THE TIM BUAKEK PAPERS. 257 



counts partly for the fact that Diah Tubbs has so run 

 down to the heel. 



But you need not suppose that Uncle Di is a fool, be 

 cause he uses rather coarse language, and goes to the tav 

 ern oftener than he ought to. He is a pretty fair farmer, 

 or would have been called so a dozen years ago. He knows 

 a heap about raising cucumbers, which they call pickles in 

 all this region. Whether they have heard that the world 

 uses any thing else besides cucumbers for pickles, I could nt 

 say. I used to think, before I took to writing for the pa 

 per, that I had learned about all I could on farming mat 

 ters, but I find, as I go about, that every region has some 

 new kink in farming, some special crop that I ve never 

 paid much attention to. All around Diah s they grow 

 cucumbers by the thousand. Almost every farmer near a 

 railroad depot puts in an acre or two, and gets about as 

 much clean cash from the patch as he does from the rest 

 of the farm. 



I see very soon that Uncle Di knew some things that I 

 did n t, and as I wanted to learn, I got him started the 

 first evening after I got to his house, on his favorite topic, 

 raising pickles. There was a large dish of apples on the 

 table when we begun, but not many of em left when we 

 got through. Says I, &quot; What do your folks call this the 

 pickle crop for ? &quot; 



&quot; Wall,&quot; said Diah, &quot; I don t zacktly know, but guess 

 it s cause it s shorter than cowcumber. May be it s cause 

 they grow em more for the pickle factories than to eat up 

 fresh.&quot; 



&quot; Do they \\&VQ factories for this business ? &quot; 



&quot; Sartain, big five-story house over the river, where they 

 make em up by the million.&quot; 



&quot; And how many pickles do you suppose they raise in 

 your town ? &quot; 



&quot; Wai, I could not tell, but it is an awful sight enough 

 to sour the crop of all creation, you d think, if you should 



