A Yankee Handle for a Halifax Blade.
I met a man this mornin, said the Clock Maker, from
Halifax, a real conceited lookin critter as you een a
most ever seed, all shines and didos. He looked as if he
had picked up his airs, arter some officer of the regilars
had worn 'em out and cast 'em off. They sot on him like
second hand clothes, as if they had'nt been made for him
and did'nt exactly fit. He looked fine, but awkward, like
a captain of militia, when he gets his uniform on, to
play sodger; a thinkin himself mighty handSUM, and that
all the world is a lookin at him. He marched up and down
afore the street door like a peacock, as large as life
and twice as natural; he had a riding whip in his hand
and every now and then struck it agin his thigh, as much
as to say, aint that a splendid leg for a boot, now? Wont
I astonish the Amherst folks, that's all? thinks I you
are a pretty blade, aint you? I'd like to fit a Yankee
handle on to you, that's a fact. When I came up, he held
up his head near about as high as a Shot factory, and
stood with his fists on his hips, and eyed me from head
to foot, as a shakin quaker does a town lady: as much as
to say what a queer critter you be, that's toggery I
never seed afore, you're some carnal minded maiden, that's
sartain. Well, says he to me, with the air of a man that
chucks a cent into a beggar's hat, "a fine day this,
Sir;" do you actilly think so, said I? and I gave it the
real Connecticut drawl. Why, said he, quite short, if I
did'nt think so, I would'nt say so. Well, says I, I
don't know, but if I did think so, I guess I would'nt
say so; why not? says he--because, I expect, says I, any
fool could see that as well as me; and then I stared at
him, as much as to say, now if you like that are swap,
I am ready to trade with you agin as soon as you like.
Well he turned right round on his heel and walked off,
a whistlin Yankee Doodle to himself. He looked jist like
a man that finds whistlin a plaguy sight easier than
thinkin. Presently, I heard him ax the groom who that
are Yankee lookin feller was. That, said the groom, why,
I guess its Mr. Slick. Sho!! said he, how you talk.
What, Slick the Clockmaker, why it ant possible; I wish
I had a known that are afore, I declare, for I have a
great curiosity to see HIM, folks say he is an amazin
clever feller that, and he turned and stared, as if it
was old Hickory himself. Then he walked round and about
like a pig, round the fence of a potatoe field, a watchin
for a chance to cut in; so, thinks I, I'll jist give him
something to talk about, when he gets back to the city,
I'll fix a Yankee handle on to him in no time. How's
times to Halifax, Sir, said I--better, says he, much
better, business is done on a surer bottom than it was,
and things look bright agin; so does a candle, says I,
jist afore it goes out; it burns up ever so high and then
sinks right down, and leaves nothin behind but grease,
and an everlastin bad smell. I guess they don't know how
to feed their lamp, and it can't burn long on nothin.
No, Sir, the jig is up with Halifax, and it's all their
own fault. If a man sits at his door, and sees stray
cattle in his field, a eatin up of his crop, and his
neighbours, a cartin off his grain, and won't so much as
go and drive 'em out, why I should say it sarves him
right. I don't exactly understand, Sir, said he--thinks
I, it would be strange if you did, for I never see one
of your folks yet that could understand a hawk from a
handsaw. Well, says I, I will tell you what I mean--draw
a line from Cape Sable to Cape Cansoo, right thro' the
Province, and it will split it into two, this way, and
I cut an apple into two halves; now, says I, the worst
half, like the rotten half of the apple, belongs to
Halifax, and the other and sound half belongs to St.
