MR. LANE HAS A DIFFICULTY.
"Good morning, Mr. Lane," said Squire Grundy, thrusting his huge, shaggy head through the stage door and grasping the giant's hand.
"Good morning, Squire! Step right in; we have just room for one more."
"That's lucky, Mr. L——. Beg your pardon, sir; beg your pardon. You see, this is the first time we have met since you were made sheriff of Nelson County. Have you grown any larger since you became sheriff?" asked the Squire, taking a seat by the side of Mr. Lane.
"Not any larger, but a little wiser, I reckon."
"We are never too old to learn, Mr. Lane—beg your pardon again, Sheriff—we are never too old to learn. I've been a justice of the peace for long on eighteen years, and I learn something new every day."
"Did you ever learn that you were not fit for your office?" inquired Mr. Lane.
"I did not come in here to be insulted—I won't take an insult from any man, even if he is the biggest in the State!" said the indignant Squire, rising to his feet, throwing his broad-brimmed hat on the back of his head and resting on his large, home-made cane.
"How have I insulted you?"
"You called in question, sir, my capabilities of administering the responsible and official duties of a Justice of the Peace," continued the Squire, hoping by this display of learning to confound the ignorant sheriff.