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

Out The Napkin,  And Jist As He Went To Take It,  I Gave

Him A Sly Poke In The Bread Basket,  That Made Him Bend

Forward And Say 'Eugh.' 'Wake Snakes,  And Walk Your

Chalks,' Sais I,  'Will You?' And Down I Pops On The Fust

Empty Chair. Lord,  How White He Looked About The Gills

Arterwards; I Thought I Should A Split When I Looked At

Him. Guess He'll Know An Attache When He Sees Him Next

Time.

"Well,  There Is Dinner. One Sarvice Of Plate Is Like

Another Sarvice Of Plate,  Any One Dozen Of Sarvants Are

Like Another Dozen Of Sarvants,  Hock Is Hock,  And Champaigne

Is Champaigne--And One Dinner Is Like Another Dinner.

The Only Difference Is In The Thing Itself That's Cooked.

Veal,  To Be Good,  Must Look Like Any Thing Else But Veal;

You Mustn't Know It When You See It,  Or It's Vulgar;

Mutton Must Be Incog. Too; Beef Must Have A Mask On; Any

Thin' That Looks Solid,  Take A Spoon To; Any Thin' That

Looks Light,  Cut With A Knife; If A Thing Looks Like

Fish,  You May Take Your Oath It Is Flesh; And If It Seems

Rael Flesh,  It's Only Disguised,  For It's Sure To Be

Fish; Nothin' Must Be Nateral,  Natur Is Out Of Fashion

Here. This Is A Manufacturin' Country,  Everything Is

Done By Machinery,  And That That Ain't Must Be Made To

Look Like It; And I Must Say,  The Dinner Machinery Is

Parfect.

"Sarvants Keep Goin' Round And Round In A Ring,  Slow,

But Sartain,  And For Ever,  Like The Arms Of A Great Big

Windmill,  Shovin' Dish After Dish,  In Dum Show,  Afore

Your Nose,  For You To See How You Like The Flavour; When

Your Glass Is Empty It's Filled; When Your Eyes Is Off

Your Plate,  It's Off Too,  Afore You Can Say Nick Biddle.

"Folks Speak Low Here; Steam Is Valuable,  And Noise

Onpolite. They Call It A "_Subdued Tone_." Poor Tame

Things,  They Are Subdued,  That's A Fact; Slaves To An

Arbitrary Tyrannical Fashion That Don't Leave 'Em No Free

Will At All. You Don't Often Speak Across A Table Any

More Nor You Do Across A Street,  But P'raps Mr. Somebody

Of West Eend Of Town,  Will Say To A Mr. Nobody From West

Eend Of America: 'Niagara Is Noble.' Mr. Nobody Will

Say,  'Guess It Is,  It Got Its Patent Afore The "Norman

_Conquest_," I Reckon,  And Afore The "_Subdued_ Tone"

Come In Fashion.' Then Mr. Somebody Will Look Like An

Oracle,  And Say,  'Great Rivers And Great Trees In America.

You Speak Good English.' And Then He Will Seem Surprised,

But Not Say It,  Only You Can Read The Words On His Face,

'Upon My Soul,  You Are A'most As White As Us.'

"Dinner Is Over. It's Time For Ladies To Cut Stick. Aunt

Goosey Looks At The Next Oldest Goosey,  And Ducks Her

Head,  As If She Was A Goin' Through A Gate,  And Then They

All Come To Their Feet,  And The Goslins Come To Their

Feet,  And They All Toddle Off To The Drawin' Room Together.

"The Decanters Now Take The "Grand Tour" Of The Table,

And,  Like Most Travellers,  Go Out With Full Pockets,  And

Return With Empty Ones. Talk Has A Pair Of Stays Here,

And Is Laced Up Tight And Stiff. Larnin' Is Pedantic;

Politics Is Onsafe; Religion Ain't Fashionable. You Must

Tread On Neutral Ground. Well,  Neutral Ground Gets So

Trampled Down By Both Sides,  And So Plundered By All,

There Ain't Any Thing Fresh Or Good Grows On It,  And It

Has No Cover For Game Nother.

"Housundever,  The Ground Is Tried,  It's Well Beat,  But

Nothin' Is Put Up,  And You Get Back To Where You Started.

Uncle Gander Looks At Next Oldest Gander Hard,  Bobs His

Head,  And Lifts One Leg,  All Ready For A Go,  And Says,

'Will You Take Any More Wine?' 'No,  Sais He,  'But I Take

The Hint,  Let's Jine The Ladies.'

"Well,  When The Whole Flock Is Gathered In The Goose

Pastur,  The Drawin'-Room,  Other Little Flocks Come Troopin'

In,  And Stand,  Or Walk,  Or Down On Chairs; And Them That

Know Each Other Talk,  And Them That Don't Twirl Their

Thumbs Over Their Fingers; And When They Are Tired Of

That,  Twirl Their Fingers Over Their Thumbs. I'm Nobody,

And So I Goes And Sets Side-Ways On An Ottarman,  Like A

Gall On A Side-Saddle,  And Look At What's Afore Me. And

Fust I Always Look At The Galls.

"Now,  This I Will Say,  They Are Amazin' Fine Critters

Are The Women Kind Here,  When They Are Taken Proper Care

Of. The English May Stump The Univarse A'most For Trainin'

Hosses And Galls. They Give 'Em Both Plenty Of Walkin'

Exercise,  Feed 'Em Regular,  Shoe 'Em Well,  Trim 'Em Neat,

And Keep A Beautiful Skin On 'Em. They Keep,  'Em In Good

Health,  And Don't House 'Em Too Much. They Are Clippers,

That's A Fact. There Is Few Things In Natur,  Equal To A

Hoss And A Gall,  That's Well Trained And In Good Condition.

