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 A COUNTRY LAWYER. Illustrated. 
 FARMING IT. Illustrated. 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK
 
 A COUNTRY LAWYER
 
 THE SQUIRE
 
 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY A. SHIJTE 
 
 Author of "The Real Did^ofa Real Boy " 
 "Farming It," etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
 1911
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY HENRY A SHL TK 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Published October IQII
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 I DEDICATE this book with the greatest admira 
 tion, respect, and affection to those citizens of 
 my town of Exeter, New Hampshire, who in the 
 prime of middle age, or in the fullness of years, 
 did so much for the welfare of the town, its citi 
 zens, and its institutions. 
 
 I remember them as the officials of the town, 
 as moderators presiding with dignity and fair 
 ness over the deliberations of its citizens; as 
 "seelict men," careful, shrewd business guardians 
 of the public needs; as conservatives, arguing 
 effectively against unwise appropriation and 
 expenditure of public funds; as justices, holding 
 petty courts with awful dignity; as lawyers, pro 
 found in legal learning, eloquent in argument, 
 punctilious in the ethics of their profession; as 
 merchants, behind the dusty glass partitions of 
 their counting rooms poring over huge books of 
 accounts, while their assistants toiled amid a reek 
 of whale oil, soft soap, brown sugar, cider vine 
 gar, leather boots, and the various and appetizing 
 articles of commerce embraced in the term 
 "W. I. Goods and Groceries." 
 
 But best do I remember them as God-fearing,
 
 vi DEDICATION 
 
 religious men, when on the Sabbath they fared 
 them forth, not gaily, but sombrely, to church, 
 clad in broadcloth of exceeding sheen, neck 
 cloth and collar of snowy whiteness, and stove 
 pipe hat of a lost design. 
 
 " Roma fuit et Romani fuerunt." 
 
 HENRY A. SHUTE. 
 
 EXETER, N. H., October 12, 1911.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. "GuN LAW" I 
 
 II. AN ARRANGEMENT 12 
 
 III. A Row 25 
 
 IV. SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 42 
 
 V. COURT-ROOM AMENITIES 61 
 
 VI. STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE .... 75 
 
 VII. POLLY 104 
 
 VIII. IN TOWN 124 
 
 IX. LEGAL BEGINNINGS 149 
 
 X. MIXING 166 
 
 XI. THE FIGHT 191 
 
 XII. TOWN MEETING 210 
 
 XIII. A VISITOR 227 
 
 XIV. BROKEN TROTH 258 
 
 XV. A CELEBRATION 275 
 
 XVI. RUNNING FOR OFFICE 290 
 
 XVII. COMPARISONS . 307 
 
 XVIII. OUT OF THE PAST 336 
 
 XIX. SAM COMES BACK 342 
 
 XX. A CHALLENGE 357 
 
 XXI. His BACK TO THE WALL 371 
 
 XXII. COUNTY SOLICITOR 381 
 
 XXIII. THE GREAT LEGAL BATTLE .... 394 
 
 XXIV. A VICTORY 403 
 
 XXV. AN ENLIGHTENMENT 409 
 
 XXVI. JUDGMENT FOR THE PLAINTIFF 425
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 THE SQUIRE (p. 406) . . . (Colored Frontispiece) 
 HOLD UP YOUR HANDS, FURBER! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST! 6 
 WHERE ARE THE BOYS WE USED TO KNOW? . . .60 
 I AM A SORT OF A FARMER ..... 115 
 HOW IS THAT FOR DRIVING ? . . . . .126 
 
 THE vicious BEAST ROSE ON HIS HIND LEGS . . 264 
 
 IF YOU REFUSE TO RESIGN, WE LL TIE YOU AND GAG YOU 378 
 
 SAM AND POLLY ........ 428 
 
 From drawings by Irma Deremeax.
 
 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 " GUN LAW " 
 
 BOTH guns spoke simultaneously, and the 
 crash of their discharge, followed by a 
 heavy fall on the rough board-floor, set the hang 
 ing lamps dancing and flickering through the 
 eddying smoke. As the smoke cleared away, a 
 tall, well-built young fellow of twenty -five stood 
 leaning forward, his heavy revolver poised for 
 another shot, his eyes fixed on his fallen adver 
 sary, and a stream of blood slowly trickling from 
 a deep groove in his cheek, so close had the 
 Tarantula s bullet come. 
 
 But the Tarantula, so called because he was so 
 "pizen mean," the gun-fighter whose deeds of 
 blood had made him the terror of the mining- 
 camps, the brutal, cruel, cold-blooded desperado 
 who had for years known no pity, no fear, no re 
 morse, lay dead on the floor, a crumpled heap of 
 clothes, his fierce eyes upturned to the ceiling and 
 wide open, his heavy jaw fallen, his coarse black 
 hair a tangled mop on the boards, his knotted
 
 hand clenched upon his heavy blue-barreled re 
 volver, and his legs in the boots with the large 
 spurs, curiously twisted and inert. A thin stream 
 of blood ran from under his left arm and formed 
 an oozy pool. 
 
 For a moment the silence was intense, and then 
 from under the bar crept Pete the Barkeep . 
 
 "By God! he got it at last!" he said; "and a 
 tenderfoot, too ! Do you know, young feller, who 
 you ve killed?" he asked of the young man who 
 stood staring as if frozen. 
 
 "Is he dead?" gasped the young man. 
 
 "Dead! well, I guess he s dead enough. Dead 
 er n hell, with an ounce bullet through his heart. 
 I guess he s dead enough." 
 
 "Well, I m damned!" said a huge man with a 
 black beard, who had come out from a corner to 
 which he had retreated. Tarantula won t sting 
 any more with his pizen gun. Young feller, give 
 us yer hand; you ve done a damn good job. 
 What 11 you have?" 
 
 But the young fellow had knelt by the dead man 
 and was feeling his heart to see if he was really 
 gone. He lifted the heavy head, but it fell back 
 limply. He felt the pulse, but could detect no 
 throb. 
 
 Then he looked up in the faces of the crowd who 
 had gathered around. "Isn t there a doctor here 
 in the camp?" he asked.
 
 GUN LAW 3 
 
 " Naw, stranger, they ain t no sawbones here, 
 n if there wuz he could n t do anything for the 
 Tarantula. He ll never be no deader n he is now. 
 You had better let some one fix up your face and 
 we ll take care of the Tarantula." 
 
 "My face? Why, what is the matter with my 
 face?" said the young fellow, putting up his hand 
 and bringing it away covered with blood. "I re 
 member feeling a hot streak across my face. It 
 was a pretty close shot." 
 
 "Yes, sonny, a quarter of an inch the wrong 
 way would have killed you as dead as old Go- 
 liah," said the first speaker. "Now, go and mop 
 it up and have a bandage on, and we 11 bury the 
 Tarantula." 
 
 "All right, sir," said the young fellow in a dazed 
 way; "you will find me in my shack when you 
 want me. I shall not run away." And he went 
 out. 
 
 "Run away, -- I wonder what the cuss means? 
 A feller that will draw quicker and shoot 
 straighter n the Tarantula ain t got no call to 
 runaway. What you s pose he means? He must 
 be a bit locoed. P r aps the bullet may have 
 jarred him a little outer his head. He run away? 
 Hell!" 
 
 In the shack Stanley Furber, for that was the 
 young man s name, sat staring into vacancy. 
 His face, which he had rudely bandaged, was
 
 4 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 white and drawn, his eyes stared with an expres 
 sion of horror, and he looked like a man who had 
 passed through a long and dangerous illness. Oc 
 casionally he passed his nervous hands across 
 his mouth; again he would rise and with quick 
 nervous strides pace the narrow room. Finally, he 
 flung himself on the bunk, face down, and lay 
 there. He had killed a man ! had sent a human 
 soul to its last account! had taken human life, 
 and his hands were red! red! red! and his soul 
 stained black! God! it would never wash out, it 
 would never wash out, and he should see forever 
 those fierce glazing eyes, the long snaky black 
 hair, the inert, crumpled, twisted form, and the 
 red pool slowly widening on the floor. His hands 
 clinched the covers until his knuckles were white, 
 his jaws tightened, with the muscles knotted in 
 his cheeks like hickory nuts, and a great shudder 
 brought the cold sweat to his face. 
 
 In the "Timber wolf Saloon," where the affray 
 had taken place, the coroner, "Lazy Bill Good- 
 hue," was swearing in a jury of three men. An 
 acrimonious dispute had arisen, caused by several 
 of the reputable citizens of "Salted Mine Camp" 
 profanely desiring to know why in the blankity 
 dashed superlative-adjectived Land of Tophet he 
 did n t have a jury of twelve good and true men 
 instead of a measly little dashed blank panel of 
 three. Indeed, a general call to arms was only
 
 GUN LAW 5 
 
 averted by the coroner assuring them that, in 
 case the jury found that the deceased came to his 
 death by violence, it would then be necessary to 
 try the perpetrator of the deed by a jury of 
 twelve, and that none of the coroner s jury could 
 act in the larger jury. And the coroner further 
 informed them that, owing to the fact that there 
 was a bullet-hole in the dead man s chest big 
 enough to drive a loaded burro through, which 
 might justify a suspicion that he had met his 
 death through violence, the empaneling of a full 
 jury might be at least a probability. 
 
 The jury, properly sworn, then proceeded to 
 view the remains and to take evidence. The 
 coroner, possessing a few pages of an old "Pro 
 bate Practice," had culled from its leaves the fol 
 lowing oath, which he administered with marked 
 effect and great dignity and solemnity: "You 
 solemnly swear that in appraising the estate of 
 the deceased Tarantula, you will act faithfully, 
 impartially, and according to your best skill and 
 judgment, so help you God!" which, under the 
 circumstances, was a peculiarly appropriate as 
 severation. 
 
 The inquest, adjourned from time to time for 
 liquid refreshments at the bar, was brief and 
 effective, and the verdict, after due consultation, 
 covered the points in a truly masterly and con 
 vincing manner:
 
 6 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Wee the members of the Corner s jury, drawed 
 by the Corner Bill Goodju commonly knowed 
 as Lazy Bill Goodju whitch is all rite for Bill 
 is lazy, to find out the caus of the disease of 
 the Tarantula whoose rite name is unknew to 
 any of us the aforesaid have saw the body and 
 have herd the testymony of them whitch seen 
 the row and we find that the said Tarantula 
 aforesaid come to his disease becaus he did n t 
 draw quite so quick as the other feller whitch 
 the same is knowed as Stanley Furber and 
 may God have mersy on his sole. 
 
 Witness PLACER JIM 
 
 PIZEN PETE 
 PIGEON-TOE EVANS. 
 
 As soon as the verdict was rendered, the sher 
 iff, who had loped in from Spotted Dog, took 
 upon himself the arrest of Furber. He was a bold 
 man who knew the need of caution. So he drew 
 his guns and knocked at the door of Furber s 
 shack. 
 
 "Come in," said a muffled voice, and he en 
 tered with both guns at point. Furber sat on the 
 couch looking at him quietly. 
 
 "Hold up your hands, Furber, you are under 
 arrest; hold up your hands or I ll shoot." 
 
 " Shoot then, I don t care if you do. There s 
 my gun," pointing to his sole weapon lying on the
 
 .LLu ^ 1 ; \iVW, ( "\\\ : A v \ S\\A\, x \ -VV^V0^5 
 
 [OLD UP YOUR HANDS, FURBER ! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST
 
 GUN LAW 7 
 
 table. " I m glad you came, Sheriff, I m afraid of 
 being alone," he said in a tone of relief. "I ve 
 killed a man." 
 
 The sheriff put away his guns. 
 
 "Say, sonny," he said, "you hev killed the 
 dog-meanest, pizenest rattlesnake in two coun 
 ties. There ain t a man here to-night but what 
 wishes he wuz in yer boots. Course we Ve got ter 
 try ye, for we is a law-abidin cormunity, but 
 we ll acquit ye and the boys will want ter hev 
 some sort of a celebration. There is one thing 
 tho thet puzzles us. The Tarantula hed a gal 
 baby, a two-year old. Ye see he hed a wife, a 
 good woman, but she could n t stan him and ran 
 away a while ago and tried to drownd herself and 
 her baby. She wuz pulled out too late, but the 
 baby wuz saved. Thet wuz the only soft spot in 
 the Tarantula. He wuz good to the leetle gal. 
 What bothers us fellers is what is to become of 
 her. T ain t no place fer her here." 
 
 Furber started to his feet. "A girl baby ! a child 
 in this camp! Say, Sheriff, you say you will ac 
 quit me. For all I care for myself you might hang 
 me and it would be all one to me. But if I can 
 take this girl back East, I will devote my whole 
 life to her, I will bring her up in a good home, 
 work for her, slave for her, make a good woman 
 of her. I swear it ! Don t you see, Sheriff, what it 
 means to me? I ve killed a man! I must make
 
 8 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 good, and this sort of gives me a chance to square 
 matters with him." 
 
 The Sheriff ruminated. Then he rose, took a 
 turn round the room, stood over Furber, who had 
 sat down trembling on the bench, and said, 
 "Pardner, yer white, by God! yer white, an 
 ye ve hit it; shake." And he put out his brown 
 sinewy hand. 
 
 So that is why the overland train eastward car 
 ried a quiet young man with a long strip of plaster 
 across his cheek, and a beautiful, black-eyed, 
 black-haired little girl of two years, of whom he 
 was tenderly watchful. As he looked out upon 
 the flying landscape, he thought with a gleam of 
 amusement of the kind-hearted miners, of the 
 amusing but earnest trial, of the brown, hardy, 
 devil-may-care, honest jurors, Beetle-Headed 
 Benny, Sage-Brush Joe, Nugget Jim, Swivel- 
 eyed Pete, Billy the Gopher, and the rest of 
 the picturesque crew who voted unanimously 
 for his acquittal; of the presiding justice, old 
 Judge Peters, known in private life as Bottle- 
 Nosed Pete, with his shrewd questions, his sensi 
 ble but whimsical charge to the jury, and his 
 kind congratulations to the prisoner on the 
 result. 
 
 And his eyes filled as he thought of their kind 
 ness and generosity to the orphaned baby they 
 had intrusted to him, and, with the baby, a
 
 GUN LAW 9 
 
 bag of dust sufficient for her needs and his for 
 a long time. 
 
 Well, they were out of his life henceforth, and 
 his duty was plain, to care for the child, to bring 
 her up in ignorance of her parents, in happy un 
 consciousness of the double tragedy that would 
 have clouded her life, and to make the most of his 
 life to atone for having killed a man. 
 
 So he came to Elmtown, where he took lodg 
 ing in a good family and set to work. The money 
 he invested in his name as trustee for her. His 
 name he changed to Ira Branch, a name he had 
 once heard and admired for its strength and sim 
 plicity. Her he named Mary Esmond, a name he 
 took from Thackeray s "Henry Esmond," of 
 which he was very fond. He had no relatives and 
 he felt that his secret would be forever buried. 
 For a while he worked in the mills, studying law 
 evenings and on holidays. Not a penny of the 
 fund did he touch, but supported himself and 
 little Mary out of his earnings. 
 
 To do this he worked harder than a galley- 
 slave, but it brought him content and even happi 
 ness, content in knowing that he was making 
 progress, happiness in seeing the child growing 
 rosy and happy. Then he had been admitted to 
 the bar, and became junior partner of an old 
 lawyer who was looking for a sturdy, reliable 
 young man, with broad shoulders, upon which he
 
 10 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 could gradually shift the increasing burden of a 
 large practice. 
 
 His rise as a lawyer was as marked as his 
 industry. In a few years he was trying almost 
 every case of importance in the county, and was 
 looked upon as one of the soundest lawyers and 
 most brilliant advocates in the state, and one 
 bearing the highest reputation as a man of the 
 strictest integrity. 
 
 Little Mary had developed into a beautiful 
 and accomplished girl. She had been sent to the 
 best boarding-school obtainable, and the vaca 
 tions spent at home were the bright spots in his 
 life and in hers. And then a not surprising thing 
 befell him, for he found that he was deeply in love 
 with his beautiful ward. And the remarkable 
 strength of the man came to his aid, and he reso 
 lutely put aside his love and his temptation to 
 win her for his wife, though he felt that he could 
 win her. But he knew it would be a black crime, 
 an unforgivable sin, to take for his wife the girl 
 whose father he had killed. But the effort grayed 
 his hair and left lines in his face that aged him 
 beyond his years. 
 
 Mary had married Howard Anthony, a man 
 of good intentions but of little character and 
 ability, and Branch had paid over to her the fund 
 with its accumulation, now amounting to a com 
 fortable fortune, and for a few years he comforted
 
 GUN LAW 11 
 
 himself in the belief that she was happy with her 
 husband. But rash and foolish investments had 
 gradually wasted her fortune, and finally her 
 husband, in a fit of remorse and discouragement, 
 died by his own hand, and Branch was sum 
 moned to her bedside, where she died in his arms, 
 leaving him a baby girl of two years of age. And 
 so Branch, now known as the "Squire," came 
 back to Elmtown with a baby girl in his arms just 
 as he had done twenty-five years before. Then 
 he was a young, untried man, now a respected, 
 powerful lawyer, gray and saddened, but with a 
 new purpose in life. 
 
 In all these years he had told but one man 
 his secret, and that one man he trusted was old 
 Doctor Barry, then a man ten years his senior. 
 Branch had been taken suddenly and violently 
 ill, and when the Doctor thought he could do no 
 more, and told him how slight a chance for recov 
 ery he had, Branch had then told him his secret, 
 had made his will, and had appointed Doctor 
 Barry his executor and trustee, and had asked 
 that he be appointed guardian of Mary Esmond. 
 
 His confession so lightened his burden that he 
 fell asleep, and when he wakened was stronger 
 and better, and in a few weeks was at his desk 
 once more.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 AN ARRANGEMENT 
 
 THE office was intensely still. Even the old 
 Horton wall clock, perched high over the 
 ancient standing-desk in the corner, had stopped 
 ticking. Outside in the broad triangle where three 
 streets met, the sun was burning fiercely. 
 
 The immense elms shading the square colonial 
 houses and the stately white church, were turning 
 dusty brown under its blighting rays, and the 
 terraced lawns of the well-kept yards were rusty. 
 Only the ivy which covered the brick walls of the 
 Court House, and hid the faded red under a thick 
 veil of deep green, remained fresh and bright. 
 
 Outside, the tiny fountain in the centre of the 
 triangle gurgled and sprayed, while the occasional 
 roll of a wagon or the "clack clack" of horses 
 feet on the hard roadway, and the faint and dis 
 tant pulsing of the mill, were the only sounds that 
 broke the summer stillness. 
 
 Within the office a man of sixty sat in a swivel- 
 chair before an old mahogany desk, with pigeon 
 holes, and sliding doors, and drawers curiously 
 and beautifully inlaid. At his back and within a 
 turn of his chair was a broad, flat mahogany table
 
 AN ARRANGEMENT 13 
 
 with a covering of green felt. Both desk and table 
 were piled with papers and documents, with pens 
 and holders in spattered china trays, and leaden 
 ink-wells. At his right hand a swivel-bookcase 
 crowded with Public Statutes, Pamphlet Laws, 
 Text-books, Legal Forms, Oliver s Precedents, 
 Probate Directory, Justice and Sheriff, and other 
 legal machinery, swung within easy reach. 
 
 His head was well-shaped, the hair smoothly 
 gray and carefully parted, as was the white, care 
 fully trimmed mustache that partly hid the out 
 lines of a firm, well-shaped mouth. Across the 
 cheek a deep scar reached to the curve of the jaw. 
 The nose was a trifle large and slightly aquiline, 
 the features refined. A pair of gray eyes looked 
 somewhat anxiously at the broad back of a young 
 man standing staring out of the window. 
 
 For a few minutes neither spoke, and no sound 
 disturbed the perfect quiet save the gurgle and 
 splash of the fountain. Then the young man 
 abruptly wheeled about, disclosing a pleasant, 
 albeit stern countenance, a mop of wavy brown 
 hair, and a pair of deep hazel eyes and a strong 
 jaw. Not a handsome face, but one that you 
 felt you could trust. 
 
 "Then you say, Mr. Branch," said the young 
 man in a deep voice, "that the law is that a man, 
 appointed guardian of a minor, under terms of a 
 will requesting him to act as such, is nevertheless
 
 14 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 responsible for unfortunate investments made by 
 him in good faith, he all the time acting as guar 
 dian, and performing not only the duties of guar 
 dian, but also those of father, mother, guide, 
 philosopher, and friend to the ward, without any 
 charge whatsoever." 
 
 "Yes, that is the law, as I have said from the 
 first," replied the older man, "and the decision of 
 the Supreme Court is unanimous and final," he 
 continued, indicating a pile of loose, printed 
 sheets at his hand. 
 
 "But do you consider it a just decision?" de 
 manded the young man. 
 
 "Knowing the circumstances of this particular 
 case, and knowing your father as I did, the deci 
 sion seems a bit unjust, but as a decision of law, 
 it is absolutely right, and absolutely just. The 
 statutes of our state are explicit as to what in 
 vestments a guardian should make, and when 
 your father invested funds in securities other 
 than those prescribed, he assumed full responsi 
 bility, although he unquestionably acted in good 
 faith and apparently for the best interest of the 
 ward." 
 
 " But father did all this without pay. Does n t 
 that make a difference?" insisted the young man. 
 
 "Not the least," replied the lawyer; "your 
 father was not obliged to serve as guardian or 
 trustee."
 
 AN ARRANGEMENT 15 
 
 " But he felt that the terms of the will were im 
 perative." 
 
 "He was very kind," replied the lawyer, "but 
 there was no legal obligation." 
 
 The young man drew a long breath and turned 
 again to the window. The fountain still gurgled 
 and splashed, and on the rim of the iron bowl a 
 row of dripping and bedraggled sparrows chat 
 tered and fought for the best places. 
 
 The young man watched them idly, and 
 laughed grimly when one of their number, crowd 
 ing too closely to the rim, fell in, and only after 
 a hard struggle managed to crawl out again. 
 
 Then he turned to the lawyer. "Well, Mr. 
 Branch," he said, "I have no doubt that you are 
 right, but it is a bit of a facer to find one s self 
 broke as soon as he is out of school, especially 
 when he has had no particular training for any 
 trade or profession." 
 
 :< You can hardly call yourself broke or * pen 
 niless, " quickly replied the lawyer, "there are 
 several thousand dollars balance to be paid over 
 to you, as I have just shown you. To be exact, 
 just forty -three hundred and twenty dollars and 
 eighty-five cents. Not a fortune, surely, but 
 enough to keep you going until some position is 
 offered you. With your friends and health and 
 strength and brains, you certainly can make your 
 way."
 
 16 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Oh, I suppose I can earn my living; I m big 
 enough and strong enough. I could train horses, 
 or become a Maine woods guide, or perhaps," he 
 remarked with a short laugh, "do something in 
 the ring. I have a half-dozen cups in my rooms, 
 and there is always a chance for an ambitious 
 heavyweight with science." 
 
 "Well," said the lawyer, "there is time enough 
 to talk of that. Let s finish the business in hand. 
 How do you want this money, in cash, certified 
 check, or certificate of deposit?" 
 
 "That s anotherthing we have got to settle and 
 settle now," said the young man. "That balance 
 is not right, and you know it as well as I do." 
 
 "What do you mean?" quickly asked the 
 lawyer, while a dark flush, starting from his neck, 
 slowly rose to the roots of his hair about the broad 
 forehead. 
 
 "I mean this," said the young man, taking a 
 seat opposite the lawyer and picking up a type 
 written account which lay on the desk; "I have 
 examined this account and the vouchers, and as 
 far as they go everything is all right, but you have 
 forgotten one important item." 
 
 "I have forgotten nothing, sir," said the lawyer 
 coldly, looking the young man squarely in the 
 eye. " I don t forget things where other people s 
 interests are concerned." 
 
 "No, Mr. Branch, you certainly do not, but
 
 AN ARRANGEMENT 17 
 
 you sometimes forget your own," replied the 
 young man with a smile that lit up his somewhat 
 sombre countenance, "and in this case you have 
 
 forgotten to make any charge for your own serv- 
 
 > 
 ices. 
 
 " Nothing of the kind, young man, nothing of 
 the kind," said the lawyer hastily. " Here, look," 
 he continued, pointing with his pen to an item 
 which read, - 
 
 Counsel fees $2000.00 
 
 Expenses 213.28 
 
 Total $2213.28 
 
 11 Yes," said the young man, laughing, "but the 
 vouchers explaining that item and your check- 
 stub show that the entire fee of two thousand 
 dollars went to Covenant and Trover, Attorneys, 
 as their receipt shows. Now where is your bill?* 
 
 "H m, h m," stammered the old lawyer, fum 
 bling with his papers, "you see Covenant and 
 Trover did a good deal and accordingly charged a 
 good fee, and - 
 
 "And you did a good deal more than any of the 
 attorneys, and were the brains of the entire case, 
 and the case turned out exactly as you said it 
 would, when Covenant and Trover gave an opin 
 ion contrary to yours," cut in the young man 
 quickly. 
 
 "Well, they might have been correct, only I
 
 18 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 happened to hit it," said the old lawyer; "at all 
 events, litigation was gone into and great expense 
 incurred, which might have been avoided - 
 
 "If I had taken your advice," interrupted the 
 young man. "Now, your bill is to be reckoned 
 in the account before I accept a cent, and if your 
 bill takes the whole balance, why, well and good. 
 I suppose I could borrow money enough to take 
 me to New York." 
 
 "Now, look here, young man," exploded the 
 lawyer, "I knew you when you were an unman 
 nerly, stone-throwing, apple-stealing little vaga 
 bond, and I knew your father before you, and 
 your mother, too, and I m too old and too obsti 
 nate to be dictated to by you now. And when I 
 say I have no charge, why, I mean it." 
 
 "And now, look here, my dear old friend," said 
 the young man, with a winning smile, "you did 
 know my father and you were his best friend, and 
 my mother s best friend, too, and have done more 
 for them and for me than I can ever repay, and 
 whe.n I refuse to put myself under further obliga 
 tions to you, I mean what 7 say." 
 
 "Well, well, boy," said the lawyer, "if you put 
 it that way, I will make a charge. What do you 
 say to five hundred dollars? Come, that s a good 
 sensible charge, not too large and not too small. 
 Full large enough for what I did. Come, I will 
 write you a receipt at once."
 
 AN ARRANGEMENT 19 
 
 "Five hundred grandmothers!" shouted the 
 young man; "not too large! Great Caesar s 
 ghost! what do you take me for? I should say it 
 was n t too large," and he lay back in his chair 
 and laughed the first genuine laugh of the con 
 ference. 
 
 "Well," said the old lawyer, testily, "what do 
 you want me to charge?" 
 
 Twenty -five hundred dollars," said the young 
 man promptly. 
 
 "An outrage! I won t do it," sputtered the 
 lawyer. 
 
 "Not a cent less if you expect to settle with 
 me," insisted the young man. 
 
 "Now, son," said the old lawyer, "I never 
 have charged an exorbitant or unconscionable 
 fee in my life and I m not going to begin at my 
 time of life." 
 
 "I can well believe it," laughed the young 
 man. 
 
 "Call it seven fifty," suggested the old lawyer, 
 reaching for a receipt pad. 
 
 Twenty -five hundred," insisted the young 
 man. 
 
 "A dollar above seven fifty would be extor 
 tion," protested the old lawyer. 
 
 " How about Covenant and Trover s two thou 
 sand?" queried the young man with a smile. 
 
 "Why, confound you, for an obstinate young
 
 20 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 rascal," roared the old lawyer, "I told you they 
 did all the work!" 
 
 "But they didn t, just the same," persisted 
 the young man. 
 
 "What do you know about it, anyway," re 
 torted the old lawyer, "when you were at New 
 port or Saratoga, playing poker or polo, or kitin 
 round behind a dock-tailed horse?" 
 
 "Who tried the case before the master and 
 then tried and argued it in the Superior Court? 
 Who made the brief and argued the case in the 
 Supreme Court, and who put months of hard 
 work into it? Not Covenant and Trover, but Mr. 
 Ira Branch, Attorney and Counselor at Law. 
 Covenant and Trover s bill was all right, and 
 your bill ought not to be a cent less than five 
 thousand dollars." 
 
 "Well, call it one thousand," said the old 
 lawyer. 
 
 "Not a cent less than twenty-five hundred," 
 said the young man firmly. 
 
 Their eyes met and held each other. The gray 
 eyes firm and hard, the hazel good-natured, but 
 without a sign of yielding. Long they looked 
 until the young man pushed a receipt pad before 
 the old lawyer. 
 
 The gray eyes changed. Slowly an affection 
 ate, half-humorous glint softened the steel of 
 their glance.
 
 AN ARRANGEMENT 21 
 
 "Confound you, for a stiff-backed young 
 reprobate," growled the old lawyer, as he wrote 
 out a receipt for twenty -five hundred dollars, then 
 entered the amount to the credit side of the ac 
 count, "but I feel as if I had robbed a bank." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Branch," said the young man, 
 after he had approved the account. "Give me 
 one hundred and twenty dollars and eighty-five 
 cents, deposit the balance of seventeen hundred 
 in the local bank in my name and give me the 
 book to-morrow." 
 
 "Which bank, National, I suppose?" queried 
 the old lawyer. 
 
 "Savings Bank," replied the young man. "I 
 suppose I can get a little interest there." 
 
 "Not unless you keep it there at least six 
 months, and then only at the rate of three and 
 a half, or possibly four per cent," answered the 
 old lawyer. 
 
 "For how much, Squire Branch, or rather for 
 how little can a man live in this town for a 
 year?" asked the young man, picking up a pen 
 cil and drawing a pad towards him. 
 
 "Meaning?" said the Squire. 
 
 "Meaning any ordinary young man of my 
 age, and not counting any income from labor," 
 said the young man. 
 
 "Well," said the old lawyer judicially, "he 
 could get a good room and board for six dollars
 
 22 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 at the hotels, or from four fifty to five at a pri 
 vate house. Call it six. That is three hundred 
 and twelve dollars a year. Three hundred would 
 cover it. One hundred and twenty-five for 
 clothes and shoes, and incidentals, would bring it 
 where you wish, five fifty to six hundred dollars. 
 There are people here, clerks and workingmen, 
 who bring up a family on five hundred dollars. 
 Why do you ask, you are not thinking of living 
 in the country, are you?" he asked smilingly. 
 
 : Yes, I am very seriously considering it," 
 answered the young man promptly; "why not?" 
 
 "What could you do? farm or learn a trade? 
 We have machine works, a cotton mill, a shoe 
 factory, a grist mill and two planing mills," and 
 the old lawyer smiled quizzically and crossed one 
 long leg over the other. 
 
 The young man flushed a bit as he answered, 
 "I know I have been wasting a good deal of time 
 in athletics, and general uselessness, but I Ve got 
 muscle enough to pitch hay or dig ditches, and 
 can do it if necessary; but I don t intend to if I 
 can help it. I want to study law with you. Will 
 you let me?" 
 
 The old lawyer s eyes narrowed to slits and he 
 looked fixedly at the young man. "Have you 
 thought this over?" he demanded at last. 
 
 Yes, Squire Branch, more than you think. 
 Ever since the litigation commenced, I have
 
 AN ARRANGEMENT 23 
 
 thought of it. Not even as probable, however, 
 until to-day. I suppose the laziest, most idle 
 of men has working dreams some time," he said 
 slowly. 
 
 "But could you stand the hard work, the 
 drudgery, the months, possibly years of wait 
 ing?" expostulated the Squire. 
 
 "I believe so; I really do believe that right 
 down in my heart I have been homesick for 
 something to do," said the young man, with a 
 smile that partly veiled his earnestness. 
 
 "This is something I confess I never thought 
 of and I must think it over. I did say I would 
 never have another student after Villars left me, 
 but I knew your father. Well, you must 
 think it over as well as I. It s a grand profes 
 sion. The greatest, I do believe, and the public 
 believes that any man who can pass the examina 
 tions can become a lawyer. Examinations! why 
 man, man, a lifetime of study and experience 
 is not time enough to become a lawyer. Well, 
 think it over and come to supper with me to 
 morrow night at six. Mind, not a word before 
 that time. Meet me here at the office at about 
 six and we will walk up." 
 
 The young man and the old lawyer rose and 
 shook hands. Then with a nod, the former left 
 the office and ran lightly down the dusty stairs 
 and out upon the pleasant street.
 
 24 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Left alone the old lawyer walked to the win 
 dow and stood looking out on the square. The 
 sparrows still splashed on the rim of the foun 
 tain, a flock of slaty pigeons greedily crowded 
 and pushed over a handful of grain jolted from a 
 passing wagon, and a horse, tethered to a stone 
 post, stamped uneasily. 
 
 "I love this old square," he muttered, "and I 
 love this old town, it is home, home." 
 
 From without came the homely song of the 
 chipping sparrow.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A ROW 
 
 DOWN the quiet street went the young man 
 with shoulders back, head up, and brisk 
 step, swinging the heavy grip as if it weighed 
 nothing. Storekeepers and clerks in short 
 sleeves or alpaca coats, lounging in the doors of 
 their modest emporiums, glanced curiously at 
 him, and whispered inquiringly. 
 
 Two young and rather pretty girls in white 
 dresses and white tennis shoes, sipping from their 
 glasses at the soda fountain of a drug store, 
 gazed admiringly at him as he passed. 
 
 He crossed the street at the lower bridge and 
 walked rapidly towards the Columbian House. 
 This modest hotel stood but a few hundred feet 
 from the office, and its large and showy but some 
 what faded sign announced that "Entertainment 
 for Man and Beast" could be obtained of Alvin 
 Dole for a moderate stipend. Beyond this large 
 rambling building, with its three short flights of 
 steps leading to three small piazzas, was a passage 
 way leading to stables, at the entrance to which 
 passageway a swinging and gaudily painted sign 
 displayed an impossible charger with flying
 
 26 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 mane and tail, foaming mouth and crimson 
 dilated nostrils, and the lurid information that 
 somewhere in the rear, following the direction 
 of the index finger of a pointing hand, was a 
 "Livery, Sale, Boarding and Baiting Stable." 
 Under this lucid statement hung a smaller and 
 more recent sign eulogistic of a certain "Win. J. 
 Bluffin, Emperor of Equine surgeons Bar None." 
 
 Beyond was a long, two-storied building, the 
 lower half an open shed for the storage of large 
 four-horse barges and hacks, the upper half a 
 billiard hall, suitably emblazoned in scarlet let 
 ters on a blue sanded sign informing an anxious 
 and waiting public that "Billiards and Pool" 
 were presumably for sale. The public was also 
 informed in smaller and bright yellow letters, in 
 a corner of this sign, that it was painted by "I.T. 
 Pembleton, Painter, Grainer, Glazier, and Paper- 
 Hanger," and who further allayed any anxiety or 
 doubt that the public might have entertained as 
 to his ability or willingness, by adding the reas 
 suring statement that "No Job was too Large 
 and None too Small," which was exceedingly 
 enterprising and doubly kind in him. 
 
 On the piazza sat a pleasant-faced man, with 
 shaved upper lip and chin beard, who was urging 
 a nervous, excitable man, who evidently was in a 
 hurry, to "Hold on a minute, there is plenty of 
 time." Scattered over the piazza and steps were
 
 A ROW 27 
 
 other men, some old and gray, some younger, but 
 all with the unmistakable mark of hotel loung 
 ers, as they sat hunched up, with their heads sunk 
 between their shoulders and their rusty hats 
 drawn over their eyes. 
 
 The young man approached the steps to the 
 main entrance, and as they were covered with 
 loungers, and as nobody arose to make room for 
 him, he turned aside, stepped up the gullied bank 
 ing, strode over a huge burdock, leaped upon the 
 piazza and made his way to the office. 
 
 The room was empty. A wide room, with two 
 small front windows and one opening into the 
 passageway. Across the room from the front 
 windows was a large railway stove with foot-rest 
 worn smooth by the pressure of rubber boots and 
 cowhide stogies. An iron rail, bolted to the floor, 
 marked an inclosure of narrow boards filled with 
 tobacco-stained sawdust. 
 
 In the corner was a fixed small desk with a 
 double-slanted top, a top rail, and a counter 
 curving towards the wall, leaving a narrow en 
 trance for the clerk. On the outer slant of the 
 desk lay a register open at the date of August 25, 
 with the words, "Fair -- Wind Westerly," writ 
 ten across the top. A small ink-bottle, some ex 
 ceedingly rusty pens, and a much stained blotter 
 rested on the top of the desk. 
 
 Between the front windows was a small
 
 28 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 mahogany table, over which hung a mirror with a 
 triangle chipped from one corner and a crack ex 
 tending diagonally across the surface, plentifully 
 fly-specked. Back of the stove hung quarter- 
 sheet advertisements of auction sales, a litho 
 graph of Polly Sidwell in East Lynne at the town 
 hall on the 16th of March previous, and a sten 
 ciled announcement that the Kickapoo Indians 
 were to give an entertainment in Merrill s Hall 
 for the week. 
 
 There were three other doors to the room be 
 sides the door through which the young man 
 entered. One door opened to a little passageway 
 leading to the side steps, one led to a small 
 wash-room, where two cracked and dingy bowls 
 were surmounted by tarnished faucets, above 
 which hung worn brushes and semi-toothless 
 combs chained to the wall. Beyond these hung 
 a roller-towel, stained and crimped by wet hands, 
 and exceedingly frayed and dingy. 
 
 The third door, in the centre of the rear wall 
 bore the inscription, "Barroom," which was an 
 unnecessary expense and trouble, as the charac 
 ter of the room was sufficiently evidenced by a 
 most penetrating, sweetish, acrid odor of rum, 
 gin, and whiskey. 
 
 The young man noted all these things curi 
 ously and with interest as he waited for the pro 
 prietor or clerk. At last, as nobody came and as
 
 A ROW 29 
 
 the argument on the front steps became warm, he 
 stepped to the front entrance and asked if the 
 proprietor or clerk was in the building. 
 
 "Yes, yes, sir. Hold on a minute, he ought to 
 be around," said the pleasant-faced man, evid 
 ently the proprietor. "Charles! Hey, Charles! 
 where in thunder be ye?" he squealed in a high- 
 pitched voice. "Ed! Ed! Ain t Ed there neither?" 
 he demanded querulously. "It s almighty queer 
 that out of all the lazy cusses I support I can t 
 get any one to tend office. Newt," he continued, 
 addressing a gray-mustached, soot-stained man 
 with blackened arms and leather patches on 
 his knees, "d ye know where Charles and Ed 
 is?" 
 
 "Now, Alvy, I dunno where Charles is, n I 
 don t give a cuss," sulkily answered Newt, "but 
 Ed, just two minutes ago, drove the Chase mare 
 and led Johnny Roach down to the blacksmith s 
 to git em shod." 
 
 "H m, h m; just like that worthless boy to be 
 out when he s wanted," grumbled Alvy. 
 
 "But, Alvy, I heered ye tell him to go not 
 more n fi minutes ago," insisted Newt. 
 
 Alvy made 1 no reply beyond a scornful sniff, 
 and rising slowly came into the office. "Well, sir, 
 what can I do for ye?" he asked pleasantly of 
 the young man. 
 
 "Why, I thought I would like to stay here a
 
 30 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 day or two. I suppose you put people up occa 
 sionally?" asked the young man. 
 
 "Sartin, sir, sartin; we can furnish you a good 
 room and board for dollar and quarter to dollar 
 n half a day, cordin to location of room. Want 
 to register? Here you are, sir," indicating the 
 open book. 
 
 The young man laughed, took up a rusty pen, 
 dipped it in the ink-bottle, fished up a deceased, 
 ink-drenched, and bedraggled fly, with which he 
 made a ghastly smear on the white surface of the 
 book. 
 
 "Hold on a minute, hold on there; whatcher 
 got on that pen?" expostulated Alvy. 
 
 "Sorry," said the young man with a laugh; 
 "that s more of a fly -track than I usually make," 
 and, shaking the fly from the pen, wrote in a 
 bold hand his name, "Samuel Randolph," then 
 paused a moment while Alvy, looking over his 
 shoulder, waited, and then slowly wrote "Elm- 
 town, N. H." 
 
 "Live here, Mr. Randolph?" queried Alvy in 
 surprise. 
 
 "No, not exactly," replied Sam with a smile, 
 "but I am considering the matter of remaining." 
 
 "What business?" 
 
 "None at present." 
 
 "Looking for a job?" 
 
 "I would consider a good offer."
 
 A ROW 31 
 
 "Know anything about horses?" 
 
 ; Yes; I have ridden and driven a good many." 
 
 "Don t want to buy out a livery stable, do 
 you?" 
 
 "No, I d be the last one to run a livery 
 stable." 
 
 " Why? there s money in it for the right man." 
 
 "I guess I m not the right man, then." 
 
 "Why not? Ye can t tell till ye try it." 
 
 "The main reason is, that the first man who 
 brought a horse in blown or with whip-marks on 
 him, would have the price of the trip taken out of 
 his hide." 
 
 "Shake," said Alvy, proffering a remarkably 
 well-shaped hand, "that s my complaint ex 
 actly." 
 
 " Now," said Sam, after he had cordially gripped 
 Alvy s hand, " what can you give me for a room? " 
 
 "Lessee, there s number 34 in front, and num 
 ber 19 back, the only rooms I have now; ye see 
 them Kickapoo Indians has most of the rooms for 
 a week. After that, if ye stay, I can do better n 
 that for ye. * 
 
 "Well I ll look at the back room. I think if it 
 overlooks the stable-yard it will be more inter 
 esting than the view of the engine-house oppo 
 site," said Sam. 
 
 "Waal, I guess it ll suit ye," said Alvy as they 
 trailed upstairs.
 
 32 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Number 19 back was large and well-lighted, 
 with a comfortable bed, washstand, bureau, and 
 small table, with a bright, an almost too bright 
 carpet. It overlooked the stable-yard, where 
 stablemen were sitting in chairs leaning against 
 the stable, wherein horses stamped and switched 
 sleepily. 
 
 Sam at once decided in favor of number 19 and 
 left his grip there. As he went down the stairs he 
 inquired whether or not the Kickapoos would 
 indulge in any war-dances or war-whoops during 
 the night, and was assured by Alvy that they 
 were the quietest, best-natured people in the 
 world. 
 
 "Why, Big Chief Battle-Axe looks just like an 
 Irish feller who used to work for me, only he is 
 copper-colored and toes in. One thing, Mr. Ran 
 dolph, I want to warn ye about. The old Chief 
 will come up and want to shake hands with ye, 
 and he has got an almighty grip, and he 11 make 
 ye holler. So look out. It s fun for the boys, 
 though," said Alvy with a chuckle. 
 
 "All right, and thank you, Mr. Dole," said 
 Sam. "I ll look out for him." 
 
 Sam left the hotel and the loungers and 
 strolled down the street. Passing through the 
 square and up the main street, he noted the fine 
 square houses, the neatly kept lawns with the 
 revolving sprinklers, the magnificent drooping
 
 A ROW 33 
 
 elms and feathery maples. At the head of the 
 square stood another and larger hotel, a three- 
 story brick building known as the Rumscott, 
 Major Drake, proprietor. This was a famous old 
 hostelry, with a reputation for big dinners, fast 
 horses, and high play. 
 
 On the spacious piazzas sat the usual number 
 of loungers, tipped back in their chairs, with their 
 feet on the rail, smoking and talking. They were, 
 however, a wholly different class from the loung 
 ers in front of Alvy Dole s. They were better 
 dressed and were prosperous looking. Some of 
 the older men wore black coats and white vests, 
 while an occasional silk hat and spats lent dig 
 nity and even elegance to their appearance. A 
 burly red-faced man with an expansive girth and 
 curly gray hair and who might have posed as a 
 model for the immortal Sam Weller s equally im 
 mortal parent, stood at the main entrance, while a 
 tall, broad-shouldered man with the blackest of 
 blue-black side-whiskers and the shiniest of bald 
 heads, impressively assisted into a waiting car 
 riage two ladies and a gentleman. This accom 
 plished with a deal of ceremony, the bald-headed 
 man stepped gracefully to the front seat, took 
 the reins, cracked the whip, and with much cur 
 veting and champing of bits the horses started. 
 It was plainly a new carriage on its initial trip. 
 This was evident from the fact that at the corner
 
 34 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 of the hotel stood several stablemen from the 
 hotel stable, who watched with great compla 
 cency the shining carriage, the polished horses, 
 and the gold-mounted harness. 
 
 Sam paused and glanced with great interest at 
 the outfit as it took its majestic way up the quiet 
 village street. At that moment from a passage 
 way just beyond the hotel a large bay horse at 
 tached to a heavy Goddard buggy dashed into 
 the street. The lines were held by a very hand 
 some, medium-sized man with a beard touched 
 with gray, and sharp piercing eyes. Round came 
 the big bay under the whip, and before the bald- 
 headed man could pull in the gray pair the wheels 
 of the two carriages locked. There was a splin 
 tering crash, a scream from the ladies, a shout 
 from the bystanders, a profane explosion from 
 the driver of the big bay, and the double carriage 
 went down on one side. 
 
 Sam sprang for the head of the near horse as the 
 pair reared, while a husky stableman seized the 
 bay s head. For a moment all was confusion. 
 The bald-headed man shook his fist violently at 
 the driver of the bay, the latter cursed and swore, 
 and brandished his whip, while Sam, having 
 quieted the pair and given their heads to one of 
 the hotel -men, assisted the ladies and the old gen 
 tleman from the carriage. At that moment the 
 red-faced proprietor came rushing into the street
 
 A ROW 35 
 
 with an agility wholly unprecedented in a man 
 of his age and weight. Before the sharp-eyed man 
 could finish the oath then spewing from his 
 mouth, the proprietor seized him by the collar, 
 jerked him from the buggy, and began laying his 
 cane with sounding welts across his back and 
 legs. 
 
 At this, three or four stablemen and loungers 
 from the passageway rushed with loud Hibernian 
 whoops into the fray, while the men from the 
 hotel stable met them with fist, club, and brick 
 bat. Up drove two hacks at full speed and from 
 one, labeled "Hotel Rumscott" a long-armed, 
 black-bearded, curly-headed man sporting a 
 policeman s badge, sprang and rushed into the 
 fighting crowd, loudly calling on them to "Digest 
 in the name of the law!" From the other, a 
 square-built man, with huge feet and legs, dropped, 
 and with equal display of a policeman s badge 
 called in husky accents for "This assembly to 
 disperse in the name of the Lord." 
 
 Sam, not having any reason to be angry at 
 any one, sought to get out of the swirling crowd 
 when he saw a huge, evil-looking man rush from 
 the sidewalk, pick up a large stone, and rush be 
 hind the burly hotel-man, drawing his arm back 
 for a fearful blow. 
 
 Instantly seizing the man s poised arm with 
 one hand, and his collar with the other he
 
 36 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 gave him a violent twitch and pull that sent him 
 heels-over-head halfway across the street. Then, 
 grasping the proprietor by the wrists, he tore 
 him away from the kicking, struggling, and 
 blaspheming victim. 
 
 The fight stopped as soon as it began, and 
 in the face of the awful majesty of the law 
 the combatants drew back, cursing one another 
 roundly. 
 
 The driver of the bay horse still danced and 
 swore. 
 
 "Arrest Major Drake there! arrest him, damn 
 him ! Put him under arrest ! I m a Justice of the 
 Peace, and I order his arrest! do it now! do it 
 now, or I ll have your badge off!" he shrieked 
 with a stream of oaths, to the officer with huge 
 legs. 
 
 "Put that damned little scamp under arrest!" 
 roared the Major, red-faced and puffing. "I m a 
 Justice of the Peace and Quorum, and I order you 
 to arrest him for malicious mischief and defama 
 tion of character. Clap the irons onto him or I 11 
 have you removed from office before night!" he 
 stormed at the black-bearded constable. 
 
 "Major Drake, you are under arrest," said the 
 first officer, laying his hand lightly on the 
 Major s shoulder. 
 
 "The hell you say!" said the Major, swelling 
 like a turkey-cock.
 
 A ROW 37 
 
 "Mr. Blunt, you are my prisoner," said the 
 official with the black beard, advancing and 
 laying a huge hand on the arm of the excited 
 driver. 
 
 "Don t you dare put the irons on me, you 
 damned rascal, or I 11 sue you for false imprison 
 ment," stormed the peppery little man. 
 
 "Come, Chris, don t be a cussed fool," said 
 the officer with some exasperation ; " if I thought 
 ye very dangerous I d tie ye with a piece of 
 tow-string like a calf. All we want is for you 
 to come round when we hev the trial, ain t 
 that so, Mad?" he said, addressing the other 
 officer. 
 
 " That s all, Andrew; only Major and Chris is 
 both under arrest for breaking the peace, n " 
 said Mad. 
 
 N fitin ," chimed in Andrew, the man with a 
 black beard. 
 
 "N assault n battery," opined Mad. 
 
 "N malicious mischief," declared Andrew. 
 
 "N perfane language," asserted Mad. 
 
 "N brawl n tewmult," roared Andrew. 
 
 * N resistance to lawfully constitewted authori 
 ties," shouted Mad. 
 
 "N unlawful assemblage," vociferated An 
 drew. 
 
 "N - - n n raisin hell ginerally." 
 
 "Gord!" said the Major; "anything more?"
 
 38 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Blankity! blankity!! blank!!!" squealed 
 Chris; "you ll see, before I get through with 
 
 you." 
 
 Thereupon the Major, retiring to his hotel for 
 his coat, stamped down to Squire Branch s office 
 while Chris, having anointed himself plentifully 
 with liniment, hurried down to his brother Joe s 
 for the proper legal machinery to accomplish the 
 Major s undoing. 
 
 Sam, who had listened with great amusement 
 to the conversation, seeing no further opportunity 
 for entertainment there, renewed his stroll. As 
 he passed by a side street he noticed the fellow he 
 had thrown across the street waiting for him. 
 
 As Sam came up, the man stepped in front of 
 him. 
 
 "Say," he growled, with an oath, "you are the 
 feller who pitched me into the dirt?" 
 
 "Yes, I guess you are the man, and you cer 
 tainly look as if you had been there, all right," 
 said Sam with a laugh. 
 
 "P raps ye think ye can do it again?" leered 
 the man, thrusting his jaw forward belliger 
 ently. 
 
 "Why, yes," drawled Sam, lighting a cigar 
 ette, " I have n t the least doubt of it." 
 
 "Well, just come down here where we won t be 
 seen and I ll give you a chance to try," said the 
 fellow.
 
 A ROW 39 
 
 "Thanks, no, my friend," replied Sam pleas 
 antly; "I ve had plenty of excitement to-day, 
 and I think I can manage to get along without 
 any more." 
 
 "Ye 11 get a damned sight more if you ll come 
 down here for about five minutes," rasped the 
 fellow. 
 
 "Very likely," said Sam, flicking the ashes 
 from the tip of his cigarette. 
 
 "So you won t come?" said the man, raising 
 his voice. 
 
 "No," said Sam. 
 
 "P raps you d rather have it out here," he 
 roared, lurching forward. 
 
 "See here, Bill," said a voice behind, "you get 
 out of this lively or I ll run ye in," and Mad, 
 coming out of the lane to Blunt s stable, bore 
 down on the two. 
 
 "I ll see you ag in," growled Bill, moving 
 sulkily away. 
 
 "Not if I see you coming, my friend," smiled 
 Sam as he turned to the constable. 
 
 "What did that cuss want?" inquired Mad. 
 
 "He appeared to think I had been a little 
 rough with him when he tried to strike the Major 
 from behind," replied Sam. 
 
 "Rough with him! thunder! I should think 
 so," said Mad, choking with laughter. "Gosh! 
 you nearly snapped his head off when you jerked
 
 40 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 him away. Gaw! he went off jerking his head 
 and neck like a man trying to swallow a dry 
 doughnut," and the worthy officer slapped his 
 knee and roared. "Say," he continued, "look 
 out for him, he is a mean cuss, and will lay for 
 you if he gets a chance. He has done time before 
 this. But, Lord amity, how he did go one-sided, 
 like when you swing a cat by the tail. I bet he 
 never got such a sling as that before. Gaw ! " and 
 he roared again. - "By the way," he shouted, 
 "I forgot, we shall need you at the trial to-mor 
 row." 
 
 "I don t know anything about the case, man," 
 urged Sam. 
 
 Yes, you do. You are the man that pulled 
 the old Major off when he was whaling Chris. 
 You see I drive hacks for Chris, but, never mind, 
 he has needed a good lickin for some time, and 
 he got it too. Still, law is law, an we ve got to 
 perceed accordin to the forms. - - Where ye 
 stoppin ?" 
 
 "At the Columbia House." 
 
 "At Alvy s? Gaw! whatcher stoppin there 
 for? Why dontcher put up at the Major s?" 
 
 "Well, the Columbia seems well enough, and 
 cheap enough." 
 
 * Yes, but thunder! there s something goin on 
 at Major s all the time." 
 
 " If this is a specimen, I m afraid I m not up
 
 A ROW 41 
 
 to so much excitement, and there seems to be 
 something going on at Alvy s." 
 
 "Gaw! yes; Alvy s is lively enough to keep 
 you awake. So if we want ye, we can get ye 
 there, can we?" 
 
 Yes, I guess so, if you want me within a few 
 days." 
 
 "All right; good-day, sir; only keep your 
 weather eye open for Bill."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 
 
 BACK on the hotel piazza the thrashing given by 
 the Major to Blunt was the theme of general 
 conversation. 
 
 "By Gad! sir," said William Billowell, a vast 
 blond man, with his hair curled under behind, 
 and a chin beard, Chairman of the Board of 
 Selectmen, and a merchant of local weight, "if 
 Chris has Major arrested, I want the privilege of 
 paying his fine, and going bonds for him if bonds 
 are needed." 
 
 "Hold on there a minute, Bill," said a spare 
 old gentleman with a wig and old-fashioned, 
 highly polished calfskin boots, "I claim that 
 privilege as a vested right. I have known the 
 Major longer than you, and perhaps I feel a little 
 more keenly a long nursed grudge against 
 Blunt." 
 
 "Gentlemen all," said a portly man with a 
 large nose, prominent eyes and a stock, "I depre 
 cate the employment of force, the use of violence, 
 and especially do I oppose, and consistently op 
 pose, resort to weapons, even to so homely imple 
 ments, gentlemen, as the oaken staff, the ashen
 
 SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 43 
 
 stick, or the gold-headed cane. The immortal 
 Shakespeare has said, gentlemen, and I need not 
 remind you of it - 
 
 Beware thy entrance to a quarrel ; 
 
 But, once in, so conduct thyself 
 
 That thy enemy mayst beware of thee ; 
 
 and someone has said damfino who 
 
 Lay on McDuff, 
 And damned be him who first cries, Hold! enough! 
 
 Now, gentlemen," rising and placing his thumbs 
 in the armholes of his yellow vest, "our friend 
 Bacon has also remarked - 
 
 A wise man will make more opportunities than he finds. 
 
 I opine, gentlemen all, that had the latter lived in 
 the same town with that cantankerous, jealous- 
 minded, quarrel-breeding rascal of a Blunt, he 
 would have written 
 
 A wise man finds more opportunities than he can afford to take. 
 
 But, gentlemen, our honored friend, the Major, 
 has certainly improved this opportunity, and has 
 done it damned well, and I move you, gentle 
 men, that the house adjourn with me to the 
 ah sample-room and there pour out a libation 
 to the ah god of war, and ah pledge 
 a bumper to the stout cane and the ah 
 strong right arm of our honored boniface, Major 
 Drake." 
 
 With one accord there was a rasping scrape of 
 chairs and squeak of leather and wicker, and the
 
 44 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 assemblage decorously followed him to the bar 
 room and lined up. 
 
 "Gentlemen all, nominate your stimulant," 
 said the portly gentleman, with much ceremony. 
 
 "Rum," was the unanimous choice of the 
 coterie of worthies. 
 
 "Ah, gentlemen, well-chosen, my own prefer 
 ence, in fact. Ben," he added to the bartender, 
 "bring out a bottle of that spirituous irritant 
 known as New England Rum, a dash of lemon, 
 and a trifle of saccharine matter." 
 
 When the glasses were filled, the portly man 
 bowed low, with his hand on his heart, and raising 
 his glass, said, "Gentlemen, our friend of the 
 strong arm, the stout heart, and the oaken staff, 
 the Major." 
 
 The Major," echoed the assemblage, and the 
 liquor disappeared as quickly as if it were thrown 
 out of a window, and deep breaths of satisfaction 
 were drawn by all as they filed back to the steps 
 and resumed their chairs. 
 
 "By the way, gentlemen," said the Chairman 
 of the Board of Selectmen, "during the skirmish 
 there was a young fellow of more than average 
 size, who held the pair by the head and after 
 wards took a hand in the row. That is, he gave 
 Bill Evans an almighty sling across the road and 
 then pulled the Major away from Chris. Does 
 any one know him?"
 
 SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 45 
 
 "No, but I saw him hist Bill, and he did it just 
 in time, for Bill was after the Major with a rock 
 as big as a quart dipper. But I wish he had n t 
 pulled the Major off," said the man with the wig. 
 
 "Saw it too," said Mr. Timson, a short, thick 
 set, rather bandy-legged man with a large smooth 
 face, of ox-like placidity and lack of expression. 
 Mr. Timson was a tailor, and his language was 
 like the snip of his shears, brief and to the point. 
 "Bill with rock, back of Major, twitch, yank, 
 Bill on his back, rod away, Major all right, Chris, 
 damn rascal, not half enough." 
 
 "As our friend Timson sententiously remarks, 
 the young fellow, whoever he may be, was on 
 deck, to borrow a current baseball expression, 
 and undoubtedly ah saved our friend the 
 publican, haziness of ideas, or ah some dis 
 figurement, if nothing worse. Our friend is a 
 hard-headed gentleman, but ah in the event 
 of a violent collision between his head and a gran 
 ite boulder or brickbat, it is to be doubted if the 
 result would ah have been in any way de 
 trimental to the ah boulder, or beneficial 
 to our worthy friend s head. In my opinion, gen 
 tlemen, the unknown young man is worthy of 
 being honored with a libation. Will you gentle 
 men join me?" 
 
 Again in perfect time the boot heels thumped 
 on the floor as their owners tilted their chairs for-
 
 46 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 ward, the chairs scraped and squeaked, and the 
 gentlemen arose with alacrity and turned towards 
 the refreshment room. 
 
 At that moment the Major arrived, puffing. 
 
 "I was just saying, Major," said the portly 
 man, "that in honor of the valiant behavior of a 
 certain unknown young man, who did yeoman s 
 service in saving your head in the recent ah 
 disturbance, we would observe the ordinary and 
 proper ceremony, and ah at my expense." 
 
 "Hm hah," said the Major, "what 
 about it? Who was he? What did he do for me? 
 Where is he?" 
 
 "Well, Major, while you were administering 
 a very needed castigation and chastisement to 
 your most unworthy foeman, a well-known rene 
 gade and rowdy, Bill Evans, whom you, I be 
 lieve, have some reason to know, having ordered 
 him out of your ah refectory only a short 
 time prior to the ah pugilistic engagement, 
 tried to assault you from behind with a large 
 rock, when a youth ah 
 
 To fortune and to fame unknown, 
 
 that is to say, as far as our feeble knowledge of 
 the gentleman goes, seized the miscreant by the 
 scruff of his neck and incontinently pitched him 
 into the gutter." 
 
 "Hm hah, he did, did he?" said the Major. 
 "Senator," addressing the portly man, "this,
 
 SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 47 
 
 asking your pardon, is my treat, h m hah, 
 my treat." 
 
 "Major/ said the Senator with a profound 
 bow, "I decline, sir, as a gentleman should de 
 cline, to usurp ah sir, your prerogative." 
 
 "Right, sir," puffed the Major; "is it rum, gen 
 tlemen, as usual?" 
 
 "Rum, Major," chimed in the chorus. 
 
 "Senator," said the Major, as they poised 
 their glasses. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the Senator, "our former 
 toast to the Major s good right arm leads us to 
 similar thoughts in relation to that of the un 
 known gentleman, and our memory turns to the 
 immortal words of Campbell, paraphrased ah 
 amended a trifle, but still his pregnant words : 
 
 Yet for Sarmatia s tears of blood atone 
 And make your arm, puissant as his own. " 
 
 A vast sigh of satisfaction was heaved as the 
 empty glasses clashed on the bar. 
 
 Sam in the mean time had continued his walk 
 through the streets of the pretty town. He passed 
 the spacious Academy grounds and building, the 
 broad and level ball-grounds, now grown to 
 weeds, except one diamond where a scrub game 
 was being played by small boys; round by the 
 river winding through green woods and close-cut 
 brown fields, by the upper and lower dams and 
 the huge mills throbbing in the summer air; by the
 
 48 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 broad street of tide-water fringed by green 
 rushes, with the partly decayed wharfs where coal 
 schooners were tied up. 
 
 Already a hint of autumn was in the air. In 
 spite of the dry heat, an indefinable something 
 spoke of falling leaves, of a dying summer. Al 
 ready the bobolinks had donned their brown and 
 dust-colored traveling-suits, and were flying 
 over the dry fields in vaulting flight, uttering 
 their voyaging note, a sharp "spink" with each 
 rhythmic bound of their plump bodies. The rob 
 ins, faded and rusty, their new feathers showing 
 smoothly mottled through their old coats, their 
 wings and tails uneven and ragged from dis 
 carded feathers, were flying high in small flocks, 
 perching, chasing, and calling to one another in 
 the tops of the tallest trees. The younger birds in 
 full feather, but with breast still bearing the 
 speckled feathers of first year s growth, were 
 scurrying in mad flight through the trees and 
 shrieking joyously. Flocks of cherry birds flew 
 here and there, now alighting in the high trees, 
 now flying high in air, with sudden changes of di 
 rection and with their curious screaming twitter. 
 
 Near the banks of the fresh river, above the 
 bridges, and in the shallows, the lily pads were 
 becoming ragged on their outer edges as if 
 gnawed by fish or turtles, while here and there on 
 the banks the fire of the beautiful cardinal flower
 
 SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 49 
 
 was seen bending gracefully, while, as if challeng 
 ing comparison, a scarlet tanager, perching on 
 the limb of a huge pine, glowed like an ember 
 amidst the green. Far over the immense trees 
 shadowing the bend of the lower river, as it made 
 towards the bay, soared a magnificent golden 
 eagle in grand circles. 
 
 Sam noted these things with the avidious eyes 
 of a naturalist as he sat at the edge of the wharf 
 and let his feet hang down towards the water. 
 He noted the jerky flight of a kingfisher in mid 
 stream and listened with pleasure to its shrill rat 
 tle. He watched it alight on a dead branch of a 
 tree overhanging the pool, and raise its crest and 
 flirt its tail loosely. Then he saw it lean forward 
 with a sort of "make-ready" attitude, and 
 "plop!" it had dropped like a stone into the 
 placid water, had seized a small fish, emerged in 
 a tiny swirl of spray, and was on its perch again, 
 rapping the struggling fish on the branch with its 
 long strong beak, furnished with saw teeth. 
 
 Far above in the blue the swifts were flying in 
 lightning curves, swooping, descending, rising, 
 pausing with rapidly beating wings, then darting 
 so high that they seemed mere midges. The barn 
 and eaves swallows had left the inland for the 
 marshes by the sea, where millions were flying 
 and gorging themselves on the teeming insect 
 life of late August.
 
 50 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Suddenly the hoarse roar of the mill whistle 
 broke upon the rhythmic throb of the machines 
 and the trickle of water from the dam. Then 
 the hum of machinery ceased, and from the big 
 doors a black stream of operatives poured forth, 
 like swarming bees. From the other end of the 
 village were heard other whistles from the ma 
 chine works and the shoe factory, and then the 
 sound of the town clock striking six. 
 
 Supper-time, and Sam was hungry. Yet he 
 was interested in the stream of operatives com 
 ing from the mill, and hastily springing to his 
 feet he hurried to the corner of the main street to 
 intercept them as they came across the two 
 bridges. Standing by the corner, partly screened 
 by telegraph poles, he watched them. An inter 
 esting crowd of people of many types. Old men 
 - thin, bent, grizzled, with straw hats or thin 
 cloth caps, black or dark-striped cotton shirts 
 open at the neck and showing the skinny, corded 
 throats - - hurried along with the short jerky 
 gait that spoke eloquently of many hours on 
 their feet on hard wood floors. 
 
 Thin women with bent shoulders, and pitifully 
 out of date little straw hats or bonnets, with 
 skinny arms and claw-like hands clasping faded 
 waists together at their necks, hurried to their 
 suppers. Young fellows with muscular arms 
 showing to the elbows, hatless, coatless, bandying
 
 SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 51 
 
 jokes with young girls, still erect and comely. 
 Dark-skinned French chattering volubly in their 
 own language, dingy, stolid-faced Poles and 
 Armenians with coarse woolly beards, native 
 Yankees with shrewd, keen faces. 
 
 As they passed the second bridge and the 
 corner, the advance guard of the shoe workers, 
 from a mile away, came trotting through the 
 square in ancient wagons. A few minutes later 
 the stream of pedestrians arrived, hurrying, jost 
 ling, laughing, and chatting in French, German, 
 Yiddish, English, and Greek. 
 
 In ten minutes they had passed and the street 
 was again quiet in comparison. Clerks with their 
 coats over their arms were briskly going to their 
 suppers, and young girls from the dry goods 
 store, patting their puffed hair and settling their 
 belts, were tripping homeward. 
 
 Sam, too, was hungry from his walk, and started 
 towards the hotel, where the loungers were stiffly 
 up-ending themselves and scattering. As he 
 entered the hallway, he could see some of the 
 boarders standing in line before the wash-bowls. 
 The fortunate holders of the first place turned 
 the faucets, plunged their faces into the bowls 
 with mighty blowing and splashing, passed their 
 dripping hands through their hair, dried face and 
 hands on the dingy rollers, ran the comb and 
 brush over their hair, parting it very much to
 
 52 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 one side, and smoothing it flat to their heads, 
 turned down their sleeves, and were ready for 
 supper. 
 
 The Kickapoo Indians did not wash at all, but 
 entered the dining-room in a body, headed by the 
 big buck in full plains costume. When Sam came 
 down from his room, where he had washed his 
 face and hands and brushed his clothes, he found 
 the dining-room well filled. By previous arrange 
 ment the waiters had left an empty seat beside 
 the big Chief, and as Sam entered the room he 
 found every one looking at him with an amused 
 smile. Sam took the challenge and the seat. As 
 he pulled back his chair, the huge buck arose, and 
 with a guttural "How" extended a huge paw. 
 Sam took it, by a quick movement thrusting his 
 hand well up into the fork of the other s, thus 
 preventing the Chief from getting a palm hold on 
 his fingers. 
 
 A twinkle of amusement appeared in the Chief s 
 eyes as he turned on his vise, which turned to sur 
 prise, uneasiness, and anguish as Sam did the 
 same. For a moment they stood with hands 
 clasped, when suddenly with a yell the big Chief 
 bounded back, wrenching his hand violently 
 away from Sam s grip. 
 
