University of Virginia Library

HOW TO KILL TWO BIRDS WITH ONE
STONE;
OR THE WAY THOMAS JEFFERSON JENKINS
GOT A START IN THE WORLD.

In our country the Law is the high-road to preferment.
That there is no question about the truth
of this proposition in the minds of our “promising
young men,” we may infer from the fact that so
large a portion of them adopt the legal profession;
but that it is a rough, uneven track, abounding in
impediments and obstructions of no inconsiderable
magnitude, is a truth equally attested by the failure
of so many brilliant geniuses, who either turn back
discouraged, or faint by the way-side, without so
much as reaching the half-way house to distinction.
While a few, by dint of persevering energy, succeed
in elevating themselves to that rank in the profession
which brings with it wealth, honour, and influence,
many a “mettlesome blade” is brought to
a premature edge upon the legal Blackstone, only
to corrode and rust in oblivion.

Such miscarriages must be accounted for on the
principle that “larnin' isn't sense,” and their frequent
occurrence but serves to illustrate the truth,
that a certain amount of mother wit is quite as requisite

a qualification in a lawyer as in a scissors-grinder.
For what is knowledge without wisdom?
Napoleon might have possessed all the military
knowledge of his day, and fought his battles by
diagram, and prosecuted his campaigns by theory,
but without the popular talents by which he was
enabled to put his great political machinery in motion,
and to direct and control its action in detail,
Europe would have remained undisturbed, and
himself unknown to fame. So might Thomas Jefferson
Jenkins have read Blackstone and Chitty,
and Coke, and all the legal writers from Justinian
down, and stored his head with legal lore, until
there had been nothing left to learn, and still remained
in poverty and obscurity, had he not possessed
the tact, genius, common sense, or whatever
you choose to call it, which enabled him to turn his
acquirements to account.

But before we proceed further with our sketch, it
is proper that we should give the reader a formal
introduction to our hero, whose claim to the appellation
abnormis sapiens, we hope to establish by the
relation of a few prominent incidents in his career.
Imagine yourself, then, dear reader, vis à vis with
a tall, slight-made young gentleman, in shabby genteel,
with straight, light hair, deep-set gray eyes,
white eye-brows and freckled face. This is Thomas
Jefferson Jenkins, Esq.; and now that you know
him by sight, we will proceed to relate the incidents
aforesaid, trusting that he may, notwithstanding his
uncomely face, grow in your favourable regard, as
you become better acquainted with his character.

We might, perhaps, interest the reader by detailing
the early “struggles of genius in the pursuit of
knowledge under difficulties,” but it will be sufficient
for the purposes we have in view, merely to
glance at the early history of our hero. Thomas
Jefferson was not only the architect of his own fortune,
but, in accordance with that perverse destiny
which often deprives us of our greatest help in our
greatest need, he was left at a tender age to settle
the foundation upon which his superstructure was
afterwards to be reared. With only a mother to
guide his infant steps, he trod the path of adversity,
and early imbibed, in that severe school, so much
extolled by those who have never been compelled
to submit to its rugged discipline, many a wholesome
lesson. He had learned to feel—and if he
felt the scorn of the purse-proud, and the neglect
of the respectable, he felt, too, a consciousness of his
own integrity, and a firm reliance in his own powers.
Laudably ambitious, and unwilling to yield the palm
exclusively to those whose only advantage consisted
in the better opportunities secured to them by their
wealth, he aspired to the legal profession; and, with
only the self-acquired rudiments of an education, applied
himself to the study, subsisting upon the meager
savings from his own industry, until he had qualified
himself for admission to the bar. A lawyer by
license, he was not slow to discover that the city of
his birth was no field for him. He had no wealth or
family alliance to buoy him up, and as his success in
life depended directly and solely upon his own exertions,
he wisely determined to employ them where

the competition would be less formidable, and where
at least he would be free from the disparaging influence
of prejudice. Thus Pineville became the theatre
of his professional career.

Thomas Jefferson Jenkins had learned enough of
the world to know, that, go where you will, “appearances
go a great ways,” and he resolved to put the
“best foot foremost,” and to win by a show of consequence,
all who might not be capable of appreciating
substantial merit, trusting to the practice of
that “fidelity and prompt attention to business”
which he had announced upon his card, ultimately
to gain the confidence of that portion of the community
who were not to be taken by mere ad captandum
means. Accordingly, he engaged board at the hotel,
hired a smart servant, and rented an office on the
square, over the door of which he placed a sign-board,
inscribed with gilt letters—

“THOMAS JEFFERSON JENKINS,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW.”

Upon a baize-covered table he spread his writing
apparatus, with a few books and such loose pamphlets
and periodicals as wouldn't stand up endwise
on his shelves, which latter were conspicuously posted,
and presented the appearance of being well filled
—the best bound volumes being exposed, while the
curtains carelessly hid from view those that were not
there. Determined to be Jef. Jenkins no longer, but
to sustain the character of Thomas, Jefferson Jenkins,
Esq., in a becoming manner, he at once assumed an
air of proper professional dignity, and mingling but

little with the most reputable men in the village, kept
the crowd at such respectful distance as to avoid all
risk of incurring the penalty of that maxim, which,
to relieve it of its triteness, has been rendered—“too
much familiarity breeds despise.”

