“Don’t laugh, Major,” said Judge Lynn, with an injured look on his countenance, “you can bet it’s no laughin’ matter. Speakin’ wide-open an’ confidential-like, I’ll say we’re out o’ flour down at my palace, an’ my grocer has adopted a sort o’ C. O. D. policy that is quite paralyzin’, an’ besides the rent is way past due, the landlord is screechin’ ‘round, an’ I fear a successful suit of ejectment will soon be brought, bet yer life I do. The burnin’ up of the country by hot winds an’ the big prairie-fire nach’ally started litigation off on a canter all right ‘nuff, but nobody has come projectin’ ‘round so far with money to pay court fees. I’d be all right if it had n’t been for the trouble I got into with the attorney-gen’ral. That nach’ally locoed me good and plenty. You, perhaps, are rememberin’ how I ‘tempted to reverse a decision of the Supreme Court in regard to the foreclosure of a mortgage on a poor devil’s farm, an’ in turn they got malignant-like an’ reversed me,—in short, turned me down, an’ at the same time made things thrillin’ by exhaustin’ my ready cash and hypothecatin’ all my credit an’ anticipated earnin’s for the next year, to keep me out of the clutches of what the aforesaid attorney-gen’ral calls law. I jist had all I could do to keep my han’s away from my artillery. If the attorney-gen’ral’d come down ‘ere there’d been obsequies.” “Yes, I remember,” said the major, sighing; “you made a mistake, and yet your error was on the side of humanity. I forgive you and so does humanity. Take this,” said he, reaching the judge a roll of bills, “with my forgiveness and this advice,—be careful not to exceed your authority again, for law, in the hands of Shylocks, is a relentless thing. Take this, Judge, and pay your debts.” “What, Major, a hundred dollars? Why, surely, sir, I’m already more deeply indebted to you than I can ever squar’ up. This, I’m assoomin’, is too much.”