Rensselaer Union, Volume 11, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 July 1879 — AT THE COUNTY COURT. [ARTICLE]

AT THE COUNTY COURT.

I had a case at the County Court the other day, a bothering, curious case it was, too, and ,a newspaper man who heard the outs and inns of it, persuaded me to write out my own story in my own way, and promised to put right'what what might be amiss in grammar and spelling Before he : put it in the paper for folks to laugh at. But it was no laughing matter to me, and between thebeginning and the end of it 1 dare say it will stand me more than a couple of fi’-pound notes, and the loss, or what’s just as bad, the flinging away of money, is too serious a matter to be laughed at in these—the hardest times I recollect since I began farming. My bit of a farm is out Exmoor way, and I have to do my level best to make a living out of it without getting into trouble wi’ the lawyers. This trouble I am going to tell about happenod in this wise. Missus and I had been to market, and were jogging home in the afternoon, and any man that says I was anything but “comfortable” As regards liquor savs what isn’t true. The trap was my own, but the horse we had borrowed for the day from Mrs. Elston, a neighbor of ours, who farmed her own land, and for whom I was trustee under the will of her late husband. He was a good sort in his time, was Ned Elston, and we had been boys, and grew up to be churchwardens together. This was how it was ho had made me trustee, and Mrs. Elston allowed me to accept the office on condition that she was to do as she liked with her farm and her family. Now, I had my own farm and my own family, not to speak of my own wife, to look after, and I did not see why I should bo called upon to interfere with auotherman’s widow. But we were always the best of friends, and when our cob was out in the with a foal at its foot, We sometimes borrowed out neighbor's mare on market days. Coming home comfortable on tho day I refer to, we had got as far as the lane beyond the epuren, near the corner that turns off to Parson's house, when—well, I was a little bit more than V comfortable,” if you insist upon it—just a little “Merry.;” and I had been singing a hunting song, a good old Devonshire ditty, and had got half through the chorus, and might have been beating time a little too energetically, when that mare o’ Mrs. Elston’s took it into its head to sby and holt! Afore you could ha’ said “Jack Robinson” here was me standing on my head in Parson’s duck-pond, and missus banged up again’ the celerybod, wi’ tho grocery goods all about, and the band-boxes squashed! That "Blight have bad enough, but the trap was smashed, and the horse was in an uncomfortable position, and was lashing out at a glass frame that Parson had to grow cucumbers in. Missus, she sung out wonderful, and I forgot to ffnlgh my chorus. Wo got what help was handy, and managed to reach homo somehow. Next morning I went to view the scene of the disaster, and there 1 found that the road had been" opened up half-way across, and that the horse, in trying to avoid the heap, had landed in'- the Vioarage garden. That cleared the animal of any imputation that might rest on Ha character as to non-appreciation of good ringing, but it did not mend the trap, heal the horse’s broken knees, or repair- the wall and the ;1 cucumberframe. There would be a bill to settle over that job, and the question was, “ who was to settle itF” It might have beet! squared neighborly-liko, but Parson he hinted that t was “inebriated.” Comfortable or merry I might have been, ibut inebriated 1 most decidedly was, not. He might as

well have accused me of being drunk. Well, I got obstinate, and I wouldn't pay. 1 said the waywarden ought to pay, and if the waywarden paid, the monrty would come out of the parish, not oat of the waywarden’s pocket; for I was waywarden myself and ohnrohwarden, too. A vestry-meeting was held, and as the Parson refused to withdraw and apologise 1 refused to pay. How, then, was the diaput% to be settled? Now, our Parson knows what he is about as well as most men, and he said wo oonld settle it by a friendly suit before the Coantv Court Judge. Friendly suit, forsooth! 