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The Attaché; or, Sam Slick in England — Volume 01 by Thomas Chandler Haliburton
page 66 of 178 (37%)

He now went below, leaving Mr. Hopewell and myself on
the deck. All this tirade of Mr. Slick was uttered in
the hearing of the pilot, and intended rather for his
conciliation, than my instruction. The pilot was immoveable;
he let the cause against his country go "by default,"
and left us to our process of "inquiry;" but when Mr.
Slick was in the act of descending to the cabin, be turned
and gave him a look of admeasurement, very similar to
that which a grazier gives an ox; a look which estimates
the weight and value of the animal, and I am bound to
admit, that the result of that "sizing or laying" as it
is technically called, was by no means favourable to the
Attache".

Mr. Hopewell had evidently not attended to it; his eye
was fixed on the bold and precipitous shore of Wales,
and the lofty summits of the everlasting hills, that in
the distance, aspired to a companionship with the clouds.
I took my seat at a little distance from him and surveyed
the scene with mingled feelings of curiosity and admiration,
until a thick volume of sulphureous smoke from the copper
furnaces of Anglesey intercepted our view.

"Squire," said he, "it is impossible for us to contemplate
this country, that now lies before us, without strong
emotion. It is our fatherland. I recollect when I was a
colonist, as you are, we were in the habit of applying
to it, in common with Englishmen, that endearing appellation
"Home," and I believe you still continue to do so in the
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