He stormed, and raved, and swore, and threw his cap down on the deck and jumped on it, and stretched out his arm as if he was going to fight, and stretched out his wizzened face, as if it made halloing easier, and foamed at the mouth like a hoss that has eat lobelia in his hay.

"Be gar," he said, "I shall sue you before the common scoundrels (council) at Halifax, I shall take it before the sperm (supreme) court, and try it out."

"How much ile will you get," sais I, "by tryin' me out, do you think?

"Never mind," said I, in a loud voice, and looking over him at the mate, and pretending to answer him. "Never mind if he won't go on shore, he is welcome to stay, and we will land him on the Isle of Sable, and catch a wild hoss for him to swim home on."

The hint was electrical; he picked up his cap and ran aft, and with one desperate leap reached the wharf in safety, when he turned and danced as before with rage, and his last audible words were, "Be gar, I shall go to the sperm court and try it out."

"In the world before the Flood, you see, Doctor," said I, "they knew how to cheat as well as the present race do; the only improvement this fellow has made on the antediluvian race is, he can take himself in, as well as others."

"I have often thought," said the doctor, "that in our dealings in life, and particularly in trading, a difficult question must often arise whether a thing, notwithstanding the world sanctions it, is lawful and right. Now what is your idea of smuggling?"

"I never smuggled," said I: "I have sometimes imported goods and didn't pay the duties; not that I wanted to smuggle, but because I hadn't time to go to the office. It's a good deal of trouble to go to a custom-house. When you get there you are sure to be delayed, and half the time to git sarce. It costs a good deal; no one thanks you, and nobody defrays cab-hire, and makes up for lost time, temper, and patience to you—it don't pay in a general way; sometimes it will; for instance, when I left the embassy, I made thirty thousand pounds of your money by one operation. Lead was scarce in our market, and very high, and the duty was one-third of the prime cost, as a protection to the native article. So what does I do, but go to old Galena, one of the greatest dealers in the lead trade in Great Britain, and ascertained the wholesale price.

"Sais I, 'I want five hundred thousand dollars worth of lead.'

"'That is an immense order,' said he, 'Mr Slick. There is no market in the world that can absorb so much at once.'

"'The loss will be mine,' said I. 'What deductions will you make if I take it all from your house?'

"Well, he came down handsome, and did the thing genteel.

"'Now,' sais I, 'will you let one of your people go to my cab, and bring a mould I have there.'

"Well, it was done.

"'There,' said I, 'is a large bust of Washington. Every citizen of the United States ought to have one, if he has a dust of patriotism in him. I must have the lead cast into rough busts like that.'

"'Hollow,' said he, 'of course.'

"'No, no,' sais I, 'by no manner of means, the heavier and solider the better.'

"'But,' said Galena, 'Mr Slick, excuse me, though it is against my own interest, I cannot but suggest you might find a cheaper material, and one more suitable to your very laudable object.'

"'Not at all,' said I, 'lead is the very identical thing. If a man don't like the statue and its price, and it's like as not he wont, he will like the lead. There is no duty on statuary, but there is more than thirty per cent. on lead. The duty alone is a fortune of not less than thirty thousand pounds, after all expenses are paid.'

"'Well now,' said he, throwing back his head and laughing, 'that is the most ingenious device to evade duties I ever heard of.'

"I immediately gave orders to my agents at Liverpool to send so many tons to Washington and every port and place on the seaboard of the United States except New York, but not too many to any one town; and then I took passage in a steamer, and ordered all my agents to close the consignment immediately, and let the lead hero change hands. It was generally allowed to be the handsomest operation ever performed in our country. Connecticut offered to send me to Congress for it, the folks felt so proud of me.

"But I don't call that smugglin'. It is a skilful reading of a revenue law. My idea of smugglin' is, there is the duty, and there is the penalty; pay one and escape the other if you like, if not, run your chance of the penalty. If the state wants revenue, let it collect its dues. If I want my debts got in, I attend to drummin' them up together myself; let government do the same. There isn't a bit of harm in smugglin'. I don't like a law restraining liberty. Let them that impose shackles look to the bolts; that's my idea."

"That argument won't hold water, Slick," said the doctor.

"Why?"

"Because it is as full of holes as a cullender.'

"How?"

"The obligation between a government and a people is reciprocal. To protect on the one hand, and to support on the other. Taxes are imposed, first, for the maintenance of the government, and secondly, for such other objects as are deemed necessary or expedient. The moment goods are imported, which are subject to such exactions, the amount of the tax is a debt due to the state, the evasion or denial of which is a fraud. The penalty is not an alternative at your option; it is a punishment, and that always presupposes an offence. There is no difference between defrauding the state or an individual. Corporeality, or incorporeality, has nothing to do with the matter."

"Well," sais I, "Domine Doctor, that doctrine of implicit obedience to the government won't hold water neither, otherwise, if you had lived in Cromwell's time, you would have to have assisted in cutting the king's head off, or fight in an unjust war, or a thousand other wicked but legal things. I believe every tub must stand on its own bottom; general rules won't do. Take each separate, and judge of it by itself."

"Exactly," sais the doctor; "try that in law and see how it would work. No two cases would be decided alike; you'd be adrift at once, and a drifting ship soon touches bottom. No, that won't hold water. Stick to general principles, and if a thing is an exception to the rule, put it in Schedule A or B, and you know where to look for it. General rules are fixed principles. But you are only talking for talk sake; I know you are. Do you think now that merchant did right to aid you in evading the duty on your leaden Washingtons?"

"What the plague had he to do with our revenue laws? They don't bind him," sais I.

"No," said the doctor, "but there is a higher law than the statutes of the States or of England either, and that is the moral law. In aiding you, he made the greatest sale of lead ever effected at once in England; the profit on that was his share of the smuggling. But you are only drawing me out to see what I am made of. You are an awful man for a bam. There goes old Lewis in his fishing boat," sais he. "Look at him shaking his fist at you. Do you hear him jabbering away about trying it out in the 'sperm court?'"

"I'll make him draw his fist in, I know," sais I. So I seized my rifle, and stepped behind the mast, so that he could not see me; and as a large grey gull was passing over his boat high up in the air, I fired, and down it fell on the old coon's head so heavily and so suddenly, he thought he was shot; and he and the others set up a yell of fright and terror that made everybody on board of the little fleet of coasters that were anchored round us, combine in three of the heartiest, merriest, and loudest cheers I ever heard.

"Try that out in the sperm court, you old bull-frog," sais I. "I guess there is more ile to be found in that fishy gentleman than in me. Well," sais I, "Doctor, to get back to what we was a talking of. It's a tight squeeze sometimes to scrouge between a lie and a truth in business, ain't it? The passage is so narrow, if you don't take care it will rip your trowser buttons off in spite of you. Fortunately I am thin, and can do it like an eel, squirmey fashion; but a stout, awkward fellow is most sure to be catched.

"I shall never forget a rise I once took out of a set of jockeys at Albany. I had an everlastin' fast Naraganset pacer once to Slickville, one that I purchased in Mandarin's place. I was considerable proud of him, I do assure you, for he took the rag off the bush in great style. Well, our stable-help, Pat Monaghan (him I used to call Mr Monaghan), would stuff him with fresh clover without me knowing it, and as sure as rates, I broke his wind in driving him too fast. It gave him the heaves, that is, it made his flanks heave like a blacksmith's bellows. We call it 'heaves,' Britishers call it 'broken wind.' Well, there is no cure for it, though some folks tell you a hornet's nest cut up fine and put in their meal will do it, and others say sift the oats clean and give them juniper berries in it, and that will do it, or ground ginger, or tar, or what not; but these are all quackeries. You can't cure it, for it's a ruption of an air vessel, and you can't get at it to sew it up. But you can fix it up by diet and care, and proper usage, so that you can deceive even an old hand, providin' you don't let him ride or drive the beast too fast.

"Well, I doctored and worked with him so, the most that could be perceived was a slight cold, nothin' to mind, much less frighten you. And when I got him up to the notch, I advertised him for sale, as belonging to a person going down east, who only parted with him because he thought him too heavey for a man who never travelled less than a mile in two minutes and twenty seconds. Well, he was sold at auction, and knocked down to Rip Van Dam, the Attorney-General, for five hundred dollars; and the owner put a saddle and bridle on him, and took a bet of two hundred dollars with me, he could do a mile in two minutes, fifty seconds. He didn't know me from Adam parsonally, at the time, but he had heard of me, and bought the horse because it was said Sam Slick owned him.

"Well, he started off, and lost his bet; for when he got near the winnin'-post the horse choked, fell, and pitched the rider off half-way to Troy, and nearly died himself. The umpire handed me the money, and I dug out for the steam-boat intendin' to pull foot for home. Just as I reached the wharf, I heard my name called out, but I didn't let on I noticed it, and walked a-head. Presently, Van Dam seized me by the shoulder, quite out of breath, puffin' and blowin' like a porpoise.

"'Mr Slick?' said he.

"'Yes,' sais I, 'what's left of me; but good gracious,' sais I, 'you have got the 'heaves.' I hope it ain't catchin'.'

"'No I haven't,' said he, 'but your cussed hoss has, and nearly broke my neck. You are like all the Connecticut men I ever see, a nasty, mean, long-necked, long-legged, narrow-chested, slab-sided, narrow-souled, lantern-jawed, Yankee cheat.'

