sonorous voice a little scraggy-looking Scotchman, who, without coat or vest (his shirt-sleeves rolled up, and the right leg of his nether garment tucked away beneath a coarse deck-boot), acted the double part of usher and constable.  Again directing a few legal phrases to the Squire, who bowed acknowledgingly, he turned to those present—­hoped gentlemen would take their hats off, and spit in the fire-place, seeing how the Court had been newly sanded.

“Having examined a paper, somewhat judicially, the Squire, with an air of dignified endurance, turning to his usher, said:—­’Well, I reckon, it’s best to try the case of Hornblower versus the herrins!’ Down he laid Justice’s Guide.  It seemed that on the previous night sundry fishing nets had by some mysterious process been relieved of their burden.  This, one of the Squire’s sons charged to the ingenuity, and, as he set forth without fear or trembling, stealing propensities of one skipper Hornblower, who at this time sailed a saucy-looking craft called the ‘Virtue of Cape Cod.’  This Hornblower was one of the independent school, cared not seven coppers for anybody, nor had the most virtuous respect for the nets of his neighbours; he looked the pink-perfection of a Cape Cod fisherman.  The skipper rose before his accusers; his hard, weather-bleached face looking as if his intention to throw a harpoon into somebody was the very best in the world.  Then his dark eyes flashed lightning at the Squire, who commanded the little Scotchman to read the indictment.  This suspicious looking document set forth that one skipper Hornblower, of the schooner Virtue, had feloniously, and with malice aforethought, extracted from the nets of one James Belhash, son by lawful wedlock of the presiding justice, sundry herring, mackerel, and other fish—­such as usually come into such nets, and are found on these Her Majesty’s shores.  Here the Squire interrupted by commencing an essay on the enormity of the crime; and concluded with the following pungent remark:—­’Now, Hornblower, I knows, without ginning a look in the law-book, you’re guilty; there’s always stealin done when you’re about the shore.  Anyhow! what say ye for yourself?  Remember, you’re in a Magistrate’s Court—­in the presence of a justice of the peace!’

“’So far as that is concerned, I’ll knock under, Squire; but I just wants to see yer prove a thing or two afore ye come possum over this salt-water citizen!’ returns Hornblower, spunkily, pulling from the pocket of his pea-coat a fascinating wedge of tobacco, which so tempted the Squire that he could not resist reaching out his hand and supplying his spacious mouth.  As nature, ever erring, should be generous to nature, so also did I interrupt here by offering to plead Hornblower’s case; to which meritorious object I commenced taking off my coat.

“’Don’t want nobody to soft-soap the case—­especially a Yankee—­for there’s the law in that ar’ book (here the high functionary turned down the corner of the very page on which it stood forcible to his mind), and I knows all about it—­d——­d if I don’t!’