I guess, said the Clockmaker, we know more of Nova Scotia than the Blue Noses themselves do. The Yankees see further ahead than most folks; they can een a most see round t'other side of a thing; indeed some on them have hurt their eyes by it, and sometimes I think that's the reason such a sight of them wear spectacles. The first I ever heerd tell of Cumberland was from Mr. Everett of Congress; he know'd as much about it as if he had lived here all his days, and may be a little grain more. He is a splendid man that—we class him No. 1, letter A. One night I chanced to go into General Peep's tavern at Boston, and who should I see there but the great Mr. Everett, a studying over a map of the Province of Nova-Scotia. Why it aint possible! said I—if that aint Professor Everett, as I am alive! why how do you do, Professor? Pretty well, I give you thanks, said he; how be you? but I aint no longer Professor; I gin that up, and also the trade of Preaching, and took to politics. You don't say so, said I; why what on airth is the cause o' that? Why, says he, look here, Mr. Slick. What IS the use of reading the Proverbs of Solomon to our free and enlightened citizens, that are every mite and mortal as wise as he was? That are man undertook to say there was nothing new under the sun. I guess he'd think he spoke a little too fast, if he was to see our steam boats, rail-roads, and India rubber shoes—three inventions worth more nor all he knew put in a heap together. Well, I don't know, said I, but somehow or another, I guess you'd have found preaching the best speculation in the long run; them are Unitarians pay better than Uncle Sam (we call, said the Clockmaker, the American public Uncle Sam, as you call the British John Bull.)
That remark seemed to grig him a little; he felt oneasy like, and walked twice across the room, fifty fathoms deep in thought: at last he said, which way are you from, Mr. Slick, this hitch? Why, says I, I've been away up south a speculating in nutmegs. I hope, says the Professor, they were a good article, the real right down genuine thing. No mistake, says I,—no mistake, Professor: they were all prime, first chop, but why did you ax that are question? Why, says he, that eternal scoundrel, that Captain John Allspice of Nahant, he used to trade to Charleston, and he carried a cargo once there of fifty barrels of nutmegs: well, he put half a bushel of good ones into each eend of the barrel, and the rest he filled up with wooden ones, so like the real thing, no soul could tell the difference until HE BIT ONE WITH HIS TEETH, and that he never thought of doing, until he was first BIT HIMSELF. Well, its been a standing joke with them southerners agin us ever since. It was only tother day at Washington, that everlasting Virginy duellist General Cuffy, afore a number of senators, at the President's house, said to me, 'Well Everett,' says he—'you know I was always dead agin your Tariff bill, but I have changed my mind since your able speech on it; I shall vote for it now.' 'Give me your hand,' says I, 'General Cuffy; the Boston folks will be dreadful glad when they hear your splendid talents are on our side—I think it will go now—we'll carry it.' 'Yes,' says he, 'your factories down east beat all natur; they go ahead on the English a long chalk.' You may depend I was glad to hear the New Englanders spoken of that way—I felt proud I tell you—'and,' says he, 'there's one manufacture that might stump all Europe to produce the like.' 'What's that?' says I, looking as pleased all the time as a gall that's tickled. 'Why,' says be, 'the facture of wooden nutmegs; that's a cap sheef that bangs the bush—its a real Yankee patent invention.' With that all the gentlemen set up a laugh, you might have heard away down to Sandy Hook—and the General gig gobbled like a great turkey cock, the half nigger, half alligator like looking villain as he is. I tell you what, Mr. Slick, said the Professor, I wish with all my heart them are damned nutmegs were in the bottom of the sea. That was the first oath I ever heerd him let slip: but he was dreadful ryled, and it made me feel ugly too, for its awful to hear a minister swear; and the only match I know for it, is to hear a regular sneezer of a sinner quote scripture. Says I, Mt. Everett, that's the fruit that politics bear; for my part I never seed a good graft on it yet, that bore any thing good to eat, or easy to digest.
