The Court of Inquiry met. It was composed of officers of high rank. After a long and patient investigation, and the most accurate ascertainment of the number of gills of rum, whisky, and brandy sold to Trap's recruits by Sim Travers, and by Peter Ounce, and a careful arithmetical computation of the value thereof in money; and, after a laborious examination into Sim Travers's politics, as also into those of Peter Ounce, the trial resulted in the conclusion that Sim Travers was not so good a New Light as he professed to be, (this was founded on evidence that Sim had said "he would leave the party if he couldn't get his share of spiles,") and that Peter Ounce's politics were, in fact, not known to Sergeant Trap at the time he dealt with him: whereupon Trap was acquitted of each and every charge brought against him; although Theodore Fog, the Counsel for the Secret Committee, took upon himself to inform the Sergeant, somewhat authoritatively, that as he was now aware of the dangerous tendency of Ounce's principles, the President would expect him to close all accounts at the said Peter's bar, and to be more circumspect the next time.
It was generally admitted, and indeed was the common talk of the Borough, that in this notable trial Eliphalet Fox dodged, that Billy Goodlack dodged, that Sim Travers dodged, and that Tom Crop actually skulked. And the general effect of the whole was to cut the combs of the True Grits so thoroughly, that it is believed they will never rise again. Flan Sucker made a jest of this, very much to the annoyance of his friends—for Flan had taken a violent fancy to Sergeant Trap, and even at one time, it was supposed, had an idea of enlisting. He used to sit up with the Sergeant of nights and drink a good deal with him through the day, and by this means very naturally became quite a crony. He therefore exulted much more than a True Grit, it was conceived, ought, at the Sergeant's triumphant acquittal. "Sargeant Trap," said he, "Locumsgillied Liphlet Fox;" and as this expression requires an explanation, he gave it, to this effect.
"Joe Snare, the bailiff over here in Tumbledown, fotch a suit before Squire Honeywell, agin Ike Swingletree for twenty-five dollars, on a cart which Joe sold him. Joe drawed up a note of hand for Ike to sign, which Ike did; and Ike never thought no more about it. Joe kept askin' for his money, year after year, year after year, tell at last he got tired, and so fotch the suit. Ike found out at the trial that the Squire was goin' to give judgment agin him; so what does he do but sashrary the case!—whereby the case was tuck up to the Court. Well, when they came on to trial there, Ike had a lawyer who found out that the note of hand was more than three years old, and there hadn't been no promise to pay in the mean time. Thereupon the Court told Joe Snare, if he hadn't nothing to say agin' it, they must give judgment for Ike on the Statute of Lamentations. Is it that, your honor? said Snare—for Joe being bailiff was pretty well up to law, and pled his own cause;—well, may it please your honor, maybe the statue is agin me, but, your honor, I drawed up the note of hand myself, and if you'll just be so kind to look in the corner under the dog's-ear, you'll see two letters at the eend of Ike Swingletree's name tantamount to L. S., which, as I understand, your honor, goes for Locumsgilly—whereby it takes twelve years, if I'm not mistaken, to kill the note of hand, bekase that's a bond. The judge looked and looked, and then sot up a laugh; and Ike Swingletree began to turn a little pale. Joe, says the judge, you're right, says he: that alters the case, and you must have the judgment. Joe, says he, you have beaten the lawyer and his client both—you're a clever fellow, and will get your money. So Joe accordingly got the judgment, and came off mightily pleased. And when he was tellin' me about the matter next day, he burst out in a great haw-haw, and couldn't hardly talk for laughing: Ike Swingletree, said he, sashraried me, but I reckon I Locumsgillied him.
"Well, that's just what Sergeant Trap has done to Liphlet Fox—Locumsgillied him beautiful."
[CHAPTER XX.]
THESE CHRONICLES DRAW TO A CLOSE—THE NEW LIGHTS NOT DISPLEASED WITH ELIPHALET FOX'S DISCOMFITURE—PASSAGE OF THE INDEPENDENT TREASURY BILL, AND REJOICING THEREON IN QUODLIBET—CHANGES—INTERESTING LETTER FROM THE DIBBLE FAMILY—MR. FLAM RETURNS TO QUODLIBET—HIS VIEWS OF THE CANVASS—THE PRESIDENT'S RELIANCE ON THE INTELLIGENCE OF THE PEOPLE—IGNOMINY AND INSULT OF FEDERALISM—ELECTIONS IN KENTUCKY, INDIANA, AND NORTH CAROLINA—ALABAMA, MISSOURI, AND ILLINOIS—PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION—CONSTERNATION OF THE QUODS—MEETING OF THE CLUB—QUARREL OF THEODORE FOG AND HON. MIDDLETON FLAM—DEFECTION OF FOG AND SUNDRY TRUE GRITS—SECOND SPLIT—GREAT UPROAR AND CONFUSION.
My patient and indulgent reader will doubtless agree with me that it is time these gossiping chronicles were brought to a close. Indeed, I am so near upon the heels of the day in which I write, and the printer so near upon mine, that little remains to be said. I shall therefore dispatch what remains of my memoranda with such speed as shall suit my reader's longing for the end.