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About News & planters' gazette. (Washington, Wilkes County [sic], Ga.) 1840-1844 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 1, 1844)
NEWS & PLMTERS’ GAZETTE. D.. CUTTING, Editor. No. 23.—NEW SERIES.] News and Planters’ Gazette. terms: Published weekly at Tien Dollars and Fifty Cents per annum, if paid at the time ot .Subscri bing ; or Three Dollars it not paid till the expi ration of three months. No paper to be discontinued,unless a! the option ot the Editor, withoutthc settlement es all arrearages. XT’ L iters, on business, mast be postpaid,to insure attention. No communication shall be published, unless we are made acquainted with the name of the author. TO ADVERTISERS. ’ Advertisements, not exceeding one square, first insertion, Seventy-Jive Cents; and for each sub sequent insertion, Fifty Cents. A reduction will be made of twenty-live per cent, to those who advertise by tire year. Advertisements not limited when handed in, will be inserted till for -Jjid. And charged accordingly. H 1 Salos of Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad ministrators and Guardians, are required by law, to be advertised, in a public Gazette, sixty days previous to the day ol sale. The sales of Personal Property must be adver tised in like manner, forty days. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Ne groes, must be published for four months— notice that application will be made for Letters of Administration, must be published thirty days; and Letters of Dismission, si# months. Mail ikrrasigem&XEts. POST OFFICE, I Washington, Ga., Sept. 1, 1843. ) EASTERN MAIL. By this route, Mails are made up for Raytown, Double-Wells, Crawfordville, Cainack, Warren ton, Thompson, Dearing, and Barzelia. ARRIVES. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 9, A. M. CLOSES. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 2P. M WESTERN MAIL. By this route, Mails are made up for all Offi ces in South-Western Georgia, Alabama, Mis sissippi, Louisiana, Florida, also Athens, Ga. and the North-Western part of the State. arrives —Wednesday and Friday, by 6 A. M. closes —Tuesday and Thursday, at 12 M. ABBEVILLE, S.C. MAIL. By this route, Mails are made up for Danburg, * Pistol Creek, and Petersburg. ARRIVES. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, by 1 P. M. CLOSES. Monday, and Friday, at 6 A. M. LEXINGTON MAIL. By this route, Mails are made up for Centrc ville, State Rights, Scull-shoals, and Salem. arrives —Monday and Friday, at 9 A. M. closes —Tuesday and Saturday, at 9 A. M. APPLING MAIL. By this route, Mails are made up for Wriglits boro’, White Oak, Walker’s Quaker Springs. arrives —Tuesday and Saturday, by 9 A. M. closes —Monday and Friday, at 9 A. M. EI.BERTON MAIL. By this route, Mails are made up for Mallo ry sv”i lie, Goosepond, Whites, Mill-Stone, Harri souville, aud Ruckersville. Arrives Thursday 8 P, M., and Closes same time. LINCOLNTON MAIL. By this route, Mails are made up for Rehoboth, Stoney Point, Goshen, Double Branches, and Darby’s. Arrives Friday, 12 M. | Closes same time. O’ The Letter Box is the proper place to de posite all matter designed to be transported by Mail, and such as may be found there at the times above specified, will be despatched by first post. palmer & McMillan, TAILORS, HAVE removed to N0.4, Bolton’s Range, on the West side of the Public Square, where they will be happy to see all their friends and customers. December 21,1843. 17 IRVIN & UARTRELL, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, HAVE removed their Office from the Court- House to the Brick Building of Bolton & Nolan, on the West side of the Public Square. Washington, January 4, 1844. 4t 19 COTTING & BUTLER, ATTORNIES, HAVE taken an OFFICE on the North side of the Public Square, next door to the Branch Bank of the State of Georgia. October, 1843. 28 MR. SIMEON ELLINGTON, will attend to my business, during my absence.— Persons wanting BRICK will apply to him. L. G. BASSFORD. January 18, 1844. 3t* 21 Dissolution. THE Copartnership heretofore existing be tween the Subscribers, under the firm of MERRY & POPE, is this day dissolved by mu tual consent. B. MERRY. A. POPE, Jun. January 23, 1844. 2t* 22 yoji j'ji'iit'.mta,, EXECUTED AT THIS .© F 8? 