CHAPTER XXI
Mrs. Bird gets in a Rage. – Starve a Child. – Mrs. Bird blows off at Mrs. Beagle. – Takes Breath. – Blows off again. – Mrs. Beagle gives a Piece of her Mind. – Aunt Sonora drops in. – She has no Faith in Second Wives. – All adjourn to the House of Mrs. Swipes. – General Fight of Tongues. – Mrs. Swipes gives her Opinion. – A Dead Set by all upon Mrs. Longbow. – Mrs. Longbow raps at the Door. – The Scene changes. – Final Wind-up.
Aunt Graves had not got warm in her seat as mistress of Squire Longbow's household, when she found half of the female portion of Puddleford upon her in full cry. The Swipeses, and the Beagles, and Birds, who were very jealous of the sudden elevation of the old spinster, gave her no peace night nor day. They had seen the time when she looked up to them, and now she was the wife of a Squire – had taken good old Mrs. Longbow's place, and "really," as they said, "tried to lord it over them."
Mrs. Bird went all the way in the rain, mud over shoe, to inform Mrs. Beagle "that she warn't a-goin' to stand it any longer; she'd seen enough, and if other people were a-mind to blind their eyes, they might – she guessed she know'd what was what – she warn't brought into the world for nothin' – they might humbug her if they could – she only wished old Mrs. Longbow could jist rise from her grave – jist once– that's all she would ask – she'd make a scatterin' among the dry bones – jist to think – to think – "
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Beagle, who stood waiting for the climax, with her mouth wide open, holding her dish-cloth in her hand.
"What? – what" – repeated Mrs. Bird, "you may well say what – that Longbow woman abuses little Elvira Julia Longbow like sixty – the darling creature – how my heart bleeds. That child," continued Mrs. Bird, putting down each word in a measured way by striking her fist on the table – "that child – that dear – Elvira Julia – the idol – you know of her mother – and what a mother she had, too, Mrs. Beagle – O, what a mother! That child is starved! She don't get half enough to eat – I know it just as well as if the child had told me so with her own lips. She looks puny-like. She didn't hold up her head in church all sarvice time, last Sunday – how my heart ached for her – I couldn't think of nothin' else – and to think – to think, Mrs. Beagle, that that woman who warn't nobody, and who'd come onto the town if she hadn't fooled the old Squire, is now goin' to turn round and starve his children. One thing I do know, I shall never knuckle to her – not while my name is Bird – I'll let her know who Mrs. Bird is. She'll find out that the Birds can hoe their own row – the Birds allers have liv'd, and will live, I guess, and they never were beholdin' to the Longbows, nuther. Starve a child! – and if she thinks I ever mean to know her as anybody but old Poll Graves, she is most grandly mistaken. I'll jist tell her who old Graves, her father, was, and what he was, and how he used to drink, the old brute. She knows it all – but she thinks Mrs. Bird forgets such things – but Mrs. Bird don't forget such things – she has a long memory – and her mother warn't none too good, nuther – I could touch her up a little on that. Starve a child! Lord-a-massey, I s'pose she thinks she is the queen of Puddleford, now, and can do as she has a mind-ter. If she don't run agin a snag some day, then call Sally Bird a liar, that's all. Pride must have its fall, Mrs. Beagle;" and here Mrs. Bird took the first long breath, after entering the house.
"How – you – do – talk!" ejaculated Mrs. Beagle, her eyes half started from her head. "I'd thought just as much, but dare not say so."
"Darsen't! darsen't!" popped Mrs. Bird, "Well, thank the Lord, I dare; I'll pull down the whole Longbow nest around her ears; I'll complain to the town officers; I'll have her taken up, and then let her show her hand; to think that the child of that dear, good woman we lov'd so much, should be starved! And that ain't all: old Longbow is one of the most miserablest men livin'; he don't have a minute's peace day nor night; he rolls and tumbles, and talks to himself – thinks, in his dreams, that his former wife is back agin, and he talks to her jest as if she was; he hain't had a full meal for a mouth. She is the stingiest of all mortals! She liv'd on nothin' afore she was married – why she counts the very coffee kernels she uses – she allers was afraid of goin' to the poor-house – pity she hadn't-er gone – but la-sa-me, you can't get one of the Longbows to say a word about it – they are as whist as mice – fairly caught – less said the better, you know – they are so everlastin' etarnal proud, the hull pack on 'em would die before they'd let anything out – but they can't deceive Mrs. Bird – murder will out – starve a child!" and here Mrs. Bird took another long breath.
