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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30551-0.txt b/30551-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..94780d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/30551-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12786 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's +Lawsuit, by Richard Harris + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's Lawsuit + + +Author: Richard Harris + + + +Release Date: November 27, 2009 [eBook #30551] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMOUROUS STORY OF FARMER +BUMPKIN'S LAWSUIT*** + + +Transcribed from the 1883 Stevens and Sons edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + THE + HUMOUROUS STORY + OF + FARMER BUMPKIN’S LAWSUIT: + + + BY + RICHARD HARRIS, + + BARRISTER-AT-LAW, + AUTHOR OF “HINTS ON ADVOCACY,” ETC., ETC. + + SECOND EDITION. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: + STEVENS AND SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE, + Law Publishers and Booksellers. + 1883. + + LONDON: + BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. + + +Considering the enormous interest which the Public have in “a more +efficient and speedy administration of justice,” I am not surprised that +a Second Edition of “Mr. Bumpkin’s Lawsuit” should be called for so soon +after the publication of the first. If any proof were wanting that I had +not overstated the evils attendant on the present system, it would be +found in the case of _Smitherman_ v. _The South Eastern Railway Company_, +which came before the House of Lords recently; and judgment in which was +delivered on the 16th of July, 1883. The facts of the case were +extremely simple, and were as follow:—A man of the name of Smitherman was +killed on a level crossing of the South Eastern Railway Company at East +Farleigh, in December, 1878. His widow, on behalf of herself and four +children, brought an action against the Company on the ground of +negligence on the part of the defendants. The case in due course was +tried at the Maidstone Assizes, and the plaintiff obtained a verdict for +£400 for herself and £125 for each of the children. A rule for a new +trial was granted by the Divisional Court: the rule for the new trial was +discharged by the Court of Appeal. The Lords reversed the decision of +the Court of Appeal, and ordered a new trial. New trial took place at +Guildhall, City of London, before Mr. Baron Pollock; jury again found for +the plaintiff, with £700 _agreed_ damages: Company thereby saving £200. +Once more rule for new trial granted by Divisional Court: once more rule +discharged by Court of Appeal: once more House of Lords reverse decision +of Court of Appeal, and order _second new trial_. So that after more +than four years of harassing litigation, this poor widow and her children +are left in the same position that they were in immediately after the +accident—except that they are so much the worse as being liable for an +amount of costs which need not be calculated. The case was tried by +competent judges and special juries; and yet, by the subtleties of the +doctrine of contributory negligence, questions of such extreme nicety are +raised that a third jury are required to give an opinion _upon the same +state of facts_ upon which two juries have already decided in favour of +the plaintiff and her children. + +Such is the power placed by our complicated, bewildering, and inartistic +mode of procedure, in the hands of a rich Company. + +No one can call in question the wisdom or the learning of the House of +Lords: it is above criticism, and beyond censure; but the House of Lords +itself works upon the basis of our system of Procedure, and as that is +neither beyond criticism nor censure, I unhesitatingly ask, _Can Old +Fogeyism and Pettifoggism further go_? + + RICHARD HARRIS. + +LAMB BUILDING, TEMPLE, + _October_, 1883. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. + + +When Old Fogeyism is being lowered to his last resting place, +Pettifoggism, being his chief mourner, will be so overwhelmed with grief +that he will tumble into the same grave. How then to hasten the demise +of this venerable Humbug is the question. Some are for letting him die a +natural death, others for reducing him gradually by a system of slow +starvation: for myself, I confess, I am for knocking him on the head at +once. Until this event, so long wished for by all the friends of +Enlightenment and Progress, shall have happened, there will be no +possibility of a Reform which will lessen the needless expense and +shorten the unjustifiable delay which our present system of legal +procedure occasions; a system which gives to the rich immeasurable +advantages over poor litigants; and amounts in many cases not only to a +perversion of justice but to a denial of it altogether. + +Old Fogeyism only tinkers at reform, and is so nervous and incompetent +that in attempting to mend one hole he almost invariably makes two. The +Public, doubtless, will, before long, undertake the much needed reform +and abolish some of the unnecessary business of “judges’ chambers,” where +the ingenuity of the Pettifogging Pleader is so marvellously displayed. +How many righteous claims are smothered in their infancy at this stage of +their existence! + +I have endeavoured to bring the evils of our system before the Public in +the story of Mr. Bumpkin. The solicitors, equally with their clients, as +a body, would welcome a change which would enable actions to be carried +to a legitimate conclusion instead of being stifled by the “Priggs” and +“Locusts” who will crawl into an honorable profession. It is impossible +to keep them out, but it is not impossible to prevent their using the +profession to the injury of their clients. All respectable solicitors +would be glad to see the powers of these unscrupulous gentlemen +curtailed. + +The verses at the end of the story have been so often favourably received +at the Circuit Mess, that I thought an amplified version of them in prose +would not be unacceptable to the general reader, and might ultimately +awaken in the public mind a desire for the long-needed reform of our +legal procedure. + + RICHARD HARRIS. + +LAMB BUILDING, TEMPLE, + _July_, 1883. + + + + +ADVERTISEMENT. + + +On the 4th of December, 1882, Our Gracious Queen, on the occasion of the +opening of the Royal Courts of Justice, said:— + + “I trust that the uniting together in one place of the various + branches of Judicature in this my Supreme Court, will conduce to the + _more efficient_ and _speedy_ administration of justice to my + subjects.” + +On April 20th, 1883, in the House of Commons, Mr. H. H. Fowler asked the +Attorney-General whether he was aware of the large number of causes +waiting for trial in the Chancery Division of the High Court, and in the +Court of Appeal; and whether the Government proposed to take any steps to +remedy the delay and increased cost occasioned to the suitors by the +present administration of the Judicature Acts. + +The Attorney-General said the number of cases of all descriptions then +waiting for trial in the Chancery Division was 848, and in the Court of +Appeal 270. The House would be aware that a committee of Judges had been +engaged for some time in framing rules in the hope of getting rid of some +of the delay that now existed in the hearing of cases; and until those +rules were prepared, which would be shortly, the Government were not +desirous of interfering with a matter over which the Judges had +jurisdiction. The Government were now considering the introduction of a +short Judicature Act for the purpose of lessening the delay.—_Morning +Post_. + +[No rules or short Judicature Act at present!] {0a} + +On the 13th April, 1883, Mr. Glasse, Q.C., thus referred to a statement +made by Mr. Justice Pearson of the Chancery Division: “The citizens of +this great country, of which your Lordship is one of the representatives, +will look at the statement you have made with respectful amazement.” The +statement appears to have been, that his Lordship had intended to +continue the business of the Court in exactly the same way in which it +had been conducted by Mr. Justice Fry; but he had been informed that he +would have to take the interlocutory business of Mr. Justice Kay’s Court +whilst his Lordship _was on Circuit_; and, as it was requisite that he +should take his own interlocutory business _before the causes set down +for hearing_, “ALL THE CAUSES IN THE TWO COURTS MUST GO TO THE WALL”!!! +His Lordship added, that it would be necessary for him to rise at 3 +o’clock every day (not at 3 o’clock in the _morning_, gentle reader), +because he understood he should have to conduct the business of Mr. +Justice Kay’s Chambers as well as his own.—_Morning Post_. + +On the 16th April, 1883, Mr. Justice Day, in charging the Grand Jury at +the Manchester Spring Assizes, expressed his disagreement with the +opinion of the other Judges in favour of the Commission being so altered +that the Judge would have to “_deliver all the prisoners detained in +gaol_,” and regarded it as “a waste of the Judge’s time that he should +have to try a case in which a woman was indicted for _stealing a shawl +worth_ 3_s._ 9_d._; or a prisoner charged with stealing _two mutton pies_ +and _two ounces of bacon_.”—_Evening Standard_. + +CONTENTS. + + CHAPTER I. +Shows the Beauty of a Farm Yard on a Sabbath-Day, and what a 1 +difference a single letter will sometimes make in the legal +signification of a Sentence + CHAPTER II. +The Simplicity and Enjoyments of a Country life depicted 11 + CHAPTER III. +Showing how true it is that it takes at least Two to make a 17 +Bargain or a Quarrel + CHAPTER IV. +On the extreme Simplicity of Going to Law 27 + CHAPTER V. +In which it appears that the Sting of Slander is not always 35 +in the Head + CHAPTER VI. +Showing how the greatest Wisdom of Parliament may be thrown 45 +away on Ungrateful People + CHAPTER VII. +Showing that Appropriateness of Time and Place should be 55 +studied in our Pastimes + CHAPTER VIII. +The Pleasure of a Country Drive on a Summer Evening described 63 +as enhanced by a Pious Mind + CHAPTER IX. +A Farm-house Winter Fire-side—A morning Drive and a mutual 71 +interchange of Ideas between Town and Country, showing how we +may all learn something from one another + CHAPTER X. +The last Night before the first London Expedition, which 87 +gives occasion to recall pleasant reminiscences + CHAPTER XI. +Commencement of London Life and Adventures 97 + CHAPTER XII. +How the great Don O’Rapley became an Usher of the Court of 105 +Queen’s Bench, and explained the Ingenious Invention of the +Round Square—How Mr. Bumpkin took the water and studied +Character from a Penny Steamboat + CHAPTER XIII. +An interesting Gentleman—showing how true it is that one half 111 +the World does not know how the other half lives + CHAPTER XIV. +The Old Bailey—Advantages of the New System illustrated 119 + CHAPTER XV. +Mr. Bumpkin’s Experience of London Life enlarged 133 + CHAPTER XVI. +The coarse mode of Procedure in Ahab _versus_ Naboth 143 +ruthlessly exposed and carefully contrasted with the humane +and enlightened form of the Present Day + CHAPTER XVII. +Showing that Lay Tribunals are not exactly Punch and Judy 151 +Shows where the Puppet is moved by the Man underneath + CHAPTER XVIII. +A comfortable Evening at the “Goose” 165 + CHAPTER XIX. +The Subject continued 175 + CHAPTER XX. +Mr. Bumpkin sings a good old Song—The Sergeant becomes quite 179 +a convivial Companion and plays Dominoes + CHAPTER XXI. +Joe electrifies the Company and surprises the Reader 191 + CHAPTER XXII. +The Sergeant makes a loyal Speech and sings a Song, both of 203 +which are well received by the Company + CHAPTER XXIII. +The famous Don O’Rapley and Mr. Bumpkin spend a social 213 +Evening at the “Goose” + CHAPTER XXIV. +Don O’Rapley expresses his views of the Policy of the 221 +Legislature in not permitting Dominoes to be played in +Public-houses + CHAPTER XXV. +In spite of all warnings, Joe takes his own part, not to be 227 +persuaded on one side or the other—Affecting Scene between +Mr. Bumpkin and his old Servant + CHAPTER XXVI. +Morning Reflections—Mrs. Oldtimes proves herself to be a 239 +great Philosopher—The Departure of the Recruits to be sworn +in + CHAPTER XXVII. +A Letter from Home 245 + CHAPTER XXVIII. +Mr. Bumpkin determines to maintain a discreet silence about 255 +his Case at the Old Bailey—Mr. Prigg confers with him thereon + CHAPTER XXIX. +The Trial at the Old Bailey of Mr. Simple Simonman for 261 +Highway Robbery with violence—Mr. Alibi introduces himself to +Mr. Bumpkin + CHAPTER XXX. +Mr. Alibi is stricken with a Thunderbolt—Interview with 283 +Horatio and Mr. Prigg + CHAPTER XXXI. +Mr. Bumpkin at Home again 295 + CHAPTER XXXII. +Joe’s Return to Southwood—An Invitation from the Vicar—What 303 +the Old Oak saw + CHAPTER XXXIII. +A Consultation as to new Lodgings—Also a Consultation with 317 +Counsel + CHAPTER XXXIV. +Mr. Bumpkin receives Compliments from distinguished Persons 325 + CHAPTER XXXV. +The Trial 335 + CHAPTER XXXVI. +Motion for Rule _Nisi_, in which is displayed much Learning, 351 +Ancient and Modern + CHAPTER XXXVII. +Mr. Bumpkin is congratulated by his Neighbours and Friends in 359 +the Market Place and sells his Corn + CHAPTER XXXVIII. +Farewell 375 +THE LAWSUIT 381 + + “_He never suffered his private partiality to intrude into the + conduct of publick business_. _Nor in appointing to employments did + he permit solicitation to supply the place of merit_; _wisely + sensible_, _that a proper choice of officers is almost the whole of + Government_.”—BURKE. + +_Extract from Notice of the Work in_ THE SATURDAY REVIEW, _September_ +15_th_, 1883:— + + “He was obviously quite as eager for a good battle in Court as ever + was Dandy Dinmont.” + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The beauty of a farm yard on a Sabbath day, and what a difference a +single letter will sometimes make in the legal signification of a +sentence. + +It was during the Long Vacation—that period which is Paradise to the Rich +and Purgatory to the Poor Lawyer—to say nothing of the client, who simply +exists as a necessary evil in the economy of our enlightened system of +Legal Procedure: it was during this delightful or dismal period that I +returned one day to my old Farm-house in Devonshire, from a long and +interesting ramble. My excellent thirst and appetite having been +temperately appeased, I seated myself cosily by the huge chimney, where +the log was always burning; and, having lighted my pipe, surrendered my +whole being to the luxurious enjoyment of so charming a situation. I had +scarcely finished smoking, when I fell into a sound and delicious sleep. +And behold! I dreamed a dream; and methought: + +It was a beautiful Sabbath morning, in the early part of May, 18--, when +two men might have been seen leaning over a pigstye. The pigstye was +situated in a farm-yard in the lovely village of Yokelton, in the county +of Somerset. Both men had evidently passed what is called the “prime of +life,” as was manifest from their white hair, wrinkled brows, and +stooping shoulders. It was obvious that they were contemplating some +object with great interest and thoughtful attention. + +And I perceived that in quiet and respectful conversation with them was a +fine, well-formed, well-educated sow of the Chichester breed. It was +plain from the number of her rings that she was a sow of great +distinction, and, indeed, as I afterwards learned, was the most famous +for miles around: her progeny (all of whom I suppose were honourables) +were esteemed and sought by squire and farmer. How that sow was bred up +to become so polite a creature, was a mystery to all; because there were +gentlemen’s homesteads all around, where no such thoroughbred could be +found. But I suppose it’s the same with pigs as it is with men: a +well-bred gentleman may work in the fields for his living, and a cad may +occupy the manor-house or the nobleman’s hall. + +The Chichester sow looked up with an air of easy nonchalance into the +faces of the two men who smoked their short pipes, and uttered ever and +anon some short ejaculation, such as, “Hem!” “Ah!” “Zounds!” and so +forth, while the sow exhibited a familiarity with her superiors only to +be acquired by mixing in the best society. There was a respectful +deference which, while it betrayed no sign of servility, was in pleasing +contrast with the boisterous and somewhat unbecoming levity of the other +inhabitants of the stye. These people were the last progeny of this +illustrious Chichester, and numbered in all eleven—seven sons and four +daughters—honourables all. It was impossible not to admire the high +spirit of this well-descended family. That they had as yet received no +education was due to the fact that their existence dated only from the +21st of January last. Hence their somewhat erratic conduct, such as +jumping, running, diving into the straw, boring their heads into one +another’s sides, and other unceremonious proceedings in the presence of +the two gentlemen whom it is necessary now more particularly to describe. + +Mr. Thomas Bumpkin, the elder of the two, was a man of about seventy +summers, as tall and stalwart a specimen of Anglo-Saxon peasantry as you +could wish to behold. And while I use the word “peasantry” let it be +clearly understood that I do so in no sense as expressing Mr. Bumpkin’s +present condition. He had risen from the English peasantry, and was what +is usually termed a “self-made man.” He was born in a little hut +consisting of “wattle and dab,” and as soon as he could make himself +heard was sent into the fields to “mind the birds.” Early in the +November mornings, immediately after the winter sowings, he would be seen +with his little bag of brown bread round his neck, trudging along with a +merry whistle, as happy as if he had been going home to a bright fire and +a plentiful breakfast of ham, eggs, and coffee. By degrees he had raised +himself to the position of ploughman, and never ploughman drove a +straighter or leveller furrow. He had won prizes at the annual ploughing +and harrowing matches: and upon the strength of ten and sixpence a week +had married Nancy Tugby, to whom he had been engaged off and on for +eleven years. Nancy was a frugal housewife, and worked hard, morning, +noon and night. She was quite a treasure to Bumpkin; and, what with +taking in a little washing, and what with going out to do a little +charing, and what with Tom’s skill in mending cart-harness (nearly all +the cart-harness in the neighbourhood was in a perpetual state of +“mendin’”), they had managed to put together in a year or two enough +money to buy a sow. This, Tom always said, was “his first start.” And +mighty proud they both were as they stood together of a Sunday morning +looking at this wonderful treasure. The sow soon had pigs, and the pigs +got on and were sold, and then the money was expended in other things, +which in their turn proved equally remunerative. Then Tom got a piece of +land, and next a pet ewe-lamb, and so on, until little by little wealth +accumulated, and he rented at last, after a long course of laborious +years, from the Squire, a small homestead called “Southwood Farm,” +consisting of some fifty acres. Let it not be supposed that the +accession of an extra head of live stock was a small matter. Everything +is great or little by relation. I believe the statesman himself knows no +greater pleasure when he first obtains admission to the Cabinet, than Tom +did when he took possession of his little farm. And he certainly +experienced as great a joy when he got a fresh pig as any young barrister +does when he secures a new client. + +Southwood Farm was a lovely homestead, situated near a very pretty river, +and in the midst of the most picturesque scenery. The little rivulet +(for it was scarcely more) twisted about in the quaintest conceivable +manner, almost encircling the cosy farm; while on the further side rose +abruptly from the water’s edge high embankments studded thickly with oak, +ash, and an undergrowth of saplings of almost every variety. The old +house was spacious for the size of the farm, and consisted of a large +living-room, ceiled with massive oak beams and oak boards, which were +duly whitewashed, and looked as white as the sugar on a wedding cake. +The fireplace was a huge space with seats on either side cut in the wall; +while from one corner rose a rude ladder leading to a bacon loft. +Dog-irons of at least a century old graced the brick hearth, while the +chimney-back was adorned with a huge slab of iron wrought with divers +quaint designs, and supposed to have been in some way or other connected +with the Roman invasion, as it had been dug up somewhere in the +neighbourhood, by whom or when no one ever knew. There was an inner +chamber besides the one we are now in, which was used as a kitchen; while +on the opposite side was a little parlour with red-tiled floor and a +comparatively modern grate. This was the reception room, used chiefly +when any of the ladies from “t’Squoire’s” did Mrs. Bumpkin the honour to +call and taste her tea-cakes or her gooseberry wine. The thatched roof +was gabled, and the four low-ceiled bedrooms had each of them a window in +a gable. The house stood in a well-stocked garden, beyond which was a +lovely green meadow sloping to the river side. In front was the little +farm-yard, with its double-bayed barn, its lean-to cow-houses, its +stables for five horses, and its cosy loft. Then there were the pigstyes +and the henhouses: all forming together a very convenient and compact +homestead. Adjoining the home meadow was a pretty orchard, full of +apple, pear, cherry and plum trees; and if any one could imagine that Mr. +and Mrs. Bumpkin had no eye or taste for the beautiful, I would have +advised that ill-conditioned person to visit those good people of a +Sunday morning after “brakfast” when the orchard was in full blossom. +This beautiful picture it was not only Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin’s special joy +to behold, but their great and proud delight to show; and if they had +painted the blossoms themselves they could not have felt more intense +enjoyment and satisfaction. + +There was one other feature about the little farm which I must mention, +because it is one of the grandest and most beautiful things in nature, +and that is the magnificent “Old Oak” that stood in the corner of one of +the home fields, and marked the boundary of the farm in that direction. +If the measure of its girth would be interesting to the reader to know, +it was just twenty-seven feet: not the largest in England certainly, +notwithstanding which the tree was one of the grandest and most +beautiful. It towered high into the air and spread its stalwart branches +like giant trees in all directions. It was said to be a thousand years +old, and to be inhabited by owls and ghosts. Whether the ghosts lived +there or not I am unable to say, but from generation to generation the +tradition was handed down and believed to be true. Such was Mr. +Bumpkin’s home, in my dream: the home of Peace and Plenty, Happiness and +Love. + +The man who was contemplating Mr. Bumpkin’s pigs on this same Sunday +morning was also a “self-made man,” whose name was Josiah SNOOKS. He was +not made so well as Bumpkin, I should say, by a great deal, but +nevertheless was a man who, as things go, was tolerably well put +together. He was the village coal-merchant, not a Cockerell by any +means, but a merchant who would have a couple of trucks of “Derby +Brights” down at a time, and sell them round the village by the +hundredweight. No doubt he was a very thrifty man, and to the extent, so +some people said, of nipping the poor in their weight. And once he +nearly lost the contract for supplying the coal-gifts at Christmas on +that account. But he made it a rule to attend church very regularly as +the season came round, and so did Mrs. Josiah Snooks; and it will require +a great deal of “nipping” to get over that in a country village, I +promise you. I did not think Snooks a nice looking man, by any means; +for he had a low forehead, a scowling brow, a nobbly fat nose, small +eyes, one of which had a cast, a large mouth always awry and distorted +with a sneer, straight hair that hung over his forehead, and a large scar +on his right cheek. His teeth were large and yellow, and the top ones +protruded more, I thought, than was at all necessary. Nor was he +generally beliked. In fact, so unpopular was this man with the poor, +that it was a common thing for mothers to say to their children when they +could not get them in of a summer’s evening, “You, Betsy,” or “You, Jane, +come in directly, or old Snooks will have you!” A warning which always +produced the desired effect. + +No one could actually tell whether Snooks had made money or merely +pretended to possess it. Some said they knew he had, for he lived so +niggardly; others said the coal trade was not what it was; and there were +not wanting people who hinted that old Betty Bodger’s house and +garden—which had been given to her years ago by the old squire, what for, +nobody knew—had been first mortgaged to Josiah and then sold to him and +“taken out in coals.” A very cunning man was Snooks; kept his own +counsel—I don’t mean a barrister in wig and gown on his premises—but in +the sense of never divulging what was in his sagacious mind. He was +known as a universal buyer of everything that he could turn a penny out +of; and he sold everybody whenever he got the chance. Such was the +character of old Snooks. + +How then came our good guileless friend Bumpkin to be associated with +such a man on this beautiful Sunday morning? I can only answer: there +are things in this world which admit of no explanation. This, so far as +I am concerned, was one. + +“They be pooty pork,” said Mr. Bumpkin. + +“Middlin’,” rejoined the artful Snooks. + +“They be a mighty dale more an middlin’, if you come to thic,” said the +farmer. + +“I’ve seen a good deal better,” remarked Snooks. This was always his +line of bargaining. + +“Well, I aint,” returned Bumpkin, emphatically. “Look at that un—why, he +be fit for anything—a regler pictur.” + +“What’s he worth?” said Snooks. “Three arf crowns?” That was Snooks’ +way of dealing. + +“Whisht!” exclaimed Bumpkin; “and four arf-crowns wouldn’t buy un.” That +was Bumpkin’s way. + +Snooks expectorated and gave a roar, which he intended for a laugh, but +which made every pig jump off its feet and dive into the straw. + +“I tell ’ee what, maister Bumpkin, I doant want un”—that was his way +again; “but I doant mind giving o’ thee nine shillings for that un.” + +“Thee wunt ’ave un—not a farden less nor ten if I knows it; ye doant ’ave +we loike that, nuther—ye beant sellin’ coals, maister Snooks—no, nor +buyin’ pigs if I knows un.” + +How far this conversation would have proceeded, and whether any serious +altercation would have arisen, I know not; but at this moment a +combination of circumstances occurred to interrupt the would-be +contracting parties. First, Mrs. Bumpkin, who had been preparing the +Sunday dinner, came across the yard with her apron full of cabbage-leaves +and potato-peelings, followed by an immense number of chickens, while the +ducks in the pond clapped their wings, and flew and ran with as much +eagerness as though they were so many lawyers seeking some judicial +appointment, and Mrs. Bumpkin were Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain; +and they made as much row as a flock of Chancery Barristers arguing about +costs. Then came along, with many a grunt and squeak, a pig or two, who +seemed to be enjoying a Sunday holiday in their best clothes, for they +had just come out of a puddle of mud; then came slouching along, a young +man whose name was Joe (or, more correctly speaking, Joseph Wurzel), a +young man of about seventeen, well built, tall and straight, with a +pleasant country farm-house face, a roguish black eye, even teeth, and a +head of brown straight hair, that looked as if the only attention it ever +received was an occasional trimming with a reap-hook, and a brush with a +bush-harrow. + +It was just feeding time; that was why Joe came up at this moment; and in +addition to all these circumstances, there came faintly booming through +the trees the ding of the old church bell, reminding Mr. Bumpkin that he +must “goo and smarten oop a bit” for church. He already had on his +purple cord trousers, and, as Joe termed it, his hell-fire waistcoat with +the flames coming out of it in all directions; but he had to put on his +drab “cooat” and white smock-frock, and then walk half a mile before +service commenced. He always liked to be there before the Squire, and +see him and his daughters, Miss Judith and Miss Mary, come in. + +So he had to leave the question of the “walley” of the pig and attend to +the more important interests of his immortal soul. But now as he was +going comes the point to which the reader’s special attention is +directed. He had got about six yards from the stye, or it may have been +a little more, when Snooks cried out: + +“I’ve bought un for nine and six.” + +To which Mr. Bumpkin replied, without so much as turning his head— + +“’Ave ur.” + +Now this expression, according to Chitty on Contracts, would mean, “Have +you, indeed? Mr. Snooks.” But the extreme cunning of Josiah converted it +into “’Ave un,” which, by the same learned authority would signify, “Very +well, Mr. Snooks, you can have him.” + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The simplicity and enjoyments of a country life depicted. + +A quiet day was Sunday on Southwood Farm. Joe used to slumber in the +meadows among the buttercups, or in the loft, or near the kitchen-fire, +as the season and weather invited. That is to say, until such time as, +coming out of Sunday School (for to Sunday School he sometimes went) he +saw one of the fairest creatures he had ever read about either in the +Bible or elsewhere! It was a very strange thing she should be so +different from everybody else: not even the clergyman’s daughters—no, nor +the Squire’s daughters, for the matter of that—looked half so nice as +pretty Polly Sweetlove, the housemaid at the Vicar’s. + +“Now look at that,” said Joe, as he went along the lane on that Sunday +when he first beheld this divine creature. “I’m danged if she beant +about the smartest lookin o’ any on ’em. Miss Mary beant nothing to her: +it’s a dandelion to a toolup.” + +So ever since that time Joe had slept less frequently in the hay-loft on +a Sunday afternoon; and, be it said to his credit, had attended his +church with greater punctuality. The vicar took great notice of the +lad’s religious tendencies, and had him to his night-school at the +vicarage, in consequence; and certainly no vicar ever knew a boy more +regular in his attendance. He was there waiting to go in ever so long +before the school began, and was always the very last to leave the +premises. + +Often he would peep over the quick-set hedge into the kitchen-window, +just to catch a glance of this lovely angel. And yet, so far as he could +tell, she had never looked at him. When she opened the door, Joe always +felt a thrill run through him as if some extraordinary thing had +happened. It was a kind of jump; and yet he had jumped many times before +that: “it wasn’t the sort of jump,” he said, “as a chap gits either from +bein’ frit or bein’ pleased.” And what to make of it he didn’t know. +Then Polly’s cap was about the loveliest thing, next to Polly herself, he +had ever seen. It was more like a May blossom than anything else, or a +beautiful butterfly on the top of a water-lily. In fact, all the rural +images of a rude but not inartistic mind came and went as this country +boy thought of his beautiful Polly. As he ploughed the field, if he saw +a May-blossom in the hedgerow, it reminded him of Polly’s cap; and even +the little gentle daisy was like Polly herself. Pretty Polly was +everywhere! + +Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin, on a fine Sabbath afternoon, would take their +pastime in the open air. First Mr. Bumpkin would take down his long +churchwarden pipe from its rack on the ceiling, where it lay in close +companionship with an ancient flint-gun; then he would fill it tightly, +so as to make it last the longer, with tobacco from his leaden jar; and +then, having lighted it, he and his wife would go out of the back door, +through the garden and the orchard, and along by the side of the quiet +river. By their side, as a matter of course, came Tim the Collie (named +after Mrs. Bumpkin’s grandfather Timothy), who knew as well as possible +every word that was being said. If Mrs. Bumpkin only asked, “Where is +Betsy?” (that was the head Alderney cow) Tim would bark and fly across to +the meadow where she was; and then, having said to her and to the five +other Alderney cows and four heifers, “Why, here’s master and missus +coming round to look at you, why on earth don’t you come and see them?” +up the whole herd would come, straggling one after the other, to the +meadow where Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin were waiting for them; and all would +look over the hedge, as much as to say, “How d’ye do, master, and how +d’ye do, missus; what a nice day, isn’t it?” exactly in the same manner +as men and women greet one another as often as they meet. And then there +was the old donkey, Jack, whom Tim would chaff no matter when or where he +saw him. I believe if Tim had got him in church, he would have chaffed +him. It was very amusing to see Jack duck his head and describe a circle +as Tim swept round him, barking with all his might, and yet only laughing +all the while. Sometimes Jack, miscalculating distances—he wasn’t very +great at mathematics—and having no eye for situations, would kick out +vigorously with his hind legs, thinking Tim was in close proximity to his +heels; whereas the sagacious and jocular Tim was leaning on his +outstretched fore-feet immediately in front of Jack’s head. + +Then there was another sight, not the least interesting on these +afternoon rambles: in the far meadow, right under “the lids,” as they +were called, lived the famous Bull of Southwood Farm. He was Mrs. +Bumpkin’s pet. She had had him from a baby, and used to feed him in his +infant days from a bottle by the kitchen fire. And so docile was he +that, although few strangers would be safe in intruding into his +presence, he would follow Mrs. Bumpkin about, as she said, “just like a +Christian.” The merits of this bull were the theme, on all appropriate +occasions, of Mrs. Bumpkin’s unqualified praise. If the Vicar’s wife +called, as she sometimes did, to see how Mrs. Bumpkin was getting on, +Mrs. Bumpkin’s “baby” (that is the bull) was sure to be brought up—I +don’t mean by the nurse, but in conversation. No matter how long she +waited her opportunity, Mrs. Goodheart never left without hearing +something of the exploits of this remarkable bull. In truth, he was a +handsome, well-bred fellow. He had come from the Squire’s—so you may be +sure his breed was gentlemanly in the extreme; and his grandmother, on +the maternal side, had belonged to the Bishop of Winchester; so you have +a sufficient guarantee, I hope, for his moral character and orthodox +principles. Indeed, it had been said that no dissenter dared pass +through the meadow where he was, in consequence of his connection with +the Establishment. Now, on the occasions when Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin took +their walks abroad through the meadows to see their lambkins and their +bull skip, this is what would invariably happen. First, Mrs. Bumpkin +would go through the little cosy-looking gate in the corner of the +meadow, right down by the side of the old boat-house; then Mr. Bumpkin +would follow, holding his long pipe in one hand and his ash-stick in the +other. Then, away in the long distance, at the far end of the meadow (he +was always up there on these occasions), stood “Sampson” (that was the +bull), with his head turned right round towards his master and mistress, +as if he were having his photograph taken. Thus he stood for a moment; +then down went his huge forehead to the ground; up went his tail to the +sky; then he sent a bellow along the earth which would have frightened +anybody but his “mother,” and started off towards his master and mistress +like a ship in a heavy sea; sometimes with his keel up in the air, and +sometimes with his prow under water: it not only was playful, it was +magnificent, and anybody unaccustomed to oxen might have been a little +terrified by the furious glare of his eyes and the terrible snort of his +nostrils as he approached. + +Not so Mrs. Bumpkin, who held out her hand, and ejaculated, + +“My pretty baby; my sweet pet; good Sampson!” and many other expressions +of an endearing character. + +“Good Sampson” looked, snorted, danced, plunged and careered; and then +came up and let Mrs. Bumpkin stroke and pat him; while Bumpkin looked on, +smoking his pipe peacefully, and thinking what a fine fellow he, the +bull, was, and what a great man he, Bumpkin, must be to be the possessor +of “sich!” + +Thus the peaceful afternoon would glide quietly and sweetly away, and so +would the bull, after the interesting interview was over. + +They always returned in time for tea, and then Mrs. Bumpkin would go to +evening service, while Mr. Bumpkin would wait for her on the little piece +of green near the church, where neighbours used to meet and chat of a +Sunday evening; such as old Mr. Gosling, the market gardener, and old +Master Mott, the head gardener to the Squire, and Master Cole, the +farmer, and various others, the original inhabitants of Yokelton; +discussing the weather and the crops, the probability of Mr. Tomson +getting in again at the vestry as waywarden; what kind of a highway rate +there would be for the coming year; how that horse got on that Mr. Sooby +bought at the fair; and various other matters of importance to a village +community. They would also pass remarks upon any striking personage who +passed them on his way to church. Mr. Prigg, for instance, the village +lawyer, who, they said, was a remarkably upright and down-straight sort +of man; although his wife, they thought, was “a little bit stuck up like” +and gave herself airs a little different from Mrs. Goodheart, who would +“always talk to ’em jist the same as if she was one o’ th’ people.” So +that, on the whole, they entertained themselves very amicably until such +time as the “organ played the people out of church.” Then every one +looked for his wife or daughter, as the case might be, and wished one +another good night: most of them having been to church in the morning, +they did not think it necessary to repeat the performance in the evening. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Showing how true it is that it takes at least two to make a bargain or a +quarrel. + +The day after the events which I have recorded, while the good farmer and +his wife were at breakfast, which was about seven o’clock, Joe presented +himself in the sitting-room, and said: + +“Plase, maister, here be t’ money for t’ pig.” + +“Money for t’ pig,” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin; “what’s thee mean, lad? what +pig?” + +“Maister Snooks!” said Joe, “there ur be, gwine wi’ t’ pig in t’ barrer.” + +Nothing shall induce me to repeat the language of Mr. Bumpkin, as he +jumped up from the table, and without hat or cap rushed out of the room, +followed by Joe, and watched by Mrs. Bumpkin from the door. Just as he +got to the farmyard by one gate, there was Snooks leaving it by another +with Mr. Bumpkin’s pig in a sack in the box barrow which he was wheeling. + +“Hulloa!” shouted the farmer; “hulloa here! Thee put un down—dang thee, +what be this? I said thee shouldn’t ave un, no more thee sha’n’t. I +beant gwine to breed Chichster pigs for such as thee at thy own price, +nuther.” Snooks grinned and went on his way, saying; + +“I bought un and I’ll ’ave un.” + +“An I’ll ’ave thee, dang’d if I doant, afore jussices; t’ Squoire’ll tell +thee.” + +“I doant keer for t’ Squire no more nor I do for thee, old Bumpkin; thee +be a cunnin’ man, but thee sold I t’ pig and I’ll ’ave un, and I got un +too: haw! haw! haw! an thee got t’ money—nine-and-six—haw! haw! haw!” + +Mr. Bumpkin by this time came up to him, but was so much out of breath, +or “winded,” that he was unable to carry on the conversation, so he just +tapped the bag with his stick as if to be certain the pig was there, and +sure enough it was, if you might judge by the extraordinary wriggling +that went on inside the bag. + +The indomitable Snooks, however, with the largest and most hideous grin I +ever saw, pushed on with his barrow, and Mr. Bumpkin having now +sufficiently recovered his breath, said, + +“Thee see ur tak un, didn’t thee, Joe?” + +“Sure did ur,” answered the lad. “I seed un took un clane out o’ the +stye, and put un in the sack, and wheeled un away.” + +“Ha! so ur did, Joe; stick to that, lad—stick to un.” + +“And thee seed I pay th’ money for un, Joe, didn’t thee?” laughed Snooks. +“Seed I put un on t’ poast, and thee took un oop—haw! haw! haw! I got t’ +pig and thee got t’ money—haw! haw! haw! Thee thowt thee’d done I, and I +done thee—haw! haw! haw!” + +And away went Snooks and away went pig; but Snooks’ laugh remained, and +every now and then Snooks turned his head and showed his large yellow +teeth and roared again. + +The rage of Mr. Bumpkin knew no bounds. There are some things in life +which are utterly unendurable; and one is the having your pig taken from +you against your will and without your consent—an act which would be +described legally as _the rape of the pig_. This offence, in Mr. +Bumpkin’s judgment, Snooks was guilty of; and therefore he resolved to do +that which is considered usually a wise thing, namely, to consult a +solicitor. + +Now, if I were giving advice—which I do not presume to do—I should say +that in all matters of difficulty a man should consult his wife, his +priest, or his solicitor, and in the order in which I have named them. +In the event of consulting a solicitor the next important question +arises, “What solicitor?” I could write a book on this subject. There +are numerous solicitors, within my acquaintance, to whom I would entrust +my life and my character; there are some, not of my acquaintance, but of +my knowledge, into whose hands, if I had one spark of Christian feeling +left, I would not see my enemy delivered. There is little difference +between one class of men and another as to natural disposition; and +whether you take one or another, you must find the shady character. But +where the opportunities for mischief are so great as they are in the +practice of the Law, it is necessary that the utmost care should be +exercised in committing one’s interests to the keeping of another. Had +Mr. Bumpkin been a man of the world he would have suspected that under +the most ostentatious piety very often lurked the most subtle fraud. +Good easy man, had he been going to buy a hay-stack, he would not have +judged by the outside but have put his “iron” into it; he could not put +his iron into Mr. Prigg, I know, but he need not have taken him by his +appearance alone. I may observe that if Mr. Bumpkin had consulted his +sensible and affectionate spouse, or a really respectable solicitor, this +book would not have been written. If he had consulted the Vicar, +possibly another book might have been written; but, as it was, he +resolved to consult Mr. Prigg in the first instance. Now Mrs. Bumpkin, +except as the mother of the illustrious Bull, has very little to do with +this story. Mr. Prigg is one of its leading characters; but in my +description of that gentleman I am obliged to be concise: I must minimize +Prigg, great as he is, and I trust that in doing so I shall prospectively +minimize all future Priggs that may ever appear on the world’s stage. I +do not attempt to pulverize him, that would require the crushing pestle +of the legislature; but merely to make him as little as I can, with due +consideration for the requirements of my story. + +I should be thought premature in mentioning Prigg, but that he was a +gentleman of great pretensions in the little village of Yokelton. +Gentleman by Act of Parliament, and in his own estimation, you may be +sure he was respected by all around him. That was not many, it is true, +for his house was the last of the straggling village. He was a man of +great piety and an extremely white neck-cloth; attended the parish church +regularly, and kept his white hair well brushed upwards—as though, like +the church steeple, it was to point the way at all times. He was the +most amiable of persons in regard to the distribution of the parish +gifts; and, being a lawyer it was not considered by the churchwardens, a +blacksmith and a builder, safe to refuse his kind and generous +assistance. He involved the parish in a law-suit once, in a question +relating to the duty to repair the parish pump; and since that time +everyone knew better than to ignore Mr. Prigg. I have heard that the +money spent in that action would have repaired all the parish pumps in +England for a century, but have no means of ascertaining the truth of +this statement. + +Mr. Prigg was a man whose merits were not appreciated by the local +gentry, who never asked him to dinner. Virtue is thus sometimes +ill-rewarded in this world. And Mrs. Prigg’s virtue had also been +equally ignored when she had sought, almost with tears, to obtain tickets +for the County Ball. + +Mr. Prigg was about sixty years old, methodical in his habits, +punctilious in his dress, polite in his demeanour, and precise in his +language. He wore a high collar of such remarkable stiffness that his +shoulders had to turn with his head whenever it was necessary to alter +his position. This gave an appearance of respectability to the head, not +to be acquired by any other means. It was, indeed, the most respectable +head I ever saw either in the flesh or in marble. + +Mr. Prigg had descended from the well-known family of Prigg, and he +prided himself on the circumstance. How often was he seen in the little +churchyard of Yokelton of a Sunday morning, both before and after +service, pointing with family pride to the tombstone of a relative which +bore this beautiful and touching inscription:— + + HERE + LIE THE ASHES OF + MR. JOHN PRIGG, + OF SMITH STREET, BRISTOL, + ORIGINALLY OF DUCK GREEN, YOKELTON, + WHO UNDER PECULIAR DISADVANTAGES + WHICH TO COMMON MINDS + WOULD HAVE BEEN A BAR TO ANY EXERTIONS + RAISED HIMSELF FROM ALL OBSCURE SITUATIONS + OF BIRTH AND FORTUNE + BY HIS OWN INDUSTRY AND FRUGALITY + TO THE ENJOYMENT OF A _MODERATE COMPETENCY_. + HE ATTAINED A PECULIAR EXCELLENCE + IN PENMANSHIP AND DRAWING + WITHOUT THE INSTRUCTIONS OF A MASTER, + AND TO EMINENCE IN ARITHMETIC, + THE USEFUL AND THE HIGHER BRANCHES OF + THE MATHEMATICS, + BY GOING TO SCHOOL ONLY A YEAR AND EIGHT MONTHS. + + * * * * * + + HE + DIED A BACHELOR + ON THE 24TH DAY OF OCTOBER, 1807, + IN THE 55TH YEAR OF HIS AGE; + AND WITHOUT FORGETTING + RELATIONS FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + BEQUEATHED ONE FIFTH OF HIS PROPERTY + TO PUBLIC CHARITY. + + READER + THE WORLD IS OPEN TO THEE. + “GO THOU AND DO LIKEWISE.” {22} + +It was generally supposed that this beautiful composition was from the +pen of Mr. Prigg himself, who, sitting as he did so high on his branch of +the Family Tree, + + COULD LOOK + WITH PRIDE AND SYMPATHY + ON + THE MANLY STRUGGLES + OF A HUMBLER MEMBER + LOWER DOWN! + +High Birth, like Great Wealth, can afford to condescend! + +Mrs. Prigg was worthy of her illustrious consort. She was of the noble +family of the Snobs, and in every way did honour to her progenitors. As +the reader is aware, there is what is known as a “cultivated voice,” the +result of education—it is absolutely without affectation: there is also +the voice which, in imitation of the well-trained one, is little more +than a burlesque, and is affected in the highest degree: this was the +only fault in Mrs. Prigg’s voice. + +Mr. Prigg’s home was charmingly small, but had all the pretensions of a +stately country house—its conservatory, its drawing-room, its study, and +a dining-room which told you as plainly as any dining-room could speak, +“I am related to Donkey Hall, where the Squire lives: I belong to the +same aristocratic family.” + +Then there was the great heavy-headed clock in the passage. He did not +appear at all to know that he had come down in the world through being +sold by auction for two pounds ten. He said with great plausibility, “My +worth is not to be measured by the amount of money I can command; I am +the same personage as before.” And I thought it a very true observation, +but the philosophy thereof was a little discounted by his haughty +demeanour, which had certainly gone up as he himself had come down; and +that is a reason why I don’t as a rule like people who have come down in +the world—they are sure to be so stuck up. But I do like a person who +has come down in the world and doesn’t at all mind it—much better than +any man who has got up in the world from the half-crown, and does mind it +upon all occasions. + +Mrs. Prigg, apart from her high descent, was a very aristocratic person: +as the presence of the grand piano in the drawing-room would testify. +She could no more live without a grand piano than ordinary people could +exist without food: the grand piano, albeit a very dilapidated one, was a +necessity of her well-descended condition. It was no matter that it +displaced more useful furniture; in that it only imitated a good many +other persons, and it told you whenever you entered the room: “You see me +here in a comparatively small way, but understand, I have been in far +different circumstances: I have been courted by the great, and listened +to by the aristocracy of England. I follow Mrs. Prigg wherever she goes: +she is a lady; her connections are high, and she never yet associated +with any but the best families. You could not diminish from her very +high breeding: put her in the workhouse, and with me to accompany her, it +would be transformed into a palace.” + +Mr. Prigg was by no means a rich man as the world counts richness. No +one ever heard of his having a “_practice_,” although it was believed he +did a great deal in the way of “lending his name” _and profession_ to +impecunious and uneducated men; who could turn many a six-and-eightpence +under its prestige. So great is the moral “power of attorney,” as +contradistinguished from the legal “power of attorney.” + +But Prigg, as I have hinted, was not only respectable, he was _good_: he +was more than that even, he was _notoriously_ good: so much so, that he +was called, in contradistinction to all other lawyers, “_Honest Lawyer +Prigg_”; and he had further acquired, almost as a universal title, the +sobriquet of “Nice.” Everybody said, “What a very nice man Mr. Prigg +is!” Then, in addition to all this, he was considered _clever_—why, I do +not know; but I have often observed that men can obtain the reputation of +being clever at very little cost, and without the least foundation. The +cheapest of all ways is to abuse men who really are clever, and if your +abuse be pungently and not too coarsely worded, it will be accepted by +the ignorant as _criticism_. Nothing goes down with shallow minds like +criticism, and the severest criticism is generally based on envy and +jealousy. + +Mr. Prigg, then, was clever, respectable, good, and nice, remarkably +potent qualities for success in this world. + +So I saw in my dream that Mr. Bumpkin, whose feelings were duly aroused, +turned his eye upon Honest Lawyer Prigg, and resolved to consult him upon +the grievous outrage to which he had been subjected at the hands of the +cunning Snooks: and without more ado he resolved to call on that very +worthy and extremely nice gentleman. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +On the extreme simplicity of going to law. + +With his right leg resting on his left, with his two thumbs nicely +adjusted, and with the four points of his right fingers in delicate +contact with the fingers of his left hand, sat Honest Lawyer Prigg, +listening to the tale of unutterable woe, as recounted by Farmer Bumpkin. + +Sometimes the good man’s eyes looked keenly at the farmer, and sometimes +they scanned vacantly the ceiling, where a wandering fly seemed, like Mr. +Bumpkin, in search of consolation or redress. Sometimes Mr. Prigg nodded +his respectable head and shoulders in token of his comprehension of Mr. +Bumpkin’s lucid statement: then he nodded two or three times in +succession, implying that the Court was with Mr. Bumpkin, and +occasionally he would utter with a soft soothing voice, + +“Quite so!” + +When he said “quite so,” he parted his fingers, and reunited them with +great precision; then he softly tapped them together, closed his eyes, +and seemed lost in profound meditation. + +Here Mr. Bumpkin paused and stared. Was Mr. Prigg listening? + +“Pray proceed,” said the lawyer, “I quite follow you;—never mind about +what anybody else had offered you for the pig—the question really is +whether you actually sold this pig to Snooks or not—whether the bargain +was complete or inchoate.” + +Mr. Bumpkin stared again. “I beant much of a scollard, sir,” he +observed; “but I’ll take my oath I never sold un t’pig.” + +“That is the question,” remarked the lawyer. “You say you did not? +Quite so; had this Joe of yours any authority to receive money on your +behalf?” + +“Devil a bit,” answered Bumpkin. + +“Excuse me,” said Mr. Prigg, “I have to put these questions: it is +necessary that I should understand where we are: of course, if you did +not sell the pig, he had no right whatever to come and take it out of the +sty—it was a trespass?” + +“That’s what I says,” said Bumpkin; and down went his fist on Mr. Prigg’s +table with such vehemence that the solicitor started as though aroused by +a shock of dynamite. + +“Let us be calm,” said the lawyer, taking some paper from his desk, and +carefully examining the nib of a quill pen, “Let me see, I think you said +your name was Thomas?” + +“That’s it, sir; and so was my father’s afore me.” + +“Thomas Bumpkin?” + +“I beant ashamed on him.” + +And then Mr. Prigg wrote out a document and read it aloud; and Mr. +Bumpkin agreeing with it, scratched his name at the bottom—very badly +scratched it was, but well enough for Mr. Prigg. This was simply to +retain Mr. Prigg as his solicitor in the cause of _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_. + +“Quite so, quite so; now let me see; be calm, Mr. Bumpkin, be calm; in +all these matters we must never lose our self-possession. You see, I am +not excited.” + +“Noa,” said Bumpkin; “but then ur dint tak thy pig.” + +“Quite true, I can appreciate the position, it was no doubt a gross +outrage. Now tell me—this Snooks, as I understand, is the coal-merchant +down the village?” + +“That’s ur,” said Bumpkin. + +“I suppose he’s a man of some property, eh?” + +Mr. Bumpkin looked for a few moments without speaking, and then said: + +“He wur allays a close-fisted un, and I should reckon have a goodish bit +o’ property.” + +“Because you know,” remarked the solicitor, “it is highly important, when +one wins a case and obtains damages, that the defendant should be in a +position to pay them.” + +This was the first time that ever the flavour of damages had got into +Bumpkin’s mouth; and a very nice flavour it was. To beat Snooks was one +thing, a satisfaction; to make him pay was another, a luxury. + +“Yes, sir,” he repeated; “I bleeve he ave, I bleeve he ave.” + +“What makes you think so?” + +“Wull, fust and foremust, I knows he lent a party a matter of a hundred +pound, for I witnessed un.” + +“Then he hasn’t got that,” said the lawyer. + +“Yes ur ave, sir, or how so be as good; for it wur a morgage like, and +since then he’ve got the house.” + +Mr. Prigg made a note, and asked where the house was. + +“It be widder Jackson’s.” + +“Indeed; very well.” + +“An then there be the bisness.” + +“Exactly,” said the lawyer, “horses and carts, weighing machines, and so +on?” + +“And the house he live in,” said Bumpkin, “I know as ow that longs to +him.” + +“Very well; I think that will be enough to start with.” Now, Mr. Prigg +knew pretty well the position of the respective parties himself; so it +was not so much for his own information that he made these inquiries as +to infuse into Bumpkin’s mind a notion of the importance of the case. + +“Now,” said he, throwing down the pen, “this is a very serious matter, +Mr. Bumpkin.” + +This was a comfort, and Bumpkin looked agreeably surprised and vastly +important. + +“A very serious case,” and again the tips of the fingers were brought in +contact. + +“I spoase we can’t bring un afore jusseses, sir?” + +“Well, you see the criminal law is dangerous; you can’t get damages, and +you may get an action for malicious prosecution.” + +“I think we ought to mak un pay for ’t.” + +“That is precisely my own view, but I am totally at a loss to understand +the reason of such outrageous conduct on the part of this Snooks. Now +don’t be offended, Mr. Bumpkin, if I put a question to you. You know, we +lawyers like to search to the bottom of things. I can understand, if you +had owed him any money—” + +“Owe un money!” exclaimed Bumpkin contemptuously; “why I could buy un out +and out.” + +“Ah, quite so, quite so; so I should have supposed from what I know of +you, Mr. Bumpkin.” + +“Lookee ere, sir,” said the farmer; “I bin a ard workin man all my life, +paid my way, twenty shillins in the pound, and doant owe a penny as fur +as I knows.” + +“And if you did, Mr. Bumpkin,” said the lawyer with a good-natured laugh, +“I dare say you could pay.” + +“Wull, I bleeve there’s no man can axe me for nothing; and thank God, +what I’ve got’s my own; and there aint many as got pootier stock nor +mine—all good bred uns, Mr. Prigg.” + +“Yes, I’ve often heard your cattle praised.” + +“He be a blagard if ur says I owed un money.” + +“O, dear, Mr. Bumpkin, pray don’t misunderstand me; he did not, that I am +aware, allege that he took the pig because you owed him money; and even +if you did, he could not legally have done so. Now this is not a mere +matter of debt; it’s a very serious case of trespass.” + +“Ay; zo ’t be sir; that was my bleef, might jist as wull a tooked baacon +out o’ baacon loft.” + +“Just the same. Quite so—quite so!” + +“And I want thee, Mr. Prigg, to mak un pay for’t—mak un pay, sir; it +beant so much th’ pig.” + +“Quite so: quite so: that were a very trifling affair, and might be +settled in the County Court; but, in fact, it’s not the pig at all, it’s +trespass, and you want to make him answerable in damages.” + +“That’s it, sir; you’ve got un.” + +“I suppose an apology and a return of the pig would not be enough.” + +“I’ll make un know he beant everybody,” said Bumpkin. + +“Quite so; now what shall we lay the damages at?” + +“Wull, sir, as for that, I doant rightly know; if so be he’d pay down, +that’s one thing, but it’s my bleef as you might jist as wull try to dror +blood out of a stoane as git thic feller to do what’s right.” + +“Shall we say a hundred pounds and costs?” + +Never did man look more astonished than Bumpkin. A hundred pounds! What +a capital thing going to law must be! But, as the reader knows, he was a +remarkably discreet man, and never in the course of his dealing committed +himself till the final moment. Whenever anybody made him a “bid,” he +invariably met the offer with one form of refusal. “Nay, nay; it beant +good enough: I bin offered moore.” And this had answered so well, that +it came natural to Bumpkin to refuse on all occasions the first offer. +It was not to be wondered at then that the question should be regarded in +the light of an offer from Snooks himself. Now he could hardly say “I +bin _bid moore_ money,” because the case wasn’t in the market; but he +could and did say the next best thing to it, namely:— + +“I wunt let un goo for that—’t be wuth moore!” + +“Very well,” observed Prigg; “so long as we know: we can lay our damages +at what we please.” + +Now there was great consolation in that. The plaintiff paused and rubbed +his chin. “What do thee think, sir?” + +“I think if he pays something handsome, and gives us an apology, and pays +the costs, I should advise you to take it.” + +“As you please, sir; I leaves it to you; I beant a hard man, I hope.” + +“Very good; we will see what can be done. I shall bring this action in +the Chancery Division.” + +“Hem! I’ve eerd tell, sir, that if ever a case gets into that ere Coourt +he niver comes out agin.” + +“O, that’s all nonsense; there used to be a good deal of truth in that; +but the procedure is now so altered that you can do pretty much what you +like: this is an age of despatch; you bring your action, and your writ is +almost like a cheque payable on demand!” + +“Wull, I beant no lawyer, never had nothing to do wi un in my life; but I +should like to axe, sir, why thee’ll bring this ere case in Chancery?” + +“Good; well, come now, I like to be frank; we shall get more costs?” + +Mr. Bumpkin again rubbed his chin. “And do I get em?” he asked. + +“Well, they go towards expenses; the other side always pays.” + +This was a stroke of reasoning not to be gainsaid. But Mr. Prigg had a +further observation to make on the subject, and it was this: + +“After the case has gone on up to being ready for trial, and the Judges +find that it is a case more fitting to be tried in the Common Law Courts, +then an order is made transferring it, that is, sending it out of +Chancery to be tried by one of the other Judges.” + +“Can’t see un,” said Bumpkin, “I beant much of a scollard, but I tak it +thee knows best.” + +Mr. Prigg smiled: a beneficent, sympathizing smile. + +“I dare say,” he said, “it looks a little mysterious, but we lawyers +understand it; so, if you don’t mind, I shall bring it in the Chancery +Division in the first instance; and nice and wild the other side will be. +I fancy I see the countenance of Snooks’ lawyer.” + +This was a good argument, and perfectly satisfactory to the +unsophisticated mind of Bumpkin. + +“And when,” he asked, “will ur come on, think’ee?” + +“O, in due time; everything is done very quickly now—not like it used to +be—you’d be surprised, we used to have to wait years—yes, years, sir, +before an action could be tried; and now, why bless my soul, you get +judgment before you know where you are.” + +How true this turned out to be may hereafter appear; but in a dream you +never anticipate. + +“I shall write at once,” said “Honest Prigg,” “for compensation and an +apology; I think I would have an apology.” + +“Make un pay—I doant so much keer for the t’other thing; that beant much +quonsequence.” + +“Quite so—quite so.” And with this observation Mr. Prigg escorted his +client to the door. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +In which it appears that the sting of slander is not always in the head. + +Mr. Prigg lost no time in addressing a letter to the ill-advised Josiah +Snooks with the familiar and affectionate commencement of “Dear Sir,’” +asking for compensation for the “gross outrage” he had committed upon +“his client;” and an apology to be printed in such papers as he, the +client, should select. + +The “Dear Sir” replied, not in writing, for he was too artful for that, +but by returning, as became his vulgar nature, Mr. Prigg’s letter in a +very torn and disgusting condition. + +To a gentleman of cultivated mind and sensitive nature, this was +intolerable; and Mr. Prigg knew that even the golden bridge of compromise +was now destroyed. He no longer felt as a mere lawyer, anxious in the +interests of his client, which was a sufficient number of horse-power for +anything, but like an outraged and insulted gentleman, which was more +after the force of hydraulic pressure than any calculable amount of +horse-power. It was clear to his upright and sensitive mind that Snooks +was a low creature. Consequently all professional courtesies were at an +end: the writ was issued and duly served upon the uncompromising Snooks. +Now a writ is not a matter to grin at and to treat with contempt or +levity. Mr. Snooks could not return that document to Mr. Prigg, so he +had to consider. And first he consulted his wife: this consultation led +to a domestic brawl and then to his kicking one of his horses in the +stomach. Then he threw a shovel at his dog, and next the thought +occurred to him that he had better go and see Mr. Locust. This gentleman +was a solicitor who practised at petty sessions. He did not practise +much, but that was, perhaps, his misfortune rather than his fault. He +was a small, fiery haired man, with a close cut tuft of beard; small +eyes, and a pimply nose, which showed an ostentatious disdain for +everything beneath it. + +Mr. Locust was not at home, but would return about nine. At nine, +therefore, the impatient Snooks appeared. + +“Yes,” said Mr. Locust, as he looked at the writ, “I see this writ is +issued by Mr. Prigg.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Did he not write to you before issuing it?—dear me, this is very sharp +practice—very sharp practice: the sharpest thing I ever heard of in all +my life.” + +“Wull, he did write, but I giv un as good as he sent.” + +“Dear me!” exclaimed Mr. Locust; “I am afraid you have committed +yourself.” + +“No I beant, sir,” said the cunning Snooks, with a grin, “no I beant.” + +“You should never write without consulting a solicitor—bear that in mind, +Mr. Snooks; it will be an invaluable lesson—hem!” + +“I never writ, sir—I ony sent un his letter back.” + +“Ah!” said Locust, “come now, that is better; but still you should have +consulted me. I see this claim is for three hundred and fifty +pounds—it’s for trespass. Now sit down quietly and calmly, and tell me +the facts.” And then he took pen and paper and placed himself in +position to take his retainer and instructions. + +“Wull, sir, it is as this: a Sunday mornin—no, a Sunday mornin week—I +won’t tell no lie if I knows it—a Sunday mornin week—” + +“Sunday morning week,” writes Locust. + +“I buyd a pig off this ere man for nine and six: well, o’ the Monday +mornin I goes with my barrer and a sack and I fetches the pig and gies +the money to his man Joe Wurzel; leastways I puts it on the poast and he +takes it up. Then out comes Bumpkin and swears I never bought un at all, +gets in a rage and hits the bag wi’ a stick—” + +“Now stop,” said the Lawyer; “are you quite sure he did not strike _you_? +That’s the point.” + +“Well, sir, he would a’ done if I adn’t a bobbed.” + +“Good: that’s an assault in law. You are sure he would have struck you +if you hadn’t ducked or bobbed your head?” + +“In course it would, else why should I bob?” + +“Just so—just so. Now then, we’ve got him there—we’ve got him nicely.” + +Snooks’ eyes gleamed. + +“Next I want to know: I suppose you didn’t owe him anything?” + +“No, nor no other man,” said Snooks, with an air of triumph. “I worked +hard for what I got, and no man can’t ax me for a farden. I allays paid +twenty shillings in the pound.” + +The reader will observe how virtuous both parties were on this point. + +“So!” said Locust. “Now you haven’t told me all that took place.” + +“That be about all, sir.” + +“Yes, yes; but I suppose there was something said between you—did you +have any words—was he angry—did he call you any names or say anything in +an angry way?” + +“Well, not partickler—” + +“Not particular: I will judge of that. Just tell me what was said.” + +“When, sir?” + +“Well, begin on the Sunday morning. What was first said?” + +Then Snooks told the Solicitor all that took place, with sundry additions +which his imagination supplied when his memory failed. + +“And I member the price wull, becos he said ‘You beant sellin coals, +recollect, so you doant ave me.” + +“Ho! ho!” exclaimed Locust rubbing his hands, “You are sure he said +that?” writing down the words carefully. + +“I be.” + +“That will do, we’ve got him: we’ve got him nicely. Was anybody present +when he said this?” + +“Yes, sir. Joe were there, and t’ best o’ my belief, Mrs. Bumpkin.” + +“Never mind Mrs. Bumpkin. I don’t suppose she was there, if you come to +recollect; it’s quite enough if Joe was present and could hear what was +said. I suppose he could hear it?” + +“Stood cloase by.” + +“Very well—that is slander—and slander of a very gross kind. We’ve got +him.” + +“Be it?” said Snooks. + +“I’ll show you,” said Locust; “in law a man slanders you if he insinuates +that you are dishonest; now what does this Bumpkin do? he says ‘you don’t +have me,’ meaning thereby that you don’t trick him out of his pig; and, +‘you are not selling coals,’ meaning that when you do sell coals you do +trick people. Do you see?—that you cheat them, in fact rob them.” + +Snooks thought Mr. Locust the most wonderful man he had ever come across. +This was quite a new way of putting it. + +“But ur didn’t say as much,” he said, wondering whether that made any +difference. + +“Perfectly immaterial in law,” said Mr. Locust: “it isn’t what a man +says, it’s what he _means_: you put that in by an innuendo—” + +“A what, sir? begging pardon—” + +“It’s what we lawyers call an innuendo: that is to say, making out that a +man says so and so when he doesn’t.” + +“I zee,” said the artful Snooks, quick at apprehending every point. +“Then if he called a chap a devilish honest man and the innu—what d’ye +call it, meant he were a thief, you got him?” + +“Well,” said Mr. Locust, smiling, “that is going rather far, Mr. Snooks, +but I see you understand what I mean.” + +“I thinks so, sir. I thinks I has your meanin.” + +“It’s a very gross slander,” observed Mr. Locust, “and especially upon a +tradesman in your position. I suppose now you have lived in the +neighbourhood a considerable time?” + +“All my life, sir.” + +“Ah! just so, just so—now let me see; and, if I remember rightly, you +have a vote for the County.” + +“I ave, sir, and allus votes blue, and that’s moore.” + +“Then you’re on our side. I’m very glad indeed to hear that; a vote’s a +vote, you know, now-a-days.” + +Any one would have thought, to hear Mr. Locust, that votes were scarce +commodities, whereas we know that they are among the most plentiful +articles of commerce as well as the cheapest. + +“And you have, I think, a family, Mr. Snooks.” + +“Four on em, sir.” + +“Ah! how very nice, how laudable to make a little provision for them: as +I often say, if a man can only leave his children a few hundreds apiece, +it’s something.” + +The solicitor watched his client’s face as he uttered this profound +truism, and the face being as open and genuine as was Snooks’ character, +it said plainly enough “Yes, I have a few hundreds.” + +“Well then,” continued Mr. Locust, “having been in business all these +years, and being, as times go, tolerably successful, being a careful man, +and having got together by honest industry a nice little independency—” + +Here the learned gentleman paused, and here, unfortunately, Snooks’ open +and candid heart revealed itself through his open and candid countenance. + +“I _believe_,” said Mr. Locust, “I am right?” + +“You’re about right, sir.” + +“Very charming, very gratifying to one’s feelings,” continued Mr. Locust; +“and then, just as you are beginning to get comfortable and getting your +family placed in the world, here comes this what shall I call him, I +never like to use strong language, this intolerable blackguard, and calls +you a thief—a detestable thief.” + +“Well, he didn’t use that air word, sir—I wool say that,” said Mr. +Snooks. + +“In law he did, my good man—he meant it and said it—he insinuated that +you cheated the poor—you serve a good many of the poor, I think?” + +“I do, sir.” + +“Well, he insinuated that you cheated them by giving short weight and bad +coals—that is worse than being a thief, to my mind—such a man deserves +hanging.” + +“Damn him,” said Snooks, “that’s it, is it?” + +“That’s it, my dear sir, smooth it over as you will. I don’t want to +make more of it than necessary, but we must look at it fairly and study +the consequences. Now I want to ask you particularly, because we must +claim special damage for this, if possible—have you lost any customers +through this outrageous slander?” + +“Can’t say I have, rightly, sir.” + +“No, but you will—mark my words, as soon as people hear of this they will +cease to deal with you. They can’t deal with you.” + +“I hope not, sir.” + +“So do I; but let me tell Mr. Bumpkin” (here the learned man shook his +forefinger as though it had been the often quoted finger of scorn) “that +for every customer you lose we’ll make him answerable in damages. He’ll +repeat this slander: take my advice and get some one to look out, and +make a note of it—be on your guard!” + +Snooks wiped the perspiration from his forehead and then threw his large +coloured handkerchief into his hat, which he held by both hands between +his knees, + +“It be a bad case then, sir?” + +“A very bad case for Bumpkin!” replied Mr. Locust; “let me have a list of +your customers as soon as you can, and we shall see who leaves you in +consequence of this slander. Does my friend, Mr. Overrighteous, deal +with you? I think he does?” + +“He do, sir, and have for five or six years—and a good customer he be.” + +“Ah! now, there’s a man! Whatever you do don’t let Mr. Overrighteous +know of it: he would leave you directly: a more particular man than that +can’t be. Then again, there is my friend Flythekite, does he deal with +you? Of course he does!” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“And you’ll lose him—sure to lose him.” + +Judging from Mr. Snooks’ countenance it would have been small damage if +he did. + +“Ve-ry well,” continued Locust, after a pause, “ve-ry well—just so.” +Then he looked at the copy of the writ and perceived that it was dated +eighteen hundred and ninety something instead of eighteen hundred and +seventy something. So he said that the writ was wrong and they ought not +to appear; “by which means,” said he, “we shall let them in at the start +for a lot of costs—we shall let them in.” + +“And will that stash the action?” asked Snooks. + +“It will not stash ours,” said Locust. “I suppose you mean to go on +whether he does or not? Your claim is for assault and slander.” + +“As you please, sir.” + +“No, no, as you please. I have not been called a thief—they haven’t said +that I sell short weight and cheat and defraud the poor: _my_ business +will not be ruined—_my_ character is not at stake.” + +“Let un have it, sir; he be a bad un,” and here he rose to depart. Mr. +Locust gave him a professional shake of the hand and wished him good day. +But as the door was just about to be closed on his client, he remembered +something which he desired to ask, so he called, “Mr. Snooks!” + +“Sir,” said the client. + +“Is there any truth in the statement that this Bumpkin beats his wife?” + +“I doant rightly know,” said Snooks, in a hesitating voice; “it may be +true. I shouldn’t wonder—he’s just the sort o’ man.” + +“Just enquire about that, will you?” + +“I wool, sir,” said Snooks; and thus his interview with his Solicitor +terminated. + +Now the result of the enquiries as to the domestic happiness of Bumpkin +was this; first, the question floated about in a vague sort of form, +“_Does Bumpkin beat his wife_?” then it grew into “_Have you heard that +Bumpkin beats his wife_?” and lastly, it was affirmed that Bumpkin +“_really did beat his wife_.” And the scandal spread so rapidly that it +soon reached the ears of plaintiff himself, who would have treated it +with the contempt it deserved, knowing the quarter whence it came, but +that it was so gross a calumny that he determined to give the lying +Snooks no quarter, and to press his action with all the energy at his +command. + +After this there could be no compromise. + +“I wish,” said Snooks to himself, as he smoked his pipe that evening, “I +could a worked one o’ them there innerenders in my trade—I could a made +summut on him.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Showing how the greatest wisdom of Parliament may be thrown away on +ungrateful people. + +The first skirmish between the two doughty champions of the hostile +forces took place over the misdated writ. Judgment was signed for want +of appearance; and then came a summons to set it aside. The Judge set it +aside, and the Divisional Court set aside the Judge, and the Court of +Appeal set aside the Divisional Court upon the terms of the defendant +paying the costs, and the writ being amended, &c. &c. And I saw that +when the Judge in Chambers had hesitatingly and “not without grave doubt” +set aside the judgment, Mr. Prigg said to Mr. Locust, “What a very nice +point!” And Mr. Locust replied: + +“A very nice point, indeed! Of course you’ll appeal?” And Mr. Quibbler, +Mr. Locust’s pleader, said, “A very neat point!” + +“Oh dear, yes,” answered Mr. Prigg. + +And then Mr. Prigg’s clerk said to Mr. Locust’s clerk—“What a very nice +point!” And Mr. Locust’s clerk rejoined that it was indeed a very nice +point! And then Mr. Locust’s boy in the office said to Mr. Prigg’s boy +in the office, “What a very nice point!” And Mr. Prigg’s boy, a pale +tall lad of about five feet six, and of remarkably quiet demeanour, +replied— + +“A dam nice point!” + +Next came letters from the respective Solicitors, suggesting a compromise +in such terms that compromise became impossible; each affirming that he +was so averse from litigation that almost any amicable arrangement that +could be come to would be most welcome. Each required a sum of two +hundred pounds and an apology in six morning papers. And I saw at the +foot of one of Mr. Prigg’s letters, when the hope of compromise was +nearly at an end, these touching words: + +“Bumpkin’s blood’s up!” + +And at the end of the answer thereto, this very expressive retort: + +“You say Bumpkin’s blood is up; so is Snooks’—do your worst!” + +As I desire to inform the lay reader as to the interesting course an +action may take under the present expeditious mode of procedure, I must +now state what I saw in my dream. The course is sinuosity itself in +appearance, but that only renders it the more beautiful. The reader will +be able to judge for himself of the simple method by which we try actions +nowadays, and how very delightful the procedure is. The first skirmish +cost Snooks seventeen pounds six shillings and eight-pence. It cost +Bumpkin only three pounds seventeen shillings, or _one heifer_. Now +commenced that wonderful process called “Pleading,” which has been the +delight and the pride of so many ages; developing gradually century by +century, until at last it has perfected itself into the most beautiful +system of evasion and duplicity that the world has ever seen. It ranks +as one of the fine Arts with Poetry and Painting. A great Pleader is +truly a great Artist, and more imaginative than any other. The number of +summonses at Chambers is only limited by his capacity to invent them. +Ask any respectable solicitor how many honest claims are stifled by +proceedings at Chambers. And if I may digress in all sincerity for the +purpose of usefulness, I may state that while recording my dream for the +Press, Solicitors have begged of me to bring this matter forward, so that +the Public may know how their interests are played with, and their rights +stifled by the iniquitous system of proceedings at Chambers. + +The Victorian age will be surely known as the Age of Pleading, Poetry, +and Painting. + +First, the Statement of Claim. Summons at Chambers to plead and demur; +summons to strike out; summons to let in; summons to answer, summons not +to answer; summonses for all sorts of conceivable and inconceivable +objects; summonses for no objects at all except costs. And let me here +say Mr. Prigg and Mr. Locust are not alone blameable for this: Mr. +Quibbler, Mr. Locust’s Pleader, had more to do with this than the +Solicitor himself. And so had Mr. Wrangler, the Pleader of Mr. Prigg. +But without repeating what I saw, let the reader take this as the line of +proceeding throughout, repeated in at least a dozen instances:— + + The Judge at Chambers reversed the Master; + + The Divisional Court reversed the Judge; + + And the Court of Appeal reversed the Divisional Court. + +And let this be the chorus:— + + “What a very nice point!” said Prigg; + + “What a very nice point!” said Locust; + + “What a very nice point!” said Gride (Prigg’s clerk); + + “What a d--- nice point!” said Horatio! (the pale boy). + + Summons for particulars.—Chorus. + + Further and better particulars.—Chorus. + + Interrogatories—Summons to strike out.—Chorus. + + Summons for further and better answers.—Chorus. + + More summonses for more, further, better, and all sorts of + things.—Chorus. + +All this repeated by the other side, of course; because each has his +proper innings. There is great fairness and impartiality in the game. +Something was always going up from the foot of this Jacob’s ladder called +“the Master” to the higher regions called the Court of Appeal. The +simplest possible matter, which any old laundress of the Temple ought to +have been competent to decide by giving both the parties a box on the +ear, was taken before the Master, from the Master to the Judge, from the +Judge to the Divisional Court, and from the Divisional Court to the Court +of Appeal, at the expense of the unfortunate litigants; while Judges, who +ought to have been engaged in disposing of the business of the country, +were occupied in deciding legal quibbles and miserable technicalities. +All this I saw in my dream. Up and down this ladder Bumpkin and Snooks +were driven—one going up the front while the other was coming down the +back. And I heard Bumpkin ask if he wasn’t entitled to the costs which +the Court gave when he won. But the answer of Mr. Prigg was, “No, my +dear sir, the labourer is worthy of his hire.” And I saw a great many +more ups and downs on the ladder which I should weary the reader by +repeating: they are all alike equally useless and equally contemptible. +Then I thought that poor Bumpkin went up the ladder with a great bundle +on his back; and his face seemed quite changed, so that I hardly knew +him, and I said to Horatio, the pale boy— + +“Who is that going up now? It looks like Christian in the Pilgrim’s +Progress.” + +“Oh, no,” said Horatio, “that’s old Bumpkin—it’s a regler sweater for +him, ain’t it?” + +I said, “Whatever can it be? will he ever reach the top?” + +Here Bumpkin seemed to slip, and it almost took my breath away; whereat +the pale boy laughed, stooping down as he laughed, and thrusting his +hands into his breeches pockets, + +“By George!” he exclaimed, “what a jolly lark!” + +“I hope he won’t fall,” I exclaimed. “What has he got on his back?” + +“A DEMURRER,” said Horatio, laughing. “Look at him! That there ladder’s +the Judicatur Act: don’t it reach a height? There’s as many rounds in +that there ladder as would take a man a lifetime to go up if it was all +spread out; it’s just like them fire escapes in reaching up, but nobody +ever escapes by it.” + +“It will break the poor man’s back,” said I, as he was a few feet from +the top. And then in my dream I thought he fell; and the fright was so +great that I awoke, and found I was sitting in my easy chair by the fire, +and the pipe I had been smoking had fallen out of my hand. + + * * * * * + +“You’ve been dreaming,” said my wife; “and I fear have had a nightmare.” +When I was thoroughly aroused, and had refilled my pipe, I told her all +my dream. + +Then cried she, “I hope good Mr. Bumpkin will get up safely with that +great bundle.” + +“It doesn’t matter,” said I, “whether he do or not; he will have to bear +its burden, whether he take it up or bring it back. He will have to +bring it down again after showing it to the gentlemen at the top.” + +“What do they want to see it for?” cried she. + +“They have no wish to see it,” I replied; “on the contrary, they would +rather not. They will simply say he is a very foolish man for his pains +to clamber up so high with so useless a burden.” + +“But why don’t they check him?” + +“Because they have no power; they look and wonder at the folly of +mankind, who can devise no better scheme of amusement for getting rid of +their money.” + +“But the lawyers are wise people, and they should know better.” + +“The lawyers,” said I, “do know better; and all respectable lawyers +detest the complicated system which brings them more abuse than fees. +They see men, permitted by the law, without character and conscience, +bring disgrace on an honourable body of practitioners.” + +“But do they not remonstrate?” + +“They do, but with little effect; no one knows who is responsible for the +mischief or how to cure it.” + +“That is strange.” + +“Yes, but the time will come when the people will insist on a cheaper and +more expeditious system. Half-a-dozen solicitors and members of the +junior bar could devise such a system in a week.” + +“Then why are they not permitted to take it in hand?” + +“Because,” said I, “Old Fogeyism has, at present, only got the gout in +one leg; wait till he has it in both, and then Common Sense will rise to +the occasion.” + +“But what,” quoth she, “is this fine art you spoke of?” + +“Pleading!” + +“Yes; in what consists its great art?” + +“In artfulness,” quoth I. + +Then there was a pause, and at length I said, “I will endeavour to give +you an illustration of the process of pleading from ancient history: you +have heard, I doubt not, of Joseph and his Brethren.” + +“O, to be sure,” cried she; “did they not put him in the pit?” + +“Well, I believe they put him in the pit, but I am not referring to that. +The corn in Egypt is what I mean.” + +“When they found all their money in their sacks’ mouths?” + +“Exactly. Now if Joseph had prosecuted those men for stealing the money, +they would simply have pleaded not guilty, and the case would have been +tried without any bother, and the defendants have been acquitted or +convicted according to the wisdom of the judge, the skill of the counsel, +and the common sense of the jury. But now suppose instead thereof, +Joseph had brought an action for the price of the corn.” + +“Would it not have been as simple?” + +“You shall see. The facts would have been stated with some accuracy and +a good deal of inaccuracy, and a good many things which were not facts +would have been introduced. Then the defendants in their statement of +defence would have denied that there was any such place as Egypt as +alleged; {52} denied that Pharaoh was King thereof; denied that he had +any corn to sell; denied that the said Joseph had any authority to sell; +denied that they or any of them went into Egypt; denied that they ever +saw the said Joseph or had any communication with him whatever, either by +means of an interpreter or otherwise; denied, in fact, everything except +their own existence; but in the alternative they would go on to say, if +it should be proved that there was a place called Egypt, a man called +Pharaoh, an agent of his called Joseph, and that the defendants actually +did go to Egypt, all of which they one and all absolutely deny (as +becomes men of honour), then they say, that being large corn-merchants +and well known to the said Joseph, the factor of the said Pharaoh, as +purchasers only of corn for domestic purposes, and requiring therefore a +good sound merchantable article, the said Joseph, by falsely and +fraudulently representing that certain corn of which he, the said Joseph, +was possessed, was at that time of a good sound and merchantable quality +and fit for seed and domestic purposes, by the said false and fraudulent +representations he, the said Joseph, induced the defendants to purchase a +large quantity thereof, to wit, five thousand sacks; whereas the said +corn was not of a good sound and merchantable quality and fit for seed +and domestic purposes, but was maggoty from damp, and infected with smut +and altogether worthless, as he, the said Joseph, well knew at the time +he made the said false representations. The defendants would also +further allege that, relying on the said Joseph’s word, they took away +the said corn, but having occasion at the inn to look into the said +sacks, they found that the said wheat was worthless, and immediately +communicated with the said Joseph by sending their younger brother Simeon +down to demand a return of the price of the said corn. But when the said +Simeon came to the said Joseph the said Joseph caught him, and kicked +him, and beat him with a great stick, and had him to prison, and would +not restore him to his brethren, the defendants. Whereupon the +defendants sent other messengers, and at length, after being detained a +long time at the said inn, the said Joseph came down, and on being shown +the said corn, admitted that it was in bad condition. Whereupon the +defendants, fearing to trust the said Joseph with the said sacks until +they had got a return of their said money, demanded that he, the said +Joseph, should put the full tale of every man’s money in the sack of the +said man; which thing the said Joseph agreed to, and placed every man’s +money in the mouth of his said sack. And when the said man was about to +reach forth his hand to take his said money, the said Joseph seized the +said hand and held him fast—.” + +“Stop, stop!” cried my wife; “the said Joseph had not ten hands. You +must surely draw the line somewhere.” + +“No, no,” said I, “that is good pleading; if the other side should omit +to deny it, it will be taken by the rules of pleading to be admitted.” + +“But surely you can’t admit impossibilities!” + +“Can’t you, though!” cried I. “You can do almost anything in pleading.” + +“Except, it seems to me, tell the truth.” + +“You mustn’t be too hard upon us poor juniors,” cried I. “I haven’t come +to the Counterclaim yet.” + +“O don’t let us have Counterclaims,” quoth she; “they can have no claim +against Joseph?” + +“What, not for selling them smutty wheat?” + +“Nonsense.” + +“I say yes; and he’ll have to call a number of witnesses to prove the +contrary—nor do I think he will be able to do it.” + +“I fail now,” said my wife, “to see how this pleading is a fine art. +Really, without joking, what is the art?” + +“The art of pleading,” said I, “consists in denying what is, and inducing +your adversary to admit what isn’t.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Showing that appropriateness of time and place should be studied in our +pastimes. + +The next night, sitting over the cheerful fire and comfortably resting +after the labours of the day, I dreamed again, and I saw that Horatio +Snigger was “the Office Boy” of Mr. Prigg. He had been in the employment +of that gentleman about two years. He was tall for his money, standing, +in his shoes, at least five feet six, and receiving for his services, +five shillings and sixpence a week, (that is, a shilling for every foot +and a penny for every odd inch), his last rise (I mean in money,) having +taken place about a month ago. + +Horatio was a lad of as much spirit as any boy I ever saw. I do not +believe he had any liking for the profession, but had entered it simply +as his first step in life, utterly in the dark as to whither it would +lead him. It was, I believe, some disappointment to his father that on +no occasion when he interrogated him as to his “getting on,” could he +elicit any more cheering reply than “very well.” And yet Horatio, during +the time he had been with Mr. Prigg, had had opportunities of studying +character in its ever-varying phases as presented by Courts of Justice +and kindred places. + +“Kindred places!” Yes, I mean “Judges’ Chambers,” where any boy may +speedily be impressed with the dignity and simplicity of the practice of +the Law, especially since the passing of the Judicature Act. To my lay +readers who may wish to know what “Judges’ Chambers” means, I may observe +that it is a place where innumerable proceedings may be taken for +lengthening a case, embarrassing the clients, and spending money. It is, +to put it in another form, a sort of Grands Mulets in the Mont Blanc of +litigation, whence, if by the time you get there you are not thoroughly +“pumped out,” you may go on farther and in due time reach the top, +whence, I am told, there is a most magnificent view. + +But even the beauty of the proceedings at Judges’ Chambers failed to +impress Horatio with the dignity of the profession. He lounged among the +crowds of chattering boys and youths who “cheeked” one another before +that august personage “the Master,” declaring that “Master” couldn’t do +this and “Master” couldn’t do that; that the other side was too late or +too soon; that his particulars were too meagre or too full; or his +answers to interrogatories too evasive or not sufficiently diffuse, and +went on generally as if the whole object of the law were to raise as many +difficulties as possible in the way of its application. As if, in fact, +it had fenced itself in with such an undergrowth of brambles that no +amount of ability and perseverance could arrive at it. + +From what I perceived of the character of Horatio, I should say that he +was a scoffer. He was a mild, good-tempered, well-behaved boy enough, +but ridiculed many proceedings which he ought to have reverenced. He was +a great favourite with Mr. Prigg, because, if anything in the world +attracted the boy’s admiration, it was that gentleman’s pious demeanour +and profound knowledge. But the exuberance of the lad’s spirits when +away from his employer was in exact proportion to the moral pressure +brought to bear upon him while in that gentleman’s presence. As an +illustration of this remark and proof of the twofold character of +Horatio, I will relate what I saw after the “Master” had determined that +the tail of the 9 was a very nice point, but that there was nothing in +it. They had all waited a long time at Judge’s Chambers, and their +spirits were, no doubt, somewhat elated by at last getting the matter +disposed of. + +Horatio heard Mr. Prigg say to Mr. Locust, “What a very nice point!” and +had heard Mr. Locust reply, “A very nice point, indeed!” And Mr. Gride, +the clerk, say, “What, a very nice point!” and somebody else’s clerk say, +“What a very nice point!” And Horatio felt, as a humble member of the +profession, he must chime in with the rest of the firm. So, having said +to Locust’s boy, “What a dam nice point!” he went back to his lonely den +in Bedford Row and then, as he termed it, “let himself out.” He +accomplished this proceeding by first taking off his coat and throwing it +on to a chair; he next threw but his arms, with his fists firmly +clenched, as though he had hardly yet to its fullest extent realized the +“_niceness_” of the point which the Master had determined. The next step +which Horatio took was what is called “The double shuffle,” which, I may +inform my readers, is the step usually practised by the gentleman who +imitates the sailor in the hornpipe on the stage. Being a slim and agile +youth, Horatio’s performance was by no means contemptible, except that it +was no part of his professional duty to dance a Hornpipe. Then I saw +that this young gentleman in the exuberance of his youthful spirits +prepared for another exhibition of his talent. He cleared his throat, +once more threw out his arms, stamped his right foot loudly on the floor, +after the manner of the Ethiopian dancer with the long shoe, and then to +my astonishment poured forth the following words in a very agreeable, +and, as it seemed to me, melodious voice,— + + “What a very nice point, said Prigg.” + +Then came what I suppose would be called a few bars of the hornpipe; then +he gave another line,— + + “What a very nice point, said Gride.” + +(Another part of the hornpipe.) Then he sang the third and fourth lines, +dancing vigorously the while: + + “It will take a dozen lawyers with their everlasting jaw: + It will take a dozen judges with their ever changing law”— + +(Vigorous dancing for some moments), and then a pause, during which +Horatio, slightly stooping, placed two fingers of his left hand to the +side of his nose, and turning his eyes to the right, sang— + + “And”— + +Paused again, and finished vehemently as follows: + + “Twenty golden guineas to decide!” + +Then came the most enthusiastic hornpipe that ever was seen, and Horatio +was in the seventh Heaven of delight, when the door suddenly opened, and +Mr. Prigg entered! + +It was unfortunate for Horatio that his back being towards the door he +could not see his master enter; and it need scarcely be said that the +noise produced by the dance prevented him from hearing his approach. + +Mr. Prigg looked astounded at the sight that presented itself. The whole +verse was repeated, and the whole dance gone through again in the sight +and hearing of that gentleman. Was the boy mad? Had the strain of +business been too much for him? + +As if by instinct Horatio at last became aware of his master’s presence. +A change more rapid, transformation more complete I never saw. The lad +hung his head, and wandered to the chair where his coat was lying. It +took him some time to put it on, for the sleeves seemed somehow to be +twisted; at length, once more arrayed, and apparently in his right mind, +he stood with three-quarter face towards his astonished master. + +Mr. Prigg did not turn his head even on this occasion. He preserved a +dignified silence for some time, and then spoke in a deep tragic tone: + +“Horatio!” + +Horatio did hot answer. + +“What is the meaning of this exhibition, Horatio?” + +“I was only having a little fun, sir,” said the youthful clerk. + +“I am not averse to youth enjoying itself,” said Mr. Prigg; “but it must +be at proper seasons, and in appropriate places; there is also to be +exercised a certain discretion in the choice of those amusements in which +youth should indulge. I am not aware what category of recreation your +present exhibition may belong to, but I may inform you that in my humble +judgment—I may be mistaken, and you may know far better than I—but as at +present advised, I do not see that your late performance is consistent +with the duties of a solicitor’s clerk.” And then he muttered to +himself, “Quite so.” + +After this magnificent rebuke, Mr. Prigg drew out his cambric +handkerchief, and most gently applied it to his stately nose. + +“Again,” said Mr. Prigg, “I heard language, or thought I heard language, +which I should construe as decidedly derogatory to the Profession which +you serve and to which I have the honour to belong.” + +“I was only in fun, sir,” said Horatio, gathering confidence as Mr. Prigg +proceeded. + +“Quite so, quite so; that may be, I sincerely hope you were; but never +make fun of that by which you live; you derive what I may call a very +competent, not to say handsome, salary from the proceedings which you +make fun of. This is sad, and manifests a spirit of levity.” + +“I didn’t mean it like that, sir.” + +“Very well,” said the good man, “I am glad to perceive that you are +brought to a proper sense of the impropriety of your conduct. I will not +discharge you on this occasion, for the sake of your father, whom I have +known for so many years: but never let this occur again. Dancing is at +all times, to my mind, a very questionable amusement; but when it is +accompanied, as I perceived it was on this occasion, with gestures which +I cannot characterize by any other term than disgusting; and when further +you take the liberty of using my name in what I presume you intended for +a comic song, I must confess that I can hardly repress my feelings of +indignation. I hope you are penitent.” + +Horatio hung down his head, and said he was very sorry Mr. Prigg had +heard it, for he only intended it for his own amusement. + +“I shall take care,” said Mr. Prigg, “that you have less opportunity for +such exercises as I have unfortunately witnessed.” And having thus +admonished the repentant youth, Mr. Prigg left him to his reflections. I +am glad Mr. Prigg did not return while the pale boy was reflecting. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +The pleasure of a country drive on a summer evening described as enhanced +by a pious mind. + +It is only fair to the very able solicitors on both sides in the +memorable case of _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ to state that the greatest +possible despatch was exercised on all occasions. Scarcely a day passed +without something being done, as Prigg expressed it, “to expedite +matters.” Month after month may have passed away without any apparent +advance; but this in reality was not the case. Many appeals on what +seemed trifling matters had been heard; so many indeed that _Bumpkin_ v. +_Snooks_ had become a household word with the Court of Appeal, and a +bye-word among the innumerable loafers about Judge’s Chambers. + +“What! _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ again!” the President would say. “What is +it now? It’s a pity the parties to this case can’t agree: it seems a +very trifling matter.” + +“Not so, my lord, as your lordship will quickly apprehend when the new +point is brought before your notice. A question of principle is here +which may form a precedent for the guidance of future Judges, as did the +famous case of _Perryman_ v. _Lister_, which went to the House of Lords +about prosecuting a man for stealing a gun. This is about a pig, my +lord—a little pig, no doubt, and although there is not much in the pig, +there is a good deal outside it.” + +And often did Prigg say to Locust: + +“I say, Locust, whenever _shall_ we be ready to set this case down for +trial?” + +“Really, my dear Prigg,” Locust would reply, “it seems interminable—come +and dine with me.” So the gentle and innocent reader will at once +perceive that there was great impatience on all sides to get this case +ready for trial. Meanwhile it may not be uninteresting to describe +shortly some of the many changes that had taken place in the few short +months since the action commenced. + +First it was clearly observable by the inhabitants of Yokelton that Mr. +Prigg’s position had considerably improved. I say nothing of his new +hat; that was a small matter, but not so his style of living—so great an +advance had that made that it attracted the attention of the neighbours, +who often remarked that Mr. Prigg seemed to be getting a large practice. +He was often seen with his lady on a summer afternoon taking the air in a +nice open carriage—hired, it is true, for the occasion. And everybody +remarked how uncommonly ladylike Mrs. Prigg lay back in the vehicle, and +how very gracefully she held her new æsthetic parasol. And what a proud +moment it was for Bumpkin, when he saw this good and respectable +gentleman pass with the ladylike creature beside him; and Mr. Bumpkin +would say to his neighbours, lifting his hat at the same moment, + +“That be my loryer, that air be!” + +And then Mr. Prigg would gracefully raise his hat, and Mrs. Prigg would +lie back perfectly motionless as became a very languid lady of her +exalted position. And when Mr. Prigg said to Mrs. Prigg, “My dear, that +is our new client;” Mrs. Prigg would elevate her arched eyebrows and +expand her delicate nostrils as she answered,— + +“Really, my love, what a very vulgar-looking creechar!” + +“Not nearly so vulgar as Locust’s client,” rejoined her husband. “You +should see him.” + +“Thank you, my love, it is quite enough to catch a glimpse of the +superior person of the two.” + +Mr. Prigg seemed to think it a qualifying circumstance that Snooks was a +more vulgar-looking man than Bumpkin, whereas a moment’s consideration +showed Mrs. Prigg how illogical that was. It is the intrinsic and +personal value that one has to measure things by. This value could not +be heightened by contrast. Mrs. Prigg’s curiosity, however, naturally +led her to inquire who the other creechar was? As if she had never heard +of _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_, although she had actually got the case on four +wheels and was riding in it at that very moment; as if in fact she was +not practically all Bumpkin, as a silkworm may be said to be all mulberry +leaves. As if she knew nothing of her husband’s business! Her ideas +were not of this world. Give her a church to build, she’d harass people +for subscriptions; or let it be a meeting to clothe the naked savage, +Mrs. Prigg would be there. She knew nothing of clothing Bumpkin! But +she did interest herself sufficiently in her husband’s conversation to +ask, in answer to his reference to Locust’s disreputable client, + +“And who is he, pray?” + +“My darling,” said Prigg, “you must have heard of Snooks?” + +“Oh,” drawled Mrs. Prigg, “do you mean the creechar who sells coals?” + +“The same, my dear.” + +“And are you engaged against _that_ man? How very dreadful!” + +“My darling,” observed Mr. Prigg, “it is not for us to choose our +opponents; nor indeed, for the matter of that, our clients.” + +“I can quite perceive that,” returned the lady, “or you would never have +chosen such men—dear me!” + +“We are like physicians,” returned Mr. Prigg, “called in in case of +need.” + +“And the healing virtues of your profession must not be confined to rich +patients,” said Mrs. Prigg, in her jocular manner. + +“By no means,” was the good man’s reply; “justice is as much the right of +the poor as the rich—so is the air we breathe—so is everything.” And he +put his fingers together again, as was his wont whenever he uttered a +philosophical or moral platitude. + +So I saw in my dream that the good man and his ladylike wife rode through +the beautiful lanes, and over the breezy common on that lovely summer +afternoon, and as they drew up on the summit of a hill which gave a view +of the distant landscape, there was a serenity in the scene which could +only be compared to the serenity of Mr. Prigg’s benevolent countenance; +and there was a calm, deeply, sweetly impressive, which could only be +appreciated by a mind at peace with itself in particular, and with the +world in general. Then came from a neighbouring wood the clear voice of +the cuckoo. It seemed to sing purposely in honour of the good man; and I +fancied I could see a ravenous hawk upon a tree, abashed at Mr. Prigg’s +presence and superior ability; and a fluttering timid lark seemed to +shriek, “Wicked bird, live and let live;” but it was the last word the +silly lark uttered, for the hawk was upon him in a moment, and the little +innocent songster was crushed in its ravenous beak. Still the cuckoo +sang on in praise of Mr. Prigg, with now and then a little note for Mrs. +Prigg; for the cuckoo is a very gallant little bird, and Mrs. Prigg was +such a heavenly creature that no cuckoo could be conscious of her +presence without hymning her praise. + +“Listen,” said Mrs. Prigg, “isn’t it beautiful? I wonder where cuckoos +go to?” + +“Ah, my dear!” said Prigg, enraptured with the clear notes and the +beautiful scene; but neither of them seemed to wonder where hawks go to. + +“Do you hear the echo, love? Isn’t it beautiful?” + +O, yes, it was beautiful! Nature does indeed lift the soul on a quiet +evening from the grovelling occupations of earth to bask in the genial +sunshine of a more spiritual existence. What was Bumpkin? What was +Snooks to a scene like this? Suddenly the cuckoo ceased. Wonderful +bird! I don’t know whether it was the presence of the hawk that hushed +its voice or the sight of Mr. Prigg as he stood up in the carriage to +take a more extended view of the prospect; but the familiar note was +hushed, and the evening hymn in praise of the Priggs was over. + +So the journey was continued by the beautiful wood of oaks and chestnuts, +along by the hillside from which you could perceive in the far distance +the little stream as it wound along by meadow and wood and then lost +itself beneath the hill that rose abruptly on the left. + +The stream was the symbol of life—probably Bumpkin’s life; all nature +presents similes to a religious mind. And so the evening journey was +continued with ever awakening feelings of delight and gratitude until +they once more entered their peaceful home. And this brings me to +another consideration which ought not to be passed over with +indifference. + +I saw in my dream that a great change had taken place in the home of the +Priggs. The furniture had undergone a metamorphosis almost so striking +that I thought Mr. Prigg must be a wizard. The gentle reader knows all +about Cinderella; but here was a transformation more surprising. I saw +that one of Mr. Bumpkin’s pigs had been turned into a very pretty +walnut-wood whatnot, and stood in the drawing-room, and on it stood +several of the ducks and geese that used to swim in the pond of Southwood +farm. They were not ducks and geese now, but pretty silent ornaments. +An old rough-looking stack of oats had been turned into a very nice +Turkey carpet for the dining-room. Poor old Jack the donkey had been +changed into a musical box that stood on a little table made out of a +calf. One day Mr. Bumpkin called to see how his case was going on, and +by mistake got into this room among his cows and pigs; but not one of +them did the farmer know, and when the maid invited him to sit down he +was afraid of spoiling something. + +Now summonses at Chambers, and appeals, and demurrers, are not at all bad +conjuring wands, if you only know how to use them. Two clever men like +Prigg and Locust, not only surprise the profession, but alarm the public, +since no one knows what will take place next, and Justice herself is +startled from her propriety. Let no clamorous law reformer say that +interrogatories or any other multitudinous proceedings at Judge’s +Chambers are useless. It is astonishing how many changes you can ring +upon them with a little ingenuity, and a very little scrupulosity. Mr. +Prigg turned two sides of bacon into an Indian vase, and performed many +other feats truly astonishing to persons who look on as mere spectators, +and wonder how it is done. Wave your magic wand, good Prigg, and you +shall see a hayrick turn into a chestnut mare; and a four-wheeled waggon +into a Victoria. + +But the greatest change he had effected was in Mr. Bumpkin himself, who +loved to hear his wife read the interrogatories and answers. The almanac +was nothing to this. He had no idea law was so interesting. I dare say +there were two guiding influences working within him, in addition to the +many influences working without; one being that inherent British pluck, +which once aroused, “doesn’t care, sir, if it costs me a thousand pound, +I’ll have it out wi’ un;” the other was the delicious thought that all +his present outlay would be repaid by the cunning and covetous Snooks. +So much was Bumpkin’s heart in the work of crushing his opponent, that +expense was treated with ridicule. I heard him one day say jocularly to +Mr. Prigg, who had come for an affidavit: + +“Be it a pig, sir, or a heifer?” + +“O,” said the worthy Prigg, “we want a pretty good one; I think it must +be a heifer.” + +All this was very pleasant, and made the business, dull and prosaic in +itself, a cheerful recreation. + +Then, again, there was a feeling of self-importance whenever these +affidavits came to be sworn. Mr. Bumpkin would put down his ash-stick by +the side of the fireplace, and bidding his visitor be seated, would +compose himself with satisfaction to listen to the oft-repeated words: + +“I, Thomas Bumpkin, make oath, and say—” + +Fancy, “_I_, _Bumpkin_!” Just let the reader pause over that for a +moment! What must “I, Bumpkin,” be whose statement is required on oath +before my Lord Judge? + +Always, at these words, he would shout. “That be it—now then, sir, would +you please begin that agin?”—while, if Mrs. Bumpkin were not too busy, he +would call her in to hear them too. + +So there was no wonder that the action went merrily along. Once get up +enthusiasm in a cause, and it is half won. Without enthusiasm, few +causes can succeed against opposition. Then, again, the affidavit +described Bumpkin as a Yeoman. What, I wonder, would Snooks the +coal-merchant think of that? + +So everything proceeded satisfactorily, and the months rolled away; the +seasons came in their turn, so did the crops, so did the farrows of pigs, +so did the spring chickens, and young ducks (prettiest little golden +things in the world, on the water); so did Mr. Prigg, and so did a +gentleman (hereafter to be called “the man,”) with whom a very convenient +arrangement was made, by which Mr. Bumpkin preserved the whole of his +remaining stock intact; had not in fact to advance a single penny piece +more; all advances necessary for the prosecution of the action being made +by the strange gentleman (whose name I did not catch) under that most +convenient of all legal forms, “a Bill of Sale.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +A farmhouse winter fireside—a morning drive and a mutual interchange of +ideas between town and country: showing how we may all learn something +from one another. + +I never saw the home of Farmer Bumpkin without thinking what a happy and +comfortable home it was. The old elm tree that waved over the thatched +roof, seemed to bless and protect it. On a winter’s evening, when +Bumpkin was sitting in one corner smoking his long pipe, Mrs. Bumpkin +darning her stockings, and Joe on the other side looking into the blazing +fire, while the old Collie stretched himself in a snug corner beside his +master, it represented a scene of comfort almost as perfect as rustic +human nature was capable of enjoying. And when the wind blew through the +branches of the elm over the roof, it was like music, played on purpose +to heighten the enjoyment. Comfort, thou art at the evening fireside of +a farm-house, if anywhere! + +You should have seen Tim, when an unusual sound disturbed the harmony of +this peaceful fireside. He growled first as he lay with his head resting +between his paws, and just turned up his eyes to his master for approval. +Then, if that warning was not sufficient, he rose and barked +vociferously. Possessed, I believe, of more insight than Bumpkin, he got +into the most tremendous state of excitement whensoever anyone came from +Prigg’s, and he cordially hated Prigg. But most of all was he angry when +“the man” came. There was no keeping him quiet. I wonder if dogs know +more about Bills of Sale than farmers. I am aware that some farmers know +a good deal about them; and when they read this story, many of them will +accuse me of being too personal; but Tim was a dog of strong prejudices, +and I am sure he had a prejudice against money-lenders. + +As the persons I have mentioned were thus sitting on this dreary evening +in the month of November, suddenly, Tim sprang from his recumbent +position, and barked furiously. + +“Down, Tim! down, Tim!” said the farmer; “what be this, I wonder!” + +“Tim, Tim,” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “down, Tim! hold thee noise, I tell ee.” + +“Good Tim!” said Joe; he also had an instinct. + +“I’ll goo and see what it be,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; “whoever can come here +at this time o’ night! it be summat, Tom.” And she put down her +stockings, and lighting a candle went to the front door, whereat there +was a loud knocking. Tim jumped and flew and thrust his nose down to the +bottom of the door long before Mrs. Bumpkin could get there. + +“Quiet, Tim! I tell thee; who be there?” + +“From Mr. Prigg’s,” answered a voice. + +This was enough for Tim; the name of Prigg made him furious. + +“Somebody from Mr. Prigg, Tom.” + +“Wull, let un in, Nance; bless thee soul, let un in; may be the case be +settled. I hope they ain’t took less nor a hundred pound. I told un not +to.” The door was unbolted and unbarred, and a long time it took, and +then stood before Mrs. Bumpkin a tall pale youth. + +“I’ve come from Mr. Prigg.” + +“Will er plase to walk in, sir?” said Mrs. Bumpkin. + +By this time the master had got up from his seat, and advancing towards +the youth said:— + +“How do, sir; how do, sir; wark in, wark in, tak a seat, I be glad to see +thee.” + +“I come from Mr. Prigg,” said the youth, “and we want another affidavit.” + +“Hem!” said Bumpkin, “be it a pig or a eifer, sir?” He couldn’t forget +the old joke. + +“We want an affidavit of documents,” said the youth. + +“And what be the manin o’ that?—affiday o’ what?” + +“Documents, sir,” said the mild youth; “here it is.” + +“Oh,” said Bumpkin, “I got to swear un, I spoase, that’s all.” + +“That’s it, sir,” said Horatio. + +“Well, thee can’t take oaths, I spoase.” + +“No, sir, not exactly.” + +“Wull then I spoase I must goo to --- in the marnin. And thee’ll stop +here the night and mak thyself comfortable. We can gie un a bed, can’t +us, Nancy?” + +“Two, if ur wishes it,” answered Mrs. Bumpkin. + +“Devil’s in it, ur doan’t want two beds, I’ll warrant? Now then, sir, +sitten doon and mak theeself comfortable. What’ll thee drink?” + +“I’m too young to drink,” said Horatio, with a smile. + +Bumpkin smiled too. “I’ll warrant thee be.” + +“I’m always too young,” said Horatio, “for every thing that’s nice. Mr. +Prigg says I’m too young to enjoy myself; but if you don’t mind, sir, I’m +not too young to be hungry. I’ve walked a long distance.” + +“Have ur now?” said Mrs. Bumpkin. “We ain’t got anything wery grand, +sir; but there be a nice piece o’ pickle pork and pease-puddin, if thee +doan’t mind thic.” + +“Bring un out,” said Bumpkin; and accordingly a nice clean cloth was soon +spread, and the table was groaning (as the saying is), with a large leg +of pork and pease-pudding and home-made bread; to which Horatio did ample +justice. + +“Bain’t bad pooark,” said Bumpkin. + +“Best I ever tasted,” replied Horatio; “we don’t get this sort of pork in +London—pork there doesn’t seem like pork.” + +“Now look at that,” said Joe; “I fed that air pig.” + +“So ur did, Joe,” said the farmer; “I’ll gie thee credit, Joe, thee fed +un well.” + +“Ah!” said Joe; “and that air pig knowed I as well as I knows thee.” + +When Horatio had supped, and the things were removed, Mr. Bumpkin assured +the youth that a little drop of gin-and-water would not hurt him after +his journey; and accordingly mixed him a tumbler. “Thee doan’t smoke, I +spoase?” he said; to which Mrs. Bumpkin added that she “spoased he wur +too young like.” + +“I’ll try,” answered the courageous youth, nothing daunted by his +youngness. + +“So thee shall—dang if thee shan’t,” rejoined Mr. Bumpkin; and produced a +long churchwarden pipe, and a big leaden jar of tobacco of a very dark +character, called “shag.” + +Horatio filled his pipe, and puffed away as if he had been a veteran +smoker; cloud after cloud came forth, and when Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin and +Joe looked, expecting that the boy should be ill, there was not the least +sign; so Joe observed with great sagacity: + +“Look at that now, maister; I bleeve he’ve smoked afoore.” + +“Have ur, sir?” asked Mr. Bumpkin. + +“A little,” said Horatio. + +“Why, I never smoked afoore I wur turned twenty,” said the farmer. + +“I believe the right time now is fourteen,” observed the youth; “it used +to be twenty, I have heard father say; but everything has been altered by +the Judicature Act.” + +“Look at that air,” said Joe, “he’ve eeard father say. You knows a thing +or two, I’ll warrant, Mr. —.” + +Here Joe was baffled, and coming so abruptly to an end of his address, +Mr. Bumpkin took the matter up, and asked, if he might make so bold, what +the youth’s name might be. + +“Horatio Snigger,” answered that gentleman. + +“When will this ere case be on, think’ee, sir?” inquired Mr. Bumpkin. + +“We expect it to be in the paper every day now,” said the youth; “they’ve +tried to dodge us a good deal, but they can’t dodge us much longer—we’re +a little too downy for em.” + +“It have been a mighty long time about, surely,” said Mr. Bumpkin. + +“O, that’s nothing,” said Horatio; “time’s nothing in Law! Why, a suit +to administer a Will sometimes takes ’ears; and Bankruptcy, O my eye, +ain’t there dodging about that, and jockeying too, eh! Crikey!” + +Mr. Bumpkin here winked at his wife, as much as to say, “Now you hold +your tongue, and see me dror un out. I’ll have un.” + +“Will ee tak a little more gin-and-water, sir?” + +“No, thankee,” said the youth. + +“A little more won’t hurt ee—it’ll do thee good.” And again he filled +the tumbler; while the pale boy refilled his pipe. + +“Now, who’s my counsellor gwine to be?” asked the farmer. + +“Oh,” said Horatio, “a regular cruncher—Mr. Catapult.” + +“He be a cruncher, be he?” + +“I believe you; he turned a man inside out the other day; a money-lender +he was.” + +“Did ur now?” + +“Look at that,” said Joe. + +“And we’re going to have Mr. Dynamite for junior; my eye, don’t he make a +row!” + +“Two an em!” exclaimed Bumpkin. + +“Must have two for the plaintiff,” said Horatio; “that’s the law. Why, a +Queen’s Counsel ain’t allowed to open a case without a junior starts +him—it’s jist like the engine-driver and the guard. You have the junior +to shove the leader.” + +“Look at that,” said Joe; expectorating into the fire. + +Mr. Bumpkin looked again at Nancy, and gave another wink that you might +have heard. + +“And the tother side?” he asked. + +“Ah! I don’t know about them,” said the boy. “They’re artful dodgers, +they are.” + +“Is ’em now? but artfulness don’t allays win, do ur?” + +“No,” said Horatio; “but it goes a long way, and sometimes when it’s gone +a long way it beats itself.” + +“Look at that,” said Joe; “that’s like that ere—” + +“Be quiet, Joe,” said Bumpkin; “let I talk, will ur? You said it beats +itself, sir?” + +“If the judge gets ’old of him, it’s sure to,” said Horatio. “There +ain’t no judge on the Bench as will let artfulness win if he knows it. +I’ve sin em watchin like a cat watches a mouse; and directly it comes out +o’ the ’ole, down he is on em—like that:” and he slapped his hand on the +table with startling effect. + +“Good!” said Bumpkin. + +“And don’t they know who the solicitor is, eh—that’s all! My word, if +he’s a shady one—the judge is down on the case like winkin.” + +“And be this ere Locust a shady un?” (Another wink at Mrs. Bumpkin.) + +“Ah! I’m too young to know.” + +“Thee beest too old, thee meanest,” said Mrs. Bumpkin, laughing. + +“Now hold thee tongue, Nancy; I wur gwine to say that myself—dang if I +warnt!” + +“Now look at thic,” said Joe; “maister were gwine to say thic.” + +“So I wur,” repeated Bumpkin. “Jist got the word o’ th’ tip o’ th’ +tongue.” + +“And be these Queen’s Counsellors,” he asked, “summat grand?” + +“I believe you,” said Horatio; “they wears silk gowns.” + +“Do em?” said Mrs. Bumpkin, laughing. “Silk gowns—and what kind o’ +petticoats?” + +“Shut up,” said Bumpkin; “thee be as igorant as a donkey; these Queen’s +Counsellors be made for their larnin and cleverness, beant em, sir?” + +“Well,” said Horatio, “nobody ever could make out—some of em are pretty +good, and some of em ain’t much—not near so good as the others.” + +“But this ere Mr. Catapult be a good un, bean’t he—a regler crunsher?” + +“O, I believe you, my boy: his look’s enough for some of em.” + +“I spoase he be dear?” (Another wink at Mrs. Bumpkin.) + +“They’re all dear,” said Horatio; “some of em are dear because their fees +are high; and some of em would be dear at a gift, but I’m too young to +know much about it.” + +“Now hark at that,” said Joe; “like that air old horse o’ Morris’.” + +“Hold thee tongue, Joe, I tell ee, putten thy spoke in; does thee think +the Queen ’as old ’orses in her stable? It’s merit, I tell ee—ain’t it, +Mr. Jigger?” + +“Merit, sir; I believe it’s merit.” And thus in pleasant conversation +the evening passed merrily away, until the clock striking nine warned the +company that it was time to retire. + +A bright, brisk frosty morning succeeded, and a substantial breakfast of +bacon, eggs, fresh butter, and home-made bread, at seven o’clock, +somewhat astonished and delighted the youthful Horatio; and then the old +horse, with plenty of hair about his heels, was brought round with the +gig. And Mr. Bumpkin and his guest got up and took their seats. The old +Market Town was about seven miles off, and the road lay through the most +picturesque scenery of the county. To ride on such a pleasant morning +through such a country almost made one think that swearing affidavits was +the most pleasing occupation of life. It was the first time Horatio had +ever ridden in a gig: the horse went a good old market pace, and the +beautiful sunshine, lovely scenery, and crisp air produced in his +youthful bosom a peculiarly charming and delightful sense of +exhilaration. He praised the country and the weather and the horse, and +asked if it was what they called a thoroughbred. + +“Chit!” said Bumpkin, “thoroughbred! So be I thoroughbred—did thee ever +see thoroughbred wi’ ’air on his ’eels?’ + +“Well, he goes well,” said Horatio. + +“Gooes well enough for I,” said Bumpkin. + +This answer somewhat abashed Horatio, who was unlearned in horses; for +some time he remained silent. Then it became Mr. Bumpkin’s turn to renew +the conversation: + +“I spoase,” said he, “thee be gwine to be a loryer?” + +“Not if I know it,” answered Horatio. + +“Why not, then?” + +“Don’t care for it; I like the country.” + +“What wouldst thee like to be then, a farmer?” + +“I should—that’s the life for me!” + +“Thee likes plenty o’ fresh air?” said the farmer. + +“Yes,” answered Horatio, “and fresh butter and fresh eggs.” + +“I’ll go to ---, if thee doen’t know what’s good for thee, anyhow. +Thee’d ha’ to work ’ard to keep straaight, I can tell thee; thee’d had to +plough, and danged if I believe thee could hold plough! What’s thee say +to that, lad?” + +“I think I could.” + +“Devil a bit! now spoase thee’st got plough-handles under thy arms, and +the cord in the ’ands, and thee wanted to keep t’colter from jibbin into +t’ soil, wouldst thee press down wi’ might and main, or how?” + +“Press down with might and main,” said Horatio. + +“Right!” exclaimed Bumpkin; “danged if I doant think thee’d make a +ploughman now. Dost know what th’ manin o’ mither woiy be?” + +This was rather a startling question for the unsophisticated London +youth. He had never heard such an expression in his life; and although +he might have puzzled his agricultural interrogator by a good many +questions in return, yet that possibility was no answer to “mither woiy.” + +“I don’t know that, Mr. Bumpkin,” he ingenuously replied. + +“No? well, there ain’t a commoner word down ere nor ‘mither woiy,’ and +there ain’t a boy arf your age as doan’t know the manin o’t, so thee see +thee got summat to larn. Now it mane this—spoase thee got a team o’ +horses at dung cart or gravel cart, and thee wants em to come to ee; thee +jest holds whip up over to the ed o’ th’ leadin orse like this ere, and +says ‘mither woiy,’ and round er comes as natteral as possible.” + +“O, that’s it!” said Horatio; “I see.” + +“Ah!” said Bumpkin, “I can teach ee summat, can’t I, though thee comes +from town, and I be only a country clown farmer?” + +“I should just like to come down a month on trial, that’s all, when I +have my holiday,” said the youth; “I think it would do me good: ‘mither +woiy,’” he said, mimicking his instructor. + +“Thee shall come if thee likes,” replied the good-natured Bumpkin; +“Nancy’ll be proud to see thee—thee’s got ‘mither woiy’ to rights.” + +“What a very nice public-house!” exclaimed Horatio, as they approached a +village green where an old Inn that had flourished in the coaching days +still stood, the decaying monument of a past age, and an almost forgotten +style of locomotion. + +“Be a good house. I often pulls up there on way from market.” + +“Did you ever try rum and milk for your cough?” inquired the pale youth. + +“Never had no cough,” said Bumpkin. + +“What a good thing! But it’s capital, they say, in case you should have +one; they say there’s nothing beats rum and milk.” + +“Hem!” muttered Bumpkin, giving his horse a tremendous jerk with the +reins. “I spoase thee’d like a glass, Mr. Jigger.” + +“I don’t care about it for myself,” answered the youth; “but if you like +to have one I’ll join you with pleasure.” + +“So us wool then;” and up they pulled at the sign of the “Merry-go-round” +on Addlehead Green. + +“Bain’t bad tackle!” said Mr. Bumpkin, tossing off his glass. + +“No,” responded Horatio, “I’ve tasted worse medicine. I quite enjoy my +ride, Mr. Bumpkin; I wish we had a dozen more affidavits to swear.” + +“I doan’t,” said the client; “I sworn a goodish many on em as it be. I +doan’t think that air Snooks can bate un.” + +“I don’t think he can,” said Horatio, as they once more climbed into the +old-fashioned gig; “but talk about paper, you should see your brief: +that’s a caution and no mistake!” + +“Is ur now? In what way, sir?” + +“Lor, how I should like a cigar, Mr. Bumpkin, if I’d only got my case +with me, but unfortunately—” + +“Would ur—then thee shall ’ave one; here, Mr. Ostler, jest goo and fetch +one o’ them there what d’ye call ems.” + +“O, do they sell them down here? Cigars—cigars,” said Horatio, “I wasn’t +aware of that.” + +“Now then, sir; what about this ere what d’ye call un—beef?” + +Mr. Bumpkin, being a very artful man, was inwardly chuckling at the +successful manœuvring by which he was drawing out this pale +unsophisticated London youth, and hoped by dint of a little strategy to +learn a good deal before they parted company. + +“Brief! brief!” said Horatio, laughing. + +“Ah! so it wur; thee said he wur a hell of a big un.” + +“Yes, and I wrote him myself.” + +“Did ur now; then thee knows all about un?” + +“From beginning to end—he is a clipper, I can tell you; a regular +whacker.” + +“I hope he’ll whack thic Snooks then.” + +“He’s a beauty!” rejoined Horatio, much to his companion’s surprise; for +here was this young man speaking of a brief in the same terms that he +(Bumpkin) would use with reference to a prize wurzel or swede. A brief +being a _beauty_ sounded somewhat strange in the ears of a farmer who +could associate the term with nothing that didn’t grow on the farm. + +“I dare say you’ve heard of Macaulay’s England?” asked the lad. + +“Whose England?” + +“Macaulay’s.” + +“I’ve eerd o’ England, if you mean this ere country, sartainly.” + +“You’ve heard of Macaulay’s History, I mean?” + +“Can’t say as ever I eerd tell on un.” + +“Well, there’s as much in your brief as there is in that book, and that’s +saying something, ain’t it?” + +“Zo’t be; but what th’ devil be ’t all about?” + +“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Horatio, holding out his hands and putting +the point of his right forefinger on to the point of the forefinger of +his left hand. “First: biography of the plaintiff.” + +“There now,” said Bumpkin, shaking the reins; “thee med jist as well talk +Greek—it’s the same wally (value) to me, for I doan’t understan’ a +word—bography, indade!” + +“Well then, Mr. Bumpkin, there is first a history of your life.” + +“Good lord, what be that for?” + +“I’ll tell you presently—then there’s the history of Mrs. Bumpkin from +the cradle.” (Mr. Bumpkin uttered an exclamation which nothing shall +induce me to put on paper.) “Then”—and here the young man had reached +the third finger of the left hand—“then comes a history of the defendant +Snooks.” + +“Ah!” said Bumpkin, as though they were getting nearer the mark; “that be +summut like—that’ll do un—have you put in about the gal?” + +“What’s that?” asked the youth. + +“Oh! didn’t thee ’ear? Why, thee ’st left out the best part o’ Snooks’ +life; he were keepin company wi’ a gal and left her in t’ lurch: but I +’ope thee ’st shown up ur carater well in other ways—he be the worst man +as ever lived in this ’ere country.” + +“Well,” said Horatio, travelling towards his little finger; “then there’s +the history of the pig.” + +“Zounds!” laughed the farmer, “if ever I eerd tell o’ such a thing in my +bornd days. What the devil be the good o’ thic?” + +“O, a good deal; the longer you make the brief the more money you get—you +are paid by the yard. They don’t pay lawyers accordin’ to the value of +their services, but the length of ’em.” + +“Well, look ee ’ere, if I sells a pig it ain’t wallied by its length, but +by its weight.” + +“It ain’t so with lawyers then,” rejoined Horatio; “the taxing master +takes the length of the pig, and his tail counts, and the longer the tail +the better the taxing master likes it; then comes,”—(as the young lad had +only four fingers he was obliged to have recourse to his thumb, placing +his forefinger thereon)—“then comes about ten pages on the immortality of +the soul.” + +“That be the tail, I spoase.” + +“You got it,” said Horatio, laughing. “O, he’s a stunner on the +immortality of the soul.” + +“Who be?—Snooks?” + +“No—Prigg—he goes into it like winkin’.” + +“But what be it to do with thic case?” + +“Well, if you only put in a brief what had got to do with the case it +would be a poor thing.” + +And I saw in my dream that the young man was speaking truthfully: it was +a beautifully drawn essay on the immortality of the soul, especially +Bumpkin’s. + +“By George!” continued the youth, “it’ll cost something—that brief.” + +Mr. Bumpkin twitched as if he had touched with ice a nerve of his hollow +tooth. + +“If I had the money that case’ll cost I wouldn’t do any more work,” said +the youth. + +“What would’st thee be then?” + +“Well, I should try and get an Associate’s place in one of the Courts.” + +“Hem! but this ere Snooks ull have to pay, won’t he?” + +“Ah!” said Horatio, breathing deeply and indignantly, “I hope so; he’s a +mean cuss—what d’ye think? never give Locust’s boy so much as a +half-sovereign! Now don’t such a feller deserve to lose? And do you +think Locust’s boy will interest himself in his behalf?” + +Bumpkin looked slily out of the corners of his eyes at the young man, but +the young man was impassive as stone, and pale as if made of the best +Carrara marble. + +“But tell I, sir—for here we be at the plaace of Mr. Commissioner to take +oaths—what need be there o’ this ere thing I be gwine to swear, for I’ll +be danged if I understand a word of un, so I tell ee.” + +“Costs, my dear sir, costs!” + + * * * * * + +And I heard Bumpkin mutter to himself that “he’d he danged if this ’ere +feller wur so young as he made out—his ’ead wur a mighty dale older nor +his body.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +The last night before the first London expedition, which gives occasion +to recall pleasant reminiscences. + +“I, Bumpkin, make oath and say,” having been duly presented, and the +Commissioner having duly placed the Testament in Mr. Bumpkin’s hands, and +said to him that to the best of his knowledge and belief the contents of +the “I Bumpkin” paper were true, the matter was over, and Mr. Snigger, +with the valuable document in his possession, might have returned to +London by the next train. But as Horatio afterwards observed to a +friend, he “was not quite so green.” It was market day; Mr. Bumpkin was +a genial companion, and had asked him to partake of the Market Ordinary. +So thither at one o’clock they repaired, and a very fine dinner the pale +youth disposed of. It seemed in proportion to the wonderful brief whose +merits they had previously discussed. More and more did Horatio think +that a farmer’s life was the life for him. He had never seen such +“feeding;” more and more would he like that month on trial in the +country; more and more inclined was he to throw up the whole blessed law +at once and for ever. This partly-formed resolution he communicated to +Mr. Bumpkin, and assured him that, but for the case of _Bumpkin_ v. +_Snooks_, he would do so on that very afternoon, and wash his hands of +it. + +“I don’t want,” said he, “to leave you in the lurch, Mr. Bumpkin, or else +I’d cut it at once, and throw this affidavit into the fire.” + +“Come, come,” said the farmer, “thee beest a young man, don’t do nowt +that be wrong—stick to thy employer like a man, and when thee leaves, +leave like a man.” + +“As soon as your case is over, I shall hook it, Mr. Bumpkin. And now let +me see—you’ll have to come to London in a week or two, for I am pretty +nigh sure we shall be in the paper by that time. I shall see you when +you come up—where shall you stay?” + +“Danged if I know; I be a straanger in Lunnun.” + +“Well, now, look ’ere, Mr. Bumpkin, I can tell you of a very nice quiet +public-house in Westminster where you’ll be at home; the woman, I +believe, comes from your part of the country, and so does the landlord.” + +“What be the naame o’ the public ’ouse?” asked Mr. Bumpkin. + +“It’s the sign of the ‘Goose,’ and stands just a little way off from the +water-side.” + +“The Goose” sounded countryfied and homelike, and being near the water +would be pleasant, and the landlord and landlady being Somersetshire +people would also be pleasant. + +“Be it a dear plaace?” he inquired. + +“Oh, no; dirt cheap.” + +“Ah, that air _dirt_ cheap I doan’t like—I likes it a bit clean like.” + +“Oh, yes, clean as a smelt—clean as ever it can be; and I’ll bespeak your +lodgings for you if you like, and all.” + +“Well, thankee, sir, thankee,” said the farmer, shaking hands with the +youth, and giving him a half-sovereign. “I be proud to know thee.” And +thus they parted: Horatio returning to his office, and Mr. Bumpkin +driving home at what is called a “shig-shog” pace, reflecting upon all +the events that had transpired during that memorable day. + +Pretty much the same as ever went on the things at the farm, and the +weeks passed by, and the autumn was over, and Christmas Day came and +went, and the Assizes came and went, and _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ alone in +all the world seemed to stand still. One day in the autumn a friend of +Mr. Prigg’s came and asked the favour of a day’s fishing, which was +granted with Mr. Bumpkin’s usual cordiality. He was not only to fish on +that day, but to come whenever he liked, and make the house his “hoame, +like.” So he came and fished, and partook of the hospitality of the +homely but plentiful table, and enjoyed himself as often as he pleased. +He was a most agreeable man, and knew how to talk. Understood a good +deal about agriculture and sheep breeding, and quite enjoyed a walk with +Mr. Bumpkin round the farm. This happened five or six times during the +autumn. He was reticent when Mr. Bumpkin mentioned the lawsuit, because +he knew so little about legal proceedings. Nor could Mr. Bumpkin “draw +him out” on any point. Nothing could be ascertained concerning him +except that he had a place in Yorkshire, and was in London on a visit; +that he had known Mr. Prigg for a good many years, and always “found him +the same.” At last, the month of February came, and the long expected +letter from Mr. Prigg. Bumpkin and Joe were to be in London on the +following day, for it was expected they would be in the paper. What a +flutter of preparation there was at the farm! Bumpkin was eager, Mrs. +Bumpkin anxious. She had never liked the lawsuit, but had never once +murmured; now she seemed to have a presentiment which she was too wise to +express. And she went about her preparations for her husband’s leaving +with all the courage she could command. It was, however, impossible +entirely to repress her feelings, and now and again as she was packing +the flannels and worsted stockings, a tear would force its way in spite +of all she could do. + +Night came, and the fireside was as cosy as ever. But there was a sense +of sadness nevertheless. Tim seemed to understand that something was not +quite as it should be, for he was restless, and looked up plaintively in +his master’s face, and went to Joe and put his head in his lap; then +turned away and stretched himself out on the hearth, winking his eyes at +the fire. + +It is always a melancholy effort to “keep up the spirits” when the moment +of separation is at hand. One longs for the last shake of the hand and +the final good-bye. This was the case at Southwood Farm on this +memorable evening. Nothing in the room looked as usual. The pewter +plates on the shelf shone indeed, but it was like the smile of a winter +sun; it lacked the usual cheery warmth. Even the old clock seemed to +feel sad as he ticked out with melancholy monotony the parting moments; +and the wind, as it came in heavy gusts and howled round the old chimney, +seemed more melancholy than need be under the circumstances. + +“Thee must be careful, Tom,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; “that Lunnun, as I hear, +be a terrible plaace.” + +“How be un a terrible plaace?” said Bumpkin, sarcastically. “I bean’t a +child, Nancy.” + +“No, thee bean’t a child, Tom; but thee bean’t up to Lunnun ways: there +be thieves and murderers, and what not.” + +“Thieves and murderers!” + +“And Joe, doan’t ee git out o’ nights; if anything ’appened to thee, thy +old mother ’ud brak her ’art.” + +“Look ee ’ere,” said Joe, “I bean’t got nuthin’ to lose, so I bean’t +afeared o’ thieves.” + +“No, but thee might git into trouble, thee might be led away.” + +“So might thic bull,” said Joe; “but I’d like to zee what ’ud become o’ +the chap as led un.” + +“Chap as led un!” said Mrs. Bumpkin, laughing. + +“I’d gie un a crack o’ the canister,” said Joe. + +“Don’t thee git knockin’ down, Joe, unless thee be ’bliged,” said Mrs. +Bumpkin; “keep out o’ bad company, and don’t stay out o’ nights.” + +“And lookee ’ere, Joe,” said Bumpkin, “when thee comes afore th’ +Counsellor wi’ wig on, hold up thee head; look un straight in t’ face and +spak oop. Thee needn’t be afeared t’ spak t’ truth.” + +“I bean’t afeard,” said Joe; “I mind me when old Morris wur at plough, +and I was leadin’ th’ ’orses, Morris says, says he, ‘Now then, cock, +let’s see if we can’t git a eend this time;’ so on we goes, and jist +afore I gits the ’orses to eend o’ t’ field, Dobbin turns, and then, dash +my bootons, the tother turns after un, and me tryin’ to keep em oop, +Dobbin gits his legs over the trace. Well, Morris wur that wild, he +says, says he, ‘Damme, if yer doan’t look sharp, I’ll gie thee a crack o’ +t’ canister wi’ this ’ere whippense presny’” (presently). + +“Crack o’ the canister!” laughed Mrs. Bumpkin, “and that’s what Morris +called thy head, eh?” + +This was a capital hit on Joe’s part, for it set them thinking of the +events of old times, and Joe, seeing the effect of it, ventured upon +another anecdote relating to the old carter. + +“Thee recollect, master, when that there Mr. Gearns come down to shoot; +lor, lor, what a queer un he wur, surely!” + +“Couldn’t shoot a hit,” said Bumpkin. + +“Not he. Wall, we was carrying wheat, and Morris wur loadin, and jest as +we gits the last pitch on t’ load, right through th’ ’orses legs runds a +rat. Gearns wi’out more ado oops wi’ his loaded gun and bangs her off +right under t’ ’orses legs; up jumps th’ ’orse, and Morris wur wery nigh +tossed head fust into th’ yard. Wall, he makes no moore ado, for he +didn’t keer, gemman or no gemman—didn’t Morris—” + +“No more ur didn’t, Joe,” said Mrs. Bumpkin. + +“He makes no moore ado, but he up and said, ‘damme,’ he says, ‘sir, you +might as well a said you was gwine to shoot; you might a had me off and +broked my neck.’” + +“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed Mr. Bumpkin, and “Well done, Morris,” said Mrs. +Bumpkin. + +“Wall,” said Joe, “this ere gemman says, ‘It wouldn’t er bin much loss,’ +he says, ‘if he had!’ ‘Damme,’ roars Morris, ‘it had a bin as much wally +to me as yourn, anyhow.’” + +They all remembered the story, and even Tim seemed to remember it too, +for when they laughed he wagged his tail and laughed with them. + +And thus the evening dragged along and bed time came. + +In the morning all was in readiness, and the plaintiff with his witness +drove away in the gig to the station, where Morris waited to bring the +old horse back. + +And as the train came into the little country station I awoke. + + * * * * * + +“I hope,” cried my wife, “that Mr. Prigg is a respectable man.” + +“Respectable,” I answered, “I know he is; but whether he is honest is +another matter.” + +“But don’t you know?” + +“I only know what I dream.” + +“I have no opinion of him,” said she; “nor of that Locust; I believe they +are a couple of rogues.” + +“I should be very sorry to suggest such a thing as that,” I answered, +“without some proof. Everybody should give credit for the best of +motives.” + +“But what are all these summonses you speak of?” + +“O, they are summonses in the action. You may have as many of them as +you can invent occasion for. You may go up to the Court of Appeal about +twenty times before you try the action, which means about eighty +different hearings before Master and Judges.” + +“But how can a poor man endure that? It’s a great shame.” + +“He can’t—he may have a perfectly good cause of action against a rich man +or a rich company, and they can utterly ruin him before ever his case can +come into Court.” + +“But will no solicitor take it up for the poor man?” + +“Yes, some will, and the only reward they usually get for their pains is +to be stigmatized as having brought a speculative action—accused of doing +it for the sake of costs; although I have known the most honourable men +do it out of pure sympathy for the poor man.” + +“And so they ought,” cried she. + +“And I trust,” said I, “that hereafter it will be considered honourable +to do so. It is quite as honourable, in my judgment, to bring an action +when you may never be paid as to bring it when you know you will be.” + +“Who was the person referred to as ‘the man?’” + +“I don’t know,” said I, “but I strongly suspect he is, in reality, a +nominee of Prigg’s.” + +“That is exactly my opinion,” said my wife. “And if so, between them, +they will ruin that poor man.” + +“I can’t tell,” said I, lighting my pipe. “I know no more about the +future of my dream than you do; maybe when I sleep again something else +will transpire.” + +“But can no one do anything to alter this state of things? I plainly +perceive that they are all against this poor Bumpkin.” + +“Well, you see, in a tinkering sort of way, a good many try their hands +at reforming the law; but it’s to no one’s interest, that I can see, to +reform it.” + +“I hope you’ll write this dream and publish it, so that someone’s eyes +may be opened.” + +“It may make me enemies.” + +“Not among honest people; they will all be on your side, and the +dishonest ones, who seem to me to be the only persons benefited by such a +dilatory and shocking mode of procedure, are the very persons whose +enmity you need not fear. But can the Judges do nothing?” + +“No; their duty is merely to administer the law, not to change it. But +if the people would only give them full power and fair play, Old Fogeyism +would be buried to-morrow. They struggle might and main to break through +the fetters, but to no purpose while they are hampered by musty old +precedents, ridiculous forms and bad statutes. They are not masters of +the situation. I wish they were for the sake of suitors. I would only +make one condition with regard to them. If they were to set about the +task of reform, I would not let the Equity Judges reform the Common Law +nor the Common Law Judges the Equity.” + +“I thought they were fused.” + +“No, only transposed.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Commencement of London life and adventures. + +And I dreamt again, and methought there were three things with reference +to London that Joe had learnt at school. First, that there was a Bridge, +chiefly remarkable for the fact that Captain Cook, the Navigator, shot +his servant because he said he was under London Bridge when he was in the +South Pacific Ocean; secondly, that there was a famous Tower, where the +Queen’s Crown was kept; thirdly, that there was a Monument built to show +where the Great Fire began, and intimately connected in its cause with +Guy Faux, whom Joe had helped to carry on the Fifth of November. Now +when the young man woke in the morning at “The Goose,” in Millbank +Street, Westminster, his attention was immediately attracted by these +three historic objects; and it was not till after he had made inquiries +that he found that it was not London Bridge that crossed the water in a +line with the Horseferry Road, but a very inferior structure called +Lambeth Suspension Bridge. Nor was the Tower on the left the Tower of +London, but the Lollards’ tower of Lambeth Palace; while the supposed +Monument was only the handsome column of Messrs. Doulton’s Pottery. + +But they were all interesting objects nevertheless; and so were the huge +cranes that were at work opposite the house lifting the most tremendous +loads of goods from the lighters to the wharves. The “Shipping,” too, +with its black and copper-coloured sails, gave some idea of the extent of +England’s mercantile marine. At all events, it excited the country lad’s +wonder and astonishment. But there was another matter that gave quite an +agricultural and countrified look to the busy scene, and that was the +prodigious quantity of straw that was being unloaded from the barges +alongside. While Mr. Bumpkin went to see his solicitor at Westminster +Hall, Joe wandered about the wharves looking at the boats and barges, the +cranes and busy workmen who drove their barrows from barge to wharf, and +ran along with loads on their backs over narrow planks, in the most +lively manner. But looking on, even at sights like these, day by day, +becomes a wearisome task, and Joe, being by no means an idle lad, +occasionally “lent a hand” where he saw an opportunity. London, no +doubt, was a very interesting place, but when he had seen Page Street, +and Wood Street, and Church Street, and Abingdon Street, and Millbank +Prison, and the other interesting objects referred to, his curiosity was +gratified, and he began to grow tired of the sameness of the place. +Occasionally he saw a soldier or two and the military sight fired his +rustic imagination. Not that Joe had the remotest intention of entering +the army; it was the last thing he would ever dream of; but, in common +with all mankind he liked to look at the smart bearing and brilliant +uniform of the sergeant, who seemed to have little else to do than walk +about with his cane under his arm, or tap the stone parapet with it as he +looked carelessly at some interesting object on the river. + +The evenings in the taproom at “The Goose” were among the most enjoyable +periods of the lad’s London existence. A select party usually gathered +there, consisting chiefly of a young man who never apparently had had +anything to do in his life. His name was Harry Highlow, a clever sort of +wild young scapegrace who played well at “shove-ha’penny,” and sang a +good comic song. Another of the party was a youth who earned a +precarious livelihood by carrying two boards on his shoulders advertising +a great pickle, or a great singer, as the case might be. Another of the +company was a young man who was either a discharged or a retired groom; I +should presume the former, as he complained bitterly that the authorities +at Scotland Yard would not grant him a licence to drive a cab. He +appeared to be a striking instance of how every kind of patronage in this +country is distributed by favouritism. There were several others, all +equally candidates for remunerative situations, but equally unfortunate +in obtaining them: proving conclusively that life is indeed a lottery in +which there may be a few prizes, usually going, by the caprice of +Fortune, to the undeserving, while the blanks went indiscriminately to +all the rest. + +Bound together by the sympathy which a common misfortune engenders, these +young men were happy in the pursuit of their innocent amusements at “The +Goose.” And while, at first, they were a little inclined to chaff the +rustic youth on account of his apparent simplicity, they soon learned to +respect him on account of his exceedingly good temper and his willingness +to fall in with the general views of the company on all occasions. They +learnt all about Joe’s business in London, and it was a common greeting +when they met in the evening to ask “how the pig was?” And they would +enquire what the Lord Chancellor thought about the case, and whether it +wouldn’t be as well to grease the pig’s tail and have a pig-hunt. To all +which jocular observations Joe would reply with excellent temper and +sometimes with no inappropriate wit. And then they said they would like +to see Joe tackle Mr. Orkins, and believed he would shut him up. But +chaff never roused his temper, and he laughed at the case as much as any +man there. Fine tales he would have to tell when he got back to +Yokelton; and pleasant, no doubt, would be in after-life, his +recollections of the evenings at “The Goose.” + +As a great general surveys the field where the intended action is to be +fought, so Mr. Bumpkin was conducted by Horatio to Westminster Hall, and +shown the various Courts of Justice, and some of the judges. + +“Be this Chancery?” he enquired. + +“O my eye, no!” said Horatio; “the cause has been transferred from +Chancery to these ’ere Common Law Courts. It was only brought in +Chancery because the costs there are upon a higher scale; we didn’t mean +to try her there.” + +“Where will she be tried then?” + +“In one of these Courts.” + +“Who be the judge?” whispered Bumpkin. + +At this moment there was a loud shout of “Silence!” and although Mr. +Bumpkin was making no noise whatever, a gentleman approached him, looking +very angry, and enquired if Mr. Bumpkin desired to be committed for +contempt of Court. + +Mr. Bumpkin thought the most prudent answer was silence; so he remained +speechless, looking the gentleman full in the face; while the gentleman +looked him full in the face for at least a minute and a half, as if he +were wondering whether he should take him off to prison there and then, +or give him another chance, as the judge sometimes does a prisoner when +he sentences him to two years imprisonment with hard labour. + +Now the gentleman was a very amiable man of about forty, with large brown +mutton-chop whiskers, and a very well trained moustache; good-looking +and, I should think, with some humour, that is for a person connected +with the Courts. He was something about the Court, but in what capacity +he held up his official head, I am unable to say. He was evidently +regarded with great respect by the crowd of visitors. It was some time +before he took his gaze off Mr. Bumpkin; even when he had taken his eyes +off, he seemed looking at him as if he feared that the moment he went +away Bumpkin would do it again. + +And then methought I heard someone whisper near me: “His lordship is +going to give judgment in the case of _Starling_ v. _Nightingale_,” and +all at once there was a great peace. I lost sight of Bumpkin, I lost +sight of the gentleman, I lost sight of the crowd; an indefinable +sensation of delight overpowered my senses. Where was I? I had but a +moment before been in a Court of Justice, with crowds of gaping idlers; +with prosaic-looking gentlemen in horsehair wigs; with gentlemen in a pew +with papers before them ready to take down the proceedings. Now it +seemed as if I must be far away in the distant country, where all was +calm and heavenly peace. + +Surely I must be among the water-lilies! What a lullaby sound as of +rippling waters and of distant music in the evening air; of the eddying +and swirl of the mingling currents; of the chime of bells on the evening +breeze; of the zephyrs through fir-tops; of woodland whispers; of the +cadence of the cathedral organ; of the soft sweet melody of the maiden’s +laugh; of her gentlest accents in her sweetest mood; of—but similitudes +fail me. In this delicious retreat, which may be compared to the Garden +of Eden before the tempter entered, are the choicest flowers of rhetoric. +I hear a voice as from the far-off past, and I wonder will that be the +voice which will utter the “last syllable of recorded time?” + +Then methought the scene changed, and I heard the question— + +“Do you move, Mr. Jones?” + +O the prosaic Jones!—“don’t you move?” + +Yes, he does; he partly rises, ducks his head, and elevates the hinder +portion of his person, and his movement ceases. And the question is +repeated to Mr. Quick. “Do you move, Mr. Quick?” + +Then I saw Mr. Bumpkin again, just as Mr. Quick ducked his head and +elevated his back. + +And then some gentleman actually moved in real earnest upon these +interesting facts:—A farmer’s bull—just the very case for Mr. Bumpkin—had +strayed from the road and gone into another man’s yard, and upset a tub +of meal; was then driven into a shed and locked up. The owner of the +bull came up and demanded that the animal should be released. “Not +without paying two pounds,” said the meal-owner. The bull owner paid it +under protest, and summoned the meal-owner to the County Court for one +pound seventeen shillings and sixpence, the difference between the damage +done (which was really about twopence) and the money paid to redeem the +bull. Judgment for the plaintiff. Motion for new trial, or to enter +verdict for the defendant, on the ground that the meal man could charge +what he liked. + +One of the learned Judges asked: + +“Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Smiles, that if a man has a bull, and that +bull goes into a yard and eats some meal out of a meal-tub, and the +damage amounts to twopence, and the owner of the bull says ‘here’s your +twopence,’ that the owner of the meal can say, “No, I want a hundred +pounds, and shall take your bull damage feasant,” and then takes him and +locks him up, and the owner of the bull pays the hundred pounds, he +cannot afterwards get the money back?” + +“That is so,” says the learned counsel, “such is the law.” And then he +cited cases innumerable to prove that it was the law. + +“Well,” said the Judge, “unless you show me a case of a bull and a +meal-tub, I shall not pay attention to any case—must be a meal-tub.” + +Second Judge: “It is extortion, and done for the purpose of extortion; +and I should say he could be indicted for obtaining money by false +pretences.” + +“I am not sure he could not, my lord,” said the counsel; “but he can’t +recover the money back.” + +“Then,” said the Judge, “if he obtains money by an indictable fraud +cannot he get it back?” + +“Well,” said Bumpkin, “that be rum law; if it had bin my bull, he’d a gin +’em summat afore they runned him in.” + +It was interesting to see how the judges struggled against this +ridiculous law; and it was manifest even to the unlettered Bumpkin, that +a good deal of old law is very much like old clothes, the worse for wear, +and totally inapplicable to the present day. A struggle against old +authorities is often a struggle of Judges to free themselves from the +fetters of antiquated dicta and decisions no longer appropriate to or +necessary for the modern requirements of civilisation. + +In this case precedents running over _one hundred and eight years_ were +quoted, and so far from impressing the Court with respect, they simply +evoked a smile of contempt. + +The learned Judges, after patiently listening to the arguments, decided +that extortion and fraud give no title, and thus were the mists and +vapours that arose from the accumulated mudbanks of centuries dispelled +by the clear shining of common sense. In spite of arguments by the hour, +and the pettifogging of one hundred and eight years, justice prevailed, +and the amazed appellant was far more damaged by his legal proceedings +than he was by the bull. The moral surely is, that however wise ancient +judges were in their day, their wisdom ought not to be allowed to work +injustice. He may be a wise Judge who makes a precedent, but he is often +a much wiser who sweeps it away. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +How the great Don O’Rapley became an usher of the Court of Queen’s Bench +and explained the ingenious invention of the round square—how Mr. Bumpkin +took the water and studied character from a penny steamboat. + +Some years ago there lived in a little village near Bridgewater a young +man who was the bowler of his village eleven—one of the first roundhand +bowlers in point of time, and by no means the last in point of merit. +Indeed, so great was the local fame of this young man that it produced a +sensation for miles around when it was announced that Don O’Rapley (such +was his name) was going to bowl. All the boys of the village where the +match was to take place were in a state of the utmost excitement to see +the Don. At times it was even suggested that he was unfairly “smugged +in” to play for a village to which he had no pretensions to belong. In +process of time the youth became a man, and by virtue of his cricket +reputation he obtained a post in the Court of Queen’s Bench. The +gentleman whom I have referred to as looking with such austerity at Mr. +Bumpkin is that very Don O’Rapley; the requirements of a large family +necessitated his abandonment of a profession which, although more to his +taste, was not sufficiently remunerative to admit of his indulging it +after the birth of his sixth child. But it was certain that he never +lost his love for the relinquished pursuit, as was manifest from his +habit when alone of frequently going through a kind of dumb motion with +his arm as if he were delivering one of his celebrated “twisters.” He +had even been seen in a quiet corner of the Court to go through the same +performance in a somewhat modified form. He was once caught by the Judge +in the very act of delivering a ball, but found a ready apology in the +explanation that he had a touch of “rheumatiz” in his right shoulder. + +Now I saw in my dream that Don O’Rapley was in earnest conversation with +Horatio, and it was clear Mr. Bumpkin was the subject of it, from the +very marked manner in which the Don and the youth turned occasionally to +look at him. It may be stated that Horatio was the nephew of Don +O’Rapley, and, perhaps, it was partly in consequence of this +relationship, and partly in consequence of what Horatio told him, that +the latter gentleman rose from his seat under the witness-box and came +towards Mr. Bumpkin, shouting as he did so in a very solemn and prolonged +tone, “Si-lence!” + +Mr. Bumpkin saw him, and, conscious that he was innocent this time of any +offence for which he could be committed, stood his ground with a bold +front, and firmly held his white beaver with both hands. O’Rapley +contemplated him for a few minutes with an almost affectionate interest. +Bumpkin felt much as a pigeon would under the gaze of an admiring owl. + +At last O’Rapley spoke:— + +“Why, it’s never Mr. Bumpkin, is it?” + +“It be a good imitation, sir,” said Bumpkin, “and I bean’t asheamed of +un.” + +“Silence!” cried the Don. “You don’t remember me, I s’pose?” + +“Wall, not rightly, I doan’t.” + +“I dissay you recollect Don O’Rapley, the demon bowler of Bridgewater?” + +“I’ve ’eered tell on ’im,” said Bumpkin. + +“I’m that man!” said the Don, “and this is my nephew, Mr. Snigger. He +tells me you’ve got a case comin’ on?” + +“I be.” + +“Just step outside,” said the Don, “we mustn’t talk ’ere.” So they went +into Westminster Hall, and the good-natured O’Rapley asked if Mr. Bumpkin +would like to look round, and if so he said he would be happy to show +him, for he was very pleased to see anyone from the scene of his youthful +exploits. + +“Thankee, sir—thankee, sir,” answered Bumpkin, delighted to find another +“native” among “furriners.” “And this ’ere genleman be thy nevvy, sir?” + +“He is, and very proud of him I am; he’s my sister’s son.” + +“Seems a nice quiet boy,” said Mr. Bumpkin. “Now how old might he be?” + +“Old,” said Mr. O’Rapley, looking deedily at the floor and pressing his +hand to his forehead, “why he’ll be seventeen come March.” + +“Hem! his ’ed be a good deal older nor thic: his ’ed be forty—it’s my way +o’ thinkin’.” + +The Don laughed. + +“Yes, he has his head screwed on the right way, I think.” + +“Why that air lad,” said Bumpkin, “might make a judge.” + +O’Rapley laughed and shook his head. + +“In old times,” said he, “he might ha’ made a Lord Chancellor; a man as +was clever had a chance then, but lor’ blesh you, Mr. Bumpkin, now-a-days +it’s so very different; the raw material is that plentiful in the law +that you can find fifty men as would make rattlin good Lord Chancellors +for one as you could pick out to make a rattlin’ good bowler. But come, +we’ll have a look round.” + +So round they looked again, and Mr. Bumpkin was duly impressed with the +array of wigs and the number of books and the solemnity of the judges and +the arguments of counsel, not one word of which was intelligible to him. +Mr. O’Rapley explained everything and pointed out where a judge and jury +tried a case, and then took him into another court where two judges tried +the judge and jury, and very often set them both aside and gave new +trials and altered verdicts and judgments or refused to do so +notwithstanding the elaborate arguments of the most eloquent and +long-winded of learned counsel. + +Then the Don asked if Mr. Bumpkin would like to see the Chancery +Judges—to which Mr. Bumpkin answered that “he hadn’t much opinion o’ +Chancery from all he’d ’eeard, and that when a man got into them there +Cooarts maybe he’d never coome out agin, but he shouldn’t mind seein’ a +Chancery Judge.” + +“Well, then,” said the distinguished bowler, “now-a-days we needn’t go to +Chancery, for they’ve invented the ‘Round Square.’” + +Mr. Bumpkin stared. Could so great a man as the O’Rapley be joking? No; +the Don seldom laughed. He was a great admirer of everything relating to +the law, but had a marked prejudice against the new system; and when he +spoke of the “Round Square” he meant, as he afterwards explained, that +confusion of Law and Equity which consists in putting Chancery Judges to +try common law cases and Common Law Judges to unravel the nice twistings +of the elaborate system of Equity; “as though,” said he, “you should fuse +the butcher and the baker by getting the former to make bread and the +latter to dress a calf.” + +Mr. Bumpkin could only stare by way of reply. + +“If you want to see Chancery Judges,” added the Don, “come to the Old +Bailey!” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +An interesting gentleman—showing how true it is that one half the world +does not know how the other half lives. + +“The Old Bailey,” said Mr. Bumpkin, as they crossed Palace Yard on their +way to the steamboat pier, “bean’t that where all these ’ere chaps be +tried for ship stealin’?” (sheep stealing). + +“I don’t know about ship stealing,” said O’Rapley, “but it’s a place +where they can cure all sorts of diseases.” + +“Zounds!” exclaimed Bumpkin, “I’ve ’eeard tell of un. A horsepital you +means—dooan’t want to goo there.” + +“Horse or donkey, it don’t matter what,” said Don O’Rapley. “They’ve got +a stuff that’s so strong a single drop will cure any disease you’ve got.” + +“I wonder if it ’ud cure my old ’ooman’s roomatiz. It ’ud be wuth +tryin’, maybe.” + +“I’ll warrant it,” replied the Don. “She’d never feel ’em after takin’ +one drop,” and he drew his hand across his mouth and coughed. + +“I’d like to try un,” said the farmer, “for she be a terrible suffrer in +these ’ere east winds. ’As ’em like all up the grine.” + +“Ah,” said the Don, “it don’t matter where she ’as ’em, it will cure +her.” + +“How do ’em sell it—in bottles?” + +“No, it isn’t in bottles—you take it by the foot; about nine feet’s +considered a goodish dose.” + +Mr. Bumpkin looked straight before him, somewhat puzzled at this +extraordinary description of a medicine. At length he got a glimmering +of the Don’s meaning, and, looking towards, but not quite at him, said:— + +“I be up to ’ee, sir!” and the Don laughed, and asked whether his +description wasn’t right? + +“That be right enough. Zounds! it be right enough. Haw! haw! haw!” + +“You never want a second dose,” said the Don, “do you?” + +“No, sir—never wants moore ’an one dose; but ’ow comes it, if you please, +sir, that these ’ere Chancery chaps have changed their tack; be it +they’ve tried ’onest men so long that they be gwine to ’ave a slap at the +thieves for a change?” + +“Look ’ere,” said the worthy O’Rapley, “you will certainly see the inside +of a jail before you set eyes on the outside of a haystack, if you go on +like that. It’s contempt of court to speak of Her Majesty’s Judges as +‘chaps’.” + +“Beg pardon, sir,” said Bumpkin, “but we must all ’ave a larnin’. I +didn’t mane no disruspect to the Lord Judge; but I wur only a axin’ jist +the same as you might ax me about anythink on my farm.” + +And I saw that they proceeded thus in edifying conversation until they +came to the Thames embankment. It was somewhat difficult to preserve his +presence of mind as Mr. Bumpkin descended the gangway and stepped on +board the boat, which was belching forth its volumes of black smoke and +rocking under the influence of the wash of a steamer that had just left +the pier. + +“I doant much like these ’ere booats,” said he. “Doant mind my old punt, +but dang these ’ere ships.” + +“There’s no danger,” said the O’Rapley, springing on board as though he +had been a pilot: and then making a motion with his arm as if he was +delivering a regular “length ball,” his fist unfortunately came down on +Mr. Bumpkin’s white hat, in consequence of a sudden jerk of the vessel; a +rocking boat not being the best of places for the delivery of length +balls. + +Mr. Bumpkin looked round quite in the wrong direction for ascertaining +what was the cause of the sudden shock to his nervous system and his hat. + +“Zounds!” said he, “what were thic?” + +“What was what?” asked O’Rapley. + +“Summut gie me a crack o’ the top o’ my ’ead like a thunderbolt.” + +“I didn’t see anything fall,” said the Don. + +“Noa; but I felt un, which I allows wur more’n seein’—lookee ’ere.” + +And taking off his huge beaver he showed the dent of Mr. O’Rapley’s fist. + +“Bless me,” said the roundhand bowler, “it’s like a crack with a cricket +ball.” + +But there was no time for further examination of the extraordinary +circumstance, for the crowd of passengers poured along and pushed this +way and that, so that the two friends were fairly driven to the fore part +of the boat, where they took their seats. It was quite a new world to +Mr. Bumpkin, and more like a dream than a reality. As he stared at the +different buildings he was too much amazed even to enquire what was this +or what was that. But when they passed under the Suspension Bridge, and +the chimney ducked her head and the smoke came out of the “stump,” as Mr. +Bumpkin termed it, he thought she had struck and broken short off. Mr. +O’Rapley explained this phenomenon, as he did many others on their route; +and when they came to Cleopatra’s Needle he gave such information as he +possessed concerning that ancient work. Mr. Bumpkin looked as though he +were not to be taken in. + +“I be up to ’ee, sir,” said he. “I s’pose that air thing the t’other +side were the needle-case?” + +The O’Rapley informed him that it was a shot tower where they made shot. + +Mr. Bumpkin laughed heartily at this; he was not to be taken in by any +manner of means; was far too sharp for that. + +“And I spoase,” said he, “they makes the guns—” + +“In Gunnersbury,” said Mr. O’Rapley; it was no use to be serious. + +“I thought thee were gwine to say in a gun pit, but I don’t mind thy +chaff, Master Rapley, and shall be mighty proud to see thee down at +Southood for a day’s shoot-in’: and mind thee bring some o’ these ere +shot with thee that be made at yon tower, haw! haw! haw! Thee’ll kill a +white-tailed crow then, I shouldn’t wonder; thee knows a white-tailed +crow, doan’t thee, Master Rapley, when thee sees un—and danged if I +doan’t gie thee a quart bottle o’ pigeon’s milk to tak’ wi’ thee; haw! +haw! haw!” + +The O’Rapley laughed heartily at these witty sallies, for Bumpkin was so +jolly, and took everything in such good part, that he could not but enjoy +his somewhat misplaced sarcasms. + +“Now you’ve heard of Waterloo, I dare say,” said Mr. O’Rapley. + +“Yes, I’ve ’eeard tell on un, and furder, my grand-feather wur out +theer.” + +“Well, this that we are coming to is Waterloo Bridge.” + +“Yes,” said Bumpkin, “it be a bridge, but it bean’t Worterloo more ’an I +be my grandfearther—what de think o’ that—haw! haw! haw!” + +“Good,” said O’Rapley; “that’s quite right, but this is the bridge named +after the battle.” + +“Zo’t be neamed artur un because it worn’t named afore un, haw! haw! haw! +Good agin, Maister Rapley, thee got it.” + +Mr. O’Rapley found that any attempt to convey instruction was useless, so +he said:— + +“Joking apart, Mr. Bumpkin, you see that man sitting over there with the +wideawake hat?” + +“D’ye mane near the noase o’ the ship?” + +“Well, the nose if you like.” + +“I zee un—chap wi’ red faace, blue ’ankercher, and white spots?” + +“That’s the man. Well, now, you’d never guess who he is?” + +Mr. Bumpkin certainly would have been a sharp man if he could. + +“Well,” continued the Don, “that man gets his living by bringing actions. +No matter who it is or what, out comes the writ and down he comes for +damages.” + +“Hem! that be rum, too, bean’t it?” + +“Yes, he’s always looking out for accidents; if he hears o’ one, down he +comes with his pocket-book, gets ’old o’ some chap that’s injured, or +thinks he is, and out comes the writ.” + +“What be he then?” + +“A scamp—works in the name of some broken-down attorney, and pays him for +the use of it.” + +“So he can work the lor like wirout being a loryer?” + +“That’s it—and, lor’ bless you, he’s got such a way with him that if he +was to come and talk to you for five minutes, he’d have a writ out +against you in the morning.” + +“Ain’t it rayther cold at this eend o’ the booat,” asked Mr. Bumpkin, “I +feel a little chilly loike.” + +“No,” said the Don, “we just caught the wind at that corner, that was +all.” + +But Mr. Bumpkin kept his eye on the artful man, with a full determination +to “have no truck wi’ un.” + +“As I was saying, this Ananias never misses a chance: he’s on the +look-out at this moment; if they was to push that gangway against his +toe, down he’d go and be laid up with an injured spine and concussion of +the brain, till he got damages from the company.” + +“Must be a reg’ler rogue, I allows; I should like to push un overboard.” + +“Just what he would like; he isn’t born to be drowned, that man; he’d +soon have a writ out against you. There was a railway accident once +miles away in the country; ever so many people were injured and some of +’em killed. Well, down he goes to see if he could get hold of +anybody—no, nobody would have him—so what does he do but bring an action +himself.” + +“What for?” + +“Why, just the same as if he’d been in the accident.” + +“Ought to be hanged.” + +“Well, the doctors were very pleased to find that no bones were broken, +and, although there were no bruises, they discovered that there were +internal injuries: the spine was wrong, and there was concussion of the +brain, and so on.” + +“If ever I ’eerd tell o’ sich a thing in my borned days.” + +“No, but it’s true. Well, he was laid up a long time under medical +treatment, and it was months before he could get about, and then he +brings his action: but before it came on he prosecutes his servant for +stealing some trumpery thing or other—a very pretty girl she was too—and +the trial came on at Quarter Sessions.” + +“Where Squoire Stooky sits.” + +“I never laughed so in all my life; there was the railway company with +the red light, and there was Fireaway, the counsel for the girl, and then +in hobbled the prosecutor, with a great white bandage round his head. He +was so feeble through the injuries he had received that he could hardly +walk. ‘Now then,’ says the counsel, ‘is he sworn?’ ‘Yes,’ says the +crier. + +“‘He must be sworn on the Koran,’ says Fireaway; ‘he’s a Mommadon.’ + +“‘Where’s the Jorum?’ says the crier. ‘Must be swore on the Jorum.’ + +“O dear, dear, you should ha’ heard ’em laugh—it was more like a theayter +than a court. It was not only roars, but continnerus roars for several +minutes. And all the time the larfter was going on there was this man +throwin’ out his arms over the witness-box at the counsel like a madman; +and the more he raved the more they laughed. He was changed from a +hobblin’ invalid, as the counsel said, into a hathletic pugilist.” + +“I ’ope she got off.” + +“Got off with flying colours—we’re magnanimous said the jury, ‘not +guilty.’” + +“Well, I likes upright and down-straight,” said Bumpkin, “it’ll goo +furdest in th’ long run.” + +“Yes,” said O’Rapley, “and the longer the run the furder it’ll go.” + +“So ’t wool; but if you doan’t mind, sir, I’d like to get nearer that +’ere fireplace.” + +“The funnel—very well.” And as they moved Mr. O’Rapley, in the +exuberance of his spirits, delivered another ball at the chimney, which +apparently took the middle stump, for the chimney again broke in half. + +“Got him!” said he. “I quite agree, and I’ll tell you for why. You can +play a straight ball if you mind what you are about—just take your bat +so, and bring your left elbow well round so, and keep your bat, as you +say, upright and down-straight, so—and there you are. And there, indeed, +Mr. Bumpkin was, on his back, for the boat at that moment bumped so +violently against the side of the pier that many persons were staggering +about as if they were in a storm. + +“Zounds!” said the farmer, as he was being picked up—“these ’ere booats, +I doan’t like ’em—gie me the ole-fashioned uns.” + +Now came the usual hullabaloo, “Stand back!—pass on!—out of the way! now, +then, look sharp there!” and the pushing of the gangway against people’s +shins as though they were so many skittles to be knocked over, and then +came the slow process of “passing out.” + +“There’s one thing,” whispered O’Rapley, “if you do break your leg the +company’s liable—that’s one comfort.” + +“Thankee, sir,” answered Bumpkin, “but I bean’t a gwine to break my leg +for the sake o’ a haction—and mebbee ha’ to pay the costs.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +THE OLD BAILEY—ADVANTAGES OF THE NEW SYSTEM ILLUSTRATED. + +And I saw in my dream that Don O’Rapley and worthy Master Bumpkin +proceeded together until they came to the Old Bailey; that delightful +place which will ever impress me with the belief that the Satanic +Personage is not a homeless wanderer. As they journeyed together +O’Rapley asked whether there was any particular kind of case which he +would prefer—much the same as he would enquire what he would like for +lunch. + +“Well, thankee, sir,” said Bumpkin, “what he there?”—just the same as a +hungry guest would ask the waiter for the bill of fare. + +“Well,” said Mr. O’Rapley, “there’s no murder to-day, but there’s sure to +be highway robberies, burglaries, rapes, and so on.” + +“Wall, I thinks one o’ them air as good as anything,” said Bumpkin. “I +wur on the jury once when a chap were tried.” + +“Did he get off?” + +“Got off as clane as a whusle. Not guilty, we all said: sarved her +right.” + +“It’s rather early in the morning, p’r’aps,” said O’Rapley; “but there’s +sure to be something interesting before lunch—crimes are very pop’lar, +and for my own part, I think they’re as nice as anything: divorces, +p’r’aps, are as good, and the female intellect prefers ’em as a more +digestable food for their minds.” + +“As a what, sir!” + +“Well, since they did away with _crim. cons_, there’s nothing left for +females but murders and divorces, worth speaking of.” + +“Why, how’s that, then?” + +“O, they’re not considered sufficiently moral, that’s all. You see, +Master Bumpkin, we’re getting to be a very moral and good people. +They’re doin’ away with all that’s naughty, such as music and dancing, +peep-shows and country fairs. This is a religious age. No pictur +galleries on a Sunday, but as many public-houses as you like; it’s wicked +to look at picturs on a Sunday. And now I’ll tell you another thing, +Master Bumpkin, although p’r’aps I ought to keep my mouth closed; but +’ere you’ll see a Chancery Judge as knows everything about land and +titles to property, and all that, and never had any training in Criminal +Courts, and may be never been inside of one before, you’ll see ’im down +’ere tryin’ burglaries and robberies, and down at the Assizes you’ll see +’im tryin’ men and women for stealing mutton pies and a couple of ounces +of bacon; that’s the way the Round Square’s worked, Master Bumpkin; and +very well it acts. There’s a moral atmosphere, too, about the Courts +which is very curious. It seems to make every crime look bigger than it +really is. But as I say, where’s the human natur of a Chancery +barrister? How can you get it in Chancery? They only sees human natur +in a haffidavit, and although I don’t say you can’t put a lot of it into +a haffidavit, such as perjury and such like, yet it’s so done up by the +skill of the profession that you can hardly see it. Learning from +haffidavits isn’t like learning from the witness-box, mark my words, Mr. +Bumpkin; and so you’ll find when you come to hear a case or two.” + +Having thus eloquently delivered himself, Mr. O’Rapley paused to see its +effect: but there was no answer. There was no doubt the Don could talk +a-bit, and took especial pride in expressing his views on law reform, +which, to his idea, would best be effected by returning to the “old +style.” + +And I saw that they pushed their way through a crowd of people of all +sorts and degrees of unwashedness and crime, and proceeded up a winding +stair, through other crowds of the most evil-looking indictable persons +you could meet with out of the Bottomless Pit. + +And amongst them were pushing, with eager, hungry, dirty faces, men who +called themselves clerks, evil-disposed persons who traded under such +names as their owners could use no longer on their own account. These +prowlers amongst thieves, under the protection of the Law, were permitted +to extort what they could from the friends of miserable prisoners under +pretence of engaging counsel to defend them. Counsel they would engage +after a fashion—sometimes: but not unfrequently they cheated counsel, +client and the law at the same time, which is rather better than killing +two birds with one stone. + +And the two friends, after threading their way through the obnoxious +crowd, came to the principal Court of the Old Bailey, called the “Old +Court,” and a very evil-looking place it was. All the ghosts of past +criminals seemed floating in the dingy atmosphere. Crowds of men, women +and children were heaped together in all directions, except on the bench +and in a kind of pew which was reserved for such ladies as desired to +witness the last degradation of human nature. + +Presently came in, announced with a loud cry of “Silence!” and “Be +uncovered in Court!” a gorgeous array of stout and berobed gentlemen, +with massive chains and purple faces. These, I learned, were the noble +Aldermen of the Corporation. What a contrast to the meagre wretches who +composed the crowd! Here was a picture of what well-fed honesty and +virtue could accomplish for human nature on the one part, as opposed to +what hungry crime could effect, on the other. Blessings, say I, on good +victuals! It is a great promoter of innocence. And I thought how many +of the poor, half-starved, cadaverous wretches who crowded into the dock +in all their emaciated wretchedness and rags would, under other +conditions, have become as portly and rubicund and as moral as the row of +worthy aldermen who sat looking at them with contempt from their exalted +position. + +The rich man doesn’t steal a loaf of bread; he has no temptation to do +so: the uneducated thief doesn’t get up sham companies, because _he_ has +no temptation to do so. Temptation and Opportunity have much to answer +for in the destinies of men. Honesty is the best policy, but it is not +always the most expedient or practicable. + +Now there was much arraignment of prisoners, and much swearing of +jurymen, and proclamations about “informing my Lords Justices and the +Queen’s Attorney-General of any crimes, misdemeanours, felonies, &c., +committed by any of the prisoners,” and “if anybody could so inform my +Lords Justices,” &c, he was to come forward and do so, and he would be +heard. And then the crowd of prisoners, except the one about to be +tried, were told to stand down. And down they all swarmed, some laughing +and some crying, to the depths below. And the stout warders took their +stand beside the remaining prisoner. + +“Now,” said Mr. O’Rapley, “this Judge is quite fresh to the work, and +I’ll warrant he’ll take a moral view of the law, which is about the worst +view a Judge _can_ take.” + +The man left in the dock was a singular specimen of humanity: he was a +thin, wizen-looking man of about seventy, with a wooden leg: and as he +stood up to plead, leant on two crutches, while his head shook a good +deal, as if he had got the palsy. A smile went round the bar, and in +some places broke out into a laugh: the situation was, indeed, +ridiculous; and before any but a Chancery Judge, methought, there must be +an acquittal on the view. However, I saw that the man pleaded not +guilty, and then Mr. Makebelieve opened the case for the Crown. He put +it very clearly, and, as he said, fairly before the jury; and then called +a tall, large-boned woman of about forty into the witness-box. This was +the “afflicted widow,” as Makebelieve had called her; and the way she +gave her evidence made a visible impression on the mind of the learned +Judge. His Lordship looked up occasionally from his note-book and fixed +his eyes on the prisoner, whose appearance was that of one trembling with +a consciousness of guilt—that is, to one not versed in human nature +outside an affidavit. + +Mr. Nimble, the prisoner’s counsel, asked if the prisoner might sit down +as he was very “infirm.” + +“Have you an affidavit of that fact, Mr. Nimble?” asked the Judge. + +“No, my lord; it is not usual on such an application to have an +affidavit.” + +“It is not usual,” said his lordship, “to take notice of any fact not +upon affidavit; but in this case the prisoner may sit down.” + +The prosecutrix gave her evidence very flippantly, and did not seem in +the least concerned that her virtue had had so narrow an escape. + +“Now,” asked Mr. Nimble, “what are you?” + +The learned Judge said he could not see what that had to do with the +question. Could Mr. Nimble resist the facts? + +“Yes, my lord,” answered the learned counsel; “and I intend, in the first +place, to resist them by showing that this woman is entirely unworthy of +credit.” + +“Are you really going to suggest perjury, Mr. Nimble?” + +“Assuredly, my lord! I am going to show that there is not a word of +truth in this woman’s statement. I have a right to cross-examine as to +her credit. If your lordship will allow me, I will—” + +“Cross-examination, Mr. Nimble, cannot be allowed, in order to make a +witness contradict all that she has said in her examination-in-chief; it +would be a strange state of the law, if it could.” + +Mr. Nimble looked about the desk, and then under it, and felt in his bag, +and at last exclaimed in a somewhat petulant tone: + +“Where’s my Taylor?” + +“What do you want your tailor for?” asked the Judge. + +“I wish to point out to your lordship that my proposition is correct, and +that I can cross-examine to the credit of a witness.” + +Here the clerk of arraigns, who sat just under the learned Judge, and was +always consulted on matters of practice when there was any difficulty, +was seen whispering to his lordship: after which his lordship looked very +blank and red. + +“We always consult him, my lord,” said Mr. Nimble, with a smile, “in +suits at Common Law.” + +Everybody tried not to laugh, and everybody failed. Even the Judge, +being a very good-tempered man, laughed too, and said: + +“O yes, Taylor on Evidence, Mr. Nimble.” + +At last the book, about the size of a London Directory, was handed up by +a tall man who was Mr. Nimble’s clerk. + +“Now, my lord, at page nineteen hundred and seventy-two your lordship +will find that when the credibility of a witness is attacked—” + +Judge: “That will be near the end of the book.” + +Mr. Nimble: “No, my lord, near the beginning.” + +“I shall not stop you,” said the learned Judge; “your question may be put +for what it is worth: but now, suppose in answer to your question she +says she is an ironer, what then?” + +“That’s what I am, my lordship,” said the woman, with an obsequious +curtsey. + +“There, now you have it,” said the Judge, “she is an ironer; stop, let me +take that down, ‘I am an ironer.’” + +The cross-examination continued, somewhat in an angry tone no doubt, and +amid frequent interruptions; but Mr. Nimble always thumped down the +ponderous Taylor upon any objection of the learned Judge, and crushed it +as though it were a butterfly. + +Next the policeman gave his evidence, and was duly cross-examined. Mr. +Nimble called no witnesses; there were none to call: but addressed the +jury in a forcible and eloquent speech, stigmatizing the charge as an +utterly preposterous one, and dealing with every fact in a +straightforward and manly manner. After he had finished, the jury would +undoubtedly have acquitted; but the learned Judge had to sum up, which in +this, as in many cases at Quarter Sessions, was no more a summing up than +counting ten on your fingers is a summing up. It was a desultory speech, +and if made by the counsel for the prosecution, would have been a most +unfair one for the Crown: totally ignoring the fact that human nature was +subject to frailties, and testimony liable to be tainted with perjury. +It made so great an impression upon me in my dream that I transcribed it +when I awoke; and this is the manner in which it dealt with the main +points:— + +“GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY, + +“This is a case of a very serious character (the nature of the offence +was then read from Roscoe), and I am bound to tell you that the evidence +is all one way: namely, on the side of the prosecution. There is not a +single affidavit to the contrary. Now what are the facts?” + +Mr. Nimble: “Would your lordship pardon me—whether they are facts or not +is for the jury.” + +“I am coming to that, Mr. Nimble; unless contradicted they are facts, or, +at least, if you believe them, gentlemen. If the evidence is +uncontradicted, what is the inference? The inference is for you, not for +me; I have simply to state the law: it is for you to find the facts. You +must exercise your common sense: if the prisoner could have contradicted +this evidence, is it reasonable to suppose he would not have done so with +so serious a charge hanging over his head?” + +“My lord, may I ask how could the prisoner have called evidence? there +was no one present.” + +“Mr. Nimble,” said his Lordship solemnly, “he might have shown he was +elsewhere.” + +“Yes, my lord; but the prisoner admits being present: he doesn’t set up +an _alibi_.” + +“Gentlemen, you hear what the learned counsel says: he admits that the +prisoner was present; that is corroborative of the story told by the +prosecutrix. Now, if you find a witness speaking truthfully about one +part of a transaction, what are you to infer with regard to the rest? +Gentlemen, the case is for you, and not for me: happily I have not to +find the facts: they are for you—and what are they? This woman, who is +an ironer, was going along a lonely lane, proceeding to her home, as she +states—and again I say there is no contradiction—and she meets this man; +he accosts her, and then, according to her account, assaults her, and in +a manner which I think leaves no doubt of his intention—but that is for +you. I say he assaults her, if you believe her story: of course, if you +do not believe her story, then in the absence of corroboration there +would be an end of the case. But is there an absence of corroboration? +What do we find, gentlemen? Now let me read to you the evidence of +Police Constable Swearhard. What does he say? ‘I was coming along the +Lover’s Lane at nine twenty-five, and I saw two persons, whom I +afterwards found to be the prosecutrix and the prisoner.’ ‘You will +mark that, gentlemen, the prisoner himself does not suggest an _alibi_, +that is to say, that he was elsewhere, when this event occurred. Then he +was upon the spot: and the policeman tells you—it is for you to say +whether you believe the policeman or not; there is no suggestion that he +is not a witness of truth—and he says that he heard a scream, and caught +the defendant in the act. Now, from whom did that scream proceed? Not +from the prisoner, for it was the scream of a woman. From whom then +could it proceed but from the prosecutrix? Now, in all cases of this +kind, one very material point has always been relied on by the Judges, +and that point is this: What was the conduct of the woman? Did she go +about her ordinary business as usual, or did she make a complaint? If +she made no complaint, or made it a long time after, it is some +evidence—not conclusive by any means—but it is some evidence against the +truth of her story. Let us test this case by that theory. What is the +evidence of the policeman? I will read his words: ‘The moment I got up,’ +he says, now mark that, gentlemen, ‘the woman complained of the conduct +of the prisoner: she screamed and threw herself in my arms and then +nearly fainted.’ Gentlemen, what does all that mean? You will say by +your verdict.” + +“Consider your verdict,” said the Clerk of Arraigns, and almost +immediately the Jury said: “Guilty of attempt.” + +“Call upon him,” said the Judge: and he was called upon accordingly, but +only said “the prosecutrix was a well-known bad woman.” + +Then the Judge said very solemnly:— + +“Prisoner at the bar, you have been convicted upon the clearest possible +evidence of this crime: what you say about the character of the +prosecutrix the more convinces me that you are a very bad man. You not +only assail the virtue of this woman, but, happily prevented in your +design, you endeavour to destroy it afterwards in this Court. No one who +has heard this case can doubt that you have been guilty of this very +grave offence; and in my judgment that offence is aggravated by the fact +that you committed it against her will and without her consent. The +sentence is that you be sent to prison for eighteen calendar months.” + +“Rather warm,” said Mr. O’Rapley. + +“Never heeard such a thing in my life,” said Master Bumpkin, “she wur a +consentin’ party if ever there wur one.” + +“But that makes no difference now-a-days,” said Mr. O’Rapley. “Chancery +Judges studies the equity of the thing more. But perhaps, Mr. Bumpkin, +you don’t know what that means?” + +“No,” said Bumpkin, “I doan’t.” + +“You must be quiet,” said Mr. O’Rapley; “recollect you are in a Court of +Justice.” + +“Be I! It ’ud take moore un thic case to make I believe it; but lookee +here: I be hanged if there ain’t that Snooks feller down along there.” + +“Who?” enquired O’Rapley. + +“That there feller,” said Bumpkin, “be sure to find his way where there’s +anything gooin on o’ this ere natur.” + +Next an undefended prisoner was placed on trial, and as he was supposed +to know all the law of England, he was treated as if he did. + +“You can’t put that question, you know,” said the learned Judge; “and now +you are making a statement; it is not time to make your statement yet; +you will have ample opportunity by-and-by in your speech to the jury.” +And afterwards, when the Judge was summing up, the unhappy prisoner +called his lordship’s attention to a mistake; but he was told that he had +had his turn and had made his speech to the jury, and must not now +interrupt the Court. So he had to be quite silent until he was +convicted. Then the two companions went into another court, where a very +stern-looking Common Law Judge was trying a ferocious-looking prisoner. +And Mr. O’Rapley was delighted to explain that now his friend would see +the difference. They had entered the court just as the learned Judge had +begun to address the jury; and very careful his lordship was to explain +(not in technical language), but in homely, common-place and common-sense +English, the nature of the crime with which the prisoner was charged. He +was very careful in explaining this, for fear the jury should improperly +come to the conclusion that, because they might believe the prisoner had +in fact committed the act, he must necessarily be guilty. And they were +told that the act was in that case only one element of the crime, and +that they must ascertain whether there was the guilty intent or no. Now +this old Mr. Justice Common Sense, I thought, was very well worth +listening to, and I heartily wished Mr. Justice Technical from the Old +Court had been there to take a lesson; and I take the liberty of setting +down what I heard in my dream for the benefit of future Justices +Technical. + +His lordship directed the jury’s attention to the evidence, which he +carefully avoided calling facts: not to the verbatim report of it on his +note-book as some Recorders do, and think when they are reading it over +they are summing it up; but pointing out statements which, if believed, +become facts and if facts, lead to certain _inferences_ of guilt or +innocence. + +It was while the learned Mr. Justice Common Sense was thus engaged, that +the warder in the dock suddenly checked the prisoner with these words: + +“You mustn’t interrupt.” + +“Why may he not interrupt?” asks Mr. Justice Common Sense. “What do you +want to say, prisoner?” + +“My lord,” answered the prisoner, “I wanted to say as how that there +witness as your lordship speaks on didn’t say as he seen me there.” + +“O, didn’t he?” said the Judge. “I thought he did—now let us see,” +turning over his notes. “No, you are quite right, prisoner, he did not +see you at the spot but immediately after.” + +Then his lordship proceeded until there was another interruption of the +same character, and the foolish warder again told the prisoner to be +quiet. This brought down Mr. Justice Common Sense with a vengeance: + +“Warder! how dare you stop the prisoner? he is on his trial and is +undefended. Who is to check me if I am misstating the evidence if he +does not? If you dare to speak like that to him again I will commit you. +Prisoner, interrupt me as often as you think I am not correctly stating +the evidence.” + +“Thankee, my lord.” + +“That be the sort o’ Judge for me,” said Bumpkin; “but I’ve ’ad enough on +it, Maister O’Rapley, so if you please, I’ll get back t’ the ‘Goose.’ +Why didn’t that air Judge try t’other case, I wonder?” + +“Because,” replied the Don, “the new system is to work the ‘Round +Square’.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Mr. Bumpkin’s experience of London life, enlarged. + +On leaving the Old Bailey the two friends proceeded to a neighbouring +public-house and partook of some light refreshment at the counter. Now +Mr. Bumpkin had never yet examined the viands displayed on a counter. +His idea of refreshment, when from home, had always been a huge round of +beef smoking at one end of the table and a large leg of mutton smoking at +the other, with sundry dishes of similar pretensions between, and an +immense quantity of vegetables. When, therefore he saw some +stale-looking sandwiches under the ordinary glass cover, he exclaimed: +“Wittals must be mighty scarce to clap ’em under a glass case.” + +“It’s to keep the flies off;” said his companion. + +“They need well keep un off, for there bean’t enough for a couple if they +was ony wise ongry like.” + +However, our friends made the best of what there was, and Mr. O’Rapley, +wishing success to his companion, enquired who was to be his counsel. + +“I doan’t rightly know, but I’ll warrant Mr. Prigg’ll have a good un—he +knows what he be about; and all I hopes is, he’ll rattle it into that +there Snooks, for if ever there wur a bad un it be him.” + +“He looks a bad un,” replied O’Rapley. “When do you think the case is +likely to come on?” + +“Well, it is supposed as it ull be on to-morrer; but I bleeve there’s no +sartinty about thic. Now then, just give us a little moore, will ’ee +sir?” (this to the waiter). + +“I’ll pay for the next,” said O’Rapley, feeling in his pocket. + +“Noa, noa, I’ll pay; and thankee, sir, for comin’.” + +And then O’Rapley drank his friend’s health again, and wished further +success to the case, and hoped Mr. Bumpkin would be sure to come to him +when he was at Westminster; and expressed himself desirous to assist his +friend in every way that lay in his power—declaring that he really must +be going for he didn’t know what would happen if the Judge should find he +was away; and was not at all certain it would not lead to some officious +member of the House of Commons asking a question of the Prime Minister +about it. + +Mr. Bumpkin drank his good health, again and again, declaring he was +“mighty proud to have met with un;” and that when the case was over and +he had returned to his farm, he should be pleased if Mr. O’Rapley would +come down and spend a few days with him. “Nancy,” he said, “’ll be rare +and pleased to see thee. I got as nice a little farm as any in the +county, and as pooty pigs as thee ever clapped eyes on.” + +Mr. O’Rapley, without being too condescending, expressed himself highly +gratified with making Mr. Bumpkin’s acquaintance, and observed that the +finest pigs ever he saw were those of the Lord Chief Justice. + +“Dade, sir, now what sort be they?” Mr. O’Rapley was not learned in +pigs, and not knowing the name of any breed whatever, was at a loss how +to describe them. Mr. Bumpkin came to his assistance. + +“Be they smooth like and slim?” + +“Yes,” said the Don. + +“Hardly any hair?” + +“Scarce a bit.” + +“They be Chichesters then—the werry best breed as a man ever had in his +stye.” + +“I never see anything so pretty,” replied Mr. O’Rapley. + +“Ah! and they be the smallest-boned pigs as ever could be—they bean’t got +a bone bigger nor your little finger.” + +“Ha!” said the Don, finishing his glass, “the smaller the bone the more +the meat, that’s what I always say; and the Lord Chief Justice don’t care +for bone, he likes meat.” + +“An’ so do I—the Lud Judge be right, and if he tries my case he’ll know +the difference betwixt thic pig as Snooks tooked away and one o’ them +there—” + +“Jackass-looking pigs,” said O’Rapley, seeing that his friend paused. “I +hate them jackass pigs.” + +“So do I—they never puts on fat.” + +“I must go, really,” said O’Rapley. “What do you make the right time?” + +Master Bumpkin pulled out his watch with great effort, and said it was +just a quarter past four by Yokelton time. + +“Here’s your good health again, Mr. Bumpkin.” + +“And yours, sir; and now I think on it, if it’s a fair question Mr. +O’Rapley, and I med ax un wirout contempt, when do you think this ’ere +case o’ mine be likely to come on, for you ought to know summut about +un?” + +“Ha!” said the Don, partially closing one eye, and looking profoundly +into the glass as though he were divining the future, “law, sir, is a +mystery and judges is a mystery; masters is a mystery and ’sociates is a +mystery; ushers is a mystery and counsel is a mystery;—the whole of life +(here he tipped the contents of the glass down his throat) is a mystery.” + +“So it be,” said Mr. Bumpkin, drawing the back of his hand across his +mouth. “So it be sir, but do ’ee think—” + +“Well, really,” answered the Don, “I should say in about a couple of +years if you ask me.” + +“How the h—” + +“Excuse me, Master Bumpkin, but contempt follers us like a shadder: if +you had said that to a Judge it would have been a year at least: it’s +three months as it is if I liked to go on with the case; but I’m not a +wicious man, I hope.” + +“I didn’t mean no offence,” said the farmer. + +“No, no, I dare say not; but still there is a way of doing things. Now +if you had said to me, ‘Mr. O’Rapley, you are a gentleman moving in +judicial circles, and are probably acquainted with the windings of the,’ +&c. &c. &c. ‘Can you inform me why my case is being so unduly +prolonged?’ Now if you had put your question in that form I should in +all probability have answered: ‘I do not see that it is unduly prolonged, +Master Bumpkin—you must have patience. Judges are but human and it’s a +wonder to me they are as much as that, seein’ what they have to go +through.’” + +“But if there be a Court why can’t us get in and try un, Mr. Rapley?” + +“Ah, now that is putting it pointedly;” and O’Rapley closed one eye and +looked into his tumbler with the other before he answered: + +“You see this is how it goes under the continerous sittings—off and on we +sits continerously at Nisy Prisy in London three months in the year. Now +that ain’t bad for London: but it’s nothing near so much time as they +gives to places like Aylesbury, Bedford, and many others.” + +Mr. Bumpkin looked like a terrier dog watching a hole out of which he +expected a rat: at present he saw no sign of one. + +“Take Aylesbury; well now, if a Judge went there once in seven years he’d +find about every other assize enough work to last him till lunch. But in +course two Judges must go to Aylesbury four times a year, to do nothing +but admire the building where the Courts are held; otherwise you’d soon +have Aylesbury marching on to London to know the reason why. P’r’aps the +Judges have left five hundred cases untried in London to go to this +Aylesbury.” + +“Be it a big plaace, sir?” + +“Not so big as a good-sized hotel,” said the Don. “Then,” he continued, +“there’s Bedford ditto again—septennel would do for that; then comes +Northampton—they don’t want no law there at all.” (I leave the obvious +pun to anyone who likes to make it). “Then Okeham again—did you ever +hear of anyone who came from Okeham? I never did.” + +The Don paused, as though on the answer to this question depended his +future course. + +“Noa,” said Bumpkin, “can’t rightly say as ever I did.” + +“And nobody ever did come from there except the Judges. Well, to Okeham +they go four times a year, whereas if they was to go about once in every +hundred years it wouldn’t pay. Why raly, Mr. Bumpkin, the Judges goes +round like travellers arfter orders, and can’t get none. I’m not +talkin’, as you are aware, about great centres like Liverpool, where if +they had about fifty-two assizes in the year it wouldn’t be one too many; +but I’m talking about circumfrences on the confines of civilization.” + +“Oh dear!” sighed Bumpkin. The hole seemed to him too choked up with +“larnin’” for the rat ever to come out—he could glean nothing from this +highly wrought and highly polished enthusiasm. + +“And, notwithstanding and accordingly,” continued the Don, “they do say, +goodness knows how true it is, that they’re going to have two more +assizes in the year. All that I can say is, Mr. Bumpkin—and, mark my +words, there’ll be no stopping in London at all, but it will be just a +reg’ler Judge’s merry-go-round.” {138} + +Mr. Bumpkin dropped a look into his glass, and the two companions came +out of the door and proceeded along under the archway until they came to +the corner of Bridge Street, Blackfriars. Exactly at that point a young +woman with a baby in her arms came in contact with Mr. Bumpkin, and in a +very angry tone said,— + +“I tell you what it is, don’t you take them liberties with me or I’ll +give you in charge.” + +And the young woman passed on with her baby. Just at that moment, and +while Master Bumpkin was meditating on this strange conduct of the young +female, he felt a smart tug at his watch, and, looking down, saw the +broken chain hanging from his pocket. + +“Zounds!” he exclaimed, “I never zeed anything claner than thic; did thee +zee thic feller?” + +“There he goes,” said O’Rapley. + +“There ur gooes,” said Mr. Bumpkin, and, as fast as he could, pursued the +thief. + +“Stop un!” he cried. “Stop thic there thief; he got my watch.” + +But it was a long time before Master Bumpkin’s mandate was obeyed; the +value of a policeman, like that of every other commodity, depends upon +his rarity. There was no policeman to be found. There was a fire escape +in the middle of the street, but that was of no use to Master Bumpkin. +Away went thief, and away went Bumpkin, who could “foot it,” as he said, +“pooty well, old as he wur.” Nor did either the thief or himself stop +until they got nearly to the bridge, when, to Bumpkin’s great +astonishment, up came the thief, walking coolly towards him. This was +another mystery, in addition to those mentioned by Mr. O’Rapley. But the +fact was, that the hue and cry was now raised, and although Master +Bumpkin did not perceive it, about a hundred people, men, women, and +boys, were in full chase; and when that gentleman was, as Bumpkin +thought, coolly coming towards him, he was simply at bay, run down, +without hope of escape; and fully determined to face the matter out with +all the coolness he could command. + +“Take un,” said Bumpkin; “take un oop; thee dam scoundrel!” + +“Take care what you’re saying,” said the thief. “I’m a respectable man, +and there’s law in the land.” + +“Yes, and thee shall have un, too, thee willin; thee stole my watch, thee +knows that.” + +“You’re a liar,” said the captive. + +“Why thee’s got un on, dang if thee bean’t, and a wearin’ on un. Well, +this bates all; take un oop, pleeceman.” + +At this moment, which is always the nick of time chosen by the force, +that is to say, when everything is done except the handcuffs, a policeman +with a great deal of authority in his appearance came up, and plunged his +hands under his heavy coat-tails, as though he were about to deliver them +of the bower anchor of a ship. + +“Do you give him in charge?” + +“Sure enough do ur,” said Mr. Bumpkin. + +So the handcuffs were put on, and the stalwart policeman, like a hero +with the captive of his bow and spear, marched him along at a great rate, +Bumpkin striding out manfully at the side, amid a great crowd of small +boys, with all their heads turned towards the prisoner as they ran, in +the highest state of delight and excitement. Even Bumpkin looked as if +he had made a good thing of it, and seemed as pleased as the boys. + +As they came again to the corner of Ludgate Hill, there stood Mr. +O’Rapley, looking very pompous and dignified, as became so great a man. + +“You’ve got him then,” said he. + +“Ay; come on, Master Rapley, come on.” + +“One moment,” said the official; “I must here leave you for the present, +Mr. Bumpkin; we are not allowed to give evidence in Criminal Courts any +more than Her Majesty’s Judges themselves; we are a part of the Court. +But, besides all that, I did not see what happened; what was it?” + +“Well,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “that be rum too, sir; thee see thic feller +steal my watch, surely.” + +“Indeed, Mr. Bumpkin, it was so quickly done that I really did _not_ see +it, if you ask me.” + +“Why, he dragged un out o’ thic pocket.” + +“No doubt, Master Bumpkin; but it does not follow that I see it.” + +“Thee can come and say I wur with thee, anyhow.” + +“I can’t give evidence, Mr. Bumpkin, as I told you before; and, besides, +I must not appear in this matter at all. You know I was absent to oblige +you, and it’s possible I may be of some further service to you yet; but +please don’t mention me in this matter. I assure you it will do harm, +and perhaps I should lose my place.” + +“Well, Master Rapley,” said Bumpkin, taking his hand, “I won’t do thee no +harm if I knows it, and there be plenty of evidence.” + +“Evidence! You say you found the watch upon him?” + +“Sartinly.” + +“The case then is clear. You don’t want any evidence besides that.” + +“Well, sir, you’re a man o’ larnin’. I bean’t much of a scollard, I’ll +tak’ thy advice; but I must get along; they be waitin’ for I.” + +“I will see you at Westminster to-morrow, Mr. Bumpkin.” + +“All right, zir, all right.” + +And with that Mr. O’Rapley proceeded on his way down Fleet Street, and +Mr. Bumpkin proceeded on his up Ludgate Hill in the midst of an excited +crowd. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The coarse mode of procedure in Ahab _v._ Naboth ruthlessly exposed and +carefully contrasted with the humane and enlightened form of the present +day. + +Here I awoke, and my wife said unto me, “Dear, you have been dreaming and +talking in your sleep.” + +Now fearing for what I may have said, although of a tolerably clear +conscience, I enquired if she could tell me what words I had uttered. +She replied that I had mentioned the names of many eminent men: such as +Mr. Justice Common Sense. + +“Indeed,” quoth I; and then I told my dream. Upon which she observed, +that it seemed there must be much exaggeration. To this I made answer +that dreams do generally magnify events, and impress them more vividly +upon the senses, inasmuch as the imagination was like a microscope: it +enabled you to see many things which would escape the naked eye. + +“But,” said my partner, “if they are distorted?” + +“If they are distorted, they are not reliable; but a clear imagination, +like a good lens, faithfully presents its objects, although in a larger +form, in order that those who have no time for scientific observation, +may see what the scientist desires to direct their attention to. There +are creatures almost invisible to the naked eye, which, nevertheless, +cause great irritation to the nerves. So, also, there are matters +affecting the body corporate of these kingdoms which the public are blind +to and suffer from, but which, if thoroughly exposed, they may be +inclined to take a hand in removing.” + +“I don’t believe that Mr. O’Rapley,” said she: “he seems a cantankerous, +conceited fellow.” + +“Why so he is; but cantankerous and conceited fellows sometimes speak the +truth. They’re like those cobwebbed, unwholesome-looking bottles which +have lain a long time in cellars. You would hardly like to come in +contact with them, and yet they often contain a clear and beautiful wine. +This Mr. O’Rapley is a worthy man who knows a great deal, and although a +bit of a toady to his superiors, expresses his opinions pretty freely +behind their backs.” + +“And what of this Master Bumpkin—this worthy Master Bumpkin I hear you +speak of so often?” + +“A very shrewd man in some respects and a silly one in others.” + +“Not an unusual combination.” + +“By no means.” + +And then I told her what I have already related; to which she observed it +was a pity some friend had not interposed and stopped the business. I +answered, that friends were no doubt useful, but friends or no friends we +must have law, and whether for sixpence or a shilling it ought to be +readily attainable: that no one would be satisfied with having no other +authority than that of friendship to settle our disputes; and besides +that, friends themselves sometimes fell out and were generally the most +hard to reconcile without an appeal to our tribunals. + +“Well, it does seem a pity,” said she, “that judges cannot sit as they +did in Moses’ time at all seasons so as to decide expeditiously and +promptly between the claims of parties.” + +“Why so they do sit ‘continuously,’” quoth I, “but the whole difficulty +consists in getting at them. What is called procedure is so circuitous +and perplexing, that long before you get to your journey’s end you may +faint by the way.” + +“Is there no one with good sense who will take this matter up and help +this poor man to come by his rights. It must be very expensive for him +to be kept away from his business so long, and his poor wife left all +alone to manage the farm.” + +“Why, so it is, but then going to law, which means seeking to maintain +your rights, is a very expensive thing: a luxury fit only for rich men.” + +“Why then do people in moderate circumstances indulge in it?” + +“Because they are obliged to defend themselves against oppressive and +unjust demands; although I think, under the present system, if a man had +a small estate, say a few acres, and a rich man laid claim to it, it +would be far better for the small man to give up the land without any +bother.” + +“But no man of spirit would do that?” + +“No, that is exactly where it is, it’s the spirit of resistance that +comes in.” + +“Resistance! a man would be a coward to yield without a fight.” + +“Why so he would, and that is what makes law such a beautiful science, +and its administration so costly. Men will fight to the last rather than +give in. If Naboth had lived in these times there would have been no +need of his death in order to oust him from his vineyard. Ahab could +have done a much more sensible thing and walked in by process of law.” + +“In what way?” + +“In the first place he could have laid claim to a right of way, or +easement as it is called, of some sort: or could have alleged that Naboth +had encroached on his land by means of a fence or drain or ditch.” + +“Well, but if he hadn’t?” + +“If he hadn’t, so much the better for the Plaintiff, and so much the +worse for Naboth.” + +“I don’t understand; if Naboth had done no wrong, surely it would be far +better for him than if he had.” + +“Not in the long run, my dear: and for this reason, if he had encroached +it would have taken very little trouble to ascertain the fact, and Naboth +being a just and honest man, would only require to have it pointed out to +him to remedy the evil. Maps and plans of the estate would doubtless +have shown him his mistake, and, like a wise man, he would have avoided +going to law.” + +“I see clearly that the good man would have said, ‘Neighbour Ahab, we +have been on neighbourly terms for a long lime, and I do not wish in any +way to alter that excellent feeling which has always subsisted between +us. I see clearly by these maps and plans which worthy Master Metefield +hath shown me that my hedge hath encroached some six inches upon thy +domain, wherefore, Neighbour Ahab, take, I pray thee, as much of the land +as belongeth unto thee, according to just admeasurement.” + +“Why certainly, so would the honest Naboth have communed with Ahab, and +there would have been an end of the business.” + +“But show me, darling, how being in the wrong was better for good Naboth +than being in the right in this business?” + +“Most willingly,” said I; “you see, my dear, there was quickly an end of +the matter by Naboth yielding to the just demands of neighbour Ahab. But +now let us suppose honest Naboth in the right concerning his vineyard, +and neighbour Ahab to be making an unjust demand. You have already most +justly observed that in that case it would be cowardly on the part of +Naboth to yield without a struggle?” + +“Assuredly.” + +“Well then, that means a lawsuit.” + +“But surely,” said my wife, “it ought to be soon seen who is in the +wrong. Where is Master Metefield who you said just now was so accurate a +surveyor, and where are those plans you spoke of which showed the +situation of the estates?” + +“Ah, my dear, I see you know very little of the intricacies of the law; +that good Master Metefield, instead of being a kind of judge to determine +quickly as he did for Master Naboth what were the boundaries of the +vineyard, hath not now so easy a task of it, because Ahab being in the +wrong he is not accepted by him as his judge.” + +“But if the plans are correct, how can he alter them?” + +“He cannot alter them, but the question of correctness of boundary as +shown, is matter of disputation, and will have to be discussed by +surveyors on both sides, and supported and disputed by witnesses +innumerable on both sides: old men coming up with ancient memories, +hedgers and ditchers, farmers and bailiffs and people of all sorts and +conditions, to prove and disprove where the boundary line really divides +Neighbour Naboth’s vineyard from Neighbour Ahab’s park.” + +“But surely Naboth will win?” + +“All that depends upon a variety of things, such as, first, the +witnesses; secondly, the counsel; thirdly, the judge; fourthly, the +jury,” + +“O,” said my wife, “pray don’t go on to a fifthly—it seems to me poor +Naboth is like to have a sorry time of it before he establish his +boundary line.” + +“Ay, if he ever do so: but he first is got into the hands of his Lawyers, +next into the hands of his Counsel, thirdly, into Chancery, fourthly, +into debt—” + +“Pray, do not let us have a fifthly here either; I like not these +thirdlys and fourthlys, for they seem to bring poor Naboth into bad case; +but what said you about debt?” + +“I say that Naboth, not being a wealthy man, but, as I take it, somewhat +in the position of neighbour Bumpkin, will soon be forced to part with a +good deal of his little property in order to carry on the action.” + +“But will not the action be tried in a reasonable time, say a week or +two?” + +“I perceive,” cried I, “that you are yet in the very springtide and +babyhood of innocence in these matters. There must be summonses for time +and for further time; there must be particulars and interrogatories and +discoveries and inspections and strikings out and puttings in and appeals +and demurrers and references and—” + +“O, please don’t. I perceive that poor Naboth is already ruined a long +way back. I think when you came to the interrogatories he was in want of +funds to carry on the action.” + +“A Chancery action sometimes takes years,” said I. + +“Years! then shame to our Parliament.” + +“I pray you do not take on so,” said I. “Naboth, according to the decree +of Fate, is to be ruined. Jezebel did it in a wicked, clumsy and brutal +manner. Anyone could see she was wrong, and her name has been handed +down to us with infamy and execration. I now desire to show how Ahab +could have accomplished his purpose in a gentle, manly and scientific +manner and saved his wife’s reputation. Naboth’s action, carried as it +would be from Court to Court upon every possible point upon which an +appeal can go, under our present system, would effectually ruin him ages +before the boundary line could be settled. It would be all swallowed up +in costs.” + +“Poor Naboth!” said my wife. + +“And,” continued I, “the law reports would hand down the _cause celebre_ +of _Ahab_ v. _Naboth_ as a most interesting leading case upon the subject +of goodness knows what: perhaps as to whether a man, under certain +circumstances, may not alter his neighbour’s landmark in spite of the +statute law of Moses.” + +“And so you think poor Naboth would be sold up?” + +“That were about the only certain event in his case, except that Ahab +would take possession and so put an end for ever to the question as to +where the boundary line should run.” + +Here again I dozed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Shewing that lay tribunals are not exactly Punch and Judy shows where the +puppet is moved by the man underneath. + +It was particularly fortunate for Mr. Bumpkin that his case was not in +the list of causes to be tried on the following day. It may seem a +curious circumstance to the general reader that a great case like +_Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_, involving so much expense of time, trouble, and +money should be in the list one day and out the next; should be sometimes +in the list of one Court and sometimes in the list of another; flying +about like a butterfly from flower to flower and caught by no one on the +look-out for it. But this is not a phenomenon in our method of +procedure, which startles you from time to time with its miraculous +effects. You can calculate upon nothing in the system but its +uncertainty. Most gentle and innocent reader, I saw that there was no +Nisi Prius Court to sit on the following day, so _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ +could not be taken, list or no list. The lucky Plaintiff therefore found +himself at liberty to appear before that August Tribunal which sits at +the Mansion House in the City of London. A palatial and imposing +building it was on the outside, but within, so far as was apparent to me, +it was a narrow ill ventilated den, full of all unclean people and +unpleasant smells. I say full of unclean people, but I allude merely to +that portion of it which was appropriated to the British Public; for, +exalted on a high bench and in a huge and ponderous chair or throne sat +the Prince of Citizens and the King of the Corporation, proud in his +dignity, grand in his commercial position, and highly esteemed in the +opinion of the world. There he sat, the representative of the Criminal +Law, and impartial, as all will allow, in its administration. Wonderful +being is my Lord Mayor, thought I, he must have the Law at his fingers’ +ends. Yes, there it is sitting under him in the shape and person of his +truly respectable clerk. The Common Law resides in the breasts of the +Judges, but it is here at my Lord Mayor’s fingers’ ends. He has to deal +with gigantic commercial frauds; with petty swindlers, common thieves; +mighty combinations of conspirators; with extradition laws; with +elaborate bankruptcy delinquencies; with the niceties of the criminal law +in every form and shape. Surely, thought I, he should be one of those +tremendous geniuses who can learn the criminal law before breakfast, or +at least before dinner! So he was. His lordship seemed to have learned +it one morning before he was awake. But it is not for me to criticise +tribunals or men: I have the simple duty to perform of relating the story +of the renowned Mr. Bumpkin. + +After the night charges are disposed of up comes the man through the +floor, not Mr. Bumpkin, but Mr. Bumpkin’s prisoner. He comes up through +the floor like the imp in the pantomime: and then the two tall warders +prevent his going any farther. + +He was a pale, intelligent looking creature, fairly dressed in frock +coat, dark waistcoat and grey trousers, with a glove on his left hand and +another in his right; looked meekly and modestly round, and then politely +bowed to the Lord Mayor. The charge was then read to him and with a +smile he indignantly repudiated the idea of theft. + +And I saw in my dream that he was represented by a learned Counsel, who +at this moment entered the Court, shook hands with the Lord Mayor, and +saying, “I appear, my lord, for the prisoner,” took his seat upon the +bench, and entered for a minute or so into some private and apparently +jocular conversation with his Lordship. + +The name of the learned Counsel was Mr. Nimble, whom we have before seen. +He was a very goodly-shaped man, with a thin face and brown hair. His +eyes were bright, and always seemed to look into a witness rather than at +him. His manner was jaunty, good-natured, easy, and gay; not remarkable +for courtesy, but at the same time, not unpleasantly rude. I thought the +learned Counsel could be disagreeable if he liked, but might be a very +pleasant, sociable fellow to spend an hour with—not in the witness-box. + +He was certainly a skilful and far-seeing Counsel, if I may make so bold +as to judge from this case. And methought that nothing he did or said +was said or done without a purpose. Nor could I help thinking that a +good many Counsel, young and old, if their minds were free from +prejudice, might learn many lessons from this case. It is with this +object that, in my waking moments, I record the impressions of this +dream. I do not say Mr. Nimble was an example to follow on all points, +for he had that common failing of humanity, a want of absolute +perfection. But he was as near to perfection in defending a prisoner as +any man I ever saw, and the proceedings in this very case, if carefully +analysed, will go a long way towards proving that assertion. + +After the interchange of courtesies between his Lordship and Mr. Nimble, +the learned Counsel looked down from the Bench on to the top of Mr. +Keepimstraight’s bald head and nodded as if he were patting it. Mr. +Keepimstraight was the Lord Mayor’s Clerk. He was very stout and seemed +puffed up with law: had an immense regard for himself and consequently +very little for anybody else: but that, so far as I have been able to +ascertain, is a somewhat common failing among official personages. He +ordered everybody about except the Lord Mayor, and him he seemed to push +about as though he were wheeling him in a legal Bath-chair. His Lordship +was indeed a great invalid in respect to matters of law; I think he had +overdone it, if I may use the expression; his study must have been +tremendous to have acquired a knowledge of the laws of England in so +short a time. But being somewhat feeble, and in his modesty much +misdoubting his own judgment, he did nothing and said nothing, except it +was prescribed by his physician, Dr. Keepimstraight. Even the solicitors +stood in awe of Dr. Keepimstraight. + +And now we are all going to begin—Walk up! + +The intelligent and decent-looking prisoner having been told what the +charge against him was, namely, Highway Robbery with violence, declares +that he is as “innercent as the unborn babe, your lordship:” and then Mr. +Keepimstraight asks, where the Prosecutor is—“Prosecutor!” shout a dozen +voices at once—all round, everywhere is the cry of “Prosecutor!” There +was no answer, but in the midst of the unsavoury crowd there was seen to +be a severe scuffle—whether it was a fight or a man in a fit could not be +ascertained for some time; at length Mr. Bumpkin was observed struggling +and tearing to escape from the throng. + +“Why don’t you come when you are called?” asks the Junior Clerk, handing +him the Testament, as Mr. Bumpkin stood revealed in the witness-box. + +And I saw that he was dressed in a light frock, not unlike a pinafore, +which was tastefully wrought with divers patterns of needlework on the +front and back thereof; at the openings thus embroidered could be seen a +waistcoat of many stripes, that crossed and recrossed one another at +various angles and were formed of several colours. He wore a high calico +shirt collar, which on either side came close under the ear; and round +his neck a red handkerchief with yellow ends. His linen certainly did +credit to Mrs. Bumpkin’s love of “tidiness,” and altogether the +prosecutor wore a clean and respectable appearance. His face was broad, +round and red, indicating a jovial disposition and a temperament not +easily disturbed, except when “whate” was down too low to sell and he +wanted to buy stock or pay the rent: a state of circumstances which I +believe has sometimes happened of late years. A white short-clipped +beard covered his chin, while his cheeks were closely shaven. He had +twinkling oval eyes, which I should say, he invariably half-closed when +he was making a bargain. If you offered less than his price the first +refusal would come from them. His nose was inexpressive and appeared to +have been a dormant feature for many a year. It said nothing for or +against any thing or any body, and from its tip sprouted a few white +hairs. His mouth, without utterance, said plainly enough that he owed +“nobody nothink” and was a thousand pound man every morning he rose. It +was a mouth of good bore, and not by any means intended for a silver +spoon. + +Such was the Prosecutor as he stood in the witness-box at the Mansion +House on this memorable occasion; and no one could doubt that truth and +justice would prevail. + +“Name?” said Mr. Keepimstraight. + +“Bumpkin.” + +Down it goes. + +“Where?” + +After a pause, which Mr. Nimble makes a note of. + +“Where?” repeats Keepimstraight. + +“Westminister.” + +“Where there?” + +“‘Goose’ publichouse.” + +Down it goes. + +“Yes?” says Keepimstraight. + +Bumpkin stares. + +“Yes, go on,” says the clerk. + +“Go on,” says the crier; “go on,” say half-a-dozen voices all round. + +“Can’t you go on?” says the clerk. + +“Tell your story,” says his Lordship, putting his arms on the elbows of +the huge chair. “Tell it in your own way, my man.” + +“I wur gwine down thic place when—” “my man” began. + +“What time was this?” asks the clerk. + +“Arf arter four, as near as I can tell.” + +“How do you know?” asks the clerk. + +“I heard—” + +“I object,” says the Counsel—“can’t tell us what he heard.” + +Then I perceived that the Lord Mayor leant forward towards Mr. +Keepimstraight, and the latter gentleman turned his head and leaned +towards the Lord Mayor, so that his Lordship could obtain a full view of +Mr. Keepimstraight’s eyes. + +Then I perceived that Mr. Keepimstraight winked his left eye and +immediately turned to his work again, and his Lordship said: + +“I don’t think what you heard, witness, is evidence.” + +“Can’t have that,” said Mr. Keepimstraight, as though he took his +instructions and the Law from his Lordship. + +“You said it was half-past four.” + +“Heard the clock strike th’ arf hour.” + +Here his Lordship leant again forward and Mr. Keepimstraight turned round +so as to bring his eyes into the same position as heretofore. And I +perceived that Mr. Keepimstraight winked his right eye, upon which his +Lordship said: + +“I think that’s evidence.” + +Clerk whispered, behind his hand, “Can hardly exclude that.” + +“Can hardly exclude that,” repeats his Lordship; then—turning to the +Learned Counsel—“Can’t shut that out, Mr. Nimble.” + +“You seldom can shut a church clock out, my Lord,” replies the Counsel. + +At this answer his Lordship smiled and the Court was convulsed with +laughter for several minutes. + +“Now, then,” said Mr. Keepimstraight, “we must have order in Court.” + +“We must have order in Court,” says his Lordship. + +“Order in Court,” says the Junior Clerk, and “Order!” shouts the +Policeman on duty. + +Then Mr. Bumpkin stated in clear and intelligible language how the man +came up and took his watch and ran away. Foolishly enough he said +nothing about the woman with the baby, and wisely enough Mr. Nimble asked +nothing about it. But what an opportunity this would have been for an +unskilful Counsel to lay the foundation for a conviction. Knowing, as he +probably would from the prisoner but from no other possible source about +the circumstance, he might have shown by a question or two that it was a +conspiracy between the prisoner and the young woman. Not so Mr. Nimble, +he knew how to make an investment of this circumstance for future profit: +indeed Mr. Bumpkin had invested it for him by not mentioning it. +Beautiful is Advocacy if you do not mar it by unskilful handling. + +When, after describing the robbery, the prosecutor continued: + +“I ses to my companion, ses I—” + +“I object,” says Mr. Nimble. + +And I perceived that his Lordship leant forward once more towards Mr. +Keepimstraight, and Mr. Keepimstraight turned as aforetime towards the +Lord Mayor, but not quite, I thought, so fully round as heretofore; the +motion seemed to be performed with less exactness than usual, and that +probably was why the operation miscarried. Mr. Keepimstraight having +given the correct signal, as he thought, and the Enginedriver on the +Bench having misunderstood it, an accident naturally would have taken +place but for the extreme caution and care of his Lordship, who, if he +had been a young Enginedriver, would in all probability have dashed on +neck or nothing through every obstacle. Not so his Lordship. Not being +sure whether he was on the up or down line, he pulled up. + +Mr. Keepimstraight sat pen in hand looking at his paper, and waiting for +the judicial voice which should convey to his ear the announcement that +“I ses, ses I,” is evidence or no evidence. Judge then of Mr. +Keepimstraight’s disappointment when, after waiting in breathless silence +for some five minutes, he at last looks up and sees his Lordship in deep +anxiety to catch his eye without the public observing it. His Lordship +leant forward, blushing with innocence, and whispered something behind +his hand to Mr. Keepimstraight. And in my dream I heard his Lordship +ask: + +“_Which eye_?” + +To which Mr. Keepimstraight as coolly as if nothing had happened, +whispered behind his hand: + +“_Left_!” and then coughed. + +“O then,” exclaimed his Lordship, “it is clearly not evidence.” + +“It’s not evidence,” repeated the clerk; and then to the discomfiture of +Mr. Nimble, he went on, “You say you had a companion.” + +This was more than the learned Counsel wanted, seeing as he did that +there was another investment to be made if he could only manage it. + +Mr. Bumpkin blushed now, but said nothing. + +“Would you excuse me,” said Mr. Nimble; “I shall not cross-examine this +witness.” + +“O, very good,” says Keepimstraight, thinking probably it was to be a +plea of guilty hereafter; “very good. Then I think that is all—is that +the watch?” + +“It be,” said the witness; “I ken swear to un.” + +It certainly would be from no want of metal if Mr. Bumpkin could not +identify the timepiece, for it was a ponderous-looking watch, nearly as +large as a tea-saucer. + +Then said Mr. Nimble: + +“You say that is your watch, do you?” + +“It spakes for itself.” + +“I don’t think that’s evidence,” says Mr. Keepimstraight, with a smile. + +“That’s clearly not evidence,” says the Lord Mayor, gravely. Whereupon +there was another burst of laughter, in which the clerk seemed to take +the lead. The remarkable fact, however, was, that his Lordship was +perfectly at a loss to comprehend the joke. He was “as grave as a +Judge.” + +After the laughter had subsided, the learned Keepimstraight leaned +backward, and the learned Lord Mayor leaned forward, and it seemed to me +they were conversing together about the cause of the laughter; for +suddenly a smile illuminated the rubicund face of the cheery Lord Mayor, +and at last he had a laugh to himself—a solo, after the band had ceased. +And then his Lordship spoke: + +“What your watch may say is not evidence, because it has not been sworn.” + +Then the band struck up again to a lively tune, his Lordship playing the +first Fiddle; and the whole scene terminated in the most humorous and +satisfactory manner for all parties—_except_, perhaps, the prisoner—who +was duly committed for trial to the next sittings of the Central Criminal +Court, which were to take place in a fortnight. + +Mr. Bumpkin naturally asked for his watch, but that request was smilingly +refused. + +“Bin in our famly forty years,” exclaimed the prisoner. + +“Will you be quiet?” said Mr. Nimble petulantly, for it was a foolish +observation for the prisoner to make, inasmuch as, if Mr. Bumpkin had +been represented by professional skill, the remark would surely be met at +the trial with abundant evidence to disprove it. Mr. Bumpkin at present, +however, has no professional skill. + + * * * * * + +Here something disturbed me, and I awoke. While preparing to enjoy my +pipe as was my custom in these intervals, my wife remarked: + +“I do not approve of that Master O’Rapley by any means, with his +cynicisms and sarcasms and round squares. Did ever anyone hear of such a +contradiction?” + +“Have patience,” quoth I, “and we shall see how worthy Master O’Rapley +makes it out. I conjecture that he means the same thing that we hear of +under the term, ‘putting the round peg into the square hole.’” + +“But why should such a thing be done when it is easy surely to find a +square peg that would fit?” + +“Granted; but the master-hand may be under obligations to the round peg; +or the round peg may be a disagreeable peg, or a hundred things: one +doesn’t know. I am but a humble observer of human nature, and like not +these ungracious cavillings at Master O’Rapley. Let us calmly follow +this dream, and endeavour to profit by its lessons without finding fault +with its actors.” + +“But I would like to have a better explanation of that Round Square, +nevertheless,” muttered my wife as she went on with her knitting. So to +appease her I discoursed as follows:— + +“The round square,” said I, “means the inappropriate combination of +opposites.” + +“Now, not too long words,” said she, “and not too much philosophy.” + +“Very well, my dear,” I continued; “Don O’Rapley is right, not in his +particular instance, but in the general application of his meaning. Look +around upon the world, or so much of it as is comprised within our own +limited vision, and what do you find?” + +“I find everything,” said my wife, “beautifully ordered and arranged, +from the Archbishop of Canterbury to the Parish Beadle.” + +“What do you find?” I repeated. “Mark the O’Rapley’s knowledge of human +nature, you not only find Waterloos won in the Cricket-field of Eton, but +Bishopricks and Secretaryships and many other glorious victories; so that +you might—” + +“Don’t be foolish; Trafalgar was not won in the Cricket-field.” + +“No, but it was fought on the Isis or the Cam, I forget which. But carry +the O’Rapley’s theory into daily life, and test it by common observation, +what do you find? Why, that this round square is by no means a modern +invention. It has been worked in all periods of our history. Here is a +Vicar with a rich benefice, intended by nature for a Jockey or a +Whipper-in—” + +“What, the benefice?” + +“No, the Vicar! Here is a barrister who ought to have been a curate, and +become enthusiastic over worked slippers: there is another thrust into a +Government appointment, not out of respect to him, the Minister doesn’t +know him, but to serve a political friend, or to place an investment in +the hands of a political rival, who will return it with interest on a +future day. The gentleman thus provided for at the country’s expense +would, if left to himself, have probably become an excellent +billiard-marker or pigeon-shooter. Here is another, who, although a +member of Parliament, was elected by no constituency under Heaven or +above it; and it is clear he was intended by Nature for a position where +obsequiousness and servility meet with their appropriate reward. Another +fills the post of some awful Commissioner of something, drawing an +immense salary, and doing an immense amount of mischief for it, intended +naturally for a secretary to an Autocratic Nobleman, who would trample +the rights of the people under foot. Here is another—” + +“O pray, my dear, do not let us have another—” + +“Only one more,” said I; “here is another, thrust into the Cabinet for +being so disagreeable a fellow, who ought to have been engaged in making +fireworks for Crystal Palace fêtes.” + +“But this is only an opinion of yours; how do you know these gentlemen +are not fitted for the posts they occupy? surely if they do the work—” + +“The public would have no right to grumble.” + +“And as for obsequiousness and servility, I am afraid those are epithets +too often unjustly applied to those gentlemen whose courteous demeanour +wins them the respect of their superiors.” + +“Quite so,” said I; “and I don’t see that it matters what is the +distinguishing epithet you apply to them: this courteous demeanour or +obsequiousness is no doubt the very best gift Nature can bestow upon an +individual as an outfit for the voyage of life.” + +“Dear me, you were complaining but just now of its placing men in +positions for which they were not qualified.” + +“Not complaining, my love; only remarking. I go in for obsequiousness, +and trust I shall never be found wanting in that courteous demeanour +towards my superiors which shall lead to my future profit.” + +“But would you have men only courteous?” + +“By no means, I would have them talented also.” + +“But in what proportion would you have the one to the other?” + +“I would have the same proportion maintained that exists between the +rudder and the ship: you want just enough tact to steer your +obsequiousness.” + +Here again I dozed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +A comfortable evening at the Goose + +When Mr. Bumpkin left the Mansion House, he was in a state of great +triumph not to say ecstasy: for it seemed to him that he had had +everything his own way. He was not cross-examined; no witnesses were +called, and it had only been stated by the prisoner himself, not proved, +although he said he should prove it at the trial, that the watch had been +in the family for upwards of forty years. + +“The biggest lie,” muttered Master Bumpkin, “that ever wur told.” And +then he reasoned in this wise: “how could it a bin in his family forty +year when he, Bumpkin, only lost it the day afore in the most barefaced +manner? He was a pooty feller as couldn’t tell a better story than +thic.” + +And then methought in my dream, “Ah, Bumpkin, thou may’st triumph now, +but little dreamest thou what is in store for thee at the trial. Wait +till all those little insignificant points, hardly visible at present, +shall rise, like spear-heads against thee at the Old Bailey and thrust +thee through and through and make thee curse the advocate’s skill and the +thief’s impudence and the inertness of the so-called Public Prosecutor: +and mayhap, I know not yet, show thee how wrong and robbery may triumph +over right and innocence. Thou hast raised thyself, good Bumpkin, from +the humblest poverty to comparative wealth and a lawsuit: but boast not +overmuch lest thou find Law a taskmaster instead of a Protector! + +Thus, moralizing in my dream I perceived that Mr. Bumpkin after talking +to some men betook himself to a Bus and proceeded on his way to the +“Goose” at Westminster, whither he arrived in due time and in high +spirits. + +The Goose was a nice cosy public-house, situated, as I before observed, +near the river side and commanded a beautiful view of the neighbouring +wharves and the passing craft. It was a favourite resort of waterside +men, carters, carriers, labourers on the wharf and men out of work. The +Military also patronized it:—And many were the jovial tales told around +the taproom hearth by members of Her Majesty’s troops to admiring and +astonished Ignorance. + +It was a particularly cold and bleak day, this ninth of March one +thousand eight hundred and something. The wind was due East and +accompanied ever and anon with mighty thick clouds of sleet and snow. +The fireside therefore was particularly comfortable, and the cheery faces +around the hearth were pleasant to behold. + +Now Mr. Bumpkin, as the reader knows, was not alone in his expedition. +He had his witness, named Joseph Wurzel: called in the village “Cocky,” +inasmuch as it was generally considered that he set much by his wisdom: +and was possessed of considerable attainments. For instance, he could +snare a hare as well as any man in the county: or whistle down pheasants +to partake of a Buckwheat refection which he was in the habit of +spreading for their repast. + +A good many fellows who were envious of Joe’s abilities avowed that “he +was a regler cunnin’ feller, as ud some day find out his mistake;” +meaning thereby that Joe would inevitably be sent to prison. Others +affirmed that he was a good deal too cunning for that; that he was a +regular artful dodger, and knew how to get round the vicar and all in +authority under him. The reader knows that he was a regular attendant at +Church, and by that means was in high favour. Nor was his mother behind +hand in this respect, especially in the weeks before Christmas; and truly +her religion brought its reward even in this world in the shape of Parish +Gifts. + +No doubt Joe was fond of the chase, but in this respect he but imitated +his superiors, except that I believe he occasionally went beyond them in +the means he employed. + +Assembled in this common room at the Goose on the night in question, were +a number of persons of various callings and some of no calling in +particular. Most of them were acquainted, and apparently regular +customers. One man in particular became a great favourite with Joe, and +that was Jacob Wideawake the Birdcatcher; and it was interesting to +listen to his conversation on the means of catching and transforming the +London Sparrow into an article of Commerce. + +Joe’s dress no doubt attracted the attention of his companions when he +first made his appearance, for it was something out of the ordinary +style: and certainly one might say that great care had been bestowed upon +him to render his personal appearance attractive in the witness-box. He +wore a wideawake hat thrown back on his head, thus displaying his brown +country-looking face to full advantage. His coat was a kind of dark +velveteen which had probably seen better days in the Squire’s family; so +had the long drab waistcoat. His corduroy trousers, of a light green +colour, were hitched up at the knees with a couple of straps as though he +wore his garters outside. His neckerchief was a bright red, tied round +his neck in a careless but not unpicturesque manner. Take him for all in +all he was as fine a specimen of a country lad as one could wish to +meet,—tall, well built, healthy looking, and even handsome. + +Now Mr. Bumpkin, being what is called “a close man,” and prone to keep +his own counsel on all occasions when it was not absolutely necessary to +reveal it, had said nothing about his case before the Lord Mayor; not +even Mrs. Oldtimes had he taken into his confidence. It is difficult to +understand his motive for such secrecy, as it is impossible to trace in +nine instances out of ten any particular line of human conduct to its +source. + +Acting probably on some vague information that he had received, Mr. +Bumpkin looked into the room, and told Joe that he thought they should be +“on” to-morrow. He had learned the use of that legal term from frequent +intercourse with Mr. Prigg. He thought they should be on but “wur not +sartin.” + +“Well,” said Joe, “the sooner the better. I hates this ere hangin’ +about.” At this Jack Outofwork, Tom Lazyman, and Bill Saunter laughed; +while Dick Devilmecare said, “He hated hanging about too; it was wus than +work.” + +“And that’s bad enough, Heaven knows,” said Lazyman. + +Then I saw that at this moment entered a fine tall handsome soldier, who +I afterwards learned was Sergeant Goodtale of the One Hundred and +twenty-fourth Hussars. A smarter or more compact looking fellow it would +be impossible to find: and he came in with such a genial, good-natured +smile, that to look at him would almost make you believe there was no +happiness or glory on this side the grave except in Her Majesty’s +service—especially the Hussars! + +I also perceived that fluttering from the side of Sergeant Goodtale’s +cap, placed carelessly and jauntily on the side of his head, was a bunch +of streamers of the most fascinating red white and blue you ever could +behold. Altogether, Sergeant Goodtale was a splendid sight. Down went +his cane on the table with a crack, as much as to say “The Queen!” and he +marched up to the fire and rubbed his hands: apparently taking no heed of +any human being in the room. + +Mr. Bumpkin’s heart leaped when he saw the military sight: his eyes +opened as if he were waking from a dream out of which he had been +disturbed by a cry of “fire:” and giving Joe a wink and an obviously +made-up look, beckoned him out of the room. As they went out they met a +young man, shabbily clad and apparently poorly fed. He had an +intelligent face, though somewhat emaciated. He might be, and probably +was, a clerk out of employment, and he threw himself on the seat in a +listless manner that plainly said he was tired of everything. + +This was Harry Highlow. He had been brought up with ideas beyond his +means. It was through no fault of his that he had not been taught a +decent trade: those responsible for his training having been possessed of +the notion that manual labour lowers one’s respectability: an error and a +wickedness which has been responsible for the ruin of many a promising +youth before to-day. + +Harry was an intelligent, fairly educated youth, and nothing more. What +is to be done with raw material so plentiful as that? The cheapest +marketable commodity is an average education, especially in a country +where even our Universities can supply you with candidates for employment +at a cheaper rate than you can obtain the services of a first-class cook. +This young man had tried everything that was genteel: he had even aspired +to literature: sought employment on the Press, on the Stage, everywhere +in fact where gentility seemed to reign. Nor do I think he lacked +ability for any of these walks; it was not ability but opportunity that +failed him. + +“Lookee ere, Joe,” said Mr. Bumpkin; “harken to me. Don’t thee ’ave nowt +to say to that there soger.” + +“All right, maister,” said Joe, laughing; “thee thinks I be gwine for a +soger. Now lookee ere, maister, I beant a fool.” + +“No, thee beant, Joe. I knowed thee a good while, and thee beant no +fool.” + +Joe laughed. It was a big laugh was Joe’s, for his mouth was somewhat +large, and a grin always seemed to twist it. On this occasion, so great +was his surprise that his master should think he would be fool enough to +enlist for a “soger,” that his mouth assumed the most irregular shape I +ever saw, and bore a striking resemblance to a hole such as might be made +in the head of a drum by the heel of a boot. + +“I be up to un, maister.” + +“Have no truck wi’ un, I tell ee; don’t speak to un. Thee be my head +witness, and doant dare goo away; no, no more un if—” + +“No fear,” said Joe. “’Taint likely I be gwine to listen to ee. I knows +what he wants; he’s arter listin chaps.” + +“Look ee ere, Joe, if ur speaks to thee, jist say I beant sich a fool as +I looks; that’ll ave un.” + +“Right,” says Joe; “I beant sich a fool as I looks; that’ll ave un +straight.” + +“Now, take heed; I’m gwine into the parlour wi’ Landlord.” + +Accordingly, into the little quiet snuggery of Mr. Oldtimes, Mr. Bumpkin +betook himself. And many and many an agreeable evening was passed with +Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes during the period when Mr. Bumpkin was waiting for +his trial. For Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes being Somersetshire people knew +many inhabitants of the old days in the village of Yokelton, where Mr. +Bumpkin “were bred and born’d.” + +Meanwhile the “head witness” had returned to the cheerful scene in the +taproom, and sat leering out of the corners of his eyes upon the +Sergeant, as though he expected every moment that officer would make a +spring at him and have him upon the floor. But the Sergeant was not a +bullying, blustering sort of man at all; his demeanour was quiet in the +extreme. He scarcely looked at anyone. Simply engaged in warming his +hands at the cheerful fire, no one had cause to apprehend anything from +him. + +But a man, Sergeant or no Sergeant, must, out of common civility, +exchange a word now and then, if only about the weather; and so he said, +carelessly,— + +“Sharp weather, lads!” + +Now, not even Joe could disagree with this; it was true, and was assented +to by all; Joe silently acquiescing. After the Sergeant had warmed his +hands and rubbed them sufficiently, he took off his cap and placed it on +a little shelf or rack; and then took out a meerschaum pipe, which he +exhibited without appearing to do so to the whole company. Then he +filled it from his pouch, and rang the bell; and when the buxom young +waitress appeared, he said,— + +“My dear, I think I’ll have a nice rump steak and some onions, if you +please.” + +“Yes, sir,” said the maid. + +Now I observed that two or three matters were noteworthy at this point. +First, Joe’s mouth so watered that he actually went to the fireplace and +expectorated. Secondly, he was utterly amazed at the familiar manner in +which the Sergeant was permitted to address this beautiful young person, +who seemed to be quite a lady of quality. Thirdly, he was duly impressed +and astounded with the luxurious appetite of this Sergeant of Hussars! + +Then the young woman came back and said,—“Would you like to have it in +the parlour, sir?” + +“O no, my dear,” said the Sergeant; “I would rather have it here. I hate +being alone.” + +As he said this, he slightly glanced at Dick Devilmecare. Dick, +flattering himself that the observation was addressed particularly to +him, observed that he also hated being alone. + +Then the Sergeant lighted his pipe; and I suppose there was not one in +the company who did not think that tobacco particularly nice. + +Next, the Sergeant rang again, and once more the pretty maid appeared. + +“Lucy,” said he, “while my steak is getting ready, I think I’ll have +three of whiskey hot, with a little lemon in it.” + +At this there was an involuntary smacking of lips all round, although no +one was conscious he had exhibited any emotion. The Sergeant was +perfectly easy and indifferent to everything. He smoked, looked at the +fire, sipped his grog, spread out his legs, folded his arms; then rose +and turned his back to the fire, everyone thinking how thoroughly he +enjoyed himself. + +“That smells very nice, Sergeant,” said Harry. + +“Yes, it’s very good,” said the Sergeant; “it’s some I got down at +Yokelton, Somersetshire.” + +Here Joe looked up; he hadn’t been home for a week, and began to feel +some interest in the old place, and everything belonging to it. + +“I comes from that ere place, Mr. Sergeant,” said he. + +“Indeed, sir,” said the Sergeant, in an off-hand manner. + +“Did thee buy un at a shop by the Pond, sir?” + +“That’s it,” replied the Sergeant, pointing with his pipe, “to the +right.” + +“The seame plaace,” exclaimed Joe. “Why my sister lives there sarvant wi +that ooman as keeps the shop.” + +“Indeed!” said Sergeant Goodtale; “how very curious!” + +And Jack said, “What a rum thing!” + +And Bill said, “That is a rum thing!” + +And Harry said it was a strange coincidence. In short, they all agreed +that it was the most remarkable circumstance that ever was. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +The subject continued. + +As soon as the conversation on the remarkable circumstance recorded in +the last chapter had drifted into another subject no less remarkable, and +the Sergeant had finished his pipe, the beautiful being appeared with the +rump steak and onions, a snowy white cloth having been previously spread +at the end of one of the tables. When all was ready, it looked as nice +and appetizing as could well be conceived. The most indifferent man +there seemed the Sergeant himself, who, instead of rushing to the chair +provided for him, walked as coolly up to the table as though he were +going into action. Then he took the knife, and seeing it had not quite +so sharp an edge as he liked, gave it a touch or two on the stone hearth. + +The smell of that tobacco from Yokelton had been sweet; so had the +perfume from the whiskey toddy and the lemon; but of all the delicious +and soul-refreshing odours that ever titilated human nostrils, nothing +surely could equal that which proceeded from the rump steak and onions. +The fragrance of new mown hay, which Cowper has so beautifully mentioned, +had palled on Joe’s senses; but when would the fragrance of that dish +pall on the hungry soul? + +The Sergeant took no notice of the hungry looks of the company; he was a +soldier, and concentrated his mind upon the duties of the moment. +Sentimentality was no part of his nature. He was a man, and must eat; he +was a soldier, and must perform the work as a duty irrespective of +consequences. + +“Do you mind my smoke?” asked Harry. + +“Oh dear, no,” said the Sergeant; “I like it.” + +Joe stared and watched every bit as the Sergeant cut it. He looked +admiringly on the soldier and so lovingly at the steak, that it almost +seemed as if he wished he could be cut into such delicious morsels and +eaten by so happy a man. What thoughts passed through his mind no one +but a dreamer could tell; and this is what I saw passing through the mind +of Wurzel. + +“O, what a life! what grub! what jollyness! no turmut oeing; no +dung-cart; no edgin and ditchin; no five o’clock in the mornin; no +master; no bein sweared at; no up afore the magistrates; no ungriness; +rump steaks and inguns; whiskey and water and bacca; if I didn’t like +that air Polly Sweetlove, danged if I wouldn’t go for a soger to-morrer!” + +Then said Joe, very deferentially and as if he were afraid of being up +afore the magistrate, “If you please, sir, med I have a bit o’ that there +bacca?” + +“Of course,” said the Sergeant, tossing his pouch; “certainly; help +yourself.” + +Joe’s heart was softened more and more towards the military, which he had +hitherto regarded, from all he could hear, as a devil’s own trap to catch +Sabbath breakers and disobedient to parents. + +And methought, in my dream, I never saw men who were not partakers of a +feast enjoy it more than the onlookers of that military repast. + +Then said Harry,— + +“Well, Sergeant, I’m well-nigh tired of my life, and I’ve come here to +enlist.” + +“Just wait a bit,” said the Sergeant; “I’m not a man to do things in a +hurry. I never allow a man to enlist, if I know it, in Her Majesty’s +service, honourable and jolly as it is, without asking him to think about +it.” + +“Hear, hear!” said Lazyman; “that’s good, I likes that; don’t be in a +hurry, lad.” + +“Hear, hear!” says Outofwork, “don’t jump into a job too soon, yer medn’t +like it.” + +“Hear, hear!” says the Boardman, “walk round a-bit.” + +“But,” said Harry, “I have considered it. I’ve just had education enough +to prevent my getting a living, and not enough to make a man of me: I’ve +tried everything and nobody wants me.” + +“Then,” said Sergeant Goodtale, “do you think the Queen only wants them +that nobody else’ll have. I can tell you that ain’t the Queen of +England’s way. It might do for Rooshia or Germany, or them countries, +but not for Old England. It’s a free country. I think, lads, I’m +right—” + +Here there was tremendous hammering on the table by way of assent and +applause; amidst which Joe could be observed thumping his hard fist with +as much vehemence as if he had got a County Magistrate’s head under it. + +“This is a free country, sir,” said the Sergeant, “no man here is +kidnapped into the Army, which is a profession for men, not slaves.” + +“I’m going to join,” said Harry, “say what you like.” + +“Wait till the morning;” said the Sergeant, “and meanwhile we’ll have a +song.” + +At this moment Mr. Bumpkin put in an appearance; for although he had been +enjoying himself with Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes, he thought it prudent to +have a peep and see how “thic Joe wur gettin on.” + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Mr. Bumpkin sings a good old song—the Sergeant becomes quite a convivial +companion and plays dominoes. + +The Sergeant, having finished his repast, again had recourse to his pipe, +and was proceeding to light it when Mr. Bumpkin appeared in the room. + +“We be gwine to have a song, maister,” said Joe. + +“Give us a song, governor,” said half-a-dozen voices. + +“Ay, do, maister,” says Joe; “thee sings a good un, I knows, for I ha +eerd thee often enough at arvest oames: gie us a song, maister.” + +Now if there was one thing Mr. Bumpkin thought he was really great at +besides ploughing the straightest and levellest furrow, it was singing +the longest and levellest song. He had been known to sing one, which, +with its choruses, had lasted a full half hour, and then had broken down +for lack of memory. + +On the present occasion he would have exhibited no reluctance, having had +a glass or two in the Bar Parlour had he not possessed those misgivings +about the Sergeant. He looked furtively at that officer as though it +were better to give him no chance. Seeing, however, that he was smoking +quietly, and almost in a forlorn manner by himself, his apprehensions +became less oppressive. + +Invitations were repeated again and again, and with such friendly +vehemence that resistance at last was out of the question. + +“I aint sung for a good while,” said he, “but I wunt be disagreeable +like, so here goes.” + +But before he could start there was such a thundering on the tables that +several minutes elapsed. At length there was sufficient silence to +enable him to be heard. + +“This is Church and Crown, lads.” + + “Gie me the man as loves the Squire, + The Parson, and the Beak; + And labours twelve good hours a day + For thirteen bob a week!” + +“Hooroar! hooroar! hooroar!” shouted Lazyman. “What d’ye think ’o that?” + +“O, my eye,” said Outofwork, “aint it jolly?” + +“Well done! bravo!” shrieked the Boardman. “I’ll carry that ere man +through the streets on my shoulders instead o’ the boards, that I will. +Bravo! he ought to be advertized—this style thirteen bob a week!” + +“Thirteen bob a week!” laughed Harry; “who’d go for a soldier with such a +prospect. Can you give us a job, governor?” + +“Wait a bit, lads,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “there be another werse and then a +chorus.” + +“Hooray!” they shouted, “a chorus! let’s have the chorus—there ought to +be a chorus—thirteen bob a week!” + +“Now, gentlemen, the chorus if you please,” said Harry; “give it mouth, +sir!” + +Then sang Bumpkin— + + “O ’edgin, ditchin, that’s the geaam, + All in the open air; + The poor man’s health is all his wealth, + But wealth without a care! + + CHORUS. + + Then shout hurrah for Church and State + Though ’eretics may scoff, + The devil is our head Constable, + To take the willins off. + + Give me the man that’s poor and strong, + Hard working and content; + Who looks on onger as his lot, + In Heaven’s wise purpose sent. + Who looks on riches as a snare + To ketch the worldly wise; + And good roast mutton as a dodge, + To blind rich people’s eyes. + + CHORUS. + + Give me the man that labours hard + From mornin’ until night, + And looks at errins as a treat + And bacon a delight. + O ’edgin, ditchin, diggin drains, + And emptyin pool and dyke, + It beats your galloppin to ’ounds, + Your ball-rooms and the like. + + CHORUS. + + Gi’ me the man that loves the Squire + With all his might and main; + And with the taxes and the rates + As never racks his brain. + Who loves the Parson and the Beak + As Heaven born’d and sent, + And revels in that blessed balm + A hongry sweet content. + + CHORUS. + + Gie me the good Shaksperan man + As wants no other books, + But them as he no need to spell, + The ever runnin brooks: + As feeds the pigs and minds the flocks, + And rubs the orses down; + And like a regler lyal man, + Sticks up for Church and Crown.” + + CHORUS. + +At the termination of this pastoral song there was such a hullabaloo of +laughter, such a yelling, thumping, and, I grieve to say, swearing, that +Mr. Bumpkin wondered what on earth was the occasion of it. At the Rent +dinner at the Squire’s he had always sung it with great success; and the +Squire himself had done him the honour to say it was the best song he had +ever heard, while the Clergyman had assured him that the sentiments were +so good that it ought to be played upon the organ when the people were +coming out of church. And Farmer Grinddown, who was the largest +gentleman farmer for miles around, had declared that if men would only +act up to that it would be a happy country, and we should soon be able to +defy America itself. + +Mr. Bumpkin, hearing such shouts of laughter, thought perhaps he might +have a patch of black on his face, and put his hand up to feel. Then he +looked about him to see if his dress was disarranged; but finding nothing +amiss, he candidly told them he “couldn’t zee what there wur to laugh at +thic fashion.” + +They all said it was a capital song, and wondered if he had any more of +the same sort, and hoped he’d leave them a lock of his hair—and otherwise +manifested tokens of enthusiastic approbation. + +Mr. Bumpkin, however, could not quite see their mirth in the same light, +so he turned on his heel and, beckoning to Joe, left the room in high +dudgeon, not to say disdain. + +“Mind Joe—no truck wi un.” + +“Why, maister, he knows my sister.” + +“Damn thee sister, Joe; it be a lie.” + +“Be it? here’s some o’ the bacca he brought up from Okleton, I tell ee.” + +“I tell thee, have nowt to do wi un; we shall be on t’morrer, we be tenth +in the list.” + +“Ay,” said Joe, “we bin igher in list un thic, we bin as near as eight; I +shall be mighty glad when it be over.” + +“An get back to pigs, aye, Joe?” + +“Aye, maister.” + +“Nothin like oame, Joe, be there?” and Mr. Bumpkin turned away. + +“No,” said Joe; “no, maister, if so be” (and this was spoken to himself) +“if so be you got a oame.” + +Then I saw that Joe rejoined his companions, amongst whom a conversation +was going on as to the merits of the song. Some said one thing and some +another, but all condemned it as a regular toading to the Parson and the +Squire: and as for the Beak, how any man could praise him whose only duty +was to punish the common people, no one could see. The company were +getting very comfortable. The Sergeant had called for another glass of +that delectable grog whose very perfume seemed to inspire everyone with +goodfellowship, and they all appeared to enjoy the Sergeant’s liquor +without tasting it. + +“What do you say to a game of dominoes?” said Harry. + +“They won’t allow em ere,” said Lazyman. + +“Won’t they,” answered Outofwork. “I’ll warrant if the Sergeant likes to +play there’s no landlord’ll stop him, ay, Sergeant?” + +“Well, I believe,” said the Sergeant, “as one of the Queen’s servants, I +have the privilege of playing when I like.” + +“Good,” said Harry, “and I’ll be a Queen’s man too, so out with the +shilling, Sergeant.” + +“Wait till the morning,” said the Sergeant. + +“No,” said Harry. “I’ve had enough waiting. I’m on, give me the +shilling.” + +The Sergeant said, “Well, let me see, what height are you?” and he stood +up beside him. + +“Ah!” he said, “I think I can get you in,” saying which he gave him a +shilling; such a bright coin, that it seemed to have come fresh from the +Queen’s hand. + +Then the Sergeant took out some beautiful bright ribbons which he was +understood to say (but did _not_ say) the Queen had given him that +morning. Then he rang the bell, and the buxom waitress appearing he +asked for the favour of a needle and thread, which, the radiant damsel +producing, with her own fair fingers she sewed the ribbons on to Harry’s +cap, smiling with admiration all the while. Even this little incident +was not without its effect on the observant “head witness,” and he felt +an unaccountable fascination to have the same office performed by the +same fair hands on his own hat. + +Then, without saying more, a box of dominoes was produced, and Joe soon +found himself, he did not know how, the Sergeant’s partner, while Lazyman +and Outofwork were opposed to them. + +“Is it pooty good livin in your trade, Mr. Sergeant?” asked Joe. + +“Not bad,” said the Sergeant; “that is five-one, I think”—referring to +the play. + +“Rump steaks and ingons aint bad living,” said Outofwork. + +“No,” said the Sergeant, “and there’s nothing I like better than a good +thick mutton chop for breakfast—let me see, what’s the game?” + +“Ah!” said Joe, smacking his lips, “mutton chops is the best thing out; I +aint had one in my mouth, though, for a doocid long time; I likes em with +plenty o’ fat an gravy loike.” + +“You see,” said the Sergeant, “when you’ve been out for a two or three +mile ride before breakfast in the fresh country air, a chap wants +something good for breakfast, and a mutton chop’s none too much for him.” + +“No,” answered Joe, “I could tackle three.” + +“Yes,” said Sergeant Goodtale, “but some are much larger than others.” + +“So em be,” agreed Joe. + +“What’s the game,” enquired the Sergeant. + +“Two-one,” said Joe. + +“One’s all,” said the soldier. + +“I tell ee what,” remarked Joe, “if I was going to list, there’s no man +as I’d liefer list wi than you, Mr. Sergeant.” + +“Domino!” said the Sergeant, “that’s one to us, partner!” + +Then they shuffled the dominoes and commenced again. But at this moment +the full figure of Mr. Bumpkin again stood in the doorway. + +“Joe!” he exclaimed angrily, “I want thee, come ere thirecly, I tell ee!” + +“Yes, maister; I be comin.” + +“You stoopid fool!” said Mr. Bumpkin in a whisper, as Joe went up to him, +“thee be playin with thic feller.” + +“Well, maister, if I be; what then?” Joe said this somewhat angrily, and +Mr. Bumpkin replied:— + +“He’ll ha thee, Joe—he’ll ha thee!” + +“Nay, nay, maister; I be too old in the tooth for he; but it beant thy +business, maister.” + +“No,” said Bumpkin, as he turned away, “it beant.” + +Then Joe resumed his play. Now it happened that as the Sergeant smacked +his lips when he took his occasional sip of the fragrant grog, expressive +of the highest relish, it awakened a great curiosity in Wurzel’s mind as +to its particular flavour. The glass was never far from his nose and he +had long enjoyed the extremely tempting odour. At last, as he was not +invited to drink by Sergeant Goodtale, he could contain himself no +longer, but made so bold as to say:— + +“Pardner, med I jist taste this ere? I never did taste sich a thing.” + +“Certainly, partner,” said the Sergeant, pushing the tumbler, which was +about three-parts full. “What’s the game now?” + +“Ten-one,” said Outofwork. + +“One’s all, then,” said the Sergeant. + +Joe took the tumbler, and after looking into it for a second or two as +though he were mentally apostrophizing it, placed the glass to his lips. + +“Don’t be afraid,” said the Sergeant. + +No one seemed more courageous than Wurzel, in respect of the act with +which he was engaged, and before he took the glass from his lips its +contents had disappeared. + +“I’m mighty glad thee spoke, Maister Sergeant, for if thee hadn’t I +should a drunk un all wirout thy leave. I never tasted sich tackle in my +life; it’s enough to make a man gie up everything for sogering.” + +“Domino!” said the Sergeant. “I think that’s the game!” + + * * * * * + +“My dear,” said my wife, “you have been talking again in your sleep.” + +“Really,” said I, “I hope I have not compromised myself.” + +“I do not understand you,” cried she. + +“No more do I, for I am hardly awake.” + +“You have been talking of Joe Wurzel again.” + +“O, to be sure. What about him?” + +“Then you mentioned Mr. Outofwork and Mr. Lazyman and Mr. Devilmecare, +and another whose name I did not catch.” + +“Ah,” I asked, “did they go for soldiers?” + +“At present, no, except Harry, for whom I was heartily sorry, he seemed +such a nice disappointed lad. But pray who is this Sergeant Goodtale?” + +“He is on recruiting service, a very fine, persuasive fellow.” + +“But he didn’t seem to press these people or use any arts to entice them: +I like him for that. He rather seemed to me to discourage them from +enlisting. He might have been sure poor Harry meant it, because, as I +take it, he was half-starved, and yet he desired him to wait till the +morning.” + +“I think,” said I, “his conduct was artful if you examine it with +reference to its effect on the others; but he is an extraordinary man, +this Sergeant Goodtale—was never known to persuade any one to enlist, I +believe.” + +“But he seemed to get along very well.” + +“Very; I thought he got along very comfortably.” + +“Then there was one Lucy Prettyface!” + +“Ah, I don’t remember her,” cried I, alarmed lest I might have said +anything in my dream for which I was not responsible. + +“Why she was the girl who sewed the colours on and somebody called ‘my +dear.’” + +“I assure you,” I said, “it was not I: it must have been the Sergeant; +but I have no recollection—O yes, to be sure, she was the waitress.” + +“You remember her now?” + +“Well,” said I, determined not to yield if I could possibly help it, “I +can’t say that I do. I know there was a person who sewed colours on and +whom the Sergeant called ‘my dear,’ but further than that I should not +like to pledge myself. Yes—yes—to be sure,” and here I went on talking, +as it were, to myself, for I find it is much better to talk to yourself +if you find it difficult to carry on a conversation with other persons. + +“She was pretty, wasn’t she?” said my wife with an arch look. + +I gave her a look just as arch, as I replied, + +“Really I hardly looked at her; but I should say _not_.” I make a point +of never saying any one is pretty. + +“Joe thought her so.” + +“Did he? Well she may have been, but I never went in for Beauty myself.” + +“You shocking man,” said my wife, “do you perceive what you are saying?” + +“Why, of course; but you take me up so sharply: if you had not cut me off +in the flower of my speech you would have been gratified at the finish of +my sentence. I was going to say, I never went in for Beauty, but once. +That, I think, gives the sentence a pretty turn.” + +“Well, now, I think these dreams and this talking in your sleep indicate +that you require a change; what do you say to Bournemouth?” + +“You think I shall sleep better there?” + +“I think it will do you good.” + +“Then we’ll go to Bournemouth,” cried I, “for I understand it’s a very +dreamy place.” + +“But I should like to know what becomes of this action of Mr. Bumpkin, +and how all his people get on? You may depend upon it that Sergeant will +enlist those other men.” + +“I do not know,” I remarked, “what is in the future.” + +“But surely you know what you intend. You can make your characters do +anything.” + +“Indeed not,” I said. “They will have their own way whether I write +their history or any one else.” + +“That Sergeant Goodtale will have every one of them, my dear; you mark my +words. He’s the most artful man I ever heard of.” + +Of course I could offer no contradiction to this statement as I was not +in the secrets of the future. How the matter will work out depends upon +a variety of circumstances over which I have not the least control. For +instance, if Bill were to take the shilling, I believe Dick would follow: +and if the Sergeant were to sing a good song he might catch the rest. +But who can tell? + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Joe electrifies the company and surprises the reader. + +“Suppose we have another song,” said Sergeant Goodtale. + +“And spoase we has some moore o’ that there stuff,” answered Joe. + +“Aye,” said Harry, “we will too. I’ll spend my shilling like a man.” + +Saying which he rang the bell and ordered a glass for himself and one for +Joe. + +“Now, then,” said the latter, “I can’t sing, but I’ll gie thee summut as +I larned.” + +“Hooray!” said Harry, “summut as he larned!” + +“Bravo!” said the Boardman, “summut as he larned?” + +“Here’s at un,” said Joe. + +And then with a mighty provincialism he repeated without a break:— + + + +DR. BRIMSTONE’S SERMON, +AS PUT INTO VERSE BY GAFFER DITCHER. + + + I bin to Church, I ha’, my boy, + And now conwarted be; + The last time I wur ever there + War eighteen farty-three! + + And ’ow I knows it is as this, + I didn’t goo to pray, + Nor ’ear the Word, but went becorse + It wur my weddin day! + + Zounds! wot a blessed sarmon twur + I ’eeard the Sabbath morn; + ’Ow I a woful sinner wur + Or ever I wur born. + + You sees them wilful igorant pigs + In mud a wollorin; + Well, like them pigs, but ten times wus, + We wollers in our sin. + + We’re coated o’er wi’ sinful mud,— + A dreadful sight we be; + And yet we doant despise ourselves— + For why?—We doant zee! + + I thinks I had yer there, my boy, + For all your sniggerin’ jeers; + Thee’re in t’ mud, I tell ’ee, lad, + Rightoover ’ed an’ ears. + + Zounds! what a orful thing it be + That love should blind us so! + Why, them there bloomin rosy cheeks + Be ony masks o’ woe! + + The reddest on ’em thee could kiss + Aint ’ardly wuth the pains; + At best it’s but the husk o’ bliss, + It’s nuther wuts nor banes. + + There aint a pleasure you can name, + From coourtin down to skittles, + But wot there’s mischief in the same, + Like pisen in your wittles. + + The Reverend Brimstone says, “Beloved, + Be allays meek an umble; + A saint should never ax for moor, + An never larn to grumble.” + + We ain’t to tork o’ polleticks + An’ things as don’t consarn us, + And wot we wornts to know o’ lor + The madgistret will larn us. + + We ain’t to drink wi’ Methodists, + No, not a friendly soop; + We ain’t to tork o’ genteel folks + Onless to praise un oop. + + We ain’t to ’ear a blessed word + Agin our betters said; + We’re got to lay the butter thick + Becorse they’re sich ’igh bred! + + We got to say “Ha! look at he! + A gemman tooth and nail!” + You morn’t say, “What a harse he’d be + If he’d a got a tail!” + + For why? becorse these monied gents + Ha’ got sich birth an’ breedin’; + An’ down we got to ’old our ’eads, + Like cattle, when they’re feedin’. + + The parson put it kindly like— + He sed, says he, as ’ow + We’re bean’t so good as them there grubs + We turns up wi’ the plow. + + There’s nowt more wretcheder an we, + Or worthier an the rich, + I praises ’em for bein’ born, + An’ ’eaven for makin’ sich. + + So wile we be, I daily stares + That earthquakes doan’t fall, + An’ swaller up this unconwinced + Owdashus earthly ball! + + An’ wen I thinks of all our sins— + Lay down, says I, my boys, + We’re fittin’ only for manoor, + So don’t let’s make a noise. + + Let’s spred us out upon the ground + An’ make the turmuts grow, + It’s all we’re good for in this world + O’ wickedness an’ woe! + + And yet we’re ’llow’d to brethe the air + The same as gents from town; + And ’llow’d to black their ’appy boots, + And rub their ’orses down! + + To think o’ blessins sich as these, + Is like ongrateful lust; + It stuffs us oop wi’ worldly pride, + As if our ’arts would bust! + + But no, we’re ’umble got to be, + Though privileged so ’igh: + Why doan’t we feed on grass or grains, + Or leastways ’umbly die! + + We got to keep our wicked tongue + From disrespeckful speakin’, + We han’t a got to eat too much, + Nor yet goo pleasure seekin’. + + Nor kitch a rabbit or a aire, + Nor call the Bobby names, + Nor stand about, but goo to church, + And play no idle games: + + To love paroshial orficers, + The squire, and all that’s his, + And never goo wi’ idle chaps + As wants their wages riz. + + So now conwarted I ha’ bin + From igorance and wice; + It’s only ’appiness that’s sin, + And norty things that’s nice! + + Whereas I called them upstart gents + The wust o’ low bred snobs, + Wi’ contrite ’art I hollers out + “My heye, wot bloomin’ nobs!” + + I sees the error o’ my ways, + So, lads, this warnin’ take, + The Poor Man’s path, the parson says, + Winds round the Burnin’ Lake. + + They’ve changed it since the days o’ yore, + Them Gospel preachers, drat un; + They used to preach it to the poor, + An’ now they preach it _at_ un. + +Every one was amazed at the astonishing memory of this country lad: and +the applause that greeted the reciter might well be calculated to awaken +his latent vanity. It was like being called before the curtain after the +first act by a young actor on his first appearance. And I believe every +one understood the meaning of the verses, which seemed to imply that the +hungry prodigal, famishing for food, was fed with husks instead of grain. +Contentment with wretchedness is not good preaching, and this was one +lesson of Dr. Brimstone’s sermon. As soon as Harry could make himself +heard amidst the general hubbub, which usually follows a great +performance, he said:— + +“Now, look here, lads, it’s all very well to be converted with such +preaching as that; but it’s my belie it’s more calculated to make +hypocrites than Christians.” + +“Hear! hear!” said Lazyman. “That _is_ right.” Anything but conversion +for Lazyman. + +“Now,” continued Harry, “I’ve heard that kind of preaching a hundred +times: it’s a regular old-fashioned country sermon; and, as for the poor +being so near hell, I put it in these four lines.” + +“Hear, hear!” cried the company; “order!” + +And they prepared themselves for what was to come with as great eagerness +as, I venture to say, would always be shown to catch the text, if it came +at the end, instead of the beginning, of a sermon. + +“Shut up,” says Lazyman; “let’s ’ear this ’ere. I knows it’s summut good +by the look an him.” + +“Don’t make a row,” retorts the Boardman; “who can hear anything while +you keeps on like that?” + +And there they stood, actually suspending the operation of smoking as +they waited the summing up of this remarkably orthodox “preaching of the +word.” The sergeant only was a spectator of the scene, and much amused +did he seem at the faces that prepared for a grin or a sneer as the +forthcoming utterance should demand. Then said Harry solemnly and +dramatically:— + + “In WANT full many a vice is born, + And Virtue in a DINNER; + A well-spread board makes many a SAINT, + And HUNGER many a sinner.” + +From the explosion which followed this antidote to Mr. Brimstone’s +sermon, I should judge that the more part of the company believed that +Poverty was almost as ample a virtue as Charity itself. They shook their +heads in token of assent; they thumped the table in recognition of the +soundness of the teaching; and several uttered an exclamation not to be +committed to paper, as an earnest of their admiration for the ability of +Mr. Highlow, who, instead of being a private soldier, ought, in their +judgment, to be Lord Mayor of London. After this recital every one said +he thought Mr. Highlow might oblige them. + +“Well, I’m no singer,” said Harry. + +“Try, Harry!” exclaimed Lazyman: he was a rare one to advise other people +to try. + +“Trying to sing when you can’t,” answered Harry, “I should think is a rum +sort of business; but I’ll tell you what I’ll do if you like. When I was +down at Hearne Bay I heard an old fisherman tell a story which—” + +“That’s it!” thumped out Joe, “a story. I likes a good story, specially +if there be a goast in it.” + +“I don’t know what there is in it,” said Harry, “I’ll leave you to make +that out; but I tell you what I did when I heard it, I made a ballad of +it, and so if you like I’ll try and recollect it.” + +“Bravo!” they said, and Harry gave them the following + + + +SONG OF THE WAVES. + + + Far away on the pebbly beach + That echoes the sound of the surge; + As if they were gifted with speech, + The breakers will sing you a dirge. + + The fishermen list to it oft, + And love the sweet charm of its spell, + For sometimes it wispers so soft, + It seems but the voice of the shell. + + It tells of a beautiful child + That used to come down there and play, + And shout to the surges so wild + That burst on the brink of the bay. + + She was but a child of the poor, + Whose father had perished at sea; + ’Twas strange, that sweet psalm of the shore, + Whatever the story might be! + + Yes, strange, but so true in its tone + That no one could listen and doubt; + The heart must be calm and alone + To search its deep mystery out. + + She came with a smaller than she + That toddled along at her side; + Now ran to and fled from the sea, + Now paddled its feet in the tide. + + Afar o’er the waters so wild, + Grazed Effie with wondering eye; + What mystery grew on the child + In all that bright circle of sky? + + Her father—how sweet was the thought! + Was linked with this childish delight; + ’Twas strange what a vision it brought— + As though he still lingered in sight. + + Was it Heaven so near, so remote, + Across the blue line of the wave? + ’Twas thither he sailed in his boat, + ’Twas there he went down in his grave! + + So the days and the hours flew along, + Like swallows that skim o’er the flood; + Like the sound of a beautiful song, + That echoes and dies in the wood! + + One day as they strayed on the strand, + And played with the shingle and shell, + A boat that just touched on the land + Was playfully rocked by the swell. + + O childhood, what joy in a ride! + What eagerness beams in their eyes! + What bliss as they climb o’er the side + And shout as they tumble and rise! + + O sea, with thy pitiful dirge, + Thou need’st to be mournful and moan! + The wrath of thy terrible surge + Omnipotence curbs it alone! + + The boat bore away from the shore, + The laughter of childhood so glad! + And the breakers bring back ever more + The dirge with its echo so sad! + + A widow sits mute on the beach, + And ever the tides as they flow, + As if they were gifted with speech, + Repeat the sad tale of her woe! + +“That’s werry good,” said the Boardman. “I’m afraid them there children +was washed away—it’s a terrible dangerous coast that ere Ern Bay. I’ve +’eeard my father speak on it.” + +“Them there werses is rippin’!” said Joe. + +“Stunnin’!” exclaimed Bob. + +And so they all agreed that it was a pretty song and “well put together.” + +“Capital,” said the sergeant, “I never heard anything better, and as for +Mr. Wurzel, a man with his memory ought to do something better than feed +pigs.” + +“Ay, aye,” said the company to a man. + +“Why don’t you follow my example?” said Harry; “it’s the finest life in +the world for a young fellow.” + +“Well,” said the sergeant, “that all depends; its very good for some, for +others not so good—although there are very few who are not pleased when +they once join, especially in such a regiment as ours!” + +“And would you mind telling me, sir,” asked Outofwork, “what sort of +chaps it don’t suit?” + +“Well, you see, chaps that have been brought up in the country and tied +to their mothers’ apron strings all their life: they have such soft +hearts, they are almost sure to cry—and a crying soldier is a poor +affair. I wouldn’t enlist a chap of that sort, no, not if he gave me ten +pounds. Now, for instance, if Mr. Wurzel was to ask my advice about +being a soldier I should say ‘don’t!’” + +“Why not, sir?” asked Joe; “how’s that there, then? D’ye think I be +afeard?” + +“I should say, go home first, my boy, and ask your mother!” + +“I be d---d if I be sich a molly-coddle as that, nuther; and I’ll prove +un, Mr. Sergeant; gie me thic bright shillin’ and I be your man.” + +“No,” said the sergeant, “think it over, and come to me in a month’s +time, if your mother will let you. I don’t want men that will let their +masters buy them off the next day.” + +“No; an lookee here, Maister Sergeant; I bean’t to be bought off like +thic, nuther. If I goes, I goes for good an’ all.” + +“Well, then,” said the sergeant, shaking him by the hand, and pressing +into it the bright shilling, “if you insist on joining, you shall not say +I prevented you: my business is not to prevent men from entering Her +Majesty’s service.” + +Then the ribbons were brought out, and Joe asked if the young woman might +sew them on as she had done Harry’s; and when she came in, Joe looked at +her, and tried to put on a military bearing, in imitation of his great +prototype; and actually went so far as to address her as “My dear,” for +which liberty he almost expected a slap in the face. But Lucy only +smiled graciously, and said: “Bravo, Mr. Wurzel! Bravo, sir; I’ve seen +many a man inlisted, and sewed the Queen’s colours on for him, but never +for a smarter or a finer fellow, there!” and she skipped from the room. + +“Well done!” said several voices. And the sergeant said: + +“What do you think of that, Mr. Wurzel? I’ll back she’s never said that +to a soldier before.” + +Joe turned his hat about and drew the ribbons through his fingers, as +pleased as a child with a new toy, and as proud as if he had helped to +win a great battle. + +Here I awoke. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +The Sergeant makes a loyal speech and sings a song, both of which are +well received by the company. + +And when I got to Bournemouth I dreamed again; and a singular thing +during this history was, that always in my dream I began where I had left +off on the previous night. So I saw that there, in the room at “The +Goose,” were Sergeant Goodtale, and Harry, and Joe, and the rest, just as +I had left them when I last awoke. But methought there was an air of +swagger on the part of the head witness which I had not observed +previously. His hat was placed on one side, in imitation of the +sergeant’s natty cap, and he seemed already to hold up his head in a +highly military manner; and when he stooped down to get a light he tried +to stoop in the same graceful and military style as the sergeant himself; +and after blowing it out, threw down the spill in the most off-hand +manner possible, as though he said, “That’s how we chaps do it in the +Hussars!” Everyone noticed the difference in the manner and bearing of +the young recruit. There was a certain swagger and boldness of demeanour +that only comes after you have enlisted. Nor was this change confined to +outward appearance alone. What now were pigs in the mind of Joe? Merely +the producers of pork chops for breakfast. What was Dobbin that slowly +dragged the plough compared to the charger that Joe was destined to +bestride? And what about Polly Sweetlove and her saucy looks? Perhaps +she’d be rather sorry now that she did not receive with more favour his +many attentions. Such were the thoughts that passed through the lad’s +mind as he gradually awakened to a sense of his new position. One +thought, however, strange to say, did not occur to him, and that was as +to what his poor old mother would think. Dutiful son as Joe had always +been, (though wild in some respects), he had not given her a single +thought. But his reflections, no doubt, were transient and confused amid +the companions by whom he was surrounded. + +“You’ll make a fine soldier,” said the Boardman, as he saw him swagger +across to his seat. + +“Yes,” said the sergeant, “any man that has got it in him, and is steady, +and doesn’t eat too much and drink too much, may get on in the army. It +isn’t like it used to be.” + +“I believe that,” said Bob Lazyman. + +“The only thing,” continued the sergeant, “is, there is really so little +to do—there’s not work enough.” + +“That ud suit me,” said Bob. + +“Ah! but stop,” added the sergeant, “the temptations are great—what with +the girls—.” + +“Hooray!” exclaimed Dick; “that beats all—I likes them better than mutton +chops.” + +“Yes,” replied the sergeant; “they are all very well in their way; but +you know, if a man wants to rise in the army, he must be steady.” + +“Steady, boys! stea—dy!” shouted Dick + +I don’t know how far the sergeant was justified, morally, in thus holding +out the prospect of riotous living to these hungry men, but I think, all +things considered, it was an improvement on the old system of the +pressgang, which forced men into the navy. These lads were not bound to +believe the recruiting sergeant, and were not obliged to enter into a +contract with Her Majesty. At the same time, the alluring prospects were +such that if they had been represented as facts in the commercial +transactions of life, such is the purity of the law that they would have +given rise to much pleading, multifarious points reserved, innumerable +summonses at Chambers, and, at least, one new trial. + +“Now,” said Jack Outofwork, “I tell yer what it is—I don’t take no +Queen’s shilling, for why? it ain’t the Queen’s—it belongs to the +people—I’m for a republic.” + +‘“Well,” said the sergeant, “I always like to meet a chap that calls +himself a republican, and I’ll tell you why. This country is a republic, +say what you like, and is presided over by our gracious Queen. And I +should like to ask any man in this country—now, just listen, lads, for +this is the real question, whether—” + +“Now, order,” said Lazyman, “I never ’eerd nothing put better.” + +“Let’s have order, gentlemen,” said Harry; “chair! chair!” + +“All ’tention, sergeant,” said Dick. + +“I say,” continued the sergeant; “let us suppose we got a republic +to-morrow; well, we should want a head, or as they say, a president.” + +“That’s good,” said half-a-dozen voices. + +“Well, what then?” said the sergeant; “Who would you choose? Why, the +Queen, to be sure.” + +Everybody said “The Queen!” And there was such a thumping on the table +that all further discourse was prevented for several minutes. At last +everyone said it was good, and the sergeant had put it straight. + +“Well, look’ee ’ere, lads—I was born among the poor and I don’t owe +nothing to the upper classes, not even a grudge!” + +“Hear! hear! Bravo, Mr. Sergeant!” cried all. + +“Well, then; I’ve got on so far as well as I can, and I’m satisfied; but +I’ll tell you what I believe our Queen to be—a thorough woman, and loves +her people, especially the poor, so much that d---d if I wouldn’t die for +her any day—now what d’ye think o’ that?” + +Everybody thought he was a capital fellow. + +“Look, here,” he continued, “it isn’t because she wears a gold crown, or +anything of that sort, nor because a word of her’s could make me a field +marshal, or a duke, or anything o’ that sort, nor because she’s rich, but +I’ll tell you why it is—and it’s this—when we’re fighting we don’t fight +for her except as the Queen, and the Queen means the country.” + +“Hear! hear! hear! hear!” + +“Well, we fight for the country—but she loves the soldiers as though they +were not the country’s but her own flesh and blood, and comes to see ’em +in the hospital like a mother, and talks to ’em the same as I do to you, +and comforts ’em, and prays for ’em, and acts like the real mother of her +people—that’s why I’d die for her, and not because she’s the Queen of +England only.” + +“Bravo!” said Joe. “Hope I shall soon see her in th’ ’orsepittal. It be +out ’ere: beant it St. Thomas’s.” + +“I hope you won’t, my brave lad,” said the sergeant; “but don’t tell me +about republicanism when we’ve got such a good Queen; it’s a shame and a +disgrace to mention it.” + +“So it be,” said Joe; “I’m darned if I wouldn’t knock a feller into the +middle o’ next week as talked like thic. Hooroar for the Queen!” + +“And now I’m going to say another thing,” continued the sergeant, who +really waxed warm with his subject, and struck admiration into his +audience by his manner of delivery: may I say that to my mind he was even +eloquent, and ought to have been a sergeant-at-law, only that the country +would have been the loser by it: and the country, to my mind, has the +first right to the services of every citizen. “Just look,” said the +sergeant, “at the kindness of that—what shall I call her? blessed!—yes, +blessed Princess of Wales! Was there ever such a woman? Talk about Jael +in the Bible being blessed above women—why I don’t set no value upon her; +she put a spike through a feller it’s true, but it was precious cowardly; +but the Princess, she goes here and goes there visiting the sick and poor +and homeless, not like a princess, but like a real woman, and that’s why +the people love her. No man despises a toady more than I do—I’d give him +up to the tender mercies of that wife of Heber the Keenite any day; but +if the Princess was to say to me, ‘Look ’ere, Sergeant, I feel a little +low, and should like some nice little excitement just to keep up my +spirits and cheer me up a bit’” (several of them thought this style of +conversation was a familiar habit with the Princess and Sergeant +Goodtale, and that he must be immensely popular with the Royal Family), +“well, if she was to say, ‘Look here, Sergeant Goodtale, here’s a +precipice, it ud do me good to see you leap off that,’ I should just take +off my coat and tuck up my shirt sleeves, and away I should go.” + +At such unheard of heroism and loyalty there was a general exclamation of +enthusiasm, and no one in that company could tell whom he at that moment +most admired, the Princess or the Sergeant. + +“That’s a stunner!” said Joe. + +“Princess by name and Princess by nature,” replied the sergeant; “and now +look’ee here, in proof of what I say, I’m going to give you a toast.” + +“Hear, hear,” said everybody. + +“But stop a minute,” said the sergeant, “I’m not a man of words without +deeds. Have we got anything to drink to the toast?” + +All looked in their respective cups and every one said, “No, not a drop!” + +Then said the sergeant “We’ll have one all rounded for the last. You’ll +find me as good as my word. What’s it to be before we part?” + +“Can’t beat this ’ere,” said Joe, looking into the sergeant’s empty +glass. + +“So say all of us,” exclaimed Harry. + +“That’s it,” said all. + +“And a song from the sergeant,” added Devilmecare. + +“Ay, lads, I’ll give you a song.” + +Then came in the pretty maid whom Joe leered at, and the sergeant winked +at; and then came in tumblers of the military beverage, and then the +sergeant said: + +“In all companies this is drunk upstanding, and with hats off, except +soldiers, whose privilege it is to keep them on. You need not take yours +off, Mr. Wurzel; you are one of Her Majesty’s Hussars. Now then all say +after me: ‘Our gracious Queen; long may she live and blessed be her +reign—the mother and friend of her people!’” + +The enthusiasm was loud and general, and the toast was drunk with as +hearty a relish as ever it was at Lord Mayor’s Banquet. + +“And now,” said the sergeant, “once more before we part—” + +“Ah! but the song?” said the Boardman. + +“Oh yes, I keep my word. A man, unless he’s a man of his word, ought +never to wear Her Majesty’s uniform!” And then he said: + +“The Prince and Princess of Wales and the rest of the Royal Family.” + +This also was responded to in the same unequivocal manner; and then amid +calls of “the sergeant,” that officer, after getting his voice in tune, +sang the following song: + + + +GOD BLESS OUR DEAR PRINCESS. + + + There’s not a grief the heart can bear + But love can soothe its pain; + There’s not a sorrow or a care + It smiles upon in vain. + And _She_ sends forth its brightest rays + Where darkest woes depress, + Where long wept Suffering silent prays— + God save our dear Princess! + + CHORUS. + + She soothes the breaking heart, + She comforts in distress; + She acts true woman’s noblest part. + God save our dear Princess + She bringeth hope to weary lives + So worn by hopeless toil; + E’en Sorrow’s drooping form revives + Beneath her loving smile. + Where helpless Age reluctant seeks + Its refuge from distress, + E’en there _Her_ name the prayer bespeaks + God save our dear Princess! + + It’s not in rank or princely show + True _Manhood’s_ heart to win; + ’Tis Love’s sweet sympathetic glow + That makes all hearts akin. + Though frequent storms the State must stir + While Freedom we possess, + Our hearts may all beat true to Her, + Our own beloved Princess. + + The violet gives its sweet perfume + Unconscious of its worth; + So Love unfolds her sacred bloom + And hallows sinful earth; + May God her gentle life prolong + And all her pathway bless; + Be this the nation’s fervent song— + God save our dear Princess! + +Although the language of a song may not always be intelligible to the +unlettered hearer, the spirit and sentiment are; especially when it +appeals to the emotions through the charms of music. The sergeant had a +musical voice capable of deep pathos; and as the note of a bird or the +cry of an animal in distress is always distinguishable from every other +sound, so the pathos of poetry finds its way where its words are not +always accurately understood. It was very observable, and much I thought +to the sergeant’s great power as a singer, that the first chorus was sung +with a tone which seemed to imply that the audience was feeling its way: +the second was given with more enthusiasm and vehemence: the third was +thumped upon the table as though a drum were required to give full effect +to the feelings of the company; while the fourth was shouted with such +heartiness that mere singing seemed useless, and it developed into loud +hurrahs, repeated again and again; and emphasized by the twirling of +hats, the clapping of hands, and stamping of feet. + +“What d’ye think o’ that?” says the Boardman. + +“I’m on,” said Lazyman; “give me the shilling, sergeant, if you please?” + +“So’m I,” said Saunter. + +“Hooroar!” shouted the stentorian voice that had erstwhile charmed the +audience with Brimstone’s sermon. + +“Bravo!” said Harry. + +“Look’ee here,” said Jack Outofwork, “we’ve had a werry pleasant evenin’ +together, and I ain’t goin’ to part like this ’ere; no more walkin’ about +looking arter jobs for me, I’m your man, sergeant.” + +“Well,” said the sergeant, eyeing his company, “I didn’t expect this; a +pluckier lot o’ chaps I never see; and I’m sure when the Queen sees you +it’ll be the proudest moment of her life. Why, how tall do you stand, +Mr. Lazyman?” + +“Six foot one,” said he. + +“Ha,” said the Sergeant, “I thought so. And you, Mr. Outofwork?” + +“I don’t rightly know,” said Jack. + +“Well,” said the sergeant, “just stand up by the side of me—ha, that will +do,” he added, pretending to take an accurate survey, “I think I can +squeeze you in—it will be a tight fit though.” + +“I hope you can, Mr. Sergeant,” said he. + +“Look ’ere,” laughed Joe; “We’ll kitch ’old of his legs and give him a +stretch, won’t us, Sergeant?” + +And so the bright shillings were given, and the pretty maid’s services +were again called in; and she said “she never see sich a lot o’ plucky +fellows in her born days;” and all were about to depart when, as the +sergeant was shaking hands with Dick Devilmecare in the most pathetic and +friendly manner, as though he were parting from a brother whom he had not +met for years, Devilmecare’s eyes filled with tears, and he exclaimed, + +“Danged if I’ll be left out of it, sergeant; give me the shillin’?” + +At this moment the portly figure of Mr. Bumpkin again appeared in the +doorway! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +The famous Don O’Rapley and Mr. Bumpkin spend a social evening at the +“Goose.” + +When Mr. Bumpkin, on this memorable evening, went into Mrs. Oldtimes’ +parlour to console himself after the fatigues and troubles of the day +there were a cheerful fire and a comfortable meal prepared for him. Mr. +O’Rapley had promised to spend the evening with him, so that they might +talk over the business of the day and the prospects of the coming trial. +It was a very singular coincidence, and one that tended to cement the +friendship of these two gentlemen, that their tastes both inclined to +gin-and-water. And this very house, as appeared from a notice on the +outside, was the “noted house for Foolman’s celebrated gin.” + +But as yet Mr. O’Rapley had not arrived; so after his meal Mr. Bumpkin +looked into the other room to see how Joe was getting on, for he was +extremely anxious to keep his “head witness” straight. “Joe was his +mainstay.” + +I have already related what took place, and the song that Bumpkin sang. +The statement of the head witness that he was all right, and that he was +up to Mr. Sergeant, to a great extent reassured Mr. Bumpkin: although he +felt, keen man that he was, that that soldier was there for the purpose +of “ketchin what young men he could to make sogers on ’em; he had ’eerd +o’ sich things afore:” such were his thoughts as Mr. O’Rapley entered the +apartment. + +“Dear me, Mr. Bumpkin,” said that official, “how very cold it is! how are +you, Mrs. Oldtimes? I haven’t seen you for an age.” + +The Don always made that observation when strangers were present. + +“Hope you’re quite well, sir,” said the landlady, with much humility. + +“What’ll thee please to take, sir?” asked Bumpkin. + +“Well, now, I daresay you’ll think me remarkable strange, Mr. Bumpkin, +but I’m going to say something which I very very seldom indulge in, but +it’s good, I believe, for indigestion. I will take a little—just a very +small quantity—of gin, with some hot water, and a large lump of sugar, to +destroy the alcohol.” + +“Ha!” said the knowing Bumpkin; “that’s wot we call gin-and-water in our +part of the country. So’ll I, Mrs. Oldtimes, but not too much hot water +for I. What’ll thee smoke, sir?” + +“Thank you, one of those cheroots that my lord praised so much the last +time we was ’ere.” + +“If you please, sir,” said the landlady, with a very good-natured smile. + +“Well,” said the O’Rapley, in his patronizing manner; “and how have we +got on to-day? let us hear all about it. Come, your good health, Mr. +Bumkin, and success to our lawsuit. I call it _ours_ now, for I really +feel as interested in it as you do yourself; by-the-bye, what’s it all +about, Mr. Bumpkin?” + +“Well, sir, you see,” replied the astute man, “I hardly knows; it beginnd +about a pig, but what it’s about now, be more un I can tell thee. I +think it be salt and trespass.” + +“You have not enquired?” + +“No, I beant; I left un all in the hands o’ my lawyer, and I believe he’s +a goodun, bean’t he?” + +“Let me see; O dear, yes, a capital man—a very good man indeed, a close +shaver.” + +“Is ur? and that’s what I want. I wants thic feller shaved as close to +his chin as may be.” + +“Ah!” said O’Rapley, “and Prigg will shave him, and no mistake. Well, +and how did we get on at the Mansion House? First of all, who was +against you?—Mrs. Oldtimes, I _think_ I’ll just take a very small +quantity more, it has quite removed my indigestion—who was against you, +sir?” + +“Mr. Nimble; but, lor, he worn’t nowhere; I had un to rights,—jest gi’e +me a leetle more, missus,—he couldn’t axe I a question I couldn’t answer; +and I believe he said as good, for I zeed un talking to the Lord Mayor; +it worn’t no use to question I.” + +“You didn’t say anything about me?” + +“No,” answered Bumpkin, in a loud whisper; “I din’t; but I did say afore +I could stop the word from comin’ out o’ my mouth as I had a _companion_, +but they didn’t ketch it, except that the gentleman under the lord mayor +were gwine to ax about thee, and blowed if the counsellor didn’t stop un; +so that be all right.” + +“Capital!” exclaimed the great bowler, waving his arm as if in the act of +delivery; then, in a whisper, “Did they ask about the woman?” + +“Noa—they doan’t know nowt about thic—not a word; I was mighty plased at +un, for although, as thee be aware, it be the biggest lie as ever wur +heard, I wouldn’t have my wife hear o’ sich to save my life. She be a +good wife to I an’ allays have a bin; but there I thee could clear me in +a minute, if need be, sir.” + +“Yes, but you see,” said the artful Don, “if I was to appear, it would +make a sensational case of it in a minute and fill all the papers.” + +“Would ur now? Morn’t do that nuther; but, wot d’ye think, sir? As I +wur leavin’ the Cooart, a gemman comes up and he says, says he, ‘I +spoase, sir, you don’t want this thing put in the papers?’ How the dooce +he knowed that, I can’t make out, onless that I wouldn’t say where I +lived, for the sake o’ Nancy; no, nor thee couldn’t ha’ dragged un out o’ +me wi’ horses.” + +“Yes?” said the Don, interrogatively. + +“‘Well,’ says I, ‘no, I don’t partickler want it in.’ I thought I’d say +that, don’t thee zee (with a wink), ’cos he shouldn’t think I were eager +like.” + +“Exactly,” + +“Well, this ’ere gemman says, says he, ‘It don’t matter to me, sir, +whether it’s in or not, but if thee don’t want it in, I’ll keep it out, +that’s all. It will pay I better p’raps to put un in.’ + +“‘And who med thee be, sir?’ I axed. + +“‘Only the _Times_’, said the gemman, ‘that’s all.’ Then, turning to his +friend, he said, ‘Come on, Jack, the gemman wants it in, so we’ll have it +in, every word, and where he comes from too, and all about the gal; we +know all about it, don’t us, Jack?’” + +“Ha!” said the O’Rapley, blowing out a large cloud, and fixing his eye on +the middle stump. + +“Well,” continued Bumpkin, “thee could ha’ knocked I down wi’ a feather. +How the doose they knowed where I comed from I can’t make out; but here +wur I as cloase to the man as writes the _Times_ as I be to thee.” + +The O’Rapley nodded his head knowingly several times. + +“‘Well, and how much do thee charge to keep un out?’ seys I. ‘Don’t be +too hard upon me, I be only a poor man.’ + +“‘We have only one charge,’ says the _Times_, ‘and that is half a +guinea.’ + +“‘Spoase we say seven and six,’ sess I. + +“‘That,’ seys the _Times_, ‘wouldn’t keep your name out, and I suppose +you don’t want that in?’ ‘Very well,’ I sess, takin’ out my leather bag +and handin’ him the money; ‘this’ll keep un out, wool ur?’ + +“‘Sartainly,’ says he; and then his friend Jack says, ‘My fee be five +shillings, sir.’ ‘And who be thee?’ says I. ‘I’m the _Telegrarf_,’ seys +he. ‘The devil thee be?’ I sess, ‘I’ve eerd tell on ee.’ ‘Largest +calculation in the world,’ he says; ‘and, if thee like,’ he says, ‘I can +take the _Daily Noos_ and _Stanard_ money, for I don’t see ’em here jist +now; it’ll be five shillings apiece.’ + +“‘Well,’ I sess, ‘this be rum business, this; if I takes a quantity like +this, can’t it be done a little cheaper?’ + +“‘No,’ he says; ‘we stands too high for anything o’ that sort. Thee can +’ave it or leave it.’ + +“‘Very well,’ I sess; ‘then, if there’s no option, there’s the money.’ +And with that I handed un the fifteen shillings. + +“‘Then,’ says the _Times_, ‘we’d better look sharp, Jack, or else we +shan’t be in time to keep it out.’ And wi’ that they hurried off as fast +as they could. I will say’t they didn’t let the grass grow under their +feet.” + +“And why,” enquired the Don, with an amused smile, “were you so anxious +to keep it out of the _Times_? Mrs. Bumpkin doesn’t read the _Times_, +does she?” + +“Why, no; but then the Squoire tak it in, and when eve done wi un he +lends un to the Doctor, Mr. Gossip; and when he gets hold o’ anything, +away it goes to the Parish Clerk, Mr. Jeerum, and then thee med as well +hire the town crier at once.” + +“I see; but if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Bumpkin, I will give you a bit of +information that may be of service.” + +“Thankee, sir; will thee jist tak a little more to wet the tother eye +like.” + +“Well, really,” replied O’Rapley, “it is long past my hour of nocturnal +repose.” + +“What, sir? I doant ondustand.” + +“I mean to say that I generally hook it off to bed before this.” + +“Zackly; but we’ll ’ave another. Your leave, sir, thee was going to tell +I zummat.” + +“O yes,” said Mr. O’Rapley, with a wave of the hand in imitation of the +Lord Chief Justice. “I was going to say that those two men were a couple +of rogues.” + +Mr. Bumpkin paused in the act of passing the tumbler to his lips, like +one who feels he has been artfully taken in. + +“You’ve been done, sir!” said Mr. O’Rapley emphatically, “that man who +said he was the _Times_ was no more the _Times_ than you’re _Punch_.” + +“Nor thic _Telegrarf_ feller!” + +“No. And you could prosecute them. And I’ll tell you what you could +prosecute them for.” Mr. Bumpkin looked almost stupified. + +“I’ll tell you what these villains have been guilty of; they’ve been +guilty of obtaining money by false pretences, and conspiring to obtain +money by false pretences.” + +“Have um?” said Bumpkin. + +“And you can prosecute them. You’ve only got to go and put the matter in +the hands of the police, and then go to some first-rate solicitor who +attends police courts; now I can recommend you one that will do you +justice. I should like to see these rascals well punished.” + +“And will this fust-rate attorney do un for nothin’?” + +“Why, hardly; any more than you would sell him a pig for nothing.” + +“Then I shan’t prosekit,” said Mr. Bumpkin; “the devil’s in’t, I be no +sooner out o’ one thing than I be into another—why I beant out o’ thic +watch job yet, for I got to ’pear at the Old Bailey on the +twenty-fourth.” + +“O, committed for trial, was he?” exclaimed the Don. + +“Sure wur ur,” said Mr. Bumpkin triumphantly—“guilty!” + +Now I perceived that the wily Mr. O’Rapley did not recommend Bumpkin to +obtain the services of a solicitor to conduct his prosecution in this +case; and I apprehend for this reason, that the said solicitor being +conscientious, would unquestionably recommend and insist that Mr. +Bumpkin’s evidence at the Old Bailey should be supported by that of the +Don himself. So Mr. Bumpkin was left to the tender mercies of the Public +Prosecutor or a criminal tout, or the most inexperienced of “soup” +instructed counsel, as the case might be, but of which matters at present +I have no knowledge as I have no dreams of the future. + +Then Mr. Bumpkin said, “By thy leave, worthy Mr. O’Rapley, I will just +see what my head witness be about: he be a sharp lad enow, but wants a +dale o’ lookin arter.