What followed you may guess--there was my wagon and team just across the
river.



I've often wondered what good too much education is to a man if he can't
use it for himself. If all the benefits of it are to go to others, where
does it come in?

For May Martha Mangum abides with me. There is an eight-room house in a
live-oak grove, and a piano with an automatic player, and a good start
toward the three thousand head of cattle is under fence.

And when I ride home at night my pipe and slippers are put away in
places where they cannot be found.

But who cares for that? Who cares--who cares?




TO HIM WHO WAITS


The Hermit of the Hudson was hustling about his cave with unusual
animation.

The cave was on or in the top of a little spur of the Catskills that had
strayed down to the river's edge, and, not having a ferry ticket, had to