es for
it," said old Leuba, clearing his throat.

"But, gentlemen, while we are speakin' of ole King Sol'mon we ought not
to forget who it is that has suppohted 'im. Yondah she sits on the
sidewalk, sellin' 'er apples an' gingerbread."

The three men looked in the direction indicated.

"Heah comes ole King Sol'mon now," exclaimed the sheriff.

Across the open square the vagrant was seen walking slowly along with
his habitual air of quiet, unobtrusive preoccupation. A minute more and
he had come over and passed into the court-house by a side door.

"Is Mr. Clay to be in court to-day?"

"He is expected, I think."

"Then let's go in: there will be a crowd."

"I don't know: so many are dead."

They turned and entered and found seats as quietly as possible; for a
strange and sorrowful hush brooded over the court-room. Until the bar
assembled, it had not been realized how many were gone. The silence was
that of a common overwhelming disaster. No one spoke with his neighbor;
no one observed the vagrant as he entered and made his way to a seat on
one of the meanest benches, a little apart from the others. He had not
sat there since the day of his indictment for vagrancy. The judge took
his seat, and making a great effort to control himself, passed his eyes
slowly over the court-room. All at once he caught sight of old King
Solomon sitting against the wall in an obscure corner; and before any
one could know what he was doing, he had hurried down and walked up to
the vagrant and grasped his hand. He tried to speak, but could not. Old
King Solomon had buried his wife and daughter,--buried them one clouded
midnight, with no one present but himself.

Then the oldest member of the bar started up and followed the example;
and then the other members, rising by a common impulse, filed slowly
back and one by one wrung that hard and powerful hand. After them came
the other persons in the court-room. The vagrant, the gravedigger, had
risen and stood against the wall, at first with a white face and a dazed
expression, not knowing what it meant; afterwards, when he understood
it, his head dropped suddenly forward and his tears fell thick and hot
upon the hands that he could not see. And his were not the only tears.
Not a man in the long file but paid his tribute of emotion as he stepped
forward to honor that image of sadly eclipsed but still effulgent
humanity. It was not grief, it was not gratitude, nor any sense of
making repar