Chapter IV: Part 4

"It beats cock-fightin', I tell you, to hear the Bluenoses, when they get together, talk politics. They have got three or four evil spirits, like the Irish Banshees, that they say cause all the mischief in the province: the council, the banks, the house of assembly and the lawyers. If a man places a higher valiation on himself than his neighbours do, and wants to be a magistrate before he is fit to carry the ink horn for one, and finds himself safely delivered of a mistake, he says it is all owing to the Council. The members are cunnin' critters, too; they know this feelin', and when they come home from Assembly, and people ax 'em, 'where are all them 'ere fine things you promised us?' 'Why,' they say, 'we'd a had 'em all for you, but for that etarnal Council, they nullified all we did.' The country will come to no good till them chaps show their respect for it, by covering their bottoms with homespun. If a man is so tarnation lazy he won't work, and in course has no money, why he says it's all owin' to the banks, they won't discount, there's no money, they've ruined the Province. If there bean't a road made up to every citizen's door, away back to the woods--who as like as not has squatted there--why he says the House of Assembly have voted all the money to pay great men's salaries, and there's nothin' left for poor settlers, and cross roads. Well, the lawyers come in for their share of cake and ale, too; if they don't catch it, it's a pity.

"There was one Jim Munroe of Onion County, Connecticut, a desperate idle fellow, a great hand at singin' songs, a-skatin', drivin' about with the gals, and so on. Well, if anybody's windows were broke, it was Jim Munroe, if any man's horse lost a tail, or anybody's dog got a kettle tied on to his'n, it was Jim Munroe, and if there were any youngsters in want of a father, they were sure to be poor Jim's. Jist so it is with the lawyers here; they stand Godfathers for every misfortune that happens in the country. When there is a mad dog a-goin' about, every dog that barks is said to be bit by the mad one, so he gets credit for all the mischief that every dog does for three months to come. So every feller that goes yelpin' home from a court house, smartin' from the law, swears he is bit by a lawyer. Now there may be something wrong in all these things--and it can't be otherwise in natur'--in council, banks, house of assembly, and lawyers: but change them all, and it's an even chance if you don't get worse ones in their room. It is in politics as in horses; when a man has a beast that's near about up to the notch, he'd better not swap him; if he does, he's e'enamost sure to get one not so good as his own. My rule is, I'd rather keep a critter whose faults I do know, than change him for a beast whose faults I don't know."

No. XV

The Dancing Master Abroad.

"I wish that 'ere black heifer in the kitchen would give over singing that 'ere everlastin' dismal tune," said the Clockmaker, "it makes my head ache. You've heerd a song afore now," said he, "havn't you, till you was fairly sick of it? for I have, I vow. The last time I was in Rhode Island--all the gals sing there, and it's generally allowed there's no such singers anywhere; they beat the EYE-talians a long chalk; they sing so high some on 'em, they go clear out o' hearin' sometimes, like a lark--well, you heerd nothin' but 'Oh no, we never mention her;' well, I grew so plaguy tired of it, I used to say to myself, I'd sooner see it, than heer tell of it, I vow; I wish to gracious you would 'never mention her,' for it makes me feel ugly to hear that same thing for ever and ever and amen that way. Well, they've got a cant phrase here, 'the schoolmaster is abroad,' and every feller tells you that fifty times a day.

"There was a chap said to me not long ago, at Truro, 'Mr. Slick, this Country is rapidly improving, "the schoolmaster is abroad now,"' and he looked as knowin' as though he had found a mate's nest. 'So I should think,' said I, 'and it would be jist about as well, I guess, if he'd stay to home and mind his business, for your folks are so consoomedly ignorant, I reckon he's abroad e'enamost all his time. I hope when he returns, he'll be the better of his travels, and that's more nor many of our young folks are who go "abroad," for they import more airs and nonsense than they dispose of one while, I tell you; some of the stock remains on hand all the rest of their lives.' There's nothin' I hate so much as cant, of all kinds, it's a sure sign of a tricky disposition. If you see a feller cant in religion, clap your hand into your pocket, and lay right hold of your puss, or he'll steal it as sure as you're alive; and if a man cant in politics, he'll sell you if he gets a chance, you may depend. Law and physic are jist the same, and every mite and morsel as bad. If a lawyer takes to cantin', it's like the fox preachin' to the geese, he'll eat up his whole congregation; and if a doctor takes to it, he's a quack as sure as rates. The Lord have massy on you, for he won't. I'd sooner trust my chance with a naked hook any time, than one that's half covered with bad bait. The fish will sometimes swaller the one, without thinkin', but they get frightened at t'other, turn tail and off like a shot.

