The Attache; Or, Sam Slick In England(Fiscle Part-3) - Thomas Chandler Haliburton (reading well txt) 📗
- Author: Thomas Chandler Haliburton
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To Be A Movin'. But, Squire, You Are A Britisher, Why
The Plague Don't You Get Into The House? You Know More
About Colony Matters Than The Whole Bilin' Of" Them Put
Together, Quite As Much About Other Things, And Speak
Like A--"
"Come, Come, Mr. Slick," Said I, Rising And Lighting My
Bed-Room Candle, "It Is Now High Time To Bid You Good
Night, For You Are Beginning To Talk _Bunkum_."
Volume 2 Chapter 9 (Throwing The Lavender) Pg 142
Mr. Slick's Character, Like That Of Many Of His Countrymen,
Is Not So Easily Understood As A Person Might Suppose.
We Err More Often Than We Are Aware Of, When We Judge Of
Others By Ourselves. English Tourists Have All Fallen
Into This Mistake, In Their, Estimate Of The Americans.
They Judge Them By Their Own Standard; They Attribute
Effects To Wrong Causes, Forgetting That A Different Tone
Of Feeling, Produced By A Different Social And Political
State From Their Own, Must Naturally Produce Dissimilar
Results.
Any Person Reading The Last Sketch Containing The Account,
Given By Mr. Slick Of The House Of Commons, His Opinion
Of His Own Abilities As A Speaker, And His Aspiration
After A Seat In That Body, For The Purpose Of "Skinning,"
As He Calls It, Impertinent Or Stupid Members, Could Not
Avoid Coming To The Conclusion That He Was A Conceited
Block-Head; And That If His Countrymen Talked In That
Absurd Manner, They Must Be The Weakest, And Most
Vain-Glorious People In The World.
That He Is A Vain Man, Cannot He Denied--Self-Taught Men
Are Apt To Be So Every Where; But Those Who Understand
The New England Humour, Will At Once Perceive, That He
Has Spoken In His Own Name Merely As A Personification,
And That The Whole Passage Means After All, When Transposed
Into That Phraseology Which An, Englishman Would Use,
Very Little More Than This, That The House Of Commons
Presented A Noble Field For A Man Of Abilities As A Public
Speaker; But That In Fact, It Contained Very Few Such
Persons. We Must Not Judge Of Words Or Phrases, When Used
By Foreigners, By The Sense We Attribute To Them, But
Endeavour To Understand The Meaning They Attach To Them
Themselves.
In Mexico, If You Admire Any Thing, The Proprietor
Immediately Says, "Pray Do Me The Honour To Consider It
Yours, I Shall Be Most Happy, If You Will Permit Me, To
Place It Upon You, (If It Be An Ornament), Or To Send It
To Your Hotel," If It Be Of A Different Description. All
This Means In English, A Present; In Mexican Spanish, A
Civil Speech, Purporting That The Owner Is Gratified,
That It Meets The Approbation Of His Visiter. A Frenchman,
Who Heard This Grandiloquent Reply To His Praises Of A
Horse, Astonished His Friend, By Thanking Him In Terms
Equally Amplified, Accepting It, And Riding It Home.
Mr. Slick Would Be No Less Amazed, If Understood Literally.
He Has Used A Peculiar Style; Here Again, A Stranger
Would Be In Error, In Supposing The Phraseology Common
To All Americans. It Is Peculiar Only To A Certain Class
Of Persons In A Certain State Of Life, And In A Particular
Section Of The States. Of This Class, Mr. Slick Is A
Specimen. I Do Not Mean To Say He Is Not A Vain Man, But
Merely That A Portion Only Of That, Which Appears So To
Us, Is Vanity, And That The Rest And By Far The Greater
Portion Too, Is Local Or Provincial Peculiarity.
This Explanation Is Due To The Americans, Who Have Been
Grossly Misrepresented, And To The English, Who Have Been
Egregiously Deceived, By Persons Attempting To Delineate
Character, Who Were Utterly Incapable Of Perceiving Those
Minute Lights And Shades, Without Which, A Portrait
Becomes A Contemptible Daub, Or At Most A Mere Caricature.
"A Droll Scene That At The House O' Represen_Tatives_
Last Night," Said Mr. Slick When We Next Met, "Warn't
It? A Sort O' Rookery, Like That At The Shropshire
Squire's, Where I Spent The Juicy Day. What A Darned
Cau-Cau-Cawin' They Keep, Don't They? These Members Are
Jist Like The Rooks, Too, Fond Of Old Houses, Old Woods,
Old Trees, And Old Harnts. And They Are Jist As Proud,
Too, As They Be. Cuss 'Em, They Won't Visit A New Man,
Or New Plantation. They Are Too Aristocratic For That.
They Have A Circle Of Their Own. Like The Rooks, Too,
They Are Privileged To Scour Over The Farmers' Fields
All Round Home, And Play The Very Devil.
"And Then A Fellow Can't Hear Himself Speak For 'Em;
Divide, Divide, Divide, Question, Question, Question;
Cau, Cau, Cau, Cau, Cau, Cau. Oh! We Must Go There Again.
I Want You To See Peel, Stanley, Graham, Shiel, Russell,
Macauley, Old Joe, And So On. These Men Are All Upper
Crust Here. Fust Of All, I Want To Hear Your Opinion Of
'Em. I Take You To Be A Considerable Of A Good Judge In
These Matters."
"No Bunkum, Mr. Slick."