0 © E | £Kf user llnurc tu*. A TEXIAN SKETCH. A few hundred yards fromthe last strag gling wooden frame buildings which form the greater portion of the houses in the city of Galveston, republic of Texas, there is on the edge of the water a hard and level spot, which is continually chosen as the theatre of those wonderous shooting match es of which our transatlantic neighbors are so proud, arid in which they so pre-eminent ly excel. The fictitious deeds of La Longue Carabine, and the better authenticated re cords of Colonel Crocket’s feats with his “old Betsy,” are oil such occasions often equalled ; and my curiosity always excited on this subject, 1 could not refuse one eve ning in May last to be present at an exhibi tion of this nature which had been an nounced. The prize for the best shot was an American rifle, very handsome and ex pensive, and the admission fee paid by the aspirants was fifty cents. The spot selected was close to a grog shop—a house by far too much patronised by all good Texans. The evening was delicious, not the slightest breath of wind was stirring, and the moon, which was just about to set, revealed a striking ami ani mated scene. The competitors for the prize were chiefly hunters, who had (locked “down country” for the purpose ; each man had his rifle, the greater number a ’coon skin bag, from which was suspended a large knife, and a charge or measure for powder hollowed out of an alligator’s tooth; a favorite article with all your true hack woodsmen. Their dress was chiefly form ed from buckskin, fashioned by their own rude hands. In company with the crowds of looker on, they dispersed themselves in different groups about the place, some ly ing down, others standing, and indulging, for the most part, in the same topic of con versation. A plain deal board, with a white spot about the size of a crown piece, sur rounded by alternate circles of white and black, stood tip at some distance : this was the mark. Impatient for the work to com mence, I made a remark to that effect to a bystander. He pointed to the moori, which bad almost disappeared, and remark ed that they but waited for the darkness to begin ; lie further added, that the occur rence of the slightest breeze would occasion the postponement of the match. A few minutes elapsed, and not a ray of Luna’s borrowed light wasto be seen. In stantly all waslife and animation. Candles were called for and it appeared that the businessof the evening was about to com tnence. The distance decided on was six ty yards. I pressed near to the hunters, and gazed with unfeigned curiosity upon tite event. Two wax candles were now placed in a position as to throw a clear light upon the target, while two more were held near the sight of each rifle. It was the first time I had seen so curious an exhibition, and I was infinitely interested.- The competi tors in the match were twenty-six, and se veral who made the first essay were suc cessful only in part, hitting one of the outer circles. Presently tw-o hunters stepped for ward, a Virginian and a young Georgian, both leather-stockings, who from childhood had been accustomed to use the rifle. The Virginian was of that huge and ponderous make which strikes more from the hulk than the proportion, while the young Geor gian, tall, thin, and wiry—a thing of hone and muscle—had yet that tender, almost feminine appearance peculiar to his coun trymen. The Virginian fired, and planted his ball in the very centre of the target ; the living lane of spectators, which extended not more than four feet wide to the very target, was loud in its applause. “Bill will do as much, 1 reckon,” said t lie young Georgian, advancing with his gun on his shoulder, which was carelessly thrown off and cischarged the moment it became horizontal. The welkin rang with loud applause as it was announced that the Virginian’s ball had been flattened. Va rious other competitors came forward ; but after considerable waste of powder, it was decided that the affair rested entirely be tween the two hunters. The wooden tar get was now cleared away, and prepara- tions made to decide between the relative; skill of the Georgian and Virginian byotli- j er means. At a distance of sixty-five yards, ! a candle was put up, and the hunters were j to satisfy the owner of the rifle as to which j of them he should assign it, by snuffing the light presented to them, without in the most trifling manner grazing the wax with their balls. The Virginian made the first trial, put the light out, but carried away the can dle. Another candle being set up, the Geor gian stepped forward, took careful and de liberate aim, and fired; the candle was snuffed, while the wax remained uritoueh