le point in the society of Tarr Farm, or rather in the human
scenery, for society there is none, is the absurd mingling of
inharmonious material. As in the toy called Prince Rupert's Drop, a
multitude of unassimilated particles are bound together by a master
necessity. Remove the necessity, and in the flash of an eye the
particles scatter never to reunite.

In her two days' tour of Tarr Farm, Miselle talked with gentlemen of
birth and education, gentlemen whose manners contrasted oddly enough
with their coarse clothes and knee-high boots; also with intermittent
gentlemen, who felt Tarr Farm to be no fit theatre for the exercise of
their acquired politeness; also with men like Tommy and Jimmy, whose
claims lay not so much in aristocratic connection and gentle breeding as
in a thorough appreciation of the matter in hand; also with a less
pleasing variety of mankind, men who, originally ignorant and debased,
have through lucky speculations acquired immense wealth without the
habits of body and mind fitly accompanying it.

Various ludicrous anecdotes are told of this last class, but none
droller than that of the millionnaire, who, after the growth of his
fortune, sent his daughter, already arrived at woman's estate, to
school, that she might learn reading, writing, and other
accomplishments. After a reasonable time the father visited the school,
and inquired concerning his daughter's progress. This he was informed
was but small, owing to a "want of capacity."

"Capacity! capacity!" echoed the father, thrusting his hands into his
well-lined pockets; "well, by ginger, if the gal's got no capacity, I've
got the money to buy her one, cost what it may!"

Another young fellow, originally employed in a very humble position by
one of the oil companies, suddenly acquired a fortune, and removed to
another part of the country. Returning for a visit to the scene of his
former labors, he stood inspecting the operations of a cooper at work
upon an oil-barrel. The two men had formerly been comrades, but this
fact the rich man now found it convenient to forget, and the poor one
was too proud to remember.

"Pray, Cooper," inquired the former at last, tapping the barrel
superciliously with his cane, "are you able to make this thing
oil-tight?"

"I believe so," retorted Cooper, dryly. "Was you ever troubled by their
leaking, when you rolled them through the mud from the well to the
Creek?"

Through all this fungus growth it is rather