The Attache or Sam Slick in England Part 5

"'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 a.s.sure 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_?"

CHAPTER VII. A GENTLEMAN AT LARGE.

It 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, superst.i.tion, 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 n.o.ble.

They are both extraordinary men.

They differed, however, materially in their opinion of England and its inst.i.tutions. 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 a.s.sociations, cherished a feeling of regard and respect for England; and when his opinion was asked, he always gave it with great frankness and impartiality. When there was any thing he could not approve of, it appeared to be a subject of regret to him; whereas, the other seized upon it at once as a matter of great exultation. The first sight we had of land naturally called out their respective opinions.

As we were pacing the deck speculating upon the probable termination of our voyage, Cape Clear was descried by the look-out on the mast-head.

"Hallo! what's that? why if it ain't land ahead, as I'm alive!" said Mr. Slick. "Well, come this is pleasant too, we have made amost an everlastin' short voyage of it, hante we; and I must say I like land quite as well as sea, in a giniral way, arter all; but, Squire, here is the first Britisher. That critter that's a clawin' up the side of the vessel like a cat, is the pilot: now do for goodness gracious sake, jist look at him, and hear him."

"What port?"

"Liverpool."

"Keep her up a point."

"Do you hear that, Squire? that's English, or what we used to call to singing school short metre. The critter don't say a word, even as much as 'by your leave'; but jist goes and takes his post, and don't ask the name of the vessel, or pa.s.s the time o' day with the Captin. That ain't in the bill, it tante paid for that; if it was, he'd off cap, touch the deck three times with his forehead, and '_Slam_' like a Turk to his Honour the Skipper.

"There's plenty of civility here to England if you pay for it: you can buy as much in five minits, as will make you sick for a week; but if you don't pay for it, you not only won't get it, but you get sarce instead of it, that is if you are fool enough to stand and have it rubbed in.

They are as cold as Presbyterian charity, and mean enough to put the sun in eclipse, are the English. They hante set up the brazen image here to worship, but they've got a gold one, and that they do adore and no mistake; it's all pay, pay, pay; parquisite, parquisite, parquisite; extortion, extortion, extortion. There is a whole pack of yelpin' devils to your heels here, for everlastinly a cringin', fawnin' and coaxin', or snarlin', grumblin' or bullyin' you out of your money. There's the boatman, and tide-waiter, and porter, and custom-er, and truck man as soon as you land; and the sarvant-man, and chamber-gall, and boots, and porter again to the inn. And then on the road, there is trunk-lifter, and coachman, and guard, and beggar-man, and a critter that opens the coach door, that they calls a waterman, cause he is infarnal dirty, and never sees water. They are jist like a snarl o' snakes, their name is legion and there ain't no eend to 'em.

"The only thing you get for nothin' here is rain and smoke, the rumatiz, and scorny airs. If you could buy an Englishman at what he was worth, and sell him at his own valiation, he would realise as much as a n.i.g.g.e.r, and would be worth tradin' in, that's a fact; but as it is he ain't worth nothin', there is no market for such critters, no one would buy him at no price. A Scotchman is wus, for he is prouder and meaner.

Pat ain't no better nother; he ain't proud, cause he has a hole in his breeches and another in his elbow, and he thinks pride won't patch 'em, and he ain't mean cause he hante got nothin' to be mean with. Whether it takes nine tailors to make a man, I can't jist exactly say, but this I will say, and take my davy of it too, that it would take three such goneys as these to make a pattern for one of our rael genu_wine_ free and enlightened citizens, and then I wouldn't swap without large boot, I tell you. Guess I'll go, and pack up my fixing and have 'em ready to land."

He now went below, leaving Mr. Hopewell and myself on the deck. All this tirade of Mr. Slick was uttered in the hearing of the pilot, and intended rather for his conciliation, than my instruction. The pilot was immoveable; he let the cause against his country go "by default," and left us to our process of "inquiry;" but when Mr. Slick was in the act of descending to the cabin, he turned and gave him a look of admeasurement, very similar to that which a grazier gives an ox; a look which estimates the weight and value of the animal, and I am bound to admit, that the result of that "sizing or laying" as it is technically called, was by no means favourable to the Attache".