ed. Bill, the Georgian hunter, was accor dingly proclaimed the victor. “1 reckon he’s a smart shot that,” ob served a bystander ; “and I guess the In gins don’t like him. When Bill stole a mate from the Wacco’s, that ere shooting iron did him lively service, 1 calculate.” My curiosity being excited, I contrived to get into conversation with Bill; and fin ding he did not intend remaining in town, but to proceed at once to his crib, as he cal led it, I proposed he should pass with me on board the Archer, obtain a supply of powder, ball, and percussion caps, and then 1 would be ready to accompany him. It happened, however, that Bill had a few lines to me from a certain Dr. Worcester, requesting that I would replenish his horn i and ’coon skin bag, aud accordingly the meeting was opportune on both sides. Es WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, GA.,) FEBRUARY 1, 1844. eaping from the noisy clamours of the crowd, who were top intent on their indttl. geneies to notice the disappearance of Bill, wo sought the shore, where I found a small, neat, and elegant Indian canoe, into which we stepped. The craft had with us both almost its load, as its frail gunwale was not three inches out of water. Bill sat in the stern, lin the centre. Much caution is required in navigating these boats, as any unusual inclination on ono side would be sure to capsize them. We reached, how. ever, the brig Archer in safety. I took my rifle, and gave Bill his powder and shot; and we once more started in the direction | of Deer Island, eight miles down between I the mainland and the island of Galveston. | Nothing could have been more picturesque. | The night was dark, and we kept close in shore, to be guided by the different land marks which w-ere familiar to the hunter’s eye; my companion, however, occupied the greater part of my attention as lie sat up right in the sternsheets, using his single paddle now on one side now upon another with singular dexterity. I very short y drew the conversation to the topic which in terested me, namely, his stealing away the Waecogirl ; and, in the most frank and un hesitating manner, he told his story, which 1 shall relate for the benefit of my readers, only premising that I am compelled to a bandon his own rich jargon, w liiclt was so interlarded with quaint Yankee phrases as to he unintelligible to all save the initiated. “I was hunting up country some eighteen months ago—to begin at the beginning— undone night, tired and maybe lazy, wan dered into the village of the Wacco Indi ans, which you say you have seen on Dick’s Creek. I was well received, had a spare tent assigned me, smoked the pipe with them, and passed the night in telling of hunting scrapes or in hearing them, I didn’t care much which. Well, that night passed, and the next, and the third evening came, and still I didn’t go, which was a very unusual waste oftimeoil my part, who never before missed a day’s hunting, except it were for a frolic, or that I was sick. But there was no frolic here, and I wasn’t sick. No ; it wasn’t that at all. But on the morn ing after my arrival, 1 strolled rather ear ly into the sweet potato field behind Iho village, and there found a young Indian girt at work. Well, 1 had seen many and many an Indian girl before, but none like tliis one. She was beautiful beyond all description, and not more than eighteen ; j and when I spoke a few words to her, my heart went pit a pat, just for all the world like the tail of an old ’possum wagging a bout. A week went by, and still 1 wasn’t gone. Somehow or other 1 couldn’t get away, and every morning found me in the field behind the village, until I thought the Indians would spoil my beauty by taking my scalp. Well, one morning I picked up courage, and tells the girl plump and plain I wanted to have a long talk with her that evening in a place I mentioned, about a quarter of a mile from the village. The young Wacco looked up, opened her large round eyes, and scented to read my very soul. I suppose she liked the picture, for she hung down iter head, blushed slightly, and said, ‘White man, your sister will be there!” I don’t no what I said in reply, but I soom walked away ; and entering the vil lage, shouldered my rifle, hade adieu to the warriors, and was soon lost in the woods.