"I thought I should have
snorted right out two or three times," said the Clockmaker; "I had to
pucker up my mouth like the upper eend of a silk puss, to keep from
yawhawin' in her face, to hear the critter let her clapper run that
fashion. She is not the first hand that has caught a lobster, by
puttin' in her oar afore her turn, I guess. She'll mind her steps
next hitch, I reckon." This was our last breakfast at Amherst.
An early frost that smote the potato fields, and changed the
beautiful green colour of the Indian corn into shades of light
yellow, and dark brown, reminded me of the presence of autumn, of
the season of short days and bad roads. I determined to proceed at
once to Parrsboro', and thence by the Windsor and Kentville route
to Annapolis, Yarmouth, and Shelburne, and to return by the shore
road, through Liverpool and Lunenburg to Halifax. I therefore took
leave (though not without much reluctance) of the Clockmaker, whose
intention had been to go to Fort Lawrence.
"Well," said he, "I vow I am sorry to part company along with you; a
considerable long journey like our'n, is like sitting up late with
the gals, a body knows it's getting on pretty well towards mornin',
and yet feels loth to go to bed, for it's just the time folks grow
sociable. I got a scheme in my head," said he, "that I think will
answer both on us; I got debts due to me in all them 'ere places for
clocks sold by the consarn; now suppose you leave your horse on these
mashes this fall; he'll get as fat as a fool, he won't be able to see
out of his eyes in a month; and I'll put 'Old Clay' (I call him Clay
arter our senator, who is a prime bit of stuff) into a Yankee wagon
I have here, and drive you all round the coast.
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