THE CLOCK-PEDLER.

THE travelling merchants or pedlers of New England are notorious all over North America for their activity in pushing off their wares; but no class of them equals those who deal in clocks. These articles are now to be found everywhere. The whole continent of America is thick sown with them. They have reached Great Britain, where they are seen in farmhouse and cottage, and have pushed the old naked wooden clocks of German manufacture from the wall. In the colonies their sway is considerable. The real habitat, however, of the New England clock is America itself. They are there pushed off by pedlers, whose 'soft sawder' is acknowledged to be irresistible. He is considered to be a very clever person indeed, who has the address to withstand a clock-pedler. Now, as it is important that the world at large should know something of the manner in which this great genius goes to work, we propose, with the assistance of Colonel Crocket-a great man that was-to give a sketch of his proceedings.

A pedler, in disposing of a clock, feels the same anxiety that a general does on the eve of a battle, and displays as much mind in bringing arguments to support his wishes as Bonaparte did on the plains of Waterloo in the disposition of his forces. Their perseverance is so untiring, and it has been so often crowned with success, that a Yankee clock now graces every cabin throughout the west. And the backwoodsmen, even the half-horse, half- alligator breed, when boasting of their exploits always add: "I can stand anything but a clock-pedler." Reader, did you ever know a full-blooded Yankee clockpedler? If not, imagine a tall, lank fellow, with a thin visage and small dark-gray eyes, looking through you at every glance, and having the word trade written in his every action, and you will then have an idea of Mr Slim,

"The sun was getting low, when Slim, who was travelling the high road, with a perfect knowledge that there was a tavern about a mile ahead of him, left it to seek a cabin, which, with a modest but a retiring aspect, shewed itself in the woods at some short distance. The smoke, floating off from a dirt chimney, was mingling with the blue ether; and the children, with loud laughing voices, were playing in the yard. But no sooner did they see the clock-pedler than there was a race, each striving to be the first bearer of the news, that a gentleman with a carriage was coming. Slim, driving up, halted; and there walked out the proprietor of the cabin. "Friend, can't you give a stranger in these parts some directions?"" 'Bout what, or where?" "Wuh-my horse is tired, and I should like myself to get a pallet." "If you had kept the road about a mile farther, you would have found a tavern; but if you can rough it here, do so. My house is always open to a stranger." Slim accepts the invitation, draws the wagon into the yard, and while rubbing his "cretur" down, chuckles to himself: "I've got that fellow." They go to the house, take a little whisky and water, eat supper, and draw around the fire. Slim then makes a dead set to get rid of one of his clocks. 66 Stranger, what's your name?" "Baines: An' what's yours?" "Slim: Mr Baines, I havn't shewn you my articles yet."

"What sort of articles?" "I have a fine clock that I could spare, and some jewellery, and a few combs. They would suit your daughter there, if they aint too fine; but as I got a great bargain in 'em, I can sell 'em cheap." "Jewellery in these backwoods! 'Twould be as much out of place on my gal here as my leather hunting - shirt would be on you; and as for a clock, I have a good one-you see it there." Slim finds a thousand faults with it, knows the maker-never did see one of that make worth a fourpence-ha'penny—and winds up with, "Now let me sell you a clock worth having." "No; I have one that answers my purpose." "Not so bad a beginning," said Slim to himself.

It will be observed that the clock-pedler reckons it a good thing if he does not meet with a positive rebuff,

All he in the first place wants is a little chaffering; and he who permits this is done. To proceed—

'Slim now brings out his tempting wares, his tortoiseshell combs, and his counterfeit jewellery, all of which he warrants to be genuine-overwhelms the young lady with compliments upon her present appearance, and enlarges upon the many additional charms his articles would give her wishes to sell a comb to her mother, who thinks one for her daughter will be sufficient. "Your daughter, madam!" Slim would never have suspected her of being old enough to have a daughter grown. The mother and daughter begin to see new beauties in the pedler's wares. They select such articles as they would like to have, and, joining with the pedler, they pour forth on old Baines one continued volley of sound argument, setting forth the advantages to be derived from the purchase. The old man seeing the storm that is about to burst, collects within himself all his resources, and for a long time parries, with the skill of an expert swordsman, the various deadly thrusts which are made against him. But his opponents return to the charge, in nowise discomfited. They redouble their energies. With the

