The Puddleford Papers Part 28

Squire Longbow had returned much more matter to the court than he was required to do by his affidavit, which has not been stated--mere speculations of his own about the law and facts of the case as they appeared before him, all of which he said the court "orter know."

The judge of the county court was an enlarged edition of Longbow himself--enlarged, because his jurisdiction was greater. He was one of the foremost men of the county, because he was one of the most independent. He owned a great deal of land, and a great deal of stock--bought and sold much--and had acquired a practical knowledge of the way things were done in a new country. He had been school inspector, highway commissioner, supervisor, and member of the legislature, and he was now judge. He did not know any law, except what Bates, Turtle, and other kindred pettifoggers had taught him--and when he shot at a case, he shot in the dark. He was right half of the time upon the result of chances; and that, perhaps, was doing as well as half the judges do, who pretend to more knowledge in the profession. He was a stumpy, red-headed man, and very "percussion" in his decisions--gave very short or no reasons for them--and like Longbow, didn't know a technicality from a sign-post.

The law points in the appeal were first to be argued--if Turtle failed on them, he was then ent.i.tled to a trial on the facts.

Turtle argued his law points in a pile. He flung the whole return at the judge in gross, playing first upon this string, and then upon that, abusing everybody connected with the cause but his own witnesses and himself, until he blew himself almost entirely out of breath.

He began by flattering the court. "It was sunthin'," he said, "to have a county court to 'peal up to--if 'twarn't for that, he'd stop business--Squire Longbow had got so that la' warn't la' any more with him.

When he first came inter the settlement, he was a pretty good justis, but he was as woolly as a sheep now. If he got a crotchet inter his head, you couldn't beat it out--he was worse now than he was afore he got married the second time. The cause below was killed by him--he was 'torney, and justis, and jury--he had 'greed to go for defendant from the start--had knock'd the jury inter fits by takin' Sile Bates off on't agin la'--had let folks in to swear that hadn't lived in the State six months, and n.o.body know'd whether they were to be believed or not; but the presumption of la' was agin 'em--that he cuss'd him for it, but that didn't do any good--that the Squire drank himself, and let the jury get drunk, shocking as the fact might be--and yet he warn't a drunken man--rather a sober man--but it was done by him to fuddle the jury, and spile his cause--that he let in the al_might_-i-est set-off he ever _did_ hear on--the very thought on't was 'nough to give this court spasms--and this court orter for that, if for nothin' else, 'point a guar-_dine_ over him--that he told him when he did it, that he'd foller the case to the backside of sundown, and blow him inter flinders, but he didn't seem to care 'bout it--that the jury _did_ flop on the verdict, and the justis' knew it, and his return warn't worth shucks on that p'int"--and so on for an hour or more, until he became exhausted.

Sile Bates rose and said, "that, 'cordin' to the return of the justice, Turtle's speech was a _lie_!"

Mr. Turtle hurled an inkstand and contents at Bates's head, which besmeared him from head to foot.

Mr. Bates hurled another back at him, which emptied its contents upon Mr.

Turtle.

The court called them both to order, reminding them that things were going too far.

Mr. Bates declared "it _was_ a lie!"

Mr. Turtle said "he should boot him if the word was repeated."

Mr. Bates repeated the word, and was booted through the court-house door.

Difficulties being settled, counsel appeared in court very amiable, covered with ink, ready to proceed.

Mr. Turtle attempted to 'pologize to the court--"he had no 'pology for Bates."

The court remarked that "it wasn't necessary--the doctrine of set-off would apply."

Mr. Bates said he had no speech to make--the court knew the justice who made the return--if it believed him, then Turtle might as well cave.

During this uproar, Philista Filkins with _her_ friends, and Charity Beadle with _her_ friends, each troop ranged round their counsel, were looking upon this war of words with the most intense anxiety. Miss Filkins had attired herself for the occasion in a mussy c.r.a.pe dress, a pinched-up hat, and a black shawl, being, as she said, in affliction. She declared that Miss Beagle tried to "spile" her character, and she felt it, for that when that was gone, one might as well give up, and die. She carried a deep-set grievance in her face, a fixed anguish, which occasionally broke up into a snuffle. She was sustained, however, as has been seen, in her trials, by a few benevolent Puddleford ladies, who had most magnanimously followed her and her case, reckless of time and money, and who said, "they meant to see the end on't, cost what it might."

Miss Beadle and _her_ friends were a very different-looking tempered body.

They were charged to the brim with acid and red pepper. They looked and felt lightning, and any one could see at a glance that they meant to fight as long as there was a hair of their friend left. It was generally understood that they had agreed to "throw in around" and help Miss Charity out, and her case had now, of course, become their case, and Bates was as much their lawyer as Miss Beadle's lawyer--and Turtle, when he got "ramptious," was jest as "sa.s.sy" to them as he was to the court, or Miss Beadle, they said--"and if they were not greatly mistaken, he'd see the day that he'd repent on't."

