"Yes," said Mr. Slick, "Father John was right; these antagonizing chaps ought to be well quilted, the whole raft of 'em. It fairly makes me sick to see the folks, each on 'em a-backin' up of their own man. 'At it agin!' says one; 'Fair play!' says another; 'Stick it into him!' says a third; and 'That's your sort!' says a fourth. Them are the folks who do mischief. They show such clear grit, it fairly frightens me. It makes my hair stand right up on eend to see ministers do that 'ere. IT APPEARS TO ME THAT I COULD WRITE A BOOK IN FAVOUR OF MYSELF AND MY NOTIONS WITHOUT, WRITIN' AGIN ANY ONE, AND IF I COULDN'T I WOULDN'T WRITE AT ALL, I SNORE. Our old minister, Mr. Hopewell (a real good man, and a larned man too that), they sent to him once to write agin the Unitarians, for they are a-goin' ahead like statiee in New England, but he refused. Said he, 'Sam,' says he, 'when I first went to Cambridge, there was a boxer and wrastler came there, and he beat every one wherever he went. Well, old Mr. Possit was the Church of England parson at Charlestown, at the time, and a terrible powerful man he was—a real sneezer, and as ACTIVE as a weasel. Well, the boxer met him one day, a little way out of town, a-takin' of his evenin' walk, and said he, "Parson," says he, "they say you are a most a plaguy strong man and uncommon stiff too." "Now," says he, "I never seed a man yet that was a match for me; would you have any objection jist to let me be availed of your strength here in a friendly way, by ourselves, where no soul would be the wiser; if you will I'll keep dark about it, I swan." "Go your way," said the Parson, "and tempt me not; you are a carnal-minded, wicked man, and I take no pleasure in such vain idle sports." "Very well," said the boxer; "now here I stand," says he, "in the path, right slap afore you; if you pass round me, then I take it as a sign that you are afeard on me, and if you keep the path, why then you must first put me out—that's a fact." The Parson jist made a spring forrard, and kitched him up as quick as wink, and throwed him right over the fence whap on the broad of his back, and then walked on as if nothin' had happened—as demure as you please, and lookin' as meek as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Stop," said the boxer, as soon as he picked himself up, "stop Parson," said he, "that's a good man, and jist chuck over my horse too, will you, for I swan I believe you could do one near about as easy as t'other. My!" said he, "if that don't bang the bush; you are another guess chap from what I took you to be, anyhow."

"'Now,' said Mr. Hopewell, says he, 'I won't write, but if ary a Unitarian crosses my path, I'll jist over the fence with him in no time, as the parson did the boxer; FOR WRITIN' ONLY AGGRAVATES YOUR OPPONENTS, AND NEVER CONVINCES THEM. I NEVER SEED A CONVERT MADE BY THAT WAY YET; BUT I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I HAVE SEED: A MAN SET HIS OWN FLOCK A DOUBTIN' BY HIS OWN WRITIN'. YOU MAY HAPPIFY YOUR ENEMIES, CANTANKERATE YOUR OPPONENTS, AND INJURE YOUR OWN CAUSE BY IT, BUT I DEFY YOU TO SARVE IT. These writers,' said he, 'put me in mind of that 'ere boxer's pupils. He would sometimes set two on 'em to spar; well, they'd put on their gloves and begin, larfin' and jokin' all in good humour. Presently one on 'em would put in a pretty hard blow; well, t'other would return it in airnest. "Oh," says the other, "if that's your play, off gloves and at it;" and sure enough, away would fly their gloves, and at it they'd go tooth and nail.

"'No, Sam, the misfortin' is, we are all apt to think Scriptur' intended for our neighbours, and not for ourselves. The poor all think it made for the rich. "Look at that 'ere Dives," they say, "what an all-fired scrape he got into by his avarice, with Lazarus; and ain't it writ as plain as anything, that them folks will find it as easy to go to heaven, as for a camel to go through the eye of a needle?" Well, then, the rich think it all made for the poor—that they shan't steal nor bear false witness, but shall be obedient to them that's in authority. And as for them 'ere Unitarians,' and he always got his dander up when he spoke of them, 'why there's no doin' nothin' with them,' says he. 'When they get fairly stumped, and you produce a text that they can't get over, nor get round, why they say "It ain't in our varsion at all; that's an interpolation, it's an invention of them 'ere everlastin' monks;" there's nothin' left for you to do with them, but to sarve them as Parson Possit detailed the boxer—lay right hold of 'em, and chuck 'em over the fence, even if they were as big as all out doors. That's what our folks ought to have done with 'em at first, pitched 'em clean out of the state, and let 'em go down to Nova Scotia, or some such outlandish place, for they ain't fit to live in no christian country at all.

"'Fightin' is no way to make converts; THE TRUE WAY IS TO WIN 'EM. You may stop a man's mouth, Sam,' says he, 'by a-crammin' a book down his throat, but you won't convince him. It's a fine thing to write a book all covered over with Latin, and Greek, and Hebrew, like a bridle that's real jam, all spangled with brass nails, but who knows whether it's right or wrong? Why, not one in ten thousand. If I had my religion to choose, and warn't able to judge for myself, I'll tell you what I'd do: I'd just ask myself WHO LEADS THE BEST LIVES? Now,' says he, 'Sam, I won't say who do, because it would look like vanity to say it was the folks who hold to our platform, but I'll tell you who don't. IT AIN'T THEM THAT MAKES THE GREATEST PROFESSIONS ALWAYS; and mind what I tell you, Sam, when you go a-tradin' with your clocks away down east to Nova Scotia, and them wild provinces, keep a bright look out on them as cant too much, FOR A LONG FACE is plaguy apt to COVER A LONG CONSCIENCE—that's a fact.'"



No. XXV

Taming a Shrew.

The road from Amherst to Parrsboro' is tedious and uninteresting. In places it is made so straight that you can see several miles of it before you, which produces an appearance of interminable length, while the stunted growth of the spruce and birch trees bespeaks a cold, thin soil, and invests the scene with a melancholy and sterile aspect. Here and there occurs a little valley, with its meandering stream, and verdant and fertile interval, which, though possessing nothing peculiar to distinguish it from many others of the same kind, strikes the traveller as superior to them all, from the contrast to the surrounding country. One of these secluded spots attracted my attention, from the number and neatness of the buildings, which its proprietor, a tanner and currier, had erected for the purposes of his trade. Mr. Slick said he knew him, and he guessed it was a pity he couldn't keep his wife in as good order as he did his factory.

"They don't hitch their horses together well at all. He is properly hen-pecked," said he; "he is afeerd to call his soul his own, and he leads the life of a dog; you never seed the beat of it, I vow. Did you ever see a rooster hatch a brood of chickens?"

"No," said I, "not that I can recollect."

"Well then I have," said he, "and if he don't look like a fool all the time he is a-settin' on the eggs, it's a pity; no soul could help larfin' to see him. Our old nigger, January Snow, had a spite agin one of father's roosters, seein' that he was a coward, and wouldn't fight. He used to call him Dearborne, arter our General that behaved so ugly to Canada; and, says he one day, 'I guess you are no better than a hen, you everlastin' old chicken-hearted villain, and I'll make you a larfin' stock to all the poultry. I'll put a trick on you you'll bear in mind all your born days.' So he catches old Dearborne, and pulls all the feathers off his breast, and strips him as naked as when he was born, from his throat clean down to his tail, and then takes a bundle of nettles and gives him a proper switchin' that stung him, and made him smart like mad; then he warms some eggs and puts them in a nest, and sets the old cock right a top of 'em. Well, the warmth of the eggs felt good to the poor critter's naked belly, and kinder kept the itchin' of the nettles down, and he was glad to bide where he was; and whenever he was tired and got off his skin felt so cold, he'd run right back and squat down agin; and when his feathers began to grow, and he got obstropolous, he got another ticklin' with the nettles, that made him return double quick to his location. In a little time he larnt the trade real complete. Now, this John Porter (and there he is on the bridge, I vow; I never seed the beat o' that, speak of old Satan and he's sure to appear), well, he's jist like old Dearborne, only fit to hatch eggs."

When we came to the Bridge, Mr. Slick stopped his horse, to shake hands with Porter, whom he recognized as an old acquaintance and customer. He enquired after a bark-mill he had smuggled from the States for him, and enlarged on the value of such a machine, and the cleverness of his countrymen who invented such useful and profitable articles; and was recommending a new process of tanning, when a female voice from the house was heard, vociferating, "John Porter, come here this minute." "Coming, my dear," said the husband. "Come here, I say, directly, why do you stand talking to that Yankee villain there." The poor husband hung his head, looked silly, and bidding us good-bye, returned slowly to the house.

As we drove on, Mr. Slick said, "That was me—I did that."

"Did what?" said I.

"That was me that sent him back; I called him and not his wife. I had that 'ere bestowment ever since I was knee high or so; I'm a real complete hand at ventriloquism; I can take off any man's voice I ever heerd to the very nines. If there was a law agin forgin' that as there is for handwritin', I guess I should have been hanged long ago. I've had high goes with it many a time, but it's plaguy dangersome, and I don't pracTISE it now but seldom. I had a real bout with that 'ere citizen's wife once, and completely broke her in for him; she went as gentle as a circus horse for a space, but he let her have her head agin, and she's as bad as ever now. I'll tell you how it was.

