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

Might Stand A Smart Chance To Have Your Wool Carded,

That's All."

 

Then Taking A Pistol Out Of The Side-Pocket Of His

Mackintosh,  He Deliberately Walked Over To The Other Side

Of The Deck,  And Examined His Priming.

 

"Good Heavens,  Mr. Slick!" Said I In Great Alarm,  "What

Are You About?"

 

"I Am Goin'," He Said With The Greatest Coolness,  But At

The Same Time With Equal Sternness,  "To Bore A Hole

Through That Apple,  Sir."

Volume 1 Chapter 5 (T'other Eend Of The Gun) Pg 31

 

"For Shame! Sir," I Said. "How Can You Think Of Such A

Thing? Suppose You Were To Miss Your Shot,  And Kill That

Unfortunate Boy?"

 

"I Won't Suppose No Such Thing,  Sir. I Can't Miss It.

I Couldn't Miss It If I Was To Try. Hold Your Head Steady,

Jube--And If I Did,  It's No Great Matter. The Onsarcumcised

Amalikite Ain't Worth Over Three Hundred Dollars At The

Furthest,  That's A Fact; And The Way He'd Pyson A Shark

Ain't No Matter. Are You Ready,  Jube?"

 

"Yes,  Massa."

 

"You Shall Do No Such Thing,  Sir," I Said,  Seizing His

Arm With Both My Hands. "If You Attempt To Shoot At That

Apple,  I Shall Hold No Further Intercourse With You. You

Ought To Be Ashamed Of Yourself,  Sir."

 

"Ky! Massa," Said Jube,  "Let Him Fire,  Sar; He No Hurt

Jube; He No Foozle De Hair. I Isn't One Mossel Afeerd.

He Often Do It,  Jist To Keep Him Hand In,  Sar. Massa

Most A Grand Shot,  Sar. He Take Off De Ear Oh De Squirrel

So Slick,  He Neber Miss It,  Till He Go Scratchin' His

Head. Let Him Appel Hab It,  Massa."

 

"Oh,  Yes," Said Mr. Slick,  "He Is A Christian Is Jube,

He Is As Good As A White Britisher: Same Flesh,  Only A

Leetle,  Jist A Leetle Darker; Same Blood,  Only Not Quite

So Old,  Ain't Quite So Much Tarter On The Bottle As A

Lord's Has; Oh Him And A Britisher Is All One Brother--Oh

By All Means--

 

   Him Fader's Hope--Him Mudder's Joy,

   Him Darlin Little Nigger Boy.

 

You'd Better Cry Over Him,  Hadn't You. Buss Him,  Call

Him Brother,  Hug Him,  Give Him The "Abolition" Kiss,

Write An Article On Slavery,  Like Dickens; Marry Him To

A White Gall To England,  Get Him A Saint's Darter With

A Good Fortin,  And Well Soon See Whether Her Father Was

A Talkin' Cant Or No,  About Niggers. Cuss 'Em,  Let Any

O' These Britishers Give Me Slack,  And I'll Give 'Em

Cranberry For Their Goose,  I Know. I'd Jump Right Down

Their Throat With Spurs On,  And Gallop Their Sarce Out."

 

"Mr. Slick I've Done; I Shall Say No More; We Part,  And

Part For Ever. I Had No Idea Whatever,  That A Man,  Whose

Whole Conduct Has Evinced A Kind Heart,  And Cheerful

Disposition,  Could Have Entertained Such A Revengeful

Spirit,  Or Given Utterance To Such Unchristian And

Uncharitable Language,  As You Have Used To-Day. We Part"--

 

"No,  We Don't," Said He; "Don't Kick Afore You Are Spurred.

Volume 1 Chapter 5 (T'other Eend Of The Gun) Pg 32

I Guess I Have Feelins As Well As Other Folks Have,  That's

A Fact; One Can't Help Being Ryled To Hear Foreigners

Talk This Way; And These Critters Are Enough To Make A

Man Spotty On The Back. I Won't Deny I've Got Some Grit,

But I Ain't Ugly. Pat Me On The Back And I Soon Cool

Down,  Drop In A Soft Word And I Won't Bile Over; But

Don't Talk Big,  Don't Threaten,  Or I Curl Directly."

 

"Mr. Slick," Said I,  "Neither My Countrymen,  The Nova

Scotians,  Nor Your Friends,  The Americans,  Took Any Thing

Amiss,  In Our Previous Remarks,  Because,  Though Satirical,

They Were Good Natured. There Was Nothing Malicious In

Them. They Were Not Made For The Mere Purpose Of Shewing

Them Up,  But Were Incidental To The Topic We Were

Discussing,  And Their Whole Tenor Shewed That While "We

Were Alive To The Ludicrous,  We Fully Appreciated,  And

Properly Valued Their Many Excellent And Sterling Qualities.

My Countrymen,  For Whose Good I Published Them,  Had The

Most Reason To Complain,  For I Took The Liberty To Apply

Ridicule To Them With No Sparing Hand. They Understood

The Motive,  And Joined In The Laugh,  Which Was Raised At

Their Expense. Let Us Treat The English In The Same Style;

Let Us Keep Our Temper. John Bull Is A Good-Natured

Fellow,  And Has No Objection To A Joke,  Provided It Is

Not Made The Vehicle Of Conveying An Insult. Don't Adopt

Cooper's Maxims; Nobody Approves Of Them,  On Either Side

Of The Water; Don't Be Too Thin-Skinned. If The English

Have Been Amused By The Sketches Their Tourists Have

Drawn Of,  The Yankees,  Perhaps The Americans May Laugh

Over Our Sketches Of The English. Let Us Make Both Of

Them Smile,  If We Can,  And Endeavour To Offend Neither.

