198 THE TIM BUNKER PAPERS. 



NO. 58. TIM BUNKER ON STEALING FRUIT 

 AND FLOWERS. 



&quot; Where did you get them lalock blossoms and roses ?&quot; 

 asked Seth Twiggs, as he saw Kier Frink driving home 

 his empty coal cart, with his horse profusely decorated. 

 There was a large branch between his ears tucked under 

 the bridle, and a dozen or more of Dea. Smith s large 

 damask roses nodding from the hames. 



&quot; Shouldn t zactly like to tell. I m fraid you d all be 

 arter em, they re so handsome.&quot; 



&quot;Well, I can tell, you scoundrel,&quot; said Seth, as he 

 tucked his stub of a pipe into his pocket. &quot; The roses 

 came from Dea. Smith s, and the lalocks from my yard, 

 and they haven t been picked more than five minutes. 

 You miserable White-oaker and thief, don t you know any 

 better than to steal such things ? I ll have you sent to 

 Har ford, for theft, sure as I am a live man.&quot; 



&quot; I should like to see you do it. They are nothing but 

 posies, and haven t any more vally than the smoke of yer 

 pipe, Mister Twiggs. They hung over the road tu, and I 

 should like to know if anybody haint a right to what 

 grows in the ro.irl. I wanted to make the ole hoss look 

 kinder gay, and bring home something nice to the old 

 ornan and the young ones. I didn t mean any harm.&quot; 



&quot;Harm? you-miserable scapegrace !&quot; exclaimed Seth, 

 shaking his first ; &quot; I would rather you d taken the calf 

 out of my stable, or the pig out of my pen. Didn t wife 

 plant that bush, and hasn t it been growing these four 

 years, and now it is all broken and ruined, and the flow 

 ers hang on that wretched carcass of a coal horse. It s 

 enuif to make a Christian swear to see lalocks and roses 



