"'St. John MUST go ahead, at any rate; you MAY, if you choose, but you must exert yourselves, I tell you. If a man has only one leg, and wants to walk, he must get an artificial one. If you have no river, make a railroad, and that will supply its place.'

"'But,' says he, 'Mr. Slick, people say it never will pay in the world; they say it's as mad a scheme as the canal. 'Do they indeed?' says I; 'send them to me then, and I'll fit the handle on to them in tu tu's. I say it will pay, and the best proof is, our folks will take tu thirds of the stock. Did you ever hear any one else but your folks, ax whether a dose of medicine would pay when it was given to save life? If that everlastin' long Erie canal can secure to New York the supply of that far off country, most t'other side of creation, surely a railroad of forty-five miles can give you the trade of the Bay of Fundy. A railroad will go from Halifax to Windsor, and make them one town, easier to send goods from one to t'other than from Governor Campbell's House to Admiral Cockburn's. A bridge makes a town, a river makes a town, a canal makes a town; but a railroad is bridge, river, thoroughfare, canal, all in one; what a whappin' large place that would make, wouldn't it? It would be the dandy, that's a fact. No, when you go back, take a piece of chalk, and the first dark night, write on every door in Halifax, in large letters—a railroad—and if they don't know the meanin' of it, says you "It's a Yankee word; if you'll go to Sam Slick, the Clockmaker" (the chap that fixed a Yankee handle on to a Halifax blade'—and I made him a scrape of my leg, as much as to say, That's you!) '"every man that buys a clock shall hear all about a railroad."'"



No. XVIII

The Grahamite and the Irish Pilot.

"I think," said I, "this is a happy country, Mr. Slick. The people are fortunately all of one origin; there are no national jealousies to divide, and no very violent politics to agitate them. They appear to be cheerful and contented, and are a civil, good-natured, hospitable race. Considering the unsettled state of almost every part of the world, I think I would as soon cast my lot in Nova Scotia as in any part I know of."

"It's a clever country, you may depend," said he, "a very clever country; full of mineral wealth, aboundin' in superior water privileges and noble harbours, a large part of it prime land, and it is in the very heart of the fisheries. But the folks put me in mind of a sect in our country they call the Grahamites; they eat no meat and no exciting food, and drink nothin' stronger than water. They call it Philosophy (and that is such a pretty word it has made fools of more folks than them afore now), but I call it tarnation nonsense. I once travelled all through the State of Maine with one of them 'ere chaps. He was as thin as a whippin' post. His skin looked like a blown bladder arter some of the air had leaked out, kinder wrinkled and rumpled like, and his eye as dim as a lamp that's livin' on a short allowance of ile. He put me in mind of a pair of kitchen tongs, all legs, shaft and head, and no belly; a real gander-gutted lookin' critter, as holler as a bamboo walkin' cane, and twice as yaller. He actilly looked as if he had been picked off a rack at sea, and dragged through a gimlet hole. He was a lawyer. Thinks I, the Lord a massy on your clients, you hungry, half-starved lookin' critter you, you'll eat 'em up alive as sure as the Lord made Moses. You are jist the chap to strain at a goat and swallow a camel, tank, shank and flank, all at a gulp.

"Well, when we came to an inn, and a beef steak was sot afore us for dinner, he'd say, 'Oh that is too good for me, it's too exciting; all fat meat is diseased meat, give me some bread and cheese.' 'Well,' I'd say, 'I don't know what you call too good, but it ain't good enough for me, for I call it as tuf as laushong, and that will bear chawing all day. When I liquidate for my dinner, I like to get about the best that's goin', and I ain't a bit too well pleased if I don't.' Exciting indeed! thinks I. Lord, I should like to see you excited, if it was only for the fun of the thing. What a temptin' lookin' critter you'd be among the gals, wouldn't you? Why, you look like a subject the doctor boys had dropped on the road arter they had dug you up, and had cut stick and run for it.

"Well, when tea came, he said the same thing, 'It's too exciting, give me some water, do; that's follorin' the law of natur'.' 'Well,' says I, 'if that's the case, you ought to eat beef.' 'Why,' says he, 'how do you make out that 'ere proposition?' 'Why,' says I, 'if drinkin' water instead of tea is natur', so is eatin' grass accordin' to natur'; now all flesh is grass, we are told, so you had better eat that and call it vegetable; like a man I once seed who fasted on fish on a Friday, and when he had none, whipped a leg o' mutton into the oven, and took it out fish. Says he, "It's 'changed PLAICE,' that's all," and "PLAICE" ain't a bad fish. The Catholics fast enough, gracious knows, but then they fast on a great rousin' big splendid salmon at two dollars and forty cents a pound, and lots of old Madeira to make it float light on the stomach; there's some sense in mortifying the appetite arter that fashion, but plagy little in your way. No,' says I, 'friend, you may talk about natur' as you please; I've studied natur' all my life, and I vow if your natur' could speak out, it would tell you, it don't over half like to be starved arter that plan. If you know'd as much about the marks of the mouth as I do, you'd know that you have carniverous as well as graniverous teeth, and that natur' meant by that, you should eat most anything that 'ere door-keeper, your nose, would give a ticket to, to pass into your mouth. Father rode a race at New York course, when he was near hand to seventy—and that's more nor you'll do, I guess—and he eats as hearty as a turkey-cock; and he never confined himself to water neither, when he could get anything convened him better. Says he, "Sam, grandfather Slick used to say there was an old proverb in Yorkshire, 'A full belly makes a strong back,' and I guess if you try it, natur' will tell you so too." If ever you go to Connecticut, jist call into father's, and he'll give you a real right down genuine New England breakfast, and if that don't happify your heart, then my name's not Sam Slick. It will make you feel about among the stiffest, I tell you. It will blow your jacket out like a pig at sea. You'll have to shake a reef or two out of your waistban's and make good stowage, I guess, to carry it all under hatches. There's nothin' like a good pastur' to cover the ribs, and make the hide shine, depend on't.'

"Now this Province is like that 'ere Grahamite lawyer's beef, it's too good for the folks that's in it; they either don't avail its value or won't use it, because work ain't arter their 'law of natur'.' As you say they are quiet enough (there's worse folks than the Bluenoses, too, if you come to that), and so they had ought to be quiet, for they have nothin' to fight about. As for politics, they have nothin' to desarve the name; but they talk enough about it, and a plaguy sight of nonsense they do talk, too.

"Now with us the country is divided into two parties, of the mammouth breed—the INS and the OUTS, the ADMINISTRATION and the OPPOSITION. But where's the administration here? Where's the war office, the Foreign Office and the Home Office? Where's the Secretary of the Navy? Where's the State Bank? Where's the Ambassadors and Diplomatists (them are the boys to wind off a snarl of ravellins as slick as if it were on a reel), and where's that Ship of State, fitted up all the way from the forecastle clean up to the starn-post, chock full of good snug berths, handsumly found and furnished, tier over tier, one above another, as thick as it can hold? That's a helm worth handlin', I tell you; I don't wonder that folks mutiny below, and fight on the decks above for it; it makes a plaguy uproar the whole time, and keeps the passengers for everlastinly in a state of alarm for fear they'd do mischif by bustin' the b'iler, a-runnin' aground, or gettin' foul of some other craft.

"This Province is better as it is, quieter and happier far; they have berths enough and big enough; they should be careful not to increase 'em; and if they were to do it over agin, perhaps they'd be as well with fewer. They have two parties here, the Tory party and the Opposition party, and both on 'em run to extremes. Them radicals, says one, are for levellin' all down to their own level, tho' not a peg lower; that's their gage, jist down to their own notch and no further; and they'd agitate the whole country to obtain that object, for if a man can't grow to be as tall as his neighbour, if he cuts a few inches off him why then they are both of one heighth. They are a most dangerous, disaffected people; they are eternally appealin' to the worst passions of the mob. Well, says t'other, them aristocrats, they'll ruinate the country; they spend the whole revenue on themselves. What with bankers, councillors, judges, bishops and public officers, and a whole tribe of lawyers as hungry as hawks, and jist about as marciful, the country is devoured as if there was a flock of locusts a-feedin' on it. There's nothin' left for roads and bridges. When a chap sets out to canvass, he's got to antagonize one side or t'other. If he hangs on to the powers that be, then he's a council man, he's for votin' large salaries, for doin' as the great people at Halifax tell him. He is a fool. If he is on t'other side, a-railin' at banks, judges, lawyers and such cattle, and bawlin' for what he knows he can't get, then he is a rogue. So that, if you were to listen to the weak and noisy critters on both sides, you'd believe the House of Assembly was one half rogues and t'other half fools. All this arises from ignorance. IF THEY KNEW MORE OF EACH OTHER, I GUESS THEY'D LAY ASIDE ONE HALF THEIR FEARS AND ALL THEIR ABUSE. THE UPPER CLASSES DON'T KNOW ONE HALF THE VIRTUE THAT'S IN THE MIDDLIN' AND LOWER CLASSES; AND THEY DON'T KNOW ONE HALF THE INTEGRITY AND GOOD FEELIN' THAT'S IN THE OTHERS, AND BOTH ARE FOOLED AND GULLED BY THEIR OWN NOISY AND DESIGNIN' CHAMPIONS. Take any two men that are by the ears, they opinionate all they hear of each other, impute all sorts of onworthy motives, and misconstrue every act; let them see more of each other, and they'll find out to their surprise, that they have not only been lookin' through a magnifyin' glass that warn't very true, but a coloured one also, that changed the complexion and distorted the feature, and each one will think t'other a very good kind of chap, and like as not a plaguy pleasant one too.

