Too many Irons in the Fire.
We had a pleasant sail of three hours from Parrsboro to
Windsor. The arrivals and departures by water, are
regulated at this place by the tide, and it was sunset
before we reached Mrs. Wilcox's comfortable inn. Here,
as at other places, Mr. Slick seemed to be perfectly at
home; and he pointed to a wooden clock, as a proof of
his successful and extended trade, and of the universal
influence of "soft sawder," and a knowledge of "human
natur." Taking out a pen knife, he cut off a splinter
from a stick of firewood, and balancing himself on one
leg of his chair, by the aid of his right foot, commenced
his favorite amusement of whitling, which he generally
pursued in silence. Indeed it appeared to have become
with him an indispensible accompaniment of reflection.
He sat in this abstracted manner, until he had manufactured
into delicate shavings the whole of his raw materiel,
when he very deliberately resumed a position of more ease
and security, by resting his chair on two legs instead
of one, and putting both his feet on the mantel piece.
Then, lighting his cigar, he said in his usual quiet
manner, there's a plaguy sight of truth in them are old
proverbs. They are distilled facts steamed down to an
essence. They are like portable soup, an amazin deal of
matter in a small compass. They are what I valy most,
experience. Father used to say I'd as lives have an old
homespun self taught doctor as are a Professor in the
College at Philadelphia or New York to attend me; for
what they do know, they know by experience, and not by
books; and experience is every thing, its hearin and
seein and tryin, and arter that a feller must be a born
fool if he don't know. That's the beauty of old proverbs;
they are as true as a plum line, and as short and sweet
as sugar candy. Now when you come to see all about this
Country you'll find the truth of that are one--"A MAN
THAT HAS TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE, IS PLAGUY APT TO
GET SOME ON 'EM BURNT."
Do you recollect that are tree I show'd you to Parrsboro',
it was all covered with BLACK KNOBS, like a wart rubbed
with caustic. Well, the plum trees had the same disease
a few years ago, and they all died, and the cherry trees
I concait will go for it too. The farms here are all
covered with the same "black knobs," and they do look
like old scratch. If you see a place all gone to wrack
and ruin, its mortgaged you may depend. The "black knob"
is on it. My plan, you know, is to ax leave to put a
clock in a house, and let it be till I return. I never
say a word about sellin it, for I know when I come back,
they wont let it go arter they are once used to it. Well,
when I first came, I knowed no one, and I was forced to
enquire whether a man was good for it, afore I left it
with him; so I made a pint of axin all about every man's
place that lived on the road. Who lives up there in the
big house, says I? its a nice location that, pretty
considerable improvements them. Why Sir, that's A. B.'s;
he was well to do in the world once, carried a stiff
upper lip and keerd for no one; he was one of our grand
aristocrats, wore a long tailed coat, and a ruffled shirt,
but he must take to ship buildin, and has gone to the
dogs. Oh, said I, too many irons in the fire. Well, the
next farm, where the pigs are in the potatoe field, whose
is that? Oh, Sir, that's C. D's. he was a considerable
fore handed farmer, as any in our place, but he sot up
for an Assembly-man, and opened a Store, and things went
agin him some how, he had no luck arterwards. I hear his
place is mortgaged, and they've got him cited in chancery.
"The black knob" is on him, said I. The black what, Sir,
says Blue Nose? nothin says I. But the next, who improves
that house? Why that's E. F.'s he was the greatest farmer
in these parts, another of the aristocracy, had a most
a noble stock o' cattle, and the matter of some hundreds
out in jint notes; well he took the contract for beef
with the troops; and he fell astarn so, I guess its a
gone goose with him. He's heavy mortgaged. "Too many
irons" agin, said I. Who lives to the left there? that
man has a most a special fine intervale, and a grand
orchard too, he must be a good mark that. Well he was
once, Sir, a few years ago; but he built a fullin mill,
and a cardin mill, and put up a lumber establishment,
and speculated in the West Indy line, but the dam was
carried away by the freshets, the lumber fell, and faith
he fell too; he's shot up, he hant been see'd these two
years, his farm is a common, and fairly run out. Oh, said
I, I understand now, my man, these folks had too many
irons in the fire you see, and some on 'em have got burnt.
