet did the Clear-voyancing gall, and jist hear what +they'll tell you. + +"Lord John will say--'I was sincere!' (and I believe on +my soul he was. He is wrong beyond all doubt, but he is +an honest man, and a clever man, and if he had taken his +_own_ way more, and given Powlet Thompson _his_ less, he +would a' been a great colony secretary; and more's the +pity he is in such company. He'll get off his beam ends, +and right himself though, yet, I guess.) Well, he'd +say--'I was sincere, I was disinterested; but I am +disappointed. I have awakened a pack of hungry villains +who have sharp teeth, long claws, and the appetite of +the devil. They have swallered all I gave 'em, and now +would eat me up without salt, if they could. Oh, that I +could hark back! _there is no satisfyin' a movement +party_.' + +"Now what do the men say, (I don't mean men of rank, but +the men in the ranks),--'Where's all the fine things we +were promised when Reform gained the day?' sais they, +'ay, where are they? for we are wuss off than ever, now, +havin' lost all our old friends, and got bilked by our +new ones tarnationly. What did all their fine speeches +end in at last? Bunkum; damn the thing but Bunkum. + +"But that aint the wust of it, nother. Bunkum, like lyin', +is plaguy apt to make a man believe his own bams at last. +From telling 'em so often, he forgets whether he grow'd +'em or dreamt 'em, and so he stands' right up on end, +kisses the book, and swears to 'em, as positive as the +Irishman did to the gun, which he said he know'd ever +since it was a pistol. Now, _that's Bunkum_. + +"But to get back to what we was a talkin' of, did you +ever hear such bad speakin' in your life, now tell me +candid? because if you have, I never did, that's all. +Both sides was bad, it aint easy to say which is wus, +six of one and half a dozen of t'other, nothin to brag +of nary way. That government man, that spoke in their +favour, warn't his speech rich? + +"Lord love you! I aint no speaker, I never made but one +speech since I was raised, and that was afore a Slickville +legislatur, and then I broke down. I know'd who I was +a talkin' afore; they was men that had cut their eye-teeth, +and that you could'nt pull the wool over their eyes, +nohow you could fix it, and I was young then. Now I'm +growed up, I guess, and I've got my narves in the right +place, and as taught as a drum; and I _could_ speak if +I was in the House o' Commons, that's a fact. If a man +was to try there, that was worth any thin', he'd find he +was a flute without knowin' it. They don't onderstand +nothin' but Latin and Greek, and I'd buoy out them sand +banks, keep the lead agoin', stick to the channel, and +never take ground, I know. The way I'd cut water aint no +matter. Oh Solomon! what a field for good speakin' that +question was to-night, if they only had half an eye, them +fellers, and what a'most a beautiful mess they made of +it on both sides! + +"I ain't a vain man, and never was. You know, Squire, +I hante a mossel of it in my composition; no, if you was +to look at me with a ship's glass you wouldn't see a +grease spot of it in me. I don't think any of us Yankees +is vain people; it's a thing don't grow in our diggins. +We have too much sense in a giniral way for that; indeed +if we wanted any, we couldn't get none for love nor money, +for John Bull has a monopoly of it. He won't open the +trade. It's a home market he looks to, and the best of +it is, he thinks he hante none to spare. + +"Oh, John Bull, John Bull, when you are full rigged, with +your white cravat and white waistcoat like Young England, +and have got your go-to-meetin' clothes on, if you ain't +a sneezer, it's a pity, that's all. No, I ain't a vain +man, I despise it, as I do a nigger; but, Squire, what +a glorious field the subject to-night is for a man that +knows what's what, and was up to snuff, ain't it? Airth +and seas! if I was there, I could speak on either side; +for like Waterloo it's a fair field; it's good ground +for both parties. Heavens what a speech I could make! +I'd electrify 'em and kill 'em dead like lightnin', and +then galvanise 'em and fetch' em to life agin, and then +give them exhiliratin' gass and set 'em a larfin', till +they fairly wet themselves agin with cryin'. Wouldn't it +be fun, that's all? I could sting Peel so if I liked, +he'd think a galley nipper had bit him, and he'd spring +right off the floor on to the table at one jump, gout or +no gout, ravin' mad with pain and say, 'I'm bit thro' +the boot by Gosh;' or if I was to take his side, for I +care so little about the British, all sides is alike to +me, I'd make them Irish members dance like ravin', +distractin' bed bugs. I'd make 'em howl, first wicked +and then dismal, I know. + +"But they can't do it, to save their souls alive; some +has it in 'em and can't get it out, physic 'em as you +would, first with vanity, and then with office; others +have got a way out, but have nothin' to drive thro' the +gate; some is so timid, they can't go ahead; and others +are in such an infarnal hurry, they spend the whole time +in false starts. + +"No, there, is no good oratory to parliament now, and +the English brag so, I doubt if it ever was so good, as +they say it was in old times. At any rate, it's all got +down to "Bunkum" now. It's makin' a speech for newspapers +and not for the House. It's to tell on voters and not on +members. Then, what a row they make, don't they? Hear, +hear, hear; divide, divide, divide; oh, oh, oh; haw, haw, +haw. It tante much different from stump oratory in America +arter all, or speakin' off a whiskey barrel, is it? It's +a sort of divil me-kear-kind o' audience; independent +critters, that look at a feller full in the face, as +sarcy as the divil; as much as to say, 'Talk away, my +old 'coon, you won't alter me, I can tell you, it's all +_Bunkum_.' + +"Lord, I shall never forget poor old Davy Crocket's last +speech; there was no "bunkum" in that. He despised it; +all good shots do, they aim right straight for the mark +and hit it. There's no shootin' round the ring, with them +kinder men. Poor old feller, he was a great hunter; a +great shot with the rifle, a great wit, and a great man. +He didn't leave his _span_ behind him, when he slipt off +the handle, I know. + +"Well he stood for an election and lost it, just afore +he left the States; so when it was over, he slings his +powder horn on, over his shoulders, takes his "Betsey," +which was his best rifle, onder his arm, and mounts on +a barrel, to talk it into his constituents, and take +leave of 'em. + +"'Feller citizens,' sais he, 'we've had a fair stand-up +fight for it, and I'm whipped, that are a fact; and thar +is no denyin' of it. I've come now to take my leave of +you. You may all go to H--l, and I'll go to Texas.' + +"And he stepped right down, and went over the boundary, +and jined the patriots agin Mexico, and was killed there. + +"Why it will never be forgot, that speech. It struck into +the bull's eye of the heart. It was noble. It said so +much in a few words, and left the mind to fill the gaps +up. The last words is a sayin' now, and always will be, +to all etarnity. Whenever a feller wants to shew how +indifferent he is, he jist sais, 'you may go to (hem, +hem, you know,) and I'll go to Texas.' There is no _Bunkum_ +in that, Squire. + +"Yes, there is no good speakin' there, speakin' is no +use. Every feller is pledged and supports his party. A +speech don't alter no man's opinions; yes it _may_ alter +his _opinions_, but it don't alter his vote, that ain't +his'n, it's his party's. Still, there is some credit in +a good speech, and some fun too. No feller there has any +ridicule; he has got no ginger in him, he can neither +crack his whip, nor lay it on; he can neither cut the +hide nor sting it. Heavens! if I was there I and I'm sure +it's no great boastin' to say I'm better than such fellers, +as them small fry of white bait is. If I was there, give +me a good subject like that to-night, give me a good horn +of lignum vitae--" + +"Lignum vitae--what's that?" + +"Lord-o-massy on us! you don't know nothin', Squire. +Where have you been all your born days, not to know what +lignum vitae is? why lignum vitae, is hot brandy and +water to be sure, pipin' hot, scald an iron pot amost, +and spiced with cloves and sugar in it, stiff enough to +make a tea-spoon stand up in it, as straight as a dead +nigger. Wine ain't no good, it goes off as quick as the +white beads off of champaign does, and then leaves a +stupid head-ache behind it. But give me the subject and +a horn of lignum vitae (of the wickedest kind), and then +let a feller rile me, so as to get my back up like a +fightin' cat's, and I'll tell you what I'd do, I'd sarve +him as our Slickville boys sarve the cows to California. +One on 'em lays hold of the tail, and the other skins +her as she runs strait an eend. Next year, it's all growed +ready for another flayin'. Fact, I assure you. Lord! +I'd skin a feller so, his hide would never grow agin; +I'd make a caution of him to sinners, I know. + +"Only hear them fellers now talk of extendin' of the +representation; why the house is a mob now, plaguy little +better, I assure you. Like the house in Cromwell's time, +they want "Sam Slick's" purge. But talkin' of mobs, puts +me in mind of a Swoi-ree, I told you I'd describe that +to you, and I don't care if I do now, for I've jist got +my talkin' tacks aboard. A Swoi-ree is-- + +"We'll talk of that some other time, Mr. Slick," said I; +"it is now near two o'clock, I must retire." + +"Well, well," said he, "I suppose it is e'en a'most time +to be a movin'. But, Squire, you are a Britisher, why +the plague don't you get into the house? you know more +about colony matters than the whole bilin' of" them put +together, quite as much about other things, and speak +like a--" + +"Come, come, Mr. Slick," said I, rising and lighting my +bed-room candle, "it is now high time to bid you good +night, for you are beginning to talk _Bunkum_." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THROWING THE LAVENDER. + +Mr. Slick's character, like that of many of his countrymen, +is not so easily understood as a person might suppose. +We err more often than we are aware of, when we judge of +others by ourselves. English tourists have all fallen +into this mistake, in their, estimate of the Americans. +They judge them by their own standard; they attribute +effects to wrong causes, forgetting that a different tone +of feeling, produced by a different social and political +state from their own, must naturally produce dissimilar +results. + +Any person reading the last sketch containing the account, +given by Mr. Slick of the House of Commons, his opinion +of his own abilities as a speaker, and his aspiration +after a seat in that body, for the purpose of "skinning," +as he calls it, impertinent or stupid members, could not +avoid coming to the conclusion that he was a conceited +block-head; and that if his countrymen talked in that +absurd manner, they must be the weakest, and most +vain-glorious people in the world. + +That he is a vain man, cannot he denied--self-taught men +are apt to be so every where; but those who understand +the New England humour, will at once perceive, that he +has spoken in his own name merely as a personification, +and that the whole passage means after all, when transposed +into that phraseology which an, Englishman would use, +very little more than this, that the House of Commons +presented a noble field for a man of abilities as a public +speaker; but that in fact, it contained very few such +persons. We must not judge of words or phrases, when used +by foreigners, by the sense we attribute to them, but +endeavour to understand the meaning they attach to them +themselves. + +In Mexico, if you admire any thing, the proprietor +immediately says, "Pray do me the honour to consider it +yours, I shall be most happy, if you will permit me, to +place it upon you, (if it be an ornament), or to send it +to your hotel," if it be of a different description. All +this means in English, a present; in Mexican Spanish, a +civil speech, purporting that the owner is gratified, +that it meets the approbation of his visiter. A Frenchman, +who heard this grandiloquent reply to his praises of a +horse, astonished his friend, by thanking him in terms +equally amplified, accepting it, and riding it home. + +Mr. Slick would be no less amazed, if understood literally. +He has used a peculiar style; here again, a stranger +would be in error, in supposing the phraseology common +to all Americans. It is peculiar only to a certain class +of persons in a certain state of life, and in a particular +section of the States. Of this class, Mr. Slick is a +specimen. I do not mean to say he is not a vain man, but +merely that a portion only of that, which appears so to +us, is vanity, and that the rest and by far the greater +portion too, is local or provincial peculiarity. + +This explanation is due to the Americans, who have been +grossly misrepresented, and to the English, who have been +egregiously deceived, by persons attempting to delineate +character, who were utterly incapable of perceiving those +minute lights and shades, without which, a portrait +becomes a contemptible daub, or at most a mere caricature. + +"A droll scene that at the house o' represen_tatives_ +last night," said Mr. Slick when we next met, "warn't +it? A sort o' rookery, like that at the Shropshire +Squire's, where I spent the juicy day. What a darned +cau-cau-cawin' they keep, don't they? These members are +jist like the rooks, too, fond of old houses, old woods, +old trees, and old harnts. And they are jist as proud, +too, as they be. Cuss 'em, they won't visit a new man, +or new plantation. They are too aristocratic for that. +They have a circle of their own. Like the rooks, too, +they are privileged to scour over the farmers' fields +all round home, and play the very devil. + +"And then a fellow can't hear himself speak for 'em; +divide, divide, divide, question, question, question; +cau, cau, cau, cau, cau, cau. Oh! we must go there again. +I want you to see Peel, Stanley, Graham, Shiel, Russell, +Macauley, Old Joe, and so on. These men are all upper +crust here. Fust of all, I want to hear your opinion of +'em. I take you to be a considerable of a good judge in +these matters." + +"No Bunkum, Mr. Slick." + +"D--- that word Bunkum! If you say that 'ere agin, I +won't say another syllable, so come now. Don't I know +who you are? You know every mite, and morsel as well as +I do, that you be a considerable of a judge of these +critters, though you are nothin' but an outlandish +colonist; and are an everlastin' sight better judge, too, +if you come to that, than them that judge _you_. Cuss +'em, the state would be a nation sight better sarved, if +one o' these old rooks was sent out to try trover for a +goose, and larceny for an old hat, to Nova Scotia, and +you was sent for to take the ribbons o' the state coach +here; hang me if it wouldn't. You know that, and feel +your oats, too, as well as any one. So don't be so infarnal +mealy-mouthed, with your mock modesty face, a turnin' up +of the whites of your eyes as if you was a chokin', and +savin' 'No _Bun-kum_, Mr. Slick.' Cuss that word Bunkum! +I am sorry I ever told you that are story, you will be +for everlastinly a throwin' up of that are, to me now. + +"Do you think if I warnted to soft sawder you, I'd take +the white-wash brush to you, and slobber it, on, as a +nigger wench does to a board fence, or a kitchen wall to +home, and put your eyes out with the lime? No, not I; +but I could tickel you though, and have done it afore +now, jist for practice, and you warn't a bit the wiser. +Lord, I'd take a camel's-hair brush to you, knowin' how +skittish and ticklesome you are, and do it so it would +feel good. I'd make you feel kinder pleasant, I know, +and you'd jist bend your face over to it, and take it as +kindly as a gall does a whisper, when your lips keep jist +a brushin' of the cheek while you are a talkin'. I wouldn't +go to shock you by a doin' of it coarse; you are too +quick, and too knowin' for that. You should smell the +otter o' roses, and sniff, sniff it up your nostrils, +and say to yourself, 'How nice that is, ain't it? Come, +I like that, how sweet it stinks!' I wouldn't go for to +dash scented water on your face, as a hired lady does on +a winder to wash it, it would make you start back, take +out your pocket-handkercher, and say, "Come, _Mister_ +Slick, no nonsense, if you please." I'd do it delicate, +I know my man: I'd use a light touch, a soft brush, and +a smooth oily rouge." + +"Pardon me," I said, "you