I tried various expedients. I purposely let out 

 my hens one day in May, and true to the fiendish 

 nature of these unaccountable bipeds, they in- 

 stantly departed to a neighbor's garden and ex- 

 cavated huge holes therein. This was my cue to 

 rush in with a whip, drive them back to my 

 own premises, and then with my hired man to 

 work a couple of hours in putting the garden into 

 very much better condition than it ever was in 

 before, to the great approval of the neighbor, 

 who might otherwise have remained in a state 

 of dignified conservatism forever. 



Another neighbor's cow got loose, and in one 

 night ate about half of my young sweet corn, 

 where the young plants were six inches high. I 

 carefully piloted the animal home and assured 

 the apologetic owner that the damage was not 

 worth considering, that my horse or cow was 

 liable to get loose any day and do him more dam- 

 age, and that between neighbors the damage was 

 of no importance whatsoever. 



And so in a comparatively short time the idea 

 got abroad that I was not really half as bad as I 

 looked, and that I might in time be really a 

 creditable sort of an acquaintance. 



But it was the purchase of the wheelbarrow 

 that really broke down the barriers of distrust 

 and suspicion. When I came there, like all new 

 agriculturists I bought a large number of minor 