1 didn’t know then what I know now, and so 1 agreed to a friendly suit. The plaintiff was myself in ray official capacity, and l had to pay for the summons; the defendant was myself in my private capacity, and Uhad to receive service of tho summons. A pretty muddle, wasn’t itP Now, 1 had never been before a court in my life, and what’s more, I don’t want to be again. It’s a burning of the oandle at both ends, especially when you are both plaintiff ana defendant in the same cause. I hadn’t bought my experience—and paid for it—then, and, being made a -bit of a hero up and down the parish, I gave myself airs, and. perhaps, sang tne hunting song oftener than I had any occasion to do. At the Farmers’ Arms all the talk was about the parish law suit, and the notions which prevailed as to the rights of the affair were such as the parisn had no need to be sis Warned of; that is to say, nebody knew anything about the law, and my opinion is the Judge and the jury ana the lawyers and the newspaper man were not a bit the wiser.' As representing the parish, I went to ’Torney Sharpeye (I. call him that to E revent misapprehension) and engagod im for tho plaintiff, and he got me to certify for a jury. I thought that as it was at the riepense of tne parish I might indulge him; I know better now. I didn’t engage a lawer for the defense, and .that helped usto,arrive at a settlement. It’s my opinion if we had had two lawyers the case would be going on after the marc and the cucumbers and the waywarden had returned to their,native parent dust. When County Court day came round a fine lot of hillside folks went to hear the case tried. All the farmers of the parish went, the blacksmith went, the carpenter left his work to take care of itself, and the mill-wheel got a rest; even old Teddy went in his donkeycart, and the lame shoemaker found that he wanted leather and brass tags the day the trial was to come off, and took the road to the market town. I was glad to see them as I drove past, and answered their “ Good luck, Varmer,” as cheerily and as hopefully as 1 knew how. I instructed the solicitor for the plaintiff, and contradicted myself and contradicted him to an extent that bewildered Master Sharpeye, and left him a line tangle to puzzle his brains over. For the defense 1 had the reins, stout, honest and businesslike; my crushed hat and torn coat, two spokes of the gig wheels, the parish books, a bit of the splash-board, my wife and a badly-used umbrella; but what use I intended to make of these things I really cannot tell. I got them into the court, however, to the bewilderment of the officials and the audience, and had time to look round before the proceedings commenced. The lawyers and the newspaper man were at a table by themselves, in the front row of seats were the plaintifts, in the back row the defendants, and between them rows of interested spectators, the most of whom appeared to have been pretty well plucked before I parted with my feathers as a contribution to the laws of the country. The Judge came in at last, a wearylooking old man, who had accumulated so much law that people said he was a walking cyclopaedia of statutes and precedents, and could not possibly go legally wrong. Poor man, I pitied him! And yet he had a kindly way with him, and spoke so tenderly to the miserable defendants, for the most part women, whose families and debts were numerous and pressing, that I do believe his legal studies had not hardened his heart or destroyed his capacity for sympathy. Where he could he let them off, and where he couldn't go so far jbe laid it on lightly, and eased their’trouble with a word that meant so muoh while he said so little. After a bit, the case of the Waywarden of Moorside versus Timothy Suggidge was called, and I gathered up my accouterments and made for the box, a pulpit-looking thing, with a step that was laised a foot above the floor, and made, you uncomfortable by that foot—a narrow, ricketty piece of furniture that was as devoid of stability as of ornament, and into which, with my belongings, I found it difficult to steer. 1 slung the reins over my shoulder, tucked the remains of the umbrella 1 under one arm, the splintered splash-board under another, took the parish book in my left hand, put the orushed hat on my head, grasped the mud-stained wheel-spokes in my remaining hand, and managed to get my foot on the step, when the beadle shouted, “Take off that hat,” and, starting round hurriedly, I brotight the whole erection to the ground, and caused such a racket in the court that the beadle cried, “Silence,” and the people laughed all the louder. At any rate, the hat was off. The other things I clung pretty tightly to, and w&s up and in the box before the merriment bad died out. Mr. Sharpeye was just going to begin, when the Judge looked up and asked whether the defendant did not appear. I said 1 was the defendant, and ho told me to go to the other box. I took the battered hat in my teeth this time, and journeyed across the floor to where the Judge had told me. In stepping up the end N>f one of the spokes camo crack against the beadle’s head, and the court was oonvulsed again. The Judge looked up, and the laugh died out. “ Whore is the plaintiff?” he asked. “My Lord,” I replied, “I am the plaintiff.” “ Why, yon told me just now that you were the defendant,’’ he said, with just the faintest suspicion of a flush of anger on his face. “Go into that other box;” and I went, kicking my hat before me this time. Again helooked up, having apparently made up his mind that preliminary matters ought to have been gone over, and again he asked whether the defendant aid not appear. I told him .1 was the defendant, when the red spot on his cheek deepened, and he spoke menacingly. “ Sir,” he said, “ I shall commit you for contempt of eonrt. Are ypn or are you not the defendant?” I said I war, and would have given an explanation, but he was down on me before I coukt get it out. “Then,” said ho, “Go into that other box, and let us have done with this trifling.” I was a bit nettled, I know, and I started on. my,..r»tnxn.jQuniey with a swing that brought about a further disaster. A loop* of the reins hitched into the witness-box, or what-

