and hale and strong, and the second war
with the mother country was an uncicatrized memory. In short, I mean
New Babylon of the critical hour when the Legislature wisely saw fit to
erect Tuscarora County, and appointed a commission to choose a
county-seat. 'Then was the tug-of-war.' New Babylon coveted the
award, pined for it, panted for it as the hart for the water brooks.
But so did Etruria, our strapping rival."

A ripple of appreciation of his version of the familiar legend ran from
jury-box to door, and Shelby, a psychologist, like every real orator,
perceived it with stirring pulse. The instrument he knew best lay
attuned to his hand.

"How little could we boast," he said, adroitly identifying his
listeners with the past. "The surveyors assured us that the canal was
pointed our way, though no one was sanguine of its speedy coming. We
did occupy the geographical centre of the new county, and with that
ends the tale of our pretensions."

"We had Penelope Chubb!"

The suggestion came from an old man in one of the arm-chairs
immediately below.

Interruptions never disconcerted Shelby.

"I forgot Penelope Chubb," he admitted smilingly. "Yes, we had her,
the best dress-maker in Tuscarora, whom even Etruria was keen to
employ. But you wouldn't have had us offer Penelope Chubb to the
commissioners as an inducement," he added, and won a laugh for his
readiness. "It was far different with Etruria. It lay on the great
Ridge Road, and the stages from the East tooled and trumpeted straight
through its long main street. It had stores and shops and factories,
it had a grist-mill, a distillery, a tavern--"

"Two taverns," corrected the hoary critic below.

"Two taverns, a bona fide doctor, a licensed preacher, the only
academy, the only meeting-house, the only printing-press, and the only
newspaper within the county limits. The Etrurians were so cock-sure of
victory that they raised the price of village lots. Yet we presumed to
hope. Great emergencies focus on individuals; so with ours. New
Babylon found its saviour in Israel Booth."

Booth's name was the signal for an outburst. The older generation held
him in equal reverence with the fathers of the republic.

"It was Israel Booth who saw that our one hope lay in a natural
resource, and set himself to conjure one from Red Jacket Creek. Genius
has seldom worked with less promising material. Red Jacket Creek isn't
an imposing stream to-day as it skir