"'Well,' sais I, 'that's a considerable of a long name to write on the back of a letter, ain't it? It ain't good to use such a swad of words, it's no wonder you have the heaves; but I'll cure you; I warn't brought up to wranglin'; I hain't time to fight you, and besides,' said I, 'you are broken-winded; but I'll chuck you over the wharf into the river to cool you, boots and all, by gravy.'

"'Didn't you advertise,' said he, 'that the only reason you had to part with that horse was, that he was too heavy for a man who never travelled slower than a mile in two minutes and twenty seconds?'

"'Never!' sais I, 'I never said such a word. What will you bet I did?'

"'Fifty dollars,' said he.

"'Done,' said I. 'And, Vanderbelt—(he was just going on board the steamer at the time)—Vanderbelt,' sais I, 'hold these stakes. Friend,' sais I, 'I won't say you lie, but you talk uncommonly like the way I do when I lie. Now prove it.'

"And he pulled out one of my printed advertisements, and said, 'Read that.'

"Well, I read it. 'It ain't there,' said I.

"'Ain't it?' said he. 'I leave it to Vanderbelt.'

"'Mr Slick,' said he, 'you have lost—it is here.'

"'Will you bet fifty dollars,' said I, 'though you have seen it, that it's there?'

"'Yes,' said he, 'I will.'

"'Done,' said I. 'Now how do you spell heavy?'

"'H-e-a-v-y,' said he.

"'Exactly,' sais I; 'so do I. But this is spelt heav-ey. I did it on purpose. I scorn to take a man in about a horse, so I published his defect to all the world. I said he was too heavey for harness, and so he is. He ain't worth fifty dollars—I wouldn't take him as a gift—he ain't worth von dam?'

"'Well, I did see that,' said he, 'but I thought it was an error of the press, or that the owner couldn't spell.'

"'Oh!' sais I, 'don't take me for one of your Dutch boors, I beg of you. I can spell, but you can't read, that's all. You remind me,' sais I, 'of a feller in Slickville when the six-cent letter stamps came in fashion. He licked the stamp so hard, he took all the gum off, and it wouldn't stay on, no how he could fix it, so what does he do but put a pin through it, and writes on the letter, "Paid, if the darned thing will only stick." Now, if you go and lick the stamp etarnally that way, folks will put a pin through it, and the story will stick to you for ever and ever. But come on board, and let's liquor, and I will stand treat.'

"I felt sorry for the poor critter, and I told him how to feed the horse, and advised him to take him to Saratoga, advertise him, and sell him the same way; and he did, and got rid of him. The rise raised his character as a lawyer amazing. He was elected governor next year; a sell like that is the making of a lawyer.

"Now I don't call the lead Washingtons nor the heavey horse either on 'em a case of cheat; but I do think a man ought to know how to read a law and how to read an advertisement, don't you? But come, let us go ashore, and see how the galls look, for you have raised my curiosity."

We accordingly had the boat lowered; and taking Sorrow with us to see if he could do anything in the catering line, the doctor, Cutler, and myself landed on the beach, and walked round the settlement.

The shore was covered with fish flakes, which sent up an aroma not the most agreeable in the world except to those who lived there, and they, I do suppose, snuff up the breeze as if it was loaded with wealth and smelt of the Gold Coast. But this was nothing (although I don't think I can ever eat dum fish again as long as I live) to the effluvia arising from decomposed heaps of sea-wood, which had been gathered for manure, and was in the act of removal to the fields. No words can describe this, and I leave it to your imagination, Squire, to form an idea of a new perfume in nastiness that has never yet been appreciated but by an Irishman.

I heard a Paddy once, at Halifax, describe the wreck of a carriage which had been dashed to pieces. He said there was not "a smell of it left." Poor fellow, he must have landed at Chesencook, and removed one of those oloriferous heaps, as Sorrow called them, and borrowed the metaphor from it, that there was not "a smell of it left." On the beach between the "flakes" and the water, were smaller heaps of the garbage of the cod-fish and mackarel, on which the grey and white gulls fought, screamed, and gorged themselves, while on the bar were the remains of several enormous black fish, half the size of whales, which had been driven on shore, and hauled up out of the reach of the waves by strong ox teams. The heads and livers of these huge monsters had been "tried out in the Sperm court" for ile, and the putrid remains of the carcass were disputed for by pigs and crows. The discordant noises of these hungry birds and beasts were perfectly deafening.

On the right-hand side of the harbour, boys and girls waded out on the flats to dig clams, and were assailed on all sides by the screams of wild fowl who resented the invasion of their territory, and were replied to in tones no less shrill and unintelligible. On the left was the wreck of a large ship, which had perished on the coast, and left its ribs and skeleton to bleach on the shore, as if it had failed in the vain attempt to reach the forest from which it had sprung, and to repose in death in its native valley. From one of its masts, a long, loose, solitary shroud was pendant, having at its end a large double block attached to it, on which a boy was seated, and swung backward and forward. He was a little saucy urchin, of about twelve years of age, dressed in striped homespun, and had on his head a red yarn clackmutch, that resembled a cap of liberty. He seemed quite happy, and sung a verse of a French song with an air of conscious pride and defiance as his mother, stick in hand, stood before him, and at the top of her voice now threatened him with the rod, his father, and the priest—and then treacherously coaxed him with a promise to take him to Halifax, where he should see the great chapel, hear the big bell, and look at the bishop. A group of little girls stared in amazement at his courage, but trembled when they heard his mother predict a broken neck—purgatory—and the devil as his portion. The dog was as excited as the boy—he didn't bark, but he whimpered as he gazed upon him, as if he would like to jump up and be with him, or to assure him he would catch him if he fell, if he had but the power to do so.

What a picture it was—the huge wreck of that that once "walked the waters as a thing of life"—the merry boy—the anxious mother—the trembling sisters—the affectionate dog; what bits of church-yard scenes were here combined—children playing on the tombs—the young and the old—the merry and the aching heart—the living among the dead. Far beyond this were tall figures wading in the water, and seeking their food in the shallows; cranes, who felt the impunity that the superstition of the simple habitans had extended to them, and sought their daily meal in peace.

Above the beach and parallel with it, ran a main road, on the upper side of which were the houses, and on a swelling mound behind them rose the spire of the chapel visible far off in the Atlantic, a sacred signal-post for the guidance of the poor coaster. As soon as you reach this street or road and look around you, you feel at once you are in a foreign country and a land of strangers. The people, their dress, and their language, the houses, their form and appearance, the implements of husbandry, their shape and construction—all that you hear and see is unlike anything else. It is neither above, beyond, or behind the age. It is the world before the Flood. I have sketched it for you, and I think without bragging I may say I can take things off to the life. Once I drawed a mutton chop so nateral, my dog broke his teeth in tearing the panel to pieces to get at it; and at another time I painted a shingle so like stone, when I threw it into the water, it sunk right kerlash to the bottom.

"Oh, Mr Slick," said the doctor, "let me get away from here. I can't bear the sight of the sea-coast, and above all, of this offensive place. Let us get into the woods where we can enjoy ourselves. You have never witnessed what I have lately, and I trust in God you never will. I have seen within this month two hundred dead bodies on a beach in every possible shape of disfiguration and decomposition—mangled, mutilated, and dismembered corpses; male and female, old and young, the prey of fishes, birds, beasts, and, what is worse, of human beings. The wrecker had been there—whether he was of your country or mine I know not, but I fervently hope he belonged to neither. Oh, I have never slept sound since. The screams of the birds terrify me, and yet what do they do but follow the instincts of their nature? They batten on the dead, and if they do feed on the living, God has given them animated beings for their sustenance, as, he has the fowls of the air, the fishes of the sea, and the beasts of the field to us, but they feed not on each other. Man, man alone is a cannibal. What an awful word that is!"

"Exactly," sais I, "for he is then below the canine species—'dog won't eat dog.'1 The wrecker lives not on those who die, but on those whom he slays. The pirate has courage at least to boast of, he risks his life to rob the ship, but the other attacks the helpless and unarmed, and spares neither age nor sex in his thirst for plunder. I don't mean to say we are worse on this side of the Atlantic than the other, God forbid. I believe we are better, for the American people are a kind, a feeling, and a humane race. But avarice hardens the heart, and distress, when it comes in a mass, overpowers pity for the individual, while inability to aid a multitude induces a carelessness to assist any. A whole community will rush to the rescue of a drowning man, not because his purse can enrich them all (that is too dark a view of human nature), but because he is the sole object of interest. When there are hundreds struggling for life, few of whom can be saved, and when some wretches are solely bent on booty, the rest, regardless of duty, rush in for their share also, and the ship and her cargo attract all. When the wreck is plundered, the transition to rifling the dying and the dead is not difficult, and cupidity, when once sharpened by success, brooks no resistance, for the remonstrance of conscience is easily silenced where supplication is not even heard. Avarice benumbs the feelings, and when the heart is hardened, man becomes a mere beast of prey. Oh this scene afflicts me—let us move on. These poor people have never yet been suspected of such atrocities, and surely they were not perpetrated in the world before the Flood."

1 This homely adage is far more expressive than the Latin one:—

"Parcit Cognates maculis, similis fera."—Juv.

CHAPTER XVII. LOST AT SEA.