— How I spent that day I won’t tire you by telling but it aim in reason to think I spent it without use ; and about nightfall I foutid myself seated on an old log, which gave a full view of the creek at a distance of a hundred yards, and was particularly well fitted for which 1 had chosen it. I knew the spot well, because it was close to a spring, and that’s why I was sure the young Wacco girl would be able to find it out. — At the time agreed on she stood before me, and asked in a somewhat sad and plaintive tone what her white brother had to say.— Now, do you see, I felt a little skeary-like; somehow or other I thought I would have rather faced a panther just then, but, pluck ing up courage, I told her my wigwam was empty, that I was very anxious to find a mate; that, white or Indian, I had never seen one who took my fancy like she had done, and concluded, after a speech as long as Sam Houston’s last message to congress, by telling her I would take her away at once; ifshe were Willing, and marry her accor- j ding to our customs. The Indian girl heard ; me in silence, standing upright before me; i she would not sit down, and at length said; ‘Yonder green leaf will not be yellow ere my Reed-that-bends will claim his bride.— And shall I leave him for one of the pale faces V Here was just what I wanted, a little op position ; and she had no sooner spoken than, seizing her hand, 1 forced her to sit beside me, and poured out a stream of soft sawder which human natur’ couldn’t stand. 1 told her all I would do for her ; I did not hesitate to say I was as good a hunter as four Bending-reeds, promised her ’coon skins, squirrels’ fur, and everything else in abundance to her cabin, and finally drew a most lively picture of my sorrow if she refused to be mine. I don’t think General Jackson or Martin Van Buren ever came up to me in speechifying, and at last she said, ‘I believe the son of the pale faces: your sister will go.’ I won’t tell all I thought just then. Per haps you’ll say it was ungrateful in me try ing to take away a beloved daughter. But remember the drudging heathenish fate of these Indian women, and bear in mind that true love don’t calculate very nicely. My PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING. | chief feeling at the time was how we should both get clear off to the white man’s coun try. Plucking up courage, 1 told my bride she should never have occasion to repent her choice, but to rise and follow me, and 1 would conduct her to my wigwam, out of reach of her relatives, who would certainly take my scalp if they could for stealing away the chosen mate of Reed-that-bends. My wife, for I will call Iter so, hesitated a moment ; a sort of sad and mournful moan escaped her; perhaps she thought of her old father and mother, and she was right; it was, however, but for an instant, after which she rose and followed me. Moored to a hickory tree was a pretty good sized boat, which I had boi rowed for the occa sion, and into this we stepped. She sat down aft, I took the oars, and it was a cau tion how I pulled ! I ploughed up the wa ter a trifle, i believe 1 did ; making for the mouth of the river, whence I meant tocross the bay. The boat was mighty heavy for one man, but then, when out of the wood, I could sail. About an hour passed, and the quick and measured sweep of many an oar told me we wore pursued ; I expected it. Tite young Wacco pricked up her ears like a doe that smells powder, and taking j her seaton one of the thwarts, soon whisked the old cutter along half as quick again as it went before. 1 did’t think I ever saw her look so beautiful before or since as sbe did then ; certain 1 am, I felt 1 could lose my lifeforher. Still, however, the canoe behind us was coming up, and presently, just as we were about to turn a corner after pulling through a long reach, I saw it, with a power of red skins, paddling and whoop ing with all their might. Very soon, how ever, wo came upon the open prairie ; no trees kept off the wind which blew in our rear, and pretty stiffly too, and when my three sails of light duck were hoisted, it was just about as much as she could carry. She walked along then in beautiful style, 1 steering her with every caution, and my bride managing the foresheet and jibshoet, | as the winding of tite river compelled me j sometimes to scud, sometimes to haul up close on a wind, then to jib, and soon. Stil! ! the varmint were coining up close behind ! us, almost within two gun-shot, and I saw i that matters were coming to a sort of a fin ish, which made me look at my percussion caps, when suddenly I came upon young Jim Rock, looking out tin-ducks along the j the creek. To jam my boat in among a