Just here they were interrupted by Judge Lynn, who came rushing in at the door, his tall hat well back on his small head and his coat sleeves pushed up, as if he were transacting all the business, worth mentioning, in the Great Southwest.
"Hello, Major; why, hello, Stanton; did n't know you had any one with you, Major."
The major nodded and motioned him to be seated, and, turning to Hugh, he went on talking. "It is a hard question, therefore, to determine, Stanton, and seemingly an unfair one to decide, whether or not Captain Osborn is not better off under the present conditions than he would have been had Mrs. Osborn lived. The infatuation of love is a peculiar sentiment; sages and poets have endeavored to describe it, from the beginning of the world to the present time, and they usually have written most volubly of it at that period of their lives when they knew the least about it. My long years of observation teach me that love is actuated either by sentiment, interest, or reason. The first has to do with a handsome face and a beautiful form; the second with a homely face, which certainly suggests sympathy; and the third with a woman virtuous in mind and body. Fortunate is the man who discovers a woman who excites in him the first and last of these motives. A womanly woman binds our hearts with ungalling chains on earth, and keeps our souls in tune and in communication with heaven."
"Excuse me, Major," said Judge Lynn, "for observin' that, in my jedgment, thar's a heap o' ig'nance 'round these diggin's 'bout the sentiment of love."
The old major smiled and looked compassionately at the judge. "What do you know, Judge, about love matters?" he asked, giving Hugh a knowing look.
"Well," said the judge, "thar ain't no use denyin' or contendin' but what there is a nach'al, inborn sort of a feelin' called love. I'm 'lowin' when a young feller an' a girl gits to cooin' 'round and locoed-like, and fin'ly git pot-hooked on the same laceratin' thorn, and survive, why, then they are usually reconciled to each other's short-comin's. Howsumever, speakin' prompt and cheerful-like, in my opinion love's a pipe dream that sure 'nuff ends, instead o' begins, when a feller gits married. In other words, when a feller takes a better half the toomultuous soap-bubble of illusion busts, and history begins with the hard scratchin' duties of makin' a livin'. Bet yer life, I 'low I know what I'm talkin' 'bout. I'm not peevish or complainin', but, gee, think what I've gone through, an' then bat yer eyes with thrillin' surprise."