? So he goes on.

"'At first,' he says, 'you might git the idee there was somethin'
jubeeous in these preceedin's, but there ain't. I knew a man that
once upon a time was the honestest man ever lived. Honest? Why,
I've known that man to go to bed weepin', he felt so bad to learn
George Washington stole a march on the enemy. "I never would have
believed it of George if it hadn't been in the book," he says.
That's the kind of a man he was--just your sort to a dot. Well,
sir, he has an honest claim agin these United States for damage and
raisin' the divil with his farm durin' the Civil War. And do you
suppose these here United States, _E Pluribus Unum_, In God We
Trust, paid that bill? Not on the tintype of your grandfather.
When he goes to Washington with it, the President he says, "Now,
I'd pay you this in a minute, Billy," he says, "but think of them
Congressmen!" and the President he shakes his head and Billy comes
home again. And from that time on, before his very eyes, he has to
see his widder and eighteen helpless children die of starvation
through not havin' enough to eat, right in front of his face--ain't
that fierce?' says he.

"'Ya-a-as,' says I.

"'Well, at last this man gets a job in the Treasury; it didn't pay
much--just enough to live on. He had charge of the banknotes
before the Secretary signs 'em, to make good. Now, here comes in
the curious part of it: my friend's handwritin' and the Secretary's
handwritin' was that much alike neither man could tell one from
t'other. This gives my friend the idee of how to break even with
Uncle Sam. He just naturally laid his hooks on ten thousand
dollars' worth of one-hundred-dollar notes and flew the coop,
waitin' to sign 'em and dispose of 'em at leisure, thus payin' his
own claim. But here comes a hitch; after he done it his conscience
bit him; the notes was good; he passed a lot of 'em with no
trouble, but he quit on the play. Now, if some good, honest man,
yet not quite so honest as all that, wanted to turn a dollar, he
could buy two thousand dollars' worth of them bills for one hundred
ordinary cold money. It's this way, too,' says he. 'It ain't only
conscience; the old man's mortal scart; he's always dreamin' of
Secret Service men comin' in on rubbers. Now, ain't that an
opportunity?'

"'Ya-a-as,' says I.

"'Well,' says he, lookin' at his watch, 'it's now my time to eat,
Mr. Scraggs, and I've took up so much of your valuable time
chinni