We shall skip over the painful interval that elapsed before the bill in question was reached:  painful, at least, for every one but Mr. Crewe, who sat with his knees crossed and his arms folded.  The hosts were facing each other, awaiting the word; the rebels prayerfully watching their gallant leader; and the loyal vassals—­whose wavering ranks had been added to overnight—­with their eyes on Mr. Bascom.  And in justice to that veteran it must be said, despite the knock-out blow he had received, that he seemed as debonair as ever.

       “Now while the three were tightening
        The harness on their backs.”

Mr. Speaker Doby read many committee reports, and at the beginning of each there was a stir of expectation that it might be the signal for battle.  But at length he fumbled among his papers, cleared away the lump in his throat, and glanced significantly at Mr. Bascom.

“The Committee on Incorporations, to whom was referred House bill number 302, entitled “An act to incorporate the Pingsquit Railroad,” having considered the same, report the same with the following resolution:  ’Resolved, that it is inexpedient to legislate.  Brush Bascom, for the Committee.’  Gentlemen, are you ready for the question?  As many as are of opinion that the report of the Committee should be adopted—­the gentleman from Putnam, Mr. Bascom.”

Again let us do exact justice, and let us not be led by our feelings to give a prejudiced account of this struggle.  The Honourable Brush Bascom, skilled from youth in the use of weapons, opened the combat so adroitly that more than once the followers of his noble opponent winced and trembled.  The bill, Mr. Bascom said, would have been reported that day, anyway—­a statement received with mingled cheers and jeers.  Then followed a brief and somewhat intimate history of the Gaylord Lumber Company, not at all flattering to that corporation.  Mr. Bascom hinted, at an animus:  there was no more need for a railroad in the Pingsquit Valley than there was for a merry-go-round in the cellar of the state-house. (Loud laughter from everybody, some irreverent person crying out that a merry-go-round was better than poker tables.) When Mr. Bascom came to discuss the gentleman from Leith, and recited the names of the committees for which Mr. Crewe—­in his desire to be of service to the State had applied, there was more laughter, even amongst Mr. Crewe’s friends, and Mr. Speaker Doby relaxed so far as to smile sadly.  Mr. Bascom laid his watch on the clerk’s desk and began to read the list of bills Mr. Crewe had introduced, and as this reading proceeded some of the light-minded showed a tendency to become slightly hysterical.  Mr. Bascom said that he would like to see all those bills grow into laws,—­with certain slight changes,—­but that he could not conscientiously vote to saddle the people with another Civil War debt.  It was well for the State, he hinted, that those committees were composed of stanch men who would do their duty in all weathers, regardless of demagogues who sought to gratify inordinate ambitions.