The Clockmaker Part 11

anywhere. He used some most particular educational words, genuine jaw-breakers. He put me in mind of a squirrel I once shot in our wood location. The little critter got a hickory nut in his mouth; well, he found it too hard to crack, and too big to swaller, and for the life and soul of him, he couldn't spit it out agin. If he didn't look like a proper fool, you may depend. We had a pond back of our barn about the bigness of a good sizeable wash-tub, and it was chock full of frogs. Well, one of these little critters fancied himself a bull-frog, and he puffed out his cheeks, and took a real 'blowin'

time' of it; he roared away like thunder; at last he puffed and puffed out till he bust like a b'iler. If I see the Speaker this winter (and I shall see him to a sartainty if they don't send for him to London, to teach their new Speaker; and he's up to snuff, that 'ere man; he knows how to cipher), I'll jist say to him, 'Speaker,'

says I, 'if any of your folks in the House go to swell out like dropsy, give 'em a hint in time.' Says you, 'if you have are a little safety valve about you, let off a little steam now and then, or you'll go for it; recollect the Clockmaker's story of the "Blowin'

time".'"

No. XXIV

Father John O'Shaughnessy.

"Tomorrow will be Sabbath day," said the Clockmaker; "I guess we'll bide where we be till Monday. I like a Sabbath in the country; all natur' seems at rest. There's a cheerfulness in the day here, you don't find in towns. You have natur' before you here, and nothin' but art there. The deathy stillness of a town, and the barred windows, and shut shops, and empty streets, and great long lines of big brick buildin's look melancholy. It seems as if life had ceased tickin', but there hadn't been time for decay to take hold on there; as if day had broke, but man slept. I can't describe exactly what I mean, but I always feel kinder gloomy and wamblecropt there.

"Now in the country it's jist what it ought to be--a day of rest for man and beast from labour. When a man rises on the Sabbath, and looks out on the sunny fields and wavin' crops, his heart feels proper grateful, and he says, Come, this is a splendid day, ain't it? Let's get ready and put on our bettermost close, and go to meetin'. His first thought is prayerfully to render thanks; and then when he goes to wors.h.i.+p he meets all his neighbours, and he knows them all, and they are glad to see each other, and if any two on 'em hain't exactly gee'd together durin' the week, why they meet on kind of neutral ground, and the minister or neighbours make peace atween them. But it ain't so in towns. You don't know no one you meet there. It's the wors.h.i.+p of neighbours, but it's the wors.h.i.+p of strangers, too, for neighbours don't know nor care about each other. Yes, I love a Sabbath in the country."

While uttering this soliloquy, he took up a pamphlet from the table, and turning to the t.i.tle page, said, "Have you ever seen this here book on the 'Elder Controversy?' (a controversy on the subject of Infant Baptism). This author's friends say it's a clincher; they say he has sealed up Elder's mouth as tight as a bottle."

"No," said I, "I have not; I have heard of it, but never read it.

In my opinion the subject has been exhausted already, and admits of nothing new being said upon it. These religious controversies are a serious injury to the cause of true religion; they are deeply deplored by the good and moderate men of all parties. It has already embraced several denominations in the dispute in this Province, and I hear the agitation has extended to New Brunswick, where it will doubtless be renewed with equal zeal. I am told all the pamphlets are exceptionable in point of temper, and this one in particular, which not only ascribes the most unworthy motives to its antagonist, but contains some very unjustifiable and gratuitous attacks upon other sects unconnected with the dispute. The author has injured his own cause, for an INTEMPERATE ADVOCATE IS MORE DANGEROUS THAN AN OPEN FOE."

