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

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 Glass 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?'

 

Volume 2 Chapter 12 (Tattersall's Or, The Elder And The Grave Digger) Pg 169

"'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 Glass 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 Bloody,  His Face All Scratched,  As

If He Had Been Clapper-Clawed By A Woman,  And His Hands

Was Bound Up With Rags,  Where The Glass 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 Windlass,

And Dragged Him In As They Do An Anchor,  And Tied Him By

Volume 2 Chapter 12 (Tattersall's Or, The Elder And The Grave Digger) Pg 170

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 Coon,

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 Ashore 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.

Volume 2 Chapter 12 (Tattersall's Or, The Elder And The Grave Digger) Pg 171

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 Ashore; 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_.'"

 

 

 

 

Volume 2 Chapter 13 (Looking Back) Pg 172

In The Course Of The Evening,  Mr. Hopewell Adverted To

His Return As A Matter Of Professional Duty,  And Spoke

Of It In Such A Feeling And Earnest Manner,  As To Leave

No Doubt Upon My Mind,  That We Should