Agents for every kind of phosphates crowded around me, descanting on the needs of the old land, until I began to comprehend what the owner meant by "keeping it up." With Gail Hamilton, I had supposed the entire land of this earth to be pretty much the same age until I adopted the "abandoned." This I found was fairly senile in its worthless decrepitude.
My expenditure was something prodigious.
Yes, "planting time" was a nightmare in broad daylight, but as I look back, it seems a rosy dream, compared with the prolonged agonies of buying a horse! All my friends said I must have a horse to truly enjoy the country, and it seemed a simple matter to procure an animal for my own use.
Livery-stable keepers, complaisant and cordial, were continually driving around the corner into my yard, with a tremendous flourish and style, chirking up old by-gones, drawing newly painted buggies, patched-up phaetons, two-seated second-hand "Democrats," high wagons, low chaises, just for me to try.

They all said that seeing I was a lady and had just come among 'em, they would trade easy and treat me well.

Each mentioned the real value, and a much lower price, at which I, as a special favor, could secure the entire rig.

Their prices were all abominably exorbitant, so I decided to hire for a season.

The dozen beasts tried in two months, if placed in a row, would cure the worst case of melancholia.