ever they call it, and over it went, and away I went with such a clatter, and amid such a guffaw of laughter that 1 eyed the door and thought of bolting, leaving my wife and the Judge to fignt it oat as best they could. Mr. Sharpeye came to the reaoue* and the explanation he tendered to the Judge, and which he might have had from me, rather cleared the air, and I was got into the defendant’s box at last, the beadle winking suspiciously at the wheel-spokes, as they waved about within an inch of his head. And then the real tussle began. Jir. Sharpeye opened the case for the plaintiff, that is for the waywarden, and showed how I had broken the paling and tumbled the wall over in my negligence in driving, and was liablo to pay the damage. “ Does the defendant wish to ask the witness any questionsP” said the Judge, and I saw by the twinkle in the old man’s eye that he was up to the fun. of the situation. I said that I did, and then the difficulty was about the answers, but it was got over by Mr. Sharpeye snggesting that I might tell my own story in my own way, for the purpose of showing how far l could *slear myself of personal Responsibility for the damage. The damage, I said, would only be about seven and sixpence, and it was caused by the road having been opened (of course I had given the Parson leave to have the road opened) to convey water to his meadow, but on the condition that fiis man had it covered in the same day, or took precautions against any accident. I knew the Judge was laughing at the whole affair. “In that case, Mr. Sharpeye,” he said, “the clergyman ought, perhaps, to be the defendant, and then we should have had all the parish officials here, especially if it was the sexton who opened the drain.” “It was the sextoll,” I replied, “ and I'm much obliged to your Honor for tho hint. If the case is adjourned for a month I shall have out new summonses, and have the thing put to rights.” “No! No!” exclaimed the Judge, “I think too much has been made of tho case already, and if I might make a suggestion it would be that you settle this matter among yourselves, and let it go no further.’" “But he said I was inebriated, your Honor, Parson did.” Even then you might look over a term which, no doubt was employed hastily, or the clergyman might withdraw and apologise. Do you really think,” he continued, returning to Mr. Sharpeye, “that there is a case to go to the jury? v Now, Mr. Sharpeye meant lighting, and ho went on about the obstinacy of the defendant, about the necessity of asserting the rights of the parishioners, and stuff of thatkind, until I began to feel that I had been and gone and done something that was atrociously wicked. And there were a good many parishioners there whose good-will I was not going to throw away, so I struck in pn the side of the Judge. Besides, 1 rather liked the kindly old man, though he did threaten me when I tumbled about the boxes with my armful of miscellaneous evidence. “ I’m not a troublesome neighbor,” said I, “ and, beside, Parson’s not a bad sort after all, and if this law business is dropped I’ll mend the paU ing, make good the wall, and see that Parson does not want for cucumbers this season, at any rate.” “ Your decision,” said the Judge, “does you credit, and I’m sure Mr. Sharpeye will see his way to meet you in the spirit you have evinced.” “ And what about the expenses?” said the ’torney (Catch them lawyers losing sight of the expenses!) “Both parties of the suit will pay their own costs,” said the Judge, and then he turned to the jury, tbank°d them for their attendance and dismissed them. The ’ torney’ s bill against the parish was £3l3s. 4d, and that I paid out of my own pocket, and put the fenoes to rights as well, so that one way and other, before the traps, the cucumber-frame, the trap and the mare’s knees were as Srood as they used to be, that little ob cost me a matter of £lO or so, and more than the half of it went in for legal expense. Now, my advice is, to settle your little differences over a pipe and a glass of cider, and not get cranky and run to lawyers afore there is any need for’t. That is if you want to square your differences by a friendly suit, for I know there are cases where, will ye, nil ye, you must go to the County Court.— English Paper.