“‘Well, the owner of the goose goes round with his hat, and gets so much a-piece in it from every one that enters for the “Pullin’;” and when all have entered, they bring their hosses in a line, one arter another; and at the words, ‘Go ahead!’ off they set, as hard as they can split; and as they pass under the goose, make a grab at him; and whoever carries off the head, wins.
“‘Well, the goose dodges his head and flaps his wings, and swings about so, it ain’t no easy matter to clutch his neck; and when you do, it’s so greasy, it slips right through the fingers, like, nothin’. Sometimes it takes so long, that the hosses are fairly beat out, and can’t scarcely raise a gallop; and then a man stands by the post, with a heavy loaded whip, to lash ‘em on, so that they mayn’t stand under the goose, which ain’t fair. The whoopin’, and hollerin’, and screamin’, and bettin’, and excitement, beats all; there ain’t hardly no sport equal to it. It’s great fun to all except the poor goosey-gander.
“‘The game of colony government to Canady, for some years back, puts me in mind of that exactly. Colonist has had his heels put where his head used to be, this some time past. He has had his legs tied, and his neck properly greased, I tell you; and the way every parliament man, and governor, and secretary, gallops round and round, one arter another, a grabbin’ at poor colonist, ain’t no matter. Every new one on ‘em that comes, is confident he is a goin’ to settle it; but it slips through his hand, and off he goes, properly larfed at.
“‘They have pretty nearly fixed goosey colonist, though; he has got his neck wrung several times; it’s twisted all a one side, his tongue hangs out, and he squeaks piteous, that’s a fact. Another good grab or two will put him out o’ pain; and it’s a pity it wouldn’t, for no created critter can live long, turned wrong eend up, that way. But the sport will last long arter that; for arter his neck is broke, it ain’t no easy matter to get the head off; the cords that tie that on, are as thick as your finger. It’s the greatest fun out there you ever see, to all except poor goosey colonist.
“‘I’ve larfed ready to kill myself at it. Some o’ these Englishers that come out, mounted for the sport, and expect a peerage as a reward for bringin’ home the head and settlin’ the business for colonist, do cut such figurs, it would make you split; and they are all so everlastin’ consaited, they won’t take no advice. The way they can’t do it is cautionary. One gets throwed, another gets all covered with grease, a third loses his hat, a fourth gets run away with by his horse, a fifth sees he can’t do it, makes some excuse, and leaves the ground afore the sport is over; and now and then, an unfortunate critter gets a hyste that breaks his own neck. There is only one on ‘em that I have see’d out there, that can do it right.
“It requires some experience, that’s a fact. But let John Bull alone for that; he is a critter that thinks he knows every thing; and if you told him he didn’t, he wouldn’t believe you, not he. He’d only pity your ignorance, and look dreadful sorry for you. Oh if you want to see high life, come and see “a colonial gander pulling.”
“‘Tying up a goose, Sir, is no great harm,’ sais I, ‘seein’ that a goose was made to be killed, picked and devoured, and nothin’ else. Tyin’ up a colonist by the heels is another thing. I don’t think it right; but I don’t know nothin’; I’ve had the book too close to my eyes. Joe H—e, that never was there, can tell you twice as much as I can about the colonies. The focus to see right, as I said afore, is three thousand miles off.’
“‘Well,’ sais he, ‘that’s a capital illustration, Mr. Slick. There is more in that than meets the ear. Don’t tell me you don’t know nothin’ about the colonies; few men know so much as you do. I wish to heavens you was a colonist,’ sais he; ‘if you were, I would offer you a government.’
“‘I don’t doubt it,’ sais I; ‘seein’ that your department have advanced or rewarded so many colonists already.’ But I don’t think he heard that shot, and I warn’t sorry for it; for it’s not right to be a pokin’ it into a perlite man, is it?
“‘I must tell the Queen that story of the Gander Pulling,’ sais he; ‘I like it amazingly. It’s a capital caricature. I’ll send the idea to H. B. Pray name some day when you are disengaged; I hope you will give me the pleasure of dining with me. Will this day fortnight suit you?’