The clerk at the hotel asked him if he wanted to locate some land.

Still another stranger, a florid and loosely clad young man with a mild blue eye, approached him and held some converse.
"Mornin', friend," said the young man.
"Good-morning," said Franklin.
"I allow you're just in on the front," said the other.
"Yes," said Franklin, "I came on the last train." "Stay long ?" "Well, as to that," said Franklin, "I hardly know, but I shall look around a bit." "I didn't know but maybe you'd like to go south o' here, to Plum Centre.
I run the stage line down there, about forty-six miles, twict a week.
That's my livery barn over there--second wooden building in the town.
Sam's my name; Sam Poston." "I never heard of Plum Centre," said Franklin, with some amusement.

"Is it as large a place as this ?" "Oh, no," said Sam hurriedly, "not nigh as large as this, but it's a good town, all right.

Lots on the main street there sold for three hundred dollars last week.

You see, old man Plum has got it figgered out that his town is right in the middle of the United States, ary way you measure it.