THE SOUTHEEN PLANTEE. 493 



I860.] 



cart-loads of stuff, and was already half 

 full. 



"That's a compost vat," explained Wal- 

 ton, who had overheard the remark. " All 

 the slops from the house, the soap-sttds, aiid 

 such stuff, which most people waste, I save 

 by this means, and turn to good account; 

 and instead of throwing away refuse matter, 

 I put it in here, and let it rot and ferment, 

 and make manur^." 



" But what's this charcoal dust for ?" 



"It answers two purposes, though by only 

 one office. It takes up the ammonia and 

 other volatile matter, thus holding them 

 for fertilizing agents, and at the same time 

 prevents the disagreeable effluvia which 

 would otherwise arise from such a ferment- 

 ing mass." 



" That all sounds very well," remarked 

 Ben, after Walton had left them ; " bttt, let 

 me tell you, it don^t pay I He'd better let 

 such fandangles alone, if he ever expects to 

 make a livin' at farrain'.^^ 



Before the ground froze up, Walton threw 

 out most of the muck behind his stable, 

 which had become well saturated, and filled 

 the trench up anew. 



The old farmers had a great many apple 

 trees, and made a great deal of cider; but 

 the fruit was of an inferior quality. When 

 spring came, Walton went to some of his 

 neighbors, and asked them to go in with 

 him, and send for some good scions to en- 

 graft upon their apple trees. He explained 

 to them just the plan he had formed for his 

 own orchard. He had engaged a competent 

 man to come and do the work of grafting, 

 and, while they were about it, it would be 

 cheaper to get grafts enough for the whole 

 neighborhood. 



It was of no use. The old orchards were 

 just such as their fathers had, and they 

 were good enough. So Walton went at it 

 alone. He had his trees all pruned and 

 dressed, and nearly all of them grafted to 

 such fruit as he thought would thrive best 

 and sell best. 



A little while later, and Ben Grummet 

 had occasion to open his eyes. He found 

 that John Walton had contrived to have a 

 hundred and forty full loads of manure, all 

 of which had been made within the year. 

 However, he finally shook his head, and 

 said, "Wait. We'll see if it's good for 

 anything." 



A little while later, and the grass began 

 to spring up on the twenty-acre lot as it had 



never sprung up before. The two acres, 

 which had been ploughed, and harrowed up 

 light and fine, bore the best crop of corn 

 that was grown in the whole county, and all 

 the manure put upon it was some which had 

 been manufactured. 



And so the time went on, and John Wal- 

 ton was continually studying how to improve 

 his farm. At the expiration of a few years 

 the new scions had grown large and strong 

 in his orchard, and began to bear fruit. 

 He had taken care of his trees, and they 

 were about ready to return him interest for 

 the labor. 



" Good gracious !" ejaculated Eben Saw- 

 yer, as Ben Grummet and Sam Bancroft 

 came into his house one cool autumn even- 

 ing, and the three filled their mugs with 

 new cider: "have you heard about John 

 Walton's apples?" 



" I knew there was a man up to look at 

 'em," returned Ben ; " but I ain't heard no 

 more." 



" Well, I was there, and heerd the whole 

 on't,— so I know, — 1 never would ^ave 

 thought it. An orchard turn out like 

 that !" 



" But how much was it ?" 



"Why, Walton was offered-— cash right 

 down— a hundred pounds for the apples he's 

 got on hand, and he tells me that he sent 

 nearly fifty pounds' worth of early fruit off 

 a month or more ago.'^ 



It was wonderful — more than wonderful I 

 But they had to believe it. 



"And look at that twenty-acre field," said 

 Bancroft. "Ten years ago it wouldn't hard- 

 ly pay for mowin'; now look at it. Think 

 o' the corn and wheat he's gained there ; 

 and this year he cut more'n forty tons of 

 good hay from it !" 



"But that ain't half," interposed Sawyer. 

 " Look at the stock he keeps; and see what 

 prices he gets for his cows and oxen. Why 

 he tells me he's cleared over four hundred 

 pounds this year on his stock." 



At this moment Mr. Walton came in. 

 He had grown older, and was somewhat 

 stouter than when he first became a farmer, 

 and his neighbors had ceased to question his 

 capacity, and had come to honor and respect 

 him, 



" We was talkin' about you, Mr. Walton,'^ 

 said Sawyer. 



"Ah !" returned John, as he took a seat 

 by the fire. "I hope you found nothing bad 

 to say of me?" 



