- Software name: appdown
- Software type: Microsoft Framwork
- size: 365MB
The court of Pie-powder was situated at the extremity of the fair-green, about twenty paces beyond the last stall: the court was a kind of tent, with a large, high-backed chair in the centre for the judge, a long table being placed before him, on which were balances and weights of various descriptions, to ascertain the truth of any charges that might be preferred against the sellers at the fair: there was also a smaller balance, a stone, and a small phial of liquid, to prove the weight and purity of any coin that might be doubted. At each extremity of the table was a bench, on which sat six men, to act as jurors. Although in a fair, the court was conducted with some attention to propriety; the clerk, who sat as judge, assumed as much importance as a dignitary of a higher tribunal; and, as the crowd approached, hallooing and vociferating, with the culprit, two men, who stood at the door with maces in their hands, prevented the rush of the people: and, by order of the judge, the accuser, the offender, and two witnesses were the only persons permitted to enter. The charge was laid;the foreign dusty-foot was accused of defrauding the accuser's wife, one Martha Fuller, of the value of half a noble.
"I thought you would say so," responded Fred, his eyes sparkling with animation, "and I want to write while everything is fresh in my mind. I am going to write at once."
"Aye, and well they may," returned the foreman: "it is not every man who could feel at ease in the clothes of aHang it! my brain wandersfill up a fresh bumper." Another and another followed, and dispelled all symptoms of compunction in the heart of the foreman and his companions; till even their new guest, so powerful is example, was almost persuaded that conscience was a bug-bear. It was late ere they separated, to re-assemble the next morning for more important transactions.Towards the close of the day, father John came to see his sister. "You are ill, my child," said the monk, as he drew a chair to the side of the bed, and gazed anxiously at her pallid cheek and swollen eyes. Margaret answered incoherently.
"Where are your other sons?""He's a fine old fellow, your father, Backfield," said the man who was writing a book on Sussex commons. "I can almost forgive him for spoiling one of the best pieces of wild land in the county."