'Well, well,' says he,
a-liftin' up both hands, and turnin' up the whites of his eyes like a
duck in thunder, 'if that don't bang the bush! It fearly beats sheep
shearin' arter the blackberry bushes have got the wool. It does, I
vow; them are the tares them Unitarians sow in our grain fields at
night; I guess they'll ruinate the crops yet, and make the grounds
so everlastin' foul; we'll have to pare the sod and burn it, to kill
the roots. Our fathers sowed the right seed here in the wilderness,
and watered it with their tears, and watched over it with fastin' and
prayer, and now it's fairly run out, that's a fact, I snore. It's got
choked up with all sorts of trash in, natur', I declare. Dear, dear,
I vow I never seed the beat o' that in all my born days.'
"Now the Bluenoses are like that 'ere gal; they have grown up,
and grown up in ignorance of many things they hadn't ought not to
know; and it's as hard to teach grown-up folks as it is to break a
six-year-old horse; and they do rile one's temper so--they act so
ugly that it tempts one sometimes to break their confounded necks;
it's near about as much trouble as it's worth."
"What remedy is there for all this supineness," said I; "how can
these people be awakened out of their ignorant slothfulness, into
active exertion?"
"The remedy," said Mr.
Pages:
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95