he, if you were seen in Connecticut a shakin hands along with a Popish priest, as you are pleased to call me, (and he made me a bow, as much as to say mind your trumps the next deal) as you now are in the streets of Halifax along with me, with all your crackin and boastin of your freedom, I guess you wouldn’t sell a clock agin in that State for one while, I tell you, and he bid me good mornin and turned away.  Father John! says I. I can’t stop, says he; I must see that poor critter’s family; they must be in great trouble, and a sick visit is afore controvarsy in my creed.  Well, says I, one word with you afore you go; if that are name Popish priest was an ongenteel one, I ax your pardon; I didn’t mean no offence, I do assure you, and I’ll say this for your satisfaction, tu, you’re the first man in this Province that ever gave me a real right down complete checkmate since I first sot foot in it, I’ll be skinned if you aint.  Yes, said Mr. Slick, Father John was right; these antagonizing chaps ought to be well quilted, the whole raft of ’em.  It fairly makes me sick to see the folks, each on ’em a backin up of their own man.  At it agin, says one; fair play, says another; stick it into him, says a third; and that’s your sort, says a fourth.  Them are the folks who do mischief.  They show such clear grit it fairly frightens me.  It makes my hair stand right up an eend to see ministers do that are.  It appears to me that I could write A book in favor of myself and my notions without writin agin any one, and if I couldn’t I wouldn’t write at all, I snore.  Our old minister, Mr. Hopewell, (a real good man, and a larned man too that,) they sent to him once to write agin the Unitarians, for they are a goin ahead like statiee in New England, but he refused.  Said he, Sam, says he, when I first went to Cambridge, there was a boxer and wrastler came there, and he beat every one wherever he went.  Well, old Mr. Possit was the Church of England parson at Charlestown, at the time, and a terrible powerful man he was—­a real sneezer, and as active as a weasel.  Well, the boxer met him one day, a little way out of town, a takin of his evenin walk, and said he, Parson, says he, they say you are a most a plaguy strong man and uncommon stiff too.  Now, says he, I never seed a man yet that was a match for me; would you have any objection jist to let me be availed of your strength here in a friendly way, by ourselves, where no soul would be the wiser; if you will I’ll keep dark about it, I swan.  Go your way, said the Parson, and tempt me not; you are a carnal minded wicked man, and I take no pleasure in such vain idle sports.  Very well, said the boxer; now here I stand, says he, in the path, right slap afore you; if you pass round me, then I take it as a sign that you are afeard on me, and if you keep the path, why