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

And It Warn't _Man's_ House Nother.

"I Don't Know Whether It Was That Dear Old Man's Preachin',

And He Is A Brick Ain't He? Or,  Whether It's The Place,

Or The Place And Him Together; But Somehow,  Or Somehow

Else,  I Feel More Serious To-Day Than Common,  That's A

Fact. The People Too Are All So Plain Dressed,  So Decent,

So Devout And No Show,  It Looks Like Airnest.

"The Only Fashionable People Here Was The Squire's

Sarvants; And They _Did_ Look Genteel,  And No Mistake.

Elegant Men,  And Most Splendid Lookin' Women They Was

Too. I Thought It Was Some Noble,  Or Aid's,  Or Big Bug's

Family; But Mrs. Hodgins Says They Are The People Of The

Squire's About Here,  The Butlers And Ladies' Maids; And

Superfine Uppercrust Lookin' Folks They Be Too.

"Then Every Body Walks Here,  Even Squire Merton And His

Splendiriferous Galls Walked Like The Poorest Of The

Poor,  There Was No Carriage To The Door,  Nor No Hosses

Hitched To The Gate,  Or Tied To The Back Of Waggons,  Or

People Gossipin' Outside; But All Come In And Minded

Their Business,  As If It Was Worth Attendin' To; And Then

Arter Church Was Finished Off,  I Liked The Way The Big

Folks Talked To The Little Folks,  And Enquired Arter

Their Families. It May He Actin',  But If It Is,  It's

Plaguy Good Actin',  I _Tell_ You.

"I'm A Thinkin' It Tante A Rael Gentleman That's Proud,

But Only A Hop. You've Seen A Hop Grow,  Hante You? It

Shoots Up In A Night,  The Matter Of Several Inches Right

Out Of The Ground,  As Stiff As A Poker,  Straight Up And

Down,  With A Spick And Span New Green Coat And A Red

Nose,  As Proud As Lucifer. Well,  I Call All Upstarts

'Hops,' And I Believe It's Only "Hops" Arter All That's

Scorny.

"Yes,  I Kinder Like An English Country Church,  Only It's

A Leetle,  Jist A Leetle Too Old Fashioned For Me. Folks

Look A Leetle Too Much Like Grandfather Slick,  And The

Boys Used To Laugh At Him,  And Call Him A Benighted

Britisher. Perhaps That's The Cause Of My Prejudice,  And

Yet I Must Say,  British Or No British,  It Tante Bad,  Is

It?

"The Meetin' Houses 'Our Side Of The Water,' No Matter

Where,  But Away Up In The Back Country,  How Teetotally

Different They Be! Bean't They? A Great Big,  Handsome

Wooden House,  Chock Full Of Winders,  Painted So White As

To Put Your Eyes Out,  And So Full Of Light Within,  That

Inside Seems All Out-Doors,  And No Tree Nor Bush,  Nor

Nothin' Near It But The Road Fence,  With A Man To Preach

In It,  That Is So Strict And Straight-Laced He Will Do

_Any Thing_ Of A Week Day,  And _Nothin'_ Of A Sunday.

Congregations Are Rigged Out In Their Spic And Span Bran

New Clothes,  Silks,  Satins,  Ribbins,  Leghorns,  Palmetters,

Kiss-Me-Quicks,  And All Sorts Of Rigs,  And The Men In

Their Long-Tail-Blues,  Pig-Skin Pads Calf-Skin Boots And

Sheep-Skin Saddle-Cloths. Here They Publish A Book Of

Fashions,  There They Publish 'Em In Meetin'; And Instead

Of A Pictur,  Have The Rael Naked Truth.

"Preacher There Don't Preach Morals,  Because That's

Churchy,  And He Don't Like Neither The Church Nor Its

Morals; But He Preaches Doctrine,  Which Doctrine Is,

There's No Christians But Themselves. Well,  The Fences

Outside Of The Meetin' House,  For A Quarter Of A Mile Or

So,  Each Side Of The House,  And Each Side Of The Road,

Ain't To Be Seen For Hosses And Waggons,  And Gigs Hitched

There; Poor Devils Of Hosses That Have Ploughed,  Or

Hauled,  Or Harrowed,  Or Logged,  Or Snaked,  Or Somethin'

Or Another All The Week,  And Rest Of A Sunday By Alterin'

Their Gait,  As A Man Rests On A Journey By A Alterin' Of

His Sturup,  A Hole Higher Or A Hole Lower. Women That

Has All Their Finery On Can't Walk,  And Some Things Is

Ondecent. It's As Ondecent For A Woman To Be Seen Walkin'

To Meetin',  As It Is To Be Caught At--What Shall I

Say?--Why Caught At Attendin' To Her Business To Home.

"The Women Are The Fust And The Last To Meetin'; Fine

Clothes Cost Sunthin',  And If They Ain't Showed,  What's

The Use Of Them? The Men Folk Remind Me Of The Hosses To

Sable Island. It's A Long Low Sand-Bank On Nova Scotia

Coast,  Thirty Miles Long And Better Is Sable Island,  And

Not Much Higher Than The Water. It Has Awful Breakers

Round It,  And Picks Up A Shockin' Sight Of Vessels Does

That Island. Government Keeps A Super-Intender There And

Twelve Men To Save Wracked People,  And There Is A Herd

Of Three Hundred Wild Hosses Kept There For Food For

Saved Crews That Land There,  When Provision Is Short,  Or

For Super-Intender To Catch And Break For Use,  As The

Case May Be.

