"O, I'll manage I've got an old broken pitcher without a handle, Grandpa, that'll do very well."
"A broken pitcher! that isn't a very elegant vase," said he.
"O you wouldn't know it is a pitcher when I have fixed it. I'll cover up all the broken part with green you know. Are we going home now, Grandpa?"
"No, I want to stop a minute at uncle Joshua's."
Uncle Joshua was a brother-in-law of Mr. Ringgan, a substantial farmer, and very well to do in the world. He was found not in the house, but abroad in the field with his men, loading an enormous basket wagon with corn-stalks. At Mr. Ringgan's shout he got over the fence, and came to the wagon- side. His face showed sense and shrewdness, but nothing of the open nobility of mien which nature had stamped upon that of his brother.
"Fine morning, eh?" said he. "I'm getting in my corn-stalks."
"So I see," said Mr. Ringgan. "How do you find the new way of curing them answer?"
"Fine as ever you see. Sweet as a nut. The cattle are mad after them. How are you going to be off for fodder this winter?"
"It's more than I can tell you," said Mr. Ringgan. "There ought to be more than plenty; but Didenhover contrives to bring everything out at the wrong end. I wish I was rid of him."
"He'll never get a berth with me, I can tell you," said uncle
Joshua, laughing.