Of course the advent of such a young gentleman, in
such a village, was a matter of considerable interest
to the inhabitants, and served for a theme of speculation,
wonderment, and inquiry, for many weeks.
The men desired to know whether he was a Clarke
or Troupe-man—the old ladies wondered if he was
rich, and the young ladies thought he wasn't handsome
“a bit.” Some were curious to know whether
he was “any relation to the Jenkinses of —,” and
whether his family were respectable; but the question
never once entered their heads whether the young
man possessed any claim to their consideration on his
own account. Be it said, however, to the honour
of Pineville, these latter querists comprised but a
meager portion of the community, consisting only of
a limited circle of would-be aristocracy, who, destitute
of intrinsic merit themselves, affect to despise it
in others, while they bestow all honour upon mere
fortuitous advantages, which fools may inherit and
ignorance acquire.

Such a sign-board as our hero's had never before
been exhibited in Pineville, and there was much
speculation among the children and negroes, as to
what the stranger had to sell; and it was not unfrequently
that he was disturbed in his studies by inquiries
for salt, iron, molasses, or some other of the
leading articles, by people from the country, who

had never dreamed of a “'squire's office having a
sign to it.” But when our hero appeared at the
door, in his office gown, backed by such an array
of books and papers, and blandly informed the inquirers
that they were mistaken in the place, that his
was a law-office, and directed them across the street,
where they would find whatever they wanted in the
grocery line, the intruders left him with feelings akin
to awe, and thereafter lost no opportunity of adding
their mite to the current gossip about the strange
young gentleman. It was rarely that 'Squire Jenkins
was seen in the street in the day, and while the young
men of the town held their nightly court about the
hotel door, to talk over the news of the day, and regale
themselves with idle jokes and anecdotes, he
sought the companionship of his books, and often
when the last villager retired to rest, the light of the
young 'squire's solitary lamp still shone from his
office windows.

By these and various other wise expedients, Thomas
Jefferson Jenkins, Esq., managed to keep a good
head of public opinion in his favour. But what of
that, if it did not “bring grist to his Mill?” Popularity
would not pay board-bills and washerwomen,
and he began to apprehend a crisis in his affairs, unless
he could fall upon some expedient whereby to
replenish his finances. Thomas was a practical philosopher,
and was not given to hope against reason
—he knew that manna had not rained from heaven
within his recollection, and he had no more idea of
fees falling into his pocket by chance than he had
of being made chief justice within the year. Thus

far he had not had a client. True he had been applied
to for advice in a few simple cases, and had
drawn a few instruments of writing, such as deeds,
bills of sale, and notes of hand, for his neighbours,
but these slight services had been solicited of him in
a neighbourly way, by persons who did not expect
to pay any thing just for a sheet of paper and a few
minutes' labour, and he was under the necessity of
docketing such services under the head of “one good
turn deserves another”—which, with most people,
means,—“when you don't intend to pay your money,
it is expedient to discount your benevolence.”

But, as we have intimated, Thomas Jefferson Jenkins's
finances were getting alarmingly low—the fare
at his landlord's table began to taste as if it wasn't
paid for, his best coat was becoming threadbare at
the elbows, and his slumbers were nightly disturbed
by apparitions of haggard washerwomen, extending
their shrivelled hands, and with shrill discordant
voices demanding payment for that last dozen; and
every day but settled the conviction deeper and
deeper in his mind, that some means must be speedily
adopted to bring him into a more lucrative practice.
Long hours he sat cross-legged in his arm-chair, and
with chin in rest, mused over the cheerless prospect,
and yet no ray of promise dawned upon his desponding
hopes. He would have suffered a moderate battery
of his own person for the privilege of making out
the case in court, and was sorely tempted to commit
some breach of law himself, in the hope that by his
defence he might create a diversion in his favour.

In this painful perplexity of mind, as was natural

enough for a young man of his temperament, Thomas
Jefferson Jenkins, Esq., contracted a habit of —
whittling! which led him to frequent the large white-pine
box, which Mr. Harley, in accordance with the
universal custom of country merchants, had placed in
front of his store-door, for the accommodation of the
whittling loafers of the village. One afternoon, while
sitting upon the aforesaid box, all the faculties of his
mind engaged in serious deliberation as a committee
of ways and means, and his knife running freely into
the soft pine, his attention was arrested by the whickering
and restive movements of a little half starved,
sway-backed, blind poney, that stood by the horse-rack,
attached to a small cart, in which were a few
small paper bundles and a large stone jug, stopped
with a corn-cob. The establishment belonged to one
Josiah Perkins, of Ticklegizzard settlement, who, in
company with his wife and two or three of his neighbours,
had visited town that day, on a trafficking expedition.
Their stock in trade, consisting of a few
dozen eggs, as many pounds of butter, and a few quarts
of whortleberries, had been disposed of, and their proceeds
expended in the purchase of sundry articles of
prime necessity, such as homespun, rum and tobacco,
and the party were now mustering for the purpose of
taking their departure for home. But Si Perkins, as
he was familiarly called, was missing, and while his
wife was in anxious search of him, Boss Ankles and
Bill Sweeny, who comprised the balance of the party,
were busily engaged in talking politics, over a half-pint
in the measure, which Mr. Harley had judiciously
thrown out as a bait for their future trade.

Desperate cases prompt desperate remedies—and
though it was not easy to surmise in what way advantage
could possibly accrue from such an expedient,
our hero conceived a mischievous design upon
the innocent and unsuspecting poney, which he resolved
at once to put in execution, trusting to chance
and his own ingenuity to turn the consequences to
the advancement of his own especial interests. Accordingly,
he seized the first favourable opportunity
—when the confusion of voices within was loudest—
to conduct Si Perkins's marketing equipage, unobserved,
to the rear of the store—then opening the
large old-fashioned cellar-door, he backed horse and
cart into the cellar, and hastily throwing into the cart
a few of the first articles upon which he could lay his
hands, reascended, closed and fastened the door after
him, and quietly resumed his seat upon the box.

