Emerson answered pleasant nothings quite irrelevantly. I studied the great man as closely as I could. He looked about five feet nine or ten in height, very thin, attenuated even, and very scrupulously dressed.
His head was narrow, though long, his face bony; a long, high, somewhat beaked nose was the feature of his countenance. A good conceit of himself, I concluded, and considerable will power, for the chin was well- defined and large. But I got nothing more than this; and from his clear, steadfast grey eyes I got an intense impression of kindness and good will, and-why shouldn't I say it?-of sweetness even, as of a soul lifted high above earth's cares and stragglings. «A nice old fellow,» I told myself, «but deaf as a post.» Many years later his deafness became to me the symbol and explanation of his genius. He had always lived «the life removed» and kept himself unspotted from the world: that explains both his narrowness of sympathy and the height to which he grew! His narrow, pleasantly smiling face comes back to me whenever I hear his name mentioned.
But at the time I was indignant with his deafness and out of temper with Smith because he didn't notice it and seemed somehow to make himself cheap. When we went away, I cried: «The old fool is as deaf as a post!» «Ah, that was the explanation then of his stereotyped smile and peculiar answers,» cried Smith. «How did you divine it?» «He put his hand to his ear more than once,» I replied. «So he did,» Smith exclaimed. «How foolish of me not to have drawn the obvious inference!» It was in this fall, I believe, that the Gregorys went off to Colorado. I felt the loss of Kate a good deal at first, but she had made no deep impression on my mind, and the new life in Philadelphia and my journalistic work left me but little time for regrets; and as she never wrote to me, following doubtless her mother's advice, she soon drifted out of my memory. Moreover, Lily was quite as interesting a lover and Lily too had begun to pall on me. The truth is, the fever of desire in youth is a passing malady that intimacy quickly cures. Besides, I was already in pursuit of a girl in Philadelphia who kept me a long time at arm's length, and when she yielded I found her figure commonplace and her sex so large and loose that she deserves no place in this chronicle.
She was modest, if you please, and no wonder. I have always since thought that modesty is the proper fig leaf of ugliness. In the spring of this year, 1875,1 had to return to Lawrence on business connected with my boardings. In several cases the owners of the lots refused to allow me to keep up the boardings unless they had a reasonable share in the profits. Finally I called them all together and came to an amicable agreement to divide twenty-five per cent of my profit among them, year by year. I had also to go through my examination and get admitted to the bar. I had already taken out my first naturalization papers and Judge Bassett of the district court appointed the lawyers Barker and Hutchings to examine me. The examination was a mere form. They each asked me three simple questions, I answered them, and we adjourned to the Eldridge House for supper and they drank my health in champagne. I was notified by Judge Bassett that I had passed the examination and told to present myself for admission on the twenty-fifth of June, I think, 1875. To my surprise, the court was half full. Judge Stephens even was present, whom I had never seen in court before. About eleven the judge informed the audience that I had passed a satisfactory examination and had taken out my first papers in due form, and unless some lawyer wished first to put questions to me to test my capacity, he proposed to call me within the bar. To my astonishment, Judge Stephens rose. «With the permission of the court,» he said, «I'd like to put some questions to this candidate who comes to us with high university commendation.» (No one had heard of my expulsion, though he knew of it.) He then began a series of questions which soon plumbed the depths of my abysmal ignorance. I didn't know what an action of account was at old English common law: I don't know now, nor do I want to. I had read Blackstone carefully and a book on Roman law, Chitty on evidence, too, and someone on contracts-half a dozen books, and that was all. For the first two hours Judge Stephens just exposed my ignorance: it was a very warm morning and my conceit was rubbed raw when Judge Bassett proposed an adjournment for dinner. Stephens consented and we all rose. To my surprise Barker and Hutchings and half a dozen other lawyers came round to encourage me. «Stephens is just showing off,» said Hutchings. «I myself couldn't have answered half his questions!»
Even Judge Bassett sent for me to his room and practically told me I had nothing to fear, so I returned at two o'clock, resolved to do my best and at all costs to keep smiling. The examination continued in a crowded court till four o'clock and then Judge Stephens sat down.