I never heerd tell of it, says Blue Nose; they might,
but not to my knowledge; and he scratched his head, and
looked as if he would ask the meanin of it, but didn't
like too. Arter that I axed no more questions; I knew a
mortgaged farm as far as I could see it. There was a
strong family likeness in 'em all--the same ugly featurs,
the same cast o' countenance. The "black knob" was
discernible--there was no mistake--barn doors broken
off--fences burnt up--glass out of windows--more white
crops than green--and both lookin poor and weedy--no
wood pile, no sarse garden, no compost, no stock--moss
in the mowin lands, thistles in the ploughed lands, and
neglect every where--skinnin had commenced--takin all
out and puttin nothin in--gittin ready for a move, SO AS
TO HAVE NOTHIN BEHIND. Flittin time had come. Fore
gatherin, for foreclosin. Preparin to curse and quit.
--That beautiful river we came up to day, What superfine
farms it has on both sides of it, hante it? its a sight
to behold. Our folks have no notion of such a country so
far down east, beyond creation most, as Nova Scotia is.
If I was to draw up an account of it for the Slickville
Gazette, I guess few would accept it as a bona fide draft,
without some sponsible man to indorse it, that warnt
given to flammin. They'd say there was a land speculation
to the bottom of it, or water privilege to put into the
market, or a plaister rock to get off, or some such
scheme. They would, I snore. But I hope I may never see
daylight agin, if there's sich a country in all our great
nation, as the VI-cinity of Windsor.
Now its jist as like as not, some goney of a Blue Nose,
that see'd us from his fields, sailin up full spirit,
with a fair wind on the packet, went right off home and
said to his wife, "now do for gracious sake, mother, jist
look here, and see how slick them folks go along; and
that Captain has nothin to do all day, but sit straddle
legs across his tiller, and order about his sailors, or
talk like a gentleman to his passengers; he's got most
as easy a time of it as Ami Cuttle has, since he took up
the fur trade, a snarin rabbits. I guess I'll buy a
vessel, and leave the lads to do the plowin and little
chores, they've growd up now to be considerable lumps of
boys." Well, away he'll go, hot foot, (for I know the
critters better nor they know themselves) and he'll go
and buy some old wrack of a vessel, to carry plaister,
and mortgage his farm to pay for her. The vessel will
jam him up tight for repairs and new riggin, and the
Sheriff will soon pay him a visit (and he's a most
particular troublesome visitor that; if he once only gets
a slight how-d'ye-do acquaintance, he becomes so amazin
intimate arterwards, a comin in without knockin, and a
runnin in and out at all hours, and makin so plaguy free
and easy, its about as much as a bargain if you can get
clear of him afterwards.) Benipt by the tide, and benipt
by the Sheriff, the vessel makes short work with him.
Well, the upshot is, the farm gets neglected, while
Captain Cuddy is to sea a drogin of plaister. The thistles
run over his grain fields, his cattle run over his hay
land, the interest runs over its time, the mortgage runs
over all, and at last he jist runs over to the lines to
Eastport, himself. And when he finds himself there, a
standin in the street, near Major Pine's tavern, with
his bands in his trowser pockets, a chasin of a stray
shillin from one eend of 'em to another, afore he can
catch it to swap for a dinner, wont he look like a ravin
distracted fool, that's all? He'll feel about as streaked
as I did once, a ridin down the St. John river. It was
the fore part of March--I'd been up to Fredericton a
speculatin in a small matter of lumber, and was returnin
to the city, a gallopin along on one of old Buntin's
horses, on the ice, and all at one I missed my horse, he
went right slap in and slid under the ice out of sight
as quick as wink, and there I was a standin all alone.
Well, says I, what the dogs has become of my horse and
port mantle? they have given me a proper dodge, that's
a fact. That is a narrer squeak, it fairly bangs all.
Well, I guess he'll feel near about as ugly, when he
finds himself brought up all standin that way; and it
will come so sudden on him, he'll say, why it aint possible
I've lost farm and vessel both, in tu tu's that way, but
I don't see neither on 'em. Eastport is near about all
made up of folks who have had to cut and run for it.
I was down there last fall, and who should I see but
Thomas Rigby, of Windsor. He knew me the minit he laid
eyes upon me, for I had sold him a clock the summer afore.
(I got paid for it, though, for I see'd he had too many
irons in the fire not to get some on 'em burnt; and
besides, I knew every fall and spring the wind set in
for the lines, from Windsor, very strong--a regular trade
wind--a sort of monshune, that blows all one way, for a
long time without shiftin.) Well, I felt proper sorry
for him, for he was a very clever man, and looked cut up
dreadfully, and amazin down in the mouth. Why, says I,
possible! is that you, Mr. Rigby? why, as I am alive! if
that aint my old friend--why how do you do? Hearty, I
thank you, said he, how be you? Reasonable well, I give
you thanks, says I; but what on airth brought you here?
