At length a crime was committed in Summerfield, which a summary process could not despatch, and a sense of duty impelled Squire Fabens to permit it to be tried before him, that the offender might receive his punishment, and be set forth as an example of warning to all evil-doers. One afternoon in August, when farmers had finished their wheat harvest, and were enjoying a few days of relaxation before seeding their fallows with winter grain, Simon Bogle came all in a hot hurry to the Justice, for a warrant against Jared Sculpin, and—"Are you certain," asked Fabens, after hearing his long and incoherent story, and learning the name of the accused neighbor, "are you certain that your log-chain was not mislaid, or dropped in some place where the leaves might have covered it? This is a very serious charge for neighbor to bring against neighbor. You ought to be very certain that it was stolen, Mr. Bogle, before you accuse any one."

"Certain!" cried Bogle; "I couldn't be more so, I guess, if I'd seen it took, with my own eyes, I guess. The neighbors all talk about it too, I guess. And there's—"

"But there ought to be no guess-work in this case. Are you not wronging Mr. Sculpin, to charge him with the theft, unless some competent witness will say he saw him take it, or you can prove the chain found in his possession is yours, while he fails to show, in defence, that you did not lend it to him?"

"Lend it to 'im!—Lend it to 'im, eh? Mercy knows, I wouldn't lend 'im a halter to hang himself, since he blunted my iron wedges, and broomed up my beetle so! And I guess, you wouldn't talk about lendin', if the chain had been hooked from you!"

"But I don't like this hurry and passion you manifest. Get rid of this before you think of bringing a neighbor to justice. We become criminal ourselves just so far as we harbor passion and vengeance while calling criminals to account."

"Wal, will ye give me a warrant? tell me that," said Bogle in a huff.
"Tell me, Square, if you'll give me a warrant. Cause I ken go to
Sempronus, I guess, and git one of Square Moss, if ye don't."

"I tell you this, neighbor Bogle," replied Squire Fabens. "This is a very serious affair you have brought before me. I want time to consider it, and you must go home and think it all over calmly, and sleep on it; and then if you think something must be done in law, come to me to-morrow with your witnesses, and we'll see what must be done."

"Jest as I expected," cried Bogle, turning on his heel in a swelling rage. "Jest as I expected. You're as fit for a Square as my dog Pomp—jest about! I'll go to Square Moss. Ye needn't trouble yourself any more. He'll give me a warrant, I guess. And if I don't vote agin you next year, then my name aint Simon Bogle!"

Away he trudged in a gnashing rage, muttering back his threats and reproaches, and Fabens turned into the house and enjoyed his early tea. By the time Bogle was home, however, he had altered his mind, and went and consulted his witnesses, and ascertained more definitely what was surmised, and what could be proved. Passing Troffater's on his way, that incarnate mischief came out, and hailed him, saying, "Here, ho! Bogle—hello there! How d'ye dew? come back, come back, and see a feller! Don't be scornful!"

"I aint scornful. I'm in a hurry," grumbled Bogle.

"Wal, come back a minute—a man broke his neck in a hurry. What you goin' to dew with Sculpin, eh? He hooked your log-chain, I heern," said Troffater.

"I'm goin' to see Square Fabens agin to-morrow, and try and fetch the feller to justice. Sculpin may be sorry for this. I know what I ken prove," said Bogle.

"I don't b'lieve the Square will try 'im. I never could git a hearin' of 'im. He's stiff as steelyards, and short as pie-crust since he got in office. But mebby he'll knuckle a little to you. If he will, put Sculpin through a course of sprouts, and larn 'im better'n to hook log-chains. But I'm sorry I know anything about it; I don't want to go to court," said Troffater, with a mysterious elongation of his little monkey face, and significant rollings and crossings of his black and blue eyes.

"But what do you know, Troffater?" asked Bogie, with new light animating his anxious eye and cheek. "What do you know? There's somethin' to help me on a bit, I guess."

