One wished to be sheriff; another, county clerk.
The five gentlemen of leisure wished to stay where they were.
When a pie was cut, these five held the knife. It was their
fault, they said, when they went hungry.
In the side of this body politic the surgeon was a thorn as sharp
as any one of his scalpels. He was a hard-headed, sober-minded
Scotchman, who had been elected to represent a group of his
countrymen living in the eastern part of the village, and whose
profession, the five supposed, indicated without doubt his entire
willingness to see through a cart-wheel, especially when the hub
was silver-plated. At the first meeting of the board they learned
their mistake, but it did not worry them much. They had seven
votes to two.
The council-chamber of the board was a hall--large for
Rockville--situated over the post-office, and only two doors from
O'Leary's barroom It was the ordinary village hall, used for
everything from a Christmas festival to a prize-fight. In summer
it answered for a skating-rink.
Once a month the board occupied it. On these occasions a sort of
rostrum was brought in for the president, besides a square table
and a dozen chairs. These were placed at one end, and were
partitioned off by a wooden rail to form an inclosure, outside of
which always stood the citizens.
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