The Attache; Or, Sam Slick In England(Fiscle Part-3), Thomas Chandler Haliburton [best ereader for pdf TXT] 📗

Are So Fine Bred,  There Is Nothin'

Left Of 'Em Now But The Hide,  Hair,  And Shoes.

Volume 2 Chapter 11 (A Swoi-Ree) Pg 156

"So Prince Albert Is There In That Room; I Must Get In

There And See Him,  For I Have Never Sot Eyes On Him Since

I've Been Here,  So Here Goes. Onder,  Below There,  Look

Out For Your Corns,  Hawl Your Feet In,  Like Turtles,  For

I Am A Comin'. Take Care O' Your Ribs,  My Old 'Coons,

For My Elbows Are Crooked. Who Wants To Grow? I'll Squeeze

You Out As A Rollin'-Pin Does Dough,  And Make You Ten

Inches Taller. I'll Make Good Figures Of You,  My Fat Boys

And Galls,  I Know. Look Out For Scaldin's There. Here

I Am: It's Me,  Sam Slick,  Make Way,  Or I'll Walk Right

Over You,  And Cronch You Like Lobsters. 'Cheap Talkin',

Or Rather Thinkin',  Sais I; For In Course I Couldn't Bawl

That Out In Company Here; They Don't Understand Fun,  And

Would Think It Rude,  And Ongenteel. I Have To Be Shockin'

Cautious What I Say Here,  For Fear I Might Lower Our

Great Nation In The Eyes Of Foreigners. I Have To Look

Big And Talk Big The Whole Blessed Time,  And I Am Tired

Of It. It Ain't Nateral To Me; And,  Besides Braggin' And

Repudiatin' At The Same Time,  Is Most As Bad As Cantin'

And Swearin'. It Kinder Chokes Me. I Thought It All

Though,  And Said It All To Myself. 'And,' Sais I,  'Take

Your Time,  Sam; You Can't Do It,  No How,  You Can Fix-It.

You Must Wait Your Time,  Like Other Folks. Your Legs Is

Tied,  And Your Arms Is Tied Down By The Crowd,  And You

Can't Move An Inch Beyond Your Nose. The Only Way Is,

Watch Your Chance,  Wait Till You Can Get Your Hands Up,

Then Turn The Fust Two Persons That's Next To You Right

Round,  And Slip Between Them Like A Turn Stile In The

Park,  And Work Your Passage That Way. Which Is The Prince?

That's Him With The Hair Carefully Divided,  Him With The

Moustaches. I've Seed Him; A Plaguy Handsum Man He Is,

Too. Let Me Out Now. I'm Stifled,  I'm Choked. My Jaws

Stick Together,  I Can't Open 'Em No More; And My Wind

Won't Hold Out Another Minute.

 

"I Have It Now,  I've Got An Idea. See If I Don't Put The

Leake Into 'Em. Won't I _Do_ Them,  That's All? Clear The

Way There,  The Prince Is A Comin',  _And_ So Is The Duke.

And A Way Is Opened: Waves O' The Sea Roll Hack At These

Words,  And I Walks Right Out,  As Large As Life,  And The

Fust Egyptian That Follers Is Drowned,  For The Water Has

Closed Over Him. Sarves Him Right,  Too,  What Business

Had He To Grasp My Life-Preserver Without Leave. I Have

Enough To Do To Get Along By My Own Wit,  Without Carry

In' Double.

 

"'Where Is The Prince? Didn't They Say He Was A Comin'?

Who Was That Went Out? He Don't Look Like The Prince; He

Ain't Half So Handsum,  That Feller,  He Looks,  Like A

Yankee.' 'Why,  That Was Sam Slick.' 'Capital,  That! What

A Droll Feller He Is; He Is Always So Ready! He Desarves

Credit For That Trick.' Guess I Do; But Let Old Connecticut

Alone; Us Slickville Boys Always Find A Way To Dodge In

Volume 2 Chapter 11 (A Swoi-Ree) Pg 157

Or Out Embargo Or No Embargo,  Blockade Or No Blockade,

We Larnt That Last War.

 

"Here I Am In The Street Agin; The Air Feels Handsum. I

Have Another Invitation To-Night,  Shall I Go? Guess I

Will. All The World Is At These Two Last Places,  I Reckin

There Will Be Breathin' Room At The Next; And I Want An

Ice Cream To Cool My Coppers,  Shockin' Bad.--Creation!

It Is Wus Than Ever; This Party Beats T'other Ones All

Holler. They Ain't No Touch To It. I'll Jist Go And Make

A Scrape To Old Uncle And Aunty,  And Then Cut Stick; For

I Hante Strength To Swiggle My Way Through Another Mob.

 

"'You Had Better Get In Fust,  Though,  Hadn't You,  Sam?

For Here You Are Agin Wracked,  By Gosh,  Drove Right Slap

Ashore Atween Them Two Fat Women,  And Fairly Wedged In

And Bilged. You Can't Get Through,  And Can't Get Out,  If

You Was To Die For It.' 'Can't I Though? I'll Try; For

I Never Give In,  Till I Can't Help It. So Here's At It.

Heave Off,  Put All Steam On,  And Back Out,  Starn Fust,

And Then Swing Round Into The Stream. That's The Ticket,

Sam.' It's Done; But My Elbow Has Took That Lady That's

Two Steps Furder Down On The Stairs,  Jist In The Eye,

And Knocked In Her Dead Light. How She Cries! How I

Apologize,  Don't I? And The More I Beg Pardon,  The Wus

She Carries On. But It's No Go; If I Stay,  I Must Fust

Fight Somebody,  And Then Marry _Her_; For I've Spiled

Her Beauty,  And That's The Rule Here,  They Tell Me.'