He had not been long reseated when Si Perkins—
who had been discovered by his wife at the grocery
on the opposite side of the square, while in the act
of negotiating the preliminaries of a fight about the
Troupe treaty—made his appearance and passed into
the store to take a parting leave of Mr. Harley. But
Mr. Harley had stepped out, and it was while waiting
that gentleman's return, that the observant Mrs.
Perkins made the astounding discovery that the
“cretur” was gone!

“Thar, now, Si,” said she, “you see what comes
of your projectin' about town, when you ought to be
gwine home. The horse and cart is done gone, and
every thing in it!”

Si hastened to the door, and raising his slouched

hat from his eyes, took a brief survey of the street
in every direction—then turning to his wife, with a
countenance expressive of the most painful anxiety,
he inquired—

“Did you put the sperits in, Nancy?”

“To be sure I did, and the truck, too,” replied
his wife.

“Well, now!” exclaimed Si—“you is done it!—
here's a business! But that's always the way with
you—there's everlastin'ly something happenin' whenever—”

“Si Perkins!” exclaimed the little sharp-visaged
woman, darting at him a glance from her small black
eyes, that would have dislocated every bone in his
body had he not been accustomed to its infliction.
“Yes,” she resumed after a pause, during which Si's
heart ceased to beat, “you better hush layin' it on
me!—I wonder if I wasn't trampoosin' all over the
place to find you—and whar was you when I found
you?—round to that 'bominable grocery, tryin' to
kick up a fight 'long with Bill Pilcher—and you
may thank me that you's got eyes left in yer dratted
head to look for yer blind horse!”

That speech was enough for Si, considering its
source, and he at once set about searching for the
missing horse and cart. The balance of the Ticklegizzard
party, bearing in mind that there was a jug
of rum in the case, were prompt to lend their aid.

Away they scattered in every direction, inquiring
of everybody they met if they had “seed any thing
of a blind horse and cart, with a jug in it?” But all
their efforts were vain,—they could get no tidings

of the objects of their search, and one after another
they returned to the store, to report the result of their
investigations and to take counsel as to what course
was best to be pursued. Mr. Harley, who had returned
in the mean time, was of opinion that the animal
had gone home, and that there was no occasion
for giving themselves any further uneasiness about
the matter.

But Si Perkins knew better than that—

“Who ever hearn,” said he, “of a blind horse
gwine home, six miles, all alone by himself?”

“That's a fact,” remarked Boss Ankles, “it aint
in natur for 'em to do it, no more'n it was for my hat
and shoes to went off by 'emselves that time. Somebody's
tuck that horse, Si Perkins, you may depend.”

“Yes,” added Bill Sweeny, “and that licker's as
clear a gone as ever was.”

“But who upon yeath could went and stol'd 'em
right here in broad daylight, 'thout nobody seein'
'em?”

“Never you mind that,” said Boss Ankles,
“ther's plenty of meanery and shecoonery in this
town to do any thing.”

Just at this stage of the deliberations, our hero,
who had been all the while intently engaged in carving
the pine-box upon which he sat, affected to overhear
the conversation of the anxious group that was
assembled near the store-door, and to become interested
in the subject of their investigation. Approaching
them he inquired—

“Was it a little sun-burnt sorrel horse?”

“Yes!” answered two at once.

“With a bobtail?”

“Yes!”

“In a small cart with a new body?”

“Yes, with a jug in it,” answered a trio of voices,
while the whole party gazed with eager expectation
into the face of the interrogator.

“Well,” said our hero, “I saw such a horse and
cart standing hitched to that rack, not more than
fifteen minutes ago, and my opinion is that the horse
could not have got loose without help.”

“To be sure it couldn't,” remarked Si, “for I
hung him hard and fast, myself.”

“But even if he might have got loose,” resumed
our hero, “it is not probable that he could have got
out of sight so quick.”

“That's a fact, said Boss Ankles, and we've looked
all over town for 'em.”

“But, gentlemen, did you follow the track of the
cart?—that would, if taken in time, most certainly
lead you to your property.”

“Well, bless my soul!” exclaimed Perkins, “why
didn't we think of that before! Come on, boys—
the 'squire's got more sense than all of us put together—come
on, and we'll soon see whar old Button's
been tuck to.”

The next minute the whole party were pursuing
the track of the cart, which they trailed round to Mr.
Harley's back lot, through the gate into the yard,
and up to the cellar-door. In another minute the
door was opened, and Si Perkins had just succeeded
in urging his half-famished tuckey-up the steps, when
Mr. Harley's clerk, who was in the back room at

the time, attracted by the noise, thrust his head out
at the window, and saw the cart driving away from
the cellar with certain articles of unsold merchandise.
Shocked beyond measure at such a high-handed
proceeding, Mr. Van Scoik rushed into the
front store exclaiming—

“Mr. Harley! Mr. Harley! do you think them
Ticklegizzard people aint out in the back lot, carrying
off our goods by the cart-load!”

“The d—I they are!” exclaimed Mr. Harley,
leaping over the counter and hastening out, followed
by his clerk and the few persons that were in the
store.

Our hero joined to see the fun, secretly exulting
at the success of his scheme, and whispering to
himself—

The party with the horse and cart were making
their way across the yard to the street, when the
astonished merchant and his friends came upon
them.

“Stop that cart! you infernal scoundrel!” exclaimed
Mr. Harley.

