"Perhaps they have, but Doctor Taggess says farmers always do things in the hardest way; they've not time and money to try any other. Besides, since I began to think of it I've often recalled a case somewhat similar. In our town in western New York the railway station was very inconvenient; it was on a bridge crossing the track, and everything and everybody had to go up and down stairs or up and down hill to get to or from it. It was talked of at town meetings and the post-office and other places, and public-spirited citizens roamed the line from one end of town to the other, looking for a spot where the station could be placed near the level of the track. "At last they subscribed money to pay for a new site, if the company would move its station to the level, and one day a surveyor and his men came up, and he looked about with an instrument, and a few days afterward a little cutting at one place and a little filling just back of it did the business, and all the village wiseacres called themselves names for not thinking of the same thing, but Grandpa said, 'It takes a shoemaker to make shoes.' You know the swamps are almost dry now, because of the hot weather; don't you suppose a surveyor and engineer, or even a sensible man who's studied physical geography in school, might be able to go over the ground and learn where and what retains the water? Now laugh, if you like." "Grace, you ought to have been a man!" "No, thank you--not unless you had been a woman. But you really think my plan isn't foolish?" "As one of the owners of swamp land, I am so impressed with your wisdom that I suggest that we invite Miss Truett's brother to visit us; tell him the outlook is bad, but say we'll guarantee him--well, a hundred-dollar fee to look into a matter in which we personally are interested. If your plan is practicable, I'll recover the money easily. I'll write him this afternoon--or you may do it, through his sister. Let us see what else is in the mail. Why, I didn't suspect it, the address being typewritten!--Ah, young woman, now for my revenge, for here's a letter from Caleb, and if 'tis anything like the last--yes, here it is--Miss Truett, Miss Truett, Miss Truett." "Oh, Phil!" "I'll be merciful, and read every word, without stopping to sentimentalize:-- "'DEAR PHILIP: I'm in it, as Jonah thought when the whale shut his mouth. When I say "it" I mean all of New York that I can pervade while waiting for the corn-meal to come. I've been to a New York prayer-meeting and I can't say that it was any better than the Claybanks kind, except that Miss Truett went with me and joined in all the hymns as natural as if brought up on them. You ought to hear her voice. 'Tain't as loud as some, but it goes right to the heart of a hymn. Next day I went to a museum in a big park and saw more things than I can ever get straightened out in my head: I wish I could have had your wife's camera for company.