raising the other to the dark canopy above him, he opened his
vindictive lips. The action, the attitude, were Starbottle's. But
the voice was not. For at that supreme moment, a bray--so
profound, so appalling, so utterly soul-subduing, so paralyzing
that everything else sank to mere insignificance beside it--filled
woods, and sky, and air. For a moment only the multitude gasped in
speechless astonishment--it was a moment only--and then the welkin
roared with their shouts. In vain silence was commanded, in vain
Colonel Starbottle, with a ghastly smile, remarked that he
recognized in the interruption the voice and the intellect of the
opposition; the laugh continued, the more as it was discovered that
Jinny had not yet finished, and was still recurring to her original
theme. "Gentlemen," gasped Starbottle, "any attempt by [Hee-haw!
from Jinny] brutal buffoonery to restrict the right of free speech
to all [a prolonged assent from Jinny] is worthy only the
dastardly"--but here a diminuendo so long drawn as to appear a
striking imitation of the Colonel's own apoplectic sentences
drowned his voice with shrieks of laughter.

It must not be supposed that during this performance a vigorous
attempt was not made to oust Jinny from the platform. But all in
vain. Equally demoralizing in either extremity, Jinny speedily
cleared a circle with her flying hoofs, smashed the speaker's table
and water pitcher, sent the railing flying in fragments over the
cheering crowd, and only succumbed to two blankets, in which, with
her head concealed, she was finally dragged, half captive, half
victor, from the field. Even then a muffled and supplemental bray
that came from the woods at intervals drew half the crowd away and
reduced the other half to mere perfunctory hearers. The
demoralized meeting was adjourned; Colonel Starbottle's withering