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

To Be A Movin'. But,  Squire,  You Are A Britisher,  Why

The Plague Don't You Get Into The House? You Know More

About Colony Matters Than The Whole Bilin' Of" Them Put

Together,  Quite As Much About Other Things,  And Speak

Like A--"

"Come,  Come,  Mr. Slick," Said I,  Rising And Lighting My

Bed-Room Candle,  "It Is Now High Time To Bid You Good

Night,  For You Are Beginning To Talk _Bunkum_."

Mr. Slick's Character,  Like That Of Many Of His Countrymen,

Is Not So Easily Understood As A Person Might Suppose.

We Err More Often Than We Are Aware Of,  When We Judge Of

Others By Ourselves. English Tourists Have All Fallen

Into This Mistake,  In Their,  Estimate Of The Americans.

They Judge Them By Their Own Standard; They Attribute

Effects To Wrong Causes,  Forgetting That A Different Tone

Of Feeling,  Produced By A Different Social And Political

State From Their Own,  Must Naturally Produce Dissimilar

Results.

Any Person Reading The Last Sketch Containing The Account,

Given By Mr. Slick Of The House Of Commons,  His Opinion

Of His Own Abilities As A Speaker,  And His Aspiration

After A Seat In That Body,  For The Purpose Of "Skinning,"

As He Calls It,  Impertinent Or Stupid Members,  Could Not

Avoid Coming To The Conclusion That He Was A Conceited

Block-Head; And That If His Countrymen Talked In That

Absurd Manner,  They Must Be The Weakest,  And Most

Vain-Glorious People In The World.

That He Is A Vain Man,  Cannot He Denied--Self-Taught Men

Are Apt To Be So Every Where; But Those Who Understand

The New England Humour,  Will At Once Perceive,  That He

Has Spoken In His Own Name Merely As A Personification,

And That The Whole Passage Means After All,  When Transposed

Into That Phraseology Which An,  Englishman Would Use,

Very Little More Than This,  That The House Of Commons

Presented A Noble Field For A Man Of Abilities As A Public

Speaker; But That In Fact,  It Contained Very Few Such

Persons. We Must Not Judge Of Words Or Phrases,  When Used

By Foreigners,  By The Sense We Attribute To Them,  But

Endeavour To Understand The Meaning They Attach To Them

Themselves.

In Mexico,  If You Admire Any Thing,  The Proprietor

Immediately Says,  "Pray Do Me The Honour To Consider It

Yours,  I Shall Be Most Happy,  If You Will Permit Me,  To

Place It Upon You,  (If It Be An Ornament),  Or To Send It

To Your Hotel," If It Be Of A Different Description. All

This Means In English,  A Present; In Mexican Spanish,  A

Civil Speech,  Purporting That The Owner Is Gratified,

That It Meets The Approbation Of His Visiter. A Frenchman,

Who Heard This Grandiloquent Reply To His Praises Of A

Horse,  Astonished His Friend,  By Thanking Him In Terms

Equally Amplified,  Accepting It,  And Riding It Home.

Mr. Slick Would Be No Less Amazed,  If Understood Literally.

He Has Used A Peculiar Style; Here Again,  A Stranger

Would Be In Error,  In Supposing The Phraseology Common

To All Americans. It Is Peculiar Only To A Certain Class

Of Persons In A Certain State Of Life,  And In A Particular

Section Of The States. Of This Class,  Mr. Slick Is A

Specimen. I Do Not Mean To Say He Is Not A Vain Man,  But

Merely That A Portion Only Of That,  Which Appears So To

Us,  Is Vanity,  And That The Rest And By Far The Greater

Portion Too,  Is Local Or Provincial Peculiarity.

This Explanation Is Due To The Americans,  Who Have Been

Grossly Misrepresented,  And To The English,  Who Have Been

Egregiously Deceived,  By Persons Attempting To Delineate

Character,  Who Were Utterly Incapable Of Perceiving Those

Minute Lights And Shades,  Without Which,  A Portrait

Becomes A Contemptible Daub,  Or At Most A Mere Caricature.

