The Clockmaker

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"Whose head?" said I, in great alarm, "whose head, Mr. Slick? For
heaven's sake what have you done?" (for I had been dreaming of those
angelic politicians, the American ladies.)

"Why that 'ere hen-partridge's head, to be sure," said he; "don't you
see how special wonderful wise it looks, a-flutterin' about arter its
head?"

"True," said I, rubbing my eyes, and opening them in time to see the
last muscular spasms of the decapitated body; "true, Mr. Slick, it is
a happy illustration of our previous conversation--A BODY WITHOUT A
HEAD."

No. XXX

A Tale of Bunker's Hill.

Mr. Slick, like all his countrymen whom I have seen, felt that his
own existence was involved in that of the Constitution of the United
States, and that it was his duty to uphold it upon all occasions. He
affected to consider its government and its institutions as perfect,
and if any doubt was suggested as to the stability or character of
either, would make the common reply of all Americans, "I guess you
don't understand us," or else enter into a laboured defence. When
left, however, to the free expression of his own thoughts, he would
often give utterance to those apprehensions which most men feel in
the event of an experiment not yet fairly tried, and which has in
many parts evidently disappointed the sanguine hopes of its friends.
But, even on these occasions, when his vigilance seemed to slumber,
he would generally cover them, by giving them as the remarks of
others, or concealing them in a tale. It was this habit that gave his
discourse rather the appearance of "thinking aloud," than a connected
conversation.

"We are a great nation, Squire," he said, "that's sartain; but I'm
afeard we didn't altogether start right. It's in politics as in
racin', everything depends upon a fair start. If you are off too
quick, you have to pull up and turn back agin, and your beast gets
out of wind and is baffled, and if you lose in the start you hain't
got a fair chance arterwards, and are plaguy apt to be jockied in
the course. When we set up house-keepin', as it were for ourselves,
we hated our stepmother, Old England, so dreadful bad, we wouldn't
foller any of her ways of managin' at all, but made new receipts for
ourselves. Well, we missed it in many things most consumedly, somehow
or another. Did you ever see," said he, "a congregation split right
in two by a quarrel, and one part go off and set up for themselves?"

"I am sorry to say," said I, "that I have seen some melancholy
instances of the kind."

"Well, they shoot ahead, or drop astern, as the case may be, but they
soon get on another tack, and leave the old ship clean out of sight.
When folks once take to emigratin' in religion in this way, they
never know where to bide. First they try one location, and then they
try another; some settle here and some improve there, but they don't
hitch their horses together long. Some times they complain they HAVE
TOO LITTLE WATER, at other times that they HAVE TOO MUCH; they are
never satisfied, and, wherever these separatists go, they onsettle
others as bad as themselves. I NEVER LOOK ON A DESARTER AS ANY GREAT
SHAKES.

"My poor father used to say, 'Sam, mind what I tell you, if a man
don't agree in all particulars with his church, and can't go the
whole hog with 'em, he ain't justified on that account, no how, to
separate from them, for Sam, SCHISM IS A SIN IN THE EYE OF GOD. The
whole Christian world,' he would say, 'is divided into two great
families, the Catholic and Protestant. Well, the Catholic is a united
family, a happy family, and a strong family, all governed by one
head; and Sam, as sure as eggs is eggs, that 'ere family will grub
out t'other one, stalk, branch and root; it won't so much as leave
the seed of it in the ground, to grow by chance as a nateral
curiosity. Now the Protestant family is like a bundle of refuse
shingles, when withed up together (which it never was and never will
be to all etarnity), no great of a bundle arter all; you might take
it up under one arm, and walk off with it without winkin'. But, when
all lyin' loose as it always is, jist look at it, and see what a
sight it is, all blowin' about by every wind of doctrine, some away
up e'enamost out of sight, others rollin' over and over in the dirt,
some split to pieces, and others so warped by the weather and cracked
by the sun--no two of 'em will lie so as to make a close j'int. They
are all divided into sects, railin', quarrellin', separatin', and
agreein' in nothin', but hatin' each other. It is awful to think on.
T'other family will some day or other gather them all up, put them
into a bundle and bind them up tight, and condemn 'em as fit for
nothin' under the sun, but the fire. Now he who splits one of these
here sects by schism, or he who preaches schism, commits a grievous
sin; and Sam, if you vally your own peace of mind, have nothin' to do
with such folks.

