it down again and looked
hard at the doctor.

"Will you swear to it?" he demanded.

"I would swear to it before Saint Peter," said the doctor, fervently.

He swore to it before a jury, which was more to the point, and we won
our case. It did not even go to the court of appeals; I suppose the
railroad thought it cheaper to drop it, since no right of way was
involved. And the decision was scarcely announced before Mr. Farquhar
Fenelon Cooke had begun work on his new country place, Mohair.

I have oftentimes been led to consider the relevancy of this chapter,
and have finally decided to insert it. I concluded that the actual
narrative of how Mr. Cooke came to establish his country-place near
Asquith would be interesting, and likewise throw some light on that
gentleman's character. And I ask the reader's forbearance for the
necessary personal history involved. Had it not been for Mr. Cooke's
friendship for me I should not have written these pages.

CHAPTER III

Events, are consequential or inconsequential irrespective of their size.
The wars of Troy were fought for a woman, and Charles VIII, of France,
bumped his head against a stone doorway and died because he did not
stoop low enough. And to descend from history down to my own poor
chronicle, Mr. Cooke's railroad case, my first experience at the bar of
any gravity or magnitude, had tied to it a string of consequences then
far beyond my guessing. The suit was my stepping-stone not only to
a larger and more remunerative practice, but also, I believe, to the
position of district attorney, which I attained shortly afterwards.

Mr. Cooke had laid out Mohair as ruthlessly as Napoleon planned the
new Paris; though not, I regret to say, with a like genius. Fortunately
Farrar interposed and saved the grounds, but there was no guardian angel
to do a like turn for the house. Mr. Langdon Willis, of Philadelphia,
was the architect who had nominal charge of the building. He had
regularly submitted some dozen plans for Mr. Cooke's approval, which
were as regularly rejected. My client believed, in common with a great
many other people, that architects should be driven and not followed,
and was plainly resolved to make this house the logical development of
many cherished ideas. It is not strange, therefore, that the edifice
was completed by a Chicago contractor who had less self-respect than Mr.
Willis, the latter having abruptly refused to have his name tacked on to
the wo