"I was down to the Island a-sellin' clocks, and who should I meet but John Porter; well, I traded with him for one, part cash, part truck and proDUCE, and also put off on him that 'ere bark-mill you heerd me axin' about, and it was pretty considerable on in the evenin' afore we finished our trade. I came home along with him, and had the clock in the wagon to fix it up for him, and to show him how to regilate it. Well, as we neared his house, he began to fret and take on dreadful oneasy; says he, 'I hope Jane won't be abed, 'cause if she is she'll act ugly, I do suppose.' I had heerd tell of her afore; how she used to carry a stiff upper lip, and make him and the broomstick well acquainted together; and, says I, 'Why do you put up with her tantrums, I'd make a fair division of the house with her, if it was me; I'd take the inside and allocate her the outside of it pretty quick, that's a fact.' Well, when we came to the house, there was no light in it, and the poor critter looked so streaked and down in the mouth, I felt proper sorry for him. When he rapped at the door, she called out, 'Who's there?' 'It's me, dear,' says Porter. 'You, is it,' said she, 'then you may stay where you be, them as gave you your supper, may give you your bed, instead of sendin' you sneakin' home at night like a thief.' Said I, in a whisper, says I, 'Leave her to me, John Porter; jist take the horses up to the barn, and see after them, and I'll manage her for you, I'll make her as sweet as sugary candy, never fear.' The barn, you see, is a good piece off to the eastward of the house; and, as soon as he was cleverly out of hearin', says I, a-imitatin' of his voice to the life, 'Do let me in, Jane,' says I, 'that's a dear critter; I've brought you home some things you'll like, I know.' Well, she was an awful jealous critter; says she, 'Take 'em to her you spent the evenin' with, I don't want you nor your presents neither.' Arter a good deal of coaxin' I stood on t'other tack, and began to threaten to break the door down; says I, 'You old unhansum lookin' sinner, you vinerger cruet you, open the door this minit or I'll smash it right in.' That grigged her properly, it made her very wrathy (for nothin' sets up a woman's spunk like callin' her ugly; she gets her back right up like a cat when a strange dog comes near her; she's all eyes, claws and bristles).

"I heerd her bounce right out of bed, and she came to the door as she was, ondressed, and onbolted it; and, as I entered it, she fetched me a box right across my cheek with the flat of her hand, that made it tingle agin. 'I'll teach you to call names agin,' says she, 'you varmint.' It was jist what I wanted; I pushed the door tu with my foot, and seizing her by the arm with one hand, I quilted her with the horsewhip real handsum, with the other. At first she roared like mad; 'I'll give you the ten commandments,' says she (meaning her ten claws), 'I'll pay you for this, you cowardly villain, to strike a woman. How dare you lift your hand, John Porter, to your lawful wife!' and so on; all the time runnin' round and round, like a colt that's a-breakin', with the mouthin' bit, rarein', kickin', and plungin' like statiee. Then she began to give in. Says she, 'I beg pardon, on my knees I beg pardon—don't murder me, for Heaven's sake—don't, dear John, don't murder your poor wife, that's a dear. I'll do as you bid me; I promise to behave well, upon my honour I do—oh! dear John, do forgive me, do dear.' When I had her properly brought too, for havin' nothin' on but a thin under-garment, every crack of the whip told like a notch on a baker's tally, says I, 'Take that as a taste of what you'll catch, when you act that way like Old Scratch. Now go and dress yourself, and get supper for me and a stranger I have brought home along with me, and be quick, for I vow I'll be master in my own house.' She moaned like a dog hit with a stone, half whine, half yelp; 'Dear, dear,' says she, 'if I ain't all covered over with welts as big as my finger, I do believe I'm flayed alive;' and she boo-hoo'd right out like anything. 'I guess,' said I, 'you've got 'em where folks won't see 'em, anyhow, and I calculate you won't be over forrard to show 'em where they be. But come,' says I, 'be a-stirrin', or I'll quilt you agin as sure as you're alive; I'll tan your hide for you, you may depend, you old ungainly tempered heifer you.'

"When I went to the barn, says I, 'John Porter, your wife made right at me, like one ravin' distracted mad, when I opened the door, thinkin' it was you; and I was obliged to give her a crack or two of the cowskin to get clear of her. It has effectuated a cure completely; now foller it up, and don't let on for your life it warn't you that did it, and you'll be master once more in your own house. She's all docity jist now—keep her so.' As we returned we saw a light in the keepin' room, the fire was blazin' up cheerfulsome, and Marm Porter moved about as brisk as a parched pea, though as silent as dumb, and our supper was ready in no time. As soon as she took her seat and sot down, she sprung right up on eend, as if she had sot on a pan of hot coals, and coloured all over; and then tears started in her eyes. Thinks I to myself, I calculate I wrote that 'ere lesson in large letters anyhow, I can read that writin' without spellin', and no mistake; I guess you've got pretty well warmed thereabouts this hitch. Then she tried it agin, first she sot on one leg then on t'other, quite oneasy, and then right atwixt both, a-fidgettin' about dreadfully; like a man that's rode all day on a bad saddle, and lost a little leather on the way. If you had seed how she stared at Porter, it would have made you snicker. She couldn't credit her eyes. He warn't drunk, and he warn't crazy, but there he sot as peeked and as meechin' as you please. She seemed all struck up of a heap at his rebellion. The next day when I was about startin', I advised him to act like a man, and keep the weather gage now he had it, and all would be well, but the poor critter only held on a day or two, she soon got the upper hand of him, and made him confess all, and by all accounts he leads a worse life now than ever. I put that 'ere trick on him jist now to try him, and I see it's gone goose with him; the jig is up with him, she'll soon call him with a whistle like a dog. I often think of the hornpipe she danced there in the dark along with me, to the music of my whip—she touched it off in great style, that's a fact. I shall mind that go one while, I promise you. It was actilly equal to a play at old Bowry. You may depend, Squire, the only way to tame a shrew is by the cowskin. Grandfather Slick was raised all along the coast of Kent in Old England, and he used to say there was an old saying there, which, I expect, is not far off the mark:

'A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree, The more you lick 'em, the better they be.'"



No. XXVI

The Minister's Horn Mug.

"This Country," said Mr. Slick, "abounds in superior mill privileges, and one would naterally calculate that such a sight of water power would have led to a knowledge of machinery. I guess if a Bluenose was to go to one of our free and enlightened citizens, and tell him Nova Scotia was intersected with rivers and brooks in all directions, and nearly one quarter of it covered with water, he'd say, 'Well, I'll start right off and see it, I vow, for I guess I'll larn somethin'. I allot I'll get another wrinkle away down east there. With such splendid chances for experimentin', what first-chop mills they must have, to a sartainty. I'll see such new combinations, and such new applications of the force of water to motion, that I'll make my fortin', for we can improve on anything a'most.' Well, he'd find his mistake out I guess, as I did once, when I took passage in the night at New York for Providence, and found myself the next mornin' clean out to sea, steerin' away for Cape Hatteras, in the Charleston steamer. He'd find he'd gone to the wrong place, I reckon; there ain't a mill of any kind in the Province fit to be seen. If we had 'em, we'd sarve 'em as we do the gamblin' houses down south, pull 'em right down, there wouldn't be one on 'em left in eight and forty hours.

"Some domestic factories they ought to have here; it's an essential part of the social system. Now we've run to the other extreme, it's got to be too big an interest with us, and ain't suited to the political institutions of our great country. Natur' designed us for an agricultural people, and our government was predicated on the supposition that we would be so. Mr. Hopewell was of the same opinion. He was a great hand at gardenin', orchadin', farmin', and what not. One evenin' I was up to his house, and says he, 'Sam, what do you say to a bottle of my old genuine cider? I guess I got some that will take the shine off of your father's, by a long chalk, much as the old gentleman brags of his'n. I never bring it out afore him. He thinks he has the best in all Connecticut. It's an innocent ambition that; and Sam, it would be but a poor thing for me to gratify my pride, at the expense of humblin' his'n. So I never lets on that I have any better, but keep dark about this superfine particular article of mine, for I'd as lives he'd think so as not.' He was a real primiTIVE good man was minister. 'I got some,' said he, 'that was bottled that very year that glorious action was fought atween the Constitution and the Guerriere. Perhaps the whole world couldn't show such a brilliant whippin' as that was. It was a splendid deed, that's a fact. The British can whip the whole airth, and we can whip the British. It was a bright promise for our young eagle; a noble bird that, too; great strenth, great courage, and surpassing sagacity.'

"Well, he went down to the cellar, and brought up a bottle, with a stick tied to its neck, and day and date to it, like lye-bills on the trees in Squire Hendrick's garden. 'I like to see them 'ere cobwebs,' says he, as he brushed 'em off, 'they are like grey hairs in an old man's head; they indicate venerable old age.' As he uncorked it, says he, 'I guess Sam, this will warm your gizzard, my boy; I guess our great nation may be stumped to produce more eleganter liquor than this here. It's the dandy, that's a fact. That,' said he, a-smackin' his lips, and lookin' at its sparklin' top, and layin' back his head, and tippin' off a horn mug brim full of it—'that,' said he, and his eyes twinkled agin, for it was plaguy strong—'that is the produce of my own orchard.' 'Well,' I said, 'minister,' says I, 'I never see you a-swiggin' it out of that 'ere horn mug, that I don't think of one of your texts.' 'What's that, Sam?' says he, 'for you always had a'most a special memory when you was a boy.' 'Why,' says I, that "the horn of the righteous man shall be exalted;" I guess that's what they mean by "exaltin' the horn," ain't it? Lord if ever you was to New OrLEENS, and seed a black thunder cloud rise right up and cover the whole sky in a it, you'd a thought of it if you had seed his face. It looked as dark as Egypt. 'For shame!' says he, 'Sam, that's ondecent; and let me tell you that a man that jokes on such subjects, shows both a lack of wit and sense too. I like mirth, you know I do, for it's only the Pharisees and hypocrites that wear long faces, but then mirth must be innocent to please me; and when I see a man make merry with serious things, I set him down as a lost sheep. That comes of your speculatin' to Lowell; and, I vow, them factorin' towns will corrupt our youth of both sexes, and become hotbeds of iniquity. Evil communications endamnify good manners, as sure as rates; one scabby sheep will infect a whole flock—vice is as catchin' as that nasty disease the Scotch have, it's got by shakin' hands, and both eend in the same way—in brimstone. I approbate domestic factories, but nothin' further for us. It don't suit us or our institutions. A republic is only calculated for an enlightened and vartuous people, and folks chiefly in the farmin' line. That is an innocent and a happy vocation. Agriculture was ordained by Him as made us, for our chief occupation.'

