No Time

The most pitiable viotim of soarcity of timo that I ever know was a neighbor qL mine, many yoars ago, by the name of Dave Boley. Dava was "a good, honest soul, ever ready to help a neighbor kill hogs, raise a barn, or turn out whenever there was a " bee " of any kind on hand. But he nevercould get time to attend his farm, which was giren him by his fathor soon after marriage. It was all good, cleared land and fenced, oxcept a few acres of woods, and there appeared to be no good reason why Dave should not have made a good living and laid up money. The fences, however, would blow down, rails and poats rot, requiring a little fixing up, which Dave could never find time to do. Then thero was another and more serious trouble, in the sbapo of briers and seedling forest trees, which, for some unacoountable reason, would persistently spring up in the pasture lots down next to the woods, and before Davo was aware of it, the entire tier of back lots were occupied by these nuisances and had to be abandoned to thëir fate. Briers and elderberry bushes also commenced springing up in the corners of the line and road fences, gradually encroiiching upon the tillable land in all directions until thero was scarcely enough left to mako a good potato patch. Óf courso Dave could never get time to check the inroads of these enemies of his prosperity and at the same time go to all the " raisings " and " bees " and down to the village every Saturday. At last he gave up the contest in despair, sold his farm for about half the price his father paid for it twenty years before, movod west, and bought (as he wrote me) a prairie farm that " hadn't a briar or bush on to it." I've got several just such farmers loft, and if their farms are not overrun with briars and brush it is because tho land is too poor to produce such growmg -A. S. Fulla: