Part 5 (1/2)
”People talk an everlastin' sight of nonsense about wine, women and horses. I've bought and sold 'em all, I've traded in all of them, and I tell you, there ain't one in a thousand that knows a grain about either on 'em. You hear folks say, oh, such a man is an ugly-grained critter--he'll break his wife's heart; jist as if a woman's heart was as brittle as a pipe stalk. The female heart, as far as my experience goes, is jist like a new India rubber shoe; you may pull and pull at it, till it stretches out a yard long, and then let go, and it will fly right back to its old shape. Their hearts are made of stout leather, I tell you; there's a plaguy sight of wear in 'em.
”I never knowed but one case of a broken heart, and that was in t'other s.e.x, one Was.h.i.+ngton Banks. He was a sneezer. He was tall enough to spit down on the heads of your grenadiers, and near about high enough to wade across Charlestown River, and as strong as a towboat. I guess he was somewhat less than a foot longer than the moral law and catechism too. He was a perfect pictur' of a man; you couldn't falt him in no particular; he was so just a made critter; folks used to run to the winder when he pa.s.sed, and say 'There goes Was.h.i.+ngton Banks, bean't he lovely?' I do believe there wasn't a gal in the Lowell factories, that warn't in love with him. Sometimes, at intermission, on Sabbath day, when they all came out together (an amazin' hansom sight too, near about a whole congregation of young gals), Banks used to say, 'I vow, young ladies, I wish I had five hundred arms to reciprocate one with each of you; but I reckon I have a heart big enough for you all; it's a whapper, you may depend, and every mite and morsel of it at your service.' Well, how you do act, Mr. Banks, half a thousand little clipper-clapper tongues would say, all at the same time, and their dear little eyes sparklin', like so many stars twinklin' of a frosty night.
”Well, when I last seed him, he was all skin and bone, like a horse turned out to die. He was teetotally defleshed, a mere walkin'
skeleton. 'I am dreadful sorry,' says I, 'to see you, Banks, lookin'
so peecked; why you look like a sick turkey hen, all legs; what on airth ails you?' 'I'm dyin',' says he, 'of a broken heart.' 'What,'
says I, 'have the gals been jiltin' you?' 'No, no,' says he, 'I bean't such a fool as that neither.' 'Well,' says I, 'have you made a bad speculation?' 'No,' says he, shakin' his head, 'I hope I have too much clear grit in me to take on so bad for that.' 'What under the sun, is it, then?' said I. 'Why,' says he, 'I made a bet the fore part of summer with Leftenant Oby Knowles, that I could shoulder the best bower of the Const.i.tution frigate. I won my bet, but the Anchor was so eternal heavy it broke my heart.' Sure enough he did die that very fall, and he was the only instance I ever heerd tell of a broken heart.”
No. XI
c.u.mberland Oysters Produce Melancholy Forebodings.
The ”soft sawder” of the Clockmaker had operated effectually on the beauty of Amherst, our lovely hostess of Pugwash's inn: indeed, I am inclined to think, with Mr. Slick, that ”the road to a woman's heart lies through her child,” from the effect produced upon her by the praises bestowed on her infant boy.
I was musing on this feminine susceptibility to flattery, when the door opened, and Mrs. Pugwash entered, dressed in her sweetest smiles and her best cap, an auxiliary by no means required by her charms, which, like an Italian sky, when unclouded, are unrivalled in splendour. Approaching me, she said, with an irresistible smile, ”Would you like Mr. ---” (Here there was a pause, a hiatus, evidently intended for me to fill up with my name; but that no person knows, nor do I intend they shall; at Medley's Hotel, in Halifax, I was known as the stranger in No. 1. The attention that incognito procured for me, the importance it gave me in the eyes of the master of the house, its lodgers and servants, is indescribable. It is only great people who travel incog. State travelling is inconvenient and slow; the constant weight of form and etiquette oppresses at once the strength and the spirits. It is pleasant to travel un.o.bserved, to stand at ease, or exchange the full suit for the undress coat and fatigue jacket. Wherever too there is mystery there is importance; there is no knowing for whom I may be mistaken; but let me once give my humble cognomen and occupation, and I sink immediately to my own level, to a plebeian station and a vulgar name; not even my beautiful hostess, nor my inquisitive friend, the Clockmaker, who calls me ”Squire,” shall extract that secret!) ”Would you like, Mr. ---”
”Indeed, I would,” said I, ”Mrs. Pugwash; pray be seated, and tell me what it is.”
”Would you like a dish of superior s.h.i.+ttyacks for supper?”
”Indeed I would,” said I, again laughing; ”but pray tell me what it is?”
”Laws me!” said she with a stare, ”where have you been all your days, that you never heerd of our s.h.i.+ttyack oysters? I thought everybody had heerd of them.”
”I beg pardon,” said I, ”but I understood at Halifax, that the only oysters in this part of the world were found on the sh.o.r.es of Prince Edward Island.”
”Oh! dear no,” said our hostess, ”they are found all along the coast from s.h.i.+ttyack, through Bay of Vartes, away up to Rams.h.a.g. The latter we seldom get, though the best; there is no regular conveyance, and when they do come, they are generally sh.e.l.led and in kegs, and never in good order. I have not had a real good Rams.h.a.g in my house these two years, since Governor Maitland was here; he was amazin' fond of them, and lawyer Talkemdeaf sent his carriage there on purpose to procure them fresh for him. Now we can't get them, but we have the s.h.i.+ttyacks in perfection; say the word, and they shall be served up immediately.”
