used to go to sleep on him. He needed a Megaphone. And he had about as
much Personal Magnetism as an Undertaker's Assistant.

The Runt lost many a Case because he could not Bark at the Jury
and pound Holes in a Table. His Briefs had been greatly admired
by the Supreme Court. Also it was known that he could draw up a
copper-riveted Contract that would hold Water, but as a Pleader he
was a Pickerel.

At one time he had an Important Suit on hand, and he was Worried, for
he was opposed by a couple of living Gas Engines who could rare up and
down in front of a yap Jury for further Orders.

"I have the Law on my Side," said the Runt. "Now if I were only
Six-Feet-Two with a sole-leather Thorax, I could swing the Verdict."

While he was repining, in came a Friend of his Youth, named Jim.

This Jim was a Book-Agent. He was as big as the Side of a House. He
had a Voice that sounded as if it came up an Elevator Shaft. When he
folded his Arms and looked Solemn, he was a colossal Picture of Power
in Repose. He wore a Plug Hat and a large Black Coat. Nature intended
him for the U.S. Senate, but used up all the Material early in the Job
and failed to stock the Brain Cavity.

Jim had always been at the Foot of the Class in School. At the age
of 40 he spelled Sure with an Sh and sank in a Heap when he tried to
add 8 and 7. But he was a tall Success as a Book Pedler, because he
learned his Piece and the 218 pounds of Dignified Superiority did the
Rest.