, 1879-09-18
If I Kin Only Git Time. I"

Our neighbor Jones is q California
farmer of n7t uncommon type. He
came here in. 1858, mined little, got
sheep range 7salS in cattle, managed to
hold on to a quarter section of good rich
land, is not particularly in debt, is near
a good market, and enjoys the most
rugged health; yet, with all these ad-
vantages, he never has any ready money,
and his farm, also himself, would be an
invaluable study to humorist Jones
is an elderly man, with fenety eyes,
peaked nose, and bristled chin. His
hat, by some inexplicable necromancy,
manages to slant forward, tilt back, and
wrinkle in the middle, at one and the
same time. His waistcoat, for in all
weathers he eschews coat, is like
Joseph's, of many colors, and also of
many rents, stains and patches. His
usual pants are faded corduroy of un-
certain antiquity. Over his rusty shoes
his stockings predominant. He is never
seen without an open pocket knife or
very far from fence. In q perplexed
mood he opens and shuts the knife as q
relief for his feelings; in his meditative
moments, which are many, he assists the
plan of thought by ardent and scientific
whiting. 1' d. ''-- ..- '.'
About a month ago we heard q racket
over at Jones's, and, turning our steps
that way, soon discovered that his horse,
possibly being hungry, had kicked the
barn door half off its hinges as gentle
reminder to Jones that it was desirable
to be fed at least once day.
"Now, thar; / yum, 1T is too bad"
said Jones, with his hands in his pockets.
"See4s es ef I never was driven clear
distracted with work SO before. Now,
l can't possibly hang that door till ter
morrer sometime must go ter town ter
day. Come ter think of it, must 90 out
rabbit shootin' termorrer. Then, next
day. thar's an auction over on Shipley's
place, an mebbe a chance to pick up
things cheap, I've been wantin' new
harrer cen a'most all winter. But l
can't fail of fixin' the door on Saturday"
"Well, hope you will" was my
rather doubtful reply. 1t did seem diff
fcult to expect man of such multifari-
Gus engagements to find lime for repair.
ing barn-door. Besides there were, as
no one could help observing, other
things of pressing Importance, though
Jones had neglected to mention them.
In one direction, through a broken
fence, two of his COWS were in
his young orchard, hooking the trees
into pieces. A group of scrawny pigs
were investigating the condition of the
potato crop. His wagons were fully ex-
posed to the sun, though there was a
large enough pile Of boards lying clos
by to build half dozen good sheds
The water from a windmill ran to
waste after filling horse trough, when
q little care would have led it upon q
fragmentary vegetable garden. The
front doorstep, as all his visitors knew
by sad experience, was liable to tip up if
one stepped on the wrong end, and
startle ones center of gravity. Dry
weeds, which had gone to seed long be-
fore, rustled in brown masses in the
fence corners.
"There is q great deal to be DONE" /
added, with a mildly comprehensive
look across the fields.
"Farmin' doesn't pay" said Jones,
opening and shutting his knife. 81
clare fort / never was 80 worried.
Can't stop and talk any longer, neigh
Dor. How poor farmer is driven !"
which last was more literally true than
Jones imagined.
A month later than the above record
ed conversation our alfalfa crop was
ready to cut, and the process Of moving
brought me along our line of fences,
past the same barn, and still half un-
hinged door, sagging at the same angle.
Jones sat on the top rail Of the corral,
cross legged, serene and whiting. A
spade was lying on the ground, an up
turned swill bucket fell apart in the
sun; the full, rich sunlight flooded the
messy stables and the ancient fences.
"Hallo, Jones'" l cried, stopping my
team by the fence; 81 observe that you
have not hung that door yet. / thought
you expected to have it fixed that same
week."
"Wal, no; III hev to admit that"
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