"'It's pretty much the same in Politics. I ain't quite clear in my
conscience, Sam, about our glorious revolution. If that 'ere blood
was shed justly in the rebellion, then it was the Lord's doin',
but if unlawfully, how am I to answer for my share in it? I was at
Bunker's Hill (the most splendid battle it's generally allowed that
ever was fought); what effect my shots had, I can't tell, and I am
glad I can't, all except one, Sam, and that shot--' Here the old
gentleman became dreadful agitated, he shook like an ague fit, and
he walked up and down the room, and wrung his hands, and groaned
bitterly. 'I have wrastled with the Lord, Sam, and have prayed to
him to enlighten me on that p'int, and to wash out the stain of that
'ere blood from my hands. I never told you that 'ere story, nor your
mother neither, for she could not stand it, poor critter, she's
kinder narvous.

"'Well, Doctor Warren (the first soldier of his age, though he never
fought afore) commanded us all to resarve our fire till the British
came within p'int-blank shot, and we could cleverly see the whites
of their eyes, and we did so; and we mowed them down like grass, and
we repeated our fire with awful effect. I was among the last that
remained behind the breast-work, for most on 'em, arter the second
shot, cut and run full split. The British were close to us; and
an officer, with his sword drawn, was leading on his men, and
encouragin' them to the charge. I could see his features; he was a
real handsum man, I can see him now with his white breeches and black
gaiters, and red coat, and three-cornered cocked hat, as plain as if
it was yesterday, instead of the year '75. Well, I took a steady aim
at him and fired. He didn't move for a space, and I thought I had
missed him, when all of a sudden, he sprung right straight up an
eend, his sword slipped through his hands up to the p'int, and then
he fell flat on his face atop of the blade, and it came straight out
through his back. He was fairly skivered. I never seed anything so
awful since I was raised; I actilly screamed out with horror; and I
threw away my gun, and joined them that were retreatin' over the neck
to Charlestown. Sam, that 'ere British officer, if our rebellion was
onjust or onlawful, was murdered, that's a fact; and the idee, now I
am growin' old, haunts me day and night. Sometimes I begin with the
Stamp Act, and I go over all our grievances, one by one, and say
ain't they a sufficient justification? Well, it makes a long list,
and I get kinder satisfied, and it appears as clear as anything. But
sometimes there come doubts in my mind, jist like a guest that's not
invited or not expected, and takes you at a short like, and I say,
warn't the Stamp Act repealed, and concessions made, and warn't
offers sent to settle all fairly? and I get troubled and oneasy agin.
And then I say to myself, says I, oh yes, but them offers came too
late. I do nothin' now, when I am alone, but argue it over and over
agin. I actilly dream on that man in my sleep sometimes, and then I
see him as plain as if he was afore me, and I go over it all agin
till I come to that 'ere shot, and then I leap right up in bed and
scream like all vengeance, and your mother, poor old critter, says,
"Sam," says she, "what on airth ails you to make you act so like Old
Scratch in your sleep? I do believe there's somethin' or another on
your conscience." And I say, "Polly dear, I guess we're a-goin' to
have rain, for that plaguy cute rheumatis has seized my foot and it
does antagonize me so I have no peace. It always does so when it's
like for a change." "Dear heart," she says (the poor simple critter),
"then I guess I had better rub it, hadn't I, Sam?" and she crawls out
of bed and gets her red flannel petticoat, and rubs away at my foot
ever so long. Oh, Sam, if she could rub it out of my heart as easy as
she thinks she rubs it out of my foot, I should be in peace, that's a
fact.

