Page:The Green Bag (1889–1914), Volume 18.pdf/283

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THE GREEN BAG

separated, and scowling at each other were drawn up across the road in two parallel lines, each man ready for action and, appar ently, but waiting for the signal to begin, when an old gray-haired, long-whiskered pa triarch, evidently the oldest man present, handing the reins of his horse to his neighbor, dismounted and walked out into the road, between the two lines of hostile, angry men. Tall and angular, yet as he straightened his bent form there was something of majesty about the old fellow as he raised his hand, and said: "' Boys, youalls know me; youalls know what I done over on Hog-Back; youalls know what I done ovah on Snake Creek; youalls know I ain't afeard to shoot; but, boys, youalls know that up thar on them hills the cohn crop ain't bin so very good this hyar year; youalls know that ovah in yondah fiels is some tobaccy crops that' is a mighty poor yield; and you boys knows that up among these hills stands many a empty hawg pen, that was left so by the cholery that killed off so many of our shotes this spring; and now, boys, ef we'ens goes to shootin, to-day there'll be some widders up there, that when winter time comes is goin' to be mighty hungry, and there'll be some orphans that'll be turrible cold when the snow flies, and say, boys, let's we'ens not do any shootin' to-day." "All the appeal of the natural orator was in the concluding sentence, and as he dropped his hand and bowed his head, in the hush that followed I walked out to where the constable was standing and said to him, ' Here is a dollar; pay up the justice and do as the old man says.' He looked at me for a brief mo ment, and then, seeing that I was in earnest, reached out his hand and gave me a shake that meant volumes, as he fairly shouted, ' Put her thar, stranger. I don't know whar youall come frum, but I do know that youall am squar. Have a drink on me,' and with his other hand he dived down into a side pocket and pulled out a great bottle of muriatic acid that I was perforce compelled to partake of, and would have handed it back had not the old man with a gesture unmis takable started the bottle on its rounds as a peacemaker, and it did not return until its message of good-fellowship was all told, and with a joyous shout the entire company

rode over the hills to Rawson's to have it refilled." As the speaker ceased his story the cry, "Train west " broke up our little party and we separated, each to go his several ways; but the memory of that pleasant half-hour in the old baggage room at Bucyrus still lingers with me, and will for many a day. Philander and the Office-Boy. — Mr. Knox, at present a Senator from Pennsylvania, was formerly engaged in the practice of law in Pittsburg. One day, says a friend, Mr. Knox was much put out to find on his arrival at his office that everything was topsyturvy and that the temperature of his rooms was much too low for comfort. Summoning his office boy, a lad but recently entered in his employ, the lawyer asked who had raised every window in the place on such a cold morning. "Mr. Muldoon, sir," was the answer. "Who is Mr. Muldoon? " asked the attorney. "The janitor, sir." "Who carried off my waste-basket? " was the next question. "Mr. Reilly, sir." "And who is Mr. Reilly?" "He's the man that cleans the rooms." Mr. Knox looked sternly at the boy and said: " See here, Richard, we call men by their first names here. We don't ' mister ' them in this office. Do you understand?" "Yes, sir." And the boy retired. In a few minutes he reappeared and in a shrill, piping voice announced: "There's a gentleman that wants to see you, Philander." — Saturday Evening Post. She Paid the Paint Bill. — In Brookline, a short time ago, a woman was brought into court, charged with intoxication. She was fined $10, and as she arose she said to the judge: " Well, I suppose you need this $10 to help paint your house." "Oh, yes," said his honor; " I think you had better give me $5 more, and I guess I'll paint the blinds." The fine was promptly made $15. Hearsay Evidence not Good. — Senator Proctor, of Vermont, who particularly likes to tell stories showing the humorous side of