Clearing a patch of ground, he would place one chip to represent the
judge--"big fella master"; a small chip would be His Honour's associate;
twelve chips were the jurymen; three were the lawyers; a big chip
between two others was "Boiling Down" with attendant policemen, and
many scattered about stood for the audience.
Having arranged his properties, the boy would proceed.
"Big fella master, he bin say--'Boinin' Down, you hear me? You
guinty--you not guinty?' Me bin say 'Guinty!'"
At this point "Boiling Down" invariably broke into such paroxsyms of
laughter that further utterance was impossible. Often as he attempted
it, his narrative of the proceedings ended in such violent mirth that
his hearers could not restrain themselves from joining in. They were
obliged to acknowledge that he looked upon the affair as the funniest
incident of his life.
A REFLECTION ON THE HORSE
A boy accustomed to see his master--the owner of a station--jump his
horse over the gate instead of stopping to open it, tried to follow. The
horse cantered up grandly, seemed to gather himself for the jump, and
baulked. The boy shot out of the saddle and over the gate.
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