Why, says he, Mr. Slick, I couldn't well avoid it; times
are uncommon dull over the bay; there's nothin stirrin
there this year, and never will I'm thinkin. No mortal
soul CAN live in Nova Scotia. I do believe that our
country was made of a Saturday night, arter all the rest
of the Universe was finished. One half of it has got all
the ballast of Noah's ark thrown out there; and the other
half is eat up by Bankers, Lawyers, and other great folks.
All our money goes to pay salaries, and a poor man has
no chance at all. Well, says I, are you done up stock
and fluke--a total wrack? No, says he, I have two hundred
pounds left yet to the good, but my farm, stock and
utensils, them young blood horses, and the bran new vessel
I was a buildin, are all gone to pot, swept as clean as
a thrashin floor, that's a fact; Shark & Co. took all.
Well, says I, do you know the reason of all that misfortin?
Oh, says he, any fool can tell that; bad times to be
sure--every thing has turned agin the country, the banks
have it all their own way, and much good may it do 'em.
Well, says I, what's the reason the banks don't eat us
up too, for I guess they are as hungry as yourn be, and
no way particular about their food neither; considerable
sharp set--cut like razors, you may depend. I'll tell
you, says I, how you get that are slide, that sent you
heels over head--"YOU HAD TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE."
You hadn't ought to have taken hold of ship buildin at
all, you knowed nothin about it; you should have stuck
to your farm, and your farm would have stuck to you. Now
go back, afore you spend your money, go up to Douglas,
and you'll buy as good a farm for two hundred pounds as
what you lost, and see to that, and to that only, and
you'll grow rich. As for Banks, they can't hurt a country
no great, I guess, except by breakin, and I conceit
there's no fear of yourn breakin; and as for lawyers,
and them kind o' heavy coaches, give 'em half the road,
and if they run agin you, take the law of 'em. Undivided,
unremittin attention paid to one thing, in ninety-nine
cases out of a hundred, will ensure success; but you know
the old sayin about "TOO MANY IRONS."
Now, says I, Mr. Rigby, what o'clock is it? Why, says
he, the moon is up a piece, I guess its seven o'clock or
thereabouts. I suppose its time to be a movin. Stop, says
I, jist come with me, I got a real nateral curiosity to
show you--such a thing as you never laid your eyes on in
Nova-Scotia, I know. So we walked along towards the beach;
now, says I, look at that are man, old Lunar, and his
son, a sawin plank by moonlight, for that are vessel on
the stocks there; come agin to morrow mornin, afore you
can cleverly discarn objects the matter of a yard or so
afore you, and you'll find 'em at it agin. I guess that
vessel won't ruinate those folks. They know their business
and stick to it. Well, away went Rigby, considerably
sulky, (for he had no notion that it was his own fault,
he laid all the blame on the folks to Halifax,) but I
guess he was a little grain posed, for back he went, and
bought to Sowack, where I hear he has a better farm than
he had afore.
I mind once we had an Irish gall as a dairy help; well,
we had a wicked devil of a cow, and she kicked over the
milk pail, and in ran Dora, and swore the Bogle did it;
jist so, poor Rigby, he wouldn't allow it was nateral
causes, but laid it all to politics. Talkin of Dora, puts
me in mind of the galls, for she warnt a bad lookin heifer
that; my! what an eye she had, and I concaited she had
a particular small foot and ankle too, when I helped her
up once into the hay mow, to sarch for eggs; but I cant
exactly say, for when she brought em in, mother shook
her head and said it was dangerous; she said she might
fall through and hurt herself, and always sent old Snow
afterwards. She was a considerable of a long headed woman,
was mother, she could see as far ahead as most folks.
She warn't born yesterday, I guess. But that are proverb
is true as respects the galls too. Whenever you see one
on 'em with a whole lot of sweet hearts, its an even
chance if she gets married to any on em. One cools off,
and another cools off, and before she brings any one on
em to the right weldin heat, the coal is gone and the
fire is out. Then she may blow and blow till she's tired;
she may blow up a dust, but the deuce of a flame can she
blow up agin, to save her soul alive. I never see a clever
lookin gall in danger of that, I dont long to whisper in
her ear, you dear little critter, you, take care, you
have too many irons in the fire, some on 'em will get
stone cold, and tother ones will get burnt so, they'll
never be no good in natur.