"Now, to change the tune, I'll give the Bluenoses a new phrase. They'll have an election most likely next year, and then 'the dancin' master will be abroad.' A candidate is a most particular polite man, a-noddin' here, and a-bowin' there, and a-shakin' hands all round. Nothin' improves a man's manners like an election. 'The dancin' master's abroad then;' nothin' gives the paces equal to that, it makes them as squirmy as an eel, they cross hands and back agin, set to their partners and right and left in great style, and slick it off at the eend, with a real complete bow, and a smile for all the world as sweet as a cat makes at a pan of new milk. Then they get as full of compliments as a dog is full of fleas--enquirin' how the old lady is to home, and the little boy that made such a wonderful smart answer, they never can forget it till next time; a-praisin' a man's farm to the nines, and a-tellin' of him, how scandalous the road that leads to his location has been neglected, and how much he wants to find a real complete hand that can build a bridge over his brook, and axin' him if HE ever built one. When he gets the hook baited with the right fly, and the simple critter begins to jump out of water arter it, all mouth and gills, he winds up the reel, and takes leave, a-thinkin' to himself 'Now you see what's to the eend of my line, I guess I'll know where to find you when I want you.'

"There's no sort of fishin' requires so much practice as this. When bait is scarce one worm must answer for several fish. A handful of oats in a pan, arter it brings one horse up in a pastur' for the bridle, serves for another, a-shakin' of it, is better than a-givin' of it, it saves the grain for another time. It's a poor business arter all, is electioneering, and when 'the Dancin' Master is abroad,' he's as apt to teach a man to cut capers and get larfed at as anything else. It ain't every one that's soople enough to dance real complete. Politics take a great deal of time, and grind away a man's honesty near about as fast as cleaning a knife with brick dust, 'it takes its steel out.' What does a critter get arter all for it in this country, why nothin' but expense and disappointment. As King Solomon says--and that 'ere man was up to a thing or two, you may depend, though our professor did say he warn't so knowin' as Uncle Sam--it's all vanity and vexation of spirit.

"I raised a four-year-old colt once, half blood, a perfect pictur' of a horse, and a genuine clipper, could gallop like the wind; a real daisy, a perfect doll; had an eye like a weasel, and nostril like Commodore Rodgers' speakin' trumpet. Well, I took it down to the races at New York, and father he went along with me; for says he, 'Sam, you don't know everything, I guess, you hain't cut your wisdom teeth yet, and you are goin' among them that's had 'em through their gums this while past.' Well, when we gets to the races, father he gets colt and puts him in an old wagon, with a worn out Dutch harness, and breast band; he looked like Old Nick, that's a fact. Then he fastened a head martingale on, and buckled it to the girths atwixt his fore legs. Says I, 'Father, what on airth are you at? I vow I feel ashamed to be seen with such a catamaran as that, and colt looks like old Satan himself--no soul would know him.' 'I guess I warn't born yesterday, Sam,' says he, 'let me be, I know what I am at. I guess I'll slip it into 'em afore I've done as slick as a whistle. I guess I can see as far into a millstone as the best on 'em.'

"Well, father never entered the horse at all, but stood by and seed the races, and the winnin' horse was followed about by the matter of two or three thousand people, a-praisin' of him and admirin' him. They seemed as if they never had seed a horse afore. The owner of him was all up on eend a-boastin' of him, and a-stumpin' the course to produce a horse to run agin him for four hundred dollars. Father goes up to him, lookin' as soft as dough, and as meechin' as you please, and says he, 'Friend, it ain't every one that has four hundred dollars; it's a plaguy sight of money, I tell you; would you run for one hundred dollars, and give me a little start? If you would, I'd try my colt out of my old wagon agin you, I vow.' 'Let's look at your horse,' says he; so away they went, and a proper sight of people arter them to look at colt, and when they seed him they sot up such a larf, I felt e'enamost ready to cry for spite. Says I to myself; 'What can possess the old man to act arter that fashion, I do believe he has taken leave of his senses.' 'You needn't larf,' says Father, 'he's smarter than he looks; our Minister's old horse, Captain Jack, is reckoned as quick a beast of his age as any in our location, and that 'ere colt can beat him for a lick of a quarter of a mile quite easy; I seed it myself.' Well, they larfed agin louder than before, and says father, 'If you dispute my word, try me; what odds will you give?' 'Two to one,' says the owner, 'eight hundred to four hundred dollars.' 'Well, that's a great deal of money, ain't it,' says father, 'if I was to lose it I'd look pretty foolish, wouldn't I. How folks would pass their jokes at me when I went home again. You wouldn't take that 'ere wagon and harness for fifty dollars of it, would you?' says he. 'Well,' says the other, 'sooner than disappoint you, as you seem to have set your mind on losing your money, I don't care if I do.'