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +Don O’Rapley expresses his views of the policy of the legislature in not +permitting dominoes to be played in public houses. + +When Mr. Bumpkin returned to the cosy parlour, his face was red and his +teeth were set. He was so much agitated indeed, that instead of +addressing Mr. O’Rapley, he spoke to Mrs. Oldtimes, as though in her +female tenderness he might find a more sincere and sympathetic adviser. + +Mr. Bumpkin was never what you would call an eloquent or fluent speaker: +his Somersetshire brogue was at times difficult of comprehension. He +certainly was not fluent when he said to Mrs. Oldtimes: “Why +thic—there—damn un Mrs. Oldtimes if he beant gwine and never zeed zich a +thing in my bornd days—” + +“Why what ever in the name of goodness gracious is the matter?” asked the +landlady. + +“Why thic there head witness o’ mine: a silly-brained—Gor forgive me that +iver I should spake so o’ un, for he wor allays a good chap; and I do +b’leeve he’ve got moore sense than do any thing o’ that kind.” + +“What’s the matter? what’s the matter?” again enquired Mrs. Oldtimes. + +“Why he be playin’ dominoes wi thic Sergeant.” + +“O,” said the landlady, “I was afraid something had happened. We’re not +allowed to know anything about dominoes or card-playing in our house—the +Law forbids our knowing it, Mr. Bumpkin; so, if you please, we will not +talk about it—I wish to conduct my house as it always has been for the +last five-and-twenty years, in peace and quietness and respectability, +Mr. Bumpkin, which nobody can never say to the contrairy. It was only +the last licensing day Mr. Twiddletwaddle, the chairman of the Bench, +said as it were the best conducted house in Westminster.” + +Now whether it was that the report of this domino playing was made in the +presence of so high a dignitary of the law as Mr. O’Rapley, or from any +other cause, I cannot say, but Mrs. Oldtimes was really indignant, and +positively refused to accept any statement which involved the character +of her establishment. + +“I think,” she continued, addressing Mr. O’Rapley, “you have known this +house for some time, sir.” + +“I have,” said O’Rapley. “I have passed it every evening for the last +ten years.” + +“Ah now, to be sure—you hear that, Mr. Bumpkin. What do you think of +that?” + +“Never saw anything wrong, I will say that.” + +“Never a game in my house, if I knows it; and what’s more, I won’t +believe it until I sees it.” + +“Ockelar demonstration, that’s the law,” said the Don. + +Mr. Bumpkin’s excitement was absolutely merged in that of the landlady, +whom he had so innocently provoked. He stared as the parties continued +their wordy justification of this well-ruled household like one dreaming +with his eyes open. No woman could have made more ado about her own +character than Mrs. Oldtimes did respecting that of her house. But then, +the one could be estimated in money, while the other possessed but an +abstract value. + +“I believe,” she repeated, “that cards or dominoes has never been played +in my house since here I’ve been, or since the law has been what it is.” + +“I be wery sorry,” said the penitent Bumpkin; “I warn’t aweare I wur +doing anythin’ wrong.” + +“It’s unlawful, you see, to play,” said the Don; “and consequently they +dursn’t play. Now, why is it unlawful? Because Public Houses is for +drinking, not for amusement. Now, sir, Drink is the largest tax-payer +we’ve got—therefore Drink’s an important Industry. Set people to work +drinking and you get a good Rewenue, which keeps up the Army and Navy—the +Navy swims in liquor, sir—but let these here Perducers of the Rewenue +pause for the sake o’ playing dominoes, or what not, and what’s the +consequence? You check this important industry—therefore don’t by any +manner of means interrupt drinking. It’s an agreeable ockepation and a +paying one.” + +“Well done, sir,” said Oldtimes, from the corner of the fireplace, where +he was doing his best with only one mouth and one constitution to keep up +the Army and Navy. A patriotic man was Oldtimes. + +“Drink,” continued O’Rapley, “is the most powerful horgsilery the +Government has.” + +“Ah!” said Mr. Bumpkin, not knowing what a horgsilery was; “now thee’ve +gone a-head o’ me, sir. Thee’re a larned man, Mr. O’Rapley, and I beant +much of a schollard; will thee please to tell I what a horgs—what wur +it?” + +“Horgsilery,” said Mr. O’Rapley. + +“Horsgilly—ah! so twur. Well, by thy leave, worthy sir, will thee be so +kind as to tell I be it anything like a hogshead?” + +“Well,” said Mr. O’Rapley, “its more like a corkscrew: the taxes of the +country would be bottled up as tight as champagne and you couldn’t get +’em out without this corkscrew.” + +“But I worn’t spakin’ about taxes when I spak of dominoes; what I wur +alludin’ to wur thic Joe been drawed in to goo for a soger.” + +“Lor, bless you,” said Mrs. Oldtimes, “many a man as good as Joe have +listed before now and will again.” + +“Mayhap,” said Bumpkin; “but he wurn’t my ’ead witness and didn’t work +for I. Joe be my right hand man, although I keeps un down and tells un +he beant fit for nothin’.” + +“Ha,” said the Don, “he’s not likely to go for a soldier, I think, if +it’s that good-looking young chap I saw with the kicking-straps on.” + +“Kickin’-straps,” said Bumpkin; “haw! haw! haw! That be a good un. Well +he told I he wur up to un and I think ur be: he’ll be a clever feller if +ur gets our Joe. Why Nancy ud goo amost out o’ her mind. And now, sir, +will thee ’ave any moore?” + +Mr. O’Rapley, in the most decisive but polite manner, refused. He had +quite gone out of his way as it was in the hope of serving Mr. Bumpkin. +He was sure that the thief would be convicted, and as he rose to depart +seized his friend’s hand in the most affectionate manner. Anything he +could do for him he was sure he would do cheerfully, at any amount of +self-sacrifice—he would get up in the night to serve him. + +“Thankee,” said Bumpkin; but he had hardly spoken when he was startled by +the most uproarious cheers from the taproom. And then he began again +about the folly of young men getting into the company of recruiting +sergeants. + +“Look here,” said the Don, confidentially, “take my advice—say nothing—a +still tongue makes a wise head; to persuade a man not to enter the army +is tantamount to advising him to desert. If you don’t mind, you may lay +yourself open to a prosecution.” + +“Zounds!” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin, “it seem to me a man in Lunnon be every +minit liable to a prosecution for zummat. I hope sayin’ that beant +contempt o’ Coourt, sir.” + +Mr. O’Rapley was silent—his head drooped towards Mr. Bumpkin in a +semi-conscious manner, and he nodded three consecutive times: called for +another “seroot,” lit it after many efforts, and again assuring Mr. +Bumpkin that he would do all he could towards facilitating his triumph +over Snooks, was about to depart, when his friend asked him, +confidentially, whether he had not better be at the Old Bailey when the +trial came on, in case of its being necessary to call him. + +“Shurel not!” hiccupped the Don. Then he pointed his finger, and leering +at Bumpkin, repeated, “Shurel not;—jus swell cll Ch. Jussiself”—which +being interpreted meant, “Certainly not, you might just as well call the +Chief Justice himself.” + +“Pr’aps he’ll try un?” said Bumpkin. + +“Noer won’t—noer won’t: Chansy Juge mos likel Massr Rolls.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +In spite of all warnings, Joe takes his own part, not to be persuaded on +one side or the other—affecting scene between Mr. Bumpkin and his old +servant. + +“Whatever can that there shoutin’ be for, Mrs. Oldtimes—they be terrible +noisy.” + +“O,” said the landlady, “somebody else has listed.” + +“I hope it beant that silly Joe. I warned un two or three times agin +thic feller.” + +“There have been several to-night,” said the landlady, who had scarcely +yet recovered from the insinuations against the character of her house. + +“How does thee know thic, my dear lady?” + +“O, because Miss Prettyface have been in and out sewin’ the colours on +all the evening, that’s all. Sergeant Goodtale be the best recrootin’ +sergeant ever come into a town—he’d list his own father!” + +“Would ur, now?” said Bumpkin. “Beant thee afeard o’ thy husband bein’ +took?” + +Mrs. Oldtimes shrieked with laughter, and said she wished he would list +Tom, for he wasn’t any good except to sit in the chimney corner and smoke +and drink from morning to night. + +“And keep up th’ Army,” growled the husband + +“Ha, keep up the Army, indeed,” said Mrs. Oldtimes; “you do your share in +that way, I grant.” + +Now it was quite manifest that that last cheer from the taproom was the +herald of the company’s departure. There was a great scuffling and +stamping of feet as of a general clearing out, and many “good nights.” +Then the big manly voice of the Sergeant said: “Nine o’clock, lads; nine +o’clock; don’t oversleep yourselves; we shall have chops at eight. What +d’ye say to that, Mrs. Oldtimes?” + +“As you please, Sergeant; but there’s a nice piece of ham, if any would +like that.” + +“Ha!” said the Sergeant; “now, how many would like ham?” + +“I’se for a chop,” said Joe, working his mouth as if he would get it in +training. + +“Right,” said the Sergeant, “we’ll see about breakfast in the morning. +But you know, Mrs. Oldtimes, we like to start with a good foundation.” + +And with three cheers for the Sergeant the recruits left the house: all +except Joe, who occupied his old room. + +After they were gone, and while Mr. Bumpkin was confidentially conversing +with the landlord in the chimney corner, he was suddenly aroused by the +indomitable Joe bursting into the room and performing a kind of dance or +jig, the streamers, meanwhile, in his hat, flowing and flaunting in the +most audaciously military manner. + +“Halloa! halloa! zounds! What be th’ meaning o’ all this? Why, Joe! +Joe! thee’s never done it, lad! O dear! dear!” + +There were the colours as plain as possible in Joe’s hat, and there was a +wild unmeaning look in his eyes. It seemed already as if the old +intimacy between him and his master were at an end. His memory was more +a thing of the future than the past: he recollected the mutton chops that +were to come. And I verily believe it was brightened by the dawn of new +hopes and aspirations. There was an awakening sense of individuality. +Hitherto he had been the property of another: he had now exercised the +right of ownership over himself; and although that act had transferred +him to another master, it had seemed to give him temporary freedom, and +to have conferred upon him a new existence. + +Man is, I suppose, what his mind is, and Joe’s mind was as completely +changed as if he had been born into a different sphere. The moth comes +out of the grub, the gay Hussar out of the dull ploughman. + +“Why, Joe, Joe,” said his old master. “Thee’s never gone an’ listed, has +thee, Joe?” + +“Lookee ’ere, maister,” said the recruit, taking off his hat and +spreading out the colours—“Thee sees these here, maister?” + +“Thee beant such a fool, Joe, I knows thee beant—thee’s been well brought +oop—and I knows thee beant gwine to leave I and goo for a soger!” + +“I be listed, maister.” + +“Never!” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin. “I wunt b’lieve it, Joe.” + +“Then thee must do tother thing, maister. I tellee I be listed; now, +what’s thee think o’ that?” + +“That thee be a fool,” said Mr. Bumpkin, angrily; “thee be a +silly-brained—.” + +“Stop a bit, maister, no moore o’ that. I beant thy sarvant now. I be a +Queen’s man—I be in the Queen’s sarvice.” + +“A pooty Queen’s man thee be, surely. Why look at thic hair all down +over thy face, and thee be as red as a poppy.” + +Now I perceived that although neither master nor man was in such a state +as could be described as “intoxicated,” yet both were in that +semi-beatific condition which may be called sentimental. + +“Lookee ’ere, maister,” continued Joe. + +“And lookee here,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “didn’t I come out to thee two or +three times, and call thee out and tell ’ee to tak’ heed to thic soger +feller, for he wur up to no good? Did I Joe, or did I not?” + +“Thee did, maister.” + +“Well, an’ now look where thee be; he’ve regler took thee in, thee silly +fool.” + +“No, he beant; for he wouldn’t ’ave I at fust, and told I to goo and ax +my mither. No ses I, I’ll goo to the divil afore I be gwine to ax +mither. I beant a child, I ses.” + +“But thee’s fond o’ thy poor old mither, Joe; I knows thee be, and sends +her a shillin’ a week out o’ thy wages; don’t thee, Joe?” + +This was an awkward thrust, and pricked the lad in his most sensitive +part. His under-lip drooped, his mouth twitched, and his eyes glistened. +He was silent. + +“Where’ll thy poor old mither get a shilling a week from noo, Joe? +That’s what I wants to know.” + +Joe drew his sleeve over his face, but bore up bravely withal. _He_ +wasn’t going to cry, not he. + +“Thee beest a silly feller to leave a good ooame and nine shillin’ a week +to goo a sogerin; and when thee was out o’ work, there were allays a +place for thee, Joe, at the fireside: now, warnt there, Joe?” + +“Lookee ’ere, maister, I be for betterin’ myself.” + +“Betterin’ thyself? who put that into thy silly pate? thic sergeant, I +bleeve.” + +“So ur did; not by anything ur said, but to see un wi beef steaks and +ingons for supper, while I doan’t ’ave a mouthful o’ mate once a week, +and work like a oarse.” + +“Poor silly feller—O dear, dear! whatever wool I tell Nancy and thy poor +mither. What redgimen be thee in, Joe?” + +“Hooroars!” + +“Hooroars! hoo-devils!” and I perceived that Mr. Bumpkin’s eyes began to +glisten as he more and more realized the fact that Joe was no more to +him—“thee manest the oosors, thee silly feller; a pooty oosor thee’ll +make!” + +“I tellee what,” said Joe, whose pride was now touched, “Maister Sergeant +said I wur the finest made chap he ever see.” + +“That’s ow ur gulled thee, Joe.” + +“Noa didn’t; I went o’ my own free will. No man should persuade I—trust +Joe for thic: couldn’t persuade I to goo, nor yet not to goo.” + +“That’s right,” chimed in Miss Prettyface, with her sweet little voice. + +“And thee sewed the colours on; didn’t thee, Miss?” + +“I did,” answered the young lady. + +“Joe,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “I be mortal sorry for thee; what’ll I do wirout +thy evidence? Lawyer Prigg say thee’s the most wallible witness for I.” + +“Lookee ’ere, maister, ere we bin ’anging about for weeks and weeks and +no forrerder so far as I can see. When thy case’ll come on I don’t +bleeve no man can tell; but whensomdever thee wants Joe, all thee’ve got +to do is to write to the Queen, and she’ll gie I leave.” + +“O thee silly, igerant ass!” said Mr. Bumpkin; “I can’t help saying it, +Joe—the Queen doan’t gie leave, it be the kernel. I know zummut o’ +sogerin, thee see; I were in th’ militia farty year agoo: but spoase thee +be away—abraird? How be I to get at thee then?” + +“Ha! if I be away in furren parts, and thy case be in the list, I doant +zee—” + +“Thee silly feller, thee’ll ha to goo fightin’ may be.” + +“Well,” said Joe, “I loikes fightin’.” + +“Thee loikes fightin’! what’s thee know about fightin’? never fit +anything in thy life but thic boar-pig, when he got I down in the yard. +O, Joe, I can’t bear the thought o thee goin’.” + +“Noa, but Maister Sergeant says thee jist snicks off the ’eads of the +enemy like snickin’ off the tops o’ beans.” + +“Yes, but ow if thee gets thine snicked off?” + +“Well, if mine be snicked off, it wunt be no use to I, and I doan’t care +who has un when I ha’ done wi un: anybody’s welcome as thinks he can do +better with un than I, or ’as moore right to un.” + +“Joe, Joe, whatever’ll them there pigs do wirout thee, and thic there +bull ’ll goo out of his mind—he wur mighty fond o’ thee, Joe—thee couldst +do anything wi un: couldn’t ur, Joe?” + +“Ha!” said the recruit; “that there bull ud foller I about anywhere, and +so ur would Missis.” + +“Then there be Polly!” + +“Ha, that there Polly, she cocked her noase at I, maister, becos she +thought I worn’t good enough; but wait till she sees me in my cloase; she +wunt cock her noase at I then, I’ll warrant.” + +“Well, Joe, as thee maks thy bed so thee must lie on un, lad. I wish +thee well, Joe.” + +“Never wronged thee, did I, maister?” + +“Never; no, never.” And at this point master and man shook hands +affectionately. + +“Gie my love to thic bull,” said Joe. “I shall come down as soon as evir +I can: I wish they’d let me bring my oarse.” + +“Joe, thee ha’ had too much to drink, I know thee has; and didn’t I warn +thee, Joe? Thee can’t say I didn’t warn thee.” + +“Thee did, maister, I’ll allays say it; thee warned I well—but lor that +there stuff as the Sergeant had, it jist shoots through thee and livins +thee oop for all the world as if thee got a young ooman in thee arms in a +dancin’ booth at the fair.” + +“Ha, Joe, it were drink done it.” + +“Noa, noa, never!—good-night, maister, and God bless thee—thee been a +good maister, and I been a good sarvant. I shall allays think o’ thee +and Missis, too.” + +Here I saw that Mr. Bumpkin, what with his feelings and what with his +gin-and-water, was well nigh overcome with emotion. Nor was it to be +wondered at; he was in London a stranger, waiting for a trial with a +neighbour, with whom for years he had been on friendly terms; his hard +savings were fast disappearing; his stock and furniture were mortgaged; +some of it had been sold, and his principal witness and faithful servant +was now gone for a soldier. In addition to all this, poor Mr. Bumpkin +could not help recalling the happiness of his past life, his early +struggles, his rigid self-denial, his pleasure as the modest savings +accumulated—not so much occasioned by the sordid desire of wealth, as the +nobler wish to be independent. Then there was Mrs. Bumpkin, who +naturally crossed his mind at this miserable moment in his existence—at +home by herself—faithful, hardworking woman, who believed not only in her +husband’s wisdom, but in his luck. She had never liked this going to +law, and would much rather have given Snooks the pig than it should have +come about; yet she could not help believing that her husband must be +right come what may. What would she think of Joe’s leaving them in this +way? All this passed through the shallow mind of the farmer as he +prepared for bed. And there was no getting away from his thoughts, try +as he would. As he lay on his bed there passed before his mind the old +farm-house, with its elm tree; and the barnyard, newly littered down with +the sweet smelling fodder; the orchard blossoms smiling in the morning +sunshine; the pigs routing through the straw; the excited ducks and the +swifter fowls rushing towards Mrs. Bumpkin as she came out to shake the +tablecloth; the sleek and shining cows; the meadows dotted all over with +yellow buttercups; the stately bull feeding in the distance by himself; +the lazy stream that pursued its even course without a quarrel or a +lawsuit; all these, and a thousand other remembrances of home, passed +before the excited and somewhat distempered vision of the farmer on this +unhappy night. Had he been a criminal waiting his trial he could not +have been more wretched. At length he endeavoured to console himself by +thinking of Snooks: tried to believe that victory over that ill-disposed +person would repay the trouble and anxiety it cost him to achieve. But +no, not even revenge was sweet under his present circumstances. It is +always an apple of ashes at the best; but, weighed now against the +comforts and happiness of a peaceful life, it was worse than ashes—it was +poison. + + * * * * * + +Here I awoke. + +“Now,” said my wife, “is it not just as I told you? I knew that artful +Sergeant would enlist poor stupid Joe?” + +“O,” quoth I, “have I been talking again?” + +“More than ever; and I am very sorry Joe has deserted his kind master. I +am afraid now he will lose his case.” + +“I am not concerned about that at present; my work is but to dream, not +to prophesy events. I hope Mr. Bumpkin will win, but nothing is so +uncertain as the Law.” + +“And why should that be? Law should be as certain as the Multiplication +Table.” + +“Ah,” sighed I, “but—” + +“A man who brings an action must be right or wrong,” interrupted my wife. + +“Yes,” said I, “and sometimes he’s both; and one judge will take one view +of his case—his conduct out of Court, and his demeanour in—while another +judge will take another; why, I have known a man lose his case through +having a wart upon his nose.” + +“Gracious!” exclaimed my wife, “is it possible?” + +“Yes,” quoth I; “and another through having a twitch in his eye. Then +you may have a foolish jury, who take a prejudice against a man. For +instance, if a lawyer brings an action, he can seldom get justice before +a common jury; and so if he be sued. A blue ribbon man on the jury will +be almost sure to carry his extreme virtue to the border of injustice +against a publican. Masters decide against workmen, and so on.” + +“Well, Mr. Bumpkin is not a lawyer, or a publican, or a blue ribbon man, +so I hope he’ll win.” + +“I don’t hope anything about it,” I replied. “I shall note down what +takes place; I don’t care who wins.” + +“When will his case at the Old Bailey come on? I think that’s the term +you use.” + +“It will be tried next week.” + +“He is sure to punish that wicked thief who stole his watch.” + +“One would think so: much will depend upon the way Mr. Bumpkin gives his +evidence; much on the way in which the thief is defended; a good deal on +the ability of the Counsel for the Prosecution; and very much on the +class of man they get in the jury box.” + +“But the case is so clear.” + +“Yes, to us who know all about it; but you have to make it clear to the +jury.” + +“There’s the watch found upon the man. Why, dear me, what can be clearer +or plainer than that?” + +“True; that’s Mr. Bumpkin’s evidence.” + +“And Mr. Bumpkin saw him take it.” + +“That’s Bumpkin again.” + +“Then Mr. O’Rapley was with him.” + +“Did you not hear that he is not to be called; the Don doesn’t want to be +seen in the affair.” + +“Well, I feel certain he will win. I shall not believe in trial by jury +if they let that man off.” + +“You don’t know what a trial at the Old Bailey or Quarter Sessions is. I +don’t mean at the Old Bailey before a real Common Law judge, but a +Chancery judge. I once heard a counsel, who was prosecuting a man for +passing bad money, interrupt a recorder in his summing up, and ask him to +tell the jury there was evidence of seven bad florins having been found +in the prisoner’s boot. As guilty knowledge was the gist of the offence, +this seemed somewhat important. The learned young judge, turning to the +jury, said, in a hesitating manner, ‘Well, really, gentlemen, I don’t +know whether that will affect your judgment in any way; there is the +evidence, and you may consider it if you please.’” + +“One more thing I should like to ask.” + +“By all means.” + +“Why can’t they get Mr. Bumpkin’s case tried?” + +“Because there is no system. In the County Court, where a judge tries +three times as many cases in a day as any Superior judge, cases are tried +nearly always on the day they are set down for. At the Criminal Courts, +where every case is at least as important as any Civil case, everyone +gets tried without unnecessary delay. In the Common Law Courts it’s very +much like hunt the slipper—you hardly ever know which Court the case is +in for five minutes together. Then they sit one day and not another, to +the incalculable expense of the suitors, who may come up from Devonshire +to-night, and, after waiting a week, go back and return again to town at +the end of the following month.” + +“But, now that O’Rapley has taken the matter up, is there not some hope?” + +“Well, he seems to have as much power as anyone.” + +“Then I hope he’ll exert it; for it’s a shame that this poor man should +be kept waiting about so long. I quite feel for him: there really ought +not to be so much delay in the administration of justice.” + +“A dilatory administration of justice amounts too often to a denial of it +altogether. It always increases the expense, and often results in +absolute ruin.” + +“I wonder men don’t appoint someone when they fell out to arbitrate +between them.” + +“They often do, and too frequently, after all the expense of getting +ready for trial has been incurred, the case is at last sent to the still +more costly tribunal called a reference. Many matters cannot be tried by +a jury, but many can be that are not; one side clamouring for a reference +in order to postpone the inevitable result; the other often obliged to +submit and be defeated by mere lapse of time.” + +“It seems an endless sort of business.” + +“Not quite; the measure of it is too frequently the length of the purse +on the one side or the other. A Railway Company, who has been cast in +damages for £1,000, can soon wear out a poor plaintiff. One of the +greatest evils of modern litigation is the frequency with which new +trials are granted.” + +“Lawyers,” said my wife, “are not apparently good men of business.” + +“They are not organizers.” + +“It wants such a man as General Wolseley.” + +“Precisely.” And here I felt the usual drowsiness which the subject +invariably produces. So I dreamed again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +Morning reflections—Mrs. Oldtimes proves herself to be a great +philosopher—the departure of the recruits to be sworn in. + +And as I dreamed, methought what a strange paradox is human nature. How +often the night’s convivialities are followed by despondent morning +reflections! In the evening we grow valiant over the inspiriting +converse and the inspiring glass; in the morning we are tame and +calculating. The artificial gaslight disappears, and the sober, grey +morning breaks in upon our reason. If the sunshine only ripened one-half +the good resolves and high purposes formed at night over the social +glass, what a harvest of good deeds there would be! Yes, and if the +evening dissipations did not obliterate the good resolves of the morning, +which we so often form as a protection against sin and sorrow, what happy +creatures we should be! + +Methought I looked into a piece of three-cornered glass, which was +resting on a ledge of the old wall in the room where Joe was sleeping, +and that I read therein the innermost thoughts of this country lad. And +I saw that he awoke to a very dreadful sense of the realities of his new +position; that, one after another, visions of other days passed before +his mind’s eye as he lay gazing at the dormer window of his narrow +chamber. What a profound stillness there was! How different from the +roystering glee of the previous night! It was a stillness that seemed to +whisper of home; of his poor old mother; of the green sward lane that led +to the old farm; of the old oak tree, where the owls lived, and ghosts +were said to take up their quarters; of the stile where, of a Sunday +morning, he used to smoke his pipe with Jack, and Ned, and Charley; where +he had often stood to see Polly go by to church; and he knew that, +notwithstanding she would not so much as look at him, he loved her down +to the very sole of her boot; and would stand and contemplate the print +of her foot after she had passed; he didn’t know why, for there was +nothing in it, after all. No, Joe, nothing in it—it was in you; that +makes all the difference. And the voice whispered to him of sunny days +in the bright fields, when he held the plough, and the sly old rook would +come bobbing and pecking behind him; and the little field-mouse would +flit away from its turned up nest, frightened to death, as if it were +smitten with an earthquake; and the skylark would dart up over his head, +letting fall a song upon him, as though it were Heaven’s blessing. Then +the voice spoke of the noontide meal under the hedge in the warm +sunshine, or in the shade of the cool spreading tree; of the horses +feeding close up alongside the hedge; of the going home in the evening, +and the warm fireside, and the rustic song, and of the thousand and one +beloved associations that he was leaving and casting behind him for ever. +But then, again, he thought of “bettering his condition,” of getting on +in the world, of the smart figure he should look in the eyes of Polly, +who would be sure now to like him better than she liked the baker. He +never could see what there was in the baker that any girl should care +for; and he thought of what the Sergeant had said about asking his +mother’s leave. And then he pondered on the beef steaks and onions and +mutton chops, and other glories of a soldier’s life; so he got up with a +brave, resolute heart to face the world like a man, although it was +plainly visible that sorrow struggled in his eyes. + +There was just one tear for old times, the one tear that showed how very +human Joe was beneath all the rough incrustations with which ignorance +and poverty had enveloped him. + +As he was sousing his head and neck in a pail of cold water in the little +backyard of the Inn, the thought occurred to him,— + +“I wonder whether or no we ’gins these ’ere mutton chops for brakfast +to-day or arter we’re sweared in. I expects not till arter we’re sweared +in.” + +Then his head went into the pail with a dash, as if that was part of the +swearing-in process. As it came out he was conscious of a twofold +sensation, which it may not be out of place to describe: the sensation +produced by the water, which was refreshing in the highest degree, and +the sensation produced by what is called wind, which was also deliciously +refreshing; and it was in this wise. Borne along upon the current of air +which passed through the kitchen, there was the most odoriferous savour +of fried bacon that the most luxurious appetite could enjoy. It was so +beautifully and voluptuously fragrant that Joe actually stopped while in +the act of soaping his face that he might enjoy it. No one, I think, +will deny that it must have been an agreeable odour that kept a man +waiting with his eyes fall of soap for half a minute. + +“That beant amiss,” thought Joe; “I wonder whether it be for I.” + +The problem was soon solved, for as he entered the kitchen with a face as +bright and ruddy almost as the sun when he comes up through a mist, he +saw the table was laid out for five, and all the other recruits had +already assembled. There was not one who did not look well up to his +resolution, and I must say a better looking lot of recruits were never +seen: they were tall, well made, healthy, good-looking fellows. + +Now Mrs. Oldtimes was busy at the kitchen fire; the frying-pan was doing +its best to show what could be done for Her Majesty’s recruits. He was +hissing bravely, and seemed every now and then to give a louder and +heartier welcome to the company. As Joe came in I believe it fairly gave +a shout of enthusiasm, a kind of hooray. In addition to the rashers that +were frying, there was a large dish heaped up in front of the fire, so +that it was quite clear there would be no lack, however hungry the +company might be. + +Then they sat down and every one was helped. Mrs. Oldtimes was a woman +of the world; let me also state she had a deep insight into human nature. +She knew the feelings of her guests at this supreme moment, and how +cheaply they could be bought off at their present state of soldiering. +She was also aware that courage, fortitude, firmness, and the higher +qualities of the soul depend so much upon a contented stomach, that she +gave every one of her guests some nice gravy from the pan. + +It was a treat to see them eat. The Boardman was terrific, so was Jack. +Harry seemed to have a little more on his mind than the others, but this +did not interfere with his appetite; it simply affected his manner of +appeasing it. He seemed to be in love, for his manner was somewhat +reserved. At length the Sergeant came in, looking so cheerful and +radiant that one could hardly see him and not wish to be a soldier. Then +his cheery “Well, lads; good morning, lads,” was so home-like that you +almost fancied soldiering consisted in sitting by a blazing kitchen fire +on a frosty morning and eating fried bacon. What a spirit his presence +infused into the company! He detected at a glance the down-heartedness +of Harry, and began a story about his own enlistment years ago, when the +chances for a young man of education were nothing to what they are now. +The story seemed exactly to fit the circumstances of the case and cheered +Harry up wonderfully. Breakfast was nearly finished when the Sergeant, +after filling his pipe, said: + +“Comrades, what do you say; shall I wait till you’ve quite finished?” + +“No, no, Sergeant; no, no,” said all. + +Oh! the fragrance of that pipe! And the multiplied fragrance of all the +pipes! Then came smiling Miss Prettyface to see if their ribbons were +all right; and the longing look of all the recruits was quite an +affecting sight; and the genial motherly good-natured best wishes of Mrs. +Oldtimes were very welcome. All these things were pleasant, and proved +Mrs. Oldtimes’ philosophy to be correct—if you want to develop the higher +virtues in a man, feed him. + +Then came the word of command in the tone of an invitation to a pleasure +party: “Now, lads, what do you say?” And off went Harry, upright as if +he had been drilled; off went Bill, trying to shake off the deal boards +in which he had been sandwiched for a year and a half; off went Bob as +though he had found an agreeable occupation at last; off went Devilmecare +as though the war was only just the other side of the road; off went Jack +as though it mattered nothing to him whether it was the Army or the +Church; and, just as Mr. Bumpkin looked out of the parlour window, off +went his “head witness,” swaggering along in imitation of the Sergeant, +with the colours streaming from his hat as though any honest employment +was better than hanging about London for a case to “come on.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +A letter from home. + +“I wonder,” said Mrs. Oldtimes, “who this letter be for; it have been +’ere now nigh upon a week, and I’m tired o’ seein’ it.” + +Miss Prettyface took the letter in her hand and began, as best she could, +for the twentieth time to endeavour to decipher the address. It was very +much blotted and besmeared, and presented a very remarkable specimen of +caligraphy. The most legible word on it seemed “Gouse.” + +“There’s nobody here of that name,” said the young lady. “Do you know +anybody, Mr. Bumpkin, of the name of Gouse?” + +“Devil a bit,” said he, taking the letter in his hands, and turning it +over as if it had been a skittle-ball. + +“The postman said it belonged here,” said Mrs. Oldtimes, “but I can’t +make un out.” + +“I can’t read the postmark,” said Miss Prettyface. + +Mr. Bumpkin put on a large pair of glasses and examined the envelope with +great care. + +“I think you’ve got un upside down,” said Mrs. Oldtimes. + +“Ah! so ur be,” replied the farmer, turning it over several times. +“Why,” he continued, “here be a _b_—and a _u_, beant it? See if that +beant a _u_, Miss, your eyes be better un mine; they be younger.” + +“O yes, that’s a _u_,” said Miss Prettyface, “and an _m_.” + +“And that spell _bum_.” + +“But stop,” said Miss Prettyface, “here’s a _p_.” + +“That’s _bump_,” said Mrs. Oldtimes; “we shall get at something +presently.” + +“Why,” exclaimed Bumpkin, “I be danged if I doant think it be my old +’ooman’s writin’: but I beant sure. That be the way ur twists the tail +of ur _y_’s and _g_’s, I’ll swear; and lookee ’ere, beant this _k i n_?” + +“I think it is,” said the maid. + +“Ah, then, thee med be sure that be Bumpkin, and the letter be for I.” + +“Yes,” said the young lady, “and that other word which looks more like +Grouse is meant for Goose, the sign of the house.” + +“Sure be un,” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin, “and Nancy ha put Bumpkin and Goose +all in one line, when ur ought to ha made two lines ov un. Now look at +that, that letter might ha been partickler.” + +“So it may be as it is,” said Mrs. Oldtimes; “it’s from Mrs. Bumpkin, no +doubt. Aren’t you going to open it?” + +“I think I wool,” said Bumpkin, turning the letter round and round, and +over and over, as though there was some special private entrance which +could only be discovered by the closest search. At length Mrs. Oldtimes’ +curiosity was gratified, for he found a way in, and drew out the many +folded letter of the most difficult penmanship that ever was subjected to +mortal gaze. It was not that the writing was illegible, but that the +spelling was so extraordinary, and the terms of expression so varied. +Had I to interpret this letter without the aid of a dream I should have a +long and difficult task before me. But it is the privilege of dreamers +to see things clearly and in a moment: to live a lifetime in a few +seconds, and to traverse oceans in the space of a single respiration. +So, in the present instance, that which took Mr. Bumpkin, with the help +of Mrs. Oldtimes and the occasional assistance of Lucy an hour to +decipher, flashed before me in a single second. I ought perhaps to +translate it into a more civilized language, but that would be impossible +without spoiling the effect and disturbing the continuity of character +which is so essential in a work made up of various actors. Mr. Bumpkin +himself in his ordinary costume would be no more out of place in my Lord +Mayor’s state carriage than Mrs. Bumpkin wielding the Queen’s English in +its statelier and more fashionable adornment. So I give it as it was +written. It began in a bold but irregular hand, and clearly indicated a +certain agitation of mind not altogether in keeping with the even +temperament of the writer’s daily life. + +“Deer Tom” (the letter began), “I ope thee be well for it be a long time +agoo since thee left ere I cant mak un out wot be all this bother about +a pig but Tom thee’ll be glad to ear as I be doin weel the lamin be over +and we got semteen as pooty lams as ever thee clapped eyes on The weet +be lookin well and so be the barly an wuts thee’ll be glad Tom to ear wot +good luck I been avin wi sellin Mister Prigg have the kolt for twenty +pun a pun more an the Squoire ofered Sam broked er in and ur do look +well in Mrs. Prigg faten I met un the tother day Mr. Prigg wur drivin un +an he tooked off his at jist th’ sam as if I’d been a lady Missis Prigg +din’t see me as her edd wur turned th’ tother way I be glad to tell ee +we sold the wuts ten quorter these was bort by Mister Prigg and so wur +the stror ten load as clane and brite as ever thee seed Mr. Prigg be a +rale good custumer an a nice man I wish there was moore like im it ud be +the makin o’ th’ Parish we shal ave a nice lot o monie to dror from un at +Miklemes he be the best customer we ever ad an I toold th’ Squoire wen ur +corled about the wuts as Mister Prigg ad orfered ten shillin a quorter +for un more un ee Ur dint seem to like un an rod away but we dooant o un +anythink Tom so I dont mind we must sell ware we ken mak moast monie I +spose Sampson be stronger an grander than ever it’s my belief an I thinks +we shal do well wi un this Spring tell t’ Joe not to stop out o’ nites or +keep bad kumpany and to read evere nite wat the Wicker told un the fust +sarm an do thee read un Tom for its my bleef ur cant ’urt thee nuther.” + +“Humph!” said Bumpkin, “fust sarms indade. I got a lot o’ time for +sarms, an’ as for thic Joe—lor, lor, Nancy, whatever will thee say, I +wonder, when thee knows he’s gone for a soger—a sarm beant much good to +un now; he be done for.” + +And then Mr. Bumpkin went and looked out of the window, and thought over +all the good news of Mrs. Bumpkin’s letter, and mentally calculated that +even up to this time Mr. Prigg’s account would come to enough to pay the +year’s rent. + +Going to law seemed truly a most advantageous business. Here he had got +two shillings a quarter more for the oats than the Squire had offered, +and a pound more for the colt. Prigg was a famous customer, and no doubt +would buy the hay. And, strange to say, just as Mr. Bumpkin thought +this, he happened to turn over the last page of the letter, and there he +saw what was really a Postscript. + +“Halloo!” says he, “my dear, here be moore on’t; lookee ’ere.” + +“So there is,” answered Lucy; “let’s have a look.” And thus she read:— + +“The klover cut out well it made six lode the little rik an four pun +nineteen The Squoire ony offered four pun ten so in corse I let Mister +Prigg ave un.” + +“Well done, Nancy, thee be famous. Now, thic big rik’ll fetch moore’n +thic.” + +Such cheering intelligence put Mr. Bumpkin in good heart in spite of his +witness’s desertion. Joe was a good deal, but he wasn’t money, and if he +liked to go for a soger, he must go; but, in Mr. Bumpkin’s judgment, he +would very soon be tired of it, and wish himself back at his fireside. + +“Now, you must write to Mrs. Bumpkin,” said Lucy. + +“Thee’ll write for I, my dear; won’t thee?” + +“If you like,” said Lucy. And so, after dinner, when she had changed her +dress, she proceeded to write an epistle for Mrs. Bumpkin’s edification. +She had _carte blanche_ to put in what she liked, except that the main +facts were to be that Joe had gone for a horse soger; that he expected +“the case would come on every day;” and that he had the highest opinion +of the unquestioned ability of honest Lawyer Prigg. + +And now another surprise awaited the patient Bumpkin. As he sat, later +in the day, smoking his pipe, in company with Mrs. Oldtimes, two men, +somewhat shabbily dressed, walked into the parlour and ordered +refreshment. + +“A fine day, sir,” said the elder of the two, a man about thirty-five. +This observation was addressed to Mr. Bumpkin. + +“It be,” said the farmer. + +The other individual had seated himself near the fire, and was apparently +immersed in the study of the _Daily Telegraph_. Suddenly he observed to +his companion, as though he had never seen it before,— + +“Hallo! Ned, have you seen this?” + +“What’s that?” asked the gentleman called Ned. + +“Never read such a thing in my life. Just listen.” + + “‘A YOUNG MAN FROM THE COUNTRY.’ + “EXTRAORDINARY STORY. + + “A man, apparently about sixty-eight, who gave the name of Bumpkin, + appeared as the prosecutor in a case under the following + extraordinary circumstances. He said he was from the country, but + declined to give any more particular address, and had been taken by a + friend to see the Old Bailey and to hear the trials at that Court. + After leaving the Central Criminal Court, he deposed, that, walking + with his friend, he was accosted in the Street in the open daylight + and robbed of his watch; that he pursued the thief, and when near + Blackfriars Bridge met a man coming towards him; that he seized the + supposed thief, and found him wearing the watch which he affirmed had + been stolen. The manner and appearance of ‘the young man from the + country’ excited great laughter in Court, and the Lord Mayor, in the + absence of any evidence to the contrary, thought there was a _primâ + facie_ case under the circumstances, and committed the accused for + trial to the Central Criminal Court. The prisoner, who was + respectably dressed, and against whom nothing appeared to be known, + was most ably defended by Mr. Nimble, who declined to put any + questions in cross-examination, and did not address his Lordship. + The case created great sensation, and it is expected that at the + trial some remarkable and astounding disclosures will be made. ‘The + young man from the country’ was very remarkably dressed: he twirled + in his hand a large old-fashioned white-beaver hat with a black band + round it; wore a very peculiar frock, elaborately ornamented with + needlework in front and behind, while a yellow kerchief with red ends + was twisted round his neck. The countryman declined to give his town + address; but a remarkable incident occurred during the hearing, which + did not seem to strike either the Lord Mayor or the counsel for the + defence, and that was that no appearance of the countryman’s + companion was put in. Who he is and to what region he belongs will + probably transpire at the ensuing trial, which is expected to be + taken on the second day of the next Sessions. It is obvious that + while the case is _sub judice_ no comments can properly be made + thereon, but we are not prevented from saying that the evidence of + this extraordinary ‘young man from the country’ will be subjected to + the most searching cross-examination of one of the ablest counsel of + the English Bar.” + +The two men looked at Mr. Bumpkin; while the latter coloured until his +complexion resembled beetroot. Miss Prettyface giggled; and Mrs. +Oldtimes winked at Mr. Bumpkin, and shook her head in the most +significant manner. + +“That’s a rum case, sir,” said Ned. + +Silence. + +“I don’t believe a word of the story,” said his companion. + +Silence. + +“Do you believe,” he continued, “that that man could have been wearing +that watch if he’d stole it?” + +“Not I.” + +“Lor! won’t Jemmy Nimble make mincemeat of ’im!” + +Mrs. Oldtimes looked frequently towards Mr. Bumpkin as she continued her +sewing, making the most unmistakeable signals that under no circumstances +was he to answer. It was apparent to everyone, from Mr. Bumpkin’s +manner, that the paragraph referred to him. + +“The best thing that chap can do,” said Ned, “is not to appear at the +trial. He can easily keep away.” + +“He won’t, you’re sure,” answered the other man; “he knows a trick worth +two of that. They say the old chap deserted his poor old wife, after +beating her black and blue, and leaving her for dead.” + +“It be a lie!” exclaimed Bumpkin, thumping his fist on the table. + +“Oh!” said Ned, “do you know anything about it, sir? It’s no odds to me, +only a man can’t shut his ears.” + +“P’r’aps I do and p’r’aps I doant; but it beant no bi’niss o’ thine.” + +“I didn’t mean no offence, but anybody can read the paper, surely; it’s a +free country. P’r’aps you’re the man himself; I didn’t think o’ that.” + +“P’r’aps I be, and p’r’aps I beant.” + +“And p’r’aps your name is Bumpkin?” + +“And p’r’aps it beant, and what then?” + +“Why, you’ve nothing to do with it, that’s all; and I don’t see why you +should interfere.” + +“I can’t have no quarrelling in my house,” said the landlady. “This +gentleman’s nothing to do with it; he knows nothing at all about it; so, +if you please, gentlemen, we needn’t say any more.” + +“Oh! I don’t want to talk about it,” said Ned. + +“No more do I,” chimed in his companion; “but it’s a pity that he should +take up our conversation when he hasn’t anything to do with it, and his +name isn’t Bumpkin, and he hasn’t lost his watch. It’s no odds to me; I +don’t care, do you, Ned?” + +“Not I,” said Ned; “let’s be off; I don’t want no row; anybody mustn’t +open his mouth now. Good day, sir.” + +And the two young men went away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +Mr. Bumpkin determines to maintain a discreet silence about his case at +the Old Bailey—Mr. Prigg confers with him thereon. + +And I saw that Mr. Bumpkin’s case did not come on. Day by day passed +away, and still it was not in the paper. The reason, however, is simple, +and need not be told to any except those of my readers who are under the +impression that the expeditious administration of justice is of any +consequence. It was obvious to the most simple-minded that the case +could not be taken for a day or two, because there was a block in every +one of the three Courts devoted to the trial of Nisi Prius actions. And +you know as well as anyone, Mr. Bumpkin, that when you get a load of +turnips, or what not, in the market town blocked by innumerable other +turnip carts, you must wait. Patience, therefore, good Bumpkin. Justice +may be slow-footed, but she is sure handed; she may be blind and deaf, +but she is not dumb; as you shall see if you look into one of the +“blocked Courts” where a trial has been going on for the last sixteen +days. A case involving a dispute of no consequence to any person in the +world, and in which there is absolutely nothing except—O rare +phenomenon!—plenty of money. It was interesting only on account of the +bickerings between the learned counsel, and the occasionally friendly +altercations between the Bench and the Bar. But the papers had written +it into a _cause célèbre_, and made it a dramatic entertainment for the +beauty and the chivalry of England. So Mr. Bumpkin had still to wait; +but it enabled him to attend comfortably the February sittings of the Old +Bailey, where his other case was to be tried. + +When Mr. Prigg read the account of the proceedings before the Lord Mayor, +he was very much concerned, not to say annoyed, because he was under the +impression that he ought to have been consulted. Not knowing what to do +under the circumstances, he resolved, after due consideration, to get +into a hansom and drive down to the “Goose.” Mr. Prigg, as I have before +observed, was swift in decision and prompt in action. He had no sooner +resolved to see Bumpkin than to Bumpkin he went. But his client was out; +it was uncertain when he would be in. Judge of Mr. Prigg’s +disappointment! He left word that he would call again; he did call +again, and, after much dodging on the part of the wily Bumpkin, he was +obliged to surrender himself a captive to honest Prigg. + +“My dear Mr. Bumpkin,” exclaimed he, taking both the hands of his client +into his own and yielding him a double measure of friendship; “is it +possible—have you been robbed? Is it you in the paper this morning in +this _very_ extraordinary case?” + +Bumpkin looked and blushed. He was not a liar, but truth is not always +the most convenient thing, say what you will. + +“I see,” said Mr. Prigg; “quite so—quite so! Now _how_ did this happen?” + +Bumpkin still looked and blushed. + +“Ah!” said Mr. Prigg; “just so. But who was this companion?” + +Bumpkin muttered “A friend!” + +“O! O! O!” said Mr. Prigg, drawing a long face and placing the +fore-finger of his left hand perpendicularly from the tip of his nose to +the top of his forehead. + +“Noa,” said Bumpkin, “’taint none o’ that nuther; I beant a man o’ that +sort.” + +“Well, well,” said Mr. Prigg, “I only thought I’d call, you know, in case +there should be anything which might in any way affect our action.” + +Mr. Bumpkin, conscious of his moral rectitude, like all good men, was +fearless: he knew that nothing which he had done would affect the merits +of his case, and, therefore, instead of replying to the subtle question +of his adviser, he merely enquired of that gentleman when he thought the +case would be on. The usual question. + +Mr. Prigg rubbed his hands and glanced his eyes as though just under his +left elbow was a very deep well, at the bottom of which lay that +inestimable jewel, truth. “Really,” Mr. Bumpkin, “I expect every hour to +see us in the paper. It’s very extraordinary; they have no less than +three Courts sitting, as I daresay you are aware. No less than—let me +see, my mind’s so full of business, I have seven cases ready to come on. +Where was I? O, I know; I say there are no less than three Courts, under +the continuous sittings system, and yet we seem to make no progress in +the diminution of the tremendous and overwhelming mass of business that +pours in upon us.” + +Mr. Bumpkin said “Hem!” + +“You see,” continued Mr. Prigg, “there’s one thing, we shall not last +long when we do come on.” + +“Shan’t ur?” + +“You see there’s only one witness, besides yourself, on our side.” + +“And ’eve gone for a soger,” said Mr. Bumpkin. + +“A soldier!” exclaimed Prigg. “A soldier, my dear Bumpkin. No—no—you +don’t say so, really!” + +“Ay, sure ’ave ur; and wot the devil I be to do agin that there Snooks, +as ’ll lie through a brick wall, I beant able to say. I be pooty nigh +off my chump wot wi’ one thing and another.” + +“Off what, sir?” enquired Mr. Prigg. + +“Chump,” shouted Bumpkin. + +“O, indeed, yes; dear me, you don’t say so. Well, now I’m glad I called. +I must see about this. What regiment did you say he’d joined?” + +“Hoosors!” + +“Ha! dear me, has he, indeed?” said Mr. Prigg, noting it down in his +pocket-book. “What a pity for a young man like that to throw himself +away—such an intelligent young fellow, too, and might have done so well; +dear me!” + +“Ha,” answered Bumpkin, “there worn’t a better feller at plough nor thic +there; and he could mend a barrer or a ’arrer, and turn his ’and to pooty +nigh anything about t’ farm.” + +“And is there any reason that can be assigned for this extraordinary +conduct? Wasn’t in debt, I suppose?” + +Mr. Bumpkin laughed one of his old big fireside laughs such as he had not +indulged in lately. + +“Debt! why they wouldn’t trust un a shoe-string. Where the devil wur +such a chap as thic to get money to get into debt wi’?” + +“My dear sir, we don’t want money to get into debt with; we get into debt +when we have none.” + +“Do ur, sir. Then if I hadn’t ’ad any money I’d like to know ’ow fur +thee’d ha’ trusted I.” + +“Dear me,” said Mr. Prigg, “what a very curious way of putting it! But, +however, soldier or no soldier, we must have his evidence. I must see +about it: I must go to the dépôt. Now, with regard to your case at the +Old Bailey.” + +“Well,” said Mr. Bumpkin, rather testily; “I be bound over to proserkit, +and that be all I knows about un. I got to give seam evidence as I guv +afore the Lord Mayor, and the Lord Mayor said as the case wur clear, and +away it went for trial.” + +“Indeed! dear me!” + +“And I got to tak no trouble at all about un, but to keep my mouth shut +till the case comes on, that’s what the pleeceman told I. I bean’t to +talk about un, or to tak any money not to proserkit.” + +“O dear, no,” said Mr. Prigg. “O dear, dear, no; you would be +compounding a felony.” (Here Mr. Prigg made a note in his diary to this +effect:—“Attending you at ‘The Goose’ at Westminster, when you informed +me that you were the prosecutor in a case at the Old Bailey, and in which +I advised you not, under any circumstances, to accept a compromise or +money for the purpose of withdrawing from the prosecution, and strongly +impressed upon you that such conduct would amount in law to a +misdemeanor. Long conference with you thereon, when you promised to +abide by my advice, £1 6_s._ 0_d._”). + +“Now,” said Bumpkin, “it seem to me that turn which way I wool, there be +too much law, too many pitfalls; I be gettin’ sick on’t.” + +“Well,” said Mr. Prigg, “we have only to do our duty in that station of +life in which we are called, and we have no cause to fear. Now you know +you would _not_ have liked that unprincipled man, Snooks, to have the +laugh of you, would you now?” + +Mr. Bumpkin clenched his fist as he said, “Noa, I’d sooner lose every +penny I got than thic there feller should ha’ the grin o’ me.” + +“Quite so,” said the straightforward moralist. “Quite so! dear me! +Well, well, I must wish you good morning, for really I am so overwhelmed +with work that I hardly know which way to turn—bye, bye. I will take +care to keep you posted up in—.” Here Mr. Prigg’s cab drove off, and I +could not ascertain whether the posting up was to be in the state of the +list or in the lawyer’s ledger. + +“What a nice man!” said the landlady. + +Yes, that was Mr. Prigg’s character, go where he would: “A nice man!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +The trial at the Old Bailey of Mr. Simple Simonman for highway robbery +with violence—Mr. Alibi introduces himself to Mr. Bumpkin. + +I next saw Mr. Bumpkin wandering about the precincts of that Grand +Institution, the Old Bailey, on a drizzly morning about the middle of +February, 187—, waiting to go before the Grand Jury. As the famous +prison in Scotland was called the “Heart of Midlothian” so the Old Bailey +may be considered the Heart of Civilization. Its commanding situation, +in the very centre of a commercial population, entitles it to this +distinction; for nothing is supposed to have so civilizing an influence +as Commerce. I was always impressed with its beautiful and picturesque +appearance, especially on a fine summer morning, during its sittings, +when the sun was pouring its brightest beams on its lively portals. What +a charming picture was presented to your view, when the gates being open, +the range of sheds on the left met the eye, especially the centre one +where the gallows is kept packed up for future use. The gallows on the +one side might be seen and the stately carriages of my Lord Mayor and +Sheriffs on the other! Gorgeous coachmen and footmen in resplendent +liveries; magnificent civic dignitaries in elaborate liveries too, rich +with gold and bright with colour, stepping forth from their carriages, +amid loud cries of “Make way!” holding in their white-gloved hands large +bouquets of the loveliest flowers, emblems of—what? + +Crime truly has its magnificent accompaniments, and if it does not dress +itself, as of old, in the rich costumes of a Turpin or a Duval, it is not +without its beautiful surroundings. Here, where the channels and gutters +of crime converge, is built, in the centre of the greatest commercial +city in the world, the Bailey. Mr. Bumpkin wandered about for hours +through a reeking unsavoury crowd of thieves and thieves’ companions, +idlers of every type of blackguardism, ruffians of every degree of +criminality; boys and girls receiving their finishing lessons in crime +under the dock, as they used to do only a few years ago under the +gallows. The public street is given over to the enemies of Society; and +Civilisation looks on without a shudder or regret, as though crime were a +necessity, and the Old Bailey, in the heart of London, no disgrace. + +And a little dirty, greasy hatted, black whiskered man, after pushing +hither and thither through this pestiferous crowd as though he had +business with everybody, but did not exactly know what it was, at length +approached Mr. Bumpkin; and after standing a few minutes by his side +eyeing him with keen hungry looks, began that interesting conversation +about the weather which seems always so universally acceptable. Mr. +Bumpkin was tired. He had been wandering for hours in the street, and +was wondering when he should be called before the Grand Jury. Mr. Alibi, +that was the dark gentleman’s name, knew all about Mr. Bumpkin’s case, +his condition of mind, and his impatience; and he said deferentially: + +“You are waiting to go before the Grand Jury, I suppose, sir?” + +“I be,” answered Bumpkin. + +“Where’s your policeman?” enquired Alibi. + +“I doant know,” said Bumpkin. + +“What’s his number?” + +“Sev’n hunderd and sev’nty.” + +“O, I know,” said Alibi; “why not let me get you before the Grand Jury at +once, instead of waiting about here all day, and perhaps to-morrow and +the next day, and the day after that; besides, the sooner you go before +the Grand Jury, the sooner your case will come on; that stands to common +sense, I think.” + +“So ur do,” answered the farmer. + +“You will be here a month if you don’t look out. Have you got any +counsel or solicitor?” + +“Noa, I beant; my case be that plaain, it spaks for itself.” + +“Ah!” said Mr. Alibi; “they won’t always let a case speak for itself—they +very often stop it—but if you can get a counsel for nothing, why not have +one; that stands to reason, I think?” + +“For nothing? well that be the fust time I ever eeard o’ a loryer as +chape as thic.” + +How it could pay was the wonder to Mr. Bumpkin. And what a strange +delusion it must seem to the mind of the general reader! But wait, +gentle peruser of this history, you shall see this strange sight. + +“If you like to have a counsel and a lawyer to conduct your case, sir, it +shall not cost you a farthing, I give you my word of honour! What do you +think of that?” + +What could Mr. Bumpkin think of that? What a pity that he had not met +this gentleman before! Probably he would have brought several actions if +he had; for if you could work the machinery of the law for nothing, you +would always stand to win. + +“O,” said Mr. Alibi, “here is seven hundred and seventy! This gentleman +wants a counsel, and I’ve been telling him he can have one, and it won’t +cost him anything.” + +“That’s right enough,” said the Policeman; “but it ain’t nothin’ to do +with me!” + +“Just step this way, sir, we’ll soon have this case on,” said Alibi; and +he led the way to the back room of a public-house, which seemed to be +used as a “hedge” lawyer’s office. + +“Med I mak so bold, sir; be thee a loryer?” + +“No,” answered Alibi, “I am clerk to Mr. Deadandgone.” + +“And don’t Mr. Deadandam charge nothin’?” + +“O dear, no!” + +What a very nice man Mr. Deadandam must be! + +“You see,” said Alibi, “the Crown pays us!” + +“The Crown!” + +And here Mr. Alibi slipped a crown-piece into the artfully extended palm +of the policeman, who said: + +“It ain’t nothin’ to do wi’ me; but the gentleman’s quite right, the +Crown pays.” And he dropped the money into his leather purse, which he +rolled up carefully and placed in his pocket. + +“You see,” said Alibi, “I act as the Public Prosecutor, who can’t be +expected to do everything—you can’t grind all the wheat in the country in +one mill, that stands to common sense.” + +“That be right, that’s werry good,” + +“And,” continued Mr. Alibi, “the Government allows two guineas for +counsel, a guinea for the solicitor, and so on, and the witnesses, don’t +you see?” + +“Zactly!” said Bumpkin. + +“And that’s quite enough,” continued Alibi; “we don’t want anything from +the prosecutor—that’s right, policeman!” + +“It ain’t nothink to do wi’ me,” said the policeman; “but what this ’ere +gentleman says is the law.” + +“There,” said Alibi, “I told you so.” + +“I spose,” said the policeman, “you don’t want me, gentlemen; it ain’t +nothink to do with me?” + +“Oh, no, Leary,” replied Alibi; “we don’t want you; the case is pretty +straight, I suppose.” + +“Oh, yes, sir; I expects it’ll be a plea of guilty. There ain’t no +defence, not as I’m aware of.” + +“Oh,” said Alibi, “that’s all right—keep your witnesses together, +Leary—don’t be out of the way.” + +“No, sir,” says Leary; “I thinks I knows my dooty.” + +And with this he slouched out of the room, and went and refreshed himself +at the bar. + +In two or three minutes the policeman returned, and was in the act of +drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, when Alibi said: + +“Yes?” + +“Beg pardin, sir; but there’s another gentleman wants to see you—I thinks +he wants you to defend ---; but it ain’t nothink to do wi’ me, sir.” + +“Very good,” answered Alibi, “very good; now let me see—” + +“You got the Baker’s case?” said Leary. + +“Yes,” said Alibi; “O, yes—embezzlement.” + +Everything was thus far satisfactorily settled, and Mr. Bumpkin’s +interests duly represented by Mr. Deadandgone, an eminent practitioner. +No doubt the services of competent counsel would be procured, and the +case fully presented to the consideration of an intelligent jury. + +Who shall say after this that the Old Bailey is _not_ the Heart of +Civilization? + +I pass over the preliminary canter of Mr. Bumpkin before the Grand Jury; +the decision of that judicial body, the finding of the true bill, the +return of the said bill in Court, the bringing up of the prisoner for +arraignment, and the fixing of the case to be taken first on Thursday in +deference to the wishes of Mr. Nimble. I pass by all those preliminary +proceedings which I have before attempted to describe, and which, if I +might employ a racing simile, might be compared to the saddling of Mr. +Bumpkin in the paddock, where, unquestionably, he was first favourite for +the coming race, to be ridden by that excellent jockey, Alibi; and come +at once to the great and memorable trial of Regina on the prosecution of +Thomas Bumpkin against Simon Simpleman for highway robbery with violence. + +As the prisoner entered the dock there was a look of unaffected innocence +in his appearance that seemed to make an impression on the learned Judge, +Mr. Justice Technical, a recently appointed Chancery barrister. I may be +allowed to mention that his Lordship had never had any experience in +Criminal Courts whatever: so he brought to the discharge of his important +duty a thoroughly unprejudiced and impartial mind. He did not suspect +that a man was guilty because he was charged: and the respectable and +harmless manner of the accused was not interpreted by his Lordship as a +piece of consummate acting, as it would be by some Judges who have seen +much of the world as it is exhibited in Criminal Courts. + +Many ladies of rank were ushered in by the Sheriff, all looking as +smiling and happy as if they were about to witness the performance of +some celebrated actress for the first time; they had fans and +opera-glasses, and as they took their places in the boxes allotted to +rank and fashion, there was quite a pleasant sensation produced in Court, +and they attracted more notice for the time being than the prisoners +themselves. + +Now these ladies were not there to witness the first piece, the mere +trial of Simpleman for highway robbery, although the sentence might +include the necessary brutality of flogging. The afterpiece was what +they had come to see—namely, a fearful tragedy, in which two men at least +were sure of being sentenced to death. This is the nearest approach to +shedding human blood which ladies can now witness in this country; for I +do not regard pigeon slaughtering, brutal and bloodthirsty as it is, as +comparable to the sentencing of a fellow-creature to be strangled. And +no one can blame ladies of rank if they slake their thirst for horrors in +the only way the law now leaves open to them. The Beauty of Spain is +better provided for. What a blessed thing is humanity! + +It is due to Mr. Newboy, the counsel for the prosecution in the great +case of _Regina_ v. _Simpleman_, to say that he had only lately been +called to the Bar, and only “_instructed_,” as the prisoner was placed in +the dock. Consequently, he had not had time to read his brief. I do not +know that that was a disadvantage, inasmuch as the brief consisted in +what purported to be a copy of the depositions so illegibly scrawled that +it would have required the most intense study to make out the meaning of +a single line. + +Mr. Newboy was by no means devoid of ability; but no amount of ability +would give a man a knowledge of the facts of a case which were never +communicated to him. In its simplicity the prosecution was beautifully +commonplace, and five minutes’ consideration would have been sufficient +to enable counsel to master the details and be prepared to meet the +defence. Alas, for the lack of those five minutes! The more Mr. Newboy +looked at the writing (?) the more confused he got. All he could make +out was his own name, and _Reg._ v. _Somebody_ on the back. + +Now it happened that Mr. Alibi saw the difficulty in which Mr. Newboy +was, and knowing that his, Alibi’s, clerk, was not remarkable for +penmanship, handed to the learned counsel at the last moment, when the +last juryman was being bawled at with the “well and truly try,” a copy of +the depositions. + +The first name at the top of the first page which caught the eye of the +learned counsel, was that of the prisoner; for the depositions commence +in such a way as to show the name of the prisoner in close proximity to, +if not among the names of witnesses. + +So Mr. Newboy, in his confusion, taking the name of the prisoner as his +first witness, shouted out in a bold voice, to give himself courage, +“_Simon Simpleman_.” + +“’Ere!” answered the prisoner. + +The learned Judge was a little astonished; and, although, he had got his +criminal law up with remarkable rapidity, his lordship knew well enough +that you cannot call the prisoner as a witness either for or against +himself. Mr. Newboy perceived his mistake and apologised. The laugh, of +course, went round against him; and when it got to Mr. Nimble, that merry +gentleman slid it into the jury-box with a turn of his eyes and a twist +of his mouth. The counsel for the prosecution being by this time pretty +considerably confused, and not being able to make out the name of a +single witness on the depositions (there were only two) called out, “The +Prosecutor.” + +“Here, I be,” said a voice from the crowd in a tone which provoked more +laughter, all of which was turned into the jury-box by Mr. Nimble. “Here +I be” struggled manfully with all his might and main to push through the +miscellaneous crowd of all sorts and conditions that hemmed him in. All +the arrangements at the Old Bailey, like the arrangements at most Courts, +are expressly devised for the inconvenience of those who have business +there. + +All eyes were turned towards “_Here I be_,” as, after much pushing and +struggling as though he were in a football match, he was thrust headlong +forward by three policemen and the crier into the body of the Court. +There he stood utterly confounded by the treatment he had undergone and +the sight that presented itself to his astonished gaze. Opera-glasses +were turned on him from the boxes, the gentlemen on the grand tier +strained their necks in order to catch a glimpse of him; the pit, filled +for the most part with young barristers, was in suppressed ecstasies; +while the gallery, packed to the utmost limit of its capacity, broke out +into unrestrained laughter. I say, unrestrained; but as the Press truly +observed in the evening papers, “it was immediately suppressed by the +Usher.” + +Mr. Bumpkin climbed into the witness-box (as though he were going up a +rick), which was situated between the Judge and the jury. His appearance +again provoked a titter through the Court; but it was not loud enough to +call for any further measure of suppression than the usual “Si—lence!” +loudly articulated in two widely separated syllables by the crier, who +had no sooner pronounced it than he turned his face from the learned +Judge and pressed his hand tightly against his mouth, straining his eyes +as if he had swallowed a crown-piece. Mr. Bumpkin wore his long drab +frock overcoat, with the waist high up and its large flaps; his hell-fire +waistcoat, his trousers of corduroy, and his shirt-collar, got up +expressly for the occasion as though he had been a prime minister. The +ends of his neckerchief bore no inconsiderable likeness to two well-grown +carrots. In his two hands he carefully nursed his large-brimmed +well-shaped white beaver hat; a useful article to hold in one’s hands +when there is any danger of nervousness, for nothing is so hard to get +rid of as one’s hands. I am not sure that Mr. Bumpkin was nervous. He +was a brave self-contained man, who had fought the world and conquered. +His maxim was, “right is right,” and “wrong is no man’s right.” He was +of the upright and down-straight character, and didn’t care “for all the +counsellors in the kingdom.” And why should he? His cause was good, his +conscience clear, and the story he had to tell plain and +“straightforrard” as himself. No wonder then that his face beamed with a +good old country smile, such as he would wear at an exhibition where he +could show the largest “turmut as ever wur growed.” That was the sort of +smile he turned upon the audience. And as the audience looked at the +“turmut,” it felt that it was indeed the most extraordinary specimen of +field culture it had ever beheld, and worthy of the first prize. + +“What is your name?” inquired Mr. Newboy; “I mustn’t lead.” + +“Bumpkin, and I bearned asheamed on ’im,” answered the bold farmer. + +“Never mind whether you are ashamed or not,” interposed Mr. Nimble; “just +answer the question.” + +“You must answer,” remarked the learned Judge, “not make a speech.” + +“Zackly, sir,” said Bumpkin, pulling at his hair. + +Another titter. The jury titter and hold down their heads. Evidently +there’s fun in the case. + +Then Mr. Newboy questioned him about the occurrence; asked him if he +recollected such a day, and where he had been, and where he was going, +and a variety of other questions; the answer to every one of which +provoked fresh laughter; until, after much floundering on the part of +both himself and Mr. Newboy, as though they were engaged in a wrestling +match, he was asked by the learned Judge “to tell them exactly what +happened. Let him tell his own story,” said the Judge. + +“Ha!” said everybody; “now we shall hear something!” + +“I wur a gwine,” began Bumpkin, “hoame—” + +“That’s not evidence,” said Mr. Nimble. + +“How so?” asks the Judge. + +“It doesn’t matter where he was going to, my lord, but where he was!” + +“Well, that is so,” says the Judge; “you mustn’t tell us, Mr. Bumpkin, +whither you were going, but where you were!” + +Bumpkin scratched his head; there were too many where’s for him. + +“Can’t yon tell us,” says Mr. Newboy, “where you were?” + +“Where I were?” says Bumpkin. + +A roar of laughter greeted this statement. Mr. Nimble turning it into +the jury-box like a flood. + +“I wur in Lunnun—” + +“Yes—yes,” says his counsel; “but what locality?” + +You might just as well have put him under a mangle, as to try to get +evidence out of him like that. + +“Look,” says the Judge, “attend to me; if you go on like that, you will +not be allowed your expenses.” + +“What took place?” asks his counsel; “can’t you tell us, man?” + +“Why the thief cotch—” + +“I object,” says Mr. Nimble; “you mustn’t call him a thief; it is for the +jury, my lord, to determine that.” + +“That is so,” says my lord; “you mustn’t call him a thief, Mr. Bumpkin.” + +“Beg pardon, your lord; but ur stole my watch.” + +“No—no,” says Mr. Newboy; “took your watch.” + +“An if ur took un, ur stole un, I allows,” says Bumpkin; “for I never gin +it to un.” + +There was so much laughter that for some time nothing further was said; +but every audience knows better than to check the source of merriment by +a continued uproar; so it waited for another supply. + +“You must confine yourself,” says the Judge, “to telling us what took +place.” + +“I’ll spak truth and sheam t’ devil,” says Bumpkin. + +“Now go on,” says Newboy. + +“The thief stole my watch, and that be t’ plain English on ’t.” + +“I shall have to commit you to prison,” says the Judge, “if you go on +like that; remember you are upon your oath, and it’s a very serious +thing—serious for you and serious for the young man at the bar.” + +At these touching words, the young man at the bar burst out crying, said +“he was a respectable man, and it was all got up against him;” whereupon +Mr. Nimble said “he must be quiet, and that his lordship and the +gentlemen in the box would take care of him and not allow him to be +trampled on.” + +“You are liable,” said the Judge, “to be prosecuted for perjury if you do +not tell the truth.” + +“Well, then, your lord, if a man maun goo to prison for losin’ his watch, +I’ll goo that’s all; but that ere man stole un.” + +Mr. Newboy: “He took it, did he?” + +“I object,” said Mr. Nimble; “that is a leading question.” + +“Yes,” said the Judge; “I think that is rather leading,” Mr. Newboy; “you +may vary the form though, and ask him whether the prisoner stole it.” + +“Really, my lord,” said Mr. Nimble, “that, with very great respect, is as +leading as the other form.” + +“Not quite, I think, Mr. Nimble. You see in the other form, you make a +positive assertion that he did steal it; in this, you merely ask the +question.” + +And I saw that this was a very keen and subtle distinction, such as could +only be drawn by a Chancery Judge. + +“Would it not be better, my lord, if he told us what took place?” + +“That is what he is doing,” said the Judge; “go on, witness.” + +“I say as ’ow thic feller comed out and hugged up aginst I and took ’t +watch and runned away. I arter’d him, and met him coomin’ along wi’ it +in ’s pocket; what can be plaainer an thic?” + +There was great laughter as Mr. Bumpkin shook his head at the learned +counsel for the defence, and thumped one hand upon the ledge in front of +him. + +“That will do,” said Mr. Newboy, sitting down triumphantly. + +Then the counsel for the defence arose, and a titter again went round the +Court, and there was a very audible adjustment of persons in preparation +for the treat that was to come. + +“May the prisoner have a seat, my lord?” + +“Oh, certainly,” said his lordship; “let an easy-chair be brought +immediately.” + +“Now then, Mr. Bumpkin, or whatever your name is, don’t lounge on the +desk like that, but just stand up and attend to me. Stand up, sir, and +answer my questions,” says Mr. Nimble. + +“I be standin’ oop,” said Bumpkin, “and I can answer thee; ax away.” + +“Just attend,” said the Judge. “You must not go on like that. You are +here to answer questions and not to make speeches. If you wish those +gentlemen to believe you, you must conduct yourself in a proper manner. +Remember this is a serious charge, and you are upon your oath.” + +Poor Bumpkin! Never was there a more friendless position than that of +Ignorance in the witness-box. + +“Just attend!” repeated Mr. Nimble; this was a favourite expression of +his. + +“How may aliases have you?” + +“Ow many who?” asked Bumpkin. (Roars of laughter.) + +“How many different names?” + +“Naames! why I s’pose I got two, like moast people.” + +“How many more?” + +“None as iver I knowed of.” + +“Wait a bit, we shall see. Now, sir, will you swear you have never gone +by the name of Pumpkin?” + +Loud laughter, in which the learned judge tried not to join. + +“Never!” + +“Do you swear it?” + +“I do.” + +“My lord, would you kindly let me see the depositions. Now look here, +sir, is that your signature?” + +“I ain’t much of a scollard.” + +“No; but you can make a cross, I suppose.” + +“Ay, I can make a cross, or zummut in imitation as well as any man.” + +“Look at that, is that your cross?” + +“It look like un.” + +“Now then, sir; when you were before the Lord Mayor, I ask you, upon your +oath, did you not give the name of Pumpkin?” + +“Noa, I din’t!” + +“Was this read over to you, and were you asked if it was correct?” + +“It med be.” + +“Med be; but wasn’t it? You know it was, or, don’t you?” + +Bumpkin seemed spiked, so silent; seemed on fire, so red. + +“Well, we know it was so. Now, my lord, I call your lordship’s attention +to this remarkable fact; here in the depositions he calls himself +Pumpkin.” + +His lordship looks carefully at the depositions and says that certainly +is so. + +Mr. Newboy rises and says he understands that it may be a mistake of the +clerk’s. + +Judge: “How can you say that, Mr. Newboy, when it’s in his affidavit?” + +(Clerk of Arraigns whispers to his lordship.) “I mean in his +depositions, as I am told they are called in this Court; these are read +over to him by the clerk, and he is asked if they are correct.” Shakes +his head. + +(So they began to try the prisoner, not so much on the merits of the case +as on the merits of the magistrate’s clerk.) + +“You certainly said your name was Pumpkin,” said the Judge, “and what is +more you swore to it.” + +(“They’ve got the round square at work,” muttered a voice in the +gallery.) + +Mr. Nimble: “Now just attend; have you ever gone so far as to say that +this case did not refer to you because your name was not Bumpkin?” + +The witness hesitates, then says “he b’leeves not.” + +“Let those two gentlemen, Mr. Crackcrib and Mr. Centrebit, step forward.” + +There was a bustle in Court, and then, with grinning faces, up stepped +the two men who had visited Mr. Bumpkin at the “Goose” some days before. + +“Have you ever seen these gentlemen before?” asks the learned counsel. + +The gentlemen alluded to looked up as if they had practised it together, +and both grinned. How can Mr. Bumpkin’s confusion be described? His +under jaw fell, and his head drooped; he was like one caught in a net +looking at the fowler. + +The question was repeated, and Mr. Bumpkin wiped his face and returned +his handkerchief into the depths of his hat, into which he would have +liked to plunge also. + +Question repeated in a tone that conveyed the impression that witness was +one of the biggest scoundrels in the Heart of Civilization. + +“You must really answer,” says the Judge. + +“They be put on, your lordship.” + +“No, no,” says the counsel, “you mustn’t say that, I’ll have an answer. +Have you seen them before?” + +“Yes,” muttered the prosecutor. + +“Let them go out of Court. Now then,” says the counsel, extending his +right hand and his forefinger and leaning towards the witness, +“have—you—not—told—them—that—this case was nothing to do with you as your +name wasn’t Bumpkin?” + +“My lord,” says the witness. + +“No, no; you must answer.” + +The witness stood confounded. + +“You decline to answer,” says the counsel. “Very well; now then, let me +see if you will decline to answer this. When you were robbed, as you +say, was anybody with you?” + +“Be I obligated to answer, my lord?” + +“I think you must answer,” said his lordship. + +“There wur.” + +“Who was it?” + +“A companion, I s’poase.” + +“Yes, but who was he? what was his name?” + +No answer. + +“You’d rather not answer; very well. Where does he live?” + +“I doant know. Westmunster, I believe.” + +“Is he here?” + +“Not as I knows on.” + +(“What a lark this is,” chuckled the Don, as he sat in the corner of the +gallery peeping from behind the front row.) + +“Did he see the watch taken?” + +“He did, leastways I s’poase so.” + +“And has never appeared as a witness?” + +“How is that?” asks his lordship. + +“He axed me, m’lud, not to say as ’ow he wur in it.” + +Judge shakes his head. Counsel for the prisoner shakes his head at the +jury, and the jury shake their heads at one another. + +Now in the front row of the gallery sat five young men in the undress +uniform of the hussars: they were Joe and his brother recruits come to +hear the famous trial. At this moment Mr. Bumpkin in sheer despair +lifted his eyes in the direction of the gallery and immediately caught +sight of his old servant. He gave a nod of recognition as if he were the +only friend left in the wide world of that Court of Justice. + +“Never mind your friends in the gallery,” said Mr. Nimble; “I dare say +you have plenty of them about; now attend to this question:”—Yes, and a +nice question it was, considering the tone and manner with which it was +asked. “At the moment when you were being robbed, as you say, did a +young woman with a baby in her arms come up?” + +The witness’s attention was again distracted, but this time by no such +pleasing object as on the former occasion. He was dumbfoundered; a +sparrow facing an owl could hardly be in a greater state of nervousness +and discomfiture: for down in the well of the Court, a place where he had +never once cast his eyes till now, with a broad grin on his coarse +features, and a look of malignant triumph, sat the _fiendlike Snooks_! +His mouth was wide open, and Bumpkin found himself looking down into it +as though it had been a saw-pit. By his side sat Locust taking notes of +the cross-examination. + +“What are you looking at, Mr. Bumpkin?” inquired the learned counsel. + +Mr. Bumpkin started. + +“What are you looking at?” + +“I wur lookin’ doun thic there hole in thic feller’s head,” answered +Bumpkin. + +Such a roar of laughter followed this speech as is seldom heard even in a +breach of promise case, where the most touching pathos often causes the +greatest amusement to the audience. + +“What a lark!” said Harry. + +“As good as a play,” responded Dick. + +“I be sorry for the old chap,” said Joe; “they be givin’ it to un pooty +stiff.” + +“Now attend,” said the counsel, “and never mind the hole. Did a young +woman with a baby come up?” + +“To the best o’ my b’leef.” + +“Don’t say to the best of your belief; did she or not?” + +“He can only speak to the best of his belief,” said the Judge. + +(“There’s the round square,” whispered O’Rapley.) + +“Did she come up then to the best of your belief?” + +“Yes.” + +“And—did—she—accuse—you—to the best of your belief of assaulting her?” + +“I be a married man,” answered the witness. (Great laughter.) + +“Yes, we know all about you; we’ll see who you are presently. Did she +accuse you, and did you run away?” + +“I runned arter thic feller.” + +“No, no; did she accuse you?” + +“She might.” + +The learned counsel then sat down with the quickest motion imaginable, +and then the policeman gave his evidence as to taking the man into +custody; and produced the huge watch. Mr. Bumpkin was recalled and asked +how long he had had it, and where he bought it; the only answers to which +were that he had had it five years, and bought it of a man in the market; +did not know who he was or where he came from; all which answers looked +very black against Mr. Bumpkin. Then the policeman was asked to answer +this question—yes or no. “Did he know the prisoner?” He said “No.” + +Mr. Nimble said to the jury, “Here was a man dressing himself up as an +old man from the country (laughter) prowling about the streets of London +in company with an associate whose name he dared not mention, and who +probably was well-known to the police; here was this countryman actually +accused of committing an assault in the public streets on a young woman +with a baby in her arms: he runs away as hard as his legs will carry him +and meets a man who is actually wearing the watch that this Bumpkin or +Pumpkin charges him with stealing. He, the learned counsel, would call +witness after witness to speak to the character of his client, who was an +engraver (I believe he was an engraver of bank notes); he would call +witness after witness who would tell them how long they had known him, +and how long he had had the watch; and, curiously enough, such curious +things did sometimes almost providentially take place in a Court of +Justice, he would call the very man that poor Mr. Simpleman had purchased +it of five years ago, when he was almost, as you might say, in the first +happy blush of boyhood (that ‘blush of boyhood’ went down with many of +the jury who were fond of pathos); let the jury only fancy! but really +would it be safe—really would it be safe, let him ask them upon their +consciences, which in after life, perhaps years to come, when their heads +were on their pillows, and their hands upon their hearts, (here several +of the jury audibly sniffed), would those consciences upbraid, or would +those consciences approve them for their work to-day? would it be safe to +convict after the exhibition the prosecutor had made of himself in that +box, where, he ventured to say, Bumpkin stood self-condemned before that +intelligent jury.” + +Here the intelligent jury turned towards one another, and after a moment +or two announced, through their foreman (who was a general-dealer in old +metal, in a dark street over the water), that if they heard a witness or +two to the young man’s character that would be enough for them. + +Witnesses, therefore, were called to character, and the young man was +promptly acquitted, the jury appending to their verdict that he left the +Court without a stain upon his character. + +“Bean’t I ’lowed to call witnesses to charickter?” asks the Prosecutor. + +“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Nimble; “we know your character pretty well.” + +“What’s that?” inquired the Judge. + +“He wants to know, my lord,” says Mr. Nimble, laughing, “if he may call +witnesses to character!” + +“Oh dear, no,” says the Judge; “you were not being tried.” + +Now many persons might have been of a different opinion from his lordship +on this point. Snooks for one, I think; for he gave a great loud vulgar +haw! haw! haw! and said, “I could ha’ gien him a charakter.” + +“Si-lence!” said the Usher. + +“May the prisoner have his watch, my lord?” asks Mr. Nimble. + +“O, yes,” said his lordship, “to be sure. Give the prisoner his watch.” + +“_His_ watch,” groaned a voice. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +Mr. Alibi is stricken with a thunderbolt—interview with Horatio and Mr. +Prigg. + +The “round square,” as the facetious Don called the new style of putting +the round judicial pegs into the square judicial holes, had indeed been +applied with great effect on this occasion; for I perceived that Mr. +Alibi, remarkable man, was not only engaged on the part of the Crown to +prosecute, but also on that of the prisoner to defend. And this fact +came to my knowledge in the manner following: + +When Mr. Bumpkin got into the lower part of that magnificent pile of +buildings which we have agreed to call the Heart of Civilisation, he soon +became the centre of a dirty mob of undersized beings who were anxious to +obtain a sight of him; and many of whom were waiting to congratulate +their friend, the engraver. Amidst the crowd was Mr. Alibi. That +gentleman had no intention of meeting Mr. Bumpkin any more, for certain +expenses were due to him as a witness, and it had long been a custom at +the Old Bailey, that if the representative of the Crown did not see the +witnesses the expenses due to them would fall into the Consolidated Fund, +so that it was a clear gain to the State if its representative officers +did not meet the witnesses. On this occasion, however, Mr. Alibi ran +against his client accidentally, and being a courteous gentleman, could +not forbear condoling with him on the unsuccessful termination of his +case. + +“You, see,” began Mr. Alibi, “I was instructed so late—really, the wonder +is, when gentlemen don’t employ a solicitor till the last moment, how we +ever lay hold of the facts at all. Now look at your case, sir. Yes, +yes, I’m coming—bother my clerks, how they worry—I’ll be there directly.” + +“But thic feller,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “who had my case din’t know nowt +about it. I could ha’ done un better mysel.” + +“Ah, sir; so we are all apt to think. He’s a most clever man, that—a +very rising man, sir.” + +“Be he?” said Bumpkin. + +“Why, do you know, sir,” continued Mr. Alibi, “he was very great at his +University.” + +“That bean’t everything, though, by a long way.” + +“No, sir, granted, granted. But he was Number Four in his boat; and the +papers all said his feathering was beautiful.” + +“A good boatman, wur he?” + +“Magnificent, sir; magnificent!” + +“Then he’d better keep a ferry; bean’t no good at law.” + +“Ah! I am afraid you are a little prejudiced. He’s a very learned man.” + +“I wish he’d larned to open his mouth. Why, I got a duck can quack a +devilish sight better un thic feller can talk.” + +“Ha, how d’ye do, Mr. Swindle?” said a shabby-looking gentleman, who came +up at this moment. + +“Excuse me, sir; but you have the advantage of me,” said Alibi, winking. + +“Dear me, how very strange, I thought you were Mr. Wideawake’s +representative.” + +“Ah!” said Mr. Alibi, laughing, “we are often taken for brothers—and yet, +would you believe me, there is no relationship.” + +“No?” said the gentleman. + +“None, whatever. I think you’ll find him in the Second Court, if not, +he’ll be there in a short time. I saw him only just now.” + +That is how I learned that Mr. Alibi represented the Crown and Mr. +Deadandgone for the prosecutor; also the prisoner, and Mr. Wideawake for +the defence. Clever man! + +“Now,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “Can’t un get a new trial?” + +“I fear not,” said Alibi; “but I should not be in the least surprised if +that Wideawake, who represented the prisoner, brought an action against +you for false imprisonment and malicious prosecution.” + +“What, thic thief?” + +“Ah, sir—law is a very deep pit—it’s depth is not to be measured by any +moral plummet.” + +“Doan’t ’zacly zee’t.” + +“Well, it’s this,” said Mr. Alibi. “Whether you’re right or whether +you’re wrong, if he brings an action you must defend it—it’s not your +being in the right will save you.” + +“Then, what wool?” asked Mr. Bumpkin. + +Mr. Alibi did not know, unless it was instructing him in due time and not +leaving it to the last moment. That seemed the only safe course. + +Mr. Bumpkin took off his hat, drew out his handkerchief, and wiped the +perspiration from his forehead. Then he breathed heavily. Now at this +moment a strange phenomenon occurred, not to be passed over in this +truthful history. Past Mr. Bumpkin’s ear something shot, in appearance +like a human fist, in velocity like a thunderbolt, and unfortunately it +alighted full on the nose and eye of the great Mr. Alibi, causing that +gentleman to reel back into the arms of the faithful thieves around. I +cannot tell from what quarter it proceeded, it was so sudden, but I saw +that in the neighbourhood whence it came stood five tall hussars, and I +heard a voice say: + +“Now, look at that. Come on, Maister, don’t let us git into no row.” + +Mr. Bumpkin, with the politeness of his nature, said: + +“Good marnin’, sir,” and retired. + +And thus thought the unfortunate prosecutor: “This ’ere country be all +law, actions grows out o’ actions, like that ’ere cooch that runs all +over everywhere’s.” And then he saw the five recruits strutting along +with their caps at the side of their heads, the straps across their +chins, their riding-whips under their arms, and walking with such a +swagger that one would have thought they had just put down a rebellion, +or set up a throne. + +It was some time before, in the confusion of his mind, the disappointed +Bumpkin could realize the fact that there was any connection between him +and the military. But as he looked, with half-closed eyes, suddenly the +thought crossed his mind: “Why, that be like our Joe—that middle un.” + +And so it was: they were walking at a fastish pace, and as they strutted +along Joe seemed to be marching away with the whole farm and with all the +pleasures of his past life. Even Mrs. Bumpkin herself, in some +extraordinary manner, seemed to be eloping with him. Why was it? And +now, despondent, disappointed and humiliated, with his blood once more +up, poor old Bumpkin bethought himself seriously of his position. For +weeks he had been waiting for his case to “come on”; weeks more might +pass idly away unless he made a stir. So he would call at the office of +Mr. Prigg. And being an artful man, he had a reason for calling without +further delay. It was this: his desire to see Prigg before that +gentleman should hear of his defeat. Prigg would certainly blame him for +not employing a solicitor, or going to the Public Prosecutor. So to +Prigg’s he went about three o’clock on that Thursday afternoon. I do not +undertake to describe furniture, so I say nothing of Prigg’s dingy +office, except this, that if Prigg had been a spider, it was just the +sort of corner in which I should have expected him to spin his web. +Being a man of enormous practice, and in all probability having some +fifty to sixty representatives of county families to confer with, two +hours elapsed before Mr. Bumpkin could be introduced. The place, small +as it was, was filled with tin boxes bearing, no doubt, eminent names. +Horatio was busy copying drafts of marriage settlements, conveyances, and +other matters of great importance. He had little time for gossip because +his work seemed urgent, and although he was particularly glad to see Mr. +Bumpkin, yet being a lad of strict adherence to duty, he always replied +courteously, but in the smallest number of words to that gentleman’s +questions. + +“Will ur be long?” asked the client; “I don’t think so,” said Horatio. + +Then in a whisper, asked Mr. Bumpkin, “How does thee think, sir, we shall +get on: win, shan’t us?” + +Horatio just raised his face from the paper and winked, as though he were +conveying a valuable secret. + +“Have ur heard anythink, sir?” + +Another artful wink. + +“Thee know’s zummat, I knows thee do.” + +Another artful wink. + +“Thee can tell I, surely? I wunt let un goo no furder.” + +Horatio winked once more, and made a face at the door where the great +Prigg was supposed to be. + +“Ain’t give in, ave ur?” + +Horatio put his finger in his mouth and made a popping noise as he pulled +it out. + +“What the devil does thee mean, lad? there be zummat up, I’ll swear.” + +“Hush! hush!” + +“Now, look here,” said Bumpkin, taking out his purse; “thee beest a good +chap, and writ out thic brief, didn’t thee? I got zummat for thee;” and +hereupon he handed Horatio half-a-crown. + +The youth took the money, spun it into the air, caught it in the palm of +his hand, spat on it for good luck, and put it in his pocket + +“I’ll have a spree with that,” said he, “if I never do again.” + +“Be careful, lad,” said Bumpkin, “don’t fool un away.” + +“Not I,” said Horatio; “I’m on for the Argille tonight, please the pigs.” + +“Be thic a place o’ wusship” said Bumpkin, laughing. + +“Not exactly,” answered Horatio; “it’s a place where you can just do the +gentleman on the cheap, shoulder it with noblemen’s sons, and some of the +highest. Would you like to go now, just for a lark? I’m sure you’d like +it.” + +“Not I,” said the client; “this ’ere Lunnun life doan’t do for I.’.’ + +“Yes; but this is a nice quiet sort of place.” + +“Gals, I spoase.” + +“Rather; I believe you my boy; stunners too.” + +“Thee be too young, it’s my thinking.” + +“Well, that’s what the Governor says; everybody says I’m too young; but I +hope to mend that fault, Master Bumpkin, if I don’t get the better of any +other.” + +“I wish I wur as old in the ’ead; but tell I, lad, hast thee ’eard +anything? Thee might just as well tell I; it wunt goo no furder.” + +Horatio put his finger to his nose and made a number of dumb signs, +expressive of more than mere words could convey. + +“Danged if I can mak’ thee out,” said Bumpkin. + +“You recollect that ride we had in the gig.” + +“Ha, now it’s coming,” thought he; “I shall have un now,” so he answered: +“Well, it wur nice, wurn’t ur?” + +“Never enjoyed myself more in my life,” rejoined Horatio; “what a nice +morning it was!” + +“Beautiful!” + +“And do you recollect the rum and milk?” + +Mr. Bumpkin remembered it. + +“Well, I believe that rum and milk was the luckiest investment you ever +made. Hallo! there’s the bell—hush, _mither woy_!” + +“Dang thee!” said Bumpkin, “thee’s got un;” and he followed the youthful +clerk into Mr. Prigg’s room. + +There sat that distinguished lawyer with his respectable head, in his +easy chair, much worn, both himself and the chair, by constant use. +There sat the good creature ready to offer himself up on the altar of +Benevolence for the good of the first comer. His collar was still +unruffled, so was his temper, notwithstanding the severe strain of the +county families. There was his clear complexion indicating the continued +health resulting from a well-spent life. His almost angelic features +were beautiful rather in the amiability of their expression than in their +loveliness of form. Anyone looking at him for the first time must +exclaim, “Dear me, what a _nice_ man!” + +“Well, Mr. Bumpkin,” said he, extending his left hand lazily as though it +were the last effort of exhausted humanity, “how are we now?”—always +identifying himself with Bumpkin, as though he should say “We are in the +same boat, brother; come what may, we sink or swim together—how are we +now?” + +“Bean’t wery well,” answered Mr. Bumpkin, “I can tell ’ee.” + +“What’s the matter? dear me, why, what’s the matter? We must be cool, +you know. Nothing like coolness, if we are to win our battle.” + +“Lookee ’ere,” said Bumpkin; “lookee ’ere, sir; I bin here dordlin’ about +off an’ on six weeks, and this ’ere dam trial—” + +“Sh—sh!” remonstrated Mr. Prigg with the softest voice, and just lifting +his left hand on a level with his forehead. “Let us learn resignation, +good Mr. Bumpkin. Let us learn it at the feet of disappointment and +losses and crosses.” + +“Yes, yes,” said Bumpkin; “but thic larnin’ be spensive, I be payin’ for +it.” + +“Mr. Bumpkin,” said the good man sternly, “the dispensations of +Providence are not to be denounced in this way. You are a man, Bumpkin; +let us act, then, the man’s part. You see these boxes, these names: they +represent men who have gone through the furnace; let us be patient.” + +“But I be sick on it. I wish I’d never know’d what law wur.” + +“Ah, sir, most of us would like to exist in that state of wild and +uncultured freedom which only savages and beasts are permitted to enjoy; +but life has higher aims, Mr. Bumpkin; grander pursuits; more sublime +duties.” + +“Well, sir, I bean’t no schollard and so can’t argify; but if thee plase +to tell I, sir, when this case o’ mine be likely to come on—” + +“I was just that minute going to write to you, Mr. Bumpkin, as your name +was announced, to say that it would not be taken until next term.” + +Mr. Bumpkin uttered an exclamation which is not for print, and which +caused the good Prigg to clap his hands to his ears and press them +tightly for five minutes. Then he took them away and rubbed them +together (I mean his hands), as though he were washing them from the +contaminating influence of Mr. Bumpkin’s language. + +“Quite so,” he said, mechanically; “dear me!” + +“What be quite so,” asked Mr. Bumpkin. + +“Yes—yes—you see,” said Prigg, “Her Majesty’s Judges have to go circuit; +or, as it is technically called, jail delivery.” + +“They be allays gwine suckitt.” + +“Quite so. That is precisely what the profession is always observing. +No sooner do they return from one circuit than they start off on another. +Are you aware, Mr. Bumpkin, that we pay a judge five thousand a-year to +try a pickpocket?” + +“Hem!” said Bumpkin, “I bean’t aware on it. Never used t’ have so many +o’ these ’ere—what d’ye call ’ems?” + +“Circuits. No—but you see, here now is an instance. There’s a prisoner +away somewhere, I think down at Bodmin, hundreds of miles off, and I +believe he has sent to say that they must come down and try him at once, +for he can’t wait.” + +“I’d mak’ un wait. Why should honest men wait for sich as he? I bin +waitin’ long enough.” + +“Quite so. And the consequence is that the Lord Chief Justice of England +is going down to try him, a common pickpocket, I believe, and his +Lordship is the very head of the Judicial Body.” + +“Hem!” said Mr. Bumpkin; “then I may as well goo hoame?” + +“Quite so,” answered the amiable Prigg; “in fact, better—much better.” + +“An’ we shan’t come on now, sir; bean’t there no chance?” + +“Not the least, my dear sir; but you see we have not been idle; we have +been advancing, in fact, during the whole time that has seemed to you so +long. Now, just look, my dear sir; we have fought no less than ten +appeals, right up, mind you, to the Court of Appeal itself; we have +fought two demurrers; we have compelled them three times to give better +answers to our interrogatories, and we have had fourteen other summonses +at Chambers on which they have not thought proper to appeal beyond the +Judge. Now, Mr. Bumpkin, after that, I _think_ you ought to be +satisfied; but really that is one of the most disparaging things in the +profession, the most disparaging, I may say; we find it so difficult to +show our clients that we have done enough for them.” + +“An’ thee think, sir, as we shall win un?” said Bumpkin. + +“Well,” said Mr. Prigg, “I never like to prophesy; but if ever a case +looked like winning it’s _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_. And I may tell you this, +Mr. Bumpkin, only pray don’t say that I told you.” + +“What be thic, sir?” asked the eager client, with his eyes open as widely +as ever client’s can be. + +“The other side are in a tre-_men_-dous way!” + +“What, funkin’, be um? I said so. That there Snooks be a rank bad +un—now, then, we’ll at un like steam.” + +“All in good time, Bumpkin,” said the worthy Prigg, affectionately taking +his client’s hand. “All in good time. My kind regards to Mrs. Bumpkin. +I suppose you return to-night?” + +“Ay, sir, I be off by the fust train. Good day t’ ye, sir; good day and +thankee.” + +Thus comforted and thus grateful did the confiding client take leave of +his legal adviser, who immediately took down his costs-book and booked a +long conference, including the two hours that Mr. Bumpkin was kept in the +“outer office.” This followed immediately after another “long conference +with you when you thought we should be in the paper to-morrow from what a +certain Mr. O’Rapley had told you, and I thought we should not.” + +As he passed through the “outer office” he shook. Horatio by the hand. +“Good-bye, sir. I knows what it wur now—bean’t comin’ on.” + +“Don’t say I told you,” said the pale boy, as though he were afraid of +communicating some tremendous secret. + +“Noa, thee bean’t told I. Now, lookee ’ere, Mr. Jigger, come down when +thee like; I shall be rare and prood to see thee, and so’ll Missus.” + +“Thanks,” said Horatio; “I’ll be sure and come. _Mither woy_!” + +“Ha! mither woy, lad! that’s ur; thee got un. Good-bye.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +Mr. Bumpkin at home again. + +How peaceful the farm seemed after all the turmoil and worry that Farmer +Bumpkin had been subjected to in London! What a haven of rest is a +peaceful Home! How the ducks seemed to quack!