you're a daisy, that's what you are," cried
voices from the crowd, while Judge Turner kept saying with judicial
gravity, "Every word true.") At this point the Spaniard became
incoherent, but, although nobody could understand a word, wild cheers
greeted him at every pause in his discourse. He let loose a flood of
eloquence, which being consistently endorsed by Judge Turner, was
applauded until the speaker stopped from sheer exhaustion.[116]

It was long after midnight when the last speech had been made and the
crowds dispersed.

[Illustration: THE HOME OF JUSTICE NELSON]

A pair of small boys, who had made the occasion an excuse for staying
out a good part of the warm summer night, passed Justice Nelson's
residence on Main Street, as they strolled homeward, and noticed that
here a light was still burning. The deserted street was feebly lit by a
few gas lamps, but the other houses in the neighborhood were dark, and
the boys were attracted as moths to a flame by the glimmering through
the blinds of Judge Nelson's windows. The lighted room was the one on
the ground floor at the right of the doorway. Because of the warmth of
the night, the window-sashes had been raised, and the curtains drawn
back, so that the interior of the room was screened from passers-by only
by the closed slats of the blinds. These were temptingly near to the
sidewalk, and the young imps, standing on tiptoe, did not hesitate, when
they had discovered a chink between the slats, to peek into the
apartment.

They saw a room lined with rows of books bound in law-calf, for it was
Judge Nelson's library. In the midst a student's lamp shed a mellow
light upon the usual paraphernalia of a lawyer's desk, and dimly
illuminated the features of two men who sat facing each other across the
table. The large form, massive head, and long gray hair of Judge Nelson,
who sat with his back to the fireplace, were instantly recognized by the
peering eyes at the window. The man who faced him was of a different
type, a rather small figure, with nothing commanding in his appearance;
he had a shock of sandy hair, blue eyes, and a smoothly shaven mouth and
chin somewhat receding from a finely chiseled nose. He was speaking
earnestly, and in a tone of conviction. His voice was harsh, but his
manner was suave, agreeable, and persuasive.

"Who's he?" whispered one of the boys.

"That's Mr. Seward from Washington," replied the other, "I heard him
make a speech in front of Ju