"Now, Mr. Hicks," said the deacon, respectfully, (knowing his man,) after he had 'kissed the book,' "now, Mr. Hicks (his name was Joe Hicks, but universally called 'Saucy Joe,') please tell the justice what you know of this transaction." "Well, squire, I seed 'em!" replied Joe, to this appeal, facing the justice. "Who?" ejaculated the justice, quickly. "Who!" answered Joe, "why, who do you spose, but that'ere sour-faced feller, (pointing at Hull,) what looks like a cow swelled on clover, and that 'ere little nimshi, who isn't bigger than my Poll's knitten needle. They was with four female critters." "Well, what were they about?" asked the deacon. "What was they about!" (a little angrily,) "you know as well as I do, deacon, for I telled ye all about it at the time." "Yes, but you must tell the justice." "Answer, witness!" exclaimed the justice, somewhat sternly. "Oh! you needn't be flusterfied, Squire Tappit; I knowed ye long afore ye was squire, and drinked with ye, too. For that matter, I stood treat last!" "That's of no consequence now, Mr. Hicks," interposed the deacon, throwing at the same time a deprecatory glance at the old justice, whose nose was growing redder, and whose eye began to twinkle in incipient wrath. "Let the gentleman proceed with his interesting developments," said Hull, rising with the most ludicrous gravity, and waving his hand in a solemn and dignified manner. "Well," said Joe, a little mollified at the word 'gentleman,' "ef I must tell it agin, I must, that's all. They was a picken strawberries like Old Sanko." "How long do you think they were there, trampling down the grass?" asked the deacon. "Why, I spose from the time I seed 'em"--here he stopped abruptly, glanced out of the window toward the tavern, spit thirstily, and then looked at the deacon. "Let the gentleman proceed," again cried Hull, half rising, in mock respect. "_Pro_ceed!" said the justice, angrily. "Well, as I was a sayen, from the time I seed 'em---- But I say, deacon, I'm monstrous dry. You're temp'rance I know; but sposen as how you treat me and old Squire Tappit there to some red eye. He won't refuse, no how you can fix it, and as for me, I am so dry I really can't talk." "Go on with your story, you scoundrel!" shouted the justice, exasperated beyond all bounds, "or I'll commit you to prison." "Commit me to prison, you old brandy-jug!" yelled Joe, swinging off his ragged coat at a jerk, and throwing it on the floor, "commit _me_, you mahogany-nosed old sarpent!" advancing close to the justice, with both of his great fists ready. "Let the gentleman proceed," here broke in Hull again, in an agony of laughter.