"A Droll Scene That At The House O' Represen_Tatives_

Last Night," Said Mr. Slick When We Next Met,  "Warn't

It? A Sort O' Rookery,  Like That At The Shropshire

Squire's,  Where I Spent The Juicy Day. What A Darned

Cau-Cau-Cawin' They Keep,  Don't They? These Members Are

Jist Like The Rooks,  Too,  Fond Of Old Houses,  Old Woods,

Old Trees,  And Old Harnts. And They Are Jist As Proud,

Too,  As They Be. Cuss 'Em,  They Won't Visit A New Man,

Or New Plantation. They Are Too Aristocratic For That.

They Have A Circle Of Their Own. Like The Rooks,  Too,

They Are Privileged To Scour Over The Farmers' Fields

All Round Home,  And Play The Very Devil.

"And Then A Fellow Can't Hear Himself Speak For 'Em;

Divide,  Divide,  Divide,  Question,  Question,  Question;

Cau,  Cau,  Cau,  Cau,  Cau,  Cau. Oh! We Must Go There Again.

I Want You To See Peel,  Stanley,  Graham,  Shiel,  Russell,

Macauley,  Old Joe,  And So On. These Men Are All Upper

Crust Here. Fust Of All,  I Want To Hear Your Opinion Of

'Em. I Take You To Be A Considerable Of A Good Judge In

These Matters."

"No Bunkum,  Mr. Slick."

"D--- That Word Bunkum! If You Say That 'Ere Agin,  I

Won't Say Another Syllable,  So Come Now. Don't I Know

Who You Are? You Know Every Mite,  And Morsel As Well As

I Do,  That You Be A Considerable Of A Judge Of These

Critters,  Though You Are Nothin' But An Outlandish

Colonist; And Are An Everlastin' Sight Better Judge,  Too,

If You Come To That,  Than Them That Judge _You_. Cuss

'Em,  The State Would Be A Nation Sight Better Sarved,  If

One O' These Old Rooks Was Sent Out To Try Trover For A

Goose,  And Larceny For An Old Hat,  To Nova Scotia,  And

You Was Sent For To Take The Ribbons O' The State Coach

Here; Hang Me If It Wouldn't. You Know That,  And Feel

Your Oats,  Too,  As Well As Any One. So Don't Be So Infarnal

Mealy-Mouthed,  With Your Mock Modesty Face,  A Turnin' Up

Of The Whites Of Your Eyes As If You Was A Chokin',  And

Savin' 'No _Bun-Kum_,  Mr. Slick.' Cuss That Word Bunkum!

I Am Sorry I Ever Told You That Are Story,  You Will Be

For Everlastinly A Throwin' Up Of That Are,  To Me Now.

"Do You Think If I Warnted To Soft Sawder You,  I'd Take

The White-Wash Brush To You,  And Slobber It,  On,  As A

Nigger Wench Does To A Board Fence,  Or A Kitchen Wall To

Home,  And Put Your Eyes Out With The Lime? No,  Not I;

But I Could Tickel You Though,  And Have Done It Afore

Now,  Jist For Practice,  And You Warn't A Bit The Wiser.