overrate your own powers, and +over-estimate my vanity. You are flattering yourself now, +you can't flatter me, for I detest it." + +"Creation, man," said Mr. Slick, "I have done it now +afore your face, these last five minutes, and you didn't +know it. Well, if that don't bang the bush. It's tarnation +all over that. Tellin' you, you was so knowin', so shy +if touched on the flanks; how difficult you was to take-in, +bein' a sensible, knowin' man, what's that but soft +sawder? You swallowed it all. You took it off without +winkin', and opened your mouth as wide as a young blind +robbin does for another worm, and then down went the +Bunkum about making you a Secretary of State, which was +rather a large bolus to swaller, without a draft; down, +down it went, like a greased-wad through a smooth rifle +bore; it did, upon my soul. Heavens! what a take in! what +a splendid sleight-of-hand! I never did nothin' better +in all my born days. I hope I may be shot, if I did. +Ha! ha! ha! ain't it rich? Don't it cut six inches on +the rib of clear shear, that. Oh! it's han_sum_, that's +a fact." + +"It's no use to talk about it, Mr. Slick," I replied; +"I plead guilty. You took me in then. You touched a weak +point. You insensibly flattered my vanity, by assenting +to my self-sufficiency, in supposing I was exempt from +that universal frailty of human nature; you "_threw the +Lavender_" well." + +"I did put the leake into you, Squire, that's a fact," +said he; "but let me alone, I know what I am about; let +me talk on, my own way. Swaller what you like, spit out +what is too strong for you; but don't put a drag-chain +on to me, when I am a doin' tall talkin', and set my +wheels as fast as pine stumps. You know me, and I know +you. You know my speed, and I know your bottom don't +throw back in the breetchin' for nothin' that way." + +"Well, as I was a-sayin', I want you to see these great +men, as they call 'em. Let's weigh 'em, and measure 'em, +and handle 'em, and then price 'em, and see what their +market valy is. Don't consider 'em as Tories, or Whigs, +or Radicals; we hante got nothin' to do with none o' +them; but consider 'em as statesmen. It's pot-luck with +'em all; take your fork as the pot biles up, jab it in, +and fetch a feller up, see whether he is beef, pork or +mutton; partridge, rabbit or lobster; what his name, +grain and flavour is, and how you like him. Treat 'em +indifferent, and treat 'em independent. + +"I don't care a chaw o' tobacky for the whole on 'em; +and none on 'em care a pinch o' snuff for you or any +Hortentort of a colonist that ever was or ever will be. +Lord love you! if you was to write like Scott, and map +the human mind like Bacon, would it advance you a bit in +prefarment? Not it. They have done enough for the colonists, +they have turned 'em upside down, and given 'em responsible +government? What more do the rascals want? Do they ask +to be made equal to us? No, look at their social system, +and their political system, and tell 'em your opinion +like a man. You have heard enough of their opinions of +colonies, and suffered enough from their erroneous ones +too. You have had Durham reports, and commissioners' +reports, and parliament reports till your stomach refuses +any more on 'em. And what are they? a bundle of mistakes +and misconceptions, from beginnin' to eend. They have +travelled by stumblin', and have measured every thing by +the length of their knee, as they fell on the ground, as +a milliner measures lace, by the bendin' down of the +forefinger--cuss 'em! Turn the tables on 'em. Report on +_them_, measure _them_, but take care to keep your feet +though, don't be caught trippin', don't make no mistakes. + +"Then we'll go to the Lords' House--I don't mean to +meetin' house, though we must go there too, and hear Me +Neil and Chalmers, and them sort o' cattle; but I mean +the house where the nobles meet, pick out the big bugs, +and see what sort o' stuff they are made of. Let's take +minister with us--he is a great judge of these things. +I should like you to hear his opinion; he knows every +thin' a'most, though the ways of the world bother him a +little sometimes; but for valyin' a man, or stating +principles, or talkin' politics, there ain't no man equal +to him, hardly. He is a book, that's a fact; it's all +there what you want; all you've got to do is to cut the +leaves. Name the word in the index, he'll turn to the +page, and give you day, date, and fact, for it. There is +no mistake in him. + +"That cussed provokin' visit of yours to Scotland will +shove them things into the next book, I'm afeered. But +it don't signify nothin'; you can't cram all into one, +and we hante only broke the crust yet, and p'rhaps it's +as well to look afore you leap too, or you might make as +big a fool of yourself, as some of the Britishers have +a-writin' about us and the provinces. Oh yes, it's a +great advantage havin' minister with you. He'll fell the +big stiff trees for you; and I'm the boy for the saplin's, +I've got the eye and the stroke for them. They spring so +confoundedly under the axe, does second growth and +underwood, it's dangerous work, but I've got the sleight +o' hand for that, and we'll make a clean field of it. + +"Then come and survey; take your compass and chain to +the ground and measure, and lay that off--branch and bark +the spars for snakin' off the ground; cord up the fire-wood, +tie up the hoop poles, and then burn off the trash and +rubbish. Do it workman-like. Take your time to it as if +you was workin' by the day. Don't hurry, like job work; +don't slobber it over, and leave half-burnt trees and +logs strewed about the surface, but make smack smooth +work. Do that, Squire, do it well, and that is, only +half as good as you can, if you choose, and then--" + +"And then," said I, "I make no doubt you will have great +pleasure '_in throwin' the Lavender again_." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +AIMING HIGH. + +"What do you intend to do, Squire, with your two youngest +boys?" said Mr. Slick to me to-day, as we were walking +in the Park. + +"I design them," I said, "for professions. One I shall +educate for a lawyer, and the other for a clergyman." + +"Where?" + +"In Nova Scotia." + +"Exactly," says he. "It shews your sense; it's the very +place for 'em. It's a fine field for a young man; I don't +know no better one no where in the whole univarsal world. +When I was a boy larnin' to shoot, sais father to me, +one day, 'Sam,' sais he, 'I'll give you a lesson in +gunnin' that's worth knowin'. "_Aim high_," my boy; your +gun naterally settles down a little takin' sight, cause +your arm gets tired, and wabbles, and the ball settles +a little while it's a travellin', accordin' to a law of +natur, called Franklin's law; and I obsarve you always +hit below the mark. Now, make allowances for these things +in gunnin', and "aim high," for your life, always. And, +Sam,' sais he, 'I've seed a great deal of the world, all +mili_tary_ men do. 'I was to Bunker's Hill durin' the +engagement, and I saw Washington the day he was made +President, and in course must know more nor most men of +my age; and I'll give you another bit of advice, "Aim +high" in life, and if you don't hit the bull's eye, you'll +hit the "fust circles," and that ain't a bad shot nother.' + +"'Father,' sais I, 'I guess I've seed more of the world +than you have, arter all.' + +"'How so, Sam?' sais he. + +"'Why,' sais I, 'father, you've only been to Bunker's +Hill, and that's nothin'; no part of it ain't too steep +to plough; it's only a sizeable hillock, arter all. But +I've been to the Notch on the White Mountain, so high +up, that the snow don't melt there, and seed five States +all to once, and half way over to England, and then I've +seed Jim Crow dance. So there now?' He jist up with the +flat of his hand, and gave me a wipe with it on the side +of my face, that knocked me over; and as I fell, he lent +me a kick on my musn't-mention-it, that sent me a rod or +so afore I took ground on all fours. + +"'Take that, you young scoundrel!' said he, 'and larn to +speak respectful next time to an old man, a mili_tary_ +man, and your father, too.' + +"It hurt me properly, you may depend. 'Why,' sais I, as +I picked myself up, 'didn't you tell me to "aim high," +father? So I thought I'd do it, and beat your brag, that's +all.' + +"Truth is, Squire, I never could let a joke pass all my +life, without havin' a lark with it. I was fond of one, +ever since I was knee high to a goose, or could recollect +any thin' amost; I have got into a horrid sight of scrapes +by 'em, that's a fact. I never forgot that lesson though, +it was kicked into me: and lessons that are larnt on the +right eend, ain't never forgot amost. I _have_ "aimed +high" ever since, and see where I be now. Here I am an +Attache, made out of a wooden clock pedlar. Tell you +what, I shall be "embassador" yet, made out of nothin' +but an "Attache," and I'll be President of our great +Republic, and almighty nation in the eend, made out of +an embassador, see if I don't. That comes of "aimin' +high." What do you call that water near your coach-house?" + +"A pond." + +"Is there any brook runnin' in, or any stream runnin' +out?" + +"No." + +"Well, that's the difference between a lake and a pond. +Now, set that down for a traveller's fact. Now, where do +you go to fish?" + +"To the lakes, of course; there are no fish in the ponds." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Slick, "that is what I want to bring +you to; there is no fish in a pond, there is nothin' but +frogs. Nova Scotia is only a pond, and so is New Brunswick, +and such outlandish, out o' the way, little crampt up, +stagnant places. There is no 'big fish' there, nor never +can be; there ain't no food for 'em. A colony frog!! +Heavens and airth, what an odd fish that is? A colony +pollywog! do, for gracious sake, catch one, put him into +a glass bottle full of spirits, and send him to the Museum +as a curiosity in natur. So you are a goin' to make your +two nice pretty little smart boys a pair of colony frogs, +eh? Oh! do, by all means. + +"You'll have great comfort in 'em, Squire. Monstrous +comfort. It will do your old heart good to go down to +the edge of the pond on the fust of May, or thereabouts, +accordin' to the season, jist at sun down, and hear 'em +sing. You'll see the little fellers swell out their +cheeks, and roar away like young suckin' thunders. For +the frogs beat all natur there for noise; they have no +notion of it here at all. I've seed Englishmen that +couldn't sleep all night, for the everlastin' noise these +critters made. Their frogs have somethin' else to do +here besides singin'. Ain't it a splendid prospect that, +havin' these young frogs settled all round you in the +same mud-hole, all gathered in a, nice little musical +family party. All fine fun this, till some fine day we +Yankee storks will come down and gobble them all up, and +make clear work of it. + +"No, Squire, take my advice now for once; jist go to +your colony minister when he is alone. Don't set down, +but stand up as if you was in airnest, and didn't come +to gossip, and tell him, 'Turn these ponds into a lake,' +sais you, my lord minister, give them an inlet and an +outlet. Let them be kept pure, and sweet, and wholesome, +by a stream, runnin' through. Fish will live there then +if you put them in, and they will breed there, and keep +up the stock. At present they die; it ain't big enough; +there ain't room. If he sais he hante time to hear you, +and asks you to put it into writin', do you jist walk +over to his table, take up his lignum vitae ruler into +your fist, put your back to the door, and say 'By the +'tarnal empire, you _shall_ hear me; you don't go out of +this, till I give you the butt eend of my mind, I can +tell you. I am an old bull frog now; the Nova Scotia pond +is big enough for me; I'll get drowned if I get into a +bigger one, for I hante got no fins, nothin' but legs +and arms to swim with, and deep water wouldn't suit me, +I ain't fit for it, and I must live and die there, that's +my fate as sure as rates.' If he gets tired, and goes to +get up or to move, do you shake the big ruler at him, as +fierce as a painter, and say, 'Don't you stir for your +life; I don't want to lay nothin' _on_ your head, I only +want to put somethin' _in_ it. I am a father and have +got youngsters. I am a native, and have got countrymen. +Enlarge our sphere, give us a chance in the world.' 'Let +me out,' he'll say, 'this minute, Sir, or I'll put you +in charge of a policeman.' 'Let you out is it,' sais you. +'Oh! you feel bein' pent up, do you? I am glad of it. +The tables are turned now, that's what we complain of. +You've stood at the door, and kept us in; now I'll keep +you in awhile. I want to talk to you, that's more than +you ever did to us. How do you like bein' shut in? Does +it feel good? Does it make your dander rise?' 'Let me +out,' he'll say agin, 'this moment, Sir, how dare you.' +Oh! you are in a hurry, are you?' sais you. 'You've kept +me in all my life; don't be oneasy if I keep you in five +minutes.' + +"'Well, what do you want then?' he'll say, kinder peevish; +'what do you want?' 'I don't want nothin' for myself,' +sais you. 'I've got all I can get in that pond; and I +got that from the Whigs, fellers I've been abusin' all +my life; and I'm glad to make amends by acknowledging +this good turn they did me; for I am a tory, and no +mistake. I don't want nothin'; but I want to be an +_Englishman_. I don't want to be an English _subject_; +do you understand that now? If you don't, this is the +meanin', that there is no fun in bein' a fag, if you are +never to have a fag yourself. Give us all fair play. +Don't move now,' sais you, 'for I'm gettin' warm; I'm +gettin' spotty on the back, my bristles is up, and I +might hurt you with this ruler; it's a tender pint this, +for I've rubbed the skin off of a sore place; but I'll +tell you a gospel truth, and mind what I tell you, for +nobody else has sense enough, and if they had, they hante +courage enough. If you don't make _Englishmen of us_, +the force of circumstances will _make Yankees_ of us, as +sure as you are born.' He'll stare at that. He is a clever +man, and aint wantin' in gumption. He is no fool, that's +a fact. 'Is it no compliment to you and your institutions +this?' sais you. 'Don't it make you feel proud that even +independence won't tempt us to dissolve the connexion? +Ain't it a noble proof of your good qualities that, +instead of agitatin' for Repeal of the Union, we want a +closer union? But have we no pride too? We would be +onworthy of the name of Englishmen, if we hadn't it, and +we won't stand beggin' for ever I tell _you_. Here's our +hands, give us yourn; let's be all Englishmen together. +Give us a chance, and if us, young English boys, don't +astonish you old English, my name ain't Tom Poker, that's +all.' 