In the law's eyes, Dinwiddie was a mere dabblesome amateur.

One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare, / Stood stupefied, however he came there: / Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!

In small towns like Soldau a small area accommodates the town hall, the church, several miniature squares, a monument to somebody or other, perhaps more than one, all sorts of shops, beerhouses, a post office, a bank, and there may be a bijou park behind wrought-iron railings, then the streets and the town end just as abruptly, and you have scarcely passed the last house when you find a highroad lined with trees stretching before you with a neat grid of precisely demarcated fields on either side.

“We’ve lived there so long because of our querencia,” said Ms. Garcia, a term she defined as “a cultural longing, a pull, that keeps us there.”