If Dickens Omitted To Mention The Festivals That Were

Given In Honour Of His Arrival In The States,  He Was

Doubtless Actuated By A Desire To Avoid The Appearance

Of Personal Vanity. A Man Cannot Well Make Himself The

Hero Of His Own Book."

 

"Well,  Well," Said He,  "I Believe The Black Ox Did Tread

On My Toe That Time. I Don't Know But What You're Right.

Soft Words Are Good Enough In Their Way,  But Still They

Butter No Parsnips,  As The Sayin' Is. John May Be A

Good-Natured Critter,  Tho' I Never See'd Any Of It Yet;

And He May Be Fond Of A Joke,  And P'raps Is,  Seein' That

He Haw-Haws Considerable Loud At His Own. Let's Try Him

At All Events. We'll Soon See How He Likes Other Folks'

Jokes; I Have My Scruple About Him,  I Must Say. I Am

Dubersome Whether He Will Say 'Chee,  Chee,  Chee' When He

Gets 'T'other Eend Of The Gun.'"

 

 

 

 

 

Volume 1 Chapter 6 (Small Potatoes And Few In A Hill) Pg 33

 

"Pray Sir," Said One Of My Fellow Passengers,  "Can You

Tell Me Why The Nova Scotians Are Called 'Blue-Noses?'"

 

"It Is The Name Of A Potatoe," Said I,  "Which They Produce

In Great Perfection,  And Boast To Be The Best In The

World. The Americans Have,  In Consequence,  Given Them

The Nick-Name Of "Blue-Noses.'"

 

"And Now," Said Mr. Slick," As You Have Told The Entire

Stranger,  _Who_ A Blue-Nose Is,  I'll Jist Up And Tell

Him _What_ He Is.

 

"One Day,  Stranger,  I Was A Joggin' Along Into Windsor

On Old Clay,  On A Sort Of Butter And Eggs' Gait (For A

Fast Walk On A Journey Tires A Horse Considerable),  And

Who Should I See A Settin' Straddle Legs "On The Fence,

But Squire Gabriel Soogit,  With His Coat Off,  A Holdin'

Of A Hoe In One Hand,  And His Hat In T'other,  And A

Blowin' Like A Porpus Proper Tired.

 

"'Why,  Squire Gabe,' Sais I,  'What Is The Matter Of You?

You Look As If You Couldn't Help Yourself; Who Is Dead

And What Is To Pay Now,  Eh?'

 

"'Fairly Beat Out,' Said He,  'I Am Shockin' Tired. I've

Been Hard At Work All The Mornin'; A Body Has To Stir

About Considerable Smart In This Country,  To Make A

Livin',  I Tell You.'

 

"I Looked Over The Fence,  And I Seed He Had Hoed Jist

Ten Hills Of Potatoes,  And That's All. Fact I Assure You.

 

"Sais He,  'Mr. Slick,  Tell You What,  _Of All The Work I

Ever Did In My Life I Like Hoein' Potatoes The Best,  And

I'd Rather Die Than Do That,  It Makes My Back Ache So_."

 

"'Good Airth" And Seas,' Sais I To Myself,  'What A Parfect

Pictur Of A Lazy Man That Is! How Far Is It To Windsor?'

 

"'Three Miles,' Sais He. I Took Out My Pocket-Book

Purtendin' To Write Down The Distance,  But I Booked His

Sayin' In My Way-Bill.

 

"Yes,  _That_ Is A _Blue-Nose_; Is It Any Wonder,  Stranger,

He _Is Small Potatoes And Few In A Hill_?"

Volume 1 Chapter 7 (A Gentleman At Large) Pg 34

It Is Not My Intention To Record Any Of The Ordinary

Incidents Of A Sea Voyage: The Subject Is Too Hackneyed

And Too Trite; And Besides,  When The Topic Is Seasickness,

It Is Infectious And The Description Nauseates. _Hominem

Pagina Nostra Sapit_. The Proper Study Of Mankind Is Man;

Human Nature Is What I Delight In Contemplating; I Love

To Trace Out And Delineate The Springs Of Human Action.

 

Mr. Slick And Mr. Hopewell Are Both Studies. The Former

Is A Perfect Master Of Certain Chords; He Has Practised

Upon Them,  Not For Philosophical,  But For Mercenary

Purposes. He Knows The Depth,  And Strength,  And Tone Of

Vanity,  Curiosity,  Pride,  Envy,  Avarice,  Superstition,

Nationality,  And Local And General Prejudice. He Has

Learned The Effect Of These,  Not Because They Contribute

To Make Him Wiser,  But Because They Make Him Richer; Not

To Enable Him To Regulate His Conduct In Life,  But To

Promote And Secure The Increase Of His Trade.

 

Mr. Hopewell,  On The Contrary,  Has Studied The Human

Heart As A Philanthropist,  As A Man Whose Business It

Was To Minister To It,  To Cultivate And Improve It. His

Views Are More Sound And More Comprehensive Than Those

Of The Other's,  And His Objects Are More Noble. They Are

Both Extraordinary Men.

 

They Differed,  However,  Materially In Their Opinion Of

England And Its Institutions. Mr. Slick Evidently Viewed

Them With Prejudice. Whether This Arose From The

Supercilious Manner Of English Tourists In America,  Or

From The Ridicule They Have Thrown Upon Republican Society,

In The Books Of Travels They Have Published,  After Their

Return To Europe,  I Could Not Discover; But It Soon Became

Manifest To Me,  That Great Britain Did Not Stand So High

In His Estimation,  As The Colonies Did.

 

Mr. Hopewell,  On The Contrary,  From Early Associations,

Cherished A Feeling Of Regard And Respect For England;

And When His Opinion Was Asked,  He Always Gave It With

Great Frankness And Impartiality.