"I believe, Doctor," sais I, "we have seen all that is worth notice here, let us go into one of their houses and ascertain if there is anything for Sorrow's larder; but, Doctor," sais I, "let us first find out if they speak English, for if they do we must be careful what we say before them. Very few of the old people I guess know anything but French, but the younger ones who frequent the Halifax market know more than they pretend to if they are like some other habitans I saw at New Orleans. They are as cunning as foxes."

Proceeding to one of the largest cottages, we immediately gained admission. The door, unlike those of Nova Scotian houses, opened outwards, the fastening being a simple wooden latch. The room into which we entered was a large, dark, dingy, dirty apartment. In the centre of it was a tub containing some goslins, resembling yellow balls of corn-meal, rather than birds. Two females were all that were at home, one a little wrinkled woman, whose age it would puzzle a physiognomist to pronounce on, the other a girl about twenty-five years old. They sat on opposite sides of the fire-place, and both were clothed alike, in blue striped homespun, as previously described.

"Look at their moccasins," said the doctor. "They know much more about deer-skins than half the English settlers do. Do you observe, they are made of carriboo, and not moose hide. The former contracts with wet and the other distends and gets out of shape. Simple as that little thing is, few people have ever noticed it."

The girl, had she been differently trained and dressed, would have been handsome, but spare diet, exposure to the sun and wind, and field-labour, had bronzed her face, so that it was difficult to say what her real complexion was. Her hair was jet black and very luxuriant, but the handkerchief which served for bonnet and head-dress by day, and for a cap by night, hid all but the ample folds in front. Her teeth were as white as ivory, and contrasted strangely with the gipsy colour of her cheeks. Her eyes were black, soft, and liquid, and the lashes remarkably long, but the expression of her face, which was naturally good, indicated, though not very accurately, the absence of either thought or curiosity.

After a while objects became more distinct in the room, as we gradually became accustomed to the dim light of the small windows. The walls were hung round with large hanks of yarn, principally blue and white. An open cupboard displayed some plain coarse cups and saucers, and the furniture consisted of two rough tables, a large bunk,1 one or two sea-chests, and a few chairs of simple workmanship. A large old-fashioned spinning-wheel and a barrel-churn stood in one corner, and in the other a shoemaker's bench, while carpenter's tools were suspended on nails in such places as were not occupied by yarn. There was no ceiling or plastering visible anywhere, the floor of the attic alone separated that portion of the house from the lower room, and the joice on which it was laid were thus exposed to view, and supported on wooden cleets, leather, oars, rudders, together with some half-dressed pieces of ash, snow-shoes, and such other things as necessity might require. The wood-work, wherever visible, was begrimed with smoke, and the floor, though doubtless sometimes swept, appeared as if it had the hydrophobia hidden in its cracks, so carefully were soap and water kept from it. Hams and bacon were nowhere visible. It is probable, if they had any, they were kept elsewhere, but still more probable that they had found their way to market, and been transmuted into money, for these people are remarkably frugal and abstemious, and there can be no doubt, the doctor says, that there is not a house in the settlement in which there is not a supply of ready money, though the appearance of the buildings and their inmates would by no means justify a stranger in supposing so. They are neither poor nor destitute, but far better off than those who live more comfortably and inhabit better houses.

1 Bunk is a word in common use, and means a box that makes a seat by day and serves for a bedstead by night.

The only article of food that I saw was a barrel of eggs, most probably accumulated for the Halifax market, and a few small fish on rods, undergoing the process of smoking in the chimney corner.

The old woman was knitting and enjoying her pipe, and the girl was dressing wool, and handling a pair of cards with a rapidity and ease that would have surprised a Lancashire weaver. The moment she rose to sweep up the hearth I saw she was an heiress. When an Acadian girl has but her outer and under garment on, it is a clear sign, if she marries, there will be a heavy demand on the fleeces of her husband's sheep; but if she wears four or more thick woollen petticoats, it is equally certain her portion of worldly goods is not very small.

"Doctor," sais I, "it tante every darnin' needle would reach her through them petticoats, is it?"

"Oh!" said he, "Mr Slick—oh!" and he rose as usual, stooped forward, pressed his hands on his ribs, and ran round the room, if not at the imminent risk of his life, certainly to the great danger of the spinning wheel and the goslings. Both the females regarded him with great surprise, and not without some alarm.

"He has the stomach-ache," sais I, in French, "he is subject to it."

"Oh! oh!" said he, when he heard that, "oh, Mr Slick, you will be the death of me."

"Have you got any peppermint?" sais I.

"No," said she, talking in her own patois; and she scraped a spoonful of soot from the chimney, and putting it into a cup, was about pouring hot water on it for an emetic, when he could stand it no longer, but rushing out of the door, put to flight a flock of geese that were awaiting their usual meal, and stumbling over a pig, fell at full length on the ground, nearly crushing the dog, who went off yelling as if another such blow would be the death of him, and hid himself under the barn. The idea of the soot-emetic relieved the old lady, though it nearly fixed the doctor's flint for him. She extolled its virtues to the skies; she saved her daughter's life, she said, with it once, who had been to Halifax, and was taken by an officer into a pastrycook's shop and treated. He told her if she would eat as much as she could at once, he would pay for it all.

Well, she did her best. She eat one loaf of plumcake, three trays of jellies, a whole counter of little tarts, figs, raisins, and oranges, and all sorts of things without number. Oh! it was a grand chance, she said, and the way she eat was a caution to a cormorant; but at last she gave out she couldn't do no more. The foolish officer, the old lady observed, if he had let her fetch all them things home, you know we could have helped her to eat them, and if we couldn't have eat 'em all in one day, surely we could in one week; but he didn't think of that I suppose. But her daughter liked to have died; too much of a good thing is good for nothing. Well, the soot-emetic cured her, and then she told me all its effects; and it's very surprising, it didn't sound bad in French, but it don't do to write it in English at all; it's the same thing, but it tells better in French. It must be a very nice language that for a doctor, when it makes emetics sound so pretty; you might hear of 'em while you was at dinner and not disturb you.

You may depend it made the old lady wake snakes and walk chalks talking of physic. She told me if a man was dying or a child was born in all that settlement, she was always sent for, and related to me some capital stories; but somehow no English or Yankee woman could tell them to a man, and a man can't tell them in English. How is this, Squire, do you know? Ah! here is the doctor, I will ask him by and by.

Women, I believe, are born with certain natural tastes. Sally was death on lace, and old Aunt Thankful goes the whole figure for furs; either on 'em could tell real thread or genuine sable clear across the church. Mother was born with a tidy devil, and had an eye for cobwebs and blue-bottle flies. She waged eternal war on 'em; while Phoebe Hopewell beat all natur for bigotry and virtue as she called them (bijouterie and virtu). But most Yankee women when they grow old, specially if they are spinsters, are grand at compoundin' medicines and presarves. They begin by nursin' babies and end by nursin' broughten up folks. Old Mother Boudrot, now, was great on herbs, most of which were as simple and as harmless as herself. Some of them was new to me, though I think I know better ones than she has; but what made her onfallible was she had faith. She took a key out of her pocket, big enough for a jail-door, and unlocking a huge sailor's chest, selected a box made by the Indians of birch bark, worked with porcupine quills, which enclosed another a size smaller, and that a littler one that would just fit into it, and so on till she came to one about the size of an old-fashioned coffee-cup. They are called a nest of boxes. The inner one contained a little horn thing that looked like a pill-box, and that had a charm in it.

It was a portion of the nail of St Francis's big toe, which never failed to work a cure on them who believed in it. She said she bought it from a French prisoner, who had deserted from Melville Island, at Halifax, during the last war. She gave him a suit of clothes, two shirts, six pair of stockings, and eight dollars for it. The box was only a bit of bone, and not worthy of the sacred relic, but she couldn't afford to get a gold one for it.

"Poor St Croix," she said, "I shall never see him again. He had great larning; he could both read and write. When he sold me that holy thing, he said:

"'Madam, I am afraid something dreadful will happen to me before long for selling that relic. When danger and trouble come, where will be my charm then?'

"Well, sure enough, two nights after (it was a very dark night) the dogs barked dreadful, and in the morning Peter La Roue, when he got up, saw his father's head on the gate-post, grinnin' at him, and his daughter Annie's handkerchief tied over his crown and down under his chin. And St Croix was gone, and Annie was in a trance, and the priest's desk was gone, with two hundred pounds of money in it; and old Jodrie's ram had a saddle and bridle on, and was tied to a gate of the widow of Justine Robisheau, that was drowned in a well at Halifax; and Simon Como's boat put off to sea of itself, and was no more heard of. Oh, it was a terrible night, and poor St Croix, people felt very sorry for him, and for Annie La Roue, who slept two whole days and nights before she woke up. She had all her father's money in her room that night; but they searched day after day and never found it."

Well, I didn't undeceive her. What's the use? Master St Croix was an old privateers-man. He had drugged La Roue's daughter to rob her of her money; had stolen two hundred pounds from the priest, and Como's boat, and sold the old lady a piece of his toe-nail for eight or ten pounds' worth in all. I never shake the faith of an ignorant person. Suppose they do believe too much, it is safer than believing too little. You may make them give up their creed, but they ain't always quite so willing to take your's. It is easier to make an infidel than a convert. So I just let folks be, and suffer them to skin their own eels.

After that she took to paying me compliments on my French, and I complimented her on her good looks, and she confessed she was very handsome when she was young, and all the men were in love with her, and so on. Well, when I was about startin', I inquired what she had to sell in the eatin' line.

"Eggs and fish," she said, "were all she had in the house."