Well, he stood awhile looking down on the carpet, with his hands behind him, quite taken up a cyphering in his head, and then he straightened himself up, and he put his hand upon his heart, just as he used to do in the pulpit, (he looked pretty I tell you) and slowly lifting his hand off his breast, he said, 'Mr. Slick, our tree of liberty was a beautiful tree—a splendid tree—it was a sight to look at; it was well fenced and well protected, and it grew so stately and so handsome, that strangers came from all parts of the globe to see it. They all allowed it was the most splendid thing in the world. Well, the mobs have broken in and tore down the fences, and snapped off the branches, and scattered all the leaves about, and it looks no better than a gallows tree.' 'I am afeared,' said he, 'I tremble to think on it, but I am afeared our ways will no longer be ways of pleasantness, nor our paths, paths of peace; I am, indeed, I vow, Mr. Slick.' He looked so streaked and so chop-fallen, that I felt kinder sorry for him; I actilly thought he'd a boo-hood right out. So, to turn the conversation, says I, Professor, what are great map is that I seed you a studyin' over when I came in? Says he, it's a map of Nova Scotia. That, says he, is a valuable province, a real clever province; we hant got the like on it, but its most plagily in our way. Well, says I, send for Sam Patch (that are man was a great diver, says the Clockmaker, and the last dive he took was off the falls of Niagara, and he was never heerd of agin till tother day, when Captain Enoch Wentworth, of the Susy Ann Whaler, saw him in the South Sea. Why, says Capt. Enoch to him, why Sam, says he, how on airth did you get here? I thought you was drowned at the Canadian lines. Why, says he, I didn't get ON airth here at all, but I came right slap THROUGH it. In that are Niagara dive, I went so everlasting deep, I thought it was just as short to come up tother side, so out I came in those parts. If I don't take the shine off the Sea Serpent, when I get back to Boston, then my name's not Sam Patch.)
Well, says I, Professor, send for Sam Patch, the diver, and let him dive down and stick a torpedo in the bottom of the Province and blow it up; or if that won't do, send for some of our steam tow boats from our great Eastern cities, and tow it out to sea; you know there's nothing our folks can't do, when they once fairly take hold on a thing in airnest. Well, that made him laugh; he seemed to forget about the nutmegs, and says he, that's a bright scheme, but it won't do; we shall want the Province some day, and I guess we'll buy it of King William; they say he is over head and ears in debt, and owes nine hundred millions of pounds starling—we'll buy it, as we did Florida. In the meantime we must have a canal from Bay Fundy to Bay Varte, right through Cumberland neck, by Shittyack, for our fishing vessels to go to Labradore. I guess you must ax leave first, said I; that's jist what I was cyphering at, says he, when you came in. I believe we won't ax them at all, but jist fall to and do it; ITS A ROAD OF NEEDCESSITY. I once heard Chief Justice Marshall of Baltimore say; 'If the people's highway is dangerous —a man may take down a fence—and pass through the fields as a way of NEEDCESSITY;' and we shall do it on that principle, as the way round by Isle Sable is dangerous. I wonder the Novascotians don't do it for their own convenience. Said I, it would'nt make a bad speculation that. The critters don't know no better, said he.
Well, says I, the St. John's folks, why don't they? for they are pretty cute chaps them. They remind me, says the Professor, of Jim Billings. You knew Jim Billings, did'nt you, Mr. Slick? Oh yes, said I, I knew him. It was he that made such a talk by shipping blankets to the West Indies; the same, says he. Well, I went to see him the other day at Mrs. Lecain's Boarding House, and says I, Billings, you have a nice location here. A plaguy sight too nice, said he. Marm Lecain makes such an etarnal touss about her carpets, that I have to go along that everlasting long entry, and down both staircases, to the street door to spit; and it keeps all the gentlemen a running with their mouths full all day. I had a real bout with a New Yorker this morning, I run down to the street door, and afore I see'd any body a coming, I let go, and I vow if I did'nt let a chap have it all over his white waistcoat. Well, he makes a grab at me, and I shuts the door right to on his wrist, and hooks the door chain taught and leaves him there, and into Marm Lecain's bed room like a shot, and hides behind the curtain. Well, he roared like a bull, till black Lucretia, one of the house helps, let him go, and they looked into all the gentlemen's rooms and found nobody—so I got out of that are scrape. So, what with Marm Lecain's carpets in the house, and other folks' waistcoats in the street, its too nice a location for me, I guess, so I shall up killoch and off to morrow to the TREE-mont.
