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Northland Age, Volume IV, Issue 49, 27 July 1908, Page 7

Talking of pasturage, I was walking a'long a country road the other day, when I saw a man digging in a garden. I approached him, and the following conversation ensued : "Ah ! So you’re a horticulturist, eh ?”

"A haughty culturist ? No, air; I'm in a very humble way.” "But don’t you hcgticult ?” t “I dig, though I don’t like it." "I see. You're infradig, so to speak ?” “I’m in for something." “What do you raise ?” “Sardine tins and Cain." “The soil isn’t fruitful, then ?" "No ; it’s I who am the fruit fool.’ "Ever try scarlet runners ?" “Oh, “H'm ! How do you get on with flowers ?" • "Only sow-sow/* "Ha ! And no reap. How i« that ?”

"My neighbour’s cat. That's why I’m digging.” “A flowoi-bed ?*' "No ; a purr-slay bed.” "H'm ! Then 1 gather that yoo have slain tho foe ?” “You do, and that is about the caly thing you’ll gather in this garden.”

"You appear to have business or hand.” “Yes, grave business." "All right. I’ll say gcyid-bye." "What hoe !"