"Thinks I, here's a pretty how do you do; I'm in for it now, that's a fact; he'll jist fall to and read a regular sarmon, and he knows so many by heart he'll never stop. It would take a Philadelphia lawyer to answer him. So, says I, 'Minister, I ax your pardon, I feel very ugly at havin' given you offence, but I didn't mean it, I do assure you. It jist popped out unexpectedly, like a cork out of one of them 'ere cider bottles, I'll do my possibles that the like don't happen agin, you may depend; so 'spose we drink a glass to our reconciliation.' 'That I will,' said he, 'and we will have another bottle too, but I must put a little water into MY GLASS (and he dwelt on that word, and looked at me, quite feelin', as much as to say, don't for goodness sake make use of that 'ere word HORN agin, for it's a joke I don't like), 'for my head hain't quite the strength my cider has. Taste this, Sam,' said he (openin' of another bottle); 'it's of the same age as the last, but made of different apples, and I am fairly stumped sometimes to say which is best.'

"'These are the pleasures,' says he, 'of a country life. A man's own labour provides him with food, and an appetite to enjoy it. Let him look which way he will, and he sees the goodness and bounty of his Creator, his wisdom, his power, and his majesty. There never was anything so true, as that 'ere old sayin', "Man made the town, but God made the country," and both bespeak their different architects in terms too plain to be misunderstood. The one is filled with virtue and the other with vice. One is the abode of plenty, and the other of want; one is a ware-duck of nice pure water, and t'other one a cess-pool. Our towns are gettin' so commercial and factoring, that they will soon generate mobs, Sam' (how true that 'ere has turned out, hain't it? He could see near about as far into a millstone, as them that picks the hole into it), 'and mobs will introduce disobedience and defiance to laws, and that must eend in anarchy and bloodshed. No,' said the old man, raising his voice, and giving the table a wipe with his fist that made the glasses all jingle agin, 'give me the country—that country to which he that made it said, "Bring forth grass, the herb yieldin' seed, and the tree yieldin' fruit," AND WHO SAW THAT IT WAS GOOD. Let me jine with the feathered tribe in the mornin' (I hope you get up airly now, Sam; when you was a boy there was no gittin' you out of bed at no rate), and at sunset, in the hymns which they utter in full tide of song to their Creator. Let me pour out the thankfulness of my heart to the Giver of all good things, for the numerous blessings I enjoy, and intreat Him to bless my increase, that I may have wherewithal to relieve the wants of others, as he prevents and relieves mine. No! give me the country. It's—' Minister was jist like a horse that has the spavin: he sot off considerable stiff at first, but when he once got under way, he got on like a house a fire. He went like the wind, full split. He was jist beginnin' to warm on the subject, and I knew if he did, what wonderful bottom he had; how he would hang on for ever a'most; so, says I, 'I think so too, minister, I like the country, I always sleep better there than in towns; it ain't so plaguy hot, nor so noisy neither, and then it's a pleasant thing to set out on the stoop and smoke in the cool, ain't it? I think,' says I, 'too, Minister, that that 'ere uncommon handsum cider of your'n desarves a pipe, what do you think?' 'Well,' says he, 'I think myself a pipe wouldn't be amiss, and I got some real good Varginny, as you e'enamost ever seed, a present from Rowland Randolph, an old college chum; and none the worse to my palate, Sam, for bringin' bygone recollections with it. Phoebe, my dear,' said he to his darter, 'bring the pipes and tobacco.' As soon as the old gentleman fairly got a pipe in his mouth, I give Phoebe a wink, as much as to say, warn't that well done? That's what I call a most particular handsum fix. He can talk now (and that I do like to hear him do), but he can't make a speech, or preach a sarmon, and that I don't like to hear him do, except on Sabbath day, or up to Town Hall, on oration times.

"Minister was an uncommon pleasant man—for there was nothin' a'most he didn't know—except when he got his dander up, and then he did spin out his yarns for everlastinly.

"But I'm of his opinion. If the folks here want their country to go ahead, they must honour the plough; and General Campbell ought to hammer that 'ere into their noddles, full chisel, as hard as he can drive. I could larn him somethin', I guess, about hammerin' he ain't up to. It ain't every one that knows how to beat a thing into a man's head. How could I have sold so many thousand clocks, if I hadn't had that knack? Why, I wouldn't have sold half a dozen, you may depend.

"Agriculture is not only neglected but degraded here. What a number of young folks there seem to be in these parts, a-ridin' about, titivated out real jam, in their go-to-meetin' clothes, a-doin' nothin'. It's melancholy to think on it. That's the effect of the last war. The idleness and extravagance of those times took root, and bore fruit abundantly, and now the young people are above their business. They are too high in the instep, that's a fact.

"Old Drivvle, down here to Maccan, said to me one day, 'For gracious sake,' says he, 'Mr. Slick, do tell me what I shall do with Johnny. His mother sets great store by him, and thinks he's the makin's of a considerable smart man; he's growin up fast now, and I am pretty well to do in the world, and reasonable forehanded, but I don't know what the dogs to put him to. The lawyers are like spiders—they've eat up all the flies, and I guess they'll have to eat each other soon, for there's more on 'em than causes now every court. The Doctors' trade is a poor one, too, they don't get barely cash enough to pay for their medicines; I never seed a country practitioner yet that made anything worth speakin' of. Then, as for preachin', why church and dissenters are pretty much tarred with the same stick, they live in the same pastur' with their flocks; and, between 'em, it's fed down pretty close I tell you. What would you advise me to do with him?' 'Well,' says I, 'I'll tell you if you won't be miffy with me.' 'Miffy with you indeed,' said he, 'I guess I'll be very much obliged to you; it ain't every day one gets a chance to consult with a person of your experience; I count it quite a privilege to have the opinion of such an understandin' man as you be.' 'Well,' says I, 'take a stick and give him a real good quiltin'; jist tantune him like blazes, and set him to work. What does the critter want? You have a good farm for him, let him go and airn his bread; and when he can raise that, let him get a wife to make butter for it; and when he has more of both than he wants, let him sell 'em and lay up his money, and he will soon have his bread buttered on both sides. Put him to, eh! why put him to the PLOUGH, the most nateral, the most happy, the most innocent, and the host healthy employment in the world.' 'But,' said the old man (and he did not look over half pleased), markets are so confounded dull, labour so high, and the banks and great folks a-swallerin' all up so, there don't seem much encouragement for farmers; it's hard rubbin', nowadays, to live by the plough—he'll be a hard workin' poor man all his days.' 'Oh!' says I, 'if he wants to get rich by farmin', he can do that, too. Let him sell his wheat, and eat his oatmeal and rye; send his beef, mutton and poultry to market, and eat his pork and potatoes; make his own cloth, weave his own linen, and keep out of shops, and he'll soon grow rich—there are more fortin's got by savin' than by makin', I guess, a plaguy sight—he can't eat his cake and have it too, that's a fact. No, make a farmer of him, and you will have the satisfaction of seeing him an honest, an independent, and a respectable member of society—more honest than traders, more independent than professional men, and more respectable than either.'

"'Ahem!' says Marm Drivvle, and she began to clear her throat for action; she slumped down her knittin', and clawed off her spectacles, and looked right straight at me, so as to take good aim. I seed a regular nor'wester a-brewin', I knew it would bust somewhere sartin, and make all smoke agin, so I cleared out and left old Drivvle to stand the squall. I conceit he must have had a tempestical time of it, for she had get her Ebenezer up, and looked like a proper sneezer. Make her Johnny a farmer, eh! I guess that was too much for the like o' her to stomach.

"Pride, squire," continued the Clockmaker (with such an air of concern, that, I verily believe, the man feels an interest in the welfare of a Province, in which he has spent so long a time), "Pride, Squire, and a false pride, too, is the ruin of this country, I hope I may be skinned if it ain't."



No. XXVII

The White Nigger.

One of the most amiable, and at the same time most amusing traits, in the Clockmaker's character, was the attachment and kindness with which he regarded his horse. He considered "Old Clay" as far above a Provincial horse, as he did one of his "free and enlightened citizens" superior to a Bluenose. He treated him as a travelling companion, and when conversation flagged between us, would often soliloquize to him, a habit contracted from pursuing his journeys alone. "Well now," he would say, "Old Clay, I guess you took your time a-goin' up that 'ere hill—'spose we progress now. Go along, you old sculpin, and turn out your toes. I reckon you are as deff as a shad, do you hear there? Go ahead! Old Clay. There now," he'd say, "Squire ain't that dreadful pretty? There's action. That looks about right: legs all under him—gathers all up snug—no bobbin' of his head—no rollin' of his shoulders—no wabblin' of his hind parts, but steady as a pump bolt, and the motion all underneath. When he fairly lays himself to it, he trots like all vengeance. Then look at his ear—jist like rabbit's; none o' your flop-ears like them Amherst beasts, half horses, half pigs, but strait up and p'inted, and not too near at the tips; for that 'ere, I consait, always shows a horse ain't true to draw. There are only two things, Squire, worth lookin' at in a horse, action and soundness; for I never saw a critter that had good action that was a bad beast. Old Clay puts me in mind of one of our free and enlightened—"

"Excuse me," said I, "Mr. Slick, but really you appropriate that word 'free' to your countrymen, as if you thought no other people in the world were entitled to it but yourselves."

