The Clockmaker: Nonsuch Classics

by Thomas Chandler Haliburton

Overview

Sam Slick, a clock-peddler who accompanies a visiting English gentleman on an unforgettable tour of Nova Scotia, first appeared in the 'Novascotian' in 1835. His shrewd observations and witty commentaries addressed important contemporary issues, such as race, slavery and colonialism.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780752471686
Publisher:	The History Press
Publication date:	10/21/2011
Series:	Nonsuch Classics
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	640
File size:	931 KB
Age Range:	18 Years

Read an Excerpt

The Clockmaker

Or The Sayings and Doings of Samuel Slick

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By Thomas Chandler Haliburton

The History Press

Copyright © 2011 Nonsuch Publishing Limited
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7524-7168-6

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CHAPTER 1

THE TROTTING HORSE

I WAS always well mounted. I am fond of a horse, and always piqued myself on having the fastest trotter in the Province. I have made no great progress in the world, I feel doubly, therefore, the pleasure of not being surpassed on the road. I never feel so well or so cheerful as on horseback, for there is something exhilarating in quick motion; and, old as I am, I feel a pleasure in making any person whom I meet on the way put his horse to the full gallop, to keep pace with my trotter. Poor Ethiope! you recollect him, how he was wont to lay back his ears on his arched neck, and push away from all competition. He is done, poor fellow! the spavin spoiled his speed, and he now roams at large upon 'my farm at Truro.' Mohawk never failed me till this summer.

I pride myself, (you may laugh at such childish weakness in a man of my age,) but still, I pride myself in taking the conceit out of coxcombs I meet on the road, and on the ease with which I can leave a fool behind, whose nonsense disturbs my solitary musings.

On my last journey to Fort Lawrence, as the beautiful view of Colchester had just opened upon me, and as I was contemplating its richness and exquisite scenery, a tall thin man, with hollow cheeks and bright twinkling black eyes, on a good bay horse, somewhat out of condition, overtook me; and drawing up, said, I say, stranger, I guess you started early this morning, didn't you? I did, sir, I replied. You did not come from Halifax, I presume, sir, did you? in a dialect too rich to be mistaken as genuine Yankee. And which way may you be travelling? asked my inquisitive companion. To Fort Lawrence. Ah! said he, so am I, it is in my circuit. The word circuit sounded so professional, I looked again at him to ascertain whether I had ever seen him before, or whether I had met with one of those nameless, but innumerable limbs of the law, who now flourish in every district of the Province. There was a keenness about his eye, and an acuteness of expression, much in favour of the law; but the dress, and general bearing of the man, made against the supposition. His was not the coat of a man who can afford to wear an old coat, nor was it one of 'Tempest and More's,' that distinguish country lawyers from country boobies. His clothes were well made and of good materials, but looked as if their owner had shrunk a little since they were made for him; they hung somewhat loose on him. A large brooch, and some superfluous seals and gold keys, which ornamented his outward man, looked 'New England' like. A visit to the States had, perhaps, I thought, turned this Colchester beau into a Yankee fop. Of what consequence was it to me who he was — in either case I had nothing to do with him, and I desired neither his acquaintance nor his company — still I could not but ask myself who can this man be? I am not aware, said I, that there is a court sitting at this time at Cumberland? Nor am I, said my friend. What then could he have to do with the circuit? It occurred to me he must be a Methodist preacher. I looked again, but his appearance again puzzled me. His attire might do — the colour might be suitable — the broad brim not out of place; but there was a want of that staidness of look, that seriousness of countenance, that expression, in short, so characteristic of the clergy.

I could not acount for my idle curiosity — a curiosity which, in him, I had the moment before viewed both with suspicion and disgust; but so it was — I felt a desire to know who he could be who was neither lawyer nor preacher, and yet talked of his circuit with the gravity of both. How ridiculous, I thought to myself, is this; I will leave him. Turning towards him, I said, I feared I should be late for breakfast, and must, therefore, bid him good morning. Mohawk felt the pressure of my knees, and away we went at a slapping pace. I congratulated myself on conquering my own curiosity, and on avoiding that of my travelling companion. This, I said to myself, this is the value of a good horse; I patted his neck — I felt proud of him. Presently I heard the steps of the unknown's horse — the clatter increased. Ah, my friend, thought I, it won't do; you should be well mounted if you desire my company; I pushed Mohawk faster, faster, faster, — to his best. He outdid himself; he had never trotted so handsomely — so easily — so well.

I guess that is a pretty considerable smart horse, said the stranger, as he came beside me, and apparently reined in, to prevent his horse passing me; there is not, I reckon, so spry a one on my circuit.

Circuit, or no circuit, one thing was settled in my mind; he was a Yankee, and a very impertinent Yankee too. I felt humbled, my pride was hurt, and Mohawk was beaten. To continue this trotting contest was humiliating; I yielded, therefore, before the victory was palpable, and pulled up.

Yes, continued he, a horse of pretty considerable good action, and a pretty fair trotter, too, I guess. Pride must have a fall — I confess mine was prostrate in the dust. These words cut me to the heart. What! is it come to this, poor Mohawk, that you, the admiration of all but the envious, the great Mohawk, the standard by which all other horses are measured — trots next to Mohawk, only yields to Mohawk, looks like Mohawk — that you are, after all, only a counterfeit pronounced by a straggling Yankee to be merely a 'pretty fair trotter!'

If he was trained, I guess that he might be made to do a little more. Excuse me, but if you divide your weight between the knee and the stirrup, rather most on the knee, and rise forward on the saddle, so as to leave a little daylight between you and it, I hope I may never ride this circuit again, if you don't get a mile more an hour out of him.