'Sit down,' he'll say, 'Mr. Poker;' there is a +great deal in that; sit down; I am interested.' + +"The instant he sais that, take your ruler, lay it down +on the table, pick up your hat, make a scrape with your +hind leg, and say, 'I regret I have detained you so long, +Sir. I am most peskily afraid my warmth has kinder betrayed +me into rudeness. I really beg pardon, I do upon my soul. +I feel I have smashed down all decency, I am horrid +ashamed of myself.' Well, he won't say you hante rode +the high hoss, and done the unhandsum thing, because it +wouldn't be true if he did; but he'll say, 'Pray be +seated. I can make allowances, Sir, even for intemperate +zeal. And this is a very important subject, very indeed. +There is a monstrous deal in what you say, though you +have, I must say, rather a peculiar, an unusual, way of +puttin' it.' Don't you stay another minit though, nor +say another word, for your life; but bow, beg pardon, +hold in your breath, that your face may look red, as if +you was blushin', and back out, starn fust. Whenever +you make an impression on a man, stop; your reasonin' +and details may ruin you. Like a feller who sais a good +thing, he'd better shove off, and leave every one larfin' +at his wit, than stop and tire them out, till they say +what a great screw augur that is. Well, if you find he +opens the colonies, and patronises the smart folks, leave +your sons there if you like, and let 'em work up, and +work out of it, if they are fit, and time and opportunity +offers. But one thing is sartain, _the very openin' of +the door will open their minds_, as a matter of course. +If he don't do it, and I can tell you before hand he +won't--for they actilly hante got time here, to think of +these things--send your boys here into the great world. +Sais you to the young Lawyer, 'Bob,' sais you, '"aim +high." If you don't get to be Lord Chancellor, I shall +never die in peace. I've set my heart on it. It's within +your reach, if you are good for anything. Let me see the +great seal--let me handle it before I die--do, that's a +dear; if not, go back to your Colony pond, and sing with +your provincial frogs, and I hope to Heaven the fust +long-legged bittern that comes there will make a supper +of you." + +"Then sais you to the young parson, 'Arthur,' sais you +'Natur jist made you for a clergyman. Now, do you jist +make yourself 'Archbishop of Canterbury.' My death-bed +scene will be an awful one, if I don't see you 'the +Primate'; for my affections, my hopes, my heart, is fixed +on it. I shall be willin' to die then, I shall depart in +peace, and leave this world happy. And, Arthur,' sais +you, 'they talk and brag here till one is sick of the +sound a'most about "Addison's death-bed." Good people +refer to it as an example, authors as a theatrical scene +and hypocrites as a grand illustration for them to turn +up the whites of their cold cantin' eyes at. Lord love +you, my son,' sais you, 'let them brag of it; but what +would it be to mine; you congratulatin' me on goin' to +a better world, and me congratulatin' you on bein' +"Archbishop." Then,' sais you, in a starn voice like a +boatsan's trumpet--for if you want things to be remembered, +give 'em effect, "Aim high," Sir,' sais you. Then like +my old father, fetch him a kick on his western eend, that +will lift him clean over the table, and say 'that's the +way to rise in the world, you young sucking parson you. +"Aim high," Sir.' + +"Neither of them will ever forget it as long as they +live. The hit does that; for a kick is a very _striking_ +thing, that's a fact. There has been _no good scholars +since birch rods went out o' school, and sentiment went +in_." + +"But you know," I said, "Mr. Slick, that those high prizes +in the lottery of life, can, in the nature of things, be +drawn but by few people, and how many blanks are there +to one-prize in this world." + +"Well, what's to prevent your boys gettin' those prizes, +if colonists was made Christians of, instead of outlawed, +exiled, transported, oncarcumcised heathen Indgean niggers, +as they be. If people don't put into a lottery, how the +devil can they get prizes? will you tell me that. Look +at the critters here, look at the publicans, taylors, +barbers, and porters' sons, how the've rose here, 'in +this big lake,' to be chancellors and archbishops; how +did they get them? They 'aimed high,' and besides, all +that, like father's story of the gun, by 'aiming high,' +though they may miss the mark, they will be sure to hit +the upper circles. Oh, Squire, there is nothing like +'aiming high,' in this world." + +"I quite agree with you, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell. "I +never heard you speak so sensibly before. Nothing can be +better for young men than "Aiming high." Though they may +not attain to the highest honours, they may, as you say, +reach to a most respectable station. But surely, Squire, +you will never so far forget the respect that is due to +so high an officer as a Secretary of State, or, indeed, +so far forget yourself as to adopt a course, which from +its eccentricity, violence, and impropriety, must leave +the impression that your intellects are disordered. +Surely you will never be tempted to make the experiment?" + +"I should think not, indeed," I said. "I have no desire +to become an inmate of a lunatic asylum." + +"Good," said he; "I am satisfied. I quite agree with +Sam, though. Indeed, I go further. I do not think he has +advised you to recommend your boys to 'aim high enough.'" + +"Creation! said Mr. Slick, "how much higher do you want +provincial frogs to go, than to be 'Chancellor' and +'Primate?' + +"I'll tell you, Sam; I'd advise them to 'aim higher' than +earthly honours. I would advise them to do their duty, +in any station of life in which it shall please Providence +to place them; and instead of striving after unattainable +objects here, to be unceasing in their endeavours to +obtain that which, on certain conditions, is promised to +all hereafter. In their worldly pursuits, as men, it is +right for them to '_aim high_;' but as Christians, it is +also their duty to '_aim higher_.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +A SWOI-REE. + +Mr. Slick visited me late last night, dressed as if he +had been at a party, but very cross, and, as usual when +in that frame of mind, he vented his ill-humour on the +English. + +"Where have you been to-night, Mr. Slick?" + +"Jist where the English hosses will be," he replied, +"when Old Clay comes here to this country;--no where. I +have been on a stair-case, that's where I have been; and +a pretty place to see company in, ain't it? I have been +jammed to death in an entry, and what's wus than all, I +have given one gall a black eye with my elbow, tore +another one's frock off with my buttons, and near about +cut a third one's leg in two with my hat. Pretty well +for one night's work, ain't it? and for me too, that's +so fond of the dear little critturs, I wouldn't hurt a +hair of their head, if I could help it, to save my soul +alive. What a spot o' work! + +"What the plague do people mean here by askin' a mob to +their, house, and invitin' twice as many as can get into +it? If they think it's complimental, they are infarnally +mistaken, that's all: it's an insult and nothin' else, +makin' a fool of a body that way. Heavens and airth! I +am wringing wet! I'm ready to faint! Where's the key of +your cellaret? I want some brandy and water. I'm dead; +bury me quick, for I won't be nice directly. Oh dear! +how that lean gall hurt me! How horrid sharp her bones +are! + +"I wish to goodness you'd go to a Swoi-ree oncet, Squire, +jist oncet--a grand let off, one that's upper crust and +rael jam. It's worth seein' oncet jist as a show, I tell +_you_, for you have no more notion of it than a child. +All Halifax, if it was swept up clean and shook out into +a room, wouldn't make one swoi-ree. I have been to three +to night, and all on 'em was mobs--regular mobs. The +English are horrid fond of mobs, and I wonder at it too; +for of all the cowardly, miserable, scarry mobs, that +ever was seen in this blessed world, the English is the +wust. Two dragoons will clear a whole street as quick +as wink, any time. The instant they see 'em, they jist +run like a flock of sheep afore a couple of bull dogs, +and slope off properly skeered. Lawful heart, I wish +they'd send for a dragoon, all booted, and spurred, and +mounted, and let him gallop into a swoi-ree, and charge +the mob there. He'd clear 'em out _I_ know, double quick: +he'd chase one quarter of 'em down stairs head over heels, +and another quarter would jump out o' the winders, and +break their confounded necks to save their lives, and +then the half that's left, would he jist about half too +many for comfort. + +"My first party to-night wus a conversation one; that is +for them that _could_ talk; as for me I couldn't talk a +bit, and all I could think was, 'how infarnal hot it is! +I wish I could get in!' or, 'oh dear, if I could only +get out!' It was a scientific party, a mob o' men. Well, +every body expected somebody would be squashed to death, +and so ladies went, for they always go to executions. +They've got a kinder nateral taste for the horrors, have +women. They like to see people hanged or trod to death, +when they can get a chance. It _was_ a conversation warn't +it? that's all. I couldn't understand a word I heard. +Trap shale Greywachy; a petrified snail, the most important +discovery of modern times. Bank governor's machine weighs +sovereigns, light ones go to the right, and heavy ones +to the left. + +"'Stop,' says I, 'if you mean the sovereign people here, +there are none on 'em light. Right and left is both +monstrous heavy; all over weight, every one on 'em. I'm +squeezed to death.' + +"'Very good, Mr. Slick. Let me introduce you to ----,' +they are whipt off in the current, and I don't see 'em +again no more. 'A beautiful shew of flowers, Madam, at +the garden: they are all in full blow now. The +rhododendron--had a tooth pulled when she was asleep.' +'Please to let me pass, Sir.' 'With all my heart, Miss, +if I could; but I can't move; if I could I would down on +the carpet, and you should walk over me. Take care of +your feet, Miss, I am off of mine. Lord bless me! what's +this? why as I am a livin' sinner, it's half her frock +hitched on to my coat button. Now I know what that scream +meant.' + +"'How do you do, Mr. Slick? When did you come?' 'Why I +came--' he is turned round, and shoved out o' hearin.' +'Xanthian marbles at the British Museum are quite wonderful; +got into his throat, the doctor turned him upside down, +stood him on his head, and out it came--his own tunnel +was too small.' 'Oh, Sir, you are cuttin' me.' 'Me, Miss! +Where had I the pleasure of seein' you before, I never +cut a lady in my life, could'nt do so rude a thing. +Havn't the honour to recollect you.' 'Oh, Sir, take it +away, it cuts me.' Poor thing, she is distracted, I don't +wonder. She's drove crazy, though I think she must have +been mad to come here at all. 'Your hat, Sir.' 'Oh, that +cussed French hat is it? Well, the rim is as stiff and +as sharp as a cleaver, that's a fact, I don't wonder it +cut you.' 'Eddis's pictur--capital painting, fell out of +the barge, and was drowned.' 'Having been beat on the +shillin' duty; they will attach him on the fourpence, +and thimble rigg him out of that.' 'They say Sugden is +in town, hung in a bad light, at the Temple Church.' +----'Who is that?' 'Lady Fobus; paired off for the Session; +Brodie operated.'----Lady Francis; got the Life Guards; +there will be a division to-night.'----That's Sam Slick; +I'll introduce you; made a capital speech in the House +of Lords, in answer to Brougham--Lobelia--voted for the +bill--The Duchess is very fond of----Irish Arms--' + +"Oh! now I'm in the entry. How tired I am! It feels +shockin' cold here, too, arter comin' out o' that hot +room. Guess I'll go to the grand musical party. Come, +this will do; this is Christian-like, there is room here; +but the singin' is in next room, I will go and hear them. +Oh! here they are agin; it's a proper mob this. Cuss, +these English, they can't live out of mobs. Prince Albert +is there in that room; I must go and see him. He is +popular; he is a renderin' of himself very agreeable to +the English, is Prince: he mixes with them as much as he +can; and shews his sense in that. Church steeples are +very pretty things: that one to Antwerp is splendiriferous; +it's everlastin' high, it most breaks your neck layin' +back your head to look at it; bend backward like a hoop, +and stare at it once with all your eyes, and you can't +look up agin, you are satisfied. It tante no use for a +Prince to carry a head so high as that, Albert knows +this; he don't want to be called the highest steeple, +cause all the world knows he is about the top loftiest; +but he want's to descend to the world we live in. + +"With a Queen all men love, and a Prince all men like, +royalty has a root in the heart here. Pity, too, for the +English don't desarve to have a Queen; and such a Queen +as they have got too, hang me if they do. They ain't men, +they hante the feelin's or pride o' men in 'em; they +ain't what they used to be, the nasty, dirty, mean-spirited, +sneakin' skunks, for if they had a heart as big as a +pea--and that ain't any great size, nother--cuss 'em, +when any feller pinted a finger at her to hurt her, or +even frighten her, they'd string him right up on the +spot, to the lamp post. Lynch him like a dog that steals +sheep right off the reel, and save mad-doctors, skary +judges, and Chartist papers all the trouble of findin' +excuses. And, if that didn't do, Chinese like, they'd +take the whole crowd present and sarve _them_ out. They'd +be sure to catch the right one then. I wouldn't shed +blood, because that's horrid; it shocks all Christian +people, philosophisin' legislators, sentimental ladies, +and spooney gentlemen. It's horrid barbarous that, is +sheddin' blood; I wouldn't do that, I'd jist hang him. +A strong cord tied tight round his neck would keep that +precious mixtur, traitor's blood, all in as close as if +his mouth was corked, wired, and white-leaded, like a +champagne bottle. + +"Oh dear! these are the fellers that come out a travellin' +among us, and sayin' the difference atween you and us is +'the absence of loyalty.' I've heard tell a great deal +of that loyalty, but I've seen precious little of it, +since I've been here, that's a fact. I've always told +you these folks ain't what they used to be, and I see +more and more, on 'em every day. Yes, the English are +like their hosses, they are so fine bred, there is nothin' +left of 'em now but the hide, hair, and shoes. + +"So Prince Albert is there in that room; I must get in +there and see him, for I have never sot eyes on him since +I've been here, so here goes. Onder, below there, look +out for your corns, hawl your feet in, like turtles, for +I am a comin'. Take care o' your ribs, my old 'coons, +for my elbows are crooked. Who wants to grow? I'll squeeze +you out as a rollin'-pin does dough, and make you ten +inches taller. I'll make good figures of you, my fat boys +and galls, I know. Look out for scaldin's there. Here +I am: it's me, Sam Slick, make way, or I'll walk right +over you, and cronch you like lobsters. 'Cheap talkin', +or rather thinkin', sais I; for in course I couldn't bawl +that out in company here; they don't understand fun, and +would think it rude, and ongenteel. I have to be shockin' +cautious what I say here, for fear I might lower our +great nation in the eyes of foreigners. I have to look +big and talk big the whole blessed time, and I am tired +of it. It ain't nateral to me; and, besides braggin' and +repudiatin' at the same time, is most as bad as cantin' +and swearin'. It kinder chokes me. I thought it all +though, and said it all to myself. 'And,' sais I, 'take +your time, Sam; you can't do it, no how, you can fix-it. +You must wait your time, like other folks. Your legs is +tied, and your arms is tied down by the crowd, and you +can't move an inch beyond your nose. The only way is, +watch your chance, wait till you can get your hands up, +then turn the fust two persons that's next to you right +round, and slip between them like a turn stile in the +park, and work your passage that way. Which is the Prince? +That's him with the hair carefully divided, him with the +moustaches. I've seed him; a plaguy handsum man he is, +too. Let me out now. I'm stifled, I'm choked. My jaws +stick together, I can't open 'em no more; and my wind +won't hold out another minute. + +"I have it now, I've got an idea. See if I don't put the +leake into 'em. Won't I _do_ them, that's all? Clear the +way there, the Prince is a comin', _and_ so is the Duke. +And a way is opened: waves o' the sea roll hack at these +words, and I walks right out, as large as life, and the +fust Egyptian that follers is drowned, for the water has +closed over him. Sarves him right, too, what business +had he to grasp my life-preserver without leave. I have +enough to do to get along by my own wit, without carry +in' double. + +"'Where is the Prince? Didn't they say he was a comin'? +Who was that went out? He don't look like the Prince; he +ain't half so handsum, that feller, he looks, like a +Yankee.' 'Why, that was Sam Slick.' 'Capital, that! What +a droll feller he is; he is always so ready! He desarves +credit for that trick.' Guess I do; but let old Connecticut +alone; us Slickville boys always find a way to dodge in +or out embargo or no embargo, blockade or no blockade, +we larnt that last war. + +"Here I am in the street agin; the air feels handsum. I +have another invitation to-night, shall I go? Guess I +will. All the world is at these two last places, I reckin +there will be breathin' room at the next; and I want an +ice cream to cool my coppers, shockin' bad.--Creation! +It is wus than ever; this party beats t'other ones all +holler. They ain't no touch to it. I'll jist go and make +a scrape to old uncle and aunty, and then cut stick; for +I hante strength to swiggle my way through another mob. + +"'You had better get in fust, though, hadn't you, Sam? +for here you are agin wracked, by gosh, drove right slap +ashore atween them two fat women, and fairly wedged in +and bilged. You can't get through, and can't get out, if +you was to die for it.' 