possessed by "furriners." "But, Judge," he added, "I'm astonished at
your cutting down the trees at this season of the year, and it kind o'
goes agin my conscience to sling into 'em."

"I know what you mean. You think they ought not to be cut when the sap
is rising. I suppose, the fire-wood is not so good?"

"Not half. Turn the thing as you choose, and you'll see you're wrong.
In the first place, the wood ain't nigh as good; then, you lose the
growth the whole summer, and, lastly, you take away a fellow from
business that's more profitable."

"How?" said the Judge. "Do I not give you full wages? Can you get
higher wages elsewhere?"

"No fault to find with the pay," answered Tom; "that's good enough.
But, that ain't the idee. What I'm at is, that when I work, I like to
see something useful come to pass. Now, every time I strike a blow,
it seems to go right to my heart; for, I says to myself, this ain't no
season for cutting wood. The Judge don't understand his own interest,
and he's only paying me for injuring him."

Judge Bernard was too well-acquainted with the honest independence of
Gladding to be offended at his uncomplimentary frankness. Nor, indeed,
looking at it from Tom's point of view, could he avoid feeling a
certain respect for that right-mindedness, which regarded not merely
the personal remuneration to be received, but, also, the general
benefit to be produced. He laughed, therefore, as he replied--

"You do not seem to set much value on my judgment, Gladding. Perhaps,
I have objects you do not see."

"It ain't to be expected," said Tom, "and it ain't rational to
suppose, that a man, who, when he was young, spent his time travelling
over all creation, and then when he come home, took to the law, should
know much about these matters; though, I guess you know as much as
most folks, who ain't been brought up to 'em. But, as you say, it's
likely you've got reasons of your own, as plenty as feathers in a bed,
and I've been talking like most folks whose tongues is too long, like
a darned fool."

"You are too hard on yourself, now. But, for your consolation, we will
stop to-day with this piece of work, and you shall not be pained to
cut down any more trees out of season. The clearing is as large as
I wish it, and we will see to the burning of the brush, when it is
drier. But, where is Mr. Armstrong?"

Armstrong, at the commencement of the conversation, had strayed away
by himself, and sat down by one o