THE HEN FEVER. 291 



an then cee if i dont Rake yu down vrith a corse comb, i 

 haint harf dun with yu yit, by a dam site, so wate. 

 " In haist, 



" B F L . 



" Poss Skrip. — P. S. i seen in boston Times yister- 

 day that yu ' Lade six aigs on The editurs table, 8 inchis 

 long an 4 inchis Round.' This was pjl|t in that paper i 

 Spose sose yu cud cell Aigs. yu ma pool wuU over thair 

 ies But yu dont fule Me. i doant bleeve yu ever Lade a 

 aig in yur life — yu Hombugg. go tu the devl gorge 

 Burnam !" 



A German friend of mine once temporarily left the pro- 

 fession to which he had been educated thoroughly, and, with 

 a few hundred dollars in hand, purchased a small place, a 

 dozen miles out from the city, which was called by the seller 

 of it " a farm." 



Mynheer went to work lustily at his new vocation, slav- 

 ing and sweating and puffing away over his lately ac- 

 quired grounds, every moment of time that he could bor- 

 row or steal from his legitimate duties, and expending 

 upon his " farm " every dollar he could rake and scrape 

 . together. 



In the Ml of his first year as a "practical agriculturist," 

 I met him casually, and I said. 