'Can't I though? I'll try; for +I never give in, till I can't help it. So here's at it. +Heave off, put all steam on, and back out, starn fust, +and then swing round into the stream. That's the ticket, +Sam.' It's done; but my elbow has took that lady that's +two steps furder down on the stairs, jist in the eye, +and knocked in her dead light. How she cries! how I +apologize, don't I? And the more I beg pardon, the wus +she carries on. But it's no go; if I stay, I must fust +fight somebody, and then marry _her_; for I've spiled +her beauty, and that's the rule here, they tell me.' + +"So I sets studen sail booms, and cracks on all sail, +and steers for home, and here I am once more; at least +what's left of me, and that ain't much more nor my shader. +Oh dear! I'm tired, shockin' tired, almost dead, and +awful thirsty; for Heaven's sake, give me some lignum +vitae, for I am so dry, I'll blow away in dust. + +"This is a Swoi-ree, Squire, this is London society; this +is rational enjoyment, this is a meeting of friends, who +are so infarnal friendly they are jammed together so they +can't leave each other. Inseparable friends; you must +choke 'em off, or you can't part 'em. Well, I ain't jist +so thick and intimate with none o' them in this country +as all that comes to nother. I won't lay down my life +for none on 'em; I don't see no occasion for it, _do +you_? + +"I'll dine with you, John Bull, if you axe me; and I +ain't nothin' above particular to do, and the cab hire +don't cost more nor the price of a dinner; but hang me +if ever I go to a Swoi-ree agin. I've had enough of +that, to last me _my_ life, I know. A dinner I hante no +objection to, though that ain't quite so bright as a +pewter button nother, when you don't know you're right +and left, hand man. And an evenin' party, I wouldn't take +my oath I wouldn't go to, though I don't know hardly what +to talk about, except America; and I've bragged so much +about that, I'm tired of the subject. But a _Swoi-ree is +the devil, that's a fact_." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +TATTERSALL'S OR, THE ELDER AND THE GRAVE DIGGER. + +"Squire," said Mr. Slick, "it ain't rainin' to-day; +suppose you come along with me to Tattersall's. I have +been studyin' that place a considerable sum to see whether +it is a safe shop to trade in or no. But I'm dubersome; +I don't like the cut of the sportin' folks here. If I +can see both eends of the rope, and only one man has hold +of one eend, and me of the tother, why I know what I am +about; but if I can only see my own eend, I don't know +who I am a pullin' agin. I intend to take a rise out o' +some o' the knowin' ones here, that will make 'em scratch +their heads, and stare, I know. But here we are. Cut +round this corner, into this Lane. Here it is; this is +it to the right." + +We entered a sort of coach-yard, which was filled with +a motley and mixed crowd of people. I was greatly +disappointed in Tattersall's. Indeed, few things in London +have answered my expectations. They have either exceeded +or fallen short of the description I had heard of them. +I was prepared, both from what I was told by Mr. Slick, +and heard, from others, to find that there were but very +few gentlemen-like looking men there; and that by far +the greater number neither were, nor affected to be, any +thing but "knowing ones." I was led to believe that there +would be a plentiful use of the terms _of art_, a variety +of provincial accent, and that the conversation of the +jockeys and grooms would be liberally garnished with +appropriate slang. + +The gentry portion of the throng, with some few exceptions, +it was said, wore a dissipated look, and had that peculiar +appearance of incipient disease, that indicates a life +of late hours, of excitement, and bodily exhaustion. +Lower down in the scale of life, I was informed, +intemperance had left its indelible marks. And that +still further down, were to be found the worthless lees +of this foul and polluted stream of sporting gentlemen, +spendthrifts, gamblers, bankrupts, sots, sharpers and +jockeys. + +This was by no means the case. It was just what a man +might have expected to have found a great sporting exchange +and auction mart, of horses and carriages, to have been, +in a great city like London, had he been merely told that +such was the object of the place, and then left to imagine +the scene. It was, as I have before said, a mixed and +motley crowd; and must necessarily be so, where agents +attend to bid for their principals, where servants are +in waiting upon their masters, and above all, where the +ingress is open to every one. + +It is, however, unquestionably the resort of gentlemen. +In a great and rich country like this, there must, +unavoidably, be a Tattersall's; and the wonder is, not +that it is not better, but that it is not infinitely +worse. Lake all striking pictures, it had strong lights +and shades. Those who have suffered, are apt to retaliate; +and a man who has been duped, too often thinks he has a +right to make reprisals. Tattersall's, therefore, is not +without its privateers. Many persons of rank and character +patronize sporting, from a patriotic but mistaken notion, +that it is to the turf alone the excellence of the English +horse is attributable. + +One person of this description, whom I saw there for a +short time, I had the pleasure of knowing before; and +from him I learned many interesting anecdotes of individuals +whom he pointed out as having been once well known about +town, but whose attachment to gambling had effected their +ruin. Personal stories of this kind are, however, not +within the scope of this work. + +As soon as we entered, Mr. Slick called my attention to +the carriages which were exhibited for sale, to their +elegant shape and "beautiful fixins," as he termed it; +but ridiculed, in no measured terms, their enormous +weight. "It is no wonder," said he, "they have to get +fresh hosses here every ten miles, and travellin' costs +so much, when the carriage alone is enough to kill beasts. +What would Old Bull say, if I was to tell him of one pair +of hosses carryin' three or four people, forty or fifty +miles a-day, day in and day out, hand runnin' for a +fortnight? Why, he'd either be too civil to tell me it +was a lie, or bein' afeerd I'd jump down his throat if +he did, he'd sing dumb, and let me see by his looks, he +thought so, though. + +"I intend to take the consait out of these chaps, and +that's a fact. If I don't put the leak into 'em afore +I've done with them, my name ain't Sam Slick, that's a +fact. I'm studyin' the ins and the outs of this place, +so as to know what I am about, afore I take hold; for I +feel kinder skittish about my men. Gentlemen are the +lowest, lyinest, bullyinest, blackguards there is, when +they choose to be; 'specially if they have rank as well +as money. A thoroughbred cheat, of good blood, is a +clipper, that's a fact. They ain't right up-and-down, +like a cow's tail, in their dealin's; and they've got +accomplices, fellers that will lie for 'em like any thing, +for the honour of their company; and bettin', onder such +circumstances, ain't safe. + +"But, I'll tell you what is, if you have got a hoss that +can do it, and no mistake: back him, hoss agin hoss, or +what's safer still, hoss agin time, and you can't be +tricked. Now, I'll send for Old Clay, to come in Cunard's +steamer, and cuss 'em they ought to bring over the old +hoss and his fixins, free, for it was me first started +that line. The way old Mr. Glenelg stared, when I told +him it was thirty-six miles shorter to go from Bristol +to New York by the way of Halifax, than to go direct +warn't slow. It stopt steam for that hitch, that's a +fact, for he thort I was mad. He sent it down to the +Admiralty to get it ciphered right, and it took them old +seagulls, the Admirals a month to find it out. + +"And when they did, what did they say? Why, cuss 'em, +says they, 'any fool knows that.' Says I, 'If that's the +case you are jist the boys then that ought to have found +it out right off at oncet.' + +"Yes, Old Clay ought to go free, but be won't; and guess +I am able to pay freight for him, and no thanks to nobody. +Now, I'll tell you what, English trottin' is about a mile +in two minutes and forty-seven seconds, and that don't +happen oftener than oncet in fifty years, if it was ever +done at all, for the English brag so there is no telling +right. Old Clay _can_ do his mile in two minutes and +thirty-eight seconds. He _has_ done that, and I guess he +_could_ do more. I have got a car, that is as light as +whalebone, and I'll bet to do it with wheels and drive +myself. I'll go in up to the handle, on Old Clay. I have +a hundred thousand dollars of hard cash made in the +colonies, I'll go half of it on the old hoss, hang me if +I don't, and I'll make him as well knowd to England as +he is to Nova Scotia. + +"I'll allow him to be beat at fust, so as to lead 'em +on, and Clay is as cunnin' as a coon too, if he don't +get the word g'lang (go along) and the Indgian skelpin' +yell with it, he knows I ain't in airnest, and he'll +allow me to beat him and bully him like nothin'. He'll +pretend to do his best, and sputter away like a hen +scratchin' gravel, but he won't go one mossel faster, +for he knows I never lick a free hoss. + +"Won't it be beautiful? How they'll all larf and crow, +when they see me a thrashin' away at the hoss, and then +him goin' slower, the faster I thrash, and me a threatenin' +to shoot the brute, and a talkin' at the tip eend of my +tongue like a ravin' distracted bed bug, and offerin' to +back him agin, if they dare, and planken down the pewter +all round, takin' every one up that will go the figur', +till I raise the bets to the tune of fifty thousand +dollars. When I get that far, they may stop their larfin' +till next time, I guess. That's the turn of the +fever--that's the crisis--that's my time to larf then. + +"I'll mount the car then, take the bits of list up, put +'em into right shape, talk a little Connecticut Yankee +to the old hoss, to set his ebenezer up, and make him +rise inwardly, and then give the yell," (which he uttered +in his excitement in earnest; and a most diabolical one +it was. It pierced me through and through, and curdled +my very blood, it was the death shout of a savage.) +"G'lang you skunk, and turn out your toes pretty," said +he, and he again repeated this long protracted, shrill, +infernal yell, a second time. + +Every eye was instantly turned upon us. Even Tattersall +suspended his "he is five years old--a good hack--and is +to be sold," to give time for the general exclamation of +surprise. "Who the devil is that? Is he mad? Where did +_he_ come from? Does any body know him? He is a devilish +keen-lookin' fellow that; what an eye he has! He looks +like a Yankee, that fellow." + +"He's been here, your honour, several days, examines +every thing and says nothing; looks like a knowing one, +your honour. He handles a hoss as if he'd seen one afore +to-day, Sir." + +"Who is that gentleman with him?" + +"Don't know, your honour, never saw him before; he looks +like a furriner, too." + +"Come, Mr. Slick," said I, "we are attracting too much +attention here, let us go." + +"Cuss 'em," said he, "I'll attract more attention afore +I've done yet, when Old Clay comes, and then I'll tell +'em who I am--Sam Slick, from Slickville, Onion County, +State of Connecticut, United States of America. But I do +suppose we had as good make tracks, for I don't want +folks to know me yet. I'm plaguy sorry I let put that +countersign of Old Clay too, but they won't onderstand +it. Critters like the English, that know everything have +generally weak eyes, from studyin' so hard. + +"Did you take notice of that critter I was a handlin' +of, Squire? that one that's all drawed up in the middle +like a devil's darnin' needle; her hair a standin' upon +eend as if she was amazed at herself, and a look out of +her eye, as if she thort the dogs would find the steak +kinder tough, when they got her for dinner. Well, that's +a great mare that 'are, and there ain't nothin' onder +the sun the matter of her, except the groom has stole +her oats, forgot to give her water, and let her make a +supper sometimes off of her nasty, mouldy, filthy beddin'. +I hante see'd a hoss here equal to her a'most--short +back, beautiful rake to the shoulder, great depth of +chest, elegant quarter, great stifle, amazin' strong arm, +monstrous nice nostrils, eyes like a weasel, all outside, +game ears, first chop bone and fine flat leg, with no +gum on no part of it. She's a sneezer that; but she'll +be knocked down for twenty or thirty pound, because she +looks as if she was used up. + +"I intended to a had that mare, for I'd a made her worth +twelve hundred dollars. It was a dreadful pity, I let +go, that time, for I actilly forgot where I was. I'll +know better next hitch, for boughten wit is the best in +a general way. Yes, I'm peskily sorry about that mare. +Well, swappin' I've studied, but I doubt if it's as much +the fashion here as with us; and besides, swappin' where +you don't know the county and its tricks, (for every +county has its own tricks, different from others), is +dangersome too. I've seen swaps where both sides got +took in. Did ever I tell you the story of the "Elder and +the grave-digger?" + +"Never," I replied; "but here we are at our lodgings. +Come in, and tell it to me." + +"Well," said he, "I must have a glass of mint julip fust, +to wash down that ere disappointment about the mare. It +was a dreadful go that. I jist lost a thousand dollars +by it, as slick as grease. But it's an excitin' thing is +a trottin' race, too. When you mount, hear the word +'Start!' and shout out 'G'lang!' and give the pass word." + +Good heavens! what a yell he perpetrated again. I put +both hands to my ears, to exclude the reverberations of +it from the walls. + +"Don't be skeered, Squire; don't be skeered. We are alone +now: there is no mare to lose. Ain't it pretty? It makes +me feel all dandery and on wires like." + +"But the grave-digger?" said I. + +"Well," says he, "the year afore I knowed you, I was +a-goin' in the fall, down to Clare, about sixty miles +below Annapolis, to collect some debts due to me there +from the French. And as I was a-joggin' on along the +road, who should I overtake but Elder Stephen Grab, of +Beechmeadows, a mounted on a considerable of a +clever-lookin' black mare. The Elder was a pious man; +at least he looked like one, and spoke like one too. His +face was as long as the moral law, and p'rhaps an inch +longer, and as smooth as a hone; and his voice was so +soft and sweet, and his tongue moved so ily on its hinges, +you'd a thought you might a trusted him with ontold gold, +if you didn't care whether you ever got it agin or no. +He had a bran new hat on, with a brim that was none of +the smallest, to keep the sun from makin' his inner man +wink, and his go-to-meetin' clothes on, and a pair of +silver mounted spurs, and a beautiful white cravat, tied +behind, so as to have no bows to it, and look meek. If +there was a good man on airth, you'd a said it was him. +And he seemed to feel it, and know it too, for there was +a kind of look o' triumph about him, as if he had conquered +the Evil One, and was considerable well satisfied with +himself. + +"'H'are you,' sais I, 'Elder, to-day? Which way are you +from?" + +"'From the General Christian Assembly, sais he, 'to Goose +Creek. We had a "_most refreshin' time on't_." There was +a great "_outpourin' of the spirit_."' + +"'Well, that's awful,' says I, 'too. The magistrates +ought to see to that; it ain't right, when folks assemble +that way to worship, to be a-sellin' of rum; and gin, +and brandy, and spirits, is it?' + +"'I don't mean that,' sais he, 'although, p'rhaps, there +was too much of that wicked traffic too, I mean the +preachin'. It was very peeowerful; there was "_many +sinners saved_." + +"'I guess there was plenty of room for it,' sais I, +'onless that neighbourhood has much improved since I +knowed it last.' + +"'It's a sweet thing,' sais he. 'Have you ever "_made +profession_," Mr. Slick?' + +"'Come,' sais I to myself, 'this is cuttin' it rather +too fat. I must put a stop to this. This ain't a subject +for conversation with such a cheatin', cantin', +hippocrytical skunk as this is. Yes,' sais I, 'long ago. +My profession is that of a clockmaker, and I make no +pretension to nothin' else. But come, let's water our +hosses here and liquor ourselves.' + +"And we dismounted, and gave 'em a drop to wet their +mouths. + +"'Now,' sais I, a-takin' out of a pocket-pistol that I +generally travelled with, 'I think I'll take a drop of +grog;' and arter helpin' myself, I gives the silver cover +of the flask a dip in the brook, (for a clean rinse is +better than a dirty wipe, any time), and sais I, 'Will +you have a little of the "_outpourin' of the spirit?