with a moral uneasiness which would doubtless amuse most
political managers, do I send "suggestions" or "intimations" to my men
in judicial office--and I always do it, and always have done it,
indirectly. And I feel relieved and grateful when my judges, eager to
"serve the party," anticipate me by sending me a reassuring hint.

I did not let Buck see into my mind. "Nonsense!" I pooh-poohed; "I've no
cause to complain of lack of business: but even if I had, I'd not blame
Dominick or any one else but myself." Then I gave him a straight but
good-humored look. "Drop it, Buck," said I. "What did the old man send
you to me for? What does he want?"

He was too crafty to defend an indefensible position. "I'll admit he did
send me," said he with a grin, "but I came on my own account, too. Do
you want to make it up with him? You can get back under the plum tree if
you'll say the word."

I could see my mother, as I had seen her two hours before at our poor
midday meal,--an old, old woman, so broken, so worn! And all through
the misery this Dominick had brought upon us. Before I could control
myself to speak, Buck burst out, a look of alarm in his face, "Don't say
it, Mr. Sayler,--I know,--I know. I told him it'd be no use. Honest, he
ain't as bad as you think,--he don't know no better, and it's because he
liked and still likes you that he wants you back." He leaned across the
desk toward me, in his earnestness,--and I could not doubt his
sincerity. "Sayler," he went on, "take my advice, get out of the state.
You ain't the sort that gives in, and no more is he. You've got more
nerve than any other man I know, bar none, but don't waste it on a fool
fight. You know enough about politics to know what you're up against."

"Thank you," said I, "but I'll stay on."

He gave over trying to persuade me. "I hope," said he, "you've got a
card up your sleeve that the old man don't know about."

I made some vague reply, and he soon went away. I felt that I had
confirmed his belief in my fearlessness. Yet, if he could have looked
into my mind, how he would have laughed at his credulity! Probably he
would have pitied me, too, for it is one of the curious facts of human
nature that men are amazed and even disgusted whenever they see--in
others--the weaknesses that are universal. I doubt not, many who read
these memoirs will be quite honestly Pharisaical, thanking Heaven that
they are not touched with any of my infirmities.

It may have bee