The Attache; Or, Sam Slick In England(Fiscle Part-3) - Thomas Chandler Haliburton (reading well txt) 📗

A Grand Preacher,  A Good Poet,  A

First Chop Orator,  A Great Diplomater,  And A Top Sawyer

Of A Man,  In Short--He _Is_ A _Socdolager_."

 

Volume 1 Chapter 15 (Dining Out) Pg 88

My Visit To Germany Was Protracted Beyond The Period I

Had Originally Designed; And,  During My Absence,  Mr.

Slick Had Been Constantly In Company,  Either "Dining Out"

Daily,  When In Town,  Or Visiting From One House To Another

In The Country.

 

I Found Him In Great Spirits. He Assured Me He Had Many

Capital Stories To Tell Me,  And That He Rather Guessed

He Knew As Much Of The English,  And A Leetle,  Jist A

Leetle,  Grain More,  P'raps,  Than They Knew Of The Yankees.

 

"They Are Considerable Large Print Are The Bull Family,"

Said He; "You Can Read Them By Moonlight. Indeed,  Their

Faces Ain't Onlike The Moon In A Gineral Way; Only One

Has Got A Man In It,  And The Other Hain't Always. It

Tante A Bright Face; You Can Look Into It Without Winkin'.

It's A Cloudy One Here Too,  Especially In November; And

Most All The Time Makes You Rather Sad And Solemncoly.

Yes,  John Is A Moony Man,  That's A Fact,  And At The Full

A Little Queer Sometimes.

Volume 1 Chapter 15 (Dining Out) Pg 89

 

"England Is A Stupid Country Compared To Our'n. _There

It No Variety Where There It No Natur_. You Have Class

Variety Here,  But No Individiality. They Are Insipid,

And Call It Perlite. The Men Dress Alike,  Talk Alike,

And Look As Much Alike As Providence Will Let 'Em. The

Club-Houses And The Tailors Have Done A Good Deal Towards

This,  And So Has Whiggism And Dissent; For They Have

Destroyed Distinctions.

 

"But This Is Too Deep For Me. Ask Minister,  He Will Tell

You The Cause; I Only Tell You The Fact.

 

"Dinin' Out Here,  Is Both Heavy Work,  And Light Feedin'.

It's Monstrous Stupid. One Dinner Like One Rainy Day

(It's Rained Ever Since I Been Here A'most),  Is Like

Another; One Drawin'-Room Like Another Drawin'-Room; One

Peer's Entertainment,  In A General Way,  Is Like Another

Peer's. The Same Powdered,  Liveried,  Lazy,  Idle,

Good-For-Nothin',  Do-Little,  Stand-In-The-Way-Of-Each-Other,

Useless Sarvants. Same Picturs,  Same Plate,  Same Fixin's,

Same Don't-Know-What-To-Do-With-Your-Self-Kinder-O'-

Lookin'-Master. Great Folks Are Like Great Folks,

Marchants Like Marchants,  And So On. It's A Pictur,  It

Looks Like Life,  But' It Tante. The Animal Is Tamed Here;

He Is Fatter Than The Wild One,  But He Hante The Spirit.

 

"You Have Seen-Old Clay In A Pastur,  A Racin' About,  Free

From Harness,  Head And Tail Up,  Snortin',  Cavortin',

Attitudinisin' Of Himself. Mane Flowin' In The Wind,

Eye-Ball Startin' Out,  Nostrils Inside Out A'most,  Ears

Pricked Up. _A Nateral Hoss_; Put Him In A Waggon,  With

A Rael Spic And Span Harness,  All Covered Over With Brass

Buckles And Brass Knobs,  And Ribbons In His Bridle,  Rael

Jam. Curb Him Up,  Talk Yankee To Him,  And Get His Ginger

Up. Well,  He Looks Well; But He Is '_A Broke Hoss_.' He

Reminds You Of Sam Slick; Cause When You See A Hoss,  You

Think Of His Master: But He Don't Remind You Of The Rael

'_Old Clay_,' That's A Fact.

