“I’m with you, gentlemen,” said No. 6.  “Perfect jackass—­yes, and it ain’t going too far to say he is a pudd’nhead.  If he ain’t a pudd’nhead, I ain’t no judge, that’s all.”

Mr. Wilson stood elected.  The incident was told all over the town, and gravely discussed by everybody.  Within a week he had lost his first name; Pudd’nhead took its place.  In time he came to be liked, and well liked too; but by that time the nickname had got well stuck on, and it stayed.  That first day’s verdict made him a fool, and he was not able to get it set aside, or even modified.  The nickname soon ceased to carry any harsh or unfriendly feeling with it, but it held its place, and was to continue to hold its place for twenty long years.

CHAPTER 2 —­ Driscoll Spares His Slaves

Adam was but human—­this explains it all.  He did not want the apple for the apple’s sake, he wanted it only because it was forbidden.  The mistake was in not forbidding the serpent; then he would have eaten the serpent. —­Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar

Pudd’nhead Wilson had a trifle of money when he arrived, and he bought a small house on the extreme western verge of the town.  Between it and Judge Driscoll’s house there was only a grassy yard, with a paling fence dividing the properties in the middle.  He hired a small office down in the town and hung out a tin sign with these words on it: 

D A V I D W I L S O N

ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOR-AT-LAW

Surveying, conveyancing, etc.

But his deadly remark had ruined his chance—­at least in the law.  No clients came.  He took down his sign, after a while, and put it up on his own house with the law features knocked out of it.  It offered his services now in the humble capacities of land surveyor and expert accountant.  Now and then he got a job of surveying to do, and now and then a merchant got him to straighten out his books.  With Scotch patience and pluck he resolved to live down his reputation and work his way into the legal field yet.  Poor fellow, he could foresee that it was going to take him such a weary long time to do it.

He had a rich abundance of idle time, but it never hung heavy on his hands, for he interested himself in every new thing that was born into the universe of ideas, and studied it, and experimented upon it at his house.  One of his pet fads was palmistry.  To another one he gave no name, neither would he explain to anybody what its purpose was, but merely said it was an amusement.  In fact, he had found that his fads added to his reputation as a pudd’nhead; there, he was growing chary of being too communicative about them.  The fad without a name was one which dealt with people’s finger marks.  He carried in his coat pocket a shallow box with grooves in it, and in the grooves strips of glass five inches long