 " Howly Jasus, me fingers is bruk," he groaned, 
 as he bent over and squeezed his injured hand 
 between his knees. "Ye must be the divil and
 
 SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 53 
 
 the father of divils," he added with hideous 
 grimaces, and then, suddenly recollecting, added 
 something supposed to be in the Kickapoo lan 
 guage, sounding like an explosion of gutturals. 
 
 The entire room burst into a roar of laughter, 
 under cover of which Sam took a seat at a side 
 table, near a half-dozen mechanics, who smiled a 
 welcome. 
 
 Young man," said one of them, a grizzled, 
 muscular veteran of forty -five, "y u must have a 
 grip like an eagle s claw. That old cuss has nearly 
 broke the hand of every man here. I ve got a 
 pretty good grip, and so have the rest of the boys 
 from working in iron, but he made us all dance." 
 
 "It was more a trick than anything else, al 
 though I have a good grip," laughed Sam. "You 
 see it *s all in getting the right hold. If he gets it, 
 he can hurt you. If you get it, and know how to 
 use it, you can hurt him. It used to be a favorite 
 trick with the crew men in college, and I suppose 
 I learned it pretty well there. Put your hand out 
 and I ll show you how simple it is." 
 
 "No, thank you," laughed the man; "I got 
 enough from the old Chief." 
 
 "Oh, I did n t mean to grip you, that s low- 
 down business, but only to show you how to pre 
 vent it." 
 
 "All right, then," said the man, and a stained 
 brown hand came out.
 
 54 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Sam then taught him how to get the palm hold 
 where the hand was thickest and strongest, a 
 simple enough trick. Then his order was brought 
 in, and he gave it for a short time his undivided 
 attention, for he was very hungry. The supper 
 was wholesome and well-cooked, and Sam enjoyed 
 it thoroughly. 
 
 While eating he listened to the conversation of 
 the men, which was interesting, although of mat 
 ters about which he knew little or nothing. The 
 working of a certain new lathe at the machine 
 works and a break in a heel-burnishing machine 
 at the shoe factory formed a part of the conver 
 sation, while the question whether or not the 
 "Old Man" would take Elkins on as foreman of 
 the foundry in the absence of Welden, who was 
 in Lowell, called forth some remarkably free 
 comments about Elkins s ability and the "Old 
 Man s " stupidity. Then as Bill Donelly had been 
 bitten by Mike Hanley s bulldog, it was an open 
 question, calling for much argument and specu 
 lation, as to whether or not a dog license pro 
 tected the owner from a suit for damages by the 
 injured party, and prevented the killing of the 
 animal by the dog officer or any authority. 
 
 Whenever the dispute would wax warm, an ap 
 peal would be made to the grizzled man who was 
 called Ben, and whose opinions were clear, con 
 cise, and much to the point. Indeed, when one
 
 SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 55 
 
 young fellow, who had started a joking dispute as 
 to the relative strength of Alvy s whiskey and 
 Major Drake s rum, appealed to him, he said 
 with emphasis, "Whiskey or rum, my lad, is a 
 mighty good thing to let alone, and you may 
 be sure that both Alvy s whiskey and Major s 
 rum are bad enough without wasting any time 
 or money in trying to find out which is the worse. 
 When you wake up in the morning with a head as 
 big as a wash-tub or with the heartburn, it makes 
 little difference what brand of liquor you use." 
 
 "Say, Ben, you ought to turn temperance lec 
 turer," laughed one. 
 
 "Maybe I will, some day, and take you lads as 
 good examples," answered Ben quietly. 
 
 "Well, Ben," said the young fellows as they 
 folded up their napkins and stuffed them into the 
 japanned napkin rings, "will you have anything 
 before you go to the concert?" 
 
 "No, you boys know I won t. Better drop it 
 for once," he said. 
 
 But the young fellows laughed and went out 
 laughing, and Ben turned to Sam. 
 
 "Those are good young chaps and they ought 
 not to be here. A boarding-house is what they 
 need." 
 
 "But there are saloons and hotels. They could 
 get a drink when they wanted it, could n t 
 they?" asked Sam.
 
 56 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Yes," said Ben, "but they don t drink be 
 cause they want it, but because it is fashionable 
 and the thing. If it was n t right under their 
 noses, they would n t think of it. Why ! if it was 
 the fashion to drink castor oil, there would be 
 plenty of young fools who would swear it was just 
 the thing they wanted." 
 
 "Well," said Sam, "I guess you are right. But 
 what concert were they talking about? I am 
 a stranger here, and may have to stay here a 
 day or two, and I have n t anything to do to 
 night." 
 
 " Oh, a band concert on the square every Thurs 
 day night. You see the town pays for it." 
 
 "The local band, I suppose," said Sam, with a 
 slightly bored expression. 
 
 ! Yes, but really not half bad. I ve heard lots 
 of worse ones in much larger places." 
 
 "Are you going?" inquired Sam. 
 
 "Yes, I always go when I am in town, it kills 
 an evening and makes me feel better." 
 
 "Well, if you don t mind, I d like to go with 
 you," said Sam. 
 
 "Mighty glad to have you," said Ben. "I ve 
 got to go to my room to dress and shave, if you 
 will wait. I ll be down in about a half -hour, or 
 you can come up." 
 
 Sam declined, saying he would smoke on the 
 front steps, and they left the table together.
 
 SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 57 
 
 On the piazza Sam got a chair, tipped back 
 against the clapboards, filled and lighted his pipe, 
 and looked up and down the street. It was nearly 
 half-past seven o clock, and already the store 
 windows were brightly lighted. Across the street 
 in the engine-house the shining brasses of the big 
 engine contrasted with the brilliant crimson of 
 the wheels and pole. Back in the broad stalls the 
 heavy rangy bays stamped and munched, while 
 the driver and one or two loungers, tipped back 
 in chairs, answered the cheerful greetings of the 
 clerks, on their way back to the stores, and of the 
 workmen, returning from their suppers for their 
 evening in the street. 
 
 One by one the hotel loungers returned to their 
 seats, and Sam noticed that they invariably 
 came from the vicinity of the barroom. Their 
 conversation, however, was so amusing that Sam 
 was surprised when the half-hour was up and 
 Ben returned, shaved, collared, and dressed in a 
 neat gray suit and striped shirt with soft collar. 
 
 Together they strolled, pipe in mouth, towards 
 the square, where they found people arriving. 
 Groups of young girls, chattering, laughing, and 
 screaming shrilly at some light jest, passed up 
 and down the streets. Dingy and worn women 
 dragging eager children, or pushing baby-car 
 riages, sought for comfortable seats on the grass- 
 plots. Old men with canes and a few with
 
 58 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 crutches sat on the grass or on curbstones and 
 talked quietly. Rows of young men, arm in arm, 
 or walking side by side and smoking cheap 
 cigars, passed up and down the street, exchang 
 ing greetings with one another or badinage with 
 the girls. 
 
 In the centre of the square the bandstand was 
 being lighted and the musicians were taking their 
 seats, setting up their music racks and peeling 
 the green cloth covers from their brass and wood 
 instruments. Carriages, farm wagons, democrats, 
 and buckboards were arriving filled with country 
 people, while carriages from the beaches were 
 backing into position in front of the town hall. 
 
 Eight o clock struck from the old church belfry. 
 The band leader raised his arm, there was the 
 beat of a measure, a vigorous semicircular wave 
 of the baton, and the band broke into the swing 
 ing measures of a popular quickstep. Instantly 
 the walking crowd instinctively fell into step, 
 those sitting nodded their heads in time to the 
 music, and the entire assemblage listened intently 
 and with great delight, and applauded vigorously 
 at the close of the selection. A standard overture 
 followed, then a popular selection, a waltz, a solo 
 for trombone, a morceau caracteristique, a solo 
 for piccolo, a military march, and presto ! an hour 
 had passed and the concert was over. The old 
 men resumed their canes and crutches, the baby-
 
 SOCIETY IN ELMTOWN 59 
 
 carriages were unlimbered and trundled off, the 
 nine o clock curfew pealed out, and the crowd 
 thinned out. 
 
 Sam was astonished by the excellence of the 
 music, the behavior of the crowd, the perfect 
 order, the enjoyment, the good nature, and the 
 critical appreciation of some especially fine bit of 
 harmony or melody as evidenced by the applause, 
 and walked slowly back to his hotel with his 
 friend. 
 
 The loungers were still there, intent upon a col 
 loquy between Newt and AIvy, the former en 
 treating the latter to trust him for just one more 
 drink, the latter protesting that his account as 
 chalked up could not bear any more padding. 
 
 "Now, look-a-here, Alvy, if you won t trust 
 me, why treat for once, Alvy, just for once. Le ss 
 have a record broken. Let it be given to the pub 
 lic that Alvy Dole opened his heart and treated. 
 Come, Alvy, it s wuth it, it s wuth it." 
 
 " Now hold on, Newt," said Alvy ; "ain t I been 
 a treatin on ye every time I chalk down a drink, 
 n now ye say I hain t never opened my heart; 
 hold on now, Newt, hoi on. Now, Newt, I II tell 
 you jes what I ll do. If you ll make up a poem 
 right now, ithout hesitatin , I ll treat the crowd 
 on ye. A new poem, mind ye, not an old one." 
 
 Instant attention of the crowd. 
 
 "I ll go ye, Alvy, a treat fer the crowd, if I
 
 60 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 make up a poem outer my own head, a new one. 
 I ll go ye. What l yer hav , a funny one or a 
 sollum one?" 
 
 "Waal," drawled Alvy, "give us a sollum one." 
 "All right, Alvy, here goes," said Newt, 
 mounting a chair and raising his arm with a com 
 manding gesture, while the crowd of loungers 
 gazed at him with kindling eyes and open 
 mouths. 
 
 Then without a moment s hesitation, Newt 
 intoned - 
 
 Where are the boys we used to know. 
 Always so gay and frisky, 
 Down in the graveyard lying low 
 From drinking Al Dole s whiskey. 
 
 For a moment Alvy remained speechless with 
 indignation, when there was a roar of laughter 
 and applause as the crowd of loungers, bearing 
 Alvy in their midst, swept towards the barroom, 
 while Sam, very much amused, ran up the uneven 
 stairs to bed.
 
 WHEI1E ARE THE BOYS WE USED TO KNOW ?
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 COURT-ROOM AMENITIES 
 
 THE next morning Sam was roused from a 
 heavy sleep by a variety of unusual noises. 
 There was an occasional rattle of carriage wheels, 
 the thud and stamping of horses feet on plank 
 floors, the scraping of shovels, frequent oaths and 
 sharp slaps, emphasizing hoarse commands, to 
 " Stan over thar ! " " Get off my foot, you blank- 
 ety blank old sprung-kneed, wall-eyed, spavined 
 plug," - whack ! stamp ! snort ! 
 
 Then the measured scrape of currycombs, and 
 jovial, hilarious songs and whistles. Then an im 
 patient voice called out, "Is Alvy up?" and 
 "What time do ye open the barroom?" and 
 whether or not "Alvy wants a man to die of 
 thirst right on the doorstep?" 
 
 Then a drawling voice, with a marked Irish 
 accent, said, "Ta-a-a-ke a dhrink outer the horse 
 trough, if ye can t wait," followed by a profane 
 reply consigning the speaker to the uttermost 
 regions of Hades. 
 
 Sam yawned and grinned as he listened and 
 thought of the lively times of yesterday. Then 
 he suddenly remembered the trial, and won-
 
 62 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 dered whether or not he would be required as a 
 witness, and if so by which side. 
 
 The sun was up, and he could see it through 
 the curtains gilding the metal gutters of a build 
 ing in the rear of the hotel. Then came a raucous 
 squealing and grunting of pigs and more profane 
 comments and the rapping of a flat stick on flesh, 
 then the cackling of fowls and the whirring and 
 cooing of pigeons. 
 
 It was evident to Sam that even though the 
 early morning tipplers were being neglected that 
 the stock on the place was numerous and well 
 cared -for. 
 
 Then feet began to clatter up and down the 
 passages and stairways, and voices were heard 
 demanding various articles, -- water, towels, 
 soap, and blacking, and the rattling of latches 
 and keys in rickety locks. 
 
 It was plain that the guests were waking up, 
 the only notable exception being prolonged, reg 
 ular, and terrific snores from a room a short dis 
 tance down the corridor, which sonorously pro 
 claimed the fact that one sleeper, at least, defied 
 the noises of the morning, and explained to Sam 
 the reason why he dreamed of sawmills the en 
 tire night. 
 
 Sam lay and lazed away the moments until a 
 delicious smell of steak, fried potatoes, and coffee 
 stole across the widely divergent but not un-
 
 COURT-ROOM AMENITIES 63 
 
 pleasant smell of the barns and stables, when he 
 sprang up, and, making a virtue of necessity, 
 made a somewhat limited toilet with the means 
 at hand and descended to the yard. 
 
 The good-natured Irishman, who was rubbing 
 down a shapely, nervous bay mare, grinned at his 
 approach and gave him "Th top av th marnin ." 
 
 Sam answered pleasantly and remarked on the 
 good points of the mare. 
 
 "She is thot," said Pat, "with two in a boogy, 
 n divil av a tooch of th whip, an sorra a sook o 
 th tooth, thot mare 11 rhoad ye foortain moiles 
 an hour." 
 
 "Fourteen miles an hour!" said Sam with a 
 smile; "she must be a wonder." 
 
 "She is thot," said Pat, expectorating pro 
 fusely. 
 
 "A little bit nervous, is n t she?" asked Sam, 
 as the mare laid her ears flat to her thin bony 
 head, and rolled her eyes dangerously. 
 
 "She s a divil, av there ivir wuz wan," said 
 Pat. 
 
 "Well, a nervous highstrung mare is gener 
 ally a roadster," said Sam, boldly running his 
 hand over her forehead and smoothing her ears 
 forward in spite of her threats. "But come, now, 
 Pat, won t you call it ten miles instead of four 
 teen, just to oblige a friend?" 
 
 "Divil of a mile will Oi ta-a-a-ke off, not a
 
 64 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 rhod, not a domned yard, not a domned inch. 
 Jist foortain moiles, nayther moore nor liss. D ye 
 moind me," continued Pat, knocking his pipe on 
 his hard palm to shake out the ashes and sticking 
 it in the band of his old slouch hat, "if yez want 
 a droive to Brookmouth, or to Ocean Beach, or to 
 Yappin with th bhoys, on a little bit av a toime, 
 yez want to ta-a-ke this mare, but if yez want to 
 take a yoong la-a-a-dy out dhroiving, an use wan 
 hand for the loines, n th ither fer th yoong lady, 
 ye d betther ta-a-a-ke auld Sarah, th auld bay 
 mare forninst the gray in th sta-a-ble there," 
 and he ran his currycomb under the mare s belly 
 causing her to squeal and lash out with her hind 
 foot. 
 
 Sam entered the stable, with its long double 
 row of stalls, from which protruded the rumps of 
 horses, grays, bays, blacks, chestnuts, and 
 sorrels, some smooth and glossy from recent 
 groomings, some rough and sweat-stained from 
 late use; some round and smooth, some gaunt 
 and old, with stall-scarred hips, but the majority 
 in excellent condition. Behind each stall was the 
 name of its occupant, Topsey, Johnny Roach, 
 Sarah, Polly, Nigger, Empress, Silver Tail, King, 
 - while on a wooden peg hung the particular 
 harness sacred to the wearer. In the middle of 
 the floor two horses, head-hitched by side straps 
 from the top beams, were taking their morning
 
 COURT-ROOM AMENITIES 65 
 
 rub-downs without protest, while in the carriage 
 house a man in leather apron and rubber boots 
 was whirling the jacked-up wheels of a piano box 
 buggy and playing on them with a hose. 
 
 As Sam concluded his inspection and left the 
 stable he saw Alvy come to the door of the office 
 in his shirt-sleeves, and immediately there was a 
 simultaneous if somewhat stiff-legged rush to the 
 barroom, of the loungers who had gradually col 
 lected on the steps of the harness room and the 
 seats of unused wagons. Evidently Alvy was in 
 demand. Then the breakfast gong roared, and 
 Sam went in at the front door. 
 
 He found Ben and the boys already at the 
 table, and they all expressed surprise at seeing 
 him so early, but said little and ate rapidly and 
 somewhat gluttonously, all except Ben, who had 
 a rather neat way of eating that was in striking 
 contrast to his associates. When they finished 
 they went into the office, followed quickly by 
 Ben, who said audibly to them, "Not a drop this 
 morning, boys; you can t begin work for me in 
 that way." 
 
 Sam leisurely ate his breakfast, which was 
 wholesome and well cooked, and watched the 
 boarders and guests as they straggled in. There 
 were several clerks, very shiny as to their cellu 
 loid collars and cuffs, and very sleek as to their 
 carefully parted hair. They had evidently been
 
 66 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 out late the night before, and somewhat loudly 
 agreed with one another that they felt "played 
 out." Indeed, one of them, a youth remarkable for 
 general lankiness and rejoicing in an exceedingly 
 protuberant Adam s apple that covered extra 
 ordinary distances when he swallowed, ventured 
 the opinion that it would be as much as his job 
 was worth if the old man should find out that he 
 was "corned" the night before. Then there were 
 references to a certain young lady named Stella 
 and another named Min, and mention of three in 
 a buggy and other matters tending to show that 
 they were fellows who certainly knew life. 
 
 They were very free with the table girl, and 
 she evidently regarded their sallies as the concen 
 trated essence of humor, as her loud cackling 
 laughter rang a sharp treble to the hoarse bass of 
 their deeper tones. They ate heartily, although 
 they found much fault with the food, asking the 
 girl why Alvy did n t patronize the new harness 
 maker when he wanted steak, and which of the 
 tugs that particular piece belonged to. They 
 drank their coffee noisily from their saucers, 
 tucked their napkins into their necks, and did 
 other things that rather indicated their lack of 
 perception of the niceties, but were good-natured 
 and Sam found them rather amusing. 
 
 He was also amused at the very stately old 
 lady who came in after the young men had left,
 
 COURT-ROOM AMENITIES 67 
 
 and who as a privileged guest had her own table, 
 where she and the ugliest, pop-eyed, dewlapped, 
 asthmatic, waddling, husky-voiced pug dog Sam 
 had ever seen, sat in state. Her wig was of that 
 indescribable greenish yellow color sometimes 
 seen on the back of cheap and shopworn coats. 
 Her pitiful old face, a mass of wrinkles, was so 
 carelessly yet thickly powdered and rouged as to 
 present an appearance never before seen in, on, 
 above, or under the earth. Her dress was a mass 
 of flounces and tucks, her yellow hands and arms 
 loaded with rings, bangles, and bracelets, and she 
 managed with much dignity a lorgnette, through 
 which she eyed Sam with evident curiosity and 
 condescension. 
 
 As she entered, she had dropped her handker 
 chief, a filmy bit of lace, which Sam, perceiving, 
 rescued and presented to her with a courteous 
 bow, and was rewarded by the old lady with a 
 stately inclination, and a smile which disclosed 
 a set of dazzling but glaringly false teeth, and by 
 the pug with a series of gasping barks that shook 
 his fat body like a mass of jelly. 
 
 An old gentleman with a tight black coat, open 
 at the breast, stock, and gold spectacles, entering 
 at this moment, bowed with his hand to his heart 
 and took a seat at the other end of the room, 
 near a side window, while the stately lady bridled 
 and simpered with so affected a juvenility that
 
 68 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Sam was obliged to hide a smile in the folds of 
 his worn napkin. 
 
 As he passed out of the dining-room towards 
 the piazza he met the Kickapoo Chief, w ho 
 passed him on his way from the barroom, with a 
 curt nod, a guttural "How?" and a fairly audible 
 smell of gin, but without any attempt to shake 
 hands. 
 
 Sam heard his name called as he came on the 
 piazza, and met a very officious gentleman in a 
 black frock coat and a tall hat, who asked him if 
 his name was Samuel Randolph. On being in 
 formed that he answered to that name, the offi 
 cious gentleman informed him that he was J. 
 Wadlin, a deputy of the sheriff of the County of 
 Rockaway, removed from his hat a bundle of 
 papers, selected one, opened it, adjusted his 
 spectacles, and read rapidly but sonorously - 
 
 " State N Hamshr. Cty Rockaw^ay, you quired 
 appear at Justiscort Cortroom ten clock testify 
 whacherknow action State vsus. Drake, herof 
 fail not, answer dfault pains penalties perjury." 
 
 Upon the conclusion of this remarkable state 
 ment, the officious gentleman replaced the paper 
 in the bundle, replaced the bundle in the tall hat, 
 replaced the hat upon his head, drew a wallet from 
 his breast pocket, unwound a long leather strap, 
 opened the wallet, and counted out the sum of 
 seventy-seven cents which he handed Sam with
 
 COURT-ROOM AMENITIES 69 
 
 the explanatory words, "Your fee," and turned 
 to go; when Sam detained him, and asked: 
 
 "But what is this all about? I don t quite un 
 derstand; you read so fast." 
 
 "Why the Major Drake assault case, before 
 Justice Ball; you re a witness," replied the offi 
 cial. 
 
 "Yes, I know," said Sam, somewhat doubt 
 fully, "but where is it to be? You see I m not 
 very well acquainted here." 
 
 "Grand Jury Room in the Court-House, ten 
 o clock, up one flight, first door to left," and J. 
 Wadkin, being a man of action and a busy man, 
 departed rapidly. 
 
 A moment later Sam saw him stop another 
 man and go through the same legal formality 
 with him, and then taking him by the buttonhole 
 confer with him very earnestly and with much 
 gesticulation. Finally they parted with some 
 ceremony and much hearty laughter. 
 
 Sam noted that the man whom he had sum 
 moned was a portly man with a large nose, pro 
 minent eyes, and a stock; that he held himself 
 very erect, walked with rather a stately tread, 
 acknowledged salutations with impressive court 
 esy, and was an extremely fine-looking old gen 
 tleman. 
 
 As Sam sauntered down the street, gazing with 
 interest at the pedestrians and teams, he was met
 
 70 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 by Officer Andrew Brown, who pulled up his pair 
 of veteran hack horses and told him he was 
 wanted at once at Squire Branch s office. This 
 was as a command to Sam, and he nodded his 
 thanks to the officer and hurried to his appoint 
 ment. 
 
 As he ran upstairs and entered the office, he 
 found the Squire busily at work, alternately 
 leaning back in his chair, pushing his spectacles 
 to his bushy hair, shooting a volley of crisp, curt 
 questions at a witness under examination, and 
 making memoranda on a pad in a style of chiro- 
 graphy undecipherable to any one but himself. 
 He looked up sharply as Sam entered, nodded, 
 pointed to a seat, and went on with his examina 
 tion of the witness. In rapid succession he dis 
 posed of several witnesses until it came to Sam s 
 turn. 
 
 "What name, young man?" the Squire asked, 
 leaning over the table with pen poised. 
 
 "Why, Samuel Randolph," said Sam hesitat 
 ingly. 
 
 "How do you spell the * Why in your name? " 
 demanded the Squire. 
 
 Sam flushed a bit. "My name is Samuel Ran 
 dolph, as I supposed you knew." 
 
 "In lawsuits we know nobody, young man," 
 retorted the Squire, with a sharp glance from 
 under his bushy eyebrows. "How old? "
 
 COURT-ROOM AMENITIES 71 
 
 "Twenty-three." 
 
 "Residence?" 
 
 "New York, or perhaps I should say Elm- 
 town." 
 
 "Perhaps not, there may be some doubt of 
 that," said the Squire, with a slight suspicion of a 
 smile in his deep-set eyes. 
 
 "New York, then," said Sam curtly. 
 
 That is better," said the Squire. "Now, tell 
 what you saw about the assault on the Major 
 here." 
 
 Sam detailed briefly what he saw of the caning 
 and the part he took in it. 
 
 The Squire listened without comment, until 
 Sam finished, when he asked: - 
 
 "How far was Major s team from the alley 
 w r hen Chris drove out?" 
 
 "About one hundred feet." 
 
 "How far from the alley side of the street? " 
 
 "About three times the width of the carriage." 
 
 "Which team was being driven the faster?" 
 
 The one coming from the alley." 
 
 "Did that team have time and room to pass?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Was there any other team on the ground?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Any other circumstance you noticed?" 
 
 "I saw Chris, as you call him, strike his horse 
 after he turned into the street."
 
 72 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Could he have seen Major s team?" 
 
 "He must have seen it." 
 
 That will do, sir," said the Squire. "Now, 
 Major, this is what will happen: the Court will 
 find you guilty of assault and battery and fine 
 you. He can t help it under the evidence. I am 
 satisfied that Chris smashed your carriage inten 
 tionally, and you can make him pay for it. But 
 you had no legal justification for warming his 
 hide, but I guess there is not any reason to be 
 worried about it." 
 
 "Worried!" said the Major stoutly, "I would 
 be almighty glad to get another crack at him for 
 a fifty-dollar fine. I m willing to go in and plead 
 guilty." 
 
 "Well, Major, I guess there won t be any plea 
 of guilty. If the Court should decide to send you 
 to jail for a month, I am a little afraid of not get 
 ting an appeal, after that kind of a plea. No, we 
 will plead Not guilty and let them put in their 
 evidence," said the Squire as he rose. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," he said with a smile, "we 
 will go over and take our medicine. Randolph, 
 you will have a little practical illustration of the 
 practice of law in a country town; that is, of one 
 kind of practice. Perhaps after our friend the at 
 torney for the prosecution finishes with you, you 
 may decide to take the first train for New York." 
 
 "I am afraid not, Mr. Branch; I have got to
 
 COURT-ROOM AMENITIES 73 
 
 stay here long enough for a fellow named Bill to 
 thrash me. It would seem rather rough on Bill 
 to leave without giving him a chance," said Sam 
 pleasantly. 
 
 "Yes, I have heard of that, and I am rather 
 afraid Bill may keep his word. I guess I will 
 speak a word to Bill about keeping on his side of 
 the street," said the Squire. 
 
 "Please don t, Mr. Branch. I am not intend 
 ing to have any row with Bill, and shall try to 
 avoid one, but I really can take care of myself, 
 and don t need a guardian." 
 
 "Well, as you please," said the Squire; "but 
 Bill is a rough customer, and I have about de 
 cided to make an end of his deviltry." 
 
 "Well," said Sam, "perhaps I can if I am 
 obliged to." 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," said the Squire with a 
 genial smile, "remember to answer questions, 
 and don t volunteer any information or opinion 
 until you are asked. And above all, don t dodge 
 or equivocate or refuse to answer questions. I 
 will object to any improper question. Another 
 thing, and remember this, don t think that you 
 are bound to have an answer for every question. 
 If you don t know the answer, don t be afraid to 
 say so. And don t be afraid if your answers are 
 not alike. No two persons ever saw a fight in 
 exactly the same manner."
 
 74 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "To sum it up, just tell the truth as the thing 
 appeared to you, and you will not have any 
 trouble. Now, do any of you wish to be sum 
 moned?" 
 
 "Summoned! No, sir, I guess not," was the 
 prompt answer. 
 
 But Sam added that he had already been sum 
 moned by the other side. 
 
 "H m," said the Squire; "I wish I had known 
 that; I should not have felt at liberty to examine 
 you. Confound it, Joe will make the most of it. 
 Well, it is too late now, we had better be going," 
 and he picked up his green bag and led the way to 
 the court-room, to which a large number of peo 
 ple were going.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 
 
 THE court-room was a large long room in the 
 second floor of the town house, used during 
 the sessions of the Supreme Court as the Grand 
 Jury Room. There was a platform with a flat 
 desk at one end of the room. This was surrounded 
 by a railing, within which was a long table and 
 desk for the counsel and several benches for the 
 parties and their witnesses. Outside of the railing 
 the spectators sat on long settees or benches, and 
 spat copiously upon the floor. 
 
 The complainant, his witnesses, and counsel, 
 an extremely handsome man of about fifty, with 
 pointed beard, snapping black eyes, and a quick, 
 nervous, aggressive manner, were already within 
 the railed inclosure. 
 
 J. Wadlin, the deputy sheriff, was talking earn 
 estly to an elderly man with glasses, whom he 
 held by the buttonhole, which appeared to be a 
 habit with him. The benches were rapidly filling 
 up, and every face seemed to bear a sort of de 
 lighted expectancy, as if something very inter 
 esting was going to happen. Every man, as he 
 entered the room, shook the ashes from his pipe,
 
 76 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 or carefully placed his cigar, lighted end out 
 wards, on the window-sill, much charred by years 
 of similar storage, to await his return, removed 
 his hat, smoothed his hair, and took a seat as near 
 the front as he could, and prepared to get as 
 much enjoyment out of the proceedings as pos 
 sible. 
 
 The benches rapidly filled and the entry was 
 crowded when the Justice came in. Justice Ball 
 was a large, heavy, elderly man with a shaved 
 upper lip, an exceedingly bald shiny head, a 
 fringe of gray whiskers like a pepper-and-salt 
 halo, a short broad back, and somewhat bowed 
 legs. He took a seat at the desk, removed his 
 black slouch hat, reached into his pocket, pulled 
 out a red bandanna handkerchief, wiped his head, 
 polished his glasses, nodded to the counsel, and 
 said, 
 
 "Court is open; proceed, gentlemen." 
 
 Instantly the counsel for the prosecution 
 bounced to his feet as if propelled by a powerful 
 spring and spoke rapidly : - 
 
 "F Honor please, I ve a complaint against 
 Aaron P. Drake, charging him with aggravated 
 assault on Christopher Blunt," and he tendered 
 the Court a folded paper. 
 
 Whereupon the Court, turning to the Squire, 
 asked him if he wanted to look at it. 
 
 / I do, your Honor," said the Squire, rising.
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 77 
 
 Then after a moment s examination, he resumed, 
 Just as I thought, your Honor; I move to quash 
 the complaint." 
 
 "Quash the complaint! I guess that complaint 
 is all right," snapped Mr. Blunt. "State your 
 grounds, Mr. Branch, state your grounds; I de 
 mand, your Honor, that my brother state the 
 grounds of his motion," fumed Mr. Blunt in 
 some excitement. 
 
 "I will so state them, your Honor," said the 
 Squire slowly and impressively. 
 
 "Well, go ahead and state them. We want to 
 know. We are entitled to know. And we are 
 going to know," said Mr. Blunt, so rapidly that 
 his words were scarcely distinguishable. 
 
 "Well," said the Squire slowly, and with the 
 utmost deliberation, "I will state them, your 
 Honor, if my brother here will keep quiet long 
 enough." 
 
 "Let him state his grounds, Mr. Blunt," said 
 the Court, taking a pen and preparing to take 
 notes of the motion. 
 
 "On page 409 of the General Statutes of our 
 State, Section I, you will find these words: 
 Writs, declarations, processes, indictments, an 
 swers, pleadings, and entries of records in the 
 Courts shall be in the English language, and in no 
 other. 
 
 "Now, your Honor, in spite of this most ele-
 
 78 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 mentary maxim, my Brother Blunt comes into 
 court of this State and produces a complaint and 
 a warrant drawn in no language known to civil 
 ized man on the face of the globe. I defy any 
 man living to decipher it," and with a sniff of dis 
 gust that belied the gleam of humor in his eyes he 
 tossed the paper on the Justice s desk. "And so 
 I move, your Honor - 
 
 But he got no further, for Mr. Blunt, who had 
 jumped up and sat down several times, like a 
 man on a red-hot seat, while the Squire was 
 speaking, now opened fire with a torrent of furi 
 ous words. 
 
 When he was through, which was not until the 
 Justice checked him, the latter said : - 
 
 "I admit that my brother s writing is a bit dif 
 ficult to read, but I guess I can manage to get the 
 gist of it." 
 
 The only trouble is, Branch can t read," 
 sputtered Mr. Blunt. 
 
 That s true as far as your writing goes," said 
 the Squire. 
 
 "Well," said the Justice, "I will overrule the 
 motion, and read the complaint." 
 
 \Vhereupon he ordered the Major to stand up, 
 and read the complaint, which charged the 
 Major, with many aforesaids and much repeti 
 tion, with having committed an assault of an 
 aggravated nature upon one Christopher Blunt,
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 79 
 
 and him the said Blunt he the said Drake with 
 a heavy cane, which he then and there in his 
 right hand had and held, did beat, bruise, wound, 
 and ill-treat, and then and there many grievous 
 blows with said weapons, to wit, said cane so in 
 said right hand then and there as aforesaid had 
 and held, upon the back, hips, legs, arms, and 
 sides of him the said Blunt did then and there 
 strike, whereby and by means of said beating 
 and striking said back, hips, legs, arms, and sides 
 of him the said Blunt became bruised, swollen, 
 and discolored and he the said Blunt became 
 grievously sick and diseased, contrary to the form 
 of the statute in such case made and provided 
 and against the peace and dignity of the State; 
 and after reading the same, the Major, nothing 
 daunted by the formidable nature of the docu 
 ment, stoutly pleaded not guilty and sat down. 
 
 Lawyer Blunt then took the floor and called 
 his first witness, the complainant, Mr. Blunt, 
 whom we will call Chris, as that was the name by 
 which he was best known. 
 
 Chris took the oath with great fervor, holding 
 his hand as high as he could reach, and, looking 
 as if he could not under any circumstances be 
 guilty of the mildest exaggeration, told how the 
 day before he had driven from his stable an old, 
 quiet, well-broken, and reliable animal, just the 
 one for old ladies and gentlemen, one that a child
 
 80 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 could lead or drive with a tow-string, a horse that 
 he kept for nervous or old people who wished for 
 a perfectly reliable and absolutely safe animal. 
 That as he drove into the street he met a pair of 
 horses driven at a very reckless rate of speed; 
 that he tried to pull his horse out of the way, but 
 his horse was going so slowly and the other horses 
 so fast that he could n t clear them, and the two 
 carriages came together and locked wheels, and 
 both carriages were smashed and the horse 
 lamed; that the driver of the pair, Mr. Rawle, 
 abused him, and tried to strike him with his 
 whip ; and that while he was trying to keep out of 
 the way of Rawle s whip, Major Drake rushed 
 out of his hotel, seized him by the throat, dragged 
 him out of his carriage, and beat him savagely 
 about the back and shoulders, and would un 
 doubtedly have killed him if he had n t been 
 pulled away by some one. 
 
 This said, Chris paused to take breath, some 
 what winded by the rapidity and fervor of his 
 words. 
 
 You may tell the Court, please, the nature of 
 your wounds and bruises and describe them 
 fully," said Mr. Blunt. 
 
 "I object, may it please the Court," inter 
 posed the Squire, rising. 
 
 "Object! what s the objection; I guess a man 
 can tell where he is hurt," sputtered Mr. Blunt.
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 81 
 
 "He can certainly tell where he suffers, but 
 cannot describe his bruises." 
 
 "Never heard anything like that for sheer 
 nonsense in my life before," gasped Mr. Blunt. 
 
 "What is your objection, Mr. Branch?" said 
 the Court. 
 
 "In the nature of documentary evidence, your 
 Honor. This assault was alleged to have been 
 committed yesterday and the complaint sets out 
 that serious bruises and cuts were made by my 
 client upon the complainant s body; bruises and 
 cuts which, if made as they say, must be there 
 now, and are the best evidence, and when the 
 best evidence is obtainable, and more than that, 
 is present in court, no other can be substituted." 
 
 "Well," said the Justice, "that particular 
 view of the matter never struck me before, but it 
 looks as if the objection were sound." 
 
 "Does the Court mean to say that it excludes 
 the evidence?" demanded Mr. Blunt, with heat. 
 
 "Not that exactly," said the Justice with a 
 smile, "but the testimony describing the bruises 
 I do exclude. If the witness wishes to display 
 them to me, I shall permit him to do it." 
 
 "Well, I guess I don t propose to strip and 
 show myself for anybody or any case," said the 
 witness doggedly. 
 
 "The witness can tell where he suffers," said 
 the Justice.
 
 82 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Chris then gave a terrific recital of his suffer 
 ings. How he could neither eat, sleep, nor lie 
 down. That he smarted, ached, and throbbed in 
 every part of his body; that he walked with a 
 limp, and that his hands and arms were about 
 useless. In short, he drew such a hideous picture 
 of suffering that his adherents glared at the 
 Major, who, purple-faced with indignation, 
 glared back again in a most ferocious manner. 
 
 As he finished, his counsel said, turning to the 
 Squire, You can have the witness, Brother 
 Branch." 
 
 The Squire rose, glanced at the Court, and said 
 very courteously, "I think, may it please the 
 Court, that the witness ought to have an oppor 
 tunity to sit down. Any one who has been so 
 badly injured as he has been can properly ask in 
 dulgence of the Court." 
 
 "Certainly, Mr. Branch, certainly, a very 
 thoughtful suggestion," said the Justice. "Offi 
 cer, give the witness a chair." 
 
 Mad the policeman brought a chair, and Chris 
 gingerly took a seat, with ill-suppressed groans. 
 
 Then the Squire blandly began his cross- 
 examination, and within a minute had the wit 
 ness on his feet, wildly gesticulating with his 
 poor useless arms, while his counsel was frantic 
 ally objecting to his questions. Indeed, before 
 he finished he had wound Chris up in such a
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 83 
 
 tangle of contradictions that it was next to im 
 possible to find a way out of the difficulty, and 
 when told that he could step down, he entirely 
 forgot to limp or groan, and sat down so hard on 
 the settee that he shook the windows. 
 
 The prosecuting attorney s next witness was 
 Mr. Wick, a very worthy and respectable old 
 gentleman, who raised his hand quickly when 
 told, and dropped it as quickly and before the 
 Justice could administer the oath. This hap 
 pened several times before he was properly 
 sworn, which had the effect of working him into 
 a painful state of nervousness. 
 
 "Now, sir," said Mr. Blunt briskly, "what is 
 your name?" 
 
 "William Wick, sir." 
 
 "Wliere do you live?" 
 
 "Lived in this town sixty year, a most." 
 
 "How old are you?" 
 
 "Less n a hundred, n more n twenty-one." 
 
 "Do you know the complainant?" 
 
 "The who?" 
 The complainant, Mr. Blunt?" 
 
 "Oh, Chris, there; pshaw, yes; knowed him 
 forty year n over." 
 
 "Know the respondent, Major Drake?" 
 
 "Knowed him forty years, I guess." 
 
 "Did you see the trouble between Chris and 
 the Major?"
 
 84 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Did." 
 
 "Tell the Court in your own way what you 
 saw and heard." 
 
 "Well, I saw the fight, n heard folks say Chris 
 did n t git half what he deserved." 
 
 The prosecuting attorney vainly endeavored 
 to stop him, and appealed to the Court. 
 
 "You are not to tell what you heard any one 
 say, but what you heard during the fight, 
 blows, language used at the time, but not give 
 any one s opinion of it or what any one said about 
 it," explained the Justice. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Bill, I un erstan now whatcher 
 mean," said Mr. Wick, with a smile and a nod of 
 comprehension. 
 
 "And you must remember also not to call the 
 Court Bill," said the Justice, trying hard to sup 
 press a smile. 
 
 "Hell, yes, B your Honor, I ll try not to 
 forget it agin," said William apologetically. 
 
 The Justice coughed and choked behind his 
 hand a moment, while the court room burst into 
 a roar, which J. Wadlin checked with a stern 
 command for order. 
 
 "Proceed, Mr. Witness," said the Court when 
 he had recovered himself. 
 
 * Well asl wasgoi ngdo wnthes treety es terday after 
 noonlsawateamof horsesand 
 
 "Hold on! hold on! Mr. Witness," shouted the
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 85 
 
 prosecuting attorney; "don t go so fast. I can t 
 understand a word. Now begin again and go 
 slow." 
 
 "Allrightsir," said Mr. Wick, shifting his cud 
 and refreshing himself by sending a stream of 
 tobacco juice halfway across the room into a 
 spittoon with deadly accuracy. "As I was 
 going downthestreetyesterdayaf ternoonlsawa 
 teamof horses " 
 
 "Hold on! Mr. Wick, hold on! How do you 
 expect us to understand gibberish like that?" 
 protested the prosecuting attorney, while a wave 
 of suppressed mirth rolled over the audience. 
 "Now, try once more, sir, and go slowly, very 
 slowly, from the first word to the last." 
 
 "Allrightsir," said Mr. Wick, with great cheer 
 fulness; "as I -- was going down - Is 
 that slow enough for you, Mr. Blunt?" queried 
 the witness. 
 
 Yes, yes, Mr. Witness, that is all right," said 
 the attorney impatiently. 
 
 Ye ain t deef, be ye?" inquired the witness 
 solicitously of the attorney. 
 
 There was a smothered snort from the Court, 
 and a ripple from the audience, which brought 
 a command of "Silence!" from that watchful 
 officer, the "dippity sheriff," J. Wadlin. 
 
 "Mr. Wick," said the Justice, when he could 
 command his voice, "you must not ask ques-
 
 86 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 tions, but answer them. Now, go on and tell, 
 very, slowly, what you saw. Now, don t for 
 get." 
 
 "Gord, yes, B your Honor, I ll try not to 
 forget," promised William; and the Justice 
 retired behind his hand, while his shoulders 
 heaved and shook. 
 
 Then the witness began again : 
 
 "As - - I - - was - - going - - down - - the 
 street yesterday - - I saw - - a - - team - 
 of horses drivenbyoldmanRawlethefellerwiththe 
 baldheadandthe - 
 
 "Hold on, Mr. Wick! stop! sir!" shouted the 
 prosecuting attorney. 
 
 - sidewhiskersandthreepeopleinthecarriage 
 andChristhenand - 
 
 "Will you stop, sir?" shouted the attorney. 
 
 outofhisalleywaywithabigbayhorseanda 
 sidebarbuggyand - 
 
 The prosecuting attorney tore his hair, the 
 complainant popped in and out of his chair like a 
 jack-in-the-box, the Justice leaned back in his 
 chair, opened his mouth and roared, and the audi 
 ence, taking courage from his surrender, shouted 
 with laughter. Even J. Wadlin laughed until he 
 had to hold his sides, and the witness, drowned 
 out of his lightning narrative, stopped in indig 
 nant amazement. 
 
 Finally the laughter stopped.
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 87 
 
 "That will do, sir, you can step down," snapped 
 the prosecuting attorney to the witness. 
 
 "No questions, Mr. Wick, thank you," laughed 
 the Squire. 
 
 Mr. Wick, still very indignant, stepped down 
 and stamped out of the court room. 
 
 The next witness was a hostler of Chris s, who 
 stoutly backed his employer up in depicting the 
 gruesome indignities his employer had suffered at 
 the hands of the Major. 
 
 On cross-examination he admitted that the 
 Major had, a week before, discharged him for 
 drunkenness, and that he had promised to get 
 even with him. 
 
 Several other witnesses followed, all of whom 
 testified to the row and the beating. These were 
 passed over by the Squire with but little attempt 
 to cross-examine, beyond establishing the fact 
 that the Major s carriage was badly wrecked. 
 
 "Samuel Randolph," said the prosecuting at 
 torney, "you may take the stand." 
 
 Sam arose, went forward, took the oath, and 
 in answer to the questions of the prosecuting at 
 torney, told his story. He detailed the collision 
 of the carriages, the rush of the Major, the severe 
 beating that Chris had sustained, and his part in 
 dragging the Major away, but said nothing about 
 Bill Evans s attempt to brain the Major with a 
 stone, or his act in throwing Bill across the street.
 
 88 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Did Chris strike Major?" asked the prose 
 cuting attorney. 
 
 "He did not," replied Sam. 
 
 "Did he resist?" 
 
 "He struggled to get away, and swore some." 
 
 " You would have done the same under similar 
 circumstances, would you not?" 
 
 "I think very likely, sir," replied Sam. 
 
 : You may have the witness, Mr. Branch," said 
 the prosecuting attorney with a look of triumph. 
 
 The Squire rose, adjusted his spectacles 
 slowly, and looked at Sam quietly but sharply. 
 
 "How far from the alley leading to Chris s 
 stable did the carriages come together?" 
 
 "About two rods." 
 
 "How fast was Major s team going?" 
 
 "Very slowly; the driver was holding them in 
 and making them prance." 
 
 "Did he have control of his horses?" 
 
 "He appeared to." 
 
 "When Mr. Blunt drove out of the alley, how 
 fast was he going compared to Major s team?" 
 
 "Very much faster." 
 
 "Twice as fast?" 
 
 "Yes, I should think so." 
 
 "Did Blunt have time enough and room 
 enough to clear Major s team?" 
 
 "He did. He had plenty of time and plenty of 
 room.
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 89 
 
 "That will do," said the Squire. 
 
 Instantly the prosecuting attorney was on his 
 feet. "Not so fast, young man," he said as Sam 
 was leaving the stand; "I want to ask you a 
 question or two. Do you mean to say that you 
 think the complainant deliberately ran into 
 Major s team?" 
 
 "That is my opinion, from what I saw," said 
 Sam. 
 
 " Don t you know, sir, that you have no right to 
 give an opinion," shouted the attorney in a rage. 
 
 "Why, you just asked me what I thought," 
 said Sam, amazed, "and I told you." 
 
 "I move, your Honor, that the answer be 
 stricken out and that the witness be reprimanded 
 for expressing an opinion," said the attorney with 
 some heat. 
 
 "Inasmuch as the answer was directly respons 
 ive to your question, I don t see how you can 
 find any fault. If you don t want opinions, you 
 certainly should n t ask for them, or complain 
 when they hurt you." 
 
 "Then your Honor declines to strike out the 
 answer, do you?" inquired the attorney. 
 
 "Oh, I shall try and disregard the answer, but 
 I most certainly shall not reprimand the witness. 
 Any more questions of the witness?" 
 
 :< You said, sir," said the attorney, picking up a 
 pen and making elaborate preparations for re-
 
 90 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 ducing Sam s answer to cold type, "that the com 
 plainant s horse was going much faster than the 
 respondent s team." 
 
 "I did say so," said Sam. 
 
 "Do you know anything about horses? Have 
 you ever ridden or driven or hired or used them ? 
 
 Do you know anything at all about them or don t 
 
 o 
 you. 
 
 "I have ridden and driven and hired and used 
 horses, and I do know something about them," 
 answered Sam with a smile. 
 
 "And paid for them, too, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I am talking of livery-stable horses," snapped 
 the attorney. 
 
 "And so am I," said Sam placidly. 
 
 " Well, I am glad that we have at last got some 
 thing that you know something about. We have 
 got somewhere," said the attorney with a side 
 glance at the audience. "Now, Mr. Witness," 
 pointing his forefinger at Sam and speaking with 
 great deliberation and distinctness, "don t you 
 know, sir, if you know anything, that livery- 
 stable horses usually leave the stable-yard very 
 slowly and come back a good deal faster? Don t 
 you know that, sir?" 
 
 Yes, that is usually the case." 
 
 "And that was the case this afternoon, was it 
 not, sir?"
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 91 
 
 "That was the case with the pair of horses, 
 apparently." 
 
 "Aha! I thought I should get something if I 
 tried long enough, sir. So the pair of horses were 
 going slowly?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Now, sir, you are under oath. You know 
 what that means, I suppose, sir?" 
 
 "I do, sir." 
 
 "Now, sir," speaking very deliberately, "did 
 you not say only a moment ago that the pair 
 were prancing?" 
 
 "I did say so." 
 
 " Oh, you did. Well, how do you reconcile that 
 statement with your statement given under 
 oath, sir, remember that, and your Honor" (turn 
 ing to the Court) , " I should like to have this taken 
 down very carefully as we may need his exact 
 words later" (turning to Sam) - "that the pair 
 of horses were going very slowly? Now, sir, no 
 equivocation!" 
 
 "That would depend, sir, upon your definition 
 of prancing," replied Sam coolly. 
 
 "Oh, it would, sir? Well, perhaps you will be 
 good enough to enlighten us with your definition 
 of prancing, sir." 
 
 "Certainly, sir; my definition of prancing is 
 jumping up and down without getting ahead." 
 
 "Just what my Brother Blunt has been doing
 
 92 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 all through this case," broke in the Squire with 
 a chuckle, and the audience laughed. 
 
 "I object, your Honor, to these interruptions 
 and this laughter, and I ask to have the room 
 cleared," said Mr. Blunt in a fury. 
 
 "I guess, Brother Blunt, the Court can hardly 
 order the room cleared or blame the audience for 
 doing exactly what the Court did. I laughed with 
 the rest," said the Court good-naturedly; "I 
 guess we will proceed." 
 
 "Well, sir," continued Mr. Blunt, after he had 
 consulted a moment with the complainant, "if 
 this pair of horses were going as slowly as you say 
 they were and Chris was also going slowly as you 
 say he was, how could they have come together 
 with force enough to break the carriage?" 
 
 "I did not say Chris s horse was going slowly." 
 
 "What? Did n t you say a moment ago that 
 stable horses left their stable-yards slowly?" 
 
 "I did say that was usually the case. But it 
 was n t the case with Chris s horse, and there was 
 a pretty good reason for it," said Sam, with more 
 animation than he had shown. 
 
 "What do you mean by that, sir?" demanded 
 the attorney, disregarding a warning tug at his 
 coat-tails by his client. 
 
 "I mean just this, that Chris gave his horse a 
 cruel slash with his whip just as he turned out of 
 the yard."
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 93 
 
 "That s a lie!" shouted Chris, jumping to his 
 feet. 
 
 "That s the truth," shouted Sam, his eyes 
 flashing sparks, "and if you look at that horse 
 to-day you will find a long welt on him, or I don t 
 know anything about horses." 
 
 The Justice pounded on the table. "Gentle 
 men," he said sternly, "that is an interruption 
 that this Court does not tolerate. This is a court, 
 not a stable or a barroom, and not a place to pass 
 the lie or insult a witness. If there is any repeti 
 tion of this offense, I shall so deal with the of 
 fender that he will be very sorry for it." 
 
 "Proceed, Mr. Blunt," he said after a pause in 
 which the stillness was painful. 
 
 "One moment, your Honor," interrupted the 
 Squire, rising. "The witness has said something 
 about an examination of this horse. It was a good 
 suggestion, and I wish to serve notice on the com 
 plainant to bring that horse into court as a wit 
 ness in this case." 
 
 "I can t do that, your Honor," said Chris 
 quickly; "the horse is out of town for several 
 days on a trip." 
 
 "Out of town!" thundered the Squire; "didn t 
 you just say that horse was lame?" 
 
 ; Yes, but he was n t so lame but that I could 
 drive him careful. Anyway, he is gone and that s 
 all there is to it," said Chris stubbornly.
 
 94 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 It was noticeable, however, that Bob Tibbetts 
 slid out of the door at this and went up the 
 street with some haste. 
 
 "Any more questions, Mr. Blunt?" said the 
 Court. 
 
 "That s all I want of you, sir," said the at 
 torney meaningly. That s our case, your 
 Honor," he finally said after conferring with 
 Chris. 
 
 "Senator Hilton!" called the Squire, and a 
 tall, handsome, portly man, with ruddy counte 
 nance and a stock, took the stand and the oath 
 ponderously and with dignity. 
 
 Your name, Senator," said the Squire. 
 
 You need n t trouble to further qualify the 
 witness," smiled the Justice. "The Senator is 
 sufficiently well known." 
 
 The Senator inclined courteously to the Court. 
 
 "State whether or not you saw the trouble be 
 tween Christopher Blunt and Major Drake 
 yesterday?" 
 
 "I had that fortune, if indeed fortune it could 
 be called, sir, to view a little misunderstanding 
 between ah our local Boniface and Mr. 
 Blunt." 
 
 "Where was Mr. Blunt when you saw him 
 first?" 
 
 " Mr. Blunt came out of his place of business 
 driving a tall, rangy ah bay horse at a most
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 95 
 
 ungodly rate of speed, sir, a most astonishingly 
 rapid rate, sir. The beast he was driving had 
 been stimulated to so rapid a gait by one or more 
 ah swipes, you might call them, with a 
 whip," and the Senator paused and blew a most 
 astounding toot upon a large red handkerchief, 
 to the unbounded amusement of the audience. 
 
 "Go on, Senator," said the Squire. "What 
 happened next?" 
 
 "From the opposite direction came a pair of 
 horses drawing a new and beautiful carriage 
 filled with ladies, and driven by Mr. Rawle. 
 This team was near the middle of the street, 
 going very slowly and leaving plenty of room for 
 a carriage to pass on either side. The complain 
 ant apparently drove directly on to the de 
 fendant s carriage and there was a collision." 
 
 "Go on, Senator," said the Squire. "One 
 question, please; just where did the collision 
 occur?" 
 
 "In front of the west end of the Rumscott, sir." 
 
 "Now, proceed." 
 
 "Well, sir, the complainant stood up in his 
 carriage and swore, sir, like the Army of Flan 
 ders, yes, sir, I can think of no more apt simile 
 than that historic asseveration," and the Senator 
 essayed another bugle note. 
 
 "What did the people in the carriage do, 
 Senator?" prompted the Squire.
 
 96 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "The ladies screamed, sir, the gentleman was 
 thrown half over the dashboard, and the driver, 
 Mr. Rawle, was displaying a most excellent 
 brand of profanity, nearly equal to that of the 
 complainant." 
 
 "What became of the horses?" 
 
 The pair reared and plunged, but the young 
 man who last testified caught them by their 
 heads and held them until some of the hostlers 
 came. Then he assisted the ladies out of the car 
 riage, sir, with marked courtesy, marked cour 
 tesy," and the Senator bowed courteously to Sam. 
 
 Then, sir," he continued, "a new element 
 arrived upon the scene in the person of our good 
 friend, the Major, sir, who came upon the scene 
 like a roaring lion, sir, like a a rampaging 
 gorilla, sir. At that moment the complainant 
 was negotiating a most astounding series of ob 
 jurgations, when the Major grasped him by the 
 collar with one hand and by the seat of the trou 
 sers with the other, dragged him from the car 
 riage, and thrashed him, sir, as soundly as a 
 mischievous boy was ever thrashed by a stern 
 parent. Yes, sir, soundly, sir, and very thor 
 oughly." 
 
 Then, sir," continued the witness, "several 
 stablemen from the rival stables rushed into the 
 fray and it was as if some one had cried - 
 
 Havoc, and let loose the dogs of war ;
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 97 
 
 the engagement became general, sir, until our 
 faithful guardians of the peace came along in 
 their respective conveyances and separated the 
 combatants, but not before the Major had been 
 dragged away from his cowering victim by Mr. 
 Randolph, who showed great strength and dex 
 terity. That, sir, is all I know about it." 
 
 ; You may have the witness, Brother Blunt," 
 said the Squire. 
 
 : The Major did, then, as you have said, beat 
 the complainant without mercy, did he not?" 
 asked the prosecuting attorney. 
 
 "Not quite that, Mr. Blunt; I said he thrashed 
 him as soundly as any mischievous boy was ever 
 thrashed by a stern parent, which to my mind is 
 very different." 
 
 "How is it different, sir? Explain, sir, if you 
 can!" sneered the attorney. 
 
 "My answer, sir, implies punishment, con 
 dign punishment, sir," replied the Senator. 
 
 "Well, sir," snapped the attorney, "if you can 
 explain any difference between punishment and 
 so severe a beating as my client has received, I 
 should like to hear it. Explain, sir, explain. I 
 think the Court would like to hear it." 
 
 "Punishment, your Honor, implies an offense 
 for the commission of which expiation is to be 
 made. Milton has said 
 
 A greater power now ruled him, punished in the shape he sinned,
 
 98 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 quite appropriate to the present case, your 
 Honor," and the Senator inclined grandly to the 
 Court, and blew the officer s call with great 
 clearness. 
 
 "So," said the prosecuting attorney, "you 
 think it a proper thing for a big brute of a man 
 weighing two hundred and fifty pounds to take a 
 man weighing one hundred and forty or fifty 
 pounds, half his weight and size, drag him out of 
 his carriage, and beat him within an inch of his 
 life, do you, sir? Answer me, sir, is that your 
 opinion?" shouted the attorney, brandishing his 
 fists. 
 
 "No, sir; that is not my opinion," said the Sen 
 ator. 
 
 "Oh, it s not, is n t it; well, what is your opin 
 ion of the matter? that is, if you can stick to 
 one idea long enough to tell it," demanded the 
 attorney with an ugly sneer. 
 
 "My idea, sir," said the Senator, leaning for 
 ward and marking his points with his forefinger, 
 "is this: When I see a man deliberately and with 
 malice aforethought - 
 
 "I object, Senator," shouted the attorney. 
 
 "Proceed, Senator," from the Court. 
 
 "Drive against another man s carriage - 
 
 "I object, your Honor, I object!" 
 
 - Man s carriage, destroying valuable pro 
 perty, endangering life, and exciting brawl, sir,
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 99 
 
 and tumult, sir, in a public street and place, sir, 
 that man deserves a sound thrashing; and if he 
 gets it, sir, on the spot, sir, the ends of Justice are 
 served, sir, and the man who thrashed him ought 
 to get a pension. That, sir, is my idea," and the 
 Senator quite outdid himself in the variety and 
 clearness of his arpeggio bugle notes. 
 
 ; This is a high-handed outrage, your Honor," 
 said the prosecuting attorney, crimson with in 
 dignation. "Opinions of witnesses, not experts, 
 are never admissible, never competent. That is 
 the most rudimentary element of the law of ev 
 idence, and yet your Honor has allowed the wit 
 ness, in spite of my repeated objections, to give 
 his opinion, and a most prejudiced and unreliable 
 opinion, on this matter, and I object, your Honor, 
 I object." 
 
 "Brother Blunt," said the Court urbanely, 
 "your law of evidence is unquestionably correct, 
 and had you not asked him his opinion, I should 
 not have allowed him to give it, but as your ques 
 tion expressly asked his opinion, and quite un 
 fairly intimated the witness s inability to stick to 
 one idea long enough to give any opinion, it does 
 not seem to me that you have any right to ob 
 ject." 
 
 "If the evidence is closed, counsel for defense 
 will proceed with his argument," said the Court. 
 
 The old Squire rose slowly to his full stature,
 
 100 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 looked coldly and steadily at the complainant 
 until he squirmed in his chair and his legs became 
 quite convulsive, then bowed to the Court and 
 began his argument. 
 
 "May it please your Honor, I feel that an apol 
 ogy may be necessary for taking so much of valu 
 able time over a case of this nature. My client 
 has undoubtedly committed a legal assault and 
 a battery, unjustifiable according to the tenets of 
 the law, undignified under the code of a gentle 
 man, but none the less an assault, but an assault 
 of a simple not of aggravated nature. 
 
 The complaint is for an assault of an aggra 
 vated nature, an offense beyond your Honor s 
 jurisdiction. You can, at the worst, do no more 
 than hold the respondent in sureties for his ap 
 pearance at the Superior Court. You cannot 
 even find the respondent guilty of a simple as 
 sault under this complaint. A jury in the Su 
 perior Court could, but only because that is a 
 court of final jurisdiction. 
 
 "But will your Honor under the evidence hold 
 the respondent for the Superior Court? I think 
 not. I believe your Honor thinks not. When a 
 rascally small boy commits an inexcusable act 
 of malicious mischief, he is soundly caned or 
 spanked, and a lawyer bringing an action against 
 the man who disciplines him, would be laughed 
 out of court. Yet here is a man grown, commit-
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 101 
 
 ting a dastardly, dangerous, malicious assault 
 upon four people, without a shadow of excuse, 
 without a shred of justification, an act which 
 destroys valuable property, endangers the lives 
 of women, and creates a scene of disorder, an un 
 seemly brawl upon a public street, and he is 
 soundly thrashed for it. There is nothing more 
 than an assault, as justifiable an assault as could 
 well be. No, your Honor, under this complaint 
 this respondent must be discharged. 
 
 "But I am willing that my Brother Blunt 
 should draw a new complaint for simple assault, 
 to which my client will plead guilty." 
 
 And the Squire sat down. 
 
 In an instant the prosecuting attorney was on 
 his feet with fiery \\ords of denunciation pouring 
 from his lips. There never had been so outrageous 
 an assault, never so brutal an outrage, never such a 
 miscarriage of justice, should the respondent be 
 discharged. He had practiced law for thirty years 
 and never in all his experience had he seen a more 
 brutal, dastardly, cruel, unusual, or unheard-of 
 brutality offered to a respectable citizen. Did we 
 live in America, the land of equal rights, and 
 were these the rights guaranteed us by the De 
 claration of Independence, or did we live in"Roo- 
 shia," where the wolves lurked at our back and 
 the knout whistled at our door? He was slightly 
 mixed in his illustrations, which was attributed
 
 102 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 to his righteous indignation. He passionately 
 called High Heaven to witness that prehistoric 
 want of civilization that might justify murder, 
 should the Courts fail in justice. He inveighed 
 against the Squire s arrogant methods of cross- 
 examination, his unfair interposition of techni 
 calities to prevent a brutal assailant from getting 
 his just deserts, and closed with an impassioned 
 appeal that the Justice do one of two things, 
 either to hold the Major for the Grand Jury in 
 the sum of one thousand dollars for aggravated 
 assault, or to sentence him to six months in jail 
 and put him under bonds to keep the peace and 
 be of good behavior for one year. Then he glared 
 balefully at the Major and sat down. 
 
 The Justice leaned forward and removed his 
 spectacles. 
 
 The Court finds this assault to be a simple 
 assault and not of an aggravated nature. It rules 
 pro forma that the legal objection of the respond 
 ent s counsel is valid. If the complainant s coun 
 sel wishes to draw another complaint for simple 
 assault, the Court will arraign the respondent 
 again, and, should he plead guilty or nolo as the 
 complainant s counsel has suggested, the Court 
 will proceed to sentence." 
 
 To this Mr. Blunt sulkily agreed, and a new 
 complaint was drawn, to which the Major 
 pleaded nolo contendere, and was sentenced to pay
 
 STATE VERSUS A. P. DRAKE 103 
 
 a fine of five dollars and costs of eight dollars and 
 sixty-two cents, which he paid and Court ad 
 journed, the Major in high glee being escorted in 
 triumph to his hotel where libations were in 
 dulged in. The brothers Blunt retired in high 
 dudgeon and the crowd dispersed.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 POLLY 
 
 AT the close of the trial, Sam hurried to his be 
 lated dinner. Almost all the guests had left 
 the dining-room when he arrived, and the smiling 
 proprietor Alvy and his family were at their ta 
 ble. Sam had not yet met Mrs. Dole and the 
 daughters, but had seen Ed, the boy. As Sam 
 entered the room, Alvy called to him and intro 
 duced him to Mrs. Dole, a rather handsome wo 
 man of about Alvy s age, wearing a discontented 
 expression, and of a rather sallow complexion. 
 The daughters were young ladies of eighteen and 
 sixteen, both pretty, the older exceedingly hand 
 some, but wearing, like her mother, a somewhat 
 peevish expression. 
 
 Sam bowed low over their small, shapely hands 
 and said a few pleasant words, and nodded to 
 Ed, who looked at him with open-eyed admira 
 tion as the man who threw Bill Evans across 
 the road. As Sam went to his table, he was 
 somewhat amused to hear Ed explain to his sis 
 ters that he pitied him when Bill got him alone. 
 He bet Bill could "knock seven kinds of pea- 
 green stuffin outer him," at which volunteered
 
 POLLY 105 
 
 opinion his sister rather crossly told him to 
 "Shut up." 
 
 While Sam was giving his order to the table 
 girl, a tall, straight, very dignified man, evidently 
 slightly under the influence of liquor, stalked into 
 the room. He was dressed in a somewhat remark 
 able costume; he wore a linen shirt with a very 
 high collar, kept in place by a sort of compromise 
 between a stock and a four-in-hand tie. A black 
 frock coat, evidently of a by-gone vogue, open in 
 front, disclosed a figured silk vest, while a pair of 
 ludicrously wrinkled, wide, yellow linen trousers 
 reached only to within six inches of his ankles, 
 disclosing grayish socks, ending in a pair of car 
 pet slippers worked in fancy colors. In spite of 
 this bizarre costume, his manners were so digni 
 fied, he was so straight, so stiff, so altogether un 
 usual and good to look at, that his clothes seemed 
 a by no means incongruous detail. 
 
 At once Alvy sprang to his feet, and, greeting 
 the stranger as Captain, ushered him to a seat at 
 Sam s table, and introduced him to Sam as "Cap 
 tain Hilton" of this town. Sam shook hands very 
 cordially with the Captain, who, with his hand on 
 his heart, said that he was "glad indeed, sir, to 
 welcome him to a town, sir, rich in historic asso 
 ciation, prolific in its industries, dignified and ele 
 vated in its ideals, sir." 
 
 Sam, somewhat amused at his earnestness and
 
 106 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 his dignified courtesy, said he had begun to real 
 ize the unusual attractions of the village, and 
 mentioned the trial of the morning as something 
 rather out of the ordinary. 
 
 "Ah, my dear young sir, if one so much older 
 than you may be permitted such a familiarity, you 
 will find discordant elements even in the ah 
 harmony of nature. In the animal world we have 
 the skunk, the polecat, the weasel, and the civet; 
 turning to the feathered world, we have the - 
 ah hawk, the owl, the crow, and the shrike; 
 the manifold beauties and ah usefulness of 
 the vegetable world are sullied by an altogether 
 too generous admixture of burdock, ragweed, 
 white weed, and a gruesome sort of fungus that in 
 August grows under the front steps and leads to 
 the belief that something has died there. Some of 
 the ah gentlemen you saw this morning are 
 of the class of ah predatory animals, birds of 
 prey, parasites ah what you wish, sir, what 
 you wish, damned rascals." 
 
 Sam laughed, and said as the soup came on, 
 "Excuse me, sir, but I think you must be the 
 brother of Senator Hilton, whom I met this morn 
 ing, and who, I assure you, was much more than 
 a match for Attorney Blunt." 
 
 "Ah yes, sir," said the Captain, urbanely, 
 "I have the distinguished honor, sir, of being the 
 older brother of that distinguished gentleman, sir.
 
 POLLY 107 
 
 You have, I apprehend, made as yet no further 
 acquaintance with my family, sir?" 
 
 "Not yet, sir," said Sam; "I trust that pleas 
 ure is in store for me." 
 
 "Without doubt, sir, without doubt. It would 
 be an honor, I assure you. I have three brothers, 
 all unmarried, sir, as I am. My brother Oilman, 
 sir, the Senator, is a statesman, sir; my brother 
 Archibald is a ah a gentleman, sir; my bro 
 ther Amory is a damned fool, sir; yes, sir, a worthy 
 man, but none the less a damned fool, sir." 
 
 "Indeed, and how does it happen that he 
 should differ so radically from his brothers?" 
 queried Sam, unconsciously adopting the lan 
 guage of the Captain. 
 
 "He descends to manual labor, sir, milks, 
 rubs down horses, pitches manure, sir, hoes corn, 
 chops wood. Could not tell the orations of Pat 
 rick Henry from those of Patrick Cassidy, sir. 
 Should I address him in the immortal words of 
 Cicero, and I assure you, sir, that they would 
 fully express my sentiments in regard to my bro 
 ther, sir, 
 
 Quousque tandem abutere nostram patientiam, 
 he would be unable to distinguish it from Chero 
 kee, sir, from Pawnee, from Choctaw, from 
 Canadian patois, sir. He, sir, a scion of a 
 family that numbers among its members schol 
 ars, governors, generals, literary men! Yes, sir,
 
 108 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 it gives me profound sorrow, sir, to chronicle such 
 a divergence from the racial or family traits or 
 characteristics, profound sorrow"; and the Cap 
 tain attacked his roast lamb with an appetite that 
 profound sorrow could not dull. 
 
