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

He,  'To Make It Weigh Heavy,  Warn't Cleverly Done; It

Ain't Pretty To Be Caught; It's Only Bunglers Do That.'

"'He Is So Fond Of Temperance,' Says Coldslaugh,  'He

Wanted To Make His Hay Jine Society,  And Drink Cold Water,

Too.'

"Sourcrout Gig Goggles Ag'in,  Till He Takes A Fit Of The

Asmy,  Sets Down On A Stump,  Claps Both Hands On His Sides,

And Coughs,  And Coughs Till He Finds Coughing No Joke No

More. Oh Dear,  Dear Convarted Men,  Though They Won't Larf

Themselves,  Make Others Larf The Worst Kind,  Sometimes;

Don't They?

"I Do Believe,  On My Soul,  If Religion Was Altogether

Left To The Voluntary In This World,  It Would Die A

Nateral Death; Not That _Men Wouldn't Support It_,  But

Because It Would Be Supported _Under False Pretences_.

Truth Can't Be Long Upheld By Falsehood. Hypocrisy Would

Change Its Features,  And Intolerance Its Name; And Religion

Would Soon Degenerate Into A Cold,  Intriguing,  Onprincipled,

Marciless Superstition,  That's A Fact.

"Yes,  On The Whole,  I Rather Like These Plain,  Decent,

Onpretendin',  Country Churches Here,  Although T'other

Ones Remind Me Of Old Times,  When I Was An Ontamed One

Too. Yes,  I Like An English Church; But As For Minister

Pretendin' For To Come For To Go For To Preach Agin That

Beautiful Long-Haired Young Rebel,  Squire Absalom,  For

'Stealin' The Hearts Of The People,' Why It's Rather

Takin' The Rag Off The Bush,  Ain't It?

"Tell You What,  Squire; There Ain't A Man In Their Whole

Church Here,  From Lord Canter Berry That Preaches Afore

The Queen,  To Parson Homily That Preached Afore Us,  Nor

Never Was,  Nor Never Will Be Equal To Old Minister Hisself

For 'Stealin' The Hearts Of The People.'"

In The Course Of Our Journey,  The Conversation Turned

Upon The Several Series Of The "Clockmaker" I Had Published,

And Their Relative Merits. Mr. Slick Appeared To Think

They All Owed Their Popularity Mainly To The Freshness

And Originality Of Character Incidental To A New Country.

"You Are In The Wrong Pew Here,  Squire," Said He; "You

Are,  Upon My Soul. If You Think To Sketch The English In

A Way Any One Will Stop To Look At,  You Have Missed A

Figur',  That's All. You Can't Do It Nohow; You Can't Fix

It. There Is No Contrasts Here,  No Variation Of Colours,

No Light And Shade,  No Nothin'. What Sort Of A Pictur'

Would Straight Lines Of Any Thing Make? Take A Parcel Of

Sodjers,  Officers And All,  And Stretch 'Em Out In A Row,

And Paint 'Em,  And Then Engrave 'Em,  And Put It Into One

Of Our Annuals,  And See How Folks Would Larf,  And Ask,

'What Boardin'-School Gall Did That? Who Pulled Her Up

Out Of Standin' Corn,  And Sot Her Up On Eend For An

Artist? They'd Say.

"There Is Nothin' Here To Take Hold On. It's So Plaguy

Smooth And High Polished,  The Hands Slip Off; You Can't

Get A Grip Of It. Now,  Take Lord First Chop,  Who Is The

Most Fashionable Man In London,  Dress Him In The Last

Cut Coat,  Best Trowsers,  French Boots,  Paris Gloves,  And

Grape-Vine-Root Cane,  Don't Forget His Whiskers,  Or

Mous-Stache,  Or Breast-Pins,  Or Gold Chains,  Or Any Thing;

And What Have You Got?--A Tailor's Print-Card,  And Nothin'

Else.

