A FEW days later Judge Linus Lynn called at the Patriot office, and Major Hampton looked up from a book he was intently reading as his study was invaded. “Come in, Lynn,” said the major, “and be seated. How are you, anyway?”

“Comfortable, my dear Major, quite comfortable, I assure you,” replied Lynn, as he helped himself to a cigar from an open box.

“That’s right, Judge,” said the major, observing his familiarity; “shall I help you to a light?”

“Thanks,” said Judge Lynn, “I’m always provided with matches, or I’d have you gimme one. I regard it as mighty poor taste for an old smoker like me to always be browzin’ ‘round askin’ his ‘sociates for matches—therefore I’m always supplied.”

“How thoughtful,” observed the major, smiling sarcastically.

“Yes,” replied Lynn, “I claim to be a thoughtful man,—the result of much thinkin’. Don’t look soopercilious an’ disbelievin’, for it’s a fac’. Now, Major, I have an idee.”

“Indeed?” replied the major, as he picked up a pencil. “Let me record it; it is doubtless quite an affair, and should be captured before it gets away from you.”

Judge Lynn appeared to take no notice of the major’s irony, and said: “You see, Major, I’ll onboosom myself enough to tell you that in my pinion honesty will soon be so condemned scarce in this ‘ere mortgage-ridden Southwest, that a feller ‘ll have to use the article itself to deceive the deceivers. Now it’s gettin’ dangnation slow with me, an’ while I’m mighty near worked to death in my office,—feet is, I’m ‘lowin’ I’ll have the brain fag if things don’t let up,—yet it is bringin’ me no ready cash. I’m jest whoopin’ ‘round doin’ a credit bizness. Do you see?”

The major laughed outright. “Yes, I see, Judge, and I also know what an easy matter it is for some people to be overworked. The same class of men find a shady corner on a hot day almost irresistible.”

“Don’t laugh, Major,” said Judge Lynn, with an injured look on his countenance, “you can bet it’s no laughin’ matter. Speakin’ wide-open an’ confidential-like, I’ll say we’re out o’ flour down at my palace, an’ my grocer has adopted a sort o’ C. O. D. policy that is quite paralyzin’, an’ besides the rent is way past due, the landlord is screechin’ ‘round, an’ I fear a successful suit of ejectment will soon be brought, bet yer life I do. The burnin’ up of the country by hot winds an’ the big prairie-fire nach’ally started litigation off on a canter all right ‘nuff, but nobody has come projectin’ ‘round so far with money to pay court fees. I’d be all right if it had n’t been for the trouble I got into with the attorney-gen’ral. That nach’ally locoed me good and plenty. You, perhaps, are rememberin’ how I ‘tempted to reverse a decision of the Supreme Court in regard to the foreclosure of a mortgage on a poor devil’s farm, an’ in turn they got malignant-like an’ reversed me,—in short, turned me down, an’ at the same time made things thrillin’ by exhaustin’ my ready cash and hypothecatin’ all my credit an’ anticipated earnin’s for the next year, to keep me out of the clutches of what the aforesaid attorney-gen’ral calls law. I jist had all I could do to keep my han’s away from my artillery. If the attorney-gen’ral’d come down ‘ere there’d been obsequies.”

“Yes, I remember,” said the major, sighing; “you made a mistake, and yet your error was on the side of humanity. I forgive you and so does humanity. Take this,” said he, reaching the judge a roll of bills, “with my forgiveness and this advice,—be careful not to exceed your authority again, for law, in the hands of Shylocks, is a relentless thing. Take this, Judge, and pay your debts.”

“What, Major, a hundred dollars? Why, surely, sir, I’m already more deeply indebted to you than I can ever squar’ up. This, I’m assoomin’, is too much.”

“My dear Lynn,” said Major Hampton, throwing his head back in his own unique way, “my mission in life is to help the needy. More years of sorrow and suffering than you can comprehend have opened the doorway of my understanding. I was an old veteran in the cause of humanity when I helped in the crusade for liberty at Valley Forge; later I was at the Commune in Paris during the Reign of Terror, when it was demonstrated that man can endure the galling yoke of slavery and adversity easier than he can withstand prosperity or the tickled vanity of a new-found power. Later I was honored with the confidence of John Brown in his noble and heroic attempts to overthrow slavery; and still afterwards gave my advice to Lincoln, and at his solicitation helped formulate the Emancipation Proclamation. Yes, I’ve seen the black race freed from slavery, but the yoke was not destroyed, and in turn it has, like an octopus, fettered a race of white slaves. As a lover of mankind and a reformist, I am now building up the nucleus of a power in my organization, the Barley Hullers, that will not only free from bondage the white slaves of our land, but will also effectually destroy the yoke—the instrument of torture. This can be done only by an equal distribution of wealth. In giving you this money I am acting as an instrument of the Unseen, yet, nevertheless, potent force that will never rest until liberty liberates.”

“Major Hampton,” said Judge Lynn, rising and striking an attitude, and bringing the tips of his fingers and thumbs together, as was his wont in addressing a jury, “you sure do me an honor by givin’ me such a plain, comprehensive statement, speakin’ gay and genial-like, of your position and life’s mission. I’m thrilled to overflowin’ at your confidence in me. Think I don’t know thoughts when I hear ‘em rumblin’ down all ‘round me? Course I do! Speakin’ of the Barley Hullers brings me face to face with the idee which I had in mind when I entered this room. In short, sir, I wish to jine the organ’zation, and to secure a place as lecturer, or somethin’ of that sort, at some stipulated, but not exorbitant compensation. Do you see?”

“Pay your grocery-bill from the funds I have given you,” said the major, with a wave of his hand. “Do your utmost to provide for your family by your own exertions; but, should you fail, come and see me again. I think I understand folly your ambition, and why you wish to join the Barley Hullers. I will consider it, but do not understand me, at all, to say that I favor your plans.”

“By the great horn spoon, Major!” said Judge Lynn, lighting his cigar afresh, “I hope to be shot if I don’t wish you were at the head of the gover’ment. You nach’ally would jist show ‘em a legerdemain trick or two worth knowin’, an’ don’t you furgit it You’ve got a sooperior quality of good jedgment an’ a whole log-yard rail o’ book learnin’. Oh, I know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

Major Hampton laughed good-naturedly at the judge’s attempted compliment. “Thank you,” said he, “my mission is not to rule, but to reform and to emancipate. However, if I had the reins of government in my hands, knowing as I do the poverty and sufferings of the masses, I should employ different methods than those often adopted for their relief. By the way,” continued the major, “have you seen anything of Hugh Stanton?”

“No,” replied the judge, “hain’t seen him projectin’ ‘round lately, but I’m allowin’ he’s at the bank as usual. Speakin’ ca’mly-like, that was a wonderful affair—John B. Horton cornin’ to life, so to speak, and Hugh discoverin’ him to be his father. Bet yer life it was a speshul chunk of good luck to Hugh.”

“Yes, indeed,” replied the major, “truly wonderful. I have felt a deep interest in the young man, especially since his reverses occasioned by the hot winds, but now that he is heir apparent to half of John B. Horton’s enormous wealth, my plans will necessarily have to be changed. I have an impression,” he went on, thoughtfully, “that Mr. Horton will find in Hugh a veritable watch-dog for his vast herds, and that cattle thieving as a science is liable to be reckoned among the lost arts.”

“Don’t suppose Hugh ‘ll get toomultuous-like an’ troubled with the swell-head, do you, now that he is financially loafin’ ‘round in sight of a mint?” inquired Lynn.

“Oh, no,” replied the major, “he is too well-balanced,—he is too intelligent and sensible.”

“Speakin’ pretty p’lite-like, them’s my sentiments to a nicety, Major. Now, there’s no use denyin’ I’m carryin’ more wrinkles to-day than when I was a younger man, but I’m ‘lowin’ in my face there’s a sign of much thinkin’ and not decrepitood. Course it’s different with women, for wrinkles in one o’ these reg’lar high-steppin’ women’s faces are sort o’ zither strings on which are played the death-knell of their noomerous conquests. Ancient hist’ry is suggested at onct, while poverty of looks, if not of purse, is an actooality. Person’ly, if I had a million to-morrow I’d actooally wear the same sized hat I do to-day, which I must admit is not a roarin’ big one at best. Now, if you should git a hankerin’, Major, to put me in the push as a sort of speshul deputy lecturer ‘mong the Barley Hullers, it would n’t loco me nor puff me up a mite; no, sir, bet yer life it would n’t. I nach’ally have no ultra ambitions for absorbin’ wealth in this ‘ere world, an’, when I die, a quiet funeral without flowers will be quite satisfact’ry.”

Some one knocked at the door, and a moment later Dan Spencer came shuffling in. His short, sandy beard seemed redder than ever, while the freckles on his face gave him a leopard-like appearance. His immense feet and hands and slightly stooped shoulders made his gaunt figure look especially angular. His eyes were as restless as ever, while nis abnormal tooth seemed constantly saluting those with whom he conversed.

“How d’ ye do, Major? Jist dropped in fur a minute. Did n’t know you wuz here, Judge, though I’m proud to see you—always glad to see the court in a friendly way.”

“Well, Spencer, what is it?” asked the major, looking at him intently.

