"Which do you prefer?" said she.

"Well," sais I, "I ain't hardly able to decide. The bark work is more delicate and more tasteful; but it's more European in appearance. The other is more like our own country, and I ain't sure that it isn't quite as handsome as the other. But I think I prize the moca.s.sins most. The name, the shape, and the ornaments all tell of the prairie."

"Well, then," she said, "it shall be the moca.s.sins, you must have them, as the exchange for the book."

"Oh," said I, taking out of my pocket the first and second "Clockmakers," I had no other of my books on board, and giving them to her, "I am afraid, Miss, that I either said or did something to offend you this morning. I a.s.sure you I did not mean to do so, and I am very sorry for it."

"No, no," she said, "it was me; but my temper has been greatly tried since I came to this country. I was very wrong, for you (and she laid a stress on that word as if I was an exception) have been very kind to me."

"Well," sais I, "Miss, sometimes there are things that try us and our feelings, that we don't choose to talk about to strangers, and sometimes people annoy us on these subjects. It wouldn't be right of me to pry into any one's secrets, but this I will say, any person that would vex you, let him be who he will, can be no man, he'd better not do it while I am here, at any rate, or he'll have to look for his jacket very quick, I know."

"Mr Slick," she said, "I know I am half Indian, and some folks want to make me feel it."

"And you took me for one o' them cattle," said I, "but if you knew what was pa.s.sin' in my mind, you wouldn't a felt angry, I know."

"What was it?" said she, "for I know you won't say anything to me you oughtn't to. What was it?"

"Well," sais I, "there is, between you and me, a young lady here to the southern part of this province I have set my heart on, though whether she is agoin' to give me hern, or give me the mitten, I ain't quite sartified, but I rather kinder sorter guess the first, than kinder sorter not so." I just throwed that in that she mightn't misunderstand me. "Well, she is the most splendiferous gall I ever sot eyes on since I was created; and," sais I to myself, "now, here is one of a different style of beauty, which on 'em is, take her all in all, the handsomest?"

Half Indian or half Gaelic, or whatever she was, she was a woman, and she didn't flare up this time, I tell you, but taking up the work-bag she said:

"Give this to her, as a present from me."

Thinks I, "My pretty brunette, if I don't get the heart opened to me, and give you a better opinion of yourself, and set you all straight with mankind in general, and the doctor in particular, afore I leave Ship Harbour, I'll give over for ever undervalyin' the skill of ministers, that's a fact. That will do for trial number one; by and by I'll make trial number two."

Taking up the "Clockmaker," and looking at it, she said: "Is this book all true, Mr Slick? Did you say and do all that's set down here?"

"Well," sais I, "I wouldn't just like to swear to every word of it, but most of it is true, though some things are embellished a little, and some are fancy sketches. But they are all true to nature."

"Oh, dear," said she, "what a pity! how shall I ever be able to tell what's true and what ain't? Do you think I shall be able to understand it, who know so little, and have seen so little?"

"You'll comprehend every word of it," sais I, "I wrote it on purpose, so every person should do so. I have tried to stick to life as close as I could, and there is nothin' like natur, it goes home to the heart of us all."

"Do tell me, Mr Slick," said she, "what natur is, for I don't know."

Well, now that's a very simple question, ain't it? and anyone that reads this book when you publish it, will say, "Why, everybody knows what natur is," and any schoolboy can answer that question. But I'll take a bet of twenty dollars, not one in a hundred will define that tarm right off the reel, without stopping. It fairly stumpt me, and I ain't easily brought to a hack about common things. I could a told her what natur was circ.u.mbendibusly, and no mistake, though that takes time. But to define it briefly and quickly, as Minister used to say, if it can be done at all, which I don't think it can, all I can say is, as galls say to conundrums, "I can't, so I give it up. What is it?"