"Neither be they," said he. "We first sot the example. Look at our declaration of independence. It was writ by Jefferson, and he was the first man of the age; perhaps the world never seed his ditto. It's a beautiful piece of penmanship that, he gave the British the butt eend of his mind there. I calculate you couldn't falt it in no particular, it's generally allowed to be his cap shief. In the first page of it, second section, and first varse, are these words: 'We hold this truth to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.' I guess King George turned his quid when he read that. It was somethin' to chaw on, he hadn't been used to the flavour of, I reckon."

"Jefferson forgot to insert one little word," said I; "he should have said, 'all white men;' for as it now stands, it is a practical untruth, in a country which tolerates domestic slavery in its worst and most forbidding form. It is a declaration of SHAME, and not of INDEPENDENCE. It is as perfect a misnomer as ever I knew."

"Well," said he, "I must admit there is a screw loose somewhere thereabouts, and I wish it would convene to Congress, to do somethin' or another about our niggers, but I am not quite certified how that is to be sot to rights; I consait that you don't understand us. But," said he, evading the subject with his usual dexterity, "we deal only in niggers—and those thick-skulled, crooked-shanked, flat-footed, long-heeled, wooly-headed gentlemen, don't seem fit for much else but slavery, I do suppose. They ain't fit to contrive for themselves. They are jist like grasshoppers; they dance and sing all summer, and when winter comes they have nothin' provided for it, and lay down and die. They require some one to see arter them. Now, we deal in black niggers only, but the Bluenoses sell their own species—they trade in white slaves."

"Thank God," said I, "slavery does not exist in any part of his Majesty's dominions now, we have at last wiped off that national stain."

"Not quite, I guess," said he, with an air of triumph, "it ain't done with in Nova Scotia, for I have seed these human cattle sales with my own eyes; I was availed of the truth of it up here to old Furlong's last November. I'll tell you the story," said he; and as this story of the Clockmaker's contained some extraordinary statements, which I had never heard of before, I noted it in my journal, for the purpose of ascertaining their truth; and, if founded on fact, of laying them before the proper authorities.

"Last fall," said he, "I was on my way to Partridge Island, to ship off some truck and produce I had taken in, in the way of trade; and as I neared old Furlong's house, I seed an amazin' crowd of folks about the door; I said to myself, says I, who's dead, and what's to pay now? What on airth is the meanin' of all this? Is it a vandew, or a weddin', or a rollin' frolic, or a religious stir, or what is it? Thinks I, I'll see, so I hitches Old Clay to the fence, and walks in. It was some time afore I was able to swiggle my way through the crowd, and get into the house. And when I did, who should I see but deacon Westfall, a smooth faced, slick haired, meechin' lookin' chap as you'd see in a hundred, a-standin' on a stool, with an auctioneer's hammer in his hand; and afore him was one Jerry Oaks and his wife, and two little orphan children, the prettiest little toads I ever beheld in all my born days. 'Gentlemen,' said he, 'I will begin the sale by putting up Jerry Oaks, of Apple River, he's a considerable of a smart man yet, and can do many little chores besides feedin' the children and pigs, I guess he's near about worth his keep.' 'Will you warrant him sound, wind and limb?' says a tall ragged lookin' countryman, 'for he looks to me as if he was foundered in both feet, and had a string halt into the bargain.' 'When you are as old as I be,' says Jerry, 'mayhap you may be foundered too, young man; I have seen the day when you wouldn't dare to pass that joke on me, big as you be.' 'Will any gentleman bid for him,' says the deacon, 'he's cheap at 7s. 6d.' 'Why deacon,' said Jerry, 'why surely your honour isn't a-goin' for to sell me separate from my poor old wife, are you? Fifty years have we lived together as man and wife, and a good wife has she been to me, through all my troubles and trials, and God knows I have had enough of 'em. No one knows my ways and my ailments but her, and who can tend me so kind, or who will bear with the complaints of a poor old man but his wife? Do, deacon, and Heaven bless you for it, and yours, do sell us together. We have but a few days to live now, death will divide us soon enough. Leave her to close my old eyes, when the struggle comes, and when it comes to you, deacon, as come it must to us all, may this good deed rise up for you, as a memorial before God. I wish it had pleased him to have taken us afore it came to this, but his will be done;' and he hung his head, as if he felt he had drained the cup of degradation to its dregs. 'Can't afford it, Jerry—can't afford it, old man,' said the deacon, with such a smile as a November sun gives, a-passin' atween clouds. 'Last year they took oats for rates, now nothin' but wheat will go down, and that's as good as cash; and you'll hang on, as most of you do, yet these many years. There's old Joe Crowe, I believe in my conscience he will live for ever.' The biddin' then went on, and he was sold for six shillings a week. Well, the poor critter gave one long, loud, deep groan, and then folded his arms over his breast, so tight that he seemed tryin' to keep in his heart from bustin'. I pitied the misfortinate wretch from my soul; I don't know as I ever felt so streaked afore. Not so his wife, she was all tongue. She begged and prayed, and cryed, and scolded, and talked at the very tip eend of her voice, till she became, poor critter, exhausted, and went off in a faintin' fit, and they ketched her up and carried her out to the air, and she was sold in that condition.

"Well I couldn't make head or tail of all this, I could hardly believe my eyes and ears; so, says I, to John Porter—him that has that catamount of a wife, that I had such a touss with—'John Porter,' says I, 'who ever seed or heerd tell of the like of this, what under the sun does it all mean? What has that 'ere critter done that he should be sold arter that fashion?' 'Done?' said he, 'why nothin', and that's the reason they sell him. This is town meetin' day, and we always sell the poor for the year, to the lowest bidder. Them that will keep them for the lowest sum, gets them.' 'Why,' says I, 'that feller that bought him is a pauper himself, to my sartin knowledge. If you were to take him up by the heels and shake him for a week, you couldn't shake sixpence out of him. How can he keep him? It appears to me the poor buy the poor here, and that they all starve together.' Says I, 'there was a very good man once lived to Liverpool, so good, he said he hadn't sinned for seven years; well he put a mill-dam across the river, and stopped all the fish from goin' up, and the court fined him fifty pounds for it, and this good man was so wrathy, he thought he should feel better to swear a little, but conscience told him it was wicked. So he compounded with conscience, and cheated the devil, by callin' it a "dam fine business." Now, friend Porter, if this is your poor law, it is a damn poor law, I tell you, and no good can come of such hard-hearted doin's. It's no wonder your country don't prosper, for who ever heerd of a blessin' on such carryins on as this?' Says I, 'Did you ever hear tell of a sartin rich man, that had a beggar called Lazarus laid at his gate, and how the dogs had more compassion than he had, and came and licked his sores? 'cause if you have, look at that forehanded and 'sponsible man there, deacon Westfall, and you see the rich man. And then look at that 'ere pauper, dragged away in that ox-cart from his wife for ever, like a feller to States' Prison, and you see Lazarus. Recollect what follered, John Porter, and have neither art nor part in it, as you are a Christian man.'

"It fairly made me sick all day. John Porter follered me out of the house, and as I was a-turnin' Old Clay, said he, 'Mr. Slick,' says he, 'I never seed it in that 'ere light afore, for it's our custom, and custom you know will reconcile one to most anything. I must say, it does appear, as you lay it out, an unfeelin' way of providin' for the poor; but, as touchin' the matter of dividin' man and wife, why' (and he peered all round to see that no one was within hearin'), 'why I don't know, but if it was my allotment to be sold, I'd as lives they'd sell me separate from Jane as not, for it appears to me it's about the best part of it.'

"Now, what I have told you Squire," said the Clockmaker, "is the truth; and if members, instead of their everlastin' politics, would only look into these matters a little, I guess it would be far better for the country. So, as for our declaration of independence, I guess you needn't twitt me with our slave-sales, for we deal only in blacks; but Bluenose approbates no distinction in colours, and when reduced to poverty, is reduced to slavery, and is sold—a White Nigger."



No. XXVIII

Fire in the Dairy.

As we approached within fifteen or twenty miles of Parrsboro', a sudden turn of the road brought us directly in front of a large wooden house, consisting of two stories and an immense roof, the height of which edifice was much increased by a stone foundation, rising several feet above ground.