“Nothin’ much alarmin’,” replied Spencer, “only me an’ Kinneman jist got back from the Cimarron River, an’ it’s reported there wuz about two hundred head of fat beeves cut out uv Horton’s herd and driv’ off ‘bout ten days ago.”

“Infamous, infamous!” said the major, coming to his feet, and striking the table with his hand, as if to give emphasis to his feelings.

“Us fellers heerd,” replied Dan,’ “thet you wuz still ‘way lecturin’ to the Barley Hullers, else we’d come back sooner an’ reported, an’ thet’s the truth.”

“Another reason, Major,” interposed Lynn, “speakin’ on the spur of the minute like, why you should favorably consider my idee. You need a deputy—bet yer life you do, in this ‘ere lecturin’ business; then you could give yer time to runnin’ down and locoin’ the cattle thieves. I wear magnifyin’ glasses, I do, when such swell opportunities as this ‘ere comes slidin’ ‘round under my nose, bet yer life I do.”

The major seemed lost in thought, and walked slowly back and forth, with his hands clasped behind him, paying no attention whatever to Judge Lynn’s observations. Presently he said: “Very well, Spencer, I will see you and Kinne-man this evening, after the Barley Hullers’ meeting. Call at my house about eleven o’clock.”

“All right,” replied Spencer, “jist as you say; you kin always count on Bill Kinneman and yours truly bein’ punctu’l when you give the word,” and with this Dan shuffled out of the room.

After he had gone, the major said: “This is a bad business, very bad. The Patriot comes out to-morrow, and I must write up this last outrage of the cattle thieves. It is simply incomprehensible how they can carry on this lawless work without being detected.”

“My private opinion, Major, speakin’ once-served-like,” said Judge Lynn, “is that you’re needed dangnation bad to sort o’ look after these ‘ere fellers, person’ly, an’ you can’t do it spendin’ yer time away from home lecturin’, bet yer life you can’t.”

The major scowled, and, seating himself at the table, commenced writing, and soon after Judge Lynn quietly took his departure, without again venturing to broach the subject of being made deputy lecturer.

About eight o’clock that evening Hugh called at the Patriot office.

“Well, well!” exclaimed Major Hampton. “This is, indeed, a pleasing surprise,—a refreshing whiff of the unexpected.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Major,” replied Hugh, seating himself at the earnest solicitation of his old friend. “I have been trying,” continued Hugh, “for several days to find time to call on you, but you know so much has happened.”

“True,” said the major, “much has occurred,—much that is marvelous, and yet in it all can be traced the hand of an all-wise Providence. Let me take this occasion, my dear Stanton, to tender my congratulations on your good fortune in discovering your long-lost father.”

“Thank you,” said Hugh. “It is all so new and strange that I can’t realize the new relations.”

“Stanton,” said the major, turning to his writing-table, “I have just been preparing an article on cattle-thieving, and I am anxious to know how it will impress you.” The old major threw his head back in a supreme way, and looked thoughtfully into a darkened corner of the room.

“You certainly know, Major,” said Hugh, “that I am an admirer of your writings, it matters not on what subject.”

“John Brown,” said the major, without removing his eyes from the darkened corner, “was an emancipator, and his memory is revered, his name honored, and the personality of the man loved by thousands of people. Is not that so?” Hugh answered that it was. “Very well,” said the major, while the deep wrinkles in his face began to grow more prominent, “what was John Brown but a law-breaker, a notorious thief, on a gigantic scale? What right had he to take slaves from their owners,—black men who were worth, in the market, a thousand dollars apiece, and help them to escape?”

“You must remember,” said Hugh, “that time has covered any mistakes the great emancipator may have made with the veil of charity. The fact remains, of course, that he was a lawbreaker.”

“That is just it,” exclaimed the major. “He was a law-breaker,—he violated the statutes,—and yet his name is honored by this generation, while others yet unborn will revere his memory and honor his name as one of earth’s greatest.”

“Yes; not because he was a law-breaker, Major, but because he led a crusade in behalf of the oppressed and the helpless.”

“Ah!” said the major, leaning back in his chair, and taking his eyes away from the darkened corner, and beaming benignly at Hugh, “now you are uttering words of great wisdom. What a magnificent reformist you would make. I wanted you to give expression to that thought.”

Hugh was noticeably complimented with the major’s words, and finally stammered, “I am sure, Major, that Captain Osborn and others entertain similar views, and I am not entitled to any special credit for these sentiments.”

Major Hampton let his eyes turn again toward the darkened corner of the room.

“Captain Osborn,” he said, half to himself, “poor old Captain; I am sorry for him, indeed I am, and yet in one way he is to be congratulated, for sorrow is a torch that enlarges the scope of the understanding and softens the heart of the sufferer toward humanity. Yes, I feel sorry for the captain,” he went on. “My regret, however, is not so much for the termination of the affair as it is that such an unequal marriage should have been made in the first place.”