"There is no doubt on it," said the Clockmaker, "it is as clear as mud, and you are not the only one that thinks so, I tell you. About the hottest time of the dispute, I was to Halifax, and who should I meet but Father John O'Shaughnessy, a Catholic Priest. I had met him afore in Cape Breton, and had sold him a clock. Well, he was a-leggin' it off hot foot. 'Possible!' says I, 'Father John, is that you? Why, what on airth is the matter of you? What makes you in such an everlastin' hurry, driven away like one ravin' distracted mad?' 'A sick visit,' says he; 'poor Pat Lanigan--him that you mind to Bradore Lake--well he's near about at the p'int of death.' 'I guess not,'

said I, 'for I jist heerd tell he was dead.' Well, that brought him up all standin', and he 'bouts s.h.i.+p in a jiffy, and walks a little way with me, and we got a-talkin' about this very subject. Says he, 'What are you, Mr. Slick?' Well, I looks up to him and winks--'A Clockmaker,' says I. Well he smiled, and says he, 'I see;' as much as to say I hadn't ought to have axed that 'ere question at all, I guess, for every man's religion is his own, and n.o.body else's business. 'Then,' says he, 'you know all about this country. Who do folks say has the best of the dispute?' Says I, 'Father John, it's like the battles up to Canada lines last war, each side claims victory; I guess there ain't much to brag on nary way, damage done on both sides, and nothin' gained, as far as I can learn.' He stopped short, and looked me in the face, and says he, 'Mr. Slick you are a man that has seed a good deal of the world, and a considerable of an understandin' man, and I guess I can talk to you. Now,' says he, 'for gracious sake do jist look here, and see how you heretics--protestants I mean,' says he (for I guess that 'ere word slipped out without leave), 'are by the ears, a-drivin' away at each other, the whole blessed time, tooth and nail, hip and thigh, hammer and tongs, disputin', revilin', wranglin', and beloutin' each other, with all sorts of ugly names that they can lay their tongues to. Is that the way you love your neighbour as yourself? WE SAY THIS IS A PRACTICAL COMMENT ON SCHISM, and by the powers of Moll Kelly,' said he, 'but they all ought to be well lambasted together, the whole batch on 'em entirely.' Says I, 'Father John, give me your hand; there are some things, I guess, you and I don't agree on, and most likely never will, seein' that you are a Popish priest; but in that idee I do opinionate with you, and I wish with all my heart all the world thought with us.'

"I guess he didn't half like that 'ere word Popish priest, it seemed to grig him like; his face looked kinder riled, like well water arter a heavy rain; and said he, 'Mr. Slick,' says he, 'your country is a free country, ain't it?' 'The freest,' says I, 'on the face of the airth--you can't "ditto" it nowhere. We are as free as the air, and when our dander's up, stronger than any hurricane you ever seed--tear up all creation 'most; there ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere.' 'Do you call this a free country?' said he. 'Pretty considerable middlin',' says I, 'seein' that they are under a king.'

'Well,' says he, 'if you were seen in Connecticut a-shakin' hands along with a Popish priest, as you are pleased to call me' (and he made me a bow, as much as to say mind your trumps the next deal), 'as you now are in the streets of Halifax along with me, with all your crackin' and boastin' of your freedom, I guess you wouldn't sell a clock agin in that State for one while, I tell you;' and he bid me good mornin' and turned away. 'Father John!' says I. 'I can't stop,'

says he; 'I must see that poor critter's family; they must be in great trouble, and a sick visit is afore controvarsy in my creed.'

'Well,' says I, 'one word with you afore you go; if that 'ere name Popish priest was an ongenteel one, I ax your pardon; I didn't mean no offence, I do a.s.sure you, and I'll say this for your satisfaction, tu; you're the first man in this Province that ever gave me a real right down complete checkmate since I first sot foot in it, I'll be skinned if you ain't.'

"Yes," said Mr. Slick, "Father John was right; these antagonizing chaps ought to be well quilted, the whole raft of 'em. It fairly makes me sick to see the folks, each on 'em a-backin' up of their own man. 'At it agin!' says one; 'Fair play!' says another; 'Stick it into him!' says a third; and 'That's your sort!' says a fourth.