"Now, did you ever see," said Mr. Slick, "such a catamaran as that? There's a proper goney for you, for to go and raise such a buildin' as that 'ere, and he as much use for it, I do suppose, as my old wagon here has for a fifth wheel. Bluenose always takes keer to have a big house, 'cause it shows a big man, and one that's considerable forehanded, and pretty well to do in the world. These Nova Scotians turn up their blue noses, as a bottle nose porpoise turns up his snout, and puff and snort exactly like him at a small house. If neighbour Carrit has a two story house, all filled with winders, like Sandy Hook light house, neighbour Parsnip must add jist two feet more on to the post of his'n, and about as much more to the rafter, to go ahead of him; so all these long sarce gentlemen strive who can get the furdest in the sky, away from their farms. In New England our maxim is a small house, and a most an everlastin' almighty big barn; but these critters revarse it, they have little hovels for their cattle, about the bigness of a good sizeable bear-trap, and a house for the humans as grand as Noah's Ark. Well, jist look at it and see what a figur' it does cut. An old hat stuffed into one pane of glass, and an old flannel petticoat, as yaller as jaundice, in another, finish off the front; an old pair of breeches, and the pad of a bran' new cart-saddle worn out, titivate the eend, while the backside is all closed up on account of the wind. When it rains, if there ain't a pretty how-do-you-do, it's a pity—beds toated out of this room, and tubs set in t'other to catch soft water to wash; while the clapboards, loose at the eends, go clap, clap, clap, like gals a-hacklin' flax, and the winders and doors keep a-dancin' to the music. The only dry place in the house is in the chimbley corner, where the folks all huddle up, as an old hen and her chickens do under a cart of a wet day. 'I wish I had the matter of half a dozen pound of nails,' you'll hear the old gentleman in the grand house say, 'I'll be darned if I don't, for if I had, I'd fix them 'ere clapboards; I guess they'll go for it some o' these days.' 'I wish you had,' his wife would say, 'for they do make a most particular unhansum clatter, that's a fact;' and so they let it be till the next tempestical time comes, and then they wish agin. Now, this grand house has only two rooms downstairs, that are altogether slicked up and finished off complete; the other is jist petitioned off rough like, one half great dark entries, and t'other half places that look a plaguy sight more like packin' boxes than rooms. Well, all upstairs is a great onfarnished place, filled with every sort of good-for-nothin' trumpery in natur'—barrels without eends; corn-cobs half husked; cast off clothes and bits of old harness; sheep skins, hides, and wool; apples, one half rotten, and t'other half squashed; a thousand or two of shingles that have bust their withes, and broke loose all over the floor; hay rakes, forks and sickles, without handles or teeth; rusty scythes, and odds and eends without number. When anything is wanted, then there is a general overhaul of the whole cargo, and away they get shifted forrard, one by one, all handled over and chucked into a heap together till the lost one is found; and the next time, away they get pitched to the starn agin, higglety pigglety, heels over head, like sheep takin' a split for it over a wall; only they increase in number each move, 'cause some on 'em are sure to get broke into more pieces than they was afore. Whenever I see one of these grand houses, and a hat lookin' out o' the winder, with nary head in it, think I, I'll be darned if that's a place for a wooden clock—nothin' short of a London touch would go down with them folks, so I calculate I won't alight.

"Whenever you come to such a grand place as this, Squire, depend on't the farm is all of a piece—great crops of thistles, and an everlastin' yield of weeds, and cattle the best fed of any in the country, for they are always in the grain fields or mowin' lands, and the pigs a-rootin' in the potato patches. A spic and span new gig at the door, shinin' like the mud banks of Windsor, when the sun's on 'em, and an old wrack of a hay wagon, with its tongue onhitched, and stickin' out behind, like a pig's tail, all indicate a big man. He's above thinkin' of farmin' tools, he sees to the bran' new gig, and the hired helps look arter the carts. Catch him with his go-to-meetin' clothes on, a-rubbin' agin their nasty greasy axles, like a tarry nigger; not he, indeed, he'd stick you up with it.

"The last time I came by here, it was a little bit arter daylight down, rainin' cats and dogs, and as dark as Egypt; so, thinks I, I'll jist turn in here for shelter to Squire Bill Blake's. Well, I knocks away at the front door, till I thought I'd a-split it in; but arter a-rappin' awhile to no purpose, and findin' no one come, I gropes my way round to the back door, and opens it, and feelin' all along the partition for the latch of the keepin' room, without finding it, I knocks agin, when some one from inside calls out 'Walk!' Thinks I, I don't cleverly know whether that indicates 'walk in,' or 'walk out,' it's plaguy short metre, that's a fact; but I'll see anyhow. Well, arter gropin' about awhile, at last I got hold of the string and lifted the latch and walked in, and there sot old Marm Blake, close into one corner of the chimbley fireplace, a-see-sawin' in a rockin' chair, and a half grown black house-help, half asleep in t'other corner, a-scroudgin' up over the embers. 'Who be you?' said Marm Blake, 'for I can't see you.' 'A stranger,' said I. 'Beck!' says she, speakin' to the black heifer in the corner, 'Beck!' says she agin, raisin' her voice, 'I believe you are as deff as a post, get up this minit and stir the coals, till I see the man.' Arter the coals were stirred into a blaze, the old lady surveyed me from head to foot, then she axed me my name, and where I came from, where I was a-goin', and what my business was. 'I guess,' said she, 'you must be reasonable wet; sit to the fire and dry yourself, or mayhap your health may be endamnified p'r'aps.'

"So I sot down, and we soon got pretty considerably well acquainted, and quite sociable like, and her tongue when it fairly waked up, began to run like a mill-race when the gate's up. I hadn't been talkin' long, 'fore I well nigh lost sight of her altogether agin, for little Beck began to flourish about her broom, right and left in great style, a-clearin' up, and she did raise such an auful thick cloud o' dust, I didn't know if I should ever see or breathe either agin. Well, when all was sot to rights and the fire made up, the old lady began to apologize for havin' no candles; she said she'd had a grand tea-party the night afore, and used them all up, and a whole sight of vittals too; the old man hadn't been well since, and had gone to bed airly. 'But,' says she, 'I do wish with all my heart you had a come last night, for we had a most a special supper—punkin pies and doughnuts, and apple sarce, and a roast goose stuffed with indian puddin', and a pig's harslet stewed in molasses and onions, and I don't know what all, and the fore part of today folks called to finish. I actilly have nothin' left to set afore you; for it was none o' your skim-milk parties, but superfine uppercrust, real jam, and we made clean work of it. But I'll make some tea, anyhow, for you, and perhaps, arter that,' said she, alterin' of her tone, 'perhaps you'll expound the Scriptures, for it's one while since I've heerd them laid open powerfully. I hain't been fairly lifted up since that good man Judas Oglethorp travelled this road,' and then she gave a groan and hung down her head, and looked corner-ways, to see how the land lay thereabouts. The tea-kettle was accordingly put on, and some lard fried into oil, and poured into a tumbler; which, with the aid of an inch of cotton wick, served as a make shift for a candle.

"Well, arter tea we sot and chatted awhile about fashions, and markets, and sarmons, and scandal, and all sorts o' things; and, in the midst of it, in runs the nigger wench, screemin' out at the tip eend of her voice, 'Oh Missus! Missus! there's fire in the dairy, fire in the dairy!' 'I'll give it to you for that,' said the old lady, 'I'll give it you for that, you good-for-nothin' hussy; that's all your carelessness; go and put it out this minit; how on airth did it get there? My night's milk gone, I dare say; run this minit and put it out, and save the milk.' I am dreadful afeard of fire, I always was from a boy, and seein' the poor foolish critter seize a broom in her fright, I ups with the tea-kettle and follows her; and away we clipt through the entry, she callin' out 'Mind the cellar door on the right!' 'Take kear of the close horse on the left!' and so on, but as I couldn't see nothin', I kept right straight ahead. At last my foot kotched in somethin' or another, that pitched me somewhat less than a rod or so, right agin the poor black critter, and away we went, heels over head. I heerd a splash and a groan, and I smelt somethin' plaguy sour, but I couldn't see nothin'; at last I got hold of her and lifted her up, for she didn't scream, but made a strange kind of chokin' noise, and by this time up came Marm Blake with a light. If poor Beck didn't let go then in airnest, and sing out for dear life, it's a pity, for she had gone head first into the swill tub, and the tea-kettle had scalded her feet. She kept a-dancin' right up and down, like one ravin' distracted mad, and boo-hoo'd like anything, clawin' away at her head the whole time, to clear away the stuff that stuck to her wool.

"I held in as long as I could, till I thought I should have busted, for no soul could help a-larfin', and at last I haw-hawed right out. 'You good-for-nothin' stupid slut you,' said the old lady to poor Beck, 'it sarves you right, you had no business to leave it there—I'll pay you.' 'But,' said I, interferin' for the unfortunate critter, 'good gracious, marm! you forget the fire.' 'No I don't,' said she, 'I see him,' and seizin' the broom that had fallen from the nigger's hand, she exclaimed, 'I see him, the nasty varmint,' and began to belabour most onmarcifully a poor half-starved cur that the noise had attracted to the entry. 'I'll teach you,' said she, 'to drink milk; I'll larn you to steal into the dairy; and the besot critter joined chorus with Beck, and they both yelled together, till they fairly made the house ring agin. Presently old Squire Blake popped his head out of a door, and rubbin' his eyes, half asleep and half awake, said, 'What the devil's to pay now, wife?' 'Why nothin',' says she, 'only FIRE'S IN THE DAIRY, and Beck's in the swill tub, that's all.' 'Well, don't make such a touss, then,' said he, 'if that's all,' and he shot tu the door and went to bed agin. When we returned to the keepin' room, the old lady told me that they always had had a dog called 'Fire,' ever since her grandfather, Major Donald Fraser's time, 'and what was very odd,' says she, 'every one on 'em would drink milk if he had a chance.'

"By this time the shower was over, and the moon shinin' so bright and clear that I thought I'd better be up and stirrin', and arter slippin' a few cents into the poor nigger wench's hand, I took leave of the grand folks in the big house. Now, Squire, among these middlin'-sized farmers you may lay this down as a rule: THE BIGGER THE HOUSE, THE BIGGER THE FOOLS BE THAT'S IN IT.

"But, howsomever, I never call to mind that 'ere go in the big house, up to the right, that I don't snicker when I think of 'FIRE IN THE DAIRY.'"



No. XXIX

A Body without a Head.

"I allot you had ought to visit our great country Squire," said the Clockmaker, "afore you quit for good and all. I calculate you don't understand us. The most splendid location atween the Poles is the United States, and the first man alive is Gineral Jackson, the hero of the age, him that skeered the British out of their seven senses. Then there's the great Danel Webster, it's generally allowed, he's the greatest orator on the face of the airth, by a long chalk; and Mr. Van Buren, and Mr. Clay, and Amos Kindle, and Judge White, and a whole raft of statesmen, up to everything and all manner of politics; there ain't the beat of 'em to be found anywhere. If you was to hear 'em, I consait you'd hear genuine pure English for once, anyhow; for it's generally allowed we speak English better than the British. They all know me to be an American citizen here, by my talk, for we speak it complete in New England.