Si would have stopped the speaker's mouth with
his fist, but that it required the active employment
of both his hands to guide the movements of his
affrighted nag. However, his tongue was free, and
with it he gave Mr. Harley as good as he sent, until
the latter ordered his clerk to seize the reins of
the animal. This movement caused others on both

sides to interfere, and a scuffle ensued, in which,
amid a torrent of oaths and imprecations, the cart
was overturned, Mr. Harley's face badly scratched
and some of his hair pulled out by Mrs. Perkins,
Mr. Van Scoik's spectacles broken across his nose,
and other slight damages done to sundry persons.
It is uncertain how the affair would have ended,
had it not been for the timely arrival of 'Squire Rogers,
who promptly commanded the peace.

“Oh, yes,” exclaimed Si, as he and his friends
were busied in righting the cart—“dadfetch your
everlastin' picter—you was certain they was gone
home, was you?—and you wouldn't give yourself
no more trouble about 'em. You oudacious old
swindlin' cus! But I'll have the law of you—I'll
show you how to steal people's horses and carts
agin!”

Mr. Harley, still panting from the effect of his
encounter with the woman, stood in a sort of bewilderment,
pointing to the articles which lay
strewed upon the ground—

“Just look,” said he, “at the bacon and things
that scoundrel was carrying off!”

“Oh, yes! you old thief-o'-thunder, you needn't
try to turn it off that-a-way. I always thought you
wasn't none too good to steal, but now I've got pint
blank proof again you.”

“Well, I always had a good opinion of Mr. Harley,
though I have hearn a deal of talk about him,”
said Boss Ankles. “But this looks monstrous 'spicious,
that's a fact.”

“Oh, I'll give my Bible affydavy that he stold

the horse and cart, and hid 'em, and wouldn't tell
whar they was,” added Bill Sweeny.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Perkins, “and he ought to go
to the penitentiary this very minit—the old squinch
owl—so he ought.”

While Mr. Harley and his clerk were busied in
removing the bacon and other articles that had been
taken from the cellar, the Perkins party regained
the street, where, after a brief consultation, it was
determined to prosecute Mr. Harley for stealing,
and, in order to prevent any miscarriage in the business,
to employ the young 'squire, of whose sagacity
they had recently had such convincing proof,
to conduct the case.

Accordingly, a warrant was issued by 'Squire
Rogers, summoning Absalom Harley forthwith to
appear before him, to answer to the charge of larceny,
upon the complaint of Josiah Perkins.

There had been a dearth of incident in Pineville
for some time, and the various exaggerated reports
of the affair that had given rise to the prosecution—
which soon spread throughout the town—had the
effect to assemble a considerable concourse of people
at the magistrate's office to witness the proceedings.
Like most men, Mr. Harley had his enemies
as well as friends, and, as is usually the case in small
villages, friends and foes took opposite sides, and
the matter began to assume the character of a party
question. While some were shocked beyond measure
at the proceeding, and did not hesitate to express
the opinion that Perkins was himself the thief,
an equal number were as ready to credit the accusation

against Mr. Harley; in which opinion their
judgments were fortified by the sudden recollection
of numerous transactions in the past history of that
gentleman, which they never had been able to reconcile
with their own notions of honesty and fair
dealing.

But to proceed with the case of

State vs. Absalom Harley.

Mr. Harley having made his appearance, and the
witnesses being all in attendance, 'Squire Rogers
proceeded with due formality to make the necessary
preparations for entering upon the discharge of his
official duties. Having arranged his books and
papers (comprising a Digest of the Laws of Georgia,
a copy of the Bible, an Almanac for the year,
and a half-quire of foolscap paper) upon the table
before him, he wiped his spectacles with his handkerchief,
and placed them deliberately astride of his
nose—then assuming an air of judicial gravity, for
which his face was most admirably adapted,—and
which, in the honest man's opinion, was a highly
important function of the magisterial office,—he ordered
Snipe, the constable, to bring a fresh pitcher
of water—after which he announced that he was
ready to proceed in the investigation of the case.

At the request of the magistrate, Thomas Jefferson
Jenkins, Esq.,—who, with a considerable number
of legal books, occupied one end of the 'squire's
table—rose and read the warrant. Mr. Harley listened
with an air of incredulous unconcern, which,
by the unprejudiced, was considered as strongly indicative

of his innocence, but which the opposite
party regarded as the brazen-faced insolence of casehardened
guilt.

“Absalom Harley,” said 'Squire Rogers in a very
solemn and imposing manner, “you have hearn the
charge agin you—is you got any answer to make to
this court?”

Mr. Harley was about to speak, but, unfortunately
for him, could not resist a laugh at the ludicrous
position in which he found himself. Such conduct
would have prejudiced a better cause—

“Silence in court!” exclaimed the outraged magistrate.
Then leaning forward and gazing fiercely
in the face of the prisoner, until his eyes became
green with venom, he continued—“Is you laughin'
at this court, sir?—this court didn't come here, sir,
to be laughed at, not by no kinds of character, sir.
This court are the law of the land, sir—and no kind
of character whatsomever has a right to make game
of the law, sir—”

“Why, Rogers, I'm—”

“This court aint name Rogers, sir—this court
don't know nobody but the law—this court are a
regular constitootional authority, and aint irresponsible
to nobody but justice and the laws of Georgia.”

“But I meant no disrespect to—”

“Silence, sir—this court don't disrespect nobody
out of the law—this court, sir, are a court, and don't
know who's guilty till they prove themselves innocent
according to law, for this court are blind out
of the law, and don't know nothing.”

“That's a fact,” interrupted Harley, adding in

an under-tone—“and it is useless to multiply words,
for this court are a d—d fool!”

“Is you gwine to answer the question of this
court?” peremptorily demanded the 'squire, too
much enraged to hear the concluding remark of the
prisoner. “Is you guilty or not guilty?”

