The Clockmaker.
I had heard of Yankee clock peddlers, tin peddlers, and bible
peddlers, especially of him who sold Polyglot Bibles (all in english)
to the amount of sixteen thousand pounds. The house of every
substantial farmer had three substantial ornaments: a wooden clock, a
tin reflector, and a Polyglot Bible. How is it that an American can
sell his wares, at whatever price he pleases, where a Bluenose would
fail to make a sale at all? I will enquire of the Clockmaker the
secret of his success.
"What a pity it is, Mr. Slick"--for such was his name--"what a pity
it is," said I, "that you, who are so successful in teaching these
people the value of clocks, could not also teach them the value of
time."
"I guess," said he, "they have got that ring to grow on their horns
yet, which every four-year-old has in our country. We reckon hours
and minutes to be dollars and cents. They do nothing in these parts
but eat, drink, smoke, sleep, ride about, lounge at taverns, make
speeches at temperance meetings, and talk about 'House of Assembly.'
If a man don't hoe his corn, and he don't get a crop, he says it is
all owing to the Bank; and if he runs into debt and is sued, why he
says the lawyers are a curse to the country. They are a most idle set
of folks, I tell you."
"But how is it," said I, "that you manage to sell such an immense
number of clocks (which certainly cannot be called necessary
articles), among a people with whom there seems to be so great
a scarcity of money?" Mr. Slick paused, as if considering the
propriety of answering the question, and looking me in the face,
said in a confidential tone--
"Why, I don't care if I do tell you, for the market is glutted, and I
shall quit this circuit. It is done by a knowledge of SOFT SAWDER and
HUMAN NATUR'. But here is Deacon Flint's," said he; "I have but one
clock left, and I guess I will sell it to him."
At the gate of a most comfortable looking farm house stood Deacon
Flint, a respectable old man, who had understood the value of time
better than most of his neighbours, if one might judge from the
appearance of everything about him. After the usual salutation, an
invitation to "alight" was accepted by Mr. Slick, who said he wished
to take leave of Mrs. Flint before he left Colchester.
We had hardly entered the house, before the Clockmaker pointed to the
view from the window, and, addressing himself to me, said, "if I was
to tell them in Connecticut, there was such a farm as this away down
east here in Nova Scotia, they wouldn't believe me--why there ain't
such a location in all New England. The deacon has a hundred acres of
dyke--"
"Seventy, said the deacon, only seventy."
"Well, seventy; but then there is your fine deep bottom, why I could
run a ramrod into it--"
"Interval, we call it," said the Deacon, who, though evidently
pleased at this eulogium, seemed to wish the experiment of the ramrod
to be tried in the right place.
"Well, interval, if you please (though Professor Eleazer Cumstick,
in his work on Ohio, calls them bottoms), is just as good as dyke.
Then there is that water privilege, worth three or four thousand
dollars, twice as good as what Governor Cass paid fifteen thousand
dollars for. I wonder, Deacon, you don't put up a carding mill on
it; the same works would carry a turning lathe, a shingle machine,
a circular saw, grind bark, and--"
"Too old," said the Deacon, "too old for all those speculations--"
"Old," repeated the clockmaker, "not you; why you are worth half
a dozen of the young men we see, nowadays; you are young enough to
have--" Here he said something in a lower tone of voice, which I did
not distinctly hear; but whatever it was, the Deacon was pleased, he
smiled and said he did not think of such things now.
"But your beasts, dear me, your beasts must be put in and have a
feed;" saying which, he went out to order them to be taken to the
stable.
As the old gentleman closed the door after him, Mr. Slick drew near
to me, and said in an undertone, "That is what I call 'SOFT SAWDER.'
An Englishman would pass that man as a sheep passes a hog in a
pasture, without looking at him; or," said he, looking rather archly,
"if he was mounted on a pretty smart horse, I guess he'd trot away,
if he could. Now I find--" Here his lecture on "SOFT SAWDER" was cut
short by the entrance of Mrs. Flint.
"Jist come to say good-bye, Mrs. Flint."
"What, have you sold all your clocks?"
"Yes, and very low too, for money is scarce, and I wished to close
the consarn; no, I am wrong in saying all, for I have just one left.
Neighbour Steel's wife asked to have the refusal of it, but I guess I
won't sell it; I had but two of them, this one and the feller of it,
that I sold Governor Lincoln. General Green, the Secretary of State
for Maine, said he'd give me forty dollars for this here one--it has
composition wheels and patent axles, it is a beautiful article, a
real first chop, no mistake, genuine superfine--but I guess I'll take
it back; and beside, Squire Hawk might think kinder hard, that I did
not give him the offer."
"Dear me," said Mrs. Flint, "I should like to see it, where is it?"
"It is in a chest of mine over the way, at Tom Tape's store, I guess
he can ship it on to Eastport."
"That's a good man," said Mrs. Flint, "jist let's look at it."
Mr. Slick, willing to oblige, yielded to these entreaties, and soon
produced the clock--a gawdy, highly varnished, trumpery looking
affair. He placed it on the chimney-piece, where its beauties were
pointed out and duly appreciated by Mrs. Flint, whose admiration was
about ending in a proposal when Mr. Flint returned from giving his
directions about the care of the horses. The Deacon praised the
clock, he too thought it a handsome one; but the Deacon was a prudent
man, he had a watch, he was sorry, but he had no occasion for a
clock.
"I guess you're in the wrong furrow this time, Deacon, it ain't for
sale," said Mr. Slick; "and if it was, I reckon neighbour Steel's
wife would have it, for she gives me no peace about it." Mrs. Flint
said that Mr. Steel had enough to do, poor man, to pay his
interest, without buying clocks for his wife.
"It's no consarn of mine," said Mr. Slick, "as long as he pays me,
what he has to do; but I guess I don't want to sell it, and beside it
comes too high; that clock can't be made at Rhode Island under forty
dollars. Why it ain't possible," said the Clockmaker, in apparent
surprise, looking at his watch, "why as I'm alive it is four o'clock,
and if I havn't been two hours here--how on airth shall I reach River
Philip tonight? I'll tell you what, Mrs. Flint, I'll leave the clock
in your care till I return on my way to the States--I'll set it
a-goin' and put it to the right time."
As soon as this operation was performed, he delivered the key to the
deacon with a sort of serio-comic injunction to wind up the clock
every Saturday night, which Mrs. Flint said she would take care
should be done, and promised to remind her husband of it, in case he
should chance to forget it.
"That," said the Clockmaker as soon as we were mounted, "that I call
'HUMAN NATUR'!' Now that clock is sold for forty dollars--it cost me
just six dollars and fifty cents. Mrs. Flint will never let Mrs.
Steel have the refusal--nor will the deacon learn until I call for
the clock, that having once indulged in the use of a superfluity, how
difficult it is to give it up. We can do without any article of
luxury we have never had, but when once obtained, it is not in 'HUMAN
NATUR'' to surrender it voluntarily. Of fifteen thousand sold by
myself and partners in this Province, twelve thousand were left in
this manner, and only ten clocks were ever returned; when we called
for them they invariably bought them. We trust to 'SOFT SAWDER' to
get them into the house, and to 'HUMAN NATUR'' that they never come
out of it."