I had done better in this session, but my examiner had caught me in a trap on a moot point in the law of evidence, and I could have kicked myself. But Hutchings rose as the senior of my two examiners who had been appointed by the court, and said simply that now he repeated the opinion he had already had the honor to convey to Judge Bassett, that I was a fit and proper person to practice law in the state of Kansas.
«Judge Stephens,» he added, «has shown us how widely read he is in English common law, but some of us knew that before, and in any case his erudition should not be made a purgatory to candidates. It looks,» he went on, «as if he wished to punish Mr. Harris for his superiority to all his classmates. «Impartial persons in this audience will admit,» he concluded, «that Mr. Harris has come brilliantly out of an exceedingly severe test; and I have the pleasant task of proposing, your Honor, that he now be admitted within the bar, though he may not be able to practice till he becomes a full citizen two years hence.» Everyone expected that Barker would second this proposal, but while he was rising, Judge Stephens began to speak.
«I desire,» he said, «to second that proposal, and I think I ought to explain why I subjected Mr. Harris to a severe examination in open court. Since I came to Kansas from the state of New York twenty-five years ago, I have been asked a score of times to examine one candidate or another. I always refused. I did not wish to punish western candidates by putting them against our eastern standards. But here at long last appears a candidate who has won honor in the university, to whom, therefore, a stiff examination in open court can only be a vindication; and accordingly I examined Mr. Harris as if he had been in the state of New York; for surely Kansas too has come of age and its inhabitants cannot wish to be humored as inferiors.
«This whole affair,» he went on, «reminds me of a story told in the east of a dog fancier. The father lived by breeding and training bull dogs. One day he got an extraordinary promising pup and the father and son used to hunker down, shake their arms at the pup and thus encourage him to seize hold of their coat sleeves and hang on.
While engaged in this game once, the bull-pup, grown bold by constant praise, sprang up and seized the father by the nose. Instinctively, the old man began to choke him off, but the son exclaimed, 'Don't, father, don't for God's sake! It may be hard on you, but it'll be the making of the pup.' So my examination, I thought, might be hard on Mr.
Harris, but it would be the making of him.» The court roared and I applauded merrily. Judge Stephens continued. «I desire, however, to show myself not an enemy but a friend of Mr. Harris, whom I have known for some years. Mr. Hutchings evidently thinks that Mr. Harris must wait two years in order to become a citizen of the United States. I am glad from my reading of the statute laws of my country to be able to assure him that Mr. Harris need not wait a day. The law says that if a minor has lived three years in any state, he may on coming of age choose to become a citizen of the United States; and if Mr. Harris chooses to be one of us, he can be admitted at once as a citizen; and if your Honor approve, be allowed also to practice law tomorrow.»
He sat down amid great applause, in which I joined most heartily.
So on that day I was admitted to practice law as a full fledged citizen. Unluckily for me, when I asked the clerk of the court for my full papers, he gave me the certificate of my admission to practice law in Lawrence, saying that as this could only be given a citizen, it in itself was sufficient. Forty odd years later the government of Woodrow Wilson refused to accept this plain proof of my citizenship and thus put me to much trouble by forcing me to get naturalized again! But at the moment in Lawrence I was all cock-a-hoop and forthwith took a room on the same first floor where Barker amp; Sommerfeld had their offices and put out my shingle. I have told this story of my examination at great length because I think it shows as in a glass the amenities and deep kindness of the American character. A couple of days later I was again in Philadelphia.
Towards the end of this year, 1875,1 believe, or the beginning of 1876, Smith drew my attention to an announcement that Walt Whitman, the poet, was going to speak in Philadelphia on Thomas Paine, the notorious infidel, who, according to Washington, had done more to secure the independence of the United States than any other man. Smith determined to go to the meeting, and if Whitman could rehabilitate Paine against the venomous attacks of Christian clergymen who asserted without contradiction that Paine was a notorious drunkard and of the loosest character, he would induce Forney to let him write an exhaustive and forceful defence of Paine in the Press. I felt pretty sure that such an article would never appear, but I would not pour cold water on Smith's enthusiasm. The day came, one of those villainous days common enough in Philadelphia in every winter: the temperature was about zero with snow falling whenever the driving wind permitted. In the afternoon Smith finally
