worth havin, trade with Halifax.  They take down a few half starved pigs, old viteran geese, and long legged fowls, some ram mutton and tuf beef; and swap them for tea, sugar, and such little notions for their old women to home; while the rail roads and canals of St. John are goin to cut off your Gulf Shore trade to Miramichi, and along there.  Flies live in the summer and die in winter, you’re jist as noisy in war as those little critters, but you sing small in peace.

No, your done for, you are up a tree, you may depend; pride must fall.  Your town is like a ball room arter a dance.  The folks have eat, drank, and frolicked, and left an empty house; the lamps and hangings are left, but the people are gone.  Is there no remedy for this? said he, and he looked as wild as a Cherokee Indian.  Thinks I, the handle is fitten on proper tight now.  Well, says I, when a man has a cold, he had ought to look out pretty sharp, afore it gets seated on his lungs; if he don’t, he gets into a gallopin consumption, and it’s gone goose with him.  There is a remedy, if applied in time:  make a rail road to Minas Basin, and you have a way for your customers to get to you, and a conveyance for your goods to them.  When I was in New York last, a cousin of mine, Hezekiah Slick, said to me, I do believe Sam, I shall be ruined; I’ve lost all my custom, they are widening and improving the streets, and there’s so many carts and people to work in it, folks can’t come to my shop to trade, what on airth shall I do, and I’m payin a dreadful high rent too?  Stop Ki, says I, when the street is all finished off and slicked up, they’ll all come back agin, and a whole raft more on ’em too, you’ll sell twice as much as ever you did, you’ll put off a proper swad of goods next year, you may depend; and so he did, he made money, hand over hand.  A rail-road, will bring back your customers, if done right off; but wait till trade has made new channels, and fairly gets settled in them, and you’ll never divart it agin to all etarnity.  When a feller waits till a gall gets married, I guess it will be too late to pop the question then.  St. John must go ahead, at any rate; you may, if you choose, but you must exert yourselves I tell you.  If a man has only one leg, and wants to walk, he must get an artificial one.  If you have no river, make a rail road, and that will supply its place.  But, says he, Mr. Slick, people say it never will pay in the world; they say its as mad a scheme as the canal.  Do they indeed, says I, send them to me then, and I’ll fit the handle on to them in tu tu’s.  I say it will pay, and the best proof is, our folks will take tu thirds of the stock.  Did you ever hear any one else but your folks, ax whether a dose of medicine would pay when it was given to save life?  If that everlastin long Erie canal can secure to New York the supply of that far off country, most tother side of creation, surely a rail road of 45 miles can give you the trade