 After a time the Captain began again. "As ad 
 ministrator of my late father s estate, sir, I have 
 under my charge tenement houses, a block of 
 stores, wharf property, and a large farm of six 
 hundred acres, or I should say, to be more accur 
 ate, several farms that adjoin each other. My 
 father, sir, had a fatal longing to buy all the land 
 adjoining his, and, by the Eternal! sir, had he 
 lived I believe he would have bought to the sea- 
 coast, sir, ten miles away. As a result we are land 
 poor, sir, land poor. But for an occasional sale of 
 timber, sir, I am afraid we should be obliged to 
 part with some of it, which would be a blow at the 
 traditions of the family, sir. The Hiltons hold 
 their land, sir, --they hold their land; by the 
 gods! sir, they hold their lands!" 
 
 Sam, who by this time had finished his dinner, 
 arose, and pleading an engagement, bade the 
 Captain good-day. The Captain rose with much 
 ceremony, shook his hand vigorously, and invited 
 Sam to call on him at an early date, promising 
 him to lay aside business calls and to devote his 
 entire time to his proper entertainment and en 
 lightenment.
 
 POLLY 109 
 
 As Sam left the dining-room he heard the Cap 
 tain say, "Alvy, have the kindness to order the 
 clerk to bring me a small glass, but not too small, 
 of New England Rum with a dash of bitters in 
 it." 
 
 That afternoon Sam hired a skiff and took a 
 long pull up the winding stream. He passed sev 
 eral boats, some filled with young girls and their 
 escorts, the ladies trailing their fair hands in the 
 water, and keeping the boats on uneven keels, to 
 the unspoken distress of the rowers; some con 
 taining two men, one of whom paddled while the 
 other, erect in the bow, "skipped" for pickerel, 
 and he was interested to see several fine fish 
 landed. The air was soft, the sun partly con 
 cealed by thin clouds. He passed two swimming- 
 places teeming with small boys, who splashed and 
 shrieked, dove and swam like otters, while those 
 on the bank, clad in little more than thick coats 
 of tan necked with sunshine, scurried behind 
 trees and bushes as the boats containing the 
 ladies hove in sight. 
 
 At a quarter of six that afternoon, Sam ran up 
 the dusty stairs to the Squire s office. As he en 
 tered, a man came out, a big, burly, red-faced 
 man. 
 
 He turned in the doorway and said loudly, 
 "Then, you won t take the case, Squire, at any 
 figure?"
 
 110 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "No, Symmes," replied the Squire s voice, 
 "you have n t money enough; and there isn t 
 money enough in the world to retain me in that 
 kind of a case." 
 
 "All right, then; but, by God! I can find law 
 yers who will take it," growled the man. 
 
 "Perhaps so, but I hope not," said the Squire, 
 as the man, turning abruptly, collided violently 
 with Sam, profanely demanded if he could n t see 
 where he was going, and stamped angrily down 
 the stairs, before Sam could retort. 
 
 "Hello, Sam," said the Squire, cheerfully; 
 "come in and sit down. I will be through in a 
 minute." 
 
 Sam sat down in a chair in front of the window 
 and waited while the Squire placed some bundles 
 of papers in the safe, locked it, sealed a few let 
 ters, which he gave to his stenographer to post, 
 bade her good-night, and courteously held the 
 door open as she passed through. 
 
 Then putting on a soft slouch hat, he signified 
 that he was ready, and they passed down the 
 stairway just as the clock was striking six, and 
 the rush from the mills and shops began. The 
 Squire and Sam crossed by the Court House to 
 avoid the jostling crowd, and again Sam scanned 
 the men and women with a keen interest that did 
 not escape the sharp eyes of the Squire. 
 
 "You seem interested, Sam; I should scarcely
 
 POLLY 111 
 
 suppose a crowd of this size would attract the at 
 tention of a city man," said the Squire. 
 
 :< Yes," said Sam, "I am always interested in 
 people, even a crowd of city people. Indeed, I can 
 sit in a crowded railroad station for hours, look 
 ing at the people and speculating upon their bus 
 iness, their homes, their interests, who they are, 
 where they are going and all sorts of thoughts of 
 that kind. But this procession of working people 
 in a town is new to me and tremendously inter 
 esting." 
 
 ; Yes, there are some amusing people in a 
 crowd of that kind. See that small man opposite 
 with the enormous drooping moustache, walk 
 ing with the big fat man with the short stubby 
 moustache," said the Squire, trying to draw 
 Sam out. 
 
 "Yes, I see," said Sam, smiling, "they are in 
 teresting and amusing as contrasts; but I never 
 think of them as laughable, but as interesting. 
 Much more pathetic than funny." 
 
 : Yes, they are pathetic enough, and the lives 
 of many of them are hard enough, God knows," 
 said the Squire, "but their lives in a town of this 
 kind are much better than in a city. They are 
 practically sure of a living and a fairly comfort 
 able one. Of course, many of them drink, and 
 that don t make things any more comfortable 
 and easy for their wives and children."
 
 112 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 That is one thing I have noticed here," said 
 Sam. There are more liquor saloons than gro 
 cery stores, or provision stores, and this is a pro 
 hibition State, is n t it?" 
 
 Yes, a prohibition State, but by no means a 
 dry state," replied the Squire. 
 
 "So I see," said Sam dryly, "and I cannot 
 quite understand it." 
 
 "Well, Sam, first and last there have been a 
 good many spasmodic attempts to drive it out, 
 but they have never had much effect," smiled the 
 Squire. 
 
 "What is the reason?" asked Sam, kicking a 
 pebble out of the path. 
 
 "Public opinion, mainly," replied the Squire, 
 "added to the ill-judged methods of the reform 
 ers. The public is in many ways like a big ob 
 stinate boy ; also something like a mule. You can 
 persuade it to do most anything, but when you 
 begin to thrash an idea out of its head, and an 
 other one in, your arm tires before the boy or the 
 mule does." 
 
 "I wonder if this town is like other country 
 towns?" asked Sam in a thoughtful manner. 
 
 "Why, yes, I think so," replied the Squire; 
 "very much so I should say. The fact that it is 
 older than most of the towns in the State, and 
 larger than all but two or three, with an excellent 
 school system, is a little in its favor, but in most
 
 POLLY 113 
 
 respects it is very similar to other manufacturing 
 towns or villages. Why do you ask?" 
 
 "Because," said Sam, hesitating a bit, - "be 
 cause in the short time I have been here I have 
 been treated with more kindness and considera 
 tion, and experienced more coarseness, boorish- 
 ness, and ill-breeding than ever before in my life 
 in a much longer time. And I am rather at a loss 
 to reconcile these things." 
 
 The Squire threw back his head and laughed. 
 * I don t blame you for being mystified over it," 
 he said, "and it is really no laughing matter, but 
 a shame, and I cannot explain it myself. Our 
 town is on the main line, and has had for years 
 good opportunities for improvement and for cul 
 ture, but notwithstanding this, we are years be 
 hind. We long ago outgrew the cowhide boot and 
 paper collar stage, but are yet in the plush album 
 and diagonal coat development. It is a sort of 
 conservatism, I suppose." 
 
 As the Squire said this, he turned into a quiet 
 side street, along which magnificent elms with 
 drooping limbs stood like sentinels. Down the 
 street they went to a beautiful field of forty or 
 fifty acres sloping to the river. 
 
 On the edge of the field stood the Squire s 
 house, an old-fashioned, square, two-storied 
 house with a large barn in the rear. To the east 
 of the barn was a garden, primly laid out in vege-
 
 114 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 table beds, and studded with pear, apple, peach, 
 and plum trees. The southern exposure of the 
 barn was overrun with a giant grapevine, while 
 halfway down the garden path was a grape arbor 
 thickly covered with a web of interlacing vines. 
 
 At the west side of the house, and nearer the 
 street, was the flower garden, with its old-fash 
 ioned border of box and its quaint and gaudy 
 flowers of a bygone date, candy-tuft, bach 
 elor s buttons, pansies, foxglove, trumpet-vines, 
 heliotrope, striped grass, sweet Williams, sweet 
 peas, portulacca, and other old friends. 
 
 The side porch was crowned by a grand wis 
 taria, while a row of sunflower stalks were but 
 beginning to develop flowers as Sam mounted 
 the steps. A small girl of about twelve or thir 
 teen sat on the porch, reading so intently that she 
 did not notice their approach until she heard their 
 feet on the steps, when she dropped her book and 
 came down the steps like a pixie, crying, "Oh, 
 Uncle Ira, I m so sorry; I was so interested in my 
 book that I forgot to be at the gate." 
 
 "Well, well, Polly, this won t do; I always look 
 first for you at the gate." 
 
 "I know it, Uncle," and she put up her lips to 
 kiss him; "I won t forget it another time." 
 
 "Polly," said the Squire, "this is a friend of 
 mine, Mr. Randolph; I call him Sam." 
 
 "I am real glad to meet you, Mr. Randolph,"
 
 I AM A SORT OF A FARMER.
 
 POLLY 115 
 
 said the child, with a slight emphasis on the Mr., 
 giving Sam her hand with frankness, and looking 
 him straight in the eyes. 
 
 Sam took her hand in a firm grasp, and bowed 
 as he would have done to a woman. 
 
 "Miss Polly," he said with a smile, "if I de 
 cide to stay in Elmtown, I hope we shall be good 
 friends. I feel quite sure we shall be." 
 
 " I am sure I hope you will stay, Mr. Ran 
 dolph," smiled Polly. 
 
 Supper was served on the piazza by a neat mid 
 dle-aged woman, the Squire sitting at the head of 
 the table, Polly facing him at the other end, while 
 Sam sat between them on the Squire s right. 
 
 To Sam, who was used to hotel fare, and who 
 had lived for two days on Alvy s plain, whole 
 some, but not over-delicate food, the meal was 
 delicious. It seemed to him he had never tasted 
 such soup, such an appetizing roast, such a deli 
 cate salad, so melting a dessert, and when after 
 the meal coffee and cigars were brought and they 
 sipped and smoked while Polly played in really 
 excellent style Mendelssohn s Venetianisches 
 Gondellied and Frulingslied, he sighed with com 
 plete satisfaction. 
 
 After their cigars they strolled through the 
 garden, and rubbed the soft nose of the old horse 
 and the sleek side of the Jersey cow and scratched 
 the backs of the two plump pigs.
 
 116 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 : Yes, I am a sort of farmer," said the Squire 
 in answer to a question of Sam s, "but I suppose 
 my milk costs me about sixteen cents a quart, my 
 vegetables three times the market price, and my 
 fruit, well, I never get any fruit, for the boys 
 always steal most of it, and the worms get the 
 rest." 
 
 "Mighty little the worms get if boys are the 
 same here as they were in my time," said Sam, 
 smiling. "Why, I remember when I used to 
 summer in York State that some of the town 
 boys and I used to begin to eat apples and pears 
 when they were scarcely more than peanuts in 
 size and concentrated wormwood and vinegar in 
 taste, and follow them through their growth un 
 til they were as punky as an old squash. Rot, 
 worm-holes, worms, acid, bitterness were all one 
 with us. They were apples and pears. Why they 
 did n t kill us, Heaven only knows." 
 
 ;< Yes," said the Squire, flicking the ashes from 
 his cigar, "I have been through it in my day, and 
 I don t remember that any boy died of colic. 
 Occasionally some poor chap was drowned, and 
 once in a great while some very young child died 
 of fever or some disease. Small doubt that a good 
 many of us ought to have been hung. But why 
 did so few of us die? Can you explain it, Sam?" 
 asked the Squire. 
 
 "Why, I imagine, Squire, that the excitement
 
 POLLY 117 
 
 of stealing, or hooking - that is the better 
 word apples, pears, grapes, or melons, and the 
 difficulty of getting them, was such that when 
 ever we did get them we digested them without 
 any difficulty," replied Sam. 
 
 "If that is a good reason, Uncle, you ought not 
 to let the little boys have all your fruit without 
 working to get it," chimed in Polly. 
 
 "If by working for it, you mean hooking 
 them, like Sam here, I can t quite agree with you, 
 young lady," replied the Squire quickly. 
 
 "I didn t mean just that, Uncle, but but 
 
 "But you don t know just what you do mean," 
 said Sam, laughing. 
 
 Polly threw up her chin. "Thank you, Mr. 
 Randolph, I know perfectly well what I mean, 
 but it is n t necessary to explain," she said with 
 dignity. 
 
 The Squire laughed. "I hope, Sam, you feel 
 properly snubbed." 
 
 "That does n t half express my feelings," said 
 Sam. "I beg Miss Polly s most humble pardon," 
 he continued, bowing low. 
 
 Polly smiled, and Sam sat down. 
 
 Under the cedar trees in the front yard the 
 shadows were gathering, while bats began their 
 erratic flight. Crickets and grasshoppers were 
 filing their saws in the grass, a late-singing robin 
 was fluting its evening song from the top of a tall
 
 118 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 elm, and one by one the lights in the village 
 across the wide field came twinkling into sight. 
 
 "Eight o clock, Polly," said the Squire, as the 
 deep tones of the old church bell came across the 
 field, mellowed by the distance. 
 
 Polly sighed, then rose, offered her hand to 
 Sam, her lips to the Squire, said good-night, and 
 entered the house. Sam who had risen instinct 
 ively, as if she had been a grand dame, sat down 
 again. 
 
 "A charming child, Squire," said Sam; "your 
 niece?" 
 
 : Yes," replied the Squire, slowly and thought 
 fully, "my niece." 
 
 Sam lit a fresh cigar. The Squire puffed slowly, 
 and relapsed into silence. The robin, having fin 
 ished its song, flew away into the dusk after 
 sounding its sharp alarm note. The crickets filed 
 and grated. A tiny chipping sparrow twittered 
 its cheerful song. A phoebe bird warbled its two- 
 syllabled plaint, with its curious alternately ris 
 ing and falling note. 
 
 The Squire threw the butt of his cigar into the 
 path, where the glowing end faded and died away. 
 Then he turned to Sam. 
 
 "Well, my boy," he said, "have you changed 
 your mind?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Branch, I am more than ever in 
 clined to try it."
 
 POLLY 119 
 
 "But have you considered the matter 
 fully?" 
 
 "Perhaps not fully, but enough to satisfy my 
 self that it is the best I can do. I want to know 
 the law, whether I practice or not." 
 
 "But unless you intend to practice law, to 
 make it your lifework, what is the use of spend 
 ing three years in studying?" 
 
 "Whatever one does, three years study of any 
 such profession as law or medicine cannot hurt 
 one." 
 
 "That is not always the case. One fellow who 
 studied law with me became a minister shortly 
 before he was to be admitted to the bar, and not 
 only has made a fifth-rate minister even in the 
 country, but persists in advising his parishion 
 ers in their legal matters and in getting them into 
 all manner of complications, which the practicing 
 lawyers are obliged to unravel. And the converse 
 of it is equally true. A minister who becomes a 
 lawyer is equally impractical, and equally dan 
 gerous to the community." 
 
 "But you will admit that a knowledge of the 
 law is as a general thing a benefit to a man," in 
 sisted Sam. 
 
 " I don t admit that. I don t believe that is the 
 case. I believe that a good knowledge of the law 
 can only be acquired and retained by a practicing 
 lawyer. That an amateur at law is as dangerous
 
 120 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 to the community as a self-cocking revolver in 
 the hands of children, or a red-eyed bulldog 
 among sheep." 
 
 "But do you not think, Squire, that a general 
 knowledge of medicine and surgery is a good 
 thing?" 
 
 "A good analogy and a first-rate example of 
 my position in regard to the law. A general 
 knowledge of medicine and surgery would be a 
 good thing if it taught those possessing it to be 
 ware of practicing medicine or surgery, but when, 
 as in nine cases out of ten, it induces them to dis 
 pense with the services of a regular practitioner 
 and to perform amateur work, it is more danger 
 ous than the amateur lawyer, more fatal than the 
 revolver or the bulldog." 
 
 "But surely, Squire, you will admit that in the 
 case of an emergency a knowledge of medicine or 
 surgery might be of value?" 
 
 "I can imagine a case of the kind, but an 
 emergency either in law or medicine that hap 
 pens within reach of a regular physician or prac 
 ticing attorney is never an emergency, but if 
 treated as such is a crime. No, my boy, all this 
 talk about laymen knowing as much law as a 
 lawyer, and natural doctors or old women nurses 
 knowing as much as a doctor, has paid a fearful 
 toll in property and life." 
 
 Sam looked dazed. " I am a great deal sur-
 
 POLLY 121 
 
 prised at what you say, Mr. Branch, for I had 
 always heard the contrary," he said slowly. 
 
 "Don t mistake me; a knowledge of the his 
 tory of law or medicine, religion or science, is a 
 good thing, a great thing, inasmuch as it gives 
 one an idea of the immensity, of the grandeur of 
 the subject. To that I have no objection, but the 
 study of the practical workings of any science for 
 the use of amateurs is sacrilege." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Branch," said Sam, after a long 
 pause, "I don t quite know what to say. I have 
 always thought of a profession, have thought 
 them over and preferred law. I was a good de 
 bater in college, and liked to work on the sub 
 jects. I made a specialty of history and political 
 economy, and took a course in Roman Law. It 
 may be that I should not like it as well as I think 
 now, but if you should be willing to let me study 
 with you, I can promise you that I will not shirk 
 either in study or work about the office." 
 
 "Oh, as for that, Sam, you can come in and 
 try it, but I promise you it will not be play. While 
 I have no right to inquire how you pass your 
 time out of office hours, I shall assume the right 
 to object to anything that is in anyway unworthy 
 of my profession and yours; --but I have no 
 fear of that," he said with a smile. 
 
 You need have no fear of anything of that 
 kind, but, Mr. Branch,! have always been used to
 
 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 an outdoor life and a great deal of exercise. With 
 out it I do not believe I could do very good or 
 sustained work. I shall have to run, to row, and 
 to take long walks, or to get exercise in some way, 
 and I should n t wish you to think it wasting 
 time." 
 
 "I shall be the last one to find fault with that, 
 unless your usual exercise is in throwing bullies 
 across the street," said the old Squire with a 
 laugh. 
 
 "Well, I shall not pick any quarrels with any 
 one, but I don t like to be butted off the side 
 walk." 
 
 "I guess there will be few likely to try that 
 after the evidence in the case this morning." 
 
 "I shall probably have to go to New York to 
 settle a few matters, Mr. Branch," said Sam 
 after a while. "I have a few things there to dis 
 pose of and to pack up and a few people to say 
 good-by to; I suppose that will make no differ 
 ence?" 
 
 "I guess I can get along for a few days all right," 
 said the old Squire dryly. 
 
 "Oh! I did n t mean that," said Sam hastily, 
 in some confusion, when the Squire s hearty 
 laugh reassured him. 
 
 Just then the church clock struck nine, and 
 then rang clearly and loudly for a few minutes, 
 dying away in a staccato-like decrescendo.
 
 POLLY 123 
 
 "What is that for?" asked Sam, wondering. 
 
 "One of the many links that connect country 
 towns with the past, -- the curfew. Time little 
 children and suspicious characters were in bed." 
 
 "One of the many? What are some others? " 
 asked Sam. 
 
 "Local prejudice, narrow-mindedness, intoler 
 ance, tobacco-chewing, and leather boots," said 
 the Squire. : You will find it out some day." 
 
 Sam laughed and rose. "Good-night, Mr. 
 Branch, and thank you," he said, extending his 
 hand. "I shall be back within a week." 
 
 "Good-night, Sam," said the Squire, giving 
 him a strong handclasp. 
 
 Then he stood until the young man s form dis 
 appeared in the shadows beyond the still light. 
 
 "A good boy, a clean boy, I believe. Well, I 
 wonder if he can do it. It took me years, and I 
 was a country boy. Well, it means a long fight, 
 a long fight," he muttered, and turning, went 
 slowly into the house. 
 
 Outside the night birds were calling, and the 
 bats flitted in abrupt zigzags over the little 
 drowsy garden, and in the tiny white chamber a 
 little girl lay sleeping.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IN TOWN 
 
 THE one o clock train from Boston to New 
 York carried Sam and his unpretentious 
 grip. He had paid Alvy his bill, engaged his 
 room for an indefinite time, taken a hasty break 
 fast while the early loungers were in the bar 
 room, and had started to walk to the station, but 
 was ordered to ride by Mad, who hospitably 
 pulled up his hack horses and bade him come up 
 on the box, and had listened to his amusing stor 
 ies of the excellence of the particular horses that 
 drew that particular hack, and of the wind-bro 
 ken, foundered, saddle-galled, spavined, splinted, 
 clingfasted, ringboned, and generally useless con 
 dition of all of the Major s and Alvy s horses. 
 
 While Mad was talking thus, Brown, driving 
 the Major s hack, passed him at a whirlwind pace 
 only to find Alvy s pair of grays standing by the 
 "Ladies Entrance" of the station, while the 
 driver helped several passengers to alight, to the 
 unbounded disgust of Mad and Brown. Although 
 it was just before the arrival of the early down- 
 train to Boston, the station was a busy place. 
 Several elderly and middle-aged gentlemen in
 
 IN TOWN 125 
 
 Panama hats were arriving in private carriages, 
 some were taking a cup of coffee or some more 
 solid refection in the spacious depot restaurant. 
 Our friends Mr. Billowell, Mr. Timson, the Sen 
 ator, Deputy Sheriff Wadlin, now metamor 
 phosed into the local expressman, were talking 
 earnestly with old Caleb Terrill, the head of the 
 wool firm of Caleb Terrill & Sons, whose white 
 marble lamb couchant in front of their large ware 
 house on lower Water Street was a landmark, and 
 the hideous odors of whose wool-pulling estab 
 lishment on Hide Lane were distinctly audible for 
 a great distance. 
 
 At a corner of the large dining-room the pro 
 prietor served beer and mixed drinks, and several 
 gentleman were hoisting in a variety of the latter 
 as a necessary preliminary to the morning game 
 of whist in the smoker. Suddenly a hoarse gen 
 tleman in overalls thrust his head in at the door 
 and bellowed, "Here they come!" At once eggs 
 and breakfast bacon were left uneaten, coffee and 
 cocktails gulped in haste, and as one man all 
 flocked to the townward side of the station and 
 gazed down the street, where turning the corner 
 at the far end came two long, peculiar species of 
 beach wagon, each drawn by six horses, and 
 loaded with passengers. Of the foremost wagon 
 the leading horses were galloping, the other four 
 trotting sharply, while the six horses of the rear
 
 126 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 wagon, urged by the yells of the driver and sharp 
 cracks of the long whip, broke into a fierce run, 
 coming up on the left of the other team. The 
 driver of that team, loosening the brake and pick 
 ing his horses up, leaned forward and cracked his 
 whip over the leaders, letting out a sharp yell of 
 encouragement. As one horse the six plunged 
 into their collars. 
 
 The crowd at the station broke out in loud 
 shouts of partisanship. "Hen has him this trip." 
 -"No! Wood s got him trimmed." "Hi! look 
 at them gray leaders jump." "Gray leaders, 
 huh! the buckskins are the boys for me!" 
 Thunder! they are going to lock wheels!" 
 "How is that for driving!" "Now, whatcher 
 gotter say?" 
 
 Up came the teams on the run, wheels rattling, 
 harness creaking, hoofs ringing on the hard road, 
 whips cracking like pistols, drivers and passen 
 gers yelling at the top of their lungs, waving hats, 
 coats, umbrellas, and grips, straight up the in 
 cline to the station. For a moment it looked as if 
 the leading team would crash into the station, 
 but they were swung half-around in a masterly 
 fashion and pulled up so short that the passen 
 gers, some standing in the covered barges, were 
 rushed headlong down the narrow aisle between 
 the seats and dashed into violent collision with 
 each other, while an enthusiastic passenger on
 
 HOW IS THAT FOR DRIVING ?
 
 IN TOWN 127 
 
 the driver s seat violently threw a large lunch- 
 basket, half-filled with plates, cups, saucers, and 
 cutlery, nearly to the off-leader s head, and only 
 saved himself from following it by a death grip 
 of both chubby arms and legs on the brake bar. 
 
 The passengers then crawled out, regained and 
 smoothed their dented hats, and were counted 
 by the bystanders, and many small sums of 
 money changed hands when it transpired that 
 our old friend the Major, with sixty-five passen 
 gers in the "Flying Trapeze," which was the 
 peculiar name of his vehicle, had beaten the liti 
 gious Chris, with but fifty-seven in the "Wessa- 
 cumcum"; and the drivers were pressed to take 
 a large amount of stimulant at the bar, while 
 waiting stablemen unchecked the horses, washed 
 their mouths, and gave them each a few gulps of 
 water. 
 
 Sam examined the immense and gaudily 
 painted and paneled creations, marked the heav 
 ing, sweating, and crusted sides of the horses, and 
 learned that during the months of July and Aug 
 ust these horse-killing machines made each day 
 the round trip of twenty miles to the beach and 
 back. He climbed into the "Flying Trapeze," 
 the more gaudy of the two, and, after examining 
 the narrow, slippery seats, understood only too 
 well the appropriateness of the apparently incon 
 gruous name.
 
 128 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Just then the train whistled in and he hurried 
 to the track in time to hear the announcement, 
 ; This train stops here ten minutes for refresh 
 ments." 
 
 "Well," said Sam to a bystander, "everyone 
 seems to take his time here." 
 
 " Jesso; jesso; I callate, young man, thet the 
 ain t no sense in hurryin threw aour lettle taoun ! 
 People seemter kinder hanker arter hurryin in 
 cities n bigger places n ter take it easy like here. 
 Jelluk Alvy. Kneau Alvy, don t ye? Well, Alvy s 
 motter is Hoi on, hoi on, the ain t no hurry! 
 N Alvy s right, say I." 
 
 "Yes, I know Alvy, and I guess he gets along 
 about as comfortably as any one could, more so 
 than Chris." 
 
 " Sho, yes. Chris there. Why Chris is a rushin , 
 n a rampin , n a tarin raoun julluk one of these 
 ere crazy bugs, n don t git nowhars. Jever hear 
 how Chris n, wha zat ye say, ride daoun 
 taoun? Well, I guess," and Sam s new acquaint 
 ance, with a curt nod, climbed aboard an old end- 
 spring buggy manned by a bucolic gentleman 
 with a circle of reddish whiskers under his chin, 
 while Sam lounged into the car, hunted up a com 
 fortable seat, and, looking out of the window, 
 watched the conductor come out of the restau 
 rant in deep conversation with J. Wadlin,saw the 
 various magnates board the train, saw the con-
 
 IN TOWN 129 
 
 ductor give a signal, and by slow jerks the train 
 pulled out. 
 
 At six o clock that afternoon Sam left the 
 Grand Central Station and boarded an uptown 
 car. At East - - th street he alighted, walked 
 rapidly down the street for about fifty yards, ran 
 up a flight of stone steps, and pressed a button. 
 The door flew open. 
 
 "Hullo, Billy," said Sam, addressing a short 
 middle-aged man in buttons; "room ready?" 
 
 Yes, sir, Mr. Randolph, all aired and dusted." 
 
 Sam rapidly ran up two flights of stairs, and 
 with a key opened a door leading to a suite of 
 sitting-room, bedroom, and bath. On the famil 
 iar walls were a few pictures, a set of boxing- 
 gloves, crossed broadswords, a mask, foils, a 
 deer s head, across the antlers a crop, two fishing- 
 rods in green cases, a Mexican bridle of braided 
 white horsehair. In one corner was a fine rifle, 
 a shot-gun, and a pair of heavy Western revolvers. 
 
 Over the mantel was a cabinet photograph of 
 an exceedingly pretty girl in trim walking-suit, 
 and on a desk another of the same girl in cool 
 white. The room was furnished with large, com 
 fortable lounging-chairs, a reading- table with a 
 drop light. One side of the room was walled in by 
 shelves filled with books, the other partly occu 
 pied by exercising-machines,two dumb-bells, and 
 a pair of Indian clubs.
 
 130 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Sam passed to the bathroom, turned the taps, 
 and, returning slowly, undressed. 
 
 A knock at the door sounded and Billy s voice 
 said, "A tilligraft, sor." 
 
 Sam opened the door and took a yellow envel 
 ope, opened it and read: 
 
 Meet you at the Waldorf to-morrow at lunch, 
 sharp one. TOM. 
 
 Sam smiled rather grimly. "The Waldorf! 
 Probably my last lunch there. Tom is an extrav 
 agant devil." 
 
 Then he went to the bathroom, closed the door, 
 and a mighty sound of blowing and splashing arose. 
 
 After a while he came out in undershirt and 
 running-drawers, unlocked his desk, and began 
 looking over a heap of letters which he had picked 
 up from the floor under the mail slot. Most of 
 them were thrown into the waste-basket after a 
 hurried reading, but a few were carefully an 
 swered. Then he began examining and sorting 
 out papers of all sorts. Some were torn up and 
 thrown into the grate until there was enough to 
 fill it, and a few, a very few, were folded, dock 
 eted, put in a bundle, and secured with an elastic 
 band. He worked steadily for over an hour, and 
 then, shivering slightly and pulling on a bath 
 robe, set fire to the pile.
 
 IN TOWN 131 
 
 Finally he rose, yawned, stretched, and going 
 to the bathroom washed his hands, and began 
 slowly to put on his summer knockabout suit. 
 Suddenly he paused as if a second thought struck 
 him, smiled, and said to himself, "Might as well 
 for old acquaintance sake, if I never do it again." 
 And divesting himself of his street clothes, he 
 threw them on the bed, went to the press, and 
 took down a suit of evening-clothes, dragged a 
 stainless shirt and white vest from a drawer, and 
 looked carefully to their pressing. When he had 
 satisfied himself on these points, he arrayed him 
 self with the utmost care, spent fifteen minutes 
 in achieving a flawless tie, then threw on a light 
 overcoat and a lustreless and perfectly correct 
 silk hat, switched off the light, and went out. 
 
 "Going to dinner, Billy," he said to the stolid 
 man. 
 
 "Aw reet, sor," replied Billy. 
 
 Then he ran down the steps, posted his letters 
 at a corner, and calling a cab, stepped in. "The 
 Riverton Club," he said to the driver, and lighted 
 a cigarette and leaned forward, looking with in 
 terest at the familiar streets, carriages drawn by 
 high-stepping horses, for this was in the days 
 when Fifth Avenue was not a motor but a horse 
 show, cabs, coupes, landaus, every variety of 
 conveyance, every color and style of horse, - 
 bay, buck, black, chestnut, sorrel, white, gray,
 
 132 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 calico, long-tailed, dock-tailed, bang-tailed, - 
 every possible combination of leather, silver, 
 gold, brass, and jingling pendants. From the 
 cross-streets of the great avenue clanged the 
 gongs of the brightly lighted cars, while even the 
 jingle of the old-fashioned single line of horse- 
 cars and the rattle of the old "Fifth Avenue 
 Stage Line" busses added a bright tone to the 
 charm. 
 
 One could scarcely believe that New York was 
 "deserted." The restaurants were filled, and 
 crowds of gayly dressed people were on their way 
 to summer theatres and the parks, talking ani 
 matedly. All was light and warmth and life and 
 brightness. 
 
 The cab threaded its way in and out of the pass 
 ing teams, now drawing in close to the curb, now 
 wheeling well towards the middle of the street 
 and circling by and around some slower ve 
 hicle, and now holding back to avoid colliding 
 with some polished drag in front. Finally, it drew 
 up before a grim solid building with large bay 
 windows of plate glass, in which a few old and 
 middle-aged men lounged in deep leather chairs. 
 Sam looked them over as the cabby opened the 
 door. A very, the man with a grievance; Anthony, 
 who talked nothing but the future of the colored 
 race; old Stephens, notorious for his racy stories 
 and called by the papers a famous raconteur; a
 
 IN TOWN 133 
 
 stranger who did n t promise anything; and old 
 Perry Symonds, an authority on the battle of 
 Manassas Junction and of nothing else under the 
 sun. 
 
 Whew ! that was too much of a dose, and Sam 
 leaned back and told the cabby to drive to Sher 
 ry s. Sam found that famous restaurant ablaze 
 with light and nearly every table taken. By good 
 luck he succeeded in getting a small table in the 
 corner, where he could command a view of the 
 dining-room. Sam gave his order to the trim 
 waiter with pencil and pad, and while waiting for 
 his dinner looked sharply and with great interest 
 at the diners. Near him were a quartette of 
 Frenchmen, who shrugged high shoulders and 
 waved white and jeweled hands as they discussed 
 matters of common interest. Just beyond them 
 were two men whose names as politicians were 
 famous or infamous throughout the country, ac 
 cording to the political complexion of those who 
 spoke of them, and whose pictures and carica 
 tures had for years adorned news sheets. A flock 
 of vaudeville soubrettes and their callow escorts, 
 dining between turns, made a lively group just 
 beyond, while a florid Episcopal rector, f rocked 
 to the throat, with his curate, pale, thin, anaemic, 
 and interesting, sat just opposite a table at which 
 sat a burly man with high cheekbones, a promin 
 ent nose, a protruding jaw, and bushy eyebrows,
 
 134 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 a face and a figure known to financiers in four 
 countries. 
 
 Three overdressed and over jeweled women, 
 with arched noses and thick red lips, partly 
 atoned for by beautiful eyelashes and magnificent 
 hair, drank champagne in a corner, while a man 
 with an immense head of curly hair and vast tan 
 gle of beard devoured his food in an animal-like 
 way that betokened foreign manners and very 
 bad ones at that. There was also a large propor 
 tion of beautifully but quietly dressed women 
 and handsome men, unquestionably of the higher- 
 class Americans of whom Sam was proud. 
 
 Sam looked eagerly in every direction, and 
 while he recognized many faces and knew a few 
 names, he did not see any acquaintance with 
 whom he could share his dinner, and for a few 
 moments he felt very much alone. At all events, 
 he thought, this is better than those old club buz 
 zards, who bit and snapped and tore reputations 
 to shreds and mouthed the reeking fragments 
 with hyena-like enjoyment. Here in this crowded 
 restaurant there was light and life and enjoy 
 ment, and he felt like one returned from a long 
 absence to his own again. 
 
 Then the waiter brought his soup, and he fell 
 to with the enjoyment of long abstinence. It was 
 a long, satisfying meal, and as it ended he lighted 
 a cigarette, paid his check with a handsome tip to
 
 IN TOWN 135 
 
 the waiter, and was receiving from that deferen 
 tial person his hat and coat, when the head waiter 
 came up and asked if he were Mr. Randolph. On 
 being assured of that fact the waiter said a lady 
 wished to see him. 
 
 "A lady!" said Sam to himself; "who can 
 know me here at this season?" 
 
 However, he followed his guide to a corner of 
 the room where, partly screened behind a huge 
 tubbed rubber plant, was a table at which sat 
 three persons, an elderly lady in luminous gray, 
 a white-haired, white-moustached old gentleman 
 in evening clothes, and a beautiful girl in pink, 
 with a gracefully wide hat bearing a jungle of 
 white ostrich plumes. 
 
 Sam s heart gave a great leap, for it was the 
 girl whose pictures he had only an hour before 
 packed so carefully among the few things he was 
 to take away with him. She gave Sam her slim 
 hand, while a smile of welcome curved her lips 
 and a light of pleasure shone in her dark eyes. 
 "Such a pleasure, Sam Mr. Randolph I 
 had no idea you were in town. Uncle had to 
 come to town on some business, something that 
 required Aunt Mary s signature, and so I came, 
 too, and we thought we would dine here just to 
 see how it would seem. And oh! it s just heav 
 enly. Even the smell of the docks and the streets 
 seemed almost too good to be true."
 
 136 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Sam greeted her uncle and aunt with much 
 deference, and at their invitation took a seat at 
 their table, giving his hat and coat to the waiter. 
 
 "Now, sir," said Ethel, "confess; what good 
 deed, or what mischief, more than likely, brought 
 you to New York in the summer?" 
 
 "Why, it certainly was not mischief, but if you 
 can believe it a matter of business. I know it is 
 quite a bit to ask of you, when you know my gen 
 eral incapacity for anything of the kind." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Randolph," said Ethel, "I really 
 believe it, although it does seem odd. Uncle 
 John," she said, turning to the old gentleman, 
 "Sam -- Mr. Randolph is modest enough to 
 express some doubts of my believing he is in New 
 York on business. What do you think of that? 
 Do not this costume, and his presence at Sherry s 
 look businesslike? Now, if we had met him on 
 Wall Street, or coming out of a bank or lawyer s 
 office, we would naturally suppose he was there 
 on pleasure solely, but here, why, of course it 
 must have been business." 
 
 "Whatever it was, it has paid, since I have 
 met you," said Sam in a low tone. 
 
 "Really, you have convinced me that you are 
 no business man by that speech," she laughed. 
 "Uncle, won t you please answer my question?" 
 
 "If you will repeat it, I ll try to," replied the 
 white-moustached old gentleman. "My niece
 
 IN TOWN 137 
 
 has a way, Mr. Randolph, of asking a perfectly 
 plain question, and then rattling along so far that 
 when she decides to give you a chance to answer 
 it, which is only when she is completely out of 
 breath and ideas, you have entirely forgotten it, 
 and so has she. Now, Ethel, repeat the ques 
 tion." 
 
 "Well, really, Uncle John, I I you see 
 it was something about, well, never mind, it 
 was very unimportant," stammered the young 
 girl in pretty confusion. "But what brought you 
 to New York, Mr. Randolph?" 
 
 "Really, Ethel," said Sam, "it was business 
 wholly that brought me, and not very pleasant 
 business. I came here to sell my furniture, pack 
 my trunks, pay my bills, resign from my clubs, 
 and leave New York." 
 
 "Leave New York! why, Sam Randolph, have 
 you gone crazy? You don t mean for good, 
 surely? " 
 
 "I can t say surely, but I am afraid so," said 
 Sam rather despondently. 
 
 He was beginning to realize how much he was 
 giving up, as he looked at this young girl and felt 
 the influence of the music, the lights, the odors, 
 and the indescribable something that he had 
 missed in the last few weeks. 
 
 " What can be the reason? I cannot understand 
 it at all," said the young girl.
 
 138 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "The reason is very simple. My father s es 
 tate was practically wiped out by bad invest 
 ments, and when all his debts were paid there was 
 nothing left, and I have got to go to work." 
 
 "How is that, Mr. Randolph?" said the man 
 with the white moustache. "I thought your fa 
 ther was well off. Not a rich man as we call it 
 here, but well fixed." 
 
 "I thought so, too," said Sam, smiling a little 
 ruefully. "It is too long a story to tell now, but 
 beyond just enough for me to live in the country 
 for two or three years, he left nothing. And so I 
 am going to study law in an office in the coun- 
 try." 
 
 "But why don t you take a course in a law 
 school?" asked her uncle. You know the best 
 preparation is none too good in law or medicine. 
 The Harvard Law School has a great reputation 
 and the Columbia also. And you would keep in 
 better touch with your New York friends." 
 
 "In the first place, I can t afford it, and in the 
 second, in the office I am to enter I shall have a 
 practical, working knowledge by the time I am 
 through, and that without expense, and expense 
 is the one thing I must consider." 
 
 : Yes, I know," insisted her uncle; "but who 
 ever heard of a great lawyer coming from a coun 
 try office?" 
 
 "A lot of them have, but I will admit that a
 
 IN TOWN 139 
 
 law school preparation is a great thing, a great 
 thing. But I believe a man can become a good 
 lawyer with an office preparation, and access to 
 a good library," said Sam. Why, the Squire 
 told me only yesterday that Langdell, the old 
 head of the Harvard Law School, got his educa 
 tion in part in the office of Judge Stickney in 
 Elmtown, where I am to locate." 
 
 "The Squire," laughed the young girl; "only 
 think, Auntie, what a delightfully old-fashioned 
 title. Who is the Squire, Sam?" 
 
 "His name is Ira Branch, and he is about the 
 finest specimen of a strong country gentleman I 
 have ever seen," replied Sam. "I wish you could 
 see him." 
 
 Suddenly her uncle put down his coffee cup so 
 abruptly that he spilled half the contents on the 
 white tablecloth. 
 
 "Ira Branch, that rascally pettifogger! Do 
 you mean to say, young man, that you are a 
 friend of his?" he sputtered. 
 
 Sam looked at him in astonishment. The old 
 gentleman s face had become almost purple and 
 his white moustache bristled with rage. 
 
 "Ira Branch a rascally pettifogger, sir? I 
 guess you don t know the Ira Branch I mean, 
 sir," said Sam in a curiously hard voice. 
 
 "The very man, sir, Ira Branch of Elmtown. 
 I know him, sir. Ha! I know him very well, sir,
 
 140 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 and I consider him an impertinent, rascally petti 
 fogger," and the choleric old gentleman brought 
 his fist down with such force that the water in 
 the carafe and the glasses jumped and the silver 
 rattled. 
 
 Sam s eyes narrowed and his face was white. 
 Yet he spoke in a quiet voice. 
 
 "Mr. Van Cleves, Ira Branch was my mother s 
 friend, my father s friend, and mine, and I am 
 not the man to hear quietly any one call him a 
 rascal or speak ill of him. I know him, sir. You 
 do not." 
 
 "No, sir, I don t, and I don t want to, or any 
 one of his friends either," said the old gentleman 
 in a fury. 
 
 Sam rose, quiet and pale, but completely mas 
 ter of himself. 
 
 Then it only remains for me to bid the ladies 
 good-evening and to regret having caused them 
 this annoyance. Good-night, Mrs. Van Cleves," 
 he said, bowing low to that somewhat agitated 
 lady; "good -night, Ethel," he said, giving his 
 hand to the young girl, who, pathetically grieved 
 and disappointed, said nothing but looked from 
 him to her uncle in a most imploring manner. 
 
 Then, turning, Sam walked out of the dining- 
 room without a backward glance, but with a 
 glow of anger in his heart and a blaze in his eyes 
 that might have scorched a less stern, stiff,
 
 IN TOWN 141 
 
 pompous, and conceited man than the white- 
 moustached old gentleman. 
 
 "An empty-headed, brainless, coxcombical, 
 addle-pated old ass," muttered Sam, as he paused 
 to light a cigarette. 
 
 "That young man will come to no good," 
 fumed her uncle. 
 
 But the young girl with difficulty restrained her 
 tears until they entered their carriage, when she 
 retired to a corner and cried until her handker 
 chief was limp and her eyes red. 
 
 For a couple of hours more Sam went from 
 place to place, but the joy of New York had de 
 parted. The streets seemed hot, insufferably hot, 
 the crowds pushed and jostled and elbowed - 
 the clang of the cars was deafening, the lights 
 blinding. 
 
 He entered a cheap theatre. A woman in 
 tights, with impossible blonde hair and over- 
 penciled eyelids, was singing a dreary ballad in 
 a harsh metallic voice. Next two knockabout 
 artists did some uninteresting buck and wing 
 dances, and a lightning artist drew a winter scene 
 in a stated number of seconds. Then a pompous 
 man in a huge moustache and an immense shirt- 
 front began to sing a sentimental ballad illustrat 
 ing a series of lantern slides, and Sam fled. 
 
 Finally, he went to his room, pulled off his 
 clothes, took a turn at the machine, the dumb-
 
 142 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 bells and the clubs, a shower and a vigorous rub- 
 down, then went to bed. 
 
 "A brainless ass! a pompous, baboon-faced 
 old windbag. Ira Branch is worth a hundred 
 such men. And she did n t have grit enough to 
 say a word. H m," - but here his voice trailed 
 out in slumber. It had been a hard day for Sam. 
 
 The next day was a busy one for him. He 
 spent the forenoon in packing, and burning. Then 
 at one o clock he met his friend Tom at the Wal 
 dorf, had lunch, and listened to Tom s loud re 
 proaches. What was the sense in burying one s 
 self alive in a country town. If he had got to 
 work, why not get a place in some New York 
 house? Journalism or banking or finance or pol 
 itics? But to become a countryman ! Why, soon 
 he would be wearing cowhide boots and chin- 
 whiskers, and carrying a carpet-bag like country 
 men in Life and Judge. Or would be trying five- 
 cent cases in an office over the country store, like 
 Golden in Way Down East. It was funny on the 
 stage, and it was quite the thing for hysteric old 
 ladies to squeeze out a tear or two, and for "Old 
 Timer" in the Ladies Home Companion to grow 
 lachrymose over the old days in the country, but 
 for Sam to do it was something he, for his part, 
 could n t understand. It was rank idiocy. 
 
 Did he want any money? No, he always was 
 too damned independent. No, he would be
 
 IN TOWN 143 
 
 hanged if he would buy his old furniture or help 
 him in any way ! He would n t be guilty of any 
 such infernal conspiracy as to help him commit 
 social suicide. 
 
 All this and much more, while Sam, much 
 amused, ate heartily of a delicious lunch and 
 stuck to his point obstinately, as Tom said, like 
 "an infernal old snapping turtle." 
 
 In the end Tom bought Sam s furniture, took 
 his lease off his hands, on the special understand 
 ing that Sam should keep one key and promise, 
 under most hideous penalties, to make that his 
 home whenever he came to New York. Sam 
 promised on his honor, and at six o clock he left 
 Tom standing in the Grand Central Station as 
 the train for Boston slowly drew out, and Sam 
 turned his back on city life, as he thought, for 
 ever. 
 
 It was ten minutes of six in the afternoon of 
 the next day when the Boston Express stopped 
 at Elmtown and Sam had a chance to see the 
 evening end of the beach drama as it was played 
 during the summer months. The barges were 
 backed up to the curbings, and hoarse- voiced 
 barkers proclaimed the supreme excellence of 
 their respective conveyances. "Flying Trapeze! 
 Flying Trapeze! The fastest and most comfort 
 able conveyance to the most famous beach on the 
 Atlantic Coast. Newly built, padded seats, the
 
 144 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 only barge using the patent elliptical rockaway 
 springs, making the entire conveyance as easy as 
 a cradle. The best team of horses in Rockaway 
 County, the safest driver, the very safest driver 
 in the State. That s right, ladies and gentlemen, 
 step right this way; only seventy -five cents to 
 the beach. Baggage wagon to follow. No extra 
 charge for baggage." 
 
 " Wessacumcum ! Wes-s-s-a-cumcum ! Safest 
 and easiest barge in America, driven by the 
 driver who gets there, and gets there on time. 
 Not a new or a stiff-springed one, but mellowed 
 down and proved. Five years without an acci 
 dent, five years, gentlemen. Seventy -five cents 
 for the trip. Step this wa-a-ay, seventy -five 
 cents, gentlemen." 
 
 " Flying Trapeze ! Flying Trapeze ! the only 
 Wessacumcum! the safest -- Flying -- Wessa - 
 step seventy -five right this way." 
 
 While these gentlemen were thus stridently 
 declaiming, muscular retainers were fairly col 
 laring passengers and rushing them into the 
 barges. 
 
 "Is this Major Drake s barge?" snapped an 
 elderly female with spectacles to a Blunt man. 
 
 "Certainly, madam, right here," he answered, 
 taking her bags and piloting her skillfully into 
 the Wessacumcum. 
 
 "Would n t ride in Major Drake s barge if he
 
 IN TOWN 145 
 
 would give me a ride for nothing," sputtered an 
 elderly man with a red face and spats. 
 
 "Right you are, sir," said a polite Drake 
 striker; "Major s a rascal; this way, sir. There 
 you are, sir," helping him into the Major s barge. 
 "Don t mention it; glad to help you, sir." 
 
 Occasionally a Drake striker got a passenger s 
 baggage, while a Blunt sympathizer collared the 
 passenger. This caused much tugging and a war 
 of words, in which the passenger not infrequently 
 took an active part. To add to this confusion, the 
 hackmen were vaunting the two leading hotels 
 and wrangling over fares, the diners were scram 
 bling for the lunch counters, and the drivers of 
 private carriages were trying to drive near the 
 station and swearing at those in front of them, 
 and a large delegation of station loungers had 
 gathered to see the fun. 
 
 "Shades of immortal Caesar," thought Sam. 
 "I reckon I needn t rust here for want of ex 
 citement." 
 
 Finally the barges drove off, the hacks followed, 
 and the owners of private carriages entered their 
 conveyances and rolled off townwards. Old Caleb 
 Terrill got into a dignified sort of ark, drawn by 
 a large gray horse. Sam, who had been so much 
 interested in the passenger warfare as entirely to 
 forget his baggage, turned back with his checks 
 and gave them to an expressman in the employ
 
 146 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 of J. Wadlin, who promised to land them at 
 Alvy s, and Sam was pleased at an invitation to 
 ride with the deputy sheriff himself in a light 
 Concord. He sprang in, and the dappled brown 
 started with a jerk that nearly took Sam s head 
 off. 
 
 Down the street they tore in the wake of sev 
 eral speedy teams that were trying to pass each 
 other. They turned the corner into the Main 
 Street on two wheels and settled down for the 
 half-mile to town. By the time they had reached 
 the Rumscott, J. Wadlin had passed three teams, 
 but could not gain on Alvy s flag-tailed bay and 
 a gray pony driven by Mr. Timson that were 
 racing neck and neck the entire distance. 
 
 "Whew!" said Sam; "is this a regular thing, 
 Mr. Sheriff?" as they drew up at Alvy s, with the 
 brown squatting like a rabbit and plowing the 
 dust with his hind feet. 
 
 "We always try to mix a little pleasure with 
 our business," said J. Wadlin, laughing. 
 
 "I should think so. I have seen more excite 
 ment in the few days I have been here than I ever 
 saw in New York in the same time. Good-night, 
 Mr. Sheriff, and thank you," and Sam turned 
 into the now familiar hotel, nodding to the loung 
 ers over whom he had to climb. 
 
 He was thoroughly amused and elated, his 
 step was as springy as an antelope s, and he
 
 IN TOWN 147 
 
 looked with enthusiasm to his future. True, he 
 had left New York with its delightful associa 
 tions; true, he had lost his wealth, and was de 
 pendent upon his own hands and brain; but he 
 had no fear, for in the pocket of his inner coat, 
 next his heart, he carried a letter from the young 
 girl, a faintly scented missive which read : - 
 
 DEAR SAM: I can t tell you how sorry I am 
 about what happened at dinner last night. Uncle 
 John was horrid horrid, brutal; and unjust too, 
 I am sure. I think he was a little ashamed of him 
 self afterwards, for he tried to say something to 
 me, but I would n t listen; and all to-day he has 
 just been putting himself out to be nice to me. 
 He can be so nice and kind if he will, but he can 
 be so disagreeable too! 
 
 I am ashamed of myself, too, because I 
 did n t say a word, not a word. Did you think 
 I had no spirit at all? I hope not; but I was so 
 flustered by his outburst that I could n t speak. I 
 don t believe one word he said about Mr. 
 Ranch, I think that was his name. Anyway, 
 Auntie sends her love and hopes you will not 
 mind what Uncle said. She says he has been 
 awfully worried about stocks. I think it must 
 be that Mr. Ranch crossed him in business some 
 time and Uncle never forgives. 
 
 Well, I am going to Hazel wood to-day to spend
 
 148 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Sunday with some friends, and the carriage is 
 waiting. Why don t you come down, too? I am 
 dying to know what you think of me. 
 
 Yours regretfully, 
 
 ETHEL. 
 
 With that letter in his pocket, which we may 
 be sure he had answered fully to relieve her 
 mind as to what he thought of her, is it to be 
 wondered at that Sam thought the world a very 
 delightful place and his future a thing to fight for 
 splendidly?
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 LEGAL BEGINNINGS 
 
 THE next morning Sam was at the Squire s of 
 fice promptly at 8.30, and announced him 
 self ready to begin. The Squire was evidently 
 glad to see him again, and assigned him a reading- 
 desk in the general office, introduced him to the 
 stenographer, Miss Ellis, a middle-aged and 
 somewhat prim maiden, of a spare figure, and clear 
 gray eyes that looked at Sam straight, which he 
 liked in her. Then the Squire detailed the course 
 for study that Sam was to pursue. First he was to 
 spend a full hour on Blackstone, reading it slowly 
 and understandingly, and taking notes. At the 
 end of every week he was to review his reading by 
 the aid of his notes. 
 
 A second hour was to be spent in the same way 
 with Cooley on Torts. To be followed later with 
 Greenleaf on Evidence, Kent s Commentaries, 
 always looking up and reading the State Reports 
 noted on the margin, and making notes. At the 
 end of the year he was to study special subjects, 
 with note-book reviews of his Blackstone and 
 Kent. As often as practicable he was to draw by 
 himself some common legal document, such as a
 
 150 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 deed, a will, a complaint and warrant, a libel, a 
 bill in equity, a declaration or partnership agree 
 ment, and to be ready to render such assistance 
 to the Squire as he might need. 
 
 "For you know, Sam, in some places, at least 
 in England, a fee of considerable size is commonly 
 exacted by an attorney or solicitor of a student, 
 whom they speak of as an articled clerk. In 
 America we expect them to be willing to help us 
 without remuneration, and to use our libraries 
 and instruction in return for it. And now, Sam, 
 it is for you to make your own hours of work and 
 play. My hours are from 8.30 to 12.30, from 2 to 
 6, which I think is long enough for a working day. 
 There will be days when you may be out of the 
 office on work of mine, looking up witnesses, look 
 ing after the execution of papers, and later, I 
 hope, drawing them up yourself. Some of the 
 work and much of the reading will be hard and 
 dry, but to me it has been interesting, and I be 
 lieve it will be so to you. Don t let yourself get 
 fagged, stale, I think you athletes call it, and 
 don t get out of training. You will have time to 
 ride and row and tramp, and you will need it. If 
 you are regular in your work, you will come along 
 wonderfully well. 
 
 "And now, one word more: the law is a great 
 profession. There is no greater. Should the time 
 ever come when you grow to dislike it, when you
 
 LEGAL BEGINNINGS 151 
 
 get to undervalue it, to contrast it unfavorably 
 with any other profession, when you feel that it 
 is not worthy of the best there is in you, when 
 you cease to feel that it is the corner-stone of 
 morality, the bedrock of virtue, the foundation- 
 stone of right, the underlying support of our na 
 tional integrity, then you have mistaken your 
 vocation, then you are unworthy to become or 
 to remain a practicing lawyer. Remember this, 
 my boy." 
 
 Sam rose, and he and the Squire shook hands 
 solemnly, while the stenographer looked straight 
 at them with her clear gray eyes. 
 
 "And now, Miss Ellis," said the Squire, turn 
 ing briskly, "what appointments have I for to- 
 day?" 
 
 The stenographer took up a typewritten sheet 
 and read. "Mr. Caleb Terrell at 9 about the 
 lease of the Folsom farm; at 9.30, Mr. Woodman, 
 of Strasser Holley & Company, is to have a con 
 sultation in the Parker v. Manufacturing Com 
 pany flowage case; at 10, Probate Court; and 
 this afternoon the depositions in the Peabody v. 
 Wainwright case. That is all I have notes of." 
 
 "All right, Miss Ellis, thank you. Give me the 
 list and bring in my mail. Oh, here comes Mr. 
 Terrell now," as a tall, massive, somewhat stoop- 
 shouldered old man, with shaggy eyebrows, one 
 defective eye, the other of a steely gray, so sharp
 
 152 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 was its piercing look, came heavily into the office 
 and greeted the Squire. Then the Squire, taking 
 his pile of mail, ushered old Caleb into his consul 
 tation room, Miss Ellis turned to her typewriter, 
 and Sam, opening the first volume of Blackstone, 
 set vigorously to work with note-book and pen. 
 
 A half -hour passed, the client stalked stiffly out, 
 Miss Ellis went into the consultation room, and 
 the Squire dictated rapidly to her until Mr. 
 Woodman, a young, bald-headed man, with a 
 keen, pleasant face arrived, and after a pleasant 
 word to Miss Ellis went in with the Squire. Ten 
 o clock passed and Sam read on. The clock 
 ticked, and the typewriter rattled, and the dull 
 murmur of voices came from the inner room. 
 Sam was aroused from his concentration by the 
 Squire saying, "Sam, I want you to meet Mr. 
 Woodman, the junior member of our largest law 
 firm in the State, Strasser and Holley, of the 
 capital city." 
 
 "Mighty glad to meet you, Mr. Randolph," 
 said the young man with a firm grip of his hand. 
 "Yes, we are the largest firm, but whenever we 
 get so tangled up in a jungle of law that the en 
 tire firm cannot find the answer, we always come 
 to Mr. Branch to unravel things." 
 
 Sam shook hands with the young man and ad 
 mired the well-set, vigorous figure, and the strong 
 shrewd face.
 
 LEGAL BEGINNINGS 153 
 
 "Woodman and I have got to go over to Pro 
 bate Court for an hour or so, and if any one calls, 
 take down what they say, if they can t wait. If 
 their business is important enough to wait, tell 
 them I will be back, well, sometime, I guess." 
 
 Sam nodded assent, bowed to Woodman, and 
 he and the Squire departed with a bundle of pa 
 pers. As they went down the stairs the younger 
 man said, "Rather an unusual specimen, that, 
 Mr. Branch. By George! I have seldom seen a 
 cleaner-looking, better-built young chap in my 
 life. Where did he come from? Not the country, 
 surely? He looks like some one I have seen." 
 
 "No, a New Yorker, son of a friend of mine. 
 His father died leaving him nothing beyond 
 enough to live a few years economically, and he 
 has decided to study law. This is his first day in 
 the office. Of course it is an experiment, but he 
 will do something in some way. If not in law, 
 then in medicine or business." 
 
 "He might go into the ring with those should 
 ers, and that chest," said Woodman. 
 
 "So he said, when he found he was broke," 
 said the Squire with a laugh. "When he was in 
 college he was an athlete, and as he says, little 
 else." 
 
 " What college? " asked the young man sharply. 
 
 "Yale," replied the Squire. 
 
 "Holy Smoke! I thought so. Well, I guess I
 
 154 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 have seen him, and, confound him ! he has lost me 
 more money and caused Harvard men more 
 heart failure, than any man at Yale for twenty 
 years. For the four years he was in college, after 
 we had snapped up all the odds we could get on 
 Harvard, this Randolph would go galloping over 
 our goal line for a touchdown until we all wanted 
 to kill him, the swiftest, grittiest, line-bucking 
 full-back in the country, he was then; or send a 
 red-hot sizzling liner about ten feet over the right- 
 field fence when the bases were full, the score a 
 tie at the last half of the ninth. Then he won all 
 the intercollegiate wrestling and boxing cham 
 pionships. Why, Squire, when he graduated, 
 Harvard planned a celebration, and felt just as 
 the North felt when Lee surrendered. I don t be 
 lieve you realize what a chap he is. And every 
 body liked him too, and he got a good mark in his 
 studies. Why, I m told they burn incense in 
 front of a tablet in the Yale Gym where his rec 
 ords are." 
 
 The Squire laughed. "Well, I am more inter 
 ested in wondering what sort of a lawyer he will 
 make." 
 
 "I ll bet he will make a good one. He likes a 
 square fight. Too many of us, well, I must n t 
 say that, a few of us, and that is too many, 
 look to results rather than to methods. You 
 know that is so, Mr. Branch," said Woodman.
 
 LEGAL BEGINNINGS 155 
 
 " Yes, Woodman, I know that. It is the one re 
 proach to the profession," said the Squire. "But 
 what reason have you to suppose that because 
 young Randolph is, as you say, a famous athlete, 
 that he will make a good lawyer. It seems to me 
 that anything carried to an extreme, like athlet 
 ics, would be liable to stand in the way of success 
 in a business or professional line." 
 
 That is a danger, I admit, but it seldom is so 
 in competitive athletics like football, rowing, 
 baseball, or athletics that require quick eyes, 
 alert minds, sound judgment, and perfect self- 
 control. I tell you, Squire, a great player is 
 obliged to be a mighty brainy sort of a man, and 
 has to have grit, determination, and a power of 
 concentration to learn the signals and plays. Why, 
 it s a sort of muscular chess or whist playing, and 
 you never knew a lawyer who was a good whist or 
 chess player who was not a good lawyer?" 
 
 "No, I can t say that I ever did, but I have 
 known some good lawyers spoiled by poker," re 
 torted the Squire dryly, as they entered the cor 
 ridor of the Probate Court-Room, where a short 
 but exceedingly stiff gentleman on the bench was 
 listening with a bored air to an elaborate explan 
 ation of why an executor should not be allowed 
 the usual commission of two and one half per cent 
 upon the settlement of an account. 
 
 "I shall make the allowance and sign the de-
 
 156 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 cree," said the gentleman on the bench in a high 
 voice, "subject to your appeal." 
 
 "Very well, your Honor," said the lank attor 
 ney with a<bow. "Before deciding whether or 
 not to appeal, I shall consult my client." 
 
 Whereupon he withdrew to the corridor with 
 his client, a solemn-faced man with a frock coat 
 and a white tie, suggesting the cleric, who, when 
 he fully understood that he had lost, cursed and 
 swore in a most unclerical manner, in which he 
 was ably seconded by the lank lawyer. 
 
 "What s the matter, Jim, run against a 
 stump?" asked the Squire. 
 
 "Stump!" replied Jim in huge disgust. "By 
 the Eternal ! that stiff -backed little woodchuck is 
 the most unmitigated ass in America. Why, if 
 old man Blackstone, Coke, Kent, and Chitty 
 should come into his damned old court and at 
 tempt to argue a point of law, and he got a brain 
 less wrinkle in that thing he calls his mind that 
 they might be wrong, not that they were, or 
 probably were, but might be wrong, why, they 
 might just as well try to fly a paper kite in Hell as 
 to expect to have him see things as they did. It s 
 a good thing to have a good opinion of one s self, 
 but measureless, boundless, idiotic conceit raises 
 hob with the administration of justice." 
 
 The Squire laughed. "The old story, W r ood- 
 man, of one s constitutional right to damn the
 
 LEGAL BEGINNINGS 157 
 
 court when the decision is against you"; and they 
 entered the court-room and took their seats at 
 the long table. 
 
 Back in the office Sam worked away at his 
 book. Much to his surprise it did not seem dry 
 or uninteresting, but the contrary, and the pride 
 of taking intelligent and legible notes kept his 
 interest to the mark. He was by no means with 
 out interruption, for several clients inquiring for 
 the Squire came successively into the office. All 
 refused to state their business, but gave their 
 names and told Sam they would call again. 
 
 One, a sharp-featured old farmer with a ruff of 
 reddish-gray whiskers under his chin, sat down 
 to converse with Sam. 
 
 " Be you a new clerk or a student? " he queried. 
 
 "I came in as student, but expect to do some 
 clerking." 
 
 "Wai, I reckon ye 11 haffter on busy days. The 
 Squire duz an almighty passel er business some 
 times." 
 
 "I hope I can help him a little; he has helped 
 me enough." 
 
 "No doubt on t: Squire allers duz more for 
 other folks than for hisself. Seems so sum folks 
 is made so." 
 
 "Not many, I m afraid," said Sam with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Wai," said the old man dryly, "th ain t so
 
 158 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 many thet a feller s likely to git craouded n 
 squat much raoun here; something like cuckoos 
 nests." 
 
 "Why! are they rare?" asked Sam in surprise. 
 
 "Guess ye ain t never lived much in the coun 
 try," said the old man, taking out his upper set 
 of teeth and polishing them on his sleeve, while 
 his upper lip promptly retired nearly out of sight 
 and his articulation became very indistinct. 
 "Cuckoos nests is rarer n hen s teeth." 
 
 "That is new to me," said Sam, "and inter 
 esting too. What do they do for nests." 
 
 "What dew they dew fer nests? Wai, I sposed 
 everybody knowed that," said the old man, quite 
 doubling himself up with a shrill "kek, kek, kek" 
 of laughter. : Ye see the tarnel little cusses jest 
 wait raoun till they see some sparrer or robin or 
 teeter or some other bird thet has left its nest, 
 when ez quick ez scat they ups and lays their 
 eggs in the nest for the other birds to hatch n 
 bring up. They is jest like some lawyers raoun 
 here. They git a case bigger n they kin handle 
 and in they come to the Squire n git him to larn 
 em the law n help em try the case, n take all 
 the bother n they take all the money. Haow 
 d ye like it?" he queried suddenly. 
 
 "Like what," asked Sam; "the study of law?" 
 
 Ya as; that s what I said." 
 
 "Well, considering the fact that I have just
 
 LEGAL BEGINNINGS 159 
 
 begun to-day, I can t quite say, but I think I do 
 like it," replied Sam. 
 
 "D J ye know what a negative pregnant is?" 
 demanded the old man. 
 
 "No," said Sam, "I never heard of it." 
 
 "Don t know what nisi prius means nuther? 
 I ll bate ye tew dollars," continued the old man. 
 
 "It is some kind of a court, I think; at least 
 I Ve read in the papers about trials at nisi prius, 
 but just what it means, I can t say," said Sam, 
 wrinkling his forehead thoughtfully. 
 
 "Oh, wal, ye 11 larn, ye 11 larn. I wuz tumble 
 ignorant once, jelluk you. Why once, I hearn of 
 a feller dyin intestate, n I reely thought he died 
 of some kind of a bowel trouble, when it only 
 means he did n t leave no will," and the old man 
 again broke into staccato laughter. "Then, agin, 
 when my Uncle Cyrus died, Cyrus Penniman, 
 of Liberty Center; ye may hev hearn of him, 
 no? Wal, never mind; he left a letter to me sayin 
 he d made me executor of his will, and that I d 
 find his las will n testament in his desk, locked 
 up in a draw. Wal, I looked in the desk n* got the 
 key n unlocked the draw n faoun the will, but 
 I could n t find the testament ter save my life. I 
 hunted more n tew hour n then tuk the will n 
 hitched up the old hoss n put for the Squire s, n 
 told him, n he laffed fit ter kill hisself . He told 
 me the will and testament wuz the same thing,
 
 160 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 n he said that Charles Dickens had wrote abaout 
 a feller once that hed done the same thing. Jever 
 hear the like?" 
 
 :< Yes," said Sam, "that was Captain Cuttle in 
 Dombey and Son." 
 
 "Sure enuf, the same feller. Yeou ain t so tur- 
 rible ignorunt, be ye?" said the old man delight 
 edly. "P raps ye kin help me, if the Squire ain t 
 comin soon. I gotter git back. Mother 11 be a- 
 waitin ." 
 
 "I guess there is not much chance of it; but 
 tell me what the question is, and I will have the 
 Squire write you about it. Will that do?" 
 
 "Why, yes. Reely you be quite a feller," said 
 the old man. "Neaou, I m appointed execwtor of 
 old Matildy Peaslee s will. She died las June n 
 the will wuz proved in July, n an execwtor hes 
 three months under the law to take an inventory 
 of the goods n chattels, reel n pussonal. Neaou, 
 old Cyrus Farnum n Eliphalet W. Simpkins n 
 young Bill Peterson wuz the appraisers n done 
 the appraisin . Wai, the will said, I give, be 
 queath, n devise untoe Hitty Ann Parshly, my 
 cousin, my Marble Faun with marginal notes. 
 Wai, I hunted, n the appraisers hunted, n every 
 body hunted. There wuz a chiny cat, n one v 
 them crockery settin hens, n a plaster of paris 
 lion with one leg broke, but the wuzent no fawn. 
 We asked the neighbors abaout it, n nobody had
 
 LEGAL BEGINNINGS 161 
 
 never hearn of it or seen it. Neaou, likely it was 
 busted n thrown away, but haow a marble fawn, 
 or a plaster of paris fawn, or any sort of a fawn 
 could hev marginal notes beats me. What I want 
 t know s this. If we can t find the fawn, do we 
 buy her another or not, n if yes, where can ye 
 git one with marginal notes, thet s what?" 
 
