"It is a very extraordinary thing," said the judge, "that they will have such clocks in the country. Neither the clocks nor the rural police ever go right. You may go down, witness." "Timothy Stanley" was now called; and something very small was seen making its way resolutely through the court towards the witness-box. The persons near stared at the child and drew back, treading on the toes of those behind; and one of the officers of the court caught hold of him to administer the oath. But the judge, who had a conscience, though it was peculiarly organized, shouted out: "Stay, stay! That is an infant. Put him in the box for a moment before you swear him. Give him something to stand upon;" and, adjusting his spectacles, he gazed at the small intelligent features of the boy with interest and curiosity. "Do you know the nature of an oath, my little man?" asked the judge at length. The boy remained silent for a few seconds; and then the voice of Chandos Winslow was heard amidst the stillness of the court, saying aloud, "That he does, my lord. I taught him." "Why does he not answer then?" demanded the judge. "Because your language, my lord, is perhaps above his comprehension," replied the prisoner. "He is here as a witness against me; but if you would permit me to suggest, you would ask him first, What are the consequences of a lie?" "Tell me, my little man," said the judge; "do you know what are the consequences of a lie?" "Disgrace and shame amongst men, and the anger of Almighty God," replied the boy, readily. The judge wiped his spectacles; for something touched him. "Now, if you would pardon me, my lord," said the prisoner, "you would inquire, What are the consequences of calling upon God to witness a falsehood?" "Do you know, boy," asked the judge, "what is the consequences of taking God's name to a falsehood?" "The loss of his protection for ever," said the little witness, "for the greatest offence and insult to his truth and holiness." There were several eyes had tears in them, and the judge said, "Swear him--you may swear him." "I won't be sworn!" said Tim, stoutly. "Why not, boy?" demanded the judge. "Because I won't say anything that may hurt him," rejoined the boy, pointing to the dock. There was again a silence, and Tim stood resolutely in the witness-box with his hands in his pockets, and his eyes fixed upon Chandos Winslow. "My dear boy," said the prisoner; "nothing you can say will hurt me if you tell 'the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,' as they will put the oath to you. But if you are silent, they will think you know something against me." "Oh! that I don't," cried the boy, clasping his hands. "Then take the oath, and tell the whole truth," said Chandos; "by so doing you will do me more good than by any other course." The boy gazed in his face for an instant, and then said, "Well, I will, then; for you always tell the truth; and I am sure you would not cheat me."