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

On Fact,  Is Very Unlike The Reality. There May

Be Assemblages Of Persons In This Great City,  And No

Doubt There Are,  Quite As Insipid And Absurd As The One

He Has Just Pourtrayed; But You Must Not Suppose It Is

At All A Fair Specimen Of The Society Of This Place. My

Own Experience Is Quite The Reverse. I Think It The Most

Refined,  The Most Agreeable,  And The Most Instructive In

The World. Whatever Your Favourite Study Or Pursuit May

Be,  Here You Are Sure To Find Well-Informed And Enthusiastic

Associates. If You Have Merit,  It Is Appreciated; And

For An Aristocratic Country,  That Merit Places You On A

Level With Your Superiors In Rank In A Manner That Is

Quite Incomprehensible To A Republican. Money Is The

Great Leveller Of Distinctions With Us; Here,  It Is

Talent. Fashion Spreads Many Tables Here,  But Talent Is

Always Found Seated At The Best,  If It Thinks Proper To

Comply With Certain Usages,  Without Which,  Even Genius

Ceases To Be Attractive.

 

"On Some Future Occasion,  I Will Enter More At Large On

This Subject; But Now It Is Too Late; I Have Already

Exceeded My Usual Hour For Retiring. Excuse Me. Sam.

Said He. 'I Know You Will Not Be Offended With Me,  But

Squire There Are Some Subjects On Which Sam May Amuse,

But Cannot Instruct You,  And One Is,  Fashionable Life In

London. You Must Judge For Yourself,  Sir. Good Night,

My Children."

 

Mr. Slick Rose,  And Opened The Door For Him,  And As He

Passed,  Bowed And Held Out His Hand. "Remember Me,  Your

Honour,  No Man Opens The Door In This Country Without

Being Paid For It. Remember Me,  Sir."

 

"True,  Sam," Said The Minister,  "And It Is Unlucky That

It Does Not Extend To Opening The Mouth,  If It Did,  You

Would Soon Make Your Fortune,  For You Can't Keep Yours

Shut. Good Night."

 

The Society To Which I Have Subsequently Had The Good

Fortune To Be Admitted,  Fully Justifies The Eulogium Of

Mr. Hopewell. Though Many Persons Can Write Well,  Few

Can Talk Well; But The Number Of Those Who Excel In

Conversation Is Much Greater In Certain Circles In London,

Than In Any Other Place. By Talking Well,  I Do Not Mean

Talking Wisely Or Learnedly; But Agreeably,  For Relaxation

And Pleasure,  Are The Principal Objects Of Social

Assemblies. This Can Only Be Illustrated By Instancing

Some Very Remarkable Persons,  Who Are The Pride And

Pleasure Of Every Table They Honour And Delight With

Their Presence But This May Not Be. For Obvious Reasons,

I Could Not Do It If I Would; And Most Assuredly,  I Would

Not Do It If I Could. No More Certain Mode Could Be

Devised Of Destroying Conversation,  Than By Showing,  That

When The Citadel Is Unguarded,  The Approach Of A Friend

Is As Unsafe As That Of An Enemy.

 

Alas! Poor Hook! Who Can Read The Unkind Notice Of Thee

In A Late Periodical,  And Not Feel,  That On Some Occasions

You Must Have Admitted To Your Confidence Men Who Were

As Unworthy Of That Distinction As,  They Were Incapable

Of Appreciating It,  And That They Who Will Disregard The

Privileges Of A Table,  Will Not Hesitate To Violate Even

The Sanctity Of The Tomb. Cant May Talk Of Your "_Inter

Pocula_" Errors With Pious Horror; And Pretension,  Now

That Its Indulgence Is Safe,  May Affect To Disclaim Your

Acquaintance; But Kinder,  And Better,  And Truer Men Than

Those Who Furnished Your Biographer With His Facts Will

Not Fail To Recollect Your Talents With Pride,  And Your

Wit And Your Humour With Wonder And Delight.

 

We Do Not Require Such Flagrant Examples As These To

Teach Us Our Duty,  But They Are Not Without Their Use In

Increasing Our Caution.