Perhaps it's my own fault, for dear old Mr Hopewell used to say, "Sam, your head ain't like any one else's. Most men's minds resembles what appears on the water when you throw a stone in it. There is a centre, and circles form round it, each one a little larger than the other, until the impelling power ceases to act. Now you set off on the outer circle, and go round and round ever so often, until you arrive to the centre where you ought to have started from at first; I never see the beat of you."

"It's natur," sais I, "Minister."

"Natur," sais he, "what the plague has natur to do with it?"

"Why," sais I, "can one man surround a flock of sheep?"

"Why, what nonsense," sais he; "of course he can't."

"Well, that's what this child can do," sais I. "I make a good sizeable ring-fence, open the bars, and put them in, for if it's too small, they turn and out agin like wink, and they will never so much as look at it a second time. Well, when I get them there, I narrow and narrow the circle, till it's all solid wool and mutton, and I have every mother's son of them. It takes time, for I am all alone, and have no one to help me; but they are thar' at last. Now, suppose I went to the centre of the field, and started off arter them, what would it end in?

Why, I'de run one down, and have him, and that's the only one I could catch. But while I was a chasin' of him, all the rest would disperse like a congregation arter church, and cut off like wink, each on his own way, as if he was afraid the minister was a-goin' to run after 'em, head 'em, and fetch 'em back and pen 'em up again."

He squirmed his face a little at that part about the congregation, I consaited, but didn't say nothin', for he knew it was true.

"Now, my reason," sais I, "for goin' round and round is, I like to gather up all that's in the circle, carry it with me, and stack it in the centre."

Lord! what fun I have had pokin' that are question of Jessie's sudden to fellows since then! Sais I to Brother Eldad once--

"Dad, we often talk about natur; what is it?"

"Tut," sais he, "don't ask me; every fool knows what natur is."

"Exactly," sais I; "that's the reason I came to you."

He just up with a book, and came plaguy near lettin' me have it right agin my head smash.

"Don't do that," sais I, "Daddy; I was only joking; but what is it?"

Well, he paused a moment and looked puzzled, as a fellow does who is looking for his spectacles, and can't find them because he has shoved them up on his forehead.

"Why," sais he, spreadin' out his arm, "it's all that you see, and the law that governs it."

Well, it warn't a bad shot that, for a first trial, that's a fact. It hit the target, though it didn't strike the ring.

"Oh," said I, "then there is none of it at night, and things can't be nateral in the dark."

Well, he seed he had run off the track, so he braved it out. "I didn't say it was necessary to see them all the time," he said.

"Just so," said I, "natur is what you see and what you don't see; but then feelin' ain't nateral at all. It strikes me that if--"

"Didn't I say," said he, "the laws that govern them?"

"Well, where are them laws writ?"

"In that are receipt-book o' yourn you're so proud of," said he. "What do you call it, Mr Wiseacre?"

"Then, you admit," sais I, "any fool can't answer that question?"

"Perhaps you can," sais he.

"Oh Dad!" sais I, "you picked up that shot and throwed it back. When a feller does that it shows he is short of ammunition. But I'll tell you what my opinion is. There is no such a thing as natur."

"What!" said he.

"Why there is no such a thing as natur in reality; it is only a figure of speech. The confounded poets got hold of the idea and parsonified it as they have the word heart, and talk about the voice of natur and its sensations, and its laws and its simplicities, and all that sort of thing. The noise water makes in tumblin' over stones in a brook, a splutterin' like a toothless old woman scoldin' with a mouthful of hot tea in her lantern cheek, is called the voice of natur speaking in the stream. And when the wind blows and scatters about all the blossoms from your fruit trees, and you are a ponderin' over the mischief, a gall comes along-side of you with a book of poetry in her hand and sais:

"'Hark! do you hear the voice of natur amid the trees? Isn't it sweet?'

"Well, it's so absurd you can't help laughin' and saying, 'No;' but then I hear the voice of natur closer still, and it says, 'Ain't she a sweet critter?'