"Polly, I am going to make a map of the place,--lay it out just as I
want it."

"You may leave the home forty out of your map; I will look after that,"
said the lady.

In my pocket I found three envelopes somewhat the worse for wear. This
is how one of them looked when my map was finished.

[Illustration:]

I am not especially haughty about this map, but it settled a matter
which had been chaotic in my mind. My plan was to make the farm a
soiling one; to confine the stock within as limited a space as was
consistent with good health, and to feed cultivated forage and crops. In
drawing my map, the forty which Polly had segregated left the northeast
forty standing alone, and I had to cast about for some good way of
treating it. "Make it your feeding ground," said my good genius, and
thus the wrath of Polly was made to glorify my plans.

This feeding lot of forty acres is all high land, naturally drained. It
was near the obvious building line, and it seemed suitable in every way.
I drew a line from north to south, cutting it in the middle. The east
twenty I devoted to cows and their belongings; the west twenty was
divided by right lines into lots of five acres each, the southwest one
for the hens and the other three for hogs.

Looking around for Polly to show her my work, I found she had
disappeared; but soon I saw her white gown among the trees. Joining her,