“Well, now, look here, Jim, you know what shape our party is in—that all the big fellers are for a gold basis—and you know, too, that there is no chance for any of us to git appinted to office if we dont come out for gold. You know I edit one of the leadin papers; and you know it takes a great effort to hold the party together. Now, Jim, dont you think you had better not make me answer that question—under oath? Or if you want me to answer it, dont you think you ort to git this case abjourned till after election day?” Jim studied a minit, looked wise like, and says: “Mr. Moore, youre excused.” Sam got down and went out, mutterin as he went somethin about it bein “hard, these times, for a truthful man to be a Dimicrat.” My next witness was Buckannan. Q. “Buck, what is your bizness?” A. “Lawyer—Dimicratic lawyer and polertician.” Q. “Buck, what is money?” A. “Gold—gold is money.” Q. “Who makes money, Buck?” A. “God—God makes money.” That was all I wanted. Thats the kind of swearin I wanted to inforce the law agin Billot. So I turned Buck over to Patrick. Jim he looked Buck in the face a minit. Buck he dropped his eyes shamed like. Then Jim perceeded: Q. “Buck, what is your bizness and polertics?” A. “Ime a lawyer—a Dimicratic lawyer and polertician.” Q. “Buck, did you ever study the money question?” A. “No, sir; never did; never want to; never will. I know enough. Ime a Dimicrat—a Dimicratic lawyer—and that suits me.” Q. “Buck, dont you know that anything that the law says is legal tender for debts is money? and dare you swear here under oath that a paper bill issued by the United States treasury is not money?” Buck colored up and looked hurt like. Says he: “Patrick, you know the condition our party is in, and you know that our names would be Dennis if Cal——” “Hold, hold!” cried Jim, jumpin to his feet—and, pintin his forefinger strait at Buck, vicious like, says he: “Here, Buck, dont you know that Brice has instructed us to mention his name as little as possible. Now, I want you to answer this question without any reference to Cal or anybody else: Is paper money money?” Poor Buck, he filled up, and, trimbling like, says: “It is, Patrick—it is.” And great big tears rolled down his manly cheek and dropped on the lapel of his Prince Albert coat. The squire asked him what was the matter. [Illustration: “‘Lawyer—Dimicratic lawyer and polertician.’”] He said he was ruined; that he had been tellin everybody that “nothin was money but gold,” and now if it got out that he swore in the case of Gaskins agin Billot that paper money is money, nobody would believe him hereafter. And, poor man, he cried like a child.