"As soon as it was settled, father drives off to the stables, and then returns mounted, with a red silk pocket handkerchief tied round his head, and colt a-looking like himself as proud as a nabob, chock full of spring like the wire eend of a bran' new pair of trouser galluses. One said, 'That's a plaguy nice lookin' colt that old feller has arter all.' 'That horse will show play for it yet,' says a third; and I heard one feller say, 'I guess that's a regular Yankee trick, a complete take in.' They had a fair start for it, and off they sot; father took the lead and kept it, and won the race, though it was a pretty tight scratch, for father was too old to ride colt, he was near about the matter of seventy years old.

"Well, when the colt was walked round after the race, there was an amazin' crowd arter him, and several wanted to buy him; but, says father, 'How am I to get home without him, and what shall I do with that 'ere wagon and harness so far as I be from Slickville.' So he kept them in talk, till he felt their pulses pretty well, and at last he closed with a Southerner for seven hundred dollars, and we returned, having made a considerable good spec of colt. Says father to me, 'Sam,' says he, 'you seed the crowd a-follerin' the winnin' horse, when we came there, didn't you?' 'Yes sir,' said I, 'I did.' 'Well, when colt beat him, no one follered him at all, but come a-crowdin' about HIM. That's popularity,' said he, 'soon won, soon lost--cried up sky high one minute, and deserted the next or run down; colt will share the same fate. He'll get beat afore long, and then he's done for. The multitude are always fickle-minded. Our great Washington found that out, and the British officer that beat Bonaparte, the bread they gave him turned sour afore he got half through the loaf. His soap had hardly stiffened afore it ran right back to lye and grease agin.

"'I was sarved the same way. I liked to have missed my pension; the Committee said I warn't at Bunker's hill at all, the villans. That was a Glo---' Thinks I, old boy, if you once get into that 'ere field, you'll race longer than colt, a plaguy sight; you'll run clear away to the fence to the far eend afore you stop, so I jist cut in and took a hand myself. 'Yes,' says I, 'you did 'em father, properly; that old wagon was a bright scheme, it led 'em on till you got 'em on the right spot, didn't it?' Says father, 'THERE'S A MORAL SAM, IN EVERYTHING IN NATUR'. Never have nothin' to do with elections, you see the vally of popularity in the case of that 'ere horse--sarve the public nine hundred and ninety-nine times, and the thousandth, if they don't agree with you, they desart and abuse you. See how they sarved old John Adams, see how they let Jefferson starve in his old age, see how good old Munroe like to have got right into jail, after his term of President was up. They may talk of independence,' says father, 'but Sam, I'll tell you what independence is,' and he gave his hands a slap agin his trousers pocket, and made the gold eagles he won at the race all jingle agin--'THAT!' says he, giving them another wipe with his fist, and winkin', as much as to say, do you hear that, my boy! 'THAT I CALL INDEPENDENCE.' He was in great spirits, the old man, he was so proud of winnin' the race, and puttin' the leake into the New Yorkers, he looked all dander. 'Let them great hungry, ill-favoured, long-legged bitterns,' says he (only he called them by another name that don't sound quite pretty), 'from the outlandish states to Congress, TALK ABOUT independence; but Sam,' said he, hitting the shiners agin till he made them dance right up an eend in his pocket, 'I LIKE TO FEEL IT.'

