The Attache or Sam Slick in England Part 27

"'Will you swap hosses, old broad cloth then?' said the other, 'because if you will, here's at you.'

"Steve took a squint at pony, to see whether that cat would jump or no, but the cropt ears, the stump of a tail, the rakish look of the horse, didn't jist altogether convene to the taste or the sanctified habits of the preacher. The word no, hung on his lips, like a wormy apple, jist ready to drop the fust shake; but before it let go, the great strength, the spryness, and the oncommon obedience of pony to the bit, seemed to kinder balance the objections; while the sartan and ontimely eend that hung over his own mare, during the comin' winter, death by starvation, turned the scale.

"'Well,' said he, slowly, 'if we like each other's beasts, friend, and can agree as to the boot, I don't know as I wouldn't trade; for I don't care to raise colts, havin' plenty of hoss stock on hand, and perhaps you do.'

"'How old is your hoss?' said the Frenchman.

"'I didn't raise it,' sais Steve, 'Ned Wheelock, I believe, brought her to our parts.'

"'How old do you take her to be?'

"'Poor critter, she'd tell you herself, if she could,' said he, 'for she knows best, but she can't speak; and I didn't see her, when she was foalded.'

"'How old do you think?'

"'Age,' sais Steve, 'depens on use, not on years. A hoss at five, if ill used, is old; a hoss at eight, if well used is young.'

"'Sacry footry!' sais Goodish, 'why don't you speak out like a man? Lie or no lie, how old is she?'

"'Well, I don't like to say,' sais Steve, 'I know she is eight for sartain, and it may be she's nine. If I was to say eight, and it turned out nine, you might be thinkin' hard of me. I didn't raise it. You can see what condition she is in; old hosses ain't commonly so fat as that, at least I never, see one that was.'

"A long banter then growed out of the 'boot money.' The Elder, asked 7 pounds 10s. Goodish swore he wouldn't give that for him and his hoss together; that if they were both put up to auction that blessed minute, they wouldn't bring it. The Elder hung on to it, as long as there was any chance of the boot, and then fort the ground like a man, only givin'

an inch or so at a time, till he drawed up and made a dead stand, on one pound.

"Goodish seemed willing to come to tarms too; but like a prudent man, resolved to take a look at the old mare's mouth, and make some kind of a guess at her age; but the critter knowed how to keep her own secrets, and it was ever so long, afore he forced her jaws open, and when he did, he came plaguy near losin' of a finger, for his curiosity; and as he hopped and danced about with pain, he let fly such a string of oaths, and sacry-cussed the Elder and his mare, in such an all-fired pa.s.sion, that Steve put both his hands up to his ears, and said, 'Oh, my dear friend, don't swear, don't swear; it's very wicked. I'll take your pony, I'll ask no boot, if you will only promise not to swear. You shall have the mare as she stands. I'll give up and swap even; and there shall be no after claps, nor ruin bargains, nor recantin', nor nother, only don't swear.'

"Well, the trade was made, the saddles and bridles was shifted, and both parties mounted their new hosses. 'Mr. Slick,' sais Steve,' who was afraid he would lose the pony, if he staid any longer, 'Mr. Slick,'

sais he, 'the least said, is the soonest mended, let's be a movin', this scene of noise and riot is shockin' to a religious man, ain't it?' and he let go a groan, as long as the embargo a'most.

"Well, we had no sooner turned to go, than the French people sot up a cheer that made all ring again; and they sung out, "La Fossy Your," "La Fossy Your," and shouted it agin and agin ever so loud.

"'What's that?' sais Steve.

"Well, I didn't know, for I never heerd the word afore; but it don't do to say you don't know, it lowers you in the eyes of other folks. If you don't know What another man knows he is shocked at your ignorance. But if he don't know what you do, he can find an excuse in a minute. Never say you don't know.

"'So,' sais I, 'they jabber so everlastin' fast, it ain't no easy matter to say what they mean; but it sounds like "good bye," you'd better turn round and make 'em a bow, for they are very polite people, is the French.'

"So Steve turns and takes off his hat, and makes them a low bow, and they larfs wus than ever, and calls out again, "La Fossy Your," "La Fossy Your." He was kinder ryled, was the Elder. His honey had begun to farment, and smell vinegery. 'May be, next Christmas,' sais he, 'you won't larf so loud, when you find the mare is dead. Goodish and the old mare are jist alike, they are all tongue them critters. I rather think it's me,' sais he, 'has the right to larf, for I've got the best of this bargain, and no mistake. This is as smart a little hoss as ever I see.

I know where I can put him off to great advantage. I shall make a good day's work of this. It is about as good a hoss trade as I ever made. The French don't know nothin' about hosses; they are a simple people, their priests keep 'em in ignorance on purpose, and they don't know nothin'.'

