SOLON ROBINSON, 1838 103 



them what you smell now, and I've just been telling the 

 old woman that we must turn too and carry them out of 

 the cellar, 'fore long they'll make some of us sick like 

 enough — for there's no telling what may happen to a 

 body late years. And if the next legislator don't do some- 

 thing for us, the Lord knows but the whole country will 

 starve, for it seems as tho' the land now a days won't 

 raise nothing. It's actually run out. Why, I should 

 think by the look of things round your neighbor Horton's, 

 that his land produced pretty well. Why, yes — and it's 

 a miricle too, how he gets it — for every body round here 

 said, when he took up that tract, it was the poorest in 

 the town. — There are some folks that thinks he has 

 dealings with the "black art," for't does seem as tho' 

 the more he work'd his land, the better it got. 



Now, here was a mystery — but an easy explanation 

 of Mr. Slick soon solved the matter, at least to my mind. 

 The fact is, says Mr. Slick, a great deal of this country 

 is run out. And if it warnt for the lime, marsh-mud, 

 sea weed, salt sand, and what not, they've got here in 

 such quantities, and a few Horton's to apply it, the whole 

 country would run out and dwindle away to just such 

 great, good natured, good-for-nothing, do-nothing fel- 

 lows as this Nick Bradshaw, and his wooly horse, and 

 wooless sheep, and cropless farm, and comfortless house, 

 if indeed such a great wind rack of loose lumber, is 

 worthy the name of a house. 



Now, by way of contrast to all this, do you see that 

 neat little cottage looking house on yonder hummock, 

 away to the right there, where you see those beautiful 

 shade trees. The house is small, but it is a whole house. 

 That's what I call about right — flanked on both sides by 

 an orchard of best grafted fruit — a tidy flower garden 

 in front, that the galls see to, and a most grand sarce 

 garden jist over there, where it takes the wash of the 

 buildings, nicely sheltered by that bunch of shrubbery. 

 Then see them everlasting big barns — and by gosh, there 

 goes fourteen dairy cows — as sleek as moles. Them 



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