"'What's done, Sam, can't be helped, there is no use in cryin' over
spilt milk, but still one can't help a-thinkin' on it. But I don't
love schisms and I don't love rebellion.

"'Our revolution has made us grow faster and grow richer; but Sam,
when we were younger and poorer, we were more pious and more happy.
We have nothin' fixed either in religion or politics. What connection
there ought to be atween Church and State, I am not availed, but some
there ought to be as sure as the Lord made Moses. Religion when left
to itself, as with us, grows too rank and luxuriant. Suckers and
sprouts, and intersecting shoots, and superfluous wood, make a
nice shady tree to look at, but where's the fruit, Sam? That's the
question--where's the fruit? No; the pride of human wisdom, and the
presumption it breeds will ruinate us. Jefferson was an infidel, and
avowed it, and gloried in it, and called it the enlightenment of the
age. Cambridge College is Unitarian, 'cause it looks wise to doubt,
and every drumstick of a boy ridicules the belief of his forefathers.
If our country is to be darkened by infidelity, our Government
defied by every State, and every State ruled by mobs--then, Sam, the
blood we shed in our revolution will be atoned for in the blood and
suffering of our fellow citizens. The murders of that civil war will
be expiated by a political suicide of the State.'

"I am somewhat of father's opinion," said the Clockmaker, "though I
don't go the whole figur' with him, but he needn't have made such an
everlastin' touss about fixin' that 'ere British officer's flint for
him, for he'd a died of himself by this time, I do suppose, if he had
a missed his shot at him. P'r'aps we might have done a little better,
and p'r'aps we mightn't, by stickin' a little closer to the old
constitution. But one thing I will say, I think arter all, your
Colony Government is about as happy and as a good a one as I know on.
A man's life and property are well protected here at little cost, and
he can go where he likes and do what he likes provided he don't
trespass on his neighbour.

"I guess that's enough for any on us, now ain't it?"

No. XXXI

Gulling a Bluenose.

"I allot," said Mr. Slick, "that the Bluenoses are the most gullible
folks on the face of the airth--rigular soft horns, that's a fact.
Politics and such stuff set 'em a-gapin', like children in a chimbley
corner listenin' to tales of ghosts, Salem witches, and Nova Scotia
snowstorms; and while they stand starin' and yawpin' all eyes and
mouth, they get their pockets picked of every cent that's in 'em.
One candidate chap says 'Feller citizens, this country is goin' to
the dogs hand over hand; look at your rivers, you have no bridges;
at your wild lands, you have no roads; at your treasury, you hain't
got a cent in it; at your markets, things don't fetch nothin'; at
your fish, the Yankees ketch 'em all. There's nothin' behind you but
sufferin', around you but poverty, afore you but slavery and death.
What's the cause of this unheerd of awful state of things, ay, what's
the cause? Why judges, and banks, and lawyers, and great folks, have
swallered all the money. They've got you down, and they'll keep you
down to all etarnity, you and your posteriors arter you. Rise up like
men, arouse yourselves like freemen, and elect me to the legislatur',
and I'll lead on the small but patriotic band, I'll put the big wigs
through their facins, I'll make 'em shake in their shoes, I'll knock
off your chains and make you free.' Well, the goneys fall tu and
elect him, and he desarts right away, with balls, rifle, powder, horn
and all. HE PROMISED TOO MUCH.

"Then comes a real good man, and an everlastin' fine preacher, a most
a special spiritual man; renounces the world, the flesh, and the
devil, preaches and prays day and night, so kind to the poor, and so
humble, he has no more pride than a babe, and so short-handed he's no
butter to his bread--all self denial, mortifyin' the flesh. Well, as
soon as he can work it, he marries the richest gal in all his flock,
and then his bread is buttered on both sides. HE PROMISED TOO MUCH.