“Of course I'm not guilty,” replied Harley, who
by this time had come to understand that he had
nothing to expect from “this court,” but what he
might be entitled to under its strictest construction
of the law; and he now began to feel some degree
of solicitude in a matter which he had at first regarded
as utterly ridiculous.

“Well, sir, we'll see about that,” said the 'squire,
in a severe tone. “'Squire Jinkins, you may proceed
with the case.”

All eyes were immediately turned upon the young
lawyer, who, rising gracefully from his seat, after a
slight effort to clear his throat, proceeded to open
the case. The angry altercation that had just taken
place, had served to show him the weak side of the
official dignitary whose favourable regard it was of
such vital importance he should gain, and he had
like to have commenced his address with “most
potent, grave, and reverend seignor,” but apprehending
that he might possibly overcharge the old
gentleman's vanity, he contented himself with less
magniloquent phrase—

“May it please this very honourable court,” remarked
our hero, “this is a case of simple larceny,
in which my client, Mr. Josiah Perkins, a worthy
citizen of this county, appears as prosecutor against

Absalom Harley, merchant of this place. The particular
circumstances of the larceny, we will, with
your honour's permission, proceed more fully to
set forth and substantiate to the satisfaction of this
honourable court, by good and sufficient testimony.
Your honour will please to swear Mr. William
Sweeny, Mr. Boss Ankles, Mr. Josiah Perkins, and
Mrs. Nancy Perkins.”

'Squire Rogers rose from his seat with the stately
gravity of a high-chancellor, and, after instructing
the witnesses with which hand, and how they should
hold the book, administered the oath in the most
solemn and impressive manner. Si Perkins and
Bill Sweeny grasped the volume firmly and kissed
it resolutely, while Boss Ankles, whose lips had,
perhaps, never before come in so close contact with
truth, but had often sipped from Mr. Harley's pint
measure, turned quite pale and cast his eyes to the
floor. Mrs. Perkins had been in a pet all afternoon,
and saluted the “calfskin” as a toad catches flies—
so quick that few saw the operation.

The prosecutor was then examined.

“Mr. Perkins,” said our hero, “you will now
please to state to this honourable court, all the particulars
in relation to this transaction.”

“'Zactly, 'squire, that's jest what I want to do.
Well, you must know that Nancy was wantin' some
little fineries, and the childer's clothes was gittin'
monstrous raggedy, and—”

“Please confine yourself, Mr. Perkins, to the
matter under consideration,” interrupted the prosecutor's
counsel.

“Jes so, 'squire, that's what I'm comin' to—and
the baby had the rickets, and wanted some doctor's
stuff, so Nancy was at me for up'ards of a week to
put Button in the cart and come to town with her,
and—”

“Very well, Mr. Perkins, after you came to town,
you went to Mr. Harley's store to trade?”

“To be sure we did, and bought a heap o' truck,
and some things he did stick it to us monstrous in
the price, and Nancy said to me, ses she—”

“Never mind what Nancy said, Mr. Perkins.
Where were your horse and cart while you were
trading with Mr. Harley?”

“Bless your soul, they was right out before the
door, tied hard and fast to the horse-rack. But I
jest want to tell you what a audacious rascal he is.
Ses Nancy to me, ses she, `Si—”'

“Never mind, Mr. Perkins, we will endeavour
to make that appear presently. When did you first
miss your horse and cart?”

“Well, you see, after we was done buyin' the
things, I went over to the grocery a bit, to see Sam
Culpepper, 'bout a pair o' plough-lines what his
nigger feller borried last spring, and—”

“Very well, that's enough about the plough-lines.
But when you came back—”

“'Zactly, when I come back to the store, drat
the horse and cart was to be seen anywhar about—
and Nancy, she come after me to go home, and ses
she to me, `Now, Si—”'

“This court can't hear what Nancy said!” interrupted
'Squire Rogers, turning abruptly to the witness.

“Well,” resumed Si, raising his voice to the
highest possible pitch—“Nancy ses to me, ses she,
there, now—”

“Silence! shet your mouth!” commanded the
enraged magistrate—“This court's got as good ears
as any man, but they aint for to hear no old woman's
gabblement, 'thout its under oath.”

“But 'squire, I thought—”

“Hush your mouth, I tell you! You haint got no
business to think in court. This court don't qualify
no witness to think. Now, sir, go on with yer
statement, and don't be a circumlocutin' all over
God's yeath, or this court 'll find a way to subtract
the truth from you, sir.”

“His honour is right,” resumed our hero. “A
witness should confine himself to facts only. You
will, therefore, proceed, Mr. Perkins, to inform this
honourable court, in as brief manner as possible,
how and where you recovered your property.”

“Which?” inquired the mortified prosecutor.

“Please inform his honour where you found the
horse and cart.”

“Why, down in Ab. Harley's cellar.”

“Did Mr. Harley show them to you?”

“That he didn't. He said he didn't know nothing
about 'em, but 'lowed they was gone home,
and after I and Ankles and Sweeny looked everywhar
for 'em and couldn't find 'em nowhar, we
tuck the track of the cart, and follered it right up
to the cellar-door.”

“Was the door closed?”

“Well, it was. It was shet down tight, and the

iron bar put over the thing what holds it, but it
wasn't locked.”

“Well, what followed, Mr. Perkins?”

“Why, jest as soon as me and Sweeny opened
the door, old Button he whickered at us, and I went
down and brung him out, and we was carryin' him
out of the yard, when here comes old Harley and
that long-legged feller, Van Squoik, and kicked up
a terrible rumpus, and skeered the horse, and upset
the cart, and like to mashed every thing all to flinders.”

