heterogeneous business of mines and lumber, I began to pick up a few clients.  But in all probability I should be still pegging away at mines and lumber, and drawing up occasional leases and contracts, had it not been for Mr. Farquhar Fenelon Cooke, of Philadelphia.  Although it has been specifically written that promotion to a young man comes neither from the East nor the West, nor yet from the South, Mr. Cooke arrived from the East, and in the nick of time for me.

I was indebted to Farrar for Mr. Cooke’s acquaintance, and this obligation I have since in vain endeavored to repay.  Farrar’s profession was forestry:  a graduate of an eastern college, he had gone abroad to study, and had roughed it with the skilled woodsmen of the Black Forest.  Mr. Cooke, whom he represented, had large tracts of land in these parts, and Farrar likewise received an income from the state, whose legislature had at last opened its eyes to the timber depredations and had begun to buy up reserves.  We had rooms in the same Elizabethan building at the corner of Main and Superior streets, but it was more than a year before I got farther than a nod with him.  Farrar’s nod in itself was a repulsion, and once you had seen it you mentally scored him from the list of your possible friends.  Besides this freezing exterior he possessed a cutting and cynical tongue, and had but little confidence in the human race.  These qualities did not tend to render him popular in a Western town, if indeed they would have recommended him anywhere, and I confess to have thought him a surly enough fellow, being guided by general opinion and superficial observation.  Afterwards the town got to know him, and if it did not precisely like him, it respected him, which perhaps is better.  And he gained at least a few warm-friends, among whom I deem it an honor to be mentioned.

Farrar’s contempt for consequences finally brought him an unsought-for reputation.  Admiration for him was born the day he pushed O’Meara out of his office and down a flight of stairs because he had undertaken to suggest that which should be done with the timber in Jackson County.  By this summary proceeding Farrar lost the support of a faction, O’Meara being a power in the state and chairman of the forestry board besides.  But he got rid of interference from that day forth.

Oddly enough my friendship with Farrar was an indirect result of the incident I have just related.  A few mornings after, I was seated in my office trying to concentrate my mind on page twenty of volume ten of the Records when I was surprised by O’Meara himself, accompanied by two gentlemen whom I remembered to have seen on various witness stands.  O’Meara was handsomely dressed, and his necktie made but a faint pretence of concealing the gorgeous diamond in his shirt-front.  But his face wore an aggrieved air, and his left hand was neatly bound in black and tucked into his coat.  He sank comfortably into my wicker chair, which creaked a protest, and produced