A town law was once passed in Connecticut, imposing a heavy penalty on any one who should sell, or give cider to Indians. An Indian, notwithstanding the edict, was found frequently drunk. Complaint was made to the civil authority, and the Indian was brought before them, in order that he might tell where he got his cider. You know, said he, who live on top de hill? Yes, In red house -- Yes, Yes -- Got great wood pile for his door. Yes, yes, we know. Great wood pile, little sticks. Yes, yes, we know who you mean. Well, no get one drop there. We do not want to know, said they, where you did not get any, but where you did. Well, I tell you, you know who live down by the brook? Yes, Got many tree, make a great deal cider. Yes. His wife little woman. Yes, yes, we know who you mean. Well, I call in there, tell his wife I want cider. The expectations of the court were now raised to the highest pitch. And what did she way? She say no, I no give you cider, you drink too much -- I give you victuals, anything you like best. I way, well, I like toast and cider. Here the complainant stretched out his neck with eagerness. And did she give you any toast and cider? No, she bad woman, she tell lie -- she give me nothing but bread and cheese, I no get one drop there. Thus he went on, giving long descriptions, and leading them to believe that they were on the point of receiving important information, but always ending with 'No get one drop there,' till they were obliged to dismiss the court as ignorant as when they began.