my old mother could see that child, it is such a treat In our country, said he, turning to me, the children are all as pale as chalk, or as yeller as an orange.  Lord, that are little feller would be a show in our country—­come to me my man.  Here the soft sawder began to operate.  Mrs. Pugwash said in a milder tone than we had yet heard, ’go my dear to the gentleman, go dear.’  Mr. Slick kissed him, asked him if he would go to the States along with him, told him all the little girls there would fall in love with him, for they didn’t see such a beautiful face once in a month of Sundays.  Black eyes, let me see, ah mamma’s eyes too, and black hair also; as I am alive, why you are mamma’s own boy, the very image of mamma.  Do be seated, gentlemen, said Mrs. Pugwash—­Sally make a fire in the next room.  She ought to be proud of you, he continued.  Well, if I live to return here, I must paint your face, and have it put on my clocks, and our folks will buy the clocks for the sake of the face.  Did you ever see, said he, again addressing me, such a likeness between one human and another, as between this beautiful little boy and his mother.  I am sure you have had no supper, said Mrs. Pugwash to me; you must be hungry and weary, too—­I will get you a cup of tea.  I am sorry to give you so much trouble, said I. Not the least trouble in the world, she replied, on the contrary a pleasure.  We were then shown into the next room, where the fire was now blazing up, but Mr. Slick protested he could not proceed without the little boy, and lingered behind me to ascertain his age, and concluded by asking the child if he had any aunts that looked like mamma.

As the door closed, Mr. Slick said, it’s a pity she don’t go well in gear.  The difficulty with those critters is to get them to start, arter that there is no trouble with them if you don’t check ’em too short If you do, they’ll stop again, run back and kick like mad, and then Old Nick himself would’nt start ’em.  Pugwash, I guess, don’t understand the natur of the critter; she’ll never go kind in harness for him.  When I see a child, said the Clockmaker, I always feel safe with these women folk; for I have always found that the road to a woman’s heart lies through her child.

You seem, said I, to understand the female heart so well, I make no doubt you are a general favorite among the fair sex.  Any man, he replied, that understands horses, has a pretty considerable fair knowledge of women, for they are jist alike in temper, and require the very identical same treatment.  Incourage the timid ones, be gentle and steady with the fractious, but lather the sulky ones like blazes.  People talk an everlastin sight of nonsense about wine, women and horses.  I’ve bought and sold ’em all, I’ve traded in all of them, and I tell you, there aint one in a thousand that knows a grain about either on ’em.  You hear folks say, oh, such a man is an ugly grained critter—­he’ll break his wife’s heart; jist as if a woman’s