"You might write a sketch of your own career," suggested the Professor.
"Don't do it, Colonel," said Alex.
"Why not?" asked Ashley.
"There is a law which sadly interferes with the circulation of a certain character of literature," said Alex.
"Alex," said the Colonel, "what a painstaking and delicate task it will be, under that law, to write your obituary."
"There will be great risk in writing yours, Colonel," said Alex; "but it will be a labor of love, nevertheless; a labor of love, Colonel."
"If you have it to do, Alex, don't forget my strongest characteristic," said the Colonel; "that lofty generosity, blended with a self-contained dignity, which made me indifferent always to the slanders of bad men."
It was always a delight to the Club to get these two to bantering each other.
Ashley here interposed and said: "You all know Professor ——. One night in Elko, last summer, he was conversing with Judge F—— of Elko. Both had been indulging a little too much; the Professor was growing talkative and the Judge morose.
"The Professor was telling about the battle of Buena Vista, in which he, a boy at the time, participated. In the midst of the description the Judge interrupted him with some remark which the Professor construed into an impeachment of his bravery.