The Clockmaker

T >> Thomas Chandler Haliburton >> The Clockmaker

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"Now it's jist as like as not, some goney of a Bluenose, that seed
us from his fields, sailin' up full split, with a fair wind on
the packet, went right off home and said to his wife, 'Now do for
gracious' sake, mother, jist look here, and see how slick them
folks go along; and that captain has nothin' to do all day, but sit
straddle legs across his tiller, and order about his sailors, or
talk like a gentleman to his passengers; he's got most as easy a time
of it as Ami Cuttle has, since he took up the fur trade, a-snarin'
rabbits. I guess I'll buy a vessel, and leave the lads to do the
ploughin' and little chores; they've growed up now to be considerable
lumps of boys.' Well, away he'll go, hot foot (for I know the
critters better nor they know themselves), and he'll go and buy some
old wrack of a vessel, to carry plaister, and mortgage his farm to
pay for her. The vessel will jam him up tight for repairs and new
riggin', and the sheriff will soon pay him a visit (and he's a most
particular troublesome visitor that; if he once only gets a slight
how-d'ye-do acquaintance, he becomes so amazin' intimate arterwards,
a-comin' in without knockin', and a-runnin' in and out at all hours,
and makin' so plaguy free and easy, it's about as much as a bargain
if you can get clear of him afterwards). Benipt by the tide, and
benipt by the sheriff, the vessel makes short work with him. Well,
the upshot is, the farm gets neglected while Captain Cuddy is to sea
a-drogin' of plaister. The thistles run over his grain fields, his
cattle run over his hay land, the interest runs over its time, the
mortgage runs over all, and at last he jist runs over to the lines
to Eastport, himself. And when he finds himself there, a-standin' in
the street, near Major Pine's tavern, with his hands in his trouser
pockets, a-chasin' of a stray shillin' from one eend of 'em to
another, afore he can catch it to swap for a dinner, won't he look
like a ravin' distracted fool, that's all? He'll feel about as
streaked as I did once, a-ridin' down the St. John river. It was the
fore part of March--I'd been up to Fredericton a-speculatin' in a
small matter of lumber, and was returnin' to the city, a-gallopin'
along on one of old Buntin's horses, on the ice, and all at one I
missed my horse, he went right slap in and slid under the ice out of
sight as quick as wink, and there I was a-standin' all alone. Well,
says I, what the dogs has become of my horse and port mantle? they
have given me a proper dodge, that's a fact. That is a narrer squeak,
it fairly bangs all. Well, I guess he'll feel near about as ugly,
when he finds himself brought up all standin' that way; and it will
come so sudden on him, he'll say, why, it ain't possible I've lost
farm and vessel both, in tu tu's that way, but I don't see neither on
'em. Eastport is near about all made up of folks who have had to cut
and run for it.

