Anecdotes.
As we mounted our horses to proceed to Amherst, groups of country
people were to be seen standing about Pugnose's inn, talking over the
events of the morning, while others were dispersing to their several
homes.
"A pretty prime superfine scoundrel, that Pettifog," said the
Clockmaker; "he and his constable are well mated, and they've
travelled in the same gear so long together, that they make about
as nice a yoke of rascals as you'll meet in a day's ride. They pull
together like one rope reeved through two blocks. That 'ere constable
was e'enamost strangled t'other day; and if he hadn't had a little
grain more wit than his master, I guess he'd had his wind-pipe
stopped as tight as a bladder. There is an outlaw of a feller here,
for all the world like one of our Kentucky Squatters, one Bill
Smith--a critter that neither fears man nor devil. Sheriff and
constable can make no hand of him; they can't catch him no how; and
if they do come up with him, he slips through their fingers like
an eel; and then, he goes armed, and he can knock the eye out of a
squirrel with a ball, at fifty yards hand running--a regular ugly
customer.
"Well, Nabb, the constable, had a writ agin him, and he was ciphering
a good while how he should catch him; at last he hit on a plan that
he thought was pretty clever, and he scheemed for a chance to try it.
So one day he heerd that Bill was up at Pugnose's inn, a-settling
some business, and was likely to be there all night. Nabb waits till
it was considerable late in the evening, and then he takes his horse
and rides down to the inn, and hitches his beast behind the hay
stack. Then he crawls up to the window and peeps in, and watches
there till Bill should go to bed, thinking the best way to catch them
'ere sort of animals is to catch them asleep. Well, he kept Nabb
a-waiting outside so long, with his talking and singing, that he well
nigh fell asleep fist himself; at last Bill began to strip for bed.
First he takes out a long pocket pistol, examines the priming, and
lays it down on the table, near the head of the bed.
"When Nabb sees this, he begins to creep like all over, and feel
kinder ugly, and rather sick of his job; but when he seed him jump
into bed, and heerd him snore out a noise like a man driving pigs to
market, he plucked up courage, and thought he might do it easy arter
all if he was to open the door softly, and make one spring on him
afore he could wake. So round he goes, lifts up the latch of his door
as soft as soap, and makes a jump right atop of him, as he lay in the
bed. 'I guess I got you this time,' said Nabb. 'I guess so too,' said
Bill, 'but I wish you wouldn't lay so plaguy heavy on me; jist turn
over, that's a good fellow, will you?' With that Bill lays his arm
on him to raise him up, for he said he was squeezed as flat as a
pancake, and afore Nabb knew where he was, Bill rolled him right over
and was atop of him. Then he seized him by the throat, and twisted
his pipe till his eyes were as big as saucers, and his tongue grew
six inches longer, while he kept making faces for all the world like
the pirate that was hanged on Monument Hill at Boston. It was pretty
near over with him, when Nabb thought of his spurs; so he just curled
up both heels, and drove the spurs right into him; he let him have it
jist below his crupper. As Bill was naked he had a fair chance, and
he ragged him like the leaf of a book cut open with your finger. At
last, Bill could stand it no longer; he let go his hold and roared
like a bull, and clapping both hands ahind him, he out of the door
like a shot. If it hadn't been for them 'ere spurs, I guess Bill
would have saved the hangman a job of Nabb that time."
The Clockmaker was an observing man, and equally communicative.
Nothing escaped his notice; he knew everybody's genealogy, history
and means, and like a driver of an English stage-coach, was not
unwilling to impart what he knew. "Do you see that snug-looking
house there," said he, "with a short sarce garden afore it, that
belongs to Elder Thomson. The Elder is pretty close-fisted, and holds
special fast to all he gets. He is a just man and very pious, but
I have observed when a man becomes near about too good, he is apt,
sometimes, to slip ahead into avarice, unless he looks sharp arter
his girths. A friend of mine in Connecticut, an old sea Captain, who
was once let in for it pretty deep, by a man with a broader brim than
common, he said to me, 'Friend Sam, I don't like those folks who are
too damned good.' There is, I expect, some truth in it, tho' he
needn't have swore at all, but he was an awful hand to swear.
Howsomever that may be, there is a story about the Elder, that's not
so coarse neither.
"It appears an old Minister came there once, to hold a meetin' at his
house--well, after meetin' was over, the Elder took the minister all
over his farm, which is pretty tidy, I tell you; and he showed him
a great Ox he had, and a swingeing big Pig, that weighed some six
or seven hundred weight, that he was plaguy proud of, but he never
offered the old minister anything to eat or drink. The preacher was
pretty tired of all this, and seeing no prospect of being asked to
partake with the family, and tolerably sharp set, he asked one of the
boys to fetch him his horse out of the barn. When he was taking leave
of the Elder (there were several folks by at the time), says he,
'Elder Thomson, you have a fine farm here, a very fine farm, indeed;
you have a large Ox too, a very large Ox; and I think,' said he,
'I've seen today' (turning and looking him full in the face, for
he intended to hit him pretty hard) 'I think I have seen today the
greatest hog I ever saw in my life.' The neighbours snickered a good
deal, and the Elder felt pretty streaked. I guess he'd give his
great Pig or his great Ox either, if that story hadn't got wind."