Royce, and tastes like imported. My friend Wakefield here never takes anything; so I guess I'll drink for him. I've always had to do double duty in the world. By the way,' he continued, 'I must tell you a good dodge that my friend here came on a pigwidgeon lawyer down in Chicago. This lawyer was trying to get ahead of my friend here, and had left orders to be called for the morning train, but what does my friend here do but go and have the order changed, do you see?- and so the little pigwidgeon is left behind. It's just such little touches of genius as that, sheriff, that redeems human nature, and makes us more than brutes. He'll make fifteen thousand dollars by it. Hallo, what's your hurry, sheriff? I can't keep up if you 're going to trot, you know. This horse was made on purpose for a circus, I guess. He 'd do all the square jumping up and down to music, but he ain't worth shucks to go ahead. He's a humpy horse, and I believe my brains would all be shaken into my boots if I rode him another day'; and he grumbled away in the same strain till we got out of hearing, and afterward, I presume.

"In two hours more we reached the Fox, and forded it, and found a sleepy ostler in the hotel; but on looking in the buggy for my valise, I found it was gone, and it contained all my papers. We had probably left it by the slough. Here was a bad fix; for when it came daylight, Wakefield would attach, of

course.

"What shall we do, Benway?' said I. 'Can't you invent some plausible story to detain them?'

"It looks to me,' he replied, as if we were to be defeated at last. I'll send some men to look for the valise, and we'll see what can be done after that; but I know old Royce well, and when his head is clear again he'll be sharp enough to use his own phrase to shave hogs with a feather.' "I felt desperate now, for I had come to look on the matter as fairly under my control, and had already set Wakefield down as defeated; but here the

tables were to be turned with a vengeance, and my enemy was to triumph.

"Benway,' said I, when he came back, 'I have got them, I guess. You say that Wells boards in this house and that you are intimate with him. Go to him with this fifteen thousand dollars in counterfeit money, and tell him that Old Royce is going to attach his goods. Then give him the money, with instructions to be counting it over in his room, while you tell Royce that now is his time to attach, because Wells has sold out and is counting his money up stairs. Tell Wells that, if he plays his part properly, he will settle the Wolfe claim very soon.'

"Benway hesitated a moment, then said, 'Well, under the circumstances I guess I will, for we are dealing with unscrupulous fellows.' So when breakfast was over I saw Benway talking with Wells, and soon after with Royce, who immediately went to the deputysheriff.

"Now then,' said Royce to this official, after getting him out in the horse-shed, with Wakefield, 'what we want is grit. We must break down the door and grab all the money we see; and mind you, if he puts it in his pocket we must pull it out of his pocket, that's all. Business is business, and this is big business, and you must be gritty. There are moments of destiny,' said he, pulling a bottle from his pocket, and taking a long drink, and this is one of 'em.'

"The whole party came back looking pale, and the deputy started ahead, old Royce Lewis following next, and Wakefield closing up the rear on the stairway. Shortly after they disappeared we heard the door crashed in, and a scrambling rush followed.

"We afterwards learned from the deputy, a jovial fellow, that Old Royce was the first man in the room, and that, after grabbing what money he could hold in each hand, he knocked the balance on to the floor and sat down on all he could cover, shouting to the deputy, 'I've got the pile; attach me! attach me!'-moving his elbows up

and down, meanwhile, like a young crow trying in vain to fly. When they came down stairs, flushed with triumph, Mr. Lewis took occasion to recount his twenty-five years' experience at the bar, which seemed to have been years of triumphs for him, and an uninterrupted series of defeats for all his opponents. After this more conviviality, more stories, more triumphs at the bar, but no one suspected the money.

"Meantime the men returned with the valise just as Royce Lewis, Wakefield, and the deputy were leaving town with the money, and they had but fairly crossed the river when Wells invited us all up to his store to celebrate the success of the trick just played.

"Wells was very jolly; and that mysterious and hitherto invisible being called 'Co.' came out strong. He even went so far as to say that he guessed 'Wells did n't eat no snow,' which meant, probably, that he slaked his thirst and satisfied his appetite by the more economical and time-saving methods usual among men. But the exact import of his words cannot be known in this world, for he disappeared down cellar after uttering them, and never came up again, to my knowledge.