Mr. Hopewell had evidently not attended to it; his eye was fixed on the bold and precipitous sh.o.r.e of Wales, and the lofty summits of the everlasting hills, that in the distance, aspired to a companionship with the clouds. I took my seat at a little distance from him and surveyed the scene with mingled feelings of curiosity and admiration, until a thick volume of sulphureous smoke from the copper furnaces of Anglesey intercepted our view.

"Squire," said he, "it is impossible for us to contemplate this country, that now lies before us, without strong emotion. It is our fatherland.

I recollect when I was a colonist, as you are, we were in the habit of applying to it, in common with Englishmen, that endearing appellation "Home," and I believe you still continue to do so in the provinces.

Our nursery tales, taught our infant lips to lisp in English, and the ballads, that first exercised our memories, stored the mind with the traditions of our forefathers; their literature was our literature, their religion our religion, their history our history. The battle of Hastings, the murder of Becket, the signature of Runymede, the execution at Whitehall; the divines, the poets, the orators, the heroes, the martyrs, each and all were familiar to us.

"In approaching this country now, after a lapse of many, many years, and approaching it too for the last time, for mine eyes shall see it no more, I cannot describe to you the feelings that agitate my heart. I go to visit the tombs of my ancestors; I go to my home, and my home knoweth me no more. Great and good, and brave and free are the English; and may G.o.d grant that they may ever continue so!"

"I cordially join in that prayer, Sir," said I; "you have a country of your own. The old colonies having ripened into maturity, formed a distinct and separate family, in the great community of mankind. You are now a nation of yourselves, and your attachment to England, is of course subordinate to that of your own country; you view it as the place that was in days of yore the home of your forefathers; we regard it as the paternal estate, continuing to call it 'Home' as you have just now observed. We owe it a debt of grat.i.tude that not only cannot be repaid, but is too great for expression. Their armies protect us within, and their fleets defend us, and our commerce without. Their government is not only paternal and indulgent, but is wholly gratuitous. We neither pay these forces, nor feed them, nor clothe them. We not only raise no taxes, but are not expected to do so. The blessings of true religion are diffused among us, by the pious liberality of England, and a collegiate establishment at Windsor, supported by British friends, has for years supplied the Church, the Bar and the Legislature with scholars and gentlemen. Where the national funds have failed, private contribution has volunteered its aid, and means are never wanting for any useful or beneficial object.

"Our condition is a most enviable one. The history of the world has no example to offer of such n.o.ble disinterestedness and such liberal rule, as that exhibited by Great Britain to her colonies. If the policy of the Colonial Office is not always good (which I fear is too much to say) it is ever liberal; and if we do not mutually derive all the benefit we might from the connexion, _we_, at least, reap more solid advantages than we have a right to expect, and more, I am afraid, than our conduct always deserves. I hope the Secretary for the Colonies may have the advantage of making your acquaintance, Sir. Your experience is so great, you might give him a vast deal of useful information, which he could obtain from no one else.

"Minister," said Mr. Slick, who had just mounted the companion-ladder, "will your honour," touching his hat, "jist look at your honour's plunder, and see it's all right; remember me, Sir; thank your honour.

This way, Sir; let me help your honour down. Remember me again, Sir.

Thank your honour. Now you may go and break your neck, your honour, as soon as you please; for I've got all out of you I can squeeze, that's a fact. That's English, Squire--that's English servility, which they call civility, and English meanness and beggin', which they call parquisite.

Who was that you wanted to see the Minister, that I heerd you a talkin'

of when I come on deck?"

"The Secretary of the Colonies," I said.

