ging from his seat, and
grasping the hands of several of the jurors in turn.

'Take your seat, and observe order, Mr. Larkin,' said the judge, smiling
in spite of himself.

'All right,' said Larkin; 'ye're _some_ as a judge, Major--'bout up ter
me as a loryer, an' thet's saying a heap; so jest be easy on th' pore
devil. _Do_, yer _Honor!_'

'Silence, sir!' said Gaston, laughing.

Larkin took his seat, and the 'judge' continued:

'Prisoner, you have heard the verdict. Have you anything to say why
sentence for aiding in the assault on the white lady should not now be
passed upon you?'

'No, Major Gaston; I've nothin' ter say,' said Mulock, dejectedly.

Gaston continued: 'You have been tried by a jury of your own selection.
They are unanimous in pronouncing you guilty of a cowardly and
unwarrantable assault on a white woman. They evidently deem you guilty
of the worse crime of abetting the murder of your own wife, and humane
feelings only deter them from saying so. In these circumstances, I feel
it my duty to award you a more severe punishment than I should have done
had you been fully acquitted of the last charge. I shall therefore
sentence you to be coated with warm tar, ducked, in that condition,
three times in the pond, and then ridden on a rail to your shop at
Trenton; and may this example of public indignation lead you to a better
life in future. Mr. Larkin, I commission you to superintend the
execution of the sentence.'

'No, ye don't, Major--yer _Honor_, I mean! I'll stand by, an' see Mulock
hes far play; but I woan't do nary one's dirty work, I swar.'

'Well, who will volunteer for the duty?' said Gaston, appealing to the
audience.

About a score of 'natives' offered themselves; but, fixing his eye on a
stout, goodnatured-looking man, who had not volunteered, Gaston said:

'Won't _you_ do it, Mr. Moore?'

'Yas, ter 'blige ye, Major, I will,' replied the man.

The 'judge' then pronounced the court adjourned, and the crowd escorted
Mulock and the impromptu executioners to the site of the old
distilleries. There an iron kettle filled with tar was already simmering
over a light-wood fire, and, being divested of his borrowed plumage,
Mulock was soon clad in a close-fitting suit of black. He was about to
be led to the pond, when Ally appeared on the ground. Making his way
through the crowd, he called out:

'De young missus doan't want dis ting to gwo no fudder. She'll 'sider it
a 'ticular favor ef de g