_" +What do you say, Elder?' + +"'Thank you,' sais he, 'friend Slick. I never touch +liquor, it's agin our rules.' + +"And he stooped down and filled it with water, and took +a mouthful, and then makin' a face like a frog afore he +goes to sing, and swellin' his cheeks out like a Scotch +bagpiper, be spit it all out. Sais he, 'That is so warm, +it makes me sick; and as I ain't otherwise well, from +the celestial exhaustion of a protracted meetin', I +believe I will take a little drop, as medicine.' + +"Confound him! if he'd a said he'd only leave a little +drop, it would a been more like the thing; for he e'en +a'most emptied the whole into the cup, and drank it off +clean, without winkin'. + +"'It's a "_very refreshin' time_,"' sais I, 'ain't' it?' +But he didn't make no answer. Sais I, 'that's a likely +beast of yourn, Elder,' and I opened her mouth, and took +a look at her, and no easy matter nother, I tell you, +for she held on like a bear trap, with her jaws. "'She +won't suit you,' sais he, "with a smile, 'Mr. Slick.' + +"'I guess not,' sais I. + +"'But she'll jist suit the French,' sais he. + +"'It's lucky she don't speak French then,' sais I, 'or +they'd soon find her tongue was too big for her mouth. +That critter will never see five-and-twenty, and I'm a +thinkin', she's thirty year old, if she is a day.' + +"'I was a thinkin', said he, with a sly look out o' the +corner of his eye, as if her age warn't no secret to him. +'I was a thinkin' it's time to put her off, and she'll +jist suit the French. They hante much for hosses to do, +in a giniral way, but to ride about; and you won't say +nothin' about her age, will you? it might endamnify a +sale.' + +"'Not I,' sais I, 'I skin my own foxes, and let other +folks skin their'n. I have enough to do to mind my own +business, without interferin' with other people's.' + +"'She'll jist suit the French,' sais he; 'they don't know +nothin' about hosses, or any thing else. They are a simple +people, and always will be, for their priests keep 'em +in ignorance. It's an awful thing to see them kept in +the outer porch of darkness that way, ain't it?' + +"'I guess you'll put a new pane o' glass in their porch,' +sais I, 'and help some o' them to see better; for whoever +gets that mare, will have his eyes opened, sooner nor he +bargains for, I know.' + +"Sais he, 'she ain't a bad mare; and if she could eat +bay, might do a good deal of work yet,' and be gave a +kinder chuckle laugh at his own joke, that sounded like +the rattles in his throat, it was so dismal and deep, +for he was one o' them kind of fellers that's too good +to larf, was Steve. + +"Well, the horn o' grog he took, began to onloosen his +tongue; and I got out of him, that she come near dyin' +the winter afore, her teeth was so bad, and that he had +kept her all summer in a dyke pasture up to her fetlocks +in white clover, and ginn' her ground oats, and Indgian +meal, and nothin' to do all summer; and in the fore part +of the fall, biled potatoes, and he'd got her as fat as +a seal, and her skin as slick as an otter's. She fairly +shined agin, in the sun. + +"'She'll jist suit the French', said he, 'they are a +simple people and don't know nothin', and if they don't +like the mare, they must blame their priests for not +teachin' 'em better. I shall keep within the strict line +of truth, as becomes a Christian man. I scorn to take a +man in.' + +"Well, we chatted away arter this fashion, he a openin' +of himself and me a walk in' into him; and we jogged +along till we came to Charles Tarrio's to Montagon, and +there was the matter of a thousand French people gathered +there, a chatterin', and laughin', and jawin', and +quarrellin', and racin', and wrastlin', and all a givin' +tongue, like a pack of village dogs, when an Indgian +comes to town. It was town meetin' day. + +"Well, there was a critter there, called by nickname, +'Goodish Greevoy,' a mounted on a white pony, one o' the +scariest little screamers, you ever see since you was +born. He was a tryin' to get up a race, was Goodish, and +banterin' every one that had a hoss to run with him. + +"His face was a fortin' to a painter. His forehead was +high and narrer, shewin' only a long strip o' tawny skin, +in a line with his nose, the rest bein' covered with +hair, as black as ink, and as iley as a seal's mane. His +brows was thick, bushy and overhangin', like young +brush-wood on a cliff, and onderneath, was two black +peerin' little eyes, that kept a-movin' about, keen, +good-natured, and roguish, but sot far into his skull, +and looked like the eyes of a fox peepin' out of his den, +when he warn't to home to company hisself. His nose was +high, sharp, and crooked, like the back of a reapin' +hook, and gave a plaguy sight of character to his face, +while his thinnish lips, that closed on a straight line, +curlin' up at one eend, and down at the other, shewed, +if his dander was raised, he could be a jumpin', tarin', +rampagenous devil if he chose. The pint of his chin +projected and turned up gently, as if it expected, when +Goodish lost his teeth, to rise in the world in rank next +to the nose. When good natur' sat on the box, and drove, +it warn't a bad face; when Old Nick was coachman, I guess +it would be as well to give Master Frenchman the road. + +"He had a red cap on his head, his beard hadn't been cut +since last sheep shearin', and he looked as hairy as a +tarrier; his shirt collar, 'which was of yaller flannel, +fell on his shoulders loose, and a black hankercher was +tied round his neck, slack like a sailor's. He wore a +round jacket and loose trowsers of homespun with no +waistcoat, and his trowsers was held up by a gallus of +leather on one side, and of old cord on the other. Either +Goodish had growed since his clothes was made, or his +jacket and trowsers warn't on speakin' tarms, for they +didn't meet by three or four inches, and the shirt shewed +atween them like a yaller militia sash round him. His +feet was covered with moccasins of ontanned moose hide, +and one heel was sot off with an old spur and looked sly +and wicked. He was a sneezer that, and when he flourished +his great long withe of a whip stick, that looked like +a fishin' rod, over his head, and yelled like all possessed, +he was a caution, that's a fact. + +"A knowin' lookin' little hoss, it was too, that he was +mounted on. Its tail was cut close off to the stump, +which squared up his rump, and made him look awful strong +in the hind quarters. His mane was "hogged" which fulled +out the swell and crest of the neck, and his ears being +cropped, the critter had a game look about him. There +was a proper good onderstandin' between him and his rider: +they looked as if they had growed together, and made one +critter--half hoss, half man with a touch of the devil. + +"Goodish was all up on eend by what he drank, and dashed +in and out of the crowd arter a fashion, that was quite +cautionary, callin' out, 'Here comes "the grave-digger." +Don't be skeered, if any of you get killed, here is the +hoss that will dig his grave for nothin'. Who'll run a +lick of a quarter of a mile, for a pint of rum. Will you +run?' said he, a spunkin' up to the Elder, 'come, let's +run, and whoever wins, shall go the treat.' + +"The Elder smiled as sweet as sugar candy, but backed +out; he was too old, he said, now to run. + +"'Will you swap hosses, old broad cloth then?' said the +other, 'because if you will, here's at you.' + +"Steve took a squint at pony, to see whether that cat +would jump or no, but the cropt ears, the stump of a +tail, the rakish look of the horse, didn't jist altogether +convene to the taste or the sanctified habits of the +preacher. The word no, hung on his lips, like a wormy +apple, jist ready to drop the fust shake; but before it +let go, the great strength, the spryness, and the oncommon +obedience of pony to the bit, seemed to kinder balance +the objections; while the sartan and ontimely eend that +hung over his own mare, during the comin' winter, death +by starvation, turned the scale. + +"'Well,' said he, slowly, 'if we like each other's beasts, +friend, and can agree as to the boot, I don't know as I +wouldn't trade; for I don't care to raise colts, havin' +plenty of hoss stock on hand, and perhaps you do.' + +"'How old is your hoss?' said the Frenchman. + +"'I didn't raise it,' sais Steve, 'Ned Wheelock, I believe, +brought her to our parts.' + +"'How old do you take her to be?' + +"'Poor critter, she'd tell you herself, if she could,' +said he, 'for she knows best, but she can't speak; and +I didn't see her, when she was foalded.' + +"'How old do you think?' + +"'Age,' sais Steve, 'depens on use, not on years. A hoss +at five, if ill used, is old; a hoss at eight, if well +used is young.' + +"'Sacry footry!' sais Goodish, 'why don't you speak out +like a man? Lie or no lie, how old is she?' + +"'Well, I don't like to say,' sais Steve, 'I know she is +eight for sartain, and it may be she's nine. If I was to +say eight, and it turned out nine, you might be thinkin' +hard of me. I didn't raise it. You can see what condition +she is in; old hosses ain't commonly so fat as that, at +least I never, see one that was.' + +"A long banter then growed out of the 'boot money.' The +Elder, asked 7 pounds 10s. Goodish swore he wouldn't give +that for him and his hoss together; that if they were +both put up to auction that blessed minute, they wouldn't +bring it. The Elder hung on to it, as long as there was +any chance of the boot, and then fort the ground like a +man, only givin' an inch or so at a time, till he drawed +up and made a dead stand, on one pound. + +"Goodish seemed willing to come to tarms too; but like +a prudent man, resolved to take a look at the old mare's +mouth, and make some kind of a guess at her age; but the +critter knowed how to keep her own secrets, and it was +ever so long, afore he forced her jaws open, and when he +did, he came plaguy near losin' of a finger, for his +curiosity; and as he hopped and danced about with pain, +he let fly such a string of oaths, and sacry-cussed the +Elder and his mare, in such an all-fired passion, that +Steve put both his hands up to his ears, and said, 'Oh, +my dear friend, don't swear, don't swear; it's very +wicked. I'll take your pony, I'll ask no boot, if you +will only promise not to swear. You shall have the mare +as she stands. I'll give up and swap even; and there +shall be no after claps, nor ruin bargains, nor recantin', +nor nother, only don't swear.' + +"Well, the trade was made, the saddles and bridles was +shifted, and both parties mounted their new hosses. 'Mr. +Slick,' sais Steve,' who was afraid he would lose the +pony, if he staid any longer, 'Mr. Slick,' sais he, 'the +least said, is the soonest mended, let's be a movin', +this scene of noise and riot is shockin' to a religious +man, ain't it?' and he let go a groan, as long as the +embargo a'most. + +"Well, we had no sooner turned to go, than the French +people sot up a cheer that made all ring again; and they +sung out, "La Fossy Your," "La Fossy Your," and shouted +it agin and agin ever so loud. + +"'What's that?' sais Steve. + +"Well, I didn't know, for I never heerd the word afore; +but it don't do to say you don't know, it lowers you in +the eyes of other folks. If you don't know What another +man knows he is shocked at your ignorance. But if he +don't know what you do, he can find an excuse in a minute. +Never say you don't know. + +"'So,' sais I, 'they jabber so everlastin' fast, it ain't +no easy matter to say what they mean; but it sounds like +"good bye," you'd better turn round and make 'em a bow, +for they are very polite people, is the French.' + +"So Steve turns and takes off his hat, and makes them a +low bow, and they larfs wus than ever, and calls out +again, "La Fossy Your," "La Fossy Your." He was kinder +ryled, was the Elder. His honey had begun to farment, +and smell vinegery. 'May be, next Christmas,' sais he, +'you won't larf so loud, when you find the mare is dead. +Goodish and the old mare are jist alike, they are all +tongue them critters. I rather think it's me,' sais he, +'has the right to larf, for I've got the best of this +bargain, and no mistake. This is as smart a little hoss +as ever I see. I know where I can put him off to great +advantage. I shall make a good day's work of this. It is +about as good a hoss trade as I ever made. The French +don't know nothin' about hosses; they are a simple people, +their priests keep 'em in ignorance on purpose, and they +don't know nothin'.' + +"He cracked and bragged considerable, and as we progressed +we came to Montagon Bridge. The moment pony sot foot on +it, he stopped short, pricked up the latter eends of his +ears, snorted, squeeled and refused to budge an inch. +The Elder got mad. He first coaxed and patted, and soft +sawdered him, and then whipt and spurred, and thrashed +him like any thing. Pony got mad too, for hosses has +tempers as well as Elders; so he turned to, and kicked +right straight up on eend, like Old Scratch, and kept on +without stoppin' till he sent the Elder right slap over +his head slantendicularly, on the broad of his back into +the river, and he floated down thro' the bridge and +scrambled out at t'other side. + +"Creation! how he looked. He was so mad, he was ready to +bile over; and as it was he smoked in the sun, like a +tea-kettle. His clothes stuck close down to him, as a +cat's fur does to her skin, when she's out in the rain, +and every step he took his boots went squish, squash, +like an old woman churnin' butter; and his wet trowsers +chafed with a noise like a wet flappin' sail. He was a +shew, and when he got up to his hoss, and held on to his +mane, and first lifted up one leg and then the other to +let the water run out of his boots. I couldn't hold in +no longer, but laid back and larfed till I thought on my +soul I'd fall off into the river too. + +"'Elder,' says I, 'I thought when a man jined your sect, +'he could never "_fall off agin_," but I see you ain't +no safer than other folks arter all.' + +"'Come,' says he, 'let me be, that's a good soul, it's +bad enough, without being larfed at, that's a fact. I +can't account for this caper, no how.' + +"'It's very strange too, ain't it! What on airth got into +the hoss to make him act so ugly. Can you tell, Mr. +Slick?' + +"'Why,' sais I, 'he don't know English yet, that's all. +He waited for them beautiful French oaths that Goodish +used. Stop the fust Frenchman you meet and give him a +shillin' to teach you to swear, and he'll go like a lamb.' + +"I see'd what was the matter of the hoss by his action +as soon as we started; but I warn't agoin' for to let on +to him about it. I wanted to see the sport. Well, he +took his hoss by the bridle and led him over the bridge, +and he follered kindly, then he mounted, and no hoss +could go better. Arter a little, we came to another bridge +agin, and the same play was acted anew, same coaxin', +same threatenin', and same thrashin'; at last pony put +down his head, and began to shake his tail, a gettin' +ready for another bout of kickin'; when Steve got off +and led him, and did the same to every bridge we come +to. + +"'It's no use,' sais I, 'you must larn them oaths, he's +used to 'em and misses them shocking. A sailor, a hoss, +and a nigger ain't no good without you swear at 'em; it +comes kinder nateral to them, and they look for it, fact +I assure you. Whips wear out, and so do spurs, but a good +sneezer of a cuss hain't no wear out to it; it's always +the same.' + +"'I'll larn him sunthin', sais he, 'when I get him to +home, and out o' sight that will do him good, and that +he won't forget for one while, I know.' + +"Soon arter this we came to Everett's public-house on +the bay, and I galloped up to the door, and went as close +as I cleverly could on purpose, and then reined up short +and sudden, when whap goes the pony right agin the side +of the house, and nearly killed himself. He never stirred +for the matter of two or three minutes. I actilly did +think he had gone for it, and Steve went right thro' the +winder on to the floor, with a holler noise, like a log +o' wood thrown on to the deck of a vessel. 