Mrs. Beagle looked still wilder, if possible, than before. But she was a very cautious woman, as has been seen. There was a method in her malice. "She had thought for a long time," she said, "that affairs were all wrong-end-foremost at the Longbows. She could see some things too. But she didn't want to say a word agin nobody. She had allers tried to be a keerful woman – and she was a keerful woman – and although she said it, who had not orter say it, she was a keerful woman. She tried to live in peace and Christian charity with everybody – and she would put up with enymost anything rather than to have hard feelings 'gin anybody. She had allers been a friend of Mrs. Longbow, and was really glad when she heard she had at last got married, for she did think she would make a good wife – she had orter, for Squire Longbow had been the makin' on her, and had set her up in the world for sumthin' – but things warn't-er a-goin' right, that she know'd, and had know'd it for a long time; the old Squire looked as cowed-like as if he'd give all his old shoes to see his old wife back agin – he didn't look so chirck as he used to do – but then she didn't want-er say nothin' about it, for there was one thing she didn't do – she didn't talk about her neighbors – if there was any kind of people that she did hate, it was the slanderers – she never slandered nobody – but she allers did know that Mrs. Longbow was tighter than bark to a tree – she used to jest keep soul and body together 'fore she married – a leetle too tight to be honest – there wern't no slander in that – she hadn't said she was dishonest, nor she warn't a-goin' to say it – she would skin a copper the closest of anybody she ever see'd; such people can't be honest – they will cheat in the dark – not that she meant to say that Mrs. Longbow would cheat – she slandered nobody – but the child did look half-starved, and anybody could see it with one eye, and you can't learn old dogs new tricks – what's bred in the bone stays there – and the old Squire's darter, Livinny, looks like death, too – she's lost a mother, and it'll be a long time before that woman will fill her place – this is between you and me, Mrs. Bird – 'twarn't no longer than t'other day that Mrs. Swipes told me that old Longbow wanted to marry Mary Jane Arabella, but Mrs. Swipes said she jest put her foot down and said No! and he's been cross-grained at her ever since. Well – well – so it goes."
Aunt Sonora dropped in "to take a breath," as she said. Mrs. Bird and Mrs. Beagle had to repeat to her the new developments in the Longbow family, with some new additions.
Aunt Sonora said she never did have any faith in second wives. "Depend upon't," said the old lady, "no good comes out on 'em. And the old maids were the very worst on 'em all. They were the awfullest dead-settest people she ever know'd. They will have their way. They allers rule the roost. She guessed that her old man knew when he was well off. He hated second marriages like pizen."
Finally, the women, after exhausting themselves, all agreed to adjourn to the house of Mrs. Swipes, to see what could be done to improve the domestic arrangements of the Longbow family. Mrs. Bird said at first she wouldn't move an inch, to see Mrs. Swipes or anybody else, for it wasn't no business of her'n, but then she know'd that, if it was her child, and she was dead, and Mrs. Longbow wasn't dead, Mrs. Longbow would do just as she did.
Mrs. Swipes was delighted to see such a crowd of her friends, but declared "she couldn't for the life of her tell what was up."
By the time the "ladies" had arrived at the house of Mrs. Swipes, they were very highly charged with electricity. They had lashed themselves into a very respectable sort of fury. Even Aunt Sonora, amiable as she was, muttered to herself, while crossing the road – "Starve a child!"
