"Oh, Mr Slick," said Cutler, "I never thought I should have heard this from you. It's downright profanity."

"It's no such thing," sais I, "it's merely a philosophical investigation. Mr Cutler," sais I, "let us understand each other. I have been brought up by a minister as well as you, and I believe your father, the clergyman at Barnstaple, was as good a man as ever lived; but Barnstaple is a small place. My dear old master, Mr Hopewell, was an old man who had seen a great deal in his time, and knew a great deal, for he had 'gone through the mill.'"

"What is that?" said he.

"Why," sais I, "when he was a boy, he was intended, like Washington, for a land-surveyor, and studied that branch of business, and was to go to the woods to lay out lots. Well, a day or two arter he was diplomatised as a surveyor, he went to bathe in a mill-pond, and the mill was a goin' like all statiee, and sucked him into the flume, and he went through into the race below, and came out t'other side with both his legs broke. It was a dreadful accident, and gave him serious reflections, for as he lay in bed, he thought he might just as easily have broke his neck. Well, in our country about Slickville, any man arter that who was wise and had experience of life, was said to have 'gone through the mill.' Do you take?"

But he didn't answer.

"Well, your father and my good old friend brought us both up religiously, and I hope taught us what was right. But, Mr Cutler--"

"Don't call me Mr," said he.

"Well, Cutler, then, I have been 'through the mill,' in that sense. I have acquired a knowledge of the world; if I havn't, the kicks I have taken must have fallen on barren ground. I know the chalk line in life won't do always to travel by. If you go straight a-head, a bottomless quag or a precipice will bring you up all standing as sure as fate.

Well, they don't stop me, for I give them the go-by, and make a level line without a tunnel, or tubular bridge, or any other scientific folly; I get to the end my own way--and it ain't a slow one neither.

Let me be, and put this in your pipe. I have set many a man straight before now, but I never put one on the wrong road since I was raised.

I dare say you have heard I cheated in clocks--I never did. I have sold a fellow one for five pounds that cost me one; skill did that.

Let him send to London, and get one of Barraud's, as father did, for twenty-five pounds sterling. Will it keep better time? I guess not. Is that a case of sell? Well, my knowledge of horse-flesh ain't to be sneezed at. I buy one for fifty dollars and sell him for two hundred; that's skill again--it ain't a cheat. A merchant, thinking a Russian war inevitable, buys flour at four dollars a barrel, and sells it in a month at sixteen. Is that a fraud? There is roguery in all trades but our own. Let me alone therefore. There is wisdom sometimes in a fool's answer; the learned are simple, the ignorant wise; hear them both; above all, hear them out; and if they don't talk with a looseness, draw them out. If Newman had talked as well as studied, he never would have quitted his church. He didn't convince himself he was wrong; he bothered himself, so he didn't at last know right from wrong. If other folks had talked freely, they would have met him on the road, and told him, 'You have lost your way, old boy; there is a river a-head of you, and a very civil ferryman there; he will take you over free gratis for nothing; but the deuce a bit will he bring you back, there is an embargo that side of the water.' Now let me alone; I don't talk nonsense for nothing, and when you tack this way and that way, and beat the 'Black Hawk' up agen the wind, I won't tell you you don't steer right on end on a bee line, and go as straight as a loon's leg.

Do you take?"

"I understand you," he said, "but still I don't see the use of saying what you don't mean. Perhaps it's my ignorance or prejudice, or whatever you choose to call it; but I dare say you know what you are about."

"Cutler," sais I, "I warn't born yesterday. The truth is, so much nonsense is talked about n.i.g.g.e.rs, I feel riled when I think of it. It actilly makes me feel spotty on the back.1 When I was to London last, I was asked to attend a meetin' for foundin' a college for our coloured brethren. Uncle Tom had set some folks half crazy, and others half mad, and what he couldn't do Aunt Harriet did. 'Well,' sais I to myself, 'is this bunk.u.m, or what in natur is it? If I go, I shall be set down as a spooney abolitionist; if I don't go, I shall be set down as an overseer or n.i.g.g.e.r driver, and not a clockmaker. I can't please n.o.body any way, and, what is wus, I don't believe I shall please Mr Slick, no how I can fix it. Howsoever, I will go and see which way the mule kicks.'

