"'Why, Squire Gabe,' sais I, 'what is the matter of you?
you look as if you couldn't help yourself; who is dead
and what is to pay now, eh?'

"'Fairly beat out,' said he, 'I am shockin' tired. I've
been hard at work all the mornin'; a body has to stir
about considerable smart in this country, to make a
livin', I tell you.'

"I looked over the fence, and I seed he had hoed jist
ten hills of potatoes, and that's all. Fact I assure you.

"Sais he, 'Mr. Slick, tell you what, _of all the work I
ever did in my life I like hoein' potatoes the best, and
I'd rather die than do that, it makes my back ache so_."

"'Good airth" and seas,' sais I to myself, 'what a parfect
pictur of a lazy man that is! How far is it to Windsor?'

"'Three miles,' sais he. I took out my pocket-book
purtendin' to write down the distance, but I booked his
sayin' in my way-bill.

"Yes, _that_ is a _Blue-nose_; is it any wonder, Stranger,
he _is small potatoes and few in a hill_?"