St.George was out at daybreak in the duck-blinds, or, breakfast over, roaming the fields with his dogs, Todd a close attendant.

The judge would stroll over to court an hour or more late, only to find an equally careless and contented group blocking up the door--"po' white trash" most of them, each one with a grievance.

Whenever St.George accompanied him, and he often did, his Honor would spend even less time on the bench--cutting short both ends of the session, Temple laughing himself sore over the judge's decisions.
"And he stole yo' shoat and never paid for him ?" he heard his honor say one day in a hog case, where two farmers who had been waiting hours for Tom's coming were plaintiff and defendant.

"How did you know it was yo' shoat--did you mark him ?" "No, suh." "Tie a tag around his neck ?" "No, suh." "Well, you just keep yo' hogs inside yo' lot.

Too many loose hogs runnin' 'round.