"O, I'm sorry I spoke," said Troffater, and spit through his teeth. "I don't know nothin' about it. I don't want to go afore Fabens, and be obleeged to look 'im in the face. I wish I'd never seen Sculpin, nor his little thievin' capers."

"Don't bother me, now," said Bogle. "If ye know anything—and I bleeve ye dew—out with it, and be my witness. I'm afraid it'll give me a sweat to beat 'im arter all. Out with it, Tilly."

"O, go long! go long!" said Troffater. "I hope you'll lick the rascal. He's guilty's a dog. But don't ax me, now, what I know! I wouldn't go afore Fabens for a fat turkey, I wouldn't. And then agin, why should I want to hurt Sculpin, or lay a straw in his way? Mebby he'll dew better, sense the trap liked to ketch 'im; and I'm sure I don't want to expose him."

"But tell me what you know, if you stay away from court," said Bogle.
"Tell me, and relieve my mind."

"Go long, I say, and don't ax me agin, for I don't know nothin'—that
I'd like to tell in court."

"I shall suppeeny you!" cried Bogle, departing in a huff.

"Don't ye dew it, Bogle! O, don't ye dew it for all the world, Bogle!
I shall hev a caniption fit if ye dew!" shouted Troffater after him.

The next day Bogle came before the justice with evidence against Sculpin, which Fabens regretted to believe was but too well founded; and he issued a warrant, and a week from that day the action was brought to trial.

The crowd of spectators was large, and the interest felt by all, at least, curious and wakeful. Squire Fabens took his magisterial seat with an air of unaffected gravity, glanced around the assembly with a mild, intelligent eye, and presented before them a noble form and reverend mien, which inspired the virtuous, with new admiration for goodness, and filled the vicious with secret remorse and apparent shame for the evil of their doings.

Cicero Bray, Esq., appeared as counsel for the plaintiff, and C. Fox
Faddle, Esq., was counsel for the prisoner.

Lawyer Bray was a mountainous man, about thirty-five years old; and he had impudence ingrained with his brawny meat and muscles, and his tongue, let loose, would run like a mill-stream. His head rose a little above his ears, and was huge of girth in a horizontal measure. His hair was a sort of wolf's gray, was clipped all over within an inch of his head, and stood up like the bristles on a wild boar's back. His brows were bushy, and jutted, roof-like, over his deeply-sunken eyes; his nose was bluff as a bull-dog's; his cheek-bones were rough and high; his eyes were wide-set; his mouth was cut square across almost from ear to ear; his chin was square and massy; he had an Adam's apple as large as a gilly-flower ripening on his throat; his hands were large and bony, and his voice "grated harsh thunder," as Milton said of the gates of hell.

Lawyer Bray was prompt and saucy in court, and often won his case in other towns by the thunder of his voice and the force of his action while on the floor. He could always read an abundance of law to sustain any point he argued, although the law quoted might not be found written in the book. He was a capital shot, and kept a pair of the fleetest hounds, and often hauled in his shingle and hunted week in and week out, leaving business to follow suit. He made light of religious and sacred things; he could curse the sky when it thundered, and swear the lights blue with the boldest voluble tongue; and yet he would appeal to God to judge him in a plea, and silence, and exclude a witness for any unpopular religious belief. He rose to an extensive business in the towns about, at last; and is quoted at this day, for some wild gale of a speech, or some saucy joke, or strange adventure.

Lawyer Faddle was equally original. He was as tall as Bray, whenever he straightened up in an animated speech; but his long form commonly bent over, and described a segment of a rainbow. His head was small, and his hair long and thin, and light and shiny as flax; his eyes were almost white, and were set obliquely; his nose was long, aquiline, and pinched together in the nostrils; his teeth were long and broad, and those above shut over upon his lower lip and kept it in a constant chafe. His voice was clear enough, and it never failed in a speech; but it seemed to reside in his little thirsty throat, and it piped like a killdeer's in its proudest swell.

Lawyer Faddle excited some mirth for his originalities, and more contempt for his vices among the farmers of Summerfield. The opinion of the town at that time may be given in the language of Uncle Walter, who declared he was "hollow and foul as a sooty stove-pipe."

