A “* HOOSIER’ IN SEARCH OF JUSTICE. 267 
Around the interior walls of this romantic-looking 
place may be found an extensive library, where all 
the “statutes,” from Moses’ time down to the present 
day, are ranged side by side ; in these musty books the 
owner revels day and night, digesting “ digests,” and 
growing the while sallow, with indigestion. 
On the evening-time of a fine summer’s day, the sage 
lawyer might have been seen walled in with books and 
manuscripts, his eye full of thought, and his bald high 
forehead sparkling with the rays of the setting sun, as 
if his genius was making itself visible to the senses; 
page after page he searched, musty parchments were 
scanned, an expression of care and anxiety indented 
itself on the stern features of his face, and with a sigh 
of despair he desisted from his labors, uttering aloud 
his feelings that he feared his case was a hopeless one. 
Then he renewed again his mental labor with tenfold 
vigor, making the very silence, with which he pursued 
his thoughts, ominous, as if a spirit were in his presence. 
The door of the lawyer’s office opened, there pressed 
forward the tall, gaunt figure of a man, a perfect model 
of physical power and endurance—a western flatboatman. 
The lawyer heeded not his presence, and started as if 
from a dream, as the harsh tones of inquiry, grated upon 
his ear, of, 
“ Does a "Squire live here?” 
“They call me so,” was the reply, as soon as he 
had recovered from his astonishment. 
