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Randel took his negro man, a person of sorrowful yet inexpressive countenance, to be a kind of piano or model on which to play his fierce gestures. "Clayton," said he, sitting on a stone lock in the evening gloaming, "I ought to have been a lawyer. Not that I am not the greatest theoretical engineer in the country, but my legal genius interposes, and I sue the villains who employ me."
After a few moments' further reflection, he asked him: "Have you any money on you?" "No." "None whatever?" "None." "Not even a sou?" "Not even a son!" "How do you live then?" "On what people give me." "Then you beg?" And Randel answered resolutely: "Yes, when I can."
The indefatigable litigant, the brilliant engineer, to whom ideas, goy! are like persimmons on the tree, abundant, but seldom ripe, and only good when frosted. How is he now and what is he at?" "Stand there," spoke the engineer, "and look at me while I read the sentence I was finishing upon John Middleton Clayton of Delaware." "Go it, Randel!
Clayton and Custis walked and ate and lay down together, comparing knowledge and suggestions, and the litigious mind of John Randel, Junior, was rather irritating to both of them, so that, to be rid of his society in Dover, the two lawyers, meantime supplied with money by Meshach Milburn's draft, resolved to visit the canal, which was distant about thirty miles.
He allowed them to do it without resistance, passed through the village again and found himself on the highroad once more; and when the men had accompanied him two hundred yards beyond the village, the brigadier said: "Now off with you and do not let me catch you about here again, for if I do, you will know it." Randel went off without replying or knowing where he was going.
John Randel, Jr., had ruined a fine engineer, to become a litigious man all his life. He sued his successor and fellow New-Yorker, Engineer Wright, and was nonsuited.
He allowed them to do it without resistance, passed through the village again, and found himself on the highroad once more; and when the men had accompanied him two hundred yards beyond the village, the brigadier said: "Now off with you, and do not let me catch you about here again, for if I do you will know it." Randel went off without replying, or knowing where he was going.
"What is the name of the girl you gave her pass to?" asked the Judge of the blind mulatto. "Virgie, marster." "My heart told me so," exclaimed the Judge. "Your crime has been punished enough. I will send you to your wife." John Randel, Jr., observed, that evening: "Devil Jim Clark has taken example from Patty Cannon, and squared the circle." "Not dead?" asked Clayton. "Yes, dead and buried.
The easy sensibilities of Judge Custis were at once moved. Senator Clayton, looking from one to the other in nervous indecision, seeing Custis's dewy eyes, and Randel's proud breaking down, was himself carried away, and shouted: "I goy! This is a conspiracy. But, Randel, I'll take your case; I can't see a man cry. Goy!"
Randel was hungry, with the hunger of some wild animal, such a hunger as drives wolves to attack men.
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