1 This extraordinary effect of anger and fear on animals was observed centuries before America was discovered. Statius, a writer who fully equals Mr Slick both in his affectation and bombast, thus alludes to it:--

"Qualis ubi audito venantum murmure tigris, Horruit in maculas."

"As when the tigress hears the hunter's din, Dark angry spots distain her glossy skin."

"Well, Lord Blotherumskite jumps up, and makes a speech; and what do you think he set about proving? Why, that darkies had immortal souls--as if any created critter ever doubted it! and he pitched into us Yankees and the poor colonists like a thousand of bricks. The fact is, the way he painted us both out, one would think he doubted whether we had any souls. The pious galls turned up the whites of their eyes like ducks in thunder, as if they expected drakes to fall from the skies, and the low church folks called out, 'Hear, hear,' as if he had discovered the pa.s.sage at the North Pole, which I do think might be made of some use if it warn't blocked up with ice for everlastingly.

And he talked of that great big he-n.i.g.g.e.r, Uncle Tom Lavender, who was as large as a bull buffalo. He said he only wished he was in the House of Peers, for he would have astonished their lordships. Well, so far he was correct, for if he had been in their hot room, I think Master Lavender would have astonished their weak nerves so, not many would have waited to be counted. There would soon have been a dispersion, but there never would have been a division."

"Well, what did you do?" said Cutler.

"Kept my word," sais I, "as I always do. I seconded the motion, but I gave them a dose of common sense, as a foundation to build upon. I told them n.i.g.g.e.rs must be prepared for liberty, and when they were sufficiently instructed to receive and appreciate the blessing, they must have elementary knowledge, furst in religion, and then in the useful arts, before a college should be attempted, and so on, and then took up my hat and walked out. Well, they almost hissed me, and the sour virgins who bottled up all their humanity to pour out on the n.i.g.g.e.rs, actilly pointed at me, and called me a Yankee p.u.s.s.yite. I had some capital stories to excite 'em with, but I didn't think they were worth the powder and shot. It takes a great many strange people, Cutler," sais I, "to make a world. I used to like to put the leak into folks wunst, but I have given it up in disgust now."

"Why?" sais he.

"Because," sais I, "if you put a leak into a cask that hain't got much in it, the grounds and settlin's won't pay for the trouble. Our people talk a great deal of nonsense about emanc.i.p.ation, but they know it's all bunk.u.m, and it serves to palmeteer on, and makes a pretty party catch-word. But in England, it appears to me, they always like what they don't understand, as n.i.g.g.e.rs do Latin and Greek quotations in sermons. But here is Sorrow. I suppose tea is ready, as the old ladies say. Come, old boy," sais I to Cutler, "shake hands; we have the same object in view, but sometimes we travel by different trains, that's all. Come, let us go below. Ah, Sorrow," sais I, "something smells good here; is it a moose steak? Take off that dish-cover."

"Ah, Ma.s.sa," said he, as he removed it, "dat are is lubbly, dat are a fac."

When I looked at it, I said very gravely--

"Take it away, Sorrow, I can't eat it; you have put the salt and pepper on it before you broiled it, and drawn out all the juice. It's as dry as leather. Take it away."

