Originally Posted by someone123
Well, says I, I will tell you what I mean—draw a line from Cape Sable to Cape Cansoo, right thro' the Province, and it will split it into two, this way, and I cut an apple into two halves; now, says I, the worst half, like the rotten half of the apple, belongs to Halifax, and the other and sound half belongs to St. John. Your side of the province on the sea coast is all stone—I never seed such a pro per sight of rocks in my life, it's enough to starve a rabbit. Well, tother side on the Bay of Fundy is a superfine country, there aint the beat of it to be found any where. Now, would'nt the folks living away up to the Bay, be pretty fools to go to Halifax, when they can go to St. John with half the trouble. St. John is the natural capital of the Bay of Fundy, it will be the largest city in America next to New York. It has an immense back country as big as Great Britain, a first chop river, and amazin sharp folks, most as cute as the Yankees—it's a splendid location for business.
And this lovely passage:
But, said he, (and he shewed the whites of his eyes like a wall eyed horse) but, said he, Mr. Slick, how is it then, Halifax ever grew at all, has'nt it got what it always had; it's no worse than it was. I guess, said I, that pole aint strong enough to bear you, neither; if you trust to that you'll be into the brook, as sure as you are born; you once had the trade of the whole Province, but St. John has run off with that now—you've lost all but your trade in blue berries and rabbits with the niggers at Hammond Plains. You've lost your customers, your rivals have a better stand for business—they've got the corner store—four great streets meet there, and its near the market slip.
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