The Attache or Sam Slick in England Part 24

"D---- that word Bunk.u.m! 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 mealy-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-k.u.m_, Mr. Slick.' Cuss that word Bunk.u.m! 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 s...o...b..r it, on, as a n.i.g.g.e.r 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 brus.h.i.+n' of the cheek while you are a talkin'. I wouldn't go to shock you by a doin' of it coa.r.s.e; 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 Bunk.u.m 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; "I plead guilty.

You took me in then. You touched a weak point. You insensibly flattered my vanity, by a.s.senting 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 ever will be. Lord love you! if you was to write like Scott, and map the human mind like Bacon, would it advance you a bit in prefarment?

Not it. They have done enough for the colonists, they have turned 'em upside down, and given 'em responsible government? What more do the rascals want? Do they ask to be made equal to us? No, look at their social system, and their political system, and tell 'em your opinion like a man. You have heard enough of their opinions of colonies, and suffered enough from their erroneous ones too. You have had Durham reports, and commissioners' reports, and parliament reports till your stomach refuses any more on 'em. And what are they? a bundle of mistakes and misconceptions, from beginnin' to eend. They have travelled by stumblin', and have measured every thing by the length of their knee, as they fell on the ground, as a milliner measures lace, by the bendin'

down of the forefinger--cuss 'em! Turn the tables on 'em. Report on _them_, measure _them_, but take care to keep your feet though, don't be caught trippin', don't make no mistakes.

"Then we'll go to the Lords' House--I don't mean to meetin' house, though we must go there too, and hear Me Neil and Chalmers, and them sort o' cattle; but I mean the house where the n.o.bles meet, pick out the big bugs, and see what sort o' stuff they are made of. Let's take minister with us--he is a great judge of these things. I should like you to hear his opinion; he knows every thin' a'most, though the ways of the world bother him a little sometimes; but for valyin' a man, or stating principles, or talkin' politics, there ain't no man equal to him, hardly. He is a book, that's a fact; it's all there what you want; all you've got to do is to cut the leaves. Name the word in the index, he'll turn to the page, and give you day, date, and fact, for it. There is no mistake in him.

"That cussed provokin' visit of yours to Scotland will shove them things into the next book, I'm afeered. But it don't signify nothin'; you can't cram all into one, and we hante only broke the crust yet, and p'rhaps it's as well to look afore you leap too, or you might make as big a fool of yourself, as some of the Britishers have a-writin' about us and the provinces. Oh yes, it's a great advantage havin' minister with you.

He'll fell the big stiff trees for you; and I'm the boy for the saplin's, I've got the eye and the stroke for them. They spring so confoundedly under the axe, does second growth and underwood, it's dangerous work, but I've got the sleight o' hand for that, and we'll make a clean field of it.

"Then come and survey; take your compa.s.s and chain to the ground and measure, and lay that off--branch and bark the spars for snakin' off the ground; cord up the fire-wood, tie up the hoop poles, and then burn off the trash and rubbish. Do it workman-like. Take your time to it as if you was workin' by the day. Don't hurry, like job work; don't s...o...b..r it over, and leave half-burnt trees and logs strewed about the surface, but make smack smooth work. Do that, Squire, do it well, and that is, only half as good as you can, if you choose, and then--"

"And then," said I, "I make no doubt you will have great pleasure '_in throwin' the Lavender again_."

CHAPTER X. AIMING HIGH.

"What do you intend to do, Squire, with your two youngest boys?" said Mr. Slick to me to-day, as we were walking in the Park.

"I design them," I said, "for professions. One I shall educate for a lawyer, and the other for a clergyman."

"Where?"

"In Nova Scotia."

"Exactly," says he. "It shews your sense; it's the very place for 'em.

It's a fine field for a young man; I don't know no better one no where in the whole univarsal world. When I was a boy larnin' to shoot, sais father to me, one day, 'Sam,' sais he, 'I'll give you a lesson in gunnin' that's worth knowin'. "_Aim high_," my boy; your gun naterally settles down a little takin' sight, cause your arm gets tired, and wabbles, and the ball settles a little while it's a travellin', accordin' to a law of natur, called Franklin's law; and I obsarve you always. .h.i.t below the mark. Now, make allowances for these things in gunnin', and "aim high," for your life, always. And, Sam,' sais he, 'I've seed a great deal of the world, all mili_tary_ men do. 'I was to Bunker's Hill durin' the engagement, and I saw Was.h.i.+ngton the day he was made President, and in course must know more nor most men of my age; and I'll give you another bit of advice, "Aim high" in life, and if you don't hit the bull's eye, you'll hit the "fust circles," and that ain't a bad shot nother.'

"'Father,' sais I, 'I guess I've seed more of the world than you have, arter all.'

"'How so, Sam?' sais he.

"'Why,' sais I, 'father, you've only been to Bunker's Hill, and that's nothin'; no part of it ain't too steep to plough; it's only a sizeable hillock, arter all. But I've been to the Notch on the White Mountain, so high up, that the snow don't melt there, and seed five States all to once, and half way over to England, and then I've seed Jim Crow dance.

