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Total $3284.00
CHAPTER XLVII
NABOTH'S VINEYARD
>One hazy, lazy October afternoon, as my friend Kyrle and I sat on the
broad porch hitting our pipes, sipping high balls, and watching the men
and machines in the corn-fields, as all toiling sons of the soil should
do, he said:--
"Doctor, I don't think you've made any mistake in this business."
"Lots of them, Kyrle; but none too serious to mend."
"Yes, I suppose so; but I didn't mean it that way. It was no mistake
when you made the change."
"You're right, old man. It's done me a heap of good, and Polly and the
youngsters were never so happy. I only wish we had done it earlier."
"Do you think I could manage a farm?"
"Why, of course you can; you've managed your business, haven't you?
You've grown rich in a business which is a great sight more taxing. How
have you done it?"
"By using my head, I suppose."
"That's just it; if a man will use his head, any business will
go,--farming or making hats. It's the gray matter that counts, and the
fellow that puts a little more of it into his business than his neighbor
does, is the one who'll get on.
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