'Eugh!' says +he, and he cut himself with the broken glass quite +ridikilous. + +"'Why,' sais Everett, 'as I am a livin' sinner this is +"the Grave-digger," he'll kill you, man, as sure as you +are born, he is the wickedest hoss that ever was seen in +these clearins here; and he is as blind as a bat too. No +man in Nova Scotia can manage that hoss but Goodish +Greevoy, and he'd manage the devil that feller, for he +is man, horse, shark, and sarpent all in one, that +Frenchman. What possessed you to buy such a varmint as +that?' + +"'Grave digger!' said doleful Steve, 'what is that?' + +"'Why,' sais he, 'they went one day to bury a man, down +to Clare did the French, and when they got to the grave, +who should be in it but the pony. He couldn't see, and +as he was a feedin' about, he tumbled in head over heels +and they called him always arterwards 'the Grave-digger.'" + +"'Very simple people them French,' sais I, 'Elder; they +don't know nothin' about hosses, do they? Their priests +keep them in ignorance on purpose.' + +"Steve winced and squinched his face properly; and said +the glass in his hands hurt him. Well, arter we sot all +to rights, we began to jog on towards Digby. The Elder +didn't say much, he was as chop fallen as a wounded moose; +at last, says he, 'I'll ship him to St. John, and sell +him. I'll put him on board of Captain Ned Leonard's +vessel, as soon as I get to Digby.' Well, as I turned my +head to answer him, and sot eyes on him agin, it most +sot me a haw, hawin' a second time, he _did_ look so like +Old Scratch. Oh Hedges! how haggardised he was! His new +hat was smashed down like a cap on the crown of his head, +his white cravat was bloody, his face all scratched, as +if he had been clapper-clawed by a woman, and his hands +was bound up with rags, where the glass cut 'em. The +white sand of the floor of Everett's parlour had stuck +to his damp clothes, and he looked like an old half corned +miller, that was a returnin' to his wife, arter a spree. +A leetle crest fallen for what he had got, a leetle mean +for the way he looked, and a leetle skeered for what he'd +catch, when he got to home. The way he sloped warn't no +matter. He was a pictur, and a pictur I must say, I liked +to look at. + +"And now Squire, do you take him off too, ingrave him, +and bind him up in your book, and let others look at it, +and put onder it '_the Elder and the Grave-digger_.'" + +"Well, when we got to town, the tide was high, and the +vessel jist ready to cast off, and Steve, knowin' how +skeer'd pony was of the water, got off to lead him, but +the critter guessed it warn't a bridge, for he smelt salt +water on both sides of him, and ahead too, and budge he +wouldn't. Well, they beat him most to death, but he beat +back agin with his heels, and it was a drawd fight. Then +they goes to the fence and gets a great strong pole, and +puts it across his hams, two men at each eend of the +pole, and shoved away, and shoved away, till they progressed +a yard or so; when pony squatted right down on the pole, +throwd over the men, and most broke their legs, with his +weight. + +"At last, the captain fetched a rope, and fixes it round +his neck, with a slip knot, fastens it to the windlass, +and dragged him in as they do an anchor, and tied him by +his bridle to the boom; and then shoved off, and got +under weigh. + +"Steve and I sot down on the wharf, for it was a beautiful +day, and looked at them driftin' out in the stream, and +hystin' sail, while the folks was gettin' somethin' ready +for us to the inn. + +"When they had got out into the middle of the channel, +took the breeze, and was all under way, and we was about +turnin' to go back, I saw the pony loose, he had slipped +his bridle, and not likin' the motion of the vessel, he +jist walked overboard, head fust, with a most a beautiful +splunge. + +"'_A most refreshin' time_,' said I, 'Elder, that critter +has of it. I hope _that sinner will be saved_.' + +"He sprung right up on eend, as if he had been stung by +a galley nipper, did Steve, 'Let me alone,' said he. +'What have I done to be jobed, that way? Didn't I keep +within the strict line o' truth? Did I tell that Frenchman +one mossel of a lie? Answer me, that, will you? I've been +cheated awful; but I scorn to take the advantage of any +man. You had better look to your own dealin's, and let +me alone, you pedlin', cheatin' Yankee clockmaker you.' + +"'Elder,' sais I, 'if you warn't too mean to rile a man, +I'd give you a kick on your pillion, that would send you +a divin' arter your hoss; but you ain't worth it. Don't +call me names tho', or I'll settle your coffee for you, +without a fish skin, afore you are ready to swaller it +I can _tell_ you. So keep your mouth shut, my old coon, +or your teeth might get sun-burnt. You think you are +angry with me; but you aint; you are angry with yourself. +You know you have showd yourself a proper fool for to +come, for to go, for to talk to a man that has seed so +much of the world as I have, bout "_refreshin' time_," +and "_outpourin' of spirit_," and "_makin' profession_" +and what not; and you know you showd yourself an everlastin' +rogue, a meditatin' of cheatin' that Frenchman all summer. +It's biter bit, and I don't pity you one mossel; it sarves +you right. But look at the grave-digger; he looks to me +as if he was a diggin' of his own grave in rael right +down airnest.' + +"The captain havin' his boat histed, and thinkin' the +hoss would swim ashore of hisself, kept right straight +on; and the hoss swam this way, and that way, and every +way but the right road, jist as the eddies took him. At +last, he got into the ripps off of Johnston's pint, and +they wheeled him right round and round like a whip-top. +Poor pony! he got his match at last. He struggled, and +jumpt, and plunged and fort, like a man, for dear life. +Fust went up his knowin' little head, that had no ears; +and he tried to jump up and rear out of it, as he used +to did out of a mire hole or honey pot ashore; but there +was no bottom there; nothin' for his hind foot to spring +from; so down he went agin ever so deep: and then he +tried t'other eend, and up went his broad rump, that had +no tail; but there was nothin' for the fore feet to rest +on nother; so he made a summerset, and as he went over, +he gave out a great long end wise kick to the full stretch +of his hind legs. + +"Poor feller! it was the last kick he ever gave in this +world; he sent his heels straight up on eend, like a pair +of kitchen tongs, and the last I see of him was a bright +dazzle, as the sun shined on his iron shoes, afore the +water closed over him for ever. + +"I railly felt sorry for the poor old 'grave-digger,' I +did upon my soul, for hosses and ladies are two things, +that a body can't help likin'. Indeed, a feller that +hante no taste that way ain't a man at all, in my opinion. +Yes, I felt ugly for poor 'grave-digger,' though I didn't +feel one single bit so for that cantin' cheatin', old +Elder. So when I turns to go, sais I, 'Elder,' sais I, +and I jist repeated his own words--'I guess it's your +turn to laugh now, for you have got the best of the +bargain, and no mistake. Goodish and the old mare are +jist alike, all tongue, ain't they? But these French is +a simple people, so they be; they don't know nothin', +that's a fact. Their priests keep 'em in ignorance a +puppus. + +"The next time you tell your experience to the great +Christian meetin' to Goose Creek, jist up and tell 'em, +from beginnin' to eend, the story of the--'_Elder and +the Grave-digger_.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +LOOKING BACK. + +In the course of the evening, Mr. Hopewell adverted to +his return as a matter of professional duty, and spoke +of it in such a feeling and earnest manner, as to leave +no doubt upon my mind, that we should not be able to +detain him long in this country, unless his attention +should be kept fully occupied by a constant change of +scene. + +Mr. Slick expressed to me the same fear, and, knowing +that I had been talking of going to Scotland, entreated +me not to be long absent, for he felt convinced that as +soon as he should be left alone, his thoughts and wishes +would at once revert to America. + +"I will try to keep him up," said he, "as well as I can, +but I can't do it alone. If you do go, don't leave us +long. Whenever I find him dull, and can't cheer him up +no how I can fix it, by talk, or fun, or sight seein' or +nothin', I make him vexed, and that excites him, stirs +him up with a pot stick, and is of great sarvice to him. +I don't mean actilly makin' him wrathy in airnest, but +jist rilin of him for his own good, by pokin' a mistake +at him. I'll shew you, presently, how I do it." + +As soon as Mr. Hopewell rejoined us, he began to inquire +into the probable duration of our visit to this country, +and expressed a wish to return, as soon as possible, to +Slickville. + +"Come, Minister," said Mr. Slick, tapping him on the +shoulder, "as father used to say, we must 'right about +face' now. When we are at home let us think of home, when +we are here, let us think of this place. Let us look +a-head, don't let's look back, for we can't see nothin' +there." + +"Indeed, Sam," said he, with a sad and melancholy air, +"it would be better for us all if we looked back oftener +than we do. From the errors of the past, we might rectify +our course for the future. Prospective sin is often +clothed in very alluring garments; past sin appears in +all its naked deformity. Looking back, therefore--" + +"Is very well," said Mr. Slick, "in the way of preachin'; +but lookin' back when you can't see nothin', as you are +now, is only a hurtin' of your eyes. I never hear that +word, 'lookin' back,' that I don't think of that funny +story of Lot's wife." + +"Funny story of Lot's wife, Sir! Do you call that a +funny story, Sir?" + +"I do, Sir." + +"You do, Sir?" + +"Yes, I do, Sir; and I defy you or any other man to say +it ain't a funny story." + +"Oh dear, dear," said Mr. Hopewell, "that I should have +lived to see the day when you, my son, would dare to +speak of a Divine judgment as a funny story, and that +you should presume so to address me." + +"A judgment, Sir?" + +"Yes, a judgment, Sir." + +"Do you call the story of Lot's wife a judgment?" + +"Yes, I do call the story of Lot's wife a judgment; a +monument of the Divine wrath for the sin of disobedience." + +"What! Mrs. Happy Lot? Do you call her a monument of +wrath? Well, well, if that don't beat all, Minister. If +you had a been a-tyin' of the night-cap last night I +shouldn't a wondered at your talkin' at that pace. But +to call that dear little woman, Mrs. Happy Lot, that +dancin', laughin' tormentin', little critter, a monument +of wrath, beats all to immortal smash." + +"Why who are you a-talkin' of, Sam?" + +"Why, Mrs. Happy Lot, the wife of the Honourable Cranbery +Lot, of Umbagog, to be sure. Who did you think I was +a-talkin' of?" + +"Well, I thought you was a-talkin' of--of--ahem--of +subjects too serious to be talked of in that manner; but +I did you wrong, Sam; I did you injustice. Give me your +hand, my boy. It's better for me to mistake and apologize, +than for you to sin and repent. I don't think I ever +heard of Mr. Lot, of Umbagog, or of his wife either. Sit +down here, and tell me the story, for 'with thee conversing, +I forget all time.'" + +"Well, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "I'll tell you the ins +and outs of it; and a droll story it is too. Miss Lot +was the darter of Enoch Mosher, the rich miser of Goshen; +as beautiful a little critter too, as ever slept in +shoe-leather. She looked for all the world like one of +the Paris fashion prints, for she was a parfect pictur', +that's a fact. Her complexion was made of white and red +roses, mixed so beautiful, you couldn't tell where the +white eended, or the red begun, natur' had used the +blendin' brush so delicate. Her eyes were screw augurs, +I tell _you_; they bored right into your heart, and kinder +agitated you, and made your breath come and go, and your +pulse flutter. I never felt nothin' like 'em. When lit +up, they sparkled like lamp reflectors; and at other +tunes, they was as soft, and mild, and clear as dew-drops +that hang on the bushes at sun-rise. When she loved, +she loved; and when she hated, she hated about the +wickedest you ever see. Her lips were like heart cherries +of the carnation kind; so plump, and fall, and hard, you +felt as if you could fall to and eat 'em right up. Her +voice was like a grand piany, all sorts o' power in it; +canary-birds' notes at one eend, and thunder at t'other, +accordin' to the humour she was in, for she was a'most +a grand bit of stuff was Happy, she'd put an edge on a +knife a'most. She was a rael steel. Her figur' was as +light as a fairy's, and her waist was so taper and tiny, +it seemed jist made for puttin' an arm round in walkin'. +She was as ac_tive_ and springy on her feet as a catamount, +and near about as touch me-not a sort of customer too. +She actilly did seem as if she was made out of steel +springs and chicken-hawk. If old Cran, was to slip off +the handle, I think I should make up to her, for she is +'a salt,' that's a fact, a most a heavenly splice. + +"Well, the Honourable Cranbery Lot put in for her, won +her, and married her. A good speculation it turned out +too, for he got the matter of one hundred thousand of +dollars by her, if he got a cent. As soon as they were +fairly welded, off they sot to take the tour of Europe, +and they larfed and cried, and kissed and quarrelled, +and fit and made up all over the Continent, for her temper +was as onsartain as the climate here--rain one minit +and sun the next; but more rain nor sun. + +"He was a fool, was Cranbery. He didn't know how to manage +her. His bridle hand warn't good, I tell you. A spry, +mettlesome hoss, and a dull critter with no action, don't +mate well in harness, that's a fact. + +"After goin' every where, and every where else amost, +where should they get to but the Alps. One arternoon, a +sincerely cold one it was too, and the weather, violent +slippy, dark overtook them before they reached the top +of one of the highest and steepest of them mountains, +and they had to spend the night at a poor squatter's +shanty. + +"Well, next mornin', jist at day-break, and sun-rise on +them everlastin' hills is tall sun-rise, and no mistake, +p'rhaps nothin was ever seen so fine except the first +one, since creation. It takes the rag off quite. Well, +she was an enterprisin' little toad, was Miss Lot too, +afeered of nothin' a'most; so nothin' would sarve her +but she must out and have a scramb up to the tip-topest +part of the peak afore breakfast. + +"Well, the squatter there, who was a kind o' guide, did +what he could to dispersuade her, but all to no purpose; +go she would, and a headstrong woman and a runaway hoss +are jist two things it's out of all reason to try to +stop; The only way is to urge 'em on, and then, bein' +contr_ary_ by natur', they stop of themselves. + +"'Well,' sais the guide, 'if you will go, marm, do take +this pike staff, marm,' sais he; (a sort of walkin'-stick +with a spike to the eend of it), 'for you can't get either +up or down them slopes without it, it is so almighty +slippy there.' So she took the staff, and off she sot +and climbed and climbed ever so far, till she didn't look +no bigger than a snowbird. + +"At last she came to a small flat place, like a table, +and then she turned round to rest, get breath, and take +a look at the glorious view; and jist as she hove-to, up +went her little heels, and away went her stick, right +over a big parpendicular cliff, hundreds and hundreds, +and thousands of feet deep. So deep, you couldn't see +the bottom for the shadows, for the very snow looked +black down there. There is no way in, it is so steep, +but over the cliff; and no way out, but one, and that +leads to t'other world. I can't describe it to you, +though. I have see'd it since myself. There are some +things too big to lift; some, too big to carry after they +be lifted; and some too grand for the tongue to describe +too. There's a notch where dictionary can't go no farther, +as well as every other created thing, that's a fact. +P'rhaps if I was to say it looked like the mould that +that 'are very peak was cast in, afore it was cold and +stiff, and sot up on eend, I should come as near the mark +as any thing I know on. + +"Well away she slid, feet and hands out, all flat on her +face, right away, arter her pike staff. Most people would +have ginn it up as gone goose, and others been so frightened +as not to do any thing at all; or at most only jist to +think of a prayer, for there was no time to say one. + +"But not so Lot's 'wife. She was of a conquerin' natur'. +She never gave nothin' up, till she couldn't hold on no +longer. She was one o' them critters that go to bed +mistress, and rise master; and just as she got to the +edge of the precipice, her head