The women who composed these two hostile factions got into several side-fights between themselves, what Ike called "collateral ish-ers"--and twitted each other of a dozen or more dead and buried slanders, which had for a long time been forgotten. Mrs. Bird gave Aunt Sonora a regular "runnin' over," as she call'd it--"a piece of her mind, that would last her as long as she liv'd." She told Aunt Sonora, who was one of Miss Filkins's body-guard, that "she was a _pretty_ old woman to come up _thar_ and try to screen that Filkins _critter_--_she'd better_ stick up for _her_--she was a _nice_ old woman--a _handsum_ old woman--a _beau_-tiful old woman--she'd better be home a-takin' care on her children--she'd better be a mendin' her husband's old breeches--it would look a great deal better. What if Filkins had lied as much about her, or her old man, she'd ask her that. Guess'd she'd make the fur fly some--guess'd she wouldn't-er stood it no longer than other folks--guess'd she couldn't get along without a character better'n other people--guess'd she hadn't got any too much to brag on, anyhow, if reports were true--s'pose she should rake up all she'd heer'd about _her_, and go tellin' it round arter everybody, where would _she_ be.

Bah! how I hate sich folks," she continued, putting on one of her most contemptible faces, and spitting like a mad cat, at Aunt Sonora.

Aunt Sonora was a philosopher on such occasions. She knew the storm would soon blow over, and that Mrs. Bird would be "round," to take tea with her, in less than a week--so she took a quiet pinch of snuff, and told Mrs. Bird in reply, that "she'd call onto the court, if she cut any more of her antics round her--she ought-er recollect she was in the high court, and they didn't 'low any flabbergastin' in sich places; she'd be in jail quicker'n scart first thing she know'd, and her hull pack with her, if they didn't keep mighty mum. She wasn't in Puddleford now, _she'd_ find, if she let her mouth spit bile at that rate."

Mrs. Bird sobered down.

Squire Longbow was also present, to see the end of this famous suit. The Squire usually followed his cases into the county court, "to look arter 'em," as he said, "and to explain things." He was dressed in his best suit of homespun, and also had on his most dignified air. He did not even wince during the scathing Turtle gave him and his return, feeling perfectly sure that he couldn't be hurt by any country 'torney in the upper courts. He "ray-ther thought he was known thar." The county judge, in a very summary and careless manner, decided, "the p'ints Mr. Turtle had raised warn't good; they were all agin the return of the justis'; and he must pay respect to the lower courts."

(Here Squire Longbow drew his pocket handkerchief and blew his nose like a trumpet, to call the attention of the by-standers to the decision.)

He would repeat--this for the benefit of the Squire, evidently--"they were all agin the return of the justis', who was an old magistrate, and had did a great deal of business."

(Here the Squire bowed his head, by way of a.s.sent, to the court.)

"The court orter say, further, that Mr. Turtle's affidavit was _sworn_ to, and how he could have sworn to such an affidavit, right agin the return of the justis', was mor'n he know'd; perhaps Mr. Turtle know'd _himself_, and could inform the court."

Mr. Turtle said that was _his_ business. Mr. Turtle spoke very short, for he was greatly nettled.

The court said, "it didn't make any difference--it warn't neither here nor thar--the p'ints were all squashed, and that was his decision; costs to go agin Turtle."

"Agin Turtle," exclaimed Ike, rising, "costs agin Turtle!"

"Agin Turtle's _client_," said the court, correcting himself.

"That sounds a leetle more like a court of justis'," added Ike; "but it was a bull-head decision, he would say that, if he rotted in jail for contempt, that is, if anybody could commit contempt agin such a ba.s.s-wood-headed court, as this had got-ter be!"

A jury was now about to be impanelled to try the case between Filkins and Beadle a second time, and this was no small matter. The whole county had heard of this remarkable suit, and had talked about it, and each person had allied himself or herself to the parties. A very small matter will throw a new country into a tempest of excitement, as a very few matters of importance exist to get excited about. When the panel was filled, and the clerk had announced that fact to the court, Ike saw, or thought he saw, some of the most violent Beadle men in the county among the number. He had only two peremptory challenges, and if he could not remove some of them for "_cause_," as the books say, "he was gone up," as he thought to himself.

Mr. Buzzlebaum, a hickory-headed farmer, with short hair, which stuck up all over his head like a porcupine's quills, was a very dangerous man. Ike knew he was a bachelor, and he had been strongly suspected of "paying some attention" to Miss Beadle; so Ike put a few questions to Mr. Buzzlebaum.

"Mr. Buzzle_baum_," exclaimed Ike, "you a juryman in this case?"

Mr. Buzzlebaum said he was.

"Y--e--s," drawled Ike, "so I see," as if he had got on the panel fraudulently some way.

"Know Miss Beadle?"

"Yes!"

"You do know the 'oman then?"

"Yes!"

"Sot up at her house any?"

"Sot up!"

"Yes, sot up; don't you know what that is by this time, at your time-er life, Mr. Buzzlebaum?"

"Well, what of it?" asked Mr. Buzzlebaum.

"What--of--it! Je-ru-sa-lem!" exclaimed Ike, slapping a book on the table, and looking fury at the court. "The man says 'what of it?'--sittin' up with the defendant _nights_ a-courtin' her, and then wants to know what of it?

Wouldn't he be a pretty man to try this case?"

"Sot up _where_?" inquired Buzzlebaum.

"How do _I_ know where! Ever talk of marryin' the 'oman, hey?"

"_Wal!_" heaved Buzzlebaum.