Nobody ever told Mrs. Swipes any news – that was not possible – she had always heard of it, seen it, or expected it; the most astounding development was no more than she had "allers known would come about." There was no story so large that it was unexpected, or beyond her power to add a little to it – no black so black, that she couldn't make it a little blacker – no slander so public, but that she had heard a little more than her neighbors of it. A piece of scandal melted like sugar in her mouth, and it seemed to send a glow over her whole being while she digested it; it braced her up for a whole day, and carried her through the most fiery domestic trials – no story, therefore, ever lost strength or sting while in her keeping – it gathered weight and power like a snowball – she paid it out with interest. Her husband, Zeb Swipes, she didn't like, for he did not care a pin about his neighbors, "'specially the women folks," as he said; and Mrs. Swipes declared she never could interest him in the wickedness of the place. Many a time she had talked him to sleep, flaring, and foaming, and fretting about Puddleford.
When Mrs. Bird, and Beagle, and Aunt Sonora entered Mrs. Swipes's room, the clap burst at once from the whole delegation.
"Don't you think!" exclaimed Mrs. Bird.
"Did you ever!" snapped Mrs. Beagle.
"Pretty doin's these!" chimed in Aunt Sonora.
"That that thing!" – "that Longbow woman," continued Mrs. Bird.
"Starve!" added Mrs. Beagle.
"Yes, starve!" repeated Mrs. Bird.
"A child!" groaned Aunt Sonora.
"Yes, a child!" gasped Mrs. Bird.
"And to think!" said Mrs. Beagle.
"Yes, to think!" said Mrs. Bird.
"Only to think!" repeated Aunt Sonora.
"That," continued Mrs. Beagle.
"Yes, that," said Aunt Sonora.
"What she was," said Mrs. Beagle.
"Only – jest – to – think," screamed Mrs. Bird.
"Nobody," continued Mrs. Beagle.
"Nobody at all!" snapped Mrs. Bird.
"But" – said Mrs. Beagle.
"But what?" inquired Mrs. Bird.
"But – old – Poll – Graves!" screamed the whole three together.
"Hadn't the second gown to her back," added Mrs. Bird.
"Foller'd sowing, too, for a livin'," hinted Mrs. Beagle.
"And glad enough to get it, too," sputtered Mrs. Bird.
"Couldn't-er worn Squire Longbow's old shoes, then," said Mrs. Beagle.
"And now she puts on more ker-ink-tums than the governor's darter," spit out Mrs. Bird.
"Starve a child!" exclaimed another.
"Yes, starve a child!" chimed in all the rest, in a most furious tone of malicious spite that almost raised the roof. When the storm had spent itself on the head of Mrs. Swipes, who stood it with philosophy, for she liked it, all hands "set in" to tell her of the barbarous cruelty of Mrs. Longbow.
Mrs. Swipes replied, "that nothin' more could have been expected on her – old Longbow might-er known she'd-er taken the very hide off on him, and off all on 'em – if he didn't know what Poll Graves was, then it was his fault; if he hadn't liv'd long-er enough in this community to find her out, then the old fool ought-er suffer – good 'nough for him. He tried to get our Mary Jane Arabella, 'fore he went arter her– but I let him know that I was the mother of that gal. He found that Mrs. Swipes had a word to say, and it took me to send the old codger adrift – it jest did. It's 'nough to make one's blood run cold to see the highty-tighty airs that woman puts on. Last Sunday she had on all of old Mrs. dead and gone Longbow's finery-finery – that bunnit, the very same that she bought at Whistle and Sharp's store – price, twenty shillings and sixpence – bought it not mor'n two weeks afore she died. That drab of her'n, you know; the dear good woman never worn it mor'n onct or twict, 'tended Deacon Pettibone's funeral with it, I remember – that very same bunnit, and she had it on; and she had on, at the same time, old Mrs. Longbow's gown, and shawl too; and she did come—a– sailing right inter church, jest as if she was lord of the manor! I thought old Mrs. Longbow had rose from her grave, and I shed tears on the spot. It made my blood run cold. Thinks I to myself, old critter, if Mrs. Longbow should jest come back agin, she'd make you scatter, she would – she'd tear them clothes off on you – she'd let you know where your place was; she'd learn you to dress up inter her clothes. You'd rue the day you ever tried that game with her. Starve a child? Why, of course she will; anybody that don't care nothin' 'bout dead folkses clothes don't care nothin' 'bout folkses children."
