Marion was too fond of literature and the arts to agree with Duncan. She had known some of these hunting men and she had a small opinion of their talents.
"In a degree I approve of your sentiments," said her husband. "If you will eliminate the taste for drink, cards, and vice from your sportsmen. Give him some brains and make him a useful member of society, who devotes much of his time to the improvement of his tenantry, and I grant you that his counterpart would be a desirable acquisition to American life."
"So you don't believe in the reckless sportsman of the old school."
"No, I confess I don't."
"Why, may I ask?"
"I think I can best answer that question by telling you an anecdote. I was once in North Carolina looking after some property. The place Where I was staying was one of the little villages in the mountains where the advent of a stranger is a matter of momentous importance. I happened to be in the village store one day when one of those tweed-and-knickerbocker Englishmen, who occasionally go there for shooting, walked in to purchase some powder. After he had received his package and was about to leave, the lean-faced cracker store-keeper detained him in conversation somewhat after this fashion:
"'Be you from Noo York, stranger?'
"The Englishman shook his head.
"'Philadelphy?'
"'No,' was the reply.