The Attache or Sam Slick in England Part 7

"In half an hour, Sir?"

"Book me for London then, for I have been to Liverpool and seen the city. Oh, take your place, Squire, you have seen Liverpool; and if you see as much of all other places, as you have of this here one, afore you return home, you will know most as much of England as them do that never was there at all.

"I am sorry too, you won't go, Squire," added he, "for minister seems kinder dull."

"Don't say another word, Mr. Slick," said I; "every thing shall give way to him." And locking up my writing-desk I said: "I am ready."

"Stop, Squire," said he, "I've got a favour to ask of you. Don't for gracious sake, say nothin' before Mr. Hopewell about that 'ere lark I had last night arter landin', it would sorter worry him, and set him off a-preachin', and I'd rather he'd strike me any time amost than lectur, for he does it so tender and kindly, it hurts my feelins _like_, a considerable sum. I've had a pretty how-do-ye-do about it this mornin', and have had to plank down handsum', and do the thing genteel; but Mister Landlord found, I reckon, he had no fool to deal with, nother. He comes to me, as soon as I was cleverly up this mornin', lookin' as full of importance, as Jube j.a.pan did when I put the Legation b.u.t.ton on him.

"'Bad business this, Sir,' says he; 'never had such a scene in my house before, Sir; have had great difficulty to prevent my sarvants takin' the law of you.'

"'Ah,' sais I to myself, 'I see how the cat jumps; here's a little tid bit of extortion now; but you won't find that no go, I don't think.'

"'You will have to satisfy them, Sir,' says he, 'or take the consequences.'

"'Sartainly,' said I, 'any thin' you please: I leave it entirely to you; jist name what you think proper, and I will liquidate it.'

"'I said, I knew you would behave like a gentleman, Sir,' sais he, 'for, sais I, don't talk to me of law, name it to the gentleman, and he'll do what is right; he'll behave liberal, you may depend.'

"'You said right,' sais I, 'and now, Sir, what's the damage?'

"'Fifty pounds, I should think about the thing, Sir,' said he.

"'Certainly,' said I, 'you shall have the fifty pounds, but you must give me a receipt in full for it.'

"'By all means,' said he, and he was a cuttin' off full chisel to get a stamp, when I sais, 'Stop,' sais I, 'uncle, mind and put in the receipt, the bill of items, and charge 'em separate?'

"'Bill of items? sais he.

"'Yes,' sais I, 'let me see what each is to get. Well, there's the waiter, now. Say to knockin' down the waiter and kicking him, so much; then there's the barmaid so much, and so on. I make no objection, I am willin' to pay all you ask, but I want to include all, for I intend to post a copy of it in the elegant cabins of each of our splendid New York Liners. This house convenes the Americans--they all know _me_. I want them to know how their _Attache_ was imposed on, and if any American ever sets foot in this cussed house agin I will pay his bill, and post that up too, as a letter of credit for him.'

"'You wouldn't take that advantage of me, Sir?' said he.

"'I take no advantage,' sais I. 'I'll pay you what you ask, but you shall never take advantage agin of another free and enlightened American citizen, I can tell you.'

"'You must keep your money then, Sir,' said he, 'but this is not a fair deal; no gentleman would do it.'

"'What's fair, I am willin' to do,' sais I; 'what's onfair, is what you want to do. Now, look here: I knocked the waiter down; here is two sovereigns for him; I won't pay him nothin' for the kickin', for that I give him out of contempt, for not defendin' of himself. Here's three sovereigns for the bar-maid; she don't ought to have nothin', for she never got so innocent a kiss afore, in all her born days I know, for I didn't mean no harm, and she never got so good a one afore nother, that's a fact; but then _I_ ought to pay, I do suppose, because I hadn't ought to treat a lady that way; it was onhansum', that's fact; and besides, it tante right to give the galls a taste for such things. They come fast enough in the nateral way, do kisses, without inokilatin'

folks for 'em. And here's a sovereign for the scoldin' and siscerarin'

you gave the maid, that spilt the coals and that's an eend of the matter, and I don't want no receipt.'

"Well, he bowed and walked off, without sayin' of a word."

Here Mr. Hopewell joined us, and we descended to the street, to commence our perambulation of the city; but it had begun to rain, and we were compelled to defer it until the next day.

"Well, it ain't much matter, Squire," said Mr. Slick: "ain't that Liverpool, I see out of the winder? Well, then I've been to Liverpool.

Book me for London. So I have seen Liverpool at last, eh! or, as Rufus said, I have felt it too, for this wet day reminds me of the rest of his story.

"In about a half hour arter Rufus raced off to the Falls, back he comes as hard as he could tear, a-puffing and a blowin' like a sizeable grampus. You never seed such a figure as he was, he was wet through and through, and the dry dust stickin' to his clothes, made him look like a dog, that had jumped into the water, and then took a roll in the road to dry hisself; he was a caution to look at, that's a fact.

"'Well,' sais I, 'Stranger, did you see the Falls?'

"'Yes,' sais he, 'I have see'd 'em and felt 'em too; them's very wet Falls, that's a fact. I hante a dry rag on me; if it hadn't a been for that ere Britisher, I wouldn't have see'd 'em at all, and yet a thought I had been there all the time. It's a pity too, that that winder don't bear on it, for then you could see it without the trouble of goin'

there, or gettin' ducked, or gettin' skeered so. I got an awful fright there--I shall never forget it, if I live as long as Merusalem. You know I hadn't much time left, when. I found out I hadn't been there arter all, so I ran all the way, right down as hard as I could clip; and, seein' some folks comin' out from onder the Fall, I pushed strait in, but the noise actilly stunned me, and the spray wet me through and through like a piece of sponged cloth; and the great pourin', bilin'

flood, blinded me so I couldn't see a bit; and I hadn't gone far in, afore a cold, wet, clammy, dead hand, felt my face all over. I believe in my soul, it was the Indian squaw that went over the Falls in the canoe, or the crazy Englisher, that tried to jump across it.

