“I knew all about the theory of prohibition before I came to Kansas,” said Hugh, “but I have received to-day my first actual knowledge of its practice.” The judge, shutting one eye, looked benignly at Hugh and said, “Your conclusions are pre-matoor, howsomever, I expect, Mr. Stanton. I’m the gol darndest ‘cyclopedia of knowledge that you ever run ag’inst. Say, hold on a minute; my nacheral impulse is to drink, so I guess I’ll have another beer.” “Beg pardon,” said Hugh, “please drink with me,” and he motioned to the attendant. “Oh, all right,” acquiesced the judge, “just as you say. I promised to give you some p’inters. This ‘ere expose; as it were, of practical temperance in the Sunflower State is p’inter number one. Now, there’s the professional claim-prover—know anythin’ about him?” “Nothing whatever,” replied Hugh, as he sipped his seltzer. “Well, you see I allows it’s my dooty to tell you,” said the judge. “The professional claim-prover started in the eastern part of the State, proved up a quarter-section, sold it out to a mortgage loan company, moved on west to the next county, changed his name, proved up another quarter-section and sold it out to a mortgage company, and so on. These professional provers-up of land are a distinct class. They emigrate from the older counties to the newer ones in swarms, like grasshoppers. Did n’t know about ‘em, did you?” “I did not,” replied Hugh, “I am very much interested. How do they sell out to the mortgage companies?” By this time the judge was beginning to feel the influence of drink, and gradually grew more bold and more talkative than ever. “Well, gee whillikens, Stanton, I must say you’re tender. Don’t know much, do you?” Hugh admitted that he did not, while secretly finding much amusement at the odd character he had discovered. “Well, I do; bet yer life I do. ‘Bout these ‘ere claim-pro vers is p’inter number two, and sellin’ out to the mortgage companies is p’inter number three. Here, waiter, by the great horn spoon, I’ve got to have another drink!” said the loquacious judge, rapping on the table. “Wonder if they expect a man’s goin’ to sit ‘round here all night and drink nothin’. I’m hot; hotter’n a burnt boot. Got to have somethin’ cool an’ refreshin’ or I’ll be locoed.” “What will it be, gentlemen?” asked the attendant. “Seltzer for me,” said Hugh. “Seltzer be hanged!” cried the judge, and then recollecting himself, he said, “Beg pardon, Mr. Stanton, what time is it? I left my watch on the piano this mornin’.” “Just nine o’clock,” replied Hugh, looking at his timepiece.