“Do you live in this county, Mr. Perkins?”

“Yes, sir, all my life.”

“Where and when did this transaction take
place?”

“Why, over thar at the store, not more'n a hour
ago.”

“Very well, Mr. Perkins, you may stand aside.”

The substance of his testimony having been written
down by his counsel, it was duly subscribed to
and reaffirmed by the prosecutor, after which it was
submitted to the honourable court.

Mrs. Nancy Perkins was next examined.

“You will please to state, Mrs. Perkins,” said
the counsel for the prosecutor, “what occurred to-day
at Mr. Harley's store, after you had concluded
your purchases.”

“Why,” remarked the little sharp-visaged woman,
in a peculiarly rapid and emphatic manner, “after,
the things, was all done, wrapped up, and, paid for,
Si, he 'lowed, he'd, jest step across, the square, a
bit, while I, put 'em, all in, the cart, and, got ready,

to go home. Well, after he was gone, Mr. Harley's
man (now, I'm jest a-gwine to tell, the whole bisness,
jest as it was,) he tuck Ankles, and Sweeny,
into the back room, and, gin 'em some licker, and,
thar they was, drinkin', and runnin on, with all
manner, of nonsense, while I, waited, and waited,
for Si, till, I was, completely, done out. Bimeby,
Mr. Harley, he 'lowed, I'd better, go after Si, if I
wanted him, to go home, to-night; so I went, and,
found him, over, to the grocery, and, when we come
back, the horse, and cart, was gone, and, after we,
looked, everywhar, for 'em, we found 'em, hid
away, in, Mr. Harley's cellar. And, that's, the
whole, truth, about it.”

Sweeny's testimony fully corroborated that of the
prosecutor, and though Ankles was more cautious
than the rest, and was extremely careful to state
nothing positively, but only “according to the best
of his knowledge and belief,” the weight of his evidence
went to strengthen the presumption against
the prisoner.

Mr. Harley declined asking the witnesses any
questions, and having none to adduce in his own
behalf, he relied for his defence solely upon the
deficiency in the evidence as made out by the
prosecutor. He reminded the honourable court that
there was no evidence before it that implicated him
in the slightest degree, and expressed a confident
hope, that though false statements had been made
under oath, by the prosecutor, for the purpose of
covering his own guilt, no one in the community
in which he had lived for many years, would

believe him guilty of the charge preferred against
him.

There was a moment of breathless silence, while
our hero was arranging his notes and authorities
preparatory to making his maiden speech. 'Squire
Rogers condescendingly turned his benign countenance
upon him, as he thus addressed the court—

“May it please your honour—I doubt not but that
your honour has participated with me in the utter
astonishment with which I have listened to the defence
set up in this case,—if, indeed, it may be
called a defence. I am as yet young in the practice
of the law, but I trust, sir, that if I should, like your
honour, live to grow gray in legal experience, I will
never again witness such a miserable exhibition in
a court of justice. Why, sir, what is the defence
relied on in this case?—simply the alleged inconclusiveness
of the testimony on the part of the prosecution.
And let us see what this testimony is.
We have proven, by three respectable witnesses,
that the horse and cart of my client were at a certain
time standing before the prisoner's door, that he decoyed
two of the witnesses into the back room of
his store, and afterwards persuaded the other witness
to go in search of her husband—that while she
was absent the horse and cart were taken, and that
after the prisoner had denied all knowledge of them,
they were traced to his cellar, where they were
found, secreted away out of sight. Now, I would
ask your honour, what further testimony, short of
positive proof of the actual caption, would the prisoner
have us introduce into this court, in order to

establish his guilt? But, may it please your honour,
I am willing to throw aside all these concurrent circumstances—in
themselves more than sufficient to
establish the larceny,—and rest the validity of my
client's cause simply upon the fact of the possession,
under the circumstances in which we have shown
it to this honourable court. By reference to the
books we will find that, ita lex scripta est—To constitute
the offence of larceny, it is necessary that
there should be a caption and asportation, with a
felonious intention, of the goods of another. Now,
may it please your honour, the possession of goods
or chattels, which have been taken from another
person having a right to them, without his consent,
and unaccounted for, is prima facie evidence of the
caption and asportation, with felonious intent. In
other words, if a man be in possession of goods or
chattels under such circumstances, the law requires
him to account for his possession, which it thus regards
as presumptive evidence of larceny, applying
the maxim, “stabitur presumptioni donec probitur in
contrarium.” (Here the honourable court's mouth
unconsciously dropped open to its fullest extent.)
And if he fail to account for this possession by other
testimony than his own, he must be convicted.
This sort of presumption, may it please your honour,
is more or less strong, according as the possession
is more or less recent. The more recent the possession,
the stronger the case. For these well-established
principles of law, I need hardly refer this
intelligent court to East's Pleas of the Crown, 656;
Hale's Pleas of the Crown, 290; 2 Starkie on Evidence,
840; Addison's Reports, 320; Archbold's
Practice, 76, and numerous other learned authorities.
Nor need I occupy the time of this honourable
court by applying these principles to the case under
consideration. I will, may it please your honour,
only remark in conclusion, that we have abundantly
proven the possession of our property by the defendant
without our knowledge or consent, and as he
has utterly failed to account for that possession, this
honourable court is bound to presume that he took
the property animo furandi, and to commit him accordingly.”

If there were any doubts resting on the mind of
'Squire Rogers before, this speech, so replete with
complimentary allusions to “his honour's” sagacity,
and abounding with legal terms so utterly beyond
his comprehension, had the effect to disperse them
at once, and to irrevocably fix his conviction of the
prisoner's guilt.