hangin' over, and her +eyes lookin' down, and she all but ready to shoot out +and launch away into bottomless space, the ten commandments +brought her right short up. Oh, she sais, the sudden joy +of that sudden stop swelled her heart so big, she thought +it would have bust like a byler; and, as it was, the +great endurin' long breath she drew, arter such an alfired +escape, almost killed her at the ebb, it hurt her so." + +"But," said Mr. Hopewell, "how did the ten commandments +save her? Do you mean that figuratively, or literally. +Was it her reliance on providence, arising from a conscious +observance of the decalogue all her life, or was it a +book containing them, that caught against some thing, +and stopt her descent. It is very interesting. Many a +person, Sam, has been saved when at the brink of +destruction, by laying fast hold on the bible. Who can +doubt, that the commandments had a Divine origin? Short, +simple and yet comprehensive; the first four point to +our duty to our Maker, the last six, towards our social +duties. In this respect there is a great similarity of +structure, to that excellent prayer given us--" + +"Oh, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "I beg your pardon, I +do, indeed, I don't mean that at all; and I do declare +and vow now, I wasn't a playin' possum with you, nother. +I won't do it no more, I won't, indeed." + +"Well, what did you mean then?" + +"Why I meant her ten fingers, to be sure. When a woman +clapper claws her husband, we have a cant tarm with us +boys of Slickville, savin' she gave him her ten +commandments." + +"And a very improper expression too, Sir," said Mr. +Hopewell; "a very irreverent, indecent, and I may say +profane expression; I am quite shocked. But as you say +you didn't mean it, are sorry for it, and will not repeat +it again, I accept your apology, and rely on your promise. +Go on, Sir." + +"Well, as I was a savin', the moment she found herself +a coasting of it that way, flounder fashion, she hung on +by her ten com--I mean her ten fingers, and her ten toes, +like grim death to a dead nigger, and it brought her up +jist in time. But how to get back was the question? To +let go the hold of any one hand was sartain death, and +there was nobody to help her, and yet to hold on long +that way, she couldn't, no how she could fix it. + +"So what does she do, (for nothin' equals a woman for +contrivances), but move one finger at a time, and then +one toe at a time, till she gets a new hold, and then +crawls backward, like a span-worm, an inch at a hitch. +Well, she works her passage this way, wrong eend foremost, +by backin' of her paddles for the matter of half an hour +or so, till she gets to where it was roughish, and +somethin' like standin' ground, when who should come by +but a tall handsome man, with a sort of a half coat, half +cloak-like coverin' on, fastened round the waist with a +belt, and havin' a hood up, to ambush the head. + +"The moment she clapt eyes on him, she called to him for +help. 'Oh,' sais she, 'for heaven's sake, good man, help +me up! Jist take hold of my leg and draw me back, will +you, that's a good soul?' And then she held up fust one +leg for him, and then the other, most beseechin', but +nothin' would move him. He jist stopt, looked back for +a moment and then progressed agin. + +"Well, it ryled her considerable. Her eyes actilly snapped +with fire, like a hemlock log at Christmas: (for nothin' +makes a woman so mad as a parsonal slight, and them little +ankles of hern were enough to move the heart of a stone, +and make it jump out o' the ground, that's a fact, they +were such fine-spun glass ones), it made her so mad, it +gave her fresh strength; and makin' two or three onnateral +efforts, she got clear back to the path, and sprung right +up on eend, as wicked as a she-bear with a sore head. +But when she got upright agin, she then see'd what a +beautiful frizzle of a fix she was in. She couldn't hope +to climb far; and, indeed, she didn't ambition to; she'd +had enough of that, for one spell. But climbin' up was +nothin', compared to goin' down hill without her staff; +so what to do, she didn't know. + +"At last, a thought struck her. She intarmined to make +that man help her, in spite of him. So she sprung forward +for a space, like a painter, for life or death, and caught +right hold of his cloak. 'Help--help me!' said she, 'or +I shall go for it, that's sartain. Here's my puss, my +rings, my watch, and all I have got; but oh, help me! +for the love of God, help me, or my flint is fixed for +good and all.' + +"With that, the man turned round, and took one glance at +her, as if he kinder relented, and then, all at once, +wheeled back again, as amazed as if he was jist born, +gave an awful yell, and started off as fast as he could +clip, though that warn't very tall runnin' nother, +considerin' the ground. But she warn't to be shook off +that way. She held fast to his cloak, like a burr to a +sheep's tail, and raced arter him, screamin' and screechin' +like mad; and the more she cried, the louder he yelled, +till the mountains all echoed it and re-echoed it, so +that you would have thought a thousand devils had broke +loose, a'most. + +"Such a gettin' up stairs you never did see. + +"Well, they kept up this tantrum for the space of two or +three hundred yards, when they came to a small, low, +dismal-lookin' house, when the man gave the door a kick, +that sent the latch a flyin' off to the t'other eend of +the room, and fell right in on the floor, on his face, +as flat as a flounder, a groanin' and a moanin' like any +thing, and lookin' as mean as a critter that was sent +for, and couldn't come, and as obstinate as a pine stump. + +"'What ails you?' sais she, 'to act like Old Scratch that +way? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, to behave so +to a woman. What on airth is there about me to frighten +you so, you great onmannerly, onmarciful, coward, you. +Come, scratch up, this minute.' + +"Well, the more she talked, the more he groaned; but the +devil a word, good or bad, could she get out of him at +all. With that, she stoops down, and catches up his +staff, and says she, 'I have as great a mind to give you +a jab with this here toothpick, where your mother used +to spank you, as ever I had in all my life. But if you +want it, my old 'coon, you must come and get it; for if +you won't help me, I shall help myself.' + +"Jist at that moment, her eyes being better accustomed +to the dim light of the place, she see'd a man, a sittin' +at the fur eend of the room, with his back to the wall, +larfin' ready to kill himself. He grinned so, he showed +his corn-crackers from ear to ear. She said, he stript +his teeth like a catamount, he look'd so all mouth. + +"Well, that encouraged her, for there ain't much harm in +a larfin' man; it's only them that never larf that's +fearfulsome. So sais she 'My good man, will you he so +kind as to lend me your arm down this awful peak, and I +will reward you handsomely, you may depend.' + +"Well, he made no answer, nother; and thinkin' he didn't +onderstand English, she tried him in Italian, and then +in broken French, and then bungled out a little German; +but no, still no answer. He took no more notice of her +and her mister, and senior, and mountsheer, and mynheer, +than if he never heerd them titles, but jist larfed on. + +"She stopped a minit, and looked at him full in the face, +to see what he meant by all this ongenteel behaviour, +when all of a sudden, jist as she moved one step nearer +to him, she saw he was a dead man, and had been so long +there, part of the flesh had dropt off or dried off his +face; and it was that that made him grin that way, like +a fox-trap. It was the bone-house they was in. The place +where poor, benighted, snow-squalled stragglers, that +perish on the mountains, are located, for their friends +to come and get them, if they want 'em; and if there +ain't any body that knows 'em or cares for 'em, why they +are left there for ever, to dry into nothin' but parchment +and atomy, as it's no joke diggin' a grave in that frozen +region. + +"As soon as she see'd this, she never said another blessed +word, but jist walked off with the livin' man's pike, +and began to poke her way down the mountain as careful +as she cleverly could, dreadful tired, and awful frighted. + +"Well, she hadn't gone far, afore she heard her name +echoed all round her--Happy! Happy! Happy! It seemed from +the echoes agin, as if there was a hundred people a +yelling it put all at once. + +"Oh, very happy,' said she, 'very happy, indeed; guess +you'd find it so if you was here. I know I should feel +very happy if I was out of it, that's all; for I believe, +on my soul, this is harnted ground, and the people in it +are possessed. Oh, if I was only to home, to dear Umbagog +agin, no soul should ever ketch me in this outlandish +place any more, _I_ know.' + +"Well, the sound increased and increased so, like young +thunder she was e'en a'most skeared to death, and in a +twitteration all over; and her knees began to shake so, +she expected to go for it every minute; when a sudden +turn of the path show'd her her husband and the poor +squatter a sarchin' for her. + +"She was so overcome with fright and joy, she could hardly +speak--and it warn't a trifle that would toggle her +tongue, that's a fact. It was some time after she arrived +at the house afore she could up and tell the story +onderstandable; and when she did, she had to tell it +twice over, first in short hand, and then in long metre, +afore she could make out the whole bill o' parcels. +Indeed, she hante done tellin' it yet, and wherever she +is, she works round, and works round, till she gets Europe +spoke of, and then she begins, 'That reminds me of a most +remarkable fact. Jist after I was married to Mr. Lot, we +was to the Alps.' + +"If ever you see her, and she begins that way, up hat +and cut stick, double quick, or you'll find the road over +the Alps to Umbagog, a little the longest you've ever +travelled, I know. + +"Well, she had no sooner done than Cranbery jumps up on +eend, and sais he to the guide, 'Uncle,' sais he, 'jist +come along with me, that's a good feller, will you? We +must return that good Samaritan's' cane to him; and as +he must be considerable cold there, I'll jist warm his +hide a bit for him, to make his blood sarculate. If he +thinks I'll put that treatment to my wife, Miss Lot, into +my pocket, and walk off with it, he's mistaken in the +child, that's all, Sir. He may be stubbeder than I be, +Uncle, that's a fact; but if he was twice as stubbed, +I'd walk into him like a thousand of bricks. I'll give +him a taste of my breed. Insultin' a lady is a weed we +don't suffer to grow in our fields to Umbagog. Let him +be who the devil he will, log-leg or leather-breeches +--green-shirt or blanket-coat--land-trotter or river-roller, +I'll let him know there is a warrant out arter him, I know." + +"'Why,' sais the guide, 'he couldn't help himself, no +how he could work it. He is a friar, or a monk, or a +hermit, or a pilgrim, or somethin' or another of that +kind, for there is no eend to them, they are so many +different sorts; but the breed he is of, have a vow never +to look at a woman, or talk to a woman, or touch a woman, +and if they do, there is a penance, as long as into the +middle of next week.' + +"'Not look at a woman?' sais Cran, 'why, what sort of a +guess world would this be without petticoats?--what a +superfine superior tarnation fool he must be, to jine +such a tee-total society as that. Mint julip I could give +up, I _do_ suppose, though I had a plaguy sight sooner +not do it, that's a fact: but as for womankind, why the +angeliferous little torments, there is no livin' without +_them_. What do you think, stranger?' + +"'Sartainly,' said Squatter; 'but seein' that the man +had a vow, why it warn't his fault, for he couldn't do +nothin' else. Where _he_ did wrong, was _to look back_; +if he hadn't a _looked back_, he wouldn't have sinned.' + +"'Well, well,' sais Cran, 'if that's the case, it is a +hoss of another colour, that. I won't look back nother, +then. Let him he. But he is erroneous considerable.' + +"So you see, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "where there is +nothin' to be gained, and harm done, by this retrospection, +as you call it, why I think lookin' a-head is far better +than--_lookin' back_." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +CROSSING THE BORDER. + +The time had now arrived when it was necessary for me to +go to Scotland, for a few days. I had two very powerful +reasons for this excursion:--first, because an old and +valued friend of mine was there, whom I had not met for +many years, and whom I could not think of leaving this +country without seeing again; and secondly, because I +was desirous of visiting the residence of my forefathers +on the Tweed, which, although it had passed out of their +possession many years ago, was still endeared to me as +their home, as the scene of the family traditions; and +above all, as their burial place. + +The grave is the first stage on the journey, from this +to the other world. We are permitted to escort our +friends so far, and no further; it is there we part for +ever. It is there the human form is deposited, when +mortality is changed for immortality. This burial place +contains no one that I have ever seen or known; but it +contains the remains of those from whom I derived my +lineage and my name. I therefore naturally desired to +see it. + +Having communicated my intention to my two American +companions, I was very much struck with the different +manner in which they received the announcement. + +"Come back soon, Squire," said Mr. Slick; "go and see +your old friend, if you must, and go to the old campin' +grounds of your folks; though the wigwam I expect has +gone long ago, but don't look at anythin' else. I want +we should visit the country together. I have an idea from +what little I have seed of it, Scotland is over-rated. +I guess there is a good deal of romance about their old +times; and that, if we knowed all, their old lairds warn't +much better, or much richer than our Ingian chiefs; much +of a muchness. Kinder sorter so, and kinder sorter not +so, no great odds. Both hardy, both fierce; both as poor +as Job's Turkey, and both tarnation proud, at least, +that's my idea to a notch. + +"I have often axed myself what sort of a gall that +splenderiferous, 'Lady of the Lake' of Scott's was, and +I kinder guess she was a red-headed Scotch heifer, with +her hair filled with heather, and feather, and lint, with +no shoes and stockings to her feet, and that + + "Her lips apart + Like monument of Grecian art" + +meant that she stared with her eyes and mouth wide open, +like other county galls that never see'd nothing before--a +regilar screetch owl in petticoats. And I suspicion, that +Mr. Rob Roy was a sort of thievin' devil of a white +Mohawk, that found it easier to steal cattle, than raise +them himself; and that Loch Katrin, that they make such +a touss about, is jist about equal to a good sizeable +duck-pond in our country; at least, that's my idea. For +I tell you it does not do to follow arter a poet, and +take all he says for gospel. + +"Yes, let's go and see Sawney in his "Ould _Reeky_." +Airth and seas! if I have any nose at all, there never +was a place so well named as that. Phew! let me light a +cigar to get rid of the fogo of it. + +"Then let's cross over and see "Pat at Home;" let's look +into matters and things there, and see what "Big Dan" is +about, with his "association" and "agitation" and "repail" +and "tee-totals." Let's see whether it's John Bull or +Patlander that's to blame, or both on 'em; six of one +and half-a-dozen of tother. By Gosh! Minister would talk, +more sense in one day to Ireland, than has been talked +there since the rebellion; for common sense is a word +that don't grow like Jacob's ladder, in them diggins, I +guess. It's about, as stunted as Gineral Nichodemus Ott's +corn was. + +"The Gineral was takin' a ride with a southerner one day +over his farm to Bangor in Maine, to see his crops, fixin +mill privileges and what not, and the southerner was a +turning up his nose at every thing amost, proper scorney, +and braggin' how things growed on his estate down south. +At last the Gineral's ebenezer began to rise, and he got +as mad as a hatter, and was intarmed to take a rise out +of him. + +"'So,' says he, 'stranger,' says he, 'you talk about your +Indgian corn, as if nobody else raised any but yourself. +Now I'll bet you a thousand dollars, I have corn that's +growd so wonderful, you can't reach the top of it a +standin' on your horse.' + +"'Done,' sais Southener, and 'Done,' sais the General, +and done it was. + +"'Now,' sais the Giniral, 'stand up on your saddle like +a circus rider, for the field is round that corner of +the wood there.' And the entire stranger stood up as +stiff as a poker. 