I Could Stand All Day And Look At 'Em,  And I Call Myself

A Considerable Of A Judge. It's Singular How Much They

Are Alike Too,  The Moment The Trainin' Is Over Or Neglected,

Neither Of 'Em Is Fit To Be Seen; They Grow Out Of Shape,

And Look Coarse.

"They Are Considerable Knowin' In This Kind O' Ware Too,

Are The English; They Vamp 'Em Up So Well,  It's Hard To

Tell Their Age,  And I Ain't Sure They Don't Make 'Em Live

Longer,  Than Where The Art Ain't So Well Pract_Ised_.

The Mark O' Mouth Is Kept Up In A Hoss Here By The File,

And A Hay-Cutter Saves His Teeth,  And Helps His Digestion.

Well,  A Dentist Does The Same Good Turn For A Woman; It

Makes Her Pass For Several Years Younger; And Helps Her

Looks,  Mends Her Voice,  And Makes Her As Smart As A Three

Year Old.

"What's That? It's Music. Well,  That's Artificial Too,

It's Scientific They Say,  It's Done By Rule. Jist Look

At That Gall To The Piany: First Comes A Little Garman

Thunder. Good Airth And Seas,  What A Crash! It Seems As

If She'd Bang The Instrument All To A Thousand Pieces.

I Guess She's Vexed At Somebody And Is A Peggin' It Into

The Piany Out Of Spite. Now Comes The Singin'; See What

Faces She Makes,  How She Stretches Her Mouth Open,  Like

A Barn Door,  And Turns Up The White Of Her Eyes,  Like A

Duck In Thunder. She Is In A Musical Ecstasy Is That

Gall,  She Feels Good All Over,  Her Soul Is A Goin' Out

Along With That Ere Music. Oh,  It's Divine,  And She Is

An Angel,  Ain't She? Yes,  I Guess She Is,  And When I'm

An Angel,  I Will Fall In Love With Her; But As I'm A Man,

At Least What's Left Of Me,  I'd Jist As Soon Fall In Love

With One That Was A Leetle,  Jist A Leetle More Of A Woman,

And A Leetle,  Jist A Leetle Less Of An Angel. But Hullo!

What Onder The Sun Is She About,  Why Her Voice Is Goin'

Down Her Own Throat,  To Gain Strength,  And Here It Comes

Out Agin As Deep Toned As A Man's; While That Dandy Feller

Along Side Of Her,  Is Singin' What They Call Falsetter.

They've Actilly Changed Voices. The Gall Sings Like A

Man,  And That Screamer Like A Woman. This Is Science:

This Is Taste: This Is Fashion; But Hang Me If It's Natur.

I'm Tired To Death Of It,  But One Good Thing Is,  You

Needn't Listen Without You Like,  For Every Body Is Talking

As,  Loud As Ever.

"Lord,  How Extremes Meet Sometimes,  As Minister Says.

_Here_,  How,  Fashion Is The Top Of The Pot,  And That Pot

Hangs On The Highest Hook On The Crane. In _America_,

Natur Can't Go No Farther; It's The Rael Thing. Look At

The Women Kind,  Now. An Indgian Gall,  Down South,  Goes

Most Naked. Well,  A Splendiferous Company Gall,  Here,

When She Is _Full Dressed_ Is Only _Half Covered_,  And

Neither Of 'Em Attract You One Mite Or Morsel. We Dine

At Two And Sup At Seven; _Here_ They Lunch At Two,  And

Dine At Seven. The Words Are Different,  But They Are

Identical The Same. Well,  The Singin' Is Amazin' Like,

Too. Who Ever Heerd Them Italian Singers Recitin' Their

Jabber,  Showin' Their Teeth,  And Cuttin' Didoes At A

Great Private Consart,  That Wouldn't Take His Oath He

Had Heerd Niggers At A Dignity Ball,  Down South,  Sing

Jist The Same,  And Jist As Well. And Then Do,  For Goodness'

Gracious' Sake,  Hear That Great Absent Man,  Belongin' To

The House O' Commons,  When The Chaplain Says 'Let Us

Pray!' Sing Right Out At Once,  As If He Was To Home,  'Oh!

By All Means,' As Much As To Say,  'Me And The Powers

Above Are Ready To Hear You; But Don't Be Long About It.'

"Ain't That For All The World Like A Camp-Meetin',  When

A Reformed Ring-Tail Roarer Calls Out To The Minister,

'That's A Fact,  Welly Fobus,  By Gosh; Amen!' Or When

Preacher Says,  'Who Will Be Saved?' Answers,  'Me And The

Boys,  Throw Us A Hen-Coop; The Galls Will Drift Down

Stream On A Bale O' Cotton.' Well Then,  _Our_ Very Lowest,

And _Their_ Very Highest,  Don't Always Act Pretty,  That's

A Fact. Sometimes '_They Repudiate_.' You Take,  Don't

You?

"There Is Another Party To-Night; The Flock Is A Thinnin'

Off Agin; And As I Want A Cigar Most Amazin'ly,  Let's Go

To A Divan,  And Some Other Time,  I'll Tell You What A

Swoi_Ree_ Is. But Answer Me This Here Question Now,

Squire: When This Same Thing Is Acted Over And Over,  Day

After Day,  And No Variation,  From July To Etarnity,  Don't

You Think You'd Get A Leetle--Jist A Leetle More Tired

Of It Every Day,  And Wish For Natur Once More. If You

Wouldn't I Would,  That's All."

"Squire." Said Mr. Hopewell,  "You Know Sam Well Enough,

I Hope,  To Make All Due Allowances For The Exuberance Of

His Fancy. The Sketch He Has Just Given You Of London

Society,  Like The Novels Of The Present Day,  Though

Founded