—louder, as Mr. Bumpkin +thought, than they ever did before. The little flock of sheep looked up +as he went, with his old ash stick under his arm, to look round the farm. +They seemed to say to one another, “Why, here’s Master; I told you he’d +come back.” And the cows turned their heads and bellowed a loud welcome. +They knew nothing of his troubles, and only expressed their extreme +pleasure at seeing him again. They left off eating the whole time he was +with them; for they were very well bred Shorthorns and Alderneys. It was +quite pleasant to see how well behaved they all were. And Mrs. Bumpkin +pointed out which ones had calved and which were expected to calve in the +course of a few months. And then the majestic bull looked up with an +expression of immense delight; came up to Mr. Bumpkin and put his nose in +his master’s hand, and gazed as only a bull would gaze on a farmer who +had spent several weeks in London. It was astonishing with what +admiration the bull regarded him; and he seemed quite delighted as Mrs. +Bumpkin told her husband of the bull’s good conduct in his absence; how +he had never broken bounds once, and had behaved himself as an exemplary +bull on all occasions. + +“But,” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “I be ’bliged to say, Tom, that there Mrs. +Snooks have belied him shamefully. She haven’t got a good word to say +for un; nor, for the matter o’ that, for anything on the farm.” + +“Never mind,” said Mr. Bumpkin; “he bean’t the only one as ’ave been +slandered hereabouts.” + +“No, Tom, sure enough; but we bean’t ’bliged to heed un.” + +“No, nor wun’t. And now here come Tim.” + +To see Tim run and bound and leap and put his paws round Mr. Bumpkin’s +neck and lick him, was a sight which must have made up for a great deal +of the unkindness which he had experienced of late. Nor could any dog +say more plainly than Tim did, how he had had a row with that ill-natured +cur of Snooks’, called Towser, and how he had driven him off the farm and +forbade him ever setting foot on it again. Tim told all about the +snarling of Towser, and said he would not have minded his taking Snooks’ +part in the action, if he had confined himself to that; but when he went +on and barked at Mr. Bumpkin’s sheep and pigs, against whom he ought to +have shown no ill-feeling, it was more than Tim could stand; so he flew +at him and thoroughly well punished him for his malignant disposition. + +But in the midst of all this welcoming, there was an unpleasant +experience, and that was, that all the pigs were gone but two. The rare +old Chichester sow was no more. + +“There be only two affidavys left, Nancy!” + +“No, Tom—only two; the man fetched two yesterday.” + +“I hope they sold well. Have he sent any money yet?” + +“Not a farthing,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; “nor yet for the sheep. He have had +six sheep.” + +“Zo I zee; and where be th’ heifers? we had six.” + +“They be all sold, Tom.” + +“And how much did ’em fetch?” + +“The man ain’t brought in the account yet, Tom; but I spect we shall have +un soon.” + +“Why,” said Mr. Bumpkin, looking at the stackyard, “another rick be +gone!” + +“Yes, Tom, it be gone, and fine good hay it wur; it cut out as well as +any hay I ever zeed.” + +“Sure did ur!” answered Tom; “it were the six ak’r o’ clover, and were +got up wirout a drop o’ rain on un; it wur prime hay, thic. Why, I wur +offered six pun’ a looad for un.” + +“I don’ow what ur fetched, Tom; but I be mighty troubled about this ’ere +lawsuit. I wish we’d never ’a had un.” + +“Doan’t say thic, Nancy; we be bound to bring un. As Laryer Prigg say, +it bean’t so much t’ pig—” + +“No, Tom, thee said un fust.” + +“Well, s’poase I did—so ur did, and it worn’t so much t’ pig, it wur thic +feller’s cheek.” + +“Well, I don’t know nothing about un; I dissay you be right, because +you’ve allays been right, Tom; and we’ve allays got on well togither +these five and thirty year: but, some’ow, Tom—down, Tim!—down, Tim!” + +“Poor old Tim!” said Tom. “Good boy! I wish men wur as good as dogs +be.” + +“Some’ow,” continued Mrs. Bumpkin, “I doan’t like that ’aire Prigg; he +seem to shake his head too much for I; and ’olds his ’at up to his face +too long in church when ur goes in; and then ur shakes his head so much +when ur prays. I don’t like un, Tom.” + +“Now, Nancy, thee knows nothing about un. I can tell ’ee he be a rare +good man, and sich a clever lawyer, he’ll knock that ’aire Snooks out o’ +time. But, come on, let’s goo in and ’ave some ta.” + +So they went in. And a very comfortable tea there was set out on the old +oak table in front of the large fireplace where the dog-irons were. And +a bright, blazing log there was on the hearth; for a cold east wind was +blowing, notwithstanding that the sun had shone out bravely in the day. +Ah! how glad Tom was to see the bright pewter plates and dishes ranged in +rows all round the homely kitchen! They seemed to smile a welcome on the +master; and one very large family sort of dish seemed to go out of his +way to give him welcome. I believe he tumbled down in his enthusiasm at +Tom’s return, although it was accounted for by saying that Tim had done +it by the excessive “waggling” of his tail. I believe that dish fell +down in the name of all the plates and dishes on the shelves, for the +purpose of congratulating the master; else why should all their faces +brighten up so suddenly with smiles as he did so? It’s ridiculous to +suppose plates and dishes have no feelings; they’ve a great deal more +than some people. And then, how the great, big, bright copper kettle, +suspended on his hook, which was in the centre of the huge fireplace, how +he did sing! Why the nightingale couldn’t throw more feeling into a song +than did that old kettle! And then the home-made bread and rashers of +bacon, such as you never see out of a farmhouse; and tea, such as can’t +be made anywhere else! And then the long pipe was brought out of his +corner, where he had been just as Tom had left it before going to town. +And the bowl of that pipe gave off circular clouds of the bluest smoke, +expressive of its joy at the master’s return: it wasn’t very expressive, +perhaps, but it was all that a pipe could do; and when one does his best +in this world, it is all that mortal man can expect of him. + +And then said Mrs. Bumpkin,—still dubious as to the policy of the +proceedings, but too loving to combat her husband upon them,—“When be +thee gwine agin, Tom?” + +“I doan’t rightly know,” said Bumpkin. “Mr. Prigg will let I know; +sometime in May, I reckon.” + +“Dear, dear!” said Mrs. Bumpkin; “it may be on, then, just as th’ +haymakin’s about.” + +“Lor, lor! no, dearie; it’ll be over long enough afore.” + +“Doan’t be too sure, Tom; it be a long time now since it begun.” + +“Ah!” said Tom, “a long time enough; but it’ll be in th’ paper afore long +now; an’ we got one o’ the cleverest counsel in Lunnun?” + +“What be his name?” + +“Danged if I know, but it be one o’ the stunninest men o’ the day; two on +’em, by Golly; we got two, Nancy.” + +“Who be th’ tother? p’r’aps thee med mind his name?” + +“Noa, I doan’t mind his name nuther. Now, what d’ye think o’ thic?” + +Mrs. Bumpkin laughed, and said, “I think it be a rum thing that thee ’as +counsellors and doan’t mind their names.” + +And then the conversation turned upon Joe, whose place was vacant in the +old chimney corner. + +The tears ran down Mrs. Bumpkin’s rosy cheeks as she said for the +twentieth time since Mr. Bumpkin’s return,— + +“Poor Joe! why did ur goo for a soger?” + +“He wur a fool!” said Bumpkin, “and I told un so. So as I warned un +about thic Sergeant; the artfullest man as ever lived, Nancy.” + +Mrs. Bumpkin wiped her eyes. “He wur a good boy, wur Joe, goo where ur +wool; but, Tom, couldn’t thee ’a’ kept thine eye on un when thee see thic +Sergeant hoverin’ roun’ like a ’awk arter a sparrer?” + +“I did keep eye on un, I tell ’ee; but what be the good o’ thic; as well +keep thee eye on th’ sparrer when th’ hawk be at un. I tell ’ee I +’suaded un and warned un, and begged on un to look out.” + +“An’ what did ur say?” + +“Say, why said ur wur up to un.” + +“Up to un,” repeated Mrs. Bumpkin. “Can’t think ’ow ur got ’old on un.” + +“No, and thee mark I, no more can nobody else—in Lunnon thee’re ’ad afore +thee knows where thee be.” + +And now Mr. Bumpkin had his “little drop of warm gin and water before +going to bed”: and Mrs. Bumpkin had a mug of elder wine, for the +Christmas elder wine was not quite gone: and after that Mrs. Bumpkin, who +as the reader knows, was the better scholar of the two, took down from a +shelf on which the family documents and books were kept, a large old +bible covered with green baize. Then she wiped her glasses, and after +turning over the old brown leaves until she came to the place where she +had read last before Tom went away, commenced her evening task, while her +husband smoked on and listened. + +Was it the old tone with which she spelt her way through the sacred +words? Hardly: here it could be perceived that in her secret heart there +was doubt and mistrust. Do what she would her eyes frequently became so +dim that it was necessary to pause and wipe her glasses; and when she had +finished and closed the book, she took Tom’s hand and said: + +“O, Tom, I hope all ’ll turn out well, but sure enough I ha’ misgivings.” + +“What be it, my dear? Mr. Prigg say we shall win—how can ur do better +’an thic?” + +“Shall we get back the pigs and sheep, Tom?” + +“Why not?” + +Mrs. Bumpkin looked into her lap, and folding her apron very smooth with +both hands, answered: + +“I doan’t think, Tom, that man looks like bringing anything back. He be +very chuffy and masterful, and looks all round as he goo away, as though +he wur lookin’ to see what ur would take next. I think he’ll have un +all, Tom.” + +“Stuff!” said Mr. Bumpkin, “he be sellin’ for I, take what ur may.” + +“He be sellin’ THEE, Tom, I think, and I’d stop un from takin’ more.” + +They rose to go to bed, and as Mrs. Bumpkin looked at the cosy old +hearth, and put up the embers of the log to make it safe for the night, +it seemed as if the prosperity of their old home had burnt down at last +to dull ashes, and she looked sadly at the vacant place where Joe had +used to sit. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Joe’s return to Southwood—an invitation from the Vicar—what the old oak +saw. + +It was a long time after the circumstances mentioned in the last chapter. +The jails had been “delivered” of their prisoners, and prodigious events +had taken place in the world; great battles had been fought and won, +great laws made for the future interpretation of judges, and for the +vexation of unfortunate suitors. It seemed an age to Mr. Bumpkin since +his case commenced; and Joe had been in foreign parts and won his share +of the glory and renown that falls to the lot of privates who have helped +to achieve victory for the honour and glory of their General and the +happiness of their country. It was a very long time, measured by events, +since Mr. Bumpkin’s return from town, when on a bright morning towards +the end of June, a fine sunburnt soldier of Her Majesty’s regiment of the +--- Hussars knocked with the butt-end of his riding whip at the old oak +door in the old porch of Southwood farm-house. + +“Well, I never! if that there bean’t our Joe!” exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin, +looking out of the window; and throwing down the rolling-pin which she +had just been using in rolling-out the dough for a dumpling—(Mr. Bumpkin +was “uncommon fond o’ dumplins”)—“well, I never!” repeated Mrs. Bumpkin, +as she opened the door; “who ever would ha’ thought it? Why, how be’est +thee, Joe? And bless the lad, ’ow thee’ve growed! My ’art alive, come +along! The master’ll be mighty glad to see thee, and so be I, sure a +ly.” + +And here Mrs. Bumpkin paused to look round him, sticking her knuckles in +her sides and her elbows in the air as though Joe were a piece of +handiwork—a dumpling, say—which she herself had turned out, clothes and +all. And then she put the corner of her apron to her eye. + +“Why, Joe, I thought,” said she, “I should never see thee agin! Dear, +dear, this ’ere lawsuit be the ruin on us, mark my words! But lor, don’t +say as I said so to the master for the world, for he be that wropped up +in un that nothing goes down night and morning, morning and night, but +affidavys, and summonses, and counsellors, and jussices, and what not.” + +“Well,” said the soldier, slapping his whip on his leg as was his custom, +“you might be sure I should come and see yer if they left me a leg to hop +with, and I should ’a wrote, but what wi’ the smoke and what with the +cannon balls flying about, you haven’t got much time to think about +anything; but I did think this, that if ever I got back to Old England, +if it was twenty year to come, I’d go and see the old master and missus +and ’ear ’ow that lawsuit wur going on.” + +“And that be right, Joe—I knowed ’ee would; I said as much to master. +But ’ow do thee think it’ll end? shall us win or lose?” + +Now this was the first time he had ever been called upon to give a legal +opinion, or rather, an opinion upon a legal matter, so he was naturally +somewhat put about; and looking at the rolling-pin and the dough and then +at Mrs. Bumpkin, said: + +“Well, it’s like this: a man med win or a man med lose, there’s no +telling about the case; but I be dang’d well sure o’ this, missus, he’ll +lose his money: I wish master had chucked her up long agoo.” + +This opinion was not encouraging; and perceiving that the subject +troubled Mrs. Bumpkin more than she liked to confess, he asked a question +which was of more immediate importance to himself, and that was in +reference to Polly Sweetlove. + +“Why, thee’ll make her look at thee now, I’ll warrant; thy clothes fit +thee as though they growed on thee.” + +“Do she walk with the baker?” inquired Joe, with trembling accents. + +“I never heeard so, an’ it’s my belief she never looked at un wi’ any +meaning. I’ve seen her many a time comin’ down the Green Lane by herself +and peepin’ over th’ gate.” + +“Now look at that!” said Joe; “and when I was here I couldn’t get Polly +to come near the farm—allays some excuse—did you ever speak to her about +me, missus?” + +“I ain’t going to tell tales out of school, Joe, so there.” + +“Now look at that,” said Joe; “here’s a chap comes all this way and you +won’t tell him anything.” + +Mrs. Bumpkin laughed, and went on rolling the dough, and told him what a +nice dumpling she was making, and how he would like it, and asked how +long he was going to stop, and hoped it would be a month, and was telling +him all about the sheep and the cows and the good behaviour of the bull, +when suddenly she said: + +“Here he be, Joe! lor, lor, how glad he’ll be to see thee!” + +But it wasn’t the Bull that stepped into the room; it was Mr. Bumpkin, +rosy, stalwart, jolly, and artful as ever. Now Mrs. Bumpkin was very +anxious to be the bearer of such good intelligence as Joe’s arrival, so, +notwithstanding the fact that Mr. Bumpkin and he were face to face, the +eager woman exclaimed: + +“Here be our Joe, Tom, hearty and well. And bean’t he a smart fine +feller? What’ll Polly think of un now?” + +“Shut up thic chatter,” said Mr. Bumpkin, laughing. “Halloa! why, Joe, +egad thee looks like a gineral. I’d take thee for a kernel at the wery +least. Why, when did thee come, lad?” + +“Just now, master.” + +“That be right, an’ I be glad to see thee. I’ll warrant Nancy ain’t axed +thee t’ have nothun.” + +“Why, thee be welcome to the ’ouse if thee can eat un, thee knows thic,” +answered Nancy; “but dinner’ll be ready at twelve, and thee best not +spoil un.” + +“A quart o’ ale wun’t spile un, will un, Joe?” + +“Now look at that,” said the soldier. “Thankee, master, but not a +quart.” + +“Well, thee hasn’t got thee head snicked off yet, Joe?” + +“No, master, if my head had been snicked off I couldn’t ha’ bin here.” +And he laughed a loud ha! ha! ha! + +And Mr. Bumpkin laughed a loud haw! haw! haw! at this tremendous +witticism. It was not much of a witticism, perhaps, after all, when duly +considered, but it answered the purpose as well as the very best, and +produced as much pleasure as the most brilliant _repartee_, in the most +fashionable circles. We must take people as they are. + +So Joe stayed chattering away till dinner-time, and then, referring to +the pudding, said he had never tasted anything like it in his life; and +went on telling the old people all the wonders of the campaign: how their +regiment just mowed down the enemy as he used to cut corn in the +harvest-field, and how nothing could stand aginst a charge of cavalry; +and how they liked their officers; and how their General, who warn’t +above up to Joe’s shoulder, were a genleman, every inch on him, an’ as +brave as any lion you could pick out. And so he went on, until Mr. +Bumpkin said: + +“An’ if I had my time over agin I’d goo for a soger too, Joe,” which made +Mrs. Bumpkin laugh and ask what would become of her. + +“Ha! ha! ha! look at that!” said Joe; “she’s got you there, master.” + +“No she bean’t, she’d a married thic feller that wur so sweet on her +afore I had ur.” + +“What, Jem?” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “why I wouldn’t ha’ had un, Tom, if every +’air had been hung wi’ dimonds.” + +“Now look at that,” laughed Joe. + +And so they went on until it was time to take a turn round the farm. +Everything seemed startled at Joe’s fine clothes, especially the bull, +who snorted and pawed the earth and put out his tail, and placed his head +to the ground, until Joe called him by name, and then, as he told his +comrades afterwards in barracks, the bull said: + +“Why danged if it bean’t our Joe!” + +I must confess I did not hear this observation in my dream, but I was +some distance off, and if Mr. Ricochet, Q.C., in cross-examination had +said, “Will you swear, sir, upon your oath that the bull did not use +those words?” I must have been bound to answer, “I will not.” + +But presently they met old Tim, the Collie, and there was no need for Joe +to speak to him. Up he came with a bound and caressed his old mate in +the most loving manner. + +The Queen’s uniform was no disguise to him. + +The next day it was quite a treat to see Joe go through the village. +Such a swagger he put on that you would have thought he was the whole +regiment. And when he went by the Vicarage, where Polly was housemaid, +it was remarkable to see the air of indifference which he assumed. Whack +went his riding-whip on his leg: you could hear it a hundred yards off. +He didn’t seem to care a bit whether she was staring at him out of the +study window as hard as she could stare or not. Two or three times he +struck the same leg, and marched on perfectly indifferent to all around. + +At length came Sunday, as Sunday only comes in a country village. No +such peace, no such Sabbath anywhere. You have only got to look at +anything you like to know that it is Sunday. Bill’s shirt collar; the +milkman; even his bright milk-can has a Sunday shine about it. The cows +standing in the shallow brook have a reverent air about them. They never +look like that on any other day. Why the very sunshine is Sabbath +sunshine, and seems to bring more peace and more pleasantness than on any +other day of the week. And all the trees seem to whisper together, “It’s +Sunday morning.” + +Presently you see the people straggling up to the little church, whose +donging bell keeps on as much as to say, “I know I’m not much of a peal, +but in my humble way I do my duty to the best of my ability; it’s not the +sound but the spirit of the thing that is required; and if I’m not very +musical, and can’t give you many changes, I’m sincere in what I say.” +And this was an emblem of the sincerity and the simplicity of the +clergyman inside. He kept on hammering away at the old truths and +performing his part in God’s great work to the best of his ability; and I +know with very great success. So in they all came to church; and Joe, +who had been a very good Sunday-school pupil (notwithstanding his love of +poaching) and was a favourite with the vicar, as the reader knows, took +his old place in the free seats, not very far from the pew where the +vicar’s servants sat. Who can tell what his feelings were as he wondered +whether Polly would be there that morning? + +The other servants came in. Ah, dear! Polly can’t come, now look at +that! Just as he was thinking this in she came. Such a flutter in her +heart as she saw the bright uniform and the brighter face, bronzed with a +foreign clime and looking as handsome as ever a face could look. O what +a flutter too in Joe’s heart! But he was determined not to care for her. +So he wouldn’t look, and that was a very good way; and he certainly would +have kept his word if he could. + +I think if I had to choose where and how I would be admired, if ever such +a luxury could come to me, I would be Joe Wurzel under present +circumstances. A young hero, handsome, tall, in the uniform of the +Hussars, with a loved one near and all the village girls fixing their +eyes on me! That for once only, and my utmost ambition would be +gratified. Life could have no greater pride for me. I don’t know +whether the sermon made much impression that day, but of the two, I +verily believe Joe made the most; and as they streamed out of the little +church all the young faces of the congregation were turned to him: and +everywhere when they got outside it was, “Halloa, Joe!” “Why, Joe, my +lad, what cheer?” “Dang’d if here bean’t Joe!” and other exclamations of +welcome and surprise. And then, how all the pinafored boys flocked round +and gazed with wondering eyes at this conquering hero; chattering to one +another and contradicting one another about what this part of his uniform +was and what that part was, and so on; but all agreeing that Joe was +about the finest sight that had come into Yokelton since ever it was a +place. + +And then the old clergyman sent for him and was as kind as ever he could +be; and Joe was on the enchanted ground where the fairy Polly flitted +about as noiselessly as a butterfly. Ah, and what’s this? Now let not +the reader be over-anxious; for a few lines I must keep you, gentle one, +in suspense; a great surprise must be duly prepared. If I told you at +once what I saw, you would not think so much of it as if I kept you a +little while in a state of wondering curiosity. What do you think +happened in the Vicarage? + +Now’s the moment to tell it in a fresh paragraph. Why in came the fairy +with a little tray of cake and wine! Now pause on that before I say any +more. What about their eyes? Did they swim? What about their hearts; +did they flutter? Did Polly blush? Did Joe’s bronzed face shine? Ah, +it all took place, and much more than I could tell in a whole volume. +The vicar did not perceive it, for luckily he was looking out of the +window. It only took a moment to place the tray on the table, and the +fairy disappeared. But that moment, not then considered as of so much +importance, exciting as it was, stamped the whole lives of two beings, +and who can tell whether or no such a moment leaves its impress on +Eternity? + +All good and all kind was the old vicar; and how attentively he listened +with Mrs. Goodheart to the eye-witness of England’s great deeds! And +then—no, he did not give Joe a claptrap maudlin sermon, but treated him +as a man subject to human frailties, and, only hoped in all his career he +would remember some of the things he had been taught at the Sunday +School. + +“Ay,” said Joe, “ay, sir, and the best lesson I ever larned, and what +have done me most good, be the kindness I always had from you.” + +So they parted, and a day or two after, strangely enough, just as Joe was +walking along by the old Oak that is haunted, and which the owls and the +ghosts occupy between them, who should come down the lane in the opposite +direction but Polly Sweetlove! Where she came from was the greatest +mystery in the world! And it was so extraordinary that Joe should meet +her: and he said so, as soon as he could speak. + +“Now look at that! Whoever would have thought of meeting anybody here?” + +Polly hung down her head and blushed. Neither of them knew what to say +for a long time; for Joe was not a spokesman to any extent. At last +Polly Sweetlove broke silence and murmured in the softest voice, and I +should think the very sweetest ever heard in this world: + +“Are you going away soon, Joe?” + +“Friday,” answered the young Hussar. + +Ah me! This was Wednesday already; to-morrow would be Thursday, and the +next day Friday! I did not hear this, but I give you my word it took +place. + +“Are you coming to see the Vicar again?” asked the sweet voice. + +“No,” said Joe. + +They both looked down at the gnarled roots of the old tree—the roots did +stick out a long way, and I suppose attracted their attention—and then +Polly just touched the big root with her tiny toe. And the point of that +tiny toe touched Joe’s heart too, which seemed to have got into that root +somehow, and sent a thrill as of an electric shock, only much pleasanter, +right through his whole body, and even into the roots of his hair. + +“When are you coming again?” whispered the sweet lips. + +“Don’t know,” said the young soldier; “perhaps never.” + +“But you’ll come and see—your mother?” + +“O yes,” answered Joe, “I shall come and see mother; but what’s it matter +to thee, lassie?” + +The lassie blushed, and Joe thought it a good opportunity to take hold of +her hand. I don’t know why, but he did; and he was greatly surprised +that the hand did not run away. + +“I think the Vicar likes you, Joe?” + +“Do he?” and he kept drawing nearer and nearer, little by little, until +his other hand went clean round Polly Sweetlove’s waist, and—well an owl +flew out of the tree at that moment, and drew off my attention; but +afterwards I saw that they both kept looking at the root of the tree, and +then Joe said; + +“But you love th’ baker, Polly?” + +“No,” whispered Polly; “no, no, never!” + +“Now, look at that!” said Joe, recovering himself a little; “I always +thought you liked the baker.” + +“Never, Joe.” + +“Well then, why didn’t you look at me?” + +Polly blushed. + +“Joe, they said you was so wild.” + +“Now, look at that,” said Joe; “did you ever see me wild, Polly?” + +“Never, Joe—I will say that.” + +“No, and you can ask my mother or Mrs. Bumpkin, or the Vicar, or anybody +else you like, Polly—.” + +“I shall go and see your mother,” said Polly. + +“Will you come to-morrow night?” asked Joe. + +“If I can get away I will; but I must go now—good-bye—good-bye—good——” + +“Are you in a hurry, Polly.” + +“I must go, Joe—good—; but I will come to-morrow, as soon as dinner is +over—good—good—good-bye.” + +“And then——,” but the Old Oak kept his counsel. Here I awoke. + + * * * * * + +“Well,” cried my wife, “you have broken off abruptly.” + +“One can’t help it,” quoth I, rubbing my eyes. “I cannot help waking any +more than I can help going to sleep.” + +“Well, this would be a very pretty little courtship if true.” + +“Ah,” I said, “if I have described all that I saw in my dream, you may +depend upon it it is true. But when I go to Southwood I will ask the Old +Oak, for we are the greatest friends imaginable, and he tells me +everything. He has known me ever since I was a child, and never sees me +but he enters into conversation.” + +“What about?” + +“The past, present, and future—a very fruitful subject of conversation, I +assure you.” + +“Wide enough, certainly.” + +“None too wide for a tree of his standing.” + +“Ask him, dear, if Joe will marry this Polly Sweetlove.” + +“He will not tell me that; he makes a special reservation in favour of +lovers’ secrets. They would not confide their loves to his keeping so +often as they do if he betrayed them. No, he’s a staunch old fellow in +that respect, and the consequence is, that for centuries lovers have +breathed their vows under his protecting branches.” + +“I’m sorry for that—I mean I am sorry he will not tell you about this +young couple, for I should like to know if they will marry. Indeed, you +must find out somehow, for everyone who reads your book will be curious +on this subject.” + +“What, as to whether ploughman Joe will marry Polly the housemaid. Had +he been the eldest son of the Squire now, and she the Vicar’s daughter, +instead of the maid—” + +“It would not have been a whit more interesting, for love is love, and +human nature the same in high and low degree. But, perhaps, this old +tree doesn’t know anything about future events?” + +“He knows from his long experience of the past what will happen if +certain conditions are given; he knows, for instance, the secret +whispers, and the silent tokens exchanged beneath his boughs, and from +them he knows what will assuredly result if things take their ordinary +course.” + +“So does anyone, prophet or no prophet.” + +“But his process of reasoning, based upon the experience of a thousand +years, is unerring; he saw William the Conqueror, and listened to a +council of war held under his branches; he knew what would happen if +William’s projects were successful: whether they would be successful was +not within his knowledge. He was intimately acquainted with Herne’s Oak +at Windsor, and they frequently visited.” + +“Visited! how was that possible?” + +“Quite possible; trees visit one another just the same as human +beings—they hold intercourse by means of the wind. For instance, when +the wind blows from the north-east, Southwood Oak visits at Windsor Park, +and when the wind is in the opposite direction a return visit is paid. +There isn’t a tree of any position in England but the Old Oak of +Southwood knows. He is in himself the History of England, only he is +unlike all other histories, for he speaks the truth.” + +“He must have witnessed many love scenes!” + +“Thousands!” + +“Tell me some?” + +“Not now—besides, I must ask leave.” + +“Does he ever tell you anything about yourself?” + +“A great deal—it is our principal topic of conversation; but he always +begins it, lest my modesty should prevent any intercourse on the +subject.” + +“What has he said?” + +“A great deal: he has inspired me with hope, even instilled into me some +ambition: he has tried to impart to me an admiration of all that is true, +and to awaken a detestation of all that is mean and pettifogging. I +never look at him but I see the symbol of all that is noble, grand and +brave: he is the emblem of stability, friendship and affection; a +monument of courage, honesty, and fidelity; he is the type of manly +independence and self-reliance. I am glad, therefore, that under his +beautiful branches, and within his protecting presence, two young hearts +have again met and pledged, as I believe they have, their troth, honestly +resolving to battle together against the storms of life, rooted in +stedfast love, and rejoicing in the sunshine of the Creator’s smiles!” + +After these observations, which were received with marked approval, I +again gave myself up to the soft influence of a dreamy repose. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +A consultation as to new lodgings.—Also a consultation with counsel. + +It was a subject of grave discussion between the Bumpkins and Joe, as to +where would be the best place for the plaintiff to lodge on his next +visit to London. If he had moved in the upper ranks of life, in all +probability he would have taken Mrs. Bumpkin to his town house: but being +only a plain man and a farmer, it was necessary to decide upon the most +convenient, and at the same time, inexpensive locality. + +Mrs. Bumpkin, who, of course, knew all about her husband’s adventures, +was strongly opposed to his returning to the Goose. Never had created +thing lost so much in her estimation by mere association as this domestic +bird. Joe was a fine soldier, no doubt, but it was the Goose that had +taken him in. + +Curiously enough, as they were discussing this important question, who +should come in but honest Lawyer Prigg himself. + +What a blessing that man seemed to be, go where he would! Why, he spread +an air of hope and cheerfulness over this simple household the moment he +entered it! But the greatest virtue he dispensed was resignation; he had +a large stock of this on hand. He always preached it: “resignation to +the will of Providence;” resignation to him, Prigg! + +So when he came in with his respectable head, professional collar, and +virtuous necktie, Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin could not choose but rise. Mr. +Bumpkin meekly pulled his hair, and humbly bowed obeisance as to his +benefactor. Mrs. Bumpkin curtseyed as to a superior power, whom she +could not recognize as a benefactor. Joe stood up, and looked as if he +couldn’t quite make out what Mr. Prigg was. He knew he worked the Law +somehow, and “summut like as a man works a steam-threshing machine, but +how or by what means, was a mystery unrevealed to the mind of the simple +soldier.” + +“Good morning! good morning!” said Mr. Prigg, after the manner of a +patriarch conferring a blessing. “Well, Joe, so you are returned, are +you? Come, now, let me shake hands with one of our brave heroes!” + +What condescension! and his tone was the tone of a man reaching down from +a giddy height to the world beneath him. + +“So you were in the thick of the fight, were you—dear me! what a charge +that was!” Ah, but, dear reader, you should see Prigg’s charges! + +“I wur someur about, sir,” said Joe. “I dunnow where now though.” + +“Quite so,” said Mr. Prigg, “it was a great victory; I’m told the enemy +ran away directly they heard our troops were coming.” + +“Now look at that,” said Joe; “what a lot of lies do get about sure-ly!” + +“Dear me!” said Mr. Prigg; “but you beat them, did you not? we won the +battle?” + +“That’s right enough,” said Joe; “but if they’d run away we couldn’t a +beat un—’tain’t much of a fight when there’s no enemy.” + +“Haw, haw, haw!” laughed Bumpkin. “That be good, Mr. Prigg, that be +good!” + +“Very good, very good, indeed,” said Mr. Prigg; “I don’t wonder at your +winning if you could make such sallies as that.” + +And that was good for Mr. Prigg. + +“And now,” said he, “to business—business, eh?” + +“We be jist gwine to ’ave a nice piece o’ pork and greens, Mr. Prigg, +would ee please to tak some,” said Mr. Bumpkin. + +“Dear me!” answered Prigg; “how very strange, my favourite dish—if ever +Mrs. Prigg is in doubt about—” + +“It be wery plain,” said Bumpkin. + +“The plainer the better, my dear sir; as I always say to my servants, if +you—” + +“I’m sure,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; “I be ’ardly fit to wait on a gennleman +like you. I ain’t ’ad time this morning to change my gown and tidy up +myself.” + +“Really, my dear madam—don’t, now; I adjure you; make no apologies—it is +not the dress—or the—or the —, anything in fact, that makes us what we +are;—don’t, if you please.” + +And here his profound sentiments died away again and were lost to the +world; and the worthy man, not long after, was discussing his favourite +dish with greedy relish. + +“An when’ll this ’ere thing be on, Mr. Prigg, does thee think? It be a +hell of a long time.” + +“Tom! Tom!” exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin. But Mr. Prigg was too well bred and +too much occupied with his pork and greens to hear the very wayward +epithet of the Farmer Bumpkin. + +“Quite so,” said the lawyer; “quite so, it is so difficult to tell when a +case will come on. You’re in the list to-day and gone to-morrow; a man +the other day was just worried as you have been; but mark this; at the +trial, Mr. Bumpkin, the jury gave that man a verdict for a thousand +pounds!” + +“Look at that, Nancy,” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin; “Will ’ee tak a little more +pork, sir?” + +“Thank you,” said Mr. Prigg, “it’s uncommonly good; some of your own +feeding, I suppose?” + +“Ay,” said Mr. Bumpkin. + +“Were that a pig case, Mr. Prigg, where the man got the thousand pounds?” +asked Mrs. Bumpkin. + +“Let me see,” answered Prigg, “_was_ it a pig case?” Here he put his +finger to the side of his nose. “I really, at this moment, quite forget +whether it was or was not a pig case. I’ll trouble you, Mrs. Bumpkin, +for a little more greens, if you please.” + +“Now, I wur saying,” said Bumpkin, “jist as thee comed in, where be I to +lodge when I gooes to Lunnon agin?” + +“Ah, now, quite so—yes; and you must go in a day or two. I expect we +shall be on shortly. Now, let me see, you don’t like ‘The Goose’? A +nice respectable hostelry, too!” + +“I wunt ’ave un goo there, Mr. Prigg,” said Mrs. Bumpkin. + +“Quite so—quite so. Now what I was thinking was, suppose you took +lodgings at some nice suburban place, say—” + +“What pleace, sir?” inquired Bumpkin. + +“Let us say Camden Town, for instance—nice healthy neighbourhood and +remarkably quiet. You could come every morning by ’bus, or if you +preferred it, by rail; and if by rail, you could take a season ticket, +which would be much cheaper; a six months’ ticket, again, being cheaper +than a three months’ ticket.” + +“In the name o’ Heaven, sir,” exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin, “be this ’ere thing +gwine on for ever?” + +Mr. Prigg smiled benignly, as much as to say, “You ladies are so +impatient, so innocent of the business of life.” + +“It seems to me, Mr. Prigg, one need live to be as old as thic there +Mackthusaler to bring a law-suit now-a-days.” + +“Now, look at that!” broke in Joe, “it’s made master look forty year +older aready.” + +“So it have, Joe,” rejoined the mistress; “I wish it could be chucked up +altogether.” + +Mr. Prigg benignantly shook his head. + +“D’ye think I be gwine to give in to thic sniggerin’ Snooks feller?” +asked Mr. Bumpkin. “Not if I knows it. Why thic feller goo sniggerin’ +along th’ street as though he’d won; and he ’ave told lots o’ people how +he’ll laugh I out o’ Coourt—his counsel be gwine to laugh I out o’ Coourt +becors I be a country farmer.” + +“Right can’t be laughed out of Court, sir,” said the excellent Prigg, +solemnly. + +“Noa, noa, right bean’t asheamed, goo where ur wool. Upright and +down-straight wur allays my motto. I be a plain man, but I allays tried +to act straight-forrerd, and bean’t asheamed o’ no man.” + +This speech was a complete success: it was unanswerable. It fixed the +lodgings at Camden Town. It stopped Mrs. Bumpkin’s impatience; +diminished her apprehensions; and apparently, lulled her misgivings. She +was a gentle, hard-working, loving wife. + +And so all was settled. It was the month of April, and it was +confidently expected that by the end of July all would be comfortably +finished in time to get in the harvest. The crops looked well; the +meadows and clover-field promised a fair crop, and the wheat and barley +never looked better. + +The following week found Mr. Bumpkin in his new lodgings at Camden Town; +and I verily believe, as Mr. Prigg very sagaciously observed, if it had +not been for the Judges going circuit, _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ would have +been in the paper six weeks earlier than it really was. But even +lawsuits must come on at last, be they never so tardy: and one day, in +bustling haste, Mr. Prigg’s young man informed Mr. Bumpkin that a +consultation was actually fixed at his leader’s chambers, Garden Court, +Temple, at seven o’clock punctually the next day. + +Bumpkin was delighted: he was to be present at the express wish of the +leading counsel. So to Garden Court he went at seven, with Mr. Prigg; +and there sure enough was Mr. Dynamite, his junior counsel. Mr. +Catapult, Q.C., had not yet arrived. So while they waited, Mr. Bumpkin +had an opportunity of looking about him; never in his life had he seen so +many books. There they were all over the walls; shelves upon shelves. +The chambers seemed built with books, and Mr. Bumpkin raised his eyes +with awe to the ceiling, expecting to see books there. + +“What be all these ’ere books, sir?” he whispered to Prigg. + +“These are law books,” answered the intelligent Prigg; “but these are +only a few.” + +“Must be a good dale o’ law,” said Bumpkin. + +“A good deal too much,” observed Mr. Dynamite, with a smile; “if we were +to burn nine-tenths of the law books we should have better law, eh, Mr. +Prigg?” + +Mr. Prigg never contradicted counsel; and if Mr. Dynamite had said it’s a +great pity that our libraries have so few authorities, Prigg would have +made the same answer, “I quite agree, quite so! quite so!” + +“Mr. Cats-’is-name don’t seem to come,” observed Bumpkin, after an hour +and a half had passed. + +“Mr. _Catapult_, Mr. _Catapult_,” said Mr. Prigg; “no, he doesn’t seem to +come.” And then he rang for the clerk, and the clerk came. + +“Do you think Mr. Catapult will return to-night?” inquired Prigg. + +“I don’t think he will,” said the clerk, looking at his watch; “I am +afraid not.” + +“Beant much good to stop then,” said Mr. Bumpkin. + +“I fear not,” observed the clerk, “he has so many engagements. Shall we +fix another consultation, Mr. Prigg?” + +“If you please,” said that gentleman. + +“Say half-past seven to-morrow, then. The case, I find, is not in the +paper to-morrow.” + +“Quite so, quite so,” returned Prigg, “half-past seven to-morrow.” + +And thus the consultation was at an end and the parties went their +several ways. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +Mr. Bumpkin receives compliments from distinguished persons. + +One evening as Mr. Bumpkin was sitting in his little parlour, ruminating, +or as he termed it, “rummaging” in his mind over many things, and +especially wondering when the trial would come on, Horatio, in breathless +impatience, entered the room. His excited and cheerful appearance +indicated that something of an unusually pleasant nature had occurred. A +strong intimacy had long been established between this boy and Mr. +Bumpkin, who regarded Horatio as a kind of legal prodigy; his very hopes +seemed centered in and inspired by this lad. He seemed to be the guiding +spirit and the flywheel of the whole proceedings. Was Snooks to be +pulverized? it must be under Horatio’s heel! + +This legal stripling brought almost as much comfort as Mr. Prigg himself; +and it was quite a pleasure to hear the familiar terms in which he spoke +of the bigwigs of the profession. He would say of McCannister, the +Queen’s Counsel, “I like Mac’s style of putting a question, it’s so soft +like—it goes down like a Pick-me-up.” Then he would allude to Mr. +Heavytop, Q.C., as Jack; to Mr. Bigpot as old Kettledrum; to Mr. Swagger, +Q.C., as Pat; to B. C. Windbag, Q.C., M.P., as B. C.—all which indicated +to the mind of Mr. Bumpkin the particularly intimate terms upon which +Horatio was with these celebrities. Nor did his intimacy cease there: +instead of speaking of the highest legal official of the land in terms of +respectful deference, as “my Lord High Chancellor,” or “my Lord +Allworthy,”—he would say, in the most indifferent manner “Old Allworthy” +this, and “Old Allworthy,” that; sometimes even, he ventured to call some +of Her Majesty’s Judges by nick-names; an example which, I trust, will +not be followed by the Horatios of the future. But I believe the pale +boy, like his great namesake, was fearless. It was a comfort to hear him +denounce the law’s delay, and the terrible “cumbersomeness” of legal +proceedings: not that he did it in soothing language or in happy +phraseology: it was rather in a manner that led Mr. Bumpkin to believe +the young champion was standing up for his particular rights; as if he +had said to the authorities, whoever they might be, “Look here! I’ll +have no more of this: it’s a shame and disgrace to this country that a +simple dispute between a couple of neighbours can’t be tried without +months of quarrelling in Judges’ Chambers and elsewhere; if you don’t try +this case before long I’ll see what can be done.” Then there was further +consolation in the fact that Horatio declared that, in his opinion, Tommy +_Catpup_, Q.C., would knock Snooks into a cocked hat, and that Snooks +already looked very down in the mouth. + +On the evening at which I have arrived in my dream, when the pale boy +came in, Mr. Bumpkin inquired what was the matter: was the case settled? +Had Snooks paid the damages? Nothing of the kind. Horatio’s visit was +of a common-place nature. He had simply come to inform Mr. Bumpkin that +the Archbishop of Canterbury had kindly sent him a couple of tickets for +the reserved seats at Canterbury Hall. + +Mr. Bumpkin was disappointed. He cared nothing for Archbishops. He was +in hopes it had been something better. + +“I wunt goo,” said he. + +“We ought to go, I think,” said Horatio; “it was very kind of old Archy +to send em, and he wouldn’t like it if we didn’t go: besides, he and the +Rolls are great chums.” + +“Rolls!” said Bumpkin. + +“The Master of the Rolls. I shouldn’t wonder if he aint got Archy to +send em—don’t you be a fool. And another thing, Paganani’s going to play +the farmyard on the fiddle to-night. Gemminey, ain’t that good! You +hear the pigs squeak, and the bull roar, and the old cock crow, and the +sow grunt, and the horse kick—” + +“How the devil can thee hear a horse kick, unless he kicks zummat?” + +“Well, he does,” said Horatio; “that’s just what he does do. Let’s go, I +am sure you will like it.” + +“It beant one o’ these ere playhouse pleaces, be it?” + +“Lor bless you,” said Horatio, “there’s pews just the same as if you was +in Church: and the singing’s beautiful.” + +“No sarmon, I s’pooase.” + +“Not on week nights, but I’ll tell you what there is instead: a chap +climbs up to the top of a high pole and stands on his head for ten +minutes.” + +Mr. Bumpkin, although a man who never went out of an evening, could not +resist the persuasions of his pale young friend. He had never been to +any place of amusement, except the Old Bailey, since he had been in +London; although he had promised himself a treat to the Cattle Show, +provided that came on, which was very likely, as it only wanted five +months to it, before his case. + +So they got on the top of a ’Bus and proceeded on their way to Lambeth +Palace; for the Canterbury Hall, as everyone knows, is in that ancient +pile. And truly, when they arrived everything was astonishingly +beautiful and pleasing. Mr. Bumpkin was taken through the Picture +Gallery, which he enjoyed, although he would have liked to see one or two +like the Squire had got in his Hall, such as “Clinker,” the prize bull; +and “Father Tommy,” the celebrated ram. But the Archbishop probably had +never taken a prize: not much of a breeder maybe. + +Now they entered the Hall amid strains of sweet, soft, enchanting music. +Never before had the soul of Bumpkin been so enthralled: it was as if the +region of fairyland had suddenly burst upon his astonished view. In +presence of all this beauty, and this delicious cadence of sweet sounds, +what a common-place thing _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ seemed! + +Theirs was a very nice pew, commanding a full view of the stage and all +the angelic looking beings. And evidently our friends were considered +fashionable people, for many of the audience looked round at them as they +entered. So awed was Mr. Bumpkin when he first sat down, that he +wondered whether he ought to look into his hat as the Squire did in +Church; but, resolving to be guided by Horatio, and seeing that the pale +youth did not even take his billycock off, but spread his elbows out on +the front ledge and clapped his hands with terrific vehemence, and +shouted “Anchore” as loudly as he could, Mr. Bumpkin, in imitation, +clapped his hands and said “Hooroar!” + +It was glorious. The waiter came and exchanged winks with the pale boy, +and brought some soda-and-brandy and a cigar. Mr. Bumpkin wondered more +and more. It was the strangest place he had ever heard of. It seemed so +strange to have smoking and drinking. But then he knew there were things +occurring every day that the cleverest men could not account for: not +even Mr. Slater, the schoolmaster at Yokelton, could account for them. + +Just in front of the two friends was another pew, a very nice one that +was, and for some little time it was unoccupied. Presently with a great +rustling of silks and a great smell of Jockey Club, and preceded by one +of the servants of the establishment, entered two beautiful and +fashionably dressed ladies of extremely quiet (except the Jockey Club) +and retiring demeanour. They could not but attract Mr. Bumpkin’s +attention: they so reminded him of the Squire’s daughters, only they +dressed much better. How he would like Nancy to see them: she was very +fond of beautiful gowns, was Nancy. + +“I wonder who they be?” whispered Bumpkin. + +“I don’t know,” answered Horatio; “I’ll ask as soon as I get a chance. +It’s the Archbishop’s pew; I believe they are his daughters.” + +“Wouldn’t ur ha come wi em?” said Bumpkin. + +“He generally does, but I suppose he can’t get away to-night.” + +At this moment a waiter, or as Bumpkin called him a pew opener, was +passing, and Horatio whispered something in his ear, his companion +looking at him the while from the corner of his eyes. + +“The one on the right,” whispered the waiter, untwisting the wire of a +bottle of sodawater, “is the Countess Squeezem, and the other is Lady +Flora, her sister.” + +Bumpkin nodded his head as much as to say, “Just see that: high life, +that, if you like!” + +And really the Countess and Lady Flora were as quiet and unassuming as if +they had been the commonest bred people in the world. + +Now came forward on the stage a sweet young lady dressed in yellow satin, +with lovely red roses all down the front and one on the left shoulder, +greeted by a thunder of applause. Her voice was thrilling: now it was at +the back of the stage; now it was just behind your ear; now in the +ceiling. You didn’t know where to have it. After she had done, Horatio +said: + +“What do you think of Nilsson?” + +“Wery good! wery good!” + +“Hallo,” says Horatio, “here’s Sims Reeves. Bravo Sims! bravo Reeves!” + +“I’ve eered tell o’ he,” says Bumpkin; “he be wery young, bean’t he?” + +“O,” says Horatio, “they paint up so; but ain’t he got a tenor—O gemminey +crikery!” + +“A tenner?” says Bumpkin, “what’s thee mean, ten pun a week?” + +“O my eye!” says the youth, “he gets more than that.” + +“It be good wages.” + +“Yes, but it’s nothing to what some of em get,” says Horatio; “why if a +man can play the fool well he can get as much as the Prime Minister.” + +“Ah, and thic Prime Minister can play the fool well at times; it seem to +me—they tooked the dooty of whate and made un too chape.” + +“Who’s this?” asks Horatio of the waiter. + +“Patti,” says the waiter, “at the express wish of the Queen.” + +Bumpkin nods again, as though there was no end to the grandeur of the +company. + +Then comes another no less celebrated, if Horatio was correct. + +“Hullo,” says he, “here’s Trebelli!” + +Now this was too much for the absorbing powers of even a Bumpkin. +Horatio had carried it too far. Not that his friend had ever heard of +the great vocalist, but if you are inclined for fun pray use names that +will go down. Mr. Bumpkin looked hard at Horatio’s face, on which was +just the faintest trace of a smile. And then he said: + +“What a name, _Bellie_! danged if I doan’t think thee be stickin it into +I,” and then he laughed and repeated, “thee be stickin it into I.” + +“Now for Pagannini!” says Horatio; “now you’ll hear something. By Jove, +he’ll show you!” + +“Why I’ve eerd tell o’ thic Piganiny when I were a boy,” says Bumpkin, +“used to play on one leg.” + +“That’s the man,” says Horatio. + +“But this ere man got two legs, how can he be Piganiny?” + +“I don’t know anything about that,” says Horatio; “what’s it matter how +many legs he’s got, just listen to that!” + +“Why danged if that bean’t as much like thic Cochin Chiner cock o’ mine +as ever I eered in my life.” + +“Told you so,” says Horatio; “but keep quiet, you’ll hear something +presently.” + +And sure enough he did: pig in the straw; sow in the stye; bull in the +meadow; sheep in the fold; everything was perfect. + +Never before had Mr. Bumpkin been so overpowered. He never before knew +what music was. Truly Piganiny was a deserving man, and a clever one +too. Mr. Bumpkin’s enthusiasm had carried him thus far, when to his +great satisfaction the Lady Flora looked round. It was very nice of her, +because it was as if she wished to know if Mr. Bumpkin and his friend +felt the same rapturous delight as she and her sister. What a nice face +Lady Flora’s was! It wasn’t unlike the Squire’s eldest daughter’s. +Between that, perhaps, and the Vicar’s youngest daughter’s. + +Then the Countess slightly turned round, her face wearing a smile of +great complaisance, and Mr. Bumpkin could have seen at once that she was +a person of great distinction even if he had not been informed of her +rank. Well, taken for all in all, it was a night he would never forget, +and his only feeling of regret was that Mrs. Bumpkin was not present to +share his pleasure—the roar of that bull would have just pleased her; it +was so like Sampson. + +And now the scene shifters were preparing for another performance, and +were adjusting ropes and fixing poles, and what not, when, as Mr. Bumpkin +was lost in profound meditation, up rose from her seat the beautiful Lady +Flora, and turning round with a bewitching face, and assuming an air of +inexpressible simplicity, she exclaimed to Mr. Bumpkin in the sweetest of +voices: “O you duck!” + +Mr. Bumpkin started as if a cannon had exploded in his face instead of a +beautiful young lady. He blushed to the deepest crimson, and then the +lady Flora poured into him a volley of her sweetiest prettiest laughter. +Attacked thus so suddenly and so effectively, what could he do? He felt +there must be some mistake, and that he ought to apologize. But the Lady +Flora gave him no time; leaning forward, she held out her hand— + +“Beg pardon, m’lady—thic—I—I.” + +Then the Countess rose and smiled upon Mr. Bumpkin, and said she hoped he +wouldn’t mind; her sister was of such a playful disposition. + +The playful one here just touched Mr. Bumpkin under the chin with her +forefinger, and again said he was a “_perfect duck_!” + +“What be the manin’ o’ this?” said he. “I be off; come on, sir. This be +quite enough for I.” + +“Don’t go like that,” said Lady Flora. “Oh, dear, dear, what a cruel +man!” + +“Not a glass of wine,” said the Countess. + +“Not one, Mr. Bumpkin!” urged Lady Flora. + +Mr. Bumpkin had risen, and was angry: he was startled at his name being +known: he looked to Horatio, hoping some explanation might come; but the +pale youth had his back to him, and was preparing to leave the Hall. +There were many curious eyes looking at them, and there was much +laughter. Mr. Bumpkin’s appearance would alone have been sufficient to +cause this: but his mind was to be farther enlightened as to the meaning +of this extraordinary scene; and it happened in this wise. As he was +proceeding between the rows of people, followed closely by those +illustrious members of the aristocracy, the Countess and Lady Flora; +while the waiters grinned and the people laughed, his eye caught sight of +an object away over the front seat, which formed a right angle with the +one he had been occupying; it was an object unattractive in itself but +which, under the circumstances, fixed and riveted his attention; that +object was Snooks, in the corner of the third row, with his sawpit mouth +on the broadest grin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +The trial. + +Who shall describe the feelings of joy which animated the breast of Mr. +Bumpkin when at last, with the suddenness of lightning, Mr. Prigg’s clerk +flashed into his little parlour the intelligence, “Case in paper; be at +Court by ten o’clock; Bail Court.” Such was the telegram which Mr. +Bumpkin got his landlady to read on that pleasant evening towards the end +of July. The far-seeing Prigg was right. It would come on about the end +of July. That is what he had predicted. But it would not have been safe +for Mr. Bumpkin to be away from town for a single day. It might have +been in the paper at any moment; and here it was, just as he was +beginning to get tired of “Camden Town and the whole thing.” + +Mr. Bumpkin put on a clean shirt, with a good stiff high collar, which he +had reserved from Mrs. Bumpkin’s wash; for, in his opinion, there was no +stiffening in the London starch, and no getting up like Mrs. Bumpkin’s. +He put on his best neckerchief, and a bran new waistcoat which he had +bought for Sundays six years ago at the market town. He put on his drab +coat with the long tails, which he had worn on the day of his marriage, +and had kept for his best ever since; he put on his velvety looking +corduroy trowsers and his best lace-up watertight boots; and then, after +a good breakfast, put on his white beaver hat, took his ash-stick, and +got into a Westminster ‘Bus. What a beautiful morning it was! Just the +morning for a law suit! Down he got at Palace Yard, walked towards the +spacious door of the old hall, entered its shadowy precincts, and then, +in my dream, I lost sight of him as he mingled with the crowd. But I saw +some few moments after in the Bail Court enter, amidst profound silence +and with impressive dignity, Mr. Justice Stedfast. Let me here inform +the reader that if by any chance, say by settlement, postponement or +otherwise, the first case in the list “goes off,” as it is called (from +its bearing a striking resemblance to the unexpected going off of a gun), +and the parties in the next case, taken by surprise, are not there at the +moment, that case goes off by being struck out; and very often the next +and the next, and so on to the end of the list. Parties therefore should +be ready, so as to prevent a waste of time. The time of the Court is not +to be wasted by parties not being ready. Now, strangely enough, this is +what happened in the case of _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_. Being number eight, +no one thought it would be reached; and the leading counsel, and also the +junior counsel being engaged elsewhere; and Mr. Prigg and Mr. Prigg’s +clerk not having arrived; and Mr. Bumpkin not knowing his way; at five +minutes after the sitting of the Court, so expeditious are our legal +proceedings, the celebrated case was actually reached, and this is what +took place: + +“Are the parties ready?” inquired his Lordship. + +Mr. Ricochet, Q.C., who appeared with Mr. Weasel for the defendant, said +he was ready for the defendant. + +“Call the plaintiff!” said a voice. + +Loud cries for Bumpkin, who was just pushing his way down the passage +outside. + +“Does anyone answer?” asked his lordship; “do you know if any gentleman +is instructed, Mr. Ricochet?” + +“I am not aware, my lud.” + +“Stand up and be sworn, gentlemen,” says the associate. Up stood the +jury; and in less than half a minute they found a verdict for the +defendant, counterclaim being abandoned, just as Mr. Bumpkin had pushed +into Court. And judgment is given. + +The business having been thus got through, the Court rose and went away. +And then came in both counsel and Mr. Prigg and Horatio; and great +complaints were made of everybody except the Judge, who couldn’t help it. + +But our administration of justice is not so inelastic that it cannot +adapt itself to a set of circumstances such as these. It was only to +make a few more affidavits, and to appear before his lordship by counsel, +and state the facts in a calm and respectful manner, to obtain the +necessary rectification of the matter. All was explained and all +forgiven. _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ was to be restored to the paper upon +payment of the costs of the day—a trifling matter, amounting only to +about eighteen pounds seventeen shillings. But a severe admonition from +the Bench accompanied this act of grace: “The Court cannot be kept +waiting,” said his lordship; “and it is necessary that all suitors should +know that if they are not here when their cases are called on they will +be struck out, or the party to the cause who is here will be entitled to +a verdict, if the defendant; or to try his case in the other’s absence, +if he be the plaintiff. It was idle to suppose that parties could not be +there in time: it was their business to be there.” + +At this every junior barrister nodded approvingly, and the usher called +silence. + +Of course, the cause could not be in the paper again for some time: they +must suit Mr. Ricochet’s convenience now: and accordingly another period +of waiting had to be endured. Mr. Bumpkin was almost distracted, but his +peace of mind was restored by the worthy Prigg, who persuaded him that a +most laudable piece of good fortune had been brought about by his +intervention; and that was the preventing the wily Snooks from keeping +the verdict he had snatched. + +What a small thing will sometimes comfort us! + +Mr. Bumpkin was, indeed, a lucky man; for if his case had not been in the +paper when at last it was, it would have “gone over the Long Vacation.” + +At length I saw Mr. Justice Pangloss, the eminent Chancery Judge, take +his seat in the Bail Court. He was an immense case lawyer. He knew +cases that had been tried in the reigns of the Edwards and Henries. A +pig case could not, therefore, come amiss. + +A case lawyer is like Moses and Sons; he can fit anybody, from Chang down +to a midget. But there is sometimes an inconvenience in trying to fit an +old precedent on to new circumstances: and I am not unfrequently reminded +of the boy whose corduroy trousers were of the exact length, and looked +tolerable in front; but if you went round they stuck out a good deal on +the other side. He might grow to them, no doubt, but it is a clumsy mode +of tailoring after all. + +Now Mr. Bumpkin, of course, could not be sure that his case was “coming +on.” All he knew was, that he must avoid Snooks’ snatching another +verdict. He had been to great expense, and a commission had actually +been issued to take Joe’s evidence while his regiment was detained at +Malta. Mr. Prigg had taken the plaintiff into a crowd, and there had +left him early in the morning. + +Mr. Bumpkin’s appearance even in the densest crowd was attractive, to say +the least: and many and various were the observations from time to time +made by the vulgar roughs around as to his personal appearance. His +shirtcollar was greatly praised, so was the beauty of his waistcoat: +while I heard one gentleman make an enquiry which showed he was desirous +of ascertaining what was the name of the distinguished firm which had the +honour of supplying him with hats. One said it was Heath, he could tell +by the brim; another that it was Cole, he went by the polish; and the +particular curl of the brim, which no other hatter had ever succeeded in +producing. While another gentleman with one eye and half a nose +protested that it was one of Lincoln and Bennett’s patent dynamite +resisters on an entirely new principle. + +The subject of all these remarks listened as one in doubt as to whether +they were levelled at him or in any other direction. He glanced at the +many eyes turned upon him, and heard the laughter that succeeded every +new witticism. His uncertainty as to whether he was “the party eamed +at,” heightened the amusement of the wits. + +Now came a bolder and less mistakable allusion to his personal +appearance: + +“I should like Gladstone to see that, Jem; talk about a collar! the Grand +Old Man’s nowhere—he’d better take to turndowns after this.” + +“Yes,” replied the gentleman addressed; “I think this would settle him—is +he liberal or tory, I wonder?” + +“Tory, you’re sure—wotes for the Squoire, I’ll warrant. A small loaf and +a big jail.” + +Mr. Bumpkin turned his eyes first towards one speaker and then towards +another without moving his head, as he thought: + +“Danged if I doan’t bleeve thee means I.” But he wisely said nothing. + +“I say,” said another, “I wonder if pigeon’s milk is good for the +complexion.” + +“No,” said Jem, “it makes your nose red, and makes the hair sprout out of +the top of it.” + +Here was a laugh all round, which made the Usher call out silence; and +the Judge said he would have the Court cleared if order was not +preserved. Then there was a loud shouting all over the Court for “Thomas +Bumpkin!” + +“Here I be!” said Bumpkin, amid more laughter—and especially of the wits +around him. Then a great bustling and hustling, and pushing and +struggling took place. + +“Danged if that beant my case,” said Mr. Bumpkin; “but it ain’t my +counsellor.” + +“Make way for the plaintiff,” shouted the Usher; “stand on one side—don’t +crowd up this passage. This way, sir, make haste; the Court’s waiting +for you, why do you keep the Court waiting in this way?” + +“I was just going to strike your case out,” said the Judge, “the public +time can’t be wasted in this way.” + +Bumpkin scrambled along through the crowd, and was hustled into the +witness-box. The Judge put up his eye-glass, and looked at the plaintiff +as though he was hardly fit to bring an action in a Superior Court. Up +went the book into his hand. “Take the book in your right hand. Kiss +the book; now attend and speak up—speak up so that those gentlemen may +hear.” + +“Why weren’t you here before?” asked the Judge. + +“I wur, my lord?” + +“Didn’t you hear your learned counsel opening your case?” + +“I didn’t know it wur my case,” said Bumpkin, amid roars of laughter. + +“I don’t wonder at that,” said Mr. Ricochet, looking at the jury. + +“Now then,” said the Judge. + +“And now, then,” said Mr. Silverspoon; for neither of his own counsel was +able to be present. + +“You are a farmer, I believe?” + +“I be.” + +“On the 29th of May, 18--; did the defendant come to your farm?” + +“Ur did.” + +“Did he buy a pig?” + +“Ur did not; but ur said he’d be d---d if ur wouldn’t ’ave un.” + +“And did he come and take it away?” + +“Ur did; pulled un slick out of the sty; and when I tried to stop un in +the Lane, took un by main force?” + +Mr. Silverspoon sat down. + +“What was the age of this pig, Mr. Bumpkin,” enquired the Judge. + +“He wur ten weeks old, your lord.” + +“Isn’t there a calf case, Mr. Ricochet, very similar to this?” + +“Yes, my lord.” + +“I think,” said Mr. Justice Pangloss, “it was tried in the reign of James +the First.” + +Mr. Ricochet, who knew nothing of the calf case, except what his Lordship +had told him, said he believed it was. + +“If this was anything,” continued Mr. Ricochet, “upon the plaintiff’s own +showing it was a felony, and the plaintiff should have prosecuted the +defendant criminally before having recourse to his civil remedy; that is +laid down in the sheep case reported in Walker’s Trumpery Cases.” + +“What volume of the Trumpery Cases is that, Mr. Ricochet?” + +“Six hundred and fifty, my lud.” + +His Lordship writes it down. “Page?” says his lordship. + +“Nineteen hundred and ninety-five, my lud; about the middle of the book.” + +Judge calls to the Usher to bring the six hundred and fiftieth volume of +Walker’s Trumpery Cases. + +“But there’s a case before that,” said his lordship. “There’s a case, if +I recollect rightly, about the time of Julius Cæsar—the donkey case.” + +“It’s on all fours with this,” said Mr. Ricochet. + +“What do you say, Mr. Silverspoon?” + +Then Mr. Silverspoon proceeded to show that none of those cases was on +all fours with the present case; and a long and interesting argument +followed between the Bench and the Bar. And it was said by those who +were most competent to judge, that Mr. Silverspoon quite distinguished +himself for the wonderful erudition he displayed in his knowledge of the +donkey case, and several other cases of four-footed beasts that were +called to his attention by Mr. Justice Pangloss. A perfect menagerie was +“adduced.” Mr. Bumpkin meanwhile wondering where he was, and what on +earth they had all got to do with the plain fact of Snooks taking his pig +without paying for it. + +At length, after four hours had been consumed in these learned +disquisitions, Mr. Justice Pangloss, reviewing the judgments of the +various eminent lawyers who had presided over the respective cases in the +several reigns, and after quoting many observations of those eminent +jurists, said that in order to save time he would hold, for the purposes +of to-day, that Mr. Bumpkin was entitled to bring his action: but, of +course, he would reserve the point; he was by no means clear; he +considered himself bound by authority; and as the point was extremely +important, and left undecided after no less than twelve hundred years of +argument on the one side and the other, he thought it ought to be +solemnly settled. An unsettled state of the law was a very bad thing in +his lordship’s opinion; especially in these modern times, when it +appeared to him that the public were clamouring for further reform, and a +still further simplification of legal procedure. + +This suited Mr. Ricochet exactly; he could not be said now to have lost +his case, even if the jury should find against him. But he had yet to +cut up Bumpkin in cross-examination. The old trial was brought up +against the plaintiff; and every thing that could tend to discredit him +was asked. Mr. Ricochet, indeed, seemed to think that the art of +cross-examination consisted in bullying a witness, and asking all sorts +of questions tending to cast reflections upon his character. He was +especially great in insinuating perjury; knowing that that is always open +to a counsel who has no other defence. + +“Will you swear that?” was asked at almost every answer; sometimes +prefaced by the warning, “Be careful, sir—be careful.” If he could get +hold of anything against a witness’s character, be it ever so small, and +at ever so remote a distance in the man’s life, he brought it out; and +being a Queen’s Counsel he did not always receive the reproofs that would +have crushed a stuff gownsman into respectable behaviour. + +“Were you charged with assaulting a female in the public streets, sir?” + +“No, I worn’t.” + +“Be careful, sir—she may be in Court.” + +“Let her come forward then,” said the courageous Silverspoon, who was by +no means wanting in tact. + +“Will you be quiet, sir,” retorted Ricochet. “Now Mr. Bumpkin, or +whatever your name is, will you swear she did not accuse you of +assaulting her?” + +“She coomed oop, and it’s my belief she wur in the robbery.” + +“Bravo Bumpkin!” said one of the men who had chaffed him. And the jury +looked at one another in a manner that showed approval. + +“Will you swear, sir, you have never been in trouble?” + +“I donnow what thee means.” + +“Be careful, sir; you know what I mean perfectly well.” + +Then Locust whispers to him, and he says: + +“O, you frequent Music Halls, don’t you?” + +“Donnow what thee means,” says Bumpkin. + +“O, you don’t, don’t you; will you swear that?” + +“I wool.” + +“Be careful, sir. Were you at the Canterbury Hall with two women, who +passed as the Countess and Lady Flora?” + +“It be a lie!” + +And thus every form of torture was ruthlessly employed, till Mr. Bumpkin +broke down under it, and cried like a child in the witness-box. This +awakened sympathy for him. There had been much humour and much laughter; +and Mr. Ricochet having no knowledge of human nature, was not aware how +closely allied are laughter and tears; that in proportion as the jury had +laughed at the expense of Mr. Bumpkin they would sympathize with his +unhappy position. + +“I’ve worked hard,” said he, “for sixty year, and let any man come +forrard and say I’ve wronged man, ooman, or child!” + +That was a point for Bumpkin. Every one said, “Poor old man!” and even +his Lordship, who was supposed to have no feeling, was quite sympathetic. +Only Mr. Ricochet was obtuse. He had no heart, and very little skill, or +he would have managed his case more adroitly. “Badgering” is not much +use if you have no better mode of winning your case. + +“Stand down, Mr. Bumpkin,” said his counsel, as Mr. Ricochet resumed his +seat amid the suppressed hisses of the gallery. + +“Joseph Wurzel,” said Mr. Silverspoon. + +Joe appeared in the uniform of the Hussars. And he wore a medal too. +Mr. Ricochet had no sympathy with heroes any more than he had with men of +letters, artists, or any other class of talent. He was a dry, +uncompromising, blunt, unfeeling lawyer, looking at justice as a +thimblerig looks at his pea; lift which thimble you may, he will take +care the pea shall not be found if he can help it. He smiled a grim, +inhuman smile at Bumpkin’s tears, and muttered that he was an “unmanly +milksop.” + +Joe gave his evidence briefly and without hesitation. Everyone could see +he was speaking the truth; everybody but Mr. Ricochet, who commenced his +cross-examination by telling him to be careful, and that he was upon his +oath. + +“Be careful, sir;” he repeated. + +Joe looked. + +“You are on your oath, sir.” Joe faced him. + +“You deserted your master, did you?” + +“No,” said Joe; “I aint no deserter?” + +“But you enlisted.” + +“I don’t know as that’s desertion,” said Joe; “and I’m here to speak for +him now; and I give my evidence at Malta, too.” + +“Do you swear that, sir?” enquired Mr. Ricochet. “Were you not with your +master when the young woman accused him of assaulting her?” + +“I was not.” + +“Why did you enlist, then?” enquired Mr. Ricochet. + +“Cause I choose to,” said Joe. + +“Now, sir, upon your oath; I ask you, did you not enlist because of this +charge?” + +“No; I never heard on it till arter I was listed.” + +“When did you hear of it?” + +“At the trial at the Old Bailey.” + +“O,” said the learned Q.C.; “wait a minute, you were there, were you? +Were you there as a witness?” + +“No.” + +“Why not?” + +“Because I warnt.” + +“Will you swear that?” asked Ricochet, amid roars of laughter. + +“What were you there for?” + +“To hear the trial!” + +“And you were not called?” + +“No.” + +“And do you mean on your oath, sir, to say that you had enlisted at that +time.” + +“Now look at that,” said Joe; “the Sergeant there enlisted me, and he +knows.” + +“I suppose you had seen your master’s watch many times?” + +“I’d seen it,” said Joe. + +“And did not give evidence!” + +“No; I warnt called, and know’d nothing about it.” + +“You’ve been paid for coming here, I suppose?” + +“Not a farden, and wouldn’t take un; he bin a good maister to me as ever +lived.” + +“And you left him. Now then, sir, be careful; do you swear you heard +Bumpkin say Snooks should not have the pig?” + +“I do.” + +“Have you been speaking to anyone about this case before to-day?” + +Joe thought a bit. + +“Be careful, sir, I warn you,” says Ricochet. + +“Yes,” said Joe; “I have.” + +“I thought so. When? To whom?” + +And here an air of triumph lit up the features of Mr. Ricochet. + +“Afore I comed here.” + +“When! let’s have it?” + +“Outside the Court.” + +“To Bumpkin?” + +“No; to that there Locust; he axed un—” + +“Never mind what he axed you;” said Ricochet, whose idea of humour +consisted in the repetition of an illiterate observation; and he sat +down—as well he might—after such an exhibition of the art of advocacy. + +But on re-examination, it turned out that Mr. Locust had put several +questions to Joe with a view of securing his evidence himself at a +reasonable remuneration, and of contradicting Mr. Bumpkin. + +This caused the jury to look at one another with grave faces and shake +their heads. + +Mr. Ricochet began and continued his speech in the same common-place +style as his cross-examination; abusing everyone on the other side, +especially that respectable solicitor, Mr. Prigg; and endeavouring to +undo his own bad performance with the witness by a worse speech to the +jury. What he was going to show, and what he was going to prove, was +wonderful; everybody who had been called was guilty of perjury; everybody +he was going to call would be a paragon of all the virtues. He +expatiated upon the great common sense of the jury (as though they were +fools), relied on their sound judgment and denounced the conduct of Mr. +Bumpkin in the witness-box as a piece of artful acting, intended to +appeal to the weakness of the jury. But all was useless. Snooks made a +sorry figure in the box. He was too emphatic, too positive, too abusive. +Mr. Ricochet could not get over his own cross-examination. The +ridiculous counterclaim with its pettifogging innuendoes vanished before +that common sense of the jury to which Mr. Ricochet so dryly appealed. +The edifice erected by the modern pleader’s subtle craftiness was +unsubstantial as the icy patterns on the window-pane, which a single +breath can dissipate. And yet these ingenious contrivances were +sufficient to give an unimportant case an appearance of substantiality +which it otherwise would not have possessed. + +The jury, after a most elaborate charge from Mr. Justice Pangloss, who +went through the cases of the last 900 years in the most careful manner, +returned a verdict for the plaintiff with twenty-five pounds damages. +The learned Judge did not give judgment, inasmuch as there were points of +law to be argued. Mr. Bumpkin, although he had won his case so far as +the verdict was concerned, did not look by any means triumphant. He had +undergone so much anxiety and misery, that he felt more like a man who +had escaped a great danger than one who had accomplished a great +achievement. + +Snooks’ mouth, during the badgering of the witnesses, which was intended +for cross-examination was quite a study for an artist or a physiologist. +When he thought a witness was going to be caught, the orifice took the +form of a gothic window in a ruinous condition. When he imagined the +witness had slipped out of the trap laid for him, it stretched +horizontally, and resembled a baker’s oven. He was of too coarse a +nature to suspect that his own counsel had damaged his case, and believed +the result of the trial to have been due to the plaintiff’s “snivelling.” +He left the Court with a melancholy downcast look, and his only chance of +happiness hereafter in this life seemed now to be in proportion to his +power of making Mr. Bumpkin miserable. Mr. Locust was not behind in his +advice on their future course; and, after joining his client in the hall, +at once pointed out the utterly absurd conclusion at which the jury had +arrived; declared that there must be friends of the plaintiff among them, +and that Mr. Ricochet would take the earliest opportunity of moving for a +new trial; a piece of information which quite lit up the coarse features +of his client, as a breath of air will bring a passing glow to the +mouldering embers of an ash-heap on a dark night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +Motion for rule nisi, in which is displayed much learning, ancient and +modern. + +On the following day there was a great array of judicial talent and +judicial dignity sitting in what is called “Banco,” not to be in any way +confounded with “Sancho;” the two words are totally distinct both as to +their meaning and etymology. In the centre of the Bench sat Mr. Justice +Doughty, one of the clearest heads perhaps that ever enveloped itself in +horsehair. On his right was Mr. Justice Pangloss, and on his left Mr. +Justice Technical. + +Then arose from the Queen’s Counsel row, Mr. Ricochet to apply for a rule +_nisi_ for a new trial in the cause of _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ which was +tried yesterday before Mr. Justice Pangloss. + +“Before me?” says Mr. Justice Pangloss. + +“Yes, my lud,” says Mr. Ricochet. + +“Are you sure?” enquired the learned Judge, turning over his notes. + +“O, quite, my lud.” + +“Ah!” says his lordship: “what do you say the name of the case was?” + +“_Bumpkin_ against _Snooks_, my lud,” says Mr. Ricochet, Q.C. + +“Coots; what was it,—a Bill of Exchange?” asks his lordship. + +“Snooks, my lud, Snooks;” says Mr. Ricochet, “with the greatest +deference, my lud, his name is spelt with an S.” + +Judge, still turning over his book from end to end calls to his clerk, +and addressing Mr. Ricochet, says: “When do you say it was tried, Mr. +Ricochet?” + +“Yesterday, my lud; with great submission, my lud, I overheard your +ludship say Coots. Snooks, my lud.” + +Then all the Judges cried “Snooks!” as if it had been a puzzle or a +conundrum at a family Christmas party, and they had all guessed it at +once. + +“Bring me the book for this term,” said the Judge sharply to his clerk. + +“What was the name of the plaintiff?” enquired Mr. Justice Doughty. + +“Bumpkin, my lud,” said Mr. Ricochet, “with great deference.” + +“Ah, Pumpkin, so it was,” said the presiding Judge. + +“With great submission, my lud, Bumpkin!” + +“Eh?” + +“Bumpkin, my lud;” and then all the Judges’ cried “Bumpkin!” as pleased +as the followers of Columbus when they discovered America. + +“Ah, here it is,” said Mr. Justice Pangloss, passing his forefinger +slowly along the page; “the name of the case you refer to, Mr. Ricochet, +is _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_, not _Coots_ v. _Pumpkin_, and it was tried +before me and a special jury on the twenty-eighth of July of the present +year.” + +“Yes, my lud, with all submission.” + +“Why, that was yesterday,” said Mr. Justice Pangloss. “Why did you not +say so; I was referring to last year’s book.” + +“With all deference, my lud—” + +“Never mind, never mind, Mr. Ricochet; let us get on.” + +“What do you move for?” asked Mr. Justice Doughty. + +“A new trial, my lud.” + +“A new trial—yes—? Which way was the verdict, Mr. Ricochet?” + +“Verdict for the plaintiff, my lud.” + +“And whom do you appear for?” + +“I am for the defendant, my lud.” + +“O! you’re for the defendant. Stop—let me have my note correct. I find +it always of great assistance when the rule comes on to be argued. I +don’t say you’re going to have a rule. I must know a little more of the +case before we grant a rule.” + +“If your ludship pleases.” + +I did not gather what his lordship intended to say when he made the +observations recorded, and can only regret that his lordship should have +broken off so abruptly. + +“What ground do you move upon, Mr. Ricochet.” + +Mr. Ricochet said, “The usual grounds, my lud; that is to say, that the +verdict was against the weight of evidence.” + +“Stop a minute,” said Mr. Justice Doughty; “let me have my note correct, +‘against the weight of evidence,’ Mr. Ricochet.” + +“Misdirection, my lud—with all respect to Mr. Justice Pangloss—and +wrongful admission of evidence.” + +“What was the action for?” + +Now this was a question that no man living had been able to answer yet. +What was in the pleadings, that is, the pattern of the lawyer’s net, was +visible enough; but as regards merits, I predict with the greatest +confidence, that no man will ever be able to discover what the action of +_Bumpkin_ versus _Snooks_ was about. But it speaks wonders for the +elasticity of our system of jurisprudence and the ingenuity of our +lawyers that such a case could be _invented_. + +“Trespass,” said Ricochet, “was one paragraph; then there was assault and +battery; breach of contract in not accepting a pig at the price agreed; +trespass in seizing the pig without paying for it; and then, my lud, +there were the usual money counts, as they used to be called, to which +the defendant pleaded, among other pleas, a right of way; an easement; +leave and license; a right to take the pig; that the pig was the property +of the defendant, and various other matters. Then, my lud, there was a +counter-claim for slander, for assault and battery; for loss of profit +which would have been made if the pig had been delivered according to +contract; breach of contract for the non-delivery of the pig.” + +Mr. Justice Doughty: “This was pig-iron, I suppose?” + +The two other Judges fell back, shaking their sides with laughter; and +then forcibly thrust their hands against their hips which made their +tippets stick out very much, and gave them a dignified and imposing +appearance. Then, seeing the Judges laugh, all the bar laughed, and all +the ushers laughed, and all the public laughed. The mistake, however, +was a very easy one to fall into, and when Mr. Justice Doughty, who was +an exceedingly good-tempered man, saw the mistake he had made, he laughed +as much as any man, and even caused greater laughter still by +good-humouredly and wittily observing that he supposed somebody must be a +pigheaded man. To which Mr. Ricochet laughingly replied, that he +believed the plaintiff was a very pigheaded man. + +“Now,” said Mr. Justice Pangloss, “have you considered what Vinnius in +his ‘Commentary on Urban Servitudes’ says.” + +Mr. Ricochet said, “Hem!” and that was the very best answer he could make +to the learned Pangloss, and if he only continues to answer in that +manner he’ll get any rule he likes to apply for—(no, not the Rule of +Three, perhaps). + +So Mr. Justice Pangloss went on: + +“There are, as Gale says, ‘two classes of easements distinctly recognised +by the Civil Law—’” + +“Hem!” said Ricochet. + +“‘Under the head of “Urban Servitudes—’” + +Ricochet: “Hem!” + +“‘That a man,’ (continued Mr. Justice Pangloss), ‘shall receive upon his +house or land the _flumen_ or _stillicidium_ of his neighbour—’” + +“Hem!” coughed Mr. Ricochet, in a very high key; I verily believe in +imitation of that wonderful comedian, J. C. Clarke. + +Then Mr. Justice Pangloss proceeded, to the admiration of the whole Bar: + +“‘The difference,’ says Vinnius, in his Commentary on this passage, +between the _flumen_ and the _stillicidium_ is this—the latter is the +rain falling from the roof by drops (_guttatim et stillatim_).’” + +“Hem!” from the whole Bar. + +“‘The _flumen_’—” + +“I think,” said Mr. Justice Doughty, “you are entitled to a rule on that +point, Mr. Ricochet.” + +Then Mr. Justice Technical whispered, and I heard Mr. Justice Doughty say +the principle was the same, although there might be some difference of +opinion about the facts, which could be argued hereafter. “But what is +the misreception of evidence, Mr. Ricochet? I don’t quite see that.” + +“With all submission, my lud, evidence was admitted of what the solicitor +for the defendant said to the plaintiff.” + +“Wait a minute, let me see how that stands,” said Mr. Justice Doughty; +“the solicitor for the defendant said something to the plaintiff, I don’t +quite follow that.” + +Mr. Justice Technical observed that it was quite clear that what is said +by the solicitor of one party to the solicitor of another party is not +evidence. + +“O,” said the learned Pangloss, “so far back as the time of Justinian it +was laid down—” + +“And that being so,” said the eminent Chancery Judge, Mr. Justice +Technical, “I should go so far as to say, that what the solicitor of one +party says to the client stands upon the same footing.” + +“Precisely,” said Mr. Ricochet + +“I think you are entitled to a rule on that point,” remarked Mr. Justice +Doughty, “although my brother Pangloss seems to entertain some doubt as +to whether there was any such evidence.” + +“O, my lud, with all submission, with the greatest possible deference and +respect to the learned Judge, I assure your ludship that it was so, for I +have a note of it.” + +“I was about to say,” continued Mr. Justice Doughty, “as my brother +Pangloss says, it may have been given while he was considering a point in +Justinian. What is the misdirection?” + +“O, my lud, the misdirection was, I venture respectfully and +deferentially to submit, and with the utmost deference to the learned +Judge, in his lordship’s telling the jury that if they found that the +right of way which the defendant set up in his answer to the trespass, or +easement—but perhaps, my lud, I had better read from the short-hand +writer’s notes of his ludship’s summing-up. This is it, my lud, his +ludship said: ‘In an action for stopping of his _ancient_ lights —.” + +“What!” said Mr. Justice Doughty, “_did he black the plaintiff’s eyes_, +then?” + +“No, my lud,” said Mr. Ricochet, “that was never alleged or suggested.” + +“I only used it by way of illustration,” said Mr. Justice Pangloss. + +Then their lordships consulted together, and after about three-quarters +of an hour’s conversation the learned Mr. Justice Doughty said: + +“You can take a rule, Mr. Ricochet.” + +“On all points, my lud, if your ludships please.” + +“It will be more satisfactory,” said his lordship, “and then we shall see +what there is in it. At present, I must confess, I don’t understand +anything about it.” + +And I saw that what there was really in it was very much like what there +is in a kaleidoscope, odds and ends, which form all sorts of combinations +when you twist and turn them about in the dark tube of a “legal +argument.” And so poor Bumpkin was deprived of the fruit of his victory. +Truly the law is very expeditious. Before Bumpkin had got home with the +cheerful intelligence that he had won, the wind had changed and was +setting in fearfully from the north-east. Juries may find as many facts +as they like, but the Court applies the law to them; and law is like +gunpowder in its operation upon them,—twists them out of all recognisable +shape. It is very difficult in a Court of law to get over “_guttatims_” +and “_stillatims_,” even in an action for the price of a pig. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +Mr. Bumpkin is congratulated by his neighbours and friends in the market +place and sells his corn. + +What a lovely peace there was again over the farm! It was true Mr. +Bumpkin had not obtained as large a measure of damages as his solicitor +had led him to anticipate, but he was triumphant, and that over a man +like Snooks was something. So the damages were forgotten beneath that +peaceful August sky. How bright the corn looked! There was not a +particle of “smut” in the whole field. And it was a good breadth of +wheat this year for Southwood Farm. The barley too, was evidently fit +for malting, and would be sure to fetch a decent price: especially as +they seemed to say there was not much barley this year that was quite up +to the mark for malting. The swedes, too, were coming on apace, and a +little rain by and by would make them swell considerably. So everything +looked exceedingly prosperous, except perhaps the stock. There certainly +were not so many pigs. Out of a stye of eleven there was only one left. +The sow was nowhere to be seen. She had been sold, it appeared, so no +more were to be expected from that quarter. When Mr. Bumpkin asked where +“old Jack” was (that was the donkey), he was informed that “the man” had +fetched it. “The man” it appeared was always fetching something. +Yesterday it was pigs; the day before it was ducks; the day before that +it was geese; and about a week ago it was a stack of this year’s hay: a +stack of very prime clover indeed. Then “the man” took a fancy to some +cheeses which Mrs. Bumpkin had in the dairy, some of her very finest +make. She remonstrated, but “the man” was peremptory. But what most +surprised Mr. Bumpkin, and drew tears from Mrs. Bumpkin’s eyes, was when +the successful litigant enquired how the bull was. + +Mrs. Bumpkin had invented many plans with a view to “breaking this out” +to her husband: and now that the time had come every plan was a failure. +The tears betrayed her. + +“What, be he dead?” enquired Mr. Bumpkin. + +“O, no, Tom—no, no—” + +“Well, what then?” + +“The man!” + +“The man! The devil’s in thic man, who be he? Where do ur come from? +I’ll bring an action agin him as sure’s he’s alive or shoot un dead wi my +gun;” here Mr. Bumpkin, in a great rage, got up and went to the beam +which ran across the kitchen ceiling, and formed what is called the +roof-tree of the house, by the side of which the gun was suspended by two +loops. + +“No, no, Tom, don’t—don’t—we have never wronged any one yet, and +don’t—don’t now.” + +“But I wool,” said Bumpkin; “what! be I to be stripped naaked and not +fight for th’ cloathes—who be thic feller as took the bull?” + +Mrs. Bumpkin was holding her apron to her eyes, and for a long while +could say nothing. + +“Who be he, Nancy?” + +“I don’t know, Tom—but he held a paper in his hand writ all over as close +as the stubble-rows in the field, and he said thee had signed un.” + +“Lord! lord!” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin, and then sat down on the settle and +looked at the fire as though it threw a light over his past actions. He +couldn’t speak for a long time, not till Mrs. Bumpkin went up to him and +laid her hand upon his shoulder, and said: + +“Tom! Tom! thee ha winned the case.” + +“Aye, aye,” said Bumpkin, starting up as from a reverie. “I ha winned, +Nancy. I ha beat thic there Snooks; ur wont snigger now when ur gooes +by—lor, lor,—our counsellor put it into un straight, Nancy.” + +“Did ur, Tom?—well, I be proud.” + +“Ah!” said Bumpkin, “and what d’ye think?—it wornt our counsellor, that +is the Queen’s Counsellor nuther; he wornt there although I paid un, but +I spoase he’ll gie up the money, Nancy?” + +“Were it much, Tom?” + +“Farty guineas!” + +“Farty guineas, Tom! Why, it wur enough to set up housekeepin wi—and +thee only winned twenty-five, Tom; why thic winnin were a heavy loss I +think.” + +“Now, lookee ere,” said Bumpkin; “I oughter had five undered, as Laryer +Prigg said, our case were that good, but lor it baint sartain: gie I a +little gin and water, Nancy—thee ain’t asked I to have a drap since I bin +oame.” + +“Lor, Tom, thee knows I be all for thee, and that all be thine.” + +“It beant much, it strikes me; lor, lor, whatever shall us do wirout pigs +and sheep, and wirout thic bull. I be fit to cry, Nancy, although I +winned the case.” + +Tom had his gin and water and smoked his pipe, and went to bed and +dreamed of all that had taken place. He rose with the lark and went into +the fields and enjoyed once again the fresh morning air, and the sweet +scent of the new hayrick in the yard; and, without regarding it, the song +of the lark as it shot heavenward and poured down its stream of glad +music: but there was amidst all a sadness of spirit and a feeling of +desolation. It was not like the old times when everything seemed to +welcome him about the farm wherever he went. The work of “the man” was +everywhere. But the harvest was got in, and a plentiful harvest it was: +the corn was threshed, and one day Mr. Bumpkin went to market with his +little bags of samples of the newly-housed grain. Everybody was glad to +see him, for he was known everywhere as a regular upright and +down-straight man. Every farmer and every corn-dealer and cattle-dealer +congratulated him in his homely way on his success. They looked at his +samples and acknowledged they were very bright and weighty. “I never +liked that Snooks feller,” was the general cry, and at the farmers’ +ordinary, which was held every market day at the “Plough,” every one who +knew Bumpkin shook hands and wished him well, and after dinner, before +they broke up, Farmer Gosling proposed his health, and said how proud he +“were that his old neighbour had in the beautiful words o’ the National +Anthem, ‘confounded their politicks’: and he hoped that the backbone o’ +old England, which were the farmers, wornt gwine to be broked jist yet +awhile. Farmin might be bad, but yet wi little cheaper rents and a good +deal cheaper rates and taxes, there’d be good farmin and good farmers in +England yit.” + +Now this speech, I saw in my dream, brought down the house. Everyone +said it was more to the point than the half-mile speeches which took up +so much of the newspapers to the exclusion of murders, burglaries and +divorces. And in truth, now I come to look at it in my waking moments, I +respectfully commend it to our legislators, or what is better, to their +constituencies, as embodying on this subject both the principles of true +conservatism and true liberalism: and I don’t see what the most exacting +of politicians can require more than that. + +Mr. Bumpkin made a suitable reply—that is to say, “he wur mighty proud o’ +their neighbourliness—he wur a plaain man, as had made his own way in the +world, or leastwise tried to do un by ard work and uprightedness and +downstraightedness; tried to be straight forrerd, and nobody as he knowed +of could ax un for a shillin’. But,” he added: “I be praisin oop myself, +neighbours, I be afeard, and I doant wish to do thic, only to put I +straaight afore thee. I beant dead yit, and I hope we shall all be +friends and neighbours, and meet many moore times at this ornary +together.” + +And so, delighted with one another, after a glass or two, and a song or +two, the party broke up, all going to their several farms. Mr. Bumpkin +was particularly well pleased, for he had sold twenty quarters of wheat +at forty-nine shillings a quarter; which, as times went, was a very +considerable increase, showing the excellent quality of the samples. + +Sooner or later, however, it must be told, that when Bumpkin reached his +quiet farm, a strange and sad scene presented itself. Evidences of “_the +man_” were in all directions. He had been at work while Mr. Bumpkin in +his convivial moments was protesting that he did not owe anyone a +shilling. Alas! how little the best of as know how much we owe! + +Mrs. Bumpkin, who had borne up like a true woman through all the troubles +that had come upon her home,—borne up for his sake, hoping for better +days, and knowing nothing of the terrible net that had been spread around +them by the wily fowler, at length gave way, as she saw “the man” loading +his cart with her husband’s wheat; the wheat he had gone that day to +sell. Bitterly she wrung her hands, and begged him to spare her husband +that last infliction. Was there anything that she could do or give to +save him this blow? No, no; the man was obstinate in the performance of +his duty; “right was right, and wrong was no man’s right!” + +So when Mr. Bumpkin returned, the greater part of his wheat was gone, and +the rest was being loaded. The beautiful rick of hay too, which had not +yet ceased to give out the fresh scent that a new rick yields, were being +cut and bound into trusses. + +Poor Tom was fairly beside himself, but Mrs. Bumpkin had taken the +precaution to hide the gun and the powder-flask, for she could not tell +what her husband might do in his distraction. Possibly she was right. +Tom’s rage knew no bounds. Youth itself seemed to be restored in the +strength of his fury. He saw dimly the men standing around looking on; +he saw, as in a dream, the man cutting on the rick, and he uttered +incoherent sentences which those only understood who were accustomed to +his provincial accent. + +“Tom, Tom,” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “don’t be in a rage.” + +“Who be thic feller on my rick?” + +“I beant any more a feller nor thee, Maister Boompkin; it aint thy rick +nuther.” + +“Then in the name of h—, whose be it?” + +“It be Maister Skinalive’s; thee can’t have t’ cake an eat un; thee +sowled it to un.” + +“It be a lie, a --- lie; come down!” + +“Noa, noa, I beant coomin doon till I coot all t’ hay; it be good hay an +all, as sweet as a noot.” + +“Where is thy master?” enquired Mrs. Bumpkin. + +“I dooant rightly knoo, missus, where ur be; but I think if thee could +see un, he’d poot it right if thee wanted time loike, and so on, for he +be a kind-hearted man enoo.” + +“Can we find un, do ur think?” asked Mrs. Bumpkin. + +“If thee do, missus, it wur moor un I bin able to do for the last three +moonths.” + +“I’ll find some un,” said Mr. Bumpkin; “here, goo and fetch a pleeceman.” + +This was said to a small boy who did the bird-minding, and was now +looking on with his mouth wide open, and his eyes actually shedding +tears. + +“Ah, fetch a pleeceman an all,” said the man, thrusting the big hay-knife +down into the centre of the rick; “but take a soop o’ cyder, maister; I +dessay thee feels a bit out o’ sorts loike.” + +“Thee darn thief; it be my cyder, too, I’ve a notion.” + +“How can it be thine, maister, when thee ha’ sowled un?” said the man +with his unanswerable logic: “haw! haw! haw!” + +Mrs. Bumpkin held her husband’s hand, and tried her hardest to keep him +from using violence towards the man. She felt the convulsive twitches of +his strong muscles, and the inward struggle that was shaking his stalwart +frame. “Come away, Tom; come away; let un do as they like, we’ll have +them as will see us righted yet. There’s law for un, surely.” + +“It beant no use to kick, maister,” said the man, again ramming the knife +down into the rick as though he were cutting Mr. Bumpkin himself in half, +and were talking to him the while; “it beant no use to kick, maister. +Here thee be; thee owes the man the money, and can’t pay, so ur does this +out of kindness to prevent thee being sowled oop loike.” + +“Here be the pleeceman,” said Mrs. Bumpkin. + +Mr. Bumpkin turned suddenly, and shouted, “Tak thic thief into custody.” + +The policeman, albeit a country constable, was a very sensible man; and +seeing how matters stood, he very wisely set himself to the better task +of taking Mr. Bumpkin into custody without appearing to do so, and +without Mr. Bumpkin knowing it. + +“Now,” said he, “if so be as you will come indoors, Mr. Bumpkin, I think +we can put our heads together and see what can be done in this ’ere case; +if it’s stealing let him steal, and I’ll have him nicely; but if it ain’t +stealing, then I woant have him at all.” (A pause.) + +“For why?” (A pause.) + +“Because the law gives you other remedies.” + +“That be right, pleeceman,” said Bumpkin; “I’ll goo wi’ thee. Now then, +Nancy, let’s goo; and look ’ere, thee thief, I’ll ha’ thee in th’ jail +yet.” + +The man grinned with a mouth that seemed to have been cut with his own +hay-knife, so large was it, and went on with his work, merely saying: “I +dooant charge thee nothin for cootin’ nor yet for bindin, maister; I does +it all free graatis, loike.” + +“Thee d--- thief, thee’ll be paid.” + +So they went in, and the policeman was quite a comforter to the poor old +man. He talked to him about what the law was on this point and that +point, and how a trespass was one thing, and a breach of the peace +another; and how he mustn’t take a man up for felony just because +somebody charged him: otherwise, the man on the rick might have charged +Mr. Bumpkin, and so on; till he got the old man into quite a discussion +on legal points. But meanwhile he had given him another piece of advice, +which was also much to his credit, and that was to send to his solicitor, +Mr. Prigg. Mr. Prigg was accordingly sent for; but, like most good men, +was very scarce. Nowhere could Mr. Prigg be found. But it was well +known, for it was advertised everywhere on large bills, that the +excellent gentleman would take the chair at a meeting, to be held in the +schoolroom in the evening, for the propagation of Christianity among the +Jews. The policeman would be on duty at that meeting, and he would be +sure to see Mr. Prigg, and tell him Mr. Bumpkin was very desirous to see +him as early as possible on the following day. Mr. Bumpkin was thankful, +and to some extent pacified. As the policeman wished them goodnight, +Mrs. Bumpkin accompanied him to the door, and begged, if he wouldn’t +mind, that he would look in to-morrow, for he seemed a kind of protection +for them. + +It was about three in the afternoon of the following day when good Mr. +Prigg drove up to Mr. Bumpkin’s door; he drove up with the mare that had +been Mr. Bumpkin’s cow. + +“Here he be,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; and if Mr. Prigg had been an angel from +heaven, his presence could not have been more welcome. Oh, what sunshine +he seemed to bring! Was it a rainbow round his face, or was it only his +genial Christian smile? His collar was perfect, so was his tie; his head +immoveable, so were his principles. “Dear, dear!” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “I +be so glad thee be come, Mr. Prigg—here be master takin’ on so as never +was; I never see’d anything like it.” + +“What’s the matter, my dear lady?” inquired the good man. + +“Be that loryer Prigg?” shouted a voice from the inner room. + +“Aye, aye, Tom, it be Mr. Prigg.” + +“Come in, zur,” said the voice, “come in; I be mighty glad to see thee. +Why dam—” + +“Hush!” remonstrated the diffuser of Christianity among the Jews; “hush!” +and his hands were softly raised in gentle protest—albeit his head never +turned so much as a hair’s breadth. “Let us be calm, my dear sir, let us +be calm. We win by being calm.” + +“Ah, we winned the lawsuit; didn’t us, sir?” + +“Ah, that thee did, Tom!” exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin, delighted at this +momentary gleam of gladness in her husband’s broken heart. + +“Of course we won,” said Mr. Prigg. “Did I ever entertain a doubt from +the first about the merits of that case?” + +“Thee did not, sir,” said Tom; “but lookee ’ere, sir,” he continued, in +almost a whisper, “I dreamt last night as we lost un; and I see thic +Snooks a sniggering as plaain as ever I see’d anybody in my life.” + +“My dear sir, what matters your dream? We won, sir. And as for Snooks’ +sniggering, I am sorry to say he is sold up.” + +“Sold oop!” exclaimed Bumpkin. “Sorry! why beest thee sorry for un—beant +thee sorry for I?” + +“Sorry you’ve won, Mr. Bumpkin? No; but, I’m sorry for Snooks, because +we lose our costs. Oh, that Locust is the greatest dodger I ever met.” + +“I don’t understand thee, sir,” said Bumpkin. “What d’ye mean by not +getting costs—won’t ur pay?” + +“I fear not,” said Mr. Prigg, rubbing his hands. “I am surprised, too, +that he should not have waited until the rule for a new trial was +argued.” + +“What the devil be the meaning o’ all this?” exclaimed Bumpkin. + +“Really, really,” said the pious diffuser of Christianity, “we must +exercise patience; we may get more damages if there should be another +trial.” + +“This be trial enough,” said Mr. Bumpkin; “and after all it were a +trumpery case about a pig.” + +“Quite so, quite so,” said the lawyer, rubbing his hands; “but you see, +my dear sir, it’s not so much the pig.” + +“No, no,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “it beant so much th’ pig; it be the hoarses +moore, and the hayricks, and the whate, and—where be all my fowls and +dooks?” + +“The fowls—quite so! Let me see,” said the meditative man, pressing the +head of his gold pencil-case against his forehead, “the fowls—let me +see—oh, I know, they did the pleadings—so they did.” + +“And thic sow o’ mine?” + +“Yes, yes; I think she made an affidavit, if I remember rightly. Yes, +yes—and the bacon,” said he, elevating his left hand, “six flitches I +think there were; they used to be in this very room—” + +“Ay, sure did ur,” said Mr. Bumpkin. + +“Well I remember; they made a very splendid affidavit too: I have a note +of all of them in my memory.” + +“What coomed o’ the cows?” + +“Cows? Yes—I have it—our leading counsel had them; and the calf, if I +remember rightly, went to the junior.” + +‘“Who had the cheeses?” inquired Mr. Bumpkin. + +“Cheeses!” said the good man. “Oh, yes, the cheeses; they went in +refreshers.” + +“And the poor old donkey?” asked Mrs. Bumpkin. + +“Ah, where be Jock?” said Mr. Bumpkin. + +“Went for the opinion,” answered the lawyer. + +“Where be thic bull o’ mine?” said Tom. “He wur the finest bull in all +thic county, woren’t he, Nancy?” + +“Ay,” answered Mrs. Bumpkin, “and ur follered I about, Tom, jist like a +Christian.” + +“So ur did, Nancy. Dost thee mind, when ur got through thic gap into +Squire Stucky’s meadow, ’mong the cows?” + +“Ay, Tom; and thee went and whistled un; but ur wouldn’t come for thy +whistlin; and Joe, poor Joe! went and got a great stick.” + +“There I mind un,” said Bumpkin; “what coomed of un, Master Prigg?” + +“Quite so,” said Mr. Prigg; “quite so; let me see.” And again the gold +pencil-case was pressed against his respectable forehead in placid +cogitation. “Yes, that bull argued the appeal.” + +“Hem!” said Mr. Bumpkin; “argied appeal, did ur? Well, I tell ee what, +Master Prigg, if that air bull ’ad knowed what I knows now, he’d a gi’en +them jusseses a bit o’ his mind, and thee too.” + +“Dear me,” said Mr. Prigg; “you entirely mis-apprehend—” + +“Well, lookee ’ere,” said Tom, “it beant no use to mince matters wi’ ee. +What I wants to know is as this; I winned my case—” + +“Quite so,” said Prigg. + +“And ’ow be it then that all my sheep and things be took off the farm?” + +“Dear me!” said Mr. Prigg, in the tone of an injured man; “I think, of +all men, clients are the most ungrateful. I have worked night and day to +serve you; I have sacrificed my pleasures, which I do not reckon—my home +comforts—” + +“But who be thic feller that steals my corn an’ hay, and pigs?” + +“Really, Mr. Bumpkin, this is language which I did not expect from you.” + +“But ’ow comes my farm stripped, Maister Prigg? tell I thic.” + +“I suppose you have given a bill of sale, Mr. Bumpkin. You are aware +that a lawsuit cannot be carried on without means, and you should have +calculated the cost before going to war. I think there is Scripture +authority for that.” + +“Then have this Skinalive feller the right to take un?” + +“I presume so,” said Prigg; “I know he’s a most respectable man.” + +“A friend o’ thine, I s’poase?” + +“Well,” said Prigg, hesitating, “I may even go so far as to say that.” + +“Then I be gwine so fur as to say thee be a damned rogue!” said Mr. +Bumpkin, rising, and thumping the table with great vehemence. + +You might have knocked Mr. Prigg down with a feather, certainly with a +bludgeon; such a shock he had never received at the hands of a client in +the whole course of his professional experience. He rose and drew from +his pocket an envelope, a very large official-looking envelope, such as +no man twice in his life would like to see, even if he could be said to +enjoy the prospect once. + +It is not usual for respectable solicitors to carry about their bills of +costs in their pockets, and why Mr. Prigg should have done so on this +occasion I am not aware. I merely saw in my dream that he did so. There +was not a change in his countenance; his piety was intact; there was not +even a suffusion of colour. Placid, sweet-tempered, and urbane, as a +Christian should be, he looked pityingly towards the hot and irascible +Bumpkin, as though he should say, “You have smitten me on this cheek, now +smite me on that!” and placed the great envelope on the table before the +ungrateful man. + +“What be thic?” inquired Mr. Bumpkin. + +“A list of my services, sir,” said Prigg, meekly: “You will see there, +ungrateful man, the sacrifices I have made on your behalf; the +journeyings oft; the hunger, and, I may say, thirst; the perils of +robbers, the perils amongst false friends, the—” + +“I doant understand, sir,” said Bumpkin. + +“Because darkness hath blinded your eyes,” said the pious lawyer; “but I +leave you, Mr. Bumpkin, and I will ask you, since you no longer repose +confidence in my judgment and integrity, to obtain the services of some +other professional gentleman, who will conduct your case with more zeal +and fidelity than you think I have shown; I who have carried your cause +to a triumphant issue; and may be said to have established the grand +principle that an Englishman’s house is his castle.” + +And with this the good man, evidently affected by deep emotion, shook +hands silently with Mrs. Bumpkin, and disappeared for ever from my view. + +Never in any dream have I beheld that man again. Never, surely, under +any form of humanity have so many virtues been concealed. I have looked +for him in daily life, about the Courts of Justice and in the political +arena, but his equal for simplicity of character, for unaffected piety, +and purity of motive, have I never discovered, although I have seen many, +who, without his talents, have vainly endeavoured to emulate his virtues. + +Mrs. Bumpkin examined the document he had left, and found a most +righteous statement of the services rendered by this great and good man; +which, after giving credit to Mr. Bumpkin for cash received from Mr. +Skinalive, Mr. Prigg’s friend, of seven hundred and twenty-two pounds, +six shillings and eightpence-half-penny, left a balance due to Honest +Lawyer Prigg of three hundred and twenty-eight pounds, seven shillings +and threepence,—subject, of course, to be reduced on taxation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +Farewell. + +The last chapter of a book must always possess a special and melancholy +interest for the author. He gives his words reluctantly, almost +grudgingly, like one who is spending his last coins and will soon be left +penniless upon the world. Or like one who is passing his last moments at +the house of a friend whom he may see no more for ever. The author is +taking farewell of his characters and his readers, and therefore his +regret is twofold; added to which is the doubt as to whether, judged by +the severe standard of Public Opinion, he has been faithful to both. +Thought is large, and may fill the world, permeating every class and +every section of society; it may be circumscribed, and operate only upon +some infinitesimal proportion of mankind: but whether great or small, for +good or evil, it is published, and a corresponding responsibility +devolves upon the writer. I record my dream faithfully, and am therefore +exonerated, in my conscience, from responsibility in its effect. + +How shall I describe the closing scene of this eventful story? I will +imagine nothing; I will exaggerate nothing; for, during the whole +progress of the story, it has been my constant care not to give the most +captious critic the opportunity of saying that I have exaggerated a +single incident. I will relate faithfully what I saw in my dream, and +that only; diminishing nothing, and adding nothing. + +In my waking moments my wife said it was very wrong of Mr. Bumpkin, after +all that Mr. Prigg had done for him, to be so rude. I agreed that it +was: but said, great allowance must be made for Mr. Bumpkin’s want of +education. Then said my wife, “Will not some shallow-minded persons say +that your story attacks the administration of justice?” To which I +replied that it did not matter what shallow-minded persons said, but that +in fact I had in no way attacked the administration of justice; nor had I +in the least degree reflected on the great body of respectable solicitors +who had in their hands the interests of the country, and faithfully +discharged their duties. And then I stood up, and putting forth my hand +in imitation of Pitt’s statue in the corridor of the House of Commons, I +said, “Justice is Divine, not Human; and you cannot detract from anything +that is Divine, any more than you can lessen the brilliancy of the sun. +You may obscure its splendour to mortal eyes, but its effulgence is the +same. Man may so ostensibly assert his own dignity, or the dignity of a +perishable system, that it may temporarily veil the beauty of a Divine +attribute; but Justice must still remain the untarnished glory of Divine +wisdom. It is not the pomp of position or the majesty of office that +imparts dignity to Justice.” + +Here, exhausted with my effort, and with my wife’s applause ringing in my +ears, I fell asleep again, and dreamed that I saw Bumpkin sadly wandering +about the old farm; his faithful wife following, and never for one moment +ceasing to cheer him up. It was a fine bright morning in October as they +wandered forth. There wasn’t a living thing about the farm except the +birds, and even they seemed sad in their twittering. Could it be +possible that they knew of poor Bumpkin’s miserable condition? + +There was an old jackdaw that certainly did; for he hopped and hopped +along after the master with the saddest expression I ever saw bird wear. +But the master took no notice. On and on he wandered, seemingly +unconscious of the presence even of his wife. + +“Tom!” she said, “Tom, where beest thee gwine?” + +Bumpkin started; turned round, and said: + +“Nancy! what, be it thee, lassie?” + +“Ay, Tom, sure enough it be I. Let’s cheer up, Tom. If the worst come +to the worst—we can but goo to Union.” + +“The wust have come to th’ wust, Nancy; we be ruined! Look at this ’ere +farm—all be bare—all be lost, Nancy. Hark how silent it all be!” + +“Never mind, Tom; never mind. I wish Joe wur here.” + +“Ah! Joe, yes. I wonder where Joe be; praps he be out here in th’ six +akre.” + +“No, no, Tom, he be gwine for a sojer; but I’ve a mind he’ll come back. +And who knows, we may be ’appy yet! We’ve worked hard, Tom, together +these five-and-thirty year, and sure we can trudge on t’ th’ end. Come, +let’s goo in and ave some breakfast.” + +But Tom kept on walking and looking round the fields after his old +manner. + +“I think we’ll ave wuts here,” said he. + +“So ur will, Tom, but let’s have breakfast fust. Come, lad.” + +They wandered still through the quiet fields, and the old man’s mind +seemed giving way. But I saw that Mrs. Bumpkin kept up with him and +cheered him whenever she could put in a word of comfort, cold and +hopeless as it was. And so the day was spent, and the night came, and +they entered their home for the last time. It was a terribly sad night; +but the Vicar came and sat up late with the old people, and talked to +them and read and cried with them, until at last Tom said: + +“I zee it, sir, thee hast showed I; thank God for thy words. Yes, yes, +we maun leave t’ morrer, and we’ll call on thee, and maybe thou’lt goo to +th’ Squire wi’ us and explaain to un how we can’t pay our rent, and may +be th’ Squire’ll let I work un out. If we could only work un out, I’d be +’appy.” + +“Ay, Tom,” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “an I’ll work too; thee knows that.” + +“Thee wast allays a good wife, Nancy; and I’ll allays say’t, come what +wooll.” + +“Yes,” said the Vicar, “to-morrow we will go—” + +“I don’t want un to forgive I th’ rent,” said Tom; “only to gie us time, +and Nancy and I’ll work un out.” And so it was arranged that the next +morning the old home was to be left for ever. It was no longer home, for +every article of furniture, every tool, every scrap that was of any value +had been ruthlessly seized by the heartless money-lender whom the Law +permitted to rob under the name of a bill of sale. The man was in +possession to take away their bed and the few other articles that were +left for their accommodation till the morrow. + +And on the morrow I saw the last of poor Bumpkin that I shall ever see. +In the beautiful sunshine of that October morning, just by the old oak, +he was leaning over the gate looking his last at the dear old fields and +the old farm-house where so many happy years had been spent. By his side +was his wife, with her hand shading her eyes; the old dog was between +them, looking into the face now of Tom and then of his wife. Mr. +Bumpkin’s arms were resting on the gate, and his old ash stick that he +used to walk with over the fields was in his hand. They stood there for +a long, long time as though they could never leave it. And I saw the +tears trickle down the old man’s face as Mrs. Bumpkin, letting fall the +corner of her apron, which she had held to her eyes, and placing her arm +through his, said in a faltering voice:— + +“Come, Tom, we must goo.” + + * * * * * + + THE END. + + + + +THE LAWSUIT. + + + Tom Bumpkin was a thriving man, + As all the world could see; + In forty years he’d raised himself + From direst poverty. + + And now he rented from the Squir + Some acres, near a score; + Some people said ’twas twenty-five, + And some that it was more. + + He had a sow of rare brave breed, + And nine good pigs had he; + A cow and calf, a rick of hay, + And horses he had three. + + And Mrs. Bumpkin had a bull, + The finest creature out; + “And, like a Christian,” so she said, + “It follered her about.” + + So Bumpkin was a thriving man, + As all the world could see; + A self-made man, but yet not made + Of scholarship was he. + + With neighbour Snooks he dealings had + About his latest farrow; + Snooks said he’d bought a pig, and so, + To prove it, brought his barrow. + + Tom said, “It wur to be two crowns;” + Snooks said, “Twur nine-and-six;” + Then Tom observed, “You doan’t ’ave me + Wi none o’ them there tricks.” + + So there was battle; Lawyer Prigg + Was told this tale of woe; + The Lawyer rubbed his bony hands + And said, “I see; quite so!” + + “A case of trespass,”—“Ay zo ’t be!” + Said Bumpkin, feeling big; + “Now mak un pay vor’t, mak un pay; + It beant so much th’ pig.” + + “No, no, it’s not so much the pig, + That were a matter small; + Indeed, good Bumpkin, we may say + It’s not the pig at all! + + “It’s more the _principle_ involved, + The rights of man, you see”— + “Ay, ay,” quoth Tom; “the devil’s in’t + ’F I beant as good as he.” + + There never was a man more prompt + Or swift to strike a blow: + Give but the word, and Charger Prigg + Was down upon the foe. + + The LETTER, WRIT, and STATEMENT went + Like lightning, thunder, rain; + INSPECTION and DISCOVERY rode + Like Uhlans o’er the plain! + + Then INTERROGATORIES flew + Without procrastination: + As when the ambushed outposts give + A deadly salutation. + + Now Snooks’s lawyer was a man + To wrong would never pander; + And like a high-souled Pleader drew + A COUNTERCLAIM for slander; + + And then with cautious skill behind + The legal outworks clambers; + Until dislodged, he held his own + Entrenched in Judges’ Chambers. + + At length came battle hot and fierce, + And points reserved as though + The case must be economized, + Not murdered at a blow. + + Then came appeals upon the points, + New trials on the facts; + More points, more learned arguments, + More precedents and Acts. + + But LAW, thou art a tender plant + That needs must droop and die; + And bear no fruit unless thy root + Be watered constantly: + + And Bumpkin with a generous hand + Had given thee good supply; + He drained the well, and yet withal + The noble Prigg was dry. + + With plaintive look would move a stone, + Tom gazed on Lawyer Prigg: + Who rubbed his hands and said, “You see, + It’s not so much the pig.” + + “Noa, noa, it be th’ horses moore, + The calf and sheep and kine, + Where be th’ hay-rick and the straw? + And where thic bull o’ mine?” + + The Lawyer said, “Quite so, quite so!” + Looked wise, and wisely grinned; + For Tom was like a ship becalmed, + He stopped for want of wind. + + “You see,” said Prigg with gravity + Would almost make you laugh, + “Our leading Counsel had the Cow, + The junior had the Calf. + + “The hay and straw _Rules nisi_ got, + Made _Absolute_ with corn, + The pigs made _Interrogat’ries_, + Most beautifully drawn. + + “The Bacon—ah, dear Bumpkin, few + In Law suits ever save it; + It made together with the sow, + A splendid _Affidavit_. + + “The cocks and hens the _Pleadings_ did + Most exquisitely utter; + And some few pans of cream there were, + Which made the _Surre-butter_.” + + “Why, Surrey butter! I’d a tub + The best in this ere nation”— + “Quite so!” said Prigg; “but you forget, + ’Twas used in _Consultation_.” + + “Well, well, of all the hungry mouths, + There’s nothing like the Law’s; + No wonder they can talk if that + Be how they iles their jaws. + + “Now just look ere; I’d twenty cheese, + The finest of old Cheshires,”— + “Quite so, quite so!” said Prigg; “but they + Just furnished the _Refreshers_. + + “The Ass for the _Opinion_ went; + The Horses, _Costs_ between us; + And all the Ducks and Drakes, my boy, + Were turned into SUBPŒNAS.” + + “I zee it all; the road to Ruin, + Straight as any furrer: + That Bull o’ mine”—“Excuse me, Sir, + Went up upon DEMURRER.” + + “Then beant there nothing left for I, + In all this ere undoin? + Nay, Nance, our fireside be gone, + It’s emptiness and ruin. + + “I wish we’d fought un out ourselves + Wi’ fists instead o’ law; + Since Samson fit, there never was + Good fightin wi the jaw.” + + So _now_ Tom’s not a thriving man, + He owns not cow or pig; + And evermore he’ll be in debt + To Honest Lawyer Prigg. + + BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. + + + + +Footnotes + + +{0a} Since the First Edition, “a bulky volume” of new rules has +appeared. No independent existence at present, and therefore anatomy +uncertain. I have peeped at it, and think if it reaches maturity it will +help the rich litigant very much; and, if it abolishes trial by jury, as +it threatens, we shall be, in time to come, a Judge-ridden people, which +God forbid. I am not afraid of a Judge now, but I should be then. The +choice in the future _might_ be between servility and a prison; and I +sincerely believe that if trial by jury should be abolished, this country +would not be safe to live in. Much _mending_, therefore, and +consequently the more holes. I wonder what the Liberalism of the future +will say when it learns that the Liberalism of Mr. Gladstone’s Government +struck the first blow at _Trial by Jury_? Truly “the axe to laid to the +root of the tree,” and, reversing the Divine order, “every tree that +_bringeth forth good fruit is_” in danger of being “hewn down.” + + R. H. + +{22} This inscription, with the exception of the names, is a literal +copy. + +{52} Modern pleaders would say the Court would take judicial notice of +the existence of Egypt: I am aware of this, but at the time I write of +the Courts were too young to take notice. + +{138} The correctness of Mr. O’Rapley’s views may be vouched for by a +newspaper report in the _Evening Standard_ of April 17th, 1883, which was +as follows:—“Mr. Justice Day in charging the Grand Jury at the Manchester +Spring Assizes yesterday, expressed his disagreement with the opinion of +other Judges in favour of the Commission being so altered that the Judge +would have to ‘deliver all the prisoners detained in gaol,’ and regarded +it as a waste of the Judge’s time that he should have to try a case in +which a woman was indicted for stealing a shawl worth +three-and-ninepence, or a prisoner charged with stealing two mutton pies +and two ounces of bacon.” + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMOUROUS STORY OF FARMER +BUMPKIN'S LAWSUIT*** + + +******* This file should be named 30551-0.txt or 30551-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/5/5/30551 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's Lawsuit + + +Author: Richard Harris + + + +Release Date: November 27, 2009 [eBook #30551] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMOUROUS STORY OF FARMER +BUMPKIN'S LAWSUIT*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1883 Stevens and Sons edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1><span class="smcap">the</span><br /> +HUMOUROUS STORY<br /> +<span class="smcap">of</span><br /> +FARMER BUMPKIN’S LAWSUIT:</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +RICHARD HARRIS,</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="smcap">barrister-at-law</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">author of</span> “<span +class="smcap">hints on advocacy</span>,” <span +class="smcap">etc.</span>, <span class="smcap">etc.</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">SECOND EDITION.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON:<br /> +STEVENS AND SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE,<br /> +Law Publishers and Booksellers.<br /> +1883.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page iv--><a +name="pageiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. iv</span><span +class="smcap">london</span>:<br /> +<span class="smcap">bradbury</span>, <span +class="smcap">agnew</span>, & <span class="smcap">co.</span>, +<span class="smcap">printers</span>, <span +class="smcap">whitefriars</span>.</p> +<h2><!-- page v--><a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +v</span>PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.</h2> +<p>Considering the enormous interest which the Public have in +“a more efficient and speedy administration of +justice,” I am not surprised that a Second Edition of +“Mr. Bumpkin’s Lawsuit” should be called for so +soon after the publication of the first. If any proof were +wanting that I had not overstated the evils attendant on the +present system, it would be found in the case of +<i>Smitherman</i> v. <i>The South Eastern Railway Company</i>, +which came before the House of Lords recently; and judgment in +which was delivered on the 16th of July, 1883. The facts of +the case were extremely simple, and were as follow:—A man +of the name of Smitherman was killed on a level crossing of <!-- +page vi--><a name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vi</span>the South Eastern Railway Company at East Farleigh, in +December, 1878. His widow, on behalf of herself and four +children, brought an action against the Company on the ground of +negligence on the part of the defendants. The case in due +course was tried at the Maidstone Assizes, and the plaintiff +obtained a verdict for £400 for herself and £125 for +each of the children. A rule for a new trial was granted by +the Divisional Court: the rule for the new trial was discharged +by the Court of Appeal. The Lords reversed the decision of +the Court of Appeal, and ordered a new trial. New trial +took place at Guildhall, City of London, before Mr. Baron +Pollock; jury again found for the plaintiff, with £700 +<i>agreed</i> damages: Company thereby saving £200. +Once more rule for new trial granted by Divisional Court: once +more rule discharged by Court of Appeal: once more House of Lords +reverse decision of Court of Appeal, and order <i>second new +trial</i>. So <!-- page vii--><a name="pagevii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. vii</span>that after more than four years of +harassing litigation, this poor widow and her children are left +in the same position that they were in immediately after the +accident—except that they are so much the worse as being +liable for an amount of costs which need not be calculated. +The case was tried by competent judges and special juries; and +yet, by the subtleties of the doctrine of contributory +negligence, questions of such extreme nicety are raised that a +third jury are required to give an opinion <i>upon the same state +of facts</i> upon which two juries have already decided in favour +of the plaintiff and her children.</p> +<p>Such is the power placed by our complicated, bewildering, and +inartistic mode of procedure, in the hands of a rich Company.</p> +<p>No one can call in question the wisdom or the learning of the +House of Lords: it is above criticism, and beyond censure; but +the <!-- page viii--><a name="pageviii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. viii</span>House of Lords itself works upon +the basis of our system of Procedure, and as that is neither +beyond criticism nor censure, I unhesitatingly ask, <i>Can Old +Fogeyism and Pettifoggism further go</i>?</p> +<p style="text-align: right">RICHARD HARRIS.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lamb Building</span>, <span +class="smcap">Temple</span>,<br /> + <i>October</i>, 1883.</p> +<h2><!-- page ix--><a name="pageix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +ix</span>PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.</h2> +<p>When Old Fogeyism is being lowered to his last resting place, +Pettifoggism, being his chief mourner, will be so overwhelmed +with grief that he will tumble into the same grave. How +then to hasten the demise of this venerable Humbug is the +question. Some are for letting him die a natural death, +others for reducing him gradually by a system of slow starvation: +for myself, I confess, I am for knocking him on the head at +once. Until this event, so long wished for by all the +friends of Enlightenment and Progress, shall have happened, there +will be no possibility of a Reform which will lessen the needless +expense and shorten the unjustifiable delay which our present +system of legal procedure occasions; a system which gives to the +rich immeasurable <!-- page x--><a name="pagex"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. x</span>advantages over poor litigants; and +amounts in many cases not only to a perversion of justice but to +a denial of it altogether.</p> +<p>Old Fogeyism only tinkers at reform, and is so nervous and +incompetent that in attempting to mend one hole he almost +invariably makes two. The Public, doubtless, will, before +long, undertake the much needed reform and abolish some of the +unnecessary business of “judges’ chambers,” +where the ingenuity of the Pettifogging Pleader is so +marvellously displayed. How many righteous claims are +smothered in their infancy at this stage of their existence!</p> +<p>I have endeavoured to bring the evils of our system before the +Public in the story of Mr. Bumpkin. The solicitors, equally +with their clients, as a body, would welcome a change which would +enable actions to be carried to a legitimate conclusion instead +of being stifled by the “Priggs” and +“Locusts” who will crawl into an honorable +profession. It is impossible to keep them out, but it is +not impossible to prevent their using the profession to the +injury of their clients. All respectable solicitors would +<!-- page xi--><a name="pagexi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xi</span>be glad to see the powers of these unscrupulous +gentlemen curtailed.</p> +<p>The verses at the end of the story have been so often +favourably received at the Circuit Mess, that I thought an +amplified version of them in prose would not be unacceptable to +the general reader, and might ultimately awaken in the public +mind a desire for the long-needed reform of our legal +procedure.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">RICHARD HARRIS.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lamb Building</span>, <span +class="smcap">Temple</span>,<br /> + <i>July</i>, 1883.</p> +<h2><!-- page xiii--><a name="pagexiii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xiii</span>ADVERTISEMENT.</h2> +<p>On the 4th of December, 1882, Our Gracious Queen, on the +occasion of the opening of the Royal Courts of Justice, +said:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I trust that the uniting together in one +place of the various branches of Judicature in this my Supreme +Court, will conduce to the <i>more efficient</i> and +<i>speedy</i> administration of justice to my +subjects.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>On April 20th, 1883, in the House of Commons, Mr. H. H. Fowler +asked the Attorney-General whether he was aware of the large +number of causes waiting for trial in the Chancery Division of +the High Court, and in the Court of Appeal; and whether the +Government proposed to take any steps to remedy the delay and +increased cost occasioned to the suitors by the present +administration of the Judicature Acts.</p> +<p>The Attorney-General said the number of cases of all +descriptions then waiting for trial in the Chancery Division was +848, and in the Court of Appeal 270. The House would be +aware that a committee of Judges had been engaged for some time +in framing rules in the <!-- page xiv--><a +name="pagexiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xiv</span>hope of +getting rid of some of the delay that now existed in the hearing +of cases; and until those rules were prepared, which would be +shortly, the Government were not desirous of interfering with a +matter over which the Judges had jurisdiction. The +Government were now considering the introduction of a short +Judicature Act for the purpose of lessening the +delay.—<i>Morning Post</i>.</p> +<p>[No rules or short Judicature Act at present!] <a +name="citation0a"></a><a href="#footnote0a" +class="citation">[0a]</a></p> +<p>On the 13th April, 1883, Mr. Glasse, Q.C., thus referred to a +statement made by Mr. Justice Pearson of the Chancery Division: +“The citizens of this great country, of which your Lordship +is one of the representatives, will look at the statement you +have made with respectful amazement.” The statement +appears to <!-- page xv--><a name="pagexv"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xv</span>have been, that his Lordship had +intended to continue the business of the Court in exactly the +same way in which it had been conducted by Mr. Justice Fry; but +he had been informed that he would have to take the interlocutory +business of Mr. Justice Kay’s Court whilst his Lordship +<i>was on Circuit</i>; and, as it was requisite that he should +take his own interlocutory business <i>before the causes set down +for hearing</i>, “<span class="smcap">all the Causes in the +two Courts must go to the wall</span>”!!! His +Lordship added, that it would be necessary for him to rise at 3 +o’clock every day (not at 3 o’clock in the +<i>morning</i>, gentle reader), because he understood he should +have to conduct the business of Mr. Justice Kay’s Chambers +as well as his own.—<i>Morning Post</i>.</p> +<p>On the 16th April, 1883, Mr. Justice Day, in charging the +Grand Jury at the Manchester Spring Assizes, expressed his +disagreement with the opinion of the other Judges in favour of +the Commission being so altered that the Judge would have to +“<i>deliver all the prisoners detained in gaol</i>,” +and regarded it as “a waste of the Judge’s time that +he should have to try a case in which a woman was indicted for +<i>stealing a shawl worth</i> 3<i>s.</i> 9<i>d.</i>; or a +prisoner charged with stealing <i>two mutton pies</i> and <i>two +ounces of bacon</i>.”—<i>Evening Standard</i>.</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><h2><!-- page xvii--><a name="pagexvii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xvii</span>CONTENTS.</h2> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER I.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Shows the Beauty of a Farm Yard on a Sabbath-Day, and what +a difference a single letter will sometimes make in the legal +signification of a Sentence</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER II.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Simplicity and Enjoyments of a Country life +depicted</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page11">11</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER III.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Showing how true it is that it takes at least Two to make +a Bargain or a Quarrel</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page17">17</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>On the extreme Simplicity of Going to Law</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page27">27</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER V.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>In which it appears that the Sting of Slander is not +always in the Head</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page35">35</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Showing how the greatest Wisdom of Parliament may be +thrown away on Ungrateful People</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page45">45</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Showing that Appropriateness of Time and Place should be +studied in our Pastimes</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page55">55</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center"><!-- page +xviii--><a name="pagexviii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xviii</span>CHAPTER VIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Pleasure of a Country Drive on a Summer Evening +described as enhanced by a Pious Mind</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page63">63</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Farm-house Winter Fire-side—A morning Drive and a +mutual interchange of Ideas between Town and Country, showing how +we may all learn something from one another</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page71">71</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER X.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The last Night before the first London Expedition, which +gives occasion to recall pleasant reminiscences</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Commencement of London Life and Adventures</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page97">97</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>How the great Don O’Rapley became an Usher of the +Court of Queen’s Bench, and explained the Ingenious +Invention of the Round Square—How Mr. Bumpkin took the +water and studied Character from a Penny Steamboat</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page105">105</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>An interesting Gentleman—showing how true it is that +one half the World does not know how the other half lives</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Old Bailey—Advantages of the New System +illustrated</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page119">119</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Mr. Bumpkin’s Experience of London Life enlarged</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page133">133</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center"><!-- page xix--><a +name="pagexix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xix</span>CHAPTER +XVI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The coarse mode of Procedure in Ahab <i>versus</i> Naboth +ruthlessly exposed and carefully contrasted with the humane and +enlightened form of the Present Day</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page143">143</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Showing that Lay Tribunals are not exactly Punch and Judy +Shows where the Puppet is moved by the Man underneath</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page151">151</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A comfortable Evening at the “Goose”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page165">165</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Subject continued</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page175">175</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Mr. Bumpkin sings a good old Song—The Sergeant +becomes quite a convivial Companion and plays Dominoes</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page179">179</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Joe electrifies the Company and surprises the Reader</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page191">191</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Sergeant makes a loyal Speech and sings a Song, both +of which are well received by the Company</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page203">203</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The famous Don O’Rapley and Mr. Bumpkin spend a +social Evening at the “Goose”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page213">213</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center"><!-- page xx--><a +name="pagexx"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xx</span>CHAPTER +XXIV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Don O’Rapley expresses his views of the Policy of +the Legislature in not permitting Dominoes to be played in +Public-houses</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page221">221</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>In spite of all warnings, Joe takes his own part, not to +be persuaded on one side or the other—Affecting Scene +between Mr. Bumpkin and his old Servant</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page227">227</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXVI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Morning Reflections—Mrs. Oldtimes proves herself to +be a great Philosopher—The Departure of the Recruits to be +sworn in</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page239">239</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXVII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Letter from Home</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page245">245</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXVIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Mr. Bumpkin determines to maintain a discreet silence +about his Case at the Old Bailey—Mr. Prigg confers with him +thereon</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page255">255</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXIX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Trial at the Old Bailey of Mr. Simple Simonman for +Highway Robbery with violence—Mr. Alibi introduces himself +to Mr. Bumpkin</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page261">261</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXX.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Mr. Alibi is stricken with a Thunderbolt—Interview +with Horatio and Mr. Prigg</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page283">283</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Mr. Bumpkin at Home again</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page295">295</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center"><!-- page xxi--><a +name="pagexxi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xxi</span>CHAPTER +XXXII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Joe’s Return to Southwood—An Invitation from +the Vicar—What the Old Oak saw</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page303">303</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Consultation as to new Lodgings—Also a +Consultation with Counsel</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page317">317</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXIV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Mr. Bumpkin receives Compliments from distinguished +Persons</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page325">325</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXV.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Trial</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page335">335</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXVI.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Motion for Rule <i>Nisi</i>, in which is displayed much +Learning, Ancient and Modern</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page351">351</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXXVII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Mr. Bumpkin is congratulated by his Neighbours and Friends +in the Market Place and sells his Corn</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page359">359</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER +XXXVIII.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Farewell</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page375">375</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Lawsuit</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page381">381</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<blockquote><p><!-- page xxiii--><a name="pagexxiii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xxiii</span>“<i>He never suffered his +private partiality to intrude into the conduct of publick +business</i>. <i>Nor in appointing to employments did he +permit solicitation to supply the place of merit</i>; <i>wisely +sensible</i>, <i>that a proper choice of officers is almost the +whole of Government</i>.”—<span +class="smcap">Burke</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><!-- page xxiv--><a name="pagexxiv"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xxiv</span><i>Extract from Notice of the Work +in</i> <span class="smcap">The Saturday Review</span>, +<i>September</i> 15<i>th</i>, 1883:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“He was obviously quite as eager for a good +battle in Court as ever was Dandy Dinmont.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h2><!-- page 1--><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +1</span>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The beauty of a farm yard on a Sabbath day, +and what a difference a single letter will sometimes make in the +legal signification of a sentence.</p> +<p>It was during the Long Vacation—that period which is +Paradise to the Rich and Purgatory to the Poor Lawyer—to +say nothing of the client, who simply exists as a necessary evil +in the economy of our enlightened system of Legal Procedure: it +was during this delightful or dismal period that I returned one +day to my old Farm-house in Devonshire, from a long and +interesting ramble. My excellent thirst and appetite having +been temperately appeased, I seated myself cosily by the huge +chimney, where the log was always burning; and, having lighted my +pipe, surrendered my whole being to the luxurious enjoyment of so +charming a situation. I had scarcely finished smoking, when +I fell into a sound and delicious sleep. And behold! I +dreamed a dream; and methought:</p> +<p>It was a beautiful Sabbath morning, in the early part of May, +18--, when two men might have been seen leaning over a +pigstye. The pigstye was situated in a <!-- page 2--><a +name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 2</span>farm-yard in +the lovely village of Yokelton, in the county of Somerset. +Both men had evidently passed what is called the “prime of +life,” as was manifest from their white hair, wrinkled +brows, and stooping shoulders. It was obvious that they +were contemplating some object with great interest and thoughtful +attention.</p> +<p>And I perceived that in quiet and respectful conversation with +them was a fine, well-formed, well-educated sow of the Chichester +breed. It was plain from the number of her rings that she +was a sow of great distinction, and, indeed, as I afterwards +learned, was the most famous for miles around: her progeny (all +of whom I suppose were honourables) were esteemed and sought by +squire and farmer. How that sow was bred up to become so +polite a creature, was a mystery to all; because there were +gentlemen’s homesteads all around, where no such +thoroughbred could be found. But I suppose it’s the +same with pigs as it is with men: a well-bred gentleman may work +in the fields for his living, and a cad may occupy the +manor-house or the nobleman’s hall.</p> +<p>The Chichester sow looked up with an air of easy nonchalance +into the faces of the two men who smoked their short pipes, and +uttered ever and anon some short ejaculation, such as, +“Hem!” “Ah!” “Zounds!” and so +forth, while the sow exhibited a familiarity with her superiors +only to be acquired by mixing in the best society. There +was a respectful deference which, while it betrayed no sign of +servility, was in pleasing contrast with the boisterous and +somewhat unbecoming levity of the other inhabitants of the +stye. These people were the last progeny of this +illustrious Chichester, and numbered <!-- page 3--><a +name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 3</span>in all +eleven—seven sons and four daughters—honourables +all. It was impossible not to admire the high spirit of +this well-descended family. That they had as yet received +no education was due to the fact that their existence dated only +from the 21st of January last. Hence their somewhat erratic +conduct, such as jumping, running, diving into the straw, boring +their heads into one another’s sides, and other +unceremonious proceedings in the presence of the two gentlemen +whom it is necessary now more particularly to describe.</p> +<p>Mr. Thomas Bumpkin, the elder of the two, was a man of about +seventy summers, as tall and stalwart a specimen of Anglo-Saxon +peasantry as you could wish to behold. And while I use the +word “peasantry” let it be clearly understood that I +do so in no sense as expressing Mr. Bumpkin’s present +condition. He had risen from the English peasantry, and was +what is usually termed a “self-made man.” He +was born in a little hut consisting of “wattle and +dab,” and as soon as he could make himself heard was sent +into the fields to “mind the birds.” Early in +the November mornings, immediately after the winter sowings, he +would be seen with his little bag of brown bread round his neck, +trudging along with a merry whistle, as happy as if he had been +going home to a bright fire and a plentiful breakfast of ham, +eggs, and coffee. By degrees he had raised himself to the +position of ploughman, and never ploughman drove a straighter or +leveller furrow. He had won prizes at the annual ploughing +and harrowing matches: and upon the strength of ten and sixpence +a week had married Nancy Tugby, to whom he had been engaged off +and on for eleven years. Nancy was a frugal housewife, and +worked hard, morning, noon and night. She was quite a +treasure <!-- page 4--><a name="page4"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 4</span>to Bumpkin; and, what with taking in a +little washing, and what with going out to do a little charing, +and what with Tom’s skill in mending cart-harness (nearly +all the cart-harness in the neighbourhood was in a perpetual +state of “mendin’”), they had managed to put +together in a year or two enough money to buy a sow. This, +Tom always said, was “his first start.” And +mighty proud they both were as they stood together of a Sunday +morning looking at this wonderful treasure. The sow soon +had pigs, and the pigs got on and were sold, and then the money +was expended in other things, which in their turn proved equally +remunerative. Then Tom got a piece of land, and next a pet +ewe-lamb, and so on, until little by little wealth accumulated, +and he rented at last, after a long course of laborious years, +from the Squire, a small homestead called “Southwood +Farm,” consisting of some fifty acres. Let it not be +supposed that the accession of an extra head of live stock was a +small matter. Everything is great or little by +relation. I believe the statesman himself knows no greater +pleasure when he first obtains admission to the Cabinet, than Tom +did when he took possession of his little farm. And he +certainly experienced as great a joy when he got a fresh pig as +any young barrister does when he secures a new client.</p> +<p>Southwood Farm was a lovely homestead, situated near a very +pretty river, and in the midst of the most picturesque +scenery. The little rivulet (for it was scarcely more) +twisted about in the quaintest conceivable manner, almost +encircling the cosy farm; while on the further side rose abruptly +from the water’s edge high embankments studded thickly with +oak, ash, and an undergrowth of saplings of almost every +variety. The old house was spacious for <!-- page 5--><a +name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 5</span>the size of the +farm, and consisted of a large living-room, ceiled with massive +oak beams and oak boards, which were duly whitewashed, and looked +as white as the sugar on a wedding cake. The fireplace was +a huge space with seats on either side cut in the wall; while +from one corner rose a rude ladder leading to a bacon loft. +Dog-irons of at least a century old graced the brick hearth, +while the chimney-back was adorned with a huge slab of iron +wrought with divers quaint designs, and supposed to have been in +some way or other connected with the Roman invasion, as it had +been dug up somewhere in the neighbourhood, by whom or when no +one ever knew. There was an inner chamber besides the one +we are now in, which was used as a kitchen; while on the opposite +side was a little parlour with red-tiled floor and a +comparatively modern grate. This was the reception room, +used chiefly when any of the ladies from +“t’Squoire’s” did Mrs. Bumpkin the honour +to call and taste her tea-cakes or her gooseberry wine. The +thatched roof was gabled, and the four low-ceiled bedrooms had +each of them a window in a gable. The house stood in a +well-stocked garden, beyond which was a lovely green meadow +sloping to the river side. In front was the little +farm-yard, with its double-bayed barn, its lean-to cow-houses, +its stables for five horses, and its cosy loft. Then there +were the pigstyes and the henhouses: all forming together a very +convenient and compact homestead. Adjoining the home meadow +was a pretty orchard, full of apple, pear, cherry and plum trees; +and if any one could imagine that Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin had no eye +or taste for the beautiful, I would have advised that +ill-conditioned person to visit those good people of a Sunday +morning after “brakfast” when <!-- page 6--><a +name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>the orchard was +in full blossom. This beautiful picture it was not only Mr. +and Mrs. Bumpkin’s special joy to behold, but their great +and proud delight to show; and if they had painted the blossoms +themselves they could not have felt more intense enjoyment and +satisfaction.</p> +<p>There was one other feature about the little farm which I must +mention, because it is one of the grandest and most beautiful +things in nature, and that is the magnificent “Old +Oak” that stood in the corner of one of the home fields, +and marked the boundary of the farm in that direction. If +the measure of its girth would be interesting to the reader to +know, it was just twenty-seven feet: not the largest in England +certainly, notwithstanding which the tree was one of the grandest +and most beautiful. It towered high into the air and spread +its stalwart branches like giant trees in all directions. +It was said to be a thousand years old, and to be inhabited by +owls and ghosts. Whether the ghosts lived there or not I am +unable to say, but from generation to generation the tradition +was handed down and believed to be true. Such was Mr. +Bumpkin’s home, in my dream: the home of Peace and Plenty, +Happiness and Love.</p> +<p>The man who was contemplating Mr. Bumpkin’s pigs on this +same Sunday morning was also a “self-made man,” whose +name was Josiah <span class="smcap">Snooks</span>. He was +not made so well as Bumpkin, I should say, by a great deal, but +nevertheless was a man who, as things go, was tolerably well put +together. He was the village coal-merchant, not a Cockerell +by any means, but a merchant who would have a couple of trucks of +“Derby Brights” down at a time, and sell them round +the village by the hundredweight. No doubt he was a very +thrifty man, and to the extent, so some people said, of nipping +the poor <!-- page 7--><a name="page7"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 7</span>in their weight. And once he +nearly lost the contract for supplying the coal-gifts at +Christmas on that account. But he made it a rule to attend +church very regularly as the season came round, and so did Mrs. +Josiah Snooks; and it will require a great deal of +“nipping” to get over that in a country village, I +promise you. I did not think Snooks a nice looking man, by +any means; for he had a low forehead, a scowling brow, a nobbly +fat nose, small eyes, one of which had a cast, a large mouth +always awry and distorted with a sneer, straight hair that hung +over his forehead, and a large scar on his right cheek. His +teeth were large and yellow, and the top ones protruded more, I +thought, than was at all necessary. Nor was he generally +beliked. In fact, so unpopular was this man with the poor, +that it was a common thing for mothers to say to their children +when they could not get them in of a summer’s evening, +“You, Betsy,” or “You, Jane, come in directly, +or old Snooks will have you!” A warning which always +produced the desired effect.</p> +<p>No one could actually tell whether Snooks had made money or +merely pretended to possess it. Some said they knew he had, +for he lived so niggardly; others said the coal trade was not +what it was; and there were not wanting people who hinted that +old Betty Bodger’s house and garden—which had been +given to her years ago by the old squire, what for, nobody +knew—had been first mortgaged to Josiah and then sold to +him and “taken out in coals.” A very cunning +man was Snooks; kept his own counsel—I don’t mean a +barrister in wig and gown on his premises—but in the sense +of never divulging what was in his sagacious mind. He was +known as a universal buyer of everything that he could turn a +penny out of; and he sold everybody whenever <!-- page 8--><a +name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 8</span>he got the +chance. Such was the character of old Snooks.</p> +<p>How then came our good guileless friend Bumpkin to be +associated with such a man on this beautiful Sunday +morning? I can only answer: there are things in this world +which admit of no explanation. This, so far as I am +concerned, was one.</p> +<p>“They be pooty pork,” said Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Middlin’,” rejoined the artful Snooks.</p> +<p>“They be a mighty dale more an middlin’, if you +come to thic,” said the farmer.</p> +<p>“I’ve seen a good deal better,” remarked +Snooks. This was always his line of bargaining.</p> +<p>“Well, I aint,” returned Bumpkin, +emphatically. “Look at that un—why, he be fit +for anything—a regler pictur.”</p> +<p>“What’s he worth?” said Snooks. +“Three arf crowns?” That was Snooks’ way +of dealing.</p> +<p>“Whisht!” exclaimed Bumpkin; “and four +arf-crowns wouldn’t buy un.” That was +Bumpkin’s way.</p> +<p>Snooks expectorated and gave a roar, which he intended for a +laugh, but which made every pig jump off its feet and dive into +the straw.</p> +<p>“I tell ’ee what, maister Bumpkin, I doant want +un”—that was his way again; “but I doant mind +giving o’ thee nine shillings for that un.”</p> +<p>“Thee wunt ’ave un—not a farden less nor ten +if I knows it; ye doant ’ave we loike that, nuther—ye +beant sellin’ coals, maister Snooks—no, nor +buyin’ pigs if I knows un.”</p> +<p>How far this conversation would have proceeded, and whether +any serious altercation would have arisen, I know not; but at +this moment a combination of <!-- page 9--><a +name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>circumstances +occurred to interrupt the would-be contracting parties. +First, Mrs. Bumpkin, who had been preparing the Sunday dinner, +came across the yard with her apron full of cabbage-leaves and +potato-peelings, followed by an immense number of chickens, while +the ducks in the pond clapped their wings, and flew and ran with +as much eagerness as though they were so many lawyers seeking +some judicial appointment, and Mrs. Bumpkin were Lord High +Chancellor of Great Britain; and they made as much row as a flock +of Chancery Barristers arguing about costs. Then came +along, with many a grunt and squeak, a pig or two, who seemed to +be enjoying a Sunday holiday in their best clothes, for they had +just come out of a puddle of mud; then came slouching along, a +young man whose name was Joe (or, more correctly speaking, Joseph +Wurzel), a young man of about seventeen, well built, tall and +straight, with a pleasant country farm-house face, a roguish +black eye, even teeth, and a head of brown straight hair, that +looked as if the only attention it ever received was an +occasional trimming with a reap-hook, and a brush with a +bush-harrow.</p> +<p>It was just feeding time; that was why Joe came up at this +moment; and in addition to all these circumstances, there came +faintly booming through the trees the ding of the old church +bell, reminding Mr. Bumpkin that he must “goo and smarten +oop a bit” for church. He already had on his purple +cord trousers, and, as Joe termed it, his hell-fire waistcoat +with the flames coming out of it in all directions; but he had to +put on his drab “cooat” and white smock-frock, and +then walk half a mile before service commenced. He always +liked to be there before the Squire, and see him and his +daughters, Miss Judith and Miss Mary, come in.</p> +<p><!-- page 10--><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +10</span>So he had to leave the question of the +“walley” of the pig and attend to the more important +interests of his immortal soul. But now as he was going +comes the point to which the reader’s special attention is +directed. He had got about six yards from the stye, or it +may have been a little more, when Snooks cried out:</p> +<p>“I’ve bought un for nine and six.”</p> +<p>To which Mr. Bumpkin replied, without so much as turning his +head—</p> +<p>“’Ave ur.”</p> +<p>Now this expression, according to Chitty on Contracts, would +mean, “Have you, indeed? Mr. Snooks.” But the +extreme cunning of Josiah converted it into “’Ave +un,” which, by the same learned authority would signify, +“Very well, Mr. Snooks, you can have him.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 11--><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +11</span>CHAPTER II.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The simplicity and enjoyments of a country +life depicted.</p> +<p>A quiet day was Sunday on Southwood Farm. Joe used to +slumber in the meadows among the buttercups, or in the loft, or +near the kitchen-fire, as the season and weather invited. +That is to say, until such time as, coming out of Sunday School +(for to Sunday School he sometimes went) he saw one of the +fairest creatures he had ever read about either in the Bible or +elsewhere! It was a very strange thing she should be so +different from everybody else: not even the clergyman’s +daughters—no, nor the Squire’s daughters, for the +matter of that—looked half so nice as pretty Polly +Sweetlove, the housemaid at the Vicar’s.</p> +<p>“Now look at that,” said Joe, as he went along the +lane on that Sunday when he first beheld this divine +creature. “I’m danged if she beant about the +smartest lookin o’ any on ’em. Miss Mary beant +nothing to her: it’s a dandelion to a toolup.”</p> +<p>So ever since that time Joe had slept less frequently in the +hay-loft on a Sunday afternoon; and, be it said to his credit, +had attended his church with greater punctuality. The vicar +took great notice of the lad’s religious tendencies, and +had him to his night-school at the vicarage, in consequence; and +certainly no vicar ever <!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 12</span>knew a boy more regular in his +attendance. He was there waiting to go in ever so long +before the school began, and was always the very last to leave +the premises.</p> +<p>Often he would peep over the quick-set hedge into the +kitchen-window, just to catch a glance of this lovely +angel. And yet, so far as he could tell, she had never +looked at him. When she opened the door, Joe always felt a +thrill run through him as if some extraordinary thing had +happened. It was a kind of jump; and yet he had jumped many +times before that: “it wasn’t the sort of +jump,” he said, “as a chap gits either from +bein’ frit or bein’ pleased.” And what to +make of it he didn’t know. Then Polly’s cap was +about the loveliest thing, next to Polly herself, he had ever +seen. It was more like a May blossom than anything else, or +a beautiful butterfly on the top of a water-lily. In fact, +all the rural images of a rude but not inartistic mind came and +went as this country boy thought of his beautiful Polly. As +he ploughed the field, if he saw a May-blossom in the hedgerow, +it reminded him of Polly’s cap; and even the little gentle +daisy was like Polly herself. Pretty Polly was +everywhere!</p> +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin, on a fine Sabbath afternoon, would take +their pastime in the open air. First Mr. Bumpkin would take +down his long churchwarden pipe from its rack on the ceiling, +where it lay in close companionship with an ancient flint-gun; +then he would fill it tightly, so as to make it last the longer, +with tobacco from his leaden jar; and then, having lighted it, he +and his wife would go out of the back door, through the garden +and the orchard, and along by the side of the quiet river. +By their side, as a matter of course, came <!-- page 13--><a +name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 13</span>Tim the +Collie (named after Mrs. Bumpkin’s grandfather Timothy), +who knew as well as possible every word that was being +said. If Mrs. Bumpkin only asked, “Where is +Betsy?” (that was the head Alderney cow) Tim would bark and +fly across to the meadow where she was; and then, having said to +her and to the five other Alderney cows and four heifers, +“Why, here’s master and missus coming round to look +at you, why on earth don’t you come and see them?” up +the whole herd would come, straggling one after the other, to the +meadow where Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin were waiting for them; and all +would look over the hedge, as much as to say, “How +d’ye do, master, and how d’ye do, missus; what a nice +day, isn’t it?” exactly in the same manner as men and +women greet one another as often as they meet. And then +there was the old donkey, Jack, whom Tim would chaff no matter +when or where he saw him. I believe if Tim had got him in +church, he would have chaffed him. It was very amusing to +see Jack duck his head and describe a circle as Tim swept round +him, barking with all his might, and yet only laughing all the +while. Sometimes Jack, miscalculating distances—he +wasn’t very great at mathematics—and having no eye +for situations, would kick out vigorously with his hind legs, +thinking Tim was in close proximity to his heels; whereas the +sagacious and jocular Tim was leaning on his outstretched +fore-feet immediately in front of Jack’s head.</p> +<p>Then there was another sight, not the least interesting on +these afternoon rambles: in the far meadow, right under +“the lids,” as they were called, lived the famous +Bull of Southwood Farm. He was Mrs. Bumpkin’s +pet. She had had him from a baby, and used to feed him in +<!-- page 14--><a name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +14</span>his infant days from a bottle by the kitchen fire. +And so docile was he that, although few strangers would be safe +in intruding into his presence, he would follow Mrs. Bumpkin +about, as she said, “just like a Christian.” +The merits of this bull were the theme, on all appropriate +occasions, of Mrs. Bumpkin’s unqualified praise. If +the Vicar’s wife called, as she sometimes did, to see how +Mrs. Bumpkin was getting on, Mrs. Bumpkin’s +“baby” (that is the bull) was sure to be brought +up—I don’t mean by the nurse, but in +conversation. No matter how long she waited her +opportunity, Mrs. Goodheart never left without hearing something +of the exploits of this remarkable bull. In truth, he was a +handsome, well-bred fellow. He had come from the +Squire’s—so you may be sure his breed was gentlemanly +in the extreme; and his grandmother, on the maternal side, had +belonged to the Bishop of Winchester; so you have a sufficient +guarantee, I hope, for his moral character and orthodox +principles. Indeed, it had been said that no dissenter +dared pass through the meadow where he was, in consequence of his +connection with the Establishment. Now, on the occasions +when Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin took their walks abroad through the +meadows to see their lambkins and their bull skip, this is what +would invariably happen. First, Mrs. Bumpkin would go +through the little cosy-looking gate in the corner of the meadow, +right down by the side of the old boat-house; then Mr. Bumpkin +would follow, holding his long pipe in one hand and his ash-stick +in the other. Then, away in the long distance, at the far +end of the meadow (he was always up there on these occasions), +stood “Sampson” (that was the bull), with his head +turned right round towards his master and mistress, as <!-- page +15--><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 15</span>if he +were having his photograph taken. Thus he stood for a +moment; then down went his huge forehead to the ground; up went +his tail to the sky; then he sent a bellow along the earth which +would have frightened anybody but his “mother,” and +started off towards his master and mistress like a ship in a +heavy sea; sometimes with his keel up in the air, and sometimes +with his prow under water: it not only was playful, it was +magnificent, and anybody unaccustomed to oxen might have been a +little terrified by the furious glare of his eyes and the +terrible snort of his nostrils as he approached.</p> +<p>Not so Mrs. Bumpkin, who held out her hand, and +ejaculated,</p> +<p>“My pretty baby; my sweet pet; good Sampson!” and +many other expressions of an endearing character.</p> +<p>“Good Sampson” looked, snorted, danced, plunged +and careered; and then came up and let Mrs. Bumpkin stroke and +pat him; while Bumpkin looked on, smoking his pipe peacefully, +and thinking what a fine fellow he, the bull, was, and what a +great man he, Bumpkin, must be to be the possessor of +“sich!”</p> +<p>Thus the peaceful afternoon would glide quietly and sweetly +away, and so would the bull, after the interesting interview was +over.</p> +<p>They always returned in time for tea, and then Mrs. Bumpkin +would go to evening service, while Mr. Bumpkin would wait for her +on the little piece of green near the church, where neighbours +used to meet and chat of a Sunday evening; such as old Mr. +Gosling, the market gardener, and old Master Mott, the head +gardener to the Squire, and Master Cole, the farmer, and various +others, the original inhabitants of Yokelton; discussing <!-- +page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +16</span>the weather and the crops, the probability of Mr. Tomson +getting in again at the vestry as waywarden; what kind of a +highway rate there would be for the coming year; how that horse +got on that Mr. Sooby bought at the fair; and various other +matters of importance to a village community. They would +also pass remarks upon any striking personage who passed them on +his way to church. Mr. Prigg, for instance, the village +lawyer, who, they said, was a remarkably upright and +down-straight sort of man; although his wife, they thought, was +“a little bit stuck up like” and gave herself airs a +little different from Mrs. Goodheart, who would “always +talk to ’em jist the same as if she was one o’ +th’ people.” So that, on the whole, they +entertained themselves very amicably until such time as the +“organ played the people out of church.” Then +every one looked for his wife or daughter, as the case might be, +and wished one another good night: most of them having been to +church in the morning, they did not think it necessary to repeat +the performance in the evening.</p> +<h2><!-- page 17--><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +17</span>CHAPTER III.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Showing how true it is that it takes at least +two to make a bargain or a quarrel.</p> +<p>The day after the events which I have recorded, while the good +farmer and his wife were at breakfast, which was about seven +o’clock, Joe presented himself in the sitting-room, and +said:</p> +<p>“Plase, maister, here be t’ money for t’ +pig.”</p> +<p>“Money for t’ pig,” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin; +“what’s thee mean, lad? what pig?”</p> +<p>“Maister Snooks!” said Joe, “there ur be, +gwine wi’ t’ pig in t’ barrer.”</p> +<p>Nothing shall induce me to repeat the language of Mr. Bumpkin, +as he jumped up from the table, and without hat or cap rushed out +of the room, followed by Joe, and watched by Mrs. Bumpkin from +the door. Just as he got to the farmyard by one gate, there +was Snooks leaving it by another with Mr. Bumpkin’s pig in +a sack in the box barrow which he was wheeling.</p> +<p>“Hulloa!” shouted the farmer; “hulloa +here! Thee put un down—dang thee, what be this? +I said thee shouldn’t ave un, no more thee +sha’n’t. I beant gwine to breed Chichster pigs +for such as thee at thy own price, nuther.” Snooks +grinned and went on his way, saying;</p> +<p>“I bought un and I’ll ’ave un.”</p> +<p>“An I’ll ’ave thee, dang’d if I doant, +afore jussices; t’ Squoire’ll tell thee.”</p> +<p><!-- page 18--><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>“I doant keer for t’ Squire no more nor I do +for thee, old Bumpkin; thee be a cunnin’ man, but thee sold +I t’ pig and I’ll ’ave un, and I got un too: +haw! haw! haw! an thee got t’ +money—nine-and-six—haw! haw! haw!”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin by this time came up to him, but was so much out +of breath, or “winded,” that he was unable to carry +on the conversation, so he just tapped the bag with his stick as +if to be certain the pig was there, and sure enough it was, if +you might judge by the extraordinary wriggling that went on +inside the bag.</p> +<p>The indomitable Snooks, however, with the largest and most +hideous grin I ever saw, pushed on with his barrow, and Mr. +Bumpkin having now sufficiently recovered his breath, said,</p> +<p>“Thee see ur tak un, didn’t thee, Joe?”</p> +<p>“Sure did ur,” answered the lad. “I +seed un took un clane out o’ the stye, and put un in the +sack, and wheeled un away.”</p> +<p>“Ha! so ur did, Joe; stick to that, lad—stick to +un.”</p> +<p>“And thee seed I pay th’ money for un, Joe, +didn’t thee?” laughed Snooks. “Seed I put +un on t’ poast, and thee took un oop—haw! haw! +haw! I got t’ pig and thee got t’ +money—haw! haw! haw! Thee thowt thee’d done I, +and I done thee—haw! haw! haw!”</p> +<p>And away went Snooks and away went pig; but Snooks’ +laugh remained, and every now and then Snooks turned his head and +showed his large yellow teeth and roared again.</p> +<p>The rage of Mr. Bumpkin knew no bounds. There are some +things in life which are utterly unendurable; and one is the +having your pig taken from you against your will and without your +consent—an act which would be described legally as <i>the +rape of the pig</i>. This offence, <!-- page 19--><a +name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>in Mr. +Bumpkin’s judgment, Snooks was guilty of; and therefore he +resolved to do that which is considered usually a wise thing, +namely, to consult a solicitor.</p> +<p>Now, if I were giving advice—which I do not presume to +do—I should say that in all matters of difficulty a man +should consult his wife, his priest, or his solicitor, and in the +order in which I have named them. In the event of +consulting a solicitor the next important question arises, +“What solicitor?” I could write a book on this +subject. There are numerous solicitors, within my +acquaintance, to whom I would entrust my life and my character; +there are some, not of my acquaintance, but of my knowledge, into +whose hands, if I had one spark of Christian feeling left, I +would not see my enemy delivered. There is little +difference between one class of men and another as to natural +disposition; and whether you take one or another, you must find +the shady character. But where the opportunities for +mischief are so great as they are in the practice of the Law, it +is necessary that the utmost care should be exercised in +committing one’s interests to the keeping of another. +Had Mr. Bumpkin been a man of the world he would have suspected +that under the most ostentatious piety very often lurked the most +subtle fraud. Good easy man, had he been going to buy a +hay-stack, he would not have judged by the outside but have put +his “iron” into it; he could not put his iron into +Mr. Prigg, I know, but he need not have taken him by his +appearance alone. I may observe that if Mr. Bumpkin had +consulted his sensible and affectionate spouse, or a really +respectable solicitor, this book would not have been +written. If he had consulted the Vicar, possibly another +book might have been written; but, as it was, he resolved to +consult <!-- page 20--><a name="page20"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 20</span>Mr. Prigg in the first +instance. Now Mrs. Bumpkin, except as the mother of the +illustrious Bull, has very little to do with this story. +Mr. Prigg is one of its leading characters; but in my description +of that gentleman I am obliged to be concise: I must minimize +Prigg, great as he is, and I trust that in doing so I shall +prospectively minimize all future Priggs that may ever appear on +the world’s stage. I do not attempt to pulverize him, +that would require the crushing pestle of the legislature; but +merely to make him as little as I can, with due consideration for +the requirements of my story.</p> +<p>I should be thought premature in mentioning Prigg, but that he +was a gentleman of great pretensions in the little village of +Yokelton. Gentleman by Act of Parliament, and in his own +estimation, you may be sure he was respected by all around +him. That was not many, it is true, for his house was the +last of the straggling village. He was a man of great piety +and an extremely white neck-cloth; attended the parish church +regularly, and kept his white hair well brushed upwards—as +though, like the church steeple, it was to point the way at all +times. He was the most amiable of persons in regard to the +distribution of the parish gifts; and, being a lawyer it was not +considered by the churchwardens, a blacksmith and a builder, safe +to refuse his kind and generous assistance. He involved the +parish in a law-suit once, in a question relating to the duty to +repair the parish pump; and since that time everyone knew better +than to ignore Mr. Prigg. I have heard that the money spent +in that action would have repaired all the parish pumps in +England for a century, but have no means of ascertaining the +truth of this statement.</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg was a man whose merits were not appreciated <!-- +page 21--><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +21</span>by the local gentry, who never asked him to +dinner. Virtue is thus sometimes ill-rewarded in this +world. And Mrs. Prigg’s virtue had also been equally +ignored when she had sought, almost with tears, to obtain tickets +for the County Ball.</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg was about sixty years old, methodical in his habits, +punctilious in his dress, polite in his demeanour, and precise in +his language. He wore a high collar of such remarkable +stiffness that his shoulders had to turn with his head whenever +it was necessary to alter his position. This gave an +appearance of respectability to the head, not to be acquired by +any other means. It was, indeed, the most respectable head +I ever saw either in the flesh or in marble.</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg had descended from the well-known family of Prigg, +and he prided himself on the circumstance. How often was he +seen in the little churchyard of Yokelton of a Sunday morning, +both before and after service, pointing with family pride to the +tombstone of a relative which bore this beautiful and touching +inscription:—</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">here</span><br +/> +<span class="smcap">lie the ashes of</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mr. John Prigg</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">of smith street</span>, <span +class="smcap">bristol</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">originally of duck green</span>, <span +class="smcap">yokelton</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">who under peculiar disadvantages</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">which to common minds</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">would have been a bar to any +exertions</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">raised himself from all obscure +situations</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">of birth and fortune</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">by his own industry and frugality</span><br +/> +<span class="smcap">to the enjoyment of a </span><span +class="smcap"><i>moderate competency</i></span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">he attained a peculiar excellence</span><br +/> +<span class="smcap">in penmanship and drawing</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">without the instructions of a +master</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">and to eminence in arithmetic</span>,<br /> +<!-- page 22--><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +22</span><span class="smcap">the useful and the higher branches +of</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">the mathematics</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">by going to school only a year and eight +months</span>.</p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">he</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">died a bachelor</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">on the 24th day of october</span>, 1807,<br +/> +<span class="smcap">in the 55th year of his age</span>;<br /> +<span class="smcap">and without forgetting</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">relations friends and acquaintances</span><br +/> +<span class="smcap">bequeathed one fifth of his +property</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">to public charity</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="smcap">reader</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">the world is open to thee</span>.<br /> +“<span class="smcap">go thou and do likewise</span>.” +<a name="citation22"></a><a href="#footnote22" +class="citation">[22]</a></p> +<p>It was generally supposed that this beautiful composition was +from the pen of Mr. Prigg himself, who, sitting as he did so high +on his branch of the Family Tree,</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">could +look</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">with pride and sympathy</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">on</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">the manly struggles</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">of a humbler member</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">lower down</span>!</p> +<p>High Birth, like Great Wealth, can afford to condescend!</p> +<p>Mrs. Prigg was worthy of her illustrious consort. She +was of the noble family of the Snobs, and in every way did honour +to her progenitors. As the reader is aware, there is what +is known as a “cultivated voice,” the result of +education—it is absolutely without affectation: there is +also the voice which, in imitation of the well-trained one, is +little more than a burlesque, and is <!-- page 23--><a +name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>affected in +the highest degree: this was the only fault in Mrs. Prigg’s +voice.</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg’s home was charmingly small, but had all the +pretensions of a stately country house—its conservatory, +its drawing-room, its study, and a dining-room which told you as +plainly as any dining-room could speak, “I am related to +Donkey Hall, where the Squire lives: I belong to the same +aristocratic family.”</p> +<p>Then there was the great heavy-headed clock in the +passage. He did not appear at all to know that he had come +down in the world through being sold by auction for two pounds +ten. He said with great plausibility, “My worth is +not to be measured by the amount of money I can command; I am the +same personage as before.” And I thought it a very +true observation, but the philosophy thereof was a little +discounted by his haughty demeanour, which had certainly gone up +as he himself had come down; and that is a reason why I +don’t as a rule like people who have come down in the +world—they are sure to be so stuck up. But I do like +a person who has come down in the world and doesn’t at all +mind it—much better than any man who has got up in the +world from the half-crown, and does mind it upon all +occasions.</p> +<p>Mrs. Prigg, apart from her high descent, was a very +aristocratic person: as the presence of the grand piano in the +drawing-room would testify. She could no more live without +a grand piano than ordinary people could exist without food: the +grand piano, albeit a very dilapidated one, was a necessity of +her well-descended condition. It was no matter that it +displaced more useful furniture; in that it only imitated a good +many other persons, and it told you whenever you entered the +room: “You see <!-- page 24--><a name="page24"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 24</span>me here in a comparatively small way, +but understand, I have been in far different circumstances: I +have been courted by the great, and listened to by the +aristocracy of England. I follow Mrs. Prigg wherever she +goes: she is a lady; her connections are high, and she never yet +associated with any but the best families. You could not +diminish from her very high breeding: put her in the workhouse, +and with me to accompany her, it would be transformed into a +palace.”</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg was by no means a rich man as the world counts +richness. No one ever heard of his having a +“<i>practice</i>,” although it was believed he did a +great deal in the way of “lending his name” <i>and +profession</i> to impecunious and uneducated men; who could turn +many a six-and-eightpence under its prestige. So great is +the moral “power of attorney,” as contradistinguished +from the legal “power of attorney.”</p> +<p>But Prigg, as I have hinted, was not only respectable, he was +<i>good</i>: he was more than that even, he was +<i>notoriously</i> good: so much so, that he was called, in +contradistinction to all other lawyers, “<i>Honest Lawyer +Prigg</i>”; and he had further acquired, almost as a +universal title, the sobriquet of “Nice.” +Everybody said, “What a very nice man Mr. Prigg +is!” Then, in addition to all this, he was considered +<i>clever</i>—why, I do not know; but I have often observed +that men can obtain the reputation of being clever at very little +cost, and without the least foundation. The cheapest of all +ways is to abuse men who really are clever, and if your abuse be +pungently and not too coarsely worded, it will be accepted by the +ignorant as <i>criticism</i>. Nothing goes down with +shallow minds like criticism, and the severest criticism is +generally based on envy and jealousy.</p> +<p><!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +25</span>Mr. Prigg, then, was clever, respectable, good, and +nice, remarkably potent qualities for success in this world.</p> +<p>So I saw in my dream that Mr. Bumpkin, whose feelings were +duly aroused, turned his eye upon Honest Lawyer Prigg, and +resolved to consult him upon the grievous outrage to which he had +been subjected at the hands of the cunning Snooks: and without +more ado he resolved to call on that very worthy and extremely +nice gentleman.</p> +<h2><!-- page 27--><a name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +27</span>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">On the extreme simplicity of going to law.</p> +<p>With his right leg resting on his left, with his two thumbs +nicely adjusted, and with the four points of his right fingers in +delicate contact with the fingers of his left hand, sat Honest +Lawyer Prigg, listening to the tale of unutterable woe, as +recounted by Farmer Bumpkin.</p> +<p>Sometimes the good man’s eyes looked keenly at the +farmer, and sometimes they scanned vacantly the ceiling, where a +wandering fly seemed, like Mr. Bumpkin, in search of consolation +or redress. Sometimes Mr. Prigg nodded his respectable head +and shoulders in token of his comprehension of Mr. +Bumpkin’s lucid statement: then he nodded two or three +times in succession, implying that the Court was with Mr. +Bumpkin, and occasionally he would utter with a soft soothing +voice,</p> +<p>“Quite so!”</p> +<p>When he said “quite so,” he parted his fingers, +and reunited them with great precision; then he softly tapped +them together, closed his eyes, and seemed lost in profound +meditation.</p> +<p>Here Mr. Bumpkin paused and stared. Was Mr. Prigg +listening?</p> +<p>“Pray proceed,” said the lawyer, “I quite +follow you;—never mind about what anybody else had offered +you for the pig—the question really is whether you actually +sold this pig to Snooks or not—whether the bargain was +complete or inchoate.”</p> +<p><!-- page 28--><a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +28</span>Mr. Bumpkin stared again. “I beant much of a +scollard, sir,” he observed; “but I’ll take my +oath I never sold un t’pig.”</p> +<p>“That is the question,” remarked the lawyer. +“You say you did not? Quite so; had this Joe of yours +any authority to receive money on your behalf?”</p> +<p>“Devil a bit,” answered Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Excuse me,” said Mr. Prigg, “I have to put +these questions: it is necessary that I should understand where +we are: of course, if you did not sell the pig, he had no right +whatever to come and take it out of the sty—it was a +trespass?”</p> +<p>“That’s what I says,” said Bumpkin; and down +went his fist on Mr. Prigg’s table with such vehemence that +the solicitor started as though aroused by a shock of +dynamite.</p> +<p>“Let us be calm,” said the lawyer, taking some +paper from his desk, and carefully examining the nib of a quill +pen, “Let me see, I think you said your name was +Thomas?”</p> +<p>“That’s it, sir; and so was my father’s +afore me.”</p> +<p>“Thomas Bumpkin?”</p> +<p>“I beant ashamed on him.”</p> +<p>And then Mr. Prigg wrote out a document and read it aloud; and +Mr. Bumpkin agreeing with it, scratched his name at the +bottom—very badly scratched it was, but well enough for Mr. +Prigg. This was simply to retain Mr. Prigg as his solicitor +in the cause of <i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i>.</p> +<p>“Quite so, quite so; now let me see; be calm, Mr. +Bumpkin, be calm; in all these matters we must never lose our +self-possession. You see, I am not excited.”</p> +<p><!-- page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +29</span>“Noa,” said Bumpkin; “but then ur dint +tak thy pig.”</p> +<p>“Quite true, I can appreciate the position, it was no +doubt a gross outrage. Now tell me—this Snooks, as I +understand, is the coal-merchant down the village?”</p> +<p>“That’s ur,” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“I suppose he’s a man of some property, +eh?”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin looked for a few moments without speaking, and +then said:</p> +<p>“He wur allays a close-fisted un, and I should reckon +have a goodish bit o’ property.”</p> +<p>“Because you know,” remarked the solicitor, +“it is highly important, when one wins a case and obtains +damages, that the defendant should be in a position to pay +them.”</p> +<p>This was the first time that ever the flavour of damages had +got into Bumpkin’s mouth; and a very nice flavour it +was. To beat Snooks was one thing, a satisfaction; to make +him pay was another, a luxury.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” he repeated; “I bleeve he ave, I +bleeve he ave.”</p> +<p>“What makes you think so?”</p> +<p>“Wull, fust and foremust, I knows he lent a party a +matter of a hundred pound, for I witnessed un.”</p> +<p>“Then he hasn’t got that,” said the +lawyer.</p> +<p>“Yes ur ave, sir, or how so be as good; for it wur a +morgage like, and since then he’ve got the +house.”</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg made a note, and asked where the house was.</p> +<p>“It be widder Jackson’s.”</p> +<p>“Indeed; very well.”</p> +<p>“An then there be the bisness.”</p> +<p>“Exactly,” said the lawyer, “horses and +carts, weighing machines, and so on?”</p> +<p><!-- page 30--><a name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +30</span>“And the house he live in,” said Bumpkin, +“I know as ow that longs to him.”</p> +<p>“Very well; I think that will be enough to start +with.” Now, Mr. Prigg knew pretty well the position +of the respective parties himself; so it was not so much for his +own information that he made these inquiries as to infuse into +Bumpkin’s mind a notion of the importance of the case.</p> +<p>“Now,” said he, throwing down the pen, “this +is a very serious matter, Mr. Bumpkin.”</p> +<p>This was a comfort, and Bumpkin looked agreeably surprised and +vastly important.</p> +<p>“A very serious case,” and again the tips of the +fingers were brought in contact.</p> +<p>“I spoase we can’t bring un afore jusseses, +sir?”</p> +<p>“Well, you see the criminal law is dangerous; you +can’t get damages, and you may get an action for malicious +prosecution.”</p> +<p>“I think we ought to mak un pay for ’t.”</p> +<p>“That is precisely my own view, but I am totally at a +loss to understand the reason of such outrageous conduct on the +part of this Snooks. Now don’t be offended, Mr. +Bumpkin, if I put a question to you. You know, we lawyers +like to search to the bottom of things. I can understand, +if you had owed him any money—”</p> +<p>“Owe un money!” exclaimed Bumpkin contemptuously; +“why I could buy un out and out.”</p> +<p>“Ah, quite so, quite so; so I should have supposed from +what I know of you, Mr. Bumpkin.”</p> +<p>“Lookee ere, sir,” said the farmer; “I bin a +ard workin man all my life, paid my way, twenty shillins in the +pound, and doant owe a penny as fur as I knows.”</p> +<p><!-- page 31--><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +31</span>“And if you did, Mr. Bumpkin,” said the +lawyer with a good-natured laugh, “I dare say you could +pay.”</p> +<p>“Wull, I bleeve there’s no man can axe me for +nothing; and thank God, what I’ve got’s my own; and +there aint many as got pootier stock nor mine—all good bred +uns, Mr. Prigg.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ve often heard your cattle +praised.”</p> +<p>“He be a blagard if ur says I owed un money.”</p> +<p>“O, dear, Mr. Bumpkin, pray don’t misunderstand +me; he did not, that I am aware, allege that he took the pig +because you owed him money; and even if you did, he could not +legally have done so. Now this is not a mere matter of +debt; it’s a very serious case of trespass.”</p> +<p>“Ay; zo ’t be sir; that was my bleef, might jist +as wull a tooked baacon out o’ baacon loft.”</p> +<p>“Just the same. Quite so—quite +so!”</p> +<p>“And I want thee, Mr. Prigg, to mak un pay +for’t—mak un pay, sir; it beant so much th’ +pig.”</p> +<p>“Quite so: quite so: that were a very trifling affair, +and might be settled in the County Court; but, in fact, +it’s not the pig at all, it’s trespass, and you want +to make him answerable in damages.”</p> +<p>“That’s it, sir; you’ve got un.”</p> +<p>“I suppose an apology and a return of the pig would not +be enough.”</p> +<p>“I’ll make un know he beant everybody,” said +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Quite so; now what shall we lay the damages +at?”</p> +<p>“Wull, sir, as for that, I doant rightly know; if so be +he’d pay down, that’s one thing, but it’s my +bleef as you might jist as wull try to dror blood out of a stoane +as git thic feller to do what’s right.”</p> +<p><!-- page 32--><a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +32</span>“Shall we say a hundred pounds and +costs?”</p> +<p>Never did man look more astonished than Bumpkin. A +hundred pounds! What a capital thing going to law must +be! But, as the reader knows, he was a remarkably discreet +man, and never in the course of his dealing committed himself +till the final moment. Whenever anybody made him a +“bid,” he invariably met the offer with one form of +refusal. “Nay, nay; it beant good enough: I bin +offered moore.” And this had answered so well, that +it came natural to Bumpkin to refuse on all occasions the first +offer. It was not to be wondered at then that the question +should be regarded in the light of an offer from Snooks +himself. Now he could hardly say “I bin <i>bid +moore</i> money,” because the case wasn’t in the +market; but he could and did say the next best thing to it, +namely:—</p> +<p>“I wunt let un goo for that—’t be wuth +moore!”</p> +<p>“Very well,” observed Prigg; “so long as we +know: we can lay our damages at what we please.”</p> +<p>Now there was great consolation in that. The plaintiff +paused and rubbed his chin. “What do thee think, +sir?”</p> +<p>“I think if he pays something handsome, and gives us an +apology, and pays the costs, I should advise you to take +it.”</p> +<p>“As you please, sir; I leaves it to you; I beant a hard +man, I hope.”</p> +<p>“Very good; we will see what can be done. I shall +bring this action in the Chancery Division.”</p> +<p>“Hem! I’ve eerd tell, sir, that if ever a case +gets into that ere Coourt he niver comes out agin.”</p> +<p>“O, that’s all nonsense; there used to be a good +deal of truth in that; but the procedure is now so altered <!-- +page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +33</span>that you can do pretty much what you like: this is an +age of despatch; you bring your action, and your writ is almost +like a cheque payable on demand!”</p> +<p>“Wull, I beant no lawyer, never had nothing to do wi un +in my life; but I should like to axe, sir, why thee’ll +bring this ere case in Chancery?”</p> +<p>“Good; well, come now, I like to be frank; we shall get +more costs?”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin again rubbed his chin. “And do I get +em?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Well, they go towards expenses; the other side always +pays.”</p> +<p>This was a stroke of reasoning not to be gainsaid. But +Mr. Prigg had a further observation to make on the subject, and +it was this:</p> +<p>“After the case has gone on up to being ready for trial, +and the Judges find that it is a case more fitting to be tried in +the Common Law Courts, then an order is made transferring it, +that is, sending it out of Chancery to be tried by one of the +other Judges.”</p> +<p>“Can’t see un,” said Bumpkin, “I beant +much of a scollard, but I tak it thee knows best.”</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg smiled: a beneficent, sympathizing smile.</p> +<p>“I dare say,” he said, “it looks a little +mysterious, but we lawyers understand it; so, if you don’t +mind, I shall bring it in the Chancery Division in the first +instance; and nice and wild the other side will be. I fancy +I see the countenance of Snooks’ lawyer.”</p> +<p>This was a good argument, and perfectly satisfactory to the +unsophisticated mind of Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“And when,” he asked, “will ur come on, +think’ee?”</p> +<p>“O, in due time; everything is done very quickly +now—not like it used to be—you’d be surprised, +we <!-- page 34--><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +34</span>used to have to wait years—yes, years, sir, before +an action could be tried; and now, why bless my soul, you get +judgment before you know where you are.”</p> +<p>How true this turned out to be may hereafter appear; but in a +dream you never anticipate.</p> +<p>“I shall write at once,” said “Honest +Prigg,” “for compensation and an apology; I think I +would have an apology.”</p> +<p>“Make un pay—I doant so much keer for the +t’other thing; that beant much quonsequence.”</p> +<p>“Quite so—quite so.” And with this +observation Mr. Prigg escorted his client to the door.</p> +<h2><!-- page 35--><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +35</span>CHAPTER V.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">In which it appears that the sting of slander +is not always in the head.</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg lost no time in addressing a letter to the +ill-advised Josiah Snooks with the familiar and affectionate +commencement of “Dear Sir,’” asking for +compensation for the “gross outrage” he had committed +upon “his client;” and an apology to be printed in +such papers as he, the client, should select.</p> +<p>The “Dear Sir” replied, not in writing, for he was +too artful for that, but by returning, as became his vulgar +nature, Mr. Prigg’s letter in a very torn and disgusting +condition.</p> +<p>To a gentleman of cultivated mind and sensitive nature, this +was intolerable; and Mr. Prigg knew that even the golden bridge +of compromise was now destroyed. He no longer felt as a +mere lawyer, anxious in the interests of his client, which was a +sufficient number of horse-power for anything, but like an +outraged and insulted gentleman, which was more after the force +of hydraulic pressure than any calculable amount of +horse-power. It was clear to his upright and sensitive mind +that Snooks was a low creature. Consequently all +professional courtesies were at an end: the writ was issued and +duly served upon the uncompromising Snooks. Now a writ is +not a matter to grin at and to treat with <!-- page 36--><a +name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>contempt or +levity. Mr. Snooks could not return that document to Mr. +Prigg, so he had to consider. And first he consulted his +wife: this consultation led to a domestic brawl and then to his +kicking one of his horses in the stomach. Then he threw a +shovel at his dog, and next the thought occurred to him that he +had better go and see Mr. Locust. This gentleman was a +solicitor who practised at petty sessions. He did not +practise much, but that was, perhaps, his misfortune rather than +his fault. He was a small, fiery haired man, with a close +cut tuft of beard; small eyes, and a pimply nose, which showed an +ostentatious disdain for everything beneath it.</p> +<p>Mr. Locust was not at home, but would return about nine. +At nine, therefore, the impatient Snooks appeared.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Locust, as he looked at the writ, +“I see this writ is issued by Mr. Prigg.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Did he not write to you before issuing it?—dear +me, this is very sharp practice—very sharp practice: the +sharpest thing I ever heard of in all my life.”</p> +<p>“Wull, he did write, but I giv un as good as he +sent.”</p> +<p>“Dear me!” exclaimed Mr. Locust; “I am +afraid you have committed yourself.”</p> +<p>“No I beant, sir,” said the cunning Snooks, with a +grin, “no I beant.”</p> +<p>“You should never write without consulting a +solicitor—bear that in mind, Mr. Snooks; it will be an +invaluable lesson—hem!”</p> +<p>“I never writ, sir—I ony sent un his letter +back.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Locust, “come now, that is +better; but still you should have consulted me. I see this +claim is for three hundred and fifty pounds—it’s for +trespass. Now sit down quietly and calmly, and tell me the +facts.” <!-- page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 37</span>And then he took pen and paper and +placed himself in position to take his retainer and +instructions.</p> +<p>“Wull, sir, it is as this: a Sunday mornin—no, a +Sunday mornin week—I won’t tell no lie if I knows +it—a Sunday mornin week—”</p> +<p>“Sunday morning week,” writes Locust.</p> +<p>“I buyd a pig off this ere man for nine and six: well, +o’ the Monday mornin I goes with my barrer and a sack and I +fetches the pig and gies the money to his man Joe Wurzel; +leastways I puts it on the poast and he takes it up. Then +out comes Bumpkin and swears I never bought un at all, gets in a +rage and hits the bag wi’ a stick—”</p> +<p>“Now stop,” said the Lawyer; “are you quite +sure he did not strike <i>you</i>? That’s the +point.”</p> +<p>“Well, sir, he would a’ done if I adn’t a +bobbed.”</p> +<p>“Good: that’s an assault in law. You are +sure he would have struck you if you hadn’t ducked or +bobbed your head?”</p> +<p>“In course it would, else why should I bob?”</p> +<p>“Just so—just so. Now then, we’ve got +him there—we’ve got him nicely.”</p> +<p>Snooks’ eyes gleamed.</p> +<p>“Next I want to know: I suppose you didn’t owe him +anything?”</p> +<p>“No, nor no other man,” said Snooks, with an air +of triumph. “I worked hard for what I got, and no man +can’t ax me for a farden. I allays paid twenty +shillings in the pound.”</p> +<p>The reader will observe how virtuous both parties were on this +point.</p> +<p>“So!” said Locust. “Now you +haven’t told me all that took place.”</p> +<p><!-- page 38--><a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +38</span>“That be about all, sir.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes; but I suppose there was something said +between you—did you have any words—was he +angry—did he call you any names or say anything in an angry +way?”</p> +<p>“Well, not partickler—”</p> +<p>“Not particular: I will judge of that. Just tell +me what was said.”</p> +<p>“When, sir?”</p> +<p>“Well, begin on the Sunday morning. What was first +said?”</p> +<p>Then Snooks told the Solicitor all that took place, with +sundry additions which his imagination supplied when his memory +failed.</p> +<p>“And I member the price wull, becos he said ‘You +beant sellin coals, recollect, so you doant ave me.”</p> +<p>“Ho! ho!” exclaimed Locust rubbing his hands, +“You are sure he said that?” writing down the words +carefully.</p> +<p>“I be.”</p> +<p>“That will do, we’ve got him: we’ve got him +nicely. Was anybody present when he said this?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. Joe were there, and t’ best +o’ my belief, Mrs. Bumpkin.”</p> +<p>“Never mind Mrs. Bumpkin. I don’t suppose +she was there, if you come to recollect; it’s quite enough +if Joe was present and could hear what was said. I suppose +he could hear it?”</p> +<p>“Stood cloase by.”</p> +<p>“Very well—that is slander—and slander of a +very gross kind. We’ve got him.”</p> +<p>“Be it?” said Snooks.</p> +<p>“I’ll show you,” said Locust; “in law +a man slanders you if he insinuates that you are dishonest; now +what <!-- page 39--><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +39</span>does this Bumpkin do? he says ‘you don’t +have me,’ meaning thereby that you don’t trick him +out of his pig; and, ‘you are not selling coals,’ +meaning that when you do sell coals you do trick people. Do +you see?—that you cheat them, in fact rob them.”</p> +<p>Snooks thought Mr. Locust the most wonderful man he had ever +come across. This was quite a new way of putting it.</p> +<p>“But ur didn’t say as much,” he said, +wondering whether that made any difference.</p> +<p>“Perfectly immaterial in law,” said Mr. Locust: +“it isn’t what a man says, it’s what he +<i>means</i>: you put that in by an innuendo—”</p> +<p>“A what, sir? begging pardon—”</p> +<p>“It’s what we lawyers call an innuendo: that is to +say, making out that a man says so and so when he +doesn’t.”</p> +<p>“I zee,” said the artful Snooks, quick at +apprehending every point. “Then if he called a chap a +devilish honest man and the innu—what d’ye call it, +meant he were a thief, you got him?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Locust, smiling, “that is +going rather far, Mr. Snooks, but I see you understand what I +mean.”