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

That's A Fact. For My

Part,  I Call Myself A Judge. I Have An Eye There Ain't

No Deceivin'. I Have Made It A Study,  And Know Every Pint

About A Woman,  As Well As I Do About A Hoss; Therefore,

If I Say So,  It Must Be So,  And No Mistake. I Make All

Allowances For The Gear,  And The Gettin' Up,  And The

Vampin',  And All That Sort O' Flash; But Toggery Won't

Make An Ugly Gall Handsum,  Nohow You Can Fix It. It May

Lower Her Ugliness A Leetle,  But It Won't Raise Her

Beauty,  If She Hante Got None. But I Warn't A Talkin' Of

Nobility; I Was A Talkin' Of Life In The Country. But

The Wust Of It Is,  When Galls Come On The Carpet,  I Could

Talk All Day; For The Dear Little Critters,  I _Do_ Love

'Em,  That's A Fact. Lick! It Sets Me Crazy A'most. Well,

Where Was We? For Petticoats Always Puts Every Thing Out

O' My Head. Whereabouts Was We?"

 

"You Were Saying That There Were More Things To Be Seen

In London Than In The Country."

 

"Exactly; Now I Have It. I've Got The Thread Agin. So

There Is.

 

"There's England's Queen,  And England's Prince,  And

Hanover's King,  And The Old Swordbelt That Whopped Bony;

And He Is Better Worth Seem' Than Any Man Now Livin' On

The Face Of The Univarsal Airth,  Let T'other One Be Where

He Will,  That's A Fact. He Is A Great Man,  All Through

The Piece,  And No Mistake. If There Was--What Do You

Call That Word,  When One Man's Breath Pops Into 'Nother

Man's Body,  Changin' Lodgins,  Like?"

 

"Do You Mean Transmigration?"

 

"Yes; If There Was Such A Thing As That,  I Should Say It

Was Old Liveoak Himself,  Mr. Washington,  That Was

Transmigrated Into Him,  And That's No Mean Thing To Say

Of Him,  I Tell You.

 

"Well Now,  There's None O' These Things To The Country;

And It's So Everlastin' Stupid,  It's Only A Britisher

And A Nigger That Could Live In An English Country-House.

A Nigger Don't Like Movin',  And It Would Jist Suit Him,

If It Warn't So Awful Wet And Cold.

 

  "Oh If I Was President Of These Here United States,

   I'd Suck Sugar Candy And Swing Upon De Gates;

   And Them I Didn't Like,  I'd Strike 'Em Off De Docket,

Volume 2 Chapter 7 (Life In The Country) Pg 136

   And The Way We'd Go Ahead,  Would Be Akin To Davy Crockit.

   With My Zippy Dooden,  Dooden Dooden,  Dooden Dooden Dey,

   With My Zippy Dooden,  Dooden Dooden,  Dooden Dooden Dey.

 

"It Might Do For A Nigger,  Suckin' Sugar Candy And Drinkin'

Mint-Julep; But It Won't Do For A Free And Enlightened

Citizen Like Me. A Country House--Oh Goody Gracious!

The Lord Presarve Me From It,  I Say. If Ever Any Soul

Ever Catches Me There Agin,  I'll Give 'Em Leave To Tell

Me Of It,  That's All. Oh Go,  Squire,  By All Means; You

Will Find It Monstrous Pleasant,  I Know You Will. Go

And Spend A Week There; It Will Make You Feel Up In The

Stirrups,  I Know. Pr'aps Nothin' Can Exceed It. It Takes

The Rag Off The Bush Quite. It Caps All,  That's A Fact,

Does 'Life In The Country.'

 

 

 

 

Volume 2 Chapter 8 (Bunkum) Pg 137

I Am Not Surprised At The Views Expressed By Mr. Slick

In The Previous Chapter. He Has Led Too Active A Life,

And His Habits And Thoughts Are Too Business-Like To

Admit Of His Enjoying Retirement,  Or Accommodating Himself

To The Formal Restraints Of Polished Society. And Yet,

After Making This Allowance For His Erratic Life,  It Is

But Fair To Add That His Descriptions Were Always

Exaggerated; And,  Wearied As He No Doubt Was By The

Uniformity Of Country Life,  Yet In Describing It,  He Has

Evidently Seized On The Most Striking Features,  And Made

Them More Prominent Than They Really Appeared,  Even To

His Fatigued And Prejudiced Vision.

 

In Other Respects,  They Are Just The Sentiments We May

Suppose Would Be Naturally Entertained By A Man Like The

Attache,  Under Such Circumstances. On The Evening After

That On Which He Had Described "Life In The Country" To

Me,  He Called With Two "Orders" For Admission To The

House Of Commons,  And Took Me Down With Him To Hear The

Debates.

 

"It's A Great Sight," Said He. "We Shall See All Their

Uppercrust Men Put Their Best Foot Out. There's A Great

Musterin' Of The Tribes,  To-Night,  And The Sachems Will

Come Out With A Great Talk. There'll Be Some Sport,  I

Guess; Some Hard Hittin',  Scalpin',  And Tomahawkin'. To

See A Britisher Scalp A Britisher Is Equal To A Bullfight,

Anytime. You Don't Keer Whether The Bull,  Or The Horse,

Volume 2 Chapter 8 (Bunkum) Pg 138

Or The Rider Is Killed,  None Of 'Em Is Nothin' To You;

So You Can Enjoy It,  And Hurror For Him That Wins. I

Don't Keer Who Carries The Day,  The Valy Of A Treat Of

Julep,  But I Want To See The Sport. It's Excitin',  Them

Things. Come,  Let's Go."

