"Indeed," he answered, encouragingly.
"A play wherein a little tigerish lawyer sought to carry off a child. Without avail, though, for he was beaten off finally by a melancholy knight who appeared suddenly on the scene, to the great joy of those who were looking on," the lady concluded, with rising voice.
"I am sure it must have been interesting," he answered. "Pray tell me about it."
"Yes, it was interesting, and something more than that. I was shopping, you must know, while the boat waited at Quincy, and in the most accidental way ran across the trial. The quaintest thing it was, too, that any one ever heard of. It was before a little justice, in the back part of his store, and all about the possession of this young gentleman," she went on, laying her hand on mine, "who was being fought over by his Uncle Job, a fair-spoken young man, on one side, and a little dragon of a lawyer, who moved about like a hawk hovering over a brood of chickens. Oh, you should have seen him!"
"He was put to rout, though, finally, as you say?" the gentleman responded, smilingly.
"Yes; and in the end the good fairy carried off the child in triumph, as it does in the story-book."
"It must have been a sight worth seeing," he answered.
"Indeed it was. When the trial was going on you could have cried out with pain and rage, but not have laughed to save your life, it was so pitiable. It was grand, too; and what made it so was the presence of the sublime man who pleaded for the child—did he come on with you, Gilbert, the lawyer, I mean, who defended you?" the good lady stopped abruptly to inquire.
"Yes, madam."
"Well, Jefferson, you must hunt him up, for to know such a man is an inheritance in itself, he has such gentleness and wisdom; and oh, the pathos and mournful sweetness of his speech! His knowledge of mankind, and of children most, I would never have believed any one could possess—and he so young, too"; and the lady stopped as if to conjure up anew the tall figure and melancholy face of Mr. Lincoln. "When he pleaded for his little friend, such sweetness of soul and honesty of heart shone in his face and lighted up his eyes that I know I shall never see the like of it again. Oh, you must know him, Jefferson, indeed you must!"