"Then comes a doctor, and a prime article he is too, 'I've got,' says
he, 'a screw auger emetic and hot crop, and if I can't cure all sorts
o' things in natur' my name ain't Quack.' Well, he turns stomach and
pocket, both inside out, and leaves poor Bluenose--a dead man. HE
PROMISED TOO MUCH.

"Then comes a lawyer, an honest lawyer too, a real wonder under the
sun, as straight as a shingle in all his dealin's. He's so honest he
can't bear to hear tell of other lawyers; he writes agin 'em, raves
agin 'em, votes agin 'em, they are all rogues but him. He's jist the
man to take a case in hand, 'cause HE will see justice done. Well,
he wins his case, and fobs all for costs, 'cause he's sworn to see
justice done to--himself. HE PROMISED TOO MUCH.

"Then comes a Yankee Clockmaker" (and here Mr. Slick looked up and
smiled), "with his 'soft sawder,' and 'human natur',' and he sells
clocks warranted to run from July to Etarnity, stoppages included,
and I must say they do run as long as--as long as wooden clocks
commonly do, that's a fact. But I'll show you presently how I put the
leak into 'em, for here's a feller a little bit ahead on us, whose
flint I've made up my mind to fix this while past." Here we were
nearly thrown out of the wagon by the breaking down of one of those
small wooden bridges, which prove so annoying and so dangerous to
travellers. "Did you hear that 'ere snap?" said he; "well, as sure as
fate, I'll break my clocks over them 'ere etarnal log bridges, if Old
Clay clips over them arter that fashion. Them 'ere poles are plaguy
treacherous, they are jist like old Marm Patience Doesgood's teeth,
that keeps the great United Independent Democratic Hotel, at Squaw
Neck Creek, in Massachusetts--one half gone, and t'other half rotten
eends."

"I thought you had disposed of your last clock," said I, "at
Colchester, to Deacon Flint."

"So I did," he replied, "the last one I had to sell to HIM, but I got
a few left for other folks yet. Now there is a man on this road, one
Zeb Allen, a real genuINE skinflint, a proper close-fisted customer
as you'll a'most see anywhere, and one that's not altogether the
straight thing in his dealin' neither. He don't want no one to live
but himself; and he's mighty handsum to me, sayin' my clocks are all
a cheat, and that we ruinate the country, a-drainin' every drop of
money out of it, a-callin' me a Yankee broom and what not. But it
ain't all jist Gospel that he says. Now I'll put a clock on him afore
he knows it, I'll go right into him as slick as a whistle, and play
him to the eend of my line like a trout. I'll have a hook in his
gills, while he's a-thinkin' he's only smellin' at the bait. There he
is now, I'll be darned if he ain't, standin' afore his shop door,
lookin' as strong as high proof Jamaiky; I guess I'll whip it out o'
the bung while he's a-lookin' arter the spicket, and p'r'aps he'll be
none o' the wiser till he finds it out, neither."

"Well, Squire, how do you do," said he, "how's all at home?"

"Reasonable well, I give you thanks, won't you alight?"

"Can't today," said Mr. Slick, "I'm in a considerable of a hurry to
katch the packet, have you any commands for Sou'west? I'm goin' to
the Island, and across the Bay to Windsor. Any word that way?"

"No," says Mr. Allen, "none that I can think on, unless it be to
enquire how butter's goin'; they tell me cheese is down, and proDUCE
of all kind particular dull this fall."

"Well, I'm glad I can tell you that question," said Slick, "for I
don't calculate to return to these parts; butter is risin' a cent or
two; I put mine off mind at tenpence."

"Don't return! possible? why, how you talk. Have you done with the
clock trade?"

"I guess I have, it ain't worth follerin' now."

"Most time," said the other, laughing, "for by all accounts the
clocks warn't worth havin', and most infarnal dear too, folks begin
to get their eyes open."

