Of my Incarceration in the Jug
Whether it was that, or that his wits were out, I know not, but says he, “No,” says he.
“Come, come,” said his Lordship, with a frown, “you shall not blow hot and cold in this fashion. Is that the man?”
Whereupon the craven, who was all a-sweat with terror, lost the hold upon his tongue, and stammered and stuttered and blinked, and finally appealed to the Judge to spare him, and to the Almighty to have mercy on him, for that what he said was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
“Pah! take the fellow down,” says his Lordship. “Call another witness.”
But if, so far, the fact was in my favour, I was not to get off so easily upon other scores; and the chief business of all was the appearance of the Sheriff I had wounded. The old mawkin had a voice like a parrot, harsh and high, and delivered his evidence all in one shrill squeak. I will confess that what he said was true enough, and went badly against me; so much so that I chafed to myself that I had not stuck
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