The judge was seated upon a chair, the frame of which he was whittling with such earnestness that he appeared to have quite forgotten where he was.  On each side of him were half a dozen of jurymen, squatted upon square blocks, which they were also whittling, judge and jurymen having each a cigar in the mouth, and a flask of liquor, with which now and then they regaled themselves.  The attorney, on his legs, addressing the jury, was also smoking, as well as the plaintiff, the defendant, and all the audience.  The last were seated, horseback-fashion, upon parallel low benches, for their accommodation, twenty feet long, all turned towards the judge, and looking over the shoulders of the one in front of him, and busily employed in carving at the bench between his thigh and that of his neighbour.  It was a very singular coup d’oeil, and a new-comer from Europe would have supposed the assembly to have been a “whittling club.”

[Illustration:  “The attorney, on his legs, addressing the jury, was also smoking.”]

Having surveyed the company, I then paid attention to the case on trial, and, as I was just behind the defendant, I soon learned how justice was executed in Texas, or, at least, in Texan Boston.  It appeared that the defendant was the postmaster and general merchant of the country.  Two or three weeks back, the son of the plaintiff had entered his shop to purchase his provision of coffee, sugar, and flour, and had given him to change a good one-hundred-dollar bill of one of the New Orleans banks.  The merchant had returned to him a fifty-dollar note and another of ten.  Two hours afterwards, the young man, having swapped his horse, carriole, and twenty dollars, for a waggon and two couple of oxen, presented the fifty-dollar note, which was refused as being counterfeited.  The son of the plaintiff returned to the merchant, and requested him to give him a good note.  The merchant, however, would not:  “Why did you take it?” said he; “I be d——­d if I give you any other money for it.”  Upon which the young man declared it was shameful swindling, and the merchant, throwing at him an iron weight of nine pounds, killed him on the spot.

The attorney, who was now pleading for the defendant, was trying to impress upon the jury that the murder had been merely accidental, inasmuch as the merchant had thrown the missile only in sport, just to scare away the fellow who was insulting him in his own house; but, strange to say, no mention was made at all of the note, though everybody knew perfectly well that the merchant had given it, and that it was a part of his trade to pass forged notes among his inexperienced customers.  As soon as the lawyer had ended the defence, the merchant was called upon by the judge to give his own version of what occurred.  He rose: