The mention of these sums almost drove the good people of Dogtown distracted with joy; they could hardly believe their eyes or ears, but there it was in black and white; figures could not lie. They were amazed to think of their own stupidity and that of their ancestors in letting forty-six millions two hundred thousand dollars lie totally idle and unproductive; but they were determined not to allow their wealth to be neglected any longer. A grand scheme of speculation and improvement was started, and all rushed headlong into it. Every man in Dogtown was now rich, or, what was the same thing, was sure of being so before long. Immense tracts were laid out in building lots, and speculators flocked in from all quarters; from Catsville and Weazletown and Buzzardsborough, and Ganderfield and Crow Corner and Upper Bugbury and East Punkinton, and Black Swamp and the Bottomless Bogs. Such a busy time as the Dogtowners had of it! Nothing was talked of but buying land, building houses, laying out roads, streets, squares, avenues, railroads, canals, &c. &c. &c. People left off ploughing and hoeing, because agriculture was too slow a method of making money; for who would think of raising turnips to sell, at twenty cents a bushel, when he could make a hundred times the profit by speculating in land? First of all, it was determined that Dogtown should be a city. The want of population was found to be a serious obstacle here; the constitution of the state requires ten or twelve thousand inhabitants for a city; and as Dogtown, including the suburbs of Puppyville and Skunk’s Misery, contained a population of only six hundred and thirty-one, it was thought there might be some difficulty in getting a charter without anticipating the returns of the next census. However, a city it must be, some time or other, in this all were agreed, and it might as well have the name first as last, so they concluded to _call_ it a city. It is astonishing what a spirit of enterprise these prospects infused into the people of Dogtown. The school-house door was painted green: uncle Joe Stubbins mended the top of his chimney; and it was voted in town-meeting to purchase three wheel-barrows for the public use;—and all in consequence of these projected improvements. Nay, so widely did their views of business expand, that Aminidab Figgins, the grocer, determined to give up retailing, and declared he wouldn’t split crackers nor cut candles any longer.