ld be omitted without giving offense, and at length, with a great
flourish, the chairman announced "_The_ orator of the day, Captain
Buzwell, from Thornton, who has kindly consented to honor us," etc.

He was a lawyer with a gift of tongues, and his first few words brought
all the hitherto indifferent assembly quietly near the stand. After a
few well-put anecdotes, he said: "But to come back to the subject in
hand: one of your eloquent speakers has called this Fourth of July an
'institution.' That was a novel and happy idea. It is an 'institution,'
and upon it are founded all of our institutions,--free schools, free
religion, free speech, free press, free ballots, free action: freedom
everywhere for all men free and equal is founded on this glorious
'institution,' the corner-stone of which was laid Fourth of July, 1776."

At this point so great was Mrs. Dodson's conjugal pride, and so fearful
was she that her husband was not attending to the speaker's flattery,
that she poked him with her parasol till the Deacon was "fain to cry
out," as Bunyan says. When quiet was restored, the speaker continued:

"Another gifted orator has said,"--and, quoting something from Deacon
Pogue's pointless remarks, he made them also seem full of meaning; and
so on through the list of "distinguished speakers," till each one felt
that he himself had spoken most effectively.

Having thus pleased and interested all parties, he followed with an
instructive, historical speech, to which Sneeze, doughnut and cheese in
hand, listened so intently, that he found out at last "why they kept
Fourth of July."

After the speech and "appropriate instrumental music by the band," which
consisted of a drum and a bass-viol, the people dispersed to amuse
themselves as they saw fit, till dinner should be announced.

Mrs. Dodson, as "Table Committee," was disposed to magnify her office.
She kept the Deacon standing guard over her basket till nearly all the
rest were emptied, having reserved conspicuous places on the table for
her goodies. Taking advantage of her rival's presence, smiling sweetly,
she said as she opened the basket, "Mis' Pogue, your vittles look so
nice, I'm real 'shamed to bring mine out at all."

"But all the while I knew she was proud as Lucifer over 'em, and thought
she'd throw me quite in the shade," Mrs. Pogue told her next neighbor
that afternoon. "Her big cards of rusk did look nice, but her mince-pies
had slipped over into the custard