gasoline is in the path of the eagle. Our thoughts are between
earth and heaven; our prices have followed our aspirations in the
upward flight. Now here is Sam Henshaw. Sam? Why, he's a
merchant prince o' Pointview--grocery business--had a girl--name o'
Lizzie--smart and as purty as a wax doll. Dan Pettigrew, the
noblest flower o' the young manhood o' Pointview, fell in love with
her. No wonder. We were all fond o' Lizzie. They were a han'some
couple, an' together about half the time.

"Well, Sam began to aspire, an' nothing would do for Lizzie but the
Smythe school at Hardcastle at seven hundred dollars a year. So
they rigged her up splendid, an' away she went. Prom that day she
set the pace for this community. Dan had to keep up with Lizzie,
and so his father, Bill Pettigrew, sent him to Harvard. Other
girls started in the race, an' the first we knew there was a big
field in this maiden handicap.

"Well, Sam had been aspirin' for about three months, when he began
to perspire. The extras up at Hardcastle had exceeded his
expectations. He was goin' a hot pace to keep up with Lizzie, an'
it looked as if his morals was meltin' away.

"I was in the northern part o' the county one day, an' saw some
wonderful, big, red, tasty apples.

"'What ye doin' with yer apples?' says I to the grower.

"'I've sent the most of 'em to Samuel Henshaw, o' Pointview, an'
he's sold 'em on commission,' says he.