The lost hunter: A tale of early times

by John Turvill Adams

Mr. Ketchum then began by saying, that to be sure his experience in courts was not very great, but he had some, and, so far as it went, he never knew a case plainer than the one on trial. The gentleman (bowing to Tippit), with all his ingenuity, and he was not going to deny him his due, which was greater than his knowledge of the law, had been unable to affect his own mind, or, as he believed, the mind of his honor, or of any one present. He felt, therefore, that the task before him, though an unpleasant one, was lightened by the inability of his brother Tippit to make out even a plausible defence. Peeling this, he should, if he consulted only his own inclinations, be disposed to leave the case where it was, without comment, but he supposed it was expected he should say something, and in the discharge of his duty, he would comply with the expectation. As for the character of the prisoner, he had nothing to say about it. He would neither admit that it was good, nor claim that it was bad; whatever it might be, it had nothing to do with the case. The question was, what was done at the meeting? All the witnesses agreed that the prisoner interrupted the proceedings. True, they disagreed in respect to the exact words, but take the testimony of any, and sufficient was made out to support the prosecution. Here he dwelt upon a criticism of the words, coming to conclusions precisely the opposite of Tippit's, and contending they were both profane and reviling. "It was preposterous," he claimed, "to say that Holden meant merely to criticise the book. The language was not addressed to the book, but to Davenport: the book was not called, 'man of sin,' but Davenport. The words, 'man of sin' had a peculiar meaning. They were designed in the Scriptures to express condemnation, and horror, and wickedness. They were not synonymous with 'sinful man,' though even these words might be considered words of reviling, had they been used in the same circumstances. The contempt affected by his brother Tippit was so much powder and shot thrown away. Nobody believed he really felt it. It was like the grimaces of a culprit, trying to hide his apprehensions by forced smiles." He concluded by apologizing for not being a poet, like his brother Tippit, nor as familiar with goddesses. He knew that his friend was a gallant young man, and fond of the ladies, and he would confess to the weakness himself, but as for goddesses, they were a touch above him, &c.

The court had listened with patience to both testimony and speech, and was now to pass sentence, acting up to the advice of a shrewd English lawyer, to one who without much legal learning had been appointed to a judgeship in a colony, never to give his reasons when he pronounced judgment, for although the judgment had an equal chance to be right or wrong, the reasons were almost certain to be incorrect, Justice Miller contented himself with finding the prisoner guilty, and sentenced him to a week's confinement in the town workhouse.

It was not without some surprise that the friends of Holden heard the decision. Although contemplating its possibility, they had indulged a hope that the Justice would be unwilling to subject one so harmless, and whom they considered innocent of all intention to violate the law, to any punishment; but with that reverence for law which characterizes New England, and without which there can be no security for free institutions, they submitted, although not without some murmurs. It was in vain, they knew, to ask for any mitigation; Justice Miller having once pronounced sentence, being as inexorable as the Supreme Court. The room was soon nearly emptied of the spectators, none remaining except the particular friends of the prisoner. Nothing remained but to carry the sentence into execution. Holden's friends also at last took a sorrowful leave, and the mittimus being made out, it was handed to Basset, to remove the prisoner to the place of destination.

For the sake of greater security, Basset now produced a pair of handcuffs, which he put on the condemned man's hands, who offered no objection, but calmly submitted to his fate.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Armado.—By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person: thou wert immured, captivated, bound.

Costard.—True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and
let me loose.

Armado.—I give thee thy liberty, set thee free from durance; and in lieu thereof impose on thee nothing but this.

LOVE'S LABOR LOST.

By the time the court had concluded its session it was eight o'clock in the evening. It was quite dark, and the snow was falling heavily. When, therefore, the constable stepped into the street, holding his prisoner by the arm, it is not surprising that he encountered but few passengers. Those whom he did meet had their hats or caps slouched over their brows, which were bending down upon their breasts to protect the face from the driving snow. It was impossible, so thick were the flakes, to see more than a few feet before one. It was a fortunate circumstance, inasmuch, at least, as it saved the Recluse from the humiliation of being seen by his townsmen.