The Attache or Sam Slick in England Part 26

"I'll allow him to be beat at fust, so as to lead 'em on, and Clay is as cunnin' as a c.o.o.n too, if he don't get the word g'lang (go along) and the Indgian skelpin' yell with it, he knows I ain't in airnest, and he'll allow me to beat him and bully him like nothin'. He'll pretend to do his best, and sputter away like a hen scratchin' gravel, but he won't go one mossel faster, for he knows I never lick a free hoss.

"Won't it be beautiful? How they'll all larf and crow, when they see me a thrashin' away at the hoss, and then him goin' slower, the faster I thrash, and me a threatenin' to shoot the brute, and a talkin' at the tip eend of my tongue like a ravin' distracted bed bug, and offerin'

to back him agin, if they dare, and planken down the pewter all round, takin' every one up that will go the figur', till I raise the bets to the tune of fifty thousand dollars. When I get that far, they may stop their larfin' till next time, I guess. That's the turn of the fever--that's the crisis--that's my time to larf then.

"I'll mount the car then, take the bits of list up, put 'em into right shape, talk a little Connecticut Yankee to the old hoss, to set his ebenezer up, and make him rise inwardly, and then give the yell," (which he uttered in his excitement in earnest; and a most diabolical one it was. It pierced me through and through, and curdled my very blood, it was the death shout of a savage.) "G'lang you skunk, and turn out your toes pretty," said he, and he again repeated this long protracted, shrill, infernal yell, a second time.

Every eye was instantly turned upon us. Even Tattersall suspended his "he is five years old--a good hack--and is to be sold," to give time for the general exclamation of surprise. "Who the devil is that? Is he mad? Where did _he_ come from? Does any body know him? He is a devilish keen-lookin' fellow that; what an eye he has! He looks like a Yankee, that fellow."

"He's been here, your honour, several days, examines every thing and says nothing; looks like a knowing one, your honour. He handles a hoss as if he'd seen one afore to-day, Sir."

"Who is that gentleman with him?"

"Don't know, your honour, never saw him before; he looks like a furriner, too."

"Come, Mr. Slick," said I, "we are attracting too much attention here, let us go."

"Cuss 'em," said he, "I'll attract more attention afore I've done yet, when Old Clay comes, and then I'll tell 'em who I am--Sam Slick, from Slickville, Onion County, State of Connecticut, United States of America. But I do suppose we had as good make tracks, for I don't want folks to know me yet. I'm plaguy sorry I let put that countersign of Old Clay too, but they won't onderstand it. Critters like the English, that know everything have generally weak eyes, from studyin' so hard.

"Did you take notice of that critter I was a handlin' of, Squire? that one that's all drawed up in the middle like a devil's darnin' needle; her hair a standin' upon eend as if she was amazed at herself, and a look out of her eye, as if she thort the dogs would find the steak kinder tough, when they got her for dinner. Well, that's a great mare that 'are, and there ain't nothin' onder the sun the matter of her, except the groom has stole her oats, forgot to give her water, and let her make a supper sometimes off of her nasty, mouldy, filthy beddin'. I hante see'd a hoss here equal to her a'most--short back, beautiful rake to the shoulder, great depth of chest, elegant quarter, great stifle, amazin' strong arm, monstrous nice nostrils, eyes like a weasel, all outside, game ears, first chop bone and fine flat leg, with no gum on no part of it. She's a sneezer that; but she'll be knocked down for twenty or thirty pound, because she looks as if she was used up.

"I intended to a had that mare, for I'd a made her worth twelve hundred dollars. It was a dreadful pity, I let go, that time, for I actilly forgot where I was. I'll know better next hitch, for boughten wit is the best in a general way. Yes, I'm peskily sorry about that mare. Well, swappin' I've studied, but I doubt if it's as much the fashion here as with us; and besides, swappin' where you don't know the county and its tricks, (for every county has its own tricks, different from others), is dangersome too. I've seen swaps where both sides got took in. Did ever I tell you the story of the "Elder and the grave-digger?"

"Never," I replied; "but here we are at our lodgings. Come in, and tell it to me."

"Well," said he, "I must have a gla.s.s of mint julip fust, to wash down that ere disappointment about the mare. It was a dreadful go that. I jist lost a thousand dollars by it, as slick as grease. But it's an excitin' thing is a trottin' race, too. When you mount, hear the word 'Start!' and shout out 'G'lang!' and give the pa.s.s word."

Good heavens! what a yell he perpetrated again. I put both hands to my ears, to exclude the reverberations of it from the walls.

"Don't be skeered, Squire; don't be skeered. We are alone now: there is no mare to lose. Ain't it pretty? It makes me feel all dandery and on wires like."

