The Attache; Or, Sam Slick In England(Fiscle Part-3) by Thomas Chandler Haliburton (english novels for beginners .txt) π
And Embarked On Board Of The Good Packet Ship "Tyler"
For England. Our Party Consisted Of The Reverend Mr.
Hopewell, Samuel Slick, Esq., Myself, And Jube Japan, A
Black Servant Of The Attache.
I Love Brevity--I Am A Man Of Few Words, And, Therefore,
Constitutionally Economical Of Them; But Brevity Is Apt
To Degenerate Into Obscurity. Writing A Book, However,
And Book-Making, Are Two Very Different Things: "Spinning
A Yarn" Is Mechanical, And Book-Making Savours Of Trade,
And Is The Employment Of A Manufacturer.
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That's All."
Then Taking A Pistol Out Of The Side-Pocket Of His
Mackintosh, He Deliberately Walked Over To The Other Side
Of The Deck, And Examined His Priming.
"Good Heavens, Mr. Slick!" Said I In Great Alarm, "What
Are You About?"
"I Am Goin'," He Said With The Greatest Coolness, But At
The Same Time With Equal Sternness, "To Bore A Hole
Through That Apple, Sir."
Volume 1 Chapter 5 (T'other Eend Of The Gun) Pg 31
"For Shame! Sir," I Said. "How Can You Think Of Such A
Thing? Suppose You Were To Miss Your Shot, And Kill That
Unfortunate Boy?"
"I Won't Suppose No Such Thing, Sir. I Can't Miss It.
I Couldn't Miss It If I Was To Try. Hold Your Head Steady,
Jube--And If I Did, It's No Great Matter. The Onsarcumcised
Amalikite Ain't Worth Over Three Hundred Dollars At The
Furthest, That's A Fact; And The Way He'd Pyson A Shark
Ain't No Matter. Are You Ready, Jube?"
"Yes, Massa."
"You Shall Do No Such Thing, Sir," I Said, Seizing His
Arm With Both My Hands. "If You Attempt To Shoot At That
Apple, I Shall Hold No Further Intercourse With You. You
Ought To Be Ashamed Of Yourself, Sir."
"Ky! Massa," Said Jube, "Let Him Fire, Sar; He No Hurt
Jube; He No Foozle De Hair. I Isn't One Mossel Afeerd.
He Often Do It, Jist To Keep Him Hand In, Sar. Massa
Most A Grand Shot, Sar. He Take Off De Ear Oh De Squirrel
So Slick, He Neber Miss It, Till He Go Scratchin' His
Head. Let Him Appel Hab It, Massa."
"Oh, Yes," Said Mr. Slick, "He Is A Christian Is Jube,
He Is As Good As A White Britisher: Same Flesh, Only A
Leetle, Jist A Leetle Darker; Same Blood, Only Not Quite
So Old, Ain't Quite So Much Tarter On The Bottle As A
Lord's Has; Oh Him And A Britisher Is All One Brother--Oh
By All Means--
Him Fader's Hope--Him Mudder's Joy,
Him Darlin Little Nigger Boy.
You'd Better Cry Over Him, Hadn't You. Buss Him, Call
Him Brother, Hug Him, Give Him The "Abolition" Kiss,
Write An Article On Slavery, Like Dickens; Marry Him To
A White Gall To England, Get Him A Saint's Darter With
A Good Fortin, And Well Soon See Whether Her Father Was
A Talkin' Cant Or No, About Niggers. Cuss 'Em, Let Any
O' These Britishers Give Me Slack, And I'll Give 'Em
Cranberry For Their Goose, I Know. I'd Jump Right Down
Their Throat With Spurs On, And Gallop Their Sarce Out."