"'No Sam,' said he, 'line the pocket well first, make that independent, and then the spirit will be like a horse turned out to grass in the spring for the first time; he's all head and tail, a-snortin' and kickin' and racin' and carryin' on like mad; it soon gets independent too. While it's in the stall it may hold up, and paw, and whinny, and feel as spry as anything, but the leather strap keeps it to the manger, and the lead weight to the eend of it makes it hold down its head at last. No,' says he, 'here's independence,' and he gave the Eagles such a drive with his fist, he bust his pocket and sent a whole raft of them a-spinnin' down his leg to the ground. Says I, 'father,' and I swear I could hardly keep from larfin', he looked so peskily vexed, 'Father,' says I, 'I guess there's a moral in that 'ere too: EXTREMES NARY WAY ARE NONE O' THE BEST.' 'Well, well,' says he, kinder snappishly, 'I suppose you're half right, Sam, but we've said enough about it; let's drop the subject, and see if I have picked 'em all up, for my eyes are none of the best now, I'm near hand to seventy.'"

No. XVI

Mr. Slick's Opinion of the British.

"What success had you," said I, "in the sale of your clocks among the Scotch in the eastern part of the Province? Do you find them as gullible as the Bluenoses?"

"Well," said he, "you have heerd tell that a Yankee never answers one question, without axing another, haven't you? Did you ever see an English stage-driver make a bow? because if you hain't observed it, I have, and a queer one it is, I swan. He brings his right arm up, jist across his face, and passes on, with a knowin' nod of his head, as much as to say, how do you do? but keep clear o' my wheels, or I'll fetch your horses a lick in the mouth as sure as you're born; jist as a bear puts up his paw to fend off the blow of a stick from his nose. Well, that's the way I pass them 'ere bare-breeched Scotchmen. Lord, if they were located down in these here Cumberland marshes, how the mosquitoes would tickle them up, wouldn't they? They'd set 'em scratching thereabouts, as an Irishman does his head, when he's in sarch of a lie. Them 'ere fellers cut their eye-teeth afore they ever sot foot in this country, I expect. When they get a bawbee, they know what to do with it, that's a fact; they open their pouch and drop it in, and it's got a spring like a fox-trap; it holds fast to all it gets, like grim death to a dead nigger. They are proper skinflints, you may depend. Oatmeal is no great shakes at best; it ain't even as good for a horse as real yeller Varginny corn, but I guess I warn't long in finding out that the grits hardly pay for the riddlin'. No, a Yankee has as little chance among them as a Jew has in New England; the sooner he clears out, the better. You can no more put a leake into them, than you can send a chisel into teake wood; it turns the edge of the tool the first drive. If the Bluenoses knew the value of money as well as they do, they'd have more cash, and fewer clocks and tin reflectors, I reckon.

"Now, it's different with the Irish; they never carry a puss, for they never have a cent to put in it. They are always in love or in liquor, or else in a row; they are the merriest shavers I ever seed. Judge Beler--I dare say you have heerd tell of him; he's a funny feller--he put a notice over his factory gate at Lowell, 'no cigars or Irishmen admitted within these walls;' for, said he, 'The one will set a flame a-goin' among my cottons, and t'other among my gals. I won't have no such inflammable and dangerous things about me on no account.' When the British wanted our folks to join in the treaty to chock the wheels of the slave trade, I recollect hearin' old John Adams say, we had ought to humour them; for, says he, 'They supply us with labour on easier terms, by shippin' out the Irish.' Says he, 'They work better, and they work cheaper, and they don't live so long. The blacks, when they are past work hang on for ever, and a proper bill of expence they be; but hot weather and new rum rub out the poor rates for t'other ones.'

"The English are the boys for tradin' with; they shell out their cash like a sheef of wheat in frosty weather; it flies all over the thrashin' floor; but then they are a cross-grained, ungainly, kickin' breed of cattle, as I e'enamost ever seed. Whoever gave them the name of John Bull, knew what he was about, I tell you; for they are bull-necked, bull-headed folks, I vow; sulky, ugly tempered, vicious critters, a-pawin' and a-roarin' the whole time, and plaguy onsafe unless well watched. They are as headstrong as mules, and as conceited as peacocks."

The astonishment with which I heard this tirade against my countrymen absorbed every feeling of resentment. I listened with amazement at the perfect composure with which he uttered it. He treated it as one of those self-evident truths, that need neither proof nor apology, but as a thing well known and admitted by all mankind.

"There's no richer sight that I know of," said he, "than to see one on 'em when he first lands in one of our great cities. He swells out as big as a balloon; his skin is ready to burst with wind--a regular walking bag of gas; and he prances over the pavement like a bear over hot iron; a great awkward hulk of a feller--for they ain't to be compared to the French in manners--a-smirkin' at you, as much as to say, 'Look here, Jonathan, here's an Englishman; here's a boy that's got blood as pure as a Norman pirate, and lots of the blunt of both kinds, a pocket full of one, and a mouthfull of t'other; bean't he lovely?' and then he looks as fierce as a tiger, as much as to say, 'Say boo to a goose, if you dare.'