Lawyer Faddle however succeeded in creating an extensive business in time, though most of his cases an honorable lawyer would have scorned; and he reared a large family, and wanted to figure in later times as one of the aristocracy of Summerfield.

Cicero Bray opened the case by a lengthened speech of very ambitious eloquence, paying several unfelt compliments to the 'justice' and 'wisdom' of the 'worthy magistrate;' while he glanced through the course of the trial, with an air and tone of triumph, stating in thunder what he should undertake to sustain in evidence; and after a most exhausting peroration, he hauled in his ragged voice, and arrested its rumbling echoes, and gave way for a brief remark from the counsel for the prisoner. A son of the plaintiff, Welcome Bogle, was then introduced to the stand, and testified that his father had owned a log-chain with the initials of his name, "S. B." marked on one of the hooks; and the chain in court being shown him, he said with audible and honest emphasis, "Yes, that's the article." He was cross-examined, with considerable tact and much severity by C. Fox Faddle, Esq.; but he stood the trial with remarkable composure and consistency, making no variation of the facts testified, although he gave them in different connections and words.

'Becca Ann Teezle was next introduced. She had again and again declared she was not afraid of a lawyer, and on this occasion her words proved true. Without the slightest diffidence, but with a boldness rather which encouraged the other witnesses, and with a toss of the head that Lawyer Faddle did not like, she said, "she had been out in the woods pasture picking blackberries, and saw Mr. Sculpin pass that way from the direction of Mr. Bogle's barn, with a chain on his back."

When cross-examined, she stated that "it was slung over his right shoulder, and under his left arm, and it was not a trace chain, nor a halter chain, nor a breast chain, as Mr. C. Fox Faddle endeavored to have it appear, but a log-chain; yes, sir, a log chain, for I saw it with my own eyes."

"Then you sometimes see with eyes not your own, do you, Miss Teezle?" said Lawyer Faddle with a comical leer, and a peculiar pipe of that killdeer voice.

"Yes, I take owl's eyes when I want to look at a lawyer."

"Why do you do that, Miss Teezle? what can owls see that you cannot see with your own eyes, Miss Teezle?" asked the lawyer, attempting to turn the laugh back from himself upon her.

"They can see low fowl creatures in the dark," replied the blooming maiden.

"Enough of this," said the lawyer; "and if Miss Rebecca Ann saw these things with her own eyes, can she name any circumstances? Did you notice Mr. Sculpin very particularly? Did he seem confused and agitated when you met him? or was he calm,—was he possessed?"

"He was possessed—at least of the chain."

"Indeed, Miss Teezle, and you are certain of this; and now can you tell me if it was when you were going after the berries, that you saw him; or after you had picked them, and had started after home?"

"It was after we had been after the berries, and after we had started after home."

"Yes; and did you notice the gait in which he moved along; notice it with your own eyes, Rebecca?"

"He was in the gate of the woods pasture south of Mr. Bogle's when we saw him last."

"Yes, and you are so wise and discerning, you can tell whether his course across the field, was straight or crooked?"

"Crooked, sir."

"About how crooked? can you tell this court, Miss Teezle?"

"Crooked as your questions, sir," the confident girl replied; and though the lawyer appealed to the court several times to "silence the insolence" of this witness before she was through; the court protected the witness and rebuked the lawyer for impertinent questions, and the insolence he charged upon her.

Nancy Nimblet was called, and she testified that "She was with 'Becca Ann Teezle, on the time specified, and she remembered it too, as if it was yesterday; and the prisoner came from the direction of the complainant's barn, with a log-chain round him, over his right shoulder, and under his left arm." Lawyer Faddle declining her cross-examination, Adonijah Nixon was called. He testified that Mr. Bogle and he were second cousins. Cicero Bray objected to this as not relevant; C. Fox Faddle insisted that it was relevant, and after some arguing and sparring, the justice ruled it out. Then Mr. Nixon said, "on Simon's having expressed to me a suspicion that Jared had taken the chain, I went with him to Jared's house and found the chain which you see before you."