At this point, the whole pack made another dead set at Mrs. Longbow, with the exception of Aunt Sonora, who sat rocking violently, and taking snuff. It is impossible to repeat the jargon that made up the hurly-burly that followed. All the troop were firing together, all kinds of shot, and epithets, and sentences were violently broken up into fragments by each other, and hurled in a mass at Mrs. Longbow's head with the hottest vengeance.
It might have looked something like the following: "Nobody!" "Who cares!" "I'll let her!" "Just to think!" "Starve!" "Yes, starve!" "A child!" "That new bonnit!" "Twenty shillings!" "Sowed for a livin'!" "And sixpence!" "Yes, and sixpence!" "Right in church!" "Hardly cold in!" "The poor child!" "And gown, too!" "Her grave!" "Hardly cold in her grave!" "Marry!" "Was as poor!" "Marry my Mary!" "As poor as Job's!" "Marry my Mary Jane Arabella!" "Was as poor as Job's turkey!" "I can see!" "I only wish!" "I can see how it!" "I only wish old Mrs. Longbow could!" "Goes!" "Rise from her!" "Starve!" "Grave!" "I'll complain!" "I wonder!" "To the town!" "If she thinks!" "Starve!" "I'll knuckle!" "A child!" "To her!" "Poll!" "No!" "Old!" "Not as long as my – " "Poll!" "Name is – " "Graves!" "Bird!"
There was a rap at the door, and the uproar ceased, and the vixens were magnetized as instantaneously and as completely as if they had all been stricken with palsy, and their tongues fastened to the roofs of their mouths.
Mrs. Swipes put on a smile, and courtesied to the door, opened it, and there stood Mrs. Longbow!
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Longbow. Well, I do declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Swipes, putting on one of her blandest faces, "you have raaly got out at last. It warn't no longer than this very morning that Swipes and I were wondering what had become of you. Swipes said he know'd you must be sick, but I told Swipes you had so many cares – we women folks have so many cares, Mrs. Longbow. And who do you think is here? – Mrs. Bird, and Mrs. Beagle, and Aunt Sonora – and we were jest a-talkin' 'bout you – and we all wonder'd how you did manage to get along so well in your family;" and after Mrs. Swipes had chatted and bowed Mrs. Longbow through the hall, Mrs. Longbow was introduced to the nest of hornets which had just been buzzing so unconsciously about her ears.
"Why – Mrs. Longbow!" cracked Mrs. Bird's voice at the same time, jumping from her chair with a convulsive jerk, and grasping her hand, and imprinting a kiss upon her. "You have – done it – now – you have come out at last. Goin' to call at our house, I s'pose. Let me see – it's one, two – yes – three weeks since you've show'd your face, Mrs. Longbow – lookin' as bright as a spring mornin', I see."
"All-er that," said Mrs. Beagle.
"But then you have had so much to do," continued Mrs. Bird; "the Squire's house had got inter an awful muss while he was a wid'wer. Lavinny didn't – know – how – to – do – but the people say that it shines like a pink now – and how you have spruc'd up the children – I didn't hardly know Elvira Julia last Sunday. I thought her mother had come back agin."
"She looked so happy!" exclaimed Mrs. Beagle.
"And the old Squire begins to hold up his head agin, like somebody," added Aunt Sonora.
"Nothin' like a woman in a house," chimed in Mrs. Swipes.
"Nothin' like it," said Aunt Sonora.
"Everything goes to loose ends where there ain't no woman," said Mrs. Bird.
"Jest look at old Fluett's house," said Aunt Sonora; "'tis chaos come agin – woman gone – everything spilt from garret to cellar."
"And jest so at Dobbins," added Mrs. Bird.