"'Oh creation, how cold it was! The moment that spirit rose, mine fell, and I actilly thought I should have dropt lumpus, I was so skeered. Give me your hand, said Ghost, for I didn't see nothin' but a kinder dark shadow. Give me your hand. I think it must ha' been the squaw, for it begged for all the world, jist like an Indgian. I'd see you hanged fust, said I; I wouldn't touch that are dead tacky hand o' yourn' for half a million o' hard dollars, cash down without any ragged eends; and with that, I turned to run out, but Lord love you I couldn't run. The stones was all wet and slimy, and onnateral slippy, and I expected every minute, I should heels up and go for it: atween them two critters the Ghost and the juicy ledge, I felt awful skeered I tell _you_. So I begins to say my catechism; what's your name, sais I? Rufus Dodge. Who gave you that name? G.o.dfather and G.o.dmother granny Eells. What did they promise for you? That I should renounce the devil and all his works--works--works--I couldn't get no farther, I stuck fast there, for I had forgot it.

"'The moment I stopt, ghost kinder jumped forward, and seized me by my mustn't-mention'ems, and most pulled the seat out. Oh dear! my heart most went out along with it, for I thought my time had come. You black she-sinner of a heathen Indgian! sais I; let me go this blessed minite, for I renounce the devil and all his works, the devil and all his works--so there now; and I let go a kick behind, the wickedest you ever see, and took it right in the bread basket. Oh, it yelled and howled and screached like a wounded hyaena, till my ears fairly cracked agin.

I renounce you, Satan, sais I; I renounce you, and the world, and the flesh and the devil. And now, sais I, a jumpin' on terry firm once more, and turnin' round and facin' the enemy, I'll promise a little dust more for myself, and that is to renounce Niagara, and Indgian squaws, and dead Britishers, and the whole seed, breed and generation of 'em from this time forth, for evermore. Amen.

"'Oh blazes! how cold my face is yet. Waiter, half a pint of clear c.o.c.ktail; somethin' to warm me. Oh, that cold hand! Did you ever touch a dead man's hand? it's awful cold, you may depend. Is there any marks on my face? do you see the tracks of the fingers there?'

"'No, Sir,' sais I,' I can't say I do.'

"'Well, then I feel them there,' sais he, 'as plain as any thing.'

"'Stranger,' sais I, 'it was nothin' but some poor no-souled critter, like yourself, that was skeered a'most to death, and wanted to be helped out that's all."

"'Skeered!' said he, 'sarves him right then; he might have knowed how to feel for other folks, and not funkify them so peskily; I don't keer if he never gets out; but I have my doubts about its bein' a livin' human, I tell _you_. If I hadn't a renounced the devil and all his works that time, I don't know what the upshot would have been, for Old Scratch was there too. I saw him as plain as I see you; he ran out afore me, and couldn't stop or look back, as long as I said catekism. He was in his old shape of the sarpent; he was the matter of a yard long, and as thick round as my arm and travelled belly-flounder fashion; when I touched land, he dodged into an eddy, and out of sight in no time. Oh, there is no mistake, I'll take my oath of it; I see him, I did upon my soul. It was the old gentleman hisself; he come there to cool hisself. Oh, it was the devil, that's a fact.'

"'It was nothin' but a fresh water eel,' sais I; 'I have seen thousands of 'em there; for the crevices of them rocks are chock full of 'em.

How can you come for to go, for to talk arter that fashion; you are a disgrace to our great nation, you great lummokin coward, you. An American citizen is afeerd of nothin', but a bad spekilation, or bein'

found oat.'

"Well, that posed him, he seemed kinder bothered, and looked down.

"'An eel, eh! well, it mought be an eel,' sais be, 'that's a fact.

I didn't think of that; but then if it was, it was G.o.d-mother granny Eells, that promised I should renounce the devil and all his works, that took that shape, and come to keep me to my bargain. She died fifty years ago, poor old soul, and never kept company with Indgians, or n.i.g.g.e.rs, or any such trash. Heavens and airth! I don't wonder the Falls wakes the dead, it makes such an everlastin' almighty noise, does Niagara. Waiter, more c.o.c.ktail, that last was as weak as water.'

"'Yes, Sir,' and he swallered it like wink.

"'The stage is ready, Sir.'

"'Is it?' said he, and he jumped in all wet as he was; for time is money and he didn't want to waste neither. As it drove off, I heerd him say, 'Well them's the Falls, eh! So I have seen the Falls of Niagara and felt 'em too, eh!'

"Now, we are better off than Rufus Dodge was, Squire; for we hante got wet, and we hante got frightened, but we can look out o' the winder and say, 'Well, that's Liverpool, eh! so I have--seen Liverpool.'"

CHAPTER IX. CHANGING A NAME.

The rain having confined us to the house this afternoon, we sat over our wine after dinner longer than usual. Among the different topics that were discussed, the most prominent was the state of the political parties in this country. Mr. Slick, who paid great deference to the opinions of Mr. Hopewell, was anxious to ascertain from him what he thought upon the subject, in order to regulate his conduct and conversation by it hereafter.

"Minister," said he, "what do you think of the politics of the British?"

"I don't think about them at all, Sam. I hear so much of such matters at home, that I am heartily tired of them; our political world is divided into two cla.s.ses, the knaves and the dupes. Don't let us talk of such exciting, things."