At Bardstown-and, no doubt, at Richmond-Mr. Hardin enjoyed that advantage denied no law student in the West-the privileges and opportunities of a debating society. However such institutions may have succeeded in other times and countries, it is thought that in the South and West they were not only indigenous, but in some respects different and more luxuriant than those elsewhere. "Orator fit" is the annunciation of an old rule. The dwellers of the South and West were the exceptions. There oratory came by nature. Within that territory some generations ago, at least, orators were born such. Not only from the school and college, but from the shop, store, and farmhouse came young men, ready, able, and willing to make a speech at any time and on any topic. It mattered not that the subject was new and that the speaker was unfamiliar with it; that he had neither read nor thought about it, nor that there was really nothing to say. Notwithstanding these and other equally discouraging conditions the orator was always ready to proceed with his remarks. In such a community oratory ranked among the absolute necessaries of life. Whether the progress that seems to be leaving the old-fashioned debating society behind is upward is, to say the least, a fit question for debate.

Can it be necessary to define these old-time institutions, or to describe their modes? They were voluntary associations, mostly comprising young men, organized for the purpose of oral discussion, directly and ultimately for mental culture and the attainment of skill in elocution and oratory. The subjects for discussion were impartially chosen from any part of the field of human thought, and were indiscriminately legal, political, literary, or scientific. A presiding officer preserved decorum, and leaders on either side of the subject of debate chose those whose aid they desired to assist in the discussion. Then the war of words (if not the contest of thought) began, and was waged with such skill, ability, and zeal, that often the balances seemed at equipoise on some very one-sided questions. There was immense virtue in these societies. They taught one to think on his legs, and to clothe and express his thoughts in good and forcible language. The voice acquired volume and modulation, and difficulties of enunciation were overcome. Debate conquered "stage fright," the dreaded malady of young orators. The biographers of Henry Clay relate an interesting incident of his first address to a debating society. The young orator arose under a paralyzing embarrassment. He addressed the president of the society as "Gentlemen of the Jury." This lapsus only multiplied the calamities of the situa

tion. Blushing, hesitating, and stammering, he repeated: "Gentlemen of the Jury." A well-bred audience patiently stood it all, until the reason of the young orator righted itself, whereupon he made a speech of such force and eloquence as to carry conviction at once to the hearts of his hearers. To the young law student, these debates afforded an intellectual diversion to the monotony of legal study not unlike the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.

It is a proverb that the law is a jealous mistress. It inclines to clip the wings of youthful fancy. In the debating society, it was otherwise. Therein, the bounds of thought were profitably widened. Ralph Ringwood (records Irving) thus spoke of an old-time debating society in Bardstown: "Men of talents, engaged in other pursuits, joined it, and this diversified our subjects, and put me on various tracks of inquiry. Ladies, too, attended some of our discussions, and this gave them a polite tone, and had an influence on the manners of the debaters."* Through such experiences Mr. Hardin passed in his student life, and there, doubtless, he laid the foundation of the forcible oratory that distinguished his after career.

The excellence of the Bardstown bar was also an incalculable advantage to the young law student. The recurrence of the terms of court was a "feast of reason." The skill with which trials were conducted in court, the learning that characterized forensic tilts, and the eloquence that marked appeals to the jury were so many living lessons. As the medical man best learns surgery and the pathology of disease in the hospital, so, in the court-house, the law student gets his best knowledge. No incidents are preserved of this period of Mr. Hardin's life, but his solid lawyership, on coming to the bar, testified to the diligence and success of his preparation. If he had been fortunate in opportunities, he had unquestionably taken the flood at its tide. He not only entered upon his career fairly equipped in the technical learning of the law, with excellent natural qualifications, but also possessed of certain wise hints, accounted of little moment, yet, nevertheless, indispensable to be observed. These he had gathered from his preceptors chiefly. How well fitted his kinsman, Martin D. Hardin, was to start a young lawyer on the right road to honorable success, the following memorandum, furnished by him to a law student, will fitly attest:

"There are a few principles for governing a man's actions in life that are worth more than ordinary fortunes, especially to professional men. I will give a few:

* Crayon Papers, article on "Ralph Ringwood."

"First: What you have to do, do at the first time which it can be done. "This embraces many old proverbs, 'Take time by the forelock,' etc. It requires industry. It begets leisure.

"Second: Do just one thing at a time.

In other words, finish what you

begin. By this rule everything will be done better and in less time.

"Third: Never use your client's money, but inform him of its receipt by the first mail, and remit by the first opportunity.