"D--- That Word Bunkum! If You Say That 'Ere Agin, I
Won't Say Another Syllable, So Come Now. Don't I Know
Who You Are? You Know Every Mite, And Morsel As Well As
I Do, That You Be A Considerable Of A Judge Of These
Critters, Though You Are Nothin' But An Outlandish
Colonist; And Are An Everlastin' Sight Better Judge, Too,
If You Come To That, Than Them That Judge _You_. Cuss
'Em, The State Would Be A Nation Sight Better Sarved, If
One O' These Old Rooks Was Sent Out To Try Trover For A
Goose, And Larceny For An Old Hat, To Nova Scotia, And
You Was Sent For To Take The Ribbons O' The State Coach
Here; Hang Me If It Wouldn't. You Know That, And Feel
Your Oats, Too, As Well As Any One. So Don't Be So Infarnal
Volume 2 Chapter 9 (Throwing The Lavender) Pg 143Mealy-Mouthed, With Your Mock Modesty Face, A Turnin' Up
Of The Whites Of Your Eyes As If You Was A Chokin', And
Savin' 'No _Bun-Kum_, Mr. Slick.' Cuss That Word Bunkum!
I Am Sorry I Ever Told You That Are Story, You Will Be
For Everlastinly A Throwin' Up Of That Are, To Me Now.
"Do You Think If I Warnted To Soft Sawder You, I'd Take
The White-Wash Brush To You, And Slobber It, On, As A
Nigger Wench Does To A Board Fence, Or A Kitchen Wall To
Home, And Put Your Eyes Out With The Lime? No, Not I;
But I Could Tickel You Though, And Have Done It Afore
Now, Jist For Practice, And You Warn't A Bit The Wiser.
Lord, I'd Take A Camel's-Hair Brush To You, Knowin' How
Skittish And Ticklesome You Are, And Do It So It Would
Feel Good. I'd Make You Feel Kinder Pleasant, I Know,
And You'd Jist Bend Your Face Over To It, And Take It As
Kindly As A Gall Does A Whisper, When Your Lips Keep Jist
A Brushin' Of The Cheek While You Are A Talkin'. I Wouldn't
Go To Shock You By A Doin' Of It Coarse; You Are Too
Quick, And Too Knowin' For That. You Should Smell The
Otter O' Roses, And Sniff, Sniff It Up Your Nostrils,
And Say To Yourself, 'How Nice That Is, Ain't It? Come,
I Like That, How Sweet It Stinks!' I Wouldn't Go For To
Dash Scented Water On Your Face, As A Hired Lady Does On
A Winder To Wash It, It Would Make You Start Back, Take
Out Your Pocket-Handkercher, And Say, "Come, _Mister_
Slick, No Nonsense, If You Please." I'd Do It Delicate,
I Know My Man: I'd Use A Light Touch, A Soft Brush, And
A Smooth Oily Rouge."
"Pardon Me," I Said, "You Overrate Your Own Powers, And
Over-Estimate My Vanity. You Are Flattering Yourself Now,
You Can't Flatter Me, For I Detest It."
"Creation, Man," Said Mr. Slick, "I Have Done It Now
Afore Your Face, These Last Five Minutes, And You Didn't
Know It. Well, If That Don't Bang The Bush. It's Tarnation
All Over That. Tellin' You, You Was So Knowin', So Shy
If Touched On The Flanks; How Difficult You Was To Take-In,
Bein' A Sensible, Knowin' Man, What's That But Soft
Sawder? You Swallowed It All. You Took It Off Without
Winkin', And Opened Your Mouth As Wide As A Young Blind
Robbin Does For Another Worm, And Then Down Went The
Bunkum About Making You A Secretary Of State, Which Was
Rather A Large Bolus To Swaller, Without A Draft; Down,
Down It Went, Like A Greased-Wad Through A Smooth Rifle
Bore; It Did, Upon My Soul. Heavens! What A Take In! What
A Splendid Sleight-Of-Hand! I Never Did Nothin' Better
In All My Born Days. I Hope I May Be Shot, If I Did.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ain't It Rich? Don't It Cut Six Inches On
The Rib Of Clear Shear, That. Oh! It's Han_Sum_, That's
A Fact."
"It's No Use To Talk About It, Mr. Slick," I Replied;
Volume 2 Chapter 9 (Throwing The Lavender) Pg 144"I Plead Guilty. You Took Me In Then. You Touched A Weak
Point. You Insensibly Flattered My Vanity, By Assenting
To My Self-Sufficiency, In Supposing I Was Exempt From
That Universal Frailty Of Human Nature; You "_Threw The
Lavender_" Well."
"I Did Put The Leake Into You, Squire, That's A Fact,"
Said He; "But Let Me Alone, I Know What I Am About; Let
Me Talk On, My Own Way. Swaller What You Like, Spit Out
What Is Too Strong For You; But Don't Put A Drag-Chain
On To Me, When I Am A Doin' Tall Talkin', And Set My
Wheels As Fast As Pine Stumps. You Know Me, And I Know
You. You Know My Speed, And I Know Your Bottom Don't
Throw Back In The Breetchin' For Nothin' That Way."
"Well, As I Was A-Sayin', I Want You To See These Great
Men, As They Call 'Em. Let's Weigh 'Em, And Measure 'Em,
And Handle 'Em, And Then Price 'Em, And See What Their
Market Valy Is. Don't Consider 'Em As Tories, Or Whigs,
Or Radicals; We Hante Got Nothin' To Do With None O'
Them; But Consider 'Em As Statesmen. It's Pot-Luck With
'Em All; Take Your Fork As The Pot Biles Up, Jab It In,
And Fetch A Feller Up, See Whether He Is Beef, Pork Or
Mutton; Partridge, Rabbit Or Lobster; What His Name,
Grain And Flavour Is, And How You Like Him. Treat 'Em
Indifferent, And Treat 'Em Independent.
"I Don't Care A Chaw O' Tobacky For The Whole On 'Em;
And None On 'Em Care A Pinch O' Snuff For You Or Any
Hortentort Of A Colonist That Ever Was Or
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