"I was down there last fall, and who should I see but Thomas Rigby,
of Windsor. He knew me the minit he laid eyes upon me, for I had sold
him a clock the summer afore. (I got paid for it, though, for I seed
he had too many irons in the fire not to get some on 'em burnt; and
besides, I knew every fall and spring the wind set in for the lines
from Windsor very strong--a regular trade wind--a sort of monshune,
that blows all one way, for a long time without shiftin'.) Well, I
felt proper sorry for him, for he was a very clever man, and looked
cut up dreadfully, and amazin' down in the mouth. 'Why,' says I,
'possible? is that you, Mr. Rigby? why, as I am alive! if that ain't
my old friend--why, how do you do?' 'Hearty, I thank you,' said he,
'how be you?' 'Reasonable well, I give you thanks,' says I; 'but what
on airth brought you here?' 'Why,' says he, 'Mr. Slick, I couldn't
well avoid it; times are uncommon dull over the bay; there's nothin'
stirrin' there this year, and never will I'm thinkin'. No mortal soul
CAN live in Nova Scotia. I do believe that our country was made of a
Sunday night, arter all the rest of the univarse was finished. One
half of it has got all the ballast of Noah's ark thrown out there;
and the other half is eat up by bankers, lawyers, and other great
folks. All our money goes to pay salaries, and a poor man has no
chance at all.' 'Well,' says I, 'are you done up stock and fluke--a
total wrack?' 'No,' says he, 'I have two hundred pounds left yet to
the good, but my farm, stock and utensils, them young blood horses,
and the bran' new vessel I was a-buildin', are all gone to pot,
swept as clean as a thrashin' floor, that's a fact; Shark and Co.
took all.' 'Well,' says I, 'do you know the reason of all that
misfortin'?' 'Oh,' says he, 'any fool can tell that; bad times to be
sure--everything has turned agin the country, the banks have it all
their own way, and much good may it do 'em.' 'Well,' says I, 'what's
the reason the banks don't eat us up too, for I guess they are as
hungry as your'n be, and no way particular about their food neither;
considerable sharp set--cut like razors, you may depend. I'll tell
you,' says I, 'how you get that 'ere slide, that sent you heels over
head--YOU HAD TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE. You hadn't ought to have
taken hold of ship buildin' at all; you knowed nothin' about it. You
should have stuck to your farm, and your farm would have stuck to
you. Now go back, afore you spend your money, go up to Douglas,
and you'll buy as good a farm for two hundred pounds as what you
lost, and see to that, and to that only, and you'll grow rich. As
for banks, they can't hurt a country no great, I guess, except by
breakin', and I conceit there's no fear of your'n breakin'; and as
for lawyers, and them kind o' heavy coaches, give 'em half the road,
and if they run agin you, take the law of 'em. Undivided, unremittin'
attention paid to one thing, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred,
will ensure success; but you know the old sayin' about "TOO MANY
IRONS."

"'Now,' says I, 'Mr. Rigby, what o'clock is it?' 'Why,' says he,
'the moon is up a piece, I guess it's seven o'clock or thereabouts.
I suppose it's time to be a-movin'.' 'Stop,' says I, 'jist come with
me, I got a real nateral curiosity to show you--such a thing as you
never laid your eyes on in Nova Scotia, I know.' So we walked along
towards the beach. 'Now,' says I, 'look at that 'ere man, old Lunar,
and his son, a-sawin' plank by moonlight, for that 'ere vessel on
the stocks there; come agin tomorrow mornin', afore you can cleverly
discarn objects the matter of a yard or so afore you, and you'll
find 'em at it agin. I guess that vessel won't ruinate those folks.
They know their business and stick to it.' Well, away went Rigby,
considerably sulky (for he had no notion that it was his own fault,
he laid all the blame on the folks to Halifax), but I guess he was a
little grain posed, for back he went, and bought to Sowack, where I
hear he has a better farm than he had afore.

"I mind once we had an Irish gal as a dairy help; well, we had a
wicked devil of a cow, and she kicked over the milk pail, and in ran
Dora, and swore the Bogle did it. Jist so poor Rigby, he wouldn't
allow it was nateral causes, but laid it all to politics. Talkin'
of Dora, puts me in mind of the gals, for she warn't a bad-lookin'
heifer that. My! what an eye she had, and I consaited she had a
particular small foot and ankle too, when I helped her up once into
the hay mow, to sarch for eggs; but I can't exactly say, for when she
brought 'em in, mother shook her head and said it was dangerous; she
said she might fall through and hurt herself, and always sent old
Snow afterwards. She was a considerable of a long-headed woman,
was mother; she could see as far ahead as most folks. She warn't
born yesterday, I guess. But that 'ere proverb is true as respects
the gals too. Whenever you see one on 'em with a whole lot of
sweethearts, it's an even chance if she gets married to any on 'em.
One cools off, and another cools off, and before she brings any one
on 'em to the right weldin' heat, the coal is gone and the fire is
out. Then she may blow and blow till she's tired; she may blow up a
dust, but the deuce of a flame can she blow up agin, to save her soul
alive. I never see a clever lookin' gal in danger of that, I don't
long to whisper in her ear, You dear little critter, you, take care!
you have too many irons in the fire; some on 'em will get stone cold,
and t'other ones will get burnt so, they'll never be no good in
natur'."

No. XXXIII

Windsor and the Far West.

The next morning the Clockmaker proposed to take a drive round the
neighbourhood. "You hadn't ought," says he, "to be in a hurry; you
should see the VIcinity of this location; there ain't the beat of
it to be found anywhere."

