One day, the Colonel and myself rode over to Caledonia, to see how things flourished there, and eat some of Aunt Sally Warner’s pumpkin pies, and venison steaks; and on arriving at the store, found a justice’s court in full blast. The suit grew out of a lumber speculation; and as near as I could tell by the testimony of the witnesses generally, the matter stood about six for one, a half-dozen for the other. One of the parties was a man of considerable ready cash, while the other was not worth a continental dime. Harris, the man of means, had not been long in these parts, and little was known of him except what had dropped from Seth Willet one night at Warner’s store. He was rather in for it at the time; but enough was said to make the good people of Elk form a bad opinion of Harris. As the time of the trial drew nigh, some who were in the store when Seth was “blowing” about Harris, began to try to recollect what he said, and the other party in the case was informed that he had a first-rate witness in the green lumberman, as Seth was generally called. Seth was forthwith waited upon, and pumped by a young man named Winslow, who acted as attorney for the prosecutor. All the information he possessed of Harris was freely and unsuspectingly given, and Winslow noted it down as correctly as he could. The day previous to the trial, the prosecutor and Harris met at the store. “Well, you’re goin’ on with the law-suit, I s’pose?” asked Harris. “Tu be sure I am; and I’ll make you smell cotton.” “Bah!” said Harris; “you can’t touch bottom.” “Tech bottom? Ca—ant hey? Jest you wait till I git Seth Willet on the stand, an’ swore on the Bible, and see if I ca—ant. P’raps I ha’nt heer’d nothin’ about them sheep over to Tiog county, and the robbin’ of Jenkinse’s store, down tu Painted Post, hey?” “What are you talking about?” asked Harris, apparently perfectly in a fog as to the purport of the language he had heard. “I know, an’ that’s ’nuff;” said the plaintiff, “but let’s licker, anyheow.” Harris lost no time in finding out Seth. “Did you ever live in Tioga county?” “Anything abeout sheep—?” “No, no, I mean Painted Post.” “Oh! Jenkinse’s store!” said Seth, with great gravity. “Two hundred wouldn’t be a bad pile, Seth, here in Elk?” “No—o, t’wouldn’t, that’s a fact. Get that amount tu lend on a slow note?” “Well, I might scrape it up—could give you a hundred down and the rest after the Court’s adjourned.” Harris counted out the hundred, and rolling it up, held it temptingly in his hand. Seth’s eyes stuck out like peeled onions, and his mouth fairly watered at the display. It was more money than he had ever owned in his life. “Have you ever heard that I steal sheep in Tioga county, Seth?” “Not’s I know on.” “You’re sure? mind you’ll have to swear in Court.” Seth looked at Harris, and then at the bills. “_Sure_—p_a_rfectly sure.”