 

When Mr. Hopewell Withdrew,  Mr. Slick Observed:

 

"Ain't That Ere Old Man A Trump? He Is Always In The

Right Place. Whenever You Want To Find Him,  Jist Go And

Look For Him Where He Ought To Be,  And There You Will

Find Him As Sure As There Is Snakes In Varginy. He Is A

Brick,  That's A Fact. Still,  For All That,  He Ain't Jist

Altogether A Citizen Of This World Nother. He Fishes In

Deep Water,  With A Sinker To His Hook. He Can't Throw A

Fly As I Can,  Reel Out His Line,  Run Down Stream,  And

Then Wind Up,  Wind Up,  Wind Up,  And Let Out,  And Wind Up

Again,  Till He Lands His Fish,  As I Do. He Looks Deep

Into Things,  Is A Better Religionist,  Polititioner,  And

Bookster Than I Be: But Then That's All He Does Know. If

You Want To Find Your Way About,  Or Read A Man,  Come To

Me,  That's All; For I'm The Boy That Jist Can Do It. If

I Can't Walk Into A Man,  I Can Dodge Round Him; And If

He Is Too Nimble For That,  I Can Jump Over Him; And If

He Is Too Tall For That,  Although I Don't Like The Play,

Yet I Can Whip Him.

 

"Now,  Squire,  I Have Been A Good Deal To England,  And

Crossed This Big Pond Here The Matter Of Seven Times,

And Know A Good Deal About It,  More Than A Great Many

Folks That Have Writtin' Books On It,  P'raps. Mind What

I Tell You,  The English Ain't What They Was. I'm Not

Speakin' In Jeest Now,  Or In Prejudice. I Hante A Grain

Of Prejudice In Me. I've See'd Too Much Of The World For

That I Reckon. I Call Myself A Candid Man,  And I Tell

You The English Are No More Like What The English Used

To Be,  When Pigs Were Swine,  And Turkey Chewed Tobacky,

Than They Are Like The Picts Or Scots,  Or Norman,  French,

Or Saxons,  Or Nothin'."

 

"Not What They Used To Be?" I Said. "Pray,  What Do You

Mean?"

 

"I Mean," Said He,  "Jist What I Say. They Ain't The Same

People No More. They Are As Proud,  And Overbearin',  And

Concaited,  And Haughty To Foreigners As Ever; But,  Then

They Ain't So Manly,  Open-Hearted,  And Noble As They Used

To Be,  Once Upon A Time. They Have The Spy System Now,

In Full Operation Here; So Jist Take My Advice,  And Mind

Your Potatoe-Trap,  Or You Will Be In Trouble Afore You

Are Ten Days Older,  See If You Ain't."

 

"The Spy System!" I Replied. "Good Heavens,  Mr. Slick,

How Can You Talk Such Nonsense,  And Yet Have The Modesty

To Say You Have No Prejudice?"

 

"Yes,  The Spy System," Said He,  "And I'll Prove It. You

Know Dr. Mc'dougall To Nova Scotia; Well,  He Knows All

About Mineralogy,  And Geology,  And Astrology,  And Every

Thing A'most,  Except What He Ought To Know,  And That Is

Dollar-Ology. For He Ain't Over And Above Half Well Off,

That's A Fact. Well,  A Critter Of The Name Of Oatmeal,

Down To Pictou,  Said To Another Scotchman There One Day,

'The Great Nateralist Dr. Mc'dougall Is Come To Town.'

 

"'Who?' Says Sawney.

 

"'Dr. Mc'dougall,  The Nateralist,' Says Oatmeal.

 

"'Hout,  Mon,' Says Sawney,  'He Is Nae Nateral,  That Chiel;

He Kens Mair Than Maist Men; He Is Nae That Fool You Take

Him To Be.'

 

"Now,  I Am Not Such A Fool As You Take _Me_ To Be,  Squire.

Whenever I Did A Sum To,  School,  Minister Used To Say,

'Prove It,  Sam,  And If It Won't Prove,  Do It Over Agin,

Till It Will; A Sum Ain't Right When It Won't Prove.'

Now,  I Say The English Have The Spy System,  And I'll

Prove It; Nay,  More Than That,  They Have The Nastiest,

Dirtiest,  Meanest,  Sneakenest System In The World. It Is

Ten Times As Bad As The French Plan. In France They Have

Bar-Keepers,  Waiters,  Chamber Galls,  Guides,

Quotillions,--"

 

"Postilions,  You Mean," I Said.

 

"Well,  Postilions Then,  For The French Have Queer Names

For People,  That's A Fact; Disbanded Sodgers,  And Such

Trash,  For Spies. In England They Have Airls And Countesses,

Parliament Men,  And Them That Call Themselves Gentlemen

And Ladies,  For Spies."

