There was no defence, nor any attempt at explanation. The mild
gentleman was a stranger to the neighbourhood. The magistrates
marvelled, and gave his assailant two months.

At the end of that time the man came out of gaol and went quietly
back to his cottage.


Early in the following April he conceived a wish to build a small
greenhouse at the foot of his garden, by the road, and spoke to the
local mason about it. One Saturday afternoon the mason came over to
look at the ground and discuss plans. It was bright weather, and
while the two men talked a white butterfly floated past them--the
first of the year.

Immediately the mason broke off his sentence and began to chase the
butterfly round the garden: for in the West country there is a
superstition that if a body neglect to kill the first butterfly he
may see for the season, he will have ill luck throughout the year.
So he dashed across the beds, hat in hand.

"I'll hat 'en--I'll hat 'en! No, fay! I'll miss 'en, I b'lieve.
Shan't be able to kill 'n if hor's wunce beyond th' gaate--stiddy, my
son! Wo-op!"

Thus he yelled, waving his soft hat: and the next minute was lying
stunned across a carrot-bed, with eight fingers gripping the back of
his neck and two thumbs squeezing on his windpipe.

There was another assault case heard by the Lewminster bench; and