'I tould you so, but you wouldn't listen to I.' The Judge continues that he is not sure he ought not to commit the Defendant, and then, with a gesture of weary disgust, throws down his pen and breaks off in the middle of his sentence to ask the High Bailiff if there are any other judgments out against the Defendant.

So many years' experience of the drifts, subterfuges, paltry misrepresentations and suppressions--all the mean and despicable side of poor humanity--have indeed wearied him, but, at the same time, taught forbearance.

He hesitates to be angry, and delays to punish.

The people are poor, exceedingly poor.

The Defendant's wife says she has eight children; they are ignorant, and, in short, cannot be, in equity, judged as others in better circumstances.