On examining the barrel containing the former, I found a white-lookin', tasteless powder among them.

"What's that?" said I.

Well, she told me what it was (pulverised gypsum), and said, "It would keep them sweet and fresh for three months at least, and she didn't know but more."

So I put my hand away down into the barrel and pulled out two, and that layer she said was three months old. I held them to the light, and they were as clear as if laid yesterday.

"Boil them," sais I, and she did so; and I must say it was a wrinkle I didn't expect to pick up at such a place as that, for nothing could be fresher.

"Here is a dollar," said I, "for that receipt, for it's worth knowing, I can tell you."

"Now," thinks I, as I took my seat again, "I will try and see if this French gall can talk English." I asked her, but she shook her head.

So to prove her, sais I, "Doctor, ain't she a beauty, that? See what lovely eyes she has, and magnificent hair! Oh, if she was well got up, and fashionably dressed, wouldn't she be a sneezer? What beautiful little hands and feet she has! I wonder if she would marry me, seein' I am an orthodox man."

Well, she never moved a muscle; she kept her eyes fixed on her work, and there wasn't the leastest mite of a smile on her face. I kinder sorter thought her head was rather more stationary, if anything, as if she was listening, and her eyes more fixed, as if she was all attention; but she had dropped a stitch in her knitting, and was taking of it up, so perhaps I might be mistaken. Thinks I, I will try you on t'other tack.

"Doctor, how would you like to kiss her, eh? Ripe-looking lips them, ain't they? Well, I wouldn't kiss her for the world," said I; "I would just as soon think of kissing a ham that is covered with creosote. There is so much ile and smoke on 'em, I should have the taste in my mouth for a week. Phew! I think I taste it now!"

She coloured a little at that, and pretty soon got up and went out of the room; and presently I heard her washing her hands and face like anything,

Thinks I, "You sly fox! you know English well enough to kiss in it anyhow, if you can't talk in it easy. I thought I'de find you out; for a gall that won't laugh when you tickle her, can't help screamin' a little when you pinch her; that's a fact." She returned in a few minutes quite a different lookin' person, and resumed her usual employment, but still persisted that she did not know English. In the midst of our conversation, the master of the house, Jerome Boudrot, came in. Like most of the natives of Chesencook, he was short in stature, but very active, and like all the rest a great talker.

"Ah, gentlemen," he said, "you follow de sea, eh?"

"No," sais I, "the sea often follows us, especially when the wind is fair."

"True, true," he said; "I forget dat. It followed me one time. Oh, I was wunst lost at sea; and it's an awful feelin'. I was out of sight of land one whole day, all night, and eetle piece of next day. Oh, I was proper frightened. It was all sea and sky, and big wave, and no land, and none of us knew our way back." And he opened his eyes as if the very recollection of his danger alarmed him. "At last big ship came by, and hailed her, and ask:

"'My name is Jerry Boudrot; where am I?'

"'Aboard of your own vessel,' said they; and they laughed like anything, and left us.

"Well, towards night we were overtaken by Yankee vessel, and I say, 'My name is Jerry Boudrot; where am I?'

"'Thar,' said the sarcy Yankee captain, 'and if you get this far, you will be here;' and they laughed at me, and I swore at them, and called 'em all manner of names.

"Well, then I was proper frightened, and I gave myself up for lost, and I was so sorry I hadn't put my deed of my land on recor, and that I never got pay for half a cord of wood I sold a woman, who nevare return agin, last time I was to Halifax; and Esadore Terrio owe me two shillings and sixpence, and I got no note of hand for it, and I lend my ox-cart for one day to Martell Baban, and he will keep it for a week, and wear it out, and my wife marry again as sure as de world. Oh, I was very scare and propare sorry, you may depend, when presently great big English ship come by, and I hail her.

"'My name is Jerry Boudrot,' sais I, 'when did you see land last?'

"'Thirty days ago,' said the captain.

"'Where am I?' sais I.

"'In 44 40' north,' said he, 'and 63 40' west,' as near as I could hear him.

"'And what country is dat are?' said I. 'My name is Jerry Boudrot.'

"'Where are you bound?' said he.

"'Home,'1 said I.

1 All colonists call England "home."

"'Well,' said he, 'at this season of the year you shall make de run in twenty-five day. A pleasant passage to you!' and away he went.

"Oh, I was plague scared; for it is a dreadful thing to be lost at sea.

"'Twenty-five days,' said I, 'afore we get home! Oh, mon Dieu! oh dear! we shall all starve to death; and what is worse, die first. What provision have we, boys?'

"'Well,' sais they, 'we counted, and we have two figs of tobacco, and six loaf baker's bread (for the priest), two feet of wood, three matches, and five gallons of water, and one pipe among us all.' Three matches and five gallons of water! Oh, I was so sorry to lose my life, and what was wus, I had my best clothes on bord.

"'Oh, boys, we are out of sight of land now,' sais I, 'and what is wus, may be we go so far we get out sight of de sun too, where is dark like down cellar. Oh, it's a shocking ting to be lost at sea. Oh, people lose deir way dere so bad, sometimes dey nevare return no more. People that's lost in de wood dey come back if dey live, but them that's lost at sea nevare. Oh, I was damn scared. Oh, mon Dieu! what is 44 40' north and 63 40' west? Is dat de conetry were people who are lost at sea go to? Boys, is there any rum on board?' and they said there was a bottle for the old lady's rheumatis. 'Well, hand it up,' sais I, 'and if ever you get back tell her it was lost at sea, and has gone to 44 40' north and 63 40' west. Oh, dear, dis all comes from going out of sight of land.'

"Oh, I was vary dry you may depend; I was so scared at being lost at sea that way, my lips stuck together like the sole and upper-leather of a shoe. And when I took down the bottle to draw breath, the boys took it away, as it was all we had. Oh, it set my mouth afire, it was made to warm outside and not inside. Dere was brimstone, and camphor, and eetle red pepper, and turpentene in it. Vary hot, vary nasty, and vary trong, and it made me sea-sick, and I gave up my dinner, for I could not hole him no longer, he jump so in de stomach, and what was wus, I had so little for anoder meal. Fust I lose my way, den I lose my sense, den I lose my dinner, and what is wus I lose myself to sea. Oh, I repent vary mush of my sin in going out of sight of land. Well, I lights my pipe and walks up and down, and presently the sun comes out quite bright.

"'Well, dat sun,' sais I, 'boys, sets every night behind my barn in the big swamp, somewhere about the Hemlock Grove. Well, dat is 63 40' west I suppose. And it rises a few miles to the eastward of that barn, sometimes out of a fog bank, and sometimes out o' the water; well that is 44 40' north, which is all but east I suppose. Now, if we steer west we will see our barn, but steering east is being lost at sea, for in time you would be behind de sun.'

"Well, we didn't sleep much dat night, you may depend, but we prayed a great deal, and we talked a great deal, and I was so cussed scared I did not know what to do. Well, morning came and still no land, and I began to get diablement feared again. Every two or tree minutes I run up de riggin' and look out, but couldn't see notin'. At last I went down to my trunk, for I had bottle there for my rheumatics too, only no nasty stuff in it, that the boys didn't know of, and I took very long draught, I was so scared; and then I went on deck and up de riggin' again.

"'Boys,' sais I, 'there's the barn. That's 63 40' west. I tole you so.' Well, when I came down I went on my knees, and I vowed as long as I lived I would hug as tight and close as ever I could."

"Your wife?" sais I.

"Pooh, no," said he, turning round contemptuously towards her; "hug her, eh! why, she has got the rheumatiz, and her tongue is in mourning for her teeth. No, hug the shore, man, hug it so close as posseeble, and nevare lose sight of land for fear of being lost at sea."

The old woman perceiving that Jerry had been making some joke at her expense, asked the girl the meaning of it, when she rose, and seizing his cap and boxing his ears with it, right and left, asked what he meant by wearing it before gentlemen, and then poured out a torrent of abuse on him, with such volubility I was unable to follow it.

Jerry sneaked off, and set in the corner near his daughter, afraid to speak, and the old woman took her chair again, unable to do so. There was a truce and a calm, so to change the conversation, sais I:

"Sorrow, take the rifle and go and see if there is a Jesuit-priest about here, and if there is shoot him, and take him on board and cook him."

"Oh, Massa Sam," said he, and he opened his eyes and goggled like an owl awfully frightened. "Goody gracious me, now you is joking, isn't you? I is sure you is. You wouldn't now, Massa, you wouldn't make dis child do murder, would you? Oh, Massa!! kill de poor priest who nebber did no harm in all his born days, and him hab no wife and child to follow him to—"

"The pot," sais I, "oh, yes, if they ask me arter him I will say he is gone to pot."

"Oh, Massa, now you is funnin, ain't you?" and he tried to force a laugh. "How in de world under de canopy ob hebbin must de priest be cooked?"

"Cut his head and feet off," sais I, "break his thighs short, close up to the stumps, bend 'em up his side, ram him into the pot and stew him with ham and vegetables. Lick! a Jesuit-priest is delicious done that way."

