The Attache | Page 9

it's all talk, it's all sarvants.
"Thinks I to myself, 'now, what shall I do till dinner-time, for it rains so there is no stirrin' out?--Waiter, where is eldest son?--he and I will have a game of billiards, I guess.'
"'He is laying down, sir.'
"'Shows his sense,' sais I, 'I see, he is not the fool I took him to be. If I could sleep in the day, I'de turn in too. Where is second son?'
"'Left this mornin' in the close carriage, sir.'
"'Oh cuss him, it was him then was it?'
"'What, Sir?'
"'That woke them confounded rooks up, out o' their fust nap, and kick't up such a bobbery. Where is the Parson?'
"'Which one, Sir?'
"'The one that's so fond of fishing.'
"'Ain't up yet, Sir.'
"'Well, the old boy, that wore breeches.'
"Out on a sick visit to one of the cottages, Sir.'
"When he comes in, send him to me, I'm shockin' sick.'
"With that I goes to look arter the two pretty galls in the drawin' room; and there was the ladies a chatterin' away like any thing. The moment I came in it was as dumb as a quaker's meetin'. They all hauled up at once, like a stage-coach to an inn-door, from a hand-gallop to a stock still stand. I seed men warn't wanted there, it warn't the custom so airly, so I polled out o' that creek, starn first. They don't like men in the mornin', in England, do the ladies; they think 'em in the way.
"'What on airth, shall I do?' says I, 'it's nothin' but rain, rain, rain--here in this awful dismal country. Nobody smokes, nobody talks, nobody plays cards, nobody fires at a mark, and nobody trades; only let me get thro' this juicy day, and I am done: let me get out of this scrape, and if I am caught agin, I'll give you leave to tell me of it, in meetin'. It tante pretty, I do suppose to be a jawin' with the butler, but I'll make an excuse for a talk, for talk comes kinder nateral to me, like suction to a snipe.'
"'Waiter?'
"'Sir.'
"'Galls don't like to be tree'd here of a mornin' do they?'
"'Sir.'
"'It's usual for the ladies,' sais I, 'to be together in the airly part of the forenoon here, ain't it, afore the gentlemen jine them?'
'"Yes, Sir.'
"'It puts me in mind,' sais I, 'of the old seals down to Sable Island--you know where Sable Isle is, don't you?'
"'Yes, Sir, it's in the cathedral down here.'
"'No, no, not that, it's an island on the coast of Nova Scotia. You know where that is sartainly.'
"'I never heard of it, Sir.'
"'Well, Lord love you! you know what an old seal is?'
"'Oh, yes, sir, I'll get you my master's in a moment.'
And off he sot full chisel.
"Cus him! he is as stupid as a rook, that crittur, it's no use to tell him a story, and now I think of it, I will go and smoke them black imps of darkness,--the rooks.'
"So I goes up stairs, as slowly as I cleverly could, jist liftin' one foot arter another as if it had a fifty-six tied to it, on pupus to spend time; lit a cigar, opened the window nearest the rooks, and smoked, but oh the rain killed all the smoke in a minite; it didn't even make one on 'em sneeze. 'Dull musick this, Sam,' sais I, 'ain't it? Tell you what: I'll put on my ile-skin, take an umbreller and go and talk to the stable helps, for I feel as lonely as a catamount, and as dull as a bachelor beaver. So I trampousses off to the stable, and says I to the head man, 'A smart little hoss that,' sais I, 'you are a cleaning of: he looks like a first chop article that.'
"'Y mae',' sais he.
"'Hullo,' sais I, 'what in natur' is this? Is it him that can't speak English, or me that can't onderstand? for one on us is a fool, that's sartain. I'll try him agin.
"So I sais to him, 'He looks,' sais I, 'as if he'd trot a considerable good stick, that horse,' sais I, 'I guess he is a goer.'
"Y' mae, ye un trotter da,' sais he.
"'Creation!' sais I, 'if this don't beat gineral trainin'. I have heerd in my time, broken French, broken Scotch, broken Irish, broken Yankee, broken Nigger, and broken Indgin; but I have hearn two pure genewine languages to-day, and no mistake, rael rook, and rael Britton, and I don't exactly know which I like wus. It's no use to stand talkin' to this critter. Good-bye,' sais I.
"Now what do you think he said? Why, you would suppose he'd say good-bye too, wouldn't you? Well, he didn't, nor nothin' like it, but he jist ups, and sais, 'Forwelloaugh,' he did, upon my soul. I never felt