Dunwody gave a sly wink at his neighbor, Judge Clayton.  The latter sank back in his chair resigned.  Indeed, he proceeded to precipitate what he knew was to come.

“Sir, England herself,” he assented gravely, “is the oldest of slavers.  The Saxons, of whom we speak as the fathers of freedom, were the worst slave masters in the world—­they sold their very kin into slavery at times.”

The Honorable William Jones was impatient of interruption.  “Comin’ to our own side of the sea, gentlemen, what do we find?  New England foremost in the slave trade!  New York, ownin’ onct more slaves than Virginny ever did!  Georgia was fo’ced to take on slave labor, although she had tried to do without it. Every race, every nation, sirs, has accepted the theory of slave labor.  What says Mr. Gibbon in his great work—­in his remarkable work, his treasure house of learnin’—­The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire—­if I had my copy here I could put my finger on to the very place where he says it, sirs.  Why, sirs, in the Decline and Fall—­I could show you the very line and chapter if I had my copy here—­but it’s up in my room—­I could show you the very chapter on slavery, by the Lord Harry! sir, where Mr. Foote, of the state of Mississippi, in his last speech down in that country, sirs,—­”

“Now, now, Jones,” Dunwody raised a restraining hand at length, “just sit down.  Don’t go get your copy of the Decline and Fall.  We’re willing to take some of that for granted.  Let’s get at the pleasant task of taking away all the money of this Free Soil gentleman from the North. Non politics, non religion, sed poker!  That’s why we’re here.”

The Honorable William Jones, his eloquence thus dammed up, seemed to experience a sudden restriction of the throat, and coughed once or twice.  “I will go against the said poker just onct,” said he; “but, ahem!”

“I would suggest,” said Dunwody, “that before we tempt the gods of fortune we should first pour a libation for their favor.  What do you say, sir?” He turned to Jones and winked at Clayton.

“No, no, no, sir!  No, I thank you just as much, but I never drink more than onct in a day.  At home it varies.  On some days I like my liquor in the mornin’, some days just before bedtime, especially if there is any malary about, as there is in most of my country—­indeed, I think there is some malary in these Ohio bottoms up here.”

“That fact is beyond dispute,” ventured Judge Clayton gravely.  “In short, I myself feel in danger as we pass through these heavy forests.”

“Quite so,” assented the Honorable William Jones.  “Sometimes I take a drink in the mornin’ before breakfast, especially if there is malary around, as I said; sometimes before dinner, but only one; or, sometimes right after dinner, like now.  Difference among men, ain’t there?  Some say it’s wrong to drink before breakfast.  Others say one drink then goes farther’n six later in the day.  For me, now, only one drink a day.  Unless—­that is, of course—­unless there is some very special occasion, such as—­”