surplus in to him to take care of, instead of putting it in a sock,—and I want you to understand that the real old Yankee farmer, with tobacco juice on his whiskers, was a man you'd fool just once in a lifetime, and you'd sit up more'n one night to figure how you got the best of it, then.

Well, down him and me goes to the railroad office, and I have to tell my tale. I begged hard to be allowed to leave Jerry out of it, but no—that wouldn't do: it would be a lie. I always stood ready to lie to any extent to help a friend. I think that hurt me worse than the rest of it.

After some parleying around the offices, we were shown up into a private room. There sat three men, officers of the company, and Jerry.

My father made few words of his part, simply saying he stood prepared to pay all damages, although he could ill afford it, and that I would tell the story.

First off, I was embarrassed, but soon I was flying my arms around, and letting 'em know all about it, as if we'd played together for years.

Two of those men had been boys once; they had an almighty hard job to keep an official face on, as some of my interest in engineering, and my satisfaction in having made a corking old bust-up of her while I was at it, crept into my discourse. The third man was in an ugly state of liquor. He let out on me, although the others said, "Come! Come!" Father's face was something to look at when he saw the only man that sided with him was three-quarters loaded.

After giving me a blast, this bucko, who I believe was president of the company, kind of falls over on his desk and opens up on Jerry, while my heart broke entirely. He was about as reasonable toward Jerry as my father had been toward me. The other two bit their lips, as if they weren't going to stand for a whole lot more; everybody that knew Jerry, liked him.

Howsomever, Jeremiah was a prophet in his own country. He belonged to that tribe of Yankees that don't seem to be born very fast these days, but long may they wave! the good-natured, able kind that feared the face of no man nor the hoof of no jackass, and always had something to say that wrecked the situation.

He walks carefully over to the side of the room to where the spittoon was, so's he could talk with freedom, and sidles easily back again, and says he, "Mr. Hawkins, you've lit on me like a sparrow-hawk. If I thought you was in condition to make a speech, I'd feel 

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