On the night the returns were brought in and it was known that he had triumphed, “the gang” had arranged a big pine torch-light procession, and it passed with its blaze and din through every street of the town. Carson was at home when they lined themselves, in all their tooting of horns, beating of drums, and general clatter, along the front fence. The town brass-band did its best, and every sort of transparency that the inventive mind of Wade Tingle could devise was borne, as if by the smoke and heat of the torches themselves, above the long procession. Garner separated himself from the throng, and, clad in a new and costly suit of clothes, a tribute to his engagement to Miss Tarpley--a fine black frock-coat, broadcloth trousers, and a silk hat--he made his way into the house and up the stairs to the veranda above, where Carson and his mother and father were standing. “The boys want a speech,” he said to Carson, “and you've got to give them the best in your shop. By George, they deserve it.” Carson was demurring, but his mother pressed him to comply, and Garner, with his stateliest strut, his coat buttoned so tightly at the waist that, the tails spread out as if inviting him to sit down, and his hat held on a level with his left shoulder, advanced to the balustrade, and in his happiest mood introduced the man who, he declared, was the broadest-minded, the most conscientious and fearless candidate that ever trod the boards of a political platform. They were to receive the expression of gratitude and appreciation of a man whose name was written upon every heart present. Garner had the distinguished honor and pride to introduce his law partner and close friend, the Hon. Carson Dwight. Carson never spoke better in his life. What he said was from a boyish heart overflowing with content and good-will. When he had finished Mrs. Dwight rose from her chair and proudly stood by his side. The cheers at her appearance rent the air. Then Garner pushed old Dwight forward from the shadow of a column where he was standing, and as the old gentleman awkwardly bowed his greeting, the cheers broke out afresh. Bob Smith, who was a sort of drum-major, with a ribbon-wound walking-cane for a baton, struck up, “For he's a jolly good fellow,” and as the crowd sang it to the spluttering and jangling accompaniment of the band the procession moved down the street. At this juncture Major Warren came up to offer his congratulations. Carson was standing a few minutes later talking to Garner. He was trying to hear what his partner was saying in his bubbling and enthusiastic way about his engagement to Miss Tarpley, but he found it difficult to listen, for the conversation between his mother and Major Warren had fixed his attention.