 For a moment Sam looked at him with aston 
 ishment, thinking it a joke on him. But the seri 
 ousness of the old man s face was that of a man 
 really wishing advice, and Sam realized that he 
 was puzzled and had absolutely no comprehen 
 sion of the truth of the matter. For a moment an 
 almost uncontrollable desire to laugh nearly over 
 powered him, but he controlled it, although con 
 scious of the laughing eyes of the stenographer 
 upon him. 
 
 Yes, I can answer that question, for it is n t a 
 question of law. The Marble Faun is a book writ 
 ten by Hawthorne, and of course the marginal 
 notes are those probably made by her, but if the 
 notes should by any possibility have been made 
 by the author, it is a very valuable book. I would 
 advise you to examine her books as soon as pos 
 sible." 
 
 The old man struck himself a powerful blow on 
 his knee. "By thunder! young feller, yeaou got 
 it. Thet s it. I thought it funny for a fawn to 
 hev marginal notes. We all thought so. What a
 
 162 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 passel of doduncks we wuz. Haw! Haw! Haw! 
 how mother 11 laff at us. Thet s wuss n the tes 
 tament. I swanny, ye be quite a feller, arter all. 
 Neaou, f ye ever come up my way, jest drop in 
 n me n mother 11 be tickled to death. Mother 11 
 git ye up a biled dinner. What s to pay, no- 
 thin ? Wai, wal," and the old man went out 
 chuckling; then stopped, put in his head and said, 
 " Say, young feller, when ye find aout what a neg 
 ative pregnant is, tell me. I bate ye it s some- 
 thin pretty tough." 
 
 The Squire came in with Mr. Woodman just 
 before lunch, dictated a few letters, saw and ad 
 vised an insistent client, and left the office with 
 Mr. Woodman at 12.30, when Sam went to din 
 ner with almost as much appetite as if he had 
 been tramping the woods. 
 
 At a quarter of two he was back in the office, 
 where he found the Squire at his table in the gen 
 eral office with a pile of the law reports of various 
 states before him, busily employed in making 
 notes. He nodded at Sam and then turned to his 
 books. Sam took his seat at his desk and opened 
 his book on Torts. 
 
 For a quarter of an hour there was silence, 
 broken only by the scratching of the Squire s 
 pen and the rustle of the leaves of his books. 
 
 Then clients began to arrive, and the Squire 
 laid aside his books with a sigh and began to listen
 
 LEGAL BEGINNINGS 163 
 
 and advise. Sam listened attentively, and 
 marked the keenness with which the Squire led 
 them to the point in issue, and the conciseness 
 yet thoroughness of his replies and explanations. 
 He noted another thing. He deprecated the 
 bringing of suits and always urged pacific meas 
 ures. Indeed one client who was for drastic ac 
 tion, and who had been advised to try once more 
 to accomplish an amicable adjustment of his dif 
 ference with a neighbor, said, "Squire, for a man 
 who can fight a lawsuit as you can, and who ap 
 pears to enjoy a fight as much as you do, you set 
 tle more cases out of court than any lawyer I ever 
 retained. If you had more fight in you at the be 
 ginning, you might do twice as much business." 
 
 "Yes, and ten times as much harm. If you 
 need that kind of advice you had better go to - 
 well, never mind whom. Only, if I manage your 
 case you do as I say absolutely," said the Squire 
 firmly. 
 
 "Oh! I ll do as you say; only occasionally I 
 like to see the fur fly." 
 
 "Well, I like to see the fur fly myself once in a 
 while, and I have done my share of it, but never 
 if I can help it. There is altogether too much liti 
 gation in the world," said the Squire, turning to 
 the next client. 
 
 For a while the office was quiet, and the Squire 
 took the opportunity of explaining to Sam the
 
 164 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 nature of a deposition, the occasion for taking 
 them, the facts of this particular case, and the 
 statutory law authorizing the taking of deposi 
 tions. He was so exceedingly clear and convincing 
 in his explanations that after the witnesses, the 
 parties, and the opposing counsel had arrived, 
 and the taking of the depositions had commenced, 
 Sam was able to understand and appreciate the 
 questions and the objections of counsel and the 
 relevancy of the answers. 
 
 Indeed, when Sam went to supper, he felt that 
 he had a duty in life, and for once was enrolled in 
 the ranks of workers, one who had done a satis 
 factory day s work. 
 
 He ate his supper with a relish that hard work, 
 and the consciousness that he had earned it, gave 
 him, and after supper got his friend Ben and took 
 a long tramp through the country, finishing with 
 a swim in the river and arriving at the hotel at 
 about ten o clock. As they ran up the steps, they 
 heard a loud chorus of most discordant singing. 
 Evidently a crowd of loungers, considerably ex 
 hilarated, were performing that well-known clas 
 sic, "For He s a Jolly Good Fellow," with but 
 slight pretense to time or tune. 
 
 When they glanced into the barroom, the Sen 
 ator s elder brother stood stiff, straight, and dig 
 nified, surrounded by a ring of vocalists. 
 
 When they had finished he bowed and said:
 
 LEGAL BEGINNINGS 165 
 
 "Gentlemen, your sentiments were flattering, 
 flattering. But, gentlemen, your intonation was 
 damnable. Permit me to bid you a very good 
 night." 
 
 Sam and Ben went upstairs slowly. "What a 
 pity, what a pity!" said Sam as they separated. 
 
 Yes, it is a world s pity," said Ben as he 
 closed his door.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 MIXING 
 
 SOMEWHAT to the Squire s surprise, Sam s in 
 terest in the profession and in his own studies 
 in the office increased instead of waning as the 
 weeks passed. He studied faithfully, worked 
 away at his legal documents, copying, studying, 
 and taking notes of their provisions with a keen 
 discrimination. 
 
 Indeed, far from being a drag on the Squire, he 
 soon began to be of considerable assistance to 
 him. Having readily mastered the details of the 
 execution of wills, mortgages, deeds, leases, as 
 signments, and a few of the more common legal 
 papers, he saved the Squire a great deal of time 
 and travel. 
 
 He had a good head for figures, and a leaning 
 toward system, which the Squire lacked. The 
 ability to put his hand on the particular paper de 
 sired had never been one of the Squire s long suits, 
 and the amount of money the Squire had lost in the 
 past by sheer good-natured neglect to make the 
 proper charges for legal services was appalling. 
 
 The most careful and painstaking of men in the 
 administration of the affairs of a client, he was
 
 MIXING 167 
 
 most neglectful of his own. He might have been 
 a wealthy man, had he chosen, but he charged so 
 little for his services, and collected so small a per 
 centage of the charges he remembered to make; 
 he loaned so readily to impecunious friends; he 
 paid so many bills that should have properly been 
 paid by others, that he was, after many years of 
 hard work, a comparatively poor man. 
 
 Sam noticed these peculiarities in the Squire 
 before he had been in the office a week, and was 
 told many things by Miss Ellis. As a result, be 
 fore long they had secured the Squire s permis 
 sion to put Sam in charge of the fee-books of the 
 office, and Sam and Miss Ellis devised a plain 
 but systematic set of books that, reinforced by 
 a dusty copy of the Rockaway County Fee Bill, 
 began to show a gratifying increase in the receipts 
 from the business. Of course, as they soon real 
 ized, no power on earth could induce the Squire 
 to regulate his charges according to the time he 
 spent, and he would at times spend three times 
 the necessary time in talking with a client about 
 matters of interest, wholly apart from profes 
 sional advice. 
 
 Again, it was appalling to see the Squire, when 
 Sam had drawn off a bill of charges from the 
 ledger, slash and cut out a large part of a perfectly 
 reasonable "and moderate charge, on the plea of 
 making a discount.
 
 168 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "But, Mr. Branch, why should you make any 
 discount from a proper charge when you did the 
 work? Lovell would have charged a third more, 
 and so would the Brookmouth lawyers." 
 
 "Sam, my boy, when will you ever learn that 
 the money I get out of my profession is the last 
 thing I think of." 
 
 "That is something so perfectly evident that 
 I never can forget it. It is brought to my mind 
 every time a client comes in to pay a bill. Really, 
 Mr. Branch, I think a man owes something to 
 himself." 
 
 The Squire laughed easily and said, "I am 
 afraid, Sam, that I am altogether too old to 
 change my habit. You know a shop-keeper usu 
 ally throws in a pair of suspenders or a twenty- 
 five cent necktie when he sells a suit of clothes. I 
 suppose that is what we all are doing." 
 
 That is all well enough, Mr. Branch, if you 
 would conform to his idea of proportion, but you 
 throw in a coat and vest every time you sell a 
 pair of trousers," insisted Sam. 
 
 The Squire laughed, rose, thrust his hands deep 
 in his pockets, and took a turn or two across the 
 office, a habit he had when amused. 
 
 The first I know, Sam, there will be a com 
 mittee of practicing attorneys waiting on me to 
 protest against my cutting prices." 
 
 "Well, as for that," said Sam, suddenly chang-
 
 MIXING 169 
 
 ing his tune, "considering the fact that you ad 
 vise them in most of their cases, and practically 
 try the greater part of their cases that you are not 
 actually engaged in, I guess you have a right, as 
 far as they are concerned to charge whatever you 
 please." 
 
 "Well, that is one of the pleasantest things in 
 the profession, Sam. Why, in what other profes 
 sion will you find such friendly competition, such 
 running in and out of offices, such splendid bat 
 tles, such an interchange of ideas? Dry! why, if 
 some of these people who talk about the dry dust 
 of the law could be in a busy office for a month, 
 they would have their eyes opened a bit, I m 
 thinking. Why ! scarcely a day passes without an 
 amusing, an interesting, or a positively ludicrous 
 thing happening. There, what did I say," he 
 exclaimed suddenly as loud laughter, a buzz of 
 voices, and a tramp of feet upon the stairs was 
 heard, and in burst Lovell, Blunt, and Langdon, 
 the county solicitor from Brookmouth. 
 
 "Well, Squire, you missed something great at 
 the Police Court; Joe, here - 
 
 "Now, Tom, don t begin any of your yarns; 
 tell the truth for once," said Joe. 
 
 "I swear, none of you will believe me. This 
 time the truth sounds too almighty improbable. 
 Joe won a case," said Lovell, slapping his knee; 
 "Langdon got an upper cut."
 
 170 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "That I did, Squire," said Langdon, shaking 
 his head, half -amused and half -rueful; "go ahead, 
 Lovell, tell it." 
 
 " No, I think Joe ought to tell it. It is n t very 
 often he gets a chance." 
 
 "You go to the devil, Tom," said Joe; "you 
 are getting so stupid that we 11 have to get a scire 
 facias served on you. Let Langdon tell it. He 
 will come nearer the truth than any one, and the 
 joke is on him anyway." 
 
 "Go ahead, Langdon," said Tom, "if Joe is 
 modest. First time I ever knew him to be." 
 
 "Well," said Langdon, lighting a cigar, "it 
 only shows how little sense a prohibitionist has. 
 But then I have had experience enough with 
 cranks to have known better than to trust one s 
 judgment and put a man in the witness stand 
 without knowing what he is going to say." 
 
 You see, I got a telephone to come here and 
 try a liquor prosecution against Jim Henessey. I 
 had issued a warrant, and had made it a day or 
 night search, and as usual the complainant sum 
 moned Henessey without searching, and got the 
 court janitor, old Ben Jackson, as a witness, tell 
 ing him to go into Henessey s saloon and see if 
 the barrels marked rum had anything in them 
 or were dummies. So the old man went in, looked 
 them over, hefted them, saw the mark New 
 England Rum, and came out. I got up here just
 
 MIXING 171 
 
 in time for court. The officer who summoned 
 Henessey was there and said that Old Ben was 
 my crack witness, so I began and the dialogue 
 was about like this: - 
 
 "What s your name, and where do you live? 
 
 " Ma name, sah, is Benjamin Jackson, an ah 
 resides, sah, in this town, sah. 
 
 Do you know Mr. Henessey, the respond 
 ent? 
 
 The spondent, ah sholy duz, sah, ah sholy 
 duz. 
 
 "Did you have occasion to visit his place of 
 business on Water Street yesterday? 
 
 " Ah did, sah, ah sholy did. 
 
 "By the way, what sort of a place does Mr. 
 Henessey keep? 
 
 What sort of a place? Bery nice place, boss, 
 bery nice place, sah. 
 
 " But what kind of a place? What does he sell? 
 
 "Ah, ya-a-s, sah; he sells ah pigs feet, n 
 oysters, n sardines, n crackers, n salt fish. 
 Yes, and does he sell anything to drink? 
 
 " That, boss, ah could n t zackly say. 
 
 "Glasses there, were n t there? 
 
 "Sartin, boss, sartin, glasses. 
 
 "And bottles? 
 Ya-a-s, sah, bottles. 
 
 " And you got something to drink, did n t you ? 
 
 " No, boss, mister lawyer, sah, ah did n t.
 
 172 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 " Did you see any one there drinking? 
 Boss, ah sholy duzent ricollec seein any one. 
 "Have you had anything to drink there? 
 "Boss, ah sholy has n t had a drink for mo n 
 a year. 
 
 What did you go in there for? 
 : Boss, ah wuz tole by a mos spectable gem- 
 man to go thar n see if dem bar ls wuz full. 
 
 Oh yes, uncle, now we are getting to some 
 thing. Now, were the barrels full or empty? 
 "Dey wuz all full, or mos full. 
 Now, uncle, what were the barrels full of ? 
 Dat, sah, ah was onable to say. 
 "Look here, sir, can you read? 
 Ya-a-s, sah, ah can read, sah. 
 "Oh, you can read? Now, what was written 
 on the barrels? 
 
 What wuz wrote on dem bar ls, sah? 
 Yes, what was written on the - 
 barrels; do you understand? 
 
 Ya-a-s, sah, ah unerstands yo. Well, sah, 
 de words on dem bar ls wuz "New England 
 Rum," sah; "New England Rum," an dey wuz 
 one which sayed "Booban Whiskey," sah. 
 
 "Now, sir, you have said the barrels were full 
 or nearly full, have you not, sir? 
 
 "Ya-a-as, boss, ah sholy has sayed dat, sah. 
 
 "And you have said, sir, that the barrels were 
 
 marked "New England Rum," have you not, sir?
 
 MIXING 173 
 
 " Ya-a-s, boss, ah has sayed dat ah, an* 
 "Booban Whiskey," sah. 
 
 "Now, sir, what do you say now was in the 
 barrels? 
 
 "Ah sholy don t know, boss, fore Gord! sah. 
 What s that, sir? Be very careful, sir, what 
 you say. Do you say now that you do not know 
 what was in the barrels? 
 
 "Ah duz say dat ah, boss; ah tink dat writing 
 on dem bar ls wuz false witness. 
 
 "Oh, you think, do you, that the marking was 
 wrong? That a full barrel, in a liquor saloon, 
 marked "New England Rum," doesn t contain 
 New England Rum, and that the marking was 
 wrong? Explain that, sir, to the court, sir. 
 
 " Ya-a-s, sah, mister lawyer, an mister Jedge, 
 sah, dey wuz some odder writin on dem bar ls. 
 
 "Oh, there were some other words on the 
 barrels, were there? Well, what were the other 
 words? 
 
 Well, sah, when ah sees "New England 
 Rum" and "Booban Whiskey" wrote on dem 
 bar ls, sah, ah nachelly tinks dey wuz New Eng 
 land Rum an Booban Whiskey in dem bar ls, 
 but when ah sees all dem bar ls has the words 
 "James Henessey" wrote on dem, ah just nach 
 elly lost all confidence in dem ah bar ls, case ah 
 sees old Jim Henessey a-settin in a cheer by de 
 do/
 
 174 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Well, Squire, he was all the witness I had, 
 and the court had to discharge Henessey for want 
 of evidence. The cussed old lying nigger!" said 
 Langdon, flicking the ashes from his cigar. 
 
 And the trio tramped down the stairs, laugh 
 ing, and went down the street to tell the story to 
 their friends, while the Squire and Sam turned to 
 their books. 
 
 These talks with the Squire were the result of 
 a strong friendship that was growing up between 
 them. It was not familiarity on either side. The 
 Squire could be cordial, pleasant, and at times 
 even playful, but never familiar. On the other 
 hand, Sam had an innate sense of respect and 
 deference to any person older than he, which pre 
 vented him from becoming familiar, least of all 
 with a man of the Squire s age, and the respect in 
 which Sam held him. With Sam he was always 
 "Mr. Branch," never "Squire," a form of ad 
 dress which had in it, as it seemed to him, an ele 
 ment of familiarity that was out of place. 
 
 During the fall Sam rowed and ran, tramped, 
 and occasionally got a chance to ride some espe 
 cially new and untried horse of Alvy s, who was 
 constantly trading or buying horses and did not 
 wish them ruined by unskillful or brutal stable 
 men. So Sam, who had a light hand, a firm seat, 
 and great patience, was interested in the try out 
 of new horses both to saddle and harness, and en-
 
 MIXING 175 
 
 joyed many a good ride and an occasional and 
 interesting battle. 
 
 Added to these duties he had undertaken to 
 teach Polly to ride an Indian pony bought for her 
 by the Squire, and several evenings a week, clad 
 in sleeveless shirt, corduroys, and light run 
 ning shoes, and holding the pony by a lead-rein, 
 he ran beside the pony instructing Polly how to 
 rise to the trot, how to throw her weight forward, 
 how to sit close, and how to keep a light but firm 
 hand on the pony so as to guide and control, but 
 not to excite or fret him. Sam seemed quite as 
 tireless as the pony, and the delighted Polly was 
 fast becoming a graceful and accomplished horse 
 woman, equally to the delight of the Squire, who 
 sat and smoked and congratulated Polly, when 
 with cheeks flushed and eyes shining, she allowed 
 "Uncle Ira" to lift her from the saddle. 
 
 On one never-to-be-forgotten day Sam dis 
 carded the lead-rein and appeared in full riding 
 costume astride a handsome chestnut, and Polly 
 straightway was lifted on Frisk, who wore for the 
 first time the beautiful white Mexican bridle that 
 used to hang in Sam s New York room, and they 
 rode for miles over the country roads, deep in 
 brown and gold and crimson leaves, and little 
 Polly dreamed that Sam was a brave knight and 
 she a "fayer ladye," and could scarcely be 
 brought back to the present, even when a squir-
 
 176 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 rel ran across the road or a partridge whirred up 
 from the wood path, startling the horses. 
 
 Then after their rides Sam and the Squire 
 would sit and talk and smoke until late, and the 
 Squire learned much of Sam, his strong and his 
 weak points, his likes and dislikes, and came to 
 like and admire him more and more. 
 
 Twice the three of them had been invited to 
 take tea at the Hilton farm, and Sam had been 
 charmed with their quaint hospitality, their 
 courtesy, their dignity and kindliness. He had 
 met their sister, who ruled the household and 
 presided at their table, and he gladly admitted to 
 the Squire that he had never met a woman whose 
 manners were so happy a combination of the 
 grande dame and the simple kindly soul. 
 
 Sam was making many friends in town. Ben 
 and the machinists swore by him. Alvy was 
 never tired of talking about him. The stablemen 
 swore by many and horrid oaths that he was the 
 best man with a "hoss" in the country. The 
 loungers approved of him with some reservations, 
 considering that he never drank with them or 
 treated them. The clerks did not like him. He 
 had not joined their club, giving as a reason that 
 he could not spare the time, nor did he attend 
 their suppers at Duval s restaurant. The excuse 
 he gave was that he did not wish to incur the ex 
 pense, which was true enough. But the real rea-
 
 MIXING 177 
 
 son was that after one experience he had no fur 
 ther interest in the entertainments, which seemed 
 to combine gluttony with cheap stories and little 
 else. 
 
 As the cold weather came, he did join the "Gym 
 nasium Club," which he found had a fairly well- 
 equipped exercising-room in the old armory build 
 ing. He felt the need of work with the apparatus 
 during the cold months, and the pleasant gymna 
 sium competition removed all danger of the work 
 becoming tiresome, as it would naturally be alone 
 in one s room. 
 
 The first night he attended he found fifteen or 
 twenty young fellows lifting heavy dumb-bells, 
 swinging huge clubs, and doing heavy work on 
 parallels with great vigor. Some of them had 
 marked chest and arm development, while their 
 legs seemed comparatively undeveloped. One 
 fellow was putting up the fifty -pound weight al 
 ternately with right and left hand, with much 
 grunting and profuse perspiration. Indeed, as 
 his grunting, puffing, and perspiration increased, 
 his speed and vigor diminished in equal propor 
 tion, until his arms refused to stir the weight 
 from his shoulder. 
 
 Another man was trying desperately to do the 
 "grasshopper" on the parallels and wrenching 
 his pectorals savagely in the attempt. Indeed, 
 every one exercising was making desperately
 
 178 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 hard work out of it, seemingly trying to get the 
 greatest possible amount of exercise in the short 
 est time. 
 
 So Ben, who came with Sam, was somewhat 
 surprised to see Sam, who had changed his street 
 clothes fora suit of sleeveless shirt, running-draw 
 ers, and rubber-soled shoes, pick up the smallest 
 and lightest clubs from the rack, retire to a safe 
 corner and go through a few easy, graceful mo 
 tions. After that he exercised a few minutes with 
 the lightest dumb-bells. Then a rest for a few 
 minutes, then the uprights for a while, a few dips 
 on the parallels, a few simple motions on the hori 
 zontal, and Sam was through, after a shower and 
 a rubdown. 
 
 "Pretty light exercise, that, I should say for a 
 man of your build," said Ben. 
 
 "Plenty for the first time. It is no particular 
 benefit to get all stiffened up and then have to 
 work it off slowly. The better way is not to get 
 stiff. The next time I can do a little more, and 
 the next time after that more still, until I can do 
 a good hour s exercise without fatigue. Two 
 hours is not too much if it is not heavy exercise. 
 The men here are working too hard and are much 
 more liable to injury than benefit," said Sam. 
 
 "Yes, they may strain themselves, but they 
 are pretty husky men, and you will admit they 
 are developed well," insisted Ben.
 
 MIXING 179 
 
 "They are developed, but not equally or 
 evenly. Look at the man who was putting up the 
 heavy weights. His development is in his arms, 
 neck, and shoulders. His legs are good because 
 one cannot lift weights without using one s legs. 
 You see his chest is badly developed. Look at the 
 fellow with the over-developed pectorals. Arms 
 and chest good, light below. Then you see his 
 muscles have developed in knots and bunches. 
 Sure to be muscle-bound before long, and slow. 
 That is the great trouble with gymnasium devel 
 opment. There is too strong a tendency to un 
 even development. I tell you, Ben, smooth, firm, 
 but not hard muscles are the ones to have and the 
 ones that will stand work." 
 
 Sam came several nights during the week, and 
 rapidly began to get into shape. Those who were 
 inclined to jeer at his light exercises, noticed how 
 easily he did difficult tricks on bar and trapeze, 
 and how little it breathed him. The third week 
 he came, the gloves were brought out, and two of 
 the heavy men put them on, and after a moment s 
 preliminary sparring began to hammer one an 
 other in a savage and awkward manner, until one 
 got a bad fall in being knocked against a piece of 
 apparatus, and had to quit. 
 
 Several other bouts were had in which very 
 little boxing, but much heavy hitting was in 
 dulged in. Finally, the first and victorious heavy
 
 180 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 weight invited Sam to put them on. Sam de 
 clined, and said, "You strike too hard for fun. 
 My idea of sparring is that it should be light and 
 quick. More for exercise than for punishment. 
 I can t see the fun of standing up, as you fellows 
 have been doing, and hammering each other. 
 Boxing is self-defense, and a good lightweight 
 with science ought to keep out of the way of a 
 heavyweight and eventually beat him." 
 
 "Well, I think a fellow who stands up to box 
 with another ought to be able to stand a few 
 punches. And if he can t, why, then, he ought 
 not to box," said the heavyweight. 
 
 : Yes," said Sam, smiling, "a fellow who boxes 
 must take some chances, but he ought to develop 
 quickness enough to make the chances small. I 11 
 show you what I mean. I m going to put on the 
 gloves with you, if you will, and I m going to 
 take a chance of getting my head knocked off if 
 you manage to land one of your mule-kick blows, 
 but I m going to try not to have them land." 
 
 "All right," said Williams, the heavyweight; 
 "now, you ll see how long you will stand up to 
 me." 
 
 "Bless your soul, I m not going to stand up 
 to you at all. I m to see if I can avoid getting 
 hit." 
 
 "All ready for the foot-race," yelled a wag. 
 
 The members made a large ring, and Sam,
 
 MIXING 181 
 
 drawing on the gloves, advanced to the centre 
 to meet Williams. Sam was on his toes as light 
 as a cat, with his arms weaving in and out in 
 cessantly. 
 
 Williams held his guard rigid, then rushed and 
 struck heavily, but Sam was not there. Then, as 
 Sam came back to the centre he drove a heavy 
 right, but Sam side-stepped him, and as he re 
 covered, Sam was upon him like lightning and 
 flicked him twice with his open gloves. 
 
 Williams feinted with his left and swung heav 
 ily with his right, and Sam ducked, got in a light 
 right and left on Williams s ribs, and was out of 
 danger. Williams kept rushing and hammering, 
 but could not land, while Sam landed at will, but 
 without any force. 
 
 Finally, Williams pulled up in huge disgust, 
 panting heavily. "Why in thunder don t you 
 stand up like a man?" he growled wrathfully. 
 
 "Because I m young to die," laughed Sam. 
 
 Williams, who was a good-natured man, 
 laughed too. "By thunder! it s like fighting a 
 shadow on a windy day, but I ll get you yet," 
 and he rushed again, but received a couple of light 
 facers and had his blows blocked with ease. 
 
 Finally, he pulled off the gloves, took a seat on 
 a mat, and slowly regained his breath, while Sam, 
 scarcely breathed at all, stood waiting. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Randolph," said Williams at last,
 
 182 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "you ve got me beat, but I d like to see you try 
 some one else, Carter there will do. Say, Tom, 
 see if you can hit him." 
 
 So Carter, nothing loath, put on the gloves, 
 and did his best, but could n t hit Sam, and once, 
 being caught off his balance in trying to recover 
 from a furious rush, was tipped completely off his 
 feet by a blow that would not have hurt a child. 
 He sprang up, and rushed and drove and swung 
 until he lost his breath and had to retire, blown 
 but unhurt. 
 
 : There, fellows, I guess that will do for a while. 
 I can t hope to have such good luck always, as to 
 keep from being hit," said Sam; "but you see my 
 idea now. The lighter you spar, the more exer 
 cise you get, the quicker you become, and the 
 better you train your eyes and your hands, and 
 the more fun there is in it. But the way you go at 
 it, you are bound to get hurt, and are mighty 
 likely to get a crack that might put you out for a 
 week." 
 
 ; Yes," said Thing, a quiet, thoughtful fellow, 
 "but Williams s and Carter s way, compared to 
 your way, is like football compared to tennis." 
 
 "Not a fair comparison," replied Sam, "for 
 football is a good game and ought not to be com 
 pared to slugging. To be sure, slugging will creep 
 into football, but the team that slugs is the team 
 that is generally beaten, and so is the boxer who
 
 MIXING 183 
 
 depends on slugging to win a bout; that is, if he 
 is up against a good man." 
 
 ; That s all very well," said Loomis, "but you 
 could n t put a man out in a month of Sundays 
 with your blows." 
 
 "That s right enough," said Sam; "but there 
 is no reason why a good boxer should not be a 
 hard hitter. In fact, a part of the training of a 
 good boxer is to throw his weight quickly either 
 behind his own blows or away from his oppon 
 ent s. In other words, footwork in a boxing- 
 match, a prize fight, or a street row is of fully as 
 much importance as quickness with one s hands." 
 
 "Evidently your training did n t include hard 
 hitting," said Dunbar, who generally said un 
 pleasant things. 
 
 "I guess the trouble was more in me than in 
 my training," replied Sam, lighting his pipe, and 
 springing down from a vaulting-horse. " But I 
 must be going. Come on, Ben, I promised Mr. 
 Branch to stop at his office at 9 and it is 8.50 
 now," and bidding the boys good-night he strode 
 out with Ben. 
 
 "Well," said Williams, after Sam had left, "it 
 may be that he can keep that up, but I d rather 
 see a little harder hitting than that. If that fel 
 low ever gets into a mixup with Bill Evans, he 
 will wish he had a little less quickness and a good 
 deal more strength to his blows. Bill is as quick
 
 184 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 as a cat, and can strike like the piston rod of an 
 engine." 
 
 "By George!" said another man, putting down 
 his clubs, "I ain t so sure of that. A feller who 
 can do the things he can do on the parallels and 
 bar, and can stand up to you fellers like he did, 
 ain t no slouch. It stands to reason that he can 
 hit some. You mark my words, Bill Evans is in 
 for a surprise party when he runs up agin that 
 New Yorker." 
 
 "Oh, shucks! Jim," said Williams, "p r aps the 
 New Yorker can keep outer Bill s way for a few 
 minutes, but when he does run his head against 
 Bill s fists, he ll go to the mat all right. N he 
 can t hurt Bill with them little punky punches 
 neither. I like the feller, n I don t wanter see 
 Bill lick him neither." 
 
 "Damn Bill anyway," said another; "he 
 oughter have a lickin from some one, but the 
 way this Randolph hits I m afraid he ain t the 
 feller to do it. It s queer too. He is as quick as a 
 cat, and is strong, too, or he could n t do them 
 tricks on the bar." 
 
 "I ll tell you," said Loomis, "how we could 
 find out if he really can hit." 
 
 "How?" demanded the others, with vast in 
 terest. 
 
 "Well, he seems a willing sort of fellow, and 
 will spar with us every night if we ask him. Now,
 
 MIXING 185 
 
 let s arrange some night to have Bill Evans in 
 and spring him on the New Yorker." 
 
 "Say, Loomis, that s great," said Carter; 
 "both Bill and the New Yorker will be willing, 
 and we can see if there is much truth in the talk 
 of science against strength." 
 
 The others chimed in with boisterous approval 
 and Carter was pounded on the back. 
 
 "I don t like the idea at all," said Rollins, a 
 slight fellow with a good face, a bookkeeper in 
 one of the mills. "It don t seem the square thing 
 on a member to trap him into a prize fight, for 
 that is what it will be." 
 
 "Prize fight nothin ," said Carter; "it is only 
 a chance to have a little fun. Nobody s going to 
 be hurt. This Randolph has come up here as 
 cocky as you please, and has found fault with our 
 style of boxing. Now, let s have him stand up to 
 a good man and see if his own style is any good, 
 that s my idea." 
 
 "And mine, too," said Loomis. 
 
 "I m with you, Loomis," said Jim. "It s all 
 right, and if the New Yorker has any sporting 
 spirit he will look at it right." 
 
 You fellows don t see what I am driving at; 
 Randolph don t object to sparring with you fel 
 lows, because you are friends of his. But it s a 
 different thing to spar with a tough who has 
 it in for you," said Rollins.
 
 186 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 What of that? everything will be fair. We 
 will see that Bill is up to no tricks. We will give 
 him to understand that before he conies in," said 
 Carter. 
 
 "Well, there is n t much use talking to you fel 
 lows, but I think it s a low-down trick on a de 
 cent fellow. Whenever we get a man like Ran 
 dolph in a club, I think we ought to be civil to 
 him instead of trying to get him into a fight. I 11 
 bet he won t spar him," concluded Rollins indig 
 nantly. 
 
 " Well, if he don t, it will be a clear case of craw 
 fish. See here, Rollins, you are not going to squeal 
 on us, are you?" asked Loomis. 
 
 "No, I m not. I m coming down here the 
 night you pull off this thing, and I 11 bet it will 
 cost the club some memberships," and Rollins 
 left. 
 
 "Huh! there is such a thing as being too al 
 mighty particular, and Rollins is one of that 
 kind," growled Carter. You don t suppose he 
 will give us away, do you?" 
 
 "He? No, I should say not. Rollins is all right, 
 only his ideas are a bit too good for every day 
 people; but he won t squeal," said Bruce, another 
 member. 
 
 "I feel something the same way Rollins does," 
 said Williams. "If I was a sort of high-toned fel 
 ler like Randolph, I don t believe I should like it
 
 MIXING 187 
 
 very well myself; but I guess it s worth try in , an 
 if he should tucker Bill out like he did me and 
 Carter, why t would be worth it." 
 
 "But what if Bill licks him?" asked another. 
 
 "Why, then, Randolph will show whether he 
 is game enough to take a lickin in the right 
 spirit," Carter said promptly. "If he is n t, why, 
 so much the worse for him." 
 
 So it was arranged that on Thursday evening 
 of the next week the affair should be pulled off, 
 and Carter and Loomis were to act as a commit 
 tee to arrange matters with Bill, who, as they ex 
 pected, entered into the arrangement with the 
 greatest eagerness, and swore the most fearful 
 oaths not only to pummel Sam to pudding, but 
 not to divulge the game to a soul, not even to his 
 particular friends. He exacted a promise from 
 them that they should invite several of his ac 
 quaintances to be present at a gymnastic compe 
 tition. 
 
 For the next few days Sam had the opportun 
 ity to spend an hour at the gymnasium nearly 
 every evening, and spent a part of the time in 
 sparring with several of the members, and when 
 the suggestion was made that he join the mem 
 bers in a little exhibition of gymnastics on the 
 Thursday mentioned, he very readily agreed, 
 even going so far as to promise to spar with Wil 
 liams and Carter, upon the understanding that
 
 188 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 only a few of the personal friends of the members 
 were to be invited. 
 
 When Thursday evening came, he was a trifle 
 late, owing to a bit of work he had promised to 
 finish for the Squire after supper, and it was with 
 well-inked fingers that he arrived in season to 
 put on his "gym" suit. He noticed that the seats 
 around the sides and back of the room were well 
 filled, and that ladders and the horses were cov 
 ered by roosting by-sitters. 
 
 It reminded him of the gym meets of his 
 college, and he felt quite a thrill of enthusiasm. 
 The exhibition began, and the audience were 
 really interested and liberal in their applause, 
 particularly when Sam surprised them all by 
 his giant swing. Then the floor was cleared for 
 the boxing, and Sam ran downstairs to rub the 
 rosin from his hands before putting them into 
 gloves. 
 
 As he came into the room, he could scarcely 
 believe his ears when he heard Carter announce 
 that Sam Randolph, champion amateur light 
 heavyweight of New York, would have a ten- 
 round go with Bill Evans, champion heavy 
 weight of Rockaway County, and as he pushed 
 through the crowd, thinking he must be jok 
 ing, he saw Bill, in sleeveless shirt, trousers, and 
 belt, and in his stockings, glowering at him 
 with a triumphant grin. His huge arms hung
 
 MIXING 189 
 
 down and his hands were incased in four-ounce 
 gloves. 
 
 Sam stopped and stiffened, the blood rushed to 
 his face and then receded slowly, leaving his face 
 deadly white, but not with fear, as the fiery glare 
 from his eyes showed. For a moment there was a 
 murmur from the crowd and then intense silence 
 as Sam spoke in an icy tone that showed meas 
 ureless contempt. 
 
 "Members of the Club, -- 1 won t say gentle 
 men, when I joined this club I supposed I was 
 joining a club composed of gentlemen, and so far 
 as I know I have never given any of you any rea 
 son to believe that I was other than a gentleman. 
 But I see I was mistaken, and I am sorry. I am 
 not a prize fighter, and I only spar with my 
 friends. But I want to say that to try and get me 
 here by a trick, to fight for your amusement, is 
 about the dirtiest and most contemptible thing I 
 ever knew. I quit this club now, and I don t care 
 to number among my acquaintances any one of 
 you who has been mixed up in this," and he threw 
 the gloves on the floor, and strode to the dressing- 
 room, leaving the crowd looking decidedly un 
 comfortable. 
 
 "By God, the young fellow is right," said a 
 large black-haired man. "He is mad, all right, 
 but I d rather be in his shoes than mine. I feel as 
 if I had been caught stealing."
 
 190 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 " Aw, mad ! he s scart, that s what s the matter 
 with him," said Bill angrily, as he pulled off his 
 gloves and threw them spitefully away. 
 
 "Scared! I guess you don t know what you re 
 talking about. A fellow who will stand up and 
 tell a crowd of men what he thinks of them as he 
 has done is anything but scared. I don t know 
 who put this up, but if the rest of you feel as much 
 like a whipped cur as I do, you won t feel very 
 much like talking about it." 
 
 "I think it served us just right, and I swear 
 I m ashamed enough of it; and what s more, 
 we ve lost the best gymnast and the best fellow 
 we ever had in the club," said little Rollins. 
 
 The crowd, angry and abashed, slowly broke 
 up, while Sam, going to his room, wrote a long 
 letter to New York in which we may be sure he 
 mentioned no word of the trouble that had so 
 aroused his contemptuous resentment.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE FIGHT 
 
 IT was the latter part of October and the Supe 
 rior Court was sitting in the old Court-House. 
 The Squire, as usual, had a good many cases to 
 try, some of them matters of a good deal of im 
 portance. Sam had been able to be of consid 
 erable assistance in preparing the cases. True 
 enough he was not sufficiently advanced in legal 
 knowledge to do anything but copy processes 
 when the stenographer was overworked. But 
 he had developed quite an aptitude in running 
 down witnesses and finding out what they knew 
 about the cases, and had traveled about the sur 
 rounding towns, sometimes on foot, but more 
 often on horseback or behind one of Alvy s best 
 horses. 
 
 This gave him a welcome change from the 
 drudgery of office work, and enabled him to see 
 the country and become acquainted with the peo 
 ple, two things he was very glad to do, as he re 
 membered the Squire s advice, "It is as necessary 
 to know the people as the law." 
 
 As he had a very pleasant manner of meeting 
 strangers, was democratic and affable, he found
 
 192 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 no difficulty in making friends wherever he went. 
 He did find, however, among the younger men, a 
 curious reserve, in fact almost a hostility, which 
 he found rather difficult to disarm. This was due 
 in part to a very marked difference in appearance 
 and bearing, and almost as marked a difference 
 in speech between him and them, in which an un 
 conscious superiority was on his side. 
 
 Occasionally he was jeered at from a safe dis 
 tance in the coarse way affected by the lower 
 class of country and town boys, who in this 
 way resent the fancied superiority of city -bred 
 youth, but he never appeared to notice it unless 
 it became too marked for comfort, when a pecu 
 liarly steely glitter of his eye would generally com 
 pel a respectful silence. 
 
 On one occasion, as he came out of a telephone 
 booth in a country store where a crowd of men 
 and boys were loitering about, he found a hulking 
 youth of nineteen or twenty slipping a sharp 
 stone under his saddle, and he seized him by the 
 scruff of the neck and the slack of his overalls, 
 rushed him despite his struggles to the horse 
 trough, and soused him in until he begged for 
 mercy. This was done with such apparent ease 
 that none of the crowd dared interfere, and as 
 he quietly walked back, adjusted his saddle, 
 mounted, and rode off, there w r as not a word said. 
 
 With the older men he became popular and
 
 THE FIGHT 193 
 
 with the women and girls exceedingly so, which 
 was perhaps an additional reason why he found 
 the younger men a bit difficult. 
 
 Bill Evans he had persistently avoided and re 
 fused to notice, although he never met him with 
 out being insulted, and accordingly not only Bill 
 and his friends, but some of Sam s friends came 
 to the conclusion that Sam was afraid of Bill. 
 But in that they were mistaken. The idea of fear 
 had never entered his mind. He was confident of 
 his ability to thrash Bill, but he did not want to 
 fight with any one, much less a man of Bill s 
 standing. He had come to the town to study law 
 and make his home there, and he disliked exceed 
 ingly the idea of becoming embroiled with any of 
 its citizens, however unworthy or however in need 
 of a thrashing. 
 
 And so while he felt that an encounter with 
 Bill was inevitable, matters might have gone on 
 for a long time but for one circumstance that hap 
 pened as a result of a case in which the Squire 
 was counsel. It was a suit against a sawmill 
 owner for wages due a sawyer. The case had been 
 fought for an entire day and had been given to 
 the jury just before the closing hour. Bill Evans, 
 as a witness for defendant, had testified to the 
 amount of lumber sawed as far below the amount 
 claimed by the sawyer, and on cross-examination 
 by the Squire had become involved in a maze of
 
 194 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 contradictions, which were made still worse by 
 the testimony in rebuttal of a young surveyor to 
 whom Bill had previously told an entirely differ 
 ent story. 
 
 As a result, the Squire in his argument paid his 
 respects to Bill and his testimony in rather more 
 than his usual frank, vigorous, and convincing 
 way, and had left poor Bill without a shred of 
 reputation as an honest man, which, as he had 
 never possessed any, could really have made little 
 difference to him. 
 
 But Bill was mad, mad clear through, and not 
 daring to vent his wrath on the Squire, for whom 
 he had a wholesome dread as a man of the law, he 
 decided to make things lively for the surveyor. 
 
 As a preparation for the evening s entertain 
 ment, he primed up on a couple of glasses of 
 whiskey at Nagle s saloon, just enough to make 
 him feel ugly, without taking from his perfect 
 control of himself, at least of everything but his 
 ungovernable temper. 
 
 Sam, with his friend Ben, had come from the 
 post-office at the lower end of the street and had 
 crossed by the Town Hall, intending to stop a 
 moment at the Rumscott, where Sam was to sum 
 mon a witness for a case in which the Squire was 
 engaged and which was for trial the ensuing day. 
 As he crossed the street he met the surveyor com 
 ing from the opposite direction, and laughingly
 
 THE FIGHT 195 
 
 congratulated him on the effect of his evidence 
 on that offered by Bill. 
 
 Sam and his friend had scarcely passed the 
 Court-House when they heard loud voices and 
 oaths, and stopped to listen. Then Sam recog 
 nized Bill s voice and then that of the surveyor. 
 Then the lie was passed and there was a blow and 
 a fall, and Sam rushed across the road just in 
 time to see the surveyor rising blindly with the 
 blood streaming from his face, to go down again 
 heavily from a cruel blow in the face, while his 
 arms were grasping the guard-rail in front of the 
 store. 
 
 In an instant Sam was through the crowd, 
 shouldering them right and left, and had knelt 
 down in front of the surveyor, who was nearly 
 senseless. With Ben s help he raised him up and 
 calling for water, sprinkled his face with it. In a 
 few moments he revived, and then Sam turned 
 his attention to Bill, who stood there eyeing him 
 evilly while his rough companions gathered round 
 him. Sam was blazing with rage, but save for the 
 pallor of his face and the glitter of his eyes was 
 calm. 
 
 Walking straight to Bill he said, "You miser 
 able, dirty, drunken, cowardly cur, what did you 
 strike that man for?" 
 
 "What in hell business is it of yours?" said 
 Bill, thrusting his face threateningly into Sam s.
 
 196 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Sam s reply was a lightning slap in the face 
 that sounded "like the breaking of a pane of 
 glass, and was followed by a furious lunge from 
 Bill. 
 
 Sam ducked under Bill s arm, caught him un 
 der the arms, back-heeled, and threw him. 
 
 Bill scrambled to his feet, blind with fury, but 
 was seized and held by his friends. "Not here, 
 Bill; you can t fight here; come down on the is 
 land." 
 
 Bill struggled for a moment, and then hoarsely 
 said, "Will you fight?" 
 
 "Yes," said Sam crisply. 
 
 "Come down on the island where we won t be 
 stopped." 
 
 "All right," said Sam. 
 
 Instantly there was a semi-orderly rush for the 
 island, which was a small square between the two 
 lower bridges. 
 
 Ben looked anxious, but cheered up at the 
 arrival of his friends the machinists, who would 
 see fair play. 
 
 When they arrived at the island there was al 
 ready a crowd there, and a ring formed by sev 
 eral men who kept the crowd back. 
 
 As Sam approached, a large man with a heavy 
 beard came forward and asked, "Who is your sec 
 ond?" 
 
 "Ben here," said Sam.
 
 THE FIGHT 197 
 
 "What is it, London prize rules or Queens- 
 bury?" 
 
 "London rules, a knockdown to close a round 
 if the man down wishes to take a half-minute 
 rest," said Sam. 
 
 " Is that all right, Bill? " said the man, address 
 ing Bill, who had stripped to his shirt and was 
 rolling his sleeves to his shoulders. 
 
 "Yes," growled Bill; "only don t wait all 
 night." 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," said the black-bearded 
 man, "this fight is going to be on the square. 
 The man that strikes another while down will 
 lose the fight. A knockdown entitles the man 
 down to a half-minute rest. The man who fails 
 to come to the scratch in time after the rest loses. 
 Any one who interferes with this fight will have 
 me to settle with. Now, don t make too much 
 noise, for we don t want the police to interfere, 
 and they won t if we run things decently. And 
 keep the crowd back. You can all see from the 
 rise in the hill, and this moon makes it as bright 
 as day. Now, are you ready?" 
 
 "Ready," growled Bill hoarsely. 
 
 "Ready," said Sam, who had pulled off coat 
 and vest, tightened his belt and rolled his sleeves 
 loosely to the elbows. 
 
 Bill was huge, hairy, and muscular, with bull 
 neck and heavy shoulders, and vast tanned arms
 
 198 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 and fists. Sam was more trimly built, but an ex 
 pert would have noted that his shoulders were 
 fully as broad as Bill s, his chest deeper, and his 
 arms and legs those of a trained athlete, betoken 
 ing both strength and activity. 
 
 As they advanced, Bill made a savage rush 
 and fairly hurled himself upon Sam. There was 
 a quick swaying of a lithe body, a lightning left 
 backed up by the weight of Sam s body and Bill 
 went down flat on his back after a blundering 
 stagger backwards. 
 
 "Holy mustard!" said Williams, his eyes 
 standing out like glass marbles, "we thought he 
 couldn t hit." 
 
 But he was up in a moment, and rushed again, 
 swinging his arms like pistons, but exposing him 
 self to a smashing right that brought him heels 
 up and nearly on the back of his huge neck. This 
 time Bill arose more slowly, and rushing, clinched, 
 and was a third time thrown heavily. 
 
 "Take the rest, Bill, take the rest, there s time 
 enough," yelled his friends. 
 
 But Bill would take no advice, and blindly 
 rushing again, was again floored. 
 
 " Good God ! man," said one fellow. " What do 
 you think of that? Four times in the first round. 
 Bill has got the wrong customer this time." 
 
 Bill, sitting on his second s knee, was showing 
 the effect of the blows. Blood was trickling from
 
 THE FIGHT 199 
 
 his nose, one eye was rapidly swelling, while a 
 split lip dripped blood into his hairy chest, and 
 he was breathing heavily. 
 
 Sam stood at ease, with his arms crossed be 
 hind his back, at times nodding his head in an 
 swer to his second s advice. 
 
 "Time!" said the man with the black beard, 
 and the second round was on. 
 
 Bill advanced eagerly, despite his punishment. 
 One arm was held across his chest, the left play 
 ing in front of him. Sam s arms were loosely held 
 and his hands half-closed as he circled lightly. 
 
 "Whoof !" came a mighty blow from Bill, but 
 Sam was not there. "Smack" came a stinger on 
 Bill s sore eye and "thump" a resounding blow 
 on his ribs. 
 
 Bill could not stand that, and rushed, was 
 neatly avoided, and fell on his hands and knees. 
 
 Time!" said the man with the black beard. 
 
 "Not by a damn sight," said Bill, rising, "I 
 fell down," and gritting his teeth he set to 
 gamely. 
 
 Then followed an exhibition of boxing such as 
 none of them had ever seen before. Bill was re 
 garded as a good boxer, but he was almost help 
 less in the hands of this college man. Sam was 
 here, there, and everywhere, ducking, dodging, 
 leading, and countering. He appeared to be able 
 to hit from any angle and where he pleased.
 
 200 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 If by chance any of Bill s blows landed, they 
 appeared to have no effect except that they in 
 tensified the lightning quickness and vigor of 
 Sam s counters. 
 
 Occasionally Bill, winded and blinded by the 
 shower of blows, pulled up bewildered, and then 
 Sam, despite the frantic yells of his friends to go 
 in and finish him, dropped his arms and waited. 
 
 "Why don t you finish him, Sam?" said Ben; 
 "you re throwing away chances." 
 
 "Hold your horses, Ben," replied Sam. "This 
 man needs a sound thrashing more than a finish. 
 I know what I m about." 
 
 "Well, he s gettin it all right; only don t take 
 too many chances, " said Ben gruffly. 
 
 Again Bill came to the scratch with the utmost 
 gameness, for he was in bad shape. He had 
 been knocked down a half-dozen times and had 
 been thrown heavily in a clinch. One eye was 
 closed, the other had a cut under it from which 
 the blood trickled down his face; his nose was 
 swollen to twice its natural size, his lips puffed 
 out, and his face a mass of bruises ; he was pant 
 ing heavily and his legs trembled. But in spite of 
 this he advanced with a bulldog courage that was 
 admirable. 
 
 This time he held his guard high, to protect his 
 damaged face, but lowered it with a grunt of pain 
 when Sam visited his body and ribs with a right
 
 THE FIGHT 201 
 
 and left. Then Bill crouched to protect his body, 
 and guarded his head with his huge outstretched 
 arms, but Sam stepped in like a flash and upper- 
 cut him savagely, and the crowd held its breath 
 at the smack and thud of the blows. 
 
 Then Bill, with a hoarse bellow, rushed again, 
 and was sent down with a right on the swollen 
 nose that made sparks flash on a background of 
 blackness. 
 
 For a moment Bill lay there with arms out 
 spread, then he slowly rolled over on his face and 
 little by little rose on one knee. Slowly the sight 
 of his remaining eye cleared, and he saw the ring, 
 the staring crowd, Sam standing quietly and un 
 hurt, and heard the referee call "Time!" Then 
 he heard one of his friends call out jeeringly, 
 "Bill, Bill, I thought ye could fight," and a loud 
 laugh, and then he went stark mad. 
 
 He reached in his hip pocket for a knife, sprung 
 it open, and rushed upon Sam like a maniac. 
 
 "Look out for him! He s got a knife!" yelled 
 the crowd, and a rush backward was made to 
 avoid him. 
 
 Sam darted in, grasping the huge wrist. There 
 was a brief swaying of bodies, a flash of steel, a 
 wrenching backward of the hairy arm, a yell of 
 anguish from Bill, and Sam, stooping, picked up 
 the knife where it had fallen and jerked it into 
 the river, while Bill lay on his face where he had
 
 202 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 fallen, with one arm doubled under him, and 
 weeping the gulping sobs of a humiliated and 
 beaten man. 
 
 As Sam stepped out of the ring, his hands were 
 grasped by old Pat, who was fairly dancing for 
 
 joy. 
 
 "Begob, Misther Randolph, if ever a rale gin- 
 tleman cud be a divil, y are a divil an all. Jam 
 Morissey himself cud n t a doon it; yer anner, 
 sor," and Pat, raising his hat, made way for the 
 Senator, who advanced with due courtesy and 
 ceremony. 
 
 Young man," he said as he grasped Sam s 
 hand, "on ordinary occasions I deprecate the 
 employment of physical force in the attainment 
 of success, but, sir, there are occasions, and this 
 is one of them, sir, when discipline requires it, 
 and its use is highly commendable, highly com 
 mendable, sir. Yet, sir," he continued, as Bill s 
 sobs fell on his ear, "it has undoubtedly been a 
 disappointment as well as a surprise to our friend 
 William. It reminds me quite forcibly of the re 
 marks of the poet, who says - 
 
 And wept like childhood, then 
 Talk not of tears till thou hast seen 
 The tears of warlike men ; 
 
 and I might here remark, parenthetically, sir, 
 that William, although a man of courage, sir,
 
 THE FIGHT 203 
 
 and endurance, is not ah, what is commonly 
 known as a good loser." 
 
 "Why, yes," said Sam, a bit absently and with 
 a note of anxiety in his voice, "I don t like to 
 hear a man do that. I hope he is n t hurt much. 
 Bill," he said, as he stepped to the fallen man, 
 "is there anything I can do for you? Come, 
 get up." 
 
 Bill ceased his sobs for a moment. " Go away, 
 damn you, and let me alone," he said in a choked 
 voice. 
 
 Then Sam stepped over to where a knot of 
 Bill s friends stood, sulkily eyeing the proceed 
 ings. 
 
 "I suppose," he said, "that you will look after 
 him, won t you?" 
 
 "To hell with him," they growled; "look after 
 him yourself. Damn a blubbering baby who 
 can t fight." 
 
 Then Sam s temper flared up again. 
 
 " Perhaps some of you fellows think you can do 
 better," he said w r ith heat. "If so, I will accom 
 modate any of you now." 
 
 The men muttered, but nobody accepted his 
 invitation, and he turned to meet the big man 
 with the beard, who touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 "I ll look after Bill," he said, "and you had 
 better go now." 
 
 "All right," said Sam, "only if you are under
 
 204 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 any expense, let me know. I Ve nothing against 
 Bill now. He is a game man." 
 
 "All right, sir," said the man, "I ll let you 
 know "; and he went back to Bill, while Sam, ac 
 companied by Ben and his friends, went to the 
 hotel. 
 
 Sam went at once to his room, took a bath, and 
 a rubdown, wrote a letter, and then, suddenly 
 remembering his witness, ran downstairs to at 
 tend to the matter, just in time to hear a familiar 
 voice say, "A confounded shame, I say; Bill s 
 hurt, and needs a doctor, and the fight was fair 
 and aboveboard, and I don t see any sense in the 
 officers coming in now." 
 
 As Sam turned into the office, he met the man 
 with the black beard, who at once came forward 
 angrily. "Look here, Mr. Randolph, it seems a 
 bit rough to have Evans pulled in after you have 
 just licked him. Was n t it enough without 
 that?" 
 
 "Pulled in!" shouted Sam; "what in thunder 
 do you take me for? Certainly if he is arrested, 
 I ought to be." 
 
 Then it was not your doing?" said the man; 
 "I wonder who did it, " he said with a puzzled air. 
 
 "I have n t the least idea, but the thing to do 
 is to get him out just as soon as we can. He ought 
 to go to a doctor rather than spend the night in 
 the lockup. Come on!" and Sam seized his hat
 
 THE FIGHT 205 
 
 and hurried down the steps, followed by the man 
 with the black beard. 
 
 In a few moments they were at the police sta 
 tion, where they found Mad in charge, and 
 learned from him that the complaint had been 
 sworn to by the young surveyor whom Bill had 
 knocked down. 
 
 No, Mad could n t let him out. No, not if Sam 
 or Nichols, the man with the black beard, would 
 be good for his appearance. No, not even if Mr. 
 Randolph put up a cash bail. - - It did n t make 
 a bit of difference if Bill needed a doctor. No, he 
 was n t hard, but he knew his duty as an officer. 
 - Why, any one ought to know that he could n t 
 take bail. Why, Granville True once took a gold 
 ring as bail for a drunk, and it cost him his job 
 and thirty-eight dollars and sixty-two cents be 
 side. He guessed not much. They could n t play 
 any such a trick on him. Well, perhaps not, but 
 then he was n t going to take any chances, but if 
 the Judge would say so, he would let Bill out. 
 
 So Sam and Nichols left the station and hur 
 ried across the two bridges to the Judge s house; 
 and after representing Bill s condition, and agree 
 ing to be personally responsible for his appear 
 ance in the morning, obtained from him a note to 
 the officer directing Bill s release. Armed with 
 this, they sought the unrepentant Mad, and were 
 rather grumpily taken downstairs into Bill s cell.
 
 206 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Bill sat humped-up on his cot. His face was 
 bruised and swollen, and he groaned whenever he 
 moved. But he followed them stumblingly when 
 Nichols told him to come, and they crossed the 
 street to Doctor Berry s office. 
 
 As they entered, the Doctor, a gray -haired old 
 gentleman, ushered them into his office. As his 
 eyes fell upon Bill, he puckered up his lips and let 
 out a whistle. 
 
 "Well, well, Bill," he said; "what was it this 
 time, a hay tedder, a mowing-machine, a steam 
 roller, or a freight car?" 
 
 "A thrashing-machine, Doctor," said Bill 
 grimly, with his features grotesquely puckered 
 up as he tried to smile, and then he groaned and 
 cursed as the Doctor placed his hand on his arm. 
 
 "Hello, what s wrong here?" asked the Doctor; 
 "anything broken?" 
 
 "No, a twist, I guess," groaned Bill. 
 
 Under the Doctor s direction Sam and Nichols 
 carefully took off his coat and vest and then tore 
 his shirt from the shoulder, and the Doctor ex 
 amined it. 
 
 "Shoulder out; must have had a bad wrench," 
 muttered the Doctor; then to Sam, "You take his 
 arm, Nichols, hold him round the body, and when 
 I say the word, pull hard. Now!" 
 
 Sam gave a heave, there was a snap, an oath 
 from Bill, and the shoulder was back. Then,
 
 THE FIGHT 207 
 
 with plaster strips the shoulder was wound and 
 bandaged, the bruised and cut face treated, and 
 after an hour s work the Doctor told him he would 
 do. 
 
 As they rose to go, Sam, who had said nothing 
 up to this moment, asked the Doctor what his bill 
 was. 
 
 As Bill heard his voice, he started to his feet. 
 
 "What the hell are you doing here? You 
 damned whelp!" he snarled, facing him. 
 
 "Don t be a fool, Bill," said Nichols. "Mr. 
 Randolph is white, and has done what he could 
 to get you out." 
 
 "White! damn him!" roared Bill; "he ll be 
 black before I Ve done with him. Take me back 
 to the lockup. I ll not be under obligations to 
 him." 
 
 In vain Nichols argued and pleaded; Bill was 
 determined; but at this point the Doctor, who 
 had stood quietly by, spoke quickly and sharp- 
 
 ly=- 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Bill Evans, you ll do what I 
 say. You go with Nichols wherever he tells you 
 to go and you do what he^says. When you get well 
 enough to talk to the young man, all right, but 
 not now. You will need two good arms and both 
 eyes. Now, go," and he ushered them out, mo 
 tioning Sam to remain. 
 
 After thev had left, he turned to Sam with a
 
 208 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 smile, and said, "What was the trouble, did the 
 barroom crowd get after him?" 
 
 And when Sam explained, he could scarcely 
 believe him. 
 
 "Well! well! well!" he said; "so Bill has got 
 thrashed at last. He has needed it for a long time. 
 Perhaps it will do him good ; there is some good in 
 the fellow. He is independent, pays his bills, and 
 has a kind-hearted streak in him. Do you know," 
 he said, with a shrewd smile, "I shouldn t be sur 
 prised to see you and Bill good friends some day." 
 
 "I m sure I hope so," said Sam, "I haven t 
 anything against him. He is the gamest man I 
 ever stood up to, and I d like to help him out; 
 but it don t look that way now. He looks as if he 
 would like to poison me." 
 
 " Well, look out for him. He is rough, but I al 
 ways thought there was something besides fight 
 in him." 
 
 There s plenty of that," smiled Sam. 
 
 "How does the study go?" asked the Doctor. 
 
 "Pretty well," replied Sam. "It is interesting, 
 and the Squire is delightful. I have never seen a 
 man just like him. He is a constant surprise to 
 me. He has more sides than any one man I ever 
 knew. I am the luckiest fellow in the world to be 
 associated with him, and yet I am often discour 
 aged to think how immeasurably superior he is to 
 what I can ever hope to be."
 
 THE FIGHT 209 
 
 "Well," said the Doctor soberly, " a man can be 
 far below the Squire in every way and still be a 
 pretty good man and a credit to his friends. That 
 is worth remembering." 
 
 : That is what I frequently think, Doctor. But 
 the Squire is such a wonderful man, I have often 
 wondered why he stayed a country lawyer. Do 
 you know?" asked Sam. 
 
 Yes," said the Doctor slowly; "I know the 
 story, and it is a sad one. Perhaps some day I 
 may tell you, but not now. Very few know it, and 
 only his nearest friends. If ever you - 
 
 Sam nodded, and after a moment rose. "I am 
 a bit tired and quite a bit sore. One cannot fight 
 a grizzly bear without catching it a bit. You don t 
 fear any serious result for Bill, do you?" 
 
 " Not a bit, not a bit. He will be all right in a 
 week or two. So don t worry about that. Good 
 night," said the Doctor coming to the door. 
 
 "Good-night, Doctor," called Sam as he went 
 towards the hotel. 
 
 "I wonder if he will ever know the story?" 
 mused the Doctor, closing the door and putting 
 up the chain. " I suppose that there has not lived 
 a more heart-hungry and lonesome old fellow 
 than the old Squire. I only hope this young chap 
 will get near him. None of the rest of us have."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 TOWN MEETING 
 
 THE decisive result of the fight with Bill Evans 
 effectually reestablished Sam in the esteem 
 in which he had been held by the gymnasium 
 crowd, which esteem he had lost by his abrupt 
 withdrawal from the club and his contemptuous 
 refusal to again become a member. 
 
 It was very interesting to see just how many 
 young men there were who had about come to the 
 conclusion that it was high time for some one to 
 take Bill in hand, you know, and that if Sam had 
 n t done it at just the time he did, they should 
 have done it. And that in future Bill would do 
 well to remember that he would be called to a 
 strict accounting for his deeds and words. 
 
 So many of the young chaps about town con 
 gratulated Sam on his success, but politely re 
 gretted that he had taken the job out of their 
 hands, that Sam was quite mystified, and could 
 not account for their long forbearance in the face 
 of so many indignities suffered from this same 
 Bill. 
 
 Meeting Nichols on the street one day and in 
 quiring for Bill, he mentioned the matter to him.
 
 TOWN MEETING 211 
 
 "Rot!" said Nichols explosively. "There 
 was n t a man of them that dared to peep when 
 ever Bill was round. Now, when you ve licked 
 him, they all come around to blow and brag and 
 say what they were going to do. Huh! it makes 
 me tired to hear them. You get a man down and 
 there are plenty to jump on him, but all the same, 
 if they think Bill is down for good they have got 
 another bet on it. You listen to me, Mr. Ran 
 dolph, as soon as Bill gets round again, some of 
 these amateur pugs and fresh Alecs are going to 
 get theirs. The first man that picks a row with 
 Bill will get a mighty good licking. Bill will be as 
 good as ever in a couple of weeks." 
 
 Then he is all right. I m mighty glad of 
 that," said Sam. "I suppose he is still as surly as 
 a bear?" 
 
 "Surly! you bet he is. More like a bulldog 
 with his paw in a trap, ready to bite any one. 
 Swears he w r ill lick you some day if he has to 
 train for a year. I told him he might as well give 
 up that idea, for he could n t lick you in a life 
 time, but he swears he will. But I guess you 
 need n t worry," said Nichols, smiling. 
 
 "Oh, I m not worrying, and when I was a 
 young chap I should have liked nothing better. 
 But I must study hard for the next three years, 
 and I can t spare any energy for fighting and get 
 ting stirred up for a week or more. But if Bill and
 
 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 I have to fight it out again, it will be a much 
 shorter fight than our first, I can tell you that. I 
 had much rather be his friend and have him mine. 
 I have considerable respect for Bill at bottom, 
 but I won t fool with him another time," said Sam, 
 with a snap of his jaw. 
 
 "Well, it s funny, but I think Bill has a good 
 deal of respect for you. But don t you see, man? 
 You ve licked him, and he has been the champion 
 bull terrier round here for years. It meant a good 
 deal to him. - - Well, Mr. Randolph, I must be 
 going. Glad to see you at any time up at the 
 mill," said Nichols as he stepped into his muddy 
 wagon and drove off. 
 
 Sure enough, Nichols s prediction in regard to 
 Bill came true, for when after a couple of weeks 
 retirement, Bill came on the street, Loomis 
 picked a fight with him and was most thoroughly 
 beaten, and thereafter Bill, with his reputation 
 somewhat reestablished, was let severely alone 
 and began steady work at Nichols s sawmill. 
 
 At Alvy s we may be sure that the fight was 
 discussed in the most weighty and conclusive 
 fashion. At the first call to arms the entire crowd 
 of loungers had vacated their seats in the office 
 with most delightful unanimity. Unfortunately 
 for old Allison Hamlin, in attempting to arise he 
 had gone over backwards with an appalling bump 
 of his poor old head on the hard floor, but with
 
 TOWN MEETING 213 
 
 the timely assistance of Newt and Charles, he 
 had regained his feet and hobbled to the scene of 
 the conflict in time to see the greater part of it. 
 At its conclusion they returned to the hotel and 
 prevailed on Alvy to "set- em-up just once," 
 which Alvy did with a graciousness and a readi 
 ness quite unusual. He drove a roaring trade in 
 ardent spirits that evening, as did the Major, 
 Nolan, the Hole-in-the-Wall, and other well- 
 known saloons. 
 
 Fight talk was the regular order of exercise 
 in all the hotel corridors, barrooms, saloons, bar 
 ber shops, pool and billiard parlors, and in no 
 place was reminiscence more exclusively indulged 
 in than around Alvy s railway stove. 
 
 "By mighty! Hazen," said old Allison Hamlin, 
 struggling with frightful grimaces to bite off a 
 chew of tobacco by thrusting a plug of Navy up 
 under his left ear where he had a few fangs left, 
 " minds me of a fight I hed with a feller t worked 
 in th old pipe shop. I wuz a pretty peart-like 
 feller in them days, baout ez spry as yeou make 
 em. Lessee, thet wuz nigh outer sixty years ago. 
 This feller wuz an Englishman, n wuz reckoned 
 sum punkins in the ring. Wa-a-al," added the old 
 man, rolling his quid thoughtfully, "we hed a 
 tarnal jaw baout suthin n Jem he hit me, n 
 afore any one could interfere, I hed knocked him 
 daoun ole Eph Butler s saloon steps. Jem he wuz
 
 214 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 stunted, n I wuz a bit oneasy in my mind for 
 fear I d killed him. But Jem he kum to arter 
 a while n vaoued he d lick me f it tuk a year. 
 Jem he was n t fit fer nuthin fer a while. Gosha- 
 mighty! I must a hit him a tunker; hoa-g-g-g! 
 p tu!" and old Allison spat with deadly accuracy 
 into the glowing stove. 
 
 "Wa-a-1," he continued, " baout thet time, t 
 wuz long baout alewife time, n the river wuz 
 jest a-bilin with em, n I gut an almighty cold 
 a-ketchin on em, n hed a long spell er lung- 
 fever which left me thinner n a gutted herrin n 
 weaker n skim milk. So, mind ye, Jem he 
 thought t would be a good time ter git a swat at 
 me, p tu! Wa-a-1, one day I wuz a pokin aout 
 in the square baout sundaoun n I met up with 
 Jem, n I see suthin was goin ter happen. 
 Wa-a-a-1, Jem, -- p tu, --he gimme a root off en 
 the sidewalk, n I did n t say nothin , only jest 
 peeled, n Jem he peeled tew, right in front er the 
 taoun hall, hoa-a-a-g! p tu! That ornery cuss 
 wuz the beatinest feller to hop raotin, he jest got 
 raoun quicker n all gitaout, jelluk this ere New 
 York feller in the Squire s offis. N he cud hit, 
 tew, but I jest took what he give n onct in a 
 while I would get in an almighty tunker in the 
 head or a sidewinder in Jem s ribs. Wa-a-1, ter 
 come at it, we fit more n tew hour, n when Jem 
 could n t come ter th scratch they cided I licked
 
 TOWN MEETING 215 
 
 him. Wa-a-1, I wuz so used up when I gut 
 through, cause I wuz sicker n pizen when I fit, 
 that I did n t know nothin for more n a week." 
 N have n t knowed but dummed little ever 
 since," growled old Kin Flanders in an aside. 
 
