THE TIM BUNKER PAPERS. 139 



think are about the best puff it lias had it looks so coun 

 try like, so &quot; woodsy,&quot; that it seemed just like the country 

 to our rural visitors, and that is exactly what is aimed 

 at. ED.] 



NO. 43. TIM BUNKER ON IRRIGATION AND 

 INVISIBLE TOLL GATES. 



&quot; What next ! &quot; exclaimed my neighbor Tucker one 

 morning, as he poked his head over the wall of the lot 

 where the horse-pond used to be, and which is now known 

 in all Hookertown as the Horse-Pond lot. 



&quot; What are you turnin up that furrow for ? &quot; asked 

 Jones, with his mouth agape, as if he saw an elephant. 



&quot; You ain t a gwine to plow this field, be you, Squire ? &quot; 

 asked Seth Twiggs, as he blew an extra long whiff out of 

 his mouth, and leaned his elbow on the wall. 



&quot; Plow it, you fool ! &quot; exclaimed Jake Frink, &quot;that ere 

 field cut four tun of hay to the acre this season, and you 

 don t think Tim Bunker is gwine to take up such a sod as 

 that, do you ? &quot; 



&quot; Tarnally tinkering with the land,&quot; added Uncle 

 Jotham Sparrowgrass, as he looked in astonishment at a 

 new adventure upon a piece of land, that he thought was 

 finished. 



&quot;You don t expect to get any more grass off of this lot 

 than you cut this year, do you ? &quot; inquired Mr. Spooner, as 

 he came to join that portion of his flock who keep a sharp 

 lookout on all my movements. 



The Horse-Pond lot is admitted to be a great success, 

 and Jake Frink grits his teeth every time he goes by it, 

 and wonders he was such a fool as to sell it, though it would 



