THE TIM BUNKER PAPERS. 131 



Thus the leaven of new ideas is working all through 

 this region. When one man gets a tile in his field, an 

 other is certain to get one in his head, and after carrying 

 it a spell, it is in due time laid, and carries water. When 

 Jotham Sparrowgrass tile-drains, you may know the world 

 moves. 



Yours to command, 



TIMOTHY BUNKER, ESQ., 

 HooJcertown, Feb. 15th, 1860. 



NO. 41. LETTER FROM TIMOTHY BUNKER, 



ESQ. 



JA.KE FRESTK SOLD. 



MR. EDITOR : The spring work came on so sudden, that 

 I didn t get time to say any thing about Hookertown folks, 

 last month, and now I would*nt say a word, if it were not 

 for fear that other folks would get taken in just as bad as 

 neighbor Frink. You needn t think that Jake s body has 

 been put up at auction ; but, what is about as bad, his 

 wits have been in the market, and gone to the highest 

 bidder. Now, you see, we have got our full share of poor 

 laud up here in Connecticut, and of all the land in these 

 parts, Jake Frink s is about the poorest. He has a lot of 

 twenty acres, lying up towards the Whiteoaks, of poor 

 worn-out sheep pasture, not worth to exceed five dollars 

 an acre. He bought it a dozen years ago, and gave a hun 

 dred dollars for the lot, and it has not improved any under 

 his cultivation. All he has ever done for it has been to 

 plow up occasionally a patch of it for buckwheat, or for 

 rye. The rest of the time it has been pastured with sheep. 