"If I was axed which side was farthest from the mark in this Province, I vow I should be puzzled to say. As I don't belong to the country, and don't care a snap of my finger for either of 'em, I suppose I can judge better than any man in it, but I snore I don't think there's much difference. The popular side—I won't say patriotic, for we find in our steamboats a man who has a plaguy sight of property in his portmanter, is quite as anxious for its safety, as him that's only one pair of yarn stockings and a clean shirt, is for his'n—the popular side are not so well informed as t'other, and they have the misfortin' of havin' their passions addressed more than their reason, therefore they are often out of the way, or rather led out of it and put astray by bad guides; well, t'other side have the prejudices of birth and education to dim their vision, and are alarmed to undertake a thing from the dread of ambush or open foes, that their guides are etarnally descryin' in the mist—AND BESIDE, POWER HAS A NATERAL TENDENCY TO CORPULENCY. As for them guides, I'd make short work of 'em if it was me.

"In the last war with Britain, the Constitution frigate was close in once on the shores of Ireland, a-lookin' arter some marchant ships, and she took on board a pilot; well, he was a deep, sly, twistical lookin' chap, as you e'enamost ever seed. He had a sort of dark, down look about him, and a lear out of the corner of one eye, like a horse that's goin' to kick. The captain guessed he read in his face, 'Well now, if I was to run this here Yankee right slap on a rock and bilge her, the King would make a man of me for ever.' So, says he to the first leftenant, 'Reeve a rope through that 'ere block at the tip eend of the fore yard, and clap a runnin' noose in it.' The leftenant did it as quick as wink, and came back, and says he, 'I guess it's done.' 'Now,' says the captain, 'look here, pilot; here's a rope you hain't seed yet, I'll jist explain the use of it to you in case you want the loan of it. If this here frigate, manned with our free and enlightened citizens, gets aground, I'll give you a ride on the slack of that 'ere rope, right up to that yard by the neck, by Gum.' Well, it rub'd all the writin' out of his face, as quick as spittin' on a slate takes a sum out, you may depend. Now, they should rig up a crane over the street door of the State house at Halifax, and when any of the pilots at either eend of the buildin', run 'em on the breakers on purpose, string 'em up like an onsafe dog. A sign of that 'ere kind, with 'A house of public entertainment,' painted under it, would do the business in less than no time. If it wouldn't keep the hawks out of the poultry yard, it's a pity; it would scare them out of a year's growth, that's a fact; if they used it once, I guess they wouldn't have occasion for it agin in a hurry; it would be like the aloe tree, and that bears fruit only once in a hundred years.

"If you want to know how to act any time, Squire, never go to books, leave them to gals and school boys; but go right off and cipher it out of natur', that's a sure guide; it will never deceive you, you may depend. For instance, 'what's that to me,' is a phrase so common that it shows it's a natural one, when people have no particular interest in a thing. Well, when a feller gets so warm on either side as never to use that phrase at all, watch him, that's all! keep your eye on him, or he'll walk right into you afore you know where you be. If a man runs to me and says, 'Your fence is down,' 'Thank you,' says I, 'that's kind.' If he comes agin and says, 'I guess some stray cattle have broke into your short sarce garden,' I thank him agin; says I, 'Come now, this is neighbourly; but when he keeps etarnally tellin' me this thing of one sarvant, and that thing of another sarvant, hints that my friends ain't true, that my neighbours are inclined to take advantage of me, and that suspicious folks are seen about my place, I say to myself, what on airth makes this critter take such a wonderful interest in my affairs? I don't like to hear such tales; he's arter somethin' as sure as the world, if he warn't he'd say, 'What's that to me.' I never believe much what I hear said by a man's violent friend, or violent enemy. I want to hear what a disinterested man has to say. Now, as a disinterested man, I say if the members of the House of Assembly, instead of raisin' up ghosts and hobgoblins to frighten folks with, and to show what swordsmen they be, a-cuttin' and a-thrustin' at those phantoms that only exist in their own brains, would turn to, heart and hand, and develop the resources of this fine country, facilitate the means of transport, promote its internal improvement, and encourage its foreign trade, they would make it the richest and greatest, as it now is one of the happiest sections of all America. I hope I may be skinned if they wouldn't—they would I swan."



No. XIX

The Clockmaker Quilts a Bluenose.

The descendants of Eve have profited little by her example. The curiosity of the fair sex is still insatiable, and, as it is often ill directed, it frequently terminates in error. In the country this feminine propensity is troublesome to a traveller, and he who would avoid importunities would do well to announce at once, on his arrival at a Cumberland inn, his name and his business, the place of his abode and the length of his visit.

Our beautiful hostess, Mrs. Pugwash, as she took her seat at the breakfast table this morning, exhibited the example that suggested these reflections. She was struck with horror at our conversation, the latter part only of which she heard, and of course misapplied and misunderstood.

"She was run down by the President," said I, "and has been laid up for some time. Gulard's people have stripped her, in consequence of her making water so fast."

"Stripped whom?" said Mrs. Pugwash, as she suddenly dropped the teapot from her hand; "stripped whom—for heaven's sake tell me who it is?"

"The Lady Ogle," said I.

"Lady Ogle?" said she, "how horrid!"

"Two of her ribs were so broken as to require to be replaced with new ones."

"Two new ribs!" said she, "well I never heerd the beat of that in all my born days; poor critter, how she must have suffered."

"On examining her below the waist they found—"

"Examining her still lower," said she (all the pride of her sex revolting at the idea of such an indecent exhibition), "you don't pretend to say they stripped her below the waist! What did the Admiral say? Did he stand by and see her handled in that way?"

"The Admiral, madam," said I, "did not trouble his head about it. They found her extremely unsound there, and much worm-eaten."

"Worm-eaten," she continued, "how awful! It must have been them nasty jiggers, that got in there; they tell me they are dreadful thick in the West Indies; Joe Crow had them in his feet, and lost two of his toes. Worm-eaten, dear, dear! but still that ain't so bad as having them great he-fellows strip one. I promise you if them Gulards had undertaken to strip me, I'd a taught them different guess manners; I'd a died first before I'd a submitted to it. I always heerd tell the English quality ladies were awful bold, but I never heerd the like o' that."

"What on airth are you drivin' at?" said Mr. Slick. "I never seed you so much out in your latitude afore, marm, I vow. We were talkin' of reparin' a vessel, not strippin' a woman; what under the sun could have put that 'ere crotchet into your head?"

She looked mortified and humbled at the result of her own absurd curiosity, and soon quitted the room. "I thought I should have snorted right out two or three times," said the Clockmaker; "I had to pucker up my mouth like the upper eend of a silk puss, to keep from yawhawin' in her face, to hear the critter let her clapper run that fashion. She is not the first hand that has caught a lobster, by puttin' in her oar afore her turn, I guess. She'll mind her steps next hitch, I reckon." This was our last breakfast at Amherst.

An early frost that smote the potato fields, and changed the beautiful green colour of the Indian corn into shades of light yellow, and dark brown, reminded me of the presence of autumn, of the season of short days and bad roads. I determined to proceed at once to Parrsboro', and thence by the Windsor and Kentville route to Annapolis, Yarmouth, and Shelburne, and to return by the shore road, through Liverpool and Lunenburg to Halifax. I therefore took leave (though not without much reluctance) of the Clockmaker, whose intention had been to go to Fort Lawrence.

"Well," said he, "I vow I am sorry to part company along with you; a considerable long journey like our'n, is like sitting up late with the gals, a body knows it's getting on pretty well towards mornin', and yet feels loth to go to bed, for it's just the time folks grow sociable. I got a scheme in my head," said he, "that I think will answer both on us; I got debts due to me in all them 'ere places for clocks sold by the consarn; now suppose you leave your horse on these mashes this fall; he'll get as fat as a fool, he won't be able to see out of his eyes in a month; and I'll put 'Old Clay' (I call him Clay arter our senator, who is a prime bit of stuff) into a Yankee wagon I have here, and drive you all round the coast."

This was too good an offer to be declined. A run at grass for my horse, an easy and comfortable wagon, and a guide so original and amusing as Mr. Slick, were either of them enough to induce my acquiescence.

As soon as we had taken our seats in the wagon, he observed—

"We shall progress real handsum now; that 'ere horse goes etarnal fast, he near about set my axle on fire twice. He's a spanker you may depend. I had him when he was a two-year-old, all legs and tail, like a devil's darnin' needle, and had him broke on purpose by father's old nigger, January Snow. He knows English real well, and can do near about anything but speak it. He helped me once to gin a Bluenose a proper handsum quiltin'."

"He must have stood a poor chance indeed," said I, "a horse kickin', and a man striking him at the same time."

"Oh! not arter that pattern at all," said he, "Lord if Old Clay had kicked him, he'd a smashed him like that 'ere sarcer you broke at Pugnose's inn, into ten hundred thousand million flinders. Oh! no, if I didn't fix his flint for him in fair play, it's a pity. I'll tell you how it was. I was up to Truro, at Ezra Whitter's inn. There was an arbitration there atween Deacon Text and Deacon Faithful. Well, there was a 'nation sight of folks there, for they said it was a biter bit, and they came to witness the sport, and to see which critter would get the earmark.