"Yes, if you want to see a free people—them that makes their own laws, accordin' to their own notions—go to the States. Indeed, if you can falt them at all, they are a little grain too free. Our folks have their head a trifle too much, sometimes, particularly in elections, both in freedom of speech and freedom of press. One hadn't ought to blart right out always all that comes uppermost. A horse that's too free frets himself and his rider too, and both on 'em lose flesh in the long run. I'd e'enamost as lives use the whip sometimes, as to be for everlastinly a-pullin' at the rein. One's arm gets plaguy tired, that's a fact. I often think of a lesson I larnt Jehiel Quirk once, for lettin' his tongue outrun his good manners.

"I was down to Rhode Island one summer to larn gildin' and bronzin', so as to give the finishin' touch to my clocks. Well, the folks elected me a hog-reave, jist to poke fun at me, and Mr. Jehiel, a bean pole of a lawyer, was at the bottom of it. So one day, up to Town Hall, where there was an oration to be delivered on our Independence, jist afore the orator commenced, in runs Jehiel in a most all-fired hurry; and, says he, 'I wonder,' says he, 'if there's ary a hog-reave here? because if there be I require a turn of his office.' And then, said he, a-lookin' up to me and callin' out at the tip eend of his voice, 'Mr. Hog-reave Slick,' says he, 'here's a job out here for you.' Folks snickered a good deal, and I felt my spunk a-risin' like half flood, that's a fact; but I bit in my breath, and spoke quite cool. 'Possible?' says I; 'well, duty, I do suppose, must be done, though it ain't the most agreeable in the world. I've been a-thinkin',' says I, 'that I would be liable to a fine of fifty cents for sufferin' a hog to run at large, and as you are the biggest one, I presume, in all Rhode Island, I'll jist begin by ringin' your nose, to prevent you for the futur' from pokin' your snout where you hadn't ought to;' and I seized him by the nose and nearly wrung it off. Well, you never heerd sich a shoutin' and clappin' of hands, and cheerin', in your life; they haw-hawed like thunder. Says I, 'Jehiel Quirk, that was a superb joke of your'n; how you made the folks larf, didn't you? You are e'enamost the wittiest critter I ever seed. I guess you'll mind your parts o' speech, and study the ACCIDENCE agin afore you let your clapper run arter that fashion, won't you?'"

"I thought," said I, "that among you republicans, there were no gradations of rank or office, and that all were equal, the hog-reave and the governor, the judge and the crier, the master and his servant; and although, from the natur' of things, more power might be entrusted to one than the other, yet that the rank of all was precisely the same."

"Well," said he, "it is so in theory, but not always in practice; and when we do pracTISE it, it seems to go a little agin the grain, as if it warn't quite right neither. When I was last to Baltimore there was a court there, and Chief Justice Marshall was detailed there for duty. Well, with us in New England, the sheriff attends the judge to court and, says I to the sheriff, 'Why don't you escort that 'ere venerable old judge to the State House? He's a credit to our nation that man, he's actilly the first pot hook on the crane; the whole weight is on him; if it warn't for him the fat would be in the fire in no time. I wonder you don't show him that respect—it wouldn't hurt you one morsel, I guess.' Says he, quite miffy like, 'Don't he know the way to court as well as I do? If I thought he didn't, I'd send one of my niggers to show him the road. I wonder who was his lackey last year, that he wants me to be his'n this time. It don't convene to one of our free and enlightened citizens, to tag arter any man, that's a fact; it's too English and too foreign for our glorious institutions. He's bound by law to be there at ten o'clock, and so be I, and we both know the way there I reckon.'

"I told the story to our minister, Mr. Hopewell (and he has some odd notions about him, that man, though he don't always let out what he thinks). Says he, 'Sam, that was in bad taste' (a great phrase of the old gentleman's that), 'in bad taste, Sam. That 'ere sheriff was a goney; don't cut your cloth arter his pattern, or your garment won't become you, I tell you. We are too enlightened to worship our fellow citizens as the ancients did, but we ought to pay great respect to vartue and exalted talents in this life; and, arter their death, there should be statues of eminent men placed in our national temples, for the veneration of arter ages, and public ceremonies performed annually to their honour. Arter all, Sam,' said he (and he made a considerable of a long pause, as if he was dubersome whether he ought to speak out or not), 'arter all, Sam,' said he, 'atween ourselves (but you must not let on I said so, for the fullness of time hain't yet come), half a yard of blue ribbon is a plaguy cheap way of rewardin' merit, as the English do; and, although we larf at 'em (for folks always will larf at what they hain't got, and never can get), yet titles ain't bad things as objects of ambition, are they?' Then, tappin' me on the shoulder, and lookin' up and smilin', as he always did when he was pleased with an idee, 'Sir Samuel Slick would not sound bad, I guess, would it Sam?'

"'When I look at the English House of Lords,' said he, 'and see so much larning, piety, talent, honour, vartue, and refinement collected together, I ax myself this here question: can a system which produces and sustains such a body of men, as the world never saw before and never will see agin, be defective? Well, I answer myself, perhaps it is, for all human institutions are so, but I guess it's e'enabout the best arter all. It wouldn't do here now, Sam, nor perhaps for a century to come, but it will come sooner or later with some variations. Now the Newtown pippin, when transplanted to England, don't produce such fruit as it does in Long Island, and English fruits don't preserve their flavour here, neither; allowance must be made for difference of soil and climate (Oh Lord! thinks I, if he turns in to his orchard, I'm done for; I'll have to give him the dodge somehow or another, through some hole in the fence, that's a fact; but he passed on that time). 'So it is,' said he, 'with constitutions; our'n will gradually approximate to their'n, and their'n to our'n. As they lose their strength of executive, they will varge to republicanism, and as we invigorate the form of government (as we must do, or go to the old boy), we shall tend towards a monarchy. If this comes on gradually, like the changes in the human body, by the slow approach of old age, so much the better; but I fear we shall have fevers, and convulsion-fits, and cholics, and an everlastin' gripin' of the intestines first; you and I won't live to see it Sam, but our posteriors will, you may depend.'

"I don't go the whole figur' with minister," said the Clockmaker, "but I do opinionate with him in part. In our business relations we belie our political principles; we say every man is equal in the Union, and should have an equal vote and voice in the Government; but in our banks, railroad companies, factory corporations, and so on, every man's vote is regilated by his share and proportion of stock; and if it warn't so, no man would take hold on these things at all.

"Natur' ordained it so—a father of a family is head, and rules supreme in his household; his eldest son and darter are like first leftenants under him, and then there is an overseer over the niggers; it would not do for all to be equal there. So it is in the univarse, it is ruled by one Superior Power; if all the angels had a voice in the government I guess—" Here I fell fast asleep; I had been nodding for some time, not in approbation of what he said, but in heaviness of slumber, for I had never before heard him so prosy since I first overtook him on the Colchester road. I hate politics as a subject of conversation; it is too wide a field for chit-chat, and too often ends in angry discussion. How long he continued this train of speculation I do not know, but, judging by the different aspect of the country, I must have slept an hour.

I was at length aroused by the report of his rifle, which he had discharged from the wagon. The last I recollected of his conversation was, I think, about American angels having no voice in the government, an assertion that struck my drowsy faculties as not strictly true; as I had often heard that the American ladies talked frequently and warmly on the subject of politics, and knew that one of them had very recently the credit of breaking up General Jackson's cabinet. When I awoke, the first I heard was "Well! I declare, if that ain't an amazin' fine shot, too, Considerin' how the critter was a-runnin' the whole blessed time; if I hain't cut her head off with a ball, jist below the throat, that's a fact. There's no mistake in a good Kentucky rifle! I tell you."

"Whose head?" said I, in great alarm, "whose head, Mr. Slick? For heaven's sake what have you done?" (for I had been dreaming of those angelic politicians, the American ladies.)

"Why that 'ere hen-partridge's head, to be sure," said he; "don't you see how special wonderful wise it looks, a-flutterin' about arter its head?"

"True," said I, rubbing my eyes, and opening them in time to see the last muscular spasms of the decapitated body; "true, Mr. Slick, it is a happy illustration of our previous conversation—A BODY WITHOUT A HEAD."



No. XXX

A Tale of Bunker's Hill.

Mr. Slick, like all his countrymen whom I have seen, felt that his own existence was involved in that of the Constitution of the United States, and that it was his duty to uphold it upon all occasions. He affected to consider its government and its institutions as perfect, and if any doubt was suggested as to the stability or character of either, would make the common reply of all Americans, "I guess you don't understand us," or else enter into a laboured defence. When left, however, to the free expression of his own thoughts, he would often give utterance to those apprehensions which most men feel in the event of an experiment not yet fairly tried, and which has in many parts evidently disappointed the sanguine hopes of its friends. But, even on these occasions, when his vigilance seemed to slumber, he would generally cover them, by giving them as the remarks of others, or concealing them in a tale. It was this habit that gave his discourse rather the appearance of "thinking aloud," than a connected conversation.

"We are a great nation, Squire," he said, "that's sartain; but I'm afeard we didn't altogether start right. It's in politics as in racin', everything depends upon a fair start. If you are off too quick, you have to pull up and turn back agin, and your beast gets out of wind and is baffled, and if you lose in the start you hain't got a fair chance arterwards, and are plaguy apt to be jockied in the course. When we set up house-keepin', as it were for ourselves, we hated our stepmother, Old England, so dreadful bad, we wouldn't foller any of her ways of managin' at all, but made new receipts for ourselves. Well, we missed it in many things most consumedly, somehow or another. Did you ever see," said he, "a congregation split right in two by a quarrel, and one part go off and set up for themselves?"

"I am sorry to say," said I, "that I have seen some melancholy instances of the kind."

