"I have a little business," said I.
"Most people do have," said he. "I'm chuck full on't myself."
"Suppose," said I, "a man dies, and leaves a widow, and that widow should claim—"
"Hold on, right there!" exclaimed Ike, laying down his pipe. "Hold on, old fellow; this s'posin' don't do in this 'ere office. I never gives opinions on fancy cases. Time's little too precious. I want the raal facts on the matter, jest as they happened; and, besides, Mr. ——, fust thing I know I shall give an opinion right butt agin one of my clients—(I have reg'lar clients, you see, that I've got ter stand up for, if it busts me),—and this wheelin' round and taking a back track spiles one's reputation, and tears his conscience, awful to behold!"
"Well," I continued, "as I was goin' to say—"
"No, sir-ee! you ain't goin' to say. Who died? who's the widow? Them are the startin' pints in a new country."
"But," continued I, "that will not affect the principle."
"Won't it, though?" answered Ike. "What are principles to folks in a new country? What are residents to non-residents? Why, you take a resident widow, a little good-lookin', and she can hold all the land she claims agin a non-resident. Juries have feelin's, and are human like other people."
"O, I see!" said I.
"Jest so," said he.