"Well, I'd been doin' a little business there among the folks, and had jist sot off for the river, mounted on Old Clay, arter takin' a glass of Ezra's most particular handsum Jamaiky, and was trottin' off pretty slick, when who should I run agin but Tim Bradley. He is a dreadful ugly, cross-grained critter, as you e'enamost ever seed, when he is about half-shaved. Well, I stopped short, and says I, "Mr. Bradley, I hope you bean't hurt; I'm proper sorry I run agin you, you can't feel uglier than I do about it, I do assure you.' He called me a Yankee peddler, a cheatin' vagabond, a wooden nutmeg, and threw a good deal of assorted hardware of that kind at me; and the crowd of folks cried out, 'Down with the Yankee!' 'Let him have it Tim!' 'Teach him better manners!' and they carried on pretty high, I tell you. Well, I got my dander up too, I felt all up on eend like; and, thinks I to myself, My lad if I get a clever chance, I'll give you such a quiltin' as you never had since you were raised from a seedlin', I vow. So says I, 'Mr. Bradley, I guess you had better let me be; you know I can't fight no more than a cow; I never was brought up to wranglin', and I don't like it.' 'Haul off the cowardly rascal,' they all bawled out, 'haul him off, and lay it into him!' So he lays right hold of me by the collar, and gives me a pull, and I lets on as if I'd lost my balance and falls right down. Then I jumps up on eend, and says I 'Go ahead Clay,' and the old horse he sets off a head, so I knew I had him when I wanted him. Then says I, 'I hope you are satisfied now, Mr. Bradley, with that 'ere ungenteel fall you gin me.' Well, he makes a blow at me, and I dodged it. 'Now,' says I, 'you'll be sorry for this, I tell you; I won't be treated this way for nothin', I'll go right off and swear my life agin you, I'm most afeerd you'll murder me.' Well, he strikes at me agin, thinkin' he had a genuine soft horn to deal with, and hits me in the shoulder. 'Now,' says I, I won't stand here to be lathered like a dog all day long this fashion, it ain't pretty at all; I guess I'll give you a chase for it.' Off I sets arter my horse like mad, and he arter me (I did that to get clear of the crowd, so that I might have fair play at him). Well, I soon found I had the heels of him, and could play him as I liked. Then I slackened up a little, and when he came close up to me, so as nearly to lay his hand upon me, I squatted right whap down, all short, and he pitched over me near about a rod or so, I guess, on his head, and ploughed up the ground with his nose, the matter of a foot or two. If he didn't polish up the coulter, and both mould boards of his face, it's a pity. 'Now,' says I, 'you had better lay where you be and let me go, for I am proper tired; I blow like a horse that's got the heaves; and besides,' says I, 'I guess you had better wash your face, for I am most a feared you hurt yourself.' That riled him properly; I meant that it should; so he ups and at me awful spiteful like a bull; then I lets him have it, right, left, right, jist three corkers, beginning with the right hand, shifting to the left, and then with the right hand agin. This way I did it," said the Clockmaker (and he showed me the manner in which it was done); "it's a beautiful way of hitting, and always does the business—a blow for each eye and one for the mouth. It sounds like ten pounds ten on a blacksmith's anvil; I bunged up both eyes for him, and put in the dead lights in two tu's, and drew three of his teeth, quicker a plaguy sight than the Truro doctor could, to save his soul alive. 'Now,' says I, 'my friend, when you recover your eye-sight I guess you'll see your mistake—I warn't born in the woods to be scared by an owl. The next time you feel in a most particular elegant good humour, come to me and I'll play you the second part of that identical same tune, that's a fact.

"With that, I whistled for Old Clay, and back he comes, and I mounted and off, jist as the crowd came up. The folks looked staggered, and wondered a little grain how it was done so cleverly in short metre. If I didn't quilt him in no time, you may depend; I went right slap into him, like a flash of lightning into a gooseberry bush. He found his suit ready made and fitted afore he thought he was half measured. Thinks I, friend Bradley, I hope you know yourself now, for I vow no livin' soul would; your swallowed your soup without singin' out scaldin's, and your near about a pint and a half nearer cryin' than larfin'.

"Yes, as I was sayin', this Old Clay is a real knowin' one; he's as spry as a colt yet, clear grit, ginger to the backbone; I can't help a-thinkin' sometimes the breed must have come from old Kentuck, half horse, half alligator, with a cross of the airth-quake.

"I hope I may be teetotally ruinated, if I'd take eight hundred dollars for him. Go ahead, you old clinker built villain," said he, "and show the gentleman how wonderful handSUM you can travel. Give him the real Connecticut quick step. That's it! that's the way to carry the President's message to Congress, from Washington to New York, in no time! that's the go to carry a gal from Boston to Rhode Island, and trice her up to a Justice to be married, afore her father's out of bed of a summer's mornin'. Ain't he a beauty? a real doll? none of your Cumberland critters, that the more you quilt them, the more they won't go; but a proper one, that will go free gratis for nothin', all out of his own head voluntERRILY. Yes, a horse like Old Clay, is worth the whole seed, breed and generation, of them Amherst beasts put together. He's a horse, every inch of him, stock, lock, and barrel, is Old Clay."



No. XX

Sister Sall's Courtship.

"There goes one of them 'ere everlastin' rottin' poles in that bridge; they are no better than a trap for a critter's leg," said the Clockmaker. "They remind me of a trap Jim Munroe put his foot in one night, that near about made one leg half a yard longer than t'other. I believe I told you of him, what a desperate idle feller he was; he came from Onion County in Connecticut. Well, he was courtin' Sister Sall. She was a real handsum lookin' gal; you scarce ever seed a more out and out complete critter than she was—a fine figur' head, and a beautiful model of a craft as any in the state, a real clipper, and as full of fun and frolic as a kitten. Well he fairly turned Sall's head; the more we wanted her to give him up the more she wouldn't, and we got plaguy oneasy about it, for his character was none of the best. He was a univarsal favourite among the gals, and tho' he didn't behave very pretty neither, forgetting to marry where he promised, and where he hadn't ought to have forgot too; yet, so it was, he had such an uncommon winnin' way with him, he could talk them over in no time. Sall was fairly bewitched.

"At last, Father said to him one evening when he came a-courtin', 'Jim,' says he, 'you'll never come to no good, if you act like Old Scratch as you do; you ain't fit to come into no decent man's house at all, and your absence would be ten times more agreeable than your company, I tell you. I won't consent to Sall's goin' to them 'ere huskin' parties and quiltin' frolics along with you no more, on no account, for you know how Polly Brown and Nancy White—' 'Now don't,' says he, 'now don't, Uncle Sam, say no more about that; if you knowed all you wouldn't say it was my fault; and besides, I have turned right about, I am on t'other tack now, and the long leg, too; I am as steady as a pump bolt now. I intend to settle myself and take a farm.' 'Yes yes, and you could stock it too, by all accounts, pretty well, unless you are much misreported,' says father, 'but it won't do. I knew your father; he was our Sargeant; a proper clever and brave man he was too; he was one of the heroes of our glorious revolution. I had a great respect for him, and I am sorry for his sake you will act as you do; but I tell you once for all you must give up all thoughts of Sall, now and for everlastin'.' When Sall heerd this, she began to knit away like mad in a desperate hurry; she looked foolish enough, that's a fact. First she tried to bite in her breath, and look as if there was nothin' particular in the wind, then she blushed all over like scarlet fever, but she recovered that pretty soon; and then her colour went and came, and came and went, till at last she grew as white as chalk, and down she fell slap off her seat on the floor, in a faintin' fit. 'I see,' says father, 'I see it now, you etarnal villain,' and he made a pull at the old fashioned sword, that always hung over the fireplace (we used to call it old Bunker, for his stories always begun, 'when I was at Bunker's hill'), and drawing it out, he made a clip at him as wicked as if he was stabbing at a rat with a hay fork; but Jim, he outs of the door like a shot, and draws it too arter him, and father sends old Bunker right through the panel. 'I'll chop you up as fine as mince meat, you villain,' said he, 'if ever I catch you inside my door agin; mind what I tell you, YOU'LL SWING FOR IT YET.' Well, he made himself considerable scarce arter that, he never sot foot inside the door agin, and I thought he had gin up all hopes of Sall, and she of him; when one night, a most particular uncommon dark night, as I was a-comin' home from neighbour Dearborne's, I heerd some one a-talkin' under Sall's window. Well, I stops and listens, and who should it be near the ash saplin', but Jim Munroe, a-tryin' to persuade Sall to run off with him to Rhode Island to be married. It was all settled, he should come with a horse and shay to the gate, and then help her out of the window, jist at nine o'clock, about the time she commonly went to bed. Then he axes her to reach down her hand for him to kiss (for he was proper clever at soft sawder), and she stretches it down and he kisses it; and, says he, 'I believe I must have the whole of you out arter all,' and gives her a jirk that kinder startled her; it came so sudden like it made her scream; so off he sot, hot foot, and over the gate in no time.

"Well, I ciphered over this all night, a-calculatin' how I should reciprocate that trick with him, and at last I hit on a scheme. I recollected father's words at partin', 'MIND WHAT I TELL YOU, YOU'LL SWING FOR IT YET;' and thinks I, friend Jim, I'll make that prophecy come true yet, I guess. So the next night, jist at dark, I gives January Snow, the old nigger, a nidge with my elbow, and as soon as he looks up, I winks and walks out and he arter me. Says I, 'January can you keep your tongue within your teeth, you old nigger you?' 'Why massa, why you ax that 'ere question? My Gor A'mity, you tink old Snow he don't know dat 'ere yet? My tongue he got plenty room now, debil a tooth left; he can stretch out ever so far; like a little leg in a big bed, he lay quiet enough, Massa, neber fear.' 'Well, then,' says I, 'bend down that 'ere ash saplin' softly, you old Snowball, and make no noise. The saplin' was no sooner bent than secured to the ground by a notched peg and a noose, and a slip-knot was suspended from the tree, jist over the track that led from the pathway to the house. 'Why, my Gor, massa, that's a—' 'Hold your mug, you old nigger,' says I, 'or I'll send your tongue a-sarchin' arter your teeth; keep quiet, and follow me in presently.'

"Well, jist as it struck nine o'clock, says I, 'Sally, hold this here hank of twine for a minute, till I wind a trifle on it off; that's a dear critter.' She sot down her candle, and I put the twine on her hands, and then I begins to wind and wind away ever so slow, and drops the ball every now and then, so as to keep her downstairs. 'Sam,' says she, 'I do believe you won't wind that 'ere twine off all night, do give it to January; I won't stay no longer, I'm e'enamost dead asleep.' 'The old feller's arm is so plaguy onsteady,' says I, 'it won't do; but hark, what's that, I'm sure I heerd something in the ash saplin', didn't you Sall?' 'I heerd the geese there, that's all,' says she, 'they always come under the windows at night;' but she looked scared enough, and says she, 'I vow I'm tired a holdin' out of my arms this way, and I won't do it no longer;' and down she throw'd the hank on the floor. 'Well,' says I, 'stop one minute, dear, till I send old January out to see if anybody is there; perhaps some o' neighbour Dearborne's cattle have broke into the sarce garden. January went out, though Sall say'd it was no use, for she knew the noise of the geese, they always kept close to the house at night, for fear of the varmin. Presently in runs old Snow, with his hair standin' up an eend, and the whites of his eyes lookin' as big as the rims of a soup plate. 'Oh! Gor A'mity,' said he, 'oh massa, oh Miss Sally, oh!' 'What on airth is the matter with you?' said Sally; 'how you do frighten me; I vow I believe you'r mad.' 'Oh my Gor,' said he, 'oh! massa Jim Munroe he hang himself, on the ash saplin' under Miss Sally's window—oh my Gor!' That shot was a settler, it struck poor Sall right atwixt wind and water; she gave a lurch ahead, then healed over and sunk right down in another faintin' fit; and Juno, old Snow's wife, carried her off and laid her down on the bed. Poor thing, she felt ugly enough, I do suppose.

"Well, father, I thought he'd a-fainted too, he was so struck up all of a heap, he was completely bung fungered. 'Dear, dear,' said he, 'I didn't think it would come to pass so soon, but I knew it would come; I foretold it; says I, the last time I seed him, "Jim," says I, "mind what I say, YOU'LL SWING FOR IT YET." Give me the sword I wore when I was at Bunker's hill—maybe there is life yet—I'll cut him down.' The lantern was soon made ready, and out we went to the ash saplin'. 'Cut me down, Sam, that's a good fellow,' said Jim, 'all the blood in my body has swashed into my head, and's a-runnin' out o' my nose, I'm e'enamost smothered, be quick for heaven's sake.' 'The Lord be praised,' said father, 'the poor sinner is not quite dead yet. Why, as I'm alive—well if that don't beat all natur'! Why he has hanged himself by one leg, and's a-swingin' like a rabbit upside down, that's a fact. Why, if he ain't snared, Sam; he is properly wired I declare—I vow this is some o' your doin's, Sam—well it was a clever scheme too, but a little grain too dangerous, I guess.' 'Don't stand staring and jawin' there all night,' said Jim, 'cut me down, I tell you—or cut my throat and be damned to you, for I am chokin' with blood.' 'Roll over that 'ere hogshead, old Snow,' said I, 'till I get atop on it and cut him down.' So I soon released him, but he couldn't walk a bit. His ankle was swelled and sprained like vengeance, and he swore one leg was near about six inches longer than t'other. 'Jim Munroe,' says father, 'little did I think I should ever see you inside my door agin, but I bid you enter now, we owe you that kindness, anyhow.'

"Well, to make a long story short, Jim was so chop-fallen, and so down in the mouth, he begged for heaven's sake it might be kept a secret; he said he would run the state, if ever it got wind, he was sure he couldn't stand it. 'It will be one while, I guess,' said father, 'afore you are able to run or stand either; but if you will give me your hand, Jim, and promise to give over your evil ways, I will not only keep it secret, but you shall be a welcome guest at old Sam Slick's once more, for the sake of your father. He was a brave man, one of the heroes of Bunker's hill; he was our Sergeant and—' 'He promises,' says I, 'father' (for the old man had stuck his right foot out, the way he always stood when he told about the old war; and as Jim couldn't stir a peg, it was a grand chance, and he was a-goin' to give him the whole revolution from General Gage up to Independence), 'he promises,' says I, 'father.' Well it was all settled, and things soon grew as calm as a pan of milk two days old; and afore a year was over, Jim was as steady a-goin' man as Minister Joshua Hopewell, and was married to our Sall. Nothin' was ever said about the snare till arter the weddin'. When the Minister had finished axin' a blessin', father goes up to Jim, and says he, 'Jim Munroe, my boy,' givin' him a rousin' slap on the shoulder that sot him a-coughin' for the matter of five minutes (for he was a mortal powerful man, was father), 'Jim Munroe, my boy,' says he, 'you've got the snare round your neck, I guess now, instead of your leg; the saplin' has been a father to you, may you be the father of many saplin's.'

"We had a most special time of it, you may depend, all except the minister; father got him into a corner, and gave him chapter and verse for the whole war. Every now and then as I come near them, I heard Bunker's Hill, Brandywine, Clinton, Gates, and so on. It was broad day when we parted, and the last that went was poor minister. Father followed him clean down to the gate, and says he, 'Minister, we hadn't time this hitch, or I'd a told you all about the evakyation of New York, but I'll tell you that the next time we meet.'"



No. XXI

Setting up for Governor.

"I never see one of them queer little old-fashioned teapots, like that 'ere in the cupboard of Marm Pugwash," said the Clockmaker, "that I don't think of Lawyer Crowningshield and his wife. When I was down to Rhode Island last, I spent an evening with them. Arter I had been there a while, the black house-help brought in a little home made dipped candle, stuck in a turnip sliced in two, to make it stand straight, and set it down on the table. 'Why,' says the lawyer to his wife, 'Increase my dear, what on airth is the meanin' o' that? What does little Viney mean by bringin' in such a light as this, that ain't fit for even a log hut of one of our free and enlightened citizens away down east; where's the lamp?' 'My dear,' says she, 'I ordered it—you know they are a-goin' to set you up for Governor next year, and I allot we must economize or we will be ruined; the salary is only four hundred dollars a year, you know, and you'll have to give up your practice; we can't afford nothin' now.'

"Well, when tea was brought in, there was a little wee china teapot, that held about the matter of half a pint or so, and cups and sarcers about the bigness of children's toys. When he seed that, he grew most peskily riled, his under lip curled down like a peach leaf that's got a worm in it, and he stripped his teeth, and showed his grinders, like a bull-dog. 'What foolery is this?' said he. 'My dear,' said she, 'it's the foolery of being Governor; if you choose to sacrifice all your comfort to being the first rung in the ladder, don't blame me for it. I didn't nominate you—I had not art nor part in it. It was cooked up at that 'ere Convention, at Town Hall.' Well, he sot for some time without sayin' a word, lookin' as black as a thunder cloud, just ready to make all natur' crack agin. At last he gets up, and walks round behind his wife's chair, and takin' her face between his two hands, he turns it up and gives her a buss that went off like a pistol; it fairly made my mouth water to see him; thinks I, Them lips ain't a bad bank to deposit one's spare kisses in, neither. 'Increase, my dear,' said he, 'I believe you are half right; I'll decline tomorrow, I'll have nothin' to do with it. I WON'T BE A GOVERNOR, ON NO ACCOUNT.'

"Well, she had to haw and gee like, both a little, afore she could get her head out of his hands; and then she said, 'Zachariah,' says she, 'how you do act! Ain't you ashamed? Do for gracious sake behave yourself!' and she coloured up all over like a crimson piany; 'if you havn't foozled all my hair too, that's a fact,' says she; and she put her curls to rights, and looked as pleased as fun, though poutin' all the time, and walked right out of the room. Presently in come two well dressed house-helps, one with a splendid gilt lamp, a real London touch, and another with a tea tray, with a large solid silver coffee pot, and teapot, and a cream jug, and sugar bowl, of the same genuine metal, and a most an elegant set of real gilt china. Then in came Marm Crowningshield herself, lookin' as proud as if she would not call the President her cousin; and she gave the lawyer a look, as much as to say, I guess when Mr. Slick is gone, I'll pay you off that 'ere kiss with interest, you dear you; I'll answer a bill at sight for it, I will, you may depend. 'I believe,' said he agin, 'you are right, Increase, my dear, it's an expensive kind of honour that, bein' Governor, and no great thanks neither; great cry and little wool, all talk and no cider. It's enough I guess for a man to govern his own family, ain't it, dear?' 'Sartin, my love,' said she, 'sartin, a man is never so much in his own proper sphere as there; and beside,' said she, 'his will is supreme to home, there is no danger of any one non-concurring him there;' and she gave me a sly look, as much as to say, I let him think he is master in his own house, FOR WHEN LADIES WEAR THE BREECHES, THEIR PETTICOATS OUGHT TO BE LONG ENOUGH TO HIDE THEM; but I allot, Mr. Slick, you can see with half an eye that the 'grey mare is the better horse' here.

"What a pity it is," continued the Clockmaker, "that the Bluenoses would not take a leaf out of Marm Crowninshield's book—talk more of their own affairs and less of politics. I'm sick of the everlastin' sound of 'House of Assembly,' and 'Council,' and 'great folks.' They never alleviate talking about them from July to etarnity.

"I had a curious conversation about politics once, away up to the right here. Do you see that 'ere house," said he, "in the field, that's got a lurch to leeward, like a north river sloop, struck with a squall, off West Point, lopsided like? It looks like Seth Pine, a tailor down to Hartford, that had one leg shorter than t'other, when he stood at ease at militia trainin', a-restin' on the littlest one. Well, I had a special frolic there the last time I passed this way. I lost the linch pin out of my forrard axle, and I turned up there to get it sot to rights. Just as I drove through the gate, I saw the eldest gal a-makin' for the house for dear life—she had a short petticoat on that looked like a kilt, and her bare legs put me in mind of the long shanks of a bittern down in a rush swamp, a-drivin' away like mad, full chisel arter a frog. I couldn't think what on airth was the matter. Thinks I, she wants to make herself look decent like afore I get in, she don't like to pull her stockings on afore me; so I pulls up the old horse and let her have a fair start. Well, when I came to the door, I heard a proper scuddin'; there was a regular flight into Egypt, jist such a noise as little children make when the mistress comes suddenly into school, all a-huddlin' and scroudgin' into their seats, as quick as wink. 'Dear me!' says the old woman, as she put her head out of a broken window to avail who it was, 'is it you, Mr. Slick? I sniggers, if you didn't frighten us properly, we actilly thought it was the sheriff; do come in.

