After he had shaken hands with all his visitors, he presented me to them, and I found that I was in the presence of no less important persons than the Ayuntamiento of San Felipe de Austin; and that two of my worthy countrymen were corregidors, one a procurador, and the others buenos hombres, or freeholders. They did not seem, however, to prize their titles much, for they addressed one another by their surnames only.
The negro brought a light, opened the cigar box, and arranged the chairs; the judge pointed to the sideboard, and to the cigars, and then sat down. Some took a dram, others lit a cigar.
Several minutes elapsed, during which the men sat in perfect silence, as if they were collecting their thoughts, or, as though it were undignified to show any haste or impatience to speak. This grave sort of deliberation which is met with among certain classes, and in certain provinces of the Union, has often struck me as a curious feature of our national character. It partakes of the stoical dignity of the Indian at his council fire, and of the stern, religious gravity of the early puritan settlers in America.
During this pause Bob was writhing on his chair like a worm, his face concealed by his hands, his elbows on his knees. At last, when all had drank and smoked, the judge laid down his cigar.
"Men!" said he.
"Squire!" answered they.
"We've a business before us, which I calculate will be best explained by him whom it concerns."
The men looked at the squire, then at Bob, then at me.
"Bob Rock! or whatever your name may be, if you have aught to say, say it!" continued the judge.
"Said it all yesterday," muttered Bob, his face still covered by his hands.