and a knowledge of “human natur.”  Taking out a pen knife, he cut off a splinter from a stick of firewood, and balancing himself on one leg of his chair, by the aid of his right foot, commenced his favorite amusement of whitling, which he generally pursued in silence.  Indeed it appeared to have become with him an indispensible accompaniment of reflection.  He sat in this abstracted manner, until he had manufactured into delicate shavings the whole of his raw materiel, when he very deliberately resumed a position of more ease and security, by resting his chair on two legs instead of one, and putting both his feet on the mantel piece.  Then, lighting his cigar, he said in his usual quiet manner, there’s a plaguy sight of truth in them are old proverbs.  They are distilled facts steamed down to an essence.  They are like portable soup, an amazin deal of matter in a small compass.  They are what I valy most, experience.  Father used to say I’d as lives have an old homespun self taught doctor as are a Professor in the College at Philadelphia or New York to attend me; for what they do know, they know by experience, and not by books; and experience is every thing, its hearin and seein and tryin, and arter that a feller must be a born fool if he don’t know.  That’s the beauty of old proverbs; they are as true as a plum line, and as short and sweet as sugar candy.  Now when you come to see all about this Country you’ll find the truth of that are one—­“A man that has too many irons in the fire, is plaguy apt to get some on ’em burnt.”

Do you recollect that are tree I show’d you to Parrsboro’, it was all covered with black knobs, like a wart rubbed with caustic.  Well, the plum trees had the same disease a few years ago, and they all died, and the cherry trees I concait will go for it too.  The farms here are all covered with the same “black knobs,” and they do look like old scratch.  If you see a place all gone to wrack and ruin, its mortgaged you may depend.  The “black knob” is on it.  My plan, you know, is to ax leave to put a clock in a house, and let it be till I return.  I never say a word about sellin it, for I know when I come back, they wont let it go arter they are once used to it.  Well, when I first came, I knowed no one, and I was forced to enquire whether a man was good for it, afore I left it with him; so I made a pint of axin all about every man’s place that lived on the road.  Who lives up there in the big house, says I? its a nice location that, pretty considerable improvements them.  Why Sir, that’s A. B.’s; he was well to do in the world once, carried a stiff upper lip and keerd for no one; he was one of our grand aristocrats, wore a long tailed coat, and a ruffled shirt, but he must take to ship buildin, and has gone to the dogs.  Oh, said I, too many irons in the fire.  Well, the next farm, where the pigs are