Seneca Waldron and Crispus Flaxman were called; but their evidence was challenged and ruled out for non-age.

G. W. Pugg was called, and no one answered. G. W. Pugg, repeated the magistrate, slighting the initials and laying most emphasis on the name. No one answered; but two persons in the corner, a father and son, exchanged significant glances and looked very acute and wise. The Squire raised his voice, and let it fall like an auctioneer's hammer on the name.

"G. W. Pugg—is Mr. Pugg in the room?"

At that imperative question, the gray-skirted, bushy-headed, grog-bruising hunter of a father in the corner, rose and said, "Call 'im George Washintun, then I guess he'll cum!"

"George WASHINGTON PUGG; will you come and testify?" said the Squire with an emphasis on all the names, but rising and fairly hammering the last; when a greedy-eyed, brockle-faced, over-grown blade of seventeen opened up like a flax-brake, and loped forward over chairs and benches, responding in a houndish flat-and-treble voice, "I reckon I'll doo't! O yis, I reckon I will, Square Fabens."

The business of the court then proceeded, and when his evidence was taken, Tilly Troffater mounted the stand, with an affected hesitancy, and a genuine restlessness of his little earthen eyes; eager to indulge his meddlesome humor, anxious for revenge upon, he little cared whom, and yet awed to a look of shuffling shame, by the commanding mien of the justice. Clambering to his place, he was questioned by the court.

"Well, friend Troffater, what do you know of the action pending?"

"I telled Bogle I was sorry I knew anything for I didn't want to come to court," said the witness.

"But, what do you know, Mr. Troffater, that would tend to convict the prisoner? Tell us that," said the court.

"I don't want to tell," said the witness. "Let the critter go clear, for all me. I wouldn't lay a straw afore im. Mebby that's the last o' his thievin' capers. If 'tis, I wouldn't tell what I know for all on airth."

"You do know something, Mr. Troffater," interrupted Cicero Bray, Esq., obstreperously; "you know something, upon which we greatly depend to convict the prisoner, and vindicate the majesty of law, and I insist upon your evidence, sir."

"Insist, then, dew ye!" asked Troffater, gathering up into a comical attitude; crossing and flashing his black and blue eyes, spitting through his teeth, and ranging the stand, like a dancing bear. "Insist, dew ye, eh? Wal, I spose then I must free my mind; but, think I'd ruther not."

"Go on, go on, Mr. Troffater, and bother us no longer in this way," said the court.

"Wal, I spose I must, if Mr. Cis-a-roe there raily insists. All I know about Sculpin is, one night I went down there, and we got to playin' cairds, and he acted green as a mess o' cowslops at fust, and then he cheated; and—O, I can't, I can't tell the story. I wouldn't hurt Sculpin for the world. Carry me off, and stick me in jail, if you want to. I won't tell, so there! I'll go to jail fust, and let the pismires carry me out o' the keyhole!—But what's this, I say? Mister Cis-ai-roe Bray, Esquare, insists that I shall tell. Wal, then, as I was goin' to say, he cheated, and so, so, I cheated a little tew, and by'n by, he got mad, and knocked me into a next-week sleep, and in that sleep I seen a dream, and in that dream I seen him steal the log-chain. And now, if ye'll hand over my witness fee, I'll be out o' this quicker'n ye ken say Jack Robison."

Needless, indeed, were the task, if possible, to describe the sensation created by this amazing disclosure; and we may only add in conclusion, that the prisoner was convicted on other testimony; and after an earnest admonition from the justice, on the turpitude of crime and its dreadful miseries, Jared Sculpin was sentenced to give Simon Bogle one good day's work, and one good fleece of wool for his time lost in hunting the chain, and in bringing the offender to justice; to carry the chain on his back through the main travelled road, in open daylight, and humbly ask Simon Bogle's pardon.

The terms of the sentence were promptly and fully complied with, and it was ever afterward said of Jared Sculpin, that he was an altered man, and a virtuous citizen.