So Samuel tasted the food of the gods; a kind of food which human skill and ingenuity had labored for centuries to invent, and for days and even weeks to prepare. Samuel wondered vaguely where all these foods had come from, and how many people had had a hand in their preparation; also he wondered if all those who ate them would become as beautiful and as dazzling as his young friend. The friend meanwhile was vastly diverted, and was bent upon making the most of his find. “I suppose you'd like to see the place?” he said. “I should, indeed,” said Samuel. “Come and I'll show it to you--that is, If you're able to walk after the meal.” The meal did not trouble Samuel, and they went out and took a stroll. And so the boy met with yet another revelation of the possibilities of existence. If there was anything in the world he would have supposed he understood, it was farming; but here at “Fairview” was farming as it was done by the methods of Science. At home they had had some lilac bushes and a row of peonies; here were acres of greeneries, filled with flowers of gorgeous and unimaginable splendor, and rare plants from every part of the world. At home it had been Samuel's lot to milk the cow, and he had found it a trying job on cold and dark winter mornings; and here was a model dairy, with steam heat and electric light, and tiled walls and nickel plumbing, and cows with pedigrees in frames, and attendants with white uniforms and rubber gloves. Then there was a row of henhouses, each for a fancy breed of fowl--some of them red and lean as herons, and others white as snow and as fat and ungainly as hogs. And then out in front, at one corner of the lawn, was the aviary, with houses for the peacocks and lyre birds, and for parrots and magpies and innumerable strange birds from the tropics. Also there were dog kennels with many dozens of strange breeds. “Father got those for me,” said young Lockman. “He thought I'd be interested in agriculture.” “Well, aren't you?” asked Samuel. “Not very much,” said the other carelessly. “Here's Punch--what do you think of him?” The occasion for this was a dog, the most hideously ugly object that Samuel had ever seen in his life. “I--I don't think I'd care for him,” he said hesitatingly. “He's a Japanese bulldog,” observed the other. “He cost three thousand dollars.” “Three thousand dollars!” gasped the boy in horror. “Why should anyone pay so much for a dog?” “That's what he's worth,” said the other with a laugh. They went to see the horses, which were housed in a palace of their own. There were innumerable rows of stalls, and a running track and endless acres of inclosures. “Why do you have so many horses?” asked Samuel. “Father ran a stock farm,” said the other. “I don't have much time to give to it myself.” “But who rides the horses?” asked Samuel. “Well, I go in for sport,” replied Lockman. “I'm supposed to be quite a dab at polo.”