 

"How Very Absurd!" I Said.

 

"Oh Yes,  Very Absurd," Said Mr. Slick; "Whenever I Say

Anythin' Agin England,  It's Very Absurd,  It's All Prejudice.

Nothin' Is Strange,  Though,  When It Is Said Of Us,  And

The Absurder It Is,  The Truer It Is. I Can Bam As Well

As Any Man When Bam Is The Word,  But When Fact Is The

Play,  I Am Right Up And Down,  And True As A Trivet. I

Won't Deceive You; I'll Prove It.

 

"There Was A Kurnel Dun--Dun--Plague Take His Name,  I

Can't Recollect It,  But It Makes No Odds--I Know _He_ Is

Dun For,  Though,  That's A Fact. Well,  He Was A British

Kurnel,  That Was Out To Halifax When I Was There. I Know'd

Him By Sight,  I Didn't Know Him By Talk,  For I Didn't

Fill Then The Dignified Situation I Now Do,  Of Attache.

I Was Only A Clockmaker Then,  And I Suppose He Wouldn't

Volume 2 Chapter 1 (The Nose Of A Spy) Pg 95

Have Dirtied The Tip Eend Of His White Glove With Me

Then,  Any More Than I Would Sile Mine With Him Now,  And

Very Expensive And Troublesome Things Them White Gloves

Be Too; There Is No Keepin' Of Them Clean. For My Part,

I Don't See Why A Man Can't Make His Own Skin As Clean

As A Kid's,  Any Time; And If A Feller Can't Be Let Shake

Hands With A Gall Except He Has A Glove On,  Why Ain't He

Made To Cover His Lips,  And Kiss Thro' Kid Skin Too.

 

"But To Get Back To The Kurnel,  And It's A Pity He Hadn't

Had A Glove Over His Mouth,  That's A Fact. Well,  He Went

Home To England With His Regiment,  And One Night When He

Was Dinin' Among Some First Chop Men,  Nobles And So On,

They Sot Up Considerable Late Over Their Claret; And Poor

Thin Cold Stuff It Is Too,  Is Claret. A Man _May_ Get

Drowned In It,  But How The Plague He Can Get Drunk With

It Is Dark To Me. It's Like Every Thing Else French,  It

Has No Substance In It; It's Nothin' But Red Ink,  That's

A Fact. Well,  How It Was I Don't Know,  But So It

Eventuated,  That About Daylight He Was Mops And Brooms,

And Began To Talk Somethin' Or Another He Hadn't Ought

To; Somethin' He Didn't Know Himself,  And Somethin' He

Didn't Mean,  And Didn't Remember.

 

"Faith,  Next Mornin' He Was Booked; And The First Thing

He See'd When He Waked Was Another Man A Tryin' On Of

His Shoes,  To See How They'd Fit To March To The Head Of

His Regiment With. Fact,  I Assure You,  And A Fact Too

That Shows What Englishmen Has Come To; I Despise 'Em,

I Hate 'Em,  I Scorn Such Critters As I Do Oncarcumcised

Niggers."

 

"What A Strange Perversion Of Facts," I Replied.

 

But He Would Admit Of No Explanation. "Oh Yes,  Quite

Parvarted; Not A Word Of Truth In It; There Never Is When

England Is Consarned. There Is No Beam In An Englishman's

Eye; No Not A Smell Of One; He Has Pulled It Out Long

Ago; That's The Reason He Can See The Mote In Other

Folks's So Plain. Oh,  Of Course It Ain't True; It's A

Yankee Invention; It's A Hickory Ham And A Wooden Nutmeg.

 

"Well,  Then,  There Was Another Feller Got Bagged T'other

Day,  As Innocent As Could Be,  For Givin' His Opinion When

Folks Was A Talkin' About Matters And Things In Gineral,

And This Here One In Partikilar. I Can't Tell The Words,

For I Don't Know 'Em,  Nor Care About 'Em; And If I Did,

I Couldn't Carry 'Em About So Long; But It Was For Sayin'

It Hadn't Ought To Have Been Taken Notice Of,  Considerin'

It Jist Popt Out Permiscuous Like With The Bottle-Cork.

If He Hadn't A Had The Clear Grit In Him,  And Showed

Teeth And Claws,  They'd A Nullified Him So,  You Wouldn't

Have See'd A Grease Spot Of Him No More. What Do You Call

That,  Now? Do You Call That Liberty? Do You Call That