"But the grave-digger?" said I.

"Well," says he, "the year afore I knowed you, I was a-goin' in the fall, down to Clare, about sixty miles below Annapolis, to collect some debts due to me there from the French. And as I was a-joggin' on along the road, who should I overtake but Elder Stephen Grab, of Beechmeadows, a mounted on a considerable of a clever-lookin' black mare. The Elder was a pious man; at least he looked like one, and spoke like one too.

His face was as long as the moral law, and p'rhaps an inch longer, and as smooth as a hone; and his voice was so soft and sweet, and his tongue moved so ily on its hinges, you'd a thought you might a trusted him with ontold gold, if you didn't care whether you ever got it agin or no. He had a bran new hat on, with a brim that was none of the smallest, to keep the sun from makin' his inner man wink, and his go-to-meetin'

clothes on, and a pair of silver mounted spurs, and a beautiful white cravat, tied behind, so as to have no bows to it, and look meek. If there was a good man on airth, you'd a said it was him. And he seemed to feel it, and know it too, for there was a kind of look o' triumph about him, as if he had conquered the Evil One, and was considerable well satisfied with himself.

"'H'are you,' sais I, 'Elder, to-day? Which way are you from?"

"'From the General Christian a.s.sembly, sais he, 'to Goose Creek. We had a "_most refreshin' time on't_." There was a great "_outpourin' of the spirit_."'

"'Well, that's awful,' says I, 'too. The magistrates ought to see to that; it ain't right, when folks a.s.semble that way to worship, to be a-sellin' of rum; and gin, and brandy, and spirits, is it?'

"'I don't mean that,' sais he, 'although, p'rhaps, there was too much of that wicked traffic too, I mean the preachin'. It was very peeowerful; there was "_many sinners saved_."

"'I guess there was plenty of room for it,' sais I, 'onless that neighbourhood has much improved since I knowed it last.'

"'It's a sweet thing,' sais he. 'Have you ever "_made profession_," Mr.

Slick?'

"'Come,' sais I to myself, 'this is cuttin' it rather too fat. I must put a stop to this. This ain't a subject for conversation with such a cheatin', cantin', hippocrytical skunk as this is. Yes,' sais I, 'long ago. My profession is that of a clockmaker, and I make no pretension to nothin' else. But come, let's water our hosses here and liquor ourselves.'

"And we dismounted, and gave 'em a drop to wet their mouths.

"'Now,' sais I, a-takin' out of a pocket-pistol that I generally travelled with, 'I think I'll take a drop of grog;' and arter helpin'

myself, I gives the silver cover of the flask a dip in the brook, (for a clean rinse is better than a dirty wipe, any time), and sais I, 'Will you have a little of the "_outpourin' of the spirit?_" What do you say, Elder?'

"'Thank you,' sais he, 'friend Slick. I never touch liquor, it's agin our rules.'

"And he stooped down and filled it with water, and took a mouthful, and then makin' a face like a frog afore he goes to sing, and swellin' his cheeks out like a Scotch bagpiper, he spit it all out. Sais he, 'That is so warm, it makes me sick; and as I ain't otherwise well, from the celestial exhaustion of a protracted meetin', I believe I will take a little drop, as medicine.'

"Confound him! if he'd a said he'd only leave a little drop, it would a been more like the thing; for he e'en a'most emptied the whole into the cup, and drank it off clean, without winkin'.

"'It's a "_very refreshin' time_,"' sais I, 'ain't' it?' But he didn't make no answer. Sais I, 'that's a likely beast of yourn, Elder,' and I opened her mouth, and took a look at her, and no easy matter nother, I tell you, for she held on like a bear trap, with her jaws. "'She won't suit you,' sais he, "with a smile, 'Mr. Slick.'

"'I guess not,' sais I.

"'But she'll jist suit the French,' sais he.

"'It's lucky she don't speak French then,' sais I, 'or they'd soon find her tongue was too big for her mouth. That critter will never see five-and-twenty, and I'm a thinkin', she's thirty year old, if she is a day.'

"'I was a thinkin', said he, with a sly look out o' the corner of his eye, as if her age warn't no secret to him. 'I was a thinkin' it's time to put her off, and she'll jist suit the French. They hante much for hosses to do, in a giniral way, but to ride about; and you won't say nothin' about her age, will you? it might end.a.m.nify a sale.'

"'Not I,' sais I, 'I skin my own foxes, and let other folks skin their'n. I have enough to do to mind my own business, without interferin' with other people's.'

"'She'll jist suit the French,' sais he; 'they don't know nothin' about hosses, or any thing else. They are a simple people, and always will be, for their priests keep 'em in ignorance. It's an awful thing to see them kept in the outer porch of darkness that way, ain't it?'