"No, I believe we may stump the univarse; we improve on everything, and we have improved on our own species. You'll search one while, I tell you, afore you'll find a man that, take him by and large, is equal to one of our free and enlightened citizens. He's the chap that has both speed, wind and bottom; he's clear grit--ginger to the backbone, you may depend. It's generally allowed there ain't the beat of them to be found anywhere. Spry as a fox, supple as an eel, and cute as a weasel. Though I say it that shouldn't say it, they fairly take the shine off creation--they are actilly equal to cash."

He looked like a man who felt that he had expressed himself so aptly and so well, that anything additional would only weaken its effect; he therefore changed the conversation immediately, by pointing to a tree at some little distance from the house, and remarking that it was the rock maple or sugar tree.

"It's a pretty tree," said he, "and a profitable one too to raise. It will bear tapping for many years, tho' it gets exhausted at last. This Province is like that 'ere tree, it is tapped till it begins to die at the top, and if they don't drive in a spile and stop the everlastin' flow of the sap, it will perish altogether. All the money that's made here, all the interest that's paid in it, and a pretty considerable portion of rent too, all goes abroad for investment, and the rest is sent to us to buy bread. It's drained like a bog, it has opened and covered trenches all through it, and then there's others to the foot of the upland to cut off the springs.

"Now you may make even a bog too dry; you may take the moisture out of it to that degree, that the very sile becomes dust and blows away. The English funds, and our banks, railroads, and canals, are all absorbing your capital like a sponge, and will lick it up as fast as you can make it. That very bridge we heerd of at Windsor is owned in New Brunswick, and will pay toll to that province. The capitalists of Nova Scotia treat it like a hired house, they won't keep it in repair; they neither paint it to preserve the boards, nor stop a leak to keep the frame from rottin'; but let it go to wrack sooner than drive a nail or put in a pane of glass. 'It will sarve our turn out,' they say.

"There's neither spirit, enterprise, nor patriotism here; but the whole country is as inactive as a bear in winter, that does nothin' but scroutch up in his den, a-thinkin' to himself, 'Well if I ain't an unfortunate devil, it's a pity; I have a most splendid warm coat as e'er a gentleman in these here woods, let him be who he will; but I got no socks to my feet, and I have to sit for everlastingly a-suckin' of my paws to keep 'em warm; if it warn't for that, I guess, I'd make some o' them chaps that have hoofs to their feet and horns to their heads, look about them pretty sharp, I know.' It's dismal now, ain't it? If I had the framin' of the Governor's message, if I wouldn't show 'em how to put timber together you may depend, I'd make 'em scratch their heads and stare, I know.

"I went down to Matanzas in the Fulton steamboat once; well, it was the first of the kind they ever seed, and proper scared they were to see a vessel, without sails or oars, goin' right straight ahead, nine knots an hour, in the very wind's eye, and a great streak of smoke arter her as long as the tail of a comet. I believe they thought it was Old Nick alive, a-treatin' himself to a swim. You could see the niggers a-clippin' it away from the shore, for dear life, and the soldiers a-movin' about as if they thought that we were a-goin' to take the whole country. Presently a little half-starved orange-coloured lookin' Spanish officer, all dressed off in his livery, as fine as a fiddle, came off with two men in a boat to board us. Well, we yawed once or twice, and motioned to him to keep off for fear he should get hurt; but he came right on afore the wheel, and I hope I may be shot if the paddle didn't strike the bow of the boat with that force, it knocked up the starn like a plank tilt, when one of the boys playin' on it is heavier than t'other; and chucked him right atop of the wheel-house. You never seed a feller in such a dunderment in your life. He had picked up a little English from seein' our folks there so much, and when he got up, the first thing he said was,'Damn all sheenery, I say; where's my boat?' and he looked round as if he thought it had jumped on board too. 'Your boat?' said the captain, why I expect it's gone to the bottom, and your men have gone down to look arter it, for we never seed or heerd tell of one or t'other of them arter the boat was struck.' Yes, I'd make 'em stare like that 'ere Spanish officer, as if they had seed out of their eyes for the first time. Governor Campbell didn't expect to see such a country as this when he came here, I reckon; I know he didn't.

