"No more he could, Phil," rejoined Zed; "but, then, if the land belonged to every body,—in such a way that nobody could say an acre belonged to him, only,—why, how would the land be ploughed and the grain sown,—for you know the old saying, Phil, 'What's every body's business is nobody's business?'" "My godmother's grandfather used to say that people ought to join in companies to do it," replied Phil: "it's a subject I am not master of to the extent he was, by all account; but I feel sure of one thing, Zed,—that the world could not have been much worse divided than it is at present, since the rich have so much land among them, and the poor have none." "You are right there, Phil, beyond a grain o'doubt," rejoined Zed. "And my godmother's grandfather used to say besides," continued the fiddler, "that God Almighty gave the world to every body, and that the rich had stolen the poor's share of the land—for God Almighty never left them destitute." "Then, in that case, Phil," said the fisherman, "there is a share, each, belonging to you and to me: and then it seems doubly hard to be told, when your own share has been stolen from you, that you shall be indicted for trespassing upon the land of one that has more than his share—doesn't it, Phil?" "Right, Zed, right!" returned Phil; "I'm pleased to find you relish a bit of sensible talk, now and then; and can you deny, now, that that plan of my godmother's grandfather would be a real good one, and tend to make every body happy. Place all the folks in the world on a level, Zed,—and let every man take his fair share in ploughing and tilling, you know, Zed,—and then let every man share in cutting the corn,—and all would have a fair title to eat it. You must see this to be fair—quite fair, Zed?" "Fair enough, no doubt," replied the fisherman; "but then, Phil,—as I always ask you, but you never answer me,—how can you contrive to bring all this about?" "Nay, now, you don't argue fair!" answered Phil; and it was the only answer he had, like many more learned proposers of good theories. "A plague on all such gibberish!" exclaimed Zed, "we shall want but a small share of any thing long, and if we don't get our fair six feet of land when we have done sailing, why, we can rest very well in Davy Jones's locker. Where's the use of bothering our old brains with such crabbed matters?" "Ods bobs and bodikins!" replied Phil, "but I think you are about right, Zed: I must own it's only a simple sort of a thing for you and I to be troubling our heads about great folks and their lands."