"I do raaly b'lieve," said Mrs. Beagle, "that if Longbow had put off gettin' him a woman six months longer, he'd a brok't down."
"Jest what the old man himself said," added Mrs. Bird.
"And – then – to – think," drawled out Mrs. Swipes, "that he should have been so fort'nit."
"Might-er tried a hundred times," said Mrs. Bird.
"And got bit," said Mrs. Swipes.
"Yes, and got bit," repeated Mrs. Bird. "There was a kind-er Providence in it. There certainly was."
"Jest what Parson Bigelow said," added Aunt Sonora; "he said he could see the hand-er Providence inter it, jest as plain as he wanted to."
"Strange world," said Mrs. Beagle.
"Full-er sorrow," said Mrs. Bird.
"Never know when it's comin'," added Aunt Sonora.
"The only way's to be ready for't, and do our duty," said Mrs. Swipes.
Thus the conversation ran on. Mrs. Longbow supposed herself looked upon as a martyr by the crowd of "friends" among whom she had unconsciously fallen, and felt almost crushed by the weight of sympathy which they had so gratuitously thrust upon her; and finishing her call, returned to her domestic labors with a lighter heart, and a satisfied conscience, while those she left behind her, on her departure, took the advantage of her absence to completely finish up the remainder of the woman's reputation.
CHAPTER XXII
Appeal of Case Filkins vs. Beadle. – Turtle's Affidavit and "P'ints." – Longbow's Return. – County Court. – Turtle opens his Law "P'ints." – Bates replies. – A Fight. – Collateral Ish-ers. – Squire Longbow present. – The Court sustains Squire Longbow. – Turtle gets into a Passion. – Impanelling the Jury. – Mr. Buzzlebaum leaves. – Mr. Tumbleton upsets Ike. – Mr. Flummer is cut short bob off. – Ike opens to the Jury. – The Trial. – Charge of the Court. – Jury retire. – Can't agree.
Among the causes that were found in the county court for trial was the appeal of Filkins against Beadle. Turtle had carried it up. He had informed the court and the jury, when he argued the cause below, that he would carry it up if he didn't get a verdict, and he was as good as his word. Turtle was a long-winded attorney, and what he lacked in brains he made up in bottom. He could worry out any opponent in Puddleford, and drive the man against whom he had no case into a settlement, or starve him out. Turtle often said that "a man's peace was worth something, and he who wouldn't buy his peace, orter sweat. La' was la', and if a man didn't want to pay for it, he ought to keep out of it." It was necessary, at the time we speak of, for any party who desired an appeal, to make out an affidavit, stating the errors below. Mr. Turtle was a host on an affidavit. He could raise and swear to more "p'ints" than any man in Puddleford.
Turtle's affidavit was a curiosity. It covered all the "p'ints," as he called them – "all the 'ish-ers' of law and all the 'ish-ers' of fact."
According to this document, he set up error in the judgment below: —
1. "'Cause the justis' had counselled with the defendant, and had sworn to go for her anyhow.
2. "'Cause the justis' allowed Sile Bates, one of the jurymen, to leave the jury, and pettifog for Charity Beadle.
3. "'Cause there wern't but five jurymen to try the cause, and there had orter been six.
4. "'Cause counsel hadn't mor'n half got through arguing the case to the jury, when the justis' shut them off, and forcibly sent out the jury to deliberate on their verdict.
5. "'Cause the justis' err'd in everything from the beginnin' to the end of the cause.
6. "'Cause he 'low'd Charity Beadle's set-off, which was agin all kind-er law, and never heer'd on in the books.
7. "'Cause the justis' drank liquor while he was tryin' the cause.
8. "'Cause the justis' got inter a passion while he was tryin' the cause.
9. "'Cause the jury got drunk while they were tryin' the cause.
10. "'Cause liquor was sold clus by the court room all the time they were tryin' the cause.
11. "'Cause one of the jurymen warn't fit to sarve – he bein' no voter – or if he was, he never had voted.
12. "'Cause, as he understood, the jury flopp'd a copper to see who should win the cause.
