On the next occasion both Hugh and his brother James were charged with stealing a team of bullocks, but this time the assistance of Barton was not available.  The evidence against the young men was overwhelming, and we committed them for trial.  I could not help pitying them for having gone astray so early in life.  They were both tall and strong, intelligent and alert, good stockmen, and quite able to earn an honest living in the bush.  They had been taught their duty well by Philip, but bad example and bad company out of school had led them astray.  The owner of the bullocks, an honest young boor named Cowderoy, was sworn and gave his evidence clearly.  Hugh and James knew him well.  They had no lawyer to defend them, and when the Crown Prosecutor sat down, there seemed no loophole left for the escape of the accused, and I mentally sentenced them to seven years on the roads, the invariable penalty for their offence.

But now the advantages of a good moral education were brilliantly exemplified.

“Have you any questions to put to this witness?” asked the Judge of the prisoners.

“Yes, your Honour,” said Hugh.  Then turning to Cowderoy, he said:  “Do you know the nature of an oath?”

The witness looked helplessly at Hugh, then at the Judge and Crown Prosecutor; stood first on one leg, then on the other; leaned down with his elbows on the edge of the witness-box apparently staggering under the weight of his own ignorance.

“Why don’t you answer the question?” asked the Judge sharply.  “Do you know the nature of an oath?”

Silence.

Mr. Armstrong saw his case was in danger of collapse, so he said:  “I beg to submit, your Honour, that this question comes too late and should have been put to the witness before he was sworn.  He has already taken the oath and given his evidence.”

“The question is a perfectly fair one, Mr. Armstrong,” said the Judge:  and turning to the witness he repeated:  “Do you know the nature of an oath?”

“No,” said Cowderoy.

The prisoners were discharged, thanks to their good education.

A VALIANT POLICE-SERGEANT.

Sergeant Hyde came to my office and asked me to accompany him as far as Murray Street.  He said there was a most extraordinary dispute between a white woman and a black lubra about the ownership of a girl, and he had some doubts whether it was a case within the jurisdiction of a police-court, but thought we might issue a summons for illegal detention of property.  He wanted me to advise him, and give my opinion on the matter, and as by this time my vast experience of Justices’ law entitled me to give an opinion on any imaginable subject, I very naturally complied with his request.  He was, moreover, a man so remarkable that a request by him for advice was of itself an honour.  In his youth he had been complimented on the possession of a nose exactly resembling that