Now, says the Professor, the St. John's folks are jist like Billings, fifty cents would have bought him a spit box, and saved him all them are journeys to the street door—and a canal at Bay Varte would save the St. John's folks a voyage all round Nova-Scotia. Why, they can't get at their own backside settlements, without a voyage most as long as one to Europe. If we had that are neck of land in Cumberland, we'd have a ship canal there, and a town at each end of it as big as Portland. You may talk of Solomon, said the Professor, but if Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like a lily of the field, neither was he in all his wisdom, equal in knowledge to a reel free American citizen. Well, said I, Professor, we are a most enlightened people, that's sartain, but somehow I don't like to hear you run down King Solomon neither; perhaps he warnt quite so wise as Uncle Sam, but then, said I, (drawing close to the Professor, and whispering in his ear, for fear any folks in the bar room might hear me,) but then, said I, may be he was every bit and grain as honest. Says he, Mr. Slick, there are some folks who think a good deal and say but little, and they are wise folks; and there are others agin, who blart right out whatever comes uppermost, and I guess they are pretty considerable superfine darned fools. And with that he turned right round, and sat down to his map and never said another word, lookin' as mad as a hatter the whole blessed time.
No. IX
Yankee Eating and Horse Feeding.
Did you ever heer tell of Abernethy, a British doctor? said the Clockmaker. Frequently, said I, he was an eminent man, and had a most extensive practice. Well, I reckon he was a vulgar critter that, he replied, he treated the honble. Aiden Gobble, secretary to our legation at London, dreadful bad once; and I guess if it had been me he had used that way, I'd a fixed his flint for him, so that he'd think twice afore he'd fire such another shot as that are again. I'd a made him make tracks, I guess, as quick as a dog does a hog from a potatoe field. He'd a found his way out of the hole in the fence a plaguy sight quicker than he came in, I reckon. Hits manner, said I, was certainly rather unceremonious at times, but he was so honest, and so straightforward, that no person was, I believe, ever seriously offended at him. IT WAS HIS WAY. Then his way was so plague rough, continued the Clockmaker, that he'd been the better, if it had been hammered and mauled down smoother. I'd a levelled him as flat as a flounder. Pray what was his offence? said I. Bad enough you may depend. The honble. Alden Gobble was dyspeptic, and he suffered great on easiness arter eatin, so he gees to Abemethy for advice. What's the matter with you, said the Doctor? jist that way, without even passing the time o' day with him—What's the matter with you? said he. Why, says Alden, I presume I have the Dyspepsy. Ah! said he, I see; a Yankee swallowed more dollars and cents than he can digest I am an American citizen, says Alden, with great dignity, I am Secretary to our Legation at the Court of St. James. The devil you are, said Abernethy, then you'll soon get rid of your dyspepsy. I don't see that are inference, said Alden, it don't follow from what you predicate at all—it ant a natural consequence, I guess, that a man should cease to be ill, because he is called by the voice of a free and enlightened people to fill an important office. (The truth is, you could no more trap Alden than you could an Indian. He could see other folks' trail, and made none himself; he was a real diplomatist, and I believe our diplomatists are allowed to be the best in the world.) But I tell you it does follow, said the Doctor; for in the company you'll have to keep, you'll have to eat like a Christian. It was an everlasting pity Alden contradicted him, for he broke out like one ravin distracted mad. I'll be d—d, said he, if ever I saw a Yankee that did'nt bolt his food whole like a Boa Constrictor. How the devil can you expect to digest food, that you neither take the trouble to dissect, nor time to masticate? It's no wonder you lose your teeth, for you never use them; nor your digestion, for you overload it; nor your saliva, for you expend it on the carpets, instead of your food. Its disgusting, its beastly. You Yankees load your stomachs as a Devonshire man does his cart, as full as it can hold, and as fast as he can pitch it with a dung fork, and drive off; and then you complain that such a load of compost is too heavy for you. Dyspepsy, eh! infernal guzzling, you mean. I'll tell you what, Mr. Secretary of Legation, take half the time to eat, that you do to drawl out your words, chew your food half as much as you do your filthy tobacco, and you'll be well in a month. I don't understand such language, said Alden. (for he was fairly ryled, and got his dander up, and when he shows clear grit, he looks wicked ugly, I tell you.) I don't understand such language. Sir: I came here to consult you professionally, and not to be —-. Don't understand! said the Doctor, why its plain English: but here, read my book—and he shoved a book into his hands and left him in an instant, standing alone in the middle of the room. If the honble. Alden Gobble had gone right away and demanded his passports, and returned home with the Legation, in one of our first class frigates, (I guess the English would as soon see pyson as one o' them are Serpents) to Washington, the President and the people would have sustained him in it, I guess, until an apology was offered for the insult to the nation. I guess if it had been me, said Mr. Slick, I'd a headed him afore he slipt out o' the door, and pinned him up agin the wall, and made him bolt his words again, as quick as he throw'd 'em up, for I never see'd an Englishman that didn't cut his words as short as he does his horse's tail, close up to the stump. It certainly was very coarse and vulgar language, and I think, said I, that your Secretary had just cause to be offended at such an ungentlemanlike attack, although he showed his good sense in treating it with the contempt it deserved, It was plaguy lucky for the doctor, I tell you, that he cut stick as he did, and made himself scarce, for Alden was an ugly customer; he'd a gin him a proper scalding —he'd a taken the bristles off his hide, as clean as the skin of a spring shote of a pig killed at Christmas. The Clockmaker was evidently excited by his own story, and to indemnify himself for these remarks on his countrymen, he indulged for some time in ridiculing the Nova Scotians.
