Hanging from the wall, close behind this, is a powder-horn and
flask, several old swords, a military hat somewhat broken, and
sundry other indescribable things, enough to make one's head ache to
contemplate.
The office is become crowded to excess, the prisoner (his hands
unpinioned, but the heavy chain still about his neck!) is placed in
a wooden box fronting the squire's table, as a constable is ordered
to close the court. It is quite evident that Fetter has been taking
a little too much on the previous night; but, being a "first-rate
drinker," his friends find an apology in the arduousness of his
legal duties. In answer to a question from Felsh, who has been
looking at the prisoner somewhat compassionately, the serving
constable says two of the jury of "freeholders" he has summoned have
not yet made their appearance. Fetter, who was about to take his
seat in the great chair, and open court, politely draws forth his
watch, and after addressing a few words to the persons present, on
the necessity of keeping order in a court with such high functions,
whispers a few words in Felsh's ear, holding his hand to his mouth
the while.
"Maintain order in court!" says Fetter, nodding his head to the
official; "we will return in five minutes." Soon they are seen
passing into Von's crooked establishment, where, joined by a number
of very fashionable friends, they "take" of the "hardware" he keeps
in a sly place under the counter, in a special bottle for his
special customers.
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