The Sawmill Man’s Dream of Refinement

The Sawmill Man was not a person of deep thought, and his knees shook as he stood before the desk and explained: 'You see, I came down for some machinery, and I had a little time to look around, and I drank a little beer, and I suppose I was a little drunk.'

'Yes, you were,' said the Judge. 'When the officer found you, you were standing before a tannery and crying out: 'Send porter down here to carry up my trunk.' I suppose you thought you were in Chicago.'

'I suppose so, and I am very sorry. I own seven sawmills up the shore.'

'The shore of time?'

'No sir—the lake shore. I hope you can overlook the affair.'

'Are your seven sawmills painted red?'

'They are not painted at all, sir.'

'Then we shall have to fine you five dollars, Mr. Slab. I once made a trip through the logging valley, and I hadn't put in one day when I took a solemn vow to bear down on the first sawmill man whom the boys ran in. There wasn't a window curtain to be seen around any mill; not a pair of inside blinds greeted the weary eye; the front steps were dirty, the stairs had no railings, and just where a climbing rose ought to have been seen there was a pile of two-inch plank to knock sentiment endways. If I ever own a sawmill, sir, I'll show you the coziest, cleanest, tidiest mill in the world. I'll have a parlor on the south side, a library in the west end, a studio upstairs, and while the saws are chewing up the logs, I'll be imbibing knowledge and making myself familiar with the beautiful.'

The sawmill man started to smile contemptuously, but one glance from the Court made him change into a smile of approbation, and he carefully handed over five dollars and went out.