n Irving dictated
to a medium accounts of the other world in a style such as that of his
"Little Britain," for instance, we should lose all interest in the
affairs of this sphere, and nobody would buy our novels.

This fever of excitement kept alive Samuel Anderson's determination to
sell his farms for a trifle as a testimony to unbelievers. He found that
fifty dollars would meet his expenses until the eleventh of August, and
so the price was set at that.

As soon as Andrew heard of this, he privately arranged with Jonas to buy
it; but Mrs. Anderson utterly refused. She said she could see through it
all. Jonas was one of Andrew's fingers. Andrew had got to be a sort of a
king in Clark township, and Jonas was--was the king's fool. She did not
mean that any of her property should go into the hands of the clique
that were trying to rob her of her property and her daughter. Even for
two weeks they should not own her house!

Before this speech was ended, Bob Walker entered the door.

Bob was tall, stooped, good-natured, and desperately poor. With ton
children under twelve years of age, with an incorrigible fondness for
loafing and telling funny stories, Bob saw no chance to improve his
condition. A man may be either honest or lazy and got rich; but a man
who Is both honest and indolent is doomed. Bob lived in a cabin on the
Anderson farm, and when not hired by Samuel Anderson he did days' work
here and there, riding to and from his labor on a raw-boned mare, that
was the laughing-stock of the county. Bob pathetically called her
Splinter-shin, and he always rode bareback, for the very good reason
that he had neither saddle nor sheepskin.

[Illustration: "I WANT TO BUY YOUR PLACE."]

"Mr. Anderson," said Bob, standing in the door and trying to straighten
the chronic stoop out of his shoulders, "I want to buy your place."

If Bob had said that he wanted to be elected president Samuel Anderson
could not have been more surprised.

"You look astonished; but folks don't know everything. I 'low I know how
to lay by a little. But I never could git enough to buy a decent kind of
a tater-patch. So I says to my ole woman this mornin', 'Jane,' says I,
'let's git some ground. Let's buy out Mr. Anderson, and see how it'll
feel to be rich fer a few days. If she all burns up, let her burn, I
say. We've had a plaguey hard time of it, let's see how it goes to own
two farms fer awhile.' And so we thought we'd ruther hev the farms fer
t