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SMALL POTATOES AND FEW IN A HILL.
"Pray Sir," said one of my fellow passengers, "can you tell me why the Nova Scotians are called 'Blue-noses ?'" "It is the name of a potatoe," said I, "which they produce in great perfection, and boast to be the best in the world.

The Americans have, in consequence, given them the nick-name of "Blue-noses.'" "And now," said Mr.Slick," as you have told the entire stranger, _who_ a Blue-nose is, I'll jist up and tell him _what_ he is.
"One day, Stranger, I was a joggin' along into Windsor on Old Clay, on a sort of butter and eggs' gait (for a fast walk on a journey tires a horse considerable), and who should I see a settin' straddle legs "on the fence, but Squire Gabriel Soogit, with his coat off, a holdin' of a hoe in one hand, and his hat in t'other, and a blowin' like a porpus proper tired.
"'Why, Squire Gabe,' sais I, 'what is the matter of you?
you look as if you couldn't help yourself; who is dead and what is to pay now, eh ?' "'Fairly beat out,' said he, 'I am shockin' tired.

I've been hard at work all the mornin'; a body has to stir about considerable smart in this country, to make a livin', I tell you.' "I looked over the fence, and I seed he had hoed jist ten hills of potatoes, and that's all.

Fact I assure you.
"Sais he, 'Mr.Slick, tell you what, _of all the work I ever did in my life I like hoein' potatoes the best, and I'd rather die than do that, it makes my back ache so_." "'Good airth" and seas,' sais I to myself, 'what a parfect pictur of a lazy man that is! How far is it to Windsor ?' "'Three miles,' sais he.