"Poor thing, she looked half starved and half savage, hunger and temper had made proper strong lines in her face, like water furrows in a ploughed field; she looked bony and thin, like a horse that has had more work than oats, and had a wicked expression, as though it warn't over safe to come too near her heels—an everlastin' kicker. 'You may come out, John,' said she to her husband, 'it's only Mr. Slick;' and out came John from under the bed backwards, on all fours, like an ox out of the shoein' frame, or a lobster skullin' wrong eend foremost; he looked as wild as a hawk. Well, I swan, I thought I should have split, I could hardly keep from bustin' right out with larfter; he was all covered with feathers, lint and dust, the savin's of all the sweepin's since the house was built, shoved under there for tidiness. He actilly sneezed for the matter of ten minutes—he seemed half choked with the flaff and stuff, that came out with him like a cloud. Lord, he looked like a goose half picked, as if all the quills were gone, but the pin-feathers and down were left, jist ready for singein' and stuffin. He put me in mind of a sick Adjutant, a great tall hulkin' bird, that comes from the East Indgies, a'most as high as a man, and most as knowin' as a Bluenose. I'd a gin a hundred dollars to have had that chap as a show at a fair; tar and feathers warn't half as nateral. You've seen a gal both larf and cry at the same time, hain't you? Well, I hope I may be shot if I couldn't have done the same. To see that critter come like a turkey out of a bag at Christmas, to be fired at for ten cents a shot, was as good as a play; but to look round and see the poverty—the half-naked children; the old pine stumps for chairs; a small bin of poor, watery, yaller potatoes in the corner; daylight through the sides and roof of the house, lookin' like the tarred seams of a ship, all black where the smoke got out; no utensils for cookin' or eatin'; and starvation wrote as plain as a handbill on their holler cheeks, skinney fingers, and sunk eyes—went right straight to the heart. I do declare I believe I should have cried, only they didn't seem to mind it themselves. They had been used to it, like a man that's married to a thunderin' ugly wife, he gets so accustomed to the look of her everlastin' dismal mug, that he don't think her ugly at all.

"Well, there was another chap a-settin' by the fire, and he DID look as if he saw it, and felt it too; he didn't seem over half pleased, you may depend. He was the District Schoolmaster, and he told me he was takin' a spell at boardin' there, for it was their turn to keep him. Thinks I to myself, poor devil, you've brought your pigs to a pretty market, that's a fact. I see how it is, the Bluenoses can't cipher. The cat's out of the bag now; it's no wonder they don't go ahead, for they don't know nothin'; the 'Schoolmaster is abroad,' with the devil to it, for he has no home at all. Why, Squire, you might jist as well expect a horse to go right off in gear, before he is halter broke, as a Bluenose to get on in the world, when he has got no schoolin'.

"But to get back to my story. 'Well,' says I, 'how's times with you, Mrs. Spry?' 'Dull,' says she, 'very dull; there's no markets now, things don't fetch nothin'.' Thinks I, some folks hadn't ought to complain of markets, for they don't raise nothin' to sell, but I didn't say so; FOR POVERTY IS KEEN ENOUGH, WITHOUT SHARPENING ITS EDGE BY POKIN' FUN AT IT. 'Potatoes,' says I, 'will fetch a good price this fall, for it's a short crop in a general way; how's your'n?' 'Grand,' says she, 'as complete as you ever seed; our tops were small and didn't look well; but we have the handsomest bottoms, it's generally allowed, in all our place; you never seed the best of them, they are actilly worth lookin' at.' I vow I had to take a chaw of tobaccy to keep from snortin' right out, it sounded so queer like. Thinks I to myself, old lady, it's a pity you couldn't be changed eend for eend then, as some folks do their stockings; it would improve the look of your dial-plate amazin'ly then, that's a fact.

"Now there was human natur', Squire," said the Clockmaker, "there was pride even in that hovel. It is found in rags as well as King's robes, where butter is spread with the thumb as well as the silver knife, NATUR' IS NATUR' WHEREVER YOU FIND IT.

"Jist then, in came one or two neighbours to see the sport, for they took me for a sheriff or constable, or something of that breed, and when they saw it was me they sot down to hear the news; they fell right too at politics as keen as anything, as if it had been a dish of real Connecticut slapjacks, or hominy; or what is better still, a glass of real genuine splendid mint julep, WHE-EU-UP, it fairly makes my mouth water to think of it. 'I wonder,' says one, 'what they will do for us this winter in the House of Assembly?' 'Nothin',' says the other, 'they never do nothin' but what the great people at Halifax tell 'em. Squire Yeoman is the man, he'll pay up the great folks this hitch, he'll let 'em have their own, he's jist the boy that can do it.' Says I, 'I wish I could say all men were as honest then, for I am afeard there are a great many won't pay me up this winter; I should like to trade with your friend, who is he?' 'Why,' says he, 'he is the member for Isle Sable County, and if he don't let the great folks have it, it's a pity.' 'Who do you call great folks?' said I, 'for I vow I havn't seed one since I came here. The only one that I know that comes near hand to one is Nicholas Overknocker, that lives all along shore, about Margaret's Bay, and HE IS a great man—it takes a yoke of oxen to drag him. When I first seed him, says I, "What on airth is the matter o' that man, has he the dropsy? For he is actilly the greatest man I ever seed; he must weigh the matter of five hundred weight; he'd cut three inches on the rib; he must have a proper sight of lard, that chap." No,' says I, 'don't call 'em great men, for there ain't a great man in the country, that's a fact; there ain't one that desarves the name; folks will only larf at you if you talk that way. There may be some rich men, and I believe there be, and it's a pity there warn't more on 'em, and a still greater pity they have so little spirit or enterprise among 'em, but a country is none the worse of having rich men in it, you may depend. Great folks! Well, come, that's a good joke, that bangs the bush. No, my friend,' says I, 'the meat that's at the top of the barrel, is sometimes not so good as that that's a little further down; the upper and lower eends are plaguy apt to have a little taint in 'em, but the middle is always good.'

"'Well,' says the Bluenose, 'perhaps they bean't great men, exactly in that sense, but they are great men compared to us poor folks; and they eat up all the revenue; there's nothin' left for roads and bridges; they want to ruin the country, that's a fact.' 'Want to ruin your granny,' says I (for it raised my dander to hear the critter talk such nonsense); I did hear of one chap,' says I, 'that sot fire to his own house once, up to Squantum, but the cunnin' rascal insured it first; now how can your great folks ruin the country without ruinin' themselves, unless they have insured the Province? Our folks will insure all creation for half nothin', but I never heerd tell of a country being insured agin rich men. Now if you ever go to Wall Street to get such a policy, leave the door open behind you, that's all; or they'll grab right hold of you, shave your head and blister it, clap a straight jacket on you, and whip you right into a mad house, afore you can say Jack Robinson. No, your great men are nothin' but rich men, and I can tell you for your comfort, there's nothin' to hinder you from bein' rich too, if you will take the same means as they did. They were once all as poor folks as you be, or their fathers afore them; for I know their whole breed, seed and generation, and they wouldn't thank you to tell them that you knew their fathers and grandfathers, I tell you. If ever you want the loan of a hundred pounds from any of them, keep dark about that; see as far ahead as you please, but it ain't always pleasant to have folks see too far back. Perhaps they be a little proud or so, but that's nateral; all folks that grow up right off, like a mushroom in one night, are apt to think no small beer of themselves. A cabbage has plaguy large leaves to the bottom, and spreads them out as wide as an old woman's petticoats, to hide the ground it sprung from, and conceal its extraction, but what's that to you? If they get too large salaries, dock 'em down at once, but don't keep talkin' about it for everlastinly. If you have too many sarvents, pay some on 'em off, or when they quit your sarvice don't hire others in their room, that's all; but you miss your mark when you keep firin' away at bankers, lawyers, and public officers, the whole blessed time that way.

"'I went out a-gunnin' once when I was a boy, and father went along with me to teach me. Well, the first flock of plover I seed I let slip at 'em, and missed 'em. Says father, says he, "What a blockhead you be, Sam, that's your own fault, they were too far off; you hadn't ought to have fired so soon. At Bunker's hill we let the British come right on till we seed the whites of their eyes, and then we let 'em have it slap bang." Well, I felt kinder grigged at missin' my shot, and I didn't over half like to be scolded too; so, says I, "Yes, father; but recollect you had a mud bank to hide behind, where you were proper safe, and you had a rest for your guns too; but as soon as you seed a little more than the whites of their eyes, you run for dear life, full split; and so I don't see much to brag on in that arter all, so come now." "I'll teach you to talk that way, you puppy you," said he, "of that glorious day;" and he fetched me a wipe that I do believe if I hadn't a dodged, would have spoiled my gunnin' for that hitch; so I gave him a wide birth arter that all day. Well, the next time I missed, says I, "She hung fire so everlastinly, it's no wonder;" and the next miss, says I, "The powder is no good, I vow." Well, I missed every shot, and I had an excuse for every one on 'em—the flint was bad, or she flashed in the pan, or the shot scaled, or something or another; and when all wouldn't do, I swore the gun was no good at all. "Now," says father (and he edged up all the time, to pay me off for that hit at his Bunker hill story, which was the only shot I didn't miss), you hain't got the right reason arter all. It was your own fault, Sam."

"'Now that's jist the case with you; you may blame Banks and Council, and House of Assembly, and "the great men," till you are tired, but it's all your own fault—YOU'VE NO SPIRIT AND NO ENTERPRISE, YOU WANT INDUSTRY AND ECONOMY; USE THEM, AND YOU'LL SOON BE AS RICH AS THE PEOPLE AT HALIFAX YOU CALL GREAT FOLKS. They didn't grow rich by talkin', but by workin'; instead of lookin' after other folks' business, they looked about the keenest arter their own. You are like the machinery of one of our boats—good enough, and strong enough, but of no airthly use till you get the steam up; you want to be set in motion, and then you'll go ahead like anything, you may depend. Give up politics. It's a barren field, and well watched too; when one critter jumps a fence into a good field and gets fat, more nor twenty are chased round and round, by a whole pack of yelpin' curs, till they are fairly beat out, and eend by bein' half-starved, and are at the liftin' at last. Look to your farms, your water powers, your fisheries, and factories. In short,' says I, puttin' on my hat and startin', 'look to yourselves, and don't look to others.'"



No. XXII

A Cure for Conceit.

"It's a most curious, unaccountable thing, but it's a fact," said the Clockmaker, "the Bluenoses are so conceited, they think they know everything; and yet there ain't a livin' soul in Nova Scotia knows his own business real complete, farmer or fisherman, lawyer or doctor, or any other folk. A farmer said to me one day, up to Pugnose's inn at River Philip, 'Mr. Slick,' says he, 'I allot this ain't "A BREAD COUNTRY;" I intend to sell off the house I improve, and go to the States.' 'If it ain't a bread country,' said I, 'I never seed one that was. There is more bread used here, made of best superfine flour, and No. 1 Genesssee, than in any other place of the same population in the univarse. You might as well say it ain't a clock country, when, to my sartin knowledge, there are more clocks than bibles in it. I guess you expect to raise your bread ready made, don't you? Well there's only one class of our free and enlightened citizens that can do that, and that's them that are born with silver spoons in their mouths. It's a pity you wasn't availed of this truth, afore you up killoch and off; take my advice and bide where you be.'

"Well, the fishermen are jist as bad. The next time you go into the fish market at Halifax, stump some of the old hands; says you 'how many fins has a cod, at a word?' and I'll liquidate the bet if you lose it. When I've been along-shore afore now, a-vendin' of my clocks, and they began to raise my dander, by belittleing the Yankees, I always brought them up by a round turn by that requirement, 'How many fins has a cod, at a word.' Well, they never could answer it; and then, says I, 'When you larn your own business, I guess it will be time enough to teach other folks their'n.'

"How different it is with our men folk, if they can't get through a question, how beautifully they can go round it, can't they? Nothin' never stops them. I had two brothers, Josiah and Eldad, one was a lawyer, and the other a doctor. They were a-talkin' about their examinations one night, at a huskin' frolic, up to Governor Ball's big stone barn at Slickville. Says Josy, 'When I was examined, the judge axed me all about real estate; and, says he, "Josiah," says he, "what's a fee?" "Why," says I, "Judge, it depends on the natur' of the case. In a common one," says I, "I call six dollars a pretty fair one; but lawyer Webster has got afore now, I've heerd tell, one thousand dollars, and that I DO CALL a fee." Well, the judge he larfed ready to split his sides (thinks I, old chap, you'll bust like a steam b'iler, if you hain't got a safety valve somewhere or another), and says he, "I vow that's superfine; I'll indorse your certificate for you, young man; there's no fear of you, you'll pass the inspection brand anyhow."

"'Well,' says Eldad, 'I hope I may be skinned if the same thing didn't e'enamost happen to me at my examination. They axed me a 'nation sight of questions, some on 'em I could answer, and some on 'em no soul could, right off the reel at a word, without a little cipherin'; at last they axed me, "How would you calculate to put a patient into a sweat, when common modes wouldn't work no how?" "Why," says I, "I'd do as Dr. Comfort Payne sarved father." "And how was that?" said they. "Why," says I, "he put him into such a sweat as I never seed him in afore, in all my born days, since I was raised, by sending him in his bill, and if that didn't sweat him it's a pity; it was an ACTIVE dose you may depend." "I guess that 'ere chap has cut his eye-teeth," said the President; "let him pass as approbated."'

"They both knowed well enough; they only made as if they didn't, to poke a little fun at them, for the Slick family were counted in a general way to be pretty considerable cute.

"They reckon themselves here a chalk above us Yankees, but I guess they have a wrinkle or two to grow afore they progress ahead on us yet. If they hain't got a full cargo of conceit here, then I never seed a load, that's all. They have the hold chock full, deck piled up to the pump handles, and scuppers under water. They larnt that of the British, who are actilly so full of it, they remind me of Commodore Trip. When he was about half-shaved he thought everybody drunk but himself. I never liked the last war, I thought it unnateral, and that we hadn't ought to have taken hold of it at all, and so most of our New England folks thought; and I wasn't sorry to hear Gineral Dearborne was beat, seein' we had no call to go into Canada. But when the Guerriere was captivated by our old Ironsides, the Constitution, I did feel lifted up amost as high as a stalk of Varginny corn among Connecticut middlins; I grew two inches taller I vow, the night I heerd that news. Brag, says I, is a good dog, but Holdfast is better. The British navals had been a-braggin' and a-hectorin' so long, that when they landed in our cities, they swaggered e'enamost as much as Uncle Peleg (big Peleg as he was called), and when he walked up the centre of one of our narrow Boston streets, he used to swing his arms on each side of him, so that folks had to clear out of both foot paths; he's cut, afore now, the fingers of both hands agin the shop windows on each side of the street. Many the poor feller's crupper bone he's smashed, with his great thick boots, a-throwin' out his feet afore him e'enamost out of sight, when he was in full rig a-swigglin' away at the top of his gait. Well, they cut as many shines as Uncle Peleg. One frigate they guessed would captivate, sink, or burn our whole navy. Says a naval one day, to the skipper of a fishing boat that he took, says he, 'Is it true Commodore Decatur's sword is made of an old iron hoop?' 'Well,' says the skipper, 'I'm not quite certified as to that, seein' as I never sot eyes on it; but I guess if he gets a chance he'll show you the temper of it some of these days, anyhow.'

"I mind once a British man-o'-war took one of our Boston vessels, and ordered all hands on board, and sent a party to skuttle her; well, they skuttled the fowls and the old particular genuine rum, but they obliviated their arrand and left her. Well, next day another frigate (for they were as thick as toads arter a rain) comes near her, and fires a shot for her to bring to. No answer was made, there bein' no livin' soul on board, and another shot fired, still no answer. 'Why what on airth is the meanin' of this,' said the Captain; 'why don't they haul down that damn goose and gridiron?' (That's what he called our eagle and stars on the flag.) 'Why,' says the first leftenant, 'I guess they are all dead men, that shot frightened them to death.' 'They are afeared to show their noses,' says another, 'lest they should be shaved off by our shots.' 'They are all down below "A-CALCULATIN'" their loss I guess,' says a third. 'I'll take my davy,' says the Captain, 'it's some Yankee trick—a torpedo in her bottom or some such trap; we'll let her be;' and sure enough, next day, back she came to shore of herself. 'I'll give you a quarter of an hour,' says the Captain of the Guerriere to his men, 'to take that 'ere Yankee frigate, the Constitution.' I guess he found his mistake where he didn't expect it, without any great sarch for it either. Yes (to eventuate my story), it did me good; I felt dreadful nice, I promise you. It was as lovely as bitters of a cold mornin'. Our folks beat 'em arter that so often, they got a little grain too much conceit also. They got their heels too high for their boots, and began to walk like uncle Peleg too, so that when the Chesapeake got whipped I warn't sorry. We could spare that one, and it made our navals look round, like a feller who gets a hoist, to see who's a-larfin' at him. It made 'em brush the dust off, and walk on rather sheepish. It cut their combs that's a fact. The war did us a plaguy sight of good in more ways than one, and it did the British some good too. It taught 'em not to carry their chins too high, for fear they shouldn't see the gutters—a mistake that's spoiled many a bran' new coat and trousers afore now.

"Well, these Bluenoses have caught this disease, as folks do the Scotch fiddle, by shakin' hands along with the British. Conceit has become here, as Doctor Rush says (you have heerd tell of him? he's the first man of the age, and it's generally allowed our doctors take the shine off of all the world), acclimated; it is citizenized among 'em; and the only cure is a real good quiltin'. I met a first chop Colchester gag this summer a-goin' to the races to Halifax, and he knowed as much about racin', I do suppose, as a Choctaw Ingian does of a railroad. Well, he was a-praisin' of his horse, and runnin' on like statiee. He was begot, he said, by Roncesvalles, which was better than any horse that ever was seen, because he was once in a duke's stable in England. It was only a man that had blood like a lord, said he, that knew what blood in a horse was. Captain Currycomb, an officer at Halifax, had seen his horse and praised him; and that was enough—that stamped him—that fixed his value. It was like the President's name to a bank note, it makes it pass current. 'Well,' says I, 'I hain't got a drop of blood in me, nothin' stronger than molasses and water, I vow, but I guess I know a horse when I see him for all that, and I don't think any great shakes of your beast, anyhow. What start will you give me,' says I, 'and I will run Old Clay agin you, for a mile lick right an eend.' 'Ten rods,' said he, 'for twenty dollars.' Well, we run, and I made Old Clay bite in his breath and only beat him by half a neck. 'A tight scratch,' says I, 'that, and it would have sarved me right if I had been beat. I had no business to run an old roadster so everlastin' fast, it ain't fair on him, is it?' Says he, 'I will double the bet and start even, and run you agin if you dare.' 'Well,' says I, 'since I won the last it wouldn't be pretty not to give you a chance; I do suppose I oughtn't to refuse, but I don't love to abuse my beast by knockin' him about this way.'

