On the following morning as M. T. Pate sat on his porch, brooding over the humiliation of his defeat, a sable son of Africa rode up and handed him a letter. He opened it and read as follows:
"Mr. M. T. Pate,—Simon has told me that in your speech to the jury you several times called me venerable. No wonder you lost our case! for after such a whopper about me it was not likely that a single man on the jury would believe one word you might say. How dare you call a decent woman like me venerable? I am not so venerable as you yourself, with your big head almost bare of hair outside and altogether bare of brains inside.
"You ran away because you were afraid to look twelve honest men in the face after what you had said about me. You may have better luck when you have learned to tell the truth. No more at present.
"Abigail Rump."
This letter, though mortifying at the time, was afterwards of essential service to M. T. Pate. He perceived that adjectives suggestive of personal qualities were often, like edged tools, to be used with extreme caution, especially in their application to the female sex; and that the equanimity even of the mother of seven sweet little cherubs might be seriously disturbed by an indiscreet use of the word venerable.
CHAPTER XXV.
"Mr. Pate made an astonishing speech," said the Professor to Toney and Tom, the day after the trial; "such a speech as has been seldom listened to by any audience,—a speech that was unanswerable by argument."
"And Toney knew it," said Tom, "and did not attempt to answer it by argument."
"Toney," said the Professor, "was like a wild Indian, dodging around and aiming his arrows at Pate, who had come on the ground with a heavy piece of artillery."
"Why do you compare me to a savage?" said Toney.
"Because you use merciless weapons," said the Professor. "Civilized men do not employ the scalping-knife and tomahawk."