"It warn't needed in your case," said Mr. Slick, with that peculiarly
composed manner, that indicates suppressed feeling, "for you were
always wide awake; if all the folks had cut their eye-teeth as airly
as you did, their'd be plaguy few clocks sold in these parts, I
reckon; but you are right, Squire, you may say that, they actilly
were NOT worth havin', and that's the truth. The fact is," said he,
throwing down his reins, and affecting a most confidential tone, "I
felt almost ashamed of them myself; I tell you. The long and short of
the matter is jist this: they don't make no good ones nowadays, no
more, for they calculate 'em for shippin' and not for home use. I
was all struck up of a heap when I seed the last lot I got from the
States; I was properly bit by them, you may depend--they didn't pay
cost, for I couldn't recommend them with a clear conscience, and I
must say I do like a fair deal, for I'm strait up and down, and love
to go right ahead, that's a fact. Did you ever see them I fetched
when I first came, them I sold over the Bay?"

"No," said Mr. Allen, "I can't say I did."

"Well," continued he, "they WERE a prime article, I tell you, no
mistake there, fit for any market, it's generally allowed there ain't
the beat of them to be found anywhere. If you want a clock, and can
lay your hands on one of them, I advise you not to let go the chance;
you'll know 'em by the 'Lowell' mark, for they were all made at Judge
Beler's factory, Squire Shepody, down to Five Islands, axed me to
get him one, and a special job I had of it, near about more sarch
arter it than it was worth; but I did get him one, and a particular
handsome one it is, copal'd and gilt superior. I guess it's worth ary
half dozen in these parts, let t'others be where they may. If I could
a got supplied with the like o' them, I could a made a grand spec out
of them, for they took at once, and went off quick."

"Have you got it with you?" said Mr. Allen, "I should like to see
it."

"Yes, I have it here, all done up in tow, as snug as a bird's egg, to
keep it from jarrin', for it hurts 'em consumedly to jolt 'em over
them 'ere etarnal wooden bridges. But it's no use to take it out, it
ain't for sale; it's bespoke, and I wouldn't take the same trouble
to get another for twenty dollars. The only one that I know of that
there's any chance of gettin', is one that Increase Crane has up to
Wilmot, they say he's a-sellin' off."

After a good deal of persuasion, Mr. Slick unpacked the clock, but
protested against his asking for it, for it was not for sale. It was
then exhibited, every part explained and praised, as new in invention
and perfect in workmanship. Now Mr. Allen had a very exalted opinion
of Squire Shepody's taste, judgment, and saving knowledge; and, as
it was the last and only chance of getting a clock of such superior
quality, he offered to take it at the price the Squire was to have
it, at seven pounds ten shillings. But Mr. Slick vowed he couldn't
part with it at no rate, he didn't know where he could get the like
agin (for he warn't quite sure about Increase Crane's), and the
Squire would be confounded disappointed; he couldn't think of it.
In proportion to the difficulties, rose the ardour of Mr. Allen; his
offers advanced to eight pounds, to eight pounds ten shillings, to
nine pounds.

"I vow," said Mr. Slick, "I wish I hadn't let on that I had it at
all. I don't like to refuse you, but where am I to get the like?"
After much discussion of a similar nature, he consented to part with
the clock, though with great apparent reluctance, and pocketed the
money with a protest that, cost what it would, he should have to
procure another, for he couldn't think of putting the Squire's pipe
out arter that fashion, for he was a very clever man, and as fair
as a boot jack.