 

"So I Sets Studen Sail Booms,  And Cracks On All Sail,

And Steers For Home,  And Here I Am Once More; At Least

What's Left Of Me,  And That Ain't Much More Nor My Shader.

Oh Dear! I'm Tired,  Shockin' Tired,  Almost Dead,  And

Awful Thirsty; For Heaven's Sake,  Give Me Some Lignum

Vitae,  For I Am So Dry,  I'll Blow Away In Dust.

 

"This Is A Swoi-Ree,  Squire,  This Is London Society; This

Is Rational Enjoyment,  This Is A Meeting Of Friends,  Who

Are So Infarnal Friendly They Are Jammed Together So They

Can't Leave Each Other. Inseparable Friends; You Must

Choke 'Em Off,  Or You Can't Part 'Em. Well,  I Ain't Jist

So Thick And Intimate With None O' Them In This Country

As All That Comes To Nother. I Won't Lay Down My Life

For None On 'Em; I Don't See No Occasion For It,  _Do

You_?

 

"I'll Dine With You,  John Bull,  If You Axe Me; And I

Ain't Nothin' Above Particular To Do,  And The Cab Hire

Don't Cost More Nor The Price Of A Dinner; But Hang Me

If Ever I Go To A Swoi-Ree Agin. I've Had Enough Of

That,  To Last Me _My_ Life,  I Know. A Dinner I Hante No

Objection To,  Though That Ain't Quite So Bright As A

Pewter Button Nother,  When You Don't Know You're Right

And Left,  Hand Man. And An Evenin' Party,  I Wouldn't Take

My Oath I Wouldn't Go To,  Though I Don't Know Hardly What

To Talk About,  Except America; And I've Bragged So Much

About That,  I'm Tired Of The Subject. But A _Swoi-Ree Is

The Devil,  That's A Fact_."

 

 

Volume 2 Chapter 12 (Tattersall's Or, The Elder And The Grave Digger) Pg 158

"Squire," Said Mr. Slick,  "It Ain't Rainin' To-Day;

Suppose You Come Along With Me To Tattersall's. I Have

Been Studyin' That Place A Considerable Sum To See Whether

It Is A Safe Shop To Trade In Or No. But I'm Dubersome;

I Don't Like The Cut Of The Sportin' Folks Here. If I

Can See Both Eends Of The Rope,  And Only One Man Has Hold

Of One Eend,  And Me Of The Tother,  Why I Know What I Am

About; But If I Can Only See My Own Eend,  I Don't Know

Who I Am A Pullin' Agin. I Intend To Take A Rise Out O'

Some O' The Knowin' Ones Here,  That Will Make 'Em Scratch

Their Heads,  And Stare,  I Know. But Here We Are. Cut

Round This Corner,  Into This Lane. Here It Is; This Is

It To The Right."

 

We Entered A Sort Of Coach-Yard,  Which Was Filled With

A Motley And Mixed Crowd Of People. I Was Greatly

Disappointed In Tattersall's. Indeed,  Few Things In London

Have Answered My Expectations. They Have Either Exceeded

Or Fallen Short Of The Description I Had Heard Of Them.

I Was Prepared,  Both From What I Was Told By Mr. Slick,

And Heard,  From Others,  To Find That There Were But Very

Few Gentlemen-Like Looking Men There; And That By Far

The Greater Number Neither Were,  Nor Affected To Be,  Any

Thing But "Knowing Ones." I Was Led To Believe That There

Would Be A Plentiful Use Of The Terms _Of Art_,  A Variety

Of Provincial Accent,  And That The Conversation Of The

Jockeys And Grooms Would Be Liberally Garnished With

Appropriate Slang.

 

The Gentry Portion Of The Throng,  With Some Few Exceptions,

It Was Said,  Wore A Dissipated Look,  And Had That Peculiar

Appearance Of Incipient Disease,  That Indicates A Life

Of Late Hours,  Of Excitement,  And Bodily Exhaustion.

Lower Down In The Scale Of Life,  I Was Informed,

Intemperance Had Left Its Indelible Marks. And That

Still Further Down,  Were To Be Found The Worthless Lees

Of This Foul And Polluted Stream Of Sporting Gentlemen,

Spendthrifts,  Gamblers,  Bankrupts,  Sots,  Sharpers And

Jockeys.

Volume 2 Chapter 12 (Tattersall's Or, The Elder And The Grave Digger) Pg 159

This Was By No Means The Case. It Was Just What A Man

Might Have Expected To Have Found A Great Sporting Exchange

And Auction Mart,  Of Horses And Carriages,  To Have Been,

In A Great City Like London,  Had He Been Merely Told That

Such Was The Object Of The Place,  And Then Left To Imagine

The Scene. It Was,  As I Have Before Said,  A Mixed And

Motley Crowd; And Must Necessarily Be So,  Where Agents

Attend To Bid For Their Principals,  Where Servants Are

In Waiting Upon Their Masters,  And Above All,  Where The

Ingress Is Open To Every One.

 

It Is,  However,  Unquestionably The Resort Of Gentlemen.

In A Great And Rich Country Like This,  There Must,

Unavoidably,  Be A Tattersall's; And The Wonder Is,  Not

That It Is Not Better,  But That It