“The Grand Jury do present Charles Potum, for living an idle, lazy life, following no settled employment. Major Bryant Pembleton is joined with the Selectmen of Cape Porpus, to dispose of Potum according to law, and to put him under family government.” Small chance was there, in the primitive times of which we speak, for any rogue or knave to escape punishment for his offences. There was no complaint then “of the law’s delay.” Justice was meted out with certainty and despatch. Could this great and wicked city of New York be blest with an administration of justice as prompt, as searching, and as effective, what a world of crime might be prevented. Now, in the multiplied refinements of law and legislation, there are a thousand chances for the culprit to escape the punishment he deserves. The labor of government is now so much divided and subdivided, that the villain, before he meets with his deserts, has to go through almost as many hands as a brass pin does in being manufactured; and it is ten to one if he does not slip through the fingers of some of them, and escape at last. In the first place we must have a Legislature to make up a batch of laws to keep on hand ready for use, for the regulation of society, and the punishment of wrong-doing. After that, the Legislature has no more care over the laws than the ostrich has over her eggs, but leaves them to hatch out as they may. Then we must have a judiciary; and the culprit who has committed a crime or misdemeanor, must be carried into court for trial. After the matter is clearly proved out, fair and square, the court hunts up the laws that the Legislature has made, and if there is one that exactly applies to the case in every point and tittle, the fellow may stand some chance of being punished. If the law does not so apply, he is told he may go. When the law suits the case, the court orders the delinquent to be punished; and he is then handed over to another set of officers, who belong to the executive branch of the government; and if these all happen to do their duty throughout, and no mistake, punishment after a while follows the crime. Two hundred years ago, in the New England colonies, things were not left at such loose ends. Then the work of government was bound up in a snug bundle. The legislative, judicial, and executive powers were all vested in the same body, who, of course, always knew what they had to do, and could always tell when that work was done. This omnipotent body in a number of instances was styled the General Court; an appellation which is applied to the legislative department in the old Bay State unto this day.