Them are the folks who do mischief. They show such clear grit, it fairly frightens me. It makes my hair stand right up on eend to see ministers do that 'ere. IT APPEARS TO ME THAT I COULD WRITE A BOOK IN FAVOUR OF MYSELF AND MY NOTIONS WITHOUT, WRITIN' AGIN ANY ONE, AND IF I COULDN'T I WOULDN'T WRITE AT ALL, I SNORE. Our old minister, Mr.

Hopewell (a real good man, and a larned man too that), they sent to him once to write agin the Unitarians, for they are a-goin' ahead like statiee in New England, but he refused. Said he, 'Sam,' says he, 'when I first went to Cambridge, there was a boxer and wrastler came there, and he beat every one wherever he went. Well, old Mr. Possit was the Church of England parson at Charlestown, at the time, and a terrible powerful man he was--a real sneezer, and as ACTIVE as a weasel. Well, the boxer met him one day, a little way out of town, a-takin' of his evenin' walk, and said he, "Parson," says he, "they say you are a most a plaguy strong man and uncommon stiff too."

"Now," says he, "I never seed a man yet that was a match for me; would you have any objection jist to let me be availed of your strength here in a friendly way, by ourselves, where no soul would be the wiser; if you will I'll keep dark about it, I swan." "Go your way," said the Parson, "and tempt me not; you are a carnal-minded, wicked man, and I take no pleasure in such vain idle sports." "Very well," said the boxer; "now here I stand," says he, "in the path, right slap afore you; if you pa.s.s round me, then I take it as a sign that you are afeard on me, and if you keep the path, why then you must first put me out--that's a fact." The Parson jist made a spring forrard, and kitched him up as quick as wink, and throwed him right over the fence whap on the broad of his back, and then walked on as if nothin' had happened--as demure as you please, and lookin' as meek as if b.u.t.ter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Stop," said the boxer, as soon as he picked himself up, "stop Parson," said he, "that's a good man, and jist chuck over my horse too, will you, for I swan I believe you could do one near about as easy as t'other. My!" said he, "if that don't bang the bush; you are another guess chap from what I took you to be, anyhow."

"'Now,' said Mr. Hopewell, says he, 'I won't write, but if ary a Unitarian crosses my path, I'll jist over the fence with him in no time, as the parson did the boxer; FOR WRITIN' ONLY AGGRAVATES YOUR OPPONENTS, AND NEVER CONVINCES THEM. I NEVER SEED A CONVERT MADE BY THAT WAY YET; BUT I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I HAVE SEED: A MAN SET HIS OWN FLOCK A DOUBTIN' BY HIS OWN WRITIN'. YOU MAY HAPPIFY YOUR ENEMIES, CANTANKERATE YOUR OPPONENTS, AND INJURE YOUR OWN CAUSE BY IT, BUT I DEFY YOU TO SARVE IT. These writers,' said he, 'put me in mind of that 'ere boxer's pupils. He would sometimes set two on 'em to spar; well, they'd put on their gloves and begin, larfin' and jokin' all in good humour. Presently one on 'em would put in a pretty hard blow; well, t'other would return it in airnest. "Oh," says the other, "if that's your play, off gloves and at it;" and sure enough, away would fly their gloves, and at it they'd go tooth and nail.

"'No, Sam, the misfortin' is, we are all apt to think Scriptur'

intended for our neighbours, and not for ourselves. The poor all think it made for the rich. "Look at that 'ere Dives," they say, "what an all-fired sc.r.a.pe he got into by his avarice, with Lazarus; and ain't it writ as plain as anything, that them folks will find it as easy to go to heaven, as for a camel to go through the eye of a needle?" Well, then, the rich think it all made for the poor--that they shan't steal nor bear false witness, but shall be obedient to them that's in authority. And as for them 'ere Unitarians,' and he always got his dander up when he spoke of them, 'why there's no doin'

nothin' with them,' says he. 'When they get fairly stumped, and you produce a text that they can't get over, nor get round, why they say "It ain't in our varsion at all; that's an interpolation, it's an invention of them 'ere everlastin' monks;" there's nothin' left for you to do with them, but to sarve them as Parson Possit detailed the boxer--lay right hold of 'em, and chuck 'em over the fence, even if they were as big as all out doors. That's what our folks ought to have done with 'em at first, pitched 'em clean out of the state, and let 'em go down to Nova Scotia, or some such outlandish place, for they ain't fit to live in no christian country at all.