13. "And, finally, the verdict warn't no verdict, 'cause the jury didn't agree."
Here were "p'ints" enough to overthrow the most righteous cause in the world. This affidavit was filed before Squire Longbow, within the time prescribed by statute, as appeared by the return of the magistrate to the county court, and the return itself of Squire Longbow was also spread out as large as life on the files of the same.
If there was anything that Squire Longbow did pride himself upon, it was his returns to county court. He had often said, "that he would like to see the man who could pick a flaw in one of his papers." He said "that none of his decisions had ever been 'squashed' by the upper courts. He knew what la' was, and when a man knew the law, he would allers be sustained."
I do not know as it is worth while to give the full return of the Squire to the threatening array of legal objections found in Turtle's affidavit. He argued every one of them as if his very existence, both as a man and a magistrate, depended on the result. In substance, he returned to the first point, —
"That of course he counselled some with both of the parties. He didn't want folks quarrellin' 'bout nothin' – a-spendin' their time and their money – and how could he know anything about the case, if the parties didn't tell him. He was a sworn officer, bound to do his duty, or throw up – if he should ish-er papers for everybody that axed him to, without lookin' into the case, he wouldn't do nothin' but try causes. His time was worth sumthin', as well as other folkses. It was his business to see that every plaintiff had a case, and that every defendant had a defence. Turtle counsell'd with him first, and he tho't Turtle had a case – but he lied to him, or was greatly mistaken, at any rate – Miss Beadle counsell'd next, and he then saw it was all up with Turtle, but it was too late to stop proceedings, for the summons had gone out, and couldn't be stopp'd; if it could-er been, he'd stopp'd it."
To the second point, the Squire returned, —
"That he did 'low Sile Bates to leave the jury, and 'pear as counsel for Charity Beadle – that that was constitutional right – right-er counsel in all crim'nal cases, thank the Lord, was presarv'd yet – and the case was a crim'nal case, or a kind-er crim'nal case – 'twarn't for debt, and must be crim'nal. He couldn't choose counsel for anybody – thank the Lord that was a personal right – Charity Beadle had the right to choose her own counsel – it warn't none of his business who she took – how could any one take her counsel away from her by putting him outer a jury – that would destroy the constitution itself. If the court would jist look inter Story on the constitution, he'd see how that was; and if he ever did make a righteous decision, that was a righteous decision. The woman sav'd her case by it – for if she hadn't had any counsel, the greatest injustice would-er come on't – maybe the jury would-er 'greed – and she– nobody knows where she would-er been now."
To the third point he returned, —
"''Cause there wern't but five jurymen,' it is said. Well, there warn't. What of it? Five were jist as good in this case, as six; 'cause if five couldn't agree, how could six?'"
To the fourth point, as follows, —
"He did choke off counsel while they were argerin' the cause to the jury, and swore the officer and sent out the jury to deliberate. He'd do it agin, under like circumstances. They vi'lated the dignity of the court – there wern't no order nor nothin' – everything went on hurly-burly – there was more racket than if there was a town-meetin'. One thing there had got-ter be, and that was order in his court – he might-er sent them all to jail for contempt – but he wanted to be mild with 'em – he didn't allers think it best to go to the length of the la' – two counsel talkin' to the jury at onct was agin all la' – it was a great contempt of court – they'd orter been fin'd ten dollars apiece – but he didn't want-er fine 'em – he took a shorter course – he acted in his discretion – and he had a discretion in sich cases – any other court would-er done as he did, or worse, maybe. So long as he was magistrate, he meant to be magistrate – and his court was a court – and that thing people had got-ter find out, sooner or later."
To the fifth point, as follows, —
"He'd jist submit that to the higher court."