While the servants were harnessing Old Clay, we went to see a new
bridge, which had recently been erected over the Avon River. "That,"
said he, "is a splendid thing. A New Yorker built it, and the folks
in St. John paid for it."

"You mean of Halifax," said I; "St. John is in the other province."

"I mean what I say," he replied, "and it is a credit to New
Brunswick. No, sir, the Halifax folks neither know nor keer much
about the country--they wouldn't take hold on it, and if they had
a waited for them, it would have been one while afore they got a
bridge, I tell you. They've no spirit, and plaguy little sympathy
with the country, and I'll tell you the reason on it. There are a
good many people there from other parts, and always have been, who
come to make money and nothin' else, who don't call it home, and
don't feel to home, and who intend to up killoch and off, as soon as
they have made their ned out of the Bluenoses. They have got about
as much regard for the country as a peddler has, who trudges along
with a pack on his back. He WALKS, 'cause he intends to RIDE at last;
TRUSTS, 'cause he intends to SUE at last; SMILES, 'cause he intends
to CHEAT at last; SAVES ALL, 'cause he intends to MOVE ALL at
last. It's actilly overrun with transient paupers, and transient
speculators, and these last grumble and growl like a bear with a sore
head, the whole blessed time, at everything; and can hardly keep a
civil tongue in their head, while they're fobbin' your money hand
over hand. These critters feel no interest in anything but cent per
cent; they deaden public spirit; they hain't got none themselves,
and they larf at it in others; and when you add their numbers to the
timid ones, the stingy ones, the ignorant ones, and the poor ones
that are to be found in every place, why the few smart-spirited ones
that's left are too few to do anything, and so nothin' is done. It
appears to me if I was a Bluenose I'd--but thank fortin' I ain't, so
I says nothin'; but there is somethin' that ain't altogether jist
right is this country, that's a fact.

"But what a country this Bay country is, isn't it? Look at that
medder, bean't it lovely? The prayer-eyes of Illanoy are the top of
the ladder with us, but these dykes take the shine off them by a
long chalk, that's sartin. The land in our far west, it is generally
allowed, can't be no better; what you plant is sure to grow and yield
well, and food is so cheap you can live there for half nothin'. But
it don't agree with us New England folks; we don't enjoy good health
there; and what in the world is the use of food, if you have such an
etarnal dyspepsy you can't digest it? A man can hardly live there
till next grass afore he is in the yaller leaf. Just like one of our
bran' new vessels built down in Maine, of best hackmatack, or what's
better still, of our real American live oak (and that's allowed to be
about the best in the world); send her off to the West Indies, and
let her lie there awhile, and the worms will riddle her bottom all
full of holes like a tin cullender, or a board with a grist of duck
shot through it, you wouldn't believe what a BORE they be. Well,
that's jist the case with the western climate. The heat takes the
solder out of the knees and elbows, weakens the joints and makes the
frame ricketty.