"Well, they shoot ahead, or drop astern, as the case may be, but they soon get on another tack, and leave the old ship clean out of sight. When folks once take to emigratin' in religion in this way, they never know where to bide. First they try one location, and then they try another; some settle here and some improve there, but they don't hitch their horses together long. Some times they complain they HAVE TOO LITTLE WATER, at other times that they HAVE TOO MUCH; they are never satisfied, and, wherever these separatists go, they onsettle others as bad as themselves. I NEVER LOOK ON A DESARTER AS ANY GREAT SHAKES.

"My poor father used to say, 'Sam, mind what I tell you, if a man don't agree in all particulars with his church, and can't go the whole hog with 'em, he ain't justified on that account, no how, to separate from them, for Sam, SCHISM IS A SIN IN THE EYE OF GOD. The whole Christian world,' he would say, 'is divided into two great families, the Catholic and Protestant. Well, the Catholic is a united family, a happy family, and a strong family, all governed by one head; and Sam, as sure as eggs is eggs, that 'ere family will grub out t'other one, stalk, branch and root; it won't so much as leave the seed of it in the ground, to grow by chance as a nateral curiosity. Now the Protestant family is like a bundle of refuse shingles, when withed up together (which it never was and never will be to all etarnity), no great of a bundle arter all; you might take it up under one arm, and walk off with it without winkin'. But, when all lyin' loose as it always is, jist look at it, and see what a sight it is, all blowin' about by every wind of doctrine, some away up e'enamost out of sight, others rollin' over and over in the dirt, some split to pieces, and others so warped by the weather and cracked by the sun—no two of 'em will lie so as to make a close j'int. They are all divided into sects, railin', quarrellin', separatin', and agreein' in nothin', but hatin' each other. It is awful to think on. T'other family will some day or other gather them all up, put them into a bundle and bind them up tight, and condemn 'em as fit for nothin' under the sun, but the fire. Now he who splits one of these here sects by schism, or he who preaches schism, commits a grievous sin; and Sam, if you vally your own peace of mind, have nothin' to do with such folks.

"'It's pretty much the same in Politics. I ain't quite clear in my conscience, Sam, about our glorious revolution. If that 'ere blood was shed justly in the rebellion, then it was the Lord's doin', but if unlawfully, how am I to answer for my share in it? I was at Bunker's Hill (the most splendid battle it's generally allowed that ever was fought); what effect my shots had, I can't tell, and I am glad I can't, all except one, Sam, and that shot—' Here the old gentleman became dreadful agitated, he shook like an ague fit, and he walked up and down the room, and wrung his hands, and groaned bitterly. 'I have wrastled with the Lord, Sam, and have prayed to him to enlighten me on that p'int, and to wash out the stain of that 'ere blood from my hands. I never told you that 'ere story, nor your mother neither, for she could not stand it, poor critter, she's kinder narvous.

"'Well, Doctor Warren (the first soldier of his age, though he never fought afore) commanded us all to resarve our fire till the British came within p'int-blank shot, and we could cleverly see the whites of their eyes, and we did so; and we mowed them down like grass, and we repeated our fire with awful effect. I was among the last that remained behind the breast-work, for most on 'em, arter the second shot, cut and run full split. The British were close to us; and an officer, with his sword drawn, was leading on his men, and encouragin' them to the charge. I could see his features; he was a real handsum man, I can see him now with his white breeches and black gaiters, and red coat, and three-cornered cocked hat, as plain as if it was yesterday, instead of the year '75. Well, I took a steady aim at him and fired. He didn't move for a space, and I thought I had missed him, when all of a sudden, he sprung right straight up an eend, his sword slipped through his hands up to the p'int, and then he fell flat on his face atop of the blade, and it came straight out through his back. He was fairly skivered. I never seed anything so awful since I was raised; I actilly screamed out with horror; and I threw away my gun, and joined them that were retreatin' over the neck to Charlestown. Sam, that 'ere British officer, if our rebellion was onjust or onlawful, was murdered, that's a fact; and the idee, now I am growin' old, haunts me day and night. Sometimes I begin with the Stamp Act, and I go over all our grievances, one by one, and say ain't they a sufficient justification? Well, it makes a long list, and I get kinder satisfied, and it appears as clear as anything. But sometimes there come doubts in my mind, jist like a guest that's not invited or not expected, and takes you at a short like, and I say, warn't the Stamp Act repealed, and concessions made, and warn't offers sent to settle all fairly? and I get troubled and oneasy agin. And then I say to myself, says I, oh yes, but them offers came too late. I do nothin' now, when I am alone, but argue it over and over agin. I actilly dream on that man in my sleep sometimes, and then I see him as plain as if he was afore me, and I go over it all agin till I come to that 'ere shot, and then I leap right up in bed and scream like all vengeance, and your mother, poor old critter, says, "Sam," says she, "what on airth ails you to make you act so like Old Scratch in your sleep? I do believe there's somethin' or another on your conscience." And I say, "Polly dear, I guess we're a-goin' to have rain, for that plaguy cute rheumatis has seized my foot and it does antagonize me so I have no peace. It always does so when it's like for a change." "Dear heart," she says (the poor simple critter), "then I guess I had better rub it, hadn't I, Sam?" and she crawls out of bed and gets her red flannel petticoat, and rubs away at my foot ever so long. Oh, Sam, if she could rub it out of my heart as easy as she thinks she rubs it out of my foot, I should be in peace, that's a fact.

"'What's done, Sam, can't be helped, there is no use in cryin' over spilt milk, but still one can't help a-thinkin' on it. But I don't love schisms and I don't love rebellion.

"'Our revolution has made us grow faster and grow richer; but Sam, when we were younger and poorer, we were more pious and more happy. We have nothin' fixed either in religion or politics. What connection there ought to be atween Church and State, I am not availed, but some there ought to be as sure as the Lord made Moses. Religion when left to itself, as with us, grows too rank and luxuriant. Suckers and sprouts, and intersecting shoots, and superfluous wood, make a nice shady tree to look at, but where's the fruit, Sam? That's the question—where's the fruit? No; the pride of human wisdom, and the presumption it breeds will ruinate us. Jefferson was an infidel, and avowed it, and gloried in it, and called it the enlightenment of the age. Cambridge College is Unitarian, 'cause it looks wise to doubt, and every drumstick of a boy ridicules the belief of his forefathers. If our country is to be darkened by infidelity, our Government defied by every State, and every State ruled by mobs—then, Sam, the blood we shed in our revolution will be atoned for in the blood and suffering of our fellow citizens. The murders of that civil war will be expiated by a political suicide of the State.'

"I am somewhat of father's opinion," said the Clockmaker, "though I don't go the whole figur' with him, but he needn't have made such an everlastin' touss about fixin' that 'ere British officer's flint for him, for he'd a died of himself by this time, I do suppose, if he had a missed his shot at him. P'r'aps we might have done a little better, and p'r'aps we mightn't, by stickin' a little closer to the old constitution. But one thing I will say, I think arter all, your Colony Government is about as happy and as a good a one as I know on. A man's life and property are well protected here at little cost, and he can go where he likes and do what he likes provided he don't trespass on his neighbour.

"I guess that's enough for any on us, now ain't it?"



No. XXXI

Gulling a Bluenose.

"I allot," said Mr. Slick, "that the Bluenoses are the most gullible folks on the face of the airth—rigular soft horns, that's a fact. Politics and such stuff set 'em a-gapin', like children in a chimbley corner listenin' to tales of ghosts, Salem witches, and Nova Scotia snowstorms; and while they stand starin' and yawpin' all eyes and mouth, they get their pockets picked of every cent that's in 'em. One candidate chap says 'Feller citizens, this country is goin' to the dogs hand over hand; look at your rivers, you have no bridges; at your wild lands, you have no roads; at your treasury, you hain't got a cent in it; at your markets, things don't fetch nothin'; at your fish, the Yankees ketch 'em all. There's nothin' behind you but sufferin', around you but poverty, afore you but slavery and death. What's the cause of this unheerd of awful state of things, ay, what's the cause? Why judges, and banks, and lawyers, and great folks, have swallered all the money. They've got you down, and they'll keep you down to all etarnity, you and your posteriors arter you. Rise up like men, arouse yourselves like freemen, and elect me to the legislatur', and I'll lead on the small but patriotic band, I'll put the big wigs through their facins, I'll make 'em shake in their shoes, I'll knock off your chains and make you free.' Well, the goneys fall tu and elect him, and he desarts right away, with balls, rifle, powder, horn and all. HE PROMISED TOO MUCH.

"Then comes a real good man, and an everlastin' fine preacher, a most a special spiritual man; renounces the world, the flesh, and the devil, preaches and prays day and night, so kind to the poor, and so humble, he has no more pride than a babe, and so short-handed he's no butter to his bread—all self denial, mortifyin' the flesh. Well, as soon as he can work it, he marries the richest gal in all his flock, and then his bread is buttered on both sides. HE PROMISED TOO MUCH.

"Then comes a doctor, and a prime article he is too, 'I've got,' says he, 'a screw auger emetic and hot crop, and if I can't cure all sorts o' things in natur' my name ain't Quack.' Well, he turns stomach and pocket, both inside out, and leaves poor Bluenose—a dead man. HE PROMISED TOO MUCH.

"Then comes a lawyer, an honest lawyer too, a real wonder under the sun, as straight as a shingle in all his dealin's. He's so honest he can't bear to hear tell of other lawyers; he writes agin 'em, raves agin 'em, votes agin 'em, they are all rogues but him. He's jist the man to take a case in hand, 'cause HE will see justice done. Well, he wins his case, and fobs all for costs, 'cause he's sworn to see justice done to—himself. HE PROMISED TOO MUCH.