 

"Take A Day Here,  Now In Town; And They Are So Identical

The Same,  That One Day Sartificates For Another. You

Can't Get Out A Bed Afore Twelve,  In Winter,  The Days Is

So Short,  And The Fires Ain't Made,  Or The Room Dusted,

Or The Breakfast Can't Be Got,  Or Sunthin' Or Another.

And If You Did,  What's The Use? There Is No One To Talk

To,  And Books Only Weaken Your Understandin',  As Water

Does Brandy. They Make You Let Others Guess For You,

Instead Of Guessin' For Yourself. Sarvants Spile Your

Habits Here,  And Books Spite Your Mind. I Wouldn't Swap

Ideas With Any Man. I Make My Own Opinions,  As I Used

To Do My Own Clocks; And I Find They Are Truer Than Other

Men's. The Turks Are So Cussed Heavy,  They Have People

Volume 1 Chapter 15 (Dining Out) Pg 90

To Dance For 'Em; The English Are Wus,  For They Hire

People To Think For 'Em. Never Read A Book,  Squire,

Always Think For Yourself.

 

"Well,  Arter Breakfast,  It's On Hat And Coat,  Ombrella

In Hand,  (Don't Never Forget That,  For The Rumatiz,  Like

The Perlice,  Is Always On The Look Out Here,  To Grab Hold

Of A Feller,) And Go Somewhere Where There Is Somebody,

Or Another,  And Smoke,  And Then Wash It Down With A

Sherry-Cobbler; (The Drinks Ain't Good Here; They Hante

No Variety In Them Nother; No White-Nose,  Apple-Jack,

Stone-Wall,  Chain-Lightning,  Rail-Road,  Hail-Storm,

Ginsling-Talabogus,  Switchel-Flip,  Gum-Ticklers,

Phlem-Cutters,  Juleps,  Skate-Iron,  Cast-Steel,  Cock-Tail,

Or Nothin',  But That Heavy Stupid Black Fat Porter;) Then

Down To The Coffee-House,  See What Vessels Have Arrived,

How Markets Is,  Whether There Is A Chance Of Doin' Any

Thin' In Cotton Or Tobacco,  Whose Broke To Home,  And So

On. Then Go To The Park,  And See What's A Goin' On There;

Whether Those Pretty Critturs,  The Rads Are A Holdin' A

Prime Minister 'Parsonally Responsible,' By Shootin' At

Him; Or Whether There Is A Levee,  Or The Queen Is Ridin'

Out,  Or What Not; Take A Look At The World,  Make A Visit

Or Two To Kill Time,  When All At Once It's Dark. Home

Then,  Smoke A Cigar,  Dress For Dinner,  And Arrive At A

Quarter Past Seven.

 

"Folks Are Up To The Notch Here When Dinner Is In Question,

That's A Fact,  Fat,  Gouty,  Broken-Winded,  And Foundered

As They Be. It's Rap,  Rap,  Rap,  For Twenty Minutes At

The Door,  And In They Come,  One Arter The Other,  As Fast

As The Sarvants Can Carry Up Their Names. Cuss Them

Sarvants! It Takes Seven Or Eight Of 'Em To Carry A Man's

Name Up Stairs,  They Are So Awful Lazy,  And So Shockin'

Full Of Porter. If A Feller Was So Lame He Had To Be

Carried Up Himself,  I Don't Believe On My Soul,  The Whole

Gang Of Them,  From The Butler That Dresses In The Same

Clothes As His Master,  To Boots That Ain't Dressed At

All,  Could Make Out To Bowse Him Up Stairs,  Upon My Soul

I Don't.