The girl dropped her cards on her knees and looked at me with intense anxiety. She seemed quite handsome, I do actilly believe if she was put into a tub and washed, laid out on the grass a few nights with her face up to bleach it, her great yarn petticoats hauled off and proper ones put on, and her head and feet dressed right, she'd beat the Blue-nose galls for beauty out and out; but that is neither here nor there, those that want white faces must wash them, and those that want white floors must scrub them, it's enough for me that they are white, without my making them so. Well, she looked all eyes and ears. Jerry's under-jaw dropped, Cutler was flabbergasted, and the doctor looked as if he thought, "Well, what are you at now?" while the old woman appeared anxious enough to give her whole barrel of eggs to know what was going on.

"Oh, Massa," said Sorrow, "dis here child can't have no hand in it. De priest will pyson you, to a dead sartainty. If he was baked he mout do. In Africa dey is hannibals and eat dere prisoners, but den dey bake or roast 'em, but stew him, Massa! by golly he will pyson you, as sure as 'postles. My dear ole missus died from only eaten hogs wid dere heads on."

"Hogs!" said I.

"Yes, Massa, in course, hogs wid dere heads on. Oh, she was a most a beautiful cook, but she was fizzled out by bad cookery at de last."

"You black villain," said I, "do you mean to say your mistress ever eat whole hogs?"

"Yes, Massa, in course I do, but it was abbin' dere heads on fixed her flint for her."

"What an awful liar you are, Sorrow!"

"'Pon my sacred word and honour, Massa," he said, "I stake my testament oat on it; does you tink dis here child now would swear to a lie? true as preachin', Sar."

"Go on," said I, "I like to see a fellow go the whole animal while he is about it. How many did it take to kill her?"

"Well, Massa, she told me herself, on her def bed, she didn't eat no more nor ten or a dozen hogs, but she didn't blame dem, it was havin' dere heads on did all the mischief. I was away when dey was cooked, or it wouldn't a happened. I was down to Charleston Bank to draw six hundred dollars for her, and when I came back she sent for me. 'Sorrow,' sais she, 'Plutarch has poisoned me.'

"'Oh, de black villain', sais I, 'Missus, I will tye him to a tree and burn him.'

"'No, no,' she said, 'I will return good for ebil. Send for Rev. Mr Hominy, and Mr Succatash, de Yankee oberseer, and tell my poor granny Chloe her ole missus is dyin', and to come back, hot foot, and bring Plutarch, for my disgestion is all gone.' Well, when Plutarch came she said, 'Plue, my child, you have killed your missus by cooking de hogs wid dere heads on, but I won't punish you, I is intendin' to extinguish you by kindness among de plantation niggers. I will heap coals of fire on your head.'

"'Dat's right, Missus,' sais I, 'burn the villain up, but burn him with green wood so as to make slow fire, dat's de ticket, Missus, it sarves him right.'

"Oh, if you eber heard yellin', Massa, you'd a heard it den. Plue he trowed himself down on de ground, and he rolled and he kicked and he screamed like mad.

"'Don't make a noise, Plutarch,' said she, 'I can't stand it. I isn't a goin' to put you to def. You shall lib. I will gib you a wife.'

"'Oh, tankee, Missus,' said he, 'oh, I will pray for you night and day, when I ain't at work or asleep, for eber and eber. Amen.'

"'You shall ab Cloe for a wife.'

"Cloe, Massa, was seventy-five, if she was one blessed second old. She was crippled with rheumatis, and walked on crutches, and hadn't a tooth in her head. She was just doubled up like a tall nigger in a short bed.

"'Oh, Lord, Missus,' said Plutarch, 'hab mercy on dis sinner, O dear Missus, O lubly Missus, oh hab mercy on dis child.'

"'Tankee, Missus,' said Cloe. 'God bless you, Missus, I is quite appy now. I is a leetle too young for dat spark, for I is cuttin' a new set o' teeth now, and ab suffered from teethin' most amazin', but I will make him a lubin' wife. Don't be shy, Mr Plue,' said she, and she up wid one ob her crutches and gub him a poke in de ribs dat made him grunt like a pig. 'Come, tand up,' said she, 'till de parson tie de knot round your neck.'

"'Oh! Lord, Missus,' said he, 'ab massy!' But de parson married 'em, and said, 'Slute your bride!' but he didn't move.

"'He is so bashful,' said Cloe, takin' him round de neck and kissin' ob him. 'Oh, Missus!' she said, 'I is so proud ob my bridegroom—he do look so genteel wid ole massa's frill shirt on, don't he?'

"When dey went out o' de room into de entry, Cloe fotched him a crack ober his pate with her crutch that sounded like a cocoa-nut, it was so hollow.

"'Take dat,' said she, 'for not slutin' ob your bride, you good-for-nottin' onmanerly scallawag you.'

"Poor dear missus! she died dat identical night."

"Come here, Sorrow," said I; "come and look me in the face."

The moment he advanced, Jerry slipt across the room, and tried to hide behind the tongues near his wife. He was terrified to death. "Do you mean to say," said I, "she died of going the whole hog? Was it a hog—tell me the truth?"

"Well, Massa," said he, "I don't know to a zact sartainty, for I was not dere when she was tooked ill,—I was at de bank at de time,—but I will take my davy it was hogs or dogs. I wont just zackly sartify which, because she was 'mazin' fond of both; but I will swear it was one or toder, and dat dey was cooked wid dere heads on—dat I will stificate to till I die!"

"Hogs or dogs," said I, "whole, with their heads on—do you mean that?"

"Yes, Massa, dis here child do, of a sartainty."

"Hogs like the pig, and dogs like the Newfoundlander at the door?"

"Oh, no, Massa, in course it don't stand to argument ob reason it was. Oh, no, it was quadogs and quahogs—clams, you know. We calls 'em down South, for shortness, hogs and dogs. Oh, Massa, in course you knows dat—I is sure you does—you is only intendin' on puppose to make game of dis here nigger, isn't you?"

"You villain," said I, "you took a rise out of me that time, at any rate. It ain't often any feller does that, so I think you deserve a glass of the old Jamaiky for it when we go on board. Now go and shoot a Jesuit-priest if you see one."

The gall explained the order to her mother.

"Shoot the priest?" said she, in French.

"Shoot the priest," said Jerry; "shoot me!" And he popped down behind his wife, as if he had no objection to her receiving the ball first.

She ran to her chest, and got out the little horn box with the nail of St Francis, and looked determined to die at her post. Sorrow deposited the gun in the corner, hung down his head, and said:

"Dis here child, Massa Slick, can't do no murder."

"Then I must do it myself," said I, rising and proceeding to get my rifle.

"Slick," said the doctor, "what the devil do you mean?"

"Why," says I, a settin' down again, "I'll tell you. Jesuit-priests were first seen in Spain and Portugal, where they are very fond of them. I have often eaten them there."

"First seen in Spain and Portugal!" he replied. "You are out there—but go on."

"There is a man," said I, "in Yorkshire, who says his ancestor brought the first over from America, when he accompanied Cabot in his voyages, and he has one as a crest. But that is all bunkum. Cabot never saw one."

"What in the world do you call a Jesuit-priest?"

"Why a turkey to be sure," said I; "that's what they call them at Madrid and Lisbon, after the Jesuits who first introduced them into Europe."

"My goody gracious!" said Sorrow, "if that ain't fun alive it's a pity, that's all."

"We'll," said Jerry, "I was lost at sea that time; I was out of sight of land. It puzzled me like 44 north, and 63 40' west."

"Hogs, dogs, and Jesuit-priests!" said the doctor, and off he set again, with his hands on his sides, rushing round the room in convulsions of laughter.

"The priest," said I to the old woman, "has given him a pain in his stomach," when she ran to the dresser again, and got the cup of soot for him which had not yet been emptied.

"Oh dear!" said he, "I can't stand that; oh, Slick, you will be the death of me yet," and he bolted out of the house.

Having purchased a bushel of clams from the old lady, and bid her and her daughter good-bye, we vamosed the ranche.1 At the door I saw a noble gobbler.

1 One of the numerous corruptions of Spanish words introduced into the States since the Mexican war, and signifies to quit the house or shanty. Rancho designates a hut, covered with branches, where herdsmen temporarily reside.

"What will you take for that Jesuit-priest," said I, "Jerry?"

"Seven and sixpence," said he.

"Done," said I, and his head was perforated with a ball in an instant.

The dog unused to such a sound from his master's house, and recollecting the damage he received from the fall of the doctor, set off with the most piteous howls that ever were heard, and fled for safety—the pigs squealed as if they had each been wounded—and the geese joined in the general uproar—while old Madam Boudrot and her daughter rushed screaming to the door to ascertain what these dreadful men were about, who talked of shooting priests, and eating hogs and dogs entire with their heads on. It was some time before order was restored, and when Jerry went into the house to light his pipe and deposit his money, I called Cutler's attention to the action and style of a horse in the pasture whom my gun had alarmed.

"That animal," said I, "must have dropped from the clouds. If he is young and sound, and he moves as if he were both, he is worth six hundred dollars. I must have him; can you give him a passage till we meet one of our large coal ships coming from Pictou?"

"Certainly," said he.

"Jerry," sais I, when he returned, "what in the world do you keep such a fly-away devil as that for? why don't you sell him and buy cattle? Can't you sell him at Halifax?"

"Oh", said he, "I can't go there now no more, Mr Slick. The boys call after me and say: Jerry, when did you see land last? My name is Jerry Boudrot, where am I? Jerry, I thought you was lost at sea! Jerry, has your colt got any slippares on yet (shoes)? Jerry, what does 44—40 mean? Oh! I can't stand it!"

"Why don't you send him by a neighbour?"