"Now," said Mr. Slick, as we proceeded on our way, "that 'ere feller
is properly sarved, he got the most inferior article I had, and I
jist doubled the price on him. It's a pity he should be a-tellin' of
lies of the Yankees all the time; this will help him now to a little
grain of truth." Then mimicking his voice and manner, he repeated
Allen's words with a strong nasal twang, "'Most time for you to give
over the clock trade, I guess, for by all accounts they ain't worth
havin', and most infarnel dear too; folks begin to get their eyes
open.' Better for you, if you'd a had your'n open, I reckon; a joke
is a joke, but I consait you'll find that no joke. The next time you
tell stories about Yankee peddlers, put the wooden clock in with
the wooden punkin seeds, and hickory hams, will you? The Bluenoses,
Squire, are all like Zeb Allen; they think they know everything, but
they get gulled from year's eend to year's eend. They expect too much
from others, and do too little for themselves. They actilly expect
the sun to shine, and the rain to fall, through their little House of
Assembly. 'What have you done for us?' they keep axin' their members.
'Who did you spunk up to last Session?' jist as if all legislation
consisted in attackin' some half dozen puss proud folks at Halifax,
who are jist as big noodles as they be themselves. You hear nothin'
but politics, politics, politics, one everlastin' sound of give,
give, give. If I was Governor I'd give 'em the butt eend of my mind
on the subject, I'd crack their pates till I let some light in 'em,
if it was me, I know. I'd say to the members, don't come down here to
Halifax with your long lockrums about politics, makin', a great touss
about nothin'; but open the country, foster agricultur', encourage
trade, incorporate companies, make bridges, facilitate conveyance,
and above all things make a railroad from Windsor to Halifax; and
mind what I tell you now--write it down for fear you should forget
it, for it's a fact; and if you don't believe me, I'll lick you till
you do, for there ain't a word of a lie in it, by gum--ONE SUCH WORK
AS THE WINDSOR BRIDGE IS WORTH ALL YOUR LAWS, VOTES, SPEECHES AND
RESOLUTIONS, FOR THE LAST TEN YEARS, IF TIED UP AND PUT INTO A MEAL
BAG TOGETHER. IF IT AIN'T, I HOPE I MAY BE SHOT!"

No. XXXII

Too many Irons in the Fire.

We had a pleasant sail of three hours from Parrsboro' to Windsor. The
arrivals and departures by water, are regulated at this place by the
tide, and it was sunset before we reached Mrs. Wilcox's comfortable
inn. Here, as at other places, Mr. Slick seemed to be perfectly at
home; and he pointed to a wooden clock, as a proof of his successful
and extended trade, and of the universal influence of "soft sawder,"
and a knowledge of "human natur'." Taking out a pen knife, he cut off
a splinter from a stick of firewood, and balancing himself on one leg
of his chair, by the aid of his right foot, commenced his favourite
amusement of whitling, which he generally pursued in silence. Indeed
it appeared to have become with him an indispensible accompaniment
of reflection.

He sat in this abstracted manner, until he had manufactured into
delicate shavings the whole of his raw materiel, when he very
deliberately resumed a position of more ease and security, by resting
his chair on two legs instead of one, and putting both his feet on
the mantel piece. Then, lighting his cigar, he said in his usual
quiet manner--

"There's a plaguy sight of truth in them 'ere old proverbs. They are
distilled facts steamed down to an essence. They are like portable
soup, an amazin' deal of matter in a small compass. They are what I
vally most, experience. Father used to say, 'I'd as lives have an old
homespun, self-taught doctor as ary a Professor in the college at
Philadelphia or New York to attend me; for what they do know, they
know by experience, and not by books; and experience is everything,
it's hearin' and seein' and tryin', and arter that a feller must be a
born fool if he don't know. That's the beauty of old proverbs; they
are as true as a plum line, and as short and sweet as sugar candy.
Now when you come to see all about this country you'll find the truth
of that 'ere one--'A MAN THAT HAS TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE, IS
PLAGUY APT TO GET SOME ON 'EM BURNT.'