"Mr. Slick I've Done; I Shall Say No More; We Part, And
Part For Ever. I Had No Idea Whatever, That A Man, Whose
Whole Conduct Has Evinced A Kind Heart, And Cheerful
Disposition, Could Have Entertained Such A Revengeful
Spirit, Or Given Utterance To Such Unchristian And
Uncharitable Language, As You Have Used To-Day. We Part"--
"No, We Don't," Said He; "Don't Kick Afore You Are Spurred.
Volume 1 Chapter 5 (T'other Eend Of The Gun) Pg 32I Guess I Have Feelins As Well As Other Folks Have, That's
A Fact; One Can't Help Being Ryled To Hear Foreigners
Talk This Way; And These Critters Are Enough To Make A
Man Spotty On The Back. I Won't Deny I've Got Some Grit,
But I Ain't Ugly. Pat Me On The Back And I Soon Cool
Down, Drop In A Soft Word And I Won't Bile Over; But
Don't Talk Big, Don't Threaten, Or I Curl Directly."
"Mr. Slick," Said I, "Neither My Countrymen, The Nova
Scotians, Nor Your Friends, The Americans, Took Any Thing
Amiss, In Our Previous Remarks, Because, Though Satirical,
They Were Good Natured. There Was Nothing Malicious In
Them. They Were Not Made For The Mere Purpose Of Shewing
Them Up, But Were Incidental To The Topic We Were
Discussing, And Their Whole Tenor Shewed That While "We
Were Alive To The Ludicrous, We Fully Appreciated, And
Properly Valued Their Many Excellent And Sterling Qualities.
My Countrymen, For Whose Good I Published Them, Had The
Most Reason To Complain, For I Took The Liberty To Apply
Ridicule To Them With No Sparing Hand. They Understood
The Motive, And Joined In The Laugh, Which Was Raised At
Their Expense. Let Us Treat The English In The Same Style;
Let Us Keep Our Temper. John Bull Is A Good-Natured
Fellow, And Has No Objection To A Joke, Provided It Is
Not Made The Vehicle Of Conveying An Insult. Don't Adopt
Cooper's Maxims; Nobody Approves Of Them, On Either Side
Of The Water; Don't Be Too Thin-Skinned. If The English
Have Been Amused By The Sketches Their Tourists Have
Drawn Of, The Yankees, Perhaps The Americans May Laugh
Over Our Sketches Of The English. Let Us Make Both Of
Them Smile, If We Can, And Endeavour To Offend Neither.
If Dickens Omitted To Mention The Festivals That Were
Given In Honour Of His Arrival In The States, He Was
Doubtless Actuated By A Desire To Avoid The Appearance
Of Personal Vanity. A Man Cannot Well Make Himself The
Hero Of His Own Book."
"Well, Well," Said He, "I Believe The Black Ox Did Tread
On My Toe That Time. I Don't Know But What You're Right.
Soft Words Are Good Enough In Their Way, But Still They
Butter No Parsnips, As The Sayin' Is. John May Be A
Good-Natured Critter, Tho' I Never See'd Any Of It Yet;
And He May Be Fond Of A Joke, And P'raps Is, Seein' That
He Haw-Haws Considerable Loud At His Own. Let's Try Him
At All Events. We'll Soon See How He Likes Other Folks'
Jokes; I Have My Scruple About Him, I Must Say. I Am
Dubersome Whether He Will Say 'Chee, Chee, Chee' When He
Gets 'T'other Eend Of The Gun.'"
Volume 1 Chapter 6 (Small Potatoes And Few In A Hill) Pg 33
"Pray Sir," Said One Of My Fellow Passengers, "Can You
Tell Me Why The Nova Scotians Are Called 'Blue-Noses?'"
"It Is The Name Of A Potatoe," Said I, "Which They Produce
In Great Perfection, And Boast To Be The Best In The
World. The Americans Have, In Consequence, Given Them
The Nick-Name Of "Blue-Noses.'"
"And Now," Said Mr. Slick," As You Have Told The Entire
Stranger, _Who_ A Blue-Nose Is, I'll Jist Up And Tell
Him _What_ He Is.