"Take A Lady,  And Dress Her In A'most A Beautiful Long

Habit,  Man's Hat,  Stand-Up Collar And Stock,  Clap A

Beautiful Little Cow-Hide Whip In Her Hand,  And Mount

Her On A'most A Splendiferous White Hoss,  With Long Tail

And Flowin' Mane,  A Rairin' And A Cavortin' Like Mad,

And A Champin' And A Chawin' Of Its Bit,  And Makin' The

Froth Fly From Its Mouth,  A Spatterin' And White-Spottin'

Of Her Beautiful Trailin',  Skirt Like Any Thing. And What

Have You Got?--Why A Print Like The Posted Hand-Bills Of

A Circus.

"Now Spit On Your Fingers,  And Rub Lord First Chop Out

Of The Slate,  And Draw An Irish Labourer,  With His Coat

Off,  In His Shirt-Sleeves,  With His Breeches Loose And

Ontied At The Knees,  His Yarn Stockings And Thick Shoes

On; A Little Dudeen In His Mouth,  As Black As Ink And As

Short As Nothin'; His Hat With Devilish Little Rim And

No Crown To It,  And A Hod On His Shoulders,  Filled With

Bricks,  And Him Lookin' As If He Was A Singin' Away As

Merry As A Cricket:

   When I Was Young And Unmarried,

      My Shoes They Were New.

   But Now I Am Old And Am Married,

      The Water Runs Troo,'

Do That,  And You Have Got Sunthin' Worth Lookin' At,

Quite Pictures-Quee,  As Sister Sall Used To Say. And

Because Why? _You Have Got Sunthin' Nateral_.

"Well,  Take The Angylyferous Dear A Horseback,  And Rub

Her Out,  Well,  I Won't Say That Nother,  For I'm Fond Of

The Little Critturs,  Dressed Or Not Dressed For Company,

Or Any Way They Like,  Yes,  I Like Woman-Natur',  I Tell

_You_. But Turn Over The Slate,  And Draw On T'other Side

On't An Old Woman,  With A Red Cloak,  And A Striped

Petticoat,  And A Poor Pinched-Up,  Old,  Squashed-In Bonnet

On,  Bendin' Forrard,  With A Staff In Her Hand,  A Leadin'

Of A Donkey That Has A Pair Of Yaller Willow Saddle-Bags

On,  With Coloured Vegetables And Flowers,  And Red Beet-Tops,

A Goin' To Market. And What Have You Got? Why A Pictur'

Worth Lookin' At,  Too. Why?--_Because It's Natur'_.

"Now,  Look Here,  Squire; Let Copley,  If He Was Alive,

But He Ain't; And It's A Pity Too,  For It Would Have

Kinder Happified The Old Man,  To See His Son In The House

Of Lords,  Wouldn't It? Squire Copley,  You Know,  Was A

Boston Man; And A Credit To Our Great Nation Too. P'raps

Europe Never Has Dittoed Him Since.

"Well,  If He Was Above Ground Now,  Alive,  And Stirrin',

Why Take Him And Fetch Him To An Upper Crust London Party;

And Sais You,  'Old Tenor,' Sais You,  'Paint All Them

Silver Plates,  And Silver Dishes,  And Silver Coverlids,

And What Nots; And Then Paint Them Lords With Their

_Stars_,  And Them Ladies' (Lord If He Would Paint Them

With Their Garters,  Folks Would Buy The Pictur,  Cause

That's Nateral) 'Them Ladies With Their Jewels,  And Their

Sarvants With Their Liveries,  As Large As Life,  And Twice

As Nateral.'

"Well,  He'd Paint It,  If You Paid Him For It,  That's A

Fact; For There Is No Better Bait To Fish For Us Yankees

Arter All,  Than A Dollar. That Old Boy Never Turned Up

His Nose At A Dollar,  Except When He Thought He Ought To

Get Two. And If He Painted It,  It Wouldn't Be Bad,  I

Tell _You_.

"'Now,' Sais You,  'You Have Done High Life,  Do Low Life

For Me,  And I Will Pay You Well. I'll Come Down Hansum,

And Do The Thing Genteel,  You May Depend. Then,' Sais

You,  'Put In For A Back Ground That Noble,  Old Noah-Like

Lookin' Wood,  That's As Dark As Comingo. Have You Done?'