"Besides, we like the smell of the salt water; it seems kinder
nateral to us New Englanders. We can make more a-ploughin' of the
seas, than ploughin' of a prayer-eye. It would take a bottom near
about as long as Connecticut river, to raise wheat enough to buy the
cargo of a Nantucket whaler, or a Salem tea ship. And then to leave
one's folks, and naTIVE place where one was raised, halter broke,
and trained to go in gear, and exchange all the comforts of the Old
States for them are new ones, don't seem to go down well at all. Why
the very sight of the Yankee gals is good for sore eyes, the dear
little critters! They do look so scrumptious, I tell you, with their
cheeks bloomin' like a red rose budded on a white one, and their eyes
like Mrs. Adams's diamonds (that folks say shine as well in the dark
as in the light), neck like a swan, lips chock full of kisses--lick!
It fairly makes one's mouth water to think on 'em. But it's no
use talkin', they are just made critters that's a fact, full of
health and life and beauty. Now, to change them 'ere splendid
white water-lillies of Connecticut and Rhode Island for the
yaller crocusses of Illanoy, is what we don't like. It goes most
confoundedly agin the grain, I tell you. Poor critters, when they get
away back there, they grow as thin as a sawed lath; their little
peepers are as dull as a boiled codfish; their skin looks like yaller
fever, and they seem all mouth like a crocodile. And that's not the
worst of it neither, for when a woman begins to grow saller it's
all over with her; she's up a tree then you may depend, there's no
mistake. You can no more bring back her bloom than you can the colour
to a leaf the frost has touched in the fall. It's gone goose with
her, that's a fact. And that's not all, for the temper is plaguy apt
to change with the cheek too. When the freshness of youth is on the
move, the sweetness of temper is amazin' apt to start along with it.
A bilious cheek and a sour temper are like the Siamese twins, there's
a nateral cord of union atween them. The one is a sign board, with
the name of the firm written on it in big letters. He that don't
know this, can't read, I guess. It's no use to cry over spilt milk,
we all know, but it's easier said than done, that. Women kind, and
especially single folks, will take on dreadful at the fadin' of their
roses, and their frettin' only seems to make the thorns look sharper.
Our minister used to say to sister Sall (and when she was young she
was a real witch, a'most an everlastin' sweet girl), 'Sally,' he used
to say, 'now's the time to larn when you are young; store your mind
well, dear, and the fragrance will remain long arter the rose has
shed its leaves. The otter of roses is stronger than the rose, and a
plaguy sight more valuable.' Sall wrote it down; she said it warn't
a bad idee that; but father larfed, he said he guessed minister's
courtin' days warn't over, when he made such pretty speeches as
that 'ere to the gals. Now, who would go to expose his wife or his
darters, or himself, to the dangers of such a climate for the sake of
thirty bushels of wheat to the acre instead of fifteen? There seems a
kinder somethin' in us that rises in our throat when we think on it,
and won't let us. We don't like it. Give me the shore, and let them
that like the Far West go there, I say.

"This place is as fartile as Illanoy or Ohio, as healthy as any part
of the Globe, and right along side of the salt water; but the folks
want three things--INDUSTRY, ENTERPRISE, ECONOMY; these Bluenoses
don't know how to vally this location; only look at it, and see what
a place for bisness it is: the centre of the Province; the nateral
capital of the Basin of Minas, and part of the Bay of Fundy; the
great thoroughfare to St. John, Canada, and the United States; the
exports of lime, gypsum, freestone and grindstone; the dykes--but
it's no use talkin'; I wish we had it, that's all. Our folks are like
a rock maple tree: stick 'em in anywhere, but eend up and top down,
and they will take root and grow; but put 'em in a real good soil
like this, and give 'em a fair chance, and they will go ahead and
thrive right off, most amazin' fast, that's a fact. Yes, if we had
it, we would make another guess place of it from what it is. IN ONE
YEAR WE WOULD HAVE A RAILROAD TO HALIFAX, WHICH, UNLIKE THE STONE
THAT KILLED TWO BIRDS, WOULD BE THE MAKIN' OF BOTH PLACES. I often
tell the folks this, but all they can say is, 'Oh, we are too poor
and too young.' Says I, 'You put me in mind of a great long legged,
long tailed colt, father had. He never changed his name of colt as
long as he lived, and he was as old as the hills; and though he had
the best of feed, was as thin as a whippin' post. He was colt all his
days--always young--always poor; and young and poor you'll be, I
guess to the eend of the chapter.'"

On our return to the inn, the weather, which had been threatening
for some time past, became very tempestuous. It rained for three
successive days and the roads were almost impassible. To continue my
journey was wholly out of the question. I determined therefore, to
take a seat in the coach for Halifax, and defer until next year the
remaining part of my tour. Mr. Slick agreed to meet me here in June,
and to provide for me the same conveyance I had used from Amherst.
I look forward with much pleasure to our meeting again. His manner
and idiom were to me perfectly new and very amusing; while his good
sound sense, searching observation, and queer humour, rendered
his conversation at once valuable and interesting. There are many
subjects on which I should like to draw him out; and I promise myself
a fund of amusement in his remarks on the state of society and
manners at Halifax, and the machinery of the local government, on
both of which he appears to entertain many original and some very
just opinions.

As he took leave of me in the coach, he whispered, "Inside of your
great big cloak you will find wrapped up a box, containin' a thousand
real genuine first chop Havanas--no mistake--the clear thing. When
you smoke 'em think sometimes of your old companion, SAM SLICK THE
CLOCKMAKER."

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