84 THE BOOK OF ENSILAGE. 



A few days ago I called on Sylvester, who is a neighbor 

 of mine, in whom I have taken a great deal of interest. 

 At first I was interested because I saw he was always at 

 work. His motto, like his name, was " Idlenot." From 

 his dropping the final t when pronouncing his name, I 

 think he is of French descent; probably a "Limerick 

 Frenchman." Upon further acquaintance I found he 

 had rare good sense. I found him studying over his 

 farm-account for the year past. From the expression 

 upon his countenance I saw he was not satisfied with 

 the results. " Good-morning, Sylvester," said I. "Ah ! 

 good morning to yoursilf. It's glad I am to see ye, 

 docther : 'tis puzzled intirely I am. Perhaps ye can 

 explain the botheration, so that Mary and mesilf can 

 see through it." "I'll try, Sylvester. What is it?" 

 I asked. 



"Well, docther, 'tis just this: Me and Mary has been 

 married fifteen years this very blessed first day of March. 

 When we were married I had saved up $750, and Mary 

 had $250, just $1,000 betwixt us. Well, Mary, God 

 bless her, she kept right on at work, and she laid up a 

 little over $100 a year. I kept right on at work too, 

 and laid up me whole wages. (I received $300 a year 

 and me board.) I clothed mesilf with what I earned 

 doing extras and warrking nights for me master's neigh- 

 bors. This made our savings #400 a year. In tin years 

 we had saved up, with what we had when we married, 

 $5,000, and the interest made it some over $7,000. 

 Well, we got tired of working for other people, and 

 thought we would have a home of our own : so we 

 bought this farm, and the stock and the tools and all the 

 fixings were all paid for. We had a few hundred dollars 

 left. 



"Well, now, I have just been figuring up the last year, 