"One Day, Stranger, I Was A Joggin' Along Into Windsor
On Old Clay, On A Sort Of Butter And Eggs' Gait (For A
Fast Walk On A Journey Tires A Horse Considerable), And
Who Should I See A Settin' Straddle Legs "On The Fence,
But Squire Gabriel Soogit, With His Coat Off, A Holdin'
Of A Hoe In One Hand, And His Hat In T'other, And A
Blowin' Like A Porpus Proper Tired.
"'Why, Squire Gabe,' Sais I, 'What Is The Matter Of You?
You Look As If You Couldn't Help Yourself; Who Is Dead
And What Is To Pay Now, Eh?'
"'Fairly Beat Out,' Said He, 'I Am Shockin' Tired. I've
Been Hard At Work All The Mornin'; A Body Has To Stir
About Considerable Smart In This Country, To Make A
Livin', I Tell You.'
"I Looked Over The Fence, And I Seed He Had Hoed Jist
Ten Hills Of Potatoes, And That's All. Fact I Assure You.
"Sais He, 'Mr. Slick, Tell You What, _Of All The Work I
Ever Did In My Life I Like Hoein' Potatoes The Best, And
I'd Rather Die Than Do That, It Makes My Back Ache So_."
"'Good Airth" And Seas,' Sais I To Myself, 'What A Parfect
Pictur Of A Lazy Man That Is! How Far Is It To Windsor?'
"'Three Miles,' Sais He. I Took Out My Pocket-Book
Purtendin' To Write Down The Distance, But I Booked His
Sayin' In My Way-Bill.
"Yes, _That_ Is A _Blue-Nose_; Is It Any Wonder, Stranger,
He _Is Small Potatoes And Few In A Hill_?"
Volume 1 Chapter 7 (A Gentleman At Large) Pg 34It Is Not My Intention To Record Any Of The Ordinary
Incidents Of A Sea Voyage: The Subject Is Too Hackneyed
And Too Trite; And Besides, When The Topic Is Seasickness,
It Is Infectious And The Description Nauseates. _Hominem
Pagina Nostra Sapit_. The Proper Study Of Mankind Is Man;
Human Nature Is What I Delight In Contemplating; I Love
To Trace Out And Delineate The Springs Of Human Action.
Mr. Slick And Mr. Hopewell Are Both Studies. The Former
Is A Perfect Master Of Certain Chords; He Has Practised
Upon Them, Not For Philosophical, But For Mercenary
Purposes. He Knows The Depth, And Strength, And Tone Of
Vanity, Curiosity, Pride, Envy, Avarice, Superstition,
Nationality, And Local And General Prejudice. He Has
Learned The Effect Of These, Not Because They Contribute
To Make Him Wiser, But Because They Make Him Richer; Not
To Enable Him To Regulate His Conduct In Life, But To
Promote And Secure The Increase Of His Trade.
Mr. Hopewell, On The Contrary, Has Studied The Human
Heart As A Philanthropist, As A Man Whose Business It
Was To Minister To It, To Cultivate And Improve It. His
Views Are More Sound And More Comprehensive Than Those
Of The Other's, And His Objects Are More Noble. They Are
Both Extraordinary Men.
They Differed, However, Materially In Their Opinion Of
England And Its Institutions. Mr. Slick Evidently Viewed
Them With Prejudice. Whether This Arose From The
Supercilious Manner Of English Tourists In America, Or
From The Ridicule They Have Thrown Upon Republican Society,
In The Books Of Travels They Have Published, After Their
Return To Europe, I Could Not Discover; But It Soon Became
Manifest To Me, That Great Britain Did Not Stand So High
In His Estimation, As The Colonies Did.
Mr. Hopewell, On The Contrary, From Early Associations,
Cherished A Feeling Of Regard And Respect For England;
And When His Opinion Was Asked, He Always Gave It With
Great Frankness And Impartiality.
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