arket and buy against higher prices, for he may be absolutely
certain that higher prices will come."

"But how is one to know? Corn changes so that one can't form much idea
of its actual value."

"No more than other staples. You know what fur is worth, because you've
watched the fur market for twenty years. If it should fall to half its
present price, you would feel safe in buying a lot. You know that it
would make just as good hats as it ever did, and that the hats, in all
probability, would give you the usual profit. It's the same with corn
and oats. I know their feeding value; and when they fall much below it,
I fill my granary, because for my purpose they are as valuable as if
they cost three times as much. Last year I bought ten thousand bushels
of corn and oats at a tremendously low price. I don't expect to have
such a chance again; but I shall watch the market, and if corn goes
below thirty cents or oats below twenty cents, I will fill my granary to
the roof. I can make them pay big profits on such prices."

"Will you sell this plant, Williams?"

"Not for a song, you may be sure."

"What has it cost you to date?"

"Don't know exactly,--between $80,000 and $90,000, I reckon; the books
will show."

"Will you take twenty per cent advance on what the books show? I'm on
the square."

"Now see here, old man, what would be the good of selling this factory
for $100,000? How could I place the money so that it would bring me half
the things which this farm brings me now? Could I live in a better
house, or have better food, better service, better friends, or a better
way of entertaining them? You know that $5000 or $6000 a year would not
supply half the luxury which we secure at Four Oaks, or give half the
enjoyment to my family or my friends. Don't you see that it makes little
difference what we call our expenses out here, so long as the farm pays
them and gives us a surplus besides? The investment is not large for one
to get a living from, and it makes possible a lot of things which would
be counted rank extravagance in the city. Here's one of them."

A cavalcade was just entering the home lot. First came Jessie Gordon on
her thoroughbred mare Lightfoot, and with her, Laura on my Jerry.
Laura's foot is as dainty in the stirrup as on the rugs, and she has
Jerry's consent and mine to put it where she likes. Following them were
Jane and Bill Jackson, with Jane's slender mare looking absolutely
delicate beside the