"'So I should think,' said I; 'I just left a dozen asses at my breakfast table, and you're just the man for all the world to be their judge.'
"That's a contempt!" exclaimed the Squire, jumping from his chair.
"Nothin' but a dream, and they allers go by contraries," answered Ike.
"So they do,' said the Squire, calmly, sitting down again.
"Where's Bates, and the Colonel, and Bulliphant, and the other Puddlefordians?' inquired I.
"'Bates,' said the Squire, 'burst a blood-vessel several hundred years ago, running down a southern kidnapper, and died quick-ern a flash. He didn't leave nothing scasely for his family, 'cause he spent all his time on public affairs. The Colonel left the country with the sheriff at his heels; and he rather thought he was somewhere about the streets now, as he saw a feller t'other day 'fore the court, for debt, that looked jest like him. Bulliphant went off in spontaneous combustion—in a kind of blue fire, and the old woman fretted herself out, a couple of years arter; but,' said the Squire, 'I can't be detained. Story's waitin' for me on the bench, and we decide the title to a million of acres of land, at ten this morning.'
"This woke me. Story and the decision by Longbow, knocked my dream out-er sight."
Bates pulled off his boots, and handing them to Ike, informed him that they were his, by the custom of Puddlefordians, and the meeting adjourned.