pedler in front, they pour into the old man volley after volley. No breathing - time is allowed. He waversfaulters. Flesh and blood can't stand everything. And, as a wall before some well-directed battery, his resolution grows weak-for a moment totters-then falls, leaving a clear breach. Through this the pedler enters; and having disposed of two tortoise-shell combs, and a little double-refined jewellery, the women retire from the field of action, and the pedler, taking advantage of the prostrate condition of his adversary, again reiterates the defects in his clock, and concludes with: "Now let me sell you one cheap." "No, I'll have none of it!" bursts forth from Baines, accompanied with a torrent of abuse.'

Things have gone too far for Slim to mind a little outbreak of this kind. He is not the least abashed, and has it all arranged in his mind what to do. 'He now disappears, but soon returns, bearing in his arms a

Yankee wooden clock. Baines looks thunder-struck. "Let me put it up." "No, it's no use." "I know that. I don't want you to buy it. I only want to put it up." Still asking permission, yet having it denied, Slim is seen bustling about the room, until, at the end of the dialogue, his wooden clock having encroached upon the dominions of an old family timepiece, is seen suspended with all the beauty, yet bold effrontery of a Yankee notion. Slim having accomplished so much, draws around the fire, and soothes the old man by discussing the quality of his farm. Baines begins to go into the minutiae of his farming operations, and the clocks strike nine. "Now just notice the tone of my clock. Don't you see the difference?" "A man may buy land here at a dollar an acre." "I like always to see in a house a good timepiece; it tells us how the day passes." "Wife, hadn't we better kill that beef in the morning?" "Did you notice that clock of mine had a looking-glass in it?" Baines proposes to go to bed. Slim always likes to retire early; and, going to his apartment, cries out: "Well now, old man, buy that clock. You can have it upon your own terms. Think about it, and give me an answer in the morning." "What do I want with the clock?" "Oh, you can have it upon your own terms. Besides, a man of your appearance ought to have a good clock. I wouldn't have that rotten thing of yours. Did you notice the difference when they were striking?" Baines going to his room, says: "No, I'll be shot if I buy it." Soon the house becomes quiet. Slim collects his scattered forces, and makes preparation for a renewal of the attack in the morning. The daughter dreams of tortoise-shell combs and jewellery; the mother, from Slim's compliment, believes herself both young and beautiful; and the old man never turns over but the corners of a clock prick him in the side.

'Morning comes, and with its first light Slim rises, feeds his "cretur," and meeting with Mr Baines, makes many inquiries after his health, &c.; professes to be in a hurry, and concludes with, "Well, as I must now leave, what say

you about the clock?" "Why, that I don't want it." Slim bolts into the chamber, where the ladies are scarcely dressed, after whom he makes many inquiries; then jumps into a chair, and sets both clocks to striking, ridicules the sound of the old man's, and commences the wellformed attack of the last night, which he keeps up for nearly an hour, only interrupted by the repeated striking of the clocks. They then sit down to breakfast, and Slim returns to the charge. The old man is utterly confounded: Slim sees his advantage, follows him over his farm, every part of which he admires, and which only supports his argument, that a man so well fixed ought to have a good clock. They return to the house, take a little more whisky and water, and Slim is struck with the improved appearance of the room. His clock sets it off. Slim, clapping Baines by the shoulder: "Well, now, old gentleman, let me sell you the clock." "But what shall I do with mine?" "Oh, I'll buy that. What do you ask for it?" "It ought to be worth ten dollars." "Mine cost me forty dollars; but give me thirty to boot, and it's a trade." "Well, I believe -No, I wont have it." "My dear fellow, my clock is fastened up now. Besides, you have made me waste all day here you ought to take it." Baines does not exactly see how that is-hesitates-and Slim proceeds to take down the old clock. It is all over now; the money is paid, and Slim is soon ready to leave; but before going out he remarks: "It would be as well to leave the old clock here, as I shall be back in a day or two." Slim then mounts his wagon, and drives off; and methinks I can see the rueful countenance of Baines while gazing at the wagon until it disappears. His thoughts I leave to the imagination of my reader.'

So concludes the sketch of a New England clockpedler. Reader, beware of him!