Ike Turtle in his Office.--The Author consults him on Point
of Law.--Taxes of Non-Residents.--Law in Puddleford.--Mr.
Bridget's Case.--Legal Discussion.--The Case settled.
We very often get an idea of a community by fathoming its leading men. We
stick our stakes at that point, and reason, by comparison, downward; not
that prominent individuals make the community, any more than the community
makes them; but both act and react upon each other, until a standard is
formed--and that standard is just high enough for the occasion--the
necessities of the present. Water never rises above its level.
You have, respected reader, already seen much--perhaps too much--of Ike
Turtle. You must recollect, however, as I have before declared, that he was
an embodiment of the spirit of his time. He was the presiding genius of
Puddleford, and had been as much moulded by it as he had moulded
Puddleford.
Turtle, as we have seen, was a host in law--that is, he was a host in
Puddleford law. He was just as useful and mighty in his sphere as Webster
ever was in his. It must in candor be admitted that there was a difference
in spheres; but that in no way affects the principle--and principle is what
we are contending for.
I have thus far exhibited to you Turtle under excitement, as an advocate in
the case of Filkins _vs._ Beadle, defending his country against what he
called an "abolition lecter," struggling in the cause of education; but we
cannot always probe a great man to the bottom, and disinter the latent
jewels of mind, unless we know and observe him unruffled by passion, and
unswayed by feeling. The line and lead must be cast into still waters to
sound the depths of the ocean.
I had occasion to consult Turtle on a point of law. The question was,
whether a certain woman who claimed dower in my land could probably show a
state of facts that would legally entitle her to recover.
Mr. Turtle's office was in one of the upper rooms of a tumble-down tailor's
shop in the village. Outside his sign swung to and fro: "I. Turtle, 'Torney
in all Courts." Inside, it was garnished with three chairs without backs, a
pine table, whittled into pieces by the loungers, a number of loose papers
lying in an old flour-barrel, an ink-bottle with a yellow string around its
nose, a copy of the statutes, a stub of a pen, volume two of Blackstone,
and no law-book beside, all of which were enveloped in dirt and cobwebs.
Mr. Turtle himself, when I entered, sat in one chair, his two feet
stretched wide apart, each in another, like the two extremities of a letter
A; and Ike himself was very philosophically smoking a pipe, and blowing the
whiffs out of the window.
"Is this Mr. Turtle's office?" inquired I.
"I should _ray_ther think it was," answered Ike, drawing out his pipe, and
pointing to a chair.
"I have a little business," said I.
"Most people _do_ have," said he. "I'm chuck full on't myself."
"Suppose," said I, "a man dies, and leaves a widow, and that widow should
claim--"
"Hold on, right there!" exclaimed Ike, laying down his pipe. "Hold on, old
_fel_low; this s'posin' don't do in this 'ere office. I never gives
opinions on fancy cases. Time's little too precious. I want the raal facts
on the matter, jest as they happened; and, besides, Mr. ----, fust thing I
know I shall give an opinion right butt agin one of my clients--(I have
reg'lar clients, you see, that I've got ter stand up for, if it busts
me),--and this wheelin' round and taking a back track spiles one's
reputation, and tears his conscience, awful to behold!"
"Well," I continued, "as I was goin' to say--"
"No, sir-ee! you _ain't_ goin' to say. _Who_ died? _who's_ the widow? Them
are the startin' pints in a new country."
"But," continued I, "that will not affect the principle."
"Won't it, though?" answered Ike. "What are principles to folks in a new
country? What are residents to non-residents? Why, you take a resident
widow, a little good-lookin', and she can hold all the land she claims agin
a non-resident. Juries have feelin's, and are human like other people."
"O, I see!" said I.
"Jest so," said he.
"Well, then," I continued, "the widow is a resident of Puddleford, and so
am I; and the widow claims a life interest in one third of my land."
Ike pondered, and rubbed his head, and looked for a long time steadily at
the toes of his boots. At last a thought struck him.
"Has she any children?" inquired he.
"She has."
"Young?"
"Twelve and fourteen."
"Bad age for you," said Ike; "worse than two positive witnesses swearin'
straight inter yer favor."
"But what have children to do with a principle of law?" I exclaimed,
somewhat animated.
"_You're_ green," exclaimed Ike; "you'll sprout if you get catched in a
shower. What has law got ter do with a widder and two children out here?
Don't you know the widder and the two children will be put right straight
to the jury, and that they'll swamp you and your case, and all the la' you
can bring agin 'em?"
"Very likely," said I; "but is Puddleford law all made for widows, babies,
and residents?" inquired I.
"You see," continued Ike; "you hain't lived long here. A new country is a
kind of self-sustainin' machine. We've all got-ter go in for ourselves.
When folks take the brunt of settlin' wild land, somebody's got-ter and
ought-ter suffer. Non-residents have ter pay all taxes. They have to pay
onto the value, and onto our takin' care of their lands. We can't afford to
scare off the animals and bring their property into market for nothin'.
