“In a day or two, Noah drifted that way again.  The mountain peak had disappeared beneath the waters, and the occupants were all gone.”  “I give up my claim,” said I, “Doctor, in consideration of your anecdote.  Take the glory of killing the bear.  I see you’re not disposed to give me a place in your Ark.  So toss up the dollar.”

The dollar was tossed up, and Smith won the glory.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE DOCTOR AND HIS WIFE ON A FISHING EXCURSION—­THE LAW OF THE CASE—­STRONG-MINDED WOMEN.

The right to the glory of having killed the bear being settled, the Doctor, addressing himself to Spalding, remarked—­“There was something in H——­’s appeal to you about the law of his case, that reminded me of a little scene between my wife and myself, many years ago, when we were both younger than we are now, and certainly had never anticipated the dark years of trial, through which we were unexpectedly called upon to pass.  You know that I started in life, like Smith here, a gentleman of fortune, calculating, like him, to live at my ease, without troubling myself with the cares of any particular business, as I passed along.  Still I thought, or rather my father thought, that it would be well enough, even for a gentleman, to have at least a nominal title to some profession.  So I studied the law, and was admitted as an attorney and counsellor of the courts.  Never intending to practise, I did not become very profoundly learned in the profession; still I became, to some extent, indoctrinated with its mysteries.  I did not like it; and when the necessity for some active employment came looming up in the distance, I chose a different calling, and at six-and-twenty, commenced the study of my present profession.  This did not occur until after I had been married some three years.  I lived in the country then, or rather, summered there, in a beautiful little village in the interior of the State, in a pleasant, old-fashioned house, which my father built, and which, as I was his only heir, I supposed of course I owned.  Some half a dozen miles from the village was a fine trout stream, to which my wife and myself used occasionally to go on a fishing excursion.  On such occasions we went on horseback, as the road was somewhat rough, and my wife was as much at home in the saddle as I was.  This, I repeat, was a good while ago, and we were both a score of years younger than we are now.  Well, I started out alone one day to visit this trout stream, anticipating a good time with its speckled, and usually greedy inhabitants.  I say I was alone, and yet there was with me, all the way, and all the time, one who can talk, reason, philosophise, understand things as well as you or I; and one, to all appearance, as much and distinctly human as you or I.”

“Impossible!” exclaimed Smith, “we can’t go that, Doctor.  I can’t stand my quarter of that.”