Vermont Phœnix

How Salmon P. Chase Shaved a Pig

We extract the following amusing chapter from the recently published biography of Hon. S. P. Chase, entitled, "The Ferry Boy and the Financier."

'Salmon,' says the Bishop, as he is setting out, 'I am going away to-day, and I want you to come home from school in season to kill and dress that pig.'

'Yes sir,' says Salmon coolly, asking no questions, although he never dressed a pig in his life.

The bishop says not another word, for he knows well, that what Salmon is told to do he will find some means of accomplishing. The story of the pig is worth relating, since it shows that his uncle had good reasons for putting faith in his fidelity and resources.

'May I be dismissed?' says Salmon, about the middle of the afternoon.

'For what?' says young Mr. Chase, the teacher.

'I've got to go home and kill a pig,' says honest Salmon.

'Yes, you can go,' says Philander, smiling while the other boys laugh.

Home, therefore, goes the future statesman profoundly contemplating by the way the difficult nature of the work to be done.

Let me see: first I'll catch the pig. No that won't do. I'll put some water over the fire first, and while that is heating, I'll sharpen the knives.

This was done accordingly. The knives were sharpened. the water was hot. Then how to manage the pig? If I only had somebody to hold him for me while I stick him !' But there was no one to perform that little service, Tompkins being off in the fields at work.

To begin with. I'll coax him.

The young porker comes to the trough at the sight of swill. ' As soon as he begins to eat, Salmon falls upon his back and attempts to secure him in his arms; but piggy, after a fierce struggle-during which his rider is roughly treated-darts away, and Salmon is left sprawling in inglorious dirt.

That wont do!' getting up and brushing himself. 'I never can hold him till I can get a knife into his throat; that is certain. Suppose I shoot him! But Hiram's rifle is out of repair, and I wouldn't touch Ned's gun for anything. I'll try once more.

He procures a rope, and makes a slip-noose in one end of it. Once more, piggy is enticed to the trough. The snare is laid under his feet; a sudden pull-the noose is tight about his leg!

'Now, if it won't slip off!' says Salmon, taking a rapid turn with the other end of the rope about the bar-post. The noose holds; piggy kicks and squeals in vain.

"Then gleamed aloft the dagger bright!"
that is to say, the butcher-knife, which quickly puts a stop to the squealing.

The sorrowful deed done, the hot water became useful.

You musn't leave the pig in it too long,'the housekeeper warned him, 'if you do, you'll set the bristles.

Salmon knew what that meant, for he had before assisted at the slaughter of swine, and could remember how careful the men were to try the bristles, and have the animal out of the water the moment they were sufficiently scalded to come off easily in the hand.

He makes a staging for his operations by placing a plank across two logs; the pig is hauled upon the plank, and the tub of water is set under it: then softly the pig is rolled over and slid down head foremost into his bath. Salmon almost scalds his hands trying the bristles. At length, he thinks the pig has been in long enough, for he can pull them off, and he starts to haul him out.

'I forgot to turn him end for end in the water!' he suddenly bethinks him, as piggy lies still and wet on the plank.

Fatal oversight! the result of which was, that the hind legs, which had been frequently out of the water during the operation of trying the bristles, had been scalded just enough, while not a bristle on the body could be started!

'What's the matter ?' said the cook, as he appeared in the kitchen, looking extremely thoughtful.

'I suppose,' replied Salmon, gravely scratching his head, 'I have set the bristles!'

Dear me, now what a scrape! How could you, after what I said?"

I didn't turn the pig, and I left him just a thought too long. I want to know what is to be done in such a case?'

'Done! Nothing can be done. You never can get them bristles off, if they're set, massy knows!'

'But I must get them off,' said Salmon.

He goes back to his work, and ponders.

'Suppose I singe them?"That won't do though ; a pretty looking pig it would be after it was singed! "There is only one way to do it as I see;I must shave him!!

He tries the butcher knives, but they are not sharp enough. His cousin Philander, however, has a pair of very fine razors, of which he takes especial care, keeping them always in the very best condition.

'I'll borrow 'em,' says Salmon. He makes such a skilful butcher, he thinks he may have equally good success now if he turns barber.

The razors are brought and he sits down resolutely to his new trade, shaving the young porker clean from tail to snout.

When the bishop came home at night, the pig was found neatly dressed and hung up in the shed.

Very well done,' said he, observing how clean and handsome the meat looked.

He did not often think to encourage his nephew by wholesome words of commendation, and it was usually when Salmon was not conscious of having done very well that he had got the most praise. The bishop was hard to suit, and on an occasion not long before, the boy had become weary and discouraged in his endeavors to please him. 'I won't try any more!' he said to himself, and for a week he didn't try. At the end of that time, what was his surprise to be told by the bishop, smilingly, 'Salmon, you've been a good boy lately!' So now, when the job he had done was really not open to criticism, the bishop saw fit to praise it.

'Very well done indeed! Did you have any difficulty ?'

'A little' but I got through,' dryly answered the young butcher-barber.

No more was said, But, the next morning, Philander, although a young man of very amiable temper, was heard uttering exclamations of unusual vehemence.

'Who has had my razors?"

None of the boys answered. Two or three of the older ones, having arrived at the dignity of a little brown fuzz on their cheeks, were known to shave occasionally. At them. Philander, with a spoiled razor in each hand, lather on his face, and indignation in his eyes, looked accusingly.

'Who has been using my razors?' Was it you, Gwynn ?" that young Virginian's physiognomy appearing to have been recently scraped.

'I used them sir ?' said Salmon, stepping forward.

He had done his best to restore the instruments in as good a condition as they were before. He had not succeeded. After the first few strokes at the bristles, they had got an edge which only a lifeless pig could endure without flinching, and Salmon had not learned the most delicate uses of the hone. Philander's outcries filled him with consternation; yet he advanced promptly to prevent any one's being accused in his place.

'You, Salmon? But you don't shave!'

I shaved yesterday, sir.

'What did you shave for ?

You have no beard!'

No sir ; but the pig had !

The pig, the pig!' exclaimed Philander.

'What do you mean?"

'I mean that he had a very extensive beard, which wouldn't come off any other way ;and as the bishop told me to dress him, I was obliged to borrow your razors to do it.'And he told the story. 'I am very sorry if I have injured them.'

Philander bit his lips to keep from laughing.

'I'll excuse you, for I suppose it was the best you could do under the circumstances. But remember after this. that gentlemen's razors are not made to shave pigs with.,

'I'll remember.' said Salmon, with a droll smile, as he went about his work.