Why, old Sykes, who lives away down to the east'ard, pays half the taxes of
Puddleford, and don't own more than four sections of land. The 'sessors
kind-er look at the spirit of the law when they lay taxes, and the spirit
of our tax-law stretches 'cordin' to circumstances. India-rubber ain't
nothin' to it. Jest so in la' matters. The la' is favorable to
Puddlefordians; our courts lean that way--it's kind-er second nater to
'em--a kind-er law of self-preservation--primary law of natur', you know--a
duty; and therefore I was particular to know who the _person_ was who
claimed your land."
"Mine's a case," said I, after Ike concluded his digression, "of Puddleford
against Puddleford."
"Puddleford against itself, both residents--a woman and two children
against a man?"
"That's the case," said I.
"Well!" said Ike.
"The widow claims a life interest, and yet she signed the deed with her
husband."
"_Did_ sign it?" inquired Ike again. "What is she growlin' about, then?"
"She claims she was deranged."
"And didn't know nothin', ha?"
"And she says she can prove it."
"That is, Sile Bates can for her, I s'pose."
Squire Longbow dropped in at this point of the conversation. Ike arose,
walked several times swiftly across the floor, turning each time with a
jerk, and finally wheeling up in front of me, said his fee for opinions was
one dollar.
The fee was paid.
"Now," exclaimed Ike, pushing his fee in his vest pocket, "who's the
woman?"
"Old Mrs. Bridget," said I.
"There are just half a dozen defences," exclaimed Ike; "and each one will
blow the case sky-high. Nobody can't set up insanity in a new country,
because there ain't nothin' here to make anybody insane; and if there was,
our judges and juries think a leetle too much of themselves, thick as the
bushes are, to 'low a Puddlefordian to prove herself a fool in open court.
There is a pride that won't permit it. Yes, _sir_!" Here Ike slapped the
table hard by way of emphasis. "Ain't that la', Squire Longbow?" continued
Ike, turning round to the Squire, who was almost magnetized by intense
thought.
The Squire gave two or three ahems to clear his throat, and his voice
seemed a long time on its way. "That," said the Squire, "is just what the
'mortal Story said; he never would permit a man to make a fool of himself;
he went agin all such kind-er things. The 'mortal Story said, if a man
don't know nothin', he oughten-ter say nothin', or do nothin'. He very
specially said it warn't a safe rule to let crazy folks rip up things,
'cause how do we know, or anybody know, but they are jist as crazy when
they rip 'em up, and then they'll have to be ripped over agin; that's the
'thority, sir--page--let me see--but no matter 'bout pages--"
"And, secondly," continued Ike, breaking into the Squire, "it's a rule of
law that everybody's stopped by their deed; and if the woman knowed enough
to sign and seal it, that 'ere seal is an everlasting and eternal bar to
provin' anything agin it. _That'll_ stop a crazy woman; that's laid down in
all the books since King Richard got possession of England, and the
staterts are full on it, too."
The Squire said "that looked reasonable. How do we know that Andrew Jackson
warn't crazy when he signed off the patents for Puddleford. That's an open
question yet. And if it warn't for the broad seal--if it warn't for that
'ere spread eagle--some whig President (and the whigs allers did say 'Old
Hickory' was crazy) would set it all aside, and throw all the land titles
into hotch-potch, kick me out-er house and home, and ruin all Puddleford!"
"Certainly," said I.
"And agin," said Ike, "the woman _warn't_ crazy; _I_ can prove that."
"That will _do_," said I. "How?"
"When was the deed executed?"
I stated.
"That's jest the time," said Ike, "that old covy, her brother-in-law, used
her as a witness to recover his farm."
The Squire said that "the woman was under _oath_ then, and she might tell
the truth, if she _was_ a little shattered."
"Th-u-n-der!" exclaimed Ike.
"Witnesses are _sworn_ to tell the truth," said the Squire.
The Squire was evidently getting quizzical. Mr. Turtle begged "he would not
interrupt him agin. The case was one of great importance, and it required a
power of thought and research to look inter it.
"And now," continued Ike, "there are three more p'ints of la' in your case.
You've got the fee of this 'ere land--that is, you've got a deed, and got
inter possession; that makes a fee. And as to that, the deed don't matter
so much; possession out here is jest as good. I never see a sheriff who
could get a man off. 'Tain't pop'lar--won't pay--it costs votes--men don't
vote for officers who push 'em; possession is _more'n_ nine p'ints of the
la' in Puddleford; it's ninety-nine--it's 'most as good as a patent."
"But that would be a resistance of process, if the widow succeeded," said
I.
"There won't be nothin' to resist," answered Ike. "_You'll_ never feel the
process; it will always be defective--there'll be a flaw in it somewhere.
Settlers on the sile must be protected."
"That," chimed in the Squire, "_is_ la'. That was settled in the
constitution. There was blood shed for that."
"But there ain't no use," continued Ike, "in goin' into particulars, and
puttin' down every p'int of la'. I can scatter a thousand such cases to the
four winds--have done it--can do it agin. Give me Kent and the staterts,
and I'll cut my way to daylight in no time."
If there is any one who believes that such an opinion was not given for one
dollar, or that hundreds have not been given in the very far West just as
absurd, let them inquire further of those persons who have experienced a
frontier life. Yet, Mr. Turtle lives and flourishes, gains reputation, and
will die as much respected and lamented as any one.