cut stick as he did, and made himself scarce, for Alden
was an ugly customer; he'd a gin him a proper scalding
--he'd a taken the bristles off his hide, as clean as
the skin of a spring shote of a pig killed at Christmas.
The Clockmaker was evidently excited by his own story,
and to indemnify himself for these remarks on his
countrymen, he indulged for some time in ridiculing the
Nova Scotians.

Do you see that are flock of colts, said he, (as we passed
one of those beautiful prairies that render the vallies
of Nova Scotia so verdant and so fertile,) well, I guess
they keep too much of that are stock. I heerd an Indian
one day ax a tavern keeper for some rum; why, Joe Spawdeeck,
said he, I reckon you have got too much already. Too much
of any thing, said Joe is not good, but too much rum is
jist enough. I guess these Blue Noses think so bout their
horses, they are fairly eat up by them, out of house and
home, and they are no good neither. They beant good saddle
horses, and they beant good draft beasts--they are jist
neither one thing nor tother. They are like the drink of
our Connecticut folks. At mowing time they use molasses
and water, nasty stuff only fit to catch flies--it spiles
good water and makes bad beer. No wonder the folks are
poor. Look at them are great dykes; well, they all go to
feed horses; and look at their grain fields on the upland;
well, they are all sowed with oats to feed horses, and
they buy their bread from us: so we feed the asses, and
they feed the horses. If I had them critters on that are
marsh, on a location of mine, I'd jist take my rifle and