"When I was a little boy, about knee high or so, and lived down Connecticut river, mother used to say, 'Sam, if you don't give over acting so like Old Scratch, I'll send you off to Nova Scotia as sure as you are born; I will, I vow.' Well, Lord, how that 'ere used to frighten me; it made my hair stand right up an eend, like a cat's back when she is wrathy; it made me drop it as quick as wink; like a tin night cap put on a dipped candle a-goin' to bed, it put the fun right out. Neighbour Dearborne's darter married a gentleman to Yarmouth, that speculates in the smugglin' line. Well, when she went on board to sail down to Nova Scotia, all her folks took on as if it was a funeral; they said she was goin' to be buried alive like the nuns in Portengale that get a-frolickin', break out of the pastur', and race off, and get catched and brought back agin. Says the old Colonel, her father, 'Deliverance, my dear, I would sooner foller you to your grave, for that would be an eend to your troubles, than to see you go off to that dismal country, that's nothin' but an iceberg aground;' and he howled as loud as an Irishman that tries to wake his wife when she is dead. Awful accounts we have of the country, that's a fact; but if the Province is not so bad as they make it out, the folks are a thousand times worse.

"You've seen a flock of partridges of a frosty mornin' in the fall, a-crowdin' out of the shade to a sunny spot, and huddlin' up there in the warmth? Well, the Bluenoses have nothin' else to do half the time but sun themselves. Whose fault is that? Why it's the fault of the legislature; they don't encourage internal improvement, nor the investment of capital in the country; and the result is apathy, inaction and poverty. They spend three months in Halifax, and what do they do? Father gave me a dollar once, to go to the fair at Hartford, and when I came back, says he, 'Sam, what have you got to show for it?' Now I ax what have they to show for their three months' setting? They mislead folks; they make 'em believe all the use of the assembly is to bark at councillors, judges, bankers, and such cattle, to keep 'em from eatin' up the crops; and it actilly costs more to feed them when they are watchin', than all the others could eat if they did break a fence and get in. Indeed some folks say they are the most breachy of the two, and ought to go to pound themselves. If their fences are good, them hungry cattle couldn't break through; and if they ain't, they ought to stake 'em up, and with them well; but it's no use to make fences unless the land is cultivated. If I see a farm all gone to wrack, I say here's bad husbandry and bad management; and if I see a Province like this, of great capacity, and great natural resources, poverty-stricken, I say there's bad legislation.

"No," said he (with an air of more seriousness than I had yet observed), "how much it is to be regretted, that, laying aside personal attacks and petty jealousies, they would not unite as one man, and with one mind and one heart apply themselves sedulously to the internal improvement and developement of this beautiful Province. Its value is utterly unknown, either to the general or local Government, and the only persons who duly appreciate it are the Yankees."

No. XVII

A Yankee Handle for a Halifax Blade.

"I met a man this mornin'," said the Clockmaker, "from Halifax, a real conceited lookin' critter as you e'enamost ever seed, all shines and didoes. He looked as if he had picked up his airs arter some officer of the regilars had worn 'em out and cast 'em off. They sot on him like second-hand clothes, as if they hadn't been made for him and didn't exactly fit. He looked fine, but awkward, like a captain of militia when he gets his uniform on, to play sodger; a-thinkin' himself mighty handSUM, and that all the world is a-lookin' at him. He marched up and down afore the street door like a peacock, as large as life and twice as natural; he had a riding whip in his hand and every now and then struck it agin his thigh, as much as to say, 'Ain't that a splendid leg for a boot, now? Won't I astonish the Amherst folks, that's all?' Thinks I, 'You are a pretty blade, ain't you? I'd like to fit a Yankee handle on to you, that's a fact.' When I came up, he held up his head near about as high as a shot factory, and stood with his fists on his hips, and eyed me from head to foot, as a shakin' quaker does a town lady; as much as to say, 'What a queer critter you be, that's toggery I never seed afore; you're some carnal-minded maiden, that's sartain.'

"'Well,' says he to me, with the air of a man that chucks a cent into a beggar's hat, 'a fine day this, sir.' 'Do you actilly think so?' said I, and I gave it the real Connecticut drawl. 'Why,' said he, quite short, 'if I didn't think so, I wouldn't say so.' 'Well,' says I, 'I don't know, but if I did think so, I guess I wouldn't say so.' 'Why not?' says he. 'Because, I expect,' says I, 'any fool could see that as well as me;' and then I stared at him, as much as to say, 'Now if you like that 'ere swap, I am ready to trade with you agin as soon as you like.' Well, he turned right round on his heel and walked off, a-whistlin' Yankee Doodle to himself. He looked jist like a man that finds whistlin' a plaguy sight easier than thinkin'.