After a moment's silence, during which 'Squire
Rogers looked unusually wise, he thus delivered
the judgment of the court.

“Absalom Harley, you is committed by this court,
to the amount of five hundred dollars for your appearance
to the next honourable Superior Court.”

While this decision gave evident satisfaction to a
large number of the persons present, there were yet
some who regarded it as wholly unjust, notwithstanding
the able arguments of counsel. And as
Mr. Harley had before intimated his intention of
prosecuting Perkins, he was now strenuously urged
to do so, by his friends, who suggested that as he

had fallen under the displeasure of the magistrate,
his true policy would be to employ the young lawyer—who,
it was evident to all, had won a high
place in “his honour's” favourable regard—to conduct
the suit.

It required much persuasion to induce Mr. Harley
to adopt this latter suggestion. After what had
just taken place, he felt much more like seeing
Thomas Jefferson Jenkins, Esq., “to the d—l,” as
the saying is, than giving him a fee. But, on being
reminded of the utter hopelessness of his case unless
he should succeed in overcoming the prejudices of
'Squire Rogers, and being assured by uncle Hearty,
that “Lawyers is like shot-guns, and hits whoever
they's pinted at, 'thout any malice prepens,” he
waived his objection, and consented to employ the
same weapon against Perkins which that individual
had so successfully directed against himself. Accordingly,
through his friends, he approached our
hero on the subject, who he found not only perfectly
willing to advise him in his case, but, as he expressed
it, extremely happy to have an opportunity
thus afforded him of proving to Mr. Harley, the
total absence of any thing like feelings of personal
hostility, on his part, towards him.

After hearing the evidence upon which Mr. Harley
relied to sustain the prosecution, our hero remarked
that the gist of the action was unquestionably the
same in both cases, and that though it was not usual
in the practice, for a gentleman of his profession to
prosecute his own client, and by doing so he might
possibly expose himself to the unjust sarcasm, “iras

et verba locunt,” yet, under the circumstances, he
did not think that his opinion, given super subjectam
materiam, in the first case, ought to operate as a
bar to prevent his acceptance of a fee in the one
now about to be brought; adding, that he had not
a doubt but that he could, from the evidence, convict
the whole Ticklegizzard party of the offence of
larceny from the house! Mr. Harley was delighted
at the prospect of wreaking his vengeance upon
those who had sworn so lustily against him, but
conscientiously reminded his counsel that the goods
were taken from the cellar—to which our hero replied,
that that fact was perfectly immaterial to the
issue.

Accordingly, while 'Squire Rogers was transcribing
the form of a bond from the Georgia Justice, in
the case of “The State vs. Harley,” our hero was
busily engaged in drafting the necessary papers in
the new prosecution.

Immediately upon the decision of their case, the
Ticklegizzard party had withdrawn, in boisterous
triumph, to their cart, where, with numerous friends,
they made a desperate attack upon the contents of
the stone jug. Si Perkins, who was unusually elated
on the occasion, made a speech from his cart-body.

“Boys,” said he, “I can jest tell you what it is
—that 'Squire Jinkins is a leetle bit the smartest
man in these parts! Did you ever hear sich a
speech? And the way he knows the law from old
Moses up, is perfectly 'mazin'. Why, he can talk
more sense in a minute than old Rogers can understand
in a coon's age. And what's more, he's my

candydate for the next legislater, agin old Nippers
or anybody else. Hurra for Jinkins!”

“Three cheers for Jinkins!” shouted the crowd
unanimously. “Hurra! hurra!! hurra!!!”

“Stop, boys, for a sentiment!” exclaimed Bill
Sweeny, with the jug in his hand. “I give you
old Ab. Harley—

A loud hurra followed the delivery of Bill Sweeny's
impromptu, which had not entirely died away, when
Constable Snipe made his appearance in their midst,
with the warrant for Perkins, Ankles, and Sweeny—
Mrs. Perkins having been omitted by courtesy of
the prosecutor.

The summons of the 'squire came upon them like
a clap of thunder out of a clear sky, and their hearts
quaked with fear while the shout of triumph yet lingered
upon their lips. The jug was immediately
called in, the corn-cob replaced in its neck, and
the party, attended by their astonished friends, repaired
to the magistrate's office. 'Squire Rogers's
surprise at the strange proceeding had, after our
hero's brief explanation, somewhat subsided, and
he was prepared to receive the new culprits with
his wonted calm and dignified composure of manner.

After some little preliminary arrangement, “his
honour” announced that he was ready to proceed
in the investigation of the case of

State vs. Josiah Perkins, William Sweeny, and
Boss Ankles.

The proceedings were formally opened by the
reading of Mr. Harley's affidavit, to which the prisoners
listened in utter amazement, and when the
usual question was propounded, they unanimously
declared themselves “not guilty of no sich doin's.”
But what was their surprise and consternation, when
they beheld their late counsel, Si Perkins's own candidate
for the legislature, rise and state the case on
behalf of the prosecution—

“This, may it please your honour,” said our hero,
“is a case of Larceny from the House, which differs
from the case which has just been so ably decided
by your honour, only in a single feature. In this
case the goods were taken from the enclosure of the
prosecutor. Though this circumstance alters the
grade of the offence, the principles of law by which
the case is to be decided are precisely the same,
and if we can establish the possession before this
honourable court, by good and sufficient testimony,
it will then devolve upon the prisoners to account
for that possession, in default of which we will be
entitled to a commitment. We will now, may it
please your honour, introduce testimony to prove—
1st, the possession by Perkins, and 2d, the participation
of Ankles and Sweeny in the felony, as principals
in the second degree. Your honour will please
to qualify Absalom Harley, Eugenius Augustus Van
Scoik, and Jonathan Hearty.”

