>One hazy, lazy October afternoon, as my friend Kyrle and I sat on the broad porch hitting our pipes, sipping high balls, and watching the men and machines in the corn-fields, as all toiling sons of the soil should do, he said:—
"Doctor, I don't think you've made any mistake in this business."
"Lots of them, Kyrle; but none too serious to mend."
"Yes, I suppose so; but I didn't mean it that way. It was no mistake when you made the change."
"You're right, old man. It's done me a heap of good, and Polly and the youngsters were never so happy. I only wish we had done it earlier."
"Do you think I could manage a farm?"
"Why, of course you can; you've managed your business, haven't you? You've grown rich in a business which is a great sight more taxing. How have you done it?"
"By using my head, I suppose."
"That's just it; if a man will use his head, any business will go,—farming or making hats. It's the gray matter that counts, and the fellow that puts a little more of it into his business than his neighbor does, is the one who'll get on."
"But farming is different; so much seems to depend upon winds and rains and frosts and accidents of all sorts that are out of one's line."