 

We Were Shown Into A Small Gallery,  At One End Of The

Legislative Wall (The Two Side Ones Being Appropriated

To Members),  And With Some Difficulty Found Sitting Room

In A Place That Commanded A View Of The Whole House. We

Were Unfortunate. All The Great Speakers,  Lord Stanley,

Sir Robert Peel,  Sir James Graham,  Shiel,  And Lord John

Russell,  Had Either Already Addressed The Chair,  And Were

Thereby Precluded By The Rules Of The House From Coming

Forward Again,  Or Did Not Choose To Answer Second-Rate

Men. Those Whom We Did Hear,  Made A Most Wretched

Exhibition. About One O'clock,  The Adjournment Took Place,

And We Returned,  Fatigued And Disappointed.

 

"Did You Ever See The Beat Of That,  Squire?" Said Mr.

Slick. "Don't That Take The Rag Off Quite? Cuss Them

Fellers That Spoke,  They Are Wuss Than Assembly Men,  Hang

Me If They Aint; And _They_ Aint Fit To Tend A Bear Trap,

For They'd Be Sure To Catch Themselves,  If They Did,  In

Their Own Pit-Fall.

 

"Did You Hear That Irishman A Latherin' Away With Both

Arms,  As If He Was Tryin' To Thrash Out Wheat,  And See

How Bothered He Looked,  As If He Couldn't Find Nothin'

But Dust And Chaff In The Straw? Well,  That Critter Was

Agin The Bill,  In Course,  And Irish Like,  Used Every

Argument In Favour Of It. Like A Pig Swimmin' Agin Stream,

Every Time He Struck Out,  He Was A Cuttin' Of His Own

Throat. He Then Blob Blob Blobbered,  And Gog Gog Goggled,

Till He Choked With Words And Passion,  And Then Sot Down.

 

"Then That English Radical Feller,  That Spoke With Great

Voice,  And Little Sense. Aint He A Beauty,  Without Paint,

That Critter? He Know'd He Had To Vote Agin The Bill,

'Cause It Was A Government Bill,  And Be Know'd He Had To

Speak For _Bunkum_,  And Therefore--"

 

"_Bunkum!_" I Said,  "Pray,  What Is That?"

 

"Did You Never Hear Of Bunkum?"

 

"No,  Never."

 

"Why,  You Don't Mean To Say You Don't Know What That Is?"

 

"I Do Not Indeed."

 

"Not Bunkum? Why,  There Is More Of It To Nova Scotia

Every Winter,  Than Would Paper Every Room In Government

House,  And Then Curl The Hair Of Every Gall In The Town.

Not Heer Of _Bunkum_? Why How You Talk!"

 

"No,  Never."

 

"Well,  If That Don't Pass! I Thought Every Body Know'd

That Word. I'll Tell You Then,  What Bunkum Is. All Over

America,  Every Place Likes To Hear Of Its Members To

Congress,  And See Their Speeches,  And If They Don't,  They

Send A Piece To The Paper,  Enquirin' If Their Member Died

A Nateral Death,  Or Was Skivered With A Bowie Knife,  For

They Hante Seen His Speeches Lately,  And His Friends Are

Anxious To Know His Fate. Our Free And Enlightened Citizens

Don't Approbate Silent Members; It Don't Seem To Them As

If Squashville,  Or Punkinville,  Or Lumbertown Was Right

Represented,  Unless Squashville,  Or Punkinville,  Or

Lumbertown,  Makes Itself Heard And Known,  Ay,  And Feared

Too. So Every Feller In Bounden Duty,  Talks,  And Talks

Big Too,  And The Smaller The State,  The Louder,  Bigger,

And Fiercer Its Members Talk.

 

"Well,  When A Critter Talks For Talk Sake,  Jist To Have

A Speech In The Paper To Send To Home,  And Not For Any

Other Airthly Puppus But Electioneering,  Our Folks Call

It _Bunkum_. Now The State O' Maine Is A Great Place

For _Bunkum_--Its Members For Years Threatened To Run

Foul Of England,  With All Steam On,  And Sink Her,  About

The Boundary Line,  Voted A Million Of Dollars,  Payable

In Pine Logs And Spruce Boards,  Up To Bangor Mills--And

Called Out A Hundred Thousand Militia,  (Only They Never

Come,) To Captur' A Saw Mill To New Brunswick--That's

_Bunkum_. All That Flourish About Right O' Sarch Was

_Bunkum_--All That Brag About Hangin' Your Canada Sheriff

Was _Bunkum_. All The Speeches About The Caroline,  And

Creole,  And Right Of Sarch,  Was _Bunkum_,  In Short,  Almost

All That's Said _In Congress_ In _The Colonies_,  (For We

Set The Fashions To Them,  As Paris Galls Do To Our

Milliners,) And All Over America Is _Bunkum_.

 

"Well,  They Talk Bunkum Here Too,  As Well As There.

Slavery Speeches Are All Bunkum; So Are Reform Speeches,

Too. Do You Think Them Fellers That Keep Up Such An

Everlastin' Gab About Representation,  Care One Cent About

The Extension Of Franchise? Why No,  Not They; It's Only

To Secure Their Seats To Gull Their Constituents,  To Get

A Name. Do You Think Them Goneys That Make Such A Touss

About The Arms' Bill,  Care About The Irish? No,  Not They;

They Want Irish Votes,  That's All--It's _Bunkum_. Do You

Jist Go And Mesmerise John Russell,  And Macauley,  And

The Other Officers Of The Regiment Of Reformers,  And Then

Take The Awkward Squad Of Recruits--Fellers That Were

Made Drunk With Excitement,  And Then Enlisted With The

Promise Of A Shillin',  Which They Never Got,  The Sargeants

Having Drank It All; Go And Mesmerise Them All,  From

Volume 2 Chapter 8 (Bunkum) Pg 139