To the sixth point, as follows, —
"He did let in the set-off of Charity Beadle, and he did it, arter examinin' all the 'thorities on that p'int. He consulted Squire Brown, too, who did business down inter the State of New York, as justis', more'n ten years, and who had a great many jist sich cases afore him. The Squire said it was la' there, and had bin ever sin' he was a boy – and York la' was good la' anywhere. Story was dead for 'lowin' sich kind-er set-offs, and his works were all in favor on't – and it would be a likely p'int for anybody to set up that sich a set-off couldn't be allow'd. Filkins sues for so much money for so many slanders – now, then, he would jist like to know, if five slanders are worth ten dollars to her, if five slanders wouldn't be worth ten dollars to Charity Beadle – and if one ten dollars ain't jist as good as another ten dollars – he would like to know if one don't suffer jist as much as t'other – and if one hadn't orter be paid jist as much as t'other. If you go lyin' round 'bout me, you've got to pay, but if I go lyin' round 'bout you, I hain't got-ter pay – he'd like to know what justis' there was in all that – he didn't b'lieve Turtle thought so himself, but he was allers tryin' to bull-rag the court – and he warn't goin' to be bull-ragg'd by him nor nobody else."
To the seventh point, as follows, —
"He didn't know whether Mr. Turtle meant to be personal or not. He didn't know whether he meant to say, right out, that he was drunk, or not. If he did, he was a liar. He had no right to slander him onter the public records of the higher courts, in that sort-er way. What if he did drink? he had a right to drink – that was his business – when anybody can say that Squire Longbow is unfit for business from 'licker,' then there's time 'nough to blow out at him, and not afore – he shouldn't notice that p'int any furder."
To the eighth point, as follows, —
"'Got inter a passion?' He did rise in his wrath onct or twict, to presarve the order of the court. He warn't goin' to sit and be trampled on. He was de-tar-min'd that justis' should take its course, if he had to fight to do it. He couldn't keep Turtle down any other way – he'd used up all the fines in the staterts agin him, and that wouldn't do – he tore on worse than ever – and he'd jist say here, it was high time the fines were increas'd. He informed the court that Turtle said, 'he hadn't but one eye, and that he couldn't see but a little ways – that he hadn't as many brains as an 'ister – that his head was full-er cobwebs or bumble-bees, he didn't know which – that his judgment warn't good on a common note-er-hand – that he warn't up to the school-marm, for she could read – and that he did get inter a passion that the court should have been so trampled upon – for he would presarve the dignity of his court so long as he was magistrate – a great deal depended upon order in court – and when everything was a-goin' topsy-turvy, there warn't no justis' – he should allers, use jist as much force as was necessary to presarve order – and get into a passion, too, if he wanted to."
To the ninth point, as follows, —
"He didn't know whether the jury were drunk or not – that's their biz-ness, not his'n – they could answer for themselves on that p'int; and if Mr. Turtle wanted to know how that was, he'd better ax 'em; he warn't a-goin' to – he never took away any of the priv'leges of the jury – they were sacred things to him. When he tried cases, he did as he was a mind-ter, and the jury did as they were a mind-ter – if they wanted to drink, he wouldn't interfere – 'twas out of his jurisdiction – he never did dabble with a jury, nor he never would – but he would say that the jury 'peared very well, listened to all the evidence as men should – stay'd out long 'nough to consider on the evidence and gin in a verdict, he verily believed, 'cordin' to their oath."
To the tenth point, as follows, —
"Licker might-er bin sold clus to the court-room – but it warn't sold in the court-room – that he'd never 'low'd since he was a justice – every man who drank, went inter the bar-room, and thar was a strong pe-tition and a clus door atween the two rooms – he wouldn't-er 'low'd a drop in the court-room – he had allers bin very keerful 'bout that – they did drink onct or twict, but it was in the bar-room – the trial was very long and very troublesome – and the jury got dry – but they drank every time in the bar-room, and not in the court-room – and he was keer-ful every time they did drink, to 'journ the court, to save all questions – and he would say that Turtle drank as often as anybody – and onct, certainly, he moved to 'journ the court for to drink, and nothin' else – and now he goes up to the higher court, and makes a fuss 'bout it – the staterts said there should be no licker sold in the room where the court is held – not out of it, nor in the next room – and he'd allers bin a la'-'bidin' man, and allers meant to be."