 "Hey! wassat ye say?" demanded old Allison 
 quickly, glowering at him fiercely. 
 
 "I said t wuz a dummed good fight, Allison," 
 yelled Kin. "Beats hell haou thet dummed old 
 deef cuss kin hear when ye don t want him ter," 
 he continued in a husky whisper. 
 
 "What became of Jem?" asked Alvy from the 
 desk, where he was totting up accounts. 
 
 "Hey, wassay 5 " said Allison with his hand to 
 his ear. 
 
 "\Yhat became of Jem?" yelled Alvy. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Jem, wa-1, Jem he went away ar- 
 ter he got well enough. He wuz perty sick fer 
 quite a spell, p tu." 
 
 "W 7 haddier yeou say to that for a ole buster of 
 a lie? Th dummed old dried apple, th only thing 
 he could lick is the butt end of a stogy thet sum 
 mon hed gin im," growled Kin in a hoarse aside. 
 
 " By tripe ! " said old Henry Van Duzee, a weaz 
 ened little man with thin gray hair, mild and 
 somewhat mildewed blue eyes, wearing a much 
 frayed and discolored greenish brown suit, an old 
 gray coat with a velvet collar shiny with grease, 
 and broken-down shoes partly protected by new
 
 216 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 and astonishingly shiny rubbers of which he was 
 extremely proud. "By Crimmeny! minds me of 
 a fight I had onct daoun ter Oceanbrook. Ye 
 kneau them Oceanbrook fellers travels in gangs 
 jelluk wolfs. F they gits a feller daoun, s all up 
 with him, cept there wuz one feller," and old 
 Henry smiled meaningly and shook his head. 
 
 "Wai, what abaout it, Henery, whadjer dew?" 
 demanded old Abel Scudder testily. 
 
 "Dew! Abel, I fit em, a haffer dozen on em; 
 driv em, tew, arter fitin em more n tew hours 
 with a sprained ankle n a bone bruk in my lef 
 wrist. When they faoun they could n t lick me, 
 they run like whiteheads. Arter thet I never hed 
 no trouble in Oceanbrook." 
 
 "I be goldurned f he aint a bigger liar n old 
 Allison. N thet s sayin a good deal," growled 
 Kin Flanders again; and there was silence while 
 they smoked and spat and Alvy hemmed and 
 hawed and made careful entries in his ledger. 
 
 Finally, Newt removed his pipe, tapped it up 
 ended on his palm, placed it in his vest pocket, 
 crossed his legs, and said slowly: - 
 
 "Boys, I never was much of a fighter with my 
 fists, although I have done some of that in my 
 day, nor with my mouth. I never broke a bone in 
 my arm after fighting six men, n never fit two 
 hours like old Allison here. If I managed to lick 
 one man at a time, I thought I was pretty lucky.
 
 TOWN MEETING 217 
 
 But when President Lincoln sent out his call for 
 seventy-five thousand men, I nlisted, and I saw 
 some fighting, too, as was fighting. I have 
 marched through a hail of minie balls in front of 
 the intrenchments when my brave companions 
 were falling about me like flies in a frost, and I 
 never knew what fear was. I have lain at night 
 in the intrenchments watching the shells from the 
 mortars in the enemy s batteries exploding in 
 our ranks, and I never knew what fear was. I 
 have marched with my decimated regiment 
 straight up the hill to the rebel batteries, while 
 cannon shot, shrapnel, canister, chain shot, and 
 grape tore great holes in our lines, and I never 
 knew - 
 
 Newt s voice here trailed into silence and his 
 face took on a most discomfited expression as he 
 gazed spellbound at a slim, wiry, sharp-nosed, 
 vinegary woman in spectacles who entered dur 
 ing his oration. 
 
 " Newt Caswell ! yeou lazy, goo-fer-nuthin* crit 
 ter, yeou march yourself straight aouter this gin- 
 mill, n see if you hev got sprawl enough to split 
 me some wood, stidder sittin raoun here gassin 
 with a wuthless gang o rummies. Neaow, start 
 yer boots!" she shrilled with a voice that rose 
 almost to a shriek. 
 
 "Yes, mother, yes, right away, comin , mo 
 ther, comin ," said Newt, pacifically, struggling
 
 218 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 to his feet and following the virago through the 
 door. 
 
 "By Godfrey," said Kin, "Newt would ha 
 been a hero f he d stayed aout there, but he 
 kera home to suthin wuss n bumshells n mus 
 ket balls." 
 
 "H m," said old Allison reflectively; "some 
 women is wuss n tarnation wil cats. Gang er 
 rummies ! F she wuz my wife, I d larn her 
 suthin ." 
 
 "I guess, Allison, if she wuz your wife yeou d 
 dew baout ez she said," drawled Alvy. 
 
 "B goshamighty! I guess you re right, Alvy. 
 I swanny ye be," he replied, and for a while no 
 thing was heard but the puff of pipes and the 
 sizzle of nicotine in the stems. 
 
 After a while old Allison removed his pipe, 
 changed his legs, and spoke philosophically and 
 with conviction. "Do yeou knaow, Abel, that a 
 dummed cranky, ill-tempered woman like Newt s 
 wife there is responsible for more n haff the devil 
 ment in the world. Member when Newt kem 
 back from the war? Likely lookin feller, wa n t 
 he? Did n t drink, smoked some, but did n t 
 chew. Good workman, good blacksmith, and 
 never aout o a job. Aimed good money. Then 
 the poor dummed critter met up with Mariar 
 Higgins, n Mari, she was a good gal, tew, n ole 
 Deekin Higgins, her dad, was a good man, but f
 
 TOWN MEETING 219 
 
 Newt ud had any sense at all he d a knowed ole 
 Deekin was the tarnalest ole henpecked cuss in 
 this world." 
 
 "What d that gotter do with it?" asked Kin. 
 
 "That? Why, everything ter do with it. Mari 
 was the very spit of her marm, old Althusy, n 
 although she had n t begun on Newt then, t was 
 in the critter, n Newt had aught to have seen it. 
 Wa-a-1, Newt he up n married her, n t wa n t 
 long afore she begun on him. Did n t want him 
 to go daoun taoun withaout tellin on her where 
 he wuz goin , n wha fer. Raised a tarnation 
 rumpus f Newt went inter a saloon. Allers tellin 
 him haow hard she worked n haow little she 
 got aouter it. Never wanted Newt ter bring any 
 body hum ter dinner or supper, n was allus a-fol- 
 lerin him abaout with a dus pan or a clothes 
 bresh, n made him take off his boots n rubbers 
 n the porch, n would hide his hat when he left 
 it on a cheer or summers else than on the hanger- 
 up. Then Newt wus allers a master hand for pets. 
 When he wuz a boy he had flyin squir ls, n 
 paouter doves, n boberlinks, n white mice, n 
 rabbits, n young hen-hawks, n crows, n all 
 sorts er dummed things, n allers hed a dawg er 
 some kind. Naow, them things did n t hurt no 
 body, n Newt he allers sot considerable store by 
 em, n they kep im aouter mischief. I tell yer 
 a young feller full er jump n ginger s gotter ha
 
 220 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 suthin ter take up his time, n mos ginerly 
 suthin he likes, tew, or he won t pay no tintion 
 to it. Wa-a-1, M ri would n t ha none er them 
 dewin s raoun her place. Newt he declared he 
 would, n he tried his dummedest, n M ri she 
 chased his hens, n let aout his birds, n mice, 
 n rabbits, n all the time she was a naggin ,and 
 er naggin, an er jawin an er findin fault with 
 this n thet n t other, n bimeby Newt he gin 
 up. He said * anything fer peace, but like the ora 
 tor in the readin book there wa n t no peace, n 
 then Newt he tuk ter drink an ter loafin raoun , 
 n - - wa-a-1, look at him naow ! looks jelluk an 
 old tramp, n sarved her right. Ole Deekin he 
 tuk to religion n loafin raoun , n his wife she 
 tuk ter the washtub, n Newt he tuk ter licker n 
 loafin, n M ri tuk ter plain sewin n settin up 
 with dead folks n scrubbin floors, n sarved 
 Althusy n M ri jes right; but it clean spiled 
 Deekin n Newt. The Deekin he died fust, an ef 
 ther s any herearter I hope he had a good rest 
 where t wuz quiet n peaceful. Althusy she died, 
 tew, n t wuz a dummed good riddance. Newt 
 he hain t died yet, but I guess he wished he hed 
 baout a hunnerd times. So she called us a gang o 
 rummies, did she? Wa-a-1, p r aps we be, but 
 lemme tell ye this, boys. Whenever ye see a 
 craowd er fellers like we be, a-sittin raoun a bar 
 room er hotel offis, f ye quire inter it ye 11 find
 
 TOWN MEETING 221 
 
 n nine times aouter ten thet more n tew thirds 
 of em is driv there by some dummed fool woman 
 with more tongue than sense, who won t let em 
 take any comfort to hum. B goshamighty!" 
 
 And the assemblage broke up slowly and 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 In March following, Sam had the opportunity 
 to see his first country town meeting, and was 
 very much scandalized to see one man, whose 
 moral character was a disgrace to the community, 
 elected to an office, and he could n t understand it 
 or reconcile it with his ideas of decency that the 
 nominating speech was made by a man promin 
 ent in business, and particularly so in church 
 affairs. Indeed, his first impulse was to make a 
 vigorous speech in opposition, but he remem 
 bered that he was not yet a voter, although he 
 had resided the necessary length of time in the 
 town to qualify as a citizen. 
 
 He listened with great attention to the argu 
 ments on the appropriations, which seemed to 
 call for more discussion than anything. He was 
 greatly interested in the admirably conservative 
 remarks of several old gentlemen from the sub 
 urbs, who made really excellent speeches in oppo 
 sition to certain proposed expenditures that they 
 termed unnecessary, extravagant, and ill-judged, 
 and indignant at the want of respect manifested
 
 222 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 by the younger element, most of whom, paying 
 nothing but a poll-tax, were in favor of anything 
 in the line of expense that promised a change 
 from the old, and who in several vigorous 
 speeches ridiculed the "old-fogy," out-of-date, 
 and obstructionist ideas of these conservative 
 speakers. 
 
 However, in two instances they came to grief 
 in what seemed to Sam a very amusing manner. In 
 the first instance the question was upon the ap 
 propriation of a sufficient sum to purchase a new 
 steam fire-engine, and the young and self-styled 
 progressive element favored the appropriation as 
 an absolute necessity, while old William Bonner 
 and old Jarvis McDougal, two bewhiskered and 
 most sturdy and respectable citizens, fought 
 against the appropriation with the greatest vigor 
 and good sense, as it seemed to Sam. But the 
 fight was going against them, when, after a most 
 fiery speech of denunciation of the "mummified 
 opinions" and "obsolete 1812" ideas, by the 
 young cashier of the Rockaway Bank, who was 
 the leader of the younger element, Captain Hil 
 ton rose with much deliberation, bowed to the 
 moderator as he addressed him, and when he was 
 recognized by that functionary, turned to the 
 meeting and said with great dignity: - 
 
 "Gentlemen and legal voters of the town of 
 Elmtown, I have listened with vast interest to
 
 TOWN MEETING 223 
 
 the comprehensive and eloquent addresses of the 
 gentlemen who have preceded me, and my inter 
 est in the subject under ah discussion is 
 such as to prompt me to ah --inflict my 
 views upon you as a body corporate." 
 
 "Fwat th divil is that?" whispered Patrick 
 Cassidy to his friend, Jim Henessey, the saloon 
 keeper. 
 
 "Gentlemen," continued the speaker, "I re 
 verence and admire a steam fire-engine, I love its 
 red wheels, I marvel at its glittering brasses, I 
 am ah lost in wonder at its most unearthly 
 and yet not unmusical shriek, at the hiss of its 
 escaping steam in the few instances in the past 
 when our unrivaled and ever-ready department 
 have been able to get up steam on our present 
 machine ; I can never sufficiently admire the 
 gallant struggles of our noble horses but recently 
 detached, or ah unhooked from the various 
 hacks or dump carts they have graced, as they 
 dash madly along followed by our red-shirted 
 and crimson-belted firemen. And yet, gentle 
 men, notwithstanding our delight in the pictur 
 esque splendor of the scene, we should consider, 
 we should consider, gentlemen, whether it would 
 not be better to wait a while until we feel sure 
 that our firemen are sufficiently conversant with 
 the internal workings of the old machine so that 
 their repeated fiascos in the past I refer to the
 
 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Works fire, when after a long run they arrived at 
 the fire without the hose; to the mill fire, when 
 after getting up steam they found both nozzles 
 had been sent to the repair shop ; to another and 
 more recent occasion, when they forgot to take 
 the suction hose will not be repeated. Gentle 
 men," and here his voice rang out like a speaking- 
 trumpet, "if our firemen can t manage one en 
 gine intelligently, how, in the name of kind 
 Heaven and common sense, can they expect to 
 manage two? I hope that the measure may not 
 pass." 
 
 There was a tumult of cheering, and upon an 
 aye and nay vote the measure was overwhelm 
 ingly rejected. 
 
 Likewise, when a motion for the appropriation 
 of one thousand dollars for a new hearse, which 
 was stated by the moderator to have been in 
 serted in the warrant on petition of Bradbury V. 
 Pettengill and nineteen others, Newt C as well 
 rose with some difficulty, and, holding on to the 
 seat in front of him, and weaving slightly, said 
 with much dignity, " Mis er hie ! Mor-r-ter." 
 
 " Mr. Newton Caswell," replied the moderator, 
 smiling. 
 
 Mis er Mor-r-ter, I move that we hie take 
 Bradbury V. Pettengill and his nineteen others and 
 bury him so damn deep that they hie won t 
 need the services of a hie hearse or anything
 
 TOWN MEETING 225 
 
 else till hie Judgment Day," and Newt sat 
 down looking very stern and virtuous. 
 
 "Second the motion!" yelled a bystander. 
 
 "It is moved and seconded that this article be 
 indefinitely postponed," said the moderator, 
 with a twinkle in his eye. "Is the meeting ready 
 for the question?" 
 
 "Question! Question!" shouted several. 
 
 "Mr. Moderator!" shouted Mr. Pettengill. 
 
 "Mr. Pettengill," said the moderator. 
 
 Then there was a tumult of voices, "Sit down!" 
 "Question!" "Question!" 
 
 The moderator pounded with his gavel. 
 
 "Mr. Moderator!" pealed out a great voice, 
 and the Senator rose. 
 
 "Senator Hilton," said the moderator, and 
 there was instant silence. 
 
 "Mr. Moderator, and gentlemen," said the 
 Senator. "In all parliamentary bodies I have 
 known, it is a man s inherent right to be courte 
 ously heard and I wish to remind you that Mr. 
 Pettengill has the floor, and," he added, smiling, 
 "to remind him that in the words of the immor 
 tal Shakespeare somewhat paraphrased by our 
 worthy friend, Mr. Caswell, 
 
 We have come to bury Csesar not to praise him. " 
 
 There was a shout of laughter and cries for Mr. 
 Pettengill. But Mr. Pettengill refused to speak 
 and the article was indefinitely postponed.
 
 226 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Sam also noticed a sample of the curious 
 antipathy towards a person not a native of the 
 town. In a heated argument between old Jarvis 
 McDougal and a man named Anderson, McDou- 
 gal asserted that Anderson was a newcomer and 
 ought to keep quiet about matters of which he 
 knew nothing. 
 
 "Newcomer! I have lived here twenty-two 
 years," yelled Anderson. 
 
 "And I have lived here seventy -eight years," 
 retorted old Jarvis triumphantly, amid cheers.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A VISITOR 
 
 HE April Term of the Superior Court had 
 come and gone. The Squire had tried many 
 cases, and Sam, who had listened and taken 
 notes, and interviewed witnesses, had appreci 
 ated more than ever the tact, courtesy, and pro 
 fessional technique of the Squire in his relations 
 with the presiding judge and his professional 
 brethren; his searching cross-examinations of 
 witnesses, his quiet, comprehensive openings 
 and his masterly arguments. There were other 
 lawyers of signal ability, some sound as lawyers, 
 some brilliant as orators, some ingenious and 
 shrewd, but none so thoroughly combining these 
 talents as the Squire. 
 
 May and June had come and gone, and July 
 was half over, and Sam was still in the office and 
 still hard at work. He had managed to save 
 money enough to buy him a canoe and spent 
 most of his spare time on the river. Sometimes 
 alone, but often with Polly curled up in the bow, 
 staring delightedly at every bird, weed, frog, 
 flower, or fish she saw, and listening intently 
 while Sam told her stories of fishing and hunting
 
 228 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 on the lakes and in the woods. They still rode 
 horseback, but only occasionally, because in this 
 town summer, the beach season, was the hay 
 making season for stablemen, and Alvy had few 
 horses that needed breaking and Sam did not feel 
 rich enough to hire saddle-horses. 
 
 Sam was thinner than he was the year before, 
 thinner and harder and browner, and in far better 
 condition. His mind had thriven on the hard 
 intellectual work he had done, and his body had 
 strengthened by exercise, regular hours, whole 
 some food, and freedom from worry. Worry, 
 he had not had time for that, he had so many in 
 terests. He was in love with the office, the Squire, 
 and the fascinating round of duties there. He 
 liked the town and the people and was fast mak 
 ing friends, and he loved little Polly like an elder 
 brother; and she, while she looked upon him as a 
 hero possessed of every virtue, held herself quite 
 aloof from him as became a prim little lady of 
 gentle birth. 
 
 Indeed, a few weeks before, something dreadful 
 had happened between them which had caused 
 her many tears and had caused Sam great sur 
 prise, some amusement, and some very remorseful 
 feelings. They had been riding one evening, and 
 when they returned, Sam lifted her off her pony, 
 while the Squire, paper in hand, sat smiling at 
 them from the piazza. Polly s hair was curling in
 
 A VISITOR 229 
 
 little tendrils around her forehead and ears, her 
 face was flushed, and her eyes bright with pleas 
 ure, and Sam, thinking what a lovable child she 
 was, lifted her from her pony, held her high in 
 the air a moment as one holds a child, kissed 
 her, and set her lightly on the steps. 
 
 Quick as a flash, as he stood with his head on a 
 level with hers, she slapped him full in the face, 
 burst into tears, and ran up to her room, while 
 Sam, with a look of amazed chagrin, stood staring 
 helplessly towards the Squire, who did not smile. 
 
 "Good Heavens! Mr. Branch," said Sam at 
 last, "I didn t dream of hurting her feelings; I 
 would n t have done it for the world." 
 
 "No, I suppose not, Sam, but I am afraid she 
 is not yet accustomed to those attentions from 
 gentlemen; at least, I trust so," said the Squire 
 dryly. 
 
 "Attentions!" stammered Sam; then rather 
 indignantly, "To a child! Mr. Branch, I don t 
 quite like that word; I am a gentleman." 
 
 "I was wrong, Sam," said the Squire quickly; 
 "I beg your pardon. Polly is a child in many 
 ways and almost a woman in others. She is over 
 fourteen, and has read a good deal, and has a 
 great deal of reserve and dignity, and it is plain 
 that you have hurt her very much without in 
 tending it. I spoke hastily because I don t like 
 to see her feel badly."
 
 230 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "I am awfully sorry, Mr. Branch; tell me what 
 I can do. Won t she come down and let me apo 
 logize? " 
 
 "I don t think so now. She will probably feel 
 nearly as badly from having struck you," added 
 the Squire. 
 
 "She served me just right. I wish she had 
 knocked my stupid head off." 
 
 "She left the marks, at all events," laughed the 
 Squire. "I can see four distinct finger-prints; she 
 is a spiteful little thing." 
 
 "Well, I will write her a note apologizing for 
 my evil deeds, and perhaps she will forgive me; 
 that is, if you will help me out, Mr. Branch," 
 said Sam ruefully. 
 
 "Oh, I ll do that, of course; I want you and 
 Polly to be friends. The time may come when she 
 will need a friend," said the Squire gravely, and 
 said " good-night." 
 
 That night Sam wrote a most humble and com 
 ical letter of apology to the spunky little lady, 
 which made her laugh, but did not quite have the 
 effect Sam hoped for, as it was more than a week 
 before she received Sam into favor again. 
 
 Sam had also succeeded in making friends of 
 the town boys. Of course the adventure with Bill 
 had made many admirers, but few friends, as the 
 town boys had looked upon Bill as a local cham 
 pion too long to feel any gratification at his de-
 
 A VISITOR 231 
 
 feat, and in a way they felt aggrieved that a new 
 comer should strip Bill of the laurels he had held 
 for so long a time. Had Sam fought a man from 
 any other town, every man-jack of them would 
 have yelled encouragement, and would have 
 swelled and bragged and blown themselves out 
 with civic pride, but for Sam to "lick" Bill, their 
 own Bill, was quite another matter. 
 
 But few boys and indeed few men, however 
 prejudiced, can withhold their admiration and 
 liking from a first-class ball-player, whether ama 
 teur or professional, and when it was found that 
 Sam was a star, and knew the game thoroughly, 
 and had coached Yale as well as caught for two 
 years before graduation, and when it was further 
 known that he could hold Hartnett, who pitched 
 cannon balls, every boy in town swore by him. 
 And so Sam, greatly to his own pleasure, had 
 donned baseball togs again, and had developed a 
 really excellent country team, which had beaten 
 the strong Brookmouth team, a member of the 
 Intercity League. 
 
 To be sure there were times when he longed for 
 the old life and the clubs and restaurants, the 
 polo and yachting and dancing and fun-making 
 which was so enjoyable while it lasted, but these 
 spells did not endure, and were driven away by 
 hard work and ambition. For the correspond 
 ence between Sam and the young girl in white
 
 232 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 had come to an acute point, when Sam passion 
 ately declared his love and pressed her for an an 
 swer on a certain day. And for the few days that 
 Sam waited for her answer he haunted the post- 
 office, could scarcely open a book, and when he 
 did, would vainly endeavor to rivet his attention 
 to the text, but read without the slightest com 
 prehension of the words that his lips audibly 
 muttered, until he found that it was impossible 
 to concentrate his ideas upon reading, and he 
 pressed the Squire to send him upon local errands 
 that took him not so far from the post-office that 
 he could not be on hand at the distribution of 
 every mail. 
 
 And the Squire, shrewdly noting the signs, did 
 his best to keep him busy, although he felt that 
 .Sam s marriage with a New York girl might mili 
 tate against the life of a country lawyer he had 
 marked out for himself. At Alvy s Sam ate his 
 meals with but very little idea of what they con 
 sisted, took his exercises, greeted his friends as 
 usual, but so timed his tramps that he was never 
 out of range of the post-office. 
 
 And at last one evening Sam, with a tense face, 
 opened the box and took out a pile of letters, with 
 one, a square white thick envelope with a heavy 
 seal. He put it quickly in his pocket where it 
 almost seemed to burn him, crowded the other 
 letters back in the box, locked it, and strode hur-
 
 A VISITOR 233 
 
 riedly to his room. Entering, he locked the door, 
 lighted his lamp with such nervous fin gers that 
 he snapped three matches in pieces before he got 
 a light. Then he ripped open the inclosure and 
 read. And as he read, his face lighted up, his 
 eyes shone, his cheeks flushed, and his breath 
 came hard and fast. "Thank God!" he said. 
 He could scarcely believe his good fortune. He 
 wanted to shout, to throw open the window and 
 tell the world that he, Sam Randolph, with 
 scarcely a penny to his name, with nothing but 
 his hands and brains and health was the richest 
 man in the world. That as for happiness, there 
 was no such happy man in the universe. And he 
 read the letter again and again. Then he paced 
 the room with quick, light strides. How in the 
 world could she love him, with nothing to re 
 commend him but his powers as an athlete and 
 his campus records ! Why should she, the bright 
 est, most beautiful and sweetest girl he had ever 
 met, the one girl he had dreamed of and longed 
 for and worshiped, have chosen him from so 
 many better, brighter, richer, and far more eligi 
 ble mates! He could not believe it. There must 
 be some mistake, and again he had to read the 
 letter, to dwell on every line, every word. What 
 a charm in the dashing, unstudied lines! What 
 a grace and delicacy in the phrases! Why, even 
 the punctuation marks had an individuality of
 
 234 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 their own, which could be associated with nobody 
 else. Ethel! what a beautiful name! And how 
 well it became her. Simple and pure and and 
 well, so different from Evelyn, or Hildegarde, 
 or Adelaide, or Clarissa, or Elizabeth, or Doro 
 thy, or Marion. 
 
 All were good names and would perhaps have 
 suited other girls, beautiful girls, too. But Ethel! 
 Somehow Ethel was the one name that suited 
 her. And she was the one girl that suited the 
 name. There never was another Ethel, there 
 never could have been. Ethel! 
 
 Well, poor Sam was hard hit. So much so that 
 he loved the whole world. It seemed as if he must 
 hug somebody. Then the poor dazed fellow sat 
 down and wrote his Ethel the most devoted, pas 
 sionate, thankful letter, burning with such love 
 and tenderness and adoration and personal hu 
 mility and modesty and hope and trust and am 
 bition (for her sake) and determination (for his 
 own), that she must have wondered that she or 
 any other girl should have been capable of inspir 
 ing such love in a big, strong, healthy lad, keen 
 for the strong competition of life. 
 
 And the next day, when Sam went to the office, 
 he was so bright and beaming, so brimming over 
 with kindness, so studious and helpful, that the 
 Squire knew that the letter had come, and prim 
 Miss Ellis in the depths of her virgin heart con-
 
 A VISITOR 235 
 
 structed a most wonderful romance in which Sam 
 was the hero and a most wonderfully beautiful 
 and loving young woman, not the least in the 
 world like Miss Ellis, was the heroine. 
 
 It was the next summer that Tom, who had 
 bought Sam s furniture, made him a visit. The 
 year had passed quickly for Sam in hard study, 
 hard work, and hard play. Ethel s letters had 
 been regular and loving. Sam wrote two letters 
 to her one, but then he had so much to say, while 
 she was so busy with dances and concerts and 
 teas and dog shows, yachting and polo and the 
 thousand diversions of a city life, that she really 
 could not find time to write as fully as she wished. 
 But she loved Sam, she said so, and Sam cer 
 tainly wrote enough for both. 
 
 Sam had already begun practice in a small and 
 somewhat guarded way. That is, he had fre 
 quently appeared in probate court in the routine 
 work of administration and guardianship, settle 
 ment of accounts, the procuring of allowances, of 
 licenses real and personal, the probate of wills in 
 common and solemn form, and had defended and 
 prosecuted some small criminal actions in the 
 police courts, with considerable credit. In simple 
 matters he advised clients, and as he was very 
 cautious and painstaking he gave very good satis 
 faction.
 
 236 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 One day, while engaged with a client of the 
 Squire s, a young, fashionably dressed man, with 
 a merry face and dazzling smile, came in. Sam 
 glanced up abstractedly, asked him to take a 
 seat, and returned to his client. The young fellow 
 did so and with Sam listened to a very amusing 
 story which was being told by old Ike Parrish, a 
 dry, active, wiry, weasened man of about sixty, 
 an inveterate horse-trader. 
 
 :< Ye see, Mister Randolph, I wuz a-drivin* 
 aout on the Paow-waow River rhud one day n I 
 met up with a feller a-drivin a black hoss. T was 
 ole Eph Badger. Wa-a-1, me n Eph we traded, 
 n I tuk the black hoss, ez smooth a critter ez 
 you ever see. Eph, ye know, is a leetle apt, jest 
 the leastest bit apt, ter git holt of bosses as is 
 sorter onreliable-like. I wuz sorter s picious, 
 cause I made so good a trade with Eph, long s I 
 let him have a hoss that wuz a leetle, jest the lee- 
 tlest bit light behind. Not vicious like, but jest 
 frisky enough to sorter kinder let flicker at the 
 dashbowd of the waggin. Jest high sperits, a lee 
 tle higher behine than in front. I heerd thet old 
 Eph hed a hoss thet wuz fitty. Ginerally hed one 
 or tew a week, putty reg lar. Mind ! I jest heerd 
 so. Did n t know it; pshaw, no ! did n t believe it; 
 only jest heerd it. So I thought I d better git red 
 of this hoss fore I know d much abaout him. 
 D ye kneaw ole Jonathan Brackett, him thet
 
 A VISITOR 23T 
 
 keeps a blacksmith shop daown ter West Kemp- 
 ton? Don t kneaw im? Wa-a-1, Jont is the mas 
 ter hand for a hoss trade. Druther trade bosses 
 than eat any day, er drink neether, n thet s 
 sayin a gret deal. 
 
 "Wa-a-1, I owed Jont one for th last trade we 
 bed, when he traded me a roarer for a nice chunk 
 of a hoss at I let him hev. It hed jest a leetle dif 
 ficulty in its eyes baout seein things quick. Not 
 blind, ye kneaw, but leetle short-sighted, jest a 
 leetle. T would n t run agin a house or a taown 
 hall, but might not see a post or suthin small. 
 But, all the same, Jont he beat me in thet trade, 
 n I owed him one. Did n t hev no feelin" baout 
 it, only kinder like to keep even, ye kneaw. 
 
 Wa-a-a-1, ez I wuz sayin , I thot I hed orter 
 git red of the critter, n so I rubbed him daoun 
 till he shone julluk a nigger s heel, n put on my 
 best harness n hooked him inter a tew-wheel 
 gig, ye kneaw a gig allers makes a hoss look 
 gamey, n started aout, n when I got putty 
 nigh to Jont s corner I jest fetched the old hoss a 
 wipe under the belly where t would n t show, n 
 the way we went by Jont s shop wuz a caution ter 
 snakes. Jont he d hearn the rattle of the gig n 
 the huf -beats, n he stud in his shop door lookin 
 over his spettacles with his maouth wide open 
 when I went by. Wa-a-1, arter a while I turned 
 raound n jogged back twuds him. When I wuz
 
 238 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 goin by Jont s, he kem aout n hollered, Here, 
 you ornery old Ike Parrish, whaddier mean by 
 drivin by my shop ithout stoppin , yeau? 
 
 " Wa-a-1, Jont, sez I, * the fust time I went by, 
 I hed my hands full with this ere hoss. Ye see, a 
 feller tackled me back here a mile er so n I hed 
 ter show im my dust. He turned off baout a haf- 
 fer mile back, but the old hoss wanted to go n I 
 thot I d let him go ter see haow long his wind 
 would hoi aout, but I guess he d a-gone to the 
 beach, n so I pulled im up n jogged back. I 
 callate I wuz goin some, Jont, sez I. 
 
 Callate ye wuz, Ike, " sez he. * By mighty! 
 thet ere hoss kin step some. Whereje git im? 
 Traded fer im over ter North Kempton, 
 sez I. 
 
 "WillyeseH imP sezhe. 
 
 Naow, Jont, sez I, I never hed ary hoss in 
 my hull life thet I would n t trade er sell. I ain t 
 much sot on gittin red of this ere hoss. He kin 
 step a quarter almighty handy, n I think, Jont, 
 I think his las quarter in a mile ud be a leetle 
 faster than his fust, sez I. 
 
 " Haow 11 ye trade im fer that hoss thar? sez 
 he, p intin to a likely lookin hoss hitched aout in 
 the yard. 
 
 "Oh, him, sez I, lookin kinder mused at 
 the hoss; wa-a-1, I guess I ll hafter charge ye 
 baout a hunner dollars boot twixt the bosses,
 
 A VISITOR 239 
 
 V I orter charge ye a hunner n twenty-five, 
 sez I. 
 
 * Pshaw, neaow, Ike, watcher think yer old 
 boss is, Flory Temple er Merican Gal? sez he. 
 
 "Wa-a-1, we dickered n dickered, n dick 
 ered, n all the time I kep my eye on my hoss, 
 scart mos to death fer fear he might throw a fit 
 n spile the trade. 
 
 "Wa-a-a-1, bimeby Jont he said he d gimme 
 his hoss n twenty-five, n I held aoutfor thutty, 
 but old Jont he would n t budge, n so, sez I, 
 Wa-a-1, Jont, seein it s yeou, I m a-goin to 
 shift em. 
 
 " So we started to shift hosses, n when I went 
 aout ter git Jont s hoss to lead im in, whatcher 
 think I faound? Why, thet hoss wuz cockle- 
 j in ted behind like all git aout. Thet there ornery 
 old cuss hed hitched thet hoss aout in the tall 
 grass so I could n t see his hocks. Wa-a-1, there 
 is wuss things than cockle-jints, they don t hurt a 
 hoss much, only ef ye think of them snappin in 
 and aout it makes ye feel squirmy, jullukwhen ye 
 see a feller throwin is thumbs aout of jint. So I 
 hed made a good trade, but it don t dew ter brag 
 tew soon, n when I led the hoss up to where Jont 
 stood with my hoss, sez I to Jont, Naow, Jont, 
 yeou n me s been fren s fer a good many years 
 n we ve traded hosses time n agin, an naow, 
 arter all thet you ve gone an pammed off on me
 
 240 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 a cockle- jinted boss, wuth baout ten dollars, 
 Jont, a cockle-jinted boss, sez I. Jont, I 
 should n t ha thot it uv ye, Jont, I raly should n t, 
 sez I. 
 
 ; Ike, sez he, putty loud, a trade s a trade, 
 ain t it? sez he. 
 
 Thasso, Jont, sez I. 
 
 An ye traded, did n t ye? sez he, laouder n 
 ever. 
 
 Thasso, Jont, sez I. 
 
 Ye ain t goin ter squeal, be ye? sez he. 
 
 No, Jont, sez I, sorter sorrerful, I ain t no 
 squealer, but my feelin s is hurt; I would n t ha* 
 bleeved ye d a-went n did it, Jont, sez I. 
 
 "Wa-a-1, we shifted bosses, n jest ez I wuz 
 baout ter drive off, Jont he up an said, Naou 
 we hev traded, Ike, n ye kneaw what s aout 
 baout my boss, naou,Ike, sez he, what s wrong 
 with the boss ye let me hev? 
 
 "Jont, sez I, I raly don t know nothin agin* 
 im, but ef he is the boss I think he is, but I don t 
 think he is, he s a leetle, jest the leastest bit lia 
 ble to hev fits, an then I teched up Jont s boss 
 n driv off, n lef Jont a-stannin lookin over his 
 spettacles with his maouth wide open julluk I see 
 him first, only he wuz a-holdin on ter my boss. 
 
 " Wa-a-a-1, sure enough, thet night baout tew 
 o clock in the mornin or thereabaouts, I heered 
 a almighty paoundin on my door. I sorter
 
 A VISITOR 241 
 
 spected t wuz Jont, n I stuck my head aouter 
 the winder n said, Who be ye, n whatcher want? 
 
 " Then I heered ole Jont s vice a-sayin, S me, 
 Ike; I thot I d come over n tell ye t wuz the 
 same dummed hoss, n Jont he put fer hum, n 
 naow what I wanter know is, kin Jont prosecute 
 me fer sellin a fitty hoss?" 
 
 Sam roared with laughter, while Ike contented 
 himself with a dry sort of quirk to his mouth, his 
 nearest approach to a smile. 
 
 When Sam could control himself, he said : 
 
 "I don t think, Mr. Parrish, they could con 
 vict you unless you really knew the horse was a 
 fitty horse. Still, it is a pretty close call to even 
 suspect it, and then sell or trade him, but I don t 
 think your friend, Mr. Jonathan Badger, is in a 
 position to do anything about it. I m surprised 
 that he should think of it, under the circum 
 stances." 
 
 "Wa-a-1, Mr. Randolph, I don t quite bleeve 
 he will, only I want the Squire ef he duz. " 
 
 And, after paying a retainer, which Sam en 
 tered on the day-book and wrote a receipt for, 
 he left, and Sam turned to the newcomer, gasped 
 with surprise, shouted "Tom!" and fell upon him 
 violently. "Tom! how under the canopy did you 
 get here? The last man I expected to see, and the 
 one I wanted to see most," and he choked and 
 pounded him on the back.
 
 242 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Sam, you old Hercules, let me get my breath, 
 and I ll tell you," gasped Tom, as he pump- 
 handled him. "It s been a hundred years since 
 I have seen you, old man, and it s good to see 
 your homely old mug again." 
 
 After they had fairly exhausted themselves, 
 Sam introduced Tom to Miss Ellis as his best 
 friend, barring Mr. Branch. 
 
 Tom won Miss Ellis at once by his straight 
 glance, his merry eyes, and his frank words. 
 
 "Perhaps not his best friend, Miss Ellis, he has 
 so many of them, but his Alter Ego. Why, we 
 are David and Jonathan, the Siamese Twins, Da 
 mon and Pythias, two of the Three Guardsmen. 
 Why, when we were in New York together, we 
 had one purse between us and that was Sam s; we 
 had but one thought and that was to see which 
 could stay up the latest and raise the most Cain, 
 and now, how have the mighty fallen ! Sam I 
 find a quiet, jog-trotting, plodding old country 
 squire, coolly advising a most abandoned horse- 
 trader how near or how nigh he can come to the 
 criminal point in a trade without rendering him 
 self liable. Sam!" he cried, "did you ever hear 
 anything better than that Ef he s the hoss I 
 think he is, but I don t think he is, he s a leetle, 
 jest the leastest bit liable to hev fits ?" and 
 Tom s voice was a perfect imitation of Ike s 
 nasal tone, "why, that would make a stunning
 
 A VISITOR 243 
 
 hit on the stage. Are there many such people 
 round here?" 
 
 Yes, plenty of them. I can show you some of 
 the choicest specimens you ever saw, at my hotel. 
 In the summer they loaf on the front steps and 
 make the patrons of the hotel go in by the side 
 door, and in the fall and winter they sit round the 
 stove and spit and tell stories that no man ever 
 heard before. But, Tom, sit down and tell me 
 how you came here," demanded Sam, thrusting 
 his friend bodily into a chair. 
 
 "Why," said Tom, "the easiest thing in the 
 world. You see, my aunt has been spending the 
 summer at Bar Harbor, and a short time ago she 
 asked me to come down there to the jumping-off 
 place and make her a visit, and of course, bearing 
 in mind your invitation, and learning from the 
 Pathfinder that my trail led through your town, 
 I thought I would look you up." 
 
 "By George! Tom, you are a philanthropist, a 
 benefactor, a truly great man. I have been home 
 sick at times to see some of the old fellows and to 
 learn what they were doing. Think! Tom, I 
 have n t been in New York for two years." 
 
 Two years! You blundering dummy, it s 
 more like twenty. Jove! it must have been like 
 being buried alive, with occasional awakenings 
 when horse-traders came in for advice," said 
 Tom with a grin.
 
 244 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Being buried alive! Anything but that. 
 Tom, you won t believe me, but sometimes I 
 really think that more happens here to me than 
 did in New York. Of course I am working and 
 have worked hard. Harder than ever before in 
 my life. And I like it, and I like the country. It s 
 clean, it s wholesome, it s neighborly, it s it s 
 - different, you know. A man has a chance to 
 breathe and a chance to think here. In New 
 York he can neither breathe nor think." 
 
 "But, Sam, have you made friends here, like 
 the old ones? " asked Tom. 
 
 "Not like the old friends, Tom; but with a few 
 exceptions I have not been sorry to leave the old 
 ones. It s a race there, with little care for the one 
 behind, and it is hard to keep up sometimes. Now 
 here, I have made some very dear friends, Mr. 
 Branch; Miss Ellis here," at which the steno 
 grapher colored with pleasure; "little Polly, Mr. 
 Branch s niece, the dearest little girl you ever 
 saw; Alvy the hotel keeper; Ben and the machin 
 ist crowd, and a good many others. Here comes the 
 best one now," he added, as a gleam of pleasure 
 lit up his eyes and a man s footsteps were heard 
 ascending the stairs, and the "Squire" entered. 
 
 "Hullo, Sam; good-afternoon, Miss Ellis; back 
 the same day you see, and glad to get back, as I 
 always am," said the Squire as he laid his green 
 bag on his desk and turned as Sam spoke.
 
 A VISITOR 245 
 
 "Mr. Branch, I would like to have you meet 
 Tom, Mr. Benton, my best New York friend," 
 said Sam, coming forward. 
 
 " So you are Tom, Mr. Benton ; well, if you are 
 Sam s best friend, I think you and I have a good 
 deal in common, as well as a good many people in 
 this town. At all events, I think I shall feel en 
 titled to call you Tom," said the Squire, with his 
 delightful smile. 
 
 "Really, Mr. Branch," said Tom, quite flushed 
 with pleasure, "that is mighty kind of you and I 
 appreciate it. I don t wonder Sam likes Elm- 
 town if people met him as you have met me." 
 
 "It depends a good deal on the fellow, Tom," 
 replied the Squire. "I imagine you make friends 
 more quickly than Sam. Am I right? ; 
 
 : Yes, I make them much more readily than 
 Sam and a good many more, but Sam s friends 
 are closer than brothers, and mine, well, mine 
 are friends only as long as I am flush." 
 
 "I guess you are a bit given to exaggeration 
 there," said the Squire. 
 
 "Well, perhaps, but boiled down there would 
 be a nugget in it, with the relative proportions 
 about the same as the original statement," said 
 Tom. 
 
 "Now, Sam," said the Squire, "don t stay in 
 the office to-day. Take your friend Tom around, 
 show him the town and some of our characters,
 
 246 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 and talk over old times. Forget the office as long 
 as Tom stays and make him stay as long as you 
 can. And, by the way, Tom : there is a room and 
 a pipe, a glass of something and three good meals 
 a day at my house while you are here. Sam has 
 been working too hard, and I guess you are the 
 only one who can get him out of the office." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Branch, I appreciate it more 
 than you think. I am going to take a room to 
 night near Sam, as I shall have to go back to 
 morrow, and wish to see as much of him as possi 
 ble. But I shall certainly call at your house, for 
 I must see that little Polly whom Sam writes so 
 much about." 
 
 "And I know she will be on pins to see you. 
 Sam has told her a lot of your fun and mischief," 
 returned the Squire. 
 
 "What a fine old boy he is. Gad! Sam, it s 
 worth a trip here to meet a man like Mr. Branch. 
 By George ! you have n t written a bit too enthu 
 siastically about him," exclaimed Tom as they 
 went down the stairs together. 
 
 "Isn t he?" chimed in Sam. Tom, I have 
 met a few great men and a great many fine men, 
 but I never have met a finer combination of abil 
 ity and simple-heartedness, firmness, unselfish 
 ness, and moral cleanliness than Mr. Branch. 
 He is as reliable as the Rock of Gibraltar. The 
 finest man I know."
 
 A VISITOR 247 
 
 "Sam!" said Tom, with conviction, "did the 
 Squire ever have an important case with any 
 New York parties?" 
 
 "I think so, Tom; I never heard him speak of 
 it, but I know old Colonel Van Cleve was very 
 much incensed against him for something, and I 
 had an idea that Mr. Branch had crossed his 
 bows somewhere," replied Sam. 
 
 "That s it, sure, Sam. Old Van Cleve was in 
 this case. There was some question about a syn 
 dicate of New York capitalists trying some dodge 
 or other in regard to a big tract of land in the 
 White Mountains region. Something about the 
 damming of a navigable stream and keeping the 
 public off the tract. They sent Burroughs and 
 Anthony on with Dan Donahue to try the case 
 with some New Hampshire firm, and the Squire 
 licked em. Fairly played horse with them. I re 
 member hearing how mad old Van Cleve was at 
 the Squire s argument. He sailed into the old 
 gentleman s motives in a very candid and compel 
 ling manner, and rapped him over the nose in a 
 very free way. The Squire came on to New York 
 in the final settlement, and had a conference with 
 the Manhattan Trust Company officials and 
 lawyers and made a great impression on them. 
 Well, what I was going to say is that I sa\v the 
 Squire at that time do one of the most kind- 
 hearted and courteous acts I ever saw, and to a
 
 248 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 total stranger. To-day when I saw him, I thought 
 he was the same man, and when he spoke as he 
 did I was sure of it. I was in Dooley s Chop 
 House for lunch. Dooley always employs table- 
 girls to do the waiting, and they have to walk a 
 chalk-line too. It was a hot day, and there had 
 been a rush, and the girl at the table next to me 
 looked about done up. There were a couple of 
 tin-horn sports at the table who had ordered an 
 expensive lunch, and had been badgering the girl 
 for keeping them waiting. Finally, the girl came 
 along with a big tray of dishes over her shoulder, 
 and just as she got near my table something hap 
 pened, and the entire load crashed to the floor, 
 smashing crockery and spilling everything. In an 
 instant the head waiter and the proprietor 
 rushed up in a rage, the girl put both hands to 
 her face and began to cry, poor thing, and just 
 then a fine-looking man or gentleman, you 
 could see it at once stepped up and said to the 
 girl, My dear young lady, I am so sorry for my 
 carelessness and clumsiness. It was wholly my 
 fault in having my foot where you fell over it. 
 The young girl looked at him as if she doubted 
 her existence, while he turned to the irate pro 
 prietor and said, You will please allow me to pay 
 you for the damage, to apologize to these gentle 
 men, and he bowed to the tin-horn sports, for 
 delaying their lunch, and to compensate the
 
 A VISITOR 249 
 
 young lady for her annoyance. Now, I 11 swear, 
 Sam, that the girl did n t come within a yard of 
 his foot, and every one knew she did n t, but 
 there was no disputing him, for he carried every 
 thing his way, paid a round bill for the broken 
 crockery, paid for a new lunch for the sports, 
 tipped the woman who removed the dishes, 
 tipped the girl and the head waiter, shook hands 
 with the proprietor, and walked out, after giving 
 us all the finest lesson in kind-heartedness and 
 courtesy I ever saw. I inquired, as did every one 
 else, who he was, and some one said it was a New 
 Hampshire lawyer who had licked Dan Donahue 
 in a case, and we all wished there were more of 
 them like him." 
 
 That was Mr. Branch, I have no doubt; it 
 was just like him. He is always doing kind things. 
 He is a ripping lawyer, too ; and when it comes to 
 an actual trial, well, you should see him in action, 
 that s all," said Sam. 
 
 During the afternoon Sam and his friend went 
 over the town, saw all the local sights, and wound 
 up by going to the station at the arrival of the six 
 o clock train, and had the sinful pleasure of see 
 ing two pitched battles between drivers of rival 
 coaches. Tom captivated every one he met by 
 his jolly good-natured manners, his infectious 
 laugh, and his frank interest in them and their 
 affairs, so gratifying to country people. He did
 
 250 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 not laugh at them, but laughed with them and 
 made them laugh at him. 
 
 He had supped at Alvy s, and afterwards sat 
 on the steps with the loungers and had had, as he 
 assured Sam, the bulliest evening he could re 
 member. He told them the story of Ike Parrish 
 so naturally that they haw-hawed and slapped 
 their knees and voted Tom a "buster." 
 
 Then, on Tom s invitation, they lined up at 
 the bar and drank his health. 
 
 One man, expressing some disapproval at the 
 quality of the whiskey, said it was bad, but was 
 at once taken to task by old Allison, who said 
 with much decision, "Bad whiskey! they ain t no 
 sech thing ez bad whiskey. All whiskey is good, 
 only some kinds is better n others." 
 
 "By the way, Kin," said Newt to old Mr. 
 Flanders, "the tell me there s goin ter be a tax 
 on new rum." 
 
 "Wa-a-1," said the old gentleman placidly, 
 "never mind, it s wuth it, it s wuth it." 
 
 Alvy having refused old Bige Pickering credit 
 for a joint treat, Bige was moved to reminis 
 cence. 
 
 "Alvy minds me of ol Jimmy Bitum Haggin. 
 Jimmy wuz so tarnal mean t folks said that he 
 wud give his gals n boys ten cents apiece to go to 
 bed without their suppers, n then, when they 
 wuz asleep, he would steal their ten cents."
 
 A VISITOR 251 
 
 "Jimmy Bitum Haggin! what a name!" 
 roared Tom. "How did he get such a name?" 
 
 "Wa-a-1, some folks sez t wuz because he was 
 so mean t he wud bite a cent in two. T others 
 said he kep two dogs to keep boys out of his or 
 chard and melon-patch, and he wuz allers hol- 
 lerin Sic-em, Bose, n bite-em, Jim, n so they 
 called him ol Jimmy Bitum." 
 
 "They is some powerful queer names raoun 
 here, young man," said Allison. 
 
 "Really!" said Tom; "tell me a few." 
 
 "Wa-a-1, the wuz an ol cuss what fit into 
 the Mexican War, n he wuz allers a-talkin 
 baout gret ginerals n battles n battlefields, n 
 whatcher think he named his oldest boy?" 
 
 "Mexican War, why, Zachary Taylor, I 
 suppose, or possibly Sam Houston," said Tom, 
 rubbing up his history and laughing. 
 
 "Wa-a-1, he did n t get them names in, though 
 I don t zackly see why not, but he got in all the 
 others, I reckon; wa-a-1, his name wuz George 
 Weston - - San Antonio - - Santo Bernardo - 
 Castinietta Lo Pedee Santa Anna Lov- 
 ell. Then the wuz ol Cale Piper who had eight 
 children; he did n t give no long-winded names. 
 Jes plain ones, t he could call em all to dinner 
 quick; they wuz Liz, Luke, Sal, Mol, George, 
 Harn, Dice, n Jim. He wuz a putty smart ol 
 codger n used to walk straight ez a cob when he 
 wuz mos eighty -five year ol ."
 
 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Huh! smart! I 11 bate he wa n t no smarter 
 *n any other feller. The reason wuz because he 
 wuz so dummed old t he did n t know enough to 
 know he wuz feeble," said old Bige, with a dis 
 gusted snort. 
 
 "Hullo, Ezry," said Allison, as a thickset man 
 in overalls came along and took a seat on the 
 banking, pulling out an old pipe, and leaning 
 violently to one side while he scratched a match 
 on the seat of his trousers, "whatcher been doin* 
 to-day?" 
 
 "Been up to old Charles Nealey s movin a 
 slaughter-house across the rhud. Th wuz a mas 
 ter squad uv rats, ole wallopers, some on em mos* 
 as big as cats. Bill Donohue had his bull terrier 
 there, n thet ere dog was a buster fer killin* 
 rats; just give em a grab n a quick shake n they 
 wuz deader n ole Pharo, the feller thet got up the 
 keerd game. Guess he killed baout fifty on em, 
 n we fellers welted a goo many with clubs n 
 stomped on some, n one on em run up ole 
 Charles s britches leg, n by mighty! yeou hed 
 orter seen thet ole feller hop raoun n grab for 
 his britches, n rip n cuss, n him a piller of the 
 church." 
 
 "I heerd onct," said Eben Caswell, "thet the 
 wuz a man at the Caounty Farm thet wuz eena- 
 most et up by rats one night. They wuz a most 
 almighty towse abaout it, n the Caounty Com-
 
 A VISITOR 253 
 
 missioners advertised fer cats n got baout tew 
 million, n they wuz sech a-yawlin n a-fitin 
 nights thet they hed to shoot em, n they wuz 
 more rats than ever. N then the commissioners 
 sent tew Boston n got a wheen of ferrets, n r 
 they killed all the chickens n turkeys n geese 
 on the farm, n bit tew er three paupers n one 
 er the Caounty Commissioners. They killed the 
 rats, too, so t wuz all right." 
 
 "Ho-a-ag!" rasped old Allison; "p tu, " he 
 continued, aiming at a hitching-post; "speakin 
 uv rats, minds me uv the time I tended store up 
 ter Yappin . Kep a reg lar kentry store. T wuz 
 kep by ole Josh Burley. Wa-a-1, we dealt in 
 grain n supplies, n crockery, n groceries, n 
 new rum, n hardware. Wa-al, you kneaw haow 
 thick the pesky rats is in grain stores. So I hed 
 seen some ole wallopers, n so I loaded an ole 
 musket, but could n t find any shot. An I 
 leaned the gun in a corner, n thought I would 
 get some shot the nex day. Wa-a-1, one day, - 
 p tu, I looked aout n see the biggest ole gray 
 rat I ever see, mos ez big ez a tomcat. I grabbed 
 the gun n remembered they wuz n t no shot. 
 T wuz springtime n we hed a pailful of seed 
 peas, so I grabbed a han ful, poured em into the 
 gun, rammed in a wad uv paper, n tiptoed aout. 
 The rat wuz there, trying to drag off a ham, n 
 b goshamighty, I guess he would ha done it f I
 
 254 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 had n t come along, p tu, - - n let flicker. 
 Wa-a-1, 1 guess I must a hed a big charge in, fer 
 the ole gun she went off like a cannon, sot my 
 shoulder baout tew inches aout er plumb, n me 
 daoun in a bushel basket uv eggs, n yeou hed 
 orter hev seen me. I had grabbed fer suthin 
 when I went over n hed let go uv the gun, n I 
 hed brung daoun a hull stand uv crockery, n a 
 barrel uv brooms, n hed knocked the fasset 
 aouter a bar l er vinegar, n the dummed ole gun 
 had flew through the show-case n busted tew 
 dollars wuth uv glass. My close wuz clean 
 spiled, n ter tell it jest as it wuz, thet fool gun 
 cost me baout thutty dollars, p tu. Wa-a-1, 
 what I wanted to tell ye baout wuz this. Arter 
 I got cleaned up, I went aout n hunted, but I 
 did n t find no rat, so I thought I must a missed 
 him. T wuz then baout the middle uv April. 
 Wa-a-1, baout six weeks later I wuz lookin aout 
 the back door uv the store n all t onct I see thet 
 big rat again, an - - ye wont bleeve this, but may 
 I be struck dead this minute if t ain t jest ez I 
 tell it thet ere dummed ole gray rat hed a pea- 
 vine more n tew feet long spraoutin from his 
 back with blossoms n pods on it." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Tom, rising, "will you join 
 me? " and there was a unanimous response. 
 
 Tom did not go away the next morning, but 
 remained for three days longer. He made Miss
 
 A VISITOR 255 
 
 Ellis laugh as she had n t laughed for years, 
 amused the Squire and little Polly until they 
 nearly died with laughter, so won the affections 
 of the Senator, the Captain, and their sister, that 
 the latter sat down to the old piano with the yel 
 lowed keys and played the "Battle of Prague" 
 and "Napoleon Crossing the Alps," two very 
 ancient compositions, and on being pressed, sang 
 with a very worn and cracked voice an exceed 
 ingly sad and tearful composition - 
 
 "Are we almost there? Are we almost there? 
 Said a dying girl as they drew near home." 
 
 And that other long forgotten song 
 
 "The postboy drove with fierce career, 
 For threatening clouds the moon had drowned, 
 When suddenly I seemed to hear 
 A moan, a melancholy sound." 
 
 On being pressed for another, she gave them sev 
 eral verses of a most heart-rending ballad, 
 
 "One night when the wind it blew wild, 
 Blew bitter across the wild moor, 
 Young Mary she went with her child, 
 Fleeing back to her own father s door. 
 
 "Ah! how must her father have felt 
 When he went to the door in alarms, 
 For Mary lay there with her child 
 Fondly clasped in her dead mother s arms." 
 
 And would have continued had not Tom seen 
 that Polly was shaken with sobs, and Sam was
 
 256 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 looking as if he could bite a railroad spike in two, 
 when he cleverly turned their sober thoughts in 
 another direction by giving some killing imita 
 tions and droll stories. 
 
 During these three days Tom had been every 
 where, had delighted every one, and when he left 
 for Boston on the afternoon train, intending to 
 return to New York the next day, he was given 
 quite an ovation by the station loungers, the 
 hackmen, and the barge drivers. 
 
 The day he left he had said very soberly to 
 Sam, "Sam, old man, I haven t been quite so 
 enthusiastic about your engagement as you 
 hoped. It is n t that I don t like Ethel Curtis. I 
 do like her, and I think she is a beautiful girl, a 
 sweet girl, and a good girl, but I do doubt her 
 ability to make a happy wife or a helpful wife for 
 a country lawyer, living in the country. No 
 doubt, I am wrong, - - I hope I am, and I hope 
 you will be as happy with her as you deserve. 
 But Sam, how in the world you can pass over 
 that dear, delightful little Polly for any one, I 
 don t see." 
 
 Sam laughed. "Polly, bless her, is the dearest 
 little girl on earth, and she is my sister, Tom; 
 that s all, but that s a big difference." 
 
 "Well, Sam, I will serve notice on you now 
 that sometime I am coming back to enter the 
 lists for that young lady."
 
 A VISITOR 257 
 
 Sam felt a twinge of annoyance, and his face 
 showed it, for Tom said, "I am in dead earnest, 
 Sam, and am not joking one bit." 
 
 "Well, good-by, Tom," said Sam, in genuine 
 regret at his departure; "give as good a report as 
 you can to my friends." 
 
 "Good-by, old man," replied Tom, "I 11 make 
 every man of them so envious of you that they 
 will reform, every man-jack of them, and try to 
 amount to something besides money -burners "; 
 and the train started.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 BROKEN TROTH 
 
 IT was June again, and Sam was on the last lap 
 before the examinations in September. He 
 had been very much disappointed early in the 
 previous winter, when he had been looking for 
 ward to a week s visit to New York to see Ethel, 
 and she had suddenly accepted an invitation to 
 spend the winter abroad with the Tivertons, who 
 owned the big estate on the Hudson and the 
 
 brownstone house on th Street. Bob Tiver- 
 
 ton was an acquaintance of Sam s, a puffy, over 
 fed fellow, of no particular importance except 
 that of his great wealth, his habit of indulging 
 himself without limit, and a biting, sarcastic wit 
 that gave him a certain vogue in clubs where 
 highly seasoned conversation was more in evid 
 ence than good taste. 
 
 Sam had always rather disliked the Tivertons, 
 as he thought them a glaring combination of 
 great wealth and bad manners, and he could 
 scarcely have understood how Ethel could have 
 been willing to spend a winter with them, had she 
 not explained that her uncle, Colonel Van Cleve, 
 and the elder Tiverton had been engaged in some 
 financial deal that made it highly desirable to
 
 BROKEN TROTH 259 
 
 have the Tivertons on the most intimate terms 
 with them during the negotiations. If the idea 
 ever occurred to Sam that Bob Tiverton s pre 
 sence in the party meant more than a trip to the 
 Baths to recover from his New York excesses, he 
 resolutely put it aside as unworthy of himself and 
 of Ethel. 
 
 In the past six months he had worked harder 
 than ever, and had surprised even the Squire in 
 the keenness of his mind and his powers of legal 
 analysis. Indeed, so absorbed was he in his work, 
 that he almost forgot to wonder at the short, in 
 frequent letters she wrote. He never forgot to 
 write her, regularly, long letters filled with his 
 plans, his hopes, and his increasing love and long 
 ing for her. And yet at times he feared some 
 thing, he knew not what. 
 
 One day the Squire came in with a bundle of 
 letters while Sam was copying an account at his 
 desk. Sorting his own from the pile he tossed 
 Sam one, opened his letters, and began to read 
 and to dictate to Miss Ellis. Sam saw at once 
 that his letter bore a foreign postmark, and he 
 opened it with an undefined fear at his heart. A 
 clipping from the Paris edition of the New York 
 World fell out and he read, - 
 
 Married on the 28th day of May at the American Embassy, 
 Ethel Pauline Curtis, niece of Colonel Crawford Van Cleve of 
 New York, to Mr. Robert Manton Tiverton, son of Peter and 
 Mary C. Tiverton, also of New York.
 
 260 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Sam made an odd clicking noise in his throat, 
 and stared at the paper, while his face went 
 deadly white. 
 
 The Squire looked up sharply. "What is it 
 Sam? What is it, boy?" he said as he rose 
 hastily. 
 
 "Will you read this for me, please, Mr. 
 Branch," said Sam, pronouncing his words with 
 difficulty. "I don t quite understand"; and he 
 rose and extended the paper with a shaking 
 hand. 
 
 The Squire took it, read it rapidly, turned to 
 Sam and said, "It has come, then, Sam; I feared 
 it." 
 
 "Then you think there is no mistake, Mr. 
 Branch?" said Sam. 
 
 "None, Sam, none, it is straight enough. The 
 New York World does n t make mistakes of that 
 kind," said the Squire sadly. 
 
 Sam stood with his arm on the desk, and stared 
 at the floor. For a long time he stood there with 
 out motion. Then he mechanically folded up the 
 clipping with great care, stepped to the closet, 
 put on his street coat and hat, and said, "If you 
 don t mind, I think I will go out a while." 
 
 "But isn t there anything I can do, Sam?" 
 asked the Squire. 
 
 "Nothing, Mr. Branch, this is a thing a man 
 must fight out alone."
 
 BROKEN TROTH 261 
 
 Then he turned quietly and walked down the 
 stairs, and towards his room. 
 
 As he approached Henessey s saloon, a man 
 stepped forward in his path. Sam turned aside, 
 the man crossed in front of him. Sam looked up 
 fiercely and saw Bill Evans, and the words of 
 Nichols came back to him. It was true, then, 
 that Bill had been training for months to thrash 
 him. 
 
 "Get out of my path," said Sam, quietly, but 
 in a tense voice and speaking between his teeth. 
 
 Bill thrust his face forward. 
 
 "Let s see you make me, you damned - 
 
 Smack ! smack ! smack ! went Sam s fists before 
 Bill could draw back, and Bill flew off the side 
 walk heels up, then scrambled to his feet in time 
 to receive a rain of smashing blows. Down 
 again, and again, under blinding blows that were 
 rained on him like steel rods. Ha! that time Bill 
 did n t get up. Henessey and several others tried 
 to raise him, but he lay inert. 
 
 "Give him some water," said one. 
 
 "No, whiskey is better," said another. 
 
 "Bill, Bill, wake up, what s the matter with 
 you?" Then there was a splash of water. "There, 
 that s better. See! he opened his eyes. Wipe off 
 the blood, some one. There, Bill, do you know 
 where you are?" as Bill slowly regained his scat 
 tered wits.
 
 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Sam, who had been standing quietly, now 
 stepped forward. 
 
 "Has the man had enough, or does he want 
 some more?" 
 
 "Enough and more than enough, and if he 
 had n t been a damn fool he would have known 
 that a year ago. What are you trying to do, Bill, 
 commit suicide?" 
 
 Sam turned abruptly and elbowed his way 
 through the crowd, and walked rapidly towards 
 Alvy s stable. 
 
 "Pat," he said, "bring out the kicker, and 
 put on the W 7 estern saddle. I m going to ride 
 him." 
 
 "Howly saints, Misther Randolph, yez won t 
 be afther ridin thot divil. Th divil fly away wid 
 him, he 11 be afther killin yez." 
 
 "Go ahead, Pat, and bring him out, or if you 
 are afraid, I 11 do it," insisted Sam. 
 
 "An it s not afraid Oi am, sor, fur mesilf, but 
 Oi wud be afraid to back the divil." 
 
 "Well, bring him out. I will be down in a 
 minute as soon as I get into my riding-clothes," 
 said Sam as he went into the hotel. 
 
 It took but a few minutes for Sam to change. 
 He put on his sharpest and heaviest spurs, and 
 took a heavy rawhide whip, with a thong binding 
 it to his wrist, and came into the yard where 
 several of the guests and loungers were gather-
 
 BROKEN TROTH 263 
 
 ing to see the fun. But Sam looked so pale and 
 his eyes shone so that nobody said a word to dis 
 suade him from what seemed to them a foolhardy 
 attempt. 
 
 Pat and John were having trouble in saddling 
 the horse, a powerful chestnut with magnificent 
 limbs, a rolling white-rimmed eye, and small ears 
 laid flat to his head, as he swung his quarters 
 and lashed out with his heels whenever they at 
 tempted to tighten the girths. Sam, taking a 
 blanket, threw it over the savage head, and then 
 tightened both girths and carefully examined the 
 saddle. Then he procured a twist, and seizing the 
 horse by the nostrils, put on the twist, and held 
 him until Pat put on a heavy bridle and mar 
 tingale. 
 
 Then with Pat on one side and John on the 
 other, they led him into the road, and Sam, care 
 fully gathering the reins into his left hand, put 
 one foot into the stirrup in spite of the plunges of 
 the brute, and with a quick spring was in the 
 saddle with his knees gripping like a vice. As he 
 straightened up, the men let go their grips, and 
 the vicious beast rose on his hind legs, plunged, 
 rose again, whirled, kicked, and plunged like a 
 demon. Whoof! down on his withers came the 
 whip first on one side and then on the other. Up 
 he went straight as an arrow, almost toppling 
 backward, but was wrenched sidewise and the
 
 264 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 spurs sent home. Up again, but received a heavy 
 blow between the ears with the heavy butt of 
 the whip, and the spurs were sent in again and 
 again. 
 
 He could not stand that, and bolted like an 
 express train, gripping the bit between his teeth, 
 and taking magnificent strides. Away over the 
 bridge, up the hill, and toward the beach he went 
 like a flying shadow and the crowd lost sight of 
 him. 
 
 "Suthin* must be wrong with Sam, I never 
 knowed him to lash a hoss like that afore," 
 opined old Allison. "He allus rid em easy n 
 kinder coaxed em, but this time he has ketched 
 a tartar. Hope he won t be killed." 
 
 "Wonder whasser matter?" said Bige Picker 
 ing. "He kem aouter the offis, n Bill Evans he 
 picked a row with him, n in tew minutes he 
 licked Bill so he could n t git up, n then he kem 
 over here n s tryin his best to break his tarnal 
 neck. Suthin is wrong." 
 
 "By tripe!" said old Kin Flanders; "seems 
 like thet ere Bill Evans ain t knowed when he s 
 had enough." 
 
 :< Ya-a-s, Kin, he knows it naow, n sez he was 
 a gol-blasted lunkhead, n sez if Sam will shake 
 hands with him he lows he 11 do it," said Eli 
 Beede, sticking the butt of a gift cigar on the 
 blade of his pocket knife so as to smoke it longer.
 
 VICIOUS BKAST ROSK OX HIS HIND LEGS
 
 BROKEN TROTH 265 
 
 "Pshaw, ye don t sesso; wa-a-a-1, Bill s got 
 more sense knocked inter him then I thought, - 
 ho-a-a-g, p tu," said Allison, sitting down with 
 great care and much stiffness of legs. 
 
 "Wonder where young Randolph n thet 
 crazy hoss is now?" mused Bige aloud; baout 
 time fer him to be a-showin up, ain t it, Alvy?" 
 
 "Huh," said Alvy, with huge affectation of in 
 difference; "he ain t likely to git back fer an hour 
 yet." 
 
 "Wai, f he don t git raoun in haffernour, I 
 sh d hook up a hoss n look fer his remains," said 
 Kin. 
 
 "What s th use of bein sech a dummed oF 
 croaker, Kin? I tell ye thet young feller ain t 
 comin ter no hurt with a hoss," said Allison. 
 