"Oh! none o' my neighbours can ride him. We can't break him. We are fishermen, not horsemen."

"Where did he come from?"

"The priest brought a mare from Canada with him, and this is her colt. He gave it to me when I returned from being lost at sea, he was so glad to see me. I wish you would buy him, Mr Slick; you will have him cheap; I can't do noting with him, and no fence shall stop him."

"What the plague," sais I, "do you suppose I want of a horse on board of a ship? do you want me to be lost at sea too? and besides, if I did try to oblige you," said I, "and offered you five pounds for that devil nobody can ride, and no fence stop, you'd ask seven pound ten right off. Now, that turkey was not worth a dollar here, and you asked at once seven and sixpence. Nobody can trade with you, you are so everlasting sharp. If you was lost at sea, you know your way by land, at all events."

"Well," sais he, "say seven pounds ten, and you will have him."

"Oh! of course," said I, "there is capital pasture on board of a vessel, ain't there? Where am I to get hay till I send him home?"

"I will give you tree hundredweight into the bargain."

"Well," sais I, "let's look at him; can you catch him?"

He went into the house, and bringing out a pan of oats, and calling him, the horse followed him into the stable, where he was secured. I soon ascertained he was perfectly sound, and that he was an uncommonly fine animal. I sent Sorrow on board for my saddle and bridle, whip and spurs, and desired that the vessel might be warped into the wharf. When the negro returned, I repeated the terms of the bargain to Jerry, which being assented to, the animal was brought out into the centre of the field, and while his owner was talking to him, I vaulted into the saddle. At first he seemed very much alarmed, snorting, and blowing violently; he then bounded forward and lashed out with his hind feet most furiously, which was succeeded by alternate rearing, kicking, and backing. I don't think I ever see a critter splurge so badly; at last he ran the whole length of the field, occasionally throwing up his heels very high in the air, and returned unwillingly, stopping every few minutes and plunging outrageously. On the second trial he again ran, and for the first time I gave him both whip and spur, and made him take the fence, and in returning I pushed him in the same manner, making him take the leap as before. Though awkward and ignorant of the meaning of the rein, the animal knew he was in the hands of a power superior to his own, and submitted far more easily than I expected.

When we arrived at the wharf, I removed the saddle, and placing a strong rope round his neck, had it attached to the windlass, not to drag him on board, but to make him feel if he refused to advance that he was powerless to resist, an indispensable precaution in breaking horses. Once and once only he attempted escape; he reared and threw himself, but finding the strain irresistible, he yielded and went on board quietly. Jerry was as delighted to get rid of him as I was to purchase him, and though I knew that seven pounds ten was as much as he could ever realize out of him, I felt I ought to pay him for the hay, and also that I could well afford to give him a little conciliation present; so I gave him two barrels of flour in addition, to enable him to make his peace with his wife, whom he had so grossly insulted by asserting that his vow to heaven was to hug the shore hereafter, and had no reference to her. If I ain't mistaken, Jerry Boudrot, for so I have named the animal after him, will astonish the folks to Slickville; for of all the horses on this continent, to my mind, the real genuine Canadian is the best by all odds.

"Ah! my friend," said Jerry, addressing the horse, "you shall soon be out of sight of land, like your master; but unlike him, I hope you shall never be lost at sea."



CHAPTER XVIII. HOLDING UP THE MIRROR.

From Halifax to Cumberland, Squire, the eastern coast of Nova Scotia presents more harbours fit for the entrance of men-of-war than the whole Atlantic coast of our country from Maine to Mexico. No part of the world I am acquainted with is so well supplied and so little frequented. They are "thar," as we say, but where are the large ships? growing in the forest I guess. And the large towns? all got to be built I reckon. And the mines? why wanting to be worked. And the fisheries? Well, I'll tell you, if you will promise not to let on about it. We are going to have them by treaty, as we now have them by trespass. Fact is, we treat with the British and the Indians in the same way. Bully them if we can, and when that won't do, get the most valuable things they have in exchange for trash, like glass beads and wooden clocks. Still, Squire, there is a vast improvement here, though I won't say there ain't room for more; but there is such a change come over the people, as is quite astonishing. The Blue-nose of 1834 is no longer the Blue-nose of 1854. He is more active, more industrious, and more enterprising. Intelligent the critter always was, but unfortunately he was lazy. He was asleep then, now he is wide awake, and up and doing. He never had no occasion to be ashamed to show himself, for he is a good-looking feller, but he needn't now be no longer skeered to answer to his name, when the muster is come and his'n is called out in the roll, and say, "Here am I, Sirree." A new generation has sprung up, some of the drones are still about the hive, but there is a young vigorous race coming on who will keep pace with the age.

It's a great thing to have a good glass to look in now and then and see yourself. They have had the mirror held up to them.

Lord, I shall never forget when I was up to Rawdon here once, a countryman came to the inn where I was, to pay me for a clock I had put off on him, and as I was a passin' through the entry I saw the critter standin' before the glass, awfully horrified.

"My good gracious," said he, a talking to himself, "my good gracious, is this you, John Smiler? I havn't seen you before now going on twenty years. Oh, how shockingly you are altered, I shouldn't a known you, I declare."

Now, I have held the mirror to these fellows to see themselves in, and it has scared them so they have shaved slick up, and made themselves look decent. I won't say I made all the changes myself, for Providence scourged them into activity, by sending the weavel into their wheat-fields, the rot into their potatoes, and the drought into their hay crops. It made them scratch round, I tell you, so as to earn their grub, and the exertion did them good. Well, the blisters I have put on their vanity stung 'em so, they jumped high enough to see the right road, and the way they travel ahead now is a caution to snails.

Now, if it was you who had done your country this sarvice, you would have spoke as mealy-mouthed of it as if butter wouldn't melt in it. "I flatter myself," you would have said, "I had some little small share in it." "I have lent my feeble aid." "I have contributed my poor mite," and so on, and looked as meek and felt as proud as a Pharisee. Now, that's not my way. I hold up the mirror, whether when folks see themselves in it they see me there or not. The value of a glass is its truth. And where colonists have suffered is from false reports, ignorance, and misrepresentation. There is not a word said of them that can be depended on. Missionary returns of all kinds are coloured and doctored to suit English subscribing palates, and it's a pity they should stand at the head of the list. British travellers distort things the same way. They land at Halifax, where they see the first contrast between Europe and America, and that contrast ain't favourable, for the town is dingy lookin' and wants paint, and the land round it is poor and stony. But that is enough, so they set down and abuse the whole country, stock and fluke, and write as wise about it as if they had seen it all instead of overlooking one mile from the deck of a steamer. The military enjoy it beyond anything, and are far more comfortable than in soldiering in England; but it don't do to say so, for it counts for foreign service, and like the witnesses at the court-marshall at Windsor, every feller sais, Non mi ricordo. Governors who now-a-days have nothing to do, have plenty of leisure to write, and their sufferings are such, their pens are inadequate to the task. They are very much to be pitied.

Well, colonists on the other hand seldom get their noses out of it. But if provincials do now and then come up on the other side of the big pond, like deep sea-fish rising to the surface, they spout and blow like porpoises, and try to look as large as whales, and people only laugh at them. Navy officers extol the harbour and the market, and the kindness and hospitality of the Haligonians, but that is all they know, and as far as that goes they speak the truth. It wants an impartial friend like me to hold up the mirror, both for their sakes and the Downing Street officials too. Is it any wonder then that the English don't know what they are talking about? Did you ever hear of the devil's advocate? a nickname I gave to one of the understrappers of the Colonial office, an ear mark that will stick to the feller for ever! Well, when they go to make a saint at Rome, and canonize some one who has been dead so long he is in danger of being forgot, the cardinals hold a sort of court-martial on him, and a man is appointed to rake and scrape all he can agin him, and they listen very patiently to all he has to say, so as not to do things in a hurry. He is called "the devil's advocate," but he never gained a cause yet. The same form used to be gone through at Downing Street, by an underling, but he always gained his point. The nickname of the "devil's advocate" that I gave him did his business for him, he is no longer there now.

The British cabinet wants the mirror held up to them, to show them how they look to others. Now, when an order is transmitted by a minister of the crown, as was done last war, to send all Yankee prisoners to the fortress of Louisburg for safe keeping, when that fortress more than sixty years before had been effectually razed from the face of the earth by engineer officers sent from England for the purpose, why it is natural a colonist should laugh, and say Capital! only it is a little too good; and when another minister says, he can't find good men to be governors, in order to defend appointments that his own party say are too bad, what language is strong enough to express his indignation? Had he said openly and manly, We are so situated, and so bound by parliamentary obligations, we not only have to pass over the whole body of provincials themselves, who have the most interest and are best informed in colonial matters, but we have to appoint some people like those to whom you object, who are forced upon us by hollerin' their daylights out for us at elections, when we would gladly select others, who are wholly unexceptionable, and their name is legion; why, he would have pitied his condition, and admired his manliness. If this sweeping charge be true, what an encomium it is upon the Dalhousies, the Gosfords, the Durhams, Sydenhams, Metcalfs, and Elgins, that they were chosen because suitable men could not be found if not supported by party. All that can be said for a minister who talks such stuff, is that a man who knows so little of London as to be unable to find the shortest way home, may easily lose himself in the wilds of Canada.

