October 18, 1844, Friday.

Jim sat around the kitchen fire at the Peace and Poverty, with Cherry Johnston, Mrs Gallagher, old Josiah Ferguson, and several of the Gallagher children – Sally, 10, Nate, 8, and little Sadie, who was 6. Sadie was holding Jacky the dog in her lap, and combing out his fur, which was full of burrs from another unauthorised ramble.

'Jacky, you're a mess,' scolded Sadie. 'Why don't you stay home?'

'He is led astray by Mr Craig's bird dog,' said Nate solemnly, and they all laughed at Nate's precocious vocabulary. Also at the notion of Jacky being influenced by Sam Patch, the bird dog.

The days were getting shorter now, and the leaves had turned red and gold. There was a definite chill in the evening air, which made everyone glad to be near the fire. The children roasted chestnuts, while the adults sipped warm cider. The alcoholic content of the cider was quite low, it being fresh, and Mrs Gallagher commented that even Mr Dougherty might venture to drink it.

'You know he hates liquor,' she commented. 'Hates what it does to people. Even as a young man, he wouldn't drink it. Sometimes, the other boys would fight with him over that, but he didn't care. Mr Dougherty is a very principled man.'

And unusual for someone from Ireland, thought Jim, but didn't say so. Instead, he asked Cherry, 'Why is Hannibal hanging around the courthouse so much?'

Cherry laughed. 'Ever since that murder trial, Hannibal's been interested in the law. He watches the trials every chance he gets. Which makes our dad mad when he's supposed to be shoeing horses. He told him, "When you get to workin' up in Erie, I don't want any bad reports!" But Hannibal's tellin' me stories about the courthouse doin's. Some are pretty funny.'

Since Jim and the others seemed interested, she went on, 'Mr Cyrus Butler is the court crier, and you know how excitable he is. He gets the names wrong, too. So t'other day, he had to call a witness to the courtroom. So he goes to the door and shouts out, "Ami Sibley!"'

They nodded. They knew the players. 'Well, Abial Frost was standing there, and he's a big joker. So he said, "No, you're not Sibley." Mr Butler thought he'd got it wrong. So he shouted, "I am Sibley." Abial Frost said, "No, you're not him, not by a long sight." Then he had to run off, 'cause Mr Butler got really mad.'

The kids thought this was hilarious. 'Am I Sibley?' said Nate, and Sally giggled, 'No, you ain't.'

Cherry went on, 'Another time, Mr Butler was supposed to cry for a witness named Oramel Thing.'

'I can see this one coming,' remarked Jim.

'So, of course, he went out and yelled, "Horrible Thing! Horrible Thing!" The whole place was in an uproar.'

'I can see why Hannibal Johnston enjoys the court proceedings,' was Mrs Gallagher's contribution.

Josiah Ferguson, who had dozed off, woke with a start. Jim grabbed his elbow to make sure he didn't fall off his stool. 'It's almost All Hallow's, ain't it? I can feel the years drawin' thin again.'

Nate's eyes grew wide. 'Do you believe in ghosts, Mr Ferguson?' Mrs Gallagher shot Jim and Josiah a warning glance: they weren't the ones who would have to get up if the children had nightmares in the middle of the night. But Josiah shook his head vigorously.

'Not the way you mean, sonny,' he replied. 'But in the fall, when the leaves turn and the air crisps, and the crops are all in, that's the time the Injuns set aside for the beginnin' of story season. It's a good season to remember the old times, the before-times. And to learn from 'em, iffn we can.'

Unconsciously, everyone in the group settled a bit nearer to the fire, and paid attention. They looked at Josiah expectantly.

'It's strange the way time and tide move a body around. You never know where your life will take you. When I was a young'un, this place was all a wilderness. And now look at it. But I was thinkin' of Judge Porter, Lord rest his soul. His body's in the cemetery up the hill yonder. And how it got there is a story.'

'Tell it, please,' said Jim.

Josiah cleared his throat and took a sip of cider before continuing. 'It was two years ago, in the Red Lion Hotel up the street. Judge Porter, an old man like me, stopped overnight there. He asked to be woke up in time for the stage the next day. So John Smith went up and knocked on the door. But he didn't get no answer, no matter how long he knocked. So he went to open the door. And it wouldn't budge. He had to get help to open that door, and 'twarn't locked nor nothin'. When they got the door open, they seen why.

'Judge Porter was leanin' against the door. Dead. He was dressed to go out. Dr Darling was sent for, and he reckoned the Judge had a heart attack as he was about to go downstairs to get the stage. People were sad about it.'

Josiah sighed. 'Some relatives came from Philadelphia and put up a headstone. It says, "Hon. Robert Porter, of Philadelphia, who died suddenly in Brookville in 1842, in his seventy-fifth year. He was a lieutenant in the Revolutionary War, and president judge of the third district of Pennsylvania, twenty years." Which is a lot to say. But it ain't half the story.'

Jim pricked up his ears. Telling the other half of the story was a Josiah Ferguson specialty.

'Judge Porter was born in 1768 in Norristown, Pennsylvania, which ain't far from Philadelphia. He came from an important family. His father was general in the Continental Army during the Revolution. He started doin' that when his son Robert was only 8 year old. But the war went on so long that young Robert got into it. He joined his father as a cadet lieutenant in 1781. He was only 13. Among other things, they guarded the munitions laboratory in Philadelphia.'

'It must have been excitin' to be part of that,' commented Cherry.

Josiah nodded. 'After the war, the father and son were part of the Society of the Cincinnati, former soldiers who went back to work for peace. Robert studied to become a lawyer, which he did in 1789. Then he became a judge for the courts in Norristown. And that's when he had some problems.

'About twenty year ago, a bunch of people in Norristown swore up complaints against Judge Porter. They said he ignored the law, and the juries, and changed decisions to suit himself. They also said he swore and abused people from the bench. They got the ear of some of the lawmakers in Harrisburg, and they set about to get the judge impeached. There was a big old trial.

'In the end, though, they didn't get away with it. They come to find out that the other judge in Norristown was a eejit an' a nincompoop, who didn't know any law at all. That a lot of them juries was ignorant and crooked. And if the juries didn't decide according to the law, Judge Porter would send them back to think again. He also tried to get people to settle their problems out o' court when they could, and not to prosecute the poor and needy, but to help 'em. All them things was makin' the jumped-up rich people in Norristown mad. And if their crooked lawyers come into his court with that sort o' nonsense, Judge Parker would lose his patience and become intemperate in his language, I guess.

'At any rate, when it come time for the state senate to vote on impeachment, not one of the charges stuck. Them senators all voted to acquit Judge Porter. So he was justified by witnesses. And he went on about his business. Which business brought him to Brookville one day. Where the Lord called him home – in the middle of his journey, you might say, though mebbe not afore time.'

'That's a very good story, Mr Ferguson,' said Jim. 'Thank you for tellin' it.'

Josiah nodded happily. 'Much obliged, son, for bein' listened to.'

Dmitri Gheorgheni