The Rambles of an Idler 



one, yet never having sufficient vigor to outgrow 

 the primitive conditions of its Colonial days. 



The winter was drawing to a close, and the 

 current topic of all was the signs of spring. 

 As it usually happened, in whatever was dis- 

 cussed, Job was not in agreement with his hear- 

 ers. Whatever they suggested as surely in- 

 dicative of the season's end he vigorously criti- 

 cised, not that there was no basis for such a 

 view, but because he had not hit upon it in ad- 

 vance of others. To-day it was another matter 

 altogether, and one where agreement might be 

 looked for, but Job was not even now in an 

 acquiescent mood. 



"I never know'd a higher fresh' on the ma'sh 

 than this last one," remarked Benjamin Good- 

 wheat, "an' it beats all creation where sech a 

 lot o ' water comes from. ' ' 



"Then you didn't see the fresh' o' '41," re- 

 plied Job. "I was nineteen that winter, and 

 what with duckin' and mus'-rattin', didn't do 

 much loafin'. The spring afore I follered 

 fishin' above Perriwig Bar, but oP man Biles 

 was too contrary when the shad didn't run well, 

 and sort o' laid it on us boys for not workin' 

 the net right. I kicked an' we had it hot, an' 



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