So there now?' He jist up with the flat of his hand, and gave me a wipe with it on the side of my face, that knocked me over; and as I fell, he lent me a kick on my musn't-mention-it, that sent me a rod or so afore I took ground on all fours.

"'Take that, you young scoundrel!' said he, 'and larn to speak respectful next time to an old man, a mili_tary_ man, and your father, too.'

"It hurt me properly, you may depend. 'Why,' sais I, as I picked myself up, 'didn't you tell me to "aim high," father? So I thought I'd do it, and beat your brag, that's all.'

"Truth is, Squire, I never could let a joke pa.s.s all my life, without havin' a lark with it. I was fond of one, ever since I was knee high to a goose, or could recollect any thin' amost; I have got into a horrid sight of sc.r.a.pes by 'em, that's a fact. I never forgot that lesson though, it was kicked into me: and lessons that are larnt on the right eend, ain't never forgot amost. I _have_ "aimed high" ever since, and see where I be now. Here I am an Attache, made out of a wooden clock pedlar. Tell you what, I shall be "emba.s.sador" yet, made out of nothin'

but an "Attache," and I'll be President of our great Republic, and almighty nation in the eend, made out of an emba.s.sador, see if I don't.

That comes of "aimin' high." What do you call that water near your coach-house?"

"A pond."

"Is there any brook runnin' in, or any stream runnin' out?"

"No."

"Well, that's the difference between a lake and a pond. Now, set that down for a traveller's fact. Now, where do you go to fish?"

"To the lakes, of course; there are no fish in the ponds."

"Exactly," said Mr. Slick, "that is what I want to bring you to; there is no fish in a pond, there is nothin' but frogs. Nova Scotia is only a pond, and so is New Brunswick, and such outlandish, out o' the way, little crampt up, stagnant places. There is no 'big fish' there, nor never can be; there ain't no food for 'em. A colony frog!! Heavens and airth, what an odd fish that is? A colony pollywog! do, for gracious sake, catch one, put him into a gla.s.s bottle full of spirits, and send him to the Museum as a curiosity in natur. So you are a goin' to make your two nice pretty little smart boys a pair of colony frogs, eh? Oh!

do, by all means.

"You'll have great comfort in 'em, Squire. Monstrous comfort. It will do your old heart good to go down to the edge of the pond on the fust of May, or thereabouts, accordin' to the season, jist at sun down, and hear 'em sing. You'll see the little fellers swell out their cheeks, and roar away like young suckin' thunders. For the frogs beat all natur there for noise; they have no notion of it here at all. I've seed Englishmen that couldn't sleep all night, for the everlastin' noise these critters made.

Their frogs have somethin' else to do here besides singin'. Ain't it a splendid prospect that, havin' these young frogs settled all round you in the same mud-hole, all gathered in a nice little musical family party. All fine fun this, till some fine day we Yankee storks will come down and gobble them all up, and make clear work of it.

"No, Squire, take my advice now for once; jist go to your colony minister when he is alone. Don't set down, but stand up as if you was in airnest, and didn't come to gossip, and tell him, 'Turn these ponds into a lake,' sais you, my lord minister, give them an inlet and an outlet.

Let them be kept pure, and sweet, and wholesome, by a stream, runnin'

through. Fish will live there then if you put them in, and they will breed there, and keep up the stock. At present they die; it ain't big enough; there ain't room. If he sais he hante time to hear you, and asks you to put it into writin', do you jist walk over to his table, take up his lignum vitae ruler into your fist, put your back to the door, and say 'By the 'tarnal empire, you _shall_ hear me; you don't go out of this, till I give you the b.u.t.t eend of my mind, I can tell you. I am an old bull frog now; the Nova Scotia pond is big enough for me; I'll get drowned if I get into a bigger one, for I hante got no fins, nothin' but legs and arms to swim with, and deep water wouldn't suit me, I ain't fit for it, and I must live and die there, that's my fate as sure as rates.'

If he gets tired, and goes to get up or to move, do you shake the big ruler at him, as fierce as a painter, and say, 'Don't you stir for your life; I don't want to lay nothin' _on_ your head, I only want to put somethin' _in_ it. I am a father and have got youngsters. I am a native, and have got countrymen. Enlarge our sphere, give us a chance in the world.' 'Let me out,' he'll say, 'this minute, Sir, or I'll put you in charge of a policeman.' 'Let you out is it,' sais you. 'Oh! you feel bein' pent up, do you? I am glad of it. The tables are turned now, that's what we complain of. You've stood at the door, and kept us in; now I'll keep you in awhile. I want to talk to you, that's more than you ever did to us. How do you like bein' shut in? Does it feel good? Does it make your dander rise?' 'Let me out,' he'll say agin, 'this moment, Sir, how dare you.' Oh! you are in a hurry, are you?' sais you. 'You've kept me in all my life; don't be oneasy if I keep you in five minutes.'

