46 THE TIM BUNKER PAPERS. 



You hold a note against me for about what the land would 

 come to. Give me the note, and I will give you a deed.&quot; 



&quot; That is rather a hard bargain, neighbor, the land does 

 not pay you the interest on half that sum. But as I want 

 the land, I will take it.&quot; 



The deed was given, and I took possession last Novem 

 ber. We had a wonderful mild fall and winter, and I 

 went right to work upon the land. The old, broken-down 

 wall by the road-side, that had always been an eyesore to 

 me, I immediately dropped into a four-foot ditch, making 

 a covered culvert of the stone. There was fall enough to 

 take all the water clean from the bottom of the ditch, and 

 carry it off at the lower side of the adjoining lot. I cut 

 four ditches at right angles to the ditch by the road-side, 

 and put in tile at the bottom. The depth to which they 

 were laid varied from three to four feet, as the surface was 

 not exactly even. I had no sooner cut the main drain 

 than the horse-pond all ran away, leaving the bottom at 

 least two feet above the water line in the adjoining drain. 

 The change in the looks of the land this spring is aston 

 ishing even to myself. Here, where cattle have always 

 mired as they went out to crop the first grass of May, 

 there is now a firm foothold. I have already plowed the 

 most of it, and have put in a crop of early potatoes. The 

 drains are just thirty feet apart, and the tile at the lower 

 end constantly discharge water, and will probably con 

 tinue to do so, until midsummer. 



But my astonishment was nothing compared to Jake 

 Frink s, when he came along and saw his horse-pond en 

 tirely evaporated. 



&quot; My goodness, Squire Bunker, what does this mean ! 

 What am I going to do for a place to water my cattle 

 in?&quot; 



u Hold, neighbor Frink. Did you sell me this piece of 

 land ?&quot; 



&quot; I did.&quot; 