'Tall corn, I guess,' sais he, 'if I +can't reach it, any how, for I can e'en a'most reach the +top o' them trees. I think I feel them thousand dollars +of yourn, a marchin' quick step into my pocket, four +deep. Reach your corn, to be sure I will. Who the plague, +ever see'd corn so tall, that a man couldn't reach it a +horseback.' + +"'Try it,' sais the Gineral, as he led him into the field, +where the corn was only a foot high, the land was so +monstrous, mean and so beggarly poor. + +"'Reach it,' sais the Gineral. + +"'What a damned Yankee trick,' sais the Southener. 'What +a take in this is, ain't it?' and he leapt, and hopt, +and jumped like a snappin' turtle, he was so mad. Yes, +common sense to Ireland, is like Indgian corn to Bangor, +it ain't overly tall growin', that's a fact. We must see +both these countries together. It is like the nigger's +pig to the West Indies "little and dam old." + +"Oh, come back soon, Squire, I have a thousand things, +I want to tell you, and I shall forget one half o' them, +if you don't; and besides," said he in an onder tone, +"_he_" (nodding his head towards Mr. Hopewell,) "will +miss you shockingly. He frets horridly about his flock. +He says, ''Mancipation and Temperance have superceded +the Scriptures in the States. That formerly they preached +religion there, but now they only preach about niggers +and rum.' Good bye, Squire." + +"You do right, Squire," said Mr. Hopewell, "to go. That +which has to be done, should be done soon, for we have +not always the command of our time. See your friend, for +the claims of friendship are sacred; and see your family +tomb-stones also, for the sight of them, will awaken a +train of reflections in a mind like yours, at once +melancholy and elevating; but I will not deprive you of +the pleasure you will derive from first impressions, by +stripping them of their novelty. You will be pleased with +the Scotch; they are a frugal, industrious, moral and +intellectual people. I should like to see their agriculture, +I am told it is by far the best in Europe. + +"But, Squire, I shall hope to see you soon, for I sometimes +think duty calls me home again. Although my little flock +has chosen other shepherds and quitted my fold, some of +them may have seen their error, and wish to return. And +ought I not to be there to receive them? It is true, I +am no longer a labourer in the vineyard, but my heart is +there. I should like to walk round and round the wall +that encloses it, and climb up, and look into it, and +talk to them that are at work there. I might give some +advice that would be valuable to them. The blossoms +require shelter, and the fruit requires heat, and the +roots need covering in Winter. The vine too is luxuriant, +and must be pruned, or it will produce nothing but wood. +It demands constant care and constant labour; I had +decorated the little place with flowers too, to make it +attractive and pleasant. + +"But, ah me! dissent will pull all these up like weeds, +and throw them out; and scepticism will raise nothing +but gaudy annuals. The perennials will not flourish +without cultivating and enriching the ground; _their +roots are in the heart_. The religion of our Church, +which is the same as this of England, is a religion which +inculcates love: filial love towards God; paternal love +to those committed to our care; brotherly love, to our +neighbour, nay, something more than is known by that term +in its common acceptation, for we are instructed to love +our neighbour as ourselves. + +"We are directed to commence our prayer with "Our Father." +How much of love, of tenderness, of forbearance, of +kindness, of liberality, is embodied in that word-- +children: of the same father, members of the same great +human family I Love is the bond of union--love dwelleth +in the heart; and the heart must be cultivated, that the +seeds of affection may germinate in it. + +"Dissent is cold and sour; it never appeals to the +affections, but it scatters denunciations, and rules by +terror. Scepticism is proud and self-sufficient. It +refuses to believe in mysteries and deals in rhetoric +and sophistry, and flatters the vanity, by exalting human +reason. My poor lost flock will see the change, and I +fear, feel it too. Besides, absence is a temporary death. +Now I am gone from them, they will forget my frailties +and infirmities, and dwell on what little good might have +been in me, and, perhaps, yearn towards me. + +"If I was to return, perhaps I could make an impression +on the minds of some, and recall two or three, if not +more, to a sense of duty. What a great thing that would +be, wouldn't it? And if I did, I would get our bishop to +send me a pious, zealous, humble-minded, affectionate, +able young man, as a successor; and I would leave my +farm, and orchard, and little matters, as a glebe for +the Church. And who knows but the Lord may yet rescue +Slickville from the inroads of ignorant fanatics, political +dissenters, and wicked infidels? + +"And besides, my good friend, I have much to say to you, +relative to the present condition and future prospects +of this great country. I have lived to see a few ambitious +lawyers, restless demagogues, political preachers, and +unemployed local officers of provincial regiments, agitate +and sever thirteen colonies at one time from the government +of England. I have witnessed the struggle. It was a +fearful, a bloody and an unnatural one. My opinions, +therefore, are strong in proportion as my experience is +great. I have abstained on account of their appearing +like preconceptions from saying much to you yet, for I +want to see more of this country, and to be certain, that +I am quite right before I speak. + +"When you return, I will give you my views on some of +the great questions of the day. Don't adopt them, hear +them and compare them with your own. I would have you +think for yourself, for I am an old man now and sometimes +I distrust my powers of mind. + +"The state of this country you, in your situation, ought +to be thoroughly acquainted with. It is a very perilous +one. Its prosperity, its integrity, nay its existence +as a first-rate power, hangs by a thread, and that thread +but little better and stronger than a cotton one. _Quem +Deus vult perdere prius dementat_. I look in vain for +that constitutional vigour, and intellectual power, which +once ruled the destinies of this great nation. + +"There is an aberration of intellect, and a want of +self-possession here that alarms me. I say, alarms me, +for American as I am by birth, and republican as I am +from the force of circumstances, I cannot but regard +England with great interest, and with great affection. +What a beautiful country! What a noble constitution! What +a high minded, intelligent, and generous people! When +the Whigs came into office, the Tories were not a party, +they were the people of England. Where and what are they +now? Will they ever have a lucid interval, or again +recognise the sound of their own name? And yet, Sam, +doubtful as the prospect of their recovery is, and fearful +as the consequences of a continuance of their malady +appear to be, one thing is most certain, _a Tory government +is the proper government for a monarchy, a suitable one +for any country, but it is the only one for England_. I +do not mean an ultra one, for I am a moderate man, and +all extremes are equally to be avoided. I mean a temperate, +but firm one: steady to its friends, just to its enemies, +and inflexible to all. "When compelled to yield, it should +be by the force of reason, and never by the power of +agitation. Its measures should be actuated by a sense +of what is right, and not what is expedient, for to +concede is to recede--to recede is to evince weakness +--and to betray weakness is to invite attack. + +"I am a stranger here. I do not understand this new word, +Conservatism. I comprehend the other two, Toryism and +Liberalism. The one is a monarchical, and the other a +republican word. The term, Conservatism, I suppose, +designates a party formed out of the moderate men of both +sides, or rather, composed of Low-toned Tories and High +Whigs. I do not like to express a decided opinion yet, +but my first impression is always adverse to mixtures, +for a mixture renders impure the elements of which it is +compounded. Every thing will depend on the preponderance +of the wholesome over the deleterious ingredients. I will +analyse it carefully. See how one neutralizes or improves +the other, and what the effect of the compound is likely +to be on the constitution. I will request our Ambassador, +Everett, or Sam's friend, the Minister Extraordinary, +Abednego Layman, to introduce me to Sir Robert Peel, and +will endeavour to obtain all possible information from +the best possible source. + +"On your return I will give you a candid and deliberate +opinion." + +After a silence of some minutes, during which he walked +up and down the room in a fit of abstraction, he suddenly +paused, and said, as if thinking aloud-- + +"Hem, hem--so you are going to cross the border, eh? That +northern intellect is strong. Able men the Scotch, a +little too radical in politics, and a little too liberal, +as it is called, in a matter of much greater consequence; +bat a superior people, on the whole. They will give you +a warm reception, will the Scotch. Your name will insure +that; and they are clannish; and another warm reception +will, I assure you, await you here, when, returning, you +again _Cross the Border_." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE IRISH PREFACE. + +Gentle reader, + +If an Irishman were asked what a preface was, he would, +without hesitation reply, that it was the last chapter +of a book, and we should unquestionably pronounce that +answer to be a bull; for how can prefatory remarks be +valedictory ones? A few moments' consideration, however, +would induce us to withdraw such a hasty opinion, and +convince us that his idea is, after all, a correct one. +It is almost always the part that is last written, and +_we_ perpetrate the bull, by placing it at the beginning +instead of the end of the book, and denominating our +parting words introductory remarks. + +The result of our arrangement is, that nobody reads it. +The public do not want to hear an apology or explanation, +until it first ascertains, whether the one can be accepted, +or the other is required. This contemptuous neglect +arises from two causes, first because it is out of place, +and secondly because it too often contains a great deal +of twaddle. Unfortunately, one half of what is said in +this world is unmeaning compliment. A man who wishes to +mark his respect for you, among other inconvenient methods +of shewing it, offers to accompany you to the Hall. You +are in consequence arrested in your progress. You are +compelled to turn on your pursuer, and entreat him not +to come to the door. After a good deal of lost time he +is prevailed upon to return. This is not fair. Every man +should be suffered to depart in peace. + +Now, it is my intention to adopt the Irish definition. +The word preface is a misnomer. What I have to say I +shall put into my last chapter, and assign to it its +proper place. I shall also adopt another improvement, on +the usual practice. I shall make it as short as possible, +and speak to the point. + +My intention then, gentle reader, was when I commenced +this work, to write but one volume, and at some future +time to publish a second. The materials, however, were +so abundant, that selection became very difficult, and +compression much more so. To touch as many topics as I +designed, I was compelled to extend it to its present +size, and I still feel that the work is only half done. +Whether I shall ever be able to supply this deficiency +I cannot say. I do not doubt your kind reception; I have +experienced too much indulgence and favour at your hands, +to suppose that you will withdraw it from one whom you +have honoured with repeated marks of approbation; but I +entertain some fears that I shall not be able to obtain +the time that is necessary for its completion, and that +if I can command the leisure, my health will insist on +a prior claim to its disposal. + +If, however, I shall be enabled so to do, it is my +intention, hereafter to add another series of the Sayings +and Doings of the Attache, so as to make the work as +complete as possible. + +I am quite confident it is not necessary to add, that +the sentiments uttered by Mr. Slick, are not designed +either as an expression of those of the author, or of +the Americans who visit this country. With respect to +myself no disavowal is necessary; but I feel it due to +my American friends, for whose kindness I can never be +sufficiently grateful, and whose good opinion I value +too highly to jeopardise it by any misapprehension, to +state distinctly, that I have not the most remote idea +of putting Mr. Slick forward, as a representative of any +opinions, but his own individual ones. They are peculiar +to himself. They naturally result from his +shrewdness--knowledge of human nature--quickness of +perception and appreciation of the ridiculous on the one +hand; and on the other from his defective education, +ignorance of the usages of society, and sudden elevation, +from the lower walks of life, to a station for which he +was wholly unqualified. + +I have endeavoured, as far as it was possible, in a work +of this kind, to avoid all personal allusions to _private_ +persons, or in any way to refer to scenes that may he +supposed to have such a hearing. Should any one imagine +that he can trace any resemblance, to any private occurrence +I can only assure him that such resemblance is quite +accidental. + +On the other hand, I have lost no opportunity of inculcating +what I conceive to be good sound constitutional doctrines. +Loyal myself, a great admirer of the monarchical form of +government; attached to British Institutions, and a +devoted advocate for the permanent connexion between the +parent State, and its transatlantic possessions, I have +not hesitated to give utterance to these opinions. Born +a Colonist, it is natural I should have the feelings of +one, and if I have obtruded local matters on the notice +of the reader oftener than may be thought necessary, it +must be remembered that an inhabitant of those distant +countries has seldom an opportunity of being heard. I +should feel, therefore, if I were to pass over in silence +our claims or our interests, I was affording the best +justification for that neglect, which for the last half +century, has cramped our energies, paralized our efforts, +and discouraged and disheartened ourselves. England is +liberal in concessions, and munificent in her pecuniary +grants to us; but is so much engrossed with domestic +politics, that she will bestow upon us neither time nor +consideration. + +It has been my object, therefore, to convey to the public +some important truths, under a humorous cover, which, +without the amusement afforded by the wrapper would never +be even looked at. + +This portion of the work requires no apology. To do as +I have done, is a duty incumbent on any person who has +the means of doing good, afforded him by such an extensive +circulation of his works, as I have been honoured with. + +I have already expressed some doubts whether I shall be +enabled to furnish a second series of this work or not. +In this uncertainty, I will not omit this, perhaps my +only opportunity, of making my most grateful +acknowledgments, for the very great measure of indulgence +I have received, from the public on both sides of the +Atlantic, and of expressing a hope that Mr. Slick, who +has been so popular as a Clockmaker may prove himself +equally deserving of favour as "an Attache." + +I have the honour to subscribe myself, + +Your most obedient servant, + +THE AUTHOR. + +London, July 1st., 1843. + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Attache; or, Sam Slick in England +by Thomas Chandler Haliburton + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATTACHE *** + +This file should be named ttchc10.txt or ttchc10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, ttchc11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ttchc10a.txt + +This etext was produced by Gardner Buchanan. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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