 A half -hour passed. Alvy hustled in and out 
 attending to the wants of customers, and occa 
 sionally peered watchfully down the road. Then 
 two men drove in from the beach, but said they 
 had seen nothing of the horse and rider. 
 
 An hour passed, then another half-hour. 
 
 Alvy came out. " Pat, hook up the Chase mare 
 to the light Concord." 
 
 Pat rushed to the stable to hook up the mare, 
 John to the carriage-house to run out the Con 
 cord. The loungers arose as Alvy came out with 
 his precious ivory-handled whip. Something was 
 going to be done. Just then the sharp hoof -beats
 
 266 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 of a trotting horse were heard, and Sam rode 
 quietly into the yard with a sweat-crusted, tired, 
 and very tame horse. 
 
 "There, by mighty, what d I tell yer?" de 
 manded old Allison. 
 
 "Jes what I thought, b goshamighty," said 
 Bige gleefully. 
 
 "Got any hoss left, Sam?" inquired Alvy 
 cheerfully. 
 
 Sam dismounted somewhat stiffly and laughed 
 grimly. ; Yes, Mr. Dole, there is plenty of horse 
 there yet, and what is left is of the best quality." 
 
 Then Sam himself removed the saddle, and had 
 Pat wash the horse with lukewarm water and 
 soap, while John rubbed his legs with witch-hazel 
 and bandaged them to prevent soreness in the 
 muscles. It was ten o clock when, after seeing 
 the horse cooled and fed and having eaten a light 
 supper, Sam went to his room. He was weary and 
 sick at heart now the excitement of his two bat 
 tles had left him, and he flung himself down on 
 his bed and gazed upwards in the dim light. He 
 could hear doors shut, and people going along the 
 corridors to their rooms, and the voices of the 
 loungers in the yard. 
 
 Little by little the voices died away, the sounds 
 in the streets became quiet. Now and then a be 
 lated team drove by, and once a team entered the 
 yard. He could hear John s sleepy tones as he put
 
 BROKEN TROTH 267 
 
 up the horse. Once in a while a horse stamped or 
 rattled his manger, or he heard the distant song 
 of a reveler going to a late bed. Occasionally a 
 dog barked, and once a sleepy crow from the hen 
 house was heard. Sam felt he was alone with his 
 bitterness, his wretchedness, the blank feeling 
 that everything had snapped. 
 
 He thought bitterly of how he had worked and 
 planned and schemed for her, and then he real 
 ized what a useless, worthless, unlovable cad he 
 was, and how weak and selfish. He had friends, 
 the Squire and Polly and Ben, Miss Ellis, Tom, 
 the Senator, and scores of others, and he was 
 a selfish, utterly selfish brute to lie there like a 
 whining hound just because she had shown the 
 good sense to throw him over. But Bob Tiverton, 
 of all men, sly, selfish, sarcastic, wicked, dissi 
 pated. Well, it would serve her right, he hoped 
 - no, he could n t quite bring himself to hope 
 she would be wretched, but he hoped she would 
 some day realize that she had made a mistake, 
 and that wish was a proof of his selfishness, for 
 why should n t she well, curse it all, what a 
 mixed-up, dismal affair life was anyway! he 
 would go to sleep and forget it and everything 
 else. 
 
 The night wore on, the big bell of the Congre 
 gational Church struck twelve, and Sam, from 
 very weariness of mind and body, drifted into a
 
 268 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 half-wakeful doze. Now he was fighting Bill, and 
 finding, to his unspeakable vexation, that his 
 arms were suddenly paralyzed; now he was riding 
 the furious chestnut with a broken bridle and the 
 saddle turning; again he was striving to get to the 
 church in time to prevent a marriage from taking 
 place, only to find that his legs bent under him 
 and he could scarcely crawl. He struggled fear 
 fully, the sweat burst from him, and he awoke 
 trembling and with a sigh of relief. Yes, the 
 dream was true : he could not reach the church in 
 time because he was tied hand and foot in this 
 cursed country town, while she but no more 
 of this ! he would sleep and would forget it. The 
 silence of the summer night was intense : even the 
 night breeze slumbered, and once he thought he 
 heard light steps going rapidly through the yard. 
 Who could be out there at this time? Possibly 
 one of the men, or some loafer or drunkard, who 
 had been sleeping off the effect of a debauch, 
 slinking home in the darkness. Sam turned rest 
 lessly on his couch. Suddenly he realized that he 
 was in his riding-clothes, having only removed 
 his spurs. Perhaps if he undressed he could 
 sleep. So he got up and went to the window, 
 drew up the curtain to look out. It was a dark, 
 overcast night, with no moon behind the clouds. 
 He half turned, when he saw a faint light in the 
 direction of the lower barn. He stared. A flicker
 
 BROKEN TROTH 269 
 
 of flame darted out, grew larger and faintly lit up 
 the black outlines of the barn, until Sam could 
 see spirals of white smoke coming from the 
 cracks. The light grew and the horses began to 
 stamp, whinny, and cough . The barn was afire ! 
 
 Sam dashed into the corridor, ran to Alvy s 
 door and pounded. "Get up, Alvy, the barn is 
 afire!" he yelled. 
 
 Then he dashed downstairs, unlocked the side 
 door, and plunged into the yard. The flames 
 were now crackling, the light was growing, and 
 the stamping of the horses was thunderous. He 
 rushed into the hostlers room, yelling, and 
 dragged them out bodily, asking them for God s 
 sake to unlock the barn. Both had been drinking 
 and fumbled for the key. With a curse Sam 
 seized an axe from the corner and sprang for the 
 barn door. It was locked. He brought the axe 
 down with a crash, and splintered the lock, and 
 ran the door back. A gust of smoke met him and 
 a glare of flame was visible in the lower barn. 
 Two of the horses, Robin and King, stood in the 
 floor. He rushed in and began to unfasten the 
 others and drag them from the stalls and lash 
 them towards the big doors. 
 
 Pat and John, sobered, joined him, and, care 
 less of danger, dashed among the stamping, 
 whinnying, struggling brutes, and cut their 
 halters, and forced them into the floor space.
 
 270 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 The crackling had increased to a roar, and they 
 could not get into the further barn. The agon 
 ized bellowing of the tortured cow, the hideous 
 hoarse screams of the burning horses, the squeal 
 ing of the hogs and the screams and shouts of 
 John and Pat as they beat back the frenzied 
 horses, who tried to rush towards the light, made 
 a terrifying uproar, in the midst of which the 
 thunderous bellow of the gong was heard. Some 
 one had pulled in an alarm. 
 
 The horses in the east and middle barns were 
 loosed and driven out, but wheeled and came 
 charging back into the barn like a troop of cav 
 alry, to be checked by blows and yells. As they 
 wheeled, snorting and squealing, Sam rushed for 
 the chestnut, ran the trailing rope of his halter 
 through his mouth, sprang on his back, swung 
 him round and dug in his heels with the horse- 
 wrangler yell he had learned on the Plains, that 
 shrill " Whoo-oop-ee ! " that horses will follow. 
 They turned like wild horses and followed him. 
 People running towards the barn scrambled for 
 safety, and the troop of horses, with heads up, 
 eyes staring, and tails streaming in the wind, 
 rushed over the bridge in the wake of the whoop 
 ing maniac on the big chestnut. Across the bridge 
 Sam swung to the left straight for the millyard 
 with its high fence, shouting for the watchman to 
 open the gate. In a moment the horses were safe,
 
 BROKEN TROTH 271 
 
 and Sam, flinging himself on the ground, gasped 
 and choked from smoke-sickness. 
 
 Then he scrambled to his feet and ran across 
 the two bridges, back to the fire. He had not 
 been gone more than ten minutes, but in that 
 time the fire had spread fearfully. The flames 
 roared to an incredible height, flaming shingles, 
 brands, and thousands of sparks streamed off on 
 the wind. 
 
 In front of the engine-house the big steamer 
 was dancing up and down like the lid of a kettle, 
 while two heavy streams were thrown into the 
 centre of the raging crater. Men with hooks 
 were trying to pull down the sheds, and were 
 being driven back by the intense heat. As Sam 
 came running across the bridge, he saw fright 
 ened pigeons from the lofts fly over the fire and 
 drop like bullets when the fierce heat struck 
 them. The road was lined with carriages drawn 
 from the carriage-house, barges from the open 
 shed, and piles of harness and poles; stoves, 
 bedding, furniture, and every kind of domestic 
 utensil was being dragged out of the hotel and 
 the neighboring buildings. The billiard hall had 
 caught, the carriage-house was burning fiercely, 
 and a large bakery and store adjoining the bil 
 liard hall had begun to smoke and scorch. 
 
 Telegrams were hastily sent to Haverly and 
 Devon for assistance, and the old hand-tubs, but
 
 272 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 lately discarded, were rushed out, backed to the 
 river, and limbered up with eager crews. Five 
 streams were now hissing and sputtering on the 
 fire, but it raced and ran and roared like a gigan 
 tic furnace, while buildings smoked, scorched, 
 burst into flames before they could be cleared of 
 their contents. Bucket brigades were formed, 
 which drenched the roofs of near-by buildings, 
 wet blankets and carpets were hung down on the 
 sides, small buildings were pulled down bodily by 
 long lines of men with huge hooks. The hose-men 
 dropped, and their places were filled by others, 
 the pumpers staggered from the brakes ex 
 hausted, and volunteers rushed to help them. 
 
 On the top of the old Fountain stood Bill 
 Evans, his face bruised and blackened, his shirt 
 open at the throat, his hair wildly tossed over his 
 purple-rimmed eyes, his huge legs going up and 
 down on the brakes like piston rods, his hairy 
 arms waving in unison with the stroke of the 
 plunger, and his big voice roaring oaths and en 
 couragement to his men, "Now, give her hell! 
 Give her hell, I tell you! That s the way! 
 Down with her, down with her, now! Now!! 
 Now!!! Bully for you, damn yer! bully boys!!" 
 
 Charlton, the chief, chewing a cigar, cool, 
 quiet, emotionless, was everywhere, directing his 
 men, a nod here, a quick word there, a bellowing 
 call upon his trumpet to those at a distance. Oc-
 
 BROKEN TROTH 273 
 
 casionally he looked at his watch and listened 
 intently. Suddenly the far-away shriek of a loco 
 motive was heard, then another from a different 
 direction. They are coming all right," he said. 
 
 Two of the barns had fallen in, the billiard hall 
 was a seething furnace, the bakery roof had 
 fallen, the hotel was ablaze from cellar to garret, 
 and the line of small stores, saloons, and restaur 
 ants was afire in dozens of places. The hose-men 
 lay protecting themselves from the intense heat 
 by doors wrenched from the buildings, from be 
 hind which they held the stream straight into the 
 crater of fire. 
 
 The carriages, furniture, and contents of the 
 buildings were dragged to the square to prevent 
 them from burning in the narrow streets. Crowds 
 of people stood in the square and watched. Ev 
 ery man who could lift a hand was impressed 
 into service at the brakes, the bucket lines, or in 
 removing furniture. In spite of the desperate 
 work of the firemen, it looked as if the whole 
 street would go. Sam, who had forgotten all 
 about his property, running about on roofs and 
 ladders, lifting huge weights, taking his turn at 
 the brakes, suddenly thought of the office, and 
 rushed towards the square. Then he heard loud 
 cheers, and saw a sight that stirred him to his 
 heels. Up the street came a shining engine, trail 
 ing a stream of sparks in its wake, and drawn by
 
 274 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 two splendid black horses in a stretching gallop. 
 Behind came a second engine, drawn by three 
 gray horses leaping like deer, two hose-reels fol 
 lowing; and behind them a barge drawn by the 
 Major s four, filled with swaying helmeted men. 
 Straight to the double bridge they swung and 
 stopped, the barge horses ploughing the ground 
 for yards before they could pull up. In a trice the 
 hose was unwound, coupled, and six heavy 
 streams reinforced the torrent from the town 
 engines. 
 
 At seven o clock, Sam, dirty, disheveled, 
 scorched, haggard, and tired to death limped 
 into the Major s hotel. 
 
 "Major," he said, "I want a room and a bath, 
 a quart of milk, and I don t want to be dis 
 turbed." 
 
 When he had taken a long, soapy scrub, he 
 drank the milk slowly, crawled into bed, and fell 
 into a dreamless sleep. It was seven o clock that 
 evening when he awoke, ravenous.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A CELEBRATION 
 
 IT was the last of September and the nights 
 were growing cool. Sam had passed his exam 
 inations brilliantly, had been sworn in at the 
 Capital City, and was now an accredited member 
 of the Rockaway Bar. On his return he had been 
 invited to partake of a congratulatory supper at 
 the Squire s. Doctor Barry, Miss Ellis, the Cap 
 tain, the Senator, Miss Hilton, Ben, and Polly 
 were there. The supper had been all that could 
 be expected, even with so good a cook as the 
 Squire s. Polly, now an extremely beautiful girl 
 of between seventeen and eighteen, but recently 
 graduated into "real long dresses," had presided 
 with the gracious dignity of a thoroughbred. 
 Both the Captain and the Senator had made 
 speeches of congratulation, rich in choice classi 
 cal and literary quotations, and quaint origin 
 alities. Then they sat at ease about the fireplace, 
 and the men smoked while the ladies sipped their 
 black coffee from tiny cups of fragile and price 
 less china. 
 
 "Squire," said the Senator, "what became of 
 old Lem Peterson, of West Stratford, your old
 
 276 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 client in the Ice Company case? I remember him 
 as a very original character with a strong liking 
 for stimulants." 
 
 "Oh, Lem," laughed the Squire; "I ought not 
 to laugh, for Lem, poor chap, is dead. But even 
 when dying, he was amusing and original. I was 
 laughing at what happened the last day I saw 
 him. I heard he was sick and went down on pur 
 pose to see him. His brother Ike came to the door 
 and said, Goshamighty ! Squire, I be right glad 
 ter see yer. Lem is goin fas , and I want yer sh d 
 see im. He allers sot considerable store by yer. 
 
 "So I went up to Lem s room. Lem lay there 
 with his eyes shut, breathing very loudly. He 
 was evidently far gone. Doctor, here, was stand 
 ing by his bedside feeling his pulse. I tried to go 
 back, but Ike would n t let me, saying that Lem 
 had asked for me that afternoon. There was n t 
 a word said for a moment, but finally Ike said, 
 Brother Lem, Squire Branch has come to see 
 you. Lem made no response; did n t even open 
 his eyes. Then Ike said again, a little louder, 
 Brother Lem, Squire Branch is here. This time 
 Lem nodded his head a bit, and made as if he 
 wished to speak, and the doctor gave him a 
 stimulant. Then he opened his eyes, looked at 
 me, and slowly said, while a sort of dry smile 
 wrinkled the corners of his eyes and a glint of 
 amusement shone for a moment in them, Squire,
 
 A CELEBRATION 277 
 
 I only wanted ter ask yer f new rum wuz still 
 legal tender in old Elmtown. Then he relapsed 
 into unconsciousness and never spoke again. 
 
 "Lem had a brother Simeon, who was very re 
 ligious and also very mean," continued the 
 Squire. "His hired men always said if he would 
 have his bills of fare a good bit longer and his 
 grace before meat a good bit shorter, he would 
 get along better. He gave all his boys the names 
 of great preachers, and he had three, Starr King, 
 Henry Ward Beecher, and Jared Sparks. But, 
 poor fellows, they could n t live up to their names. 
 Starr King Peterson went West and was lynched 
 for horse-stealing. Henry Ward Beecher Peter 
 son went to state prison for burglary, and Jared 
 Sparks Peterson entered a similar institution as 
 an habitual criminal." 
 
 "Doctor," said Sam, addressing old Doctor 
 Barry, who sat smoking and looking into the fire, 
 "who was the most interesting patient you ever 
 had in your local practice?" 
 
 "Well, Sam," replied the doctor, removing his 
 cigar, "that is quite a question when you con 
 sider how long I have been here in practice. I 
 have had all kinds, all classes, all ages, all degrees 
 of intelligence." 
 
 He smoked a while reminiscently, while a hu 
 morous light appeared in his eyes and queer 
 laughing wrinkles at their corners.
 
 278 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Really, Polly, if Doctor is going to tell some 
 of his medical stories, I think we had better go 
 into the other room," said Miss Hilton, laughing 
 as she rose and slipped her arm through Polly s. 
 
 " Not the slightest need of it, ladies," said the 
 Doctor, laughing in his turn; "this story is 
 absolutely free from any unintelligible medical 
 terms. Something you can readily understand 
 and appreciate." 
 
 " That is the trouble, it is too practical. At all 
 events, I would like to see Polly s room since she 
 had the new paper put on and the new dressing- 
 case. We will be back in a few minutes, so make 
 the most of your opportunity, gentlemen," re 
 plied Miss Hilton, as the gentlemen all rose 
 while the Squire handed them to the door with a 
 profound inclination. 
 
 "Well, to return to our muttons," resumed the 
 Doctor, "the most interesting patient was old 
 Elijah Percival, the most polite, courteous, punc 
 tilious, gentlemanly old ramrod in the state. 
 Really a very fine old gentleman, with the man 
 ners of the Court of France. In his old age he had 
 a rather unusual kind of softening of the brain. 
 He did not become childish, but if anything more 
 polite than ever, more stiff-backed, more old- 
 fashioned. He could not realize that he was in 
 any way feeble, and accordingly walked out every 
 time he took a notion. His memory for detail
 
 A CELEBRATION 279 
 
 was, however, somewhat impaired, and on these 
 occasions he would array himself in coat and vest, 
 high collar, stock or choker, spend a half -hour in 
 the proper adjustment of his neckcloth and 
 gloves, and then issue forth, resplendent to his 
 waist, but utterly devoid of trousers. To see a 
 mortified, indignant, and red-faced relative or 
 nurse escorting homeward a polite and bowing 
 gentleman without trousers, and followed by a 
 crowd of cheering youngsters was a very frequent 
 and cheerful sight. 
 
 "Occasionally, to vary his industries, he would 
 take a pail, go to a neighbor s front door, and 
 work the door knocker up and down violently, 
 and wonder why the water did n t come. On one 
 occasion, concluding that the pump was frozen, 
 although it was July, he went back to his house, 
 procured a pail of hot water, returned, and 
 poured the hot water through the letter slot in 
 the neighbor s door, and again worked the 
 knocker until forcibly removed. 
 
 "He would never precede a lady into a room 
 downstairs or follow her upstairs. These traits of 
 courtesy were so ingrained into his very fibre that 
 they lasted until his death. Indeed, a very funny 
 thing happened but a few days before his death. 
 His nurse, for he was then very feeble, had got 
 him ready for bed, and said, Now, Mr. Percival, 
 your bed is ready, the covers are turned down,
 
 280 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 and it is getting late. I think you had better get 
 into bed. With a bow such as Beau Nash might 
 have made, and with his hand on his heart, the 
 gallant old gentleman said, But, Madam, after 
 
 you." 
 
 "Mr. ah Randolph, what particular 
 branch of the law do you propose to follow?" 
 asked the Senator, when the laughter ceased. 
 
 "General practice, I hope, Senator," said Sam; 
 "I hope to try cases in court. I think I shall like 
 that, but I like office and probate work and con 
 veyancing. I really like it all, but I fancy I would 
 prefer court and jury work." 
 
 "Do your plans for the future include political 
 activity, or merely an interest in the matter gen 
 erally?" 
 
 "I have an interest in politics, of course, and 
 I have some very well-defined ideas of what I 
 should like to do in local politics. But I certainly 
 do not intend to have anything interfere with my 
 profession." 
 
 "Would you mind acquainting me with your 
 ideas, young sir?" said the Captain. 
 
 "Not in the least," replied Sam. "They are 
 simple enough. I do not believe in electing to any 
 office an incompetent man or an immoral man, or 
 a man who is unreliable. I think indifference is 
 the bane of the country life. For three years I 
 have seen men elected here in this town to offices
 
 A CELEBRATION 281 
 
 of dignity and responsibility, whose immorality, 
 whose indecency, has been a byword in this town. 
 I have seen reputable men publicly advocating 
 their election. I think it is the duty of every de 
 cent man to object to a thing of this kind as an 
 insult to every resident of our town." 
 
 Then you are to be a reformer are you? * 
 asked Doctor Barry. 
 
 " If by reformer you mean a man who will vote 
 against abuses and against immorality and inde 
 cency and moral indifference, I am a reformer. 
 If, on the other hand, you mean a man who goes 
 about preaching, and neglecting his own affairs, 
 while endeavoring to induce people to look better 
 after theirs, then I am emphatically not a re 
 former," replied Sam. 
 
 "But still a reformer in a way," replied the 
 Doctor, smiling. 
 
 Yes, but in the way every man should be a 
 reformer; that is, if the ordinary citizen would 
 insist upon office-holders doing their duty, would 
 vote for such men only as they had reason to be 
 lieve would do their duty, and would put them on 
 the official black list whenever they failed to do 
 at least the best they could in the line of duty, 
 there would be precious little call for reform." 
 
 : That is true enough," said Ben quietly, "but 
 the trouble appears to be that the principle you 
 speak of is not practiced in practical politics, al-
 
 282 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 though its recognition as a principle is boasted of 
 as the basic principle upon which each party is 
 founded. Whenever a person actually attempts 
 to practice that principle consistently and hon 
 estly, he is termed a reformer, and is either ostra 
 cized, outlawed, with a price upon his head, or put 
 to political death without the benefit of clergy." 
 
 "Might I ask, Samuel," said the Senator, 
 "what your politics might be?" 
 
 "I am a Republican, and a fairly consistent 
 one, too, I believe," replied Sam. 
 
 ; Then, as a Republican you would undoubt 
 edly bow to the will of the majority, would you 
 not, sir?" 
 
 "Why, yes, Senator, I should, I suppose. That 
 is, if you mean I should not bolt a nomination. I 
 should not go as far as that, although I would not 
 vote for a man whom I could not trust, even if he 
 were indorsed by my party. I would simply 
 scratch his name. I would not vote for the oppo 
 site party, because that would be indorsing a 
 principle I did not believe in." 
 
 "I am afraid, Samuel, you would be ah - 
 stigmatized as an Independent, in this vicinity, 
 at least," said the Senator, in the tone of one pro 
 nouncing a death sentence. 
 
 "Well, I confess I don t like the word Bolter, 
 but there are lots of worse things you can call a 
 man than an Independent."
 
 A CELEBRATION 283 
 
 "And the terms Reformer or Independent* 
 are not such as would invite political or ah 
 professional confidence. And that fact might 
 militate, sir, against success in your profession." 
 
 : You forget, gentlemen," said the Squire 
 dryly, "that I have been an Independent 
 ever since I came here." 
 
 "Pardon me, Squire," said the Captain, "I ap 
 prehend, sir, that neither my brother, the Sena 
 tor, nor I myself have forgotten that very remark 
 able, sir, very remarkable fact. But in your case 
 it was a bit different. It takes a very strong man 
 to do that, sir, a very strong man." 
 
 ; Yes, I had to fight, and fight hard, but I 
 think it did me good. Sam likes to fight as well as 
 I ever did," said the Squire. 
 
 Sam colored with pleasure. "I am afraid I do 
 like opposition. I suppose that is one reason I 
 thought of becoming a lawyer. The other reason 
 is Mr. Branch," said Sam. 
 
 "Have you made up your mind, Samuel, just 
 what office you will try for first?" said the Cap 
 tain, with a profound bow. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I made up my mind a year ago. I 
 shall become a candidate for County Solicitor." 
 
 "When, for kind Heaven s sake?" said the 
 Squire, in astonishment, sitting up and nearly 
 dropping his pipe. 
 
 "I shall put a notice in the Elmtown Crier this
 
 284 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 week and send one to the Brookmouth Chronicle; 
 that is, Mr. Branch, unless you prefer not to have 
 me run," said Sam. 
 
 "No, no, Sam. I don t object to it, only it is a 
 bit sudden. I think as you do that Langton has 
 been pretty slack in his methods, and there is 
 good ground for asking for a change. But of 
 course you don t expect to get it the first time?" 
 asked Mr. Branch. 
 
 "No, of course not. If I can get a half-dozen 
 delegates or even two or three, I shall have made 
 a beginning. Then in two years I shall try again. 
 If, however, a good square man comes up as can 
 didate, who will promise to keep things reason 
 ably clean, I will withdraw. I am not set on 
 being County Solicitor for the honor or the 
 money, but there are a good many abuses in this 
 county that ought to be stopped. It does n t take 
 a three years residence to find that out." 
 
 At ten o clock, Sam and Ben took leave of the 
 Squire and Polly and strolled down the street 
 together. The Senator, the Captain, the Doctor, 
 Miss Ellis, and Miss Hilton had preceded them in 
 the family carriage, a species of almost Colonial or 
 pre-Revolutionary ark, with huge leather springs. 
 
 After the guests had left, Polly turned to the 
 Squire, put her arm over his shoulder, and said, 
 "Uncle Ira, are you glad that Sam is going into 
 politics?"
 
 A CELEBRATION 285 
 
 " Yes, my dear, in a way I am. If I felt that he 
 was going to neglect his profession or lose his 
 ideals by becoming a politician only, I should 
 object very seriously. But Sam is one in a thou 
 sand, and I am not afraid for him. He will get 
 some hard raps, but hard raps never yet hurt a 
 man of strength and courage, and Sam has 
 plenty of both." 
 
 "But I have heard you say that a lawyer can 
 do no better than to attend exclusively to his pro 
 fession." 
 
 ; Yes, that s true enough, my young lady," 
 said the Squire, pulling her ear, "but becoming 
 County Solicitor or Attorney-General or a judge 
 of a court is directly in the line of his profes 
 sion, and politics is the necessary path to get 
 there." 
 
 "But people have told me that you might have 
 been a judge, or the Attorney-General, or go to 
 Washington or had anything you wanted without 
 trying," insisted Polly. 
 
 "And because some one told you that, you 
 thought it must be so, did you, Miss Innocence? " 
 laughed the Squire. 
 
 She nodded brightly. 
 
 "It reminds me of an old man named Beri 
 Caverly who came to me once in great indigna 
 tion, stating that a certain saloon keeper had 
 spread the report that his son, Jim Caverly, was
 
 286 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 dead, and had caused his family a very great deal 
 of trouble, worry, sorrow, expense, and several 
 other things. I told him if the man had started a 
 report of that nature, and had done it willfully or 
 ignorantly, he would be liable to any one injured 
 by the report. So he left the case in my hands, 
 and I accordingly wrote the man a letter, telling 
 him I had a claim against him for collection, and 
 asking him to call at my office forthwith. He 
 came promptly, took a seat, and I informed him 
 what I wanted to see him for. 
 
 Wull, Misser Branch, sor (he was an Irish 
 man and a real one) , wud yez be af ther knowin 
 Jim Caverly, th omadhaun? 
 "I told him yes. 
 
 "An did yez iver hear ony good of the 
 droonken divil? 
 
 "I told him that was not the question. The 
 question was, Did he start that story?" 
 
 "Sure, mon, an Oi dud thot. 
 
 "And you knew, did you not, Mike, that he 
 was alive when you told the story? 
 
 "An Oi dud not know thot, sor. 
 
 What reason had you for believing him 
 dead? 
 
 "Fwat rason, sor, th bist rason, he sid so 
 himself. 
 
 "He said he was dead, Mike! what, are you 
 crazy?
 
 A CELEBRATION 287 
 
 " An it s not crazy Oi am, sor. Hearken an* 
 Oi 11 till ye. Twaz this way. Jim Caverly, the di- 
 vil, kim to me saloon. He wanted a dhrink. His 
 dhrink wuz a glass of whiskey n two glasses of 
 beer. A dom bad mixsthure, sor. Wull, Oi wud 
 not give him a dhrink til he paid me. So finally 
 he sid, "Mike, if Oi m aloive at six o clock to 
 night, Oi pay yez," an he crossed his troat, he 
 dud, sor. Wull, sor, Oi let him have a dhrink, an 
 six o clock came an Jim, the divil an ahl, he 
 niver came. So I knowed he wuz dhed, an Oi 
 toald it, sor. An he is aloive, yez sa-a-y? Wull, 
 Oi shuld n t belave all Oi hear." 
 
 Polly laughed a bubbling laugh. " You do have 
 some funny cases, Uncle; tell me another, one 
 about let me see about - - well, about Mr. 
 Lovell. He is funny, and I should think he 
 would have some funny cases." 
 
 "Yes, Tom has some funny ones. You see he 
 gets very earnest in his cases, and believes in 
 them so thoroughly that it takes a good deal to 
 convince him he is wrong. Generally it is impos 
 sible, but he had one case a while ago that con 
 vinced him he was on the wrong side. A client of 
 his had brought suit against a client of mine for 
 refusal to accept an expensive couch he had or 
 dered. My client said it was n t built as he or 
 dered it. That it was not made of as expensive 
 materials and was not made strong enough. Well
 
 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 the witnesses were put on, and after the evidence 
 I made the first argument, and of course I argued 
 as strongly as I could the iniquity of trying to 
 palm off on my client a frail, flimsy, cheaply built 
 couch instead of the one he expected to have. 
 Tom was getting madder and madder every mo 
 ment, and when I got through he jumped up as 
 if he was sitting on a hot stove, and the way he 
 sailed into my client and me was really sinful. 
 Then he came to the question of the materials and 
 strength of the couch. Why, your Honor, he 
 yelled, waving his fists in the air, strong! it was 
 as strong and lasting as the eternal hills. What 
 better example of its strength do you want than 
 this? and Tom gave a running jump and lit right 
 in the middle the couch, expecting to bound 
 lightly back. Instead of this, there was a prodigi 
 ous crash, a rattle of springs, a rending of ticking, 
 and Tom disappeared in a whirl of excelsior, dust, 
 ticking, and broken slats. After hard work we 
 managed to pry him out and pull the springs out of 
 him. He looked as if he had been rescued from the 
 ash barrel. The Court, who had thrown aside the 
 judicial ermine to assist in the rescue, promptly 
 ascended the bench, resumed his seat, and said, 
 The Court desires no better example of the 
 strength of the couch and gives judgment for the 
 defendant." 
 
 Polly laughed again. "Uncle," she said tim-
 
 A CELEBRATION 289 
 
 idly, "have you ever regretted not going to 
 Washington?" 
 
 The Squire looked at her sharply. "What has 
 come over you, Polly? Why do you ask such a 
 question? I am glad I did not go, really glad. I 
 could have gone if I had wanted to." 
 
 That s all I wanted to know," said Polly, 
 kissing him.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 RUNNING FOR OFFICE 
 
 THE Elmtown Crier of the Friday following 
 contained this personal item: 
 
 To the legal voters of the County of Rock- 
 away : I take this opportunity of announcing my 
 self a Republican candidate for the position of 
 County Solicitor at the November election. If 
 elected, I shall make an honest attempt to en 
 force the existing laws without fear, favor, or po 
 litical bias. 
 
 SAMUEL RANDOLPH. 
 
 EIMTOWN, September 4, 188-. 
 
 This notice caused some surprise, a good deal 
 of amusement, and some little indignation. 
 
 The Brookmouth Chronicle, a daily, promptly 
 came out with an editorial couched in sarcastic 
 terms. It wished to know who Samuel Randolph 
 was, and why he had come forth from the jungle 
 of oblivion at this psychological moment to save a 
 bleeding country? It begged its generous readers 
 to furnish it with some information as to Samuel 
 Randolph, his race, age, and previous condition 
 of servitude. Was he a Lincoln, a Washington,
 
 RUNNING FOR OFFICE 291 
 
 or "some Cromwell, guiltless of his country s 
 blood"? It called upon some honest yeoman to 
 stand forth and explain how the Republic had so 
 long stood firm without the support of Samuel 
 Randolph, hitherto unknown, and why it had not 
 fallen crashing from its proud height. It opined 
 that, while no indications of its approaching dis 
 solution had so far been apparent to officials who 
 had been for years intrusted with the proud 
 privilege of conserving its welfare and its good 
 name, yet it thanked Heaven, for having sent 
 this Seer, Prophet, and Protector, Samuel Ran 
 dolph, the Great Unknown. 
 
 The Brookmouth Guillotine, an opposition pa 
 per, remarked that while it was undoubtedly true 
 that a complete change in county officials should 
 be made, and in no office more than that of 
 County Solicitor, it thought this announcement 
 by an unknown man and a newcomer into the 
 state a colossal piece of assurance, to say no 
 thing of impudence. That it had understood that 
 Mr. Randolph had been admitted to the bar for 
 about a week, or, to be exact, ten days, and that 
 it might be well for him to wait until the ink on 
 his certificate was dry. 
 
 The Lamprey River Indicator ventured the 
 opinion that the legal voters of Rockaway county 
 knew and appreciated the high character and 
 efficient services of the present incumbent in the
 
 292 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 office far too well to consider for a moment the 
 claims of a city man who was volunteering to 
 show us country bumpkins how to run our coun 
 try affairs. 
 
 In short, the newspapers, one and all, laughed 
 Sam s announcement to scorn, and made merry 
 over his audacity in bringing his name before 
 the public, and as copies of these papers were 
 promptly sent him, he had the rather doubtful 
 pleasure of seeing himself as others saw him. 
 
 Sam grinned somewhat sheepishly over these 
 articles, while the Squire laughed heartily, telling 
 Sam that on the whole they were rather mild than 
 otherwise, and that should he at anytime become 
 a really dangerous factor in the campaign, he 
 would be busy in dodging far heavier literary 
 brickbats than these. Polly, however, was very 
 indignant and did not take it at all kindly that 
 Sam did not proceed to the editorial rooms in suc 
 cession and mop the entire premises with their 
 editorial bodies. 
 
 In spite of the ridicule that followed Sam s 
 shying his castor into the ring, some of the old- 
 line men were a bit worried. They knew perfectly 
 well that some of their officials had neglected the 
 duties of their offices, that some were incompe 
 tents, and that some were corrupt, and they 
 knew that a strong, honest, likable young fellow 
 would find many followers. So they made in-
 
 RUNNING FOR OFFICE 293 
 
 quiries and probed around until they found that, 
 although they need have but little fear for the 
 present campaign, Sam was just the man to com 
 mand enthusiastic support after a few years. So 
 they began to arrange very quietly and carefully 
 to choose as delegates to the County Convention 
 men on whom they could rely to pledge them 
 selves to vote for the incumbents, and in this they 
 were eminently successful, as they were men of 
 great tact, shrewdness, and liberality. 
 
 On the other hand, Sam made no open cam 
 paign beyond seeing a few of his friends in differ 
 ent towns. A good deal of work was, however, 
 done for him by some of the better class of citi 
 zens, both in Elmtown and in other places where 
 the Squire was known, and by men who were 
 disgusted with the spiritless prosecutions of the 
 present Solicitor. Sam made one speech in Brook- 
 mouth, the stronghold and residence of a major 
 ity of the county officials. It was rather an un 
 usual thing, but, as it had been suggested to him 
 that he ought to make some public statement of 
 his platform, he thought the fairest way to his 
 opponent was to make such statement in that op 
 ponent s bailiwick. 
 
 He had no difficulty in hiring a hall or billing 
 the town, although it cost him about twice or 
 three times the usual amount, but, as Sam said, 
 "luxuries evidently came high."
 
 294 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 On the evening of the speech, Sam found the 
 hall crowded to the doors with a very strong pro 
 portion of square-jawed, red-faced gentry, all 
 smoking and evidently looking for fun, trouble, 
 or a combination of both. 
 
 As he entered the hall, he had to shoulder his 
 way through the crowd to the platform, which he 
 found deserted, the committee of introduction 
 having failed to appear. However, he stepped 
 upon the platform, removed his coat, looked at 
 his watch, and advanced to the desk, opened his 
 mouth to speak, and was greeted with a tremen 
 dous uproar of yells, whistling, stamping, cat 
 calls, and a string of sarcasms. 
 
 Sam smiled and waited until they became quiet 
 again, and a second time attempted to speak, only 
 to be greeted by a louder tumult than before. A 
 half-dozen times this happened. Finally, Sam took 
 a seat on the edge of the table, took out a cigar 
 from his case, carefully cut off the end, lighted it, 
 and calmly smoked, surveying the audience good- 
 naturedly, as if they were an interesting study. 
 
 The noise promptly stopped, and a few hand 
 claps were heard. Sam took no notice, but 
 smoked imperturbably, removed his cigar 
 nicked the ashes from the tip with his little finger 
 and took a fresh pull at it. 
 
 The crowd became impatient, "Well, why 
 don t you say something?" cried a big voice.
 
 RUNNING FOR OFFICE 295 
 
 "Have you all finished?" asked Sam, smiling. 
 
 "Yes, go ahead, get it off your mind, lether- 
 gosmith," cried the crowd. 
 
 "Gentlemen and Muckers," said Sam crisply, 
 but with a most engaging smile, "to the former I 
 apologize for smoking in their presence, to the 
 latter for not smoking a dudeen, a bulldog, a corn 
 cob, or a clay. I suppose you are waiting to hear 
 the usual thing, that you, the workingmen, are 
 the pillars of our national prosperity and the 
 backbone of our financial success; that you are 
 the real rulers of the nation, and all the rest of 
 that home-made confectionery with which polit 
 ical speakers usually lubricate and beguile you. 
 But I am not here for the purpose of beguiling 
 you, flattering you, or winning you over by trea- 
 cleized oratory. I am here to tell you what I 
 stand for in this campaign, and incidentally, per 
 haps, what I think of you. And perhaps, for the 
 purpose of convincing you that I am not here to 
 flatter you, I will say in the beginning what I 
 think of you. I think the reception you have 
 given me is one of the rankest exhibitions of bad 
 manners and muckerism I have ever seen. I have 
 seen it done to public speakers in England, and I 
 have been ashamed of the stigma to the tradi 
 tional fair-play spirit that Englishmen talk 
 about, but I did not expect to meet it in decent 
 New England. Now, men of Brookmouth, I am
 
 296 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 ashamed of you, of every man of you that took 
 part in this demonstration, and if there is still any 
 doubt of my estimate of you, I can state it in still 
 plainer words. Do you wish me to go on or 
 not?" 
 
 For a moment there was an absolute silence. 
 The audience had not bargained for this, and it 
 rather took their breath away. They stared at a 
 powerfully built young chap, standing cool and 
 quiet, with his hands in his pockets and a half- 
 smile on his face. They rather liked his frank 
 ness and they admired his courage. 
 
 "Go ahead, young feller," bellowed the big 
 voice again, "we can stand it if you can." 
 
 "Thanks," said Sam with a smile; "here goes 
 then." And he launched into his speech, a 
 straightforward, candid review of the condition 
 of the county, the laxness in the enforcement of 
 its laws, the tolerance of and indifference to im 
 morality, and the open acknowledgment of the 
 existence of an almost graded scale of prices in the 
 purchase of votes. He scored the public roundly 
 for its indifference, for its acquiescence in ques 
 tionable methods of obtaining political office, and 
 he roundly scored the public official, who, after 
 taking a solemn oath to do his duty, yet allowed 
 himself to be so wrought upon by public senti 
 ment as to neglect or refuse to perform the duties 
 under the plain interpretation of law.
 
 RUNNING FOR OFFICE 297 
 
 He was not again interrupted during his 
 speech, and when he had finished, a number of 
 the audience came forward and thanked him for 
 his plainness and his courage. But the papers of 
 the following morning gave the most jaundiced 
 and prejudiced accounts of the affair, called Sam 
 a traducer of the fair fame of his county, the foul 
 bird that defiled its own nest. They accused him 
 of wild exaggerations, ignorant conjectures, and 
 positive untruths. They extolled the ability, 
 honesty, tact, courtesy, shrewdness, and experi 
 ence of the County Solicitor as superior to any 
 thing the county had seen for many years. They 
 belabored the sheer "brass-mounted, nickle- 
 plated cheek" of this self-centred, opinionated 
 "yearling" as something unprecedented. In 
 deed, so abusive did they become that several of 
 the leading papers in the state took up the mat 
 ter and gave a verbatim report of the meeting, 
 signed by several independent citizens of Brook- 
 mouth, that quite changed the complexion of 
 things, and Sam found a gratifying wave of sym 
 pathy for him daily increasing in extent. 
 
 Among the lawyers Mr. Blunt had talked most 
 disparagingly of Sam s ability. As he was very 
 much given to underrating his brother lawyers, 
 he was regarded as a sort of "head hunter" by 
 them, and under ordinary circumstances they 
 paid very little attention to what he said. But as
 
 298 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 he had never forgotten Sam s testimony in the 
 Drake v. Blunt assault case, and as he was by 
 nature a most revengeful man, he quite outdid 
 himself in the malicious slurs, innuendoes, and 
 exaggerations concerning Sam. 
 
 This made the Squire very angry. However 
 amusing, or of little importance he considered the 
 press articles, his professional etiquette would 
 not allow him to pass over Blunt s outrageous vio 
 lation of its traditions, and he adopted this means 
 of humiliating his victim. There was a certain 
 case for trial at the October Term at Brook- 
 mouth, which Sam had prepared for the Squire 
 with great care. Under the statute, "In case of 
 the death or disability of any person in conse 
 quence of intoxication from the use of liquor un 
 lawfully furnished by a party, any person, de 
 pendent in any manner upon the person injured 
 for means of support, could recover, of the party 
 unlawfully furnishing such liquor, all damage or 
 loss sustained in consequence of such death or 
 disability." 
 
 It happened that one Jerry Devlin had sold a 
 quart of the vilest possible whiskey to a man al 
 ready considerably under the influence of several 
 heavy slugs of the same. As it was a very cold 
 night, the man became beastly drunk, was ejected 
 from the saloon, staggered to the river bank, and, 
 becoming bewildered and stupefied, lay down
 
 RUNNING FOR OFFICE 299 
 
 and was found the next morning dead from ex 
 posure. A coroner s jury returned a verdict of 
 death from exposure, but the widow of the dead 
 man came to Elmtown and laid the case before 
 the Squire, who promptly brought suit against 
 Devlin, who retained Mr. Blunt to defend. 
 
 Sam had thoroughly prepared the case under 
 the direction of the Squire, had briefed the law, 
 and arranged the order of procedure most care 
 fully, and it occurred to the Squire that the best 
 way of answering Mr. Blunt s strictures on Sam s 
 ability, was to let Sam try the case and win out, 
 which he thought Sam could easily do. Sam, not 
 without misgivings, agreed, and when the case 
 was tried, Sam obtained a thumping verdict, after 
 a trial in which Sam had all the better of Mr. 
 Blunt. Sam was cool, determined, and pleasant- 
 spoken, except with the defendant Devlin, whom 
 he cross-examined with a savage vigor that left 
 his victim at the finale a limp mass of clothes and 
 perspiration. Blunt, on the contrary, lost his 
 temper early in the trial, and was caught napping 
 time and again by his younger opponent. But it 
 was Sam s argument, direct, comprehensive, and 
 relentless that won the most favorable comment. 
 The fact that he was a candidate for County 
 Solicitor had attracted the attention of the law 
 yers and politicians, and the court-room was 
 filled.
 
 300 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 As the jury retired, a prominent politician said 
 to a friend, " God help a criminal if that man gets 
 to be County Solicitor. We must stop that any 
 way"; and when the verdict was announced 
 shortly afterwards, the faithful dispersed, shak 
 ing their heads doubtfully and looking very 
 serious. 
 
 The Elmtown caucus was held early in the 
 season, the week before the County Convention. 
 Sam s followers thought that if he could get a 
 part of the Elmtown delegates, it would naturally 
 aid him in the convention; his opponents argued 
 that, should they be able to elect delegates hostile 
 to him, it would force him to enter a conven 
 tion without a single delegate from his own town 
 which would decidedly prejudice his chance of a 
 respectable showing in the convention. 
 
 Among the candidates voted for at the Repub 
 lican caucus were the representatives to the Gen 
 eral Court. Now, if Sam had been content to let 
 things take their course, he probably could have 
 at least divided the delegation, but he had long 
 ago made up his mind to oppose the nomina 
 tion of certain men for any public office or any 
 trust. 
 
 He had talked the matter over with a few of 
 his friends, who had advised him strongly against 
 his course, as tending to stir up unnecessary op 
 position, and to show Sam as a reformer.
 
 RUNNING FOR OFFICE 301 
 
 But their advice went for nothing. He was 
 determined. "If I don t get a single delegate in 
 the convention, I will object to the nomination 
 of John Wetherbee for any office. I would n t 
 vote for him if I knew I could get the nomination 
 for County Solicitor unanimously." 
 
 "But, Sam," said Ben earnestly, "what harm 
 can he do in the legislature?" 
 
 "Harm! the harm is done the moment you 
 elect him. It is outrageous to bring our young 
 people, and our young men in particular, up in 
 the idea that a man s moral character stands for 
 nothing. That s the harm, if the man should die 
 the next day after his election." 
 
 "But, Sam, you are sure to make powerful 
 enemies and to get some of your friends waxy 
 with you. Is it worth it at this time?" 
 
 "Look here, Ben, when I can t go into politics 
 with clean hands, and without dodging issues or 
 making deals to advance my chances, I will keep 
 out." 
 
 The trouble is, Sam, unless you do some 
 thing of the kind, you will never get in." 
 
 "Well, I shall have your vote, and a few others, 
 Ben, and I would rather have a few clean votes of 
 clean men than a raft of smirched and muddy 
 ones." 
 
 "All right, Sam," said Ben; "you will do as 
 you please I suppose, and there is no argument
 
 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 the other way, but I hope it won t cost too much 
 in delegates." 
 
 The night of the caucus the hall was crowded, 
 and Captain Hilton was in the chair. The plans 
 of the old-line Republicans to carry the caucus for 
 the old County Solicitor had brought out all of 
 Sam s friends, a good many of whom were friends 
 and employees of John Wetherbee. 
 
 On the call for nominations for members of the 
 legislature, Everett Taylor got up and in a set 
 speech of eulogy nominated John Wetherbee, and 
 sat down amid thunderous applause. When the 
 applause had subsided, a half-dozen voices were 
 heard to second the nomination. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the Chairman, "y u have 
 heard the name of John W 7 etherbee proposed; 
 are you ready for the question?" 
 
 "Question ! Question ! " shouted a dozen voices. 
 
 "All those in favor of " 
 
 "Mr. Chairman!" rung out a voice as Sam 
 rose. 
 
 "Mr. Randolph," said the moderator. 
 
 Sam deliberately walked from the side of the 
 hall to the platform, turned and faced the audi 
 ence. It was plain that he was laboring under 
 considerable suppressed excitement, but his 
 voice was steady and clear, and his manner cool 
 and deliberate. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Sam, "citizens of Elm-
 
 RUNNING FOR OFFICE 303 
 
 town, I have lived here three years, and during 
 that time I have been treated with great kindness 
 by its citizens. A man who was not born in a 
 large city, who has not lived the greater part of 
 his life in hotels and apartments cannot realize as 
 I can what it means to be a citizen of a town like 
 this, what it means to have a part, even a small 
 part, in the government of a town where one can 
 number nearly every citizen as an acquaintance. 
 And when it is one s good fortune, as it is mine, to 
 look forward to a continued residence in such a 
 town, there is one thing he must do if he is to be 
 worthy of the name of good citizen, and that is to 
 openly oppose and denounce any act that does or 
 may bring discredit to the town, its institutions, 
 or its citizens." 
 
 There was an audible whispering, and a rustle 
 and creak of settees, as men squirmed in their 
 seats uneasily and looked at one another in dis 
 quietude. 
 
 "I have seen some things in this town, some 
 few things, I am glad to say, that have surprised 
 and saddened me. I have seen reputable citizens 
 advocating the election of notoriously unfit men 
 for positions of responsibility, honor, and trust, 
 and I have seen no man stand up and oppose it, 
 and I have seen men cast their votes not unwill 
 ingly for the election of such men." 
 
 He paused and there was a renewed rustle and
 
 304 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 audible murmur. Wetherbee and his crowd were 
 getting hot, the faces of the audience were drawn 
 and serious. 
 
 The speaker leaned forward, marking his words 
 with his right hand, his voice rising as he went on. 
 " To-night I have seen it again. The shameful 
 sight of a reputable man advocating to a body of 
 intelligent men as I know you are, and reputable 
 men as I believe you to be, the nomination and 
 election of a man whose moral standing is a dis 
 grace to the community, whose shameless amours 
 with women, whose open and public violations of 
 all the rules of decency and morality have been 
 for years the theme of conversation in every hotel 
 office, saloon, and corner of the town where young, 
 old, and middle-aged men congregate. I - 
 
 But here there was an uproar. The audience 
 had risen to its feet, a dozen men were clamoring 
 for recognition, the chairman s gavel pounded for 
 order. 
 
 Finally he recognized Mr. Taylor, who was 
 bawling and red in the face. 
 
 "Mr. Chairman," yelled Taylor, "the speaker 
 is out of order! I call him to order!" 
 
 "Put the damned reformer out," yelled one. 
 
 "Throw him out! Let him go back to his big 
 city, the damned dude!" yelled others. 
 
 The crowd rose to its feet, and began to surge 
 towards the front. Ben, Simmons, Williams, Mad,
 
 RUNNING FOR OFFICE 305 
 
 Brown, old John, the Machine Works crowd and 
 wonder of wonders! Bill Evans, marshaled by 
 Ben, circled around the sides of the hall, and 
 formed a solid phalanx in front of and ajound 
 Sam. 
 
 "Come on, and put him out! You ll have a 
 good time of it. Come on! Try it once!" ^ 
 
 Those behind pushed and yelled, those in 
 front held back and cursed. Several seats were 
 broken and those standing on them were hurled 
 to the floor. 
 
 The Chairman shouted for order and pounded 
 like a blacksmith. "Mr. Emmons!" he yelled, 
 "Mr. Emmons has the floor." 
 
 Then Mr. Emmons made a most savage 
 speech, denouncing Sam in hot terms, and called 
 upon the meeting to rebuke the "presumptuous 
 insolence of an upstart outsider," and sat down 
 amid tumultuous applause. 
 
 He was followed by Mr. Abram Poindexter, 
 who could not contain his indignation at this un 
 warranted and unwarrantable assault on the 
 reputation of one of Elmtown s most solid, sub 
 stantial, and worthy citizens, and closed by a 
 fervent appeal for fair play, which the meeting at 
 once granted by hooting, yelling, and stamping 
 when Sam attempted to reply. 
 
 On proceeding to a vote, Wetherbee was nom 
 inated by a strong majority, although a surprising
 
 306 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 number of voters yelled "no" with all the 
 strength of their lungs, and at the close of the 
 evening Sam had not got a single delegate. 
 
 Bu* when, a week after, the convention was 
 heldj Sam numbered twelve delegates from differ 
 ent twwns, and although badly beaten, he felt 
 that he had made a very creditable showing.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 COMPARISONS 
 
 SAM took his defeat most philosophically, as he 
 felt that he had made a fairly good start. It 
 was evident that his opponents took the same 
 view of the matter that he did, for a conference 
 was held one evening in Mr. Blunt s office, in 
 which the County Solicitor, Wetherbee, Everett, 
 Emmons, and others of the faithful were present. 
 Just what was said at the meeting did not ap 
 pear, but the result became apparent and within 
 a few days. 
 
 Sam had been working late at the office one 
 evening, and finished his work, turned off the 
 gas, locked the door, and was just stepping into 
 the street, when he was accosted by two men, one 
 of whom was the Brookmouth Deputy Sheriff, 
 who told him he was under arrest. 
 
 "Under arrest!" said Sam in astonishment; 
 "what is the charge?" 
 
 "Slander!" replied the officer; "I hev a war 
 rant here." 
 
 "A warrant for slander? Why, man, spoken 
 words are not indictable except when in violation 
 of a statute. Let me see your warrant," de 
 manded Sam.
 
 308 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Here you be," said the officer; "now, look it 
 over and come along with us. We are in a hurry. * 
 
 "I guess you will come pretty near waiting 
 until I see this warrant before you arrest me for 
 slander, my friend," said Sam, stepping under a 
 street light and opening the paper. 
 
 "Warrant! this is a capias authorizing you to 
 arrest me; no warrant at all, but your authority 
 is all right," said Sam, returning the paper. 
 "Well, come down to the Squire s, I will give 
 bail." 
 
 "You be a-goin to jail, young man; them wuz 
 my orders and I am going to obey them." 
 
 "Who gave you those orders?" demanded 
 Sam. 
 
 "The lawyer who issued the writ, his name is 
 on the back of it," replied the Deputy stoutly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Mr. Blunt, eh," said Sam. "When 
 did he give you this writ?" 
 
 ;< This morning," replied the Deputy. 
 
 "Where?" asked Sam crisply. 
 
 "In his office here in Elmtown," replied the 
 Deputy. 
 
 "Why did you wait until to-night? You could 
 have found me at any time to-day." 
 
 "I ain t a-goin to answer no more questions. 
 You be under arrest, and me and my friend are 
 going to lodge you in jail." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Sheriff, but before you execute
 
 COMPARISONS 309 
 
 your commission, just allow me to say one word. 
 I demand an opportunity to get bail, and you are 
 bound to give me an opportunity, and you ought 
 to know it, if you know anything. Now, you and 
 your lawyer friend have put up this job for a lot 
 of political bummers to take a fall out of me. 
 Just one word more, I will furnish bail to-night, 
 and if you know what is good for you, you 11 take 
 me to Mr. Branch s house now. If you don t, and 
 attempt to take me to jail, you 11 have the liveli 
 est time you ever had in your life. Now, start 
 proceedings," said Sam hotly, stepping back to 
 the wall. 
 
 "Be you a-goin ter resist an officer with a legal 
 process?" roared the Deputy. 
 
 "That s just what I mean to do," said Sam. 
 "I not only will resist arrest, but I ll knock your 
 two heads together and duck you in that fountain. 
 I know my right, and I know yours, and if you do 
 take me to jail, I 11 have you hunting bail before 
 morning." 
 
 The Deputy and his assistant looked uneasy 
 and very serious, and conferred in subdued 
 whispers. 
 
 "Look yere, Mr. Randolph," said the Deputy, 
 "I ain t got nothin agin you, but my orders 
 wuz to tek you an tek you prompt and suddin . 
 Naow, what be I a-goin tew dew?" 
 
 "Well," said Sam, with a smile, "I haven t
 
 310 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 anything against you unless you exceed your 
 authority. But you know you have a right to 
 take bail." 
 
 " Wa-a-1, yes, I spusso f the bail is good," said 
 the Deputy dubiously. 
 
 "Well, that s what you are going to insist on, 
 of course. Now, come along and we will see about 
 it." 
 
 " Wa-a-1, 1 spose thet s the best we kin do," said 
 the Deputy, and they proceeded arm in arm to 
 the Squire s. 
 
 Oh, but the Squire was an angry man when he 
 heard Sam s story. A man who seldom used 
 strong language, he swore like the Army of Flan 
 ders, and so terrified the Deputy and his assist 
 ant that he got from them the whole story of the 
 plan to jail Sam. In a few minutes they were on 
 the way to the Hilton farm. The Hilton brothers 
 regarded it as a privilege to sign the bail bond 
 with the Squire, and, clad in various parti 
 colored dressing-gowns and carpet slippers, and 
 exceedingly skinny of legs and grisly of throat, 
 signed their names boldly, and one and all 
 pledged themselves to take the field against the 
 "political hell-hounds," to quote aptly from the 
 Senator s burning words, "whenever and wher 
 ever the Squire would lead." They next pro 
 ceeded to William Billowell s, who appeared in his 
 nightcap and was "By gad! mighty glad of the
 
 COMPARISONS 311 
 
 opportunity of putting a spoke in Wetherbee s 
 and Blunt s wheel." 
 
 Having secured his signature, they went to 
 Caleb Ten-ill s, who promptly appeared in a long 
 nightshirt and calfskin boots, and appended his 
 individual signature and those of his six sons as 
 members of the firm of Caleb Terrill and Sons, 
 leaving no more room on the bond. 
 
 "There, Mr. Deputy Sheriff," said the Squire, 
 "tell your counsel, with my compliments, that 
 before he gets through this case he and Wether- 
 bee will wish they were in South America." 
 
 The next day the Daily Chronicle, the Guillo 
 tine, and the Lamprey River Indicator contained 
 lurid accounts of the arrest and jailing of Samuel 
 Randolph, but recently candidate for the office 
 of County Solicitor, on a charge of criminal libel. 
 The day after, their editors were kept busy in 
 explaining to their readers the reasons for their 
 extraordinary perversion of the facts. 
 
 Wetherbee and Blunt, however, talked loudly 
 and boastfully of what they would do when they 
 got before a jury and at the January Term of 
 court entered the writ, after having served a no 
 tice on Sam s attorney to be ready for trial. This 
 was exactly what the Squire wished, and he at 
 once sent Mr. Blunt a copy of a plea of justifica 
 tion, alleging that Plaintiff Wetherbee was asking 
 for election to a public office of responsibility;
 
 312 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 that his moral character was of such a nature as 
 to make his election to such office a great injury 
 to the public, and that the public good required 
 an open discussion of his character as well as of 
 his ability and integrity; that the defendant, in 
 criticizing his character and imputing to him 
 gross immorality, was acting within his rights so 
 long as he did not pervert or grossly exaggerate 
 facts or accuse the plaintiff falsely; that inas 
 much as the defendant had made general charges 
 of immorality and indecency against the plain 
 tiff, he was ready to specify the certain acts of 
 immorality and of indecency of which the plain 
 tiff had been guilty, to wit : that on the twentieth 
 
 day of here followed a long list of charges 
 
 with dates, places, and nature of the acts, which 
 the defendant averred he was ready to prove, and 
 prayed for judgment and his costs. 
 
 When Mr. Blunt received a copy of the docu 
 ment, he cursed roundly for a few moments, and 
 then hurriedly went to Wetherbee s store. When 
 Wetherbee read it, his rage and consternation 
 knew no bounds. He stamped up and down his of 
 fice, alternately cursing his counsel for advising 
 the prosecution of Sam, and the County Solicitor, 
 Emmons, Everett, and the others for arranging 
 the plan of the campaign. Blunt retorted with 
 spirit, and a violent quarrel arose between them 
 which nearly terminated in blows or apoplexy.
 
 COMPARISONS 313 
 
 That evening a hasty conference was held, and 
 it was decided that the appearance of the plead 
 ing on the court records must be avoided at any 
 cost, and a committee was appointed to wait on 
 the Squire and see what could be done. The meet 
 ing was held at the Squire s office in Sam s pres 
 ence, and was a very bad quarter of an hour for 
 the committee, who were fairly scorched by the 
 Squire s blazing wrath. As to a settlement, the 
 Squire would do nothing until they had signed 
 a written retraction of their charges against 
 Sam, which was to appear simultaneously in 
 the Brookmouth Chronicle, the Guillotine., and the 
 Lamprey River Indicator. Its appearance the 
 next day in these papers made them writhe in 
 spirit, but intensified their hatred of Sam. 
 
 The winter and spring passed without any 
 startling event. After the burning of Alvy s 
 hotel, Sam had taken rooms in a private house, 
 and had installed therein the few articles of fur 
 niture that had escaped the flames. His meals 
 he took at restaurants about town. An oyster 
 stew or clam chowder at Charlie Felsen s, who 
 could cook oysters and clams better than any 
 man in the world, so Sam thought, a steak or a 
 chop at Billy McDougall s, who furnished steaks 
 as big as door mats and an inch and a half thick 
 for an exceedingly moderate price, a course din 
 ner at Harvey s, a country Delmonico, or hot
 
 314 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 dogs at the lunch cart. This touch of bohemian- 
 ism appealed strongly to Sam, who had traveled 
 enough to get a strong liking for independence. 
 He never ate or drank at the saloons, as he did not 
 care for the company he met there, and he felt 
 that his political enemies would make capital out 
 of his every action that could in any way be dis 
 torted to his injury. 
 
 In January, Tom arrived, unannounced, cheer 
 ful, debonair, and enthusiastic. As the January 
 Term of court was then in session, Tom had an 
 opportunity of seeing the Squire in action, and 
 also of watching Sam conduct cases both with 
 the Squire and alone, and honest Tom perhaps 
 felt for the first time his own uselessness in hav 
 ing neither business, profession, nor trade. 
 
 " Hang it all ! " he said to himself, " we all pitied 
 poor Sam when he had to leave New York and go 
 to work, and here he is an active member of a 
 great profession and a man recognized as one 
 with whom people will have to reckon before 
 long. What do I amount to, or what do any of 
 Sam s old set amount to? Just loafers, idlers, 
 dawdlers, money spenders, and cumberers of the 
 earth." 
 
 But Tom was of too sunny a disposition to 
 remain low-spirited long, and while Sam was 
 plugging away absorbed in his profession, Tom 
 hunted up Alvy and his cronies at Alvy s stable
 
 COMPARISONS 315 
 
 office, where they still gathered, and stored up in 
 his memory their quaint sayings, their ludicrous 
 stories, and the healthy philosophy. He took 
 Polly skating and sleighriding, or sat before the 
 Squire s fireplace telling her amusing experiences 
 of his in New York, Bar Harbor, Cape May, and 
 other places where he had spent his time and 
 much of his father s money. 
 
 Here Sam joined them often on his return from 
 the office or from court, and laughed and listened 
 while Tom ran on in his whimsical fashion. Of 
 course Sam was glad to see Tom again and to talk 
 over with him the thousand things of the past that 
 now seemed so far away to him, but at his heart 
 Sam felt a sort of resentful uneasiness at his 
 return, his very evident partiality for Polly s 
 society, and her unaffected pleasure in his. 
 
 Tom was a good fellow, an amusing, happy-go- 
 lucky chap, but surely not the man for a girl like 
 Polly. Of course, he did n t wish to marry Polly. 
 She was a child, for one thing, and, for another, 
 Sam was still bitterly sore over his experience 
 with Ethel, and fancied himself still in love with 
 her. He never mentioned her, even to Tom, al 
 though he would have liked to know how she was 
 getting along. He had occasionally run across 
 items in the Boston paper chronicling New York 
 events which mentioned Ethel as a very popular 
 young married woman, in the boxes at the horse
 
 316 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 show, on the top of a drag at the races, or one of a 
 committee in charge of a bazaar in the interest of 
 sweet charity. 
 
 Sam had not been to New York since he came 
 to Elmtown. He had been asked by the Squire 
 several times to go, but he had shown so much 
 reluctance that the Squire had gone in his place. 
 But during the legislative session, which had been 
 prolonged beyond all precedent, a bill was passed 
 which brought to Sam s attention, and that very 
 forcibly, two of his New York acquaintances. 
 This was the passing of a bill incorporating the 
 Connecticut River Improvement Club, which 
 was stated in the bill to be for the purpose of 
 raising, importing, and improving the breed of 
 horses and other domestic animals. For this pur 
 pose the corporation was to have the right to 
 hold fairs, races, and contests of speed, skill, and 
 endurance, and offer purses, prizes, premiums, 
 and sweepstakes, and charge and receive entrance 
 fees. The bill further provided for the appoint 
 ment of police officers to preserve order and to 
 prevent all violations of law in relation to book- 
 making, pool-selling, gambling, for the prohibi 
 tion of the maintenance of any betting-ring or 
 place for the placing of bets ; for the posting on 
 the grounds of the corporation of placards for 
 bidding any form of gambling. The bill was 
 drawn with the greatest skill and apparent fair-
 
 COMPARISONS 317 
 
 ness, and under a suspension of rules in both 
 houses had passed almost unanimously. Of the 
 ten men whose names appeared as charter mem 
 bers of the corporation were John C. Van Cleves, 
 Robert Tiverton, and John W. Wetherbee. 
 
 Sam came into the office one morning and 
 found the Squire reading the Capital City Adver 
 tiser, which always gave the legislative reports in 
 full. 
 
 "Here, Sam," said the Squire shortly, "read 
 this and tell me how it strikes you." 
 
 Sam took the article, read a moment, then 
 gave an exclamation of surprise. 
 
 "It s safe to bet there is something wrong with 
 it when Colonel Van Cleves and Bob Tiverton 
 are in it," he remarked. 
 
 "What do you say about Wetherbee s name?" 
 said the Squire. 
 
 "He is the catspaw," answered Sam, reading. 
 
 Sam finished the article, pondered a moment 
 with drawn brows, then handed it to the Squire. 
 
 "I think, Mr. Branch, that this bill is the rank 
 est piece of legislative myopia I ever heard of. 
 That section providing for civil liability for pool- 
 selling and book-making, and exempting them 
 from criminal liability, is a plain case of illegal 
 discrimination. Is n t that so?" asked Sam. 
 
 "All of that, my boy, one of the most adroitly 
 conceived frauds in the history of legislation.
 
 318 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 But it is important to you, because, Sam, that 
 bill will make you County Solicitor in two years 
 from now," said the Squire, with decision. 
 
 "County Solicitor!" said Sam, in surprise; 
 "how do you figure that out?" 
 
 "Plain as a carbuncle on a man s neck," 
 replied the Squire. "Mark my words, Sam, there 
 will be a howl about this. In a month from now, 
 if not before, three fourths of the members of the 
 Senate and House will be trying to explain why 
 they allowed themselves to be buncoed into pass 
 ing this bill, and the newspapers will be rapping 
 them in every issue. I believe that a very great 
 majority of our senators and representatives will 
 be perfectly sincere in saying that they" were de 
 ceived, for the bill is drawn with the guile of the 
 Devil himself. Then people will forget about it 
 until the races are held, and then there will be 
 another howl, but no interference with the races. 
 When the election of a new County Solicitor is 
 held, the man who will prosecute book-makers, 
 pool-sellers, and gamblers under the criminal 
 law is the one who will be elected County 
 Solicitor." 
 
 " What fools they were ! " exclaimed Sam. " If 
 they had left out that exemption clause, there 
 would have been no real opposition, but the peo 
 ple will fight discrimination to the last ditch." 
 
 The Squire s words were prophetic. Within a
 
 COMPARISONS 319 
 
 week after the final adjournment of the session 
 an article appeared in a leading weekly fiercely 
 attacking the Connecticut River Improvement 
 Company, and a storm of newspaper comment 
 was stirred up, by which the unfortunate mem 
 bers of the Great and General Court were lam 
 basted within an inch of their political lives. 
 
 In March, Sam went to New York for a week, 
 partly on business for the firm, and partly be 
 cause he felt that he ought to go and see whether 
 or not he was thoroughly weaned from his old 
 associations, and he had a great and overwhelm 
 ing curiosity to see Ethel in her new role as a 
 society woman. 
 
 When he alighted from the train at the Grand 
 Central Station, he found Tom with a cab. Tom 
 fell on him joyfully. After they had manhandled 
 one another, Sam piled his baggage into the cab, 
 and dismissed it, as he wished to walk up Forty- 
 second Street and down Fifth Avenue once more. 
 Tom, who could not quite understand Sam s en 
 thusiasm, agreed somewhat doubtfully, but was 
 still more astonished when they arrived at Fifth 
 Avenue and Sam stopped at the lower corner of 
 Forty-second Street and signalled a five cent 
 bus. 
 
 "What under the canopy, Sam, is the matter 
 with you? Ye gods! Ride in a bus! Why, the 
 fellows will laugh at me for a month."
 
 320 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Let them laugh. That s what you always 
 have to do when you are entertaining a friend 
 from the country. So pile right in for Central 
 Park. I have n t been there for nearly four years, 
 and I am very anxious to find out whether or not 
 an old friend of mine is still alive. He looked 
 about a hundred years old the last time I saw 
 him," said Sam, with a laugh. 
 