"Here, take some more all around,' urged Wells. This last drive was the best I ever came on any one.'

"Yes,' said Benway, walking up to the desk and looking at the papers, sharply, 'it was good,-first-rate, even for the West, where we manage to keep ahead in business; but I believe the sheriff can show you a better one.'

"I should n't wonder if I could,' replied the sheriff, walking up to Wells and serving the papers.

way; 'it is too expensive for you, under your present circumstances. We should have got in here any way, and you merely saved a door by the operation; that's all.'

66 6

Not all, exactly,' said Wells; 'for I should have made an assignment and beaten you.'

""Yes, I see it is all ready,' said Benway, taking up some papers from the desk; 'but I'm pleased to notice that your very valuable autographs are not attached. Wells, you are a gentleman, and I'm sorry you 've had bad luck; but you'll come out.'

"After securing two trusty men to take charge of the store, we hunted, fished, smoked, and talked away the day. I never felt better in my life. The air was delicious, and, riding back to the lake over the prairie next day, I had a long talk with Benway on philosophy. He had much help in him, and so my soul waxed fat. The first man we saw was old Royce Lewis.

"Where is your friend Wakefield?' inquired Benway.

"The man who came that stunning game over the pigwidgeon lawyer,' said the sheriff.

"Why, he went off on the morning train, with orders to have the money deposited here in bank,' replied Royce.

"So he thinks it 's all right, then,' said the sheriff.

"Yes,' replied Royce, contemptuously; 'but I understood it all the minute my hands touched the money. The paper was too limpsy. But I made sure of my fee out of the case, though, - game or no game.'

666

Yes,' said the deputy, coming up, 'you were so very smart that you took your fee out of the counterfeit money.'

"This came so unexpectedly, and was received with such shouts of laughter, that the old man, for the first time in his life, perhaps, had nothing to say, and hurried off without attempting a reply.

"I finished my business, and took the next train East. I found Phillips and Lockshaw excited, as usual. They

claim had been collected in money, and they were much relieved, if not pleased, on hearing the true state of the case. "I met Wolfe on the street near my office.

"So I beat you, Riley, after all,' said he; but allow me to say, sir, that I don't think you did the fair thing by me. You might have said at once that you were going out there for Phillips and Lockshaw.'

"But, sir,' I replied, 'I had been retained by them in the case, and was bound to protect them by concealing their designs.'

"I don't think so,' he replied; 'besides, they could stand the loss, and I can't.'

"Mr. Wolfe,' said I, 'I should as soon think of embezzling my client's money, as I would of intentionally revealing any of the secrets confided to me as a lawyer.'

"Next morning, when I met Wolfe, he not only refused to acknowledge my salutation, but was actually almost purple with rage. He had received a letter from Royce Lewis, stating that the money was counterfeit.

"I lost no time in calling on Fanny, but found her not at home. I excused that, thinking she might have been out; but the next day I saw her in the street, and she avoided me.

"I wrote her a brief, but vigorous note, explaining my position, and endeavoring to impress upon her the necessity I felt of maintaining my professional honor stainless, and above suspicion even. This came back indorsed, 'Riley versus Wolfe. The plaintiff non

suited.'

“The visible tracks of my respected would-be father-in-law,' I said, examining the note closely for other writing, but there was nothing else to be found. "I admired spirit, when it was spirit, instead of impertinence, selfishness, or some other small sin; but I certainly did not admire Wakefield, and he was now Fanny's suitor. If I could not gain her for myself, I felt bound to save her from him, and went to work for that purpose.

"The chief obstacle to all my plans was the old gentleman, who seemed to be hastening matters to a crisis. I heard that Fanny was soon to become Mrs. Wakefield.

"I had kept up a correspondence with Benway in the Phillips and Lockshaw matter, and had learned from his last letter that Wells & Co. owned a branch store up the country farther, which was filled with goods, and they were doing finely.

"I immediately sent a legal acquaintance to Mr. Wolfe, with instructions to offer him a thousand dollars for the Wells claim, which was gladly accepted, for the Phillips and Lockshaw suit had been compromised for ten thousand dollars, and it was supposed that Wells & Co. could not pay one per cent to any other claimant.