"Well,  If He Wants A New Hoss,  He Mounts His Folks On

His Tame Hosses,  And Makes A Dash Into The Herd,  And Runs

A Wild Feller Down,  Lugs Him Off To The Stable-Yard,  And

Breaks Him In,  In No Time. A Smart Little Hoss He Is Too,

But He Always Has An _Eye To Natur'_ Arterwards; _The

Change Is Too Sudden_,  And He'll Off,  If He Gets A Chance.

"Now That's The Case With These Country Congregations,

We Know Where. The Women And Old Tame Men Folk Are,

Inside; The Young Wild Boys And Ontamed Men Folk Are On

The Fences,  Outside A Settin' On The Top Rail,  A Speculatin'

On Times Or Marriages,  Or Markets,  Or What Not,  Or A

Walkin' Round And Studyin' Hoss Flesh,  Or A Talkin' Of

A Swap To Be Completed Of A Monday,  Or A Leadin' Off Of

Two Hosses On The Sly Of The Old Deacon's,  Takin' A Lick

Of A Half Mile On A Bye Road,  Right Slap A-Head,  And

Swearin' The Hosses Had Got Loose,  And They Was Just A

Fetchin' Of Them Back.

"'Whose Side-Saddle Is This?'

"'Slim Sall Dowdie's.'

"'Shift It On To The Deacon's Beast,  And Put His On To

Her'n And Tie The Two Critters Together By The Tail. This

Is Old Mother Pitcher's Waggon; Her Hoss Kicks Like A

Grasshopper. Lengthen The Breechin',  And When Aunty

Starts,  He'll Make All Fly Agin Into Shavin's,  Like A

Plane. Who Is That A Comin' Along Full Split There A

Horseback?'

"'It's Old Booby's Son,  Tom. Well,  It's The Old Man's

Shaft Hoss; Call Out Whoh! And He'll Stop Short,  And

Pitch Tom Right Over His Head On The Broad Of His Back,

Whap.

"Tim Fish,  And Ned Pike,  Come Scale Up Here With Us Boys

On The Fence.' The Weight Is Too Great; Away Goes The

Fence,  And Away Goes The Boys,  All Flyin'; Legs,  Arms,

Hats,  Poles,  Stakes,  Withes,  And All,  With An Awful Crash

And An Awful Shout; And Away Goes Two Or Three Hosses

That Have Broke Their Bridles,  And Off Home Like Wink.

"Out Comes Elder Sourcrout. 'Them As Won't Come In Had

Better Stay To Home,' Sais He. And When He Hears That

Them As Are In Had Better Stay In When They Be There,  He

Takes The Hint And Goes Back Agin. 'Come,  Boys,  Let's Go

To Black Stump Swamp And Sarch For Honey. We Shall Be

Back In Time To Walk Home With The Galls From Night

Meetin',  By Airly Candle-Light. Let's Go.'

"Well,  When They Want To Recruit The Stock Of Tame Ones

Inside Meetin',  They Sarcumvent Some O' These Wild Ones

Outside; Make A Dash On 'Em,  Catch 'Em,  Dip 'Em,  And Give

'Em A Name; For All Sects Don't Always Baptise 'Em As We

Do,  When Children,  But Let 'Em Grow Up Wild In The Herd

Till They Are Wanted. They Have Hard Work To Break 'Em

In,  For They Are Smart Ones,  That's A Fact,  But,  Like

The Hosses Of Sable Island,  They Have Always _An Eye To

Natur'_ Arterwards; _The Change Is Too Sudden_,  You Can't

Trust 'Em,  At Least I Never See One As _I_ Could,  That's

All.

"Well,  When They Come Out O' Meetin',  Look At The Dignity

And Sanctity,  And Pride O' Humility O' The Tame Old Ones.

Read Their Faces. 'How Does The Print Go?' Why This Way,

'I Am A Sinner,  At Least I Was Once,  But Thank Fortin'

I Ain't Like You,  You Onconverted,  Benighted,

Good-For-Nothin' Critter You.' Read The Ontamed One's

Face,  What's The Print There? Why It's This. As Soon As

He Sees Over-Righteous Stalk By Arter That Fashion,  It

Says,  'How Good We Are,  Ain't We? Who Wet His Hay To

The Lake Tother Day,  On His Way To Market,  And Made Two

Tons Weigh Two Tons And A Half? You'd Better Look As If

Butter Wouldn't Melt In Your Mouth,  Hadn't You,  Old

Sugar-Cane?'

"Now Jist Foller Them Two Rulin' Elders,  Sourcrout And

Coldslaugh; They Are Plaguy Jealous Of Their Neighbour,

Elder Josh Chisel,  That Exhorted To-Day. 'How Did You

Like Brother Josh,  To-Day?' Says Sourcrout,  A Utterin'

Of It Through His Nose. Good Men Always Speak Through

The Nose. It's What Comes Out O' The Mouth That Defiles

A Man; But There Is No Mistake In The Nose; It's The

Porch Of The Temple That. 'How Did You Like Brother Josh?'

"'Well,  He Wasn't Very Peeowerful.'

"'Was He Ever Peeowerful?'

"'Well,  When A Boy,  They Say He Was Considerable Sum As

A Wrastler.'

"Sourcrout Won't Larf,  Because It's Agin Rules; But He

Gig Goggles Like A Turkey-Cock,  And Says He,  'It's For

Ever And Ever The Same Thing With Brother Josh. He Is

Like An Over-Shot Mill,  One Everlastin' Wishy-Washy

Stream.'

"'When The Water Ain't Quite Enough To Turn The Wheel,

And Only Spatters,  Spatters,  Spatters,' Says Coldslaugh.

"Sourcrout Gig Goggles Again,  As If He Was Swallerin'

Shelled Corn Whole. 'That Trick Of Wettin' The Hay,' Says