up in a corner of the fence any how--so he went good
humouredly to work and pleaded them all.

This lazy fellow, Pugnose, continued the Clockmaker; that
keeps this inn, is going to sell off and go to the States;
he says he has to work too hard here; that the markets
are dull, and the winters too long; and he guesses he
can live easier there; I guess he'll find his mistake
afore he has been there long. Why our country aim to be
compared to this, on no account whatever; our country
never made us to be the great nation we are, but we made
the country. How on airth could we, if we were all like
old Pugnose, as lazy as ugly, make that cold thin soil
of New-England produce what it does? Why, Sir, the land
between Boston and Salem would starve a flock of geese;
and yet look at Salem, it has more cash than would buy
Nova Scotia from the King. We rise early, live frugally,
and work late: what we get we take care of. To all this
we add enterprise and intelligence--a feller who finds
work too hard here, had better not go to the States. I
met an Irishman, one Pat Lannigan, last week, who had
just returned from the States; why, says I, Pat, what on
airth brought you back? Bad luck to them, says Pat, if
I warn't properly bit. What do you get a day in Nova
Scotia? says Judge Beler to me. Four shillings, your
Lordship, says I. There are no Lords here, says he, we
are all free. Well, says he, I'll give you as much in
one day as you can earn there in two; I'll give you eight
shillings. Long life to your Lordship, says I. So next
day to it I went with a party of men a-digging a piece