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 favourite
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 'ere 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
vally most, experience. Father used to say, 'I'd as lives have an old
homespun, self-taught doctor as ary 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 everything,
it's 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 'ere one--'A MAN THAT HAS TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE, IS
PLAGUY APT TO GET SOME ON 'EM BURNT.'
"Do you recollect that 'ere 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 consait 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 won't 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 p'int
of axin' all about every man's place that lived on the road. 'Who
lives up there in the big house?' says I, 'it's 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 potato 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 somehow; 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 Bluenose. '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 j'int notes. Well, he
took the contract for beef with the troops; and he fell astarn, so I
guess it's 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 interval, 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 hain't been seed 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 Bluenose; '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 features, 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. Foregatherin', for foreclosin'.
Preparin' to curse and quit. That beautiful river we came up today,
What superfine farms it has on both sides of it, hain't it? it's 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 warn't 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 it's jist as like as not, some goney of a Bluenose, that seed
us from his fields, sailin' up full split, 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
ploughin' and little chores; they've growed 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, it's 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 hands in his trouser
pockets, a-chasin' of a stray shillin' from one eend of 'em to
another, afore he can catch it to swap for a dinner, won't 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 ain't 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 seed
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 ain't
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
Sunday night, arter all the rest of the univarse 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 and 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--everything 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 your'n 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 'ere 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 your'n 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 it's seven o'clock or thereabouts.
I suppose it's 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 'ere man, old Lunar,
and his son, a-sawin' plank by moonlight, for that 'ere vessel on
the stocks there; come agin tomorrow 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 gal 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 gals, for she warn't a bad-lookin'
heifer that. My! what an eye she had, and I consaited 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 can't 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 'ere proverb is true as respects
the gals too. Whenever you see one on 'em with a whole lot of
sweethearts, it's 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' gal in danger of that, I don't
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 t'other ones will get burnt so, they'll never be no good in
natur'."