"As soon as the money was staked, I said, 'Hadn't we better,' says I, 'draw stakes? That 'ere blood horse of your'n has such uncommon particular bottom, he'll perhaps leave me clean out of sight.' 'No fear of that,' said he, larfin', 'but he'll beat you easy, anyhow. No flinchin',' says he, 'I'll not let you go back of the bargain. It's run or forfeit.' 'Well,' says I, 'friend, there is fear of it; your horse will leave me out of sight, to a sartainty, that's a fact, for he CAN'T KEEP UP TO ME NO TIME. I'll drop him, hull down, in tu tu's.' If Old Clay didn't make a fool of him, it's a pity. Didn't he gallop pretty, that's all? He walked away from him, jist as the Chancellor Livingston steamboat passes a sloop at anchor in the north river. Says I, 'I told you your horse would beat me clean out of sight, but you wouldn't believe me; now,' says I, 'I will tell you something else. That 'ere horse will help, you to lose more money to Halifax than you are a-thinkin' on; for there ain't a beast gone down there that won't beat him. He can't run a bit, and you may tell the British Captain I say so. Take him home and sell him, buy a good yoke of oxen; they are fast enough for a farmer, and give up blood horses to them that can afford to keep stable helps to tend 'em, and leave bettin' alone to them, as has more money nor wit, and can afford to lose their cash, without thinkin' agin of their loss.' 'When I want your advice,' said he, 'I will ask it,' most peskily sulky. 'You might have got it before you axed for it,' said I, 'but not afore you wanted it, you may depend on it. But stop,' said I, 'let's see that all's right afore we part;' so I counts over the fifteen pounds I won of him, note by note, as slow as anything, on purpose to rile him; then I mounts Old Clay agin, and says I, 'Friend, you have considerably the advantage of me this hitch, anyhow.' 'Possible!' says he, 'how's that?' 'Why,' says I, 'I guess you'll return rather lighter than you came, and that's more nor I can say, anyhow;' and then I gave him a wink and a jupe of the head, as much as to say, 'do you take?' and rode on and left him starin' and scratchin' his head like a feller who's lost his road. If that citizen ain't a born fool, or too far gone in the disease, depend on't, he found 'A CURE FOR CONCEIT.'"



No. XXIII

The Blowin' Time.

The long, rambling dissertation on conceit to which I had just listened, from the Clockmaker, forcibly reminded me of the celebrated aphorism "gnothi seauton," know thyself, which, both from its great antiquity and wisdom, has been by many attributed to an oracle.

With all his shrewdness to discover, and his humour to ridicule the foibles of others, Mr. Slick was kind to the many defects of his own character; and while prescribing "a cure for conceit," exhibited in all he said, and all he did, the most overweening conceit himself. He never spoke of his own countrymen, without calling them "the most free and enlightened citizens on the face of the airth," or as "takin' the shine off of all creation." His country he boasted to be the "best atween the poles," "the greatest glory under heaven." The Yankees he considered (to use his expression) as "actilly the class-leaders in knowledge among all the Americans," and boasted that they have not only "gone ahead of all others," but had lately arrived at that most enviable NE PLUS ULTRA point, "goin' ahead of themselves." In short, he entertained no doubt that Slickville was the finest place in the greatest nation in the world, and the Slick family the wisest family in it.

I was about calling his attention to this national trait, when I saw him draw his reins under his foot (a mode of driving peculiar to himself, when he wished to economize the time that would otherwise be lost by an unnecessary delay), and taking off his hat (which, like a peddler's pack, contained a general assortment), select from a number of loose cigars one that appeared likely "to go," as he called it. Having lighted it by a lucifer, and ascertained that it was "true in draft," he resumed his reins and remarked—

"This must be an everlastin' fine country beyond all doubt, for the folks have nothin' to do but to ride about and talk politics. In winter, when the ground is covered with snow, what grand times they have a-sleighin' over these here marshes with the gals, or playin' ball on the ice, or goin' to quiltin' frolics of nice long winter evenings, and then a-drivin' home like mad, by moonlight. Natur' meant that season on purpose for courtin'. A little tidy scrumptious lookin' sleigh, a real clipper of a horse, a string of bells as long as a string of inions round his neck, and a sprig on his back, lookin' for all the world like a bunch of apples broke off at gatherin' time, and a sweetheart alongside, all muffled up but her eyes and lips—the one lookin' right into you, and the other talkin' right at you—is e'enamost enough to drive one ravin' tarin' distracted mad with pleasure, ain't it? And then the dear critters say the bells make such a din there's no hearin' one's self speak; so they put their pretty little mugs close up to your face, and talk, talk, talk, till one can't help lookin' right at them instead of the horse, and then whap you both go capsized into a snowdrift together, skins, cushions and all. And then to see the little critter shake herself when she gets up, like a duck landin' from a pond, a-chatterin' away all the time like a canary bird, and you a haw-hawin' with pleasure, is fun alive, you may depend. In this way Bluenose gets led on to offer himself as a lovier, afore he knows where he bees.

"But when he gets married, he recovers his eyesight in little less than half no time. He soon finds he's treed; his flint is fixed then, you may depend. She larns him how vinegar is made: 'Put plenty of sugar into the water aforehand, my dear,' says she, 'if you want to make it real sharp.' The larf is on the other side of his mouth then. If his sleigh gets upsot, it's no longer a funny matter, I tell you; he catches it right and left. Her eyes don't look right up to his'n any more, nor her little tongue ring, ring, ring, like a bell any longer, but a great big hood covers her head, and a whappin' great muff covers her face, and she looks like a bag of soiled clothes a-goin' to the brook to be washed. When they get out, she don't wait any more for him to walk lock and lock with her, but they march like a horse and a cow to water, one in each gutter. If there ain't a transmogrification it's a pity. The difference atween a wife and a sweetheart is near about as great as there is between new and hard cider: a man never tires of puttin' one to his lips, but makes plaguy wry faces at t'other. It makes me so kinder wamblecropt when I think on it, that I'm afeared to venture on matrimony at all. I have seen some Bluenoses most properly bit, you may depend. You've seen a boy a-slidin' on a most beautiful smooth bit of ice, hain't you, larfin', and hoopin', and hallooin' like one possessed, when presently sowse he goes in over head and ears? How he outs, fins, and flops about, and blows like a porpoise properly frightened, don't he? and when he gets out there he stands; all shiverin' and shakin', and the water a squish-squashin' in his shoes, and his trousers all stickin' slimsey-like to his legs. Well, he sneaks off home, lookin' like a fool, and thinkin' everybody he meets is a-larfin' at him—many folks here are like that 'ere boy, afore they have been six months married. They'd be proper glad to get out of the scrape too, and sneak off if they could, that's a fact. The marriage yoke is plaguy apt to gall the neck, as the ash bow does the ox in rainy weather, unless it be most particularly well fitted. You've seen a yoke of cattle that warn't properly mated, they spend more strength in pullin' agin each other, than in pullin' the load. Well that's apt to be the case with them as choose their wives in sleighin' parties, quiltin' frolics, and so on; instead of the dairies, looms, and cheese-houses.

"Now the Bluenoses are all a-stirrin' in winter. The young folks drive out the gals, and talk love and all sorts of things as sweet as doughnuts. The old folks find it near about as well to leave the old women to home, for fear they shouldn't keep tune together; so they drive out alone to chat about House of Assembly with their neighbours, while the boys and hired helps do the chores. When the Spring comes, and the fields are dry enough to be sowed, they all have to be ploughed, 'CAUSE FALL RAINS WASH THE LANDS TOO MUCH FOR FALL PLOUGHIN'. Well, the ploughs have to be mended and sharpened, 'CAUSE WHAT'S THE USE OF DOIN' THAT AFORE IT'S WANTED? Well, the wheat gets in too late, and then comes rust; but whose fault is that? WHY, THE CLIMATE TO BE SURE, FOR NOVA SCOTIA AIN'T A BREAD COUNTRY.

"When a man has to run ever so far as fast as he can clip, he has to stop and take breath; you must do that or choke. So it is with a horse; run him a mile, and his flanks will heave like a Blacksmith's bellows; you must slack up the rein and give him a little wind, or he'll fall right down with you. It stands to reason, don't it? Atwixt spring and fall work is 'BLOWIN' TIME.' Then Courts come on, and Grand Jury business, and Militia trainin', and Race trainin', and what not; and a fine spell of ridin' about and doin' nothin', a real 'BLOWIN TIME.' Then comes harvest, and that is proper hard work: mowin' and pitchin' hay, and reapin' and bindin' grain, and potato diggin'. That's as hard as sole leather, afore it's hammered on the lap stone; it's a'most next to anything. It takes a feller as tough as Old Hickory (General Jackson) to stand that.

"Ohio is 'most the only country I knew of where folks are saved that trouble; and there the freshets come jist in the nick of time for 'em, and sweep all the crops right up in a heap for 'em, and they have nothin' to do but take it home and house it, and sometimes a man gets more than his own crop, and finds a proper swad of it all ready piled up, only a little wet or so; but all countries ain't like Ohio. Well, arter harvest comes fall, and then there's a grand 'blowin' time' till spring. Now, how the Lord the Bluenoses can complain of their country, when it's only one third work and two-thirds 'blowin' time,' no soul can tell.

