crazy for poppylation, an' it can't wait. It fairly offers land free
to thim that'll come live on it. It asks the suffrin' pore o' Yurrup
to come an' honour us with their prisince. The railroad offers Batty
the Fool fifteen hundred acres o' land at three dollars the acre, if
Batty the Fool'll bring settlers to it. So I sinds over to me ould
Aunt's country--not, ye may suppose, over the signayture o' Cubberd
Allen Wiggit-Galt, but as Henry Battersleigh, agent o' the British
American Colonization Society--an' I says to the proper party there,
says I, 'I've fifteen hundred acres o' the loveliest land that ivver
lay out of dures, an' ye may have it for the trifle o' fifty dollars
the acre. Offer it to the Leddy Wiggit,' says I to him; 'she's a
philanthropist, an' is fer Bettherin' the Pore' ('savin' pore nephews,'
says I to mesilf). 'The Lady Wiggit,' says I, ''ll be sendin' a ship
load o' pore tinnints over here,' says I, 'an' she'll buy this land.
Offer it to her,' says I. So he did. So she did. She tuk it. I'll
be away before thim pisints o' hers comes over to settle here, glory
be! Now, wasn't it aisy? There's no fools like the English over land,
me boy. An' 'twas a simple judgment on me revered Aunt, the Leddy
Wiggit."

"But, Battersleigh, look here," said Franklin, "you talk of fifty
dollars an acre. That's all nonsense--why, that's robbery. Land is
dear here at five dollars an acre."

"Shure it is, Ned," said Battersleigh calmly. "But it's chape in
England at fifty dollars."

"Well, but--"

"An' that's not all. I wrote to thim to send me a mere matter of tin
dollars an acre, as ivvidence a' good faith. They did so, an' it was
most convaynient for settlin' the little bill o' three dollars an acre
which the railroad had against me, Batty the Fool."

"It's robbery!" reiterated Franklin.

"It wud 'av' been robbery," said Battersleigh, "had they sint no more
than that, for I'd 'av' been defrauded of me just jues. But whut do
you think? The murdherin' ould fool, me revered Aunt, the Leddy
Wiggit, she grows 'feard there is some intint to rob her of her
bargain, so what does she do but sind the entire amount at wance--not
knowin', bless me heart an' soul, that she's thus doin' a distinguished
kindness to the missin' relative she's long ago forgot! Man, would ye
call that robbery? It's Divine Providince, no less! It's justice. I
know of no one more deservin' o' such fortune than Battersleigh, la