"Presently, I heard him ax the groom who that 'ere Yankee lookin' feller was. 'That?' said the groom, 'why, I guess it's Mr. Slick.' 'Sho!' said he, 'how you talk. What! Slick the Clockmaker? why it ain't possible; I wish I had a known that 'ere afore, I declare, for I have a great curiosity to see him; folks say he is an amazin' clever feller that;' and he turned and stared, as if it was old Hickory himself. Then he walked round and about like a pig round the fence of a potato field, a-watchin' for a chance to cut in; so, thinks I, I'll jist give him something to talk about, when he gets back to the city; I'll fix a Yankee handle on to him in no time.

"'How's times to Halifax, sir,' said I. 'Better,' says he, 'much better. Business is done on a surer bottom than it was, and things look bright agin.' 'So does a candle,' says I, 'jist afore it goes out; it burns up ever so high and then sinks right down, and leaves nothin' behind but grease, and an everlastin' bad smell. I guess they don't know how to feed their lamp, and it can't burn long on nothin'. No, sir, the jig is up with Halifax, and it's all their own fault. If a man sits at his door, and sees stray cattle in his field, a-eatin' up of his crop, and his neighbours, a-eatin' off his grain, and won't so much as go and drive 'em out, why I should say it sarves him right.'

"I don't exactly understand, sir,' said he. Thinks I, it would be strange if you did, for I never see one of your folks yet that could understand a hawk from a handsaw. 'Well,' says I, 'I will tell you what I mean: draw a line from Cape Sable to Cape Cansoo, right through the Province, and it will split it into two, this way;' and I cut an apple into two halves; 'now,' says I, 'the worst half, like the rotten half of the apple, belongs to Halifax, and the other and sound half belongs to St. John. Your side of the province on the sea coast is all stone; I never seed such a proper sight of rocks in my life; it's enough to starve a rabbit. Well, t'other side on the Bay of Fundy, is a superfine country; there ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere. Now, wouldn't the folks living away up to the Bay, be pretty fools to go to Halifax, when they can go to St. John with half the trouble. St. John is the natural capital of the Bay of Fundy; it will be the largest city in America next to New York. It has an immense back country as big as Great Britain, a first chop river, and amazin' sharp folks, most as cute as the Yankees; it's a splendid location for business. Well, they draw all the produce of the Bay shores, and where the produce goes the supplies return; they will take the whole trade of the Province. I guess your rich folks will find they've burnt their fingers; they've put their foot in it, that's a fact. Houses without tenants, wharves without shipping, a town without people--what a grand investment! If you have any loose dollars, let 'em out on mortgage in Halifax, that's a security; keep clear of the country for your life; the people may run, but the town can't. No, take away the troops, and you're done; you'll sing the dead march folks did at Louisburg and Shelburne. Why you hain't got a single thing worth havin', but a good harbour, and as for that the coast is full of 'em. You havn't a pine log, a spruce board or a refuse shingle; you neither raise wheat, oats, or hay, nor never can; you have no staples on airth, unless it be them iron ones for the padlocks in Bridewell. You've sowed pride and reaped poverty; take care of your crop, for it's worth harvestin'. You have no river and no country, what in the name of fortin' have you to trade on?

"'But,' said he (and he showed the whites of his eyes like a wall-eyed horse), 'but,' said he, 'Mr. Slick, how is it then, Halifax ever grew at all! Hasn't it got what it always had? It's no worse than it was.' 'I guess,' said I, 'that pole ain't strong enough to bear you, neither; if you trust to that, you'll be into the brook, as sure as you are born; you once had the trade of the whole Province, but St. John has run off with that now; you've lost all but your trade in blueberries and rabbits with the niggers at Hammond Plains. You've lost your customers; your rivals have a better stand for business--they've got the corner store; four great streets meet there, and it's near the market slip.'