"He cracked and bragged considerable, and as we progressed we came to Montagon Bridge. The moment pony sot foot on it, he stopped short, p.r.i.c.ked up the latter eends of his ears, snorted, squeeled and refused to budge an inch. The Elder got mad. He first coaxed and patted, and soft sawdered him, and then whipt and spurred, and thrashed him like any thing. Pony got mad too, for hosses has tempers as well as Elders; so he turned to, and kicked right straight up on eend, like Old Scratch, and kept on without stoppin' till he sent the Elder right slap over his head slantendicularly, on the broad of his back into the river, and he floated down thro' the bridge and scrambled out at t'other side.

"Creation! how he looked. He was so mad, he was ready to bile over; and as it was he smoked in the sun, like a tea-kettle. His clothes stuck close down to him, as a cat's fur does to her skin, when she's out in the rain, and every step he took his boots went squish, squash, like an old woman churnin' b.u.t.ter; and his wet trowsers chafed with a noise like a wet flappin' sail. He was a shew, and when he got up to his hoss, and held on to his mane, and first lifted up one leg and then the other to let the water run out of his boots. I couldn't hold in no longer, but laid back and larfed till I thought on my soul I'd fall off into the river too.

"'Elder,' says I, 'I thought when a man jined your sect, 'he could never "_fall off agin_," but I see you ain't no safer than other folks arter all.'

"'Come,' says he, 'let me be, that's a good soul, it's bad enough, without being larfed at, that's a fact. I can't account for this caper, no how.'

"'It's very strange too, ain't it! What on airth got into the hoss to make him act so ugly. Can you tell, Mr. Slick?'

"'Why,' sais I, 'he don't know English yet, that's all. He waited for them beautiful French oaths that Goodish used. Stop the fust Frenchman you meet and give him a shillin' to teach you to swear, and he'll go like a lamb.'

"I see'd what was the matter of the hoss by his action as soon as we started; but I warn't agoin' for to let on to him about it. I wanted to see the sport. Well, he took his hoss by the bridle and led him over the bridge, and he follered kindly, then he mounted, and no hoss could go better. Arter a little, we came to another bridge agin, and the same play was acted anew, same coaxin', same threatenin', and same thrashin'; at last pony put down his head, and began to shake his tail, a gettin'

ready for another bout of kickin'; when Steve got off and led him, and did the same to every bridge we come to.

"'It's no use,' sais I, 'you must larn them oaths, he's used to 'em and misses them shocking. A sailor, a hoss, and a n.i.g.g.e.r ain't no good without you swear at 'em; it comes kinder nateral to them, and they look for it, fact I a.s.sure you. Whips wear out, and so do spurs, but a good sneezer of a cuss hain't no wear out to it; it's always the same.'

"'I'll larn him sunthin', sais he, 'when I get him to home, and out o'

sight that will do him good, and that he won't forget for one while, I know.'

"Soon arter this we came to Everett's public-house on the bay, and I galloped up to the door, and went as close as I cleverly could on purpose, and then reined up short and sudden, when whap goes the pony right agin the side of the house, and nearly killed himself. He never stirred for the matter of two or three minutes. I actilly did think he had gone for it, and Steve went right thro' the winder on to the floor, with a holler noise, like a log o' wood thrown on to the deck of a vessel. 'Eugh!' says he, and he cut himself with the broken gla.s.s quite ridikilous.

"'Why,' sais Everett, 'as I am a livin' sinner this is "the Grave-digger," he'll kill you, man, as sure as you are born, he is the wickedest hoss that ever was seen in these clearins here; and he is as blind as a bat too. No man in Nova Scotia can manage that hoss but Goodish Greevoy, and he'd manage the devil that feller, for he is man, horse, shark, and sarpent all in one, that Frenchman. What possessed you to buy such a varmint as that?'

"'Grave digger!' said doleful Steve, 'what is that?'

"'Why,' sais he, 'they went one day to bury a man, down to Clare did the French, and when they got to the grave, who should be in it but the pony. He couldn't see, and as he was a feedin' about, he tumbled in head over heels and they called him always arterwards 'the Grave-digger.'"

"'Very simple people them French,' sais I, 'Elder; they don't know nothin' about hosses, do they? Their priests keep them in ignorance on purpose.'

"Steve winced and squinched his face properly; and said the gla.s.s in his hands hurt him. Well, arter we sot all to rights, we began to jog on towards Digby. The Elder didn't say much, he was as chop fallen as a wounded moose; at last, says he, 'I'll ship him to St. John, and sell him. I'll put him on board of Captain Ned Leonard's vessel, as soon as I get to Digby.' Well, as I turned my head to answer him, and sot eyes on him agin, it most sot me a haw, hawin' a second time, he _did_ look so like Old Scratch. Oh Hedges! how haggardised he was! His new hat was smashed down like a cap on the crown of his head, his white cravat was b.l.o.o.d.y, his face all scratched, as if he had been clapper-clawed by a woman, and his hands was bound up with rags, where the gla.s.s cut 'em.