lot of reeds, to take Jim on board and start! again was the work ofhalf a minute. You | know Jim, .sir? he’s a mighty smart young ! hunter.” I expressed my assent, and he continued. “Well in less than no time, young Rock understood how it was, and vowed ifit came to a tight squeeze he’d help me through, as far as a friendly shot or so would help me ; and away we flew, the wind increasing a trifle as wo neared tho bay. But reef 1 wouldn’t ; Jim standing by the foresheets, I holding on to the niainsheet and tiller, and Oneida, that was her name, sitting motion less in the bottom of the boat. “Reed-that-bends,’ said she at length, ‘has taken many white man scalps ; he is behind ; the pale face must hasten, or his blood will tinge the water.’ Oneida was right. We were now in a long reach, which promised a steady course ; belaying, therefore, the sheets to their several cleats, and giving the helm to the young Wacco, I and Rock prepared our rifles, though I was not without a hope of being spared a conflict with my future kinsmen. Presently the crack of several rifles, followed by the whizzing of balls a round us, told that the Indians were deter mined to do their best, and we accordingly peppered away. I contrived to hit one of the paddles, thus lessening the rapidity of the progress of the canoe. We were now near Edward’s Bay, and presently enter ing it, the wind was almost too much for us, but 1 cracked on, and presently bad the pleasure of rounding Edward’s Point, out side of which I found Dr. Worcester, his man Steven, and two others, fishing under shelter of the promontory. Young Rock joined them, they all promising to keep the Indians from following us. It was a beau tiful moonlight night, almost as light as day, and by morning I got down to Galves ton, where that very day I went before the mayor, paid my two dollars, and was mar ried in due form. So here is Deer Island, and you shall tell me isl did wrong.” Deer Island is a small flat spot, remark able only for the very high state of culti vation into which it has been brought by a Mr. Williams, assisted by Bill, who dwelt there in a little humble log-hut; ample, however, in its dimensions, if we consider the wants of the owners. On visiting this, I was introduced to Oneida, a grave but happy-looking damsel, with dark oval fea tures, lighted up by a remarkable expres sion of intelligence, and engaged in the pleasing duty of nursing a child some six months old. Though not talkative, I found her sensible in her remarks, speaking Eng lish very fluently for an Indian, and proud beyond all description of her husband, on whom she appeared to gaze as a species of deity. The night was very far advanced ere we separated, and I shall always re member with pleasure the hours I spent in the society of this happy couple. Next morning, after a few hours’ hunting, Bill paddled me on board the good brig Archer, and then returned to his log-hut and wife. Good Intentions. —Good intentions will never justify evil actions, nor will a good action ever justify an evil intention, both must be good, or neither will be acceptable. | ANECDOTE OF THE FLOGGING TIMES. j The master of the grammar-school of a burgh in the central district of Scotland, about seventy years ago, was a worthy trojan of the name ofliacket, a complete ! specimen of the threshing pedagoues of the last age. Modern ears would scarce ly credit the traditional stories which were told of this man's severity, or believe that , such merciless punishments could have j been allowed to take place in a country so i far civilized as ours then was. Heavy and repeated applications of a striped thong ! called the laws to the open hands of delin- ! quents were matters of familiar occur, rence. Sknits, as these were called, were : nothing. But Hackot would also, twenty times a-day, lay victims across the end ofi a table, and thrash as long as he could ! hold with the one hand and lay on with the ■ other. Horsing was one of his highest in-; dulgencies or luxuries, and he had an in-; genious mode of torture peculiar to him- j self, by causing the boy to stride between \ two distant boards while he endeavored to j excite the thinking faculties by bringing a force to bear from behind. Thomas Lord ! Erskine and his brother Henry were brought up at this school, and remembered Hack etts severity through life, complaining par ticularly that it was all one whether you | were a dull or a bright boy, for if the for- j mer, you were thrashed for yourown