What! not enough, I mentally groaned, to have my horse beaten, but I must betold that I don't know how to ride him; and that, too, by a Yankee. Aye, there's the rub — a Yankee what? Perhaps a half-bred puppy, half yankee, half blue-nose. As there is no escape, I'll try to make out my riding master. Your circuit, said I, my looks expressing all the surprise they were capable of — your circuit, pray what may that be? Oh, said he, the eastern circuit — I am on the eastern circuit, sir. I have heard, said I, feeling that I now had a lawyer to deal with, that there is a great deal of business on this circuit — pray, are there many cases of importance? There is a pretty fair business to be done, at least there has been, said he, but the cases are of no great value — we don't make much out of them, we get them up very easy, but they don't bring much profit. What a beast, thought I, is this; and what a curse to a country, to have such an unfeeling pettifogging rascal practising in it — a horse jockey, too, what a finished character! I'll try him on that branch of his business.

That is a superior animal you are mounted on, said I — I seldom meet one that can keep pace with mine. Yes, said he coolly, a considerable fair traveller, and most particular good bottom. I hesitated: this man who talks with such unblushing effrontery of getting up cases, and making profit out of them, cannot be offended at the question — yes, I will put it to him. Do you feel an inclination to part with him? I never part with a horse, sir, that suits me, said he — I am fond of a horse — I don't like to ride in the dust after every one I meet, and I allow no man to pass me but when I choose. Is it possible, I thought, that he can know me? that he has heard of my foible, and is quizzing me, or have I this feeling in common with him. But, continued I, you might supply yourself again. Not on this circuit, I guess, said he, nor yet in Campbell's circuit. Campbell's circuit — pray, sir, what is that? That, said he, is the western — and Lampton rides the shore circuit; and as for the people on the shore, they know so little of horses, that Lampton tells me, a man from Aylesford once sold a hornless ox there, whose tail he had cut and nicked, for a horse of the Goliath breed. I should think, said I, that Mr. Lampton must have no lack of cases among such enlightened clients. Clients, sir! said my friend, Mr. Lampton is not a lawyer. I beg pardon, I thought you said he rode the circuit. We call it a circuit, said the stranger, who seemed by no means flattered by the mistake — we divide the Province, as in the Almanack, into circuits, in each of which we separately carry on our business of manufacturing and selling clocks. There are few I guess, said the Clockmaker, who go upon tick as much as we do, who have so little use for lawyers; if attornies could wind a man up again, after he has been fairly run down, I guess they'd be a pretty harmless sort of folks.

This explanation restored my good humour, and as I could not quit my companion, and he did not feel disposed to leave me, I made up my mind to travel with him to Port Lawrence, the limit of his circuit.

CHAPTER 2

THE CLOCKMAKER

I HAD heard of Yankee clock pedlars, tin pedlars, and bible pedlars, 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 blue-nose would fail to make a sale at all? I will inquire 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 nothin 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, he don't get a crop, he says it is all owin to the Bank; and if he runs into debt and is sued, why he says lawyers are a cuss 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 every thing 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 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 aint 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 3,000 or 4,000 dollars, twice as good as what Governor Cass paid 15,000 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, now a-days, 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 under tone, Now that is what I call "soft sawder." An Englishman would pass that man as a sheep passes a hog in a pastur, without lookin 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 concarn; no, I am wrong in saying all, for I have jist 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 50 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 harder that I didn't give him the offer. Dear me, said Mrs. Flint, I should like to see it; where is it? It is in a chist 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 an'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, so long as he pays me, what he has to do, but I guess I don't want to sell it, and besides it comes too high; that clock can't be made at Rhode Island under 40 dollars. Why it an't possible, said the Clockmaker, in apparent surprise, looking at his watch, why as I'm alive, it is 4 o'clock, and if I hav'nt been two blessed hours here — how on airth shall I reach River Philip to-night? 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 40 dollars — it cost me jist 6 dollars and 50 cents. Mrs. Flint will never let Mrs. Steel have the refusal — nor will the Deacon larn, 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 isn't '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.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Clockmaker by Thomas Chandler Haliburton. Copyright © 2011 Nonsuch Publishing Limited. Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents

Contents

Introduction to the Modern edition,
Slick's Letter,
I The Trotting Horse,
II The Clockmaker,
III The Silent Girls,
IV Conversations at the River Philip,
V Justice Pettifog,
VI Anecdotes,
VII Go Ahead,
VIII The Preacher that Wandered from his Text,
IX Yankee eating and Horse Feeding,
X The Road to a Woman's Heart—The Broken Heart,
XI Cumberland Oysters produce melancholy forebodings,
XII The American eagle,
XIII The Clockmaker's Opinion of Halifax,
XIV Sayings and Doings in Cumberland,
XV The Dancing Master Abroad,
XVI Mr Slick's Opinion of the British,
XVII A Yankee Handle for a Halifax Blade,
XVIII The Grahamite and the Irish Plot,
XIX The Clockmaker quilts a Blue-Nose,
XX Sister Sall's Courtship,
XXI Setting up for a Governor,
XXII A Cure for a Conceit,
XXIII The Blowin Time,
XXIV. Father John O'Shaughnessy,
XXV Taming a Shrew,
XXVI The Minister's Horn Mug,
XXVII The White Nigger,
XXVIII Fire in the Dairy,
XXIX A Body without a Head,
XXX A Tale of Bunker's Hill,
XXXI Gulling a Blue-Nose,
XXXII Too many Irons in the Fire,
XXXIII Windsor and the Far West,