"The Gineral was takin' a ride with a southerner one day
over his farm to Bangor in Maine, to see his crops, fixin
mill privileges and what not, and the southerner was a
turning up his nose at every thing amost, proper scorney,
and braggin' how things growed on his estate down south.
At last the Gineral's ebenezer began to rise, and he got
as mad as a hatter, and was intarmed to take a rise out
of him.

"'So,' says he, 'stranger,' says he, 'you talk about your
Indgian corn, as if nobody else raised any but yourself.
Now I'll bet you a thousand dollars, I have corn that's
growd so wonderful, you can't reach the top of it a
standin' on your horse.'

"'Done,' sais Southener, and 'Done,' sais the General,
and done it was.

"'Now,' sais the Giniral, 'stand up on your saddle like
a circus rider, for the field is round that corner of
the wood there.' And the entire stranger stood up as
stiff as a poker. 'Tall corn, I guess,' sais he, 'if I
can't reach it, any how, for I can e'en a'most reach the
top o' them trees. I think I feel them thousand dollars
of yourn, a marchin' quick step into my pocket, four
deep. Reach your corn, to be sure I will. Who the plague,
ever see'd corn so tall, that a man couldn't reach it a
horseback.'