THE SEARCH AND FINDING. 27 



Btretch of the Hudson into which the brook passed ; 

 and the farther shores were so distant, tlu t the Hud 

 son looked like a bay of the sea. A gaunt American 

 who was in charge of the premises did the honors of 

 the place, and hi the intervals of expressing the juices 

 from a huge quid of tobacco that lay in his cheek, he 

 enlarged upon the qualities of the soil. 



To him the view or situation was nothing, but 

 the capacity for corn or rye was the main &quot; p int.&quot; 



&quot; Ef yer want a farm, Mister, yer want sile ; now 

 this ere (turning up a turf with a back thrust of his 

 heel) is what I call sile ; none o yer dum leachy stuff ; 

 you put manure into this ere, and it stays put. &quot; 



&quot; Grows good crops, then,&quot; I threw in, by way 

 of interlude. 



&quot; I guess it dooz, Mister. Corn, potatoes, garden 

 sass, why, only look at this ere turf; see them clo 

 vers, and this blue grass. Ef you was a farmer 

 doan t know but you be, but doan t look jist like one 

 you d know that tain t every farm can scare up 

 such a turf as that.&quot; 



&quot; Very true,&quot; I remark ; while my lank friend ad- 

 justs his quid for a new bit of comment. 



&quot; Now here s Simmons on the hill smart man 

 enough, but doan t know nothing bout farmin 

 them hills he s bought doan t bear nothin but penny, 

 rial ; ten acres on t wouldn t keep a good cosset 