John. Your side of the province on the sea coast is all
stone--I never seed such a pro per sight of rocks in my
life, it's enough to starve a rabbit. Well, tother side
on the Bay of Fundy is a superfine country, there aint
the beat of it to be found any where. Now, would'nt the
folks living away up to the Bay, be pretty fools to go
to Halifax, when they can go to St. John with half the
trouble. St. John is the natural capital of the Bay of
Fundy, it will be the largest city in America next to
New York. It has an immense back country as big as Great
Britain, a first chop river, and amazin sharp folks, most
as cute as the Yankees--it's a splendid location for
business. Well, they draw all the produce of the Bay
shores, and where the produce goes the supplies return--
it will take the whole trade of the Province; I guess
your rich folks will find they've burnt their fingers,
they've put their foot in it, that's a fact. Houses with
out tenants--wharves without shipping, a town without
people--what a grand investment!! If you have any loose
dollars, let 'em out on mortgage in Halifax, that's the
security--keep clear of the country for your life--the
people may run, but the town can't. No, take away the
troops, and you're done--you'll sing the dead march folks
did at Louisburg and Shelburne. Why you hant got a single
thing worth havin, but a good harbor, and as for that
the coast is full on 'em. You hav'nt a pine log, a spruce
board or a refuse shingle; you neither raise wheat, oats,
or hay, nor never can; you have no staples on airth,
unless it be them iron ones for the padlocks, in
Bridewell--you've sowed pride and reaped poverty, take
care of your crop, for it's worth harvestin--you have no
River and no Country, what in the name of fortin have
you to trade on? But, said he, (and he shewed the whites
of his eyes like a wall eyed horse) but, said he, Mr.
Slick, how is it then, Halifax ever grew at all, has'nt
it got what it always had; it's no worse than it was. I
guess, said I, that pole aint strong enough to bear you,
neither; if you trust to that you'll be into the brook,
as sure as you are born; you once had the trade of the
whole Province, but St. John has run off with that
now--you've lost all but your trade in blue berries and
rabbits with the niggers at Hammond Plains. You've lost
your customers, your rivals have a better stand for
business--they've got the corner store--four great streets
meet there, and its near the market slip.
Well he stared; says he, I believe you're right, but I
never thought of that afore; (thinks I, nobody ever
suspect you of the trick of thinkin that ever I heer'd
tell of) some of our great men, said he, laid it all to
your folks selling so many Clocks and Polyglot Bibles,
they say you have taken off a horrid sight of money; did
they, indeed, said I; well, I guess it tante pins and
needles that's the expense of house-keepin, it is something
more costly than that. Well, some folks say its the Banks,
says he; better still, says I, perhaps you've hearn tell
too that greasing the axle, makes a gig harder to draw,
for there's jist about as much sense in that. Well then,
says he, others say its smugglin has made us so poor.
That guess, said I, is most as good as tother one, whoever
found out that secret ought to get a patent for it, for
its worth knowin. Then the country has grown poorer,
has'nt it, because it has bought cheaper this year, than
it did the year before? Why, your folks are cute chaps,
I vow; they'd puzzle a Philadelphia Lawyer, they are so
amazin knowin. Ah, said he, and he rubb'd his hands and
smiled like a young doctor, when he gets his first patient;
ah, said he, if the timber duties are altered, down comes
St. John, body and breeches, it's built on a poor
foundation--its all show--they are speculatin like
mad--they'll ruin themselves. Says I, if you wait till
they're dead, for your fortin, it will be one while, I
tell you, afore you pocket the shiners. Its no joke waitin
for a dead man's shoes. Suppose an old feller of 80 was
to say when that are young feller dies, I'm to inherit
his property, what would you think? Why, I guess you'd
think be was an old fool. No sir, if the English don't
want their timber we do want it all, we have used ourn
up, we hant got a stick even to whittle. If the British
dont offer we will, and St. John, like a dear little
weeping widow, will dry up her tears, and take to frolickin
agin and accept it right off. There is'nt at this moment
such a location hardly in America, as St. John; for beside
all its other advantages, it has this great one, its only
rival, Halifax, has got a dose of opium that will send
it snoring out of the world, like a feller who falls
asleep on the ice of a winter's night. It has been asleep
so long, I actilly think it never will wake. Its an easy
death too, you may rouse them up if you like, but I vow
I wont. I once brought a feller too that was drowned,
and one night he got drunk and quilted me, I could'nt
walk for a week; says I, your the last chap I'll ever
save from drowning in all my born days, if that's all
the thanks I get for it. No Sir, Halifax has lost the
run of its custom. Who does Yarmouth trade with? St.
