“If?  That word involves a great deal, Harry!” said Lyman.  “We mus’n’t let them get the upper hand.  Every man has a duty to perform to his country in this matter, and every one must do his duty.  But what have they got against your Uncle Joshua?  What has he been doing to offend this righteous party?”

“They’ve nothing against him, (hic) I believe.  Only, they say, they’re not going to have a Poor-house in the county at all.”

“What!  Going to turn the poor wretches out to starve?” said one.

“Oh no! (hic),” and the fellow grinned, half shrewdly and half maliciously, as he answered—­“no, not that.  But, when they carry the day, there’ll be no need of Poor-houses.  At least, that’s their talk—­and I guess maybe there’s something in it, for I never knew a man to go to the Poor-house, who hadn’t (hic) rum to blame for his poverty.  But, you see, I’m interested in this matter.  I go for keeping up the Poor-house (hic); for I guess I’m travelling that road, and I shouldn’t like to get to the last milestone (hic) and find no snug quarters—­no Uncle Josh.  You’re safe for one vote, any how, old chap, on next election day!” And the man’s broad hand slapped the member’s shoulder again.  “Huzza for the rummies!  That’s (hic) the ticket!  Harry Grimes never deserts his friends.  True as steel!”

“You’re a trump!” returned Judge Lyman, with low familiarity.  “Never fear about the Poor-house and Uncle Josh.  They’re all safe.”

“But look here, judge,” resumed the man.  “It isn’t only the Poor-house, the jail is to go next.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes, that’s their talk; and I guess they ain’t far out of the way, neither.  What takes men to jail?  You can tell us something about that, judge, for you’ve jugged a good many in your time.  Didn’t pretty much all of ’em drink rum (hic)?”

But the judge answered nothing.

“Silence (hic) gives consent,” resumed Grimes.  “And they say more; once give ’em the upper hand—­and they’re confident of beating us —­and the Courthouse will be to let.  As for judges and lawyers, they’ll starve, or go into some better business.  So you see, (hic) judge, your liberties are in danger.  But fight hard, old fellow; and if you must die, (hic) die game!”

How well Judge Lyman relished this mode of presenting the case, was not very apparent; he was too good a politician and office-seeker, to show any feeling on the subject, and thus endanger a vote.  Harry Grimes’ vote counted one, and a single vote sometimes gained or lost an election.

“One of their gags,” he said, laughing.  “But I’m too old a stager not to see the flimsiness of such pretensions.  Poverty and crime have their origin in the corrupt heart, and their foundations are laid long and long before the first step is taken on the road to inebriety.  It is easy to promise results; for only the few look at causes, and trace them to their effects.”

“Rum and ruin (hic).  Are they not cause and effect?” asked Grimes.