itted to mention the
festivals that were given in honour of his arrival in the States, he
was doubtless actuated by a desire to avoid the appearance of personal
vanity. A man cannot well make himself the hero of his own book."

"Well, well," said he, "I believe the black ox did tread on my toe that
time. I don't know but what you're right. Soft words are good enough in
their way, but still they butter no parsnips, as the sayin' is. John may
be a good-natured critter, tho' I never see'd any of it yet; and he may
be fond of a joke, and p'raps is, seein' that he haw-haws considerable
loud at his own. Let's try him at all events. We'll soon see how he
likes other folks' jokes; I have my scruple about him, I must say. I am
dubersome whether he will say 'chee, chee, chee' when he gets 'T'other
eend of the gun.'"

CHAPTER VI. SMALL POTATOES AND FEW IN A HILL.

"Pray Sir," said one of my fellow passengers, "can you tell me why the
Nova Scotians are called 'Blue-noses?'"

"It is the name of a potatoe," said I, "which they produce in great
perfection, and boast to be the best in the world. The Americans have,
in consequence, given them the nick-name of "Blue-noses.'"

"And now," said Mr. Slick," as you have told the entire stranger, _who_
a Blue-nose is, I'll jist up and tell him _what_ he is.

"One day, Stranger, I was a joggin' along into Windsor on Old Clay, on
a sort of butter and eggs' gait (for a fast walk on a journey tires a
horse considerable), and who should I see a settin' straddle legs "on
the fence, but Squire Gabriel Soogit, with his coat off, a holdin' of
a hoe in one hand, and his hat in t'other, and a blowin' like a porpus
proper tired.

"'Why, Squire Gabe,' sais I, 'what is the matter of you? you look as if
you couldn't help yourself; who is dead and what is to pay now, eh?'

"'Fairly beat out,' said he, 'I am shockin' tired. I've been hard at
work all the mornin'; a body has to stir about considerable smart in
this country, to make a livin', I tell you.'

"I looked over the fence, and I seed he had hoed jist ten hills of
potatoes, and that's all. Fact I assure you.

"Sais he, 'Mr. Slick, tell you what, _of all the work I ever did in my
life I like hoein' potatoes the best, and I'd rather die than do that,
it makes my back ache so_."

"'Good airth" and seas,' sais I to myself, 'what a parfect pictur of a
lazy man that is! How far is it to Windsor?'

"'Three miles,' sais he. I took out my pock