clean linen, a prodigious necktie, and a coat of black broadcloth. His wife wore a dean calico dress, with a gold-plated brooch at her throat.     

       “I wish the girls were here,” said Smead.     

       “They are out in the country teaching school,” Mrs. Smead explained; “they want to help their father.”      

       “Beautiful girls,” said their father—“tall, queenly, magnificent, talented. By force of habit I was about to ask, 'How much am I bid?'”      

       “How do you like Griggsby?” Mrs. Smead inquired of me, as though wishing to change the subject.     

       “I do not call it a very pretty place,” I said, still loyal to Stillwater.     

       “An' you wouldn't be a pretty place if you were the mother of so many orators an' statesmen,” said Smead. “You would be a proud but a worn an'       weary place. There would be dust an' scratched-up gravel in your immediate vicinity, an' you wouldn't care. Don't expect too much o' Griggsby. It is a Vesuvius of oratory, sir. It is full of high an' grand emotions, mingled with smoke an' fire an' thunder an' other accessories, includin' Smeads. It is the home an' birthplace of the Griggses. There was the Hon. John Henry Griggs, once the Speaker of our Lower House an' a great orator. By pure eloquence one day he established the reputation of an honest man, his greatest accomplishment, for as an honest man there were obstacles in his way. It didn't last long, that reputation; it had so much to contend with. He never gave it a fair chance. By an' by it tottered an' fell. Then he established another with some more eloquence. He was the first Dan'l Webster of Griggsby—looked like him, dressed like him, spoke like him, drank like him. Always took a tumbler of brandy before he made a speech, an' say, wa'n't he a swayer? The way he handled an audience was like swingin' a cat by the tail. He kep' 'em goin'; didn't give 'em time to think. It wouldn't have been safe. As a thought-preventer John Henry beats the world! The result was both humorous an' pathetic.”      

       Mr. Smead, with the voice of Stentor at the gates of Troy, delivered a playful imitation of the late John Henry.     

       “You're quite an orator,” I said.     

       “Oh, I 

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