the living room. Neighbors and the world of his day saw only a poor
farmer, stonemason and small storekeeper. But in versatility, energy
and public spirit, he was far greater than his environment. Considered
only as the man there was a largeness of purpose, a broadness of
mental and spiritual vision about him that gave a subtle atmosphere of
greatness and unconsciously influenced his son to take big views of
life.

In the little store one day was enacted a drama not without its effect
on Russell's impressionable mind. For a brief time, the store became
a court room; a flour barrel was the judge's bench, a soap box and
milking stool, the lawyers' seats. The proceedings greatly interested
Russell, who lay flat on his breast on the counter, his heels in the
air, his chin in his hands, drinking it in with ears and eyes.

[Illustration: THE CONWELL FARMHOUSE AT SOUTH WORTHINGTON, MASS.]

A neighbor had lost a calf, a white-faced calf with a broken horn. In
the barn of a neighbor had been seen a white-faced calf with a broken
horn. The coincidence was suspicions. The plaintiff declared it was
his calf. The defendant swore he had never seen the lost heifer, and
that the one in his barn he had raised himself. Neighbors lent their
testimony, for the little store was crowded, a justice of the peace
from Northampton having come to try the case. One man said he had seen
the defendant driving a white-faced calf up the mountain one night
just after the stolen calf had been missed from the pasture. The
defendant intimated in no mild language that he must be a close blood
relation to Ananias. Hot words flew back and forth between judge,
lawyers and witnesses, and it began to look as if the man in whose
barn the calf was placidly munching was guilty. Just then Russell,