imes a day, was as natural
to him as to breathe.

Upon one occasion, however, the fates seemed slightly untoward.
At the close of one of our joint debates, in the southern part
of the district, he was greeted by a demure-looking individual with
the salutation, "How are you, Judge?"

"My dear sir," exclaimed the regular candidate, grasping the
interrogator warmly by the hand, "how are you, and how is the
old lady?"

"I am not married, Judge," was the deliberate response, as of
one assuming the entire responsibility.

"Certainly not, certainly not, my dear sir; I meant you mother.
How is that excellent old lady?"

"My mother has been dead twenty years, Judge," was the mournful
reply.

A trifle embarrassed, but not entirely off his base, the judge
looked earnestly into the face of the bereaved, and said:

"My friend, excuse me, your countenance is perfectly familiar to
me, but I do not at this moment remember exactly who you are."

The response was, "Judge, _I am an evangelist."_

To which the candidate for Congress, now upon a firm footing, tapped
the man of the sacred office familiarly upon the shoulder and
cheerfully exclaimed, "Why, damn it, _Van,_ I thought I ought to
know you!"

Returning now for brief sojourn to the afore-mentioned barbecue,
with a faithful kinsman as monitor, aided by a slight moiety of
tact to be credited to personal account, I managed passably well
to get through the trying ordeal. "The old gentleman with the long
white beard, coming toward us," observed my monitor, "is Uncle Jake
Anderson. He has a hat bet that you will know him." Thus advised,
I was ready for trial, and warmly grasping the hand extended me,
I earnestly inquired, "Uncle Jake, _how are you?"_ "Do you know
me, boy?" was the immediate response. "Know you?" I replied. "You
and my father were near neighbors for years; how could I help
knowing you?" "Yes, of course," he said, "but you being gone so
long, and now running for President, I didn't know but what you
had forgotten all about the old neighbors down on the Lick."
Assuring him that I had forgotten none of them, and congratulating
him upon the hat he had won, I passed on to the next.

The interview described was repeated with slight variations,
many times, when my attendant remarked:

"That man leaning against the tree is John Dunloe; do you remember
him?"

"Certainly," I replied, "I went to school with him."

Immediately approaching my early classmat