"I forwarded the notes to Benway, with instructions to attach the new store of goods, if possible, and then compromise for twelve thousand dollars, intending to lower the demand to six thousand, if necessary.

"In reply, I received a letter from Benway, telling me confidentially that Wells was really one of the best-hearted men in the world, and would, when he got on his feet, pay every cent. If, however, I would take ten thousand dollars down, he would send me a draft for that. In two weeks the draft came for ten thousand dollars, less exchange, and I enclosed it to Mr. Wolfe, duly indorsed over to him by me, with my compliments.

"He came to my office, but I was out; he went to my hotel, and I was out; but he found me in the street.

"I bowed to him coldly and was passing on, for I knew my man, but he grasped my hand, and said: 'My dear Riley, I beg your pardon. I have not done you justice. But the fact is, that Wisconsin loss almost ruined me. It would have ruined me, I believe, if this draft had not come just as it did. It's your money, Riley, and I would not take it under any other circumstances, or now, even, only on condition that I may pay it back when I get my mat

not been forced to improve their condition through the practice of the arts of design by wise men, to whom, as a matter of course, they have been duly ungrateful. Is it strange, then, that, being incapable of understanding what is for their own good, and naturally indisposed to do justice to their benefactors, men should be found incapable of comprehending the merits of those characters in whom individuality is strongly developed, and who have chosen to live according to their own sense of enjoyment, and not to take their rules of life from those outside barbarians who fill the census returns, and constitute "the masses"? Special injustice has been done all through the ages to a number of eminent personages, who have had as many stones thrown at them as if they had slept in cairns. It is not creditable to our time, when even Benedict Arnold has found something like an apologist, that the personages referred to should have no one to attempt to place their virtues before an unadmiring world. Books and articles have been written to show that Catiline, and Iscariot, and Tiberius, and Catherine de' Medici, and Henry VIII., and Claverhouse, and Robespierre, and others whose names are in humanity's black lists, were not half so bad as their reputations, — were, in some instances, eminently worthy creatures, who had been singularly misapprehended by mankind. But these are all first-class characters, -- your first-rates, of whom one is naturally disposed to think well because they are first-rates, — and incapable of doing wrong, because they do it on so magnificent a scale. Catiline was a patriot, and only sought to anticipate Cæsar, but failed, poor man! Tiberius was a great statesman, who protected the Roman provincials, and did so by disposing of the aristocrats in Italy, -holding a wolf by the ears, as he phrased it, - a wolf that would have devoured the flock, and torn the imperial shepherd, — that model Pastor Fido, had he for a moment slackened his hold. Catherine de' Medici was a fine politician, a balancer of par

ties, who, if she did hound Catholics upon Huguenots, would have been quite as ready to hound Huguenots upon Catholics, had it paid as well. Henry VIII. was a martyr to his love of order and horror of civil war, and he made martyrs of his wives in the same cause, they being successively parts of himself, and bound to share his lot. Claverhouse was a devotee of the sentiment of loyalty. Robespierre was strictly and sternly honest, and, though he cut off people's heads, he never picked their pockets. And so on, to the end of the chapter of tyranny and crime. But there are other unappreciated characters, who, while they are often mentioned, cannot be called great, and whom the world treats as if they were all bad, and constantly holds up as warnings and examples. In behalf of these characters there is something to be said, and the attempt to reconcile them with humanity may not be entirely unprofitable, even if they are not so fortunate as to have perpetrated many murders.

One of the oldest of these characters, who has been doing service for almost thirty centuries, though nothing could be more out of character than that he should do anything, is the Sluggard of Solomon. In the Book of Proverbs, the royal Hebrew, who, like the Turkish Solyman, was the greatest of his line, apostrophizes the unhappy Sluggard, in good set terms, and, after recommending to him the example of that fussy little creature, the ant, which wasteth the summer time, and even that of autumn, in laboriously providing for a future that never may come, exclaims,― "How long wilt thou sleep, O Sluggard? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep? Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep." And has not the garden of the Sluggard, though for a very different reason, become as famous as the Garden of Eden, or that in which Diocletian cultivated cabbages for the market of Salona? Its broken walls, its crop of weeds, the cattle of the neighbors devouring the nothing which it raises,—