The Judge was unfortunate. His choice of subject reminded Mrs. Farnham
of an old grievance, and that day she was ambitious to establish
herself a character for martyrdom.

"Yes," she answered, "I'm sure he will, but Fred would go. I knew
they'd make a Unitarian of him or something of that sort, and the way
I pleaded would have touched a heart of stone, I'm sure.

"'It was in your father's family,' said I, 'to lean towards what they
called liberal views, but I, your mother, Fred, I am firm on the other
side, orthodox, settled like a rock in that particular--though it has
been said that in other things, the affections for instance--I'm more
like a dove.'"

Here Mrs. Farnham settled the folds of her travelling dress with both
hands, as if the dove had taken a fancy to smooth its plumage.

"Well, as I was saying to Fred, sir, 'go to Yale, don't think of
Harvard, but go to Yale. There you will get a granite foundation for
your religion--everything solid and sound there--go to Yale, my son.'

"It was in this way I reasoned, sir, but Fred has a good deal of his
father in him, stubborn, Judge--stubborn as a--a mule, if you will
excuse me mentioning that animal to a gentleman who keeps such horses
as you do."

The Judge bowed. The love of a fine horse was one of his
characteristics; he rather enjoyed the compliment.