bjection urged by a Jew as if it had not been uttered; but he
probably regarded Buchmaier alone as his adversary, for he asked him,--

"Do you believe that the state has a right to compel people under a
penalty, to send their children to school?"

"Of course; of course."

"But why?"

"Because that's all right and proper."

"But you say we have no right to compel people to be good."

"Yes; but you can punish people when they do wrong; and a man does
wrong who won't send his child to school. Isn't it so?" he concluded,
turning to the man who had spoken before.

"Certainly," answered the latter. "The state is the guardian of those
who don't know how to take care of themselves. Just as it is its duty
to watch over a child that has lost its parents, so it must vindicate
its rights when infringed by those who are too mean or too ignorant to
do their duty by them."

"Right; just right," said Buchmaier, triumphantly.

Without either addressing or avoiding the speaker, whom he regarded as
an interloper, the teacher said, "If the state is the guardian of the
unprotected and the defenceless, it is also bound to see to the
well-being of the cattle, for they are in like case as children are."

"Apple-cores and pear cider! How came the beets into the potato-sack?"
said Buchmaier, laughing. "By your leave, Mr. Teacher, you've got into
a snarl there. I've a heifer at home that hasn't a father nor a mother;
and I'll have to call the town-meeting to-morrow to appoint a
guardian."

Roars of laughter shook the building. The teacher made great efforts to
define his position, but could not obtain a hearing. The whole company
were but too glad to see the conversation--which had become almost
serious--turn into this comical by-way. All he could do was to protest
that he had never intended to rank children and cattle alike.

"Oh, of course not!" said Buchmaier. "Why, you kissed Mat's Johnnie
to-day, and that's more than anybody does to a beast. But now it
seems as if I was three times more certain than ever that these
cruelty-to-animals societies are like tying up the hens' tails,--as if
they didn't carry them upright, anyhow."

The tide of merriment swelled into a torrent, and what it carried on
its bosom was not all of dainty texture. The teacher was not in a mood
to be carried away by the current: on the contrary, it harassed and
worried him. He soon quitted the inn with that gnawing sensation which
befalls us when we have be