ly. And that fib about his giving me a diamond
ring,--deny it please, as I have never shown it to a soul--So you can
see how people manufacture gossip.

I walk to the Penitentiary for recreation, as I may have to visit there
some day and I never like to be surprised at anything. It isn't refined.

My Attorney is thoroughly picturesque. He wears a coat in his office
that his wife must have made. His collar came from Noah's grab bag,
and, if you remember, there was no washing machine on the ark. A heavy
gold chain meanders down his shirt front to protect his watch from
improbable theft. On Sunday he passes the contribution box and is
considered a philanthropic pest. I asked how much the fee would be and
he said, "One hundred if you furnish witnesses, two hundred if we do."
You can hire a man for five dollars out here to swear that he killed
you.

When my attorney talks, he sits on his haunches, showing his teeth that
would do credit to a shark, and fancies he's smiling when he permits his
cracked purple lips to slide back. I wouldn't trust my case to him, only
he could not lose if he tried.

Every time I look at him I wonder if there could be a face behind that
nose and those whiskers, which give his head the appearance of a fern
dish. He wears an old silk hat whose nap is attacked with a skin
disease. They say he belongs to one of the first families of this
town--first on the way coming up from the station I suppose. He was
married years ago, but isn't working at it now. I am so unstrung after
our seances that I feel like crawling right out under a bush and eating
sage. If I weren't afraid of him I'd raise my umbrella while he
talks--his conversation is so showery. In my ingrown heart I hate him so
there is no danger for me, tho' I've heard that he's a perfect fusser
with the women.

I telephoned the livery stable yesterday and asked if any of the hearse
horses were idle, as I'd like to take a ride. The fellow said he'd send
me a winner, so I togged up in my bloomers, boots and spurs and stood on
the veranda waiting. A young boy galloped up with something dragging
behind him. I said: "Do you call that insect a horse?" he answered; "No,
but it used to be, m'am." The poor creature was all bones and only
waiting for a nudge to push him into the grave. I mounted the broncho,
which kept "bronking," but after an encouraging tclk-tclk, I made a
detour of the block, then sent the nag to the stable.

There were two childre