John. Who does Annapolis County trade with? St. John.
Who do all the folks on the Basin of Mines, and Bay shore,
trade with? St John. Who does Cumberland trade with? St
John. Well Pictou, Lunenburg and Liverpool, supply
themselves, and the rest that aint worth havin, trade
with Halifax. They take down a few half starved pigs,
old viteran geese, and long legged fowls, some ram mutton
and tuf beef; and swap them for tea, sugar, and such
little notions for their old women to home; while the
rail roads and canals of St. John are goin to cut off
your Gulf Shore trade to Miramichi, and along there.
Flies live in the summer and die in winter, you're jist
as noisy in war as those little critters, but you sing
small in peace.
No, your done for, you are up a tree, you may depend;
pride must fall. Your town is like a ball room arter a
dance. The folks have eat, drank, and frolicked, and left
an empty house; the lamps and hangings are left, but the
people are gone. Is there no remedy for this? said he,
and he looked as wild as a Cherokee Indian. Thinks I,
the handle is fitten on proper tight now. Well, says I,
when a man has a cold, he had ought to look out pretty
sharp, afore it gets seated on his lungs; if he don't,
he gets into a gallopin consumption, and it's gone goose
with him. There is a remedy, if applied in time: make a
rail road to Minas Basin, and you have a way for your
customers to get to you, and a conveyance for your goods
to them. When I was in New York last, a cousin of mine,
Hezekiah Slick, said to me, I do believe Sam, I shall be
ruined; I've lost all my custom, they are widening and
improving the streets, and there's so many carts and
people to work in it, folks can't come to my shop to
trade, what on airth shall I do, and I'm payin a dreadful
high rent too? Stop Ki, says I, when the street is all
finished off and slicked up, they'll all come back agin,
and a whole raft more on 'em too, you'll sell twice as
much as ever you did, you'll put off a proper swad of
goods next year, you may depend; and so he did, he made
money, hand over hand. A rail-road, will bring back your
customers, if done right off; but wait till trade has
made new channels, and fairly gets settled in them, and
you'll never divart it agin to all etarnity. When a feller
waits till a gall gets married, I guess it will be too
late to pop the question then. St. John MUST go ahead,
at any rate; you MAY, if you choose, but you must exert
yourselves I tell you. If a man has only one leg, and
wants to walk, he must get an artificial one. If you have
no river, make a rail road, and that will supply its
place. But, says he, Mr. Slick, people say it never will
pay in the world; they say its as mad a scheme as the
canal. Do they indeed, says I, send them to me then, and
I'll fit the handle on to them in tu tu's. I say it will
pay, and the best proof is, our folks will take tu thirds
of the stock. Did you ever hear any one else but your
folks, ax whether a dose of medicine would pay when it
was given to save life? If that everlastin long Erie
canal can secure to New York the supply of that far off
country, most tother side of creation, surely a rail road
of 45 miles can give you the trade of the Bay of Fundy.
A rail road will go from Halifax to Windsor and make them
one town, easier to send goods from one to tother, than
from Governor Campbell's House to Admiral Cockburn's. A
bridge makes a town, a river makes a town, a canal makes
a town, but a rail road is bridge, river, thoroughfare,
canal, all in one; what a wappin large place that would
make, would'nt it? It would be the dandy, that's a fact.
No, when you go back, take a piece of chalk, and the
first dark night, write on every door in Halifax, in
large letters--a rail road--and if they don't know the
meanin of it, says you its a Yankee word; if you'll go
to Sam Slick, the Clockmaker, (the chap that fixed a
Yankee handle on to a Halifax blade, and I made him a
scrape of my leg, as much as to say, that's you,) every
man that buys a Clock shall hear all about a RAIL ROAD.