 "Who is it? What is his name?" 
 
 "He was called Jock. Don t you remember 
 that old blue-nosed mandrill, a sort of a dog- 
 faced baboon that we used to see when we were 
 boys? That one with the bald places on his rump 
 and the two peacock blue patches on his nose, and 
 horrible slant eyes?" asked Sam with enthusiasm. 
 
 : Yes, yes, Sam, I remember him now. 
 Was n t he a savage old beggar? I used to dream 
 of him," said Tom. "Then there was a bob- 
 tailed monkey that had lost part of its tail by 
 getting it caught in a door. Do you remember how 
 it used to try and swing from its trapeze by its 
 tail and what thumping falls it got, and how kill- 
 ingly it used to look up to the bar and wonder 
 what was the trouble?" 
 
 "Tom, do you remember the time you gave 
 snuff to the elephant?" 
 
 "I guess I do; I paid five dollars for it in the 
 police court, and my father did n t let me go to 
 the park for the rest of the season," said Tom,
 
 COMPARISONS 321 
 
 grinning. "They say an elephant only sneezes 
 about once a year, but that one beat the record 
 all right. I thought he would blow up the build- 
 ing." 
 
 "Here we are," said Sam, pulling the strap and 
 jumping out. "Now for some buns and peanuts 
 for the animals." 
 
 For an hour and a half they wandered through 
 the Zoo with keen enjoyment, and to their great 
 delight Jock and the bob-tailed monkey were 
 still alive. The familiar scenes brought up a 
 thousand long-forgotten events in their boyhood, 
 and when the hour for closing came they were 
 chattering like two boys. 
 
 Then they hailed a cab, drove to Tom s lodg 
 ings, bathed, dressed, and went to dinner at 
 Sherry s. It was delightful to Sam again to sit 
 down to a perfectly ordered dinner, with snowy 
 linen, shining silver, and polished glass. Tom 
 ordered the very best, and it seemed to Sam that 
 he had never eaten a better dinner or enjoyed 
 himself as well. And then he happened to think 
 of that night nearly four years before when he had 
 met Ethel and had quarreled with Colonel Van 
 Cleves, and in spite of himself he writhed in 
 wardly. He looked again towards that corner 
 where the rubber plants still stood, and for a mo 
 ment the scene came back so vividly that he 
 almost fancied she was there again.
 
 322 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Then Anthony and Jim Driver came, jubilant, 
 to his table and shook him powerfully by the 
 hand, and greeted him as a long-lost wayward 
 brother. 
 
 "What have you been doing to yourself , old 
 man?" Driver said, wondering. "Here you are as 
 lean and muscular as a college rowing-man and 
 as fit as a thoroughbred steeple-chaser. Look at 
 Anthony and me. We have to wear suspenders 
 now, for a belt slips over our hips unless we hitch 
 it round us just under our arms. Bill Anderson is 
 getting as bald as a glass marble, and Bob Tiver- 
 ton looks like a bass drum, and has a complexion 
 like a cranberry pudding. But you! why, man, 
 how in the world do you do it?" 
 
 "By hard work, I guess," said Sam; "I walk a 
 good deal, canoe some, ride whenever I can, and 
 spar with the gymnasium boys several times a 
 week, I work hard in the office, and sleep like a 
 graven image." 
 
 "You will be in at the club to-night, Tom," 
 said Jim; "remember there is a stewards meet- 
 ing." 
 
 "All right, Jim, I ll be there," said Tom. 
 
 "See you then, Sam; got to go now," said the 
 two, and away they went. 
 
 "They have changed a lot, Tom," said Sam 
 regretfully. "What is the reason, do they steam 
 it?"
 
 COMPARISONS 323 
 
 "Late hours, a fast gait, no exercise and no 
 business. That is the matter with most of us. I 
 suppose, Sam," said Tom rather wistfully, "that 
 you find some change in me?" 
 
 "You are not looking quite as fit as I should 
 like to see you, Tom," replied Sam, "but you are 
 laps ahead of them. All you need is a profession 
 or business or some aim in life, and regular exer 
 cise, while they will have to unlearn a few things." 
 
 That evening at the club, Sam renewed his 
 acquaintance with many of his old friends, and 
 met again some of his college acquaintances. 
 Much to his pleasure he found some who were 
 keen-eyed, shrewd lawyers, doctors, or business 
 men, but equally to his sorrow many of the most 
 promising youngsters had developed into fleshy, 
 puffy, and unattractive men, whose sole occupa 
 tion seemed to be the choosing of a dinner or the 
 cut of their clothes. 
 
 They all appeared vastly surprised at the 
 change in Sam, which had added a keenness, con 
 fidence, and self-reliance to his natural good qual 
 ities that had made him a favorite as a youth. 
 
 The next morning, Sam, who had become ac 
 customed to country habits of early rising, was 
 up at seven and in Tom s room, causing a sleepy 
 protest from Tom, who refused to get up, claiming 
 that there was no sense in getting up in the middle 
 of the night. Accordingly Sam, after a cold bath
 
 324 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 and brisk rubdown, took a walk through the 
 streets, stopping in a restaurant for a roll and a 
 cup of coffee, then for an hour tramped over the 
 well-known streets, returned at half-past eight, 
 and found Tom still sleeping. This time he was 
 less patient, and slipping his arm under Tom s 
 shoulders, pulled his head and arms over the side 
 of the bed and let go suddenly. 
 
 Tom awoke, clawing wildly. 
 
 "Sam, you ruffian, I thought I had fallen from 
 a church steeple five hundred feet high. That s 
 the most effective eye-opener I ever had yet. 
 Gee, I m wide awake," and he jumped from the 
 bed and hit Sam a most tremendous blow with 
 the bolster. Sam fled and Tom jumped into his 
 bath. Then they went to breakfast at Mc 
 Dowell s. 
 
 After breakfast, Sam went first to the largest 
 and most expensive store in the city, where he 
 bought a most beautiful spring suit for Polly 
 from written memoranda made by Miss Ellis, 
 who had conspired with him to make her eight 
 eenth birthday memorable. Then he spent a 
 half -hour with the Manhattan Trust Company, 
 where he had some business, an hour with 
 Brewster and Anderson, a firm of lawyers with 
 whom the Squire had done business for years, 
 and then was free for the day. They lunched at 
 one at the Calumet, and at three were in the sad-
 
 COMPARISONS 325 
 
 die bound for the bridle path in the park. After 
 making a turn or two through the winding roads, 
 which were rapidly filling with riders, they began 
 to thread their way through the mass of carriages 
 on the carriage path. 
 
 Suddenly he heard his name called. "Sam! 
 Sam! Mr. Randolph!" He started, drew up his 
 horse sharply, and looked around. 
 
 Just across the road from him, drawn up on the 
 side of the path, was a victoria drawn by a pair of 
 high-headed, dock-tailed horses with shining 
 harness. The coachman, with his whip held at 
 the right angle, his hands high, and his eyes fixed 
 on his team, sat stiffly on the box, while at his 
 side, like the coachman in cords and livery, his 
 arms folded, his eyes fixed on the ears of the near 
 horse, and his face preserving the stony gaze pecu 
 liar to a death mask, sat the groom. As the car 
 riage stopped, he sprang to the ground and stood 
 at the horses heads, erect and stiff as a hitching- 
 post. 
 
 In the back seat of the carriage sat two ladies. 
 One, an elderly plain woman in sober garments, 
 evidently a duenna, chaperon, or companion to a 
 handsome, showily dressed young woman in 
 priceless furs of the silver fox. It was Ethel. Sam 
 wheeled his horse, spurred him to the carriage, 
 and in a moment was bending over her gloved 
 hand.
 
 326 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Why, Sam, is it really you? What an age of 
 ages it is since we met." 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Tiverton," said Sam, smiling; "it 
 has been a long time. Nearly four years away 
 from New York. Do you wonder that I look thin 
 and old?" 
 
 "Why, Sam, I never saw you looking so well 
 and strong. All the rest of my friends have 
 changed so much, but you how do you manage 
 it?" she said. 
 
 "Country air and hard work, I suppose. That 
 will help any one." 
 
 "And is it really so, that you are a lawyer in a 
 country town and are making a name for yourself, 
 Sam?" 
 
 "It is really true that I am a lawyer and work 
 ing hard, but I can t quite agree to the latter pro 
 position, Mrs. Tiverton," replied Sam, laughing. 
 
 "Mrs. Tiverton! how dreadfully formal. You 
 used to call me Ethel once." 
 
 ;< Yes, but that was very long ago. Y ou can 
 scarcely expect an obscure country lawyer to call 
 one of the most prominent New York society wo 
 men by her first name, now can you, Mrs. Tiver 
 ton?" asked Sam, with a glimmer of amusement 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "Perhaps not, but I rather hoped you would. 
 You have not congratulated me on my ah 
 marriage," she said, after a while.
 
 COMPARISONS 327 
 
 "I have never before had an opportunity. I do 
 now with all my heart. You certainly have 
 everything to make you happy, I am sure," 
 replied Sam. 
 
 "Ah, here comes Bob," said she, as a puffy, 
 red-faced, heavy man, sitting his horse badly, 
 and appearing very much out of his element, 
 joined them. 
 
 "Hullo, Randolph," he said familiarly, and 
 with a touch of insolence. 
 
 "Hullo, Tiverton," replied Sam pleasantly, 
 offering his hand, which Bob took rather reluc 
 tantly and dropped after a lifeless shake, say 
 ing, - 
 
 "How did you come to New York? I thought 
 you were down among the Indians." 
 
 "Well, I have been, but occasionally one of 
 us Indians gets loose for a few days and runs 
 away." 
 
 "Hullo, there is the Van Cleves carriage. Ex 
 cuse me, I must speak to the Colonel," and Bob 
 rode off, jolting hard in his saddle and looking 
 very much like a bag of meal. 
 
 Then Sam turned to Ethel, who was speaking. 
 
 "Sam, you will come to see me before you go 
 back, will you not?" 
 
 : Thank you, no; I go back on the midnight 
 train to-night, and I have more engagements 
 than I can keep, I am afraid," replied Sam.
 
 328 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "And you are really contented in your small 
 town?" she asked wistfully. 
 
 "Yes, I am contented. There have been times 
 when I have chafed a little. But I have grown 
 into the life of the place and I love my work and 
 my friends there," said Sam earnestly. 
 
 "And happy?" she asked, almost in a whisper 
 as her eyes sought his. 
 
 "Yes, happy," he replied, "as a man can be 
 who has health, friends, and an absorbing occu 
 pation." 
 
 She looked away across the park a moment. 
 
 "But I must not detain you, your friend is 
 waiting. Good-by, Sam," she said in a low voice. 
 
 "Good-by," replied Sam, raising his hat 
 gravely. 
 
 Then he wheeled his horse and rode off, joining 
 Tom, who was waiting at the entrance of the 
 drive. 
 
 Ethel watched him as he rode away, sitting 
 erect and easy in his saddle. Then her eyes wan 
 dered to where her husband sat on his horse talk 
 ing to Colonel Van Cleves. His hat was aslant on 
 his head, a round bald spot showed under its rim 
 behind. There was a transverse wrinkle in the 
 back of his coat, his face was flushed and perspir 
 ing, his body was shapeless and jellylike, and she 
 turned away her eyes. Across the park people 
 came and went, children played, a park police-
 
 COMPARISONS 329 
 
 man swung his club as he sauntered along, but 
 she noted none of those things. Then a passing 
 cloud blotted out the sunlight, and everything 
 was gray and cold and dreary, a dreary, dreary 
 world. She shivered, turned to the coachman, 
 and said, "Home, Dennis." 
 
 Tom and Sam trotted on in silence. 
 
 Finalty, Sam said, "Tom, what a shame that 
 Ethel could not have married you. She would 
 have been happy with you and New York. As it 
 is, poor girl, she has been sacrificed, sold to an 
 underbred cad. 
 
 "Tom, I don t blame Bob Tiverton as much as 
 I do old Van Cleves. God help him, if I ever get a 
 crack at him. He is to blame for ruining that 
 poor girFs happiness. If ever there was a cold 
 blooded sale, that was one," and he spurred his 
 horse, which plunged and reared. 
 
 "Whoa, old lady! easy, girl! I didn t mean 
 that for you. There, that s better," said Sam, as 
 he soothed his mount. "What s up for to-night, 
 Tom? It s my last day here." 
 
 "Last day here! Whatever do you mean, 
 Sam? I thought you w r ere here for a visit, not a 
 measly little stop-over." 
 
 "I was, Tom, but the midnight train this P.M. 
 takes me back to Elmtown. I must get back." 
 
 "When did you make up your mind?" 
 
 "Five minutes ago, just."
 
 330 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "I don t quite understand, Sam," said Tom, 
 looking at Sam a bit uneasily. "You don t seem 
 like a broken man exactly." 
 
 " I 11 tell you, Tommy, my boy. One reason for 
 my visit was business for the Squire. Another 
 was, and this is a matter that I have n t spoken 
 about to any one but you, to see whether or not I 
 could see Ethel and find out if I was cured. I 
 don t mind telling you, Tom, that I was tremen 
 dously cut up when she threw me over, and for a 
 long time it seemed about an even thing whether 
 I should go to the devil or not. But hard work, 
 good friends, and one or two exciting things that 
 happened helped me. To-day I found out another 
 thing. I am thoroughly cured. So thoroughly, 
 that I am almost ashamed of myself. And I want 
 to get back as soon as I can and get to work. I 
 feel as if I could do a tremendous amount of good 
 work. The April Term of court comes on soon 
 and there is plenty to do in preparation. Tom, I 
 wish you were going with me. Why don t you 
 try it once? You New Yorkers speak of the ruts 
 that country people get into. Don t you know 
 that your life here is a rut. And just as narrow^ a 
 rut as was ever traveled by a country wheel?" 
 
 "Yes, I do know that, Sam, but I m afraid I 
 have traveled too long in that rut. I m not quite 
 equal to the heroic remedy of burning my 
 bridges, as you were."
 
 COMPARISONS 331 
 
 "Well, Tom, mine were burned for me. I only 
 set fire to the last plank. I m glad of it now, I 
 believe I have been glad of it every moment since 
 I saw it burn up." 
 
 Tom shook his head despondently. "Too 
 late, Sam, I m rooted here," he said as they came 
 out of the bridle path and loped briskly for the 
 stables. 
 
 That night they dined at Tom s club and after 
 dinner sat in the smoking-room. It had turned 
 cold and wet, and a good many members came 
 in. Some were acquaintances of Sam s and many 
 sought an introduction to him. Bob Tiverton 
 came in, and later Delano, a lawyer, head of a 
 powerful firm of corporation lawyers, and Good- 
 hue, a financier. They were presented to Sam by 
 Tom, who ordered cocktails. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Randolph," said Delano, "I 
 understand you are from Rockaway County, 
 New Hampshire. How far from your town is 
 Salvage?" 
 
 "About twelve miles, I should say," replied 
 Sam. 
 
 "Then you will have a chance to see a good 
 many of your New York friends from now on. I 
 refer to the incorporation of the Connecticut 
 River Improvement Company. I suppose I 
 might get you a bit of stock at par if you wish," 
 said Delano.
 
 332 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Delano, but par is a big 
 figure or will be within a year," replied Sam. 
 
 "Big figure! I should say not," said Goodhue; 
 "why, it will be selling at 180 before six months." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right, but if I had any, I 
 should jump at any such figure." 
 
 " What is the matter with the proposition, any 
 way?" asked Delano. 
 
 That section of the bill exempting book 
 makers, pool-sellers, and betters from any but 
 civil liability," replied Sam. That is as uncon 
 stitutional as anything can be, and the people 
 know it." 
 
 "Does n t the act of incorporation provide spe 
 cial regulation and the appointment of special 
 officers to prevent anything of the kind?" asked 
 Delano, with a confident smile. 
 
 "It does, without any question, and then says 
 that if they do gamble on the races and win, they 
 can be compelled to restore their winnings, that s 
 all," replied Sam, with a smile. 
 
 "Is n t that fair enough? The same thing was 
 declared constitutional in New York," insisted 
 Delano. 
 
 "Not as the people in New Hampshire will 
 view it. I don t think our people are very toler 
 ant of discrimination, and they are mighty liable 
 to kick over the traces when they have been 
 fooled, as they were in this case," said Sam.
 
 COMPARISONS 333 
 
 "Your people!" said Bob Tiverton, with a 
 sneer. "A set of country clodhoppers. I should 
 be mighty proud of them if I were you. I could 
 buy the whole legislature." 
 
 "I have no doubt you would if you could, 
 Tiverton, "said Sam, good-naturedly. "But that 
 is just what you can t do. But I ll admit you 
 fooled them. As for being proud of my country 
 clodhoppers, as you call them, I am, and I hope 
 some day they will think well of me," answered 
 Sam. 
 
 "Hold on a moment, Bob," interposed De 
 lano, as Tiverton started to reply hotly. " What I 
 wish to know, Mr. Randolph, is, how do the 
 people feel about it now?" 
 
 They feel as if they had been fooled, and they 
 don t like it. Just now the feeling has died down 
 a bit, but as soon as the races are held, the feeling 
 will increase." 
 
 "But are the people so down on racing as this 
 would indicate?" asked Goodhue. 
 
 "I don t think so," replied Sam. "I under 
 stand there has always been racing and pool- 
 selling at county fairs, and if the firm who drew 
 the bill had left out that exemption clause, no 
 thing would have been thought of it. But to 
 pass the bill under suspension of the rules with 
 that clause in it, raised the rumpus." 
 
 "Oh, well, I guess they will get over it. You
 
 334 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 see the honest tiller of the soil is not going to pre 
 vent a lot of money coming into the state," said 
 Goodhue confidently. 
 
 "Perhaps you are right, but that is a mighty 
 dangerous assumption, and an unsafe proposition 
 to risk money on," replied Sam. 
 
 "What will happen, if we hold races and sell 
 pools?" asked Delano. 
 
 "Prosecution, if the County Solicitor is up to 
 his work," said Sam crisply. 
 
 "And what if he is not, would any private 
 parties take it upon themselves to commence 
 prosecutions?" asked Goodhue. 
 
 "Doubtful, I should say. But I think the 
 temper of the people would be such that the 
 Solicitor would be obliged to prosecute," said 
 Sam. 
 
 "Let s see, you were a candidate last year, and 
 got licked, did you not?" said Tiverton. 
 
 "I was, and got most thoroughly licked," said 
 Sam, laughing. 
 
 "Are you to be a candidate again?" asked 
 Delano. 
 
 "How long does the present Solicitor hold 
 office?" said Goodhue. 
 
 There is an election every two years. I shall 
 try again, of course," said Sam. 
 
 "And get licked again," said Tiverton, with a 
 sneer.
 
 COMPARISONS 335 
 
 "I think very likely," assented Sam, lighting 
 a fresh cigar. 
 
 "He will, if there is money enough in New 
 York to make him," growled Tiverton, in an aside 
 to Goodhue. "Van Cleves will see to that," and 
 Goodhue nodded somewhat doubtfully. 
 
 At 12.30 the next morning Sam fell asleep in 
 his berth in the Flying Express, and at 9.30 piled 
 his grips into Alvy s hack, climbed to the box and 
 nodded to his acquaintances as he bowled away to 
 his office.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 OUT OF THE PAST 
 
 WHILE Sam was in New York, the Squire was 
 working one day on another lease for old 
 Caleb Terrill, who did much real estate business 
 in addition to the business of the firm. Miss Ellis 
 was clicking away at her machine, and the sounds 
 of the streets came faintly through the closed 
 windows. The street in front of the office was a 
 mass of melting snow and spring mud. A few 
 sleighs and sleds were still in use, but broad-tired 
 wheels and mud wagons predominated. 
 
 The farmers in the neighboring towns were for 
 the most part at work at their woodpiles, fencing, 
 or burning refuse, and callers were few in the 
 office. 
 
 Entered a tall, strongly built man of about the 
 Squire s age. His hair was curly, his complexion 
 tanned to a dark olive, his manner was insolent 
 and confident even to aggressiveness. But it was 
 his peculiar eyes that bred instinctive dislike. 
 They were small, greenish black, and piercing. 
 One had a small cast or imperfection, a slight 
 slant that made his glance shifty and snake- 
 like.
 
 OUT OF THE PAST 337 
 
 The Squire looked up. " Can I do anything for 
 you, sir?" he inquired, with his usual courtesy. 
 
 "You can, sir; can we speak without the young 
 woman there hearing us?" indicating with an inso 
 lent nod, Miss Ellis, who colored with indigna 
 tion. 
 
 "Go into my private office, sir, I will be with 
 you in a moment," said the Squire curtly. 
 
 "But my business is important, Squire 
 Branch," said the stranger sharply. 
 
 "So is mine, sir," replied the Squire, "and if 
 you cannot wait, go to some other office," and he 
 resumed work on the lease. 
 
 In the private office the stranger paced the 
 floor and muttered, "Damn him! he won t be so 
 cocky when he finds out who I am and what I 
 know. That cheek will cost him about a dollar 
 for every minute he keeps me waitin ." 
 
 Finally, the Squire finished reading the lease, 
 arose, gave it to Miss Ellis with instructions for 
 immediate delivery and comparison with old 
 Caleb, and as she left, he entered the private 
 office. 
 
 "Well, sir, what is your business?" he inquired 
 curtly. 
 
 "I ll shut the door, Squire Branch," the stran 
 ger said, suiting the action to the word. "Now, 
 sir, my business is this. Your real name is 
 Stanley Furber."
 
 338 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 The Squire started violently and stared at the 
 man. 
 
 "You killed a man once in a saloon in Timber- 
 wolf." 
 
 The Squire sat down heavily and the color 
 faded from his face. 
 
 "Huh! that fetched yer. P r aps you re not so 
 pizen busy now," snarled the stranger. "You 
 took his little girl with you, and came East, and 
 changed your name?" 
 
 The Squire arose, turned, unlocked a closet 
 door, took out a bottle, poured out a glass of 
 whiskey, and drank it at a gulp. The burning 
 liquor picked him up a bit, and a faint color 
 returned to his dead gray face. 
 
 "Who in the devil are you?" he asked. 
 
 "I m Bill Simpson. I was cookee in the Gulch 
 Shack, and was in the Timberwolf saloon when 
 you got the drop on the Tarantula. 
 
 "Well, I was acquitted, was n t I?" 
 
 : Yes, you were acquitted all right. If you 
 had n t killed him, he would have killed you," 
 said Simpson. 
 
 "Well, why do you bring that up after so many 
 years, man? Don t you think I have suffered 
 enough?" said the Squire huskily. "It was a 
 justifiable killing, but I have never been able to 
 get that man s face out of my mind. It has al 
 ways been a weight on me."
 
 OUT OF THE PAST 339 
 
 "Oh, rats! I never should have minded it a 
 bit." 
 
 "Well, I did mind it, and I have tried to for 
 get it, but could n t," said the Squire with a 
 groan. 
 
 "Well, nobody knows it but myself, and no 
 body will from me; that is if you do the right 
 thing," continued Simpson with a leer. 
 
 " What do you mean by the right thing? " asked 
 the Squire, stiffening. 
 
 "That s easy enough. The only thing I ve got 
 that s worth a cent is your secret. I ve got that 
 all right. You ve got money. Let s trade," said 
 Simpson. 
 
 The Squire sprang from his seat. "Blackmail! 
 you mean, you thieving cur! Get out of my 
 office before I throw you out," he hissed tensely. 
 
 The stranger leaned forward and shook his 
 finger at the Squire. "All right, Stanley Furber, 
 put me out if you will, and if you don t care what 
 people think of you, but how will you like to have 
 that niece of yours, the Tarantula s granddaugh 
 ter, know that her so-called uncle, Mr. Ira 
 Branch, killed her own grandfather? How will 
 she feel about it when she finds out that she is the 
 granddaughter of a murderer, and the meanest 
 cutthroat in the West? Go ahead now and throw 
 me out. I won t resist." 
 
 The Squire shrunk back as if he had been
 
 340 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 struck. The sweat started from his face. "My 
 God!" he said, "I did n t think of her, I did n t 
 think of her." 
 
 Finally, he made a desperate attempt to regain 
 his composure. "Well, how much do you want? " 
 he asked. 
 
 "I shall have to think it over. You can give 
 me a couple of hundred dollars now, I shall be 
 here a few days. But no devil s tricks," he added, 
 truculently. "I don t intend to remain in this 
 God-forsaken country any longer than I can 
 help, but any attempt to have me arrested for 
 blackmail and your secret is known to the papers, 
 and you know what that means," he said with a 
 grim smile. 
 
 The Squire unlocked the safe, took out a roll of 
 bills, counted out two hundred dollars, and gave 
 them to the man, who counted them again care 
 fully, rolled them into a wad, stuffed them into 
 his trousers pocket, nodded, and went out. 
 
 But the Squire sat there a long time, his face 
 hidden in his hands, his mind trying vainly to see 
 a way out of the tangle. He did not mind the loss 
 of the money. But the knowledge of what he had 
 feared for years, that Polly would find out the 
 dreadful truth, made his courage fail and his 
 heart as weak as water. Would the spectre never 
 down? Was there to be no end of the trouble? 
 God knows he had tried to do his best to every
 
 OUT OF THE PAST 341 
 
 one. God knows he had repented of his hasty act 
 by a lifetime of remorse, but he had killed a 
 man ! It was a long time ago, but he had 
 killed a man!
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 SAM COMES BACK 
 
 LEAVING the driver to take his baggage to his 
 rooms, Sam sprang down at the well-known 
 building, ran up the stairs, opened the door of 
 the office and stood amazed at what he saw; the 
 Squire, white, trembling, his eyes terrified, sat 
 limp in his chair, while over him with clenched fist 
 stood a brawny sunburned man with grizzled gray 
 hair, a hawk nose, and a drooping gray mustache. 
 
 As Sam entered the man said, "You ll do it, 
 damn you! or I ll smash you." 
 
 In a moment the man was whirled across the 
 room and thrown headlong into a corner, while 
 over him stood Sam, his blood boiling and his 
 muscles tingling. 
 
 In an instant the Squire sprang between them. 
 "Sam! Sam! what do you mean by interfering? 
 Stand back, and let him get up. You re not hurt, 
 Simpson? Sam is quick and strong, but he did n t 
 understand, he thought you were threatening 
 me." 
 
 Sam stared at the Squire in astonishment. 
 
 Simpson slowly arose, his small snaky eyes 
 gleaming green, his mouth drawn in a snarl:
 
 SAM COMES BACK 343 
 
 "Is this the way, Furber, you welcome your 
 friends? You won t get the drop on me again 
 young man," said the man, clapping his hand 
 with a significant gesture on his right hip. 
 
 "Simpson, I did n t expect Sam so soon and I 
 should have told him of your visit. Sam, this is 
 Mr. Simpson, an old friend of mine when I was a 
 boy. He came to make me a visit. I trust you 
 will be friends." 
 
 Sam stared at the Squire who he felt was 
 acting a part, but he said slowly, "I am very sorry 
 I was violent to Mr. Simpson, and I beg his par 
 don. I really thought he was threatening you, 
 and of course I could n t stand that." 
 
 Simpson affected a smile that curiously twisted 
 his mouth, leaving his eyes hard and cold like the 
 eyes of a reptile. : The young chap can t speak 
 
 no fairer than that, so we ll say no more about 
 
 *i_ 
 it. 
 
 But he did not offer his hand to Sam, very 
 much to his relief. 
 
 The Squire smiled. "There, that s good. Now 
 everything is pleasant. Now, Sam, I am glad you 
 are back. Pettengill will be over this morning at 
 ten with his plans and witnesses. Will you take 
 them off my hands? I must go out with Simpson. 
 Polly will be delighted to see you. She has 
 missed you, I know, as we all have. I sent Miss 
 Ellis to the bank and to Emery s on the Plains.
 
 344 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 When she comes back, have her copy the Trust 
 Company deed and the statement of the New 
 York lawyers. Shall you have to go to your rooms 
 first?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Branch, I am ready now. I sent 
 up my baggage and I am glad to get at work 
 again." 
 
 Then the Squire and Simpson left the office. 
 
 Sam stared at their departing backs. It seemed 
 as if the Squire had aged since he went away. 
 What was the matter? Something was wrong, 
 and that something had to do with Simpson. 
 There was no question about it. Simpson was 
 threatening the Squire, and the Squire was 
 shaken. He of all men ! Sam paced up and down 
 the office, but could make nothing of the mys 
 tery. Just then Miss Ellis came in and greeted 
 Sam warmly, and asked about his trip and the 
 articles bought for Polly. 
 
 As soon as he could get a chance, Sam asked 
 her about Simpson, but he could not get much 
 information from her beyond the fact that he had 
 come in one day, had asked for the Squire, had 
 been admitted to his private office; that they had 
 talked for a long time together, and the Squire 
 had been very much agitated. Miss Ellis also said 
 that she was afraid of Simpson ; afraid of his eyes 
 and his villainous mouth. 
 
 As Sam could make no headway, and as Pet-
 
 SAM COMES BACK 345 
 
 tengill just then came with his plans and wit 
 nesses, Sam put aside his perplexity and plunged 
 into the case. 
 
 He took supper at Billy McDougalPs with Ben 
 and Williams, and that night he called at the 
 Squire s to see Polly. The Squire listened and 
 smoked and said very little, and Sam noticed that 
 Polly glanced at him with much solicitude. 
 
 As ten o clock struck and Sam left, she followed 
 him to the door, contrary to her usual custom and 
 said, "Sam, I am worried about Uncle Ira. He 
 does not seem well at all ; he seems worried about 
 something. Are his cases troubling him?" 
 
 Sam affected to laugh at her fears. "The 
 Squire has a number of very important cases, and 
 of course they worry him more or less. But don t 
 you worry. He will come out all right. I can 
 take a good deal of the work off his shoulders 
 now r , I hope." 
 
 "I m so glad you are back, Sam. I know 
 Uncle Ira has missed you." 
 
 "I hope you have too, Polly." 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course, we all have," she replied; 
 "but Uncle Ira most of all, I guess; and I can t 
 say how much I thank you for those beautiful 
 things, Sam." 
 
 As Sam went to his rooms he felt far from reas 
 sured in his mind. But he was tired and fell 
 asleep as soon as he got in bed, and did not wake
 
 346 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 until the sun shone in his window and burned 
 open his eyes. 
 
 A few days after that, Simpson left town, and 
 Sam noticed at once that the Squire was in 
 tensely relieved, and he and Sam got to work 
 with great vigor and satisfaction. But still he was 
 not the same bluff Squire. There was a change in 
 him that worried Sam. He would sit for long 
 periods thinking deeply, and did not have the 
 same ardor for work as before. But at the April 
 Term he tried his cases as thoroughly and effec 
 tively as ever. 
 
 In June the splendid buildings and the magni 
 ficent race-track of the Improvement Company 
 were finished, and a ten days series of races was 
 held. This caused a great deal of criticism, but 
 no prosecutions were instituted. Later in the 
 season, in September, a second course of two 
 weeks races was held which was widely at 
 tended. Book-making and pool-selling were open 
 and flagrant, but no interference was made by the 
 authorities. 
 
 In January of the following year, the Governor 
 filed with the Supreme Court a petition asking 
 for an opinion in relation to the legality of the 
 maintenance of the track for the purposes of 
 pool-selling, book-making, and betting, and in a 
 short time a very carefully written opinion was 
 handed down in which the five judges unani-
 
 SAM COMES BACK 347 
 
 mously held that the maintenance of the track 
 for the purposes for which it had been used was in 
 plain violation of law. 
 
 In June of that year the races were held as be 
 fore, and in open disregard of the opinion of the 
 Supreme Court, and without interference of the 
 authorities. A few days after the meeting, fiery 
 and scathing editorials appeared in the Capital 
 City Advertiser, the two leading dailies of the 
 Mill City, and on Friday the better class of week 
 lies all over the state were firing broadsides at the 
 Improvement Company, while some of the 
 political sheets defended it vigorously. But the 
 Solicitor made no move. 
 
 During the summer Simpson again appeared, 
 and the effect on the Squire was marked. He 
 was absent-minded, nervous, irritable, and inter 
 mittent in his work. Polly knew something was 
 wrong and in some way connected it with Simp 
 son, who had called at the house once or twice, 
 and had once accosted her on the street. 
 
 When Sam found this out, he was white with 
 wrath, and meeting Simpson one day alone, he 
 said, "Mr. Simpson, just one word with you. I 
 don t know what hold you have on Mr. Branch, 
 and I don t wish to know. But if you ever speak 
 to his niece Polly again, or look at her with your 
 snaky eyes, I ll break your back as I would a 
 snake s."
 
 348 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Simpson grinned his evil smile. "You are 
 pretty fresh, young man, but you may sing a dif 
 ferent tune some day." 
 
 "That may be, but the first time you speak or 
 look at her, you ll stop singing forever, and let 
 me tell you one thing more, if you plan any mis 
 chief against Mr. Branch, you ll have this town 
 on you like hounds on a wolf." 
 
 "Oh! you go to hell!" snarled Simpson, as he 
 turned and slouched off. 
 
 Sam s hands tingled to get a grip on Simpson s 
 throat and to choke the life out of him, but for the 
 Squire s sake he restrained himself. 
 
 Later on, Sam learned that Simpson had bought 
 the "Mayflower," a notorious roadhouse a few 
 miles out on the Oceanbrook Road, and was oper 
 ating the place in conjunction with the Sefiorita, 
 a Spanish woman of a reputation for absolute 
 lack of morals and a most unbridled temper. 
 
 In September the race-track was again open 
 for a two weeks meeting, which called forth a 
 storm of protest from the newspapers and the 
 pulpits. But as before, although the violation of 
 laws was open and gross, no prosecutions fol 
 lowed. While the feeling was at its height, Sam 
 again publicly announced his candidacy and 
 pledged himself to enforce the laws fairly, and 
 without fear or favor. 
 
 The newspaper response was so clearly in his
 
 SAM COMES BACK 349 
 
 favor that the opposition at once held meetings 
 to devise means to defeat him. Whatever may 
 have been said at the meeting or at any of the 
 meetings that were frequently held in Elmtown, 
 in Brookmouth, in Lamprey River, or in other 
 places by those opposed to Sam s election, it was 
 evident that a most plausible line of argument 
 was agreed upon by the newspapers. Here was a 
 corporation composed for the most part of 
 wealthy New Yorkers who were willing to put 
 hundreds of thousands of dollars into our state in 
 the shape of taxable property; that in addition to 
 this they were several times a year to spend im 
 mense sums in providing the people of New 
 Hampshire with the sport of kings, a thing never 
 before within their grasp ; that the property 
 owners of the Town of Salvage, where the track 
 was located, had built many buildings and had 
 gone to great expense in anticipation of the rise in 
 values, and increase in business; that a splendid 
 hotel had been built, an electric line laid, new 
 stores opened, new houses built, the entire town 
 altered and enlarged ; that it was the duty of every 
 citizen of the county, who had the welfare of its 
 citizens at heart, to take such action as would 
 secure to these public-spirited citizens of another 
 state, who had hazarded hundreds of thousands 
 of dollars on our good faith, our good sense, our 
 freedom from narrow-mindedness, and our sense
 
 350 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 of fairness, to secure to them the uninterrupted 
 enjoyment of the venture, to the Town of Sal 
 vage the prosperity that its citizens deserved, and 
 to open the doors of the state to improvement 
 and increase in all good ways; that the result of 
 the election meant much to the county, and much 
 to the state, and that the reelection of the present 
 county officials, in whose term of office these im 
 provements came, was the surest, safest, and 
 most reasonable method. 
 
 The opponents of the track replied hotly. Yes, 
 it was true that a set of New York race-track 
 gamblers and promoters had put hundreds of 
 thousands of dollars into taxable property in the 
 Town of Salvage. But how had they done it? 
 First, by playing an unconscionable trick upon 
 the members of the legislature. Second, by so 
 conducting their track that the Supreme Court 
 had declared it to be run in plain violation of law. 
 Third, by utterly disregarding the opinion of the 
 Supreme Court. That when it came to the point 
 that the good name of the state was to be de 
 bauched and prostituted for a few hundred thou 
 sand dollars or a few hundred million dollars, it 
 was about time to call a halt, and show the world 
 that the old saying that "Every man has his 
 price" could not apply to the citizens of New 
 Hampshire, known everywhere for sturdy hon 
 esty and independence.
 
 SAM COMES BACK 351 
 
 Speaking began very early in the campaign. 
 The speakers for the old officers took the plausi 
 ble, good-natured view of the matter, following 
 out the idea of their newspapers. They affected 
 to laugh at the old-fashioned, timorous ideas of 
 the other side ; they deprecated the desolation that 
 Salvage would experience should the track be 
 forced to discontinue its meetings; they enlarged 
 on the great care that had been taken to prevent 
 any such abuses as their opponents feared; they 
 reminded the younger voters that they must keep 
 up with the advance in thought, act, and achieve 
 ment if they expected to get along in this world ; 
 that Colonial law forbade a man kissing his wife 
 on the Sabbath, but that the world had advanced 
 since that time; that there was on the statute 
 book a law forbidding travel over the highways at 
 a rate of over five miles an hour, but that no man 
 ever drove much above a walk but he exceeded 
 that rate; that to enforce that law absolutely 
 would prevent the use of horses, but that the law 
 had its uses : to establish a rate of speed, to pre 
 vent racing in the compact part of towns, or reck 
 less or dangerous driving; that such laws were in 
 tended to place a limit from which abuses could be 
 reckoned, but not for actual enforcement except 
 in extreme cases; that this law could be invoked 
 to prevent abuses, and should be; and so it would 
 be time to enjoin the race-track when it abused
 
 352 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 the privileges that its charter gave it, the privi 
 leges that every generous, thoughtful, progres 
 sive, right-minded citizen of Rockaway County 
 thought it ought to have; that its charter pre 
 scribed a line of conduct that absolutely pre 
 vented any of the evils that its opponents 
 claimed. 
 
 Sam s party struck straight from the shoulder, 
 narrated the fraud on the citizens of the state, 
 its Senate, its House; the contemptuous disre 
 gard of the Supreme Court, the introduction of a 
 purely gambling proposition to a clean state under 
 the cloak of the improvement of the breed of 
 horses and other domestic animals. In what way 
 would the farm-horses of the county be improved 
 by the introduction of wasp-waisted, spindle- 
 legged horses that could run like greyhounds, but 
 could n t pull a baby-carriage to save their lives? 
 In what way were the citizens of our state to be 
 benefitted by the introduction of high-pressure 
 excitement on a low grade of amusement? 
 
 Sam took the stump and made a distinctly 
 favorable impression. His speeches were direct 
 and to the point. Beyond saying that as County 
 Solicitor he would see that the opinion of the 
 Supreme Court should be heeded by the race 
 track officials and that his first act would be to 
 indict those officials who had violated the law in 
 relation to the maintenance of pool-selling and
 
 SAM COMES BACK 353 
 
 gambling, he proceeded to arraign the apathy of 
 the county authorities in relation to roadhouses, 
 houses of ill-fame, liquor searches, and public 
 nuisances. 
 
 He was often interrupted, often questioned, 
 but the questions he always answered fairly and 
 frankly, and he had a knack of turning ridicule 
 and interruptions to the undoing of those who 
 attempted them. In some respects he was a dif 
 ferent man from the untried lawyer who had 
 faced them two years before. He had tried alone 
 several cases of considerable importance, and 
 with the Squire had tried a large number of cases 
 involving knotty questions of law and a tangle of 
 divergent testimony and had made a good ac 
 count of himself. Stories of his physical prowess 
 had been told, and he could well claim distinction 
 as a partner of the Squire, conceded to be the 
 best lawyer and advocate in the state. And so at 
 the start of the campaign Sam unquestionably 
 had the best of the fight. 
 
 It was about this time that Colonel Van Cleves 
 came to Boston, held a meeting in his luxurious 
 suite of rooms in the Parker House, to which meet 
 ing were bidden the County Solicitor, the editors 
 of several of the papers opposed to Sam and of 
 several others whose opinions were merchantable, 
 and many of the old-line Republicans. The prin 
 cipal owners of a large brewery and bottling estab-
 
 354 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 lishment and other men, cunning and unscrupu 
 lous in politics, were also bidden. These men had, 
 nearly all of them, private interviews with the 
 genial, good-natured, bluff, and kindly colonel. 
 For each one there was a handful of cigars, and 
 refreshments of so potent a nature that several of 
 these flushed and merry gentlemen hic-ingly 
 insisted that the Colonel was a "heeluva goo 
 f ler," and later fell down and were carried away 
 in a state of coma. 
 
 While this was going on, Bob Tiverton was con 
 ferring weightily with Simpson, the Senorita, and 
 several of the roadhouse keepers at the "May 
 flower." 
 
 "I tell you, Mr. Tiverton, it s a dangerous 
 game you are playing. He can t be put out of the 
 way. He is too important a man to be knocked 
 on the head. That may do for dime novels and 
 stories of the West, but it don t go here," said 
 Kimball, a red-faced, bull-necked man. Then 
 again, I am afraid of the Squire. He is an 
 almighty dangerous man to deal with." 
 
 To hell with the Squire," said Simpson, puf 
 fing on one of Tiverton s cigars, " I can handle the 
 Squire so he won t peep." 
 
 "Oh, close that trap of yours, Simpson; you 
 can handle the Squire about the way that Bill 
 Evans thought he could handle this Randolph." 
 
 "I can handle the Squire, just as I said I could.
 
 SAM COMES BACK 355 
 
 Some of you fresh guys think I don t know what 
 I am talking about. But I tell you I can handle 
 the Squire," said Simpson, pounding the table, 
 with an oath. 
 
 "But there ain t goin to be no kidnappin or 
 no murderin in this thing," said the bull-necked 
 man decidedly. "It s bad enough to lose my busi 
 ness, but I don t intend to have my neck stretched 
 or to bottom chairs for the rest of my life." 
 
 "Damn it all, if you are afraid, say so," snarled 
 Simpson. 
 
 "I m not a fool, and I don t propose to allow 
 any slant-eyed Digger Indian talk to me like 
 that," said the bull-necked man, rising. 
 
 But here the woman interfered. " Keep quiet, 
 fools," she hissed. "Too much of quarrel here, 
 pigs-head," she flashed, her black eyes glittering. 
 
 The men sat down again. The woman turned 
 and whispered her plan. It was cold-blooded, 
 atrocious villainy. Tiverton looked a bit uneasy, 
 but the others applauded profanely. 
 
 The Senorita was to call at Sam s office, who 
 had never seen her, on business, and was to 
 arrange with him to call some evening at the 
 house of one of the gang, who had a secret room 
 with heavy oak doors, where gambling was car 
 ried on, to make her father s will, who was old 
 and feeble and unable to go to the office. As soon 
 as Sam arrived, he was to be ushered into the
 
 356 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 strong room where the gang were waiting, and 
 was to be given his choice of writing a with 
 drawal of his candidacy and a request for his sup 
 porters to vote for Langdon, or was to be bound, 
 gagged, and delivered up to the authorities on a 
 charge of attempted felonious assault upon the 
 Senorita. 
 
 "But who will believe it, Senorita? Felonious 
 assault upon a woman of your reputation!" 
 
 "There are always plenty of people to believe 
 it, and whether they believe it or not, it will cook 
 his goose," said one of the men. 
 
 Then each one swore by all the saints never to 
 betray each other and they separated, Tiverton 
 being driven at once to the railroad station, after 
 leaving a large sum of money with the Senorita 
 for distribution.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A CHALLENGE 
 
 SAM had two very important interviews in the 
 next two days. The first was a visit at the 
 office, of a very stylish, beautifully dressed wo 
 man, of evident refinement, and a somewhat pro 
 nounced accent, who consulted him at length 
 about the purchase of a valuable piece of real 
 estate in a neighboring town, asked him to look 
 up the title carefully, inquired particularly about 
 a certain right of way that had been represented 
 as the sole incumbrance on the estate. She was 
 very anxious to know about the neighbors, as she 
 said she had always lived in a good neighborhood, 
 and wished to take especial care to have neigh 
 bors with whom she could be friendly without 
 injuring her self-respect and who could be on ex 
 cellent terms with her. She said she had heard 
 much of the Squire as a most unusual man, a 
 really great lawyer and a fine gentleman, and Mr. 
 Randolph would pardon her if she suggested that 
 after looking up the title he would be so good as 
 to submit it to the Squire. 
 
 Sam did pardon her, and assured her that he 
 always did submit all business of the kind to his
 
 358 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 senior partner, and assured her that he would use 
 great care in looking out for her interests. 
 
 There was one other thing she wished him to do 
 sometime. Her father was an extremely old and 
 rather feeble man of some property. She had a 
 sister who was not as well off as she wished she 
 was, poor thing, and that she had tried to get her 
 father for some time to leave his property to this 
 sister, and he had partly consented. She wished 
 to know if Mr. Randolph would mind riding over 
 to Kenton some evening. Her father, who had 
 for many years been a night editor of a large 
 city daily had contracted the habit of sleeping 
 days and reading nights, and was very much 
 brighter after nine o clock than before. 
 
 Sam, who was very much impressed by the dis 
 interested motives of his client, said that she 
 could command his services in the making of the 
 will at any time, but that he might be delayed a 
 bit in the looking up the title because in addi 
 tion to his office work he was in local politics. 
 She replied with a charming smile that she had 
 heard of that, too, and she hoped she would be 
 able to congratulate him on his ultimate success. 
 She had heard of the unfortunate condition of 
 affairs in the county, and she felt sure that the 
 good sense of the better class of people would elect 
 those officers only who would do their duty. 
 
 She then paid Sam a retainer, expressing sur-
 
 A CHALLENGE 359 
 
 prise at the modesty of his charges, and bade him 
 good-morning with the most charming grace 
 imaginable, leaving Sam with a pleased recogni 
 tion of her kindness, her courtesy, her tact, and 
 her good breeding. 
 
 As he opened his letters he found one from 
 Colonel Van Cleves s lawyer, asking him to meet 
 him in Boston at Parker s the next day at ten 
 o clock in the forenoon to confer about matters 
 of mutual interest. 
 
 Sam frowned at this, and his brows were 
 drawn and knotted when the Squire came in. 
 
 "Well, Sam," said the Squire, rather more 
 heartily than usual, for since the reappearance of 
 Simpson he had been very quiet and thought 
 ful, "what is there in your mail that makes you 
 look so doubtful? Have you found out that 
 
 Uneasy lies the head that (would like to) wear 
 
 > 2 
 a crown t 
 
 "I found that out long ago, Mr. Branch, but 
 I don t quite know what to do about this. I guess 
 I need advice from you," and he handed the 
 Squire the letter. 
 
 The Squire read it carefully and frowned 
 hideously. 
 
 Sam laughed. "It appears to have the same 
 effect on you, Mr. Branch; you look quite a bit 
 doubtful, as well as I." 
 
 "I was trying to think what game they are up
 
 360 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 to. For if Van Cleves is in it, it is a game, or, 
 what is worse, an offer to get you to drop out of 
 the race." 
 
 Sam s head went into the air with a start. 
 "Old Van Cleves will hear something drop if he 
 makes any offer to me," he said truculently. "By 
 the gods ! I would like to get a chance to speak my 
 mind to him." 
 
 " It is always better to let the other man do the 
 talking, Sam, remember that," said the Squire 
 dryly, and adding, "I have a good mind to go 
 with you, if I did n t have an appointment that I 
 must keep." 
 
 "Oh, I would n t ask you to do that, Mr. 
 Branch. I don t see what they can do except 
 misquote me, and they could n t do that any 
 worse than the papers have. Of course, if it comes 
 to any question about the maintenance of the 
 race meetings, I shall stick to my point, and tell 
 them what to expect. They might as well know 
 that there will be no compromise," said Sam 
 decidedly. 
 
 Yes, Sam, that is always the best way. I wish 
 I had always thought so," he added in a low tone, 
 that nevertheless reached Sam s ear. 
 
 Sam glanced at him and his heart was torn as 
 he noted how thin and worn and old the Squire 
 had grown during the last few months. His 
 cheeks were gray and sunken, his eyes dull, his
 
 A CHALLENGE 361 
 
 cheek-bones unduly prominent, and his clothes 
 seemed loose and ill-fitting. 
 
 A spasm of sudden anger came over Sam as he 
 thought of Simpson, to whose presence he at 
 tributed the Squire s trouble, and for the hun 
 dredth time he wondered what influence that 
 snaky individual had over a man like the Squire, 
 and his fingers clinched as if they were at Simp 
 son s scrawny, muscular throat. 
 
 "Damn him!" he muttered, "some day I ll 
 know and then - 
 
 The opposition papers that morning rung the 
 changes on Sam s being a new man in the com 
 munity. They were willing to concede that Sam 
 might have latent talent, but what was the use of 
 rushing into unknown waters, what was the sense 
 of intrusting our good county ship to an unknown 
 pilot, a man who had not lived in the community 
 long enough to know the needs of the county, the 
 disposition of its citizens, or the real condition of 
 its institutions. Ability to prosecute, to obtain 
 convictions, when rightly directed by good judg 
 ment, tact, and a forgiving disposition, was a 
 valuable possession, but the ability to convict and 
 a determination to punish, without reckoning on 
 whose shoulders the punishment might fall, was 
 but small recommendation and a very doubtful 
 qualification for an officer whose main qualifica 
 tion should be good judgment. In nine cases out
 
 362 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 of ten the old resident, the native-born citizen, 
 was far better qualified to dispense justice than 
 the outsider or the newcomer, whose mind was 
 trained by influences alien to and ofttimes irre 
 concilable with the characteristics of our own 
 people. 
 
 Sam and the Squire both realized that this was 
 an argument calculated to appeal to the preju 
 dices of those who were honestly anxious to put 
 an end to the existence of questionable houses, 
 dives, gambling places, but who were narrow, 
 local, and intensely jealous of any success, how 
 ever deserved, in an outsider or newcomer. In 
 deed, it was only the widespread dissatisfaction 
 with the state of affairs, and the indignation over 
 the incorporation of the Improvement Company 
 that gave Sam, a newcomer, a fighting chance. 
 
 Early that afternoon Sam left the office and 
 took a long horseback ride with Polly, whom he 
 had somewhat neglected of late, owing to his 
 political activity. He found that young lady 
 somewhat inclined to be rather distant, but the 
 swing of the horses, the delight of riding again, 
 put the roses in her cheeks and the light in her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Oh, Sam," she said, "would n t it be delight 
 ful if we had nothing to do but ride? There would 
 be no horrid clients and bothersome wretched 
 cases, and no dreadful politics and maddening
 
 A CHALLENGE 363 
 
 newspaper reports saying perfectly horrid things 
 about one, but one could just ride and ride and 
 ride. Oh, I just love the creak of the leather and 
 jingle of the bridle, and I can make up the most 
 beautiful music to the time of the horses feet, 
 caprices to the singlef oot and polka redowas to the 
 trot and czardas to the gallop. Some day I hope 
 I can take a long, long ride through the country. 
 Day after day, stopping at funny country hotels 
 and farmhouses, and cooking some of our meals 
 by the side of little brooks. And oh! Sam, did 
 you ever eat trout cooked on a stick with salt on 
 it, I mean on the trout, not the stick? I am 
 going to do it sometime with Uncle Ira. We have 
 talked it over many times. We will have two 
 saddle-horses and a third, which is to be a saddle 
 horse, too, and wear a pack-saddle and carry 
 our outfit, that is, what we don t have in our 
 saddle-bags. And dear Uncle Ira is not to think 
 of business for the entire trip, and not to write 
 or receive any letters, and you, Mr. Sam, will 
 stay at home in a dry, hot, dusty, old office and 
 work at an old desk and mark cases Continued 
 for notice, and Nonsuit, and Nisi prius, and 
 lots of other Latin things that none but lawyers 
 know about, and - 
 
 "And In hoc signo vinces* and In vino veri- 
 tas, and Hit im agin, McCarty, " said Sam, 
 laughing. "And perhaps Mr. Sam will follow
 
 364 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 right along on that pack-horse and cut the office, 
 and will do the cooking, and run the errands, and 
 rub down the horses, and pry the stones out of 
 their feet, and cinch up the side-saddle so that a 
 certain young lady, whose name I need not men 
 tion, will stay on her horse where she belongs, 
 instead of swinging down under the horse, as she 
 did on one occasion when she trusted a stableman 
 to put on her saddle." 
 
 In this way they rode and laughed and talked 
 until long after teatime, and when they returned 
 found the Squire waiting tea for them. Their 
 happy faces so cheered him up that he almost 
 forgot his anxiety. 
 
 The next morning Sam started for Boston to 
 keep his appointment. As he stepped into the 
 Parker House, he felt a slight nervous exhilara 
 tion, similar to that he always felt before going 
 into a contest of any kind. This always merged 
 into a cool determination as the contest began. 
 As he passed into the office, he was met by Dona 
 hue, with whom he shook hands. 
 
 "Now, where can we talk?" asked Sam. 
 
 In answer to this question, Donahue said, 
 This way, Mr. Randolph," and led the way to 
 the elevator, which took them to a room in the 
 third story. 
 
 Donahue knocked, a voice cried, "All right, 
 come in," and Sam entered a large, well-fur-
 
 A CHALLENGE 365 
 
 nished room, with a large mahogany table and a 
 half -dozen office chairs. Sitting at ease in the 
 chairs were Colonel Van Cleves, Bob Tiverton, 
 Annersly, and Pool, four of the incorporators of 
 the Improvement Company. Sam s color height 
 ened as he saw that he had been tricked into a 
 meeting which he had supposed would be a pro 
 fessional conference between him and Donahue or 
 one of his partners, and he turned a sharp glance 
 of inquiry on the latter, who colored in his turn, 
 and affected to be busy adjusting the curtains at 
 a window. However, it was not Sam s nature to 
 shirk a fight, and he faced what he felt would be 
 a very unpleasant meeting, with coolness. 
 
 The four gentlemen rose and bo\ved, Van 
 Cleves half-started forward, as if to offer his 
 hand, but thought better of it and bowed pleas 
 antly. Tiverton nodded familiarly and some 
 what insolently. 
 
 Sam bowed, said, "Good-morning, gentle 
 men," and took a seat facing them and waited 
 for them to speak. 
 
 There was a somewhat constrained silence for 
 a moment, and then Donahue, in response to a 
 nod from the Colonel, began, - 
 
 The gentlemen interested in the Improve 
 ment Company, and whom I represent, are anx 
 ious for a conference in regard to the matter, Mr. 
 Randolph," said Donahue.
 
 366 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "So it appears," said Sam dryly. 
 
 "And we thought, that is, I thought, the best 
 way was to hold a meeting here where we could 
 be comfortable and talk the matter over in a 
 friendly way." 
 
 "When you have a consultation with another 
 lawyer, is it your practice to have your own 
 clients present without notifying him to bring 
 his? If so, the practice is different where I live," 
 said Sam quietly but meaningly. 
 
 Donahue looked a bit uncomfortable, but con 
 tinued, "In your case, Mr. Randolph, knowing 
 you to be an old friend of two of them if not of 
 all, I could see no objection." 
 
 "If that were the case, there might have been 
 none, but it strikes me as scarcely professional. 
 But if there is anything to be said I am ready to 
 listen," said Sam, turning his gaze on the Colonel. 
 
 "All right, sir, I will proceed," replied Dona 
 hue. "The gentlemen here have a very large pe 
 cuniary interest in the track. From past experi 
 ence they have had reason to believe that you, 
 brought up under New York influences, and 
 knowing many phases of New York life, have no 
 prejudices against racing horses or betting oh 
 them. They have reason to believe that you 
 have, in the past, placed a bet or two on the pon 
 ies, as the saying is. Am I correct?" 
 
 "Possibly," said Sam, bowing slightly.
 
 A CHALLENGE 367 
 
 "Now they feel," continued Donahue, "that 
 if the people of your state, and especially the 
 officers of your county, will only allow them to 
 run the track as they have been running it for the 
 past two seasons, that your people will be con 
 vinced that their methods are aboveboard, and 
 really that the Improvement Company will 
 prove its name, a great factor in the pecuniary 
 improvement to the citizens of your state and 
 county. They wish to know your opinion of the 
 best way to convince your county officers of these 
 facts." 
 
 "So far as I know, the officers seem to be very 
 well convinced of your position, if their action in 
 the matter, or want of action, is any evidence of 
 their opinion," said Sam. "Would it not be 
 better to consult them rather than one who is not 
 an officer?" 
 
 "But we have reason to think that you may be 
 the very officer that we wish to consult," said 
 Donahue, with a smile. 
 
 "Well, I confess I don t feel as sanguine as 
 that, but I shall do all I can to land the office of 
 Solicitor," said Sam, with a flash in his eye. 
 
 "Well, granted that, we wish to know flatly 
 what your attitude will be towards the track and 
 its promoters, provided you are elected?" de 
 manded Donahue. 
 
 "That is a fair question at least, and deserves
 
 368 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 a fair answer," said Sam, looking the Colonel 
 squarely in the eye. "My first act will be to se 
 cure the indictment of the incorporators of the 
 company for keeping and maintaining a gam 
 bling-place. My next will be to convict them if I 
 can get them into New Hampshire. Is that plain 
 enough?" 
 
 The Colonel reddened and started as if to 
 speak, when Donahue cut in. 
 
 "If that is the case, what retainer would you 
 charge to withdraw from the contest and become 
 the New Hampshire attorney for the company?" 
 
 Sam sprang to his feet so quickly, that Dona 
 hue started back as if he expected a blow. 
 
 "Donahue," he said, "what sort of a damned 
 shyster are you anyway? In the first place, you 
 tricked me into coming here, and now you delib 
 erately offer to buy me out for a lot of time-serv 
 ing, cut-throat sharks like this gang. In New 
 Hampshire they disbar lawyers of your stripe." 
 
 "Gang of sharks, by the Eternal!" roared the 
 Colonel, shaking his fist. "I don t propose to 
 stand any more insolence from you"; and he ad 
 vanced threateningly, but stopped abruptly as 
 Sam started forward and wagged his finger under 
 the old gentleman s nose. 
 
 "Colonel Van Cleves, I have wanted to get a 
 chance to tell you what I think of you, and I ve 
 got the chance now. You are the most cold-
 
 A CHALLENGE 369 
 
 blooded old vampire in New York to-day. Tiver- 
 ton is only a poor fool, but you are a rascal, a 
 heartless, bloodsucking, hoary-headed old whelp. 
 You never had a decent thought, or an honest 
 idea in your life. You never could do a thing 
 straight, you had rather lie than tell the truth. 
 You never had an idea that there was an honest 
 man in the world. Now, I may get licked, but 
 some day I am going to be County Solicitor. It 
 may be this fall, or it may be in two years from 
 now, but when I do, I 11 land you in jail as sure as 
 there s a God in Israel, you and any other of 
 your gang that have buncoed and defrauded the 
 people of New Hampshire, and have sneaked 
 through a hypocritical bill, and have defied the 
 Supreme Court. As for you, Donahue, I am 
 surprised at you. I thought you were a man of a 
 decent reputation, and I 11 swear I did n t expect 
 this from a member of your firm." 
 
 Donahue turned and looked out of the window, 
 his hand nervously twisting the tassel of the 
 shade, and made no reply, nor did any one else. 
 
 Then Sam took his hat, stared at them a mo 
 ment, and left the room. 
 
 That night Sam spoke in Rumley, and with 
 the memory of the afternoon upon him he made 
 a most aggressive speech, and defined his posi 
 tion with such distinctness as to leave no doubt 
 in the minds of any man that he would, if elected,
 
 370 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 put down abuses, abate nuisances, and punish 
 criminals. 
 
 One of the last things he spoke of was the pur 
 chase of votes, and in stating his position here he 
 was no less decided : - 
 
 "One thing in particular I wish to speak of, 
 and that is the purchase of votes. It has been 
 represented to me that the purchase of votes has 
 been looked upon with toleration in some parts 
 of this county as a necessary evil connected with 
 politics. It has been justified by some as the ne 
 cessity of fighting the Devil with the Devil s own 
 weapon. Now, I do not desire this election by 
 any such means. I would rather be defeated 
 overwhelmingly than owe my election to dis 
 honest practices by any one in my behalf. But 
 some of my friends say, You will be beaten if 
 something of the kind is not done. Gentlemen, 
 if I owe my election to the purchase of one soli 
 tary vote, and know it, then I am more of a crim 
 inal than the worst criminal I may convict, and 
 I wish to say here, in order that I may make my 
 position clear, that if I find any instance of a vote 
 being bought in my interest, or money used cor 
 ruptly in my behalf, I will do my utmost to bring 
 the guilty man to punishment, to send him to 
 state prison if I can, and I mean just that, so help 
 me God."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 THE October Term with its grand jury came on. 
 The report of the jury showed no indictments 
 found against the track officials, and none but 
 beer indictments against roadhouses, dives, or 
 houses of ill-fame. Langdon had missed a chance 
 of gaining votes from Sam s supporters, for, 
 owing to the prejudice against a newcomer, as 
 Sam was termed, it only needed a show of official 
 activity on Langdon s part to seriously weaken 
 Sam s support. 
 
 Sam had more cases to try than ever before, as 
 the Squire put more and more work on his shoul 
 ders, and particularly in the trial of jury cases. 
 The Squire had two motives in this. One was to 
 bring Sam out as a jury lawyer as a preparation 
 for the criminal practice he would have in the 
 event of his election, and the other, to tide him 
 through his work, for which, in his condition of 
 worry and trouble, he felt himself incapable. And 
 Sam, thrown in a measure on his own resources, 
 entered into his work with a vigor and thorough 
 ness that won the strong commendation of the 
 presiding judge, and the admiration of the older 
 members of the bar.
 
 372 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 He had received several visits from the pre 
 possessing young woman who had shown so 
 much keenness of perception in legal affairs, so 
 much tact and good sense, that Sam was very 
 much pleased, and took exceptional pains in the 
 drafting of such papers as she desired, and in the 
 advice he gave her. And it was noticeable, when 
 ever she came to see him, that Simpson stood 
 opposite the office and watched, but always left 
 before she came out, but before he left, took occa 
 sion to accost some store-keeper or well-known 
 citizen to ask the time, or a match, or to chat a 
 moment. 
 
 As the election approached, Langdon s fol 
 lowers became more and more determined to re- 
 elect him, and the papers pressed every argument 
 they could invent to defeat Sam. Indeed, from 
 some reason several newspapers, which had in 
 the beginning of the campaign taken high moral 
 grounds in opposing the reelection of Langdon, 
 now admitted that the selection of a man of 
 Sam s inexperience was a very dangerous experi 
 ment; that a young man, pledged to convict, 
 might be a disturbing element in county affairs. 
 
 Sam s papers promptly sailed into these "turn 
 coats," as they called them, and much hard feel 
 ing was caused, but on the whole the support of 
 the old officers appeared to be strengthening. 
 The purchasable voters were controlled by the
 
 HIS BACK TO THE WALL 373 
 
 old officers, backed by their own money and by 
 that of Van Cleves, Tiverton, and the New York 
 stockholders. And there could be no doubt that 
 there were many hundred of such voters. Then 
 there were a good many people in the town ad 
 joining Salvage who sympathized very strongly 
 with the citizens and property owners of that 
 town in their natural desire to prevent the serious 
 depreciation of their property that the closing of 
 the track would produce, and of course every 
 voter of Salvage was heart and soul for the track. 
 
 It was a surprising thing to find out how many 
 voters were influenced by the cry "Outsider," 
 "Newcomer," "City Man." Even the ranks of 
 those opposed strongly to the track and to the 
 apathetic attitude of the county officers had been 
 decimated by this cry. 
 
 "Why in Tunket don t this ere New Yorker 
 stay ter hum? Ain t we got no lawyers fit to dew 
 this ere bizness?" said old Cephas Farnum, in 
 voice of raucous protest. 
 
 That s all right, Ceph, but this ere young 
 feller will dew it, an t other feller has hed his 
 chance, *n* hain t done nothin but draw his sel- 
 ery. Neow, I say less gin the young chap a 
 chance ter see what he kin dew. Ez fer his bein* 
 a New Yorker, what of it, say I, what of it? Dod 
 rat it, that argimint is reediculous. Yeou live in 
 Lamper River, don t ye, wuz yeou born there?
 
 374 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 No, ye wuz n t, yeou wuz born n raised in West 
 Barvel, twel mile away. Spuzzen when yeou d 
 been a-runnin fer seelickman the fust time, some 
 feller hed said, This ere Cephas Farnum is a 
 outsider, a dummed newcomer. Where would 
 yeou ha* been? I say, dummit, Ceph, where 
 would yeou ha been?" 
 
 Such argument as this was heard on the streets 
 every day and probably in every town in the 
 county, and with varied result. Sometimes the 
 doubter was won over, but in a far greater num 
 ber of cases this unreasonable prejudice turned 
 the doubter away from Sam and made him an 
 active partisan of Langdon. 
 
 It was about ten days before the election, and 
 the court took a recess, as it was practically im 
 possible to try cases satisfactorily until the result 
 of the election was known. Sam was billed to 
 appear in different towns nearly every evening. 
 Some of his friends had tried to induce the Squire 
 to take the stump for him, knowing the immense 
 influence the Squire had, and the enthusiastic 
 following he would command, but the Squire re 
 fused on the plea of ill-health, and indeed he 
 looked ill and worn. 
 
 One Friday evening, Sam had dined with the 
 Squire and Polly, had gone to the office for some 
 work, then to his rooms, intending to go early to 
 bed better to prepare for a hard day s work
 
 HIS BACK TO THE WALL 375 
 
 Saturday and a speech in the evening in West 
 Kendrick, one of the strongholds of his oppo 
 nents. \Yhile he was removing his coat, a boy 
 appeared with a note from his attractive client, 
 asking him to come to her house at once, that her 
 father had been suddenly taken ill, and wanted 
 him to make his will before it was too late; that 
 she would have the witnesses there, and "Please, 
 please hurry." 
 
 Sam groaned in spirit for a moment and then 
 reproached himself with his unkindness. Of 
 course, he would go at once, and he quickly 
 changed his business suit for his riding-clothes, 
 put some blank legal cap in his pocket, refilled 
 his stylograph, ordered his horse, and in a few 
 minutes was loping rapidly through the darkness 
 and out of the town. Although he had never been 
 to her house, he followed her direction carefully, 
 and soon arrived at a large, solid-looking house 
 about a hundred yards from the road, and walled 
 in by trees, bushes, and high thick hedges. As he 
 drew up by the house, a man came forward with 
 a lantern, took his horse, glanced sharply at Sam, 
 and motioned to the door. 
 
 Sam ran up the steps, and the door was opened 
 by the young woman with her handkerchief at 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Randolph, I have so much joy that 
 you have come. My dear father is very ill, but I
 
 376 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 know he will be glad to see you. He is worrying 
 very much." 
 
 Sam followed her to a room at the back of the 
 house, which she opened, and motioned for him 
 to enter. Sam entered the room, the door was 
 shut and locked, and he found himself in a large 
 square room, absolutely without furniture, and 
 he was confronted by Simpson, a bull-necked, 
 red-faced ruffian whose face was familiar, and a 
 dozen of as tough-looking citizens as he had seen 
 in his life. 
 
