A Cure for Conceit.

Its a most curious unaccountable thing, but its a fact, said the Clockmaker, the Blue Noses are so conceited, they think they know every thing; and yet there aint a livin soul in Nova Scotia knows his own business real complete, farmer or fisherman, lawyer or doctor, or any other folk.  A farmer said to me one day, up to Pugnose’s inn at River Philip, Mr. Slick, says he, I allot this aint “A bread country;” I intend to sell off the house I improve, and go to the States.  If it aint a bread country, said I, I never see’d one that was.  There is more bread used here, made of best superfine flour, and No. 1.  Genesssee, than in any other place of the same population in the univarse.  You might as well say it aint a Clock Country, when, to my sartin knowledge, there are more clocks than bibles in it.  I guess you expect to raise your bread ready made, dont you?  Well there’s only one class of our free and enlightened citizens that can do that, and that’s them that are born with silver spoons in their mouths.  It’s a pity you was’nt availed of this truth, afore you up killoch and off—­take my advice and bide where you be.  Well the fishermen are jist as bad.  The next time you go into the fish market at Halifax, stump some of the old hands; says you “how many fins has a cod at a word,” and I’ll liquidate the bet if you lose it.  When I’ve been along-shore afore now, a vendin of my clocks, and they began to raise my dander, by belittleing the Yankees, I always brought them up by a round turn by that requirement, “how many fins has a cod at a word.”  Well they never could answer it; and then, says I, when you larn your own business, I guess it will be time enough to teach other folks theirn.  How different it is with our men folk, if they cant get thro’ a question, how beautifully they can go round it, can’t they?  Nothin never stops them.  I had two brothers, Josiah and Eldad, one was a lawyer, and the other a doctor.  They were a talkin about their examinations one night, at a huskin frolic, up to Governor Ball’s big stone barn at Slickville.  Says Josy, when I was examined, the Judge axed me all about real estate; and, says he, Josiah, says he, what’s a fee?  Why, says I, Judge, it depends on the natur of the case.  In a common one, says I, I call six dollars a pretty fair one; but lawyer Webster has got afore now, I’ve heerd tell, 1,000 dollars, and that I do call a fee.  Well, the Judge he larfed ready to split his sides; (thinks I, old chap, you’ll bust like a steam byler, if you hant got a safety valve somewhere or another,) and, says he, I vow that’s superfine; I’ll indorse your certificate for you, young man; there’s no fear of you, you’ll pass the inspection brand any how.