 

"Well,  You Go In Along With Your Name,  Walk Up To Old

Aunty,  And Make A Scrape,  And The Same To Old Uncle,  And

Then Fall Back. This Is Done As Solemn,  As If A Feller's

Name Was Called Out To Take His Place In A Funeral; That

And The Mistakes Is The Fun Of It. There Is A Sarvant At

A House I Visit At,  That I Suspicion Is A Bit Of A Bam,

And The Critter Shows Both His Wit And Sense. He Never

Does It To A 'Somebody,' 'Cause That Would Cost Him His

Place,  But When A 'Nobody' Has A Droll Name,  He Jist

Gives An Accent,  Or A Sly Twist To It,  That Folks Can't

Help A Larfin',  No More Than Mr. Nobody Can Feelin' Like

A Fool. He's A Droll Boy,  That; I Should Like To Know

Him.

 

"Well,  Arter 'Nouncin' Is Done,  Then Comes Two Questions

--Do I Know Anybody Here? And If I Do,  Does He Look Like

Talk Or Not? Well,  Seein' That You Have No Handle To Your

Name,  And A Stranger,  It's Most Likely You Can't Answer

These Questions Right; So You Stand And Use Your Eyes,

And Put Your Tongue Up In Its Case Till It's Wanted.

Company Are All Come,  And Now They Have To Be Marshalled

Two And Two,  Lock And Lock,  And Go Into The Dinin'-Room

To Feed.

 

"When I First Came I Was Nation Proud Of That Title,  'The

Attache;' Now I Am Happified It's Nothin' But 'Only An

Attache,' And I'll Tell You Why. The Great Guns,  And Big

Bugs,  Have To Take In Each Other's Ladies,  So These Old

Ones Have To Herd Together. Well,  The Nobodies Go Together

Too,  And Sit Together,  And I've Observed These Nobodies

Are The Pleasantest People At Table,  And They Have The

Pleasantest Places,  Because They Sit Down With Each Other,

And Are Jist Like Yourself,  Plaguy Glad To Get Some One

To Talk To. Somebody Can Only Visit Somebody,  But Nobody

Can Go Anywhere,  And Therefore Nobody Sees And Knows

Twice As Much As Somebody Does. Somebodies Must Be Axed,

If They Are As Stupid As A Pump; But Nobodies Needn't,

And Never Are,  Unless They Are Spicy Sort O' Folks,  So

You Are Sure Of Them,  And They Have All The Fun And Wit

Of The Table At Their Eend,  And No Mistake.

 

"I Wouldn't Take A Title If They Would Give It To Me,

For If I Had One,  I Should Have A Fat Old Parblind Dowager

Detailed On To Me To Take In To Dinner; And What The

Plague Is Her Jewels And Laces,  And Silks And Sattins,

And Wigs To Me? As It Is,  I Have A Chance To Have A Gall

To Take In That's A Jewel Herself--One That Don't Want

No Settin' Off,  And Carries Her Diamonds In Her Eyes,

And So On. I've Told Our Minister Not To Introduce Me As

An Attache No More,  But As Mr. Nobody,  From The State Of

Nothin',  In America,  _That's Natur Agin_.

 

"But To Get Back To The Dinner. Arter You Are In Marchin'

Order,  You Move In Through Two Rows Of Sarvants In Uniform.

I Used To Think They Was Placed There For Show,  But It's

To Keep The Air Off Of Folks A Goin' Through The Entry,

And It Ain't A Bad Thought,  Nother.

 

"Lord,  The First Time I Went To One O' These Grand Let

Offs I Felt Kinder Skeery,  And As Nobody Was Allocated

To Me To Take In,  I Goes In Alone,  Not Knowin' Where I

Was To Settle Down As A Squatter,  And Kinder Lagged

Behind; When The Butler Comes And Rams A Napkin In My

Hand,  And Gives Me A Shove,  And Sais He,  'Go And Stand

Behind Your Master,  Sir,' Sais He. Oh Solomon! How That

Waked Me Up. How I Curled Inwardly When He Did That.

'You've Mistaken The Child,' Sais I Mildly,  And I Held