e as a material barrier, and far above it
rose tiers of green and bronze hills like a moulding to the base of
the lapis-lazuli-tinted mountains.

"This never happened in this county before," said the register,
glancing up from a big book in which he was copying the doings of "the
party of the first part" and "the party of the second part"--the
familiar spirits of his den.

"Why, no!" exclaimed the coroner, with a pleased laugh. "To me the
castin' vote is ez _phee_-nomenal an' ez astonishin' ez the comet." He
chuckled--the fat man's unctuous laugh. "Something like the comet,
too: it has its place in the legal firmament, but 't ain't often
necessary to use it."

"That war a toler'ble funny tale 'bout the comet they air a-tellin'
roun' town," observed a young countryman pausing in front of the two,
his hands in his pockets, his hat on the back of his red head, a wide
grin of enjoyment on his freckled face,--"about the feller that hed
his sweetheart a-courtin' out hyar in the yard last night, an' tuk ter
lookin' at the comet through the spy-glass, an' whilst he war busy
a-star-gazin' the comet, another feller stepped up with the Squair,
an' married his gal--ha! ha! ha!"

Beckett looked up interested. Incongruously enough a vein of romance
ran through the massive strata of conceit, and intolerance, and
vainglory, and pertinacity, and pugnacity that made up the very
definite structure of his nature. He dearly loved a lover. He was as
sentimental as a girl of eighteen, and he melted instantly into
suavest amenities at the first intimation of a love-story in abeyance.

"I ain't heard 'bout that," he said in a mellifluous voice.
"Ye know I was tucked up in yonder"--he jerked his thumb over
his shoulder--"tendin' to the countin' of the votes, bein'
returnin'-officer. Who married?"

"Why this hyar Walter Hoxon--him ez is candidate fur sher'ff,"
said the red-haired interlocutor, widening his grin.

Beckett elevated his heavy, grizzled eyebrows. A sudden, secret,
important look, as if he were colloguing with some one vanquished in
argument, crossed his face. He nodded once or twice, but only said
acquiescently: "Ah--ha! Ah--ha! Toler'ble enterprisin'. Run fur office
an git married 'lection day."

He smiled broadly. Any innovation on the stereotyped methods appealed
to him with the grace and relish of a new metre to a neophytic
rhymester.

"Wat's a nice boy, a mighty good boy, too," he went on, with his oily
voice quite