JDYER'S HOLLOW. 73 



hook or by crook manage to coax a kind 

 of return out of the poverty-stricken soil. 

 Even on Cape Cod there must be some pota- 

 toes to go with the fish. Vegetables raised 

 under such difficulties are naturally sweet to 

 the taste, and I was not so much surprised, 

 therefore, on a certain state occasion at the 

 Castle, to see a mighty dish of string beans 

 ladled into soup-plates and exalted to the 

 dignity of a separate course. Here, too, 

 but this was in Dyer's Hollow, I found 

 in successful operation one of the latest, and, 

 if I may venture an unprofessional opinion, 

 one of the most valuable, improvements in 

 the art of husbandry. An old man, an an- 

 cient mariner, no doubt, was seated on a 

 camp-stool and plying a hoe among his cab- 

 bages. He was bent nearly double with age 

 ("triple" is the word in my notebook, but 

 that may have been an exaggeration), and 

 had learned wisdom with years. I regretted 

 afterward that I had not got over the fence 

 and accosted him.. I could hardly have 

 missed hearing something rememberable. 

 Yet I may have done wisely to keep the 

 road. Industry like his ought never to be 

 intruded upon lightly. Some, I dare say, 