prop- j er demerits, arid if you were bright, you ! had a monitorial charge assigned to you over the rest, and suffered for all the short comings of your inferiors. We wonder at all this now; but the wonder is very su perfluous. The whole system was based on a prevalent notion that severity to chil dren was salutary and beneficial, nay, in dispensable, and that, if you at all loved your son or your pupil, it was your first and most solemn duty towards him to give him a j sound strapping on all possible occasions. ! Flogging was simply one of the bigotries ofi our grandfathers. Among Hackett’s pupils was a boy who i had come from a distance, and was hoarded j with a family in the town. His name for the - present is Anderson. This youth, j placed far from his friends, felt the ruth- | less severity of Hackett very bitterly, and, | as he was by no means a genius, t o v. ,is j both well strapped himself, and probably the cause of much strapping in others. ! Naturally of a reserved and reflecting j character, he said little of his sufferings to ■ any of his companions; but the stripes sunk ] into his very soul, and secretly writhing j under a sense of the injustice and indigni ty with which he was treated, he conceiv- j ed the most deadly sentiments of revenge j against his master. To get these wreaked out in present circumstances was impossi- j ble; but he dcte’rmined to take the first op- | portunity that occurred, and in the mean time to nurse his wrath, so that time should not interfere in favor of a tyrant, who seemed to him to deserve the utmost vengeance that could be inflicted. Anderson like many other Scottish j youtii was draughted off at an early age to India, where he served for twenty-five years, during which he never once was able to revisit his native shores. Having now attained a competency, and settled his affairs, he returned to Scotland, in or der to spend there the remainder of his life. It will scarcely be believed that he still cherished his scheme of vengeance a gainst Hacket; but the fact is that he did so, and this indeed is what gives any value to the anecdote we are relating—it is curi ous only as a genuine instance of a feeling persevered in much beyond the term usual ly assigned to human feelings. He came home—he purchased a short but effective whip—he journeyed to the town where he had been educated, and, establishing him self in the inn, sent a polite message to Hacket (who was still in the vigor of life, though retired from active duty,) inviting him to dine that afternoon with a gentle man who had once been his pupil. All seemed now in train for a retributory visita tion upon the epiderm of the old gentle man; and the reader may be trembling for the consequences of a revenge so much be yond the limit of all common resntments. Old Hacket dressed himself that day in his best—ruffles at the wrists, and silver buckles in his shoes—expecting from the appearance of the man-servant who deliv- ; ered the message, an entertainment of a re- j eherehe kind from one who, no doubt, felt a difficulty in expressing his gratitude for the unspeakable benefits of a sound flagel atory education. He was ushered into a room where he saw a table prepared for dinner. A gentleman presently entered, and to his surprise, turned and deliberate ly locked the door, putting the key into his pocket. Then taking down a whip from the mantel-piece, this gentleman came sternly up to the venerable schoolmaster, and asked if he had any recollection of him. “No,” said the the teacher. ‘Then, sir, I shall insure that you remember me for ever after. Do you recollect a boy at your school twenty-five vears ago of the name of Walter Anderson?’ ‘I date say I do.’ ‘Then, sir, lam that Walter Ander son. I have now come to punish you for the many unmerited thrashings which you gave me at school. They were savage, sir, and only something of the same kind can expiate them. All the time I was in India, I never allowed this design to lie dormant for a moment, and now the time for its execution is come. Strip, sir, this moment, and let me do full justice upon you. Resistance is altogether in vain, for i the people here are all in my pav. Eu- RI . .1 . UAI*I* 10 li, M* r inter. treuly is equally vain, for nothing on earth could induce me to let you escape.” liackett, it may well bo believed, was in a dreadful panic, for bo saw that he was in the hands of a man not to be trifled with. He was, however, shrewd in human na ture, and possessed plenty of presence of mind. “Well, well, said lie, •that is a bad business; but I suppose it it is true that I was rather severe long ago with my boys, and so must just submit. 