"Father used to say, when I lived on the farm along with him, 'Sam,' says he, 'I vow I wish there was jist four hundred days in the year, for it's a plaguy sight too short for me. I can find as much work as all hands on us can do for three hundred and sixty-five days, and jist thirty-five days more, if we had 'em. We hain't got a minit to spare; you must shell the corn and winner the grain at night, and clean all up slick, or I guess we'll fall astarn as sure as the Lord made Moses.' If he didn't keep us all at it, a-drivin' away full chisel, the whole blessed time, it's a pity. There was no 'blowin' time' there, you may depend. We ploughed all the fall for dear life; in winter we thrashed, made and mended tools, went to market and mill, and got out our firewood and rails. As soon as frost was gone, came sowin' and plantin', weedin' and hoein'; then harvest and spreadin' compost; then gatherin' manure, fencin' and ditchin'; and then turn tu and fall ploughin' agin. It all went round like a wheel without stoppin', and so fast, I guess you couldn't see the spokes, just one long everlastin' stroke from July to etarnity, without time to look back on the tracks. Instead of racin' over the country like a young doctor, to show how busy a man is that has nothin' to do, as Bluenose does, and then take a 'blowin' time,' we kept a rale travellin' gait, an eight-mile-an-hour pace, the whole year round. THEY BUY MORE NOR THEY SELL, AND EAT MORE THAN THEY RAISE, in this country. What a pretty way that is, isn't it? If the critters knew how to cipher, they would soon find out that a sum stated that way always eends in a naught. I never knew it to fail, and I defy any soul to cipher it so, as to make it come out any other way, either by Schoolmaster's Assistant or Algebra. When I was a boy, the Slickville bank broke, and an awful disorderment it made, that's a fact; nothin' else was talked of. Well, I studied it over a long time, but I couldn't make it out: so says I, 'Father, how came that 'ere bank to break? Warn't it well built? I thought that 'ere Quincy granite was so amazin' strong all natur' wouldn't break it.' 'Why you foolish critter,' says he, 'it ain't the buildin' that's broke, it's the consarn that's smashed.' 'Well,' says I, 'I know folks are plaguilly consarned about it, but what do you call folks' "smashin' their consarns"?' Father, he larfed out like anything; I thought he never would stop; and sister Sall got right up and walked out of the room, as mad as a hatter. Says she, 'Sam, I do believe you are a born fool, I vow.' When father had done larfin', says he, 'I'll tell you, Sam, how it was. They ciphered it so that they brought out nothin' for a remainder.' 'Possible!' says I; 'I thought there was no eend to their puss. I thought it was like Uncle Peleg's musquash hole, and that no soul could ever find the bottom of. My!' says I. 'Yes,' says he, 'that 'ere bank spent and lost more money than it made, and when folks do that, they must smash at last, if their puss be as long as the national one of Uncle Sam.' This Province is like that 'ere Bank of our'n, it's goin' the same road, and they'll find the little eend of the horn afore they think they are halfway down to it.

"If folks would only give over talkin' about that everlastin' House of Assembly and Council, and see to their farms, it would be better for 'em, I guess; for arter all, what is it? Why it's only a sort of first chop Grand Jury, and nothin' else. It's no more like Congress or Parliament, than Marm Pugwash's keepin' room is like our State hall. It's jist nothin'. Congress makes war and peace, has a say in all treaties, confarms all great nominations of the President, regilates the army and navy, governs twenty-four independent States, and snaps its fingers in the face of all the nations of Europe, as much as to say, who be you? I allot I am as big as you be. If you are six foot high, I am six foot six in my stockin' feet, by gum, and can lambaste any two on you in no time. The British can whip all the world, and we can whip the British. But this little House of Assembly that folks make such a touss about, what is it? Why jist a decent Grand Jury. They make their presentments of little money votes, to mend these everlastin' rottin' little wooden bridges, to throw a poultice of mud once a year on the roads, and then take a 'blowin' time' of three months and go home. The littler folks be, the bigger they talk. You never seed a small man that didn't wear high heel boots, and a high-crowned hat, and that warn't ready to fight most any one, to show he was a man every inch of him.

"I met a member the other day, who swaggered near about as large as Uncle Peleg. He looked as if he thought you couldn't find his 'ditto' anywhere. He used some most particular educational words, genuine jaw-breakers. He put me in mind of a squirrel I once shot in our wood location. The little critter got a hickory nut in his mouth; well, he found it too hard to crack, and too big to swaller, and for the life and soul of him, he couldn't spit it out agin. If he didn't look like a proper fool, you may depend. We had a pond back of our barn about the bigness of a good sizeable wash-tub, and it was chock full of frogs. Well, one of these little critters fancied himself a bull-frog, and he puffed out his cheeks, and took a real 'blowin' time' of it; he roared away like thunder; at last he puffed and puffed out till he bust like a b'iler. If I see the Speaker this winter (and I shall see him to a sartainty if they don't send for him to London, to teach their new Speaker; and he's up to snuff, that 'ere man; he knows how to cipher), I'll jist say to him, 'Speaker,' says I, 'if any of your folks in the House go to swell out like dropsy, give 'em a hint in time.' Says you, 'if you have are a little safety valve about you, let off a little steam now and then, or you'll go for it; recollect the Clockmaker's story of the "Blowin' time".'"



No. XXIV

Father John O'Shaughnessy.

"Tomorrow will be Sabbath day," said the Clockmaker; "I guess we'll bide where we be till Monday. I like a Sabbath in the country; all natur' seems at rest. There's a cheerfulness in the day here, you don't find in towns. You have natur' before you here, and nothin' but art there. The deathy stillness of a town, and the barred windows, and shut shops, and empty streets, and great long lines of big brick buildin's look melancholy. It seems as if life had ceased tickin', but there hadn't been time for decay to take hold on there; as if day had broke, but man slept. I can't describe exactly what I mean, but I always feel kinder gloomy and wamblecropt there.

"Now in the country it's jist what it ought to be—a day of rest for man and beast from labour. When a man rises on the Sabbath, and looks out on the sunny fields and wavin' crops, his heart feels proper grateful, and he says, Come, this is a splendid day, ain't it? Let's get ready and put on our bettermost close, and go to meetin'. His first thought is prayerfully to render thanks; and then when he goes to worship he meets all his neighbours, and he knows them all, and they are glad to see each other, and if any two on 'em hain't exactly gee'd together durin' the week, why they meet on kind of neutral ground, and the minister or neighbours make peace atween them. But it ain't so in towns. You don't know no one you meet there. It's the worship of neighbours, but it's the worship of strangers, too, for neighbours don't know nor care about each other. Yes, I love a Sabbath in the country."

While uttering this soliloquy, he took up a pamphlet from the table, and turning to the title page, said, "Have you ever seen this here book on the 'Elder Controversy?' (a controversy on the subject of Infant Baptism). This author's friends say it's a clincher; they say he has sealed up Elder's mouth as tight as a bottle."

"No," said I, "I have not; I have heard of it, but never read it. In my opinion the subject has been exhausted already, and admits of nothing new being said upon it. These religious controversies are a serious injury to the cause of true religion; they are deeply deplored by the good and moderate men of all parties. It has already embraced several denominations in the dispute in this Province, and I hear the agitation has extended to New Brunswick, where it will doubtless be renewed with equal zeal. I am told all the pamphlets are exceptionable in point of temper, and this one in particular, which not only ascribes the most unworthy motives to its antagonist, but contains some very unjustifiable and gratuitous attacks upon other sects unconnected with the dispute. The author has injured his own cause, for an INTEMPERATE ADVOCATE IS MORE DANGEROUS THAN AN OPEN FOE."

"There is no doubt on it," said the Clockmaker, "it is as clear as mud, and you are not the only one that thinks so, I tell you. About the hottest time of the dispute, I was to Halifax, and who should I meet but Father John O'Shaughnessy, a Catholic Priest. I had met him afore in Cape Breton, and had sold him a clock. Well, he was a-leggin' it off hot foot. 'Possible!' says I, 'Father John, is that you? Why, what on airth is the matter of you? What makes you in such an everlastin' hurry, driven away like one ravin' distracted mad?' 'A sick visit,' says he; 'poor Pat Lanigan—him that you mind to Bradore Lake—well he's near about at the p'int of death.' 'I guess not,' said I, 'for I jist heerd tell he was dead.' Well, that brought him up all standin', and he 'bouts ship in a jiffy, and walks a little way with me, and we got a-talkin' about this very subject. Says he, 'What are you, Mr. Slick?' Well, I looks up to him and winks—'A Clockmaker,' says I. Well he smiled, and says he, 'I see;' as much as to say I hadn't ought to have axed that 'ere question at all, I guess, for every man's religion is his own, and nobody else's business. 'Then,' says he, 'you know all about this country. Who do folks say has the best of the dispute?' Says I, 'Father John, it's like the battles up to Canada lines last war, each side claims victory; I guess there ain't much to brag on nary way, damage done on both sides, and nothin' gained, as far as I can learn.' He stopped short, and looked me in the face, and says he, 'Mr. Slick you are a man that has seed a good deal of the world, and a considerable of an understandin' man, and I guess I can talk to you. Now,' says he, 'for gracious sake do jist look here, and see how you heretics—protestants I mean,' says he (for I guess that 'ere word slipped out without leave), 'are by the ears, a-drivin' away at each other, the whole blessed time, tooth and nail, hip and thigh, hammer and tongs, disputin', revilin', wranglin', and beloutin' each other, with all sorts of ugly names that they can lay their tongues to. Is that the way you love your neighbour as yourself? WE SAY THIS IS A PRACTICAL COMMENT ON SCHISM, and by the powers of Moll Kelly,' said he, 'but they all ought to be well lambasted together, the whole batch on 'em entirely.' Says I, 'Father John, give me your hand; there are some things, I guess, you and I don't agree on, and most likely never will, seein' that you are a Popish priest; but in that idee I do opinionate with you, and I wish with all my heart all the world thought with us.'

"I guess he didn't half like that 'ere word Popish priest, it seemed to grig him like; his face looked kinder riled, like well water arter a heavy rain; and said he, 'Mr. Slick,' says he, 'your country is a free country, ain't it?' 'The freest,' says I, 'on the face of the airth—you can't "ditto" it nowhere. We are as free as the air, and when our dander's up, stronger than any hurricane you ever seed—tear up all creation 'most; there ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere.' 'Do you call this a free country?' said he. 'Pretty considerable middlin',' says I, 'seein' that they are under a king.' 'Well,' says he, 'if you were seen in Connecticut a-shakin' hands along with a Popish priest, as you are pleased to call me' (and he made me a bow, as much as to say mind your trumps the next deal), 'as you now are in the streets of Halifax along with me, with all your crackin' and boastin' of your freedom, I guess you wouldn't sell a clock agin in that State for one while, I tell you;' and he bid me good mornin' and turned away. 'Father John!' says I. 'I can't stop,' says he; 'I must see that poor critter's family; they must be in great trouble, and a sick visit is afore controvarsy in my creed.' 'Well,' says I, 'one word with you afore you go; if that 'ere name Popish priest was an ongenteel one, I ax your pardon; I didn't mean no offence, I do assure you, and I'll say this for your satisfaction, tu; you're the first man in this Province that ever gave me a real right down complete checkmate since I first sot foot in it, I'll be skinned if you ain't.'