The records of the West, if they are ever written, will testify how often whimsical Fortune thrusts her favors on men against their will.  This very judge with whom our youth studied law became environed with pecuniary difficulties, and wished once to satisfy a claim of a few hundred dollars by deeding away a sheep-pasture of a few acres, which was of no sort of use to him.  But when he went to get his wife’s signature to the conveyance, she burst into tears; she knew, she said, that the pasture was worthless; but she had in her childhood heard there the tinkling of the bells of her father’s sheep; it was very foolish, she knew, but now that they had all passed away, the bells over in the pasture tinkled on in her memory, and she hated to give it up.  The kind husband would not insist, but went sadly to his work.  It was not long before the sheep-pasture was worth a million dollars!  Sentiment, you see, is not always an unproductive article.

But this case was scarcely so curious as that which presently thrust a goodly capital on the hands of our young law-student.  His first case in the court was that of a horse-thief, whom he induced a jury to acquit.  When he came to his client for a fee, the scapegrace whispered that he had nothing on earth wherewith to pay the fee except two old whiskey-stills and—­a horse.  When he heard this last word, the lawyer’s conscience gave him a twinge.  After a moment’s reflection, he said,—­“You will need the horse; and you had best make him take you as far as possible from this region of country.  I must be satisfied with the whiskey-stills.”  It was not for a long time that he thought even to inquire about the stills.  When he did so, he found them in possession of a man who implored him not to take them away, and promised to pay something for them.  Finding that he could not do this, he begged our hero to accept as payment for them a few acres of barren land, which, with great reluctance, he agreed to do.  Erelong the tide of emigration set westward, and this land is to-day worth two million dollars!

But his subsequent life showed that the man’s fortune was not luck; for by economy, not by hoarding,—­by foresight, and a generous trust to all laborers who wished to lease lands, his wealth grew to nearly fifteen million dollars.

When he found that he had enough to live comfortably upon, he retired from the bar, and devoted himself to horticulture.  He found that the region in which he lived was adapted to the growth of the vine, and began his experiments, which, during his life, extended to the culture of more than forty varieties.  He laid before the community, from time to time, a report of his successes, he called on all to come and taste the wines he made, until the tidings went over the earth, and from Germany, France, Italy, came vine-dressers and wine-makers, who covered every hill-side for miles around him with vintages.

Those who came from afar to inquire into this new branch of industry, for which he had opened the way, were surprised to meet the millionnaire, the Catawba-Prince, in his plain garb and with his humble habits.