Lord,  I'd Take A Camel's-Hair Brush To You,  Knowin' How

Skittish And Ticklesome You Are,  And Do It So It Would

Feel Good. I'd Make You Feel Kinder Pleasant,  I Know,

And You'd Jist Bend Your Face Over To It,  And Take It As

Kindly As A Gall Does A Whisper,  When Your Lips Keep Jist

A Brushin' Of The Cheek While You Are A Talkin'. I Wouldn't

Go To Shock You By A Doin' Of It Coarse; You Are Too

Quick,  And Too Knowin' For That. You Should Smell The

Otter O' Roses,  And Sniff,  Sniff It Up Your Nostrils,

And Say To Yourself,  'How Nice That Is,  Ain't It? Come,

I Like That,  How Sweet It Stinks!' I Wouldn't Go For To

Dash Scented Water On Your Face,  As A Hired Lady Does On

A Winder To Wash It,  It Would Make You Start Back,  Take

Out Your Pocket-Handkercher,  And Say,  "Come,  _Mister_

Slick,  No Nonsense,  If You Please." I'd Do It Delicate,

I Know My Man: I'd Use A Light Touch,  A Soft Brush,  And

A Smooth Oily Rouge."

"Pardon Me," I Said,  "You Overrate Your Own Powers,  And

Over-Estimate My Vanity. You Are Flattering Yourself Now,

You Can't Flatter Me,  For I Detest It."

"Creation,  Man," Said Mr. Slick,  "I Have Done It Now

Afore Your Face,  These Last Five Minutes,  And You Didn't

Know It. Well,  If That Don't Bang The Bush. It's Tarnation

All Over That. Tellin' You,  You Was So Knowin',  So Shy

If Touched On The Flanks; How Difficult You Was To Take-In,

Bein' A Sensible,  Knowin' Man,  What's That But Soft

Sawder? You Swallowed It All. You Took It Off Without

Winkin',  And Opened Your Mouth As Wide As A Young Blind

Robbin Does For Another Worm,  And Then Down Went The

Bunkum About Making You A Secretary Of State,  Which Was

Rather A Large Bolus To Swaller,  Without A Draft; Down,

Down It Went,  Like A Greased-Wad Through A Smooth Rifle

Bore; It Did,  Upon My Soul. Heavens! What A Take In! What

A Splendid Sleight-Of-Hand! I Never Did Nothin' Better

In All My Born Days. I Hope I May Be Shot,  If I Did.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ain't It Rich? Don't It Cut Six Inches On

The Rib Of Clear Shear,  That. Oh! It's Han_Sum_,  That's

A Fact."

"It's No Use To Talk About It,  Mr. Slick," I Replied;

"I Plead Guilty. You Took Me In Then. You Touched A Weak

Point. You Insensibly Flattered My Vanity,  By Assenting

To My Self-Sufficiency,  In Supposing I Was Exempt From

That Universal Frailty Of Human Nature; You "_Threw The

Lavender_" Well."

"I Did Put The Leake Into You,  Squire,  That's A Fact,"

Said He; "But Let Me Alone,  I Know What I Am About; Let

Me Talk On,  My Own Way. Swaller What You Like,  Spit Out

What Is Too Strong For You; But Don't Put A Drag-Chain

On To Me,  When I Am A Doin' Tall Talkin',  And Set My

Wheels As Fast As Pine Stumps. You Know Me,  And I Know

You. You Know My Speed,  And I Know Your Bottom Don't

Throw Back In The Breetchin' For Nothin' That Way."

"Well,  As I Was A-Sayin',  I Want You To See These Great

Men,  As They Call 'Em. Let's Weigh 'Em,  And Measure 'Em,

And Handle 'Em,  And Then Price 'Em,  And See What Their

Market Valy Is. Don't Consider 'Em As Tories,  Or Whigs,

Or Radicals; We Hante Got Nothin' To Do With None O'

Them; But Consider 'Em As Statesmen. It's Pot-Luck With

'Em All; Take Your Fork As The Pot Biles Up,  Jab It In,

And Fetch A Feller Up,  See Whether He Is Beef,  Pork Or

Mutton; Partridge,  Rabbit Or Lobster; What His Name,

Grain And Flavour Is,  And How You Like Him. Treat 'Em

Indifferent,  And Treat 'Em Independent.

"I Don't Care A Chaw O' Tobacky For The Whole On 'Em;

And None On 'Em Care A Pinch O' Snuff For You Or Any

Hortentort Of A Colonist That Ever Was Or