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

And Fruitless Attendance On Lord Chesterfield,  Says:

'Seven Years,  My Lord,  Have Now Past,  Since I Waited In

Your Outward Rooms,  Or Was Repulsed From Your Door; During

Which Time I Have Been Pushing On My Work,  Through

Difficulties,  Of Which It Is Useless To Complain,  And

Have Brought It At Last To The Verge Of Publication,

Without One Act Of Assistance,  One Word Of Encouragement,

Or One Smile Of Favour. Such Treatment I Did Not Expect,

For I Never Bad A Patron Before."

"Ah!" Said Mr. Hopewell,  "A Man Who Feels That He Is

Wrong,  Is Always Angry With Somebody Else. Dr. Johnson,

Is Not So Much To Be Admired For The Independence That

Dictated That Letter,  As Condemned For The Meanness And

Servility Of Seven Years Of Voluntary Degradation. It Is

No Wonder He Spoke With Bitterness; For,  While He Censured

His Lordship,  He Must Have Despised Himself. There Is

A Great Difference Between A Literary And A Political

Patron. The Former Is Not Needed,  And A Man Does Better

Without One; The Latter Is Essential. A Good Book,  Like

Good Wine,  Needs No Bush; But To Get An Office,  You Want

Merits Or Patrons;--Merits So Great,  That They Cannot Be

Passed Over,  Or Friends So Powerful,  They Cannot Be

Refused."

"Oh! You Can't Do Nothin',  Squire," Said Mr. Sick,  "Send

It Back To Old Marm; Tell Her You Have The Misfortin To

Be A Colonist; That If Her Son Would Like To Be A Constable,

Or A Hogreave,  Or A Thistle-Viewer,  Or Sunthin' Or Another

Of That Kind,  You Are Her Man: But She Has Got The Wrong

Cow By The Tail This Time. I Never Hear Of A Patron,  I

Don't Think Of A Frolic I Once Had With A Cow's Tail;

And,  By Hanging On To It Like A Snappin' Turtle,  I Jist

Saved My Life,  That's A Fact.

"Tell You What It Is,  Squire,  Take A Fool's Advice,  For

Once. Here You Are; I Have Made You Considerable Well-Known,

That's A Fact; And Will Introduce You To Court,  To King

And Queen,  Or Any Body You Please. For Our Legation,

Though They Can't Dance,  P'raps,  As Well As The French

One Can,  Could Set All Europe A Dancin' In Wide Awake

Airnest,  If It Chose. They Darsent Refuse Us Nothin',

Or We Would Fust Embargo,  And Then Go To War. Any One

You Want To Know,  I'll Give You The Ticket. Look Round,

Select A Good Critter,  And Hold On To The Tail,  For Dear

Life,  And See If You Hante A Patron,  Worth Havin'. You

Don't Want None Yourself,  But You Might Want One Some

Time Or Another,  For Them That's A Comin' Arter You.

"When I Was A Half Grow'd Lad,  The Bears Came Down From

Nor-West One Year In Droves,  As A Body Might Say,  And

Our Woods Near Slickville Was Jist Full Of 'Em. It Warn't

Safe To Go A-Wanderin' About There A-Doin' Of Nothin',

I Tell _You_. Well,  One Arternoon,  Father Sends Me Into

The Back Pastur',  To Bring Home The Cows,  'And,' Says

He,  'Keep A Stirrin',  Sam,  Go Ahead Right Away,  And Be

Out Of The Bushes Afore Sun-Set,  On Account Of The Bears,

For That's About The Varmints' Supper-Time.'

"Well,  I Looks To The Sky,  And I Sees It Was A Considerable

Of A Piece Yet To Daylight Down,  So I Begins To Pick

Strawberries As I Goes Along,  And You Never See Any Thing

So Thick As They Were,  And Wherever The Grass Was Long,

They'd Stand Up Like A Little Bush,  And Hang In Clusters,

Most As Big And Twice As Good,  To My Likin',  As Garden

Ones. Well,  The Sun,  It Appears To Me,  Is Like A Hoss,

When It Comes Near Dark It Mends Its Pace,  And Gets On

Like Smoke,  So Afore I Know'd Where I Was,  Twilight Had

Come Peepin' Over The Spruce Tops.

"Off I Sot,  Hot Foot,  Into The Bushes,  Arter The Cows,

And As Always Eventuates When You Are In A Hurry,  They

Was Further Back Than Common That Time,  Away Ever So Fur

Back To A Brook,  Clean Off To The Rear Of The Farm,  So

That Day Was Gone Afore I Got Out Of The Woods,  And I

Got Proper Frightened. Every Noise I Heerd I Thought It

Was A Bear,  And When I Looked Round A One Side,  I Guessed

I Heerd One On The Other,  And I Hardly Turned To Look

There Before,  I Reckoned It Was Behind Me,  I Was E'en

A'most Skeered To Death.

