Page:The Green Bag (1889–1914), Volume 01.pdf/567

But for his humble brother of the bench No sympathy had this fell magistrate; In durance vile poor Josselyn must blench And cobble shoes for puritan Bay State. Ill weeds disfigure now his humble garden, His wife and little ones of foot go bare; Consigned to cruel mercies of the warden, He meets a due reward in prison fare. On Sunday cobbler should become knee-suitor, At church in morning be among the first, Seek not his suffering garden-sauce to tutor, Hoe not, however much he is athirst. On bended knee of him one lesson cram, To wit : Ne sutor ultra crepidam. Sampson a license legally acquired To gather seaweed on a neighboring beach, To spread which on his land he much desired, That into every cranny it might leach; — It was a sort of heaven-sent manure Which very cheaply he could thus secure. One Sunday was unusually good for weed, And so to haul it higher up the shore, Lest it should wash away he did proceed; This was his crime, and really nothing more, — A simple exercise of Yankee thrift Lest gifts of Providence should go adrift. It was at ten o'clock that Sunday night, Afar from any house or public road, There was no proof of any one in sight, He did not try to draw a single load, — But probably it made his crime the worse, That he to observation was averse. He might have been at " meeting " all day long, And played the double-bass in country choir, Or raised his voice in nasal sacred song, Till he and all his listeners did perspire; — But on this point the report, I must concede, Is silent, therefore we return to weed. The court apparently thought the defence In Sampson's case than Josselyn's was stronger;