Now we licked the British when we had only three millions of people including niggers, who are about as much use in a war as crows that feed on the slain, but don't help to kill 'em. We have "run up" an empire, as we say of a "wooden house," or as the gall who was asked where she was raised, said "She warn't raised, she growed up." We have shot up into manhood afore our beards grew, and have made a nation that ain't afeard of all creation. Where will you find a nation like ours? Answer me that question, but don't reply as an Irishman does by repeating it,—"Is it where I will find one, your Honour?"

Minister used to talk of some old chap, that killed a dragon and planted his teeth, and armed men sprung up. As soon as we whipped the British we sowed their teeth, and full-grown coons growed right out of the earth. Lord bless you, we have fellows like Crocket, that would sneeze a man-of-war right out of the water.

We have a right to brag, in fact it ain't braggin', its talking history, and cramming statistics down a fellow's throat, and if he wants tables to set down to, and study them, there's the old chairs of the governors of the thirteen united universal worlds of the old States, besides the rough ones of the new States to sit on, and canvas-back ducks, blue-point oysters, and, as Sorrow says, "hogs and dogs," for soup and pies, for refreshment from labour, as Freemasons say. Brag is a good dog, and Holdfast is a better one, but what do you say to a cross of the two?—and that's just what we are. An English statesman actually thinks nobody knows anything but himself. And his conduct puts folks both on the defensive and offensive. He eyes even an American all over as much as to say, Where the plague did you originate, what field of cotton or tobacco was you took from? and if a Canadian goes to Downing Street, the secretary starts as much as to say, I hope you han't got one o' them rotten eggs in your hand you pelted Elgin with. Upon my soul, it wern't my fault, his indemnifyin' rebels, we never encourage traitors except in Spain, Sicily, Hungary, and places we have nothin' to do with. He brags of purity as much as a dirty piece of paper does, that it was originally clean.

"We appreciate your loyalty most fully, I assure you," he says. "When the militia put down the rebellion, without efficient aid from the military, parliament would have passed a vote of thanks to you for your devotion to our cause, but really we were so busy just then we forgot it. Put that egg in your pocket, that's a good fellow, but don't set down on it, or it might stain the chair, and folks might think you was frightened at seeing so big a man as me;" and then he would turn round to the window and laugh.

Whoever brags over me gets the worst of it, that's a fact. Lord, I shall never forget a rise I once took out of one of these magnetized officials, who know all about the colonies, tho' he never saw one. I don't want any man to call me coward, and say I won't take it parsonal. There was a complaint made by some of our folks against the people of the Lower provinces seizing our coasters under pretence they were intrudin' on the fisheries. Our embassador was laid up at the time with rheumatism, which he called gout, because it sounded diplomatic. So says he, "Slick, take this letter and deliver it to the minister, and give him some verbal explanations."

Well, down I goes, was announced and ushered in, and when he saw me, he looked me all over as a tailor does a man before he takes his measure. It made me hoppin' mad I tell you, for in a general way I don't allow any man to turn up his nose at me without having a shot at it. So when I sat down I spit into the fire, in a way to put it out amost, and he drew back and made a face, a leettle, just a leettle uglier than his natural one was.

"Bad habit," sais I, "that'of spittin', ain't it?" lookin' up at him as innocent as you please, and makin' a face exactly like his.

"Very," said he, and he gave a shudder.

Sais I, "I don't know whether you are aware of it or not, but most bad habits are catching."

"I should hope not," said he, and he drew a little further off.

"Fact," sais I; "now if you look long and often at a man that winks, it sets you a winkin'. If you see a fellow with a twitch in his face, you feel your cheek doin' the same, and stammerin' is catching too. Now I caught that habit at court, since I came to Europe. I dined wunst with the King of Prussia, when I was with our embassador on a visit at Berlin, and the King beats all natur in spittin', and the noise he makes aforehand is like clearin' a grate out with a poker, it's horrid. Well, that's not the worst of it, he uses that ugly German word for it, that vulgarians translate 'spitting.' Now some of our western people are compelled to chew a little tobacco, but like a broker tasting cheese, when testing wine, it is only done to be able to judge of the quality of the article, but even them unsophisticated, free, and enlightened citizens have an innate refinement about them. They never use that nasty word 'spitting,' but call it 'expressing the ambia.' Well, whenever his Majesty crosses my mind, I do the same out of clear sheer disgust. Some o' them sort of uppercrust people, I call them big bugs, think they can do as they like, and use the privilege of indulging those evil habits. When folks like the king do it, I call them 'High, low, jack, and the game.'"

Well, the stare he gave me would have made you die a larfin'. I never saw a man in my life look so skeywonaky. He knew it was true that the king had that custom, and it dumb-foundered him. He looked at me as much as to say, "Well, that is capital; the idea of a Yankee, who spits like a garden-engine, swearing it's a bad habit he larned in Europe, and a trick he got from dining with a king, is the richest thing I ever heard in my life. I must tell that to Palmerston."

But I didn't let him off so easy. In the course of talk, sais he:

"Mr Slick, is it true that in South Carolina, if a free nigger, on board of one of our vessels, lands there, he is put into jail until the ship sails?" and he looked good, as much as to say, "Thank heaven I ain't like that republican."

"It is," said I. "We consider a free nigger and a free Englishman on a parr; we imprison a free black, lest he should corrupt our slaves. The Duke of Tuscany imprisons a free Englishman, if he has a Bible in his possession, lest he should corrupt his slaves. It's upon the principle, that what is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander."

He didn't pursue the subject.

That's what I call brag for brag. We never allow any created critter, male or female, to go a-head of us in anything. I heard a lady say to embassador's wife once, in answer to her question, "how she was?"

"Oh, I am in such rude health, I have grown quite indecently stout."

Embassadress never heard them slang words before (for even high life has its slang), but she wouldn't be beat.

"Oh," said she, "all that will yield to exercise. Before I was married I was the rudest and most indecent gall in all Connecticut."

Well, an Irishman, with his elbow through his coat, and his shirt, if he has one, playing diggy-diggy-doubt from his trowsers, flourishes his shillalah over his head, and brags of the "Imirald Isle," and the most splindid pisantry in the world; a Scotchman boasts, that next to the devil and the royal owner of Etna, he is the richest proprietor of sulphur that ever was heard of; while a Frenchman, whose vanity exceeds both, has the modesty to call the English a nation of shopkeepers, the Yankees, canaille, and all the rest of the world beasts. Even John Chinaman swaggers about with his three tails, and calls foreigners "Barbarians." If we go a-head and speak out, do you do so, too. You have a right to do so. Hold the mirror to them, and your countrymen, too. It won't lie, that's a fact. They require it, I assure you. The way the just expectations of provincials have been disappointed, the loyal portion depressed, the turbulent petted, and the manner the feelings of all disregarded, the contempt that has accompanied concessions, the neglect that has followed devotion and self-sacrifice, and the extraordinary manner the just claims of the meritorious postponed to parliamentary support, has worked a change in the feelings of the people that the Downing Street officials cannot understand, or surely they would pursue a different course. They want to have the mirror held up to them.

I know they feel sore here about the picture my mirror gives them, and it's natural they should, especially comin' from a Yankee; and they call me a great bragger. But that's nothin' new; doctors do the same when a feller cures a poor wretch they have squeezed like a sponge, ruinated, and given up as past hope. They sing out Quack. But I don't care; I have a right to brag nationally and individually, and I'd be no good if I didn't take my own part. Now, though I say it that shouldn't say it, for I ain't afraid to speak out, the sketches I send you are from life; I paint things as you will find them and know them to be. I'll take a bet of a hundred dollars, ten people out of twelve in this country will recognise Jerry Boudrot's house who have never entered it, but who have seen others exactly like it, and will say, "I know who is meant by Jerry and his daughter and wife; I have often been there; it is at Clare or Arichat or Pumnico, or some such place or another."

Is that braggin'? Not a bit; it's only the naked fact. To my mind there is no vally in a sketch if it ain't true to nature. We needn't go searching about for strange people or strange things; life is full of them. There is queerer things happening every day than an author can imagine for the life of him. It takes a great many odd people to make a world, that's a fact. Now, if I describe a house that has an old hat in one window, and a pair of trousers in another, I don't stop to turn glazier, take 'em out and put whole glass in, nor make a garden where there is none, and put a large tree in the foreground for effect; but I take it as I find it, and I take people in the dress I find 'em in, and if I set 'em a talkin' I take their very words down. Nothing gives you a right idea of a country and its people like that.

There is always some interest in natur, where truly depicted. Minister used to say that some author (I think he said it was old Dictionary Johnson) remarked, that the life of any man, if wrote truly, would be interesting. I think so too; for every man has a story of his own, adventures of his own, and some things have happened to him that never happened to anybody else. People here abuse me for all this, they say, after all my boastin' I don't do 'em justice. But after you and I are dead and gone, and things have been changed, as it is to be hoped they will some day or another for the better, unless they are like their Acadian French neighbours, and intend to remain just as they are for two hundred and fifty years, then these sketches will be curious; and, as they are as true to life as a Dutch picture, it will be interestin' to see what sort of folks were here in 1854, how they lived, and how they employed themselves, and so on.

