THE TIM BUNKER PAPERS. 183 



he met us in the road with a load of oats in bags, going 

 do\vn to Shad town to market. &quot;You see I was over- 

 ! one year, when tin* Squire bo t the hoss-pond 

 lot, to try some of the mud that come out of the side of 

 the roa i, where the pond used to be. I guess I carted a 

 dozen load, and thought I was going to see corn sta ks as 

 big as your wrist, and ears as long as a hoe-handle. And 

 I du declare I never could see a bit a difference where I 

 used it.&quot; 



&quot; How much manure did you put on to the acre ? &quot; in 

 quired Seth Twiggs, as he drew a lucifer across the tap oi 

 his boot, and lighted his inevitable pipe. 



&quot; Wall, I made a whoppin sight that year, and slapped 

 her on ten loads to the acre.&quot; 



&quot; Corn must av been skeer d at such duin s, I guess,&quot; 

 said Seth, with a twinkle in his eye that the smoke could 

 not hide. 



&quot;Corn didn t come up well, did it?&quot; asked Seth, pur 

 suing his catechising. 



&quot; Wall, yes, it came up, but looked mighty yaller, and 

 didn t begin to grow much till into June, and then it was 

 spm&amp;lt;llin, and a great many stalks didn t have any years 

 on em. It was that cold frog mud that pizened the sile.&quot; 



&quot;How much corn du you git to the acre, take it by and 

 large, Mr. Frink ?&quot; asked Seth civilly. 



&quot; I guess about twenty bushels, on an average, some 

 times a leetle more and sometimes less.&quot; 



&quot; And how much manure do you put on to the acre ?&quot; 

 continued Seth, determined to get to the bottom of the 

 matter. 



&quot; Wall, that is jest as it happens. I allers put on all I 

 make, be it more or less, p raps fifty or sixty loads on to 

 eight or nine acres of plantin. It s real dung, though, 

 and none of your bog moss and stuif.&quot; 



&quot;And how do you suppose Squire Bunker gits eighty 

 bushels of corn to the acre ?&quot; 



