The Attache; Or, Sam Slick In England(Fiscle Part-3) by Thomas Chandler Haliburton (english novels for beginners .txt) 📕

Sight Better Nor This. See What The Little Admiral Critter

Is About! Why He Is A Stampin' And A Jabbin' Of The Iron

Heel Of His Boot Into The Lifeless Body Of A Fallen Foe!

It's Horrid Disgustin',  And Ain't Overly Brave Nother;

And To Make Matters Wus,  As If This Warn't Bad Enough,

Them Four Emblem Figures,  Have Great Heavy Iron Chains

On 'Em,  And A Great Enormous Sneezer Of A Lion Has One

Part O' The Chain In Its Mouth,  And Is A-Growlin' And

A-Grinnin' And A-Snarling At 'Em Like Mad,  As Much As To

Say,  'If You Dare To Move The Sixteen Hundredth Part Of

An Inch,  I Will Fall To And Make Mincemeat Of You,  In

Less Than Half No Time. I Don't Think There Never Was

Nothin' So Bad As This,  Ever Seen Since The Days Of Old

Daddy Adam Down To This Present Blessed Day,  I Don't

Indeed. So Don't Come For To Go,  Squire,  To Tarnt Me With

The Eagle And The Anchor No More,  For I Don't Like It A

Bit; You'd Better Look To Your '_Nelson Monument_' And

Let Us Alone. So Come Now!"

Amidst Much That Was Coarse,  And More That Was Exaggerated,

There Was Still Some Foundation For The Remarks Of The

Attache.

"You Arrogate A Little Too Much To Yourselves," I Observed,

"In Considering The United States As All America. At The

Time These Brilliant Deeds Were Achieved,  Which This

Monument Is Intended To Commemorate,  The Spaniards Owned

A Very Much Greater Portion Of The Transatlantic Continent

Than You Now Do,  And Their Navy Composed A Part Of The

Hostile Fleets Which Were Destroyed By Lord Nelson. At

That Time,  Also,  You Had No Navy,  Or At All Events,  So

Few Ships,  As Scarcely To Deserve The Name Of One; Nor

Had You Won For Yourselves That High Character,  Which

You Now So Justly Enjoy,  For Skill And Gallantry. I Agree

With You,  However,  In Thinking The Monument Is In Bad

Taste. The Name Of Lord Nelson Is Its Own Monument. It

Will Survive When These Perishable Structures,  Which The

Pride Or The Gratitude Of His Countrymen Have Erected To

Perpetuate His Fame,  Shall Have Mouldered Into Dust,  And

Been Forgotten For Ever. If Visible Objects Are Thought

Necessary To Suggest The Mention Of His Name Oftener That

It Would Otherwise Occur To The Mind,  They Should Be Such

As To Improve The Taste,  As Well As Awaken The Patriotism

Of The Beholder. As An American,  There Is Nothing To

Which You Have A Right To Object,  But As A Critic,  I

Admit That There Is Much That You Cannot Approve In The

'_Nelson Monument_.'"

On The Tenth Day After We Landed At Liverpool,  We Arrived

In London And Settled Ourselves Very Comfortably In

Lodgings At No. 202,  Piccadilly,  Where Every Possible

Attention Was Paid To Us By Our Landlord And His Wife,

Mr. And Mrs. Weeks. We Performed The Journey In A

Post-Chaise,  Fearing That The Rapid Motion Of A Rail Car

Might Have An Unpleasant Effect Upon The Health Of Mr.

Hope Well.

Of The Little Incidents Of Travel That Occurred To Us,

Or Of The Various Objects Of Attraction On The Route,  It

Is Not My Intention To Give Any Account. Our Journey Was

Doubtless Much Like The Journeys Of Other People,  And

Every Thing Of Local Interest Is To Be Found In Guide

Books,  Or Topographical Works,  Which Are Within The Reach

Of Every Body.

This Book,  However Imperfect Its Execution May Be,  Is

Altogether Of Another Kind. I Shall Therefore Pass Over

This And Other Subsequent Journeys,  With No Other Remark,

Than That They Were Performed,  Until Something Shall

Occur Illustrative Of The Objects I Have In View.

On This Occasion I Shall Select From My Diary A Description

Of The Labourer's Cottage,  And The Parish Church; Because

The One Shews The Habits,  Tastes,  And Condition Of The

Poor Of This Country,  In Contrast With That Of America--And

The Other,  The Relative Means Of Religious Instruction,

And Its Effect On The Lower Orders.

On The Saturday Morning,  While Preparing To Resume Our

Journey,  Which Was Now Nearly Half Completed,  Mr. Hopewell

Expressed A Desire To Remain At The Inn Where We Were,

Until The Following Monday. As The Day Was Fine,  He Said

He Should Like To Ramble About The Neighbourhood,  And

Enjoy The Fresh Air. His Attention Was Soon Drawn To Some

Very Beautiful New Cottages.

"These," Said He,  "Are No Doubt Erected At The Expense,

And For The Gratification Of Some Great Landed Proprietor.

They Are Not The Abodes Of Ordinary Labourers,  But Designed

For Some Favoured Dependant Or Aged Servant. They Are

Expensive Toys,  But Still They Are Not Without Their Use.

