are not paying fields for such enterprises. They say that one is a
sure thing in California, and the other is a sure thing in Colorado.
They give you the figures." Staniford lit another cigar.

"But why shouldn't you stay where you are, Staniford? You've money
enough left, after all."

"Yes, money enough for one. But there's something ignoble in living
on a small stated income, unless you have some object in view besides
living, and I haven't, you know. It's a duty I owe to the general
frame of things to make more money."

"If you turned your mind to any one thing, I'm sure you'd succeed
where you are," Dunham urged.

"That's just the trouble," retorted his friend. "I can't turn my
mind to any one thing,--I'm too universally gifted. I paint a little,
I model a little, I play a very little indeed; I can write a book
notice. The ladies praise my art, and the editors keep my literature
a long time before they print it. This doesn't seem the highest aim
of being. I have the noble earth-hunger; I must get upon the land.
That's why I've got upon the water." Staniford laughed again, and
pulled comfortably at his cigar. "Now, you," he added, after a pause,
in which Dunham did not reply, "you have not had losses; you still
have everything comfortable about you. _Du hast Alles was Menschen
begehr_, even to the _schonsten Augen_ of the divine Miss
Hibbard."

"Yes, Staniford, that's it. I hate your going out there all alone.
Now, if you were taking some nice girl with you!" Dunham said, with