"'Fightin' is no way to make converts; THE TRUE WAY IS TO WIN 'EM.

You may stop a man's mouth, Sam,' says he, 'by a-crammin' a book down his throat, but you won't convince him. It's a fine thing to write a book all covered over with Latin, and Greek, and Hebrew, like a bridle that's real jam, all spangled with bra.s.s nails, but who knows whether it's right or wrong? Why, not one in ten thousand. If I had my religion to choose, and warn't able to judge for myself, I'll tell you what I'd do: I'd just ask myself WHO LEADS THE BEST LIVES? Now,'

says he, 'Sam, I won't say who do, because it would look like vanity to say it was the folks who hold to our platform, but I'll tell you who don't. IT AIN'T THEM THAT MAKES THE GREATEST PROFESSIONS ALWAYS; and mind what I tell you, Sam, when you go a-tradin' with your clocks away down east to Nova Scotia, and them wild provinces, keep a bright look out on them as cant too much, FOR A LONG FACE is plaguy apt to COVER A LONG CONSCIENCE--that's a fact.'"

No. XXV

Taming a Shrew.

The road from Amherst to Parrsboro' is tedious and uninteresting. In places it is made so straight that you can see several miles of it before you, which produces an appearance of interminable length, while the stunted growth of the spruce and birch trees bespeaks a cold, thin soil, and invests the scene with a melancholy and sterile aspect. Here and there occurs a little valley, with its meandering stream, and verdant and fertile interval, which, though possessing nothing peculiar to distinguish it from many others of the same kind, strikes the traveller as superior to them all, from the contrast to the surrounding country. One of these secluded spots attracted my attention, from the number and neatness of the buildings, which its proprietor, a tanner and currier, had erected for the purposes of his trade. Mr. Slick said he knew him, and he guessed it was a pity he couldn't keep his wife in as good order as he did his factory.

"They don't hitch their horses together well at all. He is properly hen-pecked," said he; "he is afeerd to call his soul his own, and he leads the life of a dog; you never seed the beat of it, I vow. Did you ever see a rooster hatch a brood of chickens?"

"No," said I, "not that I can recollect."

"Well then I have," said he, "and if he don't look like a fool all the time he is a-settin' on the eggs, it's a pity; no soul could help larfin' to see him. Our old n.i.g.g.e.r, January Snow, had a spite agin one of father's roosters, seein' that he was a coward, and wouldn't fight. He used to call him Dearborne, arter our General that behaved so ugly to Canada; and, says he one day, 'I guess you are no better than a hen, you everlastin' old chicken-hearted villain, and I'll make you a larfin' stock to all the poultry. I'll put a trick on you you'll bear in mind all your born days.' So he catches old Dearborne, and pulls all the feathers off his breast, and strips him as naked as when he was born, from his throat clean down to his tail, and then takes a bundle of nettles and gives him a proper switchin' that stung him, and made him smart like mad; then he warms some eggs and puts them in a nest, and sets the old c.o.c.k right a top of 'em. Well, the warmth of the eggs felt good to the poor critter's naked belly, and kinder kept the itchin' of the nettles down, and he was glad to bide where he was; and whenever he was tired and got off his skin felt so cold, he'd run right back and squat down agin; and when his feathers began to grow, and he got obstropolous, he got another ticklin' with the nettles, that made him return double quick to his location. In a little time he larnt the trade real complete. Now, this John Porter (and there he is on the bridge, I vow; I never seed the beat o' that, speak of old Satan and he's sure to appear), well, he's jist like old Dearborne, only fit to hatch eggs."

