“Bring in the prisoner,” said the President, in a low tone, but so distinct that it was heard all over the room.

The beadle noiselessly glided out, and in a few moments returned, leading a man, whose wrists were fastened with gyves, whom he conducted to the end of the table he had just left, and placed so as to confront the President.

“Take off the irons,” said the same, low, musical voice.

The man, thus unpleasantly introduced, was in the prime of life, certainly not more than thirty-five or six years of age, and from his bold and erect carriage, seemed (as was the fact) to have been bred a soldier.  Upon the order to take off the shackles being complied with, he cast a look of acknowledgment toward the speaker.

“Master Nowell,” said the President, “read the accusation.”

The person addressed, who was the Clerk or Secretary, rose hereupon from his seat near the centre of the table, and read “the information,” which it is unnecessary to give at length, charging the prisoner with using most foul, scandalous, indecent, defamatory, and unseemly invectives, reproaches, and passionate speeches, toward and against the worshipful magistrates and godly ministers of the colony, thereby contriving and designing to bring into contempt, all law, order, religion, and good government, &c., and to subvert the authority of the magistrates and undermine the wholesome influence of the godly ministers, &c., to the disgrace and ruin of the colony and scandal of true religion, &c.

When the paper had been read, the President demanded—­“Are you guilty or not?”

“I am as innocent as the worshipful Governor himself, and whoever wrote those lies, is a villain and a foresworn knave,” replied the prisoner.

“Enter that the prisoner says he is not guilty,” said the President, addressing the Secretary; “and do thou, Philip Joy, remember where thou art, and express thyself in a manner more becoming this presence.”

“It is hard to be tied up like a mad dog and not get angry,” replied the accused.

“Sirrah!” cried the gentleman, whose appearance was described next after the President, “dost thou bring a contumacious spirit here to bandy words with the right worshipful Governor?  Silence, and answer peremptorily to the questions of thy betters.”

“Nay, worthy Deputy Governor Dudley, the poor man is, I doubt not, already sensible of his error, and sinned more out of ignorance than design,” observed the President.

“The honored Governor,” spoke an assistant from near the bottom of the table, “is, I fear, disposed to be too lenient in respect of these foul-mouthed carrion.”

“Our law condemns no man unheard; nor will I be more stern,” answered the mild Governor Winthrop, (for it was he).  “It seems to me to be the part of a judge to allow no harsh suspicions to enter his mind, lest they throw baleful shadows over his decisions.  Philip Joy,” he added, turning to the prisoner, “thou hast declared thyself innocent; wilt thou be tried by a jury, or art content to trust thy cause to the judgment of the honorable Court of Assistants?”