128 THE TIM BUNKER PAPERS. 



NO. 40. JOTHAM SPARROWGRASS WITH A 

 TILE IN HIS HEAD. 



MR. EDITOR : &quot;What s comin next !&quot; exclaimed Tucker, 

 as he saw Jothain Sparrowgrass team drive up the road 

 with a load of tiles, Uncle Jotham following after as fast 

 as his cane could carry him. 



&quot; Should sooner have thought to see old Sparrowgrass 

 on a tin peddler s cart, sellin wash basens and byin rags,&quot; 

 responded Jones. 



&quot; Guess he s gwine tu set up a krokery shop to supply 

 the Whiteoakers with sass-pans and sich like,&quot; answered 

 Seth Twiggs with a side-long glance at Kier Frink, as he 

 stood leaning against the wall. 



&quot; Sass-pans, you fool ! The coal-men have got beyond 

 that, I ken tell yew, and use tin like other folks. Guess ye 

 better smoke less and see clearer, Seth Twiggs,&quot; responded 

 Kier Frink, who was tender of the reputation of the 

 Whiteoakers, and felt his toes trodden upon a little. 



&quot; He aint a gwine to du nuthin of the kind,&quot; added Jake 

 Frink. &quot; Ye see, Uncle Jotham has caught Tim Bunker s 

 disease, and is gwine to finish up that land round the 

 muskrat pond. He pretends that he don t believe any 

 thing in the Squire s notions, but the fact is, there aint a 

 bigger Bunkerite in town. You see, old Sparrowgrass 

 was born when the sign was in the crab, and he gets at 

 every thing sideways, jest like one of them ere fish.&quot; 



Jake Frink was not very wide of the mark in regard to 

 Uncle Jotham s disposition. Ever since he made an open 

 drain through the rim of his pond, and drained three acres, 

 summer before last, he has talked against new-fangled no 

 tions and fancy farming a little louder than before. He 

 seemed to have a natural amount of satisfaction in his 

 victory over the muskrats and the tadpoles, but no par- 