"Well, he stared; says he, 'I believe you're right, but I never thought of that afore.' Thinks I, nobody'd ever suspect you of the trick of thinkin' that ever I heerd tell of. 'Some of our great men,' said he, 'laid it all to your folks' selling so many clocks and Polyglot Bibles; they say you have taken off a horrid sight of money.' 'Did they, indeed?' said I; 'well, I guess it ain't pins and needles that's the expense of house-keepin', it is something more costly than that.' 'Well, some folks say it's the banks,' says he. 'Better still,' says I; 'perhaps you've hearn tell, too, that greasin' the axle, makes a gig harder to draw, for there's jist about as much sense in that.' 'Well then,' says he, 'others say it's smugglin' has made us so poor.' 'That guess,' said I, 'is most as good as t'other one; whoever found out that secret ought to get a patent for it, for it's worth knowin'. Then the country has grown poorer, hasn't it, because it has bought cheaper this year, than it did the year before? Why, your folks are cute chaps, I vow; they'd puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer, they are so amazin' knowin'.' 'Ah,' said he, and he rubb'd his hands and smiled, like a young doctor, when he gets his first patient; 'ah,' said he, 'if the timber duties are altered, down comes St. John, body and breeches; it's built on a poor foundation--it's all show; they are speculatin' like mad; they'll ruin themselves.' Says I, 'if you wait till they're dead for your fortin', it will be one while, I tell you, afore you pocket the shiners. It's no joke waitin' for a dead man's shoes. Suppose an old feller of eighty was to say, "When that 'ere young feller dies, I'm to inherit his property," what would you think? Why, I guess you'd think he was an old fool. No sir, if the English don't want their timber we do want it all; we have used our'n up, we hain't got a stick even to whittle. If the British don't offer we will, and St. John, like a dear little weepin' widow, will dry up her tears, and take to frolickin' agin and accept it right off.

"'There isn't at this moment such a location hardly in America, as St. John; for beside all its other advantages, it has this great one: its only rival, Halifax, has got a dose of opium that will send it snoring out of the world, like a feller who falls asleep on the ice of a winter's night. It has been asleep so long, I actilly think it never will wake. It's an easy death too; you may rouse them up if you like, but I vow I won't. I once brought a feller to that was drowned, and one night he got drunk and quilted me; I couldn't walk for a week. Says I, "You're the last chap I'll ever save from drowning in all my born days, if that's all the thanks I get for it." No sir, Halifax has lost the run of its custom. Who does Yarmouth trade with? St. John. Who does Annapolis County trade with? St. John. Who do all the folks on the Basin of Mines, and Bay shore, trade with? St. John. Who does Cumberland trade with? St. John. Well Pictou, Lunenburg and Liverpool, supply themselves, and the rest that ain't worth havin', trade with Halifax. They take down a few half-starved pigs, old viteran geese, and long legged fowls, some ram mutton and tough beef; and swap them for tea, sugar, and such little notions for their old women to home; while the railroads and canals of St. John are goin' to cut off your Gulf Shore trade to Miramichi, and along there. Flies live in the summer and die in winter, you're jist as noisy in war as those little critters, but you sing small in peace.

"'No, you're done for; you are up a tree, you may depend; pride must fall. Your town is like a ballroom arter a dance. The folks there eat, drank, and frolicked, and left an empty house; the lamps and hangings are left, but the people are gone.'

"'Is there no remedy for this?' said he; and he looked as wild as a Cherokee Indian. Thinks I, the handle is fitted on proper tight now. 'Well,' says I, 'when a man has a cold, he had ought to look out pretty sharp, afore it gets seated on his lungs; if he don't, he gets into a gallopin' consumption, and it's gone goose with him. There is a remedy, if applied in time: make a railroad to the Minas Basin, and you have a way for your customers to get to you, and a conveyance for your goods to them. When I was in New York last, a cousin of mine, Hezekiah Slick, said to me, "I do believe Sam, I shall be ruined; I've lost all my custom; they are widening and improving the streets, and there's so many carts and people to work in it, folks can't come to my shop to trade; what on airth shall I do? and I'm payin' a dreadful high rent too?" "Stop Ki," says I, "when the street is all finished off and slicked up, they'll all come back agin, and a whole raft more on 'em too, you'll sell twice as much as ever you did; you'll put off a proper swad of goods next year, you may depend;" and so he did, he made money, hand over hand. A railroad will bring back your customers, if done right off; but wait till trade has made new channels, and fairly gets settled in them, and you'll never divart it agin to all etarnity. When a feller waits till a gal gets married, I guess it will be too late to pop the question then.

"'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.'