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"A character for punctuality is thus acquired, a man is never ashamed or afraid to meet his client, and he is relieved from remorse which always should attend the using of another man's money and not replacing it when wanted, and I am sure that no man can habitually use his client's money and yet always have it ready when it ought to be paid, let his wealth and credit be what they may.

"I have said nothing about strict moral integrity. This is indispensable. But I trust you stand not in need of any monitions on that head. I have attempted to make the above three rules the leading ones in my business. never have departed from either but I have felt the effects of it.

I

"You must not think that as you have got license you are a lawyer, and have nothing to do but get suits. Occasionally mixing in company, going to public places, and becoming acquainted with the people and with human nature are necessary. But habitual reading and attention (that is, remaining

in your office) are indispensable.

"If you are closely and perseveringly industrious you will succeed. If you are not, you will fail in your hopes."

HA

CHAPTER IV.

PROFESSIONAL BEGINNINGS.

ARDIN county was established by the State Legislature, in 1792. In 1793 Colonel Andrew Hynes founded a town on the southern slope of Muldraugh's Hill and Severns Valley creek, which he named in honor of his wife-Elizabeth. Here was located the seat of justice of the new county. The town, however, proved of slow growth. It was overshadowed by its proximity to Bardstown-unquestionably the pioneer metropolis of that region. The third census credited the town of Elizabeth with only one hundred and eighty souls, in 1810. Thither emigrated Mr. Hardin, in 1806, and opened a law office.

In this location he no doubt sought to avoid, to some extent, the odds against him in competing with the powerful leaders of the Bardstown bar. He, however, did not wholly escape that competition. Then, and for half a century afterward, the lawyers of Kentucky universally "rode the circuit." Riding the circuit needs no explanation to the members of the profession of a past generation, who still linger "on the stage," but in these changed times all readers may not fully comprehend it. The judge of a district, as he traveled from county to county, was accompanied by a retinue of attorneys, composed of members of various bars. They sat when the court sat and rose when the court rose. The usual mode of travel in that day was on horseback. Saddle-bags contained the wardrobe and

such books as these itinerants carried with them.

The arrival of this cavalcade on the Sabbath preceding the opening of court produced a sensation in the county towns. The "great" men, on such occasions, unbent themselves in familiar discourse with each other, and each contributed his quota of anecdote, or incident, or learned homily, to the edification of attentive listeners of the laity. The principal hotel was headquarters, and Boniface was usually a worthy host of such distinguished company. What the hotel table lacked in delicacy and variety was supplied by hospitable attention, not to mention the hotel bar that made up in abundance and strength the shortcomings of the larder. Unfortunately, potations were not always regulated with prudence, and the consequences

were oftentimes lamentable.

Excesses were committed on the circuit

from which their perpetrators were happily exempt under the immediate and benign influence of the home circle.

The following incident occurring within the territory where Mr. Hardin practiced, to a couple of his colleagues, illustrates the perils of the old time circuiteer. The gentlemen referred to were attending the session of the court in the little town of L- and were guests of the principal hotel. They had not only protracted their conviviality but on a particular evening had indulged so excessively as to require assistance in retiring. They were lodged in the same bed and their slumbers were deep and profound. Daylight streamed in at the open window next morning, when one of them awoke. In the moment of returning consciousness he glanced at the wall opposite the foot of his bed and there beheld a sight that froze his blood. He rubbed his eyes, fancying that it was an optical illusion that would fade away with a better view. But no-the more he looked the greater the horror grew. Enormous serpents of every conceivable hue, with glaring eyes and distended jaws and writhing and twisting bodies, covered the whole wall from floor to ceiling. They seemed to him to be in constant motion. "Get up here, J-!" he excitedly called to his companion. "Get up-my God! this whole room is full of snakes." The sleeping man, half aroused, muttered that he must have the jim-jams and that he had better lie down and go to sleep.

"Get up and look, get up and look, and you will see." Thus aroused, J— gave one glance. More alarmed than his friend, he screamed: "I've got 'em, I've got 'em!"

So loud were their demonstrations of terror that the landlord hastened to their room. "I've got 'em," were the first words that he heard on opening the door.

"Got what?" inquired the astonished host. "O, sir! I've got the delirium tremens. I can just see snakes all over that wall-O! I've got 'em." Happily the afflicted men (each of whom feared the worst as to his condition) were relieved by the landlord's explanation. The walls were indeed papered with the show bill of a traveling menagerie in which the artist had somewhat flattered the boa constrictor and his friends.

The lawyers on the circuit not only tended to conviviality, but were addicted to cards. The knowledge of old sledge, twenty-deck poker, euchre, and whist proved not inconsistent with sound legal judgment and ready eloquence. Mr. Hardin was abstemious in drinking, and