Then Mr. Newboy questioned him about the occurrence; asked him if he recollected such a day, and where he had been, and where he was going, and a variety of other questions; the answer to every one of which provoked fresh laughter; until, after much floundering on the part of both himself and Mr. Newboy, as though they were engaged in a wrestling match, he was asked by the learned Judge “to tell them exactly what happened. Let him tell his own story,” said the Judge.
“Ha!” said everybody; “now we shall hear something!”
“I wur a gwine,” began Bumpkin, “hoame—”
“That’s not evidence,” said Mr. Nimble.
“How so?” asks the Judge.
“It doesn’t matter where he was going to, my lord, but where he was!”
“Well, that is so,” says the Judge; “you mustn’t tell us, Mr. Bumpkin, whither you were going, but where you were!”
Bumpkin scratched his head; there were too many where’s for him.
“Can’t yon tell us,” says Mr. Newboy, “where you were?”
“Where I were?” says Bumpkin.