Odd passages, too, between pertinacious counsel and nettled judges sometimes occurred, as when Mr. H. J. Boulton, fresh from the Inner Temple, sat down at the peremptory order of the Chief Justice, but added, "I will sit down, my Lord, but I shall instantly stand up again."
Chief Justice Powell, when on the Bench, had a humorous way occasionally, of indicating by a kind of quiet by-play, by a gentle shake of the head, a series of little nods, or movements of the eye or eyebrow, his estimate of an outré hypothesis or an ad captandum argument. This was now and then disconcerting to advocates anxious to figure, for the moment, in the eyes of a simple-minded jury, as oracles of extra authority.
Nights, likewise, there would be to be described, passed by juries in the diminutive jury-room, either through perplexity fairly arising out of the evidence, or through the dogged obstinacy of an individual.
Once, as we have heard from a sufferer on the occasion, Colonel Duggan was the means of keeping a jury locked up for a night here, he being the sole dissentient on a particular point. That night, however, was converted into one of memorable festivity, our informant said, a tolerable supply of provisions and comforts having been conveyed in through the window, sent for from the homes of those of the jury who were residents of York. The recusant Colonel was refused a moment's rest throughout the live-long night. During twelve long hours pranks and sounds were indulged in that would have puzzled a foreigner taking notes of Canadian Court House usages.
When 10 o'clock a.m. of the next day arrived, and the Court re-assembled, Colonel Duggan suddenly and obligingly effected the release of himself and his tormentors by consenting to make the necessary modification in his opinion.
Of one characteristic scene we have a record in the books of the Court itself. On the 12th of January, 1813, as a duly impanelled jury were retiring to their room to consider of their verdict, a remark was addressed to one of their number, namely, Samuel Jackson, by a certain Simeon Morton, who had been a witness for the defence: the remark, as the record notes, was in these words, to wit, "Mind your eye!" to which the said Jackson replied "Never fear!" The Crier of the Court, John Bazell, duly made affidavit of this illicit transaction. Accordingly, on the appearance in court of the jury, for the purpose of rendering their verdict, Mr. Baldwin, attorney for the prosecution, moved that the said Jackson be taken into custody: and the Judge gave order "that Samuel Jackson do immediately enter into recognizances, himself in £50, and two sureties in £25 each, for his appearance on the Saturday following at the Office of the Clerk of the Peace, which," as the record somewhat inelegantly adds, "he done." He duly appeared on the Saturday indicated, and, pleading ignorance, was discharged.
In the Court House in 1822 was tried a curious case in respect of a horse claimed by two parties, Major Heward, of York, and General Wadsworth, commandant of the United States Garrison at Fort Niagara. Major Heward had reared a sorrel colt on his farm east of the Don; and when it was three years old it was stolen. Nothing came of the offer of reward for its recovery until a twelvemonth after the theft, when a young horse was brought by a stranger to Major Heward, at York, and instantly recognized by him as his lost property. Some of the major's neighbours likewise had no doubt of the identity of the animal, which, moreover, when taken to the farm entered of his own accord the stable, and the stall, the missing colt used to occupy, and, when let out into the adjoining pasture, greeted in a friendly way a former mate, and ran to drink at the customary watering place. Shortly after, two citizens of the United States, Kelsey and Bond, make their appearance at York and claim the horse which they find on Major Heward's farm, as the property of General Wadsworth, commandant at Fort Niagara. Kelsey swore that he had reared the animal; that he had docked him with his own hands when only a few hours old; and that he had sold him about a year ago to General Wadsworth. Bond also swore positively that this was the horse which Kelsey had reared, and that he himself had broken him in, prior to the sale to General Wadsworth. It was alleged by these persons that a man named Docksteader had stolen the horse from General Wadsworth at Fort Niagara and had conveyed him across to the Canadian side.
In consequence of the positive evidence of these two men the jury gave their verdict in favour of General Wadsworth's claim, with damages to the amount of £50. It was nevertheless generally held that Kelsey and Bond's minute narrative of the colt's early history was a fiction; and that Docksteader, the man who transferred the animal from the United States side of the river to Canadian soil, had also had something to do with the transfer of the same animal from Canada to the United States a twelvemonth previously.
The subject of this story survived to the year 1851, and was recognized and known among all old inhabitants as "Major Heward's famous horse Toby."
Within the Court House on Richmond Street took place in 1818 the celebrated trial of a number of prisoners brought down from the Red River Settlement on charges of "high treason, murder, robbery, and conspiracy," as preferred against them by Lord Selkirk, the founder of the Settlement. When our neighbourhood was itself in fact nothing more than a collection of small isolated clearings, rough-hewn out of the wild, "the Selkirk Settlement" and the "North West" were household terms among us for remote regions in a condition of infinite savagery, in comparison with which we, as we prided ourselves, were denizens of a paradise of high refinement and civilization. Now that the Red River district has attained the dignity of a province and become a member of our Canadian Confederation, the trial referred to, arising out of the very birth-throes of Manitoba, has acquired a fresh interest.