When we came to the Bridge, Mr. Slick stopped his horse, to shake hands with Porter, whom he recognized as an old acquaintance and customer. He enquired after a bark-mill he had smuggled from the States for him, and enlarged on the value of such a machine, and the cleverness of his countrymen who invented such useful and profitable articles; and was recommending a new process of tanning, when a female voice from the house was heard, vociferating, "John Porter, come here this minute." "Coming, my dear," said the husband. "Come here, I say, directly, why do you stand talking to that Yankee villain there." The poor husband hung his head, looked silly, and bidding us good-bye, returned slowly to the house.

As we drove on, Mr. Slick said, "That was me--I did that."

"Did what?" said I.

"That was me that sent him back; I called him and not his wife. I had that 'ere bestowment ever since I was knee high or so; I'm a real complete hand at ventriloquism; I can take off any man's voice I ever heerd to the very nines. If there was a law agin forgin' that as there is for handwritin', I guess I should have been hanged long ago.

I've had high goes with it many a time, but it's plaguy dangersome, and I don't pracTISE it now but seldom. I had a real bout with that 'ere citizen's wife once, and completely broke her in for him; she went as gentle as a circus horse for a s.p.a.ce, but he let her have her head agin, and she's as bad as ever now. I'll tell you how it was.

"I was down to the Island a-sellin' clocks, and who should I meet but John Porter; well, I traded with him for one, part cash, part truck and proDUCE, and also put off on him that 'ere bark-mill you heerd me axin' about, and it was pretty considerable on in the evenin' afore we finished our trade. I came home along with him, and had the clock in the wagon to fix it up for him, and to show him how to regilate it. Well, as we neared his house, he began to fret and take on dreadful oneasy; says he, 'I hope Jane won't be abed, 'cause if she is she'll act ugly, I do suppose.' I had heerd tell of her afore; how she used to carry a stiff upper lip, and make him and the broomstick well acquainted together; and, says I, 'Why do you put up with her tantrums, I'd make a fair division of the house with her, if it was me; I'd take the inside and allocate her the outside of it pretty quick, that's a fact.' Well, when we came to the house, there was no light in it, and the poor critter looked so streaked and down in the mouth, I felt proper sorry for him. When he rapped at the door, she called out, 'Who's there?' 'It's me, dear,' says Porter. 'You, is it,' said she, 'then you may stay where you be, them as gave you your supper, may give you your bed, instead of sendin' you sneakin' home at night like a thief.' Said I, in a whisper, says I, 'Leave her to me, John Porter; jist take the horses up to the barn, and see after them, and I'll manage her for you, I'll make her as sweet as sugary candy, never fear.' The barn, you see, is a good piece off to the eastward of the house; and, as soon as he was cleverly out of hearin', says I, a-imitatin' of his voice to the life, 'Do let me in, Jane,' says I, 'that's a dear critter; I've brought you home some things you'll like, I know.' Well, she was an awful jealous critter; says she, 'Take 'em to her you spent the evenin' with, I don't want you nor your presents neither.' Arter a good deal of coaxin' I stood on t'other tack, and began to threaten to break the door down; says I, 'You old unhansum lookin' sinner, you vinerger cruet you, open the door this minit or I'll smash it right in.' That grigged her properly, it made her very wrathy (for nothin' sets up a woman's s.p.u.n.k like callin' her ugly; she gets her back right up like a cat when a strange dog comes near her; she's all eyes, claws and bristles).

"I heerd her bounce right out of bed, and she came to the door as she was, ondressed, and onbolted it; and, as I entered it, she fetched me a box right across my cheek with the flat of her hand, that made it tingle agin. 'I'll teach you to call names agin,' says she, 'you varmint.' It was jist what I wanted; I pushed the door tu with my foot, and seizing her by the arm with one hand, I quilted her with the horsewhip real handsum, with the other. At first she roared like mad; 'I'll give you the ten commandments,' says she (meaning her ten claws), 'I'll pay you for this, you cowardly villain, to strike a woman. How dare you lift your hand, John Porter, to your lawful wife!' and so on; all the time runnin' round and round, like a colt that's a-breakin', with the mouthin' bit, rarein', kickin', and plungin' like statiee. Then she began to give in. Says she, 'I beg pardon, on my knees I beg pardon--don't murder me, for Heaven's sake--don't, dear John, don't murder your poor wife, that's a dear.