They Diffuse A Taste Among The Peasantry--They Present

Them With Models,  Which,  Though They Cannot Imitate In

Costliness Of Material Or Finish,  They Can Copy In

Arrangement,  And In That Sort Of Decoration,  Which Flowers,

And Vines,  And Culture,  And Care Can Give. Let Us Seek

One Which Is Peculiarly The Poor Man's Cottage,  And Let

Us Go In And See Who And What They Are,  How They Live,

And Above All,  How They Think And Talk. Here Is A Lane,

Let Us Follow It,  Till We Come To A Habitation."

We Turned Into A Grass Road,  Bounded On Either Side By

A High Straggling Thorn Hedge. At Its Termination Was An

Irregular Cottage With A Thatched Roof,  Which Projected

Over The Windows In Front. The Latter Were Latticed With

Diamond-Shaped Panes Of Glass,  And Were Four In Number,

One On Each Side Of The Door And Two Just Under The Roof.

The Door Was Made Of Two Transverse Parts,  The Upper Half

Of Which Was Open. On One Side Was A Basket-Like Cage

Containing A Magpie,  And On The Other,  A Cat Lay Extended

On A Bench,  Dozing In The Warmth Of The Sun. The Blue

Smoke,  Curling Upwards From A Crooked Chimney,  Afforded

Proof Of Some One Being Within.

We Therefore Opened A Little Gate,  And Proceeded Through

A Neat Garden,  In Which Flowers And Vegetables Were

Intermixed. It Had A Gay Appearance From The Pear,  Apple,

Thorn And Cherry Being All In Full Bloom. We Were Received

At The Door By A Middle-Aged Woman,  With The Ruddy Glow

Of Health On Her Cheeks,  And Dressed In Coarse,  Plain,

But Remarkably Neat And Suitable,  Attire. As This Was A

Cottage Selected At Random,  And Visited Without Previous

Intimation Of Our Intention,  I Took Particular Notice Of

Every Thing I Saw,  Because I Regarded Its Appearance As

A Fair Specimen Of Its Constant And Daily State.

Mr. Hopewell Needed No Introduction. His Appearance Told

What He Was. His Great Stature And Erect Bearing,  His

Intelligent And Amiable Face,  His Noble Forehead,  His

Beautiful Snow-White Locks,  His Precise And Antique Dress,

His Simplicity Of Manner,  Every Thing,  In Short,  About

Him,  At Once Attracted Attention And Conciliated Favour.

Mrs. Hodgins,  For Such Was Her Name,  Received Us With

That Mixture Of Respect And Ease,  Which Shewed She Was

Accustomed To Converse With Her Superiors. She Was

Dressed In A Blue Homespun Gown,  (The Sleeves Of Which

Were Drawn Up To Her Elbows And The Lower Part Tucked

Through Her Pocket-Hole,) A Black Stuff Petticoat,  Black

Stockings And Shoes With The Soles More Than Half An Inch

Thick. She Wore Also,  A Large White Apron,  And A Neat

And By No Means Unbecoming Cap. She Informed Us Her

Husband Was A Gardener's Labourer,  That Supported His

Family By His Daily Work,  And By The Proceeds Of The

Little Garden Attached To The House,  And Invited Us To

Come In And Sit Down.

The Apartment Into Which The Door Opened,  Was A Kitchen

Or Common Room. On One Side,  Was A Large Fire-Place,

The Mantel-Piece Or Shelf,  Of Which Was Filled With Brass

Candlesticks,  Large And Small,  Some Queer Old-Fashioned

Lamps,  Snuffers And Trays,  Polished To A Degree Of

Brightness,  That Was Dazzling. A Dresser Was Carried

Round The Wall,  Filled With Plates And Dishes,  And

Underneath Were Exhibited The Ordinary Culinary Utensils,

In Excellent Order. A Small Table Stood Before The Fire,

With A Cloth Of Spotless Whiteness Spread Upon It,  As If

In Preparation For A Meal. A Few Stools Completed The

Furniture.

Passing Through This Place,  We Were Shewn Into The Parlour,

A Small Room With A Sanded Floor. Against The Sides Were

Placed Some Old,  Dark,  And Highly Polished Chairs,  Of

Antique Form And Rude Workmanship. The Walls Were Decorated

With Several Coloured Prints,  Illustrative Of The Pilgrim's

Progress And Hung In Small Red Frames Of About Six Inches

Square. The Fire-Place Was Filled With Moss,  And Its

Mantel-Shelf Had Its China Sheep And Sheperdesses,  And

A Small Looking-Glass,  The Whole Being Surmounted By A

Gun Hung Transversely. The Lord's Prayer And The Ten

Commandments Worked In Worsted,  Were Suspended In A Wooden

Frame Between The Windows,  Which Had White Muslin Blinds,

And Opened On Hinges,  Like A Door. A Cupboard Made To

Fit The Corner,  In A Manner To Economise Room,  Was Filled

With China Mugs,  Cups And Saucers Of Different Sizes And

Patterns,  Some Old Tea-Spoons And A Plated Tea-Pot.

There Was A Small Table Opposite To The Window,  Which

Contained Half A Dozen Books. One Of These Was Large,

Handsomely Bound,  And Decorated With Gilt Edged Paper.

Mr. Hopewell Opened It,  And Expressed Great Satisfaction

At Finding Such An Edition Of A Bible In Such A House.

Mrs. Hodgins Explained That This Was A Present From Her

Eldest Son,  Who Had Thus Appropriated His First Earnings

To The Gratification Of His Mother.

"Creditable To You Both,  Dear," Said Mr. Hopewell: "To

You,  Because It Is A Proof How Well You Have Instructed

Him; And To Him,  That He So Well Appreciated And So

Faithfully