NEW TENANTS AND OLD FRIENDS. 453 



from this chronicle. I last saw him on the occasion 

 of the house-warming to which I have alluded. He 

 spends his summers at the Farm, as a sort of family 

 pensioner, and busies himself with such light chores 

 as he takes a fancy to. He was engaged that day in a 

 large potato field just across the lane in the congenial 

 work of killing potato beetles. The story of that ser- 

 vice is worth telling. 



"MarsPenn," said Dan, " w'y doan yo do suthin' 

 'nother to kill dem tater bugs ? Dat patch '11 be clar 

 cleaned out less yo do. Hit's done ruined now, nigh- 

 amost." 



"There's no use trying any more, Dan," was the 

 answer. "I've spent already more time and money 

 than the whole field '11 bring. 1 shan't try any more. 

 The bugs are too much for us. Let the plaguey things 

 have the potatoes ; they 're bound to, anyhow." 



"Xow den, Mars Penn, dat's jess too bad," re- 

 sponded the negro. "Jess yo' lem'me try em onct. 

 Gimme some Paris-green, and we'll see w'at ole Dan'll 

 do wid dem pesky critters. We'll fix em yit ! Ho. 

 ho ! nebber seed de bug dat got ahead ob old Dan ! 

 Hi, yi !" 



The Paris-green was provided, and Dan was set to 

 work, more to satisfy him than from any hope that he 

 would be of real service. From that time on he gave 

 his undivided attention to the " tater patch." Early 

 in the morning when the dew Avas on the field, he was 

 seen powdering the leaves of the infested tubers witli 

 the poison. During the day he continued the assault 



