“Now,” said I, “Doctor, just observe how beautiful this thing is in operation. A woman (for they draw more nor half the water used in this country) has to put out all her strength, dragging down the pole, with her hands over her head (an attitude and exercise greatly recommended by doctors to women), in order to get the bucket down into the well. If she is in too big a hurry, the lever brings it up with a jerk that upsets it, and wets her all over, which is very refreshing in hot weather, and if a child or a dog happens to be under the heavy end of the beam, it smashes it to death, which after all ain’t no great matter, for there are plenty left to them who have too many and don’t care for ’em. And then if it ain’t well looked after and the post gets rotten at the bottom, on a stormy day it’s apt to fall and smash the roof of the house in, which is rather lucky, for most likely it wanted shingling, and it is time it was done. Well, when the bucket swings about in the wind, if a gall misses catching it, it is apt to hit her in the mouth, which is a great matter, if she has the tooth-ache, for it will extract corn-crackers a plaguey sight quicker than a dentist could to save his soul.”
“Well,” said he, “I never thought of that before. I have no turn for these things, I’ll have it removed, it is a most dangerous thing, and I wouldn’t have an accident happen to the sergeant and dear old Betty for the world.”
“God bless your Honour for that,” said Jackson.
“But, Doctor,” said I, “joking apart, they are very picturesque, ain’t they, how well they look in a sketch, eh! nice feature in the foreground.”
“Oh,” said he, patting me on the back, “there you have me again, Slick. Oh, indeed they are, I can’t part with my old well-pole, oh, no, not for the world: Jackson, have an eye to it, see that it is all safe and strong and that no accident happens, but I don’t think we need take it away. Come, Slick, come to breakfast.”
Thinks I to myself, as I proceeded to the hall, “there are two classes only in this world. Those who have genius, and those who have common sense. They are like tailors, one can cut a coat and do nothin’ else, for he is an artist. The other can put the parts together, for he is a workman only. Now the doctor is a man of talent and learning, an uncommon man, but he don’t know common things at all. He can cut out a garment, but he can’t stitch a button-hole.”
[CHAPTER IX.]
THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.
The room in which we breakfasted was about eighteen feet square, having a large old-fashioned fire-place opposite to the front door, which opened directly on the lawn. The walls were fancifully ornamented with moose and deer horns, fowling-pieces, fishing-rods, landing nets and baskets, bows and arrows of every description, and Indian relics, such as stone hatchets, bowls, rude mortars, images, war clubs, wampum, and implements not unlike broad swords made of black birch, the edges of which were inlaid with the teeth of animals, or the shells of fish, ground sharp. Besides these, were skulls of great size and in good preservation, stone pipes, pouches, and so on; also some enormous teeth and bones of an antediluvian animal, found in the Bras Dor lake in Cape Breton. It was, take it altogether, the most complete collection of relics of this interesting race, the Micmacs, and of natur’s products to be found in this province. Some of the larger moose horns are ingeniously managed, so as to form supports for polished slabs of hardwood for tables. The doctor informed me that this department of his museum was under the sole direction of the sergeant, who called it his armoury, and to whose experience in the arrangement of arms he was indebted for the good effect they produced. The only objection he said he had to it was, that classification had been sacrificed to appearance, and things were very much intermixed; but his collection was too small to make this a matter of any importance.
Jackson, as soon as the doctor was similarly engaged in showing them to the captain and the Miss McDonalds, for whom they seemed to have a peculiar interest, mounted guard over me.
“You see, Sir,” said he, “the moose horns are the only thing of any size here, and that’s because the moose is half English, you know. Everything is small in this country, and degenerates, Sir. The fox ain’t near as big as an English one. Lord, Sir, the ounds would run down one o’ these fellows in ten minutes. They haven’t got no strength. The rabbit too is a mere nothink; he is more of a cat, and looks like one too, when he is hanged in a snare. It’s so cold, nothin’ comes to a right size here. The trees is mere shrubbery compared to our hoaxes. The pine is tall, but then it has no sap. It’s all tar and turpentine, and that keeps the frost out of its heart. The fish that live under the ice in the winter are all iley, in a general way, like the whales, porpoises, dog-fish, and cod. The liver of the cod is all ile, and women take to drinkin’ it now in cold weather to keep their blood warm. Depend upon it, Sir, in two or three generations they will shine in the sun like niggers. Porter would be better for ’em to drink than ile, and far more pleasanter too, Sir, wouldn’t it? It would fill ’em out. Saving your presence, Sir, you never see a girl here with—”