“Where?”
“In Nova Scotia.”
“Exactly,” says he. “It shews your sense; it’s the very place for ‘em. It’s a fine field for a young man; I don’t know no better one no where in the whole univarsal world. When I was a boy larnin’ to shoot, sais father to me, one day, ‘Sam,’ sais he, ‘I’ll give you a lesson in gunnin’ that’s worth knowin’. “Aim high,” my boy; your gun naterally settles down a little takin’ sight, cause your arm gets tired, and wabbles, and the ball settles a little while it’s a travellin’, accordin’ to a law of natur, called Franklin’s law; and I obsarve you always hit below the mark. Now, make allowances for these things in gunnin’, and “aim high,” for your life, always. And, Sam,’ sais he, ‘I’ve seed a great deal of the world, all military men do. ‘I was to Bunker’s Hill durin’ the engagement, and I saw Washington the day he was made President, and in course must know more nor most men of my age; and I’ll give you another bit of advice, “Aim high” in life, and if you don’t hit the bull’s eye, you’ll hit the “fust circles,” and that ain’t a bad shot nother.’
“‘Father,’ sais I, ‘I guess I’ve seed more of the world than you have, arter all.’
“‘How so, Sam?’ sais he.
“‘Why,’ sais I, ‘father, you’ve only been to Bunker’s Hill, and that’s nothin’; no part of it ain’t too steep to plough; it’s only a sizeable hillock, arter all. But I’ve been to the Notch on the White Mountain, so high up, that the snow don’t melt there, and seed five States all to once, and half way over to England, and then I’ve seed Jim Crow dance. So there now?’ He jist up with the flat of his hand, and gave me a wipe with it on the side of my face, that knocked me over; and as I fell, he lent me a kick on my musn’t-mention-it, that sent me a rod or so afore I took ground on all fours.
“‘Take that, you young scoundrel!’ said he, ‘and larn to speak respectful next time to an old man, a military man, and your father, too.’
“It hurt me properly, you may depend. ‘Why,’ sais I, as I picked myself up, ‘didn’t you tell me to “aim high,” father? So I thought I’d do it, and beat your brag, that’s all.’
“Truth is, Squire, I never could let a joke pass all my life, without havin’ a lark with it. I was fond of one, ever since I was knee high to a goose, or could recollect any thin’ amost; I have got into a horrid sight of scrapes by ‘em, that’s a fact. I never forgot that lesson though, it was kicked into me: and lessons that are larnt on the right eend, ain’t never forgot amost. I have “aimed high” ever since, and see where I be now. Here I am an Attache, made out of a wooden clock pedlar. Tell you what, I shall be “embassador” yet, made out of nothin’ but an “Attache,” and I’ll be President of our great Republic, and almighty nation in the eend, made out of an embassador, see if I don’t. That comes of “aimin’ high.” What do you call that water near your coach-house?”
“A pond.”