Sais You.

"'I Guess So,' Sais He.

"'Then Put In A Brook Jist In Front Of It,  Runnin' Over

Stones,  And Foamin' And A Bubblin' Up Like Any Thing.'

"'It's In,' Sais He.

"'Then Jab Two Forked Sticks In The Ground Ten Feet Apart,

This Side Of The Brook,' Sais You,  'And Clap A Pole Across

Atween The Forks. Is That Down?' Sais You.

"'Yes,' Sais He.

"'Then,' Sais You,  'Hang A Pot On That Horizontal Pole,

Make A Clear Little Wood Fire Onderneath; Paint Two

Covered Carts Near It. Let An Old Hoss Drink At The

Stream,  And Two Donkeys Make A Feed Off A Patch Of

Thistles. Have-You Stuck That In?'

"'Stop A Bit,' Says He,  'Paintin' An't Quite As Fast Done

As Writin'. Have A Little Grain Of Patience,  Will You?

It's Tall Paintin',  Makin' The Brush Walk At That Price.

Now There You Are,' Sais He. 'What's Next? But,  Mind

I've Most Filled My Canvass; It Will Cost You A Pretty

Considerable Penny,  If You Want All Them Critters In,

When I Come To Cypher All The Pictur Up,  And Sumtotalize

The Whole Of It.'

"'Oh! Cuss The Cost!' Sais You. 'Do You Jist Obey Orders,

And Break Owners,  That's All You Have To Do,  Old Loyalist.'

"'Very Well,' Sais He,  'Here Goes.'

"'Well,  Then,' Sais You,  'Paint A Party Of Gipsies There;

Mind Their Different Coloured Clothes,  And Different

Attitudes,  And Different Occupations. Here A Man Mendin'

A Harness,  There A Woman Pickin' A Stolen Fowl,  There A

Man Skinnin' A Rabbit,  There A Woman With Her Petticoat

Up,  A Puttin' Of A Patch In It. Here Two Boys A Fishin',

And There A Little Gall A Playin' With A Dog,  That's A

Racin' And A Yelpin',  And A Barkin' Like Mad.'

"'Well,  When He's Done,' Sais You,  'Which Pictur Do You

Reckon Is The Best Now,  Squire Copely? Speak Candid For

I Want To Know,  And I Ask You Now As A Countryman.'

"'Well' He'll Jist Up And Tell You,  'Mr. Poker,' Sais

He,  'Your Fashionable Party Is The Devil,  That's A Fact.

Man Made The Town,  But God Made The Country. Your Company

Is As Formal,  And As Stiff,  And As Oninterestin' As A

Row Of Poplars; But Your Gipsy Scene Is Beautiful,  Because

It's Nateral. It Was Me Painted Old Chatham's Death In

The House Of Lords; Folks Praised It A Good Deal; But It

Was No Great Shakes,  _There Was No Natur' In It_. The

Scene Was Real,  The Likenesses Was Good,  And There Was

Spirit In It,  But Their Damned Uniform Toggery,  Spiled

The Whole Thing--It Was Artificial,  And Wanted Life And

Natur. Now,  Suppose,  Such A Thing In Congress,  Or Suppose

Some Feller Skiverd The Speaker With A Bowie Knife As

Happened To Arkansaw,  If I Was To Paint It,  It Would Be

Beautiful. Our Free And Enlightened People Is So Different,

So Characteristic And Peculiar,  It Would Give A Great

Field To A Painter. To Sketch The Different Style Of Man

Of Each State,  So That Any Citizen Would Sing Right Out;

Heavens And Airth If That Don't Beat All! Why,  As I Am

A Livin' Sinner That's The Hoosier Of Indiana,  Or The

Sucker Of Illinois,  Or The Puke Of Missouri,  Or The Bucky

Of Ohio,  Or The Red Horse Of Kentucky,  Or The Mudhead Of

Tennesee,  Or The Wolverine Of Michigan Or The Eel Of New

England,  Or The Corn Cracker Of Virginia! That's The

Thing That Gives Inspiration. That's The Glass