The witnesses being sworn, Mr. Harley was first
examined.

Prosecutor's Testimony.—“Prisoners had been
trading at witness's store—when witness returned
from the post-office, understood that prisoners had
lost their cart—saw no more of them for some time—
was selling Mr. Hearty a pair of suspenders when
clerk informed him that prisoners were in the back
yard carrying off his goods—witness ran out to stop
them—met them coming with the cart from the cellar—prisoners
were all in company—ordered Perkins
to stop—prisoner refused, and Sweeny said he would
break witness's d—d old bald pate if he touched the
cart—there were several sides of bacon, one coil of
bale-rope, two pieces of bagging, and one iron tea-kettle
in the cart at the time, all the property of
witness—when clerk caught the bridle of the horse,
Ankles and Sweeny interfered—the cart was overturned,
and witness recovered his property with
great difficulty—the transaction occurred to-day, in
this county—witness is a citizen of this county.”

The testimony of both the other witnesses fully
corroborated the statement of the prosecutor. On
the part of the defence, the prisoners adhered to
their former statement, denying any knowledge of
the goods alleged to have been stolen.

Counsel for Prosecution.—“May it please this
honourable court, as it is growing late I will occupy
your honour's time but a few minutes in arguing
a case which, I doubt not your honour will agree
with me, is too plain to admit of argument. I will
only remark that in this, as in the former case, the
possession proven is not satisfactorily accounted for
by the testimony of the prisoners; which, in the

absence of positive proof, the law holds to be presumptive
evidence of the felonious intention. The
fact that the prisoner Perkins might have gone down
into our cellar to recover his horse, does not authorize
the presumption that he gathered up our goods
and carried them off in his cart by mistake; nor is
the asportation in the slightest degree purged by the
subsequent surrender or abandonment of the goods,
even though the possession was but momentary.
(See 1 Hawkins, c. 33; Leach, 267; Hale, 533.)
However, not doubting but that your honour will at
once perceive the striking similitude of the cases,
so far as the possession is relied on, I will leave your
honour to adopt the maxim, res judicata pro veritate
accipitur, and pass to the other branch of the testimony,
by which we seek to involve the prisoners,
Ankles and Sweeny, as principals in the second degree.
A principal in the second degree, may it
please your honour, is a person who is present aiding
and abetting the fact to be done, and in the
proof it is only necessary to show that he was near
enough to lend his assistance in any manner to the
commission of the offence. (See 2 Starkie on Evidence,
6; Hale's Pleas of the Crown, 615.) Now,
may it please your honour, we have shown the prisoners
not only to have been present at the time,
but, by their own admission, to have been actively
assisting the principal, Perkins, in the commission
of the larceny. We, therefore, most confidently ask
of this honourable court, the commitment of the prisoners.”

'Squire Rogers mustered up his sluggish intellect

and took a profound view of the case. It did look
like a rather wholesale business to commit both parties.
But the evidence was conclusive, and after
the law had been so ably expounded, he felt that it
would be sinning against light and knowledge to
give any other judgment in the case, than that so
confidently asked of “his honour,” by the young
prodigy of legal knowledge who had conducted the
prosecutions. Accordingly, the prisoners were duly
committed.

By this decision our hero won new laurels. The
Harley party were not less extravagant in their applause
than the Ticklegizzard party had been, and
now all parties joined in extolling his talents, and
in pronouncing him unquestionably the ablest lawyer
in the state. True, the sudden change in relationship
which had taken place, had the effect to
somewhat abate the ardour of Si Perkins's friendship
—but if he loved “'Squire Jinkins” less, he feared
him more, which, with him, was an impulse quite
as strong, and subjected him even more readily to
the controlling influence of our hero.

With some little difficulty, the Ticklegizzard party
were enabled to obtain bail; after which, they
pushed the war upon the brown jug to the death,
and then started for home, in a glorious flow of
spirits.

Thus matters rested until near the time for the
sitting of the Superior Court, when both parties
began to feel a little uneasy, and both applied to
'Squire Jenkins to defend them. But our hero
magnanimously declined being retained on either

side, and not only re-established himself in the good
opinion of both parties, but at the same time successfully
covered his own intrigue, by setting on
foot a negotiation for a reconciliation, which resulted
in a mutual agreement not to prosecute—both parties
conceding that there certainly must have been
some mistake in the matter.

From the day of the trials, the name of Thomas
Jefferson Jenkins, Esq., spread far and wide throughout
the country, “a terror to all evil doers,” and a
“tower of strength” in almost every law case. Business
came in from all sides, and fat fees rewarded
his numerous triumphs. His politics were in the
minority in the county, but by his influence his
party soon gained the ascendancy, and, rising with
it, his aspirations after political promotion were
speedily gratified by a successful competition with
Mr. Nippers for a seat in the Legislative Council of
the state.

His talents—(did we hear the reader yawn?)
“Then tell thou the tale,” say we—but hadst thou
not crossed us, thou shouldst have heard how he
grew in the favour of the ladies—how the young
ones admired and the old ones praised him—how
he fell in love with a poor orphan girl, who had
been swindled by her guardian out of a large estate
—how he sued for and recovered the fortune and
married the young lady—what a talk it made in
Pineville—and how (after she had got her property)
everybody thought she was handsome—and how
the respectable people always knew that she had
been brought up a lady,—and how happily 'Squire

Jenkins and Mrs. 'Squire Jenkins lived together—
and how many and what beautiful children they
had—“with many other things of worthy memory,
which now shall die in oblivion, and thou return
unexperienced to thy grave.”