The white sand of the floor of Everett's parlour had stuck to his damp clothes, and he looked like an old half corned miller, that was a returnin' to his wife, arter a spree. A leetle crest fallen for what he had got, a leetle mean for the way he looked, and a leetle skeered for what he'd catch, when he got to home. The way he sloped warn't no matter. He was a pictur, and a pictur I must say, I liked to look at.

"And now Squire, do you take him off too, ingrave him, and bind him up in your book, and let others look at it, and put onder it '_the Elder and the Grave-digger_.'"

"Well, when we got to town, the tide was high, and the vessel jist ready to cast off, and Steve, knowin' how skeer'd pony was of the water, got off to lead him, but the critter guessed it warn't a bridge, for he smelt salt water on both sides of him, and ahead too, and budge he wouldn't. Well, they beat him most to death, but he beat back agin with his heels, and it was a drawd fight. Then they goes to the fence and gets a great strong pole, and puts it across his hams, two men at each eend of the pole, and shoved away, and shoved away, till they progressed a yard or so; when pony squatted right down on the pole, throwd over the men, and most broke their legs, with his weight.

"At last, the captain fetched a rope, and fixes it round his neck, with a slip knot, fastens it to the windla.s.s, and dragged him in as they do an anchor, and tied him by his bridle to the boom; and then shoved off, and got under weigh.

"Steve and I sot down on the wharf, for it was a beautiful day, and looked at them driftin' out in the stream, and hystin' sail, while the folks was gettin' somethin' ready for us to the inn.

"When they had got out into the middle of the channel, took the breeze, and was all under way, and we was about turnin' to go back, I saw the pony loose, he had slipped his bridle, and not likin' the motion of the vessel, he jist walked overboard, head fust, with a most a beautiful splunge.

"'_A most refreshin' time_,' said I, 'Elder, that critter has of it. I hope _that sinner will be saved_.'

"He sprung right up on eend, as if he had been stung by a galley nipper, did Steve, 'Let me alone,' said he. 'What have I done to be jobed, that way? Didn't I keep within the strict line o' truth? Did I tell that Frenchman one mossel of a lie? Answer me, that, will you? I've been cheated awful; but I scorn to take the advantage of any man. You had better look to your own dealin's, and let me alone, you pedlin', cheatin' Yankee clockmaker you.'

"'Elder,' sais I, 'if you warn't too mean to rile a man, I'd give you a kick on your pillion, that would send you a divin' arter your hoss; but you ain't worth it. Don't call me names tho', or I'll settle your coffee for you, without a fish skin, afore you are ready to swaller it I can _tell_ you. So keep your mouth shut, my old c.o.o.n, or your teeth might get sun-burnt. You think you are angry with me; but you aint; you are angry with yourself. You know you have showd yourself a proper fool for to come, for to go, for to talk to a man that has seed so much of the world as I have, bout "_refreshin' time_," and "_outpourin' of spirit_,"

and "_makin' profession_" and what not; and you know you showd yourself an everlastin' rogue, a meditatin' of cheatin' that Frenchman all summer. It's biter bit, and I don't pity you one mossel; it sarves you right. But look at the grave-digger; he looks to me as if he was a diggin' of his own grave in rael right down airnest.'

"The captain havin' his boat histed, and thinkin' the hoss would swim ash.o.r.e of hisself, kept right straight on; and the hoss swam this way, and that way, and every way but the right road, jist as the eddies took him. At last, he got into the ripps off of Johnston's pint, and they wheeled him right round and round like a whip-top. Poor pony! he got his match at last. He struggled, and jumpt, and plunged and fort, like a man, for dear life. Fust went up his knowin' little head, that had no ears; and he tried to jump up and rear out of it, as he used to did out of a mire hole or honey pot ash.o.r.e; but there was no bottom there; nothin' for his hind foot to spring from; so down he went agin ever so deep: and then he tried t'other eend, and up went his broad rump, that had no tail; but there was nothin' for the fore feet to rest on nother; so he made a summerset, and as he went over, he gave out a great long end wise kick to the full stretch of his hind legs.

"Poor feller! it was the last kick he ever gave in this world; he sent his heels straight up on eend, like a pair of kitchen tongs, and the last I see of him was a bright dazzle, as the sun shined on his iron shoes, afore the water closed over him for ever.

"I railly felt sorry for the poor old 'grave-digger,' I did upon my soul, for hosses and ladies are two things, that a body can't help likin'. Indeed, a feller that hante no taste that way ain't a man at all, in my opinion. Yes, I felt ugly for poor 'grave-digger,' though I didn't feel one single bit so for that cantin' cheatin', old Elder. So when I turns to go, sais I, 'Elder,' sais I, and I jist repeated his own words--'I guess it's your turn to laugh now, for you have got the best of the bargain, and no mistake. Goodish and the old mare are jist alike, all tongue, ain't they? But these French is a simple people, so they be; they don't know nothin', that's a fact. Their priests keep 'em in ignorance a puppus.

"The next time you tell your experience to the great Christian meetin'

to Goose Creek, jist up and tell 'em, from beginnin' to eend, the story of the--'_Elder and the Grave-digger_.'"