Now it's more than a hundred years ago since Smollett wrote, but his men and women were taken from real life, his sailors from the navy, his attorneys from the jails and criminal courts, and his fops and fine ladies from the herd of such cattle that he daily met with. Well, they are read now; I have 'em to home, and laugh till I cry over them. Why? Because natur is the same always. Although we didn't live a hundred years ago, we can see how the folks of that age did; and, although society is altered, and there are no Admiral Benbows, nor Hawser Trunnions, and folks don't travel in vans with canvas covers, or wear swords, and frequent taverns, and all that as they used to did to England; still it's a pictur of the times, and instructin' as well as amusin'. I have learned more how folks dressed, talked, and lived, and thought, and what sort of critters they were, and what the state of society, high and low, was then, from his books and Fielding's than any I know of. They are true to life, and as long as natur remains the same, which it always will, they will be read. That's my idea at least.

Some squeamish people turn up the whites of their peepers at both those authors and say they are coarse. How can they be otherwise? society was coarse. There are more veils worn now, but the devil still lurks in the eye under the veil. Things ain't talked of so openly, or done so openly, in modern as in old times. There is more concealment; and concealment is called delicacy. But where concealment is, the passions are excited by the difficulties imposed by society. Barriers are erected too high to scale, but every barrier has its wicket, its latch key, and its private door. Natur is natur still, and there is as much of that that is condemned in his books now, as there was then. There is a horrid sight of hypocrisy now, more than there was one hundred years ago; vice was audacious then, and scared folks. It ain't so bold at present as it used to did to be; but if it is forbid to enter the drawing-room, the back staircase is still free. Where there is a will there is a way, and always will be. I hate pretence, and, above all, mock modesty; it's a bad sign.

I knew a clergyman to home a monstrous pious man, and so delicate-minded, he altered a great many words and passages in the Church Service, he said he couldn't find it in his heart to read them out in meetin', and yet that fellow, to my sartain knowledge, was the greatest scamp in private life I ever knew. Gracious knows, I don't approbate coarseness, it shocks me, but narvous sensibility makes me sick. I like to call things by their right names, and I call a leg a leg, and not a larger limb; a shirt a shirt, though it is next the skin, and not a linen vestment; and a stocking a stocking, though it does reach up the leg, and not a silk hose; and a garter a garter, though it is above the calf, and not an elastic band or a hose suspender. A really modest woman was never squeamish. Fastidiousness is the envelope of indelicacy. To see harm in ordinary words betrays a knowledge, and not an ignorance of evil.

But that is neither here nor there, as I was sayin', when you are dead and gone these Journals of mine which you have edited, when mellowed by time, will let the hereafter-to-be Blue-noses, see what the has-been Nova Scotians here from '34 to '54 were. Now if something of the same kind had been done when Halifax was first settled a hundred years ago, what strange coons the old folks would seem to us. That state of society has passed away, as well as the actors. For instance, when the militia was embodied to do duty so late as the Duke of Kent's time, Ensign Lane's name was called on parade. "Not here," said Lieutenant Grover, "he is mending Sargent Street's breeches."

Many a queer thing occurred then that would make a queer book, I assure you. There is much that is characteristic both to be seen and heard in every harbour in this province, the right way is to jot all down. Every place has its standing topic. At Windsor it is the gypsum trade, the St John's steamer, the Halifax coach, and a new house that is building. In King's County it is export of potatoes, bullocks, and horses. At Annapolis, cord, wood, oars, staves, shingles, and agricultural produce of all kinds. At Digby, smoked herrings, fish weirs, and St John markets. At Yarmouth, foreign freights, berthing, rails, cat-heads, lower cheeks, wooden bolsters, and the crown, palm, and shank of anchors. At Shelburne, it is divided between fish, lumber, and the price of vessels. At Liverpool, ship-building, deals, and timber, knees, transums, and futtucks, pintles, keelsons, and moose lines. At Lunenburg, Jeddore, and Chesencook, the state of the market at the capital. At the other harbours further to the eastward, the coal trade and the fisheries engross most of the conversation. You hear continually of the fall run and the spring catch of mackerel that set in but don't stop to bait. The remarkable discovery of the French coasters, that was made fifty years ago, and still is as new and as fresh as ever, that when fish are plenty there is no salt, and when salt is abundant there are no fish, continually startles you with its novelty and importance. While you are both amused and instructed by learning the meaning of coal cakes, Albion tops, and what a Chesencooker delights in, "slack;" you also find out that a hundred tons of coal at Sydney means when it reaches Halifax one hundred and fifteen, and that West India, Mediterranean, and Brazilian fish are actually made on these shores. These local topics are greatly diversified by politics, which, like crowfoot and white-weed, abound everywhere.

Halifax has all sorts of talk. Now if you was writin' and not me, you would have to call it, to please the people, that flourishing great capital of the greatest colony of Great Britain, the town with the harbour, as you say of a feller who has a large handle to his face, the man with the nose, that place that is destined to be the London of America, which is a fact if it ever fulfils its destiny. The little scrubby dwarf spruces on the coast are destined not to be lofty pines, because that can't be in the natur of things, although some folks talk as if they expected it; but they are destined to be enormous trees, and although they havn't grown an inch the last fifty years, who can tell but they may exceed the expectations that has been formed of them? Yes, you would have to give it a shove, it wants it bad enough, and lay it on thick too, so as it will stick for one season.

It reminds me of a Yankee I met at New York wunst, he was disposin' of a new hydraulic cement he had invented. Now cements, either to resist fire or water, or to mend the most delicate china, or to stop a crack in a stove, is a thing I rather pride myself on. I make my own cement always, it is so much better than any I can buy.

Sais I, "What are your ingredients?"

"Yes," sais he, "tell you my secrets, let the cat out of the bag for you to catch by the tail. No, no," sais he, "excuse me, if you please."

It ryled me that, so I just steps up to him, as savage as a meat-axe, intendin' to throw him down-stairs, when the feller turned as pale as a rabbit's belly, I vow I could hardly help laughin', so I didn't touch him at all.

"But," sais I, "you and the cat in the bag may run to Old Nick and see which will get to him first, and say tag—I don't want the secret, for I don't believe you know it yourself. If I was to see a bit of the cement, and break it up myself, I'd tell you in a moment whether it was good for anything."

"Well," sais he, "I'll tell you;" and he gave me all the particulars.

Sais I, "It's no good, two important ingredients are wantin', and you haven't tempered it right, and it won't stick."

Sais he, "I guess it will stick till I leave the city, and that will answer me and my eends."

"No," sais I, "it won't, it will ruin you for ever, and injure the reputation of Connecticut among the nations of the airth. Come to me when I return to Slickville, and I will show you the proper thing in use, tested by experience, in tanks, in brick and stone walls, and in a small furnace. Give me two thousand dollars for the receipt, take out a patent, and your fortune is made."

"Well," sais he, "I will if it's all you say, for there is a great demand for the article, if it's only the true Jeremiah."

"Don't mind what I say," said I, "ask it what it says, there it is, go look at it."

Well, you would have to give these Haligonians a coat of white-wash that would stick till you leave the town. But that's your affair, and not mine. I hold the mirror truly, and don't flatter. Now, Halifax is a sizable place, and covers a good deal of ground, it is most as large as a piece of chalk, which will give a stranger a very good notion of it. It is the seat of government, and there are some very important officers there, judging by their titles. There are a receiver-general, an accountant-general, an attorney-general, a solicitor-general, a commissary-general, an assistant commissary-general, the general in command, the quartermaster-general, the adjutant-general, the vicar-general, surrogate-general, and postmaster-general. His Excellency the governor, and his Excellency the admiral. The master of the Rolls, their lordships the judges, the lord bishop, and the archbishop, archdeacon, secretary for the Home department, and a host of great men, with the handle of honourable to their names. Mayors, colonels, and captains, whether of the regulars or the militia, they don't count more than fore-cabin passengers. It ain't considered genteel for them to come abaft the paddle-wheel. Indeed, the quarter-deck wouldn't accommodate so many. Now, there is the same marvel about this small town that there was about the scholar's head—

"And still the wonder grew, How one small head could carry all he knew."

Well, it is a wonder so many great men can be warm-clothed, bedded-down, and well stalled there, ain't it? But they are, and very comfortably, too. This is the upper crust; now the under crust consists of lawyers, doctors, merchants, army and navy folks, small officials, articled clerks, and so on. Well, in course such a town, I beg pardon, it is a city (which is more than Liverpool in England is), and has two cathedral churches, with so many grades, trades, blades, and pretty maids in it, the talk must be various. The military talk is professional, with tender reminiscences of home, and some little boasting, that they are suffering in their country's cause by being so long on foreign service at Halifax. The young swordknots that have just joined are brim full of ardour, and swear by Jove (the young heathens) it is too bad to be shut up in this vile hole (youngsters, take my advice, and don't let the town's-people hear that, or they will lynch you), instead of going to Constantinople.

"I say, Lennox, wouldn't that be jolly work?"

"Great work," says Lennox, "rum coves those Turks must be in the field, eh? The colonel is up to a thing or two; if he was knocked on the head, there would be such promotion, no one would lament him, but his dear wife and five lovely daughters, and they would be really distressed to lose him."

He don't check the youthful ardour, on the contrary, chimes in, and is in hopes he can make interest at the Horse-guards for the regiment to go yet, and then he gives a wink to the doctor, who was in the corps when he was a boy, as much as to say, "Old fellow, you and I have seen enough of the pleasures of campaigning in our day, eh! Doctor, that is good wine; but it's getting confounded dear lately; I don't mind it myself, but it makes the expense of the mess fall heavy upon the youngsters." The jolly subs look across the table and wink, for they know that's all bunkum.