I'll do as you bid me; I promise to behave well, upon my honour I do--oh! dear John, do forgive me, do dear.' When I had her properly brought too, for havin' nothin' on but a thin under-garment, every crack of the whip told like a notch on a baker's tally, says I, 'Take that as a taste of what you'll catch, when you act that way like Old Scratch. Now go and dress yourself, and get supper for me and a stranger I have brought home along with me, and be quick, for I vow I'll be master in my own house.' She moaned like a dog hit with a stone, half whine, half yelp; 'Dear, dear,' says she, 'if I ain't all covered over with welts as big as my finger, I do believe I'm flayed alive;' and she boo-hoo'd right out like anything. 'I guess,' said I, 'you've got 'em where folks won't see 'em, anyhow, and I calculate you won't be over forrard to show 'em where they be. But come,' says I, 'be a-stirrin', or I'll quilt you agin as sure as you're alive; I'll tan your hide for you, you may depend, you old ungainly tempered heifer you.'

"When I went to the barn, says I, 'John Porter, your wife made right at me, like one ravin' distracted mad, when I opened the door, thinkin' it was you; and I was obliged to give her a crack or two of the cowskin to get clear of her. It has effectuated a cure completely; now foller it up, and don't let on for your life it warn't you that did it, and you'll be master once more in your own house. She's all docity jist now--keep her so.' As we returned we saw a light in the keepin' room, the fire was blazin' up cheerfulsome, and Marm Porter moved about as brisk as a parched pea, though as silent as dumb, and our supper was ready in no time. As soon as she took her seat and sot down, she sprung right up on eend, as if she had sot on a pan of hot coals, and coloured all over; and then tears started in her eyes. Thinks I to myself, I calculate I wrote that 'ere lesson in large letters anyhow, I can read that writin' without spellin', and no mistake; I guess you've got pretty well warmed thereabouts this. .h.i.tch. Then she tried it agin, first she sot on one leg then on t'other, quite oneasy, and then right atwixt both, a-fidgettin' about dreadfully; like a man that's rode all day on a bad saddle, and lost a little leather on the way. If you had seed how she stared at Porter, it would have made you snicker. She couldn't credit her eyes. He warn't drunk, and he warn't crazy, but there he sot as peeked and as meechin' as you please. She seemed all struck up of a heap at his rebellion. The next day when I was about startin', I advised him to act like a man, and keep the weather gage now he had it, and all would be well, but the poor critter only held on a day or two, she soon got the upper hand of him, and made him confess all, and by all accounts he leads a worse life now than ever. I put that 'ere trick on him jist now to try him, and I see it's gone goose with him; the jig is up with him, she'll soon call him with a whistle like a dog. I often think of the hornpipe she danced there in the dark along with me, to the music of my whip--she touched it off in great style, that's a fact. I shall mind that go one while, I promise you.

It was actilly equal to a play at old Bowry. You may depend, Squire, the only way to tame a shrew is by the cowskin. Grandfather Slick was raised all along the coast of Kent in Old England, and he used to say there was an old saying there, which, I expect, is not far off the mark:

'A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree, The more you lick 'em, the better they be.'"

No. XXVI

The Minister's Horn Mug.

"This Country," said Mr. Slick, "abounds in superior mill privileges, and one would naterally calculate that such a sight of water power would have led to a knowledge of machinery. I guess if a Bluenose was to go to one of our free and enlightened citizens, and tell him Nova Scotia was intersected with rivers and brooks in all directions, and nearly one quarter of it covered with water, he'd say, 'Well, I'll start right off and see it, I vow, for I guess I'll larn somethin'.

