Had the simple countryman been told that his companion, who was dressed but little better than himself, was making from thirty to forty thousand dollars annually by these same “law cases,” we can hardly imagine the extent of his amazement, or perhaps incredulity. There is a tradition, and Mr. Webster has confirmed it, that he was one day out on the marsh when his attention was drawn to two young men, evidently from the city, who were standing on one side of a creek which it seemed necessary to cross. They were nicely dressed, and evidently dismayed by the apparent necessity of spoiling their fine clothes in the passage. Seeing a large rough-looking man, with his pants tucked in his boots, approaching them, their faces brightened as they saw a way out of their dilemma. “My good man,” said one, in an eager but patronizing way, “we are in trouble. Can you help us?” Mr. Webster looked at the young men and appreciated the situation. He answered gravely, “What is your difficulty?” “We want to get across this creek, but you see we might spoil our clothes if we undertook to wade.” Mr. Webster nodded. “You look like a good, strong fellow, and it won’t hurt your clothes. Will you carry us across on your back?” Mr. Webster’s eyes twinkled, but he did not suffer the young men to see it. They were lightly made, and no great burden to one of his herculean frame. “Yes,” he answered; “I will oblige you.” So he took the two over in turn, and deposited them, greatly to their satisfaction, safe and sound on the opposite shore. “I’m ever so much obliged,” said the first. “Here, my man, take this,” and he drew half a dollar from his pocket. The second made the same tender. “You are quite welcome, young gentlemen,” said Mr. Webster, “but I can’t think of accepting any recompense.” “Really, though, it’s worth it; isn’t it, Jones?” said the first young man, addressing his companion. “Of course it is. Better take the money, sir.” “I must decline,” said Mr. Webster, smiling. “Ever so much obliged. Really it’s very kind of you. By the way, doesn’t Daniel Webster live round here somewhere?” “Yes; you are on his land now,” said the rough-looking countryman. “You don’t say so. Is there any chance of seeing him, do you think?” “A very good chance. _You have only to take a good look at me._” “Are—you—Mr.—Webster?” faltered the young men simultaneously. “Men call me so,” answered the statesman, enjoying the confusion of the young men. They attempted to apologize for the liberty they had taken, and the great mistake they had made, but without much success, and notwithstanding the good-natured manner in which their excuses were received by Mr. Webster, were glad when they were out of his presence.