</p> +<p>“I thinks so, sir. I thinks I has your +meanin.”</p> +<p>“It’s a very gross slander,” observed Mr. +Locust, “and especially upon a tradesman in your +position. I suppose now you have lived in the neighbourhood +a considerable time?”</p> +<p>“All my life, sir.”</p> +<p>“Ah! just so, just so—now let me see; and, if I +remember rightly, you have a vote for the County.”</p> +<p>“I ave, sir, and allus votes blue, and that’s +moore.”</p> +<p><!-- page 40--><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +40</span>“Then you’re on our side. I’m +very glad indeed to hear that; a vote’s a vote, you know, +now-a-days.”</p> +<p>Any one would have thought, to hear Mr. Locust, that votes +were scarce commodities, whereas we know that they are among the +most plentiful articles of commerce as well as the cheapest.</p> +<p>“And you have, I think, a family, Mr. Snooks.”</p> +<p>“Four on em, sir.”</p> +<p>“Ah! how very nice, how laudable to make a little +provision for them: as I often say, if a man can only leave his +children a few hundreds apiece, it’s something.”</p> +<p>The solicitor watched his client’s face as he uttered +this profound truism, and the face being as open and genuine as +was Snooks’ character, it said plainly enough “Yes, I +have a few hundreds.”</p> +<p>“Well then,” continued Mr. Locust, “having +been in business all these years, and being, as times go, +tolerably successful, being a careful man, and having got +together by honest industry a nice little +independency—”</p> +<p>Here the learned gentleman paused, and here, unfortunately, +Snooks’ open and candid heart revealed itself through his +open and candid countenance.</p> +<p>“I <i>believe</i>,” said Mr. Locust, “I am +right?”</p> +<p>“You’re about right, sir.”</p> +<p>“Very charming, very gratifying to one’s +feelings,” continued Mr. Locust; “and then, just as +you are beginning to get comfortable and getting your family +placed in the world, here comes this what shall I call him, I +never like to use strong language, this intolerable blackguard, +and calls you a thief—a detestable thief.”</p> +<p>“Well, he didn’t use that air word, sir—I +wool say that,” said Mr. Snooks.</p> +<p>“In law he did, my good man—he meant it and said +<!-- page 41--><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +41</span>it—he insinuated that you cheated the +poor—you serve a good many of the poor, I think?”</p> +<p>“I do, sir.”</p> +<p>“Well, he insinuated that you cheated them by giving +short weight and bad coals—that is worse than being a +thief, to my mind—such a man deserves hanging.”</p> +<p>“Damn him,” said Snooks, “that’s it, +is it?”</p> +<p>“That’s it, my dear sir, smooth it over as you +will. I don’t want to make more of it than necessary, +but we must look at it fairly and study the consequences. +Now I want to ask you particularly, because we must claim special +damage for this, if possible—have you lost any customers +through this outrageous slander?”</p> +<p>“Can’t say I have, rightly, sir.”</p> +<p>“No, but you will—mark my words, as soon as people +hear of this they will cease to deal with you. They +can’t deal with you.”</p> +<p>“I hope not, sir.”</p> +<p>“So do I; but let me tell Mr. Bumpkin” (here the +learned man shook his forefinger as though it had been the often +quoted finger of scorn) “that for every customer you lose +we’ll make him answerable in damages. He’ll +repeat this slander: take my advice and get some one to look out, +and make a note of it—be on your guard!”</p> +<p>Snooks wiped the perspiration from his forehead and then threw +his large coloured handkerchief into his hat, which he held by +both hands between his knees,</p> +<p>“It be a bad case then, sir?”</p> +<p>“A very bad case for Bumpkin!” replied Mr. Locust; +“let me have a list of your customers as soon as you can, +and we shall see who leaves you in consequence of this +slander. Does my friend, Mr. Overrighteous, deal with +you? I think he does?”</p> +<p><!-- page 42--><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +42</span>“He do, sir, and have for five or six +years—and a good customer he be.”</p> +<p>“Ah! now, there’s a man! Whatever you do +don’t let Mr. Overrighteous know of it: he would leave you +directly: a more particular man than that can’t be. +Then again, there is my friend Flythekite, does he deal with +you? Of course he does!”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“And you’ll lose him—sure to lose +him.”</p> +<p>Judging from Mr. Snooks’ countenance it would have been +small damage if he did.</p> +<p>“Ve-ry well,” continued Locust, after a pause, +“ve-ry well—just so.” Then he looked at +the copy of the writ and perceived that it was dated eighteen +hundred and ninety something instead of eighteen hundred and +seventy something. So he said that the writ was wrong and +they ought not to appear; “by which means,” said he, +“we shall let them in at the start for a lot of +costs—we shall let them in.”</p> +<p>“And will that stash the action?” asked +Snooks.</p> +<p>“It will not stash ours,” said Locust. +“I suppose you mean to go on whether he does or not? +Your claim is for assault and slander.”</p> +<p>“As you please, sir.”</p> +<p>“No, no, as you please. I have not been called a +thief—they haven’t said that I sell short weight and +cheat and defraud the poor: <i>my</i> business will not be +ruined—<i>my</i> character is not at stake.”</p> +<p>“Let un have it, sir; he be a bad un,” and here he +rose to depart. Mr. Locust gave him a professional shake of +the hand and wished him good day. But as the door was just +about to be closed on his client, he remembered <!-- page 43--><a +name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>something +which he desired to ask, so he called, “Mr. +Snooks!”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said the client.</p> +<p>“Is there any truth in the statement that this Bumpkin +beats his wife?”</p> +<p>“I doant rightly know,” said Snooks, in a +hesitating voice; “it may be true. I shouldn’t +wonder—he’s just the sort o’ man.”</p> +<p>“Just enquire about that, will you?”</p> +<p>“I wool, sir,” said Snooks; and thus his interview +with his Solicitor terminated.</p> +<p>Now the result of the enquiries as to the domestic happiness +of Bumpkin was this; first, the question floated about in a vague +sort of form, “<i>Does Bumpkin beat his wife</i>?” +then it grew into “<i>Have you heard that Bumpkin beats his +wife</i>?” and lastly, it was affirmed that Bumpkin +“<i>really did beat his wife</i>.” And the +scandal spread so rapidly that it soon reached the ears of +plaintiff himself, who would have treated it with the contempt it +deserved, knowing the quarter whence it came, but that it was so +gross a calumny that he determined to give the lying Snooks no +quarter, and to press his action with all the energy at his +command.</p> +<p>After this there could be no compromise.</p> +<p>“I wish,” said Snooks to himself, as he smoked his +pipe that evening, “I could a worked one o’ them +there innerenders in my trade—I could a made summut on +him.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 45--><a name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +45</span>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Showing how the greatest wisdom of Parliament +may be thrown away on ungrateful people.</p> +<p>The first skirmish between the two doughty champions of the +hostile forces took place over the misdated writ. Judgment +was signed for want of appearance; and then came a summons to set +it aside. The Judge set it aside, and the Divisional Court +set aside the Judge, and the Court of Appeal set aside the +Divisional Court upon the terms of the defendant paying the +costs, and the writ being amended, &c. &c. And I +saw that when the Judge in Chambers had hesitatingly and +“not without grave doubt” set aside the judgment, Mr. +Prigg said to Mr. Locust, “What a very nice +point!” And Mr. Locust replied:</p> +<p>“A very nice point, indeed! Of course you’ll +appeal?” And Mr. Quibbler, Mr. Locust’s +pleader, said, “A very neat point!”</p> +<p>“Oh dear, yes,” answered Mr. Prigg.</p> +<p>And then Mr. Prigg’s clerk said to Mr. Locust’s +clerk—“What a very nice point!” And Mr. +Locust’s clerk rejoined that it was indeed a very nice +point! And then Mr. Locust’s boy in the office said +to Mr. Prigg’s boy in the office, “What a very nice +point!” And Mr. Prigg’s boy, a pale tall lad of +about five feet six, and of remarkably quiet demeanour, +replied—</p> +<p>“A dam nice point!”</p> +<p><!-- page 46--><a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +46</span>Next came letters from the respective Solicitors, +suggesting a compromise in such terms that compromise became +impossible; each affirming that he was so averse from litigation +that almost any amicable arrangement that could be come to would +be most welcome. Each required a sum of two hundred pounds +and an apology in six morning papers. And I saw at the foot +of one of Mr. Prigg’s letters, when the hope of compromise +was nearly at an end, these touching words:</p> +<p>“Bumpkin’s blood’s up!”</p> +<p>And at the end of the answer thereto, this very expressive +retort:</p> +<p>“You say Bumpkin’s blood is up; so is +Snooks’—do your worst!”</p> +<p>As I desire to inform the lay reader as to the interesting +course an action may take under the present expeditious mode of +procedure, I must now state what I saw in my dream. The +course is sinuosity itself in appearance, but that only renders +it the more beautiful. The reader will be able to judge for +himself of the simple method by which we try actions nowadays, +and how very delightful the procedure is. The first +skirmish cost Snooks seventeen pounds six shillings and +eight-pence. It cost Bumpkin only three pounds seventeen +shillings, or <i>one heifer</i>. Now commenced that +wonderful process called “Pleading,” which has been +the delight and the pride of so many ages; developing gradually +century by century, until at last it has perfected itself into +the most beautiful system of evasion and duplicity that the world +has ever seen. It ranks as one of the fine Arts with Poetry +and Painting. A great Pleader is truly a great Artist, and +more imaginative than any other. The number of summonses at +Chambers is only <!-- page 47--><a name="page47"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 47</span>limited by his capacity to invent +them. Ask any respectable solicitor how many honest claims +are stifled by proceedings at Chambers. And if I may +digress in all sincerity for the purpose of usefulness, I may +state that while recording my dream for the Press, Solicitors +have begged of me to bring this matter forward, so that the +Public may know how their interests are played with, and their +rights stifled by the iniquitous system of proceedings at +Chambers.</p> +<p>The Victorian age will be surely known as the Age of Pleading, +Poetry, and Painting.</p> +<p>First, the Statement of Claim. Summons at Chambers to +plead and demur; summons to strike out; summons to let in; +summons to answer, summons not to answer; summonses for all sorts +of conceivable and inconceivable objects; summonses for no +objects at all except costs. And let me here say Mr. Prigg +and Mr. Locust are not alone blameable for this: Mr. Quibbler, +Mr. Locust’s Pleader, had more to do with this than the +Solicitor himself. And so had Mr. Wrangler, the Pleader of +Mr. Prigg. But without repeating what I saw, let the reader +take this as the line of proceeding throughout, repeated in at +least a dozen instances:—</p> +<p class="poetry">The Judge at Chambers reversed the Master;</p> +<p class="poetry">The Divisional Court reversed the Judge;</p> +<p class="poetry">And the Court of Appeal reversed the Divisional +Court.</p> +<p>And let this be the chorus:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“What a very nice point!” said +Prigg;</p> +<p class="poetry">“What a very nice point!” said +Locust;</p> +<p class="poetry">“What a very nice point!” said +Gride (Prigg’s clerk);</p> +<p class="poetry">“What a d--- nice point!” said +Horatio! (the pale boy).</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 48--><a name="page48"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 48</span>Summons for +particulars.—Chorus.</p> +<p class="poetry">Further and better +particulars.—Chorus.</p> +<p class="poetry">Interrogatories—Summons to strike +out.—Chorus.</p> +<p class="poetry">Summons for further and better +answers.—Chorus.</p> +<p class="poetry">More summonses for more, further, better, and +all sorts of things.—Chorus.</p> +<p>All this repeated by the other side, of course; because each +has his proper innings. There is great fairness and +impartiality in the game. Something was always going up +from the foot of this Jacob’s ladder called “the +Master” to the higher regions called the Court of +Appeal. The simplest possible matter, which any old +laundress of the Temple ought to have been competent to decide by +giving both the parties a box on the ear, was taken before the +Master, from the Master to the Judge, from the Judge to the +Divisional Court, and from the Divisional Court to the Court of +Appeal, at the expense of the unfortunate litigants; while +Judges, who ought to have been engaged in disposing of the +business of the country, were occupied in deciding legal quibbles +and miserable technicalities. All this I saw in my +dream. Up and down this ladder Bumpkin and Snooks were +driven—one going up the front while the other was coming +down the back. And I heard Bumpkin ask if he wasn’t +entitled to the costs which the Court gave when he won. But +the answer of Mr. Prigg was, “No, my dear sir, the labourer +is worthy of his hire.” And I saw a great many more +ups and downs on the ladder which I should weary the reader by +repeating: they are all alike equally useless and equally +contemptible. Then I thought that poor Bumpkin went up the +ladder with a great bundle on his back; and his face seemed quite +<!-- page 49--><a name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +49</span>changed, so that I hardly knew him, and I said to +Horatio, the pale boy—</p> +<p>“Who is that going up now? It looks like Christian +in the Pilgrim’s Progress.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no,” said Horatio, “that’s old +Bumpkin—it’s a regler sweater for him, ain’t +it?”</p> +<p>I said, “Whatever can it be? will he ever reach the +top?”</p> +<p>Here Bumpkin seemed to slip, and it almost took my breath +away; whereat the pale boy laughed, stooping down as he laughed, +and thrusting his hands into his breeches pockets,</p> +<p>“By George!” he exclaimed, “what a jolly +lark!”</p> +<p>“I hope he won’t fall,” I exclaimed. +“What has he got on his back?”</p> +<p>“A <span class="smcap">demurrer</span>,” said +Horatio, laughing. “Look at him! That there +ladder’s the Judicatur Act: don’t it reach a +height? There’s as many rounds in that there ladder +as would take a man a lifetime to go up if it was all spread out; +it’s just like them fire escapes in reaching up, but nobody +ever escapes by it.”</p> +<p>“It will break the poor man’s back,” said I, +as he was a few feet from the top. And then in my dream I +thought he fell; and the fright was so great that I awoke, and +found I was sitting in my easy chair by the fire, and the pipe I +had been smoking had fallen out of my hand.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>“You’ve been dreaming,” said my wife; +“and I fear have had a nightmare.” When I was +thoroughly aroused, and had refilled my pipe, I told her all my +dream.</p> +<p><!-- page 50--><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +50</span>Then cried she, “I hope good Mr. Bumpkin will get +up safely with that great bundle.”</p> +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said I, “whether +he do or not; he will have to bear its burden, whether he take it +up or bring it back. He will have to bring it down again +after showing it to the gentlemen at the top.”</p> +<p>“What do they want to see it for?” cried she.</p> +<p>“They have no wish to see it,” I replied; +“on the contrary, they would rather not. They will +simply say he is a very foolish man for his pains to clamber up +so high with so useless a burden.”</p> +<p>“But why don’t they check him?”</p> +<p>“Because they have no power; they look and wonder at the +folly of mankind, who can devise no better scheme of amusement +for getting rid of their money.”</p> +<p>“But the lawyers are wise people, and they should know +better.”</p> +<p>“The lawyers,” said I, “do know better; and +all respectable lawyers detest the complicated system which +brings them more abuse than fees. They see men, permitted +by the law, without character and conscience, bring disgrace on +an honourable body of practitioners.”</p> +<p>“But do they not remonstrate?”</p> +<p>“They do, but with little effect; no one knows who is +responsible for the mischief or how to cure it.”</p> +<p>“That is strange.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but the time will come when the people will insist +on a cheaper and more expeditious system. Half-a-dozen +solicitors and members of the junior bar could devise such a +system in a week.”</p> +<p>“Then why are they not permitted to take it in +hand?”</p> +<p><!-- page 51--><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +51</span>“Because,” said I, “Old Fogeyism has, +at present, only got the gout in one leg; wait till he has it in +both, and then Common Sense will rise to the occasion.”</p> +<p>“But what,” quoth she, “is this fine art you +spoke of?”</p> +<p>“Pleading!”</p> +<p>“Yes; in what consists its great art?”</p> +<p>“In artfulness,” quoth I.</p> +<p>Then there was a pause, and at length I said, “I will +endeavour to give you an illustration of the process of pleading +from ancient history: you have heard, I doubt not, of Joseph and +his Brethren.”</p> +<p>“O, to be sure,” cried she; “did they not +put him in the pit?”</p> +<p>“Well, I believe they put him in the pit, but I am not +referring to that. The corn in Egypt is what I +mean.”</p> +<p>“When they found all their money in their sacks’ +mouths?”</p> +<p>“Exactly. Now if Joseph had prosecuted those men +for stealing the money, they would simply have pleaded not +guilty, and the case would have been tried without any bother, +and the defendants have been acquitted or convicted according to +the wisdom of the judge, the skill of the counsel, and the common +sense of the jury. But now suppose instead thereof, Joseph +had brought an action for the price of the corn.”</p> +<p>“Would it not have been as simple?”</p> +<p>“You shall see. The facts would have been stated +with some accuracy and a good deal of inaccuracy, and a good many +things which were not facts would have been introduced. +Then the defendants in their statement of defence would have +denied that there was any such place <!-- page 52--><a +name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 52</span>as Egypt as +alleged; <a name="citation52"></a><a href="#footnote52" +class="citation">[52]</a> denied that Pharaoh was King thereof; +denied that he had any corn to sell; denied that the said Joseph +had any authority to sell; denied that they or any of them went +into Egypt; denied that they ever saw the said Joseph or had any +communication with him whatever, either by means of an +interpreter or otherwise; denied, in fact, everything except +their own existence; but in the alternative they would go on to +say, if it should be proved that there was a place called Egypt, +a man called Pharaoh, an agent of his called Joseph, and that the +defendants actually did go to Egypt, all of which they one and +all absolutely deny (as becomes men of honour), then they say, +that being large corn-merchants and well known to the said +Joseph, the factor of the said Pharaoh, as purchasers only of +corn for domestic purposes, and requiring therefore a good sound +merchantable article, the said Joseph, by falsely and +fraudulently representing that certain corn of which he, the said +Joseph, was possessed, was at that time of a good sound and +merchantable quality and fit for seed and domestic purposes, by +the said false and fraudulent representations he, the said +Joseph, induced the defendants to purchase a large quantity +thereof, to wit, five thousand sacks; whereas the said corn was +not of a good sound and merchantable quality and fit for seed and +domestic purposes, but was maggoty from damp, and infected with +smut and altogether worthless, as he, the said Joseph, well knew +at the time he made the said false representations. The +defendants would also further allege <!-- page 53--><a +name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 53</span>that, relying +on the said Joseph’s word, they took away the said corn, +but having occasion at the inn to look into the said sacks, they +found that the said wheat was worthless, and immediately +communicated with the said Joseph by sending their younger +brother Simeon down to demand a return of the price of the said +corn. But when the said Simeon came to the said Joseph the +said Joseph caught him, and kicked him, and beat him with a great +stick, and had him to prison, and would not restore him to his +brethren, the defendants. Whereupon the defendants sent +other messengers, and at length, after being detained a long time +at the said inn, the said Joseph came down, and on being shown +the said corn, admitted that it was in bad condition. +Whereupon the defendants, fearing to trust the said Joseph with +the said sacks until they had got a return of their said money, +demanded that he, the said Joseph, should put the full tale of +every man’s money in the sack of the said man; which thing +the said Joseph agreed to, and placed every man’s money in +the mouth of his said sack. And when the said man was about +to reach forth his hand to take his said money, the said Joseph +seized the said hand and held him fast—.”</p> +<p>“Stop, stop!” cried my wife; “the said +Joseph had not ten hands. You must surely draw the line +somewhere.”</p> +<p>“No, no,” said I, “that is good pleading; if +the other side should omit to deny it, it will be taken by the +rules of pleading to be admitted.”</p> +<p>“But surely you can’t admit +impossibilities!”</p> +<p>“Can’t you, though!” cried I. +“You can do almost anything in pleading.”</p> +<p>“Except, it seems to me, tell the truth.”</p> +<p><!-- page 54--><a name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +54</span>“You mustn’t be too hard upon us poor +juniors,” cried I. “I haven’t come to the +Counterclaim yet.”</p> +<p>“O don’t let us have Counterclaims,” quoth +she; “they can have no claim against Joseph?”</p> +<p>“What, not for selling them smutty wheat?”</p> +<p>“Nonsense.”</p> +<p>“I say yes; and he’ll have to call a number of +witnesses to prove the contrary—nor do I think he will be +able to do it.”</p> +<p>“I fail now,” said my wife, “to see how this +pleading is a fine art. Really, without joking, what is the +art?”</p> +<p>“The art of pleading,” said I, “consists in +denying what is, and inducing your adversary to admit what +isn’t.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 55--><a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +55</span>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Showing that appropriateness of time and place +should be studied in our pastimes.</p> +<p>The next night, sitting over the cheerful fire and comfortably +resting after the labours of the day, I dreamed again, and I saw +that Horatio Snigger was “the Office Boy” of Mr. +Prigg. He had been in the employment of that gentleman +about two years. He was tall for his money, standing, in +his shoes, at least five feet six, and receiving for his +services, five shillings and sixpence a week, (that is, a +shilling for every foot and a penny for every odd inch), his last +rise (I mean in money,) having taken place about a month ago.</p> +<p>Horatio was a lad of as much spirit as any boy I ever +saw. I do not believe he had any liking for the profession, +but had entered it simply as his first step in life, utterly in +the dark as to whither it would lead him. It was, I +believe, some disappointment to his father that on no occasion +when he interrogated him as to his “getting on,” +could he elicit any more cheering reply than “very +well.” And yet Horatio, during the time he had been +with Mr. Prigg, had had opportunities of studying character in +its ever-varying phases as presented by Courts of Justice and +kindred places.</p> +<p>“Kindred places!” Yes, I mean +“Judges’ Chambers,” where any boy may speedily +be impressed with the <!-- page 56--><a name="page56"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 56</span>dignity and simplicity of the +practice of the Law, especially since the passing of the +Judicature Act. To my lay readers who may wish to know what +“Judges’ Chambers” means, I may observe that it +is a place where innumerable proceedings may be taken for +lengthening a case, embarrassing the clients, and spending +money. It is, to put it in another form, a sort of Grands +Mulets in the Mont Blanc of litigation, whence, if by the time +you get there you are not thoroughly “pumped out,” +you may go on farther and in due time reach the top, whence, I am +told, there is a most magnificent view.</p> +<p>But even the beauty of the proceedings at Judges’ +Chambers failed to impress Horatio with the dignity of the +profession. He lounged among the crowds of chattering boys +and youths who “cheeked” one another before that +august personage “the Master,” declaring that +“Master” couldn’t do this and +“Master” couldn’t do that; that the other side +was too late or too soon; that his particulars were too meagre or +too full; or his answers to interrogatories too evasive or not +sufficiently diffuse, and went on generally as if the whole +object of the law were to raise as many difficulties as possible +in the way of its application. As if, in fact, it had +fenced itself in with such an undergrowth of brambles that no +amount of ability and perseverance could arrive at it.</p> +<p>From what I perceived of the character of Horatio, I should +say that he was a scoffer. He was a mild, good-tempered, +well-behaved boy enough, but ridiculed many proceedings which he +ought to have reverenced. He was a great favourite with Mr. +Prigg, because, if anything in the world attracted the +boy’s admiration, it was <!-- page 57--><a +name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>that +gentleman’s pious demeanour and profound knowledge. +But the exuberance of the lad’s spirits when away from his +employer was in exact proportion to the moral pressure brought to +bear upon him while in that gentleman’s presence. As +an illustration of this remark and proof of the twofold character +of Horatio, I will relate what I saw after the +“Master” had determined that the tail of the 9 was a +very nice point, but that there was nothing in it. They had +all waited a long time at Judge’s Chambers, and their +spirits were, no doubt, somewhat elated by at last getting the +matter disposed of.</p> +<p>Horatio heard Mr. Prigg say to Mr. Locust, “What a very +nice point!” and had heard Mr. Locust reply, “A very +nice point, indeed!” And Mr. Gride, the clerk, say, +“What, a very nice point!” and somebody else’s +clerk say, “What a very nice point!” And +Horatio felt, as a humble member of the profession, he must chime +in with the rest of the firm. So, having said to +Locust’s boy, “What a dam nice point!” he went +back to his lonely den in Bedford Row and then, as he termed it, +“let himself out.” He accomplished this +proceeding by first taking off his coat and throwing it on to a +chair; he next threw but his arms, with his fists firmly +clenched, as though he had hardly yet to its fullest extent +realized the “<i>niceness</i>” of the point which the +Master had determined. The next step which Horatio took was +what is called “The double shuffle,” which, I may +inform my readers, is the step usually practised by the gentleman +who imitates the sailor in the hornpipe on the stage. Being +a slim and agile youth, Horatio’s performance was by no +means contemptible, except that it was no part of his +professional duty to dance a Hornpipe. <!-- page 58--><a +name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>Then I saw +that this young gentleman in the exuberance of his youthful +spirits prepared for another exhibition of his talent. He +cleared his throat, once more threw out his arms, stamped his +right foot loudly on the floor, after the manner of the Ethiopian +dancer with the long shoe, and then to my astonishment poured +forth the following words in a very agreeable, and, as it seemed +to me, melodious voice,—</p> +<blockquote><p>“What a very nice point, said +Prigg.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Then came what I suppose would be called a few bars of the +hornpipe; then he gave another line,—</p> +<blockquote><p>“What a very nice point, said +Gride.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>(Another part of the hornpipe.) Then he sang the third +and fourth lines, dancing vigorously the while:</p> +<blockquote><p>“It will take a dozen lawyers with their +everlasting jaw:<br /> +It will take a dozen judges with their ever changing +law”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>(Vigorous dancing for some moments), and then a pause, during +which Horatio, slightly stooping, placed two fingers of his left +hand to the side of his nose, and turning his eyes to the right, +sang—</p> +<blockquote><p>“And”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Paused again, and finished vehemently as follows:</p> +<blockquote><p>“Twenty golden guineas to decide!”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Then came the most enthusiastic hornpipe that ever was seen, +and Horatio was in the seventh Heaven of delight, when the door +suddenly opened, and Mr. Prigg entered!</p> +<p><!-- page 59--><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +59</span>It was unfortunate for Horatio that his back being +towards the door he could not see his master enter; and it need +scarcely be said that the noise produced by the dance prevented +him from hearing his approach.</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg looked astounded at the sight that presented +itself. The whole verse was repeated, and the whole dance +gone through again in the sight and hearing of that +gentleman. Was the boy mad? Had the strain of +business been too much for him?</p> +<p>As if by instinct Horatio at last became aware of his +master’s presence. A change more rapid, +transformation more complete I never saw. The lad hung his +head, and wandered to the chair where his coat was lying. +It took him some time to put it on, for the sleeves seemed +somehow to be twisted; at length, once more arrayed, and +apparently in his right mind, he stood with three-quarter face +towards his astonished master.</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg did not turn his head even on this occasion. +He preserved a dignified silence for some time, and then spoke in +a deep tragic tone:</p> +<p>“Horatio!”</p> +<p>Horatio did hot answer.</p> +<p>“What is the meaning of this exhibition, +Horatio?”</p> +<p>“I was only having a little fun, sir,” said the +youthful clerk.</p> +<p>“I am not averse to youth enjoying itself,” said +Mr. Prigg; “but it must be at proper seasons, and in +appropriate places; there is also to be exercised a certain +discretion in the choice of those amusements in which youth +should indulge. I am not aware what category of recreation +your present exhibition may belong to, but I may inform you that +in my humble judgment—I may be mistaken, and you may know +far better than I—but <!-- page 60--><a +name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 60</span>as at present +advised, I do not see that your late performance is consistent +with the duties of a solicitor’s clerk.” And +then he muttered to himself, “Quite so.”</p> +<p>After this magnificent rebuke, Mr. Prigg drew out his cambric +handkerchief, and most gently applied it to his stately nose.</p> +<p>“Again,” said Mr. Prigg, “I heard language, +or thought I heard language, which I should construe as decidedly +derogatory to the Profession which you serve and to which I have +the honour to belong.”</p> +<p>“I was only in fun, sir,” said Horatio, gathering +confidence as Mr. Prigg proceeded.</p> +<p>“Quite so, quite so; that may be, I sincerely hope you +were; but never make fun of that by which you live; you derive +what I may call a very competent, not to say handsome, salary +from the proceedings which you make fun of. This is sad, +and manifests a spirit of levity.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t mean it like that, sir.”</p> +<p>“Very well,” said the good man, “I am glad +to perceive that you are brought to a proper sense of the +impropriety of your conduct. I will not discharge you on +this occasion, for the sake of your father, whom I have known for +so many years: but never let this occur again. Dancing is +at all times, to my mind, a very questionable amusement; but when +it is accompanied, as I perceived it was on this occasion, with +gestures which I cannot characterize by any other term than +disgusting; and when further you take the liberty of using my +name in what I presume you intended for a comic song, I must +confess that I can hardly repress my feelings of +indignation. I hope you are penitent.”</p> +<p>Horatio hung down his head, and said he was very <!-- page +61--><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 61</span>sorry +Mr. Prigg had heard it, for he only intended it for his own +amusement.</p> +<p>“I shall take care,” said Mr. Prigg, “that +you have less opportunity for such exercises as I have +unfortunately witnessed.” And having thus admonished +the repentant youth, Mr. Prigg left him to his reflections. +I am glad Mr. Prigg did not return while the pale boy was +reflecting.</p> +<h2><!-- page 63--><a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +63</span>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The pleasure of a country drive on a summer +evening described as enhanced by a pious mind.</p> +<p>It is only fair to the very able solicitors on both sides in +the memorable case of <i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i> to state +that the greatest possible despatch was exercised on all +occasions. Scarcely a day passed without something being +done, as Prigg expressed it, “to expedite +matters.” Month after month may have passed away +without any apparent advance; but this in reality was not the +case. Many appeals on what seemed trifling matters had been +heard; so many indeed that <i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i> had +become a household word with the Court of Appeal, and a bye-word +among the innumerable loafers about Judge’s Chambers.</p> +<p>“What! <i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i> +again!” the President would say. “What is it +now? It’s a pity the parties to this case can’t +agree: it seems a very trifling matter.”</p> +<p>“Not so, my lord, as your lordship will quickly +apprehend when the new point is brought before your notice. +A question of principle is here which may form a precedent for +the guidance of future Judges, as did the famous case of +<i>Perryman</i> v. <i>Lister</i>, which went to the House of +Lords about prosecuting a man for stealing a <!-- page 64--><a +name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 64</span>gun. +This is about a pig, my lord—a little pig, no doubt, and +although there is not much in the pig, there is a good deal +outside it.”</p> +<p>And often did Prigg say to Locust:</p> +<p>“I say, Locust, whenever <i>shall</i> we be ready to set +this case down for trial?”</p> +<p>“Really, my dear Prigg,” Locust would reply, +“it seems interminable—come and dine with +me.” So the gentle and innocent reader will at once +perceive that there was great impatience on all sides to get this +case ready for trial. Meanwhile it may not be uninteresting +to describe shortly some of the many changes that had taken place +in the few short months since the action commenced.</p> +<p>First it was clearly observable by the inhabitants of Yokelton +that Mr. Prigg’s position had considerably improved. +I say nothing of his new hat; that was a small matter, but not so +his style of living—so great an advance had that made that +it attracted the attention of the neighbours, who often remarked +that Mr. Prigg seemed to be getting a large practice. He +was often seen with his lady on a summer afternoon taking the air +in a nice open carriage—hired, it is true, for the +occasion. And everybody remarked how uncommonly ladylike +Mrs. Prigg lay back in the vehicle, and how very gracefully she +held her new æsthetic parasol. And what a proud +moment it was for Bumpkin, when he saw this good and respectable +gentleman pass with the ladylike creature beside him; and Mr. +Bumpkin would say to his neighbours, lifting his hat at the same +moment,</p> +<p>“That be my loryer, that air be!”</p> +<p>And then Mr. Prigg would gracefully raise his hat, and Mrs. +Prigg would lie back perfectly motionless as <!-- page 65--><a +name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 65</span>became a very +languid lady of her exalted position. And when Mr. Prigg +said to Mrs. Prigg, “My dear, that is our new +client;” Mrs. Prigg would elevate her arched eyebrows and +expand her delicate nostrils as she answered,—</p> +<p>“Really, my love, what a very vulgar-looking +creechar!”</p> +<p>“Not nearly so vulgar as Locust’s client,” +rejoined her husband. “You should see him.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, my love, it is quite enough to catch a +glimpse of the superior person of the two.”</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg seemed to think it a qualifying circumstance that +Snooks was a more vulgar-looking man than Bumpkin, whereas a +moment’s consideration showed Mrs. Prigg how illogical that +was. It is the intrinsic and personal value that one has to +measure things by. This value could not be heightened by +contrast. Mrs. Prigg’s curiosity, however, naturally +led her to inquire who the other creechar was? As if she +had never heard of <i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i>, although she +had actually got the case on four wheels and was riding in it at +that very moment; as if in fact she was not practically all +Bumpkin, as a silkworm may be said to be all mulberry +leaves. As if she knew nothing of her husband’s +business! Her ideas were not of this world. Give her +a church to build, she’d harass people for subscriptions; +or let it be a meeting to clothe the naked savage, Mrs. Prigg +would be there. She knew nothing of clothing Bumpkin! +But she did interest herself sufficiently in her husband’s +conversation to ask, in answer to his reference to Locust’s +disreputable client,</p> +<p>“And who is he, pray?”</p> +<p><!-- page 66--><a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +66</span>“My darling,” said Prigg, “you must +have heard of Snooks?”</p> +<p>“Oh,” drawled Mrs. Prigg, “do you mean the +creechar who sells coals?”</p> +<p>“The same, my dear.”</p> +<p>“And are you engaged against <i>that</i> man? How +very dreadful!”</p> +<p>“My darling,” observed Mr. Prigg, “it is not +for us to choose our opponents; nor indeed, for the matter of +that, our clients.”</p> +<p>“I can quite perceive that,” returned the lady, +“or you would never have chosen such men—dear +me!”</p> +<p>“We are like physicians,” returned Mr. Prigg, +“called in in case of need.”</p> +<p>“And the healing virtues of your profession must not be +confined to rich patients,” said Mrs. Prigg, in her jocular +manner.</p> +<p>“By no means,” was the good man’s reply; +“justice is as much the right of the poor as the +rich—so is the air we breathe—so is +everything.” And he put his fingers together again, +as was his wont whenever he uttered a philosophical or moral +platitude.</p> +<p>So I saw in my dream that the good man and his ladylike wife +rode through the beautiful lanes, and over the breezy common on +that lovely summer afternoon, and as they drew up on the summit +of a hill which gave a view of the distant landscape, there was a +serenity in the scene which could only be compared to the +serenity of Mr. Prigg’s benevolent countenance; and there +was a calm, deeply, sweetly impressive, which could only be +appreciated by a mind at peace with itself in particular, and +with the world in general. Then came from a neighbouring +wood the clear voice of the cuckoo. It <!-- page 67--><a +name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 67</span>seemed to +sing purposely in honour of the good man; and I fancied I could +see a ravenous hawk upon a tree, abashed at Mr. Prigg’s +presence and superior ability; and a fluttering timid lark seemed +to shriek, “Wicked bird, live and let live;” but it +was the last word the silly lark uttered, for the hawk was upon +him in a moment, and the little innocent songster was crushed in +its ravenous beak. Still the cuckoo sang on in praise of +Mr. Prigg, with now and then a little note for Mrs. Prigg; for +the cuckoo is a very gallant little bird, and Mrs. Prigg was such +a heavenly creature that no cuckoo could be conscious of her +presence without hymning her praise.</p> +<p>“Listen,” said Mrs. Prigg, “isn’t it +beautiful? I wonder where cuckoos go to?”</p> +<p>“Ah, my dear!” said Prigg, enraptured with the +clear notes and the beautiful scene; but neither of them seemed +to wonder where hawks go to.</p> +<p>“Do you hear the echo, love? Isn’t it +beautiful?”</p> +<p>O, yes, it was beautiful! Nature does indeed lift the +soul on a quiet evening from the grovelling occupations of earth +to bask in the genial sunshine of a more spiritual +existence. What was Bumpkin? What was Snooks to a +scene like this? Suddenly the cuckoo ceased. +Wonderful bird! I don’t know whether it was the +presence of the hawk that hushed its voice or the sight of Mr. +Prigg as he stood up in the carriage to take a more extended view +of the prospect; but the familiar note was hushed, and the +evening hymn in praise of the Priggs was over.</p> +<p>So the journey was continued by the beautiful wood of oaks and +chestnuts, along by the hillside from which you could perceive in +the far distance the little stream <!-- page 68--><a +name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 68</span>as it wound +along by meadow and wood and then lost itself beneath the hill +that rose abruptly on the left.</p> +<p>The stream was the symbol of life—probably +Bumpkin’s life; all nature presents similes to a religious +mind. And so the evening journey was continued with ever +awakening feelings of delight and gratitude until they once more +entered their peaceful home. And this brings me to another +consideration which ought not to be passed over with +indifference.</p> +<p>I saw in my dream that a great change had taken place in the +home of the Priggs. The furniture had undergone a +metamorphosis almost so striking that I thought Mr. Prigg must be +a wizard. The gentle reader knows all about Cinderella; but +here was a transformation more surprising. I saw that one +of Mr. Bumpkin’s pigs had been turned into a very pretty +walnut-wood whatnot, and stood in the drawing-room, and on it +stood several of the ducks and geese that used to swim in the +pond of Southwood farm. They were not ducks and geese now, +but pretty silent ornaments. An old rough-looking stack of +oats had been turned into a very nice Turkey carpet for the +dining-room. Poor old Jack the donkey had been changed into +a musical box that stood on a little table made out of a +calf. One day Mr. Bumpkin called to see how his case was +going on, and by mistake got into this room among his cows and +pigs; but not one of them did the farmer know, and when the maid +invited him to sit down he was afraid of spoiling something.</p> +<p>Now summonses at Chambers, and appeals, and demurrers, are not +at all bad conjuring wands, if you only know how to use +them. Two clever men like Prigg and Locust, not only +surprise the profession, but alarm the <!-- page 69--><a +name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 69</span>public, since +no one knows what will take place next, and Justice herself is +startled from her propriety. Let no clamorous law reformer +say that interrogatories or any other multitudinous proceedings +at Judge’s Chambers are useless. It is astonishing +how many changes you can ring upon them with a little ingenuity, +and a very little scrupulosity. Mr. Prigg turned two sides +of bacon into an Indian vase, and performed many other feats +truly astonishing to persons who look on as mere spectators, and +wonder how it is done. Wave your magic wand, good Prigg, +and you shall see a hayrick turn into a chestnut mare; and a +four-wheeled waggon into a Victoria.</p> +<p>But the greatest change he had effected was in Mr. Bumpkin +himself, who loved to hear his wife read the interrogatories and +answers. The almanac was nothing to this. He had no +idea law was so interesting. I dare say there were two +guiding influences working within him, in addition to the many +influences working without; one being that inherent British +pluck, which once aroused, “doesn’t care, sir, if it +costs me a thousand pound, I’ll have it out wi’ +un;” the other was the delicious thought that all his +present outlay would be repaid by the cunning and covetous +Snooks. So much was Bumpkin’s heart in the work of +crushing his opponent, that expense was treated with +ridicule. I heard him one day say jocularly to Mr. Prigg, +who had come for an affidavit:</p> +<p>“Be it a pig, sir, or a heifer?”</p> +<p>“O,” said the worthy Prigg, “we want a +pretty good one; I think it must be a heifer.”</p> +<p>All this was very pleasant, and made the business, dull and +prosaic in itself, a cheerful recreation.</p> +<p>Then, again, there was a feeling of self-importance <!-- page +70--><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +70</span>whenever these affidavits came to be sworn. Mr. +Bumpkin would put down his ash-stick by the side of the +fireplace, and bidding his visitor be seated, would compose +himself with satisfaction to listen to the oft-repeated +words:</p> +<p>“I, Thomas Bumpkin, make oath, and say—”</p> +<p>Fancy, “<i>I</i>, <i>Bumpkin</i>!” Just let +the reader pause over that for a moment! What must +“I, Bumpkin,” be whose statement is required on oath +before my Lord Judge?</p> +<p>Always, at these words, he would shout. “That be +it—now then, sir, would you please begin that +agin?”—while, if Mrs. Bumpkin were not too busy, he +would call her in to hear them too.</p> +<p>So there was no wonder that the action went merrily +along. Once get up enthusiasm in a cause, and it is half +won. Without enthusiasm, few causes can succeed against +opposition. Then, again, the affidavit described Bumpkin as +a Yeoman. What, I wonder, would Snooks the coal-merchant +think of that?</p> +<p>So everything proceeded satisfactorily, and the months rolled +away; the seasons came in their turn, so did the crops, so did +the farrows of pigs, so did the spring chickens, and young ducks +(prettiest little golden things in the world, on the water); so +did Mr. Prigg, and so did a gentleman (hereafter to be called +“the man,”) with whom a very convenient arrangement +was made, by which Mr. Bumpkin preserved the whole of his +remaining stock intact; had not in fact to advance a single penny +piece more; all advances necessary for the prosecution of the +action being made by the strange gentleman (whose name I did not +catch) under that most convenient of all legal forms, “a +Bill of Sale.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 71--><a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +71</span>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">A farmhouse winter fireside—a morning +drive and a mutual interchange of ideas between town and country: +showing how we may all learn something from one another.</p> +<p>I never saw the home of Farmer Bumpkin without thinking what a +happy and comfortable home it was. The old elm tree that +waved over the thatched roof, seemed to bless and protect +it. On a winter’s evening, when Bumpkin was sitting +in one corner smoking his long pipe, Mrs. Bumpkin darning her +stockings, and Joe on the other side looking into the blazing +fire, while the old Collie stretched himself in a snug corner +beside his master, it represented a scene of comfort almost as +perfect as rustic human nature was capable of enjoying. And +when the wind blew through the branches of the elm over the roof, +it was like music, played on purpose to heighten the +enjoyment. Comfort, thou art at the evening fireside of a +farm-house, if anywhere!</p> +<p>You should have seen Tim, when an unusual sound disturbed the +harmony of this peaceful fireside. He growled first as he +lay with his head resting between his paws, and just turned up +his eyes to his master for approval. Then, if that warning +was not sufficient, he rose and barked vociferously. +Possessed, I believe, of <!-- page 72--><a +name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 72</span>more insight +than Bumpkin, he got into the most tremendous state of excitement +whensoever anyone came from Prigg’s, and he cordially hated +Prigg. But most of all was he angry when “the +man” came. There was no keeping him quiet. I +wonder if dogs know more about Bills of Sale than farmers. +I am aware that some farmers know a good deal about them; and +when they read this story, many of them will accuse me of being +too personal; but Tim was a dog of strong prejudices, and I am +sure he had a prejudice against money-lenders.</p> +<p>As the persons I have mentioned were thus sitting on this +dreary evening in the month of November, suddenly, Tim sprang +from his recumbent position, and barked furiously.</p> +<p>“Down, Tim! down, Tim!” said the farmer; +“what be this, I wonder!”</p> +<p>“Tim, Tim,” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “down, Tim! +hold thee noise, I tell ee.”</p> +<p>“Good Tim!” said Joe; he also had an instinct.</p> +<p>“I’ll goo and see what it be,” said Mrs. +Bumpkin; “whoever can come here at this time o’ +night! it be summat, Tom.” And she put down her +stockings, and lighting a candle went to the front door, whereat +there was a loud knocking. Tim jumped and flew and thrust +his nose down to the bottom of the door long before Mrs. Bumpkin +could get there.</p> +<p>“Quiet, Tim! I tell thee; who be there?”</p> +<p>“From Mr. Prigg’s,” answered a voice.</p> +<p>This was enough for Tim; the name of Prigg made him +furious.</p> +<p>“Somebody from Mr. Prigg, Tom.”</p> +<p>“Wull, let un in, Nance; bless thee soul, let un in; may +be the case be settled. I hope they ain’t took less +<!-- page 73--><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +73</span>nor a hundred pound. I told un not +to.” The door was unbolted and unbarred, and a long +time it took, and then stood before Mrs. Bumpkin a tall pale +youth.</p> +<p>“I’ve come from Mr. Prigg.”</p> +<p>“Will er plase to walk in, sir?” said Mrs. +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>By this time the master had got up from his seat, and +advancing towards the youth said:—</p> +<p>“How do, sir; how do, sir; wark in, wark in, tak a seat, +I be glad to see thee.”</p> +<p>“I come from Mr. Prigg,” said the youth, +“and we want another affidavit.”</p> +<p>“Hem!” said Bumpkin, “be it a pig or a +eifer, sir?” He couldn’t forget the old +joke.</p> +<p>“We want an affidavit of documents,” said the +youth.</p> +<p>“And what be the manin o’ that?—affiday +o’ what?”</p> +<p>“Documents, sir,” said the mild youth; “here +it is.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Bumpkin, “I got to swear un, I +spoase, that’s all.”</p> +<p>“That’s it, sir,” said Horatio.</p> +<p>“Well, thee can’t take oaths, I spoase.”</p> +<p>“No, sir, not exactly.”</p> +<p>“Wull then I spoase I must goo to --- in the +marnin. And thee’ll stop here the night and mak +thyself comfortable. We can gie un a bed, can’t us, +Nancy?”</p> +<p>“Two, if ur wishes it,” answered Mrs. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Devil’s in it, ur doan’t want two beds, +I’ll warrant? Now then, sir, sitten doon and mak +theeself comfortable. What’ll thee drink?”</p> +<p>“I’m too young to drink,” said Horatio, with +a smile.</p> +<p>Bumpkin smiled too. “I’ll warrant thee +be.”</p> +<p>“I’m always too young,” said Horatio, +“for every thing that’s nice. Mr. Prigg says +I’m too young to <!-- page 74--><a name="page74"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 74</span>enjoy myself; but if you don’t +mind, sir, I’m not too young to be hungry. I’ve +walked a long distance.”</p> +<p>“Have ur now?” said Mrs. Bumpkin. “We +ain’t got anything wery grand, sir; but there be a nice +piece o’ pickle pork and pease-puddin, if thee doan’t +mind thic.”</p> +<p>“Bring un out,” said Bumpkin; and accordingly a +nice clean cloth was soon spread, and the table was groaning (as +the saying is), with a large leg of pork and pease-pudding and +home-made bread; to which Horatio did ample justice.</p> +<p>“Bain’t bad pooark,” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Best I ever tasted,” replied Horatio; “we +don’t get this sort of pork in London—pork there +doesn’t seem like pork.”</p> +<p>“Now look at that,” said Joe; “I fed that +air pig.”</p> +<p>“So ur did, Joe,” said the farmer; +“I’ll gie thee credit, Joe, thee fed un +well.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Joe; “and that air pig knowed I +as well as I knows thee.”</p> +<p>When Horatio had supped, and the things were removed, Mr. +Bumpkin assured the youth that a little drop of gin-and-water +would not hurt him after his journey; and accordingly mixed him a +tumbler. “Thee doan’t smoke, I spoase?” +he said; to which Mrs. Bumpkin added that she “spoased he +wur too young like.”</p> +<p>“I’ll try,” answered the courageous youth, +nothing daunted by his youngness.</p> +<p>“So thee shall—dang if thee shan’t,” +rejoined Mr. Bumpkin; and produced a long churchwarden pipe, and +a big leaden jar of tobacco of a very dark character, called +“shag.”</p> +<p>Horatio filled his pipe, and puffed away as if he had been a +veteran smoker; cloud after cloud came forth, <!-- page 75--><a +name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 75</span>and when Mr. +and Mrs. Bumpkin and Joe looked, expecting that the boy should be +ill, there was not the least sign; so Joe observed with great +sagacity:</p> +<p>“Look at that now, maister; I bleeve he’ve smoked +afoore.”</p> +<p>“Have ur, sir?” asked Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“A little,” said Horatio.</p> +<p>“Why, I never smoked afoore I wur turned twenty,” +said the farmer.</p> +<p>“I believe the right time now is fourteen,” +observed the youth; “it used to be twenty, I have heard +father say; but everything has been altered by the Judicature +Act.”</p> +<p>“Look at that air,” said Joe, “he’ve +eeard father say. You knows a thing or two, I’ll +warrant, Mr. —.”</p> +<p>Here Joe was baffled, and coming so abruptly to an end of his +address, Mr. Bumpkin took the matter up, and asked, if he might +make so bold, what the youth’s name might be.</p> +<p>“Horatio Snigger,” answered that gentleman.</p> +<p>“When will this ere case be on, think’ee, +sir?” inquired Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“We expect it to be in the paper every day now,” +said the youth; “they’ve tried to dodge us a good +deal, but they can’t dodge us much longer—we’re +a little too downy for em.”</p> +<p>“It have been a mighty long time about, surely,” +said Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“O, that’s nothing,” said Horatio; +“time’s nothing in Law! Why, a suit to +administer a Will sometimes takes ’ears; and Bankruptcy, O +my eye, ain’t there dodging about that, and jockeying too, +eh! Crikey!”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin here winked at his wife, as much as to <!-- page +76--><a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 76</span>say, +“Now you hold your tongue, and see me dror un out. +I’ll have un.”</p> +<p>“Will ee tak a little more gin-and-water, +sir?”</p> +<p>“No, thankee,” said the youth.</p> +<p>“A little more won’t hurt ee—it’ll do +thee good.” And again he filled the tumbler; while +the pale boy refilled his pipe.</p> +<p>“Now, who’s my counsellor gwine to be?” +asked the farmer.</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Horatio, “a regular +cruncher—Mr. Catapult.”</p> +<p>“He be a cruncher, be he?”</p> +<p>“I believe you; he turned a man inside out the other +day; a money-lender he was.”</p> +<p>“Did ur now?”</p> +<p>“Look at that,” said Joe.</p> +<p>“And we’re going to have Mr. Dynamite for junior; +my eye, don’t he make a row!”</p> +<p>“Two an em!” exclaimed Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Must have two for the plaintiff,” said Horatio; +“that’s the law. Why, a Queen’s Counsel +ain’t allowed to open a case without a junior starts +him—it’s jist like the engine-driver and the +guard. You have the junior to shove the leader.”</p> +<p>“Look at that,” said Joe; expectorating into the +fire.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin looked again at Nancy, and gave another wink that +you might have heard.</p> +<p>“And the tother side?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Ah! I don’t know about them,” said +the boy. “They’re artful dodgers, they +are.”</p> +<p>“Is ’em now? but artfulness don’t allays +win, do ur?”</p> +<p><!-- page 77--><a name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +77</span>“No,” said Horatio; “but it goes a +long way, and sometimes when it’s gone a long way it beats +itself.”</p> +<p>“Look at that,” said Joe; “that’s like +that ere—”</p> +<p>“Be quiet, Joe,” said Bumpkin; “let I talk, +will ur? You said it beats itself, sir?”</p> +<p>“If the judge gets ’old of him, it’s sure +to,” said Horatio. “There ain’t no judge +on the Bench as will let artfulness win if he knows it. +I’ve sin em watchin like a cat watches a mouse; and +directly it comes out o’ the ’ole, down he is on +em—like that:” and he slapped his hand on the table +with startling effect.</p> +<p>“Good!” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“And don’t they know who the solicitor is, +eh—that’s all! My word, if he’s a shady +one—the judge is down on the case like winkin.”</p> +<p>“And be this ere Locust a shady un?” +(Another wink at Mrs. Bumpkin.)</p> +<p>“Ah! I’m too young to know.”</p> +<p>“Thee beest too old, thee meanest,” said Mrs. +Bumpkin, laughing.</p> +<p>“Now hold thee tongue, Nancy; I wur gwine to say that +myself—dang if I warnt!”</p> +<p>“Now look at thic,” said Joe; “maister were +gwine to say thic.”</p> +<p>“So I wur,” repeated Bumpkin. “Jist +got the word o’ th’ tip o’ th’ +tongue.”</p> +<p>“And be these Queen’s Counsellors,” he +asked, “summat grand?”</p> +<p>“I believe you,” said Horatio; “they wears +silk gowns.”</p> +<p>“Do em?” said Mrs. Bumpkin, laughing. +“Silk gowns—and what kind o’ +petticoats?”</p> +<p>“Shut up,” said Bumpkin; “thee be as igorant +as a <!-- page 78--><a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +78</span>donkey; these Queen’s Counsellors be made for +their larnin and cleverness, beant em, sir?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Horatio, “nobody ever could +make out—some of em are pretty good, and some of em +ain’t much—not near so good as the others.”</p> +<p>“But this ere Mr. Catapult be a good un, bean’t +he—a regler crunsher?”</p> +<p>“O, I believe you, my boy: his look’s enough for +some of em.”</p> +<p>“I spoase he be dear?” (Another wink at Mrs. +Bumpkin.)</p> +<p>“They’re all dear,” said Horatio; +“some of em are dear because their fees are high; and some +of em would be dear at a gift, but I’m too young to know +much about it.”</p> +<p>“Now hark at that,” said Joe; “like that air +old horse o’ Morris’.”</p> +<p>“Hold thee tongue, Joe, I tell ee, putten thy spoke in; +does thee think the Queen ’as old ’orses in her +stable? It’s merit, I tell ee—ain’t it, +Mr. Jigger?”</p> +<p>“Merit, sir; I believe it’s merit.” +And thus in pleasant conversation the evening passed merrily +away, until the clock striking nine warned the company that it +was time to retire.</p> +<p>A bright, brisk frosty morning succeeded, and a substantial +breakfast of bacon, eggs, fresh butter, and home-made bread, at +seven o’clock, somewhat astonished and delighted the +youthful Horatio; and then the old horse, with plenty of hair +about his heels, was brought round with the gig. And Mr. +Bumpkin and his guest got up and took their seats. The old +Market Town was about seven miles off, and the road lay through +the most picturesque scenery of the county. To ride on such +<!-- page 79--><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +79</span>a pleasant morning through such a country almost made +one think that swearing affidavits was the most pleasing +occupation of life. It was the first time Horatio had ever +ridden in a gig: the horse went a good old market pace, and the +beautiful sunshine, lovely scenery, and crisp air produced in his +youthful bosom a peculiarly charming and delightful sense of +exhilaration. He praised the country and the weather and +the horse, and asked if it was what they called a +thoroughbred.</p> +<p>“Chit!” said Bumpkin, “thoroughbred! +So be I thoroughbred—did thee ever see thoroughbred +wi’ ’air on his ’eels?’</p> +<p>“Well, he goes well,” said Horatio.</p> +<p>“Gooes well enough for I,” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>This answer somewhat abashed Horatio, who was unlearned in +horses; for some time he remained silent. Then it became +Mr. Bumpkin’s turn to renew the conversation:</p> +<p>“I spoase,” said he, “thee be gwine to be a +loryer?”</p> +<p>“Not if I know it,” answered Horatio.</p> +<p>“Why not, then?”</p> +<p>“Don’t care for it; I like the country.”</p> +<p>“What wouldst thee like to be then, a farmer?”</p> +<p>“I should—that’s the life for me!”</p> +<p>“Thee likes plenty o’ fresh air?” said the +farmer.</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Horatio, “and fresh butter +and fresh eggs.”</p> +<p>“I’ll go to ---, if thee doen’t know +what’s good for thee, anyhow. Thee’d ha’ +to work ’ard to keep straaight, I can tell thee; +thee’d had to plough, and danged if I believe thee could +hold plough! What’s thee say to that, lad?”</p> +<p>“I think I could.”</p> +<p><!-- page 80--><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +80</span>“Devil a bit! now spoase thee’st got +plough-handles under thy arms, and the cord in the ’ands, +and thee wanted to keep t’colter from jibbin into t’ +soil, wouldst thee press down wi’ might and main, or +how?”</p> +<p>“Press down with might and main,” said +Horatio.</p> +<p>“Right!” exclaimed Bumpkin; “danged if I +doant think thee’d make a ploughman now. Dost know +what th’ manin o’ mither woiy be?”</p> +<p>This was rather a startling question for the unsophisticated +London youth. He had never heard such an expression in his +life; and although he might have puzzled his agricultural +interrogator by a good many questions in return, yet that +possibility was no answer to “mither woiy.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know that, Mr. Bumpkin,” he +ingenuously replied.</p> +<p>“No? well, there ain’t a commoner word down ere +nor ‘mither woiy,’ and there ain’t a boy arf +your age as doan’t know the manin o’t, so thee see +thee got summat to larn. Now it mane this—spoase thee +got a team o’ horses at dung cart or gravel cart, and thee +wants em to come to ee; thee jest holds whip up over to the ed +o’ th’ leadin orse like this ere, and says +‘mither woiy,’ and round er comes as natteral as +possible.”</p> +<p>“O, that’s it!” said Horatio; “I +see.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Bumpkin, “I can teach ee summat, +can’t I, though thee comes from town, and I be only a +country clown farmer?”</p> +<p>“I should just like to come down a month on trial, +that’s all, when I have my holiday,” said the youth; +“I think it would do me good: ‘mither +woiy,’” he said, mimicking his instructor.</p> +<p>“Thee shall come if thee likes,” replied the +good-natured <!-- page 81--><a name="page81"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 81</span>Bumpkin; “Nancy’ll be +proud to see thee—thee’s got ‘mither +woiy’ to rights.”</p> +<p>“What a very nice public-house!” exclaimed +Horatio, as they approached a village green where an old Inn that +had flourished in the coaching days still stood, the decaying +monument of a past age, and an almost forgotten style of +locomotion.</p> +<p>“Be a good house. I often pulls up there on way +from market.”</p> +<p>“Did you ever try rum and milk for your cough?” +inquired the pale youth.</p> +<p>“Never had no cough,” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“What a good thing! But it’s capital, they +say, in case you should have one; they say there’s nothing +beats rum and milk.”</p> +<p>“Hem!” muttered Bumpkin, giving his horse a +tremendous jerk with the reins. “I spoase +thee’d like a glass, Mr. Jigger.”</p> +<p>“I don’t care about it for myself,” answered +the youth; “but if you like to have one I’ll join you +with pleasure.”</p> +<p>“So us wool then;” and up they pulled at the sign +of the “Merry-go-round” on Addlehead Green.</p> +<p>“Bain’t bad tackle!” said Mr. Bumpkin, +tossing off his glass.</p> +<p>“No,” responded Horatio, “I’ve tasted +worse medicine. I quite enjoy my ride, Mr. Bumpkin; I wish +we had a dozen more affidavits to swear.”</p> +<p>“I doan’t,” said the client; “I sworn +a goodish many on em as it be. I doan’t think that +air Snooks can bate un.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think he can,” said Horatio, as +they once more climbed into the old-fashioned gig; “but +talk <!-- page 82--><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +82</span>about paper, you should see your brief: that’s a +caution and no mistake!”</p> +<p>“Is ur now? In what way, sir?”</p> +<p>“Lor, how I should like a cigar, Mr. Bumpkin, if +I’d only got my case with me, but +unfortunately—”</p> +<p>“Would ur—then thee shall ’ave one; here, +Mr. Ostler, jest goo and fetch one o’ them there what +d’ye call ems.”</p> +<p>“O, do they sell them down here? +Cigars—cigars,” said Horatio, “I wasn’t +aware of that.”</p> +<p>“Now then, sir; what about this ere what d’ye call +un—beef?”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin, being a very artful man, was inwardly chuckling +at the successful manœuvring by which he was drawing out +this pale unsophisticated London youth, and hoped by dint of a +little strategy to learn a good deal before they parted +company.</p> +<p>“Brief! brief!” said Horatio, laughing.</p> +<p>“Ah! so it wur; thee said he wur a hell of a big +un.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and I wrote him myself.”</p> +<p>“Did ur now; then thee knows all about un?”</p> +<p>“From beginning to end—he is a clipper, I can tell +you; a regular whacker.”</p> +<p>“I hope he’ll whack thic Snooks then.”</p> +<p>“He’s a beauty!” rejoined Horatio, much to +his companion’s surprise; for here was this young man +speaking of a brief in the same terms that he (Bumpkin) would use +with reference to a prize wurzel or swede. A brief being a +<i>beauty</i> sounded somewhat strange in the ears of a farmer +who could associate the term with nothing that didn’t grow +on the farm.</p> +<p>“I dare say you’ve heard of Macaulay’s +England?” asked the lad.</p> +<p><!-- page 83--><a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +83</span>“Whose England?”</p> +<p>“Macaulay’s.”</p> +<p>“I’ve eerd o’ England, if you mean this ere +country, sartainly.”</p> +<p>“You’ve heard of Macaulay’s History, I +mean?”</p> +<p>“Can’t say as ever I eerd tell on un.”</p> +<p>“Well, there’s as much in your brief as there is +in that book, and that’s saying something, ain’t +it?”</p> +<p>“Zo’t be; but what th’ devil be ’t all +about?”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Horatio, holding +out his hands and putting the point of his right forefinger on to +the point of the forefinger of his left hand. “First: +biography of the plaintiff.”</p> +<p>“There now,” said Bumpkin, shaking the reins; +“thee med jist as well talk Greek—it’s the same +wally (value) to me, for I doan’t understan’ a +word—bography, indade!”</p> +<p>“Well then, Mr. Bumpkin, there is first a history of +your life.”</p> +<p>“Good lord, what be that for?”</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you presently—then there’s +the history of Mrs. Bumpkin from the cradle.” (Mr. +Bumpkin uttered an exclamation which nothing shall induce me to +put on paper.) “Then”—and here the young +man had reached the third finger of the left +hand—“then comes a history of the defendant +Snooks.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Bumpkin, as though they were getting +nearer the mark; “that be summut like—that’ll +do un—have you put in about the gal?”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” asked the youth.</p> +<p>“Oh! didn’t thee ’ear? Why, thee +’st left out the best part o’ Snooks’ life; he +were keepin company wi’ a gal and left her in t’ +lurch: but I ’ope thee ’st shown <!-- page 84--><a +name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 84</span>up ur carater +well in other ways—he be the worst man as ever lived in +this ’ere country.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Horatio, travelling towards his +little finger; “then there’s the history of the +pig.”</p> +<p>“Zounds!” laughed the farmer, “if ever I +eerd tell o’ such a thing in my bornd days. What the +devil be the good o’ thic?”</p> +<p>“O, a good deal; the longer you make the brief the more +money you get—you are paid by the yard. They +don’t pay lawyers accordin’ to the value of their +services, but the length of ’em.”</p> +<p>“Well, look ee ’ere, if I sells a pig it +ain’t wallied by its length, but by its weight.”</p> +<p>“It ain’t so with lawyers then,” rejoined +Horatio; “the taxing master takes the length of the pig, +and his tail counts, and the longer the tail the better the +taxing master likes it; then comes,”—(as the young +lad had only four fingers he was obliged to have recourse to his +thumb, placing his forefinger thereon)—“then comes +about ten pages on the immortality of the soul.”</p> +<p>“That be the tail, I spoase.”</p> +<p>“You got it,” said Horatio, laughing. +“O, he’s a stunner on the immortality of the +soul.”</p> +<p>“Who be?—Snooks?”</p> +<p>“No—Prigg—he goes into it like +winkin’.”</p> +<p>“But what be it to do with thic case?”</p> +<p>“Well, if you only put in a brief what had got to do +with the case it would be a poor thing.”</p> +<p>And I saw in my dream that the young man was speaking +truthfully: it was a beautifully drawn essay on the immortality +of the soul, especially Bumpkin’s.</p> +<p>“By George!” continued the youth, +“it’ll cost something—that brief.”</p> +<p><!-- page 85--><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +85</span>Mr. Bumpkin twitched as if he had touched with ice a +nerve of his hollow tooth.</p> +<p>“If I had the money that case’ll cost I +wouldn’t do any more work,” said the youth.</p> +<p>“What would’st thee be then?”</p> +<p>“Well, I should try and get an Associate’s place +in one of the Courts.”</p> +<p>“Hem! but this ere Snooks ull have to pay, won’t +he?”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Horatio, breathing deeply and +indignantly, “I hope so; he’s a mean cuss—what +d’ye think? never give Locust’s boy so much as a +half-sovereign! Now don’t such a feller deserve to +lose? And do you think Locust’s boy will interest +himself in his behalf?”</p> +<p>Bumpkin looked slily out of the corners of his eyes at the +young man, but the young man was impassive as stone, and pale as +if made of the best Carrara marble.</p> +<p>“But tell I, sir—for here we be at the plaace of +Mr. Commissioner to take oaths—what need be there o’ +this ere thing I be gwine to swear, for I’ll be danged if I +understand a word of un, so I tell ee.”</p> +<p>“Costs, my dear sir, costs!”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>And I heard Bumpkin mutter to himself that “he’d +he danged if this ’ere feller wur so young as he made +out—his ’ead wur a mighty dale older nor his +body.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 87--><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +87</span>CHAPTER X.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The last night before the first London +expedition, which gives occasion to recall pleasant +reminiscences.</p> +<p>“I, Bumpkin, make oath and say,” having been duly +presented, and the Commissioner having duly placed the Testament +in Mr. Bumpkin’s hands, and said to him that to the best of +his knowledge and belief the contents of the “I +Bumpkin” paper were true, the matter was over, and Mr. +Snigger, with the valuable document in his possession, might have +returned to London by the next train. But as Horatio +afterwards observed to a friend, he “was not quite so +green.” It was market day; Mr. Bumpkin was a genial +companion, and had asked him to partake of the Market +Ordinary. So thither at one o’clock they repaired, +and a very fine dinner the pale youth disposed of. It +seemed in proportion to the wonderful brief whose merits they had +previously discussed. More and more did Horatio think that +a farmer’s life was the life for him. He had never +seen such “feeding;” more and more would he like that +month on trial in the country; more and more inclined was he to +throw up the whole blessed law at once and for ever. This +partly-formed resolution he communicated to Mr. Bumpkin, and +assured him that, but for the case of <i>Bumpkin</i> v. +<i>Snooks</i>, he would do so on that very afternoon, and wash +his hands of it.</p> +<p><!-- page 88--><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +88</span>“I don’t want,” said he, “to +leave you in the lurch, Mr. Bumpkin, or else I’d cut it at +once, and throw this affidavit into the fire.”</p> +<p>“Come, come,” said the farmer, “thee beest a +young man, don’t do nowt that be wrong—stick to thy +employer like a man, and when thee leaves, leave like a +man.”</p> +<p>“As soon as your case is over, I shall hook it, Mr. +Bumpkin. And now let me see—you’ll have to come +to London in a week or two, for I am pretty nigh sure we shall be +in the paper by that time. I shall see you when you come +up—where shall you stay?”</p> +<p>“Danged if I know; I be a straanger in +Lunnun.”</p> +<p>“Well, now, look ’ere, Mr. Bumpkin, I can tell you +of a very nice quiet public-house in Westminster where +you’ll be at home; the woman, I believe, comes from your +part of the country, and so does the landlord.”</p> +<p>“What be the naame o’ the public +’ouse?” asked Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“It’s the sign of the ‘Goose,’ and +stands just a little way off from the water-side.”</p> +<p>“The Goose” sounded countryfied and homelike, and +being near the water would be pleasant, and the landlord and +landlady being Somersetshire people would also be pleasant.</p> +<p>“Be it a dear plaace?” he inquired.</p> +<p>“Oh, no; dirt cheap.”</p> +<p>“Ah, that air <i>dirt</i> cheap I doan’t +like—I likes it a bit clean like.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, clean as a smelt—clean as ever it can +be; and I’ll bespeak your lodgings for you if you like, and +all.”</p> +<p>“Well, thankee, sir, thankee,” said the farmer, +shaking hands with the youth, and giving him a +half-sovereign. <!-- page 89--><a name="page89"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 89</span>“I be proud to know +thee.” And thus they parted: Horatio returning to his +office, and Mr. Bumpkin driving home at what is called a +“shig-shog” pace, reflecting upon all the events that +had transpired during that memorable day.</p> +<p>Pretty much the same as ever went on the things at the farm, +and the weeks passed by, and the autumn was over, and Christmas +Day came and went, and the Assizes came and went, and +<i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i> alone in all the world seemed to +stand still. One day in the autumn a friend of Mr. +Prigg’s came and asked the favour of a day’s fishing, +which was granted with Mr. Bumpkin’s usual +cordiality. He was not only to fish on that day, but to +come whenever he liked, and make the house his “hoame, +like.” So he came and fished, and partook of the +hospitality of the homely but plentiful table, and enjoyed +himself as often as he pleased. He was a most agreeable +man, and knew how to talk. Understood a good deal about +agriculture and sheep breeding, and quite enjoyed a walk with Mr. +Bumpkin round the farm. This happened five or six times +during the autumn. He was reticent when Mr. Bumpkin +mentioned the lawsuit, because he knew so little about legal +proceedings. Nor could Mr. Bumpkin “draw him +out” on any point. Nothing could be ascertained +concerning him except that he had a place in Yorkshire, and was +in London on a visit; that he had known Mr. Prigg for a good many +years, and always “found him the same.” At +last, the month of February came, and the long expected letter +from Mr. Prigg. Bumpkin and Joe were to be in London on the +following day, for it was expected they would be in the +paper. What a flutter of preparation there was at the +farm! Bumpkin was eager, Mrs. Bumpkin anxious. <!-- +page 90--><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +90</span>She had never liked the lawsuit, but had never once +murmured; now she seemed to have a presentiment which she was too +wise to express. And she went about her preparations for +her husband’s leaving with all the courage she could +command. It was, however, impossible entirely to repress +her feelings, and now and again as she was packing the flannels +and worsted stockings, a tear would force its way in spite of all +she could do.</p> +<p>Night came, and the fireside was as cosy as ever. But +there was a sense of sadness nevertheless. Tim seemed to +understand that something was not quite as it should be, for he +was restless, and looked up plaintively in his master’s +face, and went to Joe and put his head in his lap; then turned +away and stretched himself out on the hearth, winking his eyes at +the fire.</p> +<p>It is always a melancholy effort to “keep up the +spirits” when the moment of separation is at hand. +One longs for the last shake of the hand and the final +good-bye. This was the case at Southwood Farm on this +memorable evening. Nothing in the room looked as +usual. The pewter plates on the shelf shone indeed, but it +was like the smile of a winter sun; it lacked the usual cheery +warmth. Even the old clock seemed to feel sad as he ticked +out with melancholy monotony the parting moments; and the wind, +as it came in heavy gusts and howled round the old chimney, +seemed more melancholy than need be under the circumstances.</p> +<p>“Thee must be careful, Tom,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; +“that Lunnun, as I hear, be a terrible plaace.”</p> +<p>“How be un a terrible plaace?” said Bumpkin, +sarcastically. “I bean’t a child, +Nancy.”</p> +<p>“No, thee bean’t a child, Tom; but thee +bean’t up to <!-- page 91--><a name="page91"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 91</span>Lunnun ways: there be thieves and +murderers, and what not.”</p> +<p>“Thieves and murderers!”</p> +<p>“And Joe, doan’t ee git out o’ nights; if +anything ’appened to thee, thy old mother ’ud brak +her ’art.”</p> +<p>“Look ee ’ere,” said Joe, “I +bean’t got nuthin’ to lose, so I bean’t afeared +o’ thieves.”</p> +<p>“No, but thee might git into trouble, thee might be led +away.”</p> +<p>“So might thic bull,” said Joe; “but +I’d like to zee what ’ud become o’ the chap as +led un.”</p> +<p>“Chap as led un!” said Mrs. Bumpkin, laughing.</p> +<p>“I’d gie un a crack o’ the canister,” +said Joe.</p> +<p>“Don’t thee git knockin’ down, Joe, unless +thee be ’bliged,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; “keep out +o’ bad company, and don’t stay out o’ +nights.”</p> +<p>“And lookee ’ere, Joe,” said Bumpkin, +“when thee comes afore th’ Counsellor wi’ wig +on, hold up thee head; look un straight in t’ face and spak +oop. Thee needn’t be afeared t’ spak t’ +truth.”</p> +<p>“I bean’t afeard,” said Joe; “I mind +me when old Morris wur at plough, and I was leadin’ +th’ ’orses, Morris says, says he, ‘Now then, +cock, let’s see if we can’t git a eend this +time;’ so on we goes, and jist afore I gits the +’orses to eend o’ t’ field, Dobbin turns, and +then, dash my bootons, the tother turns after un, and me +tryin’ to keep em oop, Dobbin gits his legs over the +trace. Well, Morris wur that wild, he says, says he, +‘Damme, if yer doan’t look sharp, I’ll gie thee +a crack o’ t’ canister wi’ this ’ere +whippense presny’” (presently).</p> +<p>“Crack o’ the canister!” laughed Mrs. +Bumpkin, “and that’s what Morris called thy head, +eh?”</p> +<p>This was a capital hit on Joe’s part, for it set them +<!-- page 92--><a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +92</span>thinking of the events of old times, and Joe, seeing the +effect of it, ventured upon another anecdote relating to the old +carter.</p> +<p>“Thee recollect, master, when that there Mr. Gearns come +down to shoot; lor, lor, what a queer un he wur, +surely!”</p> +<p>“Couldn’t shoot a hit,” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Not he. Wall, we was carrying wheat, and Morris +wur loadin, and jest as we gits the last pitch on t’ load, +right through th’ ’orses legs runds a rat. +Gearns wi’out more ado oops wi’ his loaded gun and +bangs her off right under t’ ’orses legs; up jumps +th’ ’orse, and Morris wur wery nigh tossed head fust +into th’ yard. Wall, he makes no moore ado, for he +didn’t keer, gemman or no gemman—didn’t +Morris—”</p> +<p>“No more ur didn’t, Joe,” said Mrs. +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“He makes no moore ado, but he up and said, +‘damme,’ he says, ‘sir, you might as well a +said you was gwine to shoot; you might a had me off and broked my +neck.’”</p> +<p>“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed Mr. Bumpkin, and +“Well done, Morris,” said Mrs. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Wall,” said Joe, “this ere gemman says, +‘It wouldn’t er bin much loss,’ he says, +‘if he had!’ ‘Damme,’ roars Morris, +‘it had a bin as much wally to me as yourn, +anyhow.’”</p> +<p>They all remembered the story, and even Tim seemed to remember +it too, for when they laughed he wagged his tail and laughed with +them.</p> +<p>And thus the evening dragged along and bed time came.</p> +<p>In the morning all was in readiness, and the plaintiff with +his witness drove away in the gig to the station, where Morris +waited to bring the old horse back.</p> +<p><!-- page 93--><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +93</span>And as the train came into the little country station I +awoke.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>“I hope,” cried my wife, “that Mr. Prigg is +a respectable man.”</p> +<p>“Respectable,” I answered, “I know he is; +but whether he is honest is another matter.”</p> +<p>“But don’t you know?”</p> +<p>“I only know what I dream.”</p> +<p>“I have no opinion of him,” said she; “nor +of that Locust; I believe they are a couple of rogues.”</p> +<p>“I should be very sorry to suggest such a thing as +that,” I answered, “without some proof. +Everybody should give credit for the best of motives.”</p> +<p>“But what are all these summonses you speak +of?”</p> +<p>“O, they are summonses in the action. You may have +as many of them as you can invent occasion for. You may go +up to the Court of Appeal about twenty times before you try the +action, which means about eighty different hearings before Master +and Judges.”</p> +<p>“But how can a poor man endure that? It’s a +great shame.”</p> +<p>“He can’t—he may have a perfectly good cause +of action against a rich man or a rich company, and they can +utterly ruin him before ever his case can come into +Court.”</p> +<p>“But will no solicitor take it up for the poor +man?”</p> +<p>“Yes, some will, and the only reward they usually get +for their pains is to be stigmatized as having brought a +speculative action—accused of doing it for the sake of +costs; although I have known the most honourable men do it out of +pure sympathy for the poor man.”</p> +<p>“And so they ought,” cried she.</p> +<p><!-- page 94--><a name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +94</span>“And I trust,” said I, “that hereafter +it will be considered honourable to do so. It is quite as +honourable, in my judgment, to bring an action when you may never +be paid as to bring it when you know you will be.”</p> +<p>“Who was the person referred to as ‘the +man?’”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” said I, “but I +strongly suspect he is, in reality, a nominee of +Prigg’s.”</p> +<p>“That is exactly my opinion,” said my wife. +“And if so, between them, they will ruin that poor +man.”</p> +<p>“I can’t tell,” said I, lighting my +pipe. “I know no more about the future of my dream +than you do; maybe when I sleep again something else will +transpire.”</p> +<p>“But can no one do anything to alter this state of +things? I plainly perceive that they are all against this +poor Bumpkin.”</p> +<p>“Well, you see, in a tinkering sort of way, a good many +try their hands at reforming the law; but it’s to no +one’s interest, that I can see, to reform it.”</p> +<p>“I hope you’ll write this dream and publish it, so +that someone’s eyes may be opened.”</p> +<p>“It may make me enemies.”</p> +<p>“Not among honest people; they will all be on your side, +and the dishonest ones, who seem to me to be the only persons +benefited by such a dilatory and shocking mode of procedure, are +the very persons whose enmity you need not fear. But can +the Judges do nothing?”</p> +<p>“No; their duty is merely to administer the law, not to +change it. But if the people would only give them full +power and fair play, Old Fogeyism would be buried +to-morrow. They struggle might and main to break through +the fetters, but to no purpose while they are hampered by musty +old precedents, ridiculous forms and bad statutes. They are +not masters of the situation. I <!-- page 95--><a +name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 95</span>wish they +were for the sake of suitors. I would only make one +condition with regard to them. If they were to set about +the task of reform, I would not let the Equity Judges reform the +Common Law nor the Common Law Judges the Equity.”</p> +<p>“I thought they were fused.”</p> +<p>“No, only transposed.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 97--><a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +97</span>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Commencement of London life and +adventures.</p> +<p>And I dreamt again, and methought there were three things with +reference to London that Joe had learnt at school. First, +that there was a Bridge, chiefly remarkable for the fact that +Captain Cook, the Navigator, shot his servant because he said he +was under London Bridge when he was in the South Pacific Ocean; +secondly, that there was a famous Tower, where the Queen’s +Crown was kept; thirdly, that there was a Monument built to show +where the Great Fire began, and intimately connected in its cause +with Guy Faux, whom Joe had helped to carry on the Fifth of +November. Now when the young man woke in the morning at +“The Goose,” in Millbank Street, Westminster, his +attention was immediately attracted by these three historic +objects; and it was not till after he had made inquiries that he +found that it was not London Bridge that crossed the water in a +line with the Horseferry Road, but a very inferior structure +called Lambeth Suspension Bridge. Nor was the Tower on the +left the Tower of London, but the Lollards’ tower of +Lambeth Palace; while the supposed Monument was only the handsome +column of Messrs. Doulton’s Pottery.</p> +<p>But they were all interesting objects nevertheless; and so +were the huge cranes that were at work opposite the <!-- page +98--><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 98</span>house +lifting the most tremendous loads of goods from the lighters to +the wharves. The “Shipping,” too, with its +black and copper-coloured sails, gave some idea of the extent of +England’s mercantile marine. At all events, it +excited the country lad’s wonder and astonishment. +But there was another matter that gave quite an agricultural and +countrified look to the busy scene, and that was the prodigious +quantity of straw that was being unloaded from the barges +alongside. While Mr. Bumpkin went to see his solicitor at +Westminster Hall, Joe wandered about the wharves looking at the +boats and barges, the cranes and busy workmen who drove their +barrows from barge to wharf, and ran along with loads on their +backs over narrow planks, in the most lively manner. But +looking on, even at sights like these, day by day, becomes a +wearisome task, and Joe, being by no means an idle lad, +occasionally “lent a hand” where he saw an +opportunity. London, no doubt, was a very interesting +place, but when he had seen Page Street, and Wood Street, and +Church Street, and Abingdon Street, and Millbank Prison, and the +other interesting objects referred to, his curiosity was +gratified, and he began to grow tired of the sameness of the +place. Occasionally he saw a soldier or two and the +military sight fired his rustic imagination. Not that Joe +had the remotest intention of entering the army; it was the last +thing he would ever dream of; but, in common with all mankind he +liked to look at the smart bearing and brilliant uniform of the +sergeant, who seemed to have little else to do than walk about +with his cane under his arm, or tap the stone parapet with it as +he looked carelessly at some interesting object on the river.</p> +<p><!-- page 99--><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +99</span>The evenings in the taproom at “The Goose” +were among the most enjoyable periods of the lad’s London +existence. A select party usually gathered there, +consisting chiefly of a young man who never apparently had had +anything to do in his life. His name was Harry Highlow, a +clever sort of wild young scapegrace who played well at +“shove-ha’penny,” and sang a good comic +song. Another of the party was a youth who earned a +precarious livelihood by carrying two boards on his shoulders +advertising a great pickle, or a great singer, as the case might +be. Another of the company was a young man who was either a +discharged or a retired groom; I should presume the former, as he +complained bitterly that the authorities at Scotland Yard would +not grant him a licence to drive a cab. He appeared to be a +striking instance of how every kind of patronage in this country +is distributed by favouritism. There were several others, +all equally candidates for remunerative situations, but equally +unfortunate in obtaining them: proving conclusively that life is +indeed a lottery in which there may be a few prizes, usually +going, by the caprice of Fortune, to the undeserving, while the +blanks went indiscriminately to all the rest.</p> +<p>Bound together by the sympathy which a common misfortune +engenders, these young men were happy in the pursuit of their +innocent amusements at “The Goose.” And while, +at first, they were a little inclined to chaff the rustic youth +on account of his apparent simplicity, they soon learned to +respect him on account of his exceedingly good temper and his +willingness to fall in with the general views of the company on +all occasions. They learnt all about Joe’s business +in London, and it was a common greeting when they met <!-- page +100--><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 100</span>in +the evening to ask “how the pig was?” And they +would enquire what the Lord Chancellor thought about the case, +and whether it wouldn’t be as well to grease the +pig’s tail and have a pig-hunt. To all which jocular +observations Joe would reply with excellent temper and sometimes +with no inappropriate wit. And then they said they would +like to see Joe tackle Mr. Orkins, and believed he would shut him +up. But chaff never roused his temper, and he laughed at +the case as much as any man there. Fine tales he would have +to tell when he got back to Yokelton; and pleasant, no doubt, +would be in after-life, his recollections of the evenings at +“The Goose.”</p> +<p>As a great general surveys the field where the intended action +is to be fought, so Mr. Bumpkin was conducted by Horatio to +Westminster Hall, and shown the various Courts of Justice, and +some of the judges.</p> +<p>“Be this Chancery?” he enquired.</p> +<p>“O my eye, no!” said Horatio; “the cause has +been transferred from Chancery to these ’ere Common Law +Courts. It was only brought in Chancery because the costs +there are upon a higher scale; we didn’t mean to try her +there.”</p> +<p>“Where will she be tried then?”</p> +<p>“In one of these Courts.”</p> +<p>“Who be the judge?” whispered Bumpkin.</p> +<p>At this moment there was a loud shout of +“Silence!” and although Mr. Bumpkin was making no +noise whatever, a gentleman approached him, looking very angry, +and enquired if Mr. Bumpkin desired to be committed for contempt +of Court.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin thought the most prudent answer was silence; so he +remained speechless, looking the gentleman <!-- page 101--><a +name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 101</span>full in the +face; while the gentleman looked him full in the face for at +least a minute and a half, as if he were wondering whether he +should take him off to prison there and then, or give him another +chance, as the judge sometimes does a prisoner when he sentences +him to two years imprisonment with hard labour.</p> +<p>Now the gentleman was a very amiable man of about forty, with +large brown mutton-chop whiskers, and a very well trained +moustache; good-looking and, I should think, with some humour, +that is for a person connected with the Courts. He was +something about the Court, but in what capacity he held up his +official head, I am unable to say. He was evidently +regarded with great respect by the crowd of visitors. It +was some time before he took his gaze off Mr. Bumpkin; even when +he had taken his eyes off, he seemed looking at him as if he +feared that the moment he went away Bumpkin would do it +again.</p> +<p>And then methought I heard someone whisper near me: “His +lordship is going to give judgment in the case of <i>Starling</i> +v. <i>Nightingale</i>,” and all at once there was a great +peace. I lost sight of Bumpkin, I lost sight of the +gentleman, I lost sight of the crowd; an indefinable sensation of +delight overpowered my senses. Where was I? I had but +a moment before been in a Court of Justice, with crowds of gaping +idlers; with prosaic-looking gentlemen in horsehair wigs; with +gentlemen in a pew with papers before them ready to take down the +proceedings. Now it seemed as if I must be far away in the +distant country, where all was calm and heavenly peace.</p> +<p>Surely I must be among the water-lilies! What a lullaby +sound as of rippling waters and of distant music <!-- page +102--><a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 102</span>in +the evening air; of the eddying and swirl of the mingling +currents; of the chime of bells on the evening breeze; of the +zephyrs through fir-tops; of woodland whispers; of the cadence of +the cathedral organ; of the soft sweet melody of the +maiden’s laugh; of her gentlest accents in her sweetest +mood; of—but similitudes fail me. In this delicious +retreat, which may be compared to the Garden of Eden before the +tempter entered, are the choicest flowers of rhetoric. I +hear a voice as from the far-off past, and I wonder will that be +the voice which will utter the “last syllable of recorded +time?”</p> +<p>Then methought the scene changed, and I heard the +question—</p> +<p>“Do you move, Mr. Jones?”</p> +<p>O the prosaic Jones!—“don’t you +move?”</p> +<p>Yes, he does; he partly rises, ducks his head, and elevates +the hinder portion of his person, and his movement ceases. +And the question is repeated to Mr. Quick. “Do you +move, Mr. Quick?”</p> +<p>Then I saw Mr. Bumpkin again, just as Mr. Quick ducked his +head and elevated his back.</p> +<p>And then some gentleman actually moved in real earnest upon +these interesting facts:—A farmer’s bull—just +the very case for Mr. Bumpkin—had strayed from the road and +gone into another man’s yard, and upset a tub of meal; was +then driven into a shed and locked up. The owner of the +bull came up and demanded that the animal should be +released. “Not without paying two pounds,” said +the meal-owner. The bull owner paid it under protest, and +summoned the meal-owner to the County Court for one pound +seventeen shillings and sixpence, the difference between the +damage done (which was really about twopence) and the money paid +to redeem <!-- page 103--><a name="page103"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 103</span>the bull. Judgment for the +plaintiff. Motion for new trial, or to enter verdict for +the defendant, on the ground that the meal man could charge what +he liked.</p> +<p>One of the learned Judges asked:</p> +<p>“Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Smiles, that if a man has a +bull, and that bull goes into a yard and eats some meal out of a +meal-tub, and the damage amounts to twopence, and the owner of +the bull says ‘here’s your twopence,’ that the +owner of the meal can say, “No, I want a hundred pounds, +and shall take your bull damage feasant,” and then takes +him and locks him up, and the owner of the bull pays the hundred +pounds, he cannot afterwards get the money back?”</p> +<p>“That is so,” says the learned counsel, +“such is the law.” And then he cited cases +innumerable to prove that it was the law.</p> +<p>“Well,” said the Judge, “unless you show me +a case of a bull and a meal-tub, I shall not pay attention to any +case—must be a meal-tub.”</p> +<p>Second Judge: “It is extortion, and done for the purpose +of extortion; and I should say he could be indicted for obtaining +money by false pretences.”</p> +<p>“I am not sure he could not, my lord,” said the +counsel; “but he can’t recover the money +back.”</p> +<p>“Then,” said the Judge, “if he obtains money +by an indictable fraud cannot he get it back?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Bumpkin, “that be rum law; if +it had bin my bull, he’d a gin ’em summat afore they +runned him in.”</p> +<p>It was interesting to see how the judges struggled against +this ridiculous law; and it was manifest even to the unlettered +Bumpkin, that a good deal of old law is very much like old +clothes, the worse for wear, and <!-- page 104--><a +name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>totally +inapplicable to the present day. A struggle against old +authorities is often a struggle of Judges to free themselves from +the fetters of antiquated dicta and decisions no longer +appropriate to or necessary for the modern requirements of +civilisation.</p> +<p>In this case precedents running over <i>one hundred and eight +years</i> were quoted, and so far from impressing the Court with +respect, they simply evoked a smile of contempt.</p> +<p>The learned Judges, after patiently listening to the +arguments, decided that extortion and fraud give no title, and +thus were the mists and vapours that arose from the accumulated +mudbanks of centuries dispelled by the clear shining of common +sense. In spite of arguments by the hour, and the +pettifogging of one hundred and eight years, justice prevailed, +and the amazed appellant was far more damaged by his legal +proceedings than he was by the bull. The moral surely is, +that however wise ancient judges were in their day, their wisdom +ought not to be allowed to work injustice. He may be a wise +Judge who makes a precedent, but he is often a much wiser who +sweeps it away.</p> +<h2><!-- page 105--><a name="page105"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 105</span>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">How the great Don O’Rapley became an +usher of the Court of Queen’s Bench and explained the +ingenious invention of the round square—how Mr. Bumpkin +took the water and studied character from a penny steamboat.</p> +<p>Some years ago there lived in a little village near +Bridgewater a young man who was the bowler of his village +eleven—one of the first roundhand bowlers in point of time, +and by no means the last in point of merit. Indeed, so +great was the local fame of this young man that it produced a +sensation for miles around when it was announced that Don +O’Rapley (such was his name) was going to bowl. All +the boys of the village where the match was to take place were in +a state of the utmost excitement to see the Don. At times +it was even suggested that he was unfairly “smugged +in” to play for a village to which he had no pretensions to +belong. In process of time the youth became a man, and by +virtue of his cricket reputation he obtained a post in the Court +of Queen’s Bench. The gentleman whom I have referred +to as looking with such austerity at Mr. Bumpkin is that very Don +O’Rapley; the requirements of a large family necessitated +his abandonment of a profession which, although more to his +taste, was not sufficiently remunerative to admit of his +indulging it <!-- page 106--><a name="page106"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 106</span>after the birth of his sixth +child. But it was certain that he never lost his love for +the relinquished pursuit, as was manifest from his habit when +alone of frequently going through a kind of dumb motion with his +arm as if he were delivering one of his celebrated +“twisters.” He had even been seen in a quiet +corner of the Court to go through the same performance in a +somewhat modified form. He was once caught by the Judge in +the very act of delivering a ball, but found a ready apology in +the explanation that he had a touch of “rheumatiz” in +his right shoulder.</p> +<p>Now I saw in my dream that Don O’Rapley was in earnest +conversation with Horatio, and it was clear Mr. Bumpkin was the +subject of it, from the very marked manner in which the Don and +the youth turned occasionally to look at him. It may be +stated that Horatio was the nephew of Don O’Rapley, and, +perhaps, it was partly in consequence of this relationship, and +partly in consequence of what Horatio told him, that the latter +gentleman rose from his seat under the witness-box and came +towards Mr. Bumpkin, shouting as he did so in a very solemn and +prolonged tone, “Si-lence!”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin saw him, and, conscious that he was innocent this +time of any offence for which he could be committed, stood his +ground with a bold front, and firmly held his white beaver with +both hands. O’Rapley contemplated him for a few +minutes with an almost affectionate interest. Bumpkin felt +much as a pigeon would under the gaze of an admiring owl.</p> +<p>At last O’Rapley spoke:—</p> +<p>“Why, it’s never Mr. Bumpkin, is it?”</p> +<p>“It be a good imitation, sir,” said Bumpkin, +“and I bean’t asheamed of un.”</p> +<p><!-- page 107--><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +107</span>“Silence!” cried the Don. “You +don’t remember me, I s’pose?”</p> +<p>“Wall, not rightly, I doan’t.”</p> +<p>“I dissay you recollect Don O’Rapley, the demon +bowler of Bridgewater?”</p> +<p>“I’ve ’eered tell on ’im,” said +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“I’m that man!” said the Don, “and +this is my nephew, Mr. Snigger. He tells me you’ve +got a case comin’ on?”</p> +<p>“I be.”</p> +<p>“Just step outside,” said the Don, “we +mustn’t talk ’ere.” So they went into +Westminster Hall, and the good-natured O’Rapley asked if +Mr. Bumpkin would like to look round, and if so he said he would +be happy to show him, for he was very pleased to see anyone from +the scene of his youthful exploits.</p> +<p>“Thankee, sir—thankee, sir,” answered +Bumpkin, delighted to find another “native” among +“furriners.” “And this ’ere +genleman be thy nevvy, sir?”</p> +<p>“He is, and very proud of him I am; he’s my +sister’s son.”</p> +<p>“Seems a nice quiet boy,” said Mr. Bumpkin. +“Now how old might he be?”</p> +<p>“Old,” said Mr. O’Rapley, looking deedily at +the floor and pressing his hand to his forehead, “why +he’ll be seventeen come March.”</p> +<p>“Hem! his ’ed be a good deal older nor thic: his +’ed be forty—it’s my way o’ +thinkin’.”</p> +<p>The Don laughed.</p> +<p>“Yes, he has his head screwed on the right way, I +think.”</p> +<p>“Why that air lad,” said Bumpkin, “might +make a judge.”</p> +<p><!-- page 108--><a name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +108</span>O’Rapley laughed and shook his head.