“Judge Sparta,” of Binghamton, presided, and a more learned and impartial jurist never wore “sneaks” (felt-soled slippers). The trial proceeded under his just rulings, and with great decorum. The evidence was so conflicting, that it was agreed between counsel that whoever made the best speech in summing up should win the case. I felt sorry, indeed, for my opponent, for the Major is a silent man. I summed up with all my usual eloquence. Even the judge was affected as I pleaded and threatened. I was humorous and scornful by turns, the jury wept or laughed at my pleasure, and when I spoke of Benjamin, I made a bishop of him, dressed him in episcopal robes, and placed him at the head of a great university (the tent). I showed how his white hair would be loved and venerated at this seat of learning—_if_ he lived. There was not a dry eye in the Death-Chamber when I finished this part of my oration. And when I closed with a scathing arraignment of the Major’s legal methods, the great crowd in the auditorium, who had remained spellbound, prisoners to my eloquence, burst into frantic cheers. During all the time I had been speaking not a single man had left the room. “That speech should be put in the fourth reader,” said the judge. I had a right to think that mine indeed had been a powerful effort—I had made a home run. I was number one. I knew I had the Major licked. The Major’s speech! Words fail me to describe how, from lofty to still more lofty flights his oratory ascended, climax upon climax and further climaxes still! Even I was thrilled. I forgot my case, my client—everything. I may say it was a long speech—yes, I think I am justified in saying so. First came Henry Ward Beecher’s great abolition sermon, then Ingersoll’s oration at the grave of his brother, next Lincoln’s immortal speech at Gettysburg. Heavens! what a memory that man had. The very bars of our cages melted like wax as he proceeded to declaim his own speech of thanks on the occasion when the Tarrytown Fire Department presented him with a speaking trumpet. Here the enthusiasm of my constituents could be restrained no longer. They cheered the Major. They reviled _me_! I was told to get under the bed. Then followed the Masonic burial service, about our weary feet having come to the end of the toilsome journey before the Great White Throne. When the Major reached this point Benjamin could see, in his mind’s eye, the cemetery, the open grave amid the tombs and monuments; he could see the pall, the coffin under it, and—himself inside the coffin. Blue perspiration exuded from Benjamin’s person. I could plainly hear his teeth chatter as these awful phrases rolled from the Major’s lips as only he can roll them. They made Benjamin sick—I didn’t feel very well myself.