1 see however, that preparations have been made for din tier, and as I believe you to be a gentle man, I cannot suppose that you invited me here to that meal without intending to give it me. Now if it is the same thing to you, I should much prefer having dinner, first, and the licking afterwards. Come shall it not he so?” j The man of vengeance was taken by j surprise, and assented, though inwardly I resolving that nothing should in the long ! run baulk him of bis purpose. They sat down, and the dinner and wine proved J excellent. [Jacket began to talk of old I times, and of other boys who had been fel low.pupils with his host also of many sports and frolics in which Anderson amongst others had indulged. He told what he had learned of the subsequent fortunes of many of these youths and gradually engaged An derson into a relation of his own history, j The whole bearing of the old man was so ■ cheerful, so sympathising, and so enter taining, that Anderson, like the gloomy j sultan felt himselfgradually dispossessed of the spirit which had so long animated him. It became evidently an absurdity to think of lashing a neatly-dressed old gentleman who seemed to be the very pink of good humor. Once or twice he spasmodically endeavored to re awaken the flagging emo tions of destructiveness, hut it would not do; another droll chatty story from tlie peda gouge stilled them down again at once. By and by hegave way entirely to the spir it of the hour, and ceased to think of his whip or its intended performances. liackett got home that night in perfect safety, for Mr. Anderson insisted upon es corting him to his own door. CROSS EXAMINATION Or A VUT- NESS. Witness ! Sir ! I.- me in ‘.he far- : there ! kon left a wifi: in England, h ’ Witness nods. ‘ If thou eanst nod—speak too ;’ contin ues the examining counsel, with a trium phant smile. Court approves ; the bar all agog and therefore I ask you, Sir, in so many words, whether you did or did not leave a wife in Flngland ? You need not answer that question, said the counsel for the prisoner, appealing to the court with a low bow, not to be mista ken. Oh, I’ve no sort of objection, Mr. fudge ; aint at all particular about them things ; not I. Well then, to the best of your recollec tion and belief, did you, or did you not leave a wife in England ? Well then, mister—what may I call your name. ?—to the best of my recollection and belief, I did or did not leave a wife in England. Here the Court finds occasion for a pock et handkerchief; the bar chuckle and nudge otic another, and the examining coun sel begins to grow very red about the gills. Sir ! lam not to be trifled with. Did you or not leave a wife in England ? Yes. You did ! hey ? Y’es—l did—or not. Another laugh. Judge interferes; Mr. Witness, if you do not obje ct to the ques tion itself, the form it is put in, being the common form, is proper enough. What. ! Mr. Judge—on the cross.oxami nation of a witness ! and what’s trmr. . of _■ willing witness ! Wal ! if that’s law 1 I guess I’ve had about enough on': : Judge stares and the bar fall a“. i> ing, and making mouths at the jury junior counsel. Perhaps though, continues the Coup-- perhaps, though, brother A., it might be well to put the question in some othei shape, and somewhat more directly. With submission—witness ! Sir! Did you leave a wife in England ? Oh ! you’re coming to it, are vc ! Yes, I did. More than one, perhaps. Yes—more than one. And how many ? if i may be so bold. Not knowing, can’t say. And how many children—at a rough guess ? Well, then, at a rough guess; couldn’t pretend to say. Titter from the galleries; a growl from the bench ; while witness wipes his mouth, and looks about him as innocent as possi ble. Counsel presses the question; hav ing already cornered the witness. Not within a half a-dozen, perhaps. Oh no, indeed ; not within—looking first at the judge—then at the ladies in the gal lery—then at the bar—then at the ceiling —then at his fingers and toes, as if count ing both. More tittering in every part of the house Not within forty or fifty, perhaps ? Lord you ! No indeed ; not within forty or fifty thousand ! or more ! All eyes were upon the witness, watch ing his countenance, without any suspicion of the truth, till lie came out with forty or 1 fifty thousand, or more ; am! ruck a [VOM'ME XXIX.
