tato
vines, that Mr. Spangler has in the field, all which he says he is going
to burn out of his way, as soon as they get dry enough. They should be
brought here and put in this mud and water, to absorb the liquid manure
that is now soaking into the ground, or evaporating before the sun. This
liquor is the best part of the manure, its heart and life; for nothing
can be called food for plants until it is brought into a liquid
condition. I never saw greater waste than this. Then there is that deep
bed of muck, not three hundred yards off,--not a load of it ready to
come here. Besides, if the corn-stalks and potato-vines were tumbled in,
they would make the whole pen dry, keep the hogs clean, and enable them
to grow. But I suppose Mr. Spangler thinks it too much trouble to do
these little things.

"Now, Tony," he continued, "you can't do anything profitable or useful
in this world without some trouble; and as you are to be a farmer, the
sooner you learn this lesson, the more easily you will get along. But
who is to do that job of putting a stopper over this hole in the trough,
you or I?"

"I'll do it to-morrow, Uncle Benny," replied Tony.

"To-morrow? To-morrow won't do for me. A job that needs doing as badly
as this, should be done at once; it's one thing less to think of, don't
you know that? Besides, didn't you want to do some jobs?" rejoined Uncle
Benny.

Tony had never been accustomed to this way of hurrying up things; but he
felt himself fairly cornered. He didn't care much about the dirt in the
trough; it was the unusual promptness of the demand that staggered him.

"Run to the house and ask Mrs. Spangler to give you an old tin cup or
kettle,--anything to make a patch big enough to cover this hole," said
Uncle Benny; "and bring that hammer and a dozen lath-nails you'll find
in my tool-chest."

Tony did as he was directed, and brought back a quart mug with a small
hole in the bottom, which a single drop of solder would have made tight
as ever.

"I guess the swill is worth more to the hogs than even a new mug would
be, Tony," said Uncle Benny, holding up the mug to the sun, to see how
small a defect had condemned it. Then, knocking out the bottom, and
straightening it with his hammer on the post, he told Tony to step over
the fence into the trough. It was not a very nice place to get into, but
over he went, and, the nails and hammer being handed to him, he covered
the hole with the tin, put in the nails round