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158
Adventures in Contentment
·
David Grayson
8
II
I
BUY
A
FARM
As
I
have
said,
when
I
came
here
I
came
as
a
renter,
working
all
of
the
first
summer
without
that
"open
vision"
of
which
the
prophet
Samuel
speaks.
I
had
no
memory
of
the
past
and
no
hope
of
the
future.
I
fed
upon
the
moment.
My
sister
Harriet
kept
the
house
and
I
looked
after
the
farm
and
the
fields.
In
all
those
months
I
hardly
knew
that
I
had
neighbours,
although
Horace,
from
whom
I
rented
my
place,
was
not
infrequently
a
visitor.
He
has
since
said
that
I
looked
at
him
as
though
he
were
a
"statute."
I
was
"citified,"
Horace
said;
and
"citified"
with
us
here
in
the
country
is
nearly
the
limit
of
invective,
though
not
violent
enough
to
discourage
such
a
gift
of
sociability
as
his.
The
Scotch
Preacher,
the
rarest,
kindest
man
I
know,
called
once
or
twice,
wearing
the
air
of
formality
which
so
ill
becomes
him.
I
saw
nothing
in
him:
it
was
my
fault,
not
his,
that
I
missed
so
many
weeks
of
his
friendship.
Once
in
that
time
the
Professor
crossed
my
fields
with
his
tin
box
slung
from
his
shoulder;
and
the
only
feeling
I
had,
born
of
crowded
cities,
was
that
this
was
an
intrusion
upon
my
property.
Intrusion:
and
the
Professor!
It
is
now
unthinkable.
I
often
passed
the
Carpentry
Shop
on
my
way
to
town.
I
saw
Baxter
many
times
at
his
bench.
Even
then
Baxter's
eyes
attracted
me:
he
always
glanced
up
at
me
as
I
passed,
and
his
look
had
in
it
something
of
a
caress.
So
the
home
of
Starkweather,
standing
aloof
among
its
broad
lawns
and
tall
trees,
carried
no
meaning
for
me.
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