"Does you tink it would be a little more better if it was a little more doner, Sar? People of 'finement, like you and me, sometime differ in tastes. But, Ma.s.sa, as to de salt, now how you talks! does you railly tink dis here n.i.g.g.ar hab no more sense den one ob dees stupid white fishermen has? No, Ma.s.sa; dis child knows his work, and is de boy to do it, too. When de steak is een amost done, he score him lengthway--dis way," pa.s.sing a finger of his right hand over the palm of the left, "and fill up de crack wid salt an pepper, den gub him one turn more, and dat resolve it all beautiful. Oh no, Ma.s.sa, moose meat is naterally werry dry, like Yankee preacher when he got no baccy. So I makes graby for him. Oh, here is some lubbly graby! Try dis, Ma.s.sa.

My old missus in Varginy was werry ticular about her graby. She usen to say, 'Sorrow, it tante fine clothes makes de gentleman, but a delicate taste for soups, and grabys, and currys. Barbacues, roast pigs, salt meat, and such coa.r.s.e tings, is only fit for Congress men.'

I kirsait my graby, Ma.s.sa, is done to de turn ob a hair, for dis child is a rambitious n.i.g.g.ar. Fust, Ma.s.sa, I puts in a lump ob b.u.t.ter bout size ob peace ob chalk, and a gla.s.s ob water, and den prinkle in flour to make it look like milk, den put him on fire, and when he hiss, stir him wid spoon to make him hush; den I adds inion, dat is fust biled to take off de trong taste, eetle made mustard, and a pinch ob most elegant super-superor yellow snuff."

"Snuff, you rascal!" said I, "how dare you? Take it away--throw it overboard! Oh, Lord! to think of eating snuff! Was there ever anything half so horrid since the world began? Sorrow, I thought you had better broughtens up."

"Well, now, Ma.s.sa," said he, "does you tink dis n.i.g.g.ar hab no soul?"

and he went to the locker, and brought out a small square pint bottle, and said, "Smell dat, Ma.s.sa; dat are oliriferous, dat are a fac."

"Why, that's curry-powder," I said; "why don't you call things by their right name?"

"Ma.s.sa," said he, with a knowing wink, "dere it more snuff den is made of baccy, dat are an undoubtable fac. De scent ob dat is so good, I can smell it ash.o.r.e amost. Den, Ma.s.sa, when graby is all ready, and distrained beautiful, dis child warms him up by de fire and stirs him; but," and he put his finger on his nose, and looked me full in the face, and paused, "but, Ma.s.sa, it must be stir all de one way, or it iles up, and de debbil hisself won't put him right no more."

"Sorrow," sais I, "you don't know nothin' about your business. Suppose it did get iled up, any fool could set it right in a minute."

"Yes, yes, Ma.s.sa," he said, "I know. I ab done it myself often--drink it all up, and make it ober again, until all right wunst more; sometimes I drink him up de matter ob two or tree times before he get quite right."

"No," sais I, "take it off the fire, add two spoonsful of cold water, heat it again, and stir it the right way, and it is as straight as a boot-jack."

"Well, Ma.s.sa," said he, and showed an unusual quant.i.ty of white in his eyes, "well, Ma.s.sa, you is actilly right. My ole missus taught me dat secret herself, and I did actilly tink no libbin' soul but me and she in de whole univarsal United States did know dat are, for I take my oat on my last will and testament, I nebber tole n.o.body. But, Ma.s.sa,"

said he, "I ab twenty different ways--ay, fifty different ways, to make graby; but, at sea, one must do de best he can with nottin' to do with, and when nottin' is simmered a week in nottin' by de fire, it ain't nottin' of a job to sarve him up. Ma.s.sa, if you will scuze me, I will tell you what dis here n.i.g.g.ar tinks on de subject ob his perfession. Some grand folks, like missus, and de Queen ob England and de Emperor ob Roosia, may be fust chop cooks, and I won't deny de fac; and no tanks to 'em, for dere saucepans is all silber and gold; but I have 'skivered dey don't know nuffin' about de right way to eat tings after dey has gone done 'em. Me and Miss Phillesy Anne, de two confdential sarvants, allers had de dinner sent into our room when missus done gone feedin'. Missus was werry kind to us, and we nebber stinted her in nuffin'. I allers gib her one bottle wine and 'no-he-no' (noyeau) more den was possible for her and her company to want, and in course good conduct is allers rewarded, cause we had what was left. Well, me and Miss Phillis used to dress up hansum for dinner to set good sample to n.i.g.g.ars, and two ob de coloured waiters tended on us.