 "Well, young feller," said Simpson, with a 
 snarling smile, "this time we have got the drop 
 on you." 
 
 Sam saw he was trapped, and that curiously 
 nervous, tingling sensation came over him, a sen 
 sation that was akin to pleasure, a sort of exalta 
 tion that made him long for combat. But his 
 reason told him he was in a very desperate and 
 dangerous situation that called for the utmost 
 diplomacy and the exercise of every faculty. At 
 all events he would try to keep from a row. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," he said quietly, "what do 
 vou wish of me?" 
 
 V 
 
 "Hear the sweet young gentleman, What do 
 you wish of me? " mimicked Simpson; "you ll 
 find out soon enough," he barked savagely. 
 
 "Hold on a minute, Simpson, let me speak," 
 said the man with the red face. " If we can make
 
 HIS BACK TO THE WALL 377 
 
 any arrangements without trouble, so much the 
 better. Perhaps Mr. Randolph, seeing his posi 
 tion, may come to terms." 
 
 "Well, go ahead, then," said Simpson sulkily; 
 "only don t be all night about it." 
 
 "Mr. Randolph," said the big man, "we 
 have n t anything particular against you except 
 that we feel that we can t run our business if you 
 are elected Solicitor. And we are going to beat 
 you in one way or another, by fair means or foul. 
 You can t be County Solicitor." 
 
 "Perhaps not," said Sam coolly, "but why 
 should you get me over here to tell me that?" 
 
 "Because we want you to withdraw from the 
 campaign and sign a statement to that effect, and 
 you are going to do it before you leave this 
 room." 
 
 "Well, supposing I refuse to withdraw, what 
 then?" 
 
 "But you can t refuse; you have got to re 
 sign," said the big man. 
 
 "By God, you won t leave this room alive, if 
 you don t sign that statement, and do it damned 
 quick," snarled Simpson. 
 
 Sam looked around the room. The windows 
 were all higher than his head and barred with 
 solid oak bars. There was no opening but the 
 door he came through and that was massive and 
 locked. He looked around at the faces of the
 
 378 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 men. Determination and cruelty were on every 
 face and there was no sign of weakness. 
 
 "It will be worse than that, Mr. Randolph," 
 continued the big man. "If you refuse to sign, 
 we will tie you, gag you, and hand you over to 
 the authorities on the ground of being intimate 
 with Simpson s wife. She has been to your office 
 several times, and you came to this house to 
 night to see her, and she is ready to swear that 
 you came here to see her to-night and all the rest 
 of it. And we are, too. Oh, we ve got you this 
 time." 
 
 Sam was stunned for a moment, as the details 
 of the horrible plot came over him, and then his 
 heart beat as regularly as ever, but there was a 
 tingling sensation up his spine and at the back of 
 his neck as if his mane was rising, and he clinched 
 his teeth, his nostrils spread, his nose tightened 
 along the bridge, and the color left his face. 
 
 "Well," yelled Simpson, shaking his fist in 
 Sam s face, "what do you say?" 
 
 "I ll see you all damned first," said Sam in a 
 low voice, but in a tone that surprised himself. 
 
 "Oh, you will, will you? Well, I ll tell you 
 what I ll do. I ll ruin you, and I ll take that 
 little Polly of yours, and - 
 
 But he never finished the words, for Sam 
 caught him flush in the foul mouth, and he 
 dropped like a log and lay senseless. Then with
 
 IK YOU KKKUSK TO KKSIGN WE LL TIK YOU AND GAG YOU.
 
 HIS BACK TO THE WALL 379 
 
 yells and curses they were on him. The big man 
 spun round with a fearful swing on the ear, an 
 other man s head snapped back with a lightning 
 left, and then the crowd closed in, and Sam was 
 fighting for his life. 
 
 Blows were rained on him, they seized him 
 from behind, they tore at him like maniacs. He 
 hurled them off, struck them down, striking ter 
 rific blows like piston rods. The fight swayed 
 here and there, across the room, in the corners, 
 against the sides. God ! he is down in a heaving, 
 struggling, cursing heap. He is up again, and a 
 man lies inert with his arm twisted under him. 
 Another is felled like a log and lies there, but the 
 rest are at him like wolves. Gone is their wish to 
 tie him; they mean to kill him and he knows it, 
 but glories in the fight. Was there ever such a 
 fight! Sam fought with his arms, his head, his 
 shoulders, and his legs. He was all over the room, 
 hitting, tripping, driving, staggering, swinging 
 his shoulders, wrenching loose from clinging 
 hands, bleeding and disfigured from blows, pant 
 ing with his exertions, but fighting like a bison 
 beset by wolves. In spite of his desperate need, 
 in spite of the hurly-burly of the heaving, sway 
 ing fight, in spite of the rain of blows, Sam fought 
 with method, striving to disable and knock 
 senseless his most dangerous opponents. 
 
 Three were on the floor, lying like dead men,
 
 380 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 another cowered in a corner, shielding his head 
 with his arms. Every now and then Sam cleared 
 a space, and then a mighty drive sent a man 
 down to stay, but the crowd of cursing maniacs 
 would close on him like rats in a pit. In the other 
 part of the house, the women, listening to the 
 savage fight, began to scream, but the fight went 
 on. It seemed as if he would beat them all, but 
 Simpson had recovered, and, seizing a heavy 
 bottle from his pocket and watching his chance 
 in the heaving whirlpool of struggling forms, 
 struck Sam a crashing blow on the forehead. 
 Sam staggered, fell to his knees with the blood 
 pouring from his forehead, half-rose, and then 
 went down with the maddened beasts tearing at 
 his throat.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 COUNTY SOLICITOR 
 
 A FEW moments after Sam had mounted his 
 horse and started for the Senorita s house, the 
 boy suddenly remembering her injunction to 
 bring back her note, and that Sam had left it on 
 his table, hurried back to the room to get it, as he 
 had a wholesome fear of that lady. He found the 
 note, picked it up, read it to be sure, and started 
 to leave the room when he met Ben, who had run 
 up to see Sam. His look of confusion and guilt, 
 and the hasty manner in which he concealed the 
 note in his pocket, attracted Ben s attention. 
 
 "Here, boy, what have you got there, and 
 what are you doing in this room?" 
 
 The boy made no answer, but ducking his 
 head, attempted to dash by Ben, who caught 
 him by the arm, swung him round, and pinned 
 him against the wall. 
 
 "Look here, you sneak thief, show me what 
 you have stolen, or I 11 hand you over to the po 
 lice," growled Ben, tightening his grip. 
 
 "S welp me God! I ain t stole nothing, boss, 
 I brought a note to Mr. Randolph, and the 
 woman told me to bring the note back or she d
 
 382 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 skin me, and she ll do it too. So I came back to 
 get it." 
 
 "Don t lie to me, boy," said Ben, giving him a 
 shake. 
 
 "I ain t lyin , hope to die and cross my 
 throat," said the boy. "Here is the note." 
 
 Ben glanced at the note, read it, smiled grimly, 
 and said, "You young liar, what do you mean by 
 telling such a fool lie as that? It is only a business 
 note about her sick father making a will. She 
 did n t want the note back. You made that lie up 
 to come back and steal something." 
 
 "I did n t, boss, I did n t. She ain t got no 
 father. She is a terrible woman. She and the men 
 over there have got it in for Mr. Randolph." 
 
 "What do you mean? Speak up," said Ben 
 sharply. 
 
 "Why, I heard them talking about sending a 
 note to him and getting him over there and mak 
 ing him do something." 
 
 "Who were the men?" 
 
 The boy glanced apprehensively at Ben s set 
 face. 
 
 "They ll kill me if I tell," he whimpered. 
 
 " I 11 kill you if you don t," hissed Ben, putting 
 his face close to the boy s, and grasping him so 
 tightly by the wrists that he cried out in pain. 
 
 "Oh! Bill Simpson, and Jim Duval, and Big 
 Pete, and a lot of others."
 
 COUNTY SOLICITOR 383 
 
 "Where were they and where did they expect 
 Mr. Randolph to come?" demanded Ben. 
 
 "At the * Pond Lily on the Oceanbrook Road," 
 replied the boy. 
 
 Ben dashed down the stairs, dragging the boy 
 after him. "Hurry, boy! don t try to get away. 
 I will make this the best day s pay you ever 
 earned." 
 
 They rushed down the street to Alvy s burst 
 into the office, and Ben yelled, "Alvy! Alvy! 
 hitch your two best horses into a two-seated 
 wagon, quicker than damnation. There s a hell 
 ish scheme to do Randolph up. How long ago did 
 he leave?" 
 
 "About fifteen minutes," said Alvy. 
 
 "Good God! we have lost so much time," 
 groaned Ben. "Hurry up those horses, it may be 
 a matter of life or death." 
 
 Alvy sprang away, yelling for John and Pat. 
 Ben rushed for the telephone, rung up the Ma 
 jor s, got Mad and told him the news and to 
 hurry up his team, called up the gymnasium, and 
 in a few moments Williams, Bill Evans, and 
 Brown dashed into the stable-yard at a run, 
 shortly followed by J. Wadlin, swinging a club, 
 several pairs of handcuffs and a coil of rope, just 
 as Pat, who was rushing out with one of the har 
 nessed horses, kicked the stable dog about ten 
 feet for getting underfoot. The horses were
 
 384 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 hooked up with the rapidity of fire horses at a 
 general alarm, the men piled in madly, Brown 
 seized the lines, and away they went around the 
 corner, the wagon heeling dangerously to one 
 side. 
 
 Quick as they \vere, the Major s men were 
 equally alert, and as they dashed by the Rum- 
 scott Stables the Major s best pair of blacks were 
 being rushed from the stable by excited men, 
 while Mad, standing in the wagon, bawled direc 
 tions, and several brawny acquaintances of Sam s 
 were climbing over the wheels and swearing 
 loudly. 
 
 Brown pulled his restive horses up as he 
 passed. "Hurry up, Mad, he s got fifteen min 
 utes the start of us. We will drive easy for a 
 mile, and then we will have to drive like hell, and 
 we may be too late then"; and away he went, the 
 horses held hard, but trotting briskly. At the 
 half-mile bridge, Brown let out a link and they 
 increased their stride. Mad was not far behind, 
 for the thunder of the blacks hoofs on the bridge 
 was heard. 
 
 Up the long incline beyond the second bridge 
 they went trotting strongly, then Brown let out 
 a fold of the reins and the off horse went off his 
 feet in a sharp gallop, then the nigh horse joined 
 him, and objects began to fly past in the dim 
 light. The blacks had gained, and were but a few
 
 COUNTY SOLICITOR 385 
 
 rods behind, both galloping. From far off came 
 the thunder of a galloping horse striking the 
 bridge, then later a louder rumble as it passed 
 over the second bridge. The second mile passed 
 with a rush, the third at increased speed. The 
 carriage swayed dangerously at corners, several 
 times it seemed as if they must go over, but Mad 
 and Brown were famous drivers and knew the 
 road. Stones and gravel flew in showers, and as 
 they entered the last mile, Brown swung the 
 whip and yelled to his horses, and they plunged 
 into their collars like wild things. An answering 
 yell from Mad, an increased stride by the splen 
 did straining blacks, while but a half-mile behind 
 came an Indian pony, flying like the wind bear 
 ing a young girl, who rode like a witch, urging 
 her mount with heel and voice and whip. It was 
 Polly. Her hat was gone, her hair flying, her eyes 
 blazing, and her ears straining for the thunder of 
 the teams in front. 
 
 And now the teams swing [into the lane to the 
 house, and the sounds of the battle and the terri 
 fied screams of the women are heard, the men are 
 leaning forward ready to jump. The horses are 
 pulled to their haunches, the men spring from the 
 wagon, and rush up the steps like stampeding 
 cattle. Bill Evans is ahead. He is met by a tig 
 ress of a woman, with blazing eyes and white 
 face, who tries to bar the door, shrieking curses.
 
 386 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Bill seizes her by the arm, dashes her aside, and 
 rushes in the direction from which the sounds of 
 the fight come. He dashes against the door, it 
 holds, again he hurls his huge body against it, it 
 shakes, but does not give way. Mad, Brown, 
 Ben, Pat, and Bill rush together. There is a 
 crash and the door splinters and falls, and the 
 men dash into the room to fall over prostrate, 
 struggling, cursing men, who are torn from their 
 victim, dashed to the floor, hand-cuffed, and tied, 
 and thrown into corners like sacks of flour. 
 
 At the bottom of the heap they found Sam, 
 dreadfully bruised and cut, covered with blood, 
 his clothing in rags, alive, and panting like a dog, 
 but undismayed and able in a few minutes to 
 gain his legs. Indeed, in some respects, he was in 
 better condition than some of his assailants. The 
 red-faced man, red no longer, but bruised, swol 
 len, and purple, had his jaw broken; Devlin s arm 
 was broken; Mace had a shoulder dislocated and 
 collar-bone broken by being thrown completely 
 over Sam s head; Simpson s nose was smashed 
 flat, the blood had soaked his shirt front, and his 
 lips were swollen and puffed like tomatoes; every 
 one else was bruised and bloody. But the most 
 serious thing was to come, for, as the officers 
 were hustling the prisoners from the room, the 
 Senorita reappeared, a white-faced, blazing fury. 
 She had rushed to Simpson s room, hunted up
 
 COUNTY SOLICITOR 387 
 
 his heavy Western revolver, and wild with rage 
 at the heavy fall Bill Evans had given her, aimed 
 it at him before any one could stop her, and just 
 as Polly, who had sprung from her panting pony, 
 rushed in at the door. At her shriek of warning, 
 Bill turned, made a frantic endeavor to strike up 
 her arm. There was a stunning report, a groan, a 
 fall, and Simpson lay on the floor shot through 
 the forehead. 
 
 The rage died out of the Senorita s face, the 
 weapon dropped to the floor, and for a moment 
 she stared at him; then dropping to her knees she 
 took the head of the dead man in her lap and 
 rocked to and fro in wild grief. Ben, who had 
 seen Polly enter, had hurried her out of the 
 house, assuring her that Sam was not seriously 
 hurt, and, persuading her to mount her pony, led 
 him away and out of sight and hearing of the 
 dreadful house, whence Sam slowly and limpingly 
 followed. Horses and carriages were obtained in 
 the neighborhood, and soon they were on their 
 way home, where later came the gruesome pro 
 cession of the dead and wounded. 
 
 The next morning the entire gang were duly 
 committed for trial without bail, but Sam was 
 unable to appear, and lay in bed bandaged and 
 patched, as he said, "like an old pair of boots, * 
 and raging at his inability to keep his platform 
 engagement.
 
 388 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 But it was kept, for when the hour came for the 
 speech, to the great surprise of those gathered in 
 the hall, there appeared on the platform the most 
 prominent men of that town, and the Captain, 
 the Senator, Caleb Terrill, J. Wadlin, the Major, 
 Mr. Timson, and Squire Ira Branch. Not the 
 Ira Branch of the past few months, but the Ira 
 Branch of old, strong, erect, commanding, 
 with the white fire of health and enthusiasm 
 burning in his eyes. What a speech they heard 
 that night! Brilliant, eloquent, forceful. A 
 speech that Wendell Phillips might have envied, 
 or Webster have rejoiced in. And when it was 
 over, the audience arose as one man and the 
 building shook with their cheers and shouts. 
 And it was impossible to say whether their cheers 
 were the louder for the young man who had held 
 his own with the gang of thugs, sworn to disgrace 
 or kill him, or for the old man who had come to 
 his own again. 
 
 And for every night before the election did the 
 Squire speak, crowding the houses, and winning 
 by his eloquence, his force, his sound common 
 sense, and the vast respect and admiration in 
 which he was held, the utmost enthusiasm for his 
 candidate, and when the election was held, Sam 
 was chosen Solicitor by the largest majority ever 
 given for a successful candidate. 
 
 When the court re-convened, a special grand
 
 COUNTY SOLICITOR 389 
 
 jury was empaneled, and although Langdon s 
 term of office did not expire until the next April, 
 yet he was so disgusted that he resigned, and 
 Sam was appointed Commissioner to perform the 
 duties of Solicitor by the Supreme Court; and 
 entered at once upon these duties, and when the 
 jury had finished their labors, not only were 
 Sam s assailants indicted for assault with intent 
 to kill and murder, but indictments were found 
 against Colonel Van Cleves, Bob Tiverton, and 
 all the incorporators of the race-track for main 
 taining a gambling-place. 
 
 These men promptly retaliated by refusing to 
 pay any more bills for the erection of the large 
 and elegant buildings of the plant. These bills, 
 amounting to an enormous sum of money, were 
 put in the Squire s hands for collection, and Sam, 
 hearing from Tom that the Colonel and Tiverton 
 were to be in the northern part of the state in a 
 trip to Maine during the deer-shooting season, 
 prepared writs, containing notices to be ready 
 for trial at the first term of court, in January, 
 and, to the Colonel s unbounded anger and dis 
 gust, secured personal service on both Bob and 
 the Colonel, of writs calling on them to pay the 
 entire amount, the Improvement Company not 
 being a limited corporation, and the directors 
 being individually liable. 
 
 The Colonel fairly exploded with wrath. "A
 
 390 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 dirty, pettifogging, shyster trick!" he yelled at 
 Sam. "Here you have me indicted, so I cannot 
 come into your damned rotten old state, and 
 then you sue me for hundreds of thousands of 
 dollars and try it in your own court. A dirty, 
 swindling trick." 
 
 "Keep your temper, Colonel," laughed Sam; 
 "you shall have every opportunity to come in 
 and defend your suits without arrest. The court 
 will grant you that, even if I would n t. I could 
 have had a capias to-day if I had wished. No, 
 Colonel, it s my turn now, but you are going to 
 get what you never gave a man in your life, a 
 fair and open chance. After I make you pay your 
 honest bills in New Hampshire, then I will see 
 what I can do to send you to jail " ; and he walked 
 out, leaving the Colonel purple with rage. 
 
 On Sam s return to the office and at his ecca- 
 sional suppers at the Squire s, he found, very 
 much to his surprise and chagrin, that Miss Polly 
 treated him in a very distant manner. Indeed, 
 she manifested the utmost indifference to his 
 affairs, and, when Sam endeavored to find out in 
 what way he had offended her, was most prop 
 erly reduced to his least common denominator 
 and put in his place. 
 
 This troubled Sam a good deal, for insensibly 
 and for a long time he had been developing a very 
 strong affection for that young lady, a feeling
 
 COUNTY SOLICITOR 391 
 
 very different from the semi-paternal, elder- 
 brotherly feeling he had had for her since he 
 came to Elmtown. Indeed, when, at the close of 
 his terrible fight that night, he had realized that 
 Polly had ridden her pony almost to death to get 
 there in time to help him, he vowed to himself 
 that he would willingly have taken a much worse 
 beating for that. 
 
 But when Sam attempted to thank her for her 
 interest and kindness, which, if he had known 
 anything, he would not have dared, she made up 
 a most atrocious fabrication of how she had been 
 riding that evening and the teams passed her, and 
 something started her pony, and for the life of 
 her she could not pull him down, and he fairly 
 ran away with her; that she left just as soon as 
 she learned that it was a drunken fight; which 
 last statement hurt Sam s feelings so much that 
 he became very stiff and formal. Whereat Polly 
 at once became quite confidential and friendly, 
 and urged Sam to give up his dissolute com 
 panions and be more like well, like Tom, for 
 instance. Whereupon Sam said, "Damn Tom," 
 and left in a huff, at which Polly laughed wick 
 edly. And like a woman got in the last word by 
 saying, with her nose in the air, "Well, Tom may 
 not be able to fight as well as some people, but he 
 certainly would not swear in the presence of a 
 lady." However, they were both so happy in the
 
 392 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 wonderful change for the better in the Squire, 
 and the general lifting of the cloud of gloom that 
 had hung over them so long, that they thought 
 the world a very bright place. 
 
 But in spite of Polly s apparent indifference to 
 Sam, you may be sure that she was by no means 
 as indifferent as she appeared. That she was 
 ready to resent any criticism of him that was 
 made by individuals or newspapers, and the 
 latter had by no means forgiven him for over 
 turning their prediction. 
 
 In his official duties he came in for much crit 
 icism from reformers in his own party, who quite 
 naturally thought that he as their candidate 
 would feel called upon to make sweeping prosecu 
 tions in the interest of their particular line of re 
 form. Prohibitionists desired the absolute en 
 forcement of the law and endless prosecution. 
 Societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals 
 were constantly importuning and commanding 
 investigations; ditto of children would take the 
 bringing-up of children, and particularly the 
 home discipline of the same, almost entirely out 
 of the hands of their parents or guardians. In 
 short, every kind of reformer camped in his office 
 until they found that he had ideas of his own 
 which he was quite capable of carrying out. He 
 listened patiently and courteously, and made his 
 decision promptly.
 
 COUNTY SOLICITOR 393 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said one day to a delegation 
 of reformers, who attended him, "I am ready as 
 Solicitor, to hear any complaints you may have, 
 and to act upon them at the county s expense 
 when I think the prosecution ought to be made. 
 In such cases I am willing to act as complainant, 
 but in all cases when I do not think the prosecu 
 tion to be for the public good, I shall decline to 
 act. In all cases I shall ask and demand the as 
 sistance of those making the complaint. I do not 
 intend to have thrust upon the shoulders of, or 
 charged to the pecuniary account of the County 
 of Rockaway, the private feuds of citizens. In 
 case of conviction I shall not always insist upon 
 a sentence. There will be, undoubtedly, many 
 cases in which I shall ask for a suspended sen 
 tence. But I do intend that the people shall re 
 spect and obey the law; not only our citizens, but 
 those who come from other states to take advan 
 tage of our institutions. I shall shirk no duty, 
 and I do not intend that the people shall shirk 
 their own."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE GREAT LEGAL BATTLE 
 
 AT the January Term the case against the Colo 
 nel and Bob came up, not for actual trial, 
 but upon a motion for the Court to frame issues for 
 a jury trial, the original writ being a bill in equity 
 to be acted upon by the Court sitting as an equity 
 tribunal. So many disputed questions of fact 
 arose, that it was the Squire s idea to have a jury 
 pass on the facts, the Court upon the law solely. 
 He judged that a finding of facts by the jury, as 
 he contended they should be found, would prac 
 tically settle the case, as the law had previously 
 determined the legal liability of stockholders in 
 corporations not limited. His notice to defend 
 ants to be ready for trial was not in expectation 
 of actual trial, as he had no idea that the Court 
 would do more than frame the jury issues, but he 
 felt sure that by insisting on his legal rights for 
 trial the Court would at least set the case for the 
 first jury trial at the next term in April. 
 
 This was exactly what took place. There was 
 a long and bitterly contested hearing, in which 
 Strasser, Holley, and Company appeared for the 
 defendants and with great ability and vigor con-
 
 THE GREAT LEGAL BATTLE 395 
 
 tested every point, but eventually issues were 
 framed. To the Squire s motion for an immedi 
 ate impaneling of a jury, Strasser objected vehe 
 mently and argued very forcibly for a general 
 continuance. Finally, the Squire apparently 
 yielded a point, and allowed the Court to set the 
 day of trial for the first day of the April Term, 
 which was just what he wanted. 
 
 Between the January Term and the April 
 Term both the Squire and Sam went to New 
 York several times to take depositions in this 
 action, and in spite of the adroitness of the 
 Colonel s counsel made satisfactory progress. 
 
 It was evident that the Colonel would fight 
 every inch of the ground, would raise every tech 
 nical objection that could be invented, and would 
 spare no pains and no expense in defeating Sam 
 and the Squire. Apart from the loss of the money 
 which, notwithstanding his wealth, meant a 
 great deal to the Colonel, he had an old-time 
 grudge against the Squire, and he hated Sam 
 with a fervor that made his eyes grow bloodshot 
 every time he thought of him. And Bob Tiver- 
 ton, in his weak, vicious way, hated them both as 
 much as he could. 
 
 The Squire and Sam prepared the case with 
 the thoroughness that its importance demanded, 
 and weeks before the April Term were ready for 
 trial at a moment s notice. At the opening day of
 
 396 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 the term, Strasser, of the Capital City, upon the 
 calling of the docket made a motion for a contin 
 uance, and argued it with great force, introducing 
 several affidavits. Sam replied at some length 
 and the Court overruled the motion. 
 
 Next came a motion for a change of venue, 
 which the Court overruled on the ground that a 
 motion of this kind did not lie for this form of 
 action, a claim for goods furnished and labor 
 performed. The Court agreed, however, to a 
 postponement until the Tuesday following the 
 second week of the term, and the case was set for 
 ten o clock of that day. 
 
 As there were no criminal cases of importance 
 at that term, Sam was not overworked, although 
 he and the Squire tried several jury cases during 
 the first and second week of the term, just 
 enough, as Sam said, to get them into good fight 
 ing condition. On Monday evening, Van Cleves, 
 Tiverton, and their lawyers and witnesses arrived, 
 and took possession of all of the best rooms at the 
 Rumscott, which they had engaged weeks be 
 fore. 
 
 Several of the men who had attended the 
 Colonel s conference in Boston the previous 
 summer, called on him. Several men who always 
 had important business at the various terms of 
 court, and who were spoken of as "jury fixers," 
 were also in town and called on the Colonel. The
 
 THE GREAT LEGAL BATTLE 397 
 
 week before, the Judge, at the request of the 
 Squire, had charged the entire panel of jurymen 
 as to their duties as jurors, and the selectmen of 
 the various towns in the county, to whom the 
 duty of drawing jurors had been by law intrusted, 
 had taken extraordinary pains to include in the 
 list of eligibles only men of sound judgment and 
 unimpeachable integrity. None the less, Sam and 
 the Squire had made arrangements to have these 
 "jury fixers" watched with the utmost care. 
 
 The next day at the ringing of the Court-House 
 bell, every seat in the court-room outside the bar 
 had been taken and nearly all within. The wit 
 ness seats were crowded, the jury box full, the 
 reporters seats occupied, and the only vacant 
 seats were around the tables for the attorneys. 
 
 The entry of the New York attorneys was 
 something in the nature of a procession. There 
 were Fitzgerald and Henderson, Anthony, Dra 
 per and Evertson, and old Isaac Robertson, the 
 keenest, shrewdest man at nisi prius in New 
 York City. Colonel Van Cleves and Tiverton 
 followed and took seats near their counsel, who 
 grouped around their long table. Next came the 
 Squire and Sam, who sat down at the head table. 
 
 The buzz of conversation that arose as the 
 New York lawyers came in was hushed as the 
 Judge ascended the bench, and all arose and 
 stood until he took his seat.
 
 398 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Are the parties ready in Leadenhall Brothers 
 v. Van Cleves et al?" inquired the Court. 
 
 " We are ready, your Honor," said Sam, rising. 
 
 "And we are ready," said Mr. Fitzgerald. 
 
 "The clerk will impanel a jury," said the 
 Court, turning to that official. 
 
 Thereupon the clerk proceeded to call the 
 names of twelve men, who took their seats in the 
 jury box on the left of the Judge. After the jury 
 had been drawn, the Judge, addressing them, 
 said, "This is an action in which James B. Lead 
 enhall seeks to recover of John C. Van Cleves 
 and Robert Tiverton the price of building-mate 
 rials and labor alleged to have been sold to the 
 Connecticut River Improvement Company, a 
 corporation, and laid out upon the erection of 
 their buildings in the Town of Salvage, in this 
 county. If any of you gentlemen are related to 
 the plaintiff or the defendants, Van Cleves and 
 Tiverton, or their attorneys, or if you have stock 
 in the Improvement Company, or have had deal 
 ings with it, or live in the Town of Salvage, or 
 have heard the case talked over, or read of it in 
 the papers to such an extent that you have 
 formed an opinion adverse to either of the parties 
 to this action, or if you have cases in this court in 
 which you are represented by either of the coun 
 sel taking part in this trial, you will please inform 
 the Court."
 
 399 
 
 One man arose. "I have lost considerable " 
 
 "Stop there, sir!" said the Court sharply. 
 : The Court does not wish to know any of the 
 circumstances. All it is necessary to do is to tell 
 me have you formed an opinion, or are you preju 
 diced?" 
 
 "I be, your honor," replied the man. 
 
 "You may step down, sir," said the Court, and 
 the clerk drew another name from the box. 
 
 This man, having been duly charged by the 
 Judge, retained his seat, and the panel was sub 
 mitted to the counsel, who, after having con 
 sulted at length, made no challenge. 
 
 Then Sam arose, bowed to the Judge and to 
 the jury, read the declaration and the specifica 
 tions, and then gave a quiet summary of the 
 evidence he intended to submit to the jury. 
 There was no ornate speech or rounded periods, 
 but a simple statement of facts that every jury 
 man could understand readily. Not a necessary 
 word omitted, not an unnecessary word used. 
 
 "A model opening," was the comment of the 
 lawyers. 
 
 The tamest speech I ever heard," said the 
 laymen. 
 
 "Phwat th divil ails th bhoy, he did n t call 
 ony wan av thim fool, liar, or son-av-a-goon," 
 said Pat to old John. 
 
 "Lave him be, lave him be, Pat," said old
 
 400 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 John. " Sure, ye don t want to sthart a long dis- 
 thance race at a fasht qua-a-rther," said John. 
 
 As Sam finished his opening, he conferred a 
 moment with the Squire and then called as his 
 first witness, "Colonel Van Cleves, John C. Van 
 Cleves." 
 
 There was a pause and the eight lawyers for 
 the defense arose to protest. They had never 
 heard of such an irregular proceeding in their 
 many years of practice. They quoted the bill of 
 rights, they quoted the statute of the state 
 whereby " No person shall be compelled in testi 
 fying to disclose the names of the witnesses by 
 whom nor the manner in which he proposes to 
 prove his case." Sam answered by quoting the 
 statute to the effect that "No person shall be ex 
 cused or excluded from testifying in any civil 
 cause by reason of his interest therein, as a party 
 or otherwise. * 
 
 The defendants lawyers answered hotly, and 
 after a most protracted dispute the Court ruled 
 that the Colonel must testify, and that choleric 
 gentleman, casting a furious look at Sam, took 
 the stand, and Sam, to the surprise of those pres 
 ent, began his examination. The defendants 
 counsel, who had intended keeping the Colonel 
 from testifying, if possible, as they well knew his 
 choleric disposition, and feared the result, deter 
 mined to block Sam in every possible way. Ac-
 
 THE GREAT LEGAL BATTLE 401 
 
 cordingly there was an objection and an argu 
 ment over the admissibility of every question of 
 importance. 
 
 Sam answered the objections concisely and 
 very much to the point, sometimes withdrew a 
 question to save an exception. At times, when 
 the objections to questions of importance were so 
 plausibly argued by the remarkably able New 
 York counsel that the tide of battle seemed to be 
 going against Sam, the Squire arose and rein 
 forced his junior with masterly arguments. Ev- 
 ertson and old Isaac Robertson were the quick 
 est, keenest, and most plausible advocates, and 
 the many tilts between the Squire and these two 
 kept the audience on tiptoe with expectation. 
 
 But Sam hammered away, pressing an advan 
 tage here, giving ground there, intent, watchful, 
 determined, quickly observant of a quiet word 
 from the Squire, while the Colonel, gradually los 
 ing his temper and his self-possession, made the 
 most damaging admissions, to the unspoken dis 
 may and ill-concealed fury of his counsel, who 
 drew long breaths of relief when at the end of the 
 morning session, the Colonel, limp, perspiring, 
 shaking, stepped down, or rather staggered to his 
 seat, and Sam called the next witness. 
 
 The afternoon was spent by Sam with other 
 witnesses, who were searchingly cross-examined 
 by the New York lawyers, but with the odds very
 
 402 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 much in favor of the plaintiffs contention, and 
 very much to the open delight of the local 
 audience. 
 
 On the second day the New York lawyers had 
 their innings, and a splendid battle took place 
 between their combined forces and the Squire, 
 who met them at every point in the most gallant 
 and masterful way. Never in that court-room 
 had been seen a greater battle. The famous 
 "Betty Farmer Will Case," in which famous 
 counsel were employed, sank into insignificance 
 in the minds of old men present, who had wit 
 nessed that much-quoted trial. 
 
 And when at the close of the second day the de 
 fense rested, the result was in doubt.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A VICTORY 
 
 IT was the last day of the trial, and the old 
 Court-House was full. Full to the outer doors, 
 where men stood and crowded and jostled one 
 another. Full to the lofty windows, where men 
 and women sat and held their breath and lis 
 tened. Full to the gallery s edge with silent, in 
 tent, eager people. 
 
 The arguments were on. For three days the 
 most stubbornly contested legal battle in years 
 had been waged. For three days the Squire and 
 his young assistant had held at bay the most pro 
 found lawyers, and the most adroit tacticians of 
 the bar, in the country. To win that case the de 
 fendant stockholders in the corporation had left 
 no stone unturned, no precaution neglected, both 
 in the selection of the most eminent counsel and 
 in thorough preparation of the case. 
 
 The case had bristled with legal technicalities. 
 Every quibble that legal ability and knowledge 
 could invent, every quirk that professional 
 adroitness could distort, every shifty evasion 
 that precedent could justify or excuse, had been 
 invented, distorted, and sought out with mas-
 
 404 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 terly skill, but at every turn and twist the Squire 
 had met them with uncompromising directness, 
 answering precedent with precedent, theory with 
 fact, inference with conclusion. 
 
 It had been a hard battle and one that had 
 demanded all the resources of the Squire s pow 
 erful personality, all his great learning, all his 
 masterly ability; and now, as he delivered the 
 closing argument in the great case, the silence in 
 the court-room was intense, the interest absorb 
 ing. With relentless vigor he drove his points 
 home; with masterly skill he brushed away the 
 sophistries of his opponents; with compelling 
 logic he pursued his contentions to the desired 
 end. His wit was as incisive, his sarcasms were 
 as biting, his impassioned periods as majestic as 
 ever, and when, after a clear, convincing, and 
 powerful exposition of law and fact, in a digni 
 fied, kindly manner he addressed a few closing 
 words to the jury, reminding them of their 
 solemn obligations as jurors, urging them to be 
 above passion, above prejudice, above fear, 
 above favor, to do strict justice under the law 
 and the evidence, there was not a soul in the 
 crowded court-house who did not know that he 
 had won and won gloriously, and they sank back 
 into easier positions to listen to the charge of the 
 Judge, clear, concise, profound, flawless, and 
 colorless as a charge should be.
 
 A VICTORY 405 
 
 The jury was in, the verdict was read, and the 
 Squire had won. As he passed slowly from the 
 room, avoiding the congratulations of his friends, 
 and down the gravelled walk beneath the avenue 
 of drooping elms, he was weary of it all. 
 
 Outside in the corridors the lawyers were dis 
 cussing the case in its various phases, while on 
 the street knots of people had gathered to talk 
 over the all-absorbing topic, but he avoided 
 them, and took his solitary way across the 
 square, over the bridge, and down through a 
 shady lane that led towards the river. 
 
 The sun was shining brightly, the birds were 
 singing, and the air was full of delightful scents 
 and sounds that spoke of summer. Yet he saw 
 nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing, was barely 
 conscious of an undefined desire to get away 
 from everything, from everybody, and to rest. 
 
 And when after a while he awoke to the con 
 sciousness of his surroundings, he stood on the 
 bank of the river near a swimming-hole. He 
 knew it was a swimming-hole, for the bank was 
 worn away at the edge of the water, and there 
 was a gravelly bottom and the supports of what 
 had been a diving-board. There was a place in 
 his boyhood home strangely like this. How many 
 years had passed away since he, a little bare 
 footed, freckled-faced lad, had daily, morning 
 and afternoon, come to that spot for the noisy,
 
 406 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 turbulent, delightful swim! More than he cared 
 to count; more than he dared remember; for he 
 was an old man now. An old man! After all, 
 what did it matter? 
 
 His thoughts wandered back afar. There was 
 Bill Abbott, and Jed Austin, and Bob Hale, and 
 Mealy Austin, Jed s brother, and Si Eastman, 
 and a host of others who used to go there to 
 swim. Most of them must be dead, for that was 
 long ago. He had seen Si a few years back, an 
 old, bent, worn-out, snuffy man. Who would be 
 lieve that Si used to dive from the old beech tree 
 that used to lean over the pool and swim across 
 under water? He wondered if the old beech tree 
 were still there. And once there was a boy 
 drowned there. What was his name? He could 
 not remember, for it was long ago. He, too, 
 would have been an old man had he lived. He 
 wondered what kind of a man he would have 
 made, and whether or not he would have been an 
 acquaintance of his, and whether or not he would 
 have liked to be an old man had he lived. 
 
 Other memories came thronging through the 
 Squire s mind as he stood staring at the pool, and 
 looking back through the years. But he felt 
 strangely tired, and seating himself at the foot of 
 a tree let his mind wander back. 
 
 He saw a happy, patched, and healthy boy, a 
 mischievous urchin and a sore trial to his teach-
 
 A VICTORY 407 
 
 ers. He saw that boy throwing spitballs, fight 
 ing, birds-egging, coasting, getting whipped at 
 school. And he saw an old farmhouse with some 
 thing soft and black hanging from the knob of 
 the door, and within, country people and neigh 
 bors sitting around in silence, and the minister, 
 of whom he had been afraid all his life, saying 
 something, he had forgotten what, and a long 
 black silent thing in the best room. 
 
 And then he remembered a few years of hard 
 work and scant kindness, and then his running 
 away and going West and what took place there. 
 And that was long ago, too, and did n t matter 
 much now, but he he had really killed a 
 man. 
 
 And then he had come back with a little child, 
 that man s child, but his, too, because he had 
 taken her and had lived for her. And she had 
 grown up and had died, and he had lived to be an 
 old man. 
 
 He became conscious of a dull ache that ran 
 along his left arm and twinged him curiously. As 
 he stirred in his seat a terrible pain shot through 
 his heart, a pain that blanched his face and shook 
 him like a sudden palsy. What was it? He had 
 never felt the like. Well, it was gone, leaving 
 him white and shaken, but the dull ache re 
 mained in his arm and shoulder. He must have 
 caught a slight cold, but here in the sun it was
 
 408 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 warm enough and the pain was nearly, ah ! not 
 quite, but nearly gone. 
 
 He took from his breast a little gold locket, 
 opened it, and looked at the quaint old-fashioned 
 picture of a young girl until tears blurred the fair 
 image. 
 
 Well, he would rest awhile and then go back 
 and take up his duties, and live the few remaining 
 years of his life as best he could and uncomplain 
 ingly. But it was such a weary, weary way, and 
 he sank back with a sigh and gazed again at the 
 little miniature while the sun sank in the west, 
 the shadows of the pool grew dark and sombre, 
 and in a thicket of alders across the way a wood 
 thrush began its evening song. 
 
 And when they found him, he was smiling, and 
 he still held in his hand a tiny locket of gold in 
 closing a miniature of a sweet, thoughtful face, 
 crowned by smooth bands of hair in the quaint 
 fashion of days long departed. 
 
 In the village the old church bell was tolling 
 with long, solemn, dragging tones. And a man 
 said, "He was a great lawyer." And a mother 
 said, "He must have had a great sorrow." But a 
 child wept, and, climbing to its mother s lap, hid 
 its face in her breast, afraid of the solemn tones 
 of the bell. But the Squire still smiled, for he had 
 gone to meet a child.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 AN ENLIGHTENMENT 
 
 IT was a week later, and Sam stood leaning 
 against the mantel in the sitting-room of the 
 Squire s house. In a rocker by the table, her face 
 pale and worn, her eyes large and dark-circled, 
 sat Polly, a pale, little, pitiful figure. 
 
 Sam had just finished reading to her a copy of 
 the Squire s will, in which he had bequeathed 
 everything to Polly, in terms of such affection 
 and trust that she was again overcome with 
 grief. 
 
 In addition to this he had made Sam his ex 
 ecutor and charged him with the care, main 
 tenance, and education of Polly, and in spite of 
 their deep grief at losing, the one a father, the 
 other a nearest friend, the latter clause in the 
 will had made it a bit awkward for them. At 
 heart it was what they both wished. To Sam the 
 associations with Polly that his new duties pro 
 mised, opened the doors of paradise to him, while 
 to Polly, longing and yearning for some one on 
 whom to lean and weep out her heart and be 
 comforted, it meant rest and happiness. But 
 Sam felt that she would have had it different, and
 
 410 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 she felt that Sam undertook it simply as a duty 
 to his old friend, and they were both reserved and 
 constrained. 
 
 Sam had put in a week of the hardest work. 
 From early morning until late at night he had 
 examined papers, talked with clients, made 
 arrangements for the funeral, answered letters, 
 sent and received telegrams, and had spent every 
 moment possible in trying to make Polly com 
 fortable. 
 
 Everybody had been kind, and scores had 
 offered their services and their help, and the 
 house and office had been besieged by those anx 
 ious to help and advise. 
 
 Miss Ellis had been Sam s most efficient 
 helper. She had gone straight to Polly, and had 
 taken charge of her and of the house, had inter 
 viewed callers, dismissed without ceremony those 
 who came out of curiosity, and taken the poor 
 little girl to her heart like a little child and com 
 forted her like a mother, while Sam, embarrassed, 
 uncertain, and with his heart torn by her grief, 
 left her to Miss Ellis, and plunged into the settle 
 ment of the Squire s affairs. The Captain, the 
 Senator, their sister, J. Wadlin and his wife, good 
 old Doctor Barry and his sister-in-law, had all 
 urged Polly to come and make a home with them, 
 but she had refused. 
 
 And now she sat there by the table, silent,
 
 AN ENLIGHTENMENT 411 
 
 uneasy, distraught, waiting and hoping for some 
 word that would show that she had a guardian 
 and a friend instead of a mere business trustee but 
 Sam was silent. 
 
 There was an awkward pause. A burned stick 
 broke in the fire place. Without the nine o clock 
 bell rang its warning. Sam replaced the copy of 
 the will in his bag, and drew out a sealed envelope. 
 
 "Polly," he said gently. 
 
 "Well, Sam, what is it?" she asked in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "Did you ever know, Polly, that Mr. Branch 
 had a secret in his life? A secret sorrow that wore 
 on him?" 
 
 Polly glanced up sharply. " Yes, Sam, I knew 
 there was something," she said. "Why do you 
 speak of it now? Did he ever mention it to 
 
 you?" 
 
 " No, Polly, he never did. But on one occasion 
 Doctor Barry spoke of a great sorrow in Mr. 
 Branch s life, and said he knew it and that he was 
 the only one who knew it, and I think he is the 
 only one, now at least." 
 
 "Why do you say now at least ?" asked 
 Polly. "Do you think any one else knew it?" 
 
 Yes, " answered Sam, " I think Simpson knew 
 it," and his voice took on a deep tone of anger. 
 
 "I think so too," said Polly. 
 
 "Another reason I speak of it now, is because I
 
 412 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 can find out his secret by merely opening this 
 letter." 
 
 "Oh," said Polly with a gasp, " what do you 
 mean, Sam?" 
 
 "Just this, Polly, I found this sealed letter with 
 his will with the words written on the enclosure, 
 If my Executor and my dear niece Polly wish to 
 know something that may explain acts of mine 
 that may have seemed inexplicable to them, they 
 can break this seal and read the enclosed state 
 ment. If they read it I only ask that they keep 
 it a secret as it has been kept for many weary 
 years. IRA BRANCH." 
 
 Polly took the letter, read the words, and the 
 tears welled to her eyes. 
 
 Finally Sam said, "Polly, do you wish to 
 know?" 
 
 "No, Sam, I only know that Uncle Ira was the 
 best, the kindest, the dearest man that ever 
 lived," and she burst into tears again. 
 
 Sam waited until she had composed herself and 
 then said, "Polly, I feel as you do. Shall we burn 
 it?" 
 
 "Yes, do please, Sam," she answered. 
 
 Sam laid the letter on the coals, took the bel 
 lows and blew it into a bright flame. Together 
 they watched it until it crumbled to glowing 
 curls, which Sam poked and pounded until it was 
 a fine white ash.
 
 AN ENLIGHTENMENT 413 
 
 Polly breathed a sigh of relief, and almost 
 smiled. "Good-night, Sam," she said, "that was 
 best, was n t it? " 
 
 " Good-night, Polly, I know we have done as he 
 would have wished," replied Sam, as he ran down 
 the steps. 
 
 The weeks passed and Sam still worked, driv 
 ing himself without stint. He missed the Squire 
 dreadfully. The office seemed empty, despite the 
 stream of clients that came. Every morning he 
 ran up to the house to see Polly, every night he 
 went there immediately after supper. If it was 
 pleasant, he hooked up the horse and sent Miss 
 Ellis and Polly for a ride. Polly had never asked 
 him to go, although Miss Ellis kept discreetly in 
 the background. Nor had Sam offered, for he 
 took Polly s aloofness as an indication that she 
 did not wish him to go. So, although keenly dis 
 appointed, he would go back to the office and dig 
 into his books and accounts. 
 
 At the end of three weeks Polly was invited to 
 New York by Mrs. Anderson, the wife of the 
 lawyer with whom the Squire had had many 
 business transactions. Miss Ellis, who had been, 
 as she afterwards said, "getting madder and 
 madder with Sam Randolph," urged her to go, 
 and Sam, although it cut him deeply to lose her, 
 joined his advice to that of Miss Ellis. 
 
 Poor Polly, she did not wish to go, and she en-
 
 414 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 tirely misunderstood Sam s motives. She was 
 alone in the world. Her dear father, the only 
 father she ever knew, was dead, and Sam had 
 tired of her. All he wanted was his books, and 
 his work, and his politics, and his gymnasium 
 friends, and fighting with roughs. Of course he 
 did n t care for her. She would go to New York 
 and try to forget Elmtown and all the people in 
 it, that is, all but the people who had been 
 kind to her. 
 
 So Miss Polly visibly cheered up, and in Sam s 
 presence talked quite enthusiastically of her 
 visit, and the probability of living there forever, 
 and asked Sam particularly about what he would 
 advise her to do in New York the next winter. 
 That she wanted to take up some work to enable 
 her to forget Elmtown, and then she cried and 
 put her arms around Miss Ellis s neck, and Sam, 
 after waiting miserably until she recovered, bade 
 her good-night and went to the stable, saddled 
 his horse and rode him to a lather. 
 
 Polly was to go on the three o clock train Tues 
 day afternoon. Sam had procured her tickets, 
 furnished her with plenty of money, and had 
 made all arrangements for her comfort. His 
 method was prompt and a trifle brusque, for he 
 invaded the Pullman, and, taking the porter by 
 the collar, he said, "Tom, next Tuesday my old 
 partner s daughter is going to New York in your
 
 AN ENLIGHTENMENT 415 
 
 car, seat number 5. Here is two dollars. She will 
 write me about her trip. If you do the right thing, 
 I will give you five dollars more. If not, you 
 will lose your five dollars and I will take about 
 twenty -five dollars worth out of your hide. Do 
 you understand?" 
 
 "Ah unnerstan , boss, suah. Ah shall get dem 
 ar fi dollars," said Tom, smiling a flashing smile 
 of white teeth and good humor. 
 
 As ill luck would have it, Sam had business out 
 of town the next Tuesday, and, although he tried 
 vainly to expedite it, he did not return till long 
 after the train had departed. This was really 
 too much for Polly, and she departed with her 
 head in the air, never as much as asking for Sam. 
 
 After her departure the work in the office went 
 on. Sam worked and rode and exercised as be 
 fore, but without interest or pleasure. He began 
 to get short-tempered. His appetite began to 
 fail him. He never before noticed how greedy, 
 grasping, and penurious country people were. 
 How given to tittle-tattle and scandal! How 
 deadly uninteresting! New York began to de 
 velop charm for him that it never had before. 
 But no, he would not go there. If he left Elm- 
 town he would go West and begin again. What 
 was the use of slaving for a paltry living? If the 
 Squire had lived, it would have been different. 
 Oh, if the Squire had only lived!
 
 416 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 Sam wrote regularly to Polly. The writing of 
 these letters was the only bright spot in the 
 week. Occasionally she answered them. Bright, 
 lively letters, but sounding to Sam as if she were 
 glad to be away from Elmtown. Sam let Miss 
 Ellis read them. Miss Ellis smiled grimly. She 
 had received a few from Polly, and between the 
 lines she had read that Polly was eating her heart 
 out for home. Miss Ellis did not know what to do. 
 At heart she feared Sam as much as she liked and 
 admired him, and she knew that his natural re 
 serve seldom tolerated interference in his affairs. 
 
 Sam had sent on Polly s pony, with saddle and 
 bridle, for Tom was riding with her in the park. 
 Sam gritted his teeth. Tom always had every 
 thing he wished. Everything came to Tom, - 
 money, friends, amusement, happiness, love, 
 while he well, he bid fair to lose everything, as 
 he had lost his best friend. Even Bob Tiverton 
 had got what he had so ardently wished, so long 
 ago. And Bob Tiverton had about everything 
 but reputation. Well, he did n t envy Bob, but 
 he did envy almost every one else. 
 
 A few days after this Sam received another 
 letter from Polly, written in a much more cheer 
 ful vein, telling him of everyday rides with Tom. 
 How beautiful the park looked! What splendid 
 horses! What groups of children on beautiful 
 ponies, with grooms in livery! What splendid
 
 AN ENLIGHTENMENT 417 
 
 riders on hunters and park hacks ! Most of them 
 knew Tom and came over to be introduced, and 
 had asked to ride with her, but she had refused 
 because she had promised Tom to ride with him, 
 and he rode so well, and was so handsome and so 
 pleasant and so amusing. And then Frisk was a 
 great attraction, too, because he was so plump 
 and handsome and so easy. And Tom had prom 
 ised that some day she should ride his best horse 
 after he had ridden him a little longer. 
 
 Sam dashed down the letter and muttered a 
 hearty malediction. Tom! Tom! Tom! nothing 
 but Tom. Tom was everything. Here he was 
 working his eyes out to straighten her affairs, and 
 all he got for it was letters about Tom. It was 
 outrageous. Well, he would break himself of his 
 insane infatuation. She was n t for him, and he 
 ought to have known it. Damn Tom! and damn 
 the luck ! and damn everything anyway ! and 
 Sam opened a drawer, thrust in the letter, 
 slammed the drawer to with most unnecessary 
 vigor, locked it, and sat down at his desk with a 
 violence that fairly jarred the building, and be 
 gan to sort and read his mail. After a while his 
 trained mind began to work on his professional 
 duties and everything went smoothly, until a 
 client arrived whom Sam positively detested. 
 He was a very sanctimonious old chap, penuri 
 ous, rich, and very insistent, and it was the last
 
 418 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 straw. Within a few minutes of his arrival he 
 left hastily and very much discomfited after a 
 most tremendous dressing-down that Sam had 
 given him, while Sam was striding up and down 
 the office raging at the disparity in age that pre 
 vented him from locking the door and adminis 
 tering a sound thrashing to the old man. 
 
 While he was fuming, Miss Ellis came in and 
 sat down at her desk. She was reading a letter 
 and scarcely noticed Sam, who had sunk down in 
 his chair in utter dejection, chewing on an un- 
 lighted cigar. His hat was tipped over his fore 
 head, his legs stretched at full length and resting 
 on his heels, his head sunk between his shoulders, 
 and his eyes staring into the distance. Miss 
 Ellis finished her letter and glanced up, and her 
 mouth tightened as a look of grim determination 
 came over her face. 
 
 She sprang to her feet and walked with quick, 
 snappy steps across the room. "Sam Randolph, 
 I want to read part of a letter to you. It may be 
 interesting to you, that is, if you can get your 
 mind off this dingy old office long enough." 
 
 Sam sat up in surprise. He had never heard a 
 tone of voice like that from her. 
 
 "I ll read only the last part. It is from 
 Polly, bless her dear little heart," and Miss Ellis 
 gulped and choked for a moment before she could 
 go on.
 
 AN ENLIGHTENMENT 419 
 
 " * Oh, Miss Ellis, what shall I do? Tom pro 
 posed to me yesterday, in the park. We were 
 riding, and all of a sudden he caught my hand 
 and proposed. I like him, oh! so much, and he 
 has been so kind and so good to me. It really 
 seems to me that he understands me better than 
 any one but you. But, Miss Ellis, I don t love 
 him. I don t love him ! and a girl ought not to 
 marry a man unless she loves him, ought she? 
 I told him so, and he says I can learn to love 
 him, and he wanted me to be engaged to him. 
 What shall I do? He will ask me again, and I 
 just can t love him. Miss Ellis, I will tell you 
 what neither you nor any one else ever suspected 
 - I love somebody else! and he does n t care a 
 penny about me ! Is n t that a humiliating con 
 fession for a girl to make. I would n t tell any one 
 but you, now Uncle Ira is dead. Dear Uncle, if he 
 were only here. Oh, I am so lonely! so awfully 
 lonely! and homesick! I must come home! I 
 shall do something dreadful if I don t. Can t you 
 come, Miss Ellis? " 
 
 There, what do you think of that, Sam Ran 
 dolph?" demanded Miss Ellis dramatically. 
 
 Sam s face was white and drawn. "Poor little 
 girl," he said huskily. " So it s some one else, is it? 
 Poor Tom, it s a blow to him, if he feels half as 
 badly about losing her as I do. By the Eter 
 nal," he blazed suddenly, "if any one has led that
 
 420 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 little girl on to love him and then has disap 
 pointed her, I 11 " and his chest swelled and 
 his eyes narrowed to slits. 
 
 "You ll what? What will you do?" demanded 
 Miss Ellis scornfully. 
 
 "Why I ll mop the entire length of Fifth Av 
 enue with his worthless hide," said Sam in a 
 passion. 
 
 "Well, somebody has done just that, and I 
 know who, and Fifth Avenue is n t half long 
 enough to do him justice," said Miss Ellis, her 
 mouth closing like a steel trap. 
 
 "Miss Ellis," said Sam, slowly and through 
 his teeth, "if you know who has hurt that little 
 girl, tell me now, at once, and without any more 
 talk, and I 11 go straight to New York, and when 
 I get through with him there won t be enough 
 left of him to fill a garbage can." 
 
 "You won t have to go to New York, Sam 
 Randolph, not out of this town," said Miss Ellis 
 tauntingly. 
 
 "What! he lives here? Here in Elmtown?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Can you point him out to me?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And will you?" 
 
 "I most certainly will." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "Who is he? Well, I ll precious soon tell you
 
 AN ENLIGHTENMENT 421 
 
 who he is, Sam Randolph," said Miss Ellis, snip 
 ing her words out like the clip of scissors. "It is 
 you! Sam Randolph, you! who have hurt that 
 little girl. Now, do you know?" 
 
 Sam started back in astonishment. 
 
 "Me!" he burst out explosively and ungram 
 matically. : You are crazy! absolutely insane! 
 Polly dislikes me." 
 
 "Sam Randolph! For a man who is supposed 
 to have common sense, you are the biggest fool 
 I ever saw in my life. The very biggest. A 
 great hulking, muddle-headed gump without 
 brains enough to fit out a woodchuck. Don t you 
 know that that dear little girl has just about wor 
 shiped you ever since you came here? Have n t 
 you had any eyes or ears or sense? Have n t you 
 seen her dear little face light up every time you 
 came in sight? Do you suppose a great, big, 
 splendid, worthless, good-natured, masterful, 
 conceited donkey of a man coming into a town 
 like this would n t have some effect on a little 
 country girl? What do you suppose she rode her 
 pony and whipped and spurred him until he was 
 all covered with welts and blood for, the night 
 you were hurt, and she never struck him a blow 
 in her life before, and cried about it for days," 
 and Miss Ellis began to cry too. 
 
 "But, Miss Ellis, I tried to thank her for that 
 very thing, and I never was so snubbed in my life."
 
 422 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 "Snubbed!" cried Miss Ellis, her tears drying 
 as if by magic; "of course you were snubbed, and 
 properly enough, too. What! do you men sup 
 pose that a right-minded girl is going to throw 
 herself at your feet? Oh, you blind, ignorant, 
 conceited men, you don t deserve anything. I 
 never saw one of you who amounted to anything 
 who knew a thing about women. And you would 
 have lost her forever if I had n t been here to 
 open your eyes, and you will now if you waste 
 any more time, you stupid, utterly stupid mole." 
 
 Sam snatched out his watch. It was 8.45. He 
 tore off his office coat, rushed to the closet and 
 squirmed into his street jacket, rushed to the 
 window and hailed a passing team. Then to the 
 safe, whisked open a drawer, and stuffed a huge 
 roll of bills in his pocket. 
 
 "Where under the sun are you going?" 
 screamed Miss Ellis. 
 
 "To New York, where do you suppose?" 
 snapped Sam. 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "For Polly, "he shouted. 
 
 "Bless the man," gasped Miss Ellis, "you 
 don t mean to tell her what I have told you?" 
 
 "Of course, why not?" he retorted. 
 
 "Oh, you idiot, you idiot. Do you want 
 her?" 
 
 "Want her!" said Sam; "I d give my life for
 
 AN ENLIGHTENMENT 423 
 
 her. Want her!" he choked, and could say no 
 more. 
 
 "Then, for Heaven s sake, tell her so. Don t 
 for a moment let her know that you think she 
 loves you. If you do, she will never marry you. 
 She is the proudest girl in the country. Tell her 
 you can t get along without her, that you must 
 have her, can t live without her. Don t you see? 
 It must come from you. Oh, Sam Randolph, you 
 need a guardian if ever a man did," gasped Miss 
 Ellis, struggling with a wild desire to laugh as 
 Sam tore round trying his keys on the closet 
 door. Perdition ! he had lost the key. Crash ! he 
 had wrenched the door from its hinges, seized his 
 grip and darted for the stairway. 
 
 "But, Sam, the office!" screamed Miss Ellis. 
 
 "Hang the office," he roared. 
 
 "But what shall I tell the clients?" 
 
 "Tell them to go to the Devil," yelled Sam, 
 going down the stairs in long leaps. 
 
 Suddenly the door burst open again. 
 
 "Miss Ellis, God bless you, I have n t thanked 
 you," and in a moment that prim maiden found 
 herself crushed in an iron grasp, tossed in the 
 air like a child, and kissed with a report that rang 
 out like the explosion of a paper bag, and Sam 
 was gone, and the rattle of wheels, the crack of 
 a whip, and the sounds of galloping hoofs died 
 away, while Miss Ellis alternately laughed and
 
 424 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 cried until a sturdy, middle-aged man entered, at 
 which apparition she started up with a scream and 
 a beaming face. 
 
 "What has come over Sam?" he queried. "I 
 met him on the stairs and he nearly jumped over 
 my head and went off like a man escaping jail." 
 
 "Oh Ben! Ben!" she cried. "You ought to 
 4 have been here. He has been nearly crazy for 
 Polly and she for him, and neither knew the 
 other loved him or her or it, what am I say 
 ing? and I talked to him dreadfully, and he 
 rushed for his hat and coat and kissed me as loud 
 as a pistol and has gone for the train. Did you 
 ever?" 
 
 "No," said Ben gravely, but with a twinkle in 
 his eye, "but I am going to now"; and for the 
 second time that day Miss Ellis was crushed in a 
 bear s hug and kissed, but this time it took 
 longer and she did n t resist.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 JUDGMENT FOR THE PLAINTIFF 
 
 THE train rattled and roared and thundered 
 along, swaying round curves, clashing hor 
 ribly over interwoven tracks, shrieking hide 
 ously at crossings, and smoking chokingly in 
 tunnels. Sam had caught the Limited, but his 
 anxiety was such that it seemed to crawl. He 
 turned and twisted uneasily in his luxurious seat; 
 he went to the smoker and puffed countless 
 cigars, and then to the lavatory, where he washed 
 his face and hands and rinsed his mouth so as to 
 rid himself as much as possible of the smell of 
 tobacco. He bought books and magazines and 
 daily papers, tried to read them and flung them 
 aside. He paced up and down the centre of the 
 car, until he attracted the attention of his fellow 
 passengers. He took a little girl on his lap and 
 told her endless stories, and while doing this 
 calmed his impatience perceptibly. 
 
 But at last the train crawled into the Grand 
 Central Station, and, hastily handing a dollar to 
 the porter, he seized his grip and sprang from the 
 train as soon as the vestibule door opened, 
 nearly crushing the grinning porter. He rushed
 
 426 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 to the street, hailed a cab, threw in his grip, gave 
 an address to the driver, sprang in, and away he 
 went. On the way he tried to lay out a plan of 
 campaign, and to obey the commands, for they 
 were commands, of Miss Ellis. And now his 
 heart began to fail him, for what if she should 
 refuse him? What if he should find Tom there, 
 and he should be too late. He looked at his 
 dusty, dingy clothes. Why had n t he the sense 
 to have that infernal nigger brush him? "Here, 
 driver, stop at the next hotel and let me out a 
 moment," but the driver had drawn up at a 
 plain brownstone house. 
 
 For a moment Sam felt his courage oozing 
 away, and then, for he had a way of riding 
 straight at his fences, he walked deliberately up 
 the steps and rang the bell. A trim maid an 
 swered the bell, and Sam asked for Polly. Yes, 
 she was in. Who should she say wished to see 
 her. Sam strode in. " You need n t say who, but 
 I think that is, I hope she will be glad to 
 see me, * and he followed her into a reception 
 room. 
 
 Sam waited. He heard a door close somewhere 
 in the regions above, then a light step descending 
 the stairs. The curtains were parted and it 
 was Polly. At seeing Sam she started, paled, and 
 her hands went to her heart. 
 
 Sam was across the room in a stride and caught
 
 JUDGMENT FOR THE PLAINTIFF 427 
 
 her hands. "Polly!" he said, with his soul in his 
 eyes. 
 
 But Polly had recovered herself. "Why, Mr. 
 Randolph, how you startled me. Really you 
 should have sent up your card. We are not in 
 Elmtown, now. How is that funny little town 
 and everybody in it?" and she tried to withdraw 
 her hands. 
 
 "Polly, don t play with me. I ve come for 
 you, Polly; I can t stand it any longer; you must 
 come with me; I - 
 
 "Now, Mr. Randolph, how perfectly unrea 
 sonable of you. Just as I am having a perfectly 
 delightful time, and going everywhere, and 
 everybody so kind to me, you come here and 
 demand of me to leave it all and to go back to 
 Elmtown. Really, I never heard a more ridicu 
 lous proposition in my life. But these country 
 people are so ridiculous," and she smiled up at 
 Sam with amiable unconcern. "Now, Mr. Ran 
 dolph, if you have no further use for my hands, 
 and as I may find them useful here in New York, 
 and as you are hurting me, would you mind re 
 leasing them?" she continued. 
 
 Sam dropped her hands and looked at her 
 with the color slowly receding from his face, and 
 the light dying out of his eyes. 
 
 "I ought not to have come, Polly. I might 
 have known that you never could love a chap
 
 428 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 like me. God knows you have showed it plainly 
 enough in the last few months. However, Polly, I 
 love you, and always shall, but I ll never bother 
 you again. Good-by, Polly," and he turned. 
 
 Polly started, and a crimson flush spread over 
 her face. "Sam!" she said sharply,- "Sam! 
 don t go, I - - I - 
 
 Sam turned as she came towards him, her eyes 
 shining, her whole being glowing. "Sam, you 
 blind, blind, stupid boy, did n t you know? Oh, 
 Sam!" and her soft arms went round his neck as 
 he crushed her to his breast. 
 
 In front of Alvy s livery stable sat Allison, 
 Newt, Cephas, Bige Pickering, Kin Flanders, 
 and several other worthies, smoking, chewing, 
 and discussing matters of common interest in 
 their usually frank and free fashion. Summer 
 had come, and the beautiful drooping elms 
 arched the streets with a cool green canopy. In 
 the quiet square the fountain sprayed and 
 splashed. On its slippery rim crowded a row of 
 twittering, dripping sparrows. The pulsating 
 hum of the mill throbbed in the distance. Sleepy 
 horses, tethered to posts, stood drowsing in the 
 sunshine. In the open stores clerks in white 
 jackets lounged, while young girls in tennis 
 shoes and white dresses sat at the soda fountains 
 and sipped many -colored decoctions.
 
 JUDGMENT FOR THE PLAINTIFF 429 
 
 Down the street came two riders. One erect, 
 broad-shouldered, and athletic in cords and 
 boots, sat easily a splendid chestnut horse that 
 arched its neck and champed its bit. The other, 
 a beautiful girl in a gray habit and chip hat, sat 
 a grand brown, with small ears and muzzle like 
 a fern leaf. Both horses bore rolled blankets 
 and saddle-bags, while behind, and following 
 like a faithful dog, came a roan Indian pony, 
 with a pack-saddle. The outfit was dusty and 
 travel-stained, the horses hard and firm and in 
 splendid condition. 
 
 The group in front of Alvy s looked up at the 
 sound of horses hoofs and became excited. 
 
 "B goshamighty, tis Mr. Randolph," said 
 old Allison, with conviction; "an yis tis, tis 
 Mis Randolph, tew, I swanny to gorramity," he 
 added with enthusiasm. 
 
 There was a sudden scrambling as the circle of 
 worthies struggled to their feet. 
 
 "By tunk," said Cephas, "they be a-comin* 
 straight yere, hell-bent." 
 
 "I knowed th would," exulted Newt; "th 
 aint nothin stuck up baout Sam, ner Mrs. 
 Sam nuther; gosh! see em come!" 
 
 The riders, seeing the old boys drawn up to 
 receive them, touched their horses with the 
 spur, and swept down upon the group at a gal 
 lop, closely followed by the little roan. Arriving,
 
 430 A COUNTRY LAWYER 
 
 they dre^r up magnificently, the horses arching 
 their necks under the curb. 
 
 Sam was off his horse almost before it stopped. 
 "Boys," he said, "this is good of you to meet us 
 this way," and he wrung their hands, "Let me 
 present my wife, Polly." 
 
 The rough old men hatless, coatless, collar- 
 less, frowsy surrounded Polly s horse, extend 
 ing their horny, discolored, and shaking hands, 
 which Polly grasped, her eyes beaming a welcome. 
 
 "Oh, you dear old men! if you only knew how 
 glad I am to see you again. Sam has told me how 
 good you have been to him, and how you are such 
 friends of his." 
 
 "We be, Mis Randolph, we be, every dummed 
 son-of-a-gun of us," said old Allison; "ain t 
 we, Newt?" 
 
 "Hell, yes! ma-am; that is ah! you bet 
 yer boots we be," he stammered in some con 
 fusion. 
 
 Polly laughed in delight. "And you will all 
 come and see us?" she asked. 
 
 "We will, you bet yer sweet life," they yelled 
 like a well-trained chorus. 
 
 Sam swung to his horse, lifted the reins, and 
 away they dashed, the little roan with his nose 
 between their saddles. As they thundered down 
 the street, smiling faces nodded and friendly hands 
 waved from doors, windows, and porches. They
 
 JUDGMENT FOR THE PLAINTIFF 431 
 
 pulled up at the old house, dismounted, and led 
 their horses in at the gate. 
 
 Polly stood a moment looking at the house, 
 her soul in her eyes. "Sam," she said, "it seems 
 as if dear Uncle Ira were here." 
 
 "He is, Polly, he is, and I know he always 
 will be," said Sam, deeply moved. 
 
 "Oh, Sam," she said, "it is good to be at 
 home." And her bright head lay on his shoulder 
 as they went up the steps together.
 
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