I allot I'll get another wrinkle away down east there. With such splendid chances for experimentin', what first-chop mills they must have, to a sartainty. I'll see such new combinations, and such new applications of the force of water to motion, that I'll make my fortin', for we can improve on anything a'most.' Well, he'd find his mistake out I guess, as I did once, when I took pa.s.sage in the night at New York for Providence, and found myself the next mornin' clean out to sea, steerin' away for Cape Hatteras, in the Charleston steamer. He'd find he'd gone to the wrong place, I reckon; there ain't a mill of any kind in the Province fit to be seen. If we had 'em, we'd sarve 'em as we do the gamblin' houses down south, pull 'em right down, there wouldn't be one on 'em left in eight and forty hours.

"Some domestic factories they ought to have here; it's an essential part of the social system. Now we've run to the other extreme, it's got to be too big an interest with us, and ain't suited to the political inst.i.tutions of our great country. Natur' designed us for an agricultural people, and our government was predicated on the supposition that we would be so. Mr. Hopewell was of the same opinion. He was a great hand at gardenin', orchadin', farmin', and what not. One evenin' I was up to his house, and says he, 'Sam, what do you say to a bottle of my old genuine cider? I guess I got some that will take the s.h.i.+ne off of your father's, by a long chalk, much as the old gentleman brags of his'n. I never bring it out afore him. He thinks he has the best in all Connecticut. It's an innocent ambition that; and Sam, it would be but a poor thing for me to gratify my pride, at the expense of humblin' his'n. So I never lets on that I have any better, but keep dark about this superfine particular article of mine, for I'd as lives he'd think so as not.'

He was a real primiTIVE good man was minister. 'I got some,' said he, 'that was bottled that very year that glorious action was fought atween the Const.i.tution and the Guerriere. Perhaps the whole world couldn't show such a brilliant whippin' as that was. It was a splendid deed, that's a fact. The British can whip the whole airth, and we can whip the British. It was a bright promise for our young eagle; a n.o.ble bird that, too; great strenth, great courage, and surpa.s.sing sagacity.'

"Well, he went down to the cellar, and brought up a bottle, with a stick tied to its neck, and day and date to it, like lye-bills on the trees in Squire Hendrick's garden. 'I like to see them 'ere cobwebs,'

says he, as he brushed 'em off, 'they are like grey hairs in an old man's head; they indicate venerable old age.' As he uncorked it, says he, 'I guess Sam, this will warm your gizzard, my boy; I guess our great nation may be stumped to produce more eleganter liquor than this here. It's the dandy, that's a fact. That,' said he, a-smackin'

his lips, and lookin' at its sparklin' top, and layin' back his head, and tippin' off a horn mug brim full of it--'that,' said he, and his eyes twinkled agin, for it was plaguy strong--'that is the produce of my own orchard.' 'Well,' I said, 'minister,' says I, 'I never see you a-swiggin' it out of that 'ere horn mug, that I don't think of one of your texts.' 'What's that, Sam?' says he, 'for you always had a'most a special memory when you was a boy.' 'Why,' says I, that "the horn of the righteous man shall be exalted;" I guess that's what they mean by "exaltin' the horn," ain't it? Lord if ever you was to New OrLEENS, and seed a black thunder cloud rise right up and cover the whole sky in a it, you'd a thought of it if you had seed his face. It looked as dark as Egypt. 'For shame!' says he, 'Sam, that's ondecent; and let me tell you that a man that jokes on such subjects, shows both a lack of wit and sense too. I like mirth, you know I do, for it's only the Pharisees and hypocrites that wear long faces, but then mirth must be innocent to please me; and when I see a man make merry with serious things, I set him down as a lost sheep. That comes of your speculatin' to Lowell; and, I vow, them factorin' towns will corrupt our youth of both s.e.xes, and become hotbeds of iniquity. Evil communications end.a.m.nify good manners, as sure as rates; one scabby sheep will infect a whole flock--vice is as catchin' as that nasty disease the Scotch have, it's got by shakin' hands, and both eend in the same way--in brimstone. I approbate domestic factories, but nothin' further for us. It don't suit us or our inst.i.tutions. A republic is only calculated for an enlightened and vartuous people, and folks chiefly in the farmin' line. That is an innocent and a happy vocation. Agriculture was ordained by Him as made us, for our chief occupation.'

