“Yes, bulls are a good thing––a comparatively soft thing. I recommend them to every motorist who may have to look for a place to land. Don’t ever throw yourself on the real estate of New England. It can hit harder than you can.”

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II

WHICH BEGINS THE STORY OF THE BISHOP’S HEAD

“Harry is the most modern character in my little museum,” said the Honorable Socrates Potter, as I sat with him in his cozy office. “I was really introduced to Harry by the Bishop of St. Clare, who died in 1712. I didn’t know his heart until the Bishop made us acquainted. Strange! Well, that depends on the point of view. You see, the Bishop was acquired and imported as an ancestor by one of the best families, and that’s how I happened to meet him. They would have got William the Conqueror––of England and Fifth Avenue––if he hadn’t been well hidden.

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“I am inclined to converse long and loudly on the reconstruction of Pointview. Of course I shall talk too much, but I am a licensed liar, and the number of my machine is 4227643720, so if I smash a dog here and there, make a note of the number and charge it. I’m going fast and shall not have time to stop for apologies.

“In Pointview even Time has quickened his pace. Last year is ancient history. Lizzie has been succeeded by Miss Elizabeth, who needs a maid, a chauffeur, a footman, and a house-party to maintain her spirits. Harry and his drag have taken the place of Dan and his runabout.

“The enemy has arrived in force. We are surrounded by country-houses and city abdomens of appalling size and arrogance. Mansions crown the slopes and line the water-front. The dialect of the lazy Yankee and his industrious hens are heard no more in the hills of Pointview. Where the hoe and the sickle were stirred by the 13 fear of hunger, the golf-club and the tennis-racket are moved by the fear of fat. The sweat of toil is now the perspiration of exercise. The chatter of society has succeeded that of the goose and the polliwog. Land has gone up. Rocks have become real estate even while they belonged to Christian Scientists. Ledges, smitten by the modern Moses, have gushed a stream of gold. Once the land supported its owner. Now wealth supports land and landlord and the fullness thereof. The Fifth Avenue farmer has begun to raise his own vegetables at a dollar apiece and a crop of criminals second to none. In his hands farming becomes agriculture and the farm a swarming 

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