Glasgow Courier. — 1861-11-21 (Glasgow, Strathclyde, Scotland)

BROUGHT BEFORE JUDGE LY NCR.  "Silence for Judge Lynch!" bawled an amateur crier. A gaunt farmer represented the redoubtable judge, and addressed the assembly :--" Fellow-citizens, I'm no forky, tongued lawyer, nor yet no stump speaker, but it's easy to clap the saddle on the right hoss. We've had our bosses stole, our uiggers 'ticed away, our liquor hocussed, and our dollars spirited out of our pouches. That's bad enough, but when it keins to blood."— Here a roar drowned the orator's voice. Next, the crier shouted that the jury hod been impanelled, and the prisoners must be put to the bar. I was thrust forward with the rest. "Guilty or not ?" was the stern demand. Some of them trembled very much. Jones and Phillips were calm, but it was the calm of desperation. " Guilty or not guilty ?" 'Bring the farce to an end," cried Jones. " You've got us, more ass Ito run back into the tray. Du your worst!" "Are those ropes ready aloft there?" Judge Lynch called out. "All ready, lodge," was the rejoinder. "Then, gentlemen of the urv, your verdict." " Guilty ! all guilty !" The wild edge exclaimed, "I kin pass but one sentence —Death. A halter apiece, and a good ri !dance to the city and State !" A well of approval broke forth ; we were hustled beneath the tree, and a halter soon encircled every neck. Then I found my voice, and loudly appealed: protesting my entire innocence, and that I was a harmless traveller, an Englishman, and so forth. A peal of incredulons laughter decided my appeal. "Britishera ain't licensed to rob and murder, yell lam n to your cost," said mold farmer, who held me. "Smother the hypocrite!" exclaimed a boatman. "Did ye hear the main', cowardly skunk," cried another fellow. "Can't ye take pattern by your captain, Jones there, and die like a man?" My eves following the man's pointed finger, I beheld the blackened face and staring eyeballs of my late acquaintance as his struggling body dangled some yards above. "Now for Phillips !" was the cry, and 'closed my eyes, not to see the wretch's execution. "Morgan third; the Britisher fourth," announced Judge Lynch. "Up with Phillips! Haul and hold." " Tchick!" cried somebody with an unfeeling laugh. " Whisht ! howld your sneak' tog tongue, not to mock the dyin'," sternly reged some honest Patlander hard ha'. "Now, Morgan !" was the next summons. " Hyar's the deputy .sheriff !" cried a voice, as a horse was heard galloping, "Whet o' that?" replied another: "the sovereign people ain't to be choused out o' their revenge. Besides, Willy Hudson's a good fellow." Willy Hudson! All the blood rushed from ins, head to my heart, and back again, and 1 tingled from bead to foot. My name was Hudson —toy brother's name wee William! One glance was enough, as a sunbrowned horseman dashed into the crowd. It was Willy —the brother I had come to visit—just in time. I forget exactly what was done ssnd said. T only know that in , about two minutes I was unbound, safe, free, arm in arm with my brother, and that the rough fellows who had been about to hang me were nearly wringing my hands off as they shook it, begging pardon for an mw. i*rd mistake. —Dsciante AU tho Year Amid,