"'Well, what do you want then?' he'll say, kinder peevish; 'what do you want?' 'I don't want nothin' for myself,' sais you. 'I've got all I can get in that pond; and I got that from the Whigs, fellers I've been abusin' all my life; and I'm glad to make amends by acknowledging this good turn they did me; for I am a tory, and no mistake. I don't want nothin'; but I want to be an _Englishman_. I don't want to be an English _subject_; do you understand that now? If you don't, this is the meanin', that there is no fun in bein' a f.a.g, if you are never to have a f.a.g yourself. Give us all fair play. Don't move now,' sais you, 'for I'm gettin' warm; I'm gettin' spotty on the back, my bristles is up, and I might hurt you with this ruler; it's a tender pint this, for I've rubbed the skin off of a sore place; but I'll tell you a gospel truth, and mind what I tell you, for n.o.body else has sense enough, and if they had, they hante courage enough. If you don't make _Englishmen of us_, the force of circ.u.mstances will _make Yankees_ of us, as sure as you are born.' He'll stare at that. He is a clever man, and aint wantin' in gumption. He is no fool, that's a fact. 'Is it no compliment to you and your inst.i.tutions this?' sais you. 'Don't it make you feel proud that even independence won't tempt us to dissolve the connexion? Ain't it a n.o.ble proof of your good qualities that, instead of agitatin' for Repeal of the Union, we want a closer union? But have we no pride too? We would be onworthy of the name of Englishmen, if we hadn't it, and we won't stand beggin' for ever I tell _you_. Here's our hands, give us yourn; let's be all Englishmen together. Give us a chance, and if us, young English boys, don't astonish you old English, my name ain't Tom Poker, that's all.' 'Sit down,' he'll say, 'Mr. Poker;' there is a great deal in that; sit down; I am interested.'

"The instant he sais that, take your ruler, lay it down on the table, pick up your hat, make a sc.r.a.pe with your hind leg, and say, 'I regret I have detained you so long, Sir. I am most peskily afraid my warmth has kinder betrayed me into rudeness. I really beg pardon, I do upon my soul. I feel I have smashed down all decency, I am horrid ashamed of myself.' Well, he won't say you hante rode the high hoss, and done the unhandsum thing, because it wouldn't be true if he did; but he'll say, 'Pray be seated. I can make allowances, Sir, even for intemperate zeal.

And this is a very important subject, very indeed. There is a monstrous deal in what you say, though you have, I must say, rather a peculiar, an unusual, way of puttin' it.' Don't you stay another minit though, nor say another word, for your life; but bow, beg pardon, hold in your breath, that your face may look red, as if you was blus.h.i.+n', and back out, starn fust. Whenever you make an impression on a man, stop; your reasonin' and details may ruin you. Like a feller who sais a good thing, he'd better shove off, and leave every one larfin' at his wit, than stop and tire them out, till they say what a great screw augur that is. Well, if you find he opens the colonies, and patronises the smart folks, leave your sons there if you like, and let 'em work up, and work out of it, if they are fit, and time and opportunity offers. But one thing is sartain, _the very openin' of the door will open their minds_, as a matter of course. If he don't do it, and I can tell you before hand he won't--for they actilly hante got time here, to think of these things--send your boys here into the great world. Sais you to the young Lawyer, 'Bob,'

sais you, '"aim high." If you don't get to be Lord Chancellor, I shall never die in peace. I've set my heart on it. It's within your reach, if you are good for anything. Let me see the great seal--let me handle it before I die--do, that's a dear; if not, go back to your Colony pond, and sing with your provincial frogs, and I hope to Heaven the fust long-legged bittern that comes there will make a supper of you."

"Then sais you to the young parson, 'Arthur,' sais you 'Natur jist made you for a clergyman. Now, do you jist make yourself 'Archbishop of Canterbury.' My death-bed scene will be an awful one, if I don't see you 'the Primate'; for my affections, my hopes, my heart, is fixed on it.

I shall be willin' to die then, I shall depart in peace, and leave this world happy. And, Arthur,' sais you, 'they talk and brag here till one is sick of the sound a'most about "Addison's death-bed." Good people refer to it as an example, authors as a theatrical scene and hypocrites as a grand ill.u.s.tration for them to turn up the whites of their cold cantin' eyes at. Lord love you, my son,' sais you, 'let them brag of it; but what would it be to mine; you congratulatin' me on goin' to a better world, and me congratulatin' you on bein' "Archbishop." Then,' sais you, in a starn voice like a boatsan's trumpet--for if you want things to be remembered, give 'em effect, "Aim high," Sir,' sais you. Then like my old father, fetch him a kick on his western eend, that will lift him clean over the table, and say 'that's the way to rise in the world, you young sucking parson you. "Aim high," Sir.'

"Neither of them will ever forget it as long as they live. The hit does that; for a kick is a very _striking_ thing, that's a fact. There has been _no good scholars since birch rods went out o' school, and sentiment went in_."

"But you know," I said, "Mr. Slick, that those high prizes in the lottery of life, can, in the nature of things, be drawn but by few people, and how many blanks are there to one-prize in this world."