"Thinks I,  'I Shall Never Be Able To Keep Up To The Cows

If A Bear Comes Arter 'Em And Chases 'Em,  And If I Fall

Astarn,  He'll Just Snap Up A Plump Little Corn Fed Feller

Like Me In Less Than Half No Time. Cryin',' Says I,

'Though,  Will Do No Good. You Must Be Up And Doin',  Sam,

Or It's Gone Goose With You.'

"So A Thought Struck Me. Father Had Always Been A-Talkin'

To Me About The Leadin' Men,  And Makin' Acquaintance With

The Political Big Bugs When I Growed Up And Havin' A

Patron,  And So On. Thinks I,  I'll Take The Leadin' Cow

For My Patron. So I Jist Goes And Cuts A Long Tough Ash

Saplin,  And Takes The Little Limbs Off Of It,  And Then

Walks Along Side Of Mooley,  As Meachin' As You Please,

So She Mightn't Suspect Nothin',  And Then Grabs Right

Hold Of Her Tail,  And Yelled And Screamed Like Mad,  And

Wallopped Away At Her Like Any Thing.

"Well,  The Way She Cut Dirt Was Cautionary; She Cleared

Stumps,  Ditches,  Windfalls And Every Thing,  And Made A

Straight Track Of It For Home As The Crow Flies. Oh,  She

Was A Dipper: She Fairly Flow Again,  And If Ever She

Flagged,  I Laid It Into Her With The Ash Saplin,  And Away

We Started Agin,  As If Old Nick Himself Was Arter Us.

"But Afore I Reached Home,  The Rest Of The Cows Came A

Bellowin',  And A Roarin' And A-Racin' Like Mad Arter Us,

And Gained On Us Too,  So As Most To Overtake Us,  Jist As

I Come To The Bars Of The Cow Yard,  Over Went Mooler,

Like A Fox,  Brought Me Whap Up Agin 'Em,  Which Knocked

All The Wind Out Of My Lungs And The Fire Out Of My Eyes,

And Laid Me Sprawlin On The Ground,  And Every One Of The

Flock Went Right Slap Over Me,  All But One--Poor Brindle.

She Never Came Home Agin. Bear Nabbed Her,  And Tore Her

Most Ridiculous. He Eat What He Wanted,  Which Was No

Trifle,  I Can Tell You,  And Left The Rest Till Next Time.

"Don't Talk To Me. Squire. About Merits. We All Want A

Lift In This World; Sunthin' Or Another To Lay Hold On,

To Help Us Along--_We Want The Cow's Tail_.

"Tell Your Friend,  The Female Widder,  She Has Got Hold

Of The Wrong Cow By The Tail In Gettin' Hold Of You,  For

You Are Nothin' But A Despisable Colonist; But To Look

Out For Some Patron Here,  Some Leadin' Man,  Or Great

Lord,  To Clinch Fast Hold Of Him,  And Stick To Him Like

A Leach,  And If He Flags,  (For Patrons,  Like Old Mooley,

Get Tired Sometimes),  To Recollect The Ash Saplin,  To

Lay Into Him Well,  And Keep Him At It,  And No Fear But

He'll Carry Her Through. He'll Fetch Her Home Safe At

Last,  And No Mistake,  Depend On It,  Squire. The Best

Lesson That Little Boy Could Be Taught,  Is,  That Of _The

Patron,  Or The Cows Tail_."

To-Day I Visited Ascot. Race-Courses Are Similar Every

Where,  And Present The Same Objects; Good Horses,  Cruel

Riders,  Knowing Men,  Dupes,  Jockeys,  Gamblers,  And A

Large Assemblage Of Mixed Company. But This Is A Gayer

Scene Than Most Others; And Every Epithet,  Appropriate

To A Course,  Diminutive Or Otherwise,  Must He In The

Superlative Degree When Applied To Ascot. This Is The

General,  And Often The Only Impression That Most Men

Carry Away With Them.

Mr. Slick,  Who Regards These Things Practically,  Called

My Attention To Another View Of It.

"Squire," Said He,  "I'd A Plaguy Sight Sooner See Ascot

Than Any Thing Else To England. There Ain't Nothin' Like

It. I Don't Mean The Racin',  Because They Can't Go Ahead

Like Us,  If They Was To Die For It. We Have Colts That

Can Whip Chain Lightnin',  On A Pinch. Old Clay Trotted

With It Once All Round An Orchard,  And Beat It His Whole

Length,  But It Singed His Tail Properly As He Passed It,

You May Depend. It Ain't Its Runnin' I Speak Of,  Therefore,

Though That Ain't Mean Nother;