“This is delightful!” he exclaimed. “I’ll build my cottage right here by the side of this spring, and my tilled land will always be in view.”
The hunter had anticipated his decision, and dryly observed,–
“It wouldn’t be no sich place as yer ought to hev.”
“Why not?” asked the minister, smiling.
“Do you reckon on keeping a horse?” asked the other.
“No; I couldn’t afford that.”
“How, then, are you goin’ to git to yer appintments, an’ to visit the sick an’ the dyin’, from this pint? And you’ll never farm it much; the land looks nice and slick as a gentleman’s lawn: this is one of the Lord’s lawns, neighbor; but ’twasn’t made for you to live on. Don’t you expect to hev no evenin’ meetin’s? You can’t hev them out here where there’s no live critter but the prairie hins, and maybe in the winter a stray wolf or two. You’re a perfessional man, and it’s necessary for you to be right among folks, and not livin’ off one side, like as if you wanted to keep out the way of company.”
This rugged, common-sense way of putting 72 things was quite effective, and the missionary said,–
“You are right. But what can I do? By this chart I find that there is little vacant land about here, and I am unable to purchase an improved farm at the prices at which they are held.”
“You don’t mean to settle down on this–do ye?”