"Do you recollect that 'ere tree I show'd you to Parrsboro', it was
all covered with black knobs, like a wart rubbed with caustic. Well,
the plum trees had the same disease a few years ago, and they all
died, and the cherry trees I consait will go for it too. The farms
here are all covered with the same 'black knobs,' and they do look
like Old Scratch. If you see a place all gone to wrack and ruin, its
mortgaged you may depend. The 'black knob' is on it. My plan, you
know, is to ax leave to put a clock in a house, and let it be till I
return. I never say a word about sellin' it, for I know when I come
back, they won't let it go arter they are once used to it. Well, when
I first came, I knowed no one, and I was forced to enquire whether
a man was good for it, afore I left it with him; so I made a p'int
of axin' all about every man's place that lived on the road. 'Who
lives up there in the big house?' says I, 'it's a nice location that,
pretty considerable improvements them.' 'Why sir, that's A. B.'s; he
was well to do in the world once, carried a stiff upper lip and keerd
for no one; he was one of our grand aristocrats, wore a long tailed
coat, and a ruffled shirt, but he must take to ship buildin', and
has gone to the dogs.' 'Oh,' said I, 'too many irons in the fire.
Well, the next farm, where the pigs are in the potato field, whose
is that?' 'Oh, sir, that's C. D's; he was a considerable fore-handed
farmer, as any in our place, but he sot up for an Assembly-man, and
opened a store, and things went agin him somehow; he had no luck
arterwards. I hear his place is mortgaged, and they've got him cited
in chancery.' 'The black knob' is on him, said I. 'The black what,
sir?' says Bluenose. 'Nothin',' says I. 'But the next, who improves
that house?' 'Why that's E. F.'s; he was the greatest farmer in
these parts, another of the aristocracy; had a most a noble stock o'
cattle, and the matter of some hundreds out in j'int notes. Well, he
took the contract for beef with the troops; and he fell astarn, so I
guess it's a gone goose with him. He's heavy mortgaged.' 'Too many
irons agin,' said I. 'Who lives to the left there? That man has a
most a special fine interval, and a grand orchard too; he must be
a good mark, that.' 'Well he was once, sir, a few years ago; but
he built a fullin' mill, and a cardin' mill, and put up a lumber
establishment, and speculated in the West Indy line; but the dam was
carried away by the freshets, the lumber fell, and faith he fell too;
he's shot up, he hain't been seed these two years, his farm is a
common, and fairly run out.' 'Oh,' said I, 'I understand now, my man;
these folks had too many irons in the fire you see, and some on 'em
have got burnt.' 'I never heerd tell of it,' says Bluenose; 'they
might, but not to my knowledge;' and he scratched his head, and
looked as if he would ask the meanin' of it, but didn't like too.
Arter that I axed no more questions; I knew a mortgaged farm as far
as I could see it. There was a strong family likeness in 'em all--the
same ugly features, the same cast o' countenance. The "black knob"
was discernible, there was no mistake: barn doors broken off, fences
burnt up, glass out of windows; more white crops than green, and both
lookin' poor and weedy; no wood pile, no sarse garden, no compost,
no stock; moss in the mowin lands, thistles in the ploughed lands,
and neglect every where; skinnin' had commenced--takin' all out and
puttin' nothin' in--gittin' ready for a move, SO AS TO HAVE NOTHIN'
BEHIND. Flittin' time had come. Foregatherin', for foreclosin'.
Preparin' to curse and quit. That beautiful river we came up today,
What superfine farms it has on both sides of it, hain't it? it's a
sight to behold. Our folks have no notion of such a country so far
down east, beyond creation most, as Nova Scotia is. If I was to draw
up an account of it for the Slickville Gazette, I guess few would
accept it as a bona fide draft, without some 'sponsible man to
indorse it, that warn't given to flammin'. They'd say there was a
land speculation to the bottom of it, or water privilege to put into
the market, or a plaister rock to get off, or some such scheme. They
would, I snore. But I hope I may never see daylight agin, if there's
sich a country in all our great nation, as the VI-cinity of Windsor.

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