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JUDGE WILLIAM W. PORTER vexed him far more than my random remark! It was painted after he became Judge of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania.

He sat in his private room in the Public Buildings overlooking Broad Street, as it extended southwards to the Delaware River. The light was not good, and the sun often bothered me. The result was so unsatisfactory that on the evening of the reception at the Academy, as I was talking with Dr. John Taylor and my wife, the Doctor turned and, seeing the portrait across the large gallery, said, "Oh, look! who painted that awful thing of Judge Porter?"

His work on the bench soon became too sedentary for a man of Judge Porter's tastes. Life in the open air suited his robust constitution and active mind. He soon realized that writing opinions on uninteresting points of law in opposition to those of his colleagues was somewhat tame and monotonous in comparison to the forensic displays between opposing counsel on the floor of the court: and he yearned for his former life in the fields among his horses and cattle. He loved above all other things to be a country gentleman. Among the hills of northern Jersey the contemplation of the growing corn and wheat upon his broad acres gave him more pleasure than following the complexities of the law, and trying to make them accord with equity and justice. Here the weather and the weevil often caused him apprehension: but when the sun shone he could turn to his beloved horses, admire their well-groomed coats, watch their paces, and speculate upon the prospects of the geldings and mares.

His chief joy was to mount the box-seat of his coach and, glancing admiringly at four powerful bays, while taking the ribbons and whip in his hand, tool them at a