Thomas Chandler Haliburton

"Mother " exclaimed Josh Beanpole, "Mother, I say, I feel all over in a twitteration like. Huh huh Who'd have thought it?" "What ails ye, Josh?" asked the old woman, stopping her spinning-wheel at this exclamation. "What bug has bit you now?" "Can't tell," said Josh, in a drooping, dolorous tone, and hanging his head as if he had been caught stealing a sheep. "Can't tell?" said Mrs. Beanpole, turning quite round, and giving Josh a wondering stare. "Can't tell? what does the critter mean?" "Who'd ha' thought it?" repeated Josh, fumbling in his pockets, twisting round his head and rolling up his eyes in a fashion most immensely sheepish.-"Hannah Downer's courted " Here Josh shuffled himself awkwardly into the settle in the chimney corner, and sunk upon one side, fixing his eyes with a most ludicro-dismal squint upon the lower extremity of a pot-hook that hung at the end of the crane. "Courted " exclaimed Mrs. Beanpole, not exactly comprehending the state of her son's intellectuals. "Well-what's all that when it's fried?" "Arter so many pails of water as I've pumped for her," said Josh in a dismal whine, -"for to go for to let herself to be courted by another feller " "Here's a to-do " ejaculated the old woman. "It's tarnation all over " said Josh, beginning a bolder tone as he found his mother coming to an understanding of the matter. "It makes me crawl all over to think on't. Didn't I wait on her three times to singing school? Hadn't I e'en a most made up my mind to break the ice, and tell her I shouldn't wonder if I had a sneakin' notion arter somebody's Hannah? I should ha' been reg'lar courting in less than a month-and Peet Spinbutton has cut me out-as slick as a whistle " "Peet Spinbutton " said the old woman, "well, I want to know " "Darn his eyes " exclaimed Josh. "Peet Spinbutton " repeated Mrs. Beanpole; "what, the ensign of the Dogtown Blues? that great lummokin' feller

If I live a thousand years, I shall never forget the day I was chosen representative. Isaac Longlegs ran himself out of a year's growth to bring me the news; for I staid away from town-meeting out of dignity, as the way is, being a candidate. At first I could not believe it; though when I spied Isaac coming round Slouch's corner, with his coat-tails flapping in the wind, and pulling straight ahead for our house, I felt certain that something was the matter, and my heart began to bump, bump so, under my jacket, that it was a wonder it didn't knock a button off. However, I put on a bold face, and when Isaac came bolting into the house, I pretended not to be thinking about it." Lieutenant Turniptop " says Isaac, "huh, huh, you've got the election ""Got what?" says I, pretending to be surprised, in a coolish sort of a way." Got the election," says he, "all hollow. You've got a majority of thirteen-a clear majority-clean, smack smooth, and no two words about it ""Pooh " says I, trying to keep cool; though at the same time I felt all over-I can't tell how-my skin didn't seem to fit me. "Pooh " says I again; but the idea of going into public life, and being called Squire Turniptop, was almost too much for me. I seemed to feel as if I was standing on the tip top of the north pole, with my head above the clouds, the sun on one side, and the moon on the other. "Got the election?" says I; "a hem hem hem " And so I tried to put on a proper dignity; but it was hard work. "Got a majority?" says I, once more." As sure as a gun," says Isaac. "I heard it with my own ears." Squire Dobbs read it off to the whole meeting. "Tobias Turniptop has fifty-nine, and-is-chosen "I thought I should have choked six millions of glorious ideas seemed to be swelling up all at one time within me. I had just been reading Doctor Growler's sermon on the end of the world; but now I thought the world was only beginning.

The serial publication of The Clockmaker in 1835-6 launched Canadian judge Thomas Chandler Haliburton to literary fame. A broad satire with a garrulous, deceitful American clock-seller as its central character, the book was embraced by reviewers and readers internationally. Some Canadian reviewers were less enthusiastic, however, with one calling Slick's comically fanciful American slang ""low, mean, miserable, and witless."" Almost two centuries later The Clockmaker is still central to Canadian literary history-and still highly controversial, particularly for its treatment of women and black Canadians. Richard Davies, a world expert on Haliburton, provides a nuanced and illuminating discussion of the controversies surrounding The Clockmaker from 1835 to the present and of the complex historical and political factors that led to its composition and reception. Historical documents include other writings and speeches by Haliburton, earlier satires of Canadian and American culture and contemporary reviews.