It was said that what the ward-heelers and camp-followers
got out of him in campaign times made the political managers cry. He was
the first and readiest prey for every fraud and swindler that came to
Wainwright, I heard, and yet, in spite of this and of his hatred of
"speech-making" ("He's as silent as Grant!" said one informant), he had
a large practice, and was one of the most successful lawyers in the
state.
One story they told of him (or, as they were more apt to put it, "on"
him) was repeated so often that I saw it had become one of the town's
traditions. One bitter evening in February, they related, he was
approached upon the street by a ragged, whining, and shivering old
reprobate, notorious for the various ingenuities by which he had worn
out the patience of the charity organizations. He asked Beasley for a
dime. Beasley had no money in his pockets, but gave the man his
overcoat, went home without any himself, and spent six weeks in bed with
a bad case of pneumonia as the direct result. His beneficiary sold the
overcoat, and invested the proceeds in a five-day's spree, in the
closing scenes of which a couple of brickbats were featured to high,
spectacular effect. One he sent through a jeweller's show-window in an
attempt to intimidate some wholly imaginary pursuers, the other he
projected at a perfectly actual policeman who was endeavoring to soothe
him. The victim of Beasley's charity and the officer were then borne to
the hospital in company.
Pages:
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31