"Oh for goodness sake don't send that crittur to him," said he, "or minister will have to pay him for his visit, more, p'raps, than he can afford. John Russell, that had the ribbons afore him, appointed a settler as a member of Legislative Council to Prince Edward's Island, a berth that has no pay, that takes a feller three months a year from home, and has a horrid sight to do; and what do you think he did? Now jist guess. You give it up, do you? Well, you might as well, for if you was five Yankees biled down to one, you wouldn't guess it. 'Remember Secretary's clerk,' says he, a touchin' of his hat, 'give him a little tip of thirty pound sterling, your honour.' Well, colonist had a drop of Yankee blood in him, which was about one third mola.s.ses, and, of course, one third more of a man than they commonly is, and so he jist ups and says, 'I'll see you and your clerk to Jericho beyond Jordan fust. The office ain't worth the fee. Take it and sell it to some one else that has more money nor wit.' He did, upon my soul."

"No, don't send State-Secretary to Minister, send him to me at eleven o'clock to-night, for I shall be the toploftiest feller about that time you've seen this while past, I tell you. Stop till I touch land once more, that's all; the way I'll stretch my legs ain't no matter."

He then uttered the negro e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n "chah!--chah!" and putting his arms a-kimbo, danced in a most extraordinary style to the music of a song, which he gave with great expression:

"Oh hab you nebber heerd ob de battle ob Orleens, Where de dandy Yankee lads gave de Britishers de beans; Oh de Louisiana boys dey did it pretty slick, When dey cotch ole Packenham and rode him up a creek.

Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey, Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey.

"Oh yes, send Secretary to me at eleven or twelve to-night, I'll be in tune then, jist about up to concart pitch. I'll smoke with him, or drink with him, or swap stories with him, or wrastle with him, or make a fool of him, or lick him, or any thing he likes; and when I've done, I'll rise up, tweak the fore-top-knot of my head by the nose, bow pretty, and say 'Remember me, your honour? Don't forget the tip?' Lord, how I long to walk into some o' these chaps, and give 'em the beans! and I will yet afore I'm many days older, hang me if I don't. I shall bust, I do expect; and if I do, them that ain't drownded will be scalded, I know.

Chah!--chah!

"Oh de British name is Bull, and de French name is Frog, And noisy critters too, when a braggin' on a log,-- But I is an alligator, a floatin' down stream.

And I'll chaw both the bullies up, as I would an ice-cream: Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dee, Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dee.

"Yes, I've been pent up in that drawer-like lookin' berth, till I've growed like a pine-tree with its branches off--straight up and down. My legs is like a pair of compa.s.ses that's got wet; they are rusty on the hinges, and won't work. I'll play leapfrog up the street, over every feller's head, till I get to the Liners' Hotel; I hope I may be shot if I don't. Jube, you villain, stand still there on the deck, and hold up stiff, you n.i.g.g.e.r. Warny once--warny twice--warny three times; now I come."

And he ran forward, and putting a hand on each shoulder, jumped over him.

"Turn round agin, you young sucking Satan, you; and don't give one mite or morsel, or you might 'break ma.s.sa's precious neck,' p'raps. Warny once--warny twice--warny three times."

And he repeated the feat again.

"That's the way I'll shin it up street, with a hop, skip and a jump.

Won't I make Old Bull stare, when he finds his head under my coat tails, and me jist makin' a lever of him? He'll think he has run foul of a snag, _I_ know. Lord, I'll shack right over their heads, as they do over a colonist; only when they do, they never say warny wunst, cuss 'em, they arn't civil enough for that. They arn't paid for it--there is no parquisite to be got by it. Won't I tuck in the Champaine to-night, that's all, till I get the steam up right, and make the paddles work?

Won't I have a lark of the rael Kentuck breed? Won't I trip up a policeman's heels, thunder the knockers of the street doors, and ring the bells and leave no card? Won't I have a shy at a lamp, and then off hot foot to the hotel? Won't I say, 'Waiter, how dare you do that?'

"'What, Sir?'

"'Tread on my foot.'