Over the episodes of that interminable morning it will, be better to pass lightly.  It was spent by Farrar and me in misery.  It was spent by Mr. Farquhar Fenelon Cooke in an ecstasy of enjoyment, driving over and laying out Mohair, and I must admit he evinced a surprising genius in his planning, although, according to Farrar, he broke every sacred precept of landscape gardening again and again.  He displayed the enthusiasm of a pioneer, and the energy of a Napoleon.  And if he were too ignorant to accord to nature a word of praise, he had the grace and intelligence to compliment Farrar on the superb condition of the forests, and on the judgment shown in laying out the roads, which were so well chosen that even in this season they were well drained and dry.  That day, too, my views were materially broadened, and I received an insight into the methods and possibilities of my friend’s profession sufficient to instil a deeper respect both for it and for him.  The crowded spots had been skilfully thinned of the older trees to give the younger ones a chance, and the harmony of the whole had been carefully worked out.  Now we drove under dark pines and hemlocks, and then into a lighter relief of birches and wild cherries, or a copse of young beeches.  And I learned that the estate had not only been paying the taxes and its portion of Farrar’s salary, but also a considerable amount into Mr. Cooke’s pocket the while it was being improved.

Mr. Cooke made his permanent quarters at the Lake House, and soon became one of the best-known characters about town.  He seemed to enjoy his popularity, and I am convinced that he would have been popular in spite of his now-famous quarrel with the railroad.  His easy command of profanity, his generous use of money, his predilection for sporting characters, of whom he was king; his ready geniality and good-fellowship alike with the clerk of the Lake House or the Mayor, not to mention his own undeniable personality, all combined to make him a favorite.  He had his own especial table in the dining-room, called all the waiters by their first names, and they fought for the privilege of attending him.  He likewise called the barkeepers by their first names, and had his own particular corner of the bar, where none dared intrude, and where he could almost invariably be found when not in my office.  From this corner he dealt out cigars to the deserving, held stake moneys, decided all bets, and refereed all differences.  His name appeared in the personal column of one of the local papers on the average of twice a week, or in lieu thereof one of his choicest stories in the “Notes about Town” column.

The case was to come up early in July, and I spent most of my time, to the detriment of other affairs, in preparing for it.  I was greatly hampered in my work by my client, who filled my office with his tobacco-smoke and that of his friends, and he took it very much for granted that he was going to win the suit.  Fortune had always played into his hands, he said, and I had no little difficulty in convincing him that matters had passed from his hands into mine.  In this I believe I was never entirely successful.  I soon found, too, that he had no ideas whatever on the value of discretion, and it was only by repeated threats of absolute failure that I prevented our secret tactics from becoming the property of his sporting fraternity and of the town.