</p> +<p>“In old times,” said he, “he might ha’ +made a Lord Chancellor; a man as was clever had a chance then, +but lor’ blesh you, Mr. Bumpkin, now-a-days it’s so +very different; the raw material is that plentiful in the law +that you can find fifty men as would make rattlin good Lord +Chancellors for one as you could pick out to make a +rattlin’ good bowler. But come, we’ll have a +look round.”</p> +<p>So round they looked again, and Mr. Bumpkin was duly impressed +with the array of wigs and the number of books and the solemnity +of the judges and the arguments of counsel, not one word of which +was intelligible to him. Mr. O’Rapley explained +everything and pointed out where a judge and jury tried a case, +and then took him into another court where two judges tried the +judge and jury, and very often set them both aside and gave new +trials and altered verdicts and judgments or refused to do so +notwithstanding the elaborate arguments of the most eloquent and +long-winded of learned counsel.</p> +<p>Then the Don asked if Mr. Bumpkin would like to see the +Chancery Judges—to which Mr. Bumpkin answered that +“he hadn’t much opinion o’ Chancery from all +he’d ’eeard, and that when a man got into them there +Cooarts maybe he’d never coome out agin, but he +shouldn’t mind seein’ a Chancery Judge.”</p> +<p>“Well, then,” said the distinguished bowler, +“now-a-days we needn’t go to Chancery, for +they’ve invented the ‘Round Square.’”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin stared. Could so great a man as the +O’Rapley be joking? No; the Don seldom laughed. +He was a great admirer of everything relating to the law, but had +a marked prejudice against the new system; <!-- page 109--><a +name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 109</span>and when he +spoke of the “Round Square” he meant, as he +afterwards explained, that confusion of Law and Equity which +consists in putting Chancery Judges to try common law cases and +Common Law Judges to unravel the nice twistings of the elaborate +system of Equity; “as though,” said he, “you +should fuse the butcher and the baker by getting the former to +make bread and the latter to dress a calf.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin could only stare by way of reply.</p> +<p>“If you want to see Chancery Judges,” added the +Don, “come to the Old Bailey!”</p> +<h2><!-- page 111--><a name="page111"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 111</span>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">An interesting gentleman—showing how +true it is that one half the world does not know how the other +half lives.</p> +<p>“The Old Bailey,” said Mr. Bumpkin, as they +crossed Palace Yard on their way to the steamboat pier, +“bean’t that where all these ’ere chaps be +tried for ship stealin’?” (sheep stealing).</p> +<p>“I don’t know about ship stealing,” said +O’Rapley, “but it’s a place where they can cure +all sorts of diseases.”</p> +<p>“Zounds!” exclaimed Bumpkin, “I’ve +’eeard tell of un. A horsepital you +means—dooan’t want to goo there.”</p> +<p>“Horse or donkey, it don’t matter what,” +said Don O’Rapley. “They’ve got a stuff +that’s so strong a single drop will cure any disease +you’ve got.”</p> +<p>“I wonder if it ’ud cure my old +’ooman’s roomatiz. It ’ud be wuth +tryin’, maybe.”</p> +<p>“I’ll warrant it,” replied the Don. +“She’d never feel ’em after takin’ one +drop,” and he drew his hand across his mouth and +coughed.</p> +<p>“I’d like to try un,” said the farmer, +“for she be a terrible suffrer in these ’ere east +winds. ’As ’em like all up the +grine.”</p> +<p>“Ah,” said the Don, “it don’t matter +where she ’as ’em, it will cure her.”</p> +<p>“How do ’em sell it—in bottles?”</p> +<p><!-- page 112--><a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +112</span>“No, it isn’t in bottles—you take it +by the foot; about nine feet’s considered a goodish +dose.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin looked straight before him, somewhat puzzled at +this extraordinary description of a medicine. At length he +got a glimmering of the Don’s meaning, and, looking +towards, but not quite at him, said:—</p> +<p>“I be up to ’ee, sir!” and the Don laughed, +and asked whether his description wasn’t right?</p> +<p>“That be right enough. Zounds! it be right +enough. Haw! haw! haw!”</p> +<p>“You never want a second dose,” said the Don, +“do you?”</p> +<p>“No, sir—never wants moore ’an one dose; but +’ow comes it, if you please, sir, that these ’ere +Chancery chaps have changed their tack; be it they’ve tried +’onest men so long that they be gwine to ’ave a slap +at the thieves for a change?”</p> +<p>“Look ’ere,” said the worthy O’Rapley, +“you will certainly see the inside of a jail before you set +eyes on the outside of a haystack, if you go on like that. +It’s contempt of court to speak of Her Majesty’s +Judges as ‘chaps’.”</p> +<p>“Beg pardon, sir,” said Bumpkin, “but we +must all ’ave a larnin’. I didn’t mane no +disruspect to the Lord Judge; but I wur only a axin’ jist +the same as you might ax me about anythink on my farm.”</p> +<p>And I saw that they proceeded thus in edifying conversation +until they came to the Thames embankment. It was somewhat +difficult to preserve his presence of mind as Mr. Bumpkin +descended the gangway and stepped on board the boat, which was +belching forth its volumes of black smoke and rocking under the +influence of the wash of a steamer that had just left the +pier.</p> +<p><!-- page 113--><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +113</span>“I doant much like these ’ere +booats,” said he. “Doant mind my old punt, but +dang these ’ere ships.”</p> +<p>“There’s no danger,” said the +O’Rapley, springing on board as though he had been a pilot: +and then making a motion with his arm as if he was delivering a +regular “length ball,” his fist unfortunately came +down on Mr. Bumpkin’s white hat, in consequence of a sudden +jerk of the vessel; a rocking boat not being the best of places +for the delivery of length balls.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin looked round quite in the wrong direction for +ascertaining what was the cause of the sudden shock to his +nervous system and his hat.</p> +<p>“Zounds!” said he, “what were +thic?”</p> +<p>“What was what?” asked O’Rapley.</p> +<p>“Summut gie me a crack o’ the top o’ my +’ead like a thunderbolt.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t see anything fall,” said the +Don.</p> +<p>“Noa; but I felt un, which I allows wur more’n +seein’—lookee ’ere.”</p> +<p>And taking off his huge beaver he showed the dent of Mr. +O’Rapley’s fist.</p> +<p>“Bless me,” said the roundhand bowler, +“it’s like a crack with a cricket ball.”</p> +<p>But there was no time for further examination of the +extraordinary circumstance, for the crowd of passengers poured +along and pushed this way and that, so that the two friends were +fairly driven to the fore part of the boat, where they took their +seats. It was quite a new world to Mr. Bumpkin, and more +like a dream than a reality. As he stared at the different +buildings he was too much amazed even to enquire what was this or +what was that. But when they passed under the Suspension +Bridge, and the chimney ducked her head and the smoke <!-- page +114--><a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +114</span>came out of the “stump,” as Mr. Bumpkin +termed it, he thought she had struck and broken short off. +Mr. O’Rapley explained this phenomenon, as he did many +others on their route; and when they came to Cleopatra’s +Needle he gave such information as he possessed concerning that +ancient work. Mr. Bumpkin looked as though he were not to +be taken in.</p> +<p>“I be up to ’ee, sir,” said he. +“I s’pose that air thing the t’other side were +the needle-case?”</p> +<p>The O’Rapley informed him that it was a shot tower where +they made shot.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin laughed heartily at this; he was not to be taken +in by any manner of means; was far too sharp for that.</p> +<p>“And I spoase,” said he, “they makes the +guns—”</p> +<p>“In Gunnersbury,” said Mr. O’Rapley; it was +no use to be serious.</p> +<p>“I thought thee were gwine to say in a gun pit, but I +don’t mind thy chaff, Master Rapley, and shall be mighty +proud to see thee down at Southood for a day’s +shoot-in’: and mind thee bring some o’ these ere shot +with thee that be made at yon tower, haw! haw! haw! +Thee’ll kill a white-tailed crow then, I shouldn’t +wonder; thee knows a white-tailed crow, doan’t thee, Master +Rapley, when thee sees un—and danged if I doan’t gie +thee a quart bottle o’ pigeon’s milk to tak’ +wi’ thee; haw! haw! haw!”</p> +<p>The O’Rapley laughed heartily at these witty sallies, +for Bumpkin was so jolly, and took everything in such good part, +that he could not but enjoy his somewhat misplaced sarcasms.</p> +<p>“Now you’ve heard of Waterloo, I dare say,” +said Mr. O’Rapley.</p> +<p><!-- page 115--><a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +115</span>“Yes, I’ve ’eeard tell on un, and +furder, my grand-feather wur out theer.”</p> +<p>“Well, this that we are coming to is Waterloo +Bridge.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Bumpkin, “it be a bridge, but it +bean’t Worterloo more ’an I be my +grandfearther—what de think o’ that—haw! haw! +haw!”</p> +<p>“Good,” said O’Rapley; “that’s +quite right, but this is the bridge named after the +battle.”</p> +<p>“Zo’t be neamed artur un because it worn’t +named afore un, haw! haw! haw! Good agin, Maister Rapley, +thee got it.”</p> +<p>Mr. O’Rapley found that any attempt to convey +instruction was useless, so he said:—</p> +<p>“Joking apart, Mr. Bumpkin, you see that man sitting +over there with the wideawake hat?”</p> +<p>“D’ye mane near the noase o’ the +ship?”</p> +<p>“Well, the nose if you like.”</p> +<p>“I zee un—chap wi’ red faace, blue +’ankercher, and white spots?”</p> +<p>“That’s the man. Well, now, you’d +never guess who he is?”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin certainly would have been a sharp man if he +could.</p> +<p>“Well,” continued the Don, “that man gets +his living by bringing actions. No matter who it is or +what, out comes the writ and down he comes for +damages.”</p> +<p>“Hem! that be rum, too, bean’t it?”</p> +<p>“Yes, he’s always looking out for accidents; if he +hears o’ one, down he comes with his pocket-book, gets +’old o’ some chap that’s injured, or thinks he +is, and out comes the writ.”</p> +<p><!-- page 116--><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +116</span>“What be he then?”</p> +<p>“A scamp—works in the name of some broken-down +attorney, and pays him for the use of it.”</p> +<p>“So he can work the lor like wirout being a +loryer?”</p> +<p>“That’s it—and, lor’ bless you, +he’s got such a way with him that if he was to come and +talk to you for five minutes, he’d have a writ out against +you in the morning.”</p> +<p>“Ain’t it rayther cold at this eend o’ the +booat,” asked Mr. Bumpkin, “I feel a little chilly +loike.”</p> +<p>“No,” said the Don, “we just caught the wind +at that corner, that was all.”</p> +<p>But Mr. Bumpkin kept his eye on the artful man, with a full +determination to “have no truck wi’ un.”</p> +<p>“As I was saying, this Ananias never misses a chance: +he’s on the look-out at this moment; if they was to push +that gangway against his toe, down he’d go and be laid up +with an injured spine and concussion of the brain, till he got +damages from the company.”</p> +<p>“Must be a reg’ler rogue, I allows; I should like +to push un overboard.”</p> +<p>“Just what he would like; he isn’t born to be +drowned, that man; he’d soon have a writ out against +you. There was a railway accident once miles away in the +country; ever so many people were injured and some of ’em +killed. Well, down he goes to see if he could get hold of +anybody—no, nobody would have him—so what does he do +but bring an action himself.”</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“Why, just the same as if he’d been in the +accident.”</p> +<p>“Ought to be hanged.”</p> +<p>“Well, the doctors were very pleased to find that no +bones were broken, and, although there were no bruises, <!-- page +117--><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +117</span>they discovered that there were internal injuries: the +spine was wrong, and there was concussion of the brain, and so +on.”</p> +<p>“If ever I ’eerd tell o’ sich a thing in my +borned days.”</p> +<p>“No, but it’s true. Well, he was laid up a +long time under medical treatment, and it was months before he +could get about, and then he brings his action: but before it +came on he prosecutes his servant for stealing some trumpery +thing or other—a very pretty girl she was too—and the +trial came on at Quarter Sessions.”</p> +<p>“Where Squoire Stooky sits.”</p> +<p>“I never laughed so in all my life; there was the +railway company with the red light, and there was Fireaway, the +counsel for the girl, and then in hobbled the prosecutor, with a +great white bandage round his head. He was so feeble +through the injuries he had received that he could hardly +walk. ‘Now then,’ says the counsel, ‘is +he sworn?’ ‘Yes,’ says the crier.</p> +<p>“‘He must be sworn on the Koran,’ says +Fireaway; ‘he’s a Mommadon.’</p> +<p>“‘Where’s the Jorum?’ says the +crier. ‘Must be swore on the Jorum.’</p> +<p>“O dear, dear, you should ha’ heard ’em +laugh—it was more like a theayter than a court. It +was not only roars, but continnerus roars for several +minutes. And all the time the larfter was going on there +was this man throwin’ out his arms over the witness-box at +the counsel like a madman; and the more he raved the more they +laughed. He was changed from a hobblin’ invalid, as +the counsel said, into a hathletic pugilist.”</p> +<p>“I ’ope she got off.”</p> +<p>“Got off with flying colours—we’re +magnanimous said the jury, ‘not guilty.’”</p> +<p><!-- page 118--><a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +118</span>“Well, I likes upright and down-straight,” +said Bumpkin, “it’ll goo furdest in th’ long +run.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said O’Rapley, “and the longer +the run the furder it’ll go.”</p> +<p>“So ’t wool; but if you doan’t mind, sir, +I’d like to get nearer that ’ere +fireplace.”</p> +<p>“The funnel—very well.” And as they +moved Mr. O’Rapley, in the exuberance of his spirits, +delivered another ball at the chimney, which apparently took the +middle stump, for the chimney again broke in half.</p> +<p>“Got him!” said he. “I quite agree, +and I’ll tell you for why. You can play a straight +ball if you mind what you are about—just take your bat so, +and bring your left elbow well round so, and keep your bat, as +you say, upright and down-straight, so—and there you +are. And there, indeed, Mr. Bumpkin was, on his back, for +the boat at that moment bumped so violently against the side of +the pier that many persons were staggering about as if they were +in a storm.</p> +<p>“Zounds!” said the farmer, as he was being picked +up—“these ’ere booats, I doan’t like +’em—gie me the ole-fashioned uns.”</p> +<p>Now came the usual hullabaloo, “Stand back!—pass +on!—out of the way! now, then, look sharp there!” and +the pushing of the gangway against people’s shins as though +they were so many skittles to be knocked over, and then came the +slow process of “passing out.”</p> +<p>“There’s one thing,” whispered +O’Rapley, “if you do break your leg the +company’s liable—that’s one comfort.”</p> +<p>“Thankee, sir,” answered Bumpkin, “but I +bean’t a gwine to break my leg for the sake o’ a +haction—and mebbee ha’ to pay the costs.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 119--><a name="page119"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 119</span>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">THE OLD BAILEY—ADVANTAGES OF THE NEW +SYSTEM ILLUSTRATED.</p> +<p>And I saw in my dream that Don O’Rapley and worthy +Master Bumpkin proceeded together until they came to the Old +Bailey; that delightful place which will ever impress me with the +belief that the Satanic Personage is not a homeless +wanderer. As they journeyed together O’Rapley asked +whether there was any particular kind of case which he would +prefer—much the same as he would enquire what he would like +for lunch.</p> +<p>“Well, thankee, sir,” said Bumpkin, “what he +there?”—just the same as a hungry guest would ask the +waiter for the bill of fare.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mr. O’Rapley, +“there’s no murder to-day, but there’s sure to +be highway robberies, burglaries, rapes, and so on.”</p> +<p>“Wall, I thinks one o’ them air as good as +anything,” said Bumpkin. “I wur on the jury +once when a chap were tried.”</p> +<p>“Did he get off?”</p> +<p>“Got off as clane as a whusle. Not guilty, we all +said: sarved her right.”</p> +<p>“It’s rather early in the morning, +p’r’aps,” said O’Rapley; “but +there’s sure to be something interesting <!-- page 120--><a +name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 120</span>before +lunch—crimes are very pop’lar, and for my own part, I +think they’re as nice as anything: divorces, +p’r’aps, are as good, and the female intellect +prefers ’em as a more digestable food for their +minds.”</p> +<p>“As a what, sir!”</p> +<p>“Well, since they did away with <i>crim. cons</i>, +there’s nothing left for females but murders and divorces, +worth speaking of.”</p> +<p>“Why, how’s that, then?”</p> +<p>“O, they’re not considered sufficiently moral, +that’s all. You see, Master Bumpkin, we’re +getting to be a very moral and good people. They’re +doin’ away with all that’s naughty, such as music and +dancing, peep-shows and country fairs. This is a religious +age. No pictur galleries on a Sunday, but as many +public-houses as you like; it’s wicked to look at picturs +on a Sunday. And now I’ll tell you another thing, +Master Bumpkin, although p’r’aps I ought to keep my +mouth closed; but ’ere you’ll see a Chancery Judge as +knows everything about land and titles to property, and all that, +and never had any training in Criminal Courts, and may be never +been inside of one before, you’ll see ’im down +’ere tryin’ burglaries and robberies, and down at the +Assizes you’ll see ’im tryin’ men and women for +stealing mutton pies and a couple of ounces of bacon; +that’s the way the Round Square’s worked, Master +Bumpkin; and very well it acts. There’s a moral +atmosphere, too, about the Courts which is very curious. It +seems to make every crime look bigger than it really is. +But as I say, where’s the human natur of a Chancery +barrister? How can you get it in Chancery? They only +sees human natur in a haffidavit, and although I don’t say +you can’t <!-- page 121--><a name="page121"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 121</span>put a lot of it into a haffidavit, +such as perjury and such like, yet it’s so done up by the +skill of the profession that you can hardly see it. +Learning from haffidavits isn’t like learning from the +witness-box, mark my words, Mr. Bumpkin; and so you’ll find +when you come to hear a case or two.”</p> +<p>Having thus eloquently delivered himself, Mr. O’Rapley +paused to see its effect: but there was no answer. There +was no doubt the Don could talk a-bit, and took especial pride in +expressing his views on law reform, which, to his idea, would +best be effected by returning to the “old style.”</p> +<p>And I saw that they pushed their way through a crowd of people +of all sorts and degrees of unwashedness and crime, and proceeded +up a winding stair, through other crowds of the most evil-looking +indictable persons you could meet with out of the Bottomless +Pit.</p> +<p>And amongst them were pushing, with eager, hungry, dirty +faces, men who called themselves clerks, evil-disposed persons +who traded under such names as their owners could use no longer +on their own account. These prowlers amongst thieves, under +the protection of the Law, were permitted to extort what they +could from the friends of miserable prisoners under pretence of +engaging counsel to defend them. Counsel they would engage +after a fashion—sometimes: but not unfrequently they +cheated counsel, client and the law at the same time, which is +rather better than killing two birds with one stone.</p> +<p>And the two friends, after threading their way through the +obnoxious crowd, came to the principal Court of the Old Bailey, +called the “Old Court,” and a very evil-looking <!-- +page 122--><a name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +122</span>place it was. All the ghosts of past criminals +seemed floating in the dingy atmosphere. Crowds of men, +women and children were heaped together in all directions, except +on the bench and in a kind of pew which was reserved for such +ladies as desired to witness the last degradation of human +nature.</p> +<p>Presently came in, announced with a loud cry of +“Silence!” and “Be uncovered in Court!” a +gorgeous array of stout and berobed gentlemen, with massive +chains and purple faces. These, I learned, were the noble +Aldermen of the Corporation. What a contrast to the meagre +wretches who composed the crowd! Here was a picture of what +well-fed honesty and virtue could accomplish for human nature on +the one part, as opposed to what hungry crime could effect, on +the other. Blessings, say I, on good victuals! It is +a great promoter of innocence. And I thought how many of +the poor, half-starved, cadaverous wretches who crowded into the +dock in all their emaciated wretchedness and rags would, under +other conditions, have become as portly and rubicund and as moral +as the row of worthy aldermen who sat looking at them with +contempt from their exalted position.</p> +<p>The rich man doesn’t steal a loaf of bread; he has no +temptation to do so: the uneducated thief doesn’t get up +sham companies, because <i>he</i> has no temptation to do +so. Temptation and Opportunity have much to answer for in +the destinies of men. Honesty is the best policy, but it is +not always the most expedient or practicable.</p> +<p>Now there was much arraignment of prisoners, and much swearing +of jurymen, and proclamations about “informing my Lords +Justices and the Queen’s Attorney-General of any crimes, +misdemeanours, felonies, &c., committed <!-- page 123--><a +name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 123</span>by any of +the prisoners,” and “if anybody could so inform my +Lords Justices,” &c, he was to come forward and do so, +and he would be heard. And then the crowd of prisoners, +except the one about to be tried, were told to stand down. +And down they all swarmed, some laughing and some crying, to the +depths below. And the stout warders took their stand beside +the remaining prisoner.</p> +<p>“Now,” said Mr. O’Rapley, “this Judge +is quite fresh to the work, and I’ll warrant he’ll +take a moral view of the law, which is about the worst view a +Judge <i>can</i> take.”</p> +<p>The man left in the dock was a singular specimen of humanity: +he was a thin, wizen-looking man of about seventy, with a wooden +leg: and as he stood up to plead, leant on two crutches, while +his head shook a good deal, as if he had got the palsy. A +smile went round the bar, and in some places broke out into a +laugh: the situation was, indeed, ridiculous; and before any but +a Chancery Judge, methought, there must be an acquittal on the +view. However, I saw that the man pleaded not guilty, and +then Mr. Makebelieve opened the case for the Crown. He put +it very clearly, and, as he said, fairly before the jury; and +then called a tall, large-boned woman of about forty into the +witness-box. This was the “afflicted widow,” as +Makebelieve had called her; and the way she gave her evidence +made a visible impression on the mind of the learned Judge. +His Lordship looked up occasionally from his note-book and fixed +his eyes on the prisoner, whose appearance was that of one +trembling with a consciousness of guilt—that is, to one not +versed in human nature outside an affidavit.</p> +<p><!-- page 124--><a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +124</span>Mr. Nimble, the prisoner’s counsel, asked if the +prisoner might sit down as he was very “infirm.”</p> +<p>“Have you an affidavit of that fact, Mr. Nimble?” +asked the Judge.</p> +<p>“No, my lord; it is not usual on such an application to +have an affidavit.”</p> +<p>“It is not usual,” said his lordship, “to +take notice of any fact not upon affidavit; but in this case the +prisoner may sit down.”</p> +<p>The prosecutrix gave her evidence very flippantly, and did not +seem in the least concerned that her virtue had had so narrow an +escape.</p> +<p>“Now,” asked Mr. Nimble, “what are +you?”</p> +<p>The learned Judge said he could not see what that had to do +with the question. Could Mr. Nimble resist the facts?</p> +<p>“Yes, my lord,” answered the learned counsel; +“and I intend, in the first place, to resist them by +showing that this woman is entirely unworthy of +credit.”</p> +<p>“Are you really going to suggest perjury, Mr. +Nimble?”</p> +<p>“Assuredly, my lord! I am going to show that there +is not a word of truth in this woman’s statement. I +have a right to cross-examine as to her credit. If your +lordship will allow me, I will—”</p> +<p>“Cross-examination, Mr. Nimble, cannot be allowed, in +order to make a witness contradict all that she has said in her +examination-in-chief; it would be a strange state of the law, if +it could.”</p> +<p>Mr. Nimble looked about the desk, and then under it, and felt +in his bag, and at last exclaimed in a somewhat petulant +tone:</p> +<p>“Where’s my Taylor?”</p> +<p><!-- page 125--><a name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +125</span>“What do you want your tailor for?” asked +the Judge.</p> +<p>“I wish to point out to your lordship that my +proposition is correct, and that I can cross-examine to the +credit of a witness.”</p> +<p>Here the clerk of arraigns, who sat just under the learned +Judge, and was always consulted on matters of practice when there +was any difficulty, was seen whispering to his lordship: after +which his lordship looked very blank and red.</p> +<p>“We always consult him, my lord,” said Mr. Nimble, +with a smile, “in suits at Common Law.”</p> +<p>Everybody tried not to laugh, and everybody failed. Even +the Judge, being a very good-tempered man, laughed too, and +said:</p> +<p>“O yes, Taylor on Evidence, Mr. Nimble.”</p> +<p>At last the book, about the size of a London Directory, was +handed up by a tall man who was Mr. Nimble’s clerk.</p> +<p>“Now, my lord, at page nineteen hundred and seventy-two +your lordship will find that when the credibility of a witness is +attacked—”</p> +<p>Judge: “That will be near the end of the +book.”</p> +<p>Mr. Nimble: “No, my lord, near the beginning.”</p> +<p>“I shall not stop you,” said the learned Judge; +“your question may be put for what it is worth: but now, +suppose in answer to your question she says she is an ironer, +what then?”</p> +<p>“That’s what I am, my lordship,” said the +woman, with an obsequious curtsey.</p> +<p>“There, now you have it,” said the Judge, +“she is an ironer; stop, let me take that down, ‘I am +an ironer.’”</p> +<p>The cross-examination continued, somewhat in an <!-- page +126--><a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +126</span>angry tone no doubt, and amid frequent interruptions; +but Mr. Nimble always thumped down the ponderous Taylor upon any +objection of the learned Judge, and crushed it as though it were +a butterfly.</p> +<p>Next the policeman gave his evidence, and was duly +cross-examined. Mr. Nimble called no witnesses; there were +none to call: but addressed the jury in a forcible and eloquent +speech, stigmatizing the charge as an utterly preposterous one, +and dealing with every fact in a straightforward and manly +manner. After he had finished, the jury would undoubtedly +have acquitted; but the learned Judge had to sum up, which in +this, as in many cases at Quarter Sessions, was no more a summing +up than counting ten on your fingers is a summing up. It +was a desultory speech, and if made by the counsel for the +prosecution, would have been a most unfair one for the Crown: +totally ignoring the fact that human nature was subject to +frailties, and testimony liable to be tainted with perjury. +It made so great an impression upon me in my dream that I +transcribed it when I awoke; and this is the manner in which it +dealt with the main points:—</p> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Gentlemen of the Jury</span>,</p> +<p>“This is a case of a very serious character (the nature +of the offence was then read from Roscoe), and I am bound to tell +you that the evidence is all one way: namely, on the side of the +prosecution. There is not a single affidavit to the +contrary. Now what are the facts?”</p> +<p>Mr. Nimble: “Would your lordship pardon me—whether +they are facts or not is for the jury.”</p> +<p>“I am coming to that, Mr. Nimble; unless contradicted +they are facts, or, at least, if you believe them, <!-- page +127--><a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +127</span>gentlemen. If the evidence is uncontradicted, +what is the inference? The inference is for you, not for +me; I have simply to state the law: it is for you to find the +facts. You must exercise your common sense: if the prisoner +could have contradicted this evidence, is it reasonable to +suppose he would not have done so with so serious a charge +hanging over his head?”</p> +<p>“My lord, may I ask how could the prisoner have called +evidence? there was no one present.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Nimble,” said his Lordship solemnly, +“he might have shown he was elsewhere.”</p> +<p>“Yes, my lord; but the prisoner admits being present: he +doesn’t set up an <i>alibi</i>.”</p> +<p>“Gentlemen, you hear what the learned counsel says: he +admits that the prisoner was present; that is corroborative of +the story told by the prosecutrix. Now, if you find a +witness speaking truthfully about one part of a transaction, what +are you to infer with regard to the rest? Gentlemen, the +case is for you, and not for me: happily I have not to find the +facts: they are for you—and what are they? This +woman, who is an ironer, was going along a lonely lane, +proceeding to her home, as she states—and again I say there +is no contradiction—and she meets this man; he accosts her, +and then, according to her account, assaults her, and in a manner +which I think leaves no doubt of his intention—but that is +for you. I say he assaults her, if you believe her story: +of course, if you do not believe her story, then in the absence +of corroboration there would be an end of the case. But is +there an absence of corroboration? What do we find, +gentlemen? Now let me read to you the evidence of Police +Constable Swearhard. What does he say? ‘I was +coming along the Lover’s Lane at nine <!-- page 128--><a +name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +128</span>twenty-five, and I saw two persons, whom I afterwards +found to be the prosecutrix and the prisoner.’ +‘You will mark that, gentlemen, the prisoner himself does +not suggest an <i>alibi</i>, that is to say, that he was +elsewhere, when this event occurred. Then he was upon the +spot: and the policeman tells you—it is for you to say +whether you believe the policeman or not; there is no suggestion +that he is not a witness of truth—and he says that he heard +a scream, and caught the defendant in the act. Now, from +whom did that scream proceed? Not from the prisoner, for it +was the scream of a woman. From whom then could it proceed +but from the prosecutrix? Now, in all cases of this kind, +one very material point has always been relied on by the Judges, +and that point is this: What was the conduct of the woman? +Did she go about her ordinary business as usual, or did she make +a complaint? If she made no complaint, or made it a long +time after, it is some evidence—not conclusive by any +means—but it is some evidence against the truth of her +story. Let us test this case by that theory. What is +the evidence of the policeman? I will read his words: +‘The moment I got up,’ he says, now mark that, +gentlemen, ‘the woman complained of the conduct of the +prisoner: she screamed and threw herself in my arms and then +nearly fainted.’ Gentlemen, what does all that +mean? You will say by your verdict.”</p> +<p>“Consider your verdict,” said the Clerk of +Arraigns, and almost immediately the Jury said: “Guilty of +attempt.”</p> +<p>“Call upon him,” said the Judge: and he was called +upon accordingly, but only said “the prosecutrix was a +well-known bad woman.”</p> +<p>Then the Judge said very solemnly:—</p> +<p>“Prisoner at the bar, you have been convicted upon <!-- +page 129--><a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +129</span>the clearest possible evidence of this crime: what you +say about the character of the prosecutrix the more convinces me +that you are a very bad man. You not only assail the virtue +of this woman, but, happily prevented in your design, you +endeavour to destroy it afterwards in this Court. No one +who has heard this case can doubt that you have been guilty of +this very grave offence; and in my judgment that offence is +aggravated by the fact that you committed it against her will and +without her consent. The sentence is that you be sent to +prison for eighteen calendar months.”</p> +<p>“Rather warm,” said Mr. O’Rapley.</p> +<p>“Never heeard such a thing in my life,” said +Master Bumpkin, “she wur a consentin’ party if ever +there wur one.”</p> +<p>“But that makes no difference now-a-days,” said +Mr. O’Rapley. “Chancery Judges studies the +equity of the thing more. But perhaps, Mr. Bumpkin, you +don’t know what that means?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Bumpkin, “I +doan’t.”</p> +<p>“You must be quiet,” said Mr. O’Rapley; +“recollect you are in a Court of Justice.”</p> +<p>“Be I! It ’ud take moore un thic case to +make I believe it; but lookee here: I be hanged if there +ain’t that Snooks feller down along there.”</p> +<p>“Who?” enquired O’Rapley.</p> +<p>“That there feller,” said Bumpkin, “be sure +to find his way where there’s anything gooin on o’ +this ere natur.”</p> +<p>Next an undefended prisoner was placed on trial, and as he was +supposed to know all the law of England, he was treated as if he +did.</p> +<p>“You can’t put that question, you know,” +said the learned Judge; “and now you are making a +statement; <!-- page 130--><a name="page130"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 130</span>it is not time to make your +statement yet; you will have ample opportunity by-and-by in your +speech to the jury.” And afterwards, when the Judge +was summing up, the unhappy prisoner called his lordship’s +attention to a mistake; but he was told that he had had his turn +and had made his speech to the jury, and must not now interrupt +the Court. So he had to be quite silent until he was +convicted. Then the two companions went into another court, +where a very stern-looking Common Law Judge was trying a +ferocious-looking prisoner. And Mr. O’Rapley was +delighted to explain that now his friend would see the +difference. They had entered the court just as the learned +Judge had begun to address the jury; and very careful his +lordship was to explain (not in technical language), but in +homely, common-place and common-sense English, the nature of the +crime with which the prisoner was charged. He was very +careful in explaining this, for fear the jury should improperly +come to the conclusion that, because they might believe the +prisoner had in fact committed the act, he must necessarily be +guilty. And they were told that the act was in that case +only one element of the crime, and that they must ascertain +whether there was the guilty intent or no. Now this old Mr. +Justice Common Sense, I thought, was very well worth listening +to, and I heartily wished Mr. Justice Technical from the Old +Court had been there to take a lesson; and I take the liberty of +setting down what I heard in my dream for the benefit of future +Justices Technical.</p> +<p>His lordship directed the jury’s attention to the +evidence, which he carefully avoided calling facts: not to the +verbatim report of it on his note-book as some Recorders do, and +think when they are reading it over <!-- page 131--><a +name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 131</span>they are +summing it up; but pointing out statements which, if believed, +become facts and if facts, lead to certain <i>inferences</i> of +guilt or innocence.</p> +<p>It was while the learned Mr. Justice Common Sense was thus +engaged, that the warder in the dock suddenly checked the +prisoner with these words:</p> +<p>“You mustn’t interrupt.”</p> +<p>“Why may he not interrupt?” asks Mr. Justice +Common Sense. “What do you want to say, +prisoner?”</p> +<p>“My lord,” answered the prisoner, “I wanted +to say as how that there witness as your lordship speaks on +didn’t say as he seen me there.”</p> +<p>“O, didn’t he?” said the Judge. +“I thought he did—now let us see,” turning over +his notes. “No, you are quite right, prisoner, he did +not see you at the spot but immediately after.”</p> +<p>Then his lordship proceeded until there was another +interruption of the same character, and the foolish warder again +told the prisoner to be quiet. This brought down Mr. +Justice Common Sense with a vengeance:</p> +<p>“Warder! how dare you stop the prisoner? he is on his +trial and is undefended. Who is to check me if I am +misstating the evidence if he does not? If you dare to +speak like that to him again I will commit you. Prisoner, +interrupt me as often as you think I am not correctly stating the +evidence.”</p> +<p>“Thankee, my lord.”</p> +<p>“That be the sort o’ Judge for me,” said +Bumpkin; “but I’ve ’ad enough on it, Maister +O’Rapley, so if you please, I’ll get back t’ +the ‘Goose.’ Why didn’t that air Judge +try t’other case, I wonder?”</p> +<p>“Because,” replied the Don, “the new system +is to work the ‘Round Square’.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 133--><a name="page133"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 133</span>CHAPTER XV.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Mr. Bumpkin’s experience of London life, +enlarged.</p> +<p>On leaving the Old Bailey the two friends proceeded to a +neighbouring public-house and partook of some light refreshment +at the counter. Now Mr. Bumpkin had never yet examined the +viands displayed on a counter. His idea of refreshment, +when from home, had always been a huge round of beef smoking at +one end of the table and a large leg of mutton smoking at the +other, with sundry dishes of similar pretensions between, and an +immense quantity of vegetables. When, therefore he saw some +stale-looking sandwiches under the ordinary glass cover, he +exclaimed: “Wittals must be mighty scarce to clap ’em +under a glass case.”</p> +<p>“It’s to keep the flies off;” said his +companion.</p> +<p>“They need well keep un off, for there bean’t +enough for a couple if they was ony wise ongry like.”</p> +<p>However, our friends made the best of what there was, and Mr. +O’Rapley, wishing success to his companion, enquired who +was to be his counsel.</p> +<p>“I doan’t rightly know, but I’ll warrant Mr. +Prigg’ll have a good un—he knows what he be about; +and all I hopes is, he’ll rattle it into that there Snooks, +for if ever there wur a bad un it be him.”</p> +<p>“He looks a bad un,” replied O’Rapley. +“When do you think the case is likely to come +on?”</p> +<p><!-- page 134--><a name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +134</span>“Well, it is supposed as it ull be on to-morrer; +but I bleeve there’s no sartinty about thic. Now +then, just give us a little moore, will ’ee sir?” +(this to the waiter).</p> +<p>“I’ll pay for the next,” said +O’Rapley, feeling in his pocket.</p> +<p>“Noa, noa, I’ll pay; and thankee, sir, for +comin’.”</p> +<p>And then O’Rapley drank his friend’s health again, +and wished further success to the case, and hoped Mr. Bumpkin +would be sure to come to him when he was at Westminster; and +expressed himself desirous to assist his friend in every way that +lay in his power—declaring that he really must be going for +he didn’t know what would happen if the Judge should find +he was away; and was not at all certain it would not lead to some +officious member of the House of Commons asking a question of the +Prime Minister about it.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin drank his good health, again and again, declaring +he was “mighty proud to have met with un;” and that +when the case was over and he had returned to his farm, he should +be pleased if Mr. O’Rapley would come down and spend a few +days with him. “Nancy,” he said, +“’ll be rare and pleased to see thee. I got as +nice a little farm as any in the county, and as pooty pigs as +thee ever clapped eyes on.”</p> +<p>Mr. O’Rapley, without being too condescending, expressed +himself highly gratified with making Mr. Bumpkin’s +acquaintance, and observed that the finest pigs ever he saw were +those of the Lord Chief Justice.</p> +<p>“Dade, sir, now what sort be they?” Mr. +O’Rapley was not learned in pigs, and not knowing the name +of any breed whatever, was at a loss how to describe them. +Mr. Bumpkin came to his assistance.</p> +<p><!-- page 135--><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +135</span>“Be they smooth like and slim?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the Don.</p> +<p>“Hardly any hair?”</p> +<p>“Scarce a bit.”</p> +<p>“They be Chichesters then—the werry best breed as +a man ever had in his stye.”</p> +<p>“I never see anything so pretty,” replied Mr. +O’Rapley.</p> +<p>“Ah! and they be the smallest-boned pigs as ever could +be—they bean’t got a bone bigger nor your little +finger.”</p> +<p>“Ha!” said the Don, finishing his glass, +“the smaller the bone the more the meat, that’s what +I always say; and the Lord Chief Justice don’t care for +bone, he likes meat.”</p> +<p>“An’ so do I—the Lud Judge be right, and if +he tries my case he’ll know the difference betwixt thic pig +as Snooks tooked away and one o’ them +there—”</p> +<p>“Jackass-looking pigs,” said O’Rapley, +seeing that his friend paused. “I hate them jackass +pigs.”</p> +<p>“So do I—they never puts on fat.”</p> +<p>“I must go, really,” said O’Rapley. +“What do you make the right time?”</p> +<p>Master Bumpkin pulled out his watch with great effort, and +said it was just a quarter past four by Yokelton time.</p> +<p>“Here’s your good health again, Mr. +Bumpkin.”</p> +<p>“And yours, sir; and now I think on it, if it’s a +fair question Mr. O’Rapley, and I med ax un wirout +contempt, when do you think this ’ere case o’ mine be +likely to come on, for you ought to know summut about +un?”</p> +<p>“Ha!” said the Don, partially closing one eye, and +looking profoundly into the glass as though he were <!-- page +136--><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>divining the future, “law, sir, is a mystery and +judges is a mystery; masters is a mystery and ’sociates is +a mystery; ushers is a mystery and counsel is a +mystery;—the whole of life (here he tipped the contents of +the glass down his throat) is a mystery.”</p> +<p>“So it be,” said Mr. Bumpkin, drawing the back of +his hand across his mouth. “So it be sir, but do +’ee think—”</p> +<p>“Well, really,” answered the Don, “I should +say in about a couple of years if you ask me.”</p> +<p>“How the h—”</p> +<p>“Excuse me, Master Bumpkin, but contempt follers us like +a shadder: if you had said that to a Judge it would have been a +year at least: it’s three months as it is if I liked to go +on with the case; but I’m not a wicious man, I +hope.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t mean no offence,” said the +farmer.</p> +<p>“No, no, I dare say not; but still there is a way of +doing things. Now if you had said to me, ‘Mr. +O’Rapley, you are a gentleman moving in judicial circles, +and are probably acquainted with the windings of the,’ +&c. &c. &c. ‘Can you inform me why my +case is being so unduly prolonged?’ Now if you had +put your question in that form I should in all probability have +answered: ‘I do not see that it is unduly prolonged, Master +Bumpkin—you must have patience. Judges are but human +and it’s a wonder to me they are as much as that, +seein’ what they have to go through.’”</p> +<p>“But if there be a Court why can’t us get in and +try un, Mr. Rapley?”</p> +<p>“Ah, now that is putting it pointedly;” and +O’Rapley closed one eye and looked into his tumbler with +the other before he answered:</p> +<p>“You see this is how it goes under the continerous <!-- +page 137--><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +137</span>sittings—off and on we sits continerously at Nisy +Prisy in London three months in the year. Now that +ain’t bad for London: but it’s nothing near so much +time as they gives to places like Aylesbury, Bedford, and many +others.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin looked like a terrier dog watching a hole out of +which he expected a rat: at present he saw no sign of one.</p> +<p>“Take Aylesbury; well now, if a Judge went there once in +seven years he’d find about every other assize enough work +to last him till lunch. But in course two Judges must go to +Aylesbury four times a year, to do nothing but admire the +building where the Courts are held; otherwise you’d soon +have Aylesbury marching on to London to know the reason +why. P’r’aps the Judges have left five hundred +cases untried in London to go to this Aylesbury.”</p> +<p>“Be it a big plaace, sir?”</p> +<p>“Not so big as a good-sized hotel,” said the +Don. “Then,” he continued, “there’s +Bedford ditto again—septennel would do for that; then comes +Northampton—they don’t want no law there at +all.” (I leave the obvious pun to anyone who likes to +make it). “Then Okeham again—did you ever hear +of anyone who came from Okeham? I never did.”</p> +<p>The Don paused, as though on the answer to this question +depended his future course.</p> +<p>“Noa,” said Bumpkin, “can’t rightly +say as ever I did.”</p> +<p>“And nobody ever did come from there except the +Judges. Well, to Okeham they go four times a year, whereas +if they was to go about once in every hundred years it +wouldn’t pay. Why raly, Mr. Bumpkin, the Judges goes +round like travellers arfter orders, and can’t <!-- page +138--><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +138</span>get none. I’m not talkin’, as you are +aware, about great centres like Liverpool, where if they had +about fifty-two assizes in the year it wouldn’t be one too +many; but I’m talking about circumfrences on the confines +of civilization.”</p> +<p>“Oh dear!” sighed Bumpkin. The hole seemed +to him too choked up with “larnin’” for the rat +ever to come out—he could glean nothing from this highly +wrought and highly polished enthusiasm.</p> +<p>“And, notwithstanding and accordingly,” continued +the Don, “they do say, goodness knows how true it is, that +they’re going to have two more assizes in the year. +All that I can say is, Mr. Bumpkin—and, mark my words, +there’ll be no stopping in London at all, but it will be +just a reg’ler Judge’s merry-go-round.” +<a name="citation138"></a><a href="#footnote138" +class="citation">[138]</a></p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin dropped a look into his glass, and the two +companions came out of the door and proceeded along under the +archway until they came to the corner of Bridge Street, +Blackfriars. Exactly at that point a young woman with a +baby in her arms came in contact with Mr. Bumpkin, and in a very +angry tone said,—</p> +<p>“I tell you what it is, don’t you take them +liberties with me or I’ll give you in charge.”</p> +<p>And the young woman passed on with her baby. <!-- page +139--><a name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +139</span>Just at that moment, and while Master Bumpkin was +meditating on this strange conduct of the young female, he felt a +smart tug at his watch, and, looking down, saw the broken chain +hanging from his pocket.</p> +<p>“Zounds!” he exclaimed, “I never zeed +anything claner than thic; did thee zee thic feller?”</p> +<p>“There he goes,” said O’Rapley.</p> +<p>“There ur gooes,” said Mr. Bumpkin, and, as fast +as he could, pursued the thief.</p> +<p>“Stop un!” he cried. “Stop thic there +thief; he got my watch.”</p> +<p>But it was a long time before Master Bumpkin’s mandate +was obeyed; the value of a policeman, like that of every other +commodity, depends upon his rarity. There was no policeman +to be found. There was a fire escape in the middle of the +street, but that was of no use to Master Bumpkin. Away went +thief, and away went Bumpkin, who could “foot it,” as +he said, “pooty well, old as he wur.” Nor did +either the thief or himself stop until they got nearly to the +bridge, when, to Bumpkin’s great astonishment, up came the +thief, walking coolly towards him. This was another +mystery, in addition to those mentioned by Mr. +O’Rapley. But the fact was, that the hue and cry was +now raised, and although Master Bumpkin did not perceive it, +about a hundred people, men, women, and boys, were in full chase; +and when that gentleman was, as Bumpkin thought, coolly coming +towards him, he was simply at bay, run down, without hope of +escape; and fully determined to face the matter out with all the +coolness he could command.</p> +<p>“Take un,” said Bumpkin; “take un oop; thee +dam scoundrel!”</p> +<p><!-- page 140--><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +140</span>“Take care what you’re saying,” said +the thief. “I’m a respectable man, and +there’s law in the land.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and thee shall have un, too, thee willin; thee +stole my watch, thee knows that.”</p> +<p>“You’re a liar,” said the captive.</p> +<p>“Why thee’s got un on, dang if thee bean’t, +and a wearin’ on un. Well, this bates all; take un +oop, pleeceman.”</p> +<p>At this moment, which is always the nick of time chosen by the +force, that is to say, when everything is done except the +handcuffs, a policeman with a great deal of authority in his +appearance came up, and plunged his hands under his heavy +coat-tails, as though he were about to deliver them of the bower +anchor of a ship.</p> +<p>“Do you give him in charge?”</p> +<p>“Sure enough do ur,” said Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>So the handcuffs were put on, and the stalwart policeman, like +a hero with the captive of his bow and spear, marched him along +at a great rate, Bumpkin striding out manfully at the side, amid +a great crowd of small boys, with all their heads turned towards +the prisoner as they ran, in the highest state of delight and +excitement. Even Bumpkin looked as if he had made a good +thing of it, and seemed as pleased as the boys.</p> +<p>As they came again to the corner of Ludgate Hill, there stood +Mr. O’Rapley, looking very pompous and dignified, as became +so great a man.</p> +<p>“You’ve got him then,” said he.</p> +<p>“Ay; come on, Master Rapley, come on.”</p> +<p>“One moment,” said the official; “I must +here leave you for the present, Mr. Bumpkin; we are not allowed +to give evidence in Criminal Courts any more than Her +Majesty’s Judges themselves; we are a part of the +Court. <!-- page 141--><a name="page141"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 141</span>But, besides all that, I did not see +what happened; what was it?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “that be rum too, +sir; thee see thic feller steal my watch, surely.”</p> +<p>“Indeed, Mr. Bumpkin, it was so quickly done that I +really did <i>not</i> see it, if you ask me.”</p> +<p>“Why, he dragged un out o’ thic pocket.”</p> +<p>“No doubt, Master Bumpkin; but it does not follow that I +see it.”</p> +<p>“Thee can come and say I wur with thee, +anyhow.”</p> +<p>“I can’t give evidence, Mr. Bumpkin, as I told you +before; and, besides, I must not appear in this matter at +all. You know I was absent to oblige you, and it’s +possible I may be of some further service to you yet; but please +don’t mention me in this matter. I assure you it will +do harm, and perhaps I should lose my place.”</p> +<p>“Well, Master Rapley,” said Bumpkin, taking his +hand, “I won’t do thee no harm if I knows it, and +there be plenty of evidence.”</p> +<p>“Evidence! You say you found the watch upon +him?”</p> +<p>“Sartinly.”</p> +<p>“The case then is clear. You don’t want any +evidence besides that.”</p> +<p>“Well, sir, you’re a man o’ +larnin’. I bean’t much of a scollard, +I’ll tak’ thy advice; but I must get along; they be +waitin’ for I.”</p> +<p>“I will see you at Westminster to-morrow, Mr. +Bumpkin.”</p> +<p>“All right, zir, all right.”</p> +<p>And with that Mr. O’Rapley proceeded on his way down +Fleet Street, and Mr. Bumpkin proceeded on his up Ludgate Hill in +the midst of an excited crowd.</p> +<h2><!-- page 143--><a name="page143"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 143</span>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The coarse mode of procedure in Ahab <i>v.</i> +Naboth ruthlessly exposed and carefully contrasted with the +humane and enlightened form of the present day.</p> +<p>Here I awoke, and my wife said unto me, “Dear, you have +been dreaming and talking in your sleep.”</p> +<p>Now fearing for what I may have said, although of a tolerably +clear conscience, I enquired if she could tell me what words I +had uttered. She replied that I had mentioned the names of +many eminent men: such as Mr. Justice Common Sense.</p> +<p>“Indeed,” quoth I; and then I told my dream. +Upon which she observed, that it seemed there must be much +exaggeration. To this I made answer that dreams do +generally magnify events, and impress them more vividly upon the +senses, inasmuch as the imagination was like a microscope: it +enabled you to see many things which would escape the naked +eye.</p> +<p>“But,” said my partner, “if they are +distorted?”</p> +<p>“If they are distorted, they are not reliable; but a +clear imagination, like a good lens, faithfully presents its +objects, although in a larger form, in order that those who have +no time for scientific observation, may see what the scientist +desires to direct their attention to. There are creatures +almost invisible to the naked eye, which, <!-- page 144--><a +name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +144</span>nevertheless, cause great irritation to the +nerves. So, also, there are matters affecting the body +corporate of these kingdoms which the public are blind to and +suffer from, but which, if thoroughly exposed, they may be +inclined to take a hand in removing.”</p> +<p>“I don’t believe that Mr. O’Rapley,” +said she: “he seems a cantankerous, conceited +fellow.”</p> +<p>“Why so he is; but cantankerous and conceited fellows +sometimes speak the truth. They’re like those +cobwebbed, unwholesome-looking bottles which have lain a long +time in cellars. You would hardly like to come in contact +with them, and yet they often contain a clear and beautiful +wine. This Mr. O’Rapley is a worthy man who knows a +great deal, and although a bit of a toady to his superiors, +expresses his opinions pretty freely behind their +backs.”</p> +<p>“And what of this Master Bumpkin—this worthy +Master Bumpkin I hear you speak of so often?”</p> +<p>“A very shrewd man in some respects and a silly one in +others.”</p> +<p>“Not an unusual combination.”</p> +<p>“By no means.”</p> +<p>And then I told her what I have already related; to which she +observed it was a pity some friend had not interposed and stopped +the business. I answered, that friends were no doubt +useful, but friends or no friends we must have law, and whether +for sixpence or a shilling it ought to be readily attainable: +that no one would be satisfied with having no other authority +than that of friendship to settle our disputes; and besides that, +friends themselves sometimes fell out and were generally the most +hard to reconcile without an appeal to our tribunals.</p> +<p><!-- page 145--><a name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +145</span>“Well, it does seem a pity,” said she, +“that judges cannot sit as they did in Moses’ time at +all seasons so as to decide expeditiously and promptly between +the claims of parties.”</p> +<p>“Why so they do sit ‘continuously,’” +quoth I, “but the whole difficulty consists in getting at +them. What is called procedure is so circuitous and +perplexing, that long before you get to your journey’s end +you may faint by the way.”</p> +<p>“Is there no one with good sense who will take this +matter up and help this poor man to come by his rights. It +must be very expensive for him to be kept away from his business +so long, and his poor wife left all alone to manage the +farm.”</p> +<p>“Why, so it is, but then going to law, which means +seeking to maintain your rights, is a very expensive thing: a +luxury fit only for rich men.”</p> +<p>“Why then do people in moderate circumstances indulge in +it?”</p> +<p>“Because they are obliged to defend themselves against +oppressive and unjust demands; although I think, under the +present system, if a man had a small estate, say a few acres, and +a rich man laid claim to it, it would be far better for the small +man to give up the land without any bother.”</p> +<p>“But no man of spirit would do that?”</p> +<p>“No, that is exactly where it is, it’s the spirit +of resistance that comes in.”</p> +<p>“Resistance! a man would be a coward to yield without a +fight.”</p> +<p>“Why so he would, and that is what makes law such a +beautiful science, and its administration so costly. Men +will fight to the last rather than give in. If Naboth had +lived in these times there would have been no need <!-- page +146--><a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 146</span>of +his death in order to oust him from his vineyard. Ahab +could have done a much more sensible thing and walked in by +process of law.”</p> +<p>“In what way?”</p> +<p>“In the first place he could have laid claim to a right +of way, or easement as it is called, of some sort: or could have +alleged that Naboth had encroached on his land by means of a +fence or drain or ditch.”</p> +<p>“Well, but if he hadn’t?”</p> +<p>“If he hadn’t, so much the better for the +Plaintiff, and so much the worse for Naboth.”</p> +<p>“I don’t understand; if Naboth had done no wrong, +surely it would be far better for him than if he had.”</p> +<p>“Not in the long run, my dear: and for this reason, if +he had encroached it would have taken very little trouble to +ascertain the fact, and Naboth being a just and honest man, would +only require to have it pointed out to him to remedy the +evil. Maps and plans of the estate would doubtless have +shown him his mistake, and, like a wise man, he would have +avoided going to law.”</p> +<p>“I see clearly that the good man would have said, +‘Neighbour Ahab, we have been on neighbourly terms for a +long lime, and I do not wish in any way to alter that excellent +feeling which has always subsisted between us. I see +clearly by these maps and plans which worthy Master Metefield +hath shown me that my hedge hath encroached some six inches upon +thy domain, wherefore, Neighbour Ahab, take, I pray thee, as much +of the land as belongeth unto thee, according to just +admeasurement.”</p> +<p>“Why certainly, so would the honest Naboth have communed +with Ahab, and there would have been an end of the +business.”</p> +<p><!-- page 147--><a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +147</span>“But show me, darling, how being in the wrong was +better for good Naboth than being in the right in this +business?”</p> +<p>“Most willingly,” said I; “you see, my dear, +there was quickly an end of the matter by Naboth yielding to the +just demands of neighbour Ahab. But now let us suppose +honest Naboth in the right concerning his vineyard, and neighbour +Ahab to be making an unjust demand. You have already most +justly observed that in that case it would be cowardly on the +part of Naboth to yield without a struggle?”</p> +<p>“Assuredly.”</p> +<p>“Well then, that means a lawsuit.”</p> +<p>“But surely,” said my wife, “it ought to be +soon seen who is in the wrong. Where is Master Metefield +who you said just now was so accurate a surveyor, and where are +those plans you spoke of which showed the situation of the +estates?”</p> +<p>“Ah, my dear, I see you know very little of the +intricacies of the law; that good Master Metefield, instead of +being a kind of judge to determine quickly as he did for Master +Naboth what were the boundaries of the vineyard, hath not now so +easy a task of it, because Ahab being in the wrong he is not +accepted by him as his judge.”</p> +<p>“But if the plans are correct, how can he alter +them?”</p> +<p>“He cannot alter them, but the question of correctness +of boundary as shown, is matter of disputation, and will have to +be discussed by surveyors on both sides, and supported and +disputed by witnesses innumerable on both sides: old men coming +up with ancient memories, hedgers and ditchers, farmers and +bailiffs and people of all <!-- page 148--><a +name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 148</span>sorts and +conditions, to prove and disprove where the boundary line really +divides Neighbour Naboth’s vineyard from Neighbour +Ahab’s park.”</p> +<p>“But surely Naboth will win?”</p> +<p>“All that depends upon a variety of things, such as, +first, the witnesses; secondly, the counsel; thirdly, the judge; +fourthly, the jury,”</p> +<p>“O,” said my wife, “pray don’t go on +to a fifthly—it seems to me poor Naboth is like to have a +sorry time of it before he establish his boundary +line.”</p> +<p>“Ay, if he ever do so: but he first is got into the +hands of his Lawyers, next into the hands of his Counsel, +thirdly, into Chancery, fourthly, into debt—”</p> +<p>“Pray, do not let us have a fifthly here either; I like +not these thirdlys and fourthlys, for they seem to bring poor +Naboth into bad case; but what said you about debt?”</p> +<p>“I say that Naboth, not being a wealthy man, but, as I +take it, somewhat in the position of neighbour Bumpkin, will soon +be forced to part with a good deal of his little property in +order to carry on the action.”</p> +<p>“But will not the action be tried in a reasonable time, +say a week or two?”</p> +<p>“I perceive,” cried I, “that you are yet in +the very springtide and babyhood of innocence in these +matters. There must be summonses for time and for further +time; there must be particulars and interrogatories and +discoveries and inspections and strikings out and puttings in and +appeals and demurrers and references and—”</p> +<p>“O, please don’t. I perceive that poor +Naboth is already ruined a long way back. I think when you +came to the interrogatories he was in want of funds to carry on +the action.”</p> +<p><!-- page 149--><a name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +149</span>“A Chancery action sometimes takes years,” +said I.</p> +<p>“Years! then shame to our Parliament.”</p> +<p>“I pray you do not take on so,” said I. +“Naboth, according to the decree of Fate, is to be +ruined. Jezebel did it in a wicked, clumsy and brutal +manner. Anyone could see she was wrong, and her name has +been handed down to us with infamy and execration. I now +desire to show how Ahab could have accomplished his purpose in a +gentle, manly and scientific manner and saved his wife’s +reputation. Naboth’s action, carried as it would be +from Court to Court upon every possible point upon which an +appeal can go, under our present system, would effectually ruin +him ages before the boundary line could be settled. It +would be all swallowed up in costs.”</p> +<p>“Poor Naboth!” said my wife.</p> +<p>“And,” continued I, “the law reports would +hand down the <i>cause celebre</i> of <i>Ahab</i> v. +<i>Naboth</i> as a most interesting leading case upon the subject +of goodness knows what: perhaps as to whether a man, under +certain circumstances, may not alter his neighbour’s +landmark in spite of the statute law of Moses.”</p> +<p>“And so you think poor Naboth would be sold +up?”</p> +<p>“That were about the only certain event in his case, +except that Ahab would take possession and so put an end for ever +to the question as to where the boundary line should +run.”</p> +<p>Here again I dozed.</p> +<h2><!-- page 151--><a name="page151"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 151</span>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Shewing that lay tribunals are not exactly +Punch and Judy shows where the puppet is moved by the man +underneath.</p> +<p>It was particularly fortunate for Mr. Bumpkin that his case +was not in the list of causes to be tried on the following +day. It may seem a curious circumstance to the general +reader that a great case like <i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i>, +involving so much expense of time, trouble, and money should be +in the list one day and out the next; should be sometimes in the +list of one Court and sometimes in the list of another; flying +about like a butterfly from flower to flower and caught by no one +on the look-out for it. But this is not a phenomenon in our +method of procedure, which startles you from time to time with +its miraculous effects. You can calculate upon nothing in +the system but its uncertainty. Most gentle and innocent +reader, I saw that there was no Nisi Prius Court to sit on the +following day, so <i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i> could not be +taken, list or no list. The lucky Plaintiff therefore found +himself at liberty to appear before that August Tribunal which +sits at the Mansion House in the City of London. A palatial +and imposing building it was on the outside, but within, so far +as was apparent to me, it was a narrow ill ventilated den, full +of all unclean people and unpleasant smells. I say full of +<!-- page 152--><a name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +152</span>unclean people, but I allude merely to that portion of +it which was appropriated to the British Public; for, exalted on +a high bench and in a huge and ponderous chair or throne sat the +Prince of Citizens and the King of the Corporation, proud in his +dignity, grand in his commercial position, and highly esteemed in +the opinion of the world. There he sat, the representative +of the Criminal Law, and impartial, as all will allow, in its +administration. Wonderful being is my Lord Mayor, thought +I, he must have the Law at his fingers’ ends. Yes, +there it is sitting under him in the shape and person of his +truly respectable clerk. The Common Law resides in the +breasts of the Judges, but it is here at my Lord Mayor’s +fingers’ ends. He has to deal with gigantic +commercial frauds; with petty swindlers, common thieves; mighty +combinations of conspirators; with extradition laws; with +elaborate bankruptcy delinquencies; with the niceties of the +criminal law in every form and shape. Surely, thought I, he +should be one of those tremendous geniuses who can learn the +criminal law before breakfast, or at least before dinner! +So he was. His lordship seemed to have learned it one +morning before he was awake. But it is not for me to +criticise tribunals or men: I have the simple duty to perform of +relating the story of the renowned Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>After the night charges are disposed of up comes the man +through the floor, not Mr. Bumpkin, but Mr. Bumpkin’s +prisoner. He comes up through the floor like the imp in the +pantomime: and then the two tall warders prevent his going any +farther.</p> +<p>He was a pale, intelligent looking creature, fairly dressed in +frock coat, dark waistcoat and grey trousers, with a glove on his +left hand and another in his right; <!-- page 153--><a +name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 153</span>looked +meekly and modestly round, and then politely bowed to the Lord +Mayor. The charge was then read to him and with a smile he +indignantly repudiated the idea of theft.</p> +<p>And I saw in my dream that he was represented by a learned +Counsel, who at this moment entered the Court, shook hands with +the Lord Mayor, and saying, “I appear, my lord, for the +prisoner,” took his seat upon the bench, and entered for a +minute or so into some private and apparently jocular +conversation with his Lordship.</p> +<p>The name of the learned Counsel was Mr. Nimble, whom we have +before seen. He was a very goodly-shaped man, with a thin +face and brown hair. His eyes were bright, and always +seemed to look into a witness rather than at him. His +manner was jaunty, good-natured, easy, and gay; not remarkable +for courtesy, but at the same time, not unpleasantly rude. +I thought the learned Counsel could be disagreeable if he liked, +but might be a very pleasant, sociable fellow to spend an hour +with—not in the witness-box.</p> +<p>He was certainly a skilful and far-seeing Counsel, if I may +make so bold as to judge from this case. And methought that +nothing he did or said was said or done without a purpose. +Nor could I help thinking that a good many Counsel, young and +old, if their minds were free from prejudice, might learn many +lessons from this case. It is with this object that, in my +waking moments, I record the impressions of this dream. I +do not say Mr. Nimble was an example to follow on all points, for +he had that common failing of humanity, a want of absolute +perfection. But he was as near to perfection in defending a +prisoner as any man I ever saw, and the proceedings in <!-- page +154--><a name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +154</span>this very case, if carefully analysed, will go a long +way towards proving that assertion.</p> +<p>After the interchange of courtesies between his Lordship and +Mr. Nimble, the learned Counsel looked down from the Bench on to +the top of Mr. Keepimstraight’s bald head and nodded as if +he were patting it. Mr. Keepimstraight was the Lord +Mayor’s Clerk. He was very stout and seemed puffed up +with law: had an immense regard for himself and consequently very +little for anybody else: but that, so far as I have been able to +ascertain, is a somewhat common failing among official +personages. He ordered everybody about except the Lord +Mayor, and him he seemed to push about as though he were wheeling +him in a legal Bath-chair. His Lordship was indeed a great +invalid in respect to matters of law; I think he had overdone it, +if I may use the expression; his study must have been tremendous +to have acquired a knowledge of the laws of England in so short a +time. But being somewhat feeble, and in his modesty much +misdoubting his own judgment, he did nothing and said nothing, +except it was prescribed by his physician, Dr. +Keepimstraight. Even the solicitors stood in awe of Dr. +Keepimstraight.</p> +<p>And now we are all going to begin—Walk up!</p> +<p>The intelligent and decent-looking prisoner having been told +what the charge against him was, namely, Highway Robbery with +violence, declares that he is as “innercent as the unborn +babe, your lordship:” and then Mr. Keepimstraight asks, +where the Prosecutor is—“Prosecutor!” shout a +dozen voices at once—all round, everywhere is the cry of +“Prosecutor!” There was no answer, but in the +midst of the unsavoury crowd there was seen to be a severe +scuffle—whether it was a fight or <!-- page 155--><a +name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 155</span>a man in a +fit could not be ascertained for some time; at length Mr. Bumpkin +was observed struggling and tearing to escape from the +throng.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you come when you are called?” +asks the Junior Clerk, handing him the Testament, as Mr. Bumpkin +stood revealed in the witness-box.</p> +<p>And I saw that he was dressed in a light frock, not unlike a +pinafore, which was tastefully wrought with divers patterns of +needlework on the front and back thereof; at the openings thus +embroidered could be seen a waistcoat of many stripes, that +crossed and recrossed one another at various angles and were +formed of several colours. He wore a high calico shirt +collar, which on either side came close under the ear; and round +his neck a red handkerchief with yellow ends. His linen +certainly did credit to Mrs. Bumpkin’s love of +“tidiness,” and altogether the prosecutor wore a +clean and respectable appearance. His face was broad, round +and red, indicating a jovial disposition and a temperament not +easily disturbed, except when “whate” was down too +low to sell and he wanted to buy stock or pay the rent: a state +of circumstances which I believe has sometimes happened of late +years. A white short-clipped beard covered his chin, while +his cheeks were closely shaven. He had twinkling oval eyes, +which I should say, he invariably half-closed when he was making +a bargain. If you offered less than his price the first +refusal would come from them. His nose was inexpressive and +appeared to have been a dormant feature for many a year. It +said nothing for or against any thing or any body, and from its +tip sprouted a few white hairs. His mouth, without +utterance, said plainly enough that he owed “nobody +nothink” and was a thousand pound man every morning <!-- +page 156--><a name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +156</span>he rose. It was a mouth of good bore, and not by +any means intended for a silver spoon.</p> +<p>Such was the Prosecutor as he stood in the witness-box at the +Mansion House on this memorable occasion; and no one could doubt +that truth and justice would prevail.</p> +<p>“Name?” said Mr. Keepimstraight.</p> +<p>“Bumpkin.”</p> +<p>Down it goes.</p> +<p>“Where?”</p> +<p>After a pause, which Mr. Nimble makes a note of.</p> +<p>“Where?” repeats Keepimstraight.</p> +<p>“Westminister.”</p> +<p>“Where there?”</p> +<p>“‘Goose’ publichouse.”</p> +<p>Down it goes.</p> +<p>“Yes?” says Keepimstraight.</p> +<p>Bumpkin stares.</p> +<p>“Yes, go on,” says the clerk.</p> +<p>“Go on,” says the crier; “go on,” say +half-a-dozen voices all round.</p> +<p>“Can’t you go on?” says the clerk.</p> +<p>“Tell your story,” says his Lordship, putting his +arms on the elbows of the huge chair. “Tell it in +your own way, my man.”</p> +<p>“I wur gwine down thic place when—” +“my man” began.</p> +<p>“What time was this?” asks the clerk.</p> +<p>“Arf arter four, as near as I can tell.”</p> +<p>“How do you know?” asks the clerk.</p> +<p>“I heard—”</p> +<p>“I object,” says the +Counsel—“can’t tell us what he +heard.”</p> +<p>Then I perceived that the Lord Mayor leant forward <!-- page +157--><a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +157</span>towards Mr. Keepimstraight, and the latter gentleman +turned his head and leaned towards the Lord Mayor, so that his +Lordship could obtain a full view of Mr. Keepimstraight’s +eyes.</p> +<p>Then I perceived that Mr. Keepimstraight winked his left eye +and immediately turned to his work again, and his Lordship +said:</p> +<p>“I don’t think what you heard, witness, is +evidence.”</p> +<p>“Can’t have that,” said Mr. Keepimstraight, +as though he took his instructions and the Law from his +Lordship.</p> +<p>“You said it was half-past four.”</p> +<p>“Heard the clock strike th’ arf hour.”</p> +<p>Here his Lordship leant again forward and Mr. Keepimstraight +turned round so as to bring his eyes into the same position as +heretofore. And I perceived that Mr. Keepimstraight winked +his right eye, upon which his Lordship said:</p> +<p>“I think that’s evidence.”</p> +<p>Clerk whispered, behind his hand, “Can hardly exclude +that.”</p> +<p>“Can hardly exclude that,” repeats his Lordship; +then—turning to the Learned +Counsel—“Can’t shut that out, Mr. +Nimble.”</p> +<p>“You seldom can shut a church clock out, my Lord,” +replies the Counsel.</p> +<p>At this answer his Lordship smiled and the Court was convulsed +with laughter for several minutes.</p> +<p>“Now, then,” said Mr. Keepimstraight, “we +must have order in Court.”</p> +<p>“We must have order in Court,” says his +Lordship.</p> +<p>“Order in Court,” says the Junior Clerk, and +“Order!” shouts the Policeman on duty.</p> +<p>Then Mr. Bumpkin stated in clear and intelligible <!-- page +158--><a name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +158</span>language how the man came up and took his watch and ran +away. Foolishly enough he said nothing about the woman with +the baby, and wisely enough Mr. Nimble asked nothing about +it. But what an opportunity this would have been for an +unskilful Counsel to lay the foundation for a conviction. +Knowing, as he probably would from the prisoner but from no other +possible source about the circumstance, he might have shown by a +question or two that it was a conspiracy between the prisoner and +the young woman. Not so Mr. Nimble, he knew how to make an +investment of this circumstance for future profit: indeed Mr. +Bumpkin had invested it for him by not mentioning it. +Beautiful is Advocacy if you do not mar it by unskilful +handling.</p> +<p>When, after describing the robbery, the prosecutor +continued:</p> +<p>“I ses to my companion, ses I—”</p> +<p>“I object,” says Mr. Nimble.</p> +<p>And I perceived that his Lordship leant forward once more +towards Mr. Keepimstraight, and Mr. Keepimstraight turned as +aforetime towards the Lord Mayor, but not quite, I thought, so +fully round as heretofore; the motion seemed to be performed with +less exactness than usual, and that probably was why the +operation miscarried. Mr. Keepimstraight having given the +correct signal, as he thought, and the Enginedriver on the Bench +having misunderstood it, an accident naturally would have taken +place but for the extreme caution and care of his Lordship, who, +if he had been a young Enginedriver, would in all probability +have dashed on neck or nothing through every obstacle. Not +so his Lordship. Not being sure whether he was on the up or +down line, he pulled up.</p> +<p><!-- page 159--><a name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +159</span>Mr. Keepimstraight sat pen in hand looking at his +paper, and waiting for the judicial voice which should convey to +his ear the announcement that “I ses, ses I,” is +evidence or no evidence. Judge then of Mr. +Keepimstraight’s disappointment when, after waiting in +breathless silence for some five minutes, he at last looks up and +sees his Lordship in deep anxiety to catch his eye without the +public observing it. His Lordship leant forward, blushing +with innocence, and whispered something behind his hand to Mr. +Keepimstraight. And in my dream I heard his Lordship +ask:</p> +<p>“<i>Which eye</i>?”</p> +<p>To which Mr. Keepimstraight as coolly as if nothing had +happened, whispered behind his hand:</p> +<p>“<i>Left</i>!” and then coughed.</p> +<p>“O then,” exclaimed his Lordship, “it is +clearly not evidence.”</p> +<p>“It’s not evidence,” repeated the clerk; and +then to the discomfiture of Mr. Nimble, he went on, “You +say you had a companion.”</p> +<p>This was more than the learned Counsel wanted, seeing as he +did that there was another investment to be made if he could only +manage it.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin blushed now, but said nothing.</p> +<p>“Would you excuse me,” said Mr. Nimble; “I +shall not cross-examine this witness.”</p> +<p>“O, very good,” says Keepimstraight, thinking +probably it was to be a plea of guilty hereafter; “very +good. Then I think that is all—is that the +watch?”</p> +<p>“It be,” said the witness; “I ken swear to +un.”</p> +<p>It certainly would be from no want of metal if Mr. Bumpkin +could not identify the timepiece, for it was a ponderous-looking +watch, nearly as large as a tea-saucer.</p> +<p><!-- page 160--><a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +160</span>Then said Mr. Nimble:</p> +<p>“You say that is your watch, do you?”</p> +<p>“It spakes for itself.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think that’s evidence,” says +Mr. Keepimstraight, with a smile.</p> +<p>“That’s clearly not evidence,” says the Lord +Mayor, gravely. Whereupon there was another burst of +laughter, in which the clerk seemed to take the lead. The +remarkable fact, however, was, that his Lordship was perfectly at +a loss to comprehend the joke. He was “as grave as a +Judge.”</p> +<p>After the laughter had subsided, the learned Keepimstraight +leaned backward, and the learned Lord Mayor leaned forward, and +it seemed to me they were conversing together about the cause of +the laughter; for suddenly a smile illuminated the rubicund face +of the cheery Lord Mayor, and at last he had a laugh to +himself—a solo, after the band had ceased. And then +his Lordship spoke:</p> +<p>“What your watch may say is not evidence, because it has +not been sworn.”</p> +<p>Then the band struck up again to a lively tune, his Lordship +playing the first Fiddle; and the whole scene terminated in the +most humorous and satisfactory manner for all +parties—<i>except</i>, perhaps, the prisoner—who was +duly committed for trial to the next sittings of the Central +Criminal Court, which were to take place in a fortnight.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin naturally asked for his watch, but that request +was smilingly refused.</p> +<p>“Bin in our famly forty years,” exclaimed the +prisoner.</p> +<p>“Will you be quiet?” said Mr. Nimble petulantly, +for it was a foolish observation for the prisoner to make, +inasmuch <!-- page 161--><a name="page161"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 161</span>as, if Mr. Bumpkin had been +represented by professional skill, the remark would surely be met +at the trial with abundant evidence to disprove it. Mr. +Bumpkin at present, however, has no professional skill.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Here something disturbed me, and I awoke. While +preparing to enjoy my pipe as was my custom in these intervals, +my wife remarked:</p> +<p>“I do not approve of that Master O’Rapley by any +means, with his cynicisms and sarcasms and round squares. +Did ever anyone hear of such a contradiction?”</p> +<p>“Have patience,” quoth I, “and we shall see +how worthy Master O’Rapley makes it out. I conjecture +that he means the same thing that we hear of under the term, +‘putting the round peg into the square +hole.’”</p> +<p>“But why should such a thing be done when it is easy +surely to find a square peg that would fit?”</p> +<p>“Granted; but the master-hand may be under obligations +to the round peg; or the round peg may be a disagreeable peg, or +a hundred things: one doesn’t know. I am but a humble +observer of human nature, and like not these ungracious +cavillings at Master O’Rapley. Let us calmly follow +this dream, and endeavour to profit by its lessons without +finding fault with its actors.”</p> +<p>“But I would like to have a better explanation of that +Round Square, nevertheless,” muttered my wife as she went +on with her knitting. So to appease her I discoursed as +follows:—</p> +<p>“The round square,” said I, “means the +inappropriate combination of opposites.”</p> +<p>“Now, not too long words,” said she, “and +not too much philosophy.”</p> +<p>“Very well, my dear,” I continued; “Don +O’Rapley <!-- page 162--><a name="page162"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 162</span>is right, not in his particular +instance, but in the general application of his meaning. +Look around upon the world, or so much of it as is comprised +within our own limited vision, and what do you find?”</p> +<p>“I find everything,” said my wife, +“beautifully ordered and arranged, from the Archbishop of +Canterbury to the Parish Beadle.”</p> +<p>“What do you find?” I repeated. “Mark +the O’Rapley’s knowledge of human nature, you not +only find Waterloos won in the Cricket-field of Eton, but +Bishopricks and Secretaryships and many other glorious victories; +so that you might—”</p> +<p>“Don’t be foolish; Trafalgar was not won in the +Cricket-field.”</p> +<p>“No, but it was fought on the Isis or the Cam, I forget +which. But carry the O’Rapley’s theory into +daily life, and test it by common observation, what do you +find? Why, that this round square is by no means a modern +invention. It has been worked in all periods of our +history. Here is a Vicar with a rich benefice, intended by +nature for a Jockey or a Whipper-in—”</p> +<p>“What, the benefice?”</p> +<p>“No, the Vicar! Here is a barrister who ought to +have been a curate, and become enthusiastic over worked slippers: +there is another thrust into a Government appointment, not out of +respect to him, the Minister doesn’t know him, but to serve +a political friend, or to place an investment in the hands of a +political rival, who will return it with interest on a future +day. The gentleman thus provided for at the country’s +expense would, if left to himself, have probably become an +excellent billiard-marker or pigeon-shooter. Here is +another, <!-- page 163--><a name="page163"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 163</span>who, although a member of +Parliament, was elected by no constituency under Heaven or above +it; and it is clear he was intended by Nature for a position +where obsequiousness and servility meet with their appropriate +reward. Another fills the post of some awful Commissioner +of something, drawing an immense salary, and doing an immense +amount of mischief for it, intended naturally for a secretary to +an Autocratic Nobleman, who would trample the rights of the +people under foot. Here is another—”</p> +<p>“O pray, my dear, do not let us have +another—”</p> +<p>“Only one more,” said I; “here is another, +thrust into the Cabinet for being so disagreeable a fellow, who +ought to have been engaged in making fireworks for Crystal Palace +fêtes.”</p> +<p>“But this is only an opinion of yours; how do you know +these gentlemen are not fitted for the posts they occupy? surely +if they do the work—”</p> +<p>“The public would have no right to grumble.”</p> +<p>“And as for obsequiousness and servility, I am afraid +those are epithets too often unjustly applied to those gentlemen +whose courteous demeanour wins them the respect of their +superiors.”</p> +<p>“Quite so,” said I; “and I don’t see +that it matters what is the distinguishing epithet you apply to +them: this courteous demeanour or obsequiousness is no doubt the +very best gift Nature can bestow upon an individual as an outfit +for the voyage of life.”</p> +<p>“Dear me, you were complaining but just now of its +placing men in positions for which they were not +qualified.”</p> +<p>“Not complaining, my love; only remarking. I go in +for obsequiousness, and trust I shall never be found <!-- page +164--><a name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +164</span>wanting in that courteous demeanour towards my +superiors which shall lead to my future profit.”</p> +<p>“But would you have men only courteous?”</p> +<p>“By no means, I would have them talented +also.”</p> +<p>“But in what proportion would you have the one to the +other?”</p> +<p>“I would have the same proportion maintained that exists +between the rudder and the ship: you want just enough tact to +steer your obsequiousness.”</p> +<p>Here again I dozed.</p> +<h2><!-- page 165--><a name="page165"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 165</span>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">A comfortable evening at the Goose</p> +<p>When Mr. Bumpkin left the Mansion House, he was in a state of +great triumph not to say ecstasy: for it seemed to him that he +had had everything his own way. He was not cross-examined; +no witnesses were called, and it had only been stated by the +prisoner himself, not proved, although he said he should prove it +at the trial, that the watch had been in the family for upwards +of forty years.</p> +<p>“The biggest lie,” muttered Master Bumpkin, +“that ever wur told.” And then he reasoned in +this wise: “how could it a bin in his family forty year +when he, Bumpkin, only lost it the day afore in the most +barefaced manner? He was a pooty feller as couldn’t +tell a better story than thic.”</p> +<p>And then methought in my dream, “Ah, Bumpkin, thou +may’st triumph now, but little dreamest thou what is in +store for thee at the trial. Wait till all those little +insignificant points, hardly visible at present, shall rise, like +spear-heads against thee at the Old Bailey and thrust thee +through and through and make thee curse the advocate’s +skill and the thief’s impudence and the inertness of the +so-called Public Prosecutor: and mayhap, I know not yet, show +thee how wrong and robbery may triumph over right and +innocence. Thou <!-- page 166--><a name="page166"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 166</span>hast raised thyself, good Bumpkin, +from the humblest poverty to comparative wealth and a lawsuit: +but boast not overmuch lest thou find Law a taskmaster instead of +a Protector!</p> +<p>Thus, moralizing in my dream I perceived that Mr. Bumpkin +after talking to some men betook himself to a Bus and proceeded +on his way to the “Goose” at Westminster, whither he +arrived in due time and in high spirits.</p> +<p>The Goose was a nice cosy public-house, situated, as I before +observed, near the river side and commanded a beautiful view of +the neighbouring wharves and the passing craft. It was a +favourite resort of waterside men, carters, carriers, labourers +on the wharf and men out of work. The Military also +patronized it:—And many were the jovial tales told around +the taproom hearth by members of Her Majesty’s troops to +admiring and astonished Ignorance.</p> +<p>It was a particularly cold and bleak day, this ninth of March +one thousand eight hundred and something. The wind was due +East and accompanied ever and anon with mighty thick clouds of +sleet and snow. The fireside therefore was particularly +comfortable, and the cheery faces around the hearth were pleasant +to behold.</p> +<p>Now Mr. Bumpkin, as the reader knows, was not alone in his +expedition. He had his witness, named Joseph Wurzel: called +in the village “Cocky,” inasmuch as it was generally +considered that he set much by his wisdom: and was possessed of +considerable attainments. For instance, he could snare a +hare as well as any man in the county: or whistle down pheasants +to partake of a Buckwheat refection which he was in the habit of +spreading for their repast.</p> +<p><!-- page 167--><a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +167</span>A good many fellows who were envious of Joe’s +abilities avowed that “he was a regler cunnin’ +feller, as ud some day find out his mistake;” meaning +thereby that Joe would inevitably be sent to prison. Others +affirmed that he was a good deal too cunning for that; that he +was a regular artful dodger, and knew how to get round the vicar +and all in authority under him. The reader knows that he +was a regular attendant at Church, and by that means was in high +favour. Nor was his mother behind hand in this respect, +especially in the weeks before Christmas; and truly her religion +brought its reward even in this world in the shape of Parish +Gifts.</p> +<p>No doubt Joe was fond of the chase, but in this respect he but +imitated his superiors, except that I believe he occasionally +went beyond them in the means he employed.</p> +<p>Assembled in this common room at the Goose on the night in +question, were a number of persons of various callings and some +of no calling in particular. Most of them were acquainted, +and apparently regular customers. One man in particular +became a great favourite with Joe, and that was Jacob Wideawake +the Birdcatcher; and it was interesting to listen to his +conversation on the means of catching and transforming the London +Sparrow into an article of Commerce.</p> +<p>Joe’s dress no doubt attracted the attention of his +companions when he first made his appearance, for it was +something out of the ordinary style: and certainly one might say +that great care had been bestowed upon him to render his personal +appearance attractive in the witness-box. He wore a +wideawake hat thrown back on his head, thus displaying his brown +country-looking face to full advantage. His coat was a kind +of dark velveteen <!-- page 168--><a name="page168"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 168</span>which had probably seen better days +in the Squire’s family; so had the long drab +waistcoat. His corduroy trousers, of a light green colour, +were hitched up at the knees with a couple of straps as though he +wore his garters outside. His neckerchief was a bright red, +tied round his neck in a careless but not unpicturesque +manner. Take him for all in all he was as fine a specimen +of a country lad as one could wish to meet,—tall, well +built, healthy looking, and even handsome.</p> +<p>Now Mr. Bumpkin, being what is called “a close +man,” and prone to keep his own counsel on all occasions +when it was not absolutely necessary to reveal it, had said +nothing about his case before the Lord Mayor; not even Mrs. +Oldtimes had he taken into his confidence. It is difficult +to understand his motive for such secrecy, as it is impossible to +trace in nine instances out of ten any particular line of human +conduct to its source.</p> +<p>Acting probably on some vague information that he had +received, Mr. Bumpkin looked into the room, and told Joe that he +thought they should be “on” to-morrow. He had +learned the use of that legal term from frequent intercourse with +Mr. Prigg. He thought they should be on but “wur not +sartin.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Joe, “the sooner the +better. I hates this ere hangin’ about.” +At this Jack Outofwork, Tom Lazyman, and Bill Saunter laughed; +while Dick Devilmecare said, “He hated hanging about too; +it was wus than work.”</p> +<p>“And that’s bad enough, Heaven knows,” said +Lazyman.</p> +<p>Then I saw that at this moment entered a fine tall handsome +soldier, who I afterwards learned was Sergeant Goodtale of the +One Hundred and twenty-fourth <!-- page 169--><a +name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +169</span>Hussars. A smarter or more compact looking fellow +it would be impossible to find: and he came in with such a +genial, good-natured smile, that to look at him would almost make +you believe there was no happiness or glory on this side the +grave except in Her Majesty’s service—especially the +Hussars!</p> +<p>I also perceived that fluttering from the side of Sergeant +Goodtale’s cap, placed carelessly and jauntily on the side +of his head, was a bunch of streamers of the most fascinating red +white and blue you ever could behold. Altogether, Sergeant +Goodtale was a splendid sight. Down went his cane on the +table with a crack, as much as to say “The Queen!” +and he marched up to the fire and rubbed his hands: apparently +taking no heed of any human being in the room.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin’s heart leaped when he saw the military +sight: his eyes opened as if he were waking from a dream out of +which he had been disturbed by a cry of “fire:” and +giving Joe a wink and an obviously made-up look, beckoned him out +of the room. As they went out they met a young man, +shabbily clad and apparently poorly fed. He had an +intelligent face, though somewhat emaciated. He might be, +and probably was, a clerk out of employment, and he threw himself +on the seat in a listless manner that plainly said he was tired +of everything.</p> +<p>This was Harry Highlow. He had been brought up with +ideas beyond his means. It was through no fault of his that +he had not been taught a decent trade: those responsible for his +training having been possessed of the notion that manual labour +lowers one’s respectability: an error and a wickedness +which has been responsible for the ruin of many a promising youth +before to-day.</p> +<p><!-- page 170--><a name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +170</span>Harry was an intelligent, fairly educated youth, and +nothing more. What is to be done with raw material so +plentiful as that? The cheapest marketable commodity is an +average education, especially in a country where even our +Universities can supply you with candidates for employment at a +cheaper rate than you can obtain the services of a first-class +cook. This young man had tried everything that was genteel: +he had even aspired to literature: sought employment on the +Press, on the Stage, everywhere in fact where gentility seemed to +reign. Nor do I think he lacked ability for any of these +walks; it was not ability but opportunity that failed him.</p> +<p>“Lookee ere, Joe,” said Mr. Bumpkin; “harken +to me. Don’t thee ’ave nowt to say to that +there soger.”</p> +<p>“All right, maister,” said Joe, laughing; +“thee thinks I be gwine for a soger. Now lookee ere, +maister, I beant a fool.”</p> +<p>“No, thee beant, Joe. I knowed thee a good while, +and thee beant no fool.”</p> +<p>Joe laughed. It was a big laugh was Joe’s, for his +mouth was somewhat large, and a grin always seemed to twist +it. On this occasion, so great was his surprise that his +master should think he would be fool enough to enlist for a +“soger,” that his mouth assumed the most irregular +shape I ever saw, and bore a striking resemblance to a hole such +as might be made in the head of a drum by the heel of a boot.</p> +<p>“I be up to un, maister.”</p> +<p>“Have no truck wi’ un, I tell ee; don’t +speak to un. Thee be my head witness, and doant dare goo +away; no, no more un if—”</p> +<p>“No fear,” said Joe. “’Taint +likely I be gwine to <!-- page 171--><a name="page171"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 171</span>listen to ee. I knows what he +wants; he’s arter listin chaps.”</p> +<p>“Look ee ere, Joe, if ur speaks to thee, jist say I +beant sich a fool as I looks; that’ll ave un.”</p> +<p>“Right,” says Joe; “I beant sich a fool as I +looks; that’ll ave un straight.”</p> +<p>“Now, take heed; I’m gwine into the parlour +wi’ Landlord.”</p> +<p>Accordingly, into the little quiet snuggery of Mr. Oldtimes, +Mr. Bumpkin betook himself. And many and many an agreeable +evening was passed with Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes during the period +when Mr. Bumpkin was waiting for his trial. For Mr. and +Mrs. Oldtimes being Somersetshire people knew many inhabitants of +the old days in the village of Yokelton, where Mr. Bumpkin +“were bred and born’d.”</p> +<p>Meanwhile the “head witness” had returned to the +cheerful scene in the taproom, and sat leering out of the corners +of his eyes upon the Sergeant, as though he expected every moment +that officer would make a spring at him and have him upon the +floor. But the Sergeant was not a bullying, blustering sort +of man at all; his demeanour was quiet in the extreme. He +scarcely looked at anyone. Simply engaged in warming his +hands at the cheerful fire, no one had cause to apprehend +anything from him.</p> +<p>But a man, Sergeant or no Sergeant, must, out of common +civility, exchange a word now and then, if only about the +weather; and so he said, carelessly,—</p> +<p>“Sharp weather, lads!”</p> +<p>Now, not even Joe could disagree with this; it was true, and +was assented to by all; Joe silently acquiescing. After the +Sergeant had warmed his hands and <!-- page 172--><a +name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 172</span>rubbed them +sufficiently, he took off his cap and placed it on a little shelf +or rack; and then took out a meerschaum pipe, which he exhibited +without appearing to do so to the whole company. Then he +filled it from his pouch, and rang the bell; and when the buxom +young waitress appeared, he said,—</p> +<p>“My dear, I think I’ll have a nice rump steak and +some onions, if you please.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” said the maid.</p> +<p>Now I observed that two or three matters were noteworthy at +this point. First, Joe’s mouth so watered that he +actually went to the fireplace and expectorated. Secondly, +he was utterly amazed at the familiar manner in which the +Sergeant was permitted to address this beautiful young person, +who seemed to be quite a lady of quality. Thirdly, he was +duly impressed and astounded with the luxurious appetite of this +Sergeant of Hussars!</p> +<p>Then the young woman came back and said,—“Would +you like to have it in the parlour, sir?”</p> +<p>“O no, my dear,” said the Sergeant; “I would +rather have it here. I hate being alone.”</p> +<p>As he said this, he slightly glanced at Dick +Devilmecare. Dick, flattering himself that the observation +was addressed particularly to him, observed that he also hated +being alone.</p> +<p>Then the Sergeant lighted his pipe; and I suppose there was +not one in the company who did not think that tobacco +particularly nice.</p> +<p>Next, the Sergeant rang again, and once more the pretty maid +appeared.</p> +<p>“Lucy,” said he, “while my steak is getting +ready, I <!-- page 173--><a name="page173"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 173</span>think I’ll have three of +whiskey hot, with a little lemon in it.”</p> +<p>At this there was an involuntary smacking of lips all round, +although no one was conscious he had exhibited any emotion. +The Sergeant was perfectly easy and indifferent to +everything. He smoked, looked at the fire, sipped his grog, +spread out his legs, folded his arms; then rose and turned his +back to the fire, everyone thinking how thoroughly he enjoyed +himself.</p> +<p>“That smells very nice, Sergeant,” said Harry.</p> +<p>“Yes, it’s very good,” said the Sergeant; +“it’s some I got down at Yokelton, +Somersetshire.”</p> +<p>Here Joe looked up; he hadn’t been home for a week, and +began to feel some interest in the old place, and everything +belonging to it.</p> +<p>“I comes from that ere place, Mr. Sergeant,” said +he.</p> +<p>“Indeed, sir,” said the Sergeant, in an off-hand +manner.</p> +<p>“Did thee buy un at a shop by the Pond, sir?”</p> +<p>“That’s it,” replied the Sergeant, pointing +with his pipe, “to the right.”</p> +<p>“The seame plaace,” exclaimed Joe. +“Why my sister lives there sarvant wi that ooman as keeps +the shop.”</p> +<p>“Indeed!” said Sergeant Goodtale; “how very +curious!”</p> +<p>And Jack said, “What a rum thing!”</p> +<p>And Bill said, “That is a rum thing!”</p> +<p>And Harry said it was a strange coincidence. In short, +they all agreed that it was the most remarkable circumstance that +ever was.</p> +<h2><!-- page 175--><a name="page175"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 175</span>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The subject continued.</p> +<p>As soon as the conversation on the remarkable circumstance +recorded in the last chapter had drifted into another subject no +less remarkable, and the Sergeant had finished his pipe, the +beautiful being appeared with the rump steak and onions, a snowy +white cloth having been previously spread at the end of one of +the tables. When all was ready, it looked as nice and +appetizing as could well be conceived. The most indifferent +man there seemed the Sergeant himself, who, instead of rushing to +the chair provided for him, walked as coolly up to the table as +though he were going into action. Then he took the knife, +and seeing it had not quite so sharp an edge as he liked, gave it +a touch or two on the stone hearth.</p> +<p>The smell of that tobacco from Yokelton had been sweet; so had +the perfume from the whiskey toddy and the lemon; but of all the +delicious and soul-refreshing odours that ever titilated human +nostrils, nothing surely could equal that which proceeded from +the rump steak and onions. The fragrance of new mown hay, +which Cowper has so beautifully mentioned, had palled on +Joe’s senses; but when would the fragrance of that dish +pall on the hungry soul?</p> +<p>The Sergeant took no notice of the hungry looks of <!-- page +176--><a name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +176</span>the company; he was a soldier, and concentrated his +mind upon the duties of the moment. Sentimentality was no +part of his nature. He was a man, and must eat; he was a +soldier, and must perform the work as a duty irrespective of +consequences.</p> +<p>“Do you mind my smoke?” asked Harry.</p> +<p>“Oh dear, no,” said the Sergeant; “I like +it.”</p> +<p>Joe stared and watched every bit as the Sergeant cut it. +He looked admiringly on the soldier and so lovingly at the steak, +that it almost seemed as if he wished he could be cut into such +delicious morsels and eaten by so happy a man. What +thoughts passed through his mind no one but a dreamer could tell; +and this is what I saw passing through the mind of Wurzel.</p> +<p>“O, what a life! what grub! what jollyness! no turmut +oeing; no dung-cart; no edgin and ditchin; no five o’clock +in the mornin; no master; no bein sweared at; no up afore the +magistrates; no ungriness; rump steaks and inguns; whiskey and +water and bacca; if I didn’t like that air Polly Sweetlove, +danged if I wouldn’t go for a soger to-morrer!”</p> +<p>Then said Joