These delegates had come together from all parts of the new State. And since there were no turnpikes nor plank roads nor canals any place in the State, some were splattered with the mire of swampy valleys, some were dusty from the windy hilltops, some were in worn hunting garb, and some had on their farming clothes of homespun. Others had been able to pick their way over better trails and by a process of seeming magic were able to bloom out all "dressed up" for the occasion.
Such lucky ones wore blue-cloth coats with brass buttons and long tails, buff "small clothes" which were something like a boy's "short pants," fine white ruffled linen shirts with "stocks," hand-knitted silk stockings, low shoes, huge beaver hats, and although it was beginning to go out of fashion, those who had "fine heads of hair" wore a queue much beribboned. Also they carried immense canes. They flourished gold watches almost as large and nearly as noisy as alarm-clocks.
Each expected to be addressed as "squire." And every one of them was so called; and with the greatest respect, too, since nearly every one of them had earned this title. But then, the plainly clothed delegates were also called "squire," and for the same reason—they had earned it; and the Hoosiers were quick to give honestly deserved honors.
Yet the men in "smart" attire were exactly like the ones in every-day garments in this one thing—they were bent on doing their work on the constitution the way it ought to be done. It was a sacred trust to them.
For this constitution of the State had to lay down the principles which all future laws were to follow. It outlined the different departments and decided upon the duties of each one. In a system of representative government there must be a legislative department composed of men elected to make the laws, an executive department having control of troops and police officers whose business it is to enforce the laws, and a judicial department made up of courts which are meant to secure justice for all persons under the laws.
Then there must be State officers. Doby counted them on his fingers to be sure that he remembered them, for he was in a hurry to grow up and vote. And after he had watched these delegates take such pains with the constitution, he made up his mind that he should always vote for the best man and keep an eye on him to see that he carried out his oath of office.
On his right hand were, after the Governor and Lieutenant-Governor: Thumb—Secretary of State, who puts the big seal on papers; forefinger—Auditor of State, who keeps the accounts; middle finger—Treasurer of State, who takes care of the money; ring finger—Attorney-General, who is lawyer for the Commonwealth; little finger—Geologist, who knows where the good farm-lands are.
On his left hand were: Superintendent of State Schools; Librarian of State Books; clerk of Supreme Court, who keeps records; clerk of decisions, who publishes them; and a statistician whose official name Doby could not pronounce, but whom he regarded as the wisest man of all since his head was full of figures on every possible subject and he could tell any number, from millions down to one-seventeenth of one-nineteenth per cent. of any articles that could be counted.
Besides these, there were enough boards and committees and various minor offices to have numbered all his toes.
Late in the afternoon the convention adjourned. Court sat. The case of the cobbler's son was called. A stump was spread with the tools of the law. There was a big family Bible for taking the oath, a gourd of home-made poke-berry ink, goose-quills for pens, and a rare sheet or two of paper.