"'I guess you'll put a new pane o' gla.s.s in their porch,' sais I, 'and help some o' them to see better; for whoever gets that mare, will have his eyes opened, sooner nor he bargains for, I know.'

"Sais he, 'she ain't a bad mare; and if she could eat bay, might do a good deal of work yet,' and he gave a kinder chuckle laugh at his own joke, that sounded like the rattles in his throat, it was so dismal and deep, for he was one o' them kind of fellers that's too good to larf, was Steve.

"Well, the horn o' grog he took, began to onloosen his tongue; and I got out of him, that she come near dyin' the winter afore, her teeth was so bad, and that he had kept her all summer in a d.y.k.e pasture up to her fetlocks in white clover, and ginn' her ground oats, and Indgian meal, and nothin' to do all summer; and in the fore part of the fall, biled potatoes, and he'd got her as fat as a seal, and her skin as slick as an otter's. She fairly shined agin, in the sun.

"'She'll jist suit the French', said he, 'they are a simple people and don't know nothin', and if they don't like the mare, they must blame their priests for not teachin' 'em better. I shall keep within the strict line of truth, as becomes a Christian man. I scorn to take a man in.'

"Well, we chatted away arter this fashion, he a openin' of himself and me a walk in' into him; and we jogged along till we came to Charles Tarrio's to Montagon, and there was the matter of a thousand French people gathered there, a chatterin', and laughin', and jawin', and quarrellin', and racin', and wrastlin', and all a givin' tongue, like a pack of village dogs, when an Indgian comes to town. It was town meetin'

day.

"Well, there was a critter there, called by nickname, 'Goodish Greevoy,'

a mounted on a white pony, one o' the scariest little screamers, you ever see since you was born. He was a tryin' to get up a race, was Goodish, and banterin' every one that had a hoss to run with him.

"His face was a fortin' to a painter. His forehead was high and narrer, shewin' only a long strip o' tawny skin, in a line with his nose, the rest bein' covered with hair, as black as ink, and as iley as a seal's mane. His brows was thick, bushy and overhangin', like young brush-wood on a cliff, and onderneath, was two black peerin' little eyes, that kept a-movin' about, keen, good-natured, and roguish, but sot far into his skull, and looked like the eyes of a fox peepin' out of his den, when he warn't to home to company hisself. His nose was high, sharp, and crooked, like the back of a reapin' hook, and gave a plaguy sight of character to his face, while his thinnish lips, that closed on a straight line, curlin' up at one eend, and down at the other, shewed, if his dander was raised, he could be a jumpin', tarin', rampagenous devil if he chose. The pint of his chin projected and turned up gently, as if it expected, when Goodish lost his teeth, to rise in the world in rank next to the nose. When good natur' sat on the box, and drove, it warn't a bad face; when Old Nick was coachman, I guess it would be as well to give Master Frenchman the road.

"He had a red cap on his head, his beard hadn't been cut since last sheep shearin', and he looked as hairy as a tarrier; his shirt collar, 'which was of yaller flannel, fell on his shoulders loose, and a black hankercher was tied round his neck, slack like a sailor's. He wore a round jacket and loose trowsers of homespun with no waistcoat, and his trowsers was held up by a gallus of leather on one side, and of old cord on the other. Either Goodish had growed since his clothes was made, or his jacket and trowsers warn't on speakin' tarms, for they didn't meet by three or four inches, and the shirt shewed atween them like a yaller militia sash round him. His feet was covered with moccasins of ontanned moose hide, and one heel was sot off with an old spur and looked sly and wicked. He was a sneezer that, and when he flourished his great long withe of a whip stick, that looked like a fishin' rod, over his head, and yelled like all possessed, he was a caution, that's a fact.

"A knowin' lookin' little hoss, it was too, that he was mounted on. Its tail was cut close off to the stump, which squared up his rump, and made him look awful strong in the hind quarters. His mane was "hogged" which fulled out the swell and crest of the neck, and his ears being cropped, the critter had a game look about him. There was a proper good onderstandin' between him and his rider: they looked as if they had growed together, and made one critter--half hoss, half man with a touch of the devil.

"Goodish was all up on eend by what he drank, and dashed in and out of the crowd arter a fashion, that was quite cautionary, callin' out, 'Here comes "the grave-digger." Don't be skeered, if any of you get killed, here is the hoss that will dig his grave for nothin'. Who'll run a lick of a quarter of a mile, for a pint of rum. Will you run?' said he, a s.p.u.n.kin' up to the Elder, 'come, let's run, and whoever wins, shall go the treat.'

"The Elder smiled as sweet as sugar candy, but backed out; he was too old, he said, now to run.