"It never makes no difference to me," replied the judge, "what kinder weather there is; I'm allers satisfied. 'Twon't rain no sooner for wishin' for it."
As there was no possibility of our having a controversy upon this point, I merely replied, "That is true."
"How's yer pertaters comin' on?" inquired the judge.
"Very well, I believe. They're a little late, but they appear to be thriving."
"Mine's doin' first rate," returned the judge. "I guannered them in the spring, and I've bin a-hoein' at 'em and keepin' the weeds down putty stiddy ever since. Mons'ous sight o' labor growin' good pertaters, cap."
"I should think so," I rejoined, "although I haven't had much practical experience in that direction thus far."
"Cap.," observed the judge, after a brief interval of silence, "you're one of them fellers that writes for the papers and magazines, a'n't you?"
"Yes, I sometimes do work of that kind."
"Well, see here: I've got somethin' on my mind that's bin a-botherin' me the wust kind for a week and more. You've read the 'Atlantic Monthly,' haven't you?"
"Yes."