"Thinks I, here's a pretty how do you do; I'm in for it now, that's a fact; he'll jist fall to and read a regular sarmon, and he knows so many by heart he'll never stop. It would take a Philadelphia lawyer to answer him. So, says I, 'Minister, I ax your pardon, I feel very ugly at havin' given you offence, but I didn't mean it, I do a.s.sure you. It jist popped out unexpectedly, like a cork out of one of them 'ere cider bottles, I'll do my possibles that the like don't happen agin, you may depend; so 'spose we drink a gla.s.s to our reconciliation.' 'That I will,' said he, 'and we will have another bottle too, but I must put a little water into MY GLa.s.s (and he dwelt on that word, and looked at me, quite feelin', as much as to say, don't for goodness sake make use of that 'ere word HORN agin, for it's a joke I don't like), 'for my head hain't quite the strength my cider has. Taste this, Sam,' said he (openin' of another bottle); 'it's of the same age as the last, but made of different apples, and I am fairly stumped sometimes to say which is best.'

"'These are the pleasures,' says he, 'of a country life. A man's own labour provides him with food, and an appet.i.te to enjoy it. Let him look which way he will, and he sees the goodness and bounty of his Creator, his wisdom, his power, and his majesty. There never was anything so true, as that 'ere old sayin', "Man made the town, but G.o.d made the country," and both bespeak their different architects in terms too plain to be misunderstood. The one is filled with virtue and the other with vice. One is the abode of plenty, and the other of want; one is a ware-duck of nice pure water, and t'other one a cess-pool. Our towns are gettin' so commercial and factoring, that they will soon generate mobs, Sam' (how true that 'ere has turned out, hain't it? He could see near about as far into a millstone, as them that picks the hole into it), 'and mobs will introduce disobedience and defiance to laws, and that must eend in anarchy and bloodshed.

No,' said the old man, raising his voice, and giving the table a wipe with his fist that made the gla.s.ses all jingle agin, 'give me the country--that country to which he that made it said, "Bring forth gra.s.s, the herb yieldin' seed, and the tree yieldin' fruit," AND WHO SAW THAT IT WAS GOOD. Let me jine with the feathered tribe in the mornin' (I hope you get up airly now, Sam; when you was a boy there was no gittin' you out of bed at no rate), and at sunset, in the hymns which they utter in full tide of song to their Creator. Let me pour out the thankfulness of my heart to the Giver of all good things, for the numerous blessings I enjoy, and intreat Him to bless my increase, that I may have wherewithal to relieve the wants of others, as he prevents and relieves mine. No! give me the country.

It's--' Minister was jist like a horse that has the spavin: he sot off considerable stiff at first, but when he once got under way, he got on like a house a fire. He went like the wind, full split. He was jist beginnin' to warm on the subject, and I knew if he did, what wonderful bottom he had; how he would hang on for ever a'most; so, says I, 'I think so too, minister, I like the country, I always sleep better there than in towns; it ain't so plaguy hot, nor so noisy neither, and then it's a pleasant thing to set out on the stoop and smoke in the cool, ain't it? I think,' says I, 'too, Minister, that that 'ere uncommon handsum cider of your'n desarves a pipe, what do you think?' 'Well,' says he, 'I think myself a pipe wouldn't be amiss, and I got some real good Varginny, as you e'enamost ever seed, a present from Rowland Randolph, an old college chum; and none the worse to my palate, Sam, for bringin' bygone recollections with it. Phoebe, my dear,' said he to his darter, 'bring the pipes and tobacco.' As soon as the old gentleman fairly got a pipe in his mouth, I give Phoebe a wink, as much as to say, warn't that well done? That's what I call a most particular handsum fix. He can talk now (and that I do like to hear him do), but he can't make a speech, or preach a sarmon, and that I don't like to hear him do, except on Sabbath day, or up to Town Hall, on oration times.