“Well, how about Coke?”
“I don’t know ez I ever heared tell of him, neither.”
“Well, surely then you have studied the Constitution of the United States of America and the Constitution and the Bill of Rights of the State of Kentucky?”
“To tell you the truth, Jedge, I ain’t got round to them yit,” admitted the aspiring blacksmith.
“Henry,” pressed Judge Bishop, “suppose you tell us just what books—what authorities—you have studied since you became seized with the desire to be a member of our bar?”
Henry pondered a moment. Then his face brightened.
“I tell you, Jedge,” he said, “I read one big book called ‘Revised Statutes of the State of Kintucky’ mighty nigh through, an’ I kin remember part of what it says.”
“My son,” stated Judge Bishop, “the trouble with you is that the next Legislature is liable to meet and repeal every damn thing you know.”
§ 59 A Lover of Statistics
There was a seance on—a regular seance, with a trance medium and a black cheesecloth cabinet and a mysterious table rapper and a ghostly guitar picker and everything orthodox, like that. The medium was a stout lady whose controls took those liberties with the English language which seemingly is permitted in a realm where there is neither space nor time—nor grammar. The audience was of fairish size. Amid the throng sat a half-grown youth from about five miles out on R. F. D. No. 3. He was attending his first spiritualistic seance. As manifestation succeeded manifestation, his eyes popped and his ears twitched.