“Why do you call it unequal, Major? Of course, you understand that I readily admit there was a vast difference between Captain Osborn and Mrs. Osborn, but I interpret their differences as a lack of congeniality, rather than inequality.”

“An equal marriage,” said the old major, “is one where the infatuation or illusion goes on until the end; an unequal marriage is where one or the other has foiled to find that for which they sought. I know it is contrary to the canons of good society, but, nevertheless, my sympathies linger with the transgressor in these unequal marriages, rather than with the dolt of a man or woman who is satisfied with a monotonous existence instead of living in the exhilarating atmosphere of love’s fullest intoxication. Lucy Osborn was never willing to trudge along, elbow to elbow with the captain, sympathetically sharing the poverty as well as the successes of life; she was brave in the latter and a coward in the former condition. Poor woman, probably this would never have occurred had their marriage been an equal one.”

“I am glad, Major,” said Hugh, “that you regard the memory of Mrs. Osborn with so much charity. Of course we cannot deny that she was, perhaps, indiscreet, but I cannot believe that she was wicked.”

“The unforgivable sin,” said the major, “with one’s friends, is not to sin in silence—if one sins at all. It is not the part of honest charity to have even an opinion in regard to the truthfulness or untruthfulness of the rumors which connected her name with that of Lord Avondale. Lucy Osborn,” continued Major Hampton, “belonged to a not uncommon class of women. In their youth they long with passionate impatience for an impetuous, strong, overpowering, consuming love, but when the semblance finally comes along,—like, for instance, the refined and exalted affection of a man like Captain Osborn,—they seize upon it like a famished tigress and then immediately cease suing the adorer for continued adoration, but sit idly down and satiate themselves with revels in supremest selfishness, prodigal indifference, and reckless abandonment of opportunities. Lucy Osborn even threw open the window of prudence, and something flew away, leaving emptiness and poverty of heart, where plenty should have reigned; indeed, her life’s boudoir was stripped of its rich furnishings, leaving instead a tangled maze of regret to feed upon her famished and impoverished heart, driving her, perhaps, to play at lottery with her reputation, and, like any other gambler standing before the green cloth, the chances were ninety-nine to one that she would lose.”

Just here they were interrupted by Judge Lynn, who came rushing in at the door, his tall hat well back on his small head and his coat sleeves pushed up, as if he were transacting all the business, worth mentioning, in the Great Southwest.

“Hello, Major; why, hello, Stanton; did n’t know you had any one with you, Major.”

The major nodded and motioned him to be seated, and, turning to Hugh, he went on talking. “It is a hard question, therefore, to determine, Stanton, and seemingly an unfair one to decide, whether or not Captain Osborn is not better off under the present conditions than he would have been had Mrs. Osborn lived. The infatuation of love is a peculiar sentiment; sages and poets have endeavored to describe it, from the beginning of the world to the present time, and they usually have written most volubly of it at that period of their lives when they knew the least about it. My long years of observation teach me that love is actuated either by sentiment, interest, or reason. The first has to do with a handsome face and a beautiful form; the second with a homely face, which certainly suggests sympathy; and the third with a woman virtuous in mind and body. Fortunate is the man who discovers a woman who excites in him the first and last of these motives. A womanly woman binds our hearts with ungalling chains on earth, and keeps our souls in tune and in communication with heaven.”

“Excuse me, Major,” said Judge Lynn, “for observin’ that, in my jedgment, thar’s a heap o’ ig’nance ‘round these diggin’s ‘bout the sentiment of love.”

The old major smiled and looked compassionately at the judge. “What do you know, Judge, about love matters?” he asked, giving Hugh a knowing look.

“Well,” said the judge, “thar ain’t no use denyin’ or contendin’ but what there is a nach’al, inborn sort of a feelin’ called love. I’m ‘lowin’ when a young feller an’ a girl gits to cooin’ ‘round and locoed-like, and fin’ly git pot-hooked on the same laceratin’ thorn, and survive, why, then they are usually reconciled to each other’s short-comin’s. Howsumever, speakin’ prompt and cheerful-like, in my opinion love’s a pipe dream that sure ‘nuff ends, instead o’ begins, when a feller gits married. In other words, when a feller takes a better half the toomultuous soap-bubble of illusion busts, and history begins with the hard scratchin’ duties of makin’ a livin’. Bet yer life, I ‘low I know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. I’m not peevish or complainin’, but, gee, think what I’ve gone through, an’ then bat yer eyes with thrillin’ surprise.”

At this the old major and Hugh laughed immoderately, while the judge looked on in blank astonishment, as if vexed and incensed at their hilarity.