' 'Oh!' says I, 'if he wants
to get rich by farmin', he can do that, too. Let him sell his wheat,
and eat his oatmeal and rye; send his beef, mutton and poultry to
market, and eat his pork and potatoes; make his own cloth, weave his
own linen, and keep out of shops, and he'll soon grow rich--there
are more fortin's got by savin' than by makin', I guess, a plaguy
sight--he can't eat his cake and have it too, that's a fact. No, make
a farmer of him, and you will have the satisfaction of seeing him an
honest, an independent, and a respectable member of society--more
honest than traders, more independent than professional men, and more
respectable than either.'
"'Ahem!' says Marm Drivvle, and she began to clear her throat for
action; she slumped down her knittin', and clawed off her spectacles,
and looked right straight at me, so as to take good aim. I seed a
regular nor'wester a-brewin', I knew it would bust somewhere sartin,
and make all smoke agin, so I cleared out and left old Drivvle to
stand the squall. I conceit he must have had a tempestical time
of it, for she had get her Ebenezer up, and looked like a proper
sneezer. Make her Johnny a farmer, eh! I guess that was too much for
the like o' her to stomach.
"Pride, squire," continued the Clockmaker (with such an air of
concern, that, I verily believe, the man feels an interest in the
welfare of a Province, in which he has spent so long a time), "Pride,
Squire, and a false pride, too, is the ruin of this country, I hope
I may be skinned if it ain't.
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