Wellington's particular dialect, was in Court,
and being sworn duly to interpret, the
information (in England, the indictment) was read
and translated to the prisoner. The Chief
Justice, looking as unconscious as he could of
the fact that Wellington was still half swooning
with delight, called upon him, through the
interpreter, to plead to the information. The
interpreter having translated and apparently
explained it, a short, voluble, and eager
conversation of some minutes ensued, before the
black appeared to comprehend what was
required of him. At last he mastered it, and
promptly delivering his answer, the
interpreter proceeded with respectful gravity to
communicate it to the Court. "May it please
your honour, he only says it's all a pack of
lies, and that he never speared the cattle at
all; but he thinks he knows the black fellow
that did spear them, and he will bring him
down to the Court in a few days, if your honour
will allow him to go and look for him."
This is a style of defence as popular among
the blacks as an alibi may be in England.
Wellington, however, was contradicted by
several witnesses who took him in the fact,
and therefore he was found guilty, and
sentenced to transportation for ten years to Van
Diemen's Land. He was removed from the
bar, looking as if he had got to the end of a
pleasant entertainment, and as if the memory
of the Chief Justice's wig would be a solace
to him in his saddest hours.

Being at this time young to the country,
I felt for this cheerful Wellington. What
right have we, thought I, to seize this poor
child of nature, haul him into an English
court of justice, mock his ignorance with a
jargon of law forms, and conclude by tearing
him from his hunting grounds, his wife, and
little children, for ten years? How
complacently we look upon his savage ignorance!
and for certain he is ignorant enough; but
how far are we removed from the same
charge, when, by elaborate forms, and upon
assumptions of his moral and legal
responsibility, we try a creature who has about as
clear an understanding of the whole proceeding
as a dog? Yet, what else is to be done?
Must not property of colonists be protected?
And how may this be, unless the blacks be
made amenable to the law? To shoot them,
would be plain unvarnished murder,—which,
however, has been extensively committed
before now,—and their aggressions, unresisted,
would soon swamp the colony. The colonists,
therefore, become reconciled to the prosecutions
of the blacks. If they cannot understand
law, they understand punishment.

Nothing of criminal interest, beyond the
above-described trial, took place at these
assizes. We wound up, of course, as usual,
with a dinner given to the judge by the
townspeople and settlers. About a hundred
white waistcoats, and an almost infinite
variety of badly-cut coats, sat down to a
table as well covered, and in a room as well
furnished, as you could meet with in old
England—always kept by colonists before
them for a pattern. Toasts, compliments,
speech-making, and all the usual dreariness,
prevailed until ten o'clock, at which hour
I withdrew to bed. I tried to be deaf to the
jingling of the glasses, to the hammering of
the table, to the cheers, and the comic songs,
and the wild roars of laughter, which increased
towards midnight amongst the diners; most of
whom were farmers and gentlemen-settlers of
unlimited powers of digestion, and incredulous
of headaches. Once or twice, indeed, as the
laughter became almost too exciting for my
curiosity, I could almost have got out of bed,
and returned to the table in my night-gown,
to request that that last "good thing" might
be repeated. Gradually, I fell asleep to this
wild accompaniment; perhaps fancying
myself wiser, and more temperate than the
hearty revellers; whereas, I was only more
dyspeptic.

A WASSAIL FOR THE NEW YEAR.

     BRING in the steaming bowl, my lads,
          Bring in the piping bowl!
     And apples in a shoal, my lads,
          All hissing hot and whole!
     The jolly yule-log is flaming its last,
          For the Year hath reach'd his goal.

The bright keen stars they gaze below,
All eager to see the ghostly show;
How the New Year will come and the Old Year go
O'er the wolds so white with the glimmering snow;
     And there's need of wood and coal, my lads,
          There's need of wood and coal!

0, the bright keen stars they throng so low!
And the winds are hush'd, and breathe with woe;
     For they hear a Death-bell knoll, my lads,
          They hear a Death-bell knoll!
0, the winds right soon with joy shall blow,
When the New Year peals, and the cock doth crow
     The news from pole to pole, my lads,
          The news from pole to pole!

     The vanguard of advancing men—
          We English pitch our tents to-night!
     And reach to all our brethren
          A loving hand and a guiding light,
               And a harbour free of toll, my lads,
                    A harbour free of toll!

     A hand whose grasp makes all men free!
     And a guiding light, that they may see
          Our flag of care is furl'd!
     And do as we, where'er they be,
     And hear us drink, with three times three,
               A wassail to the world!
                                             Wassail!

     Good barley-wine and honest brew,
          Right worthy drink, I wot.
     Aye! and the world shall hear us too,
          In every silent spot:
                                             Wassail!
               Wassail to every soul, my lads,
                    Wassail to every soul!