A good dish and an unexpected dish is most acceptable, and certainly my American friend and myself did ample justice to the oysters, which, if they have not so cla.s.sical a name, have quite as good a flavour as their far famed brethren of Milton. Mr. Slick ate so heartily, that when he resumed his conversation, he indulged in the most melancholy forebodings.
”Did you see that 'ere n.i.g.g.e.r,” said he, ”that removed the oyster sh.e.l.ls? well, he's one of our Chesapickers, one of General Cuffy's slaves. I wish Admiral c.o.c.kburn had a taken them all off our hands at the same time. We made a pretty good sale of them 'ere black cattle, I guess, to the British; I wish we were well rid of 'em all. The blacks and the whites in the States show their teeth and snarl, they are jist ready to fall to. The Protestants and Catholics begin to lay back their ears, and turn tail for kickin'. The Abolitionists and Planters are at it like two bulls in a pastur'. Mob-law and Lynch-law are working like yeast in a barrel, and frothing at the bung hole.
Nullification and Tariff are like a charcoal pit, all covered up, but burning inside, and sending out smoke at every crack, enough to stifle a horse. General Government and State Government every now and then square off and sparr, and the first blow given will bring a genuine set-to. Surplus Revenue is another bone of contention; like a s.h.i.+n of beef thrown among a pack of dogs, it will set the whole on 'em by the ears.
”You have heerd tell of cotton rags dipped in turpentine, havn't you, how they produce combustion? Well, I guess we have the elements of spontaneous combustion among us in abundance; when it does break out, if you don't see an eruption of human gore, worse than Etna lava, then I'm mistaken. There'll be the very devil to pay, that's a fact. I expect the blacks will butcher the Southern whites, and the Northerners will have to turn out and butcher them again; and all this shoot, hang, cut, stab, and burn business will sweeten our folks' temper, as raw meat does that of a dog--it fairly makes me sick to think on it. The explosion may clear the air again, and all be tranquil once more, but it's an even chance if it don't leave us the three steamboat options: to be blown sky high, to be scalded to death, or drowned.”
”If this sad picture you have drawn be indeed true to nature, how does your country,” said I, ”appear so attractive, as to draw to it so large a portion of our population?”
”It ain't its attraction,” said the Clockmaker; ”it's nothin' but its power of suction; it is a great whirlpool--a great vortex--it drags all the straw and chips, and floatin' sticks, drift-wood and trash into it. The small crafts are sucked in, and whirl round and round like a squirrel in a cage--they'll never come out. Bigger ones pa.s.s through at certain times of tide, and can come in and out with good pilotage, as they do at h.e.l.l Gate up the Sound.”
”You astonish me,” said I, ”beyond measure; both your previous conversations with me, and the concurrent testimony of all my friends who have visited the States, give a different view of it.”
”YOUR FRIENDS!” said the Clockmaker, with such a tone of ineffable contempt, that I felt a strong inclination to knock him down for his insolence, ”your friends! Ensigns and leftenants, I guess, from the British marchin' regiments in the Colonies, that run over five thousand miles of country in five weeks, on leave of absence, and then return, lookin' as wise as the monkey that had seen the world.
When they get back they are so chock full of knowledge of the Yankees, that it runs over of itself, like a Hogshead of mola.s.ses rolled about in hot weather--a white froth and sc.u.m bubbles out of the bung; wishy-washy trash they call tours, sketches, travels, letters, and what not; vapid stuff, jist sweet enough to catch flies, c.o.c.kroaches, and half-fledged gals. It puts me in mind of my French.
I larnt French at night school one winter, of our minister, Joshua Hopewell (he was the most larned man of the age, for he taught himself e'enamost every language in Europe); well, next spring, when I went to Boston, I met a Frenchman, and I began to jabber away French to him: 'Polly woes a french say,' says I. 'I don't understand Yankee yet,' says he. 'You don't understand!' says I, 'why it's French. I guess you didn't expect to hear such good French, did you, away down east here? But we speak it real well, and it's generally allowed we speak English, too, better than the British.' 'Oh,' says he, 'you one very droll Yankee, dat very good joke, Sare; you talk Indian and call it French.' 'But,' says I, 'Mister Mount shear; it is French, I vow; real merchantable, without wainy edge or shakes--all clear stuff; it will pa.s.s survey in any market--it's ready stuck and seasoned.' 'Oh, very like,' says he, bowin' as polite as a black waiter at New OrLEENS, 'very like, only I never heerd it afore; oh, very good French dat--CLEAR STUFF, no doubt, but I no understand--it's all my fault, I dare say, Sare.'
”Thinks I to myself, a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse. I see how the cat jumps--Minister knows so many languages he hain't been particular enough to keep 'em in separate parcels and mark 'em on the back, and they've got mixed, and sure enough I found my French was so overrun with other sorts, that it was better to lose the whole crop than to go to weedin', for as fast as I pulled up any strange seedlin', it would grow right up agin as quick as wink, if there was the least bit of root in the world left in the ground, so I let it all rot on the field.
”There is no way so good to larn French as to live among 'em, and if you WANT TO UNDERSTAND US, YOU MUST LIVE AMONG US, TOO; your Halls, Hamiltons, and De Rouses, and such critters, what can they know of us? Can a chap catch a likeness flyin' along a railroad? Can he even see the feature? Old Admiral Anson once axed one of our folks afore our glorious Revolution (if the British had a known us a little grain better at that time, they wouldn't have got whipped like a sack as they did then), where he came from. 'From the Chesapeeke,' said he.