Do you see that are flock of colts, said he, (as we passed one of those beautiful prairies that render the vallies of Nova Scotia so verdant and so fertile,) well, I guess they keep too much of that are stock. I heerd an Indian one day ax a tavern keeper for some rum; why, Joe Spawdeeck, said he, I reckon you have got too much already. Too much of any thing, said Joe is not good, but too much rum is jist enough. I guess these Blue Noses think so bout their horses, they are fairly eat up by them, out of house and home, and they are no good neither. They beant good saddle horses, and they beant good draft beasts—they are jist neither one thing nor tother. They are like the drink of our Connecticut folks. At mowing time they use molasses and water, nasty stuff only fit to catch flies—it spiles good water and makes bad beer. No wonder the folks are poor. Look at them are great dykes; well, they all go to feed horses; and look at their grain fields on the upland; well, they are all sowed with oats to feed horses, and they buy their bread from us: so we feed the asses, and they feed the horses. If I had them critters on that are marsh, on a location of mine, I'd jist take my rifle and shoot every one on them; the nasty yo necked, cat hammed, heavy headed, flat eared, crooked shanked, long legged, narrow chested, good for nothin brutes; they aint worth their keep one winter. I vow, I wish one of these Blue Noses, with his go-to-meetin clothes on, coat tails pinned up behind like a leather blind of a Shay, an old spur on one heel, and a pipe stuck through his hat band, mounted on one of these limber timbered critters, that moves its hind legs like a hen scratchin gravel, was sot down in Broadway, in New York, for a sight. Lord! I think I hear the West Point cadets a larfin at him. Who brought that are scare-crow out of standin corn and stuck him here? I guess that are citizen came from away down east out of the Notch of the White Mountains. Here comes the Cholera doctor, from Canada—not from Canada, I guess, neither, for he don't LOOK AS IF HE HAD EVER BEEN AMONG THE RAPIDS. If they would'nt poke fun at him its a pity. If they'd keep less horses, and more sheep, they'd have food and clothing, too, instead of buying both. I vow I've larfed afore now till I have fairly wet myself a cryin, to see one of these folks catch a horse: may be he has to go two or three miles of an arrand. Well, down he goes on the dyke with a bridle in one hand, and an old tin pan in another, full of oats, to catch his beast. First he goes to one flock of horses, and then to another, to see if he can find his own critter. At last he gets sight on him, and goes softly up to him, shakin of his oats, and a coaxin him, and jist as he goes to put his hand upon him, away he starts all head and tail, and the rest with him: that starts another flock, and they set a third off, and at last every troop on 'em goes, as if Old Nick was arter them, till they amount to two or three hundred in a drove. Well, he chases them clear across the Tantramer marsh, seven miles good, over ditches, creeks, mire holes, and flag ponds, and then they turn and take a fair chase for it back again seven miles more. By this time, I presume, they are all pretty considerably well tired, and Blue Nose, he goes and gets up all the men folks in the neighborhood, and catches his beast, as they do a moose arter he is fairly run down; so he runs fourteen miles, to ride two, because he is in a tarnation hurry. Its e'en a most equal to eatin soup with a fork, when you are short of time. It puts me in mind of catching birds by sprinkling salt on their tails; its only one horse a man can ride out of half a dozen, arter all. One has no shoes, tother has a colt, one arnt broke, another has a sore back, while a fifth is so etarnal cunnin, all Cumberland could'nt catch him, till winter drives him up to the barn for food.