"I never saw its like before," said Parkington. "I thought Annapolis was a particularly religious town."
"I guess religion is all right; it is simply the observance of it that has gone to decay. Would not you like to see our Courts in session? Come along."
They cut through School Street and came out on the Public Circle, in the centre of which stood the dilapidated State House.
"This building is a disgrace to the Colony," said Mr. Brice. "It is high time we were getting another."
"We have just as bad in London," said Parkington.
They entered by a hall and went into the court room, opposite to the door of which was the judge's seat, with the full length portrait of Queen Anne, presenting a charter to the City, high above it. Young Brice's father, John Brice, the Chief Justice of the Province, was presiding, in robes of scarlet faced with black velvet, and, as they entered, he was sentencing a man, convicted of manslaughter, to be branded in the hand with the letter M. Immediately after, another was called, who had been convicted of horse stealing, and sentenced to death.
"It seems to me," said Parkington, "that there is no justice in such punishments. There is too much difference in them."
"Horse stealing is a felony;" said Mr. Brice; "and all felonies are punishable with death."
"I know. But why should you hang a man because he stole something? You hang a man for murder, you hang a man for theft; surely, the two crimes do not justify the same punishment."