"So one day, said Miss Phillis to me: 'What shall I ab de honor to help yaw to, Mr Sorrow?'

"'Aunt Phillis,' sais I, 'skuse me one minit, I ab made a grand 'skivery.'

"'What is dat, uncle,' sais she, 'you is so clebber! I clare you is wort your weight in gold. What in natur would our dear missus do widout you and me? for it was me 'skivered how to cure de pip in chickens, and make de eggs all hatch out, roosters or hens; and how to souse young turkeys like young children in cold water to prevent staggers, but what is your wention, Mr Sorrow?'

"'Why,' sais I, 'aunty, skuse me one half second. What does you see out ob dat winder, Sambo? you imperent rascal.'

"'Nuffin', Sar.'

"'Well, you black n.i.g.g.ar, if you stare bout dat way, you will see yourself flogged next time. If you ab no manners, I must teach you for de credit ob de plantation; hold a plate to Miss Phillis right away.

Why, aunty,' sais I, 'dis is de 'skivery; a house must have solid foundation, but a dinner a soft one--on count ob disgestion; so I begins wid custard and jelly (dey tastes werry well together, and are light on de stomac), den I takes a gla.s.s ob whisky to keep 'em from turnin' sour; dat is de first step. Sambo, pour me out some. Second one is presarves, ices, fruits--strawberry and cream, or mustache churnings (pistachio cream) and if dey is skilful stowed, den de cargo don't shift under de hatches--arter dat comes punkin pie, pineapple tarts, and raspberry Charlotte.'

"'Mr Sorrow,' sais aunty, 'I is actilly ashamed ob you to name a dish arter a yaller gall dat way, and call it Charlotte; it's ondecent, specially afore dese n.i.g.g.ars.'

"'Law sakes,' sais I, 'Miss Phillis, does you tink I ab no sense; I hate a yaller gall as I do pyson.'

"'So does I,' said she, 'dey is neither chalk nor cheese; dey is a disgrace to de plantation dey is on; but raspberry Charlotte is a name I nebber heard tell ob for a dish."

"'Why, how you talks,' sais I. 'Well, den is de time for fish, such as stewed rocks.'

"'Now you is a funnin',' sais aunty, 'isn't you? how on airth do you stew rocks? yah! yah! yah!'

"'Easy as kiss my hand to you,' sais I, 'and if dere be no fish (and dat white Yankee oberseer is so cussed lazy bout catchin' of dem, I must struct missus to discharge him). Den dere is two nice little genteel dishes, 'birds in de grobe,' and 'plover on de sh.o.r.e,' and den top off wid soup; and I ain't particular about dat, so long as I ab de best; and dat, Miss Phillis, makes a grand soft bed, you see, for stantials like beef or mutton, or ham, or venson, to lay down easy on.'

"'Well, you is a wonderful man, Mr Sorrow,' sais Miss Phillis, 'I do really tink dat stands to reason and experience. When I married my fiff husband--no, it warn't my fiff, it was my sixth--I had lubly baby tree month old, and my old man killed it maken speriments. He would give it soup and minced veal to make it trong. Sais I, 'Mr Caesar, dat ain't natur; fust you know it must ab milk, den pap, and so on in order.' Sais he, 'I allus feeds master's young bull-dogs on raw meat.'

Well, Caesar died dat same identical night child did (and she gub me a wink); 'sunthen disagreed wid him also that he eat.' ('Oh Ma.s.sa,' he continued, 'bears dat ab cubs and women dat ab childern is dangerous.) 'Mr Sorrow,' said she, 'dat is a great 'skivery of yourn; you'd best tell missus.'