"Then comes a Yankee Clockmaker" (and here Mr. Slick looked up and smiled), "with his 'soft sawder,' and 'human natur',' and he sells clocks warranted to run from July to Etarnity, stoppages included, and I must say they do run as long as—as long as wooden clocks commonly do, that's a fact. But I'll show you presently how I put the leak into 'em, for here's a feller a little bit ahead on us, whose flint I've made up my mind to fix this while past." Here we were nearly thrown out of the wagon by the breaking down of one of those small wooden bridges, which prove so annoying and so dangerous to travellers. "Did you hear that 'ere snap?" said he; "well, as sure as fate, I'll break my clocks over them 'ere etarnal log bridges, if Old Clay clips over them arter that fashion. Them 'ere poles are plaguy treacherous, they are jist like old Marm Patience Doesgood's teeth, that keeps the great United Independent Democratic Hotel, at Squaw Neck Creek, in Massachusetts—one half gone, and t'other half rotten eends."

"I thought you had disposed of your last clock," said I, "at Colchester, to Deacon Flint."

"So I did," he replied, "the last one I had to sell to HIM, but I got a few left for other folks yet. Now there is a man on this road, one Zeb Allen, a real genuINE skinflint, a proper close-fisted customer as you'll a'most see anywhere, and one that's not altogether the straight thing in his dealin' neither. He don't want no one to live but himself; and he's mighty handsum to me, sayin' my clocks are all a cheat, and that we ruinate the country, a-drainin' every drop of money out of it, a-callin' me a Yankee broom and what not. But it ain't all jist Gospel that he says. Now I'll put a clock on him afore he knows it, I'll go right into him as slick as a whistle, and play him to the eend of my line like a trout. I'll have a hook in his gills, while he's a-thinkin' he's only smellin' at the bait. There he is now, I'll be darned if he ain't, standin' afore his shop door, lookin' as strong as high proof Jamaiky; I guess I'll whip it out o' the bung while he's a-lookin' arter the spicket, and p'r'aps he'll be none o' the wiser till he finds it out, neither."

"Well, Squire, how do you do," said he, "how's all at home?"

"Reasonable well, I give you thanks, won't you alight?"

"Can't today," said Mr. Slick, "I'm in a considerable of a hurry to katch the packet, have you any commands for Sou'west? I'm goin' to the Island, and across the Bay to Windsor. Any word that way?"

"No," says Mr. Allen, "none that I can think on, unless it be to enquire how butter's goin'; they tell me cheese is down, and proDUCE of all kind particular dull this fall."

"Well, I'm glad I can tell you that question," said Slick, "for I don't calculate to return to these parts; butter is risin' a cent or two; I put mine off mind at tenpence."

"Don't return! possible? why, how you talk. Have you done with the clock trade?"

"I guess I have, it ain't worth follerin' now."

"Most time," said the other, laughing, "for by all accounts the clocks warn't worth havin', and most infarnal dear too, folks begin to get their eyes open."

"It warn't needed in your case," said Mr. Slick, with that peculiarly composed manner, that indicates suppressed feeling, "for you were always wide awake; if all the folks had cut their eye-teeth as airly as you did, their'd be plaguy few clocks sold in these parts, I reckon; but you are right, Squire, you may say that, they actilly were NOT worth havin', and that's the truth. The fact is," said he, throwing down his reins, and affecting a most confidential tone, "I felt almost ashamed of them myself; I tell you. The long and short of the matter is jist this: they don't make no good ones nowadays, no more, for they calculate 'em for shippin' and not for home use. I was all struck up of a heap when I seed the last lot I got from the States; I was properly bit by them, you may depend—they didn't pay cost, for I couldn't recommend them with a clear conscience, and I must say I do like a fair deal, for I'm strait up and down, and love to go right ahead, that's a fact. Did you ever see them I fetched when I first came, them I sold over the Bay?"

"No," said Mr. Allen, "I can't say I did."

"Well," continued he, "they WERE a prime article, I tell you, no mistake there, fit for any market, it's generally allowed there ain't the beat of them to be found anywhere. If you want a clock, and can lay your hands on one of them, I advise you not to let go the chance; you'll know 'em by the 'Lowell' mark, for they were all made at Judge Beler's factory, Squire Shepody, down to Five Islands, axed me to get him one, and a special job I had of it, near about more sarch arter it than it was worth; but I did get him one, and a particular handsome one it is, copal'd and gilt superior. I guess it's worth ary half dozen in these parts, let t'others be where they may. If I could a got supplied with the like o' them, I could a made a grand spec out of them, for they took at once, and went off quick."

"Have you got it with you?" said Mr. Allen, "I should like to see it."

"Yes, I have it here, all done up in tow, as snug as a bird's egg, to keep it from jarrin', for it hurts 'em consumedly to jolt 'em over them 'ere etarnal wooden bridges. But it's no use to take it out, it ain't for sale; it's bespoke, and I wouldn't take the same trouble to get another for twenty dollars. The only one that I know of that there's any chance of gettin', is one that Increase Crane has up to Wilmot, they say he's a-sellin' off."

After a good deal of persuasion, Mr. Slick unpacked the clock, but protested against his asking for it, for it was not for sale. It was then exhibited, every part explained and praised, as new in invention and perfect in workmanship. Now Mr. Allen had a very exalted opinion of Squire Shepody's taste, judgment, and saving knowledge; and, as it was the last and only chance of getting a clock of such superior quality, he offered to take it at the price the Squire was to have it, at seven pounds ten shillings. But Mr. Slick vowed he couldn't part with it at no rate, he didn't know where he could get the like agin (for he warn't quite sure about Increase Crane's), and the Squire would be confounded disappointed; he couldn't think of it. In proportion to the difficulties, rose the ardour of Mr. Allen; his offers advanced to eight pounds, to eight pounds ten shillings, to nine pounds.

"I vow," said Mr. Slick, "I wish I hadn't let on that I had it at all. I don't like to refuse you, but where am I to get the like?" After much discussion of a similar nature, he consented to part with the clock, though with great apparent reluctance, and pocketed the money with a protest that, cost what it would, he should have to procure another, for he couldn't think of putting the Squire's pipe out arter that fashion, for he was a very clever man, and as fair as a boot jack.

"Now," said Mr. Slick, as we proceeded on our way, "that 'ere feller is properly sarved, he got the most inferior article I had, and I jist doubled the price on him. It's a pity he should be a-tellin' of lies of the Yankees all the time; this will help him now to a little grain of truth." Then mimicking his voice and manner, he repeated Allen's words with a strong nasal twang, "'Most time for you to give over the clock trade, I guess, for by all accounts they ain't worth havin', and most infarnel dear too; folks begin to get their eyes open.' Better for you, if you'd a had your'n open, I reckon; a joke is a joke, but I consait you'll find that no joke. The next time you tell stories about Yankee peddlers, put the wooden clock in with the wooden punkin seeds, and hickory hams, will you? The Bluenoses, Squire, are all like Zeb Allen; they think they know everything, but they get gulled from year's eend to year's eend. They expect too much from others, and do too little for themselves. They actilly expect the sun to shine, and the rain to fall, through their little House of Assembly. 'What have you done for us?' they keep axin' their members. 'Who did you spunk up to last Session?' jist as if all legislation consisted in attackin' some half dozen puss proud folks at Halifax, who are jist as big noodles as they be themselves. You hear nothin' but politics, politics, politics, one everlastin' sound of give, give, give. If I was Governor I'd give 'em the butt eend of my mind on the subject, I'd crack their pates till I let some light in 'em, if it was me, I know. I'd say to the members, don't come down here to Halifax with your long lockrums about politics, makin', a great touss about nothin'; but open the country, foster agricultur', encourage trade, incorporate companies, make bridges, facilitate conveyance, and above all things make a railroad from Windsor to Halifax; and mind what I tell you now—write it down for fear you should forget it, for it's a fact; and if you don't believe me, I'll lick you till you do, for there ain't a word of a lie in it, by gum—ONE SUCH WORK AS THE WINDSOR BRIDGE IS WORTH ALL YOUR LAWS, VOTES, SPEECHES AND RESOLUTIONS, FOR THE LAST TEN YEARS, IF TIED UP AND PUT INTO A MEAL BAG TOGETHER. IF IT AIN'T, I HOPE I MAY BE SHOT!"



No. XXXII

Too many Irons in the Fire.

We had a pleasant sail of three hours from Parrsboro' to Windsor. The arrivals and departures by water, are regulated at this place by the tide, and it was sunset before we reached Mrs. Wilcox's comfortable inn. Here, as at other places, Mr. Slick seemed to be perfectly at home; and he pointed to a wooden clock, as a proof of his successful and extended trade, and of the universal influence of "soft sawder," and a knowledge of "human natur'." Taking out a pen knife, he cut off a splinter from a stick of firewood, and balancing himself on one leg of his chair, by the aid of his right foot, commenced his favourite amusement of whitling, which he generally pursued in silence. Indeed it appeared to have become with him an indispensible accompaniment of reflection.

He sat in this abstracted manner, until he had manufactured into delicate shavings the whole of his raw materiel, when he very deliberately resumed a position of more ease and security, by resting his chair on two legs instead of one, and putting both his feet on the mantel piece. Then, lighting his cigar, he said in his usual quiet manner—

"There's a plaguy sight of truth in them 'ere old proverbs. They are distilled facts steamed down to an essence. They are like portable soup, an amazin' deal of matter in a small compass. They are what I vally most, experience. Father used to say, 'I'd as lives have an old homespun, self-taught doctor as ary a Professor in the college at Philadelphia or New York to attend me; for what they do know, they know by experience, and not by books; and experience is everything, it's hearin' and seein' and tryin', and arter that a feller must be a born fool if he don't know. That's the beauty of old proverbs; they are as true as a plum line, and as short and sweet as sugar candy. Now when you come to see all about this country you'll find the truth of that 'ere one—'A MAN THAT HAS TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE, IS PLAGUY APT TO GET SOME ON 'EM BURNT.'