“It began to curse me when I was a baby, and it has cursed every hour of
my life to this day–”
“Lord, lord, but it’s so! Time and again my wife–”
“I depended on it all through my boyhood and never tried to do an honest
stroke of work for my living–”
“Right again–but then you–”
“I have chased it years and years as children chase butterflies. We
might all have been prosperous, now; we might all have been happy, all
these heart-breaking years, if we had accepted our poverty at first and
gone contentedly to work and built up our own wealth by our own toil and
sweat–”
“It’s so, it’s so; bless my soul, how often I’ve told Si Hawkins–”
“Instead of that, we have suffered more than the damned themselves
suffer! I loved my father, and I honor his memory and recognize his good
intentions; but I grieve for his mistaken ideas of conferring happiness
upon his children. I am going to begin my life over again, and begin it
and end it with good solid work! I’ll leave my children no Tennessee
Land!”
“Spoken like a man, sir, spoken like a man! Your hand, again my boy!
And always remember that when a word of advice from Beriah Sellers can
help, it is at your service. I’m going to begin again, too!”
“Indeed!”
“Yes, sir. I’ve seen enough to show me where my mistake was. The law is
what I was born for. I shall begin the study of the law. Heavens and
earth, but that Brabant’s a wonderful man–a wonderful man sir! Such a
head! And such a way with him! But I could see that he was jealous of
me. The little licks I got in in the course of my argument before the
jury–”
“Your argument! Why, you were a witness.”
“Oh, yes, to the popular eye, to the popular eye–but I knew when I was
dropping information and when I was letting drive at the court with an
insidious argument. But the court knew it, bless you, and weakened every
time! And Brabant knew it. I just reminded him of it in a quiet way,
and its final result, and he said in a whisper, ‘You did it, Colonel, you
did it, sir–but keep it mum for my sake; and I’ll tell you what you do,’
says he, ‘you go into the law, Col. Sellers–go into the law, sir; that’s
your native element!’ And into the law the subscriber is going. There’s
worlds of money in it!–whole worlds of money! Practice first in
Hawkeye, then in Jefferson, then in St. Louis, then in New York! In the
metropolis of the western world! Climb, and climb, and climb–and wind
up on the Supreme bench. Beriah Sellers, Chief Justice of the Supreme
Court of the United States, sir! A made man for all time and eternity!
That’s the way I block it out, sir–and it’s as clear as day–clear as
the rosy-morn!”
Washington had heard little of this. The first reference to Laura’s
trial had brought the old dejection to his face again, and he stood
gazing out of the window at nothing, lost in reverie.
There was a knock-the postman handed in a letter. It was from Obedstown.
East Tennessee, and was for Washington. He opened it. There was a note
saying that enclosed he would please find a bill for the current year’s
taxes on the 75,000 acres of Tennessee Land belonging to the estate of
Silas Hawkins, deceased, and added that the money must be paid within
sixty days or the land would be sold at public auction for the taxes, as
provided by law. The bill was for $180–something more than twice the
market value of the land, perhaps.
Washington hesitated. Doubts flitted through his mind. The old instinct
came upon him to cling to the land just a little longer and give it one
more chance. He walked the floor feverishly, his mind tortured by
indecision. Presently he stopped, took out his pocket book and counted
his money. Two hundred and thirty dollars–it was all he had in the
world.
“One hundred and eighty . . . . . . . from two hundred and