“One evenin’ he happened to ketch that selfsame little rascal hard at work chalkin’ out the identical sketch on the cooper’s shop door, and the Parson was so bilin’ mad he chased him all over the village. The young speculator had bin carryin’ on a lively business, but arter that discovery thar was a sudden fallin’ away in his income. I tell ye it made a plag’y stir thar for awhile, and I reckon if Judge Perkins hadn’t been on my side I’d have been obliged to git out of the place.” [Illustration] CORA LEE. Would you hear the story told Of the controversy bold, That this day I did behold, In a court of low degree, Where his Honor sat like fate, To decide betwixt the state And a wanton villain’s mate, Named Cora Lee? The bold chief of stars was near, As a witness to appear. (By his order, Cora dear Was languishing below.) And for counsel she had got A descendant of old Wat— Noted for his daring plot, Some years ago. It was he commenced the fuss, “For,” said he, “by this and thus, Here I smell an _animus_[1] As strong as musk of yore; And it’s my condensed belief, That in language terse and brief, I can trace it to the chief, E’en to his door.” Then to all it did appear That the chief was seized with fear; To the lawyer he drew near, And to him muttered low: “I could never think that ye Would be quite so hard with me; You had better let me be, And travel slow.” Then the lawyer quit his chair As if wasps were buzzing there, And with quite a tragic air, Addressed his Honor thus— “At your hands I claim protection. Keep your eyes in this direction, Take cognizance of his action, This _animus_!” Then arose the chief of stars, And his visage shone like Mars, When he recks not battle scars, But charges to the fray. And his hand began to glide To his pocket deep and wide, Where a weapon well supplied In waiting lay. [Illustration: THE CHIEF.] “Ho!” he cried, “you shyster hound, If you go on nosing round Till an _animus_ you’ve found, My dear sir, hearken you: I will open, by my soul! In your carcass such a hole, You will think a wagon pole Has run you through. “_You_ would prate about the law? _You_ would magnify a flaw? _You_ would touch me on the raw? So now, sir, say no more! Keep a padlock on your jaw, Not a sentence, or I’ll draw, And I’ll scatter you like straw Around the floor!” Now the Judge’s face grew red As a turkey gobbler’s head When a scarlet robe is spread On the lawn or fence. “I adjourn the court,” he cried, “’Till that _animus_ has died, And is buried head and hide Far from hence.”