But alas—­that thoroughfare which is supposed to be paved exclusively with good resolutions, had benefited greatly by Slocum Price’s labors in the past, and he was destined to toil still in its up-keep.  He borrowed the child’s money and spent it, and if any sense of shame smote his torpid conscience, he hid it manfully.  Not so Mr. Mahaffy; for while he profited by his friend’s act, he told that gentleman just what he thought of him with insulting candor.  On the eighth day there was sobriety for the pair.  Deep gloom visited Mr. Mahaffy, and the judge was a prey to melancholy.

It was Saturday, and in Pleasantville a jail-raising was in progress.  During all the years of its corporate dignity the village had never boasted any building where the evil-doer could be placed under restraint; hence had arisen its peculiar habit of dealing with crime; but a leading citizen had donated half an acre of ground lying midway between the town and the river landing as a site for the proposed structure, and the scattered population of the region had assembled for the raising.  Nor was Pleasantville unprepared to make immediate use of the jail, since the sheriff had in custody a free negro who had knifed another free negro and was awaiting trial at the next term of court.

“We don’t want to get there too early,” explained the judge, as they quitted the cabin.  “We want to miss the work, but be on hand for the celebration.”

“I suppose we may confidently look to you to favor us with a few eloquent words?” said Mr. Mahaffy.

“And why not, Solomon?” asked the judge.

“Why not, indeed!” echoed Mr. Mahaffy.

The opportunity he craved was not denied him.  The crowd was like most southwestern crowds of the period, and no sooner did the judge appear than there were clamorous demands for a speech.  He cast a glance of triumph at Mahaffy, and nimbly mounted a convenient stump.  He extolled the climate of middle Tennessee, the unsurpassed fertility of the soil; he touched on the future that awaited Pleasantville; he apostrophized the jail; this simple structure of logs in the shadow of the primeval woods was significant of their love of justice and order; it was a suitable place for the detention of a citizen of a great republic; it was no mediaeval dungeon, but a forest-embowered retreat where, barring mosquitoes and malaria, the party under restraint would be put to no needless hardship; he would have the occasional companionship of the gentlemanly sheriff; his friends, with such wise and proper restrictions as the law saw fit to impose, could come and impart the news of the day to him through the chinks of the logs.