I said I
would marry her when I had money enough. She said I had money enough
now. We had a quarrel. She refused to walk out with me any more; she
wouldn't draw me my beer; she took up with my fellow-servant, David
Crouch. I went to her on the Saturday, and said I would marry her as
soon as we could be asked in church if she would give up Crouch. She
laughed at me. She turned me out of the wash-house, and the rest of them
saw her turn me out. I was not easy in my mind. I went and sat on the
gate--the gate in the meadow they call Pettit's Piece. I thought I would
shoot her. I went and fetched my gun and loaded it. I went out into
Pettit's Piece again. I was hard put to it to make up my mind. I thought
I would try my luck--I mean try whether to kill her or not---by throwing
up the Spud of the plow into the air. I said to myself, if it falls
flat, I'll spare her; if it falls point in the earth, I'll kill her. I
took a good swing with it, and shied it up. It fell point in the earth.
I went and shot her. It was a bad job, but I did it. I did it, as they
said I did it at the trial. I hope the Lord will have mercy on me. I
wish my mother to have my old clothes.
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