of a furnace and a steel plant when the railroad should reach the
place. Capital had flowed in from the East, and already a
Pennsylvanian was starting a main entry into a ten-foot vein of
coal up through the gap and was coking it. His report was that his
own was better than the Connellsville coke, which was the
standard: it was higher in carbon and lower in ash. The Ludlow
brothers, from Eastern Virginia, had started a general store. Two
of the Berkley brothers had come over from Bluegrass Kentucky and
their family was coming in the spring. The bearded Senator up the
valley, who was also a preacher, had got his Methodist brethren
interested--and the community was further enriched by the coming
of the Hon. Samuel Budd, lawyer and budding statesman. As a
recreation, the Hon. Sam was an anthropologist: he knew the
mountaineers from Virginia to Alabama and they were his pet
illustrations of his pet theories of the effect of a mountain
environment on human life and character. Hale took a great fancy
to him from the first moment he saw his smooth, ageless, kindly
face, surmounted by a huge pair of spectacles that were hooked
behind two large ears, above which his pale yellow hair, parted in
the middle, was drawn back with plaster-like precision. A mayor
and a constable had been appointed, and the Hon. Sam had just
finished his first case--Squire Morton and the Widow Crane, who
ran a boarding-house, each having laid claim to three pigs that
obstructed traffic in the town. The Hon. Sam was sitting by the
stove, deep in thought, when Hale came into the hotel and he
lifted his great glaring lenses and waited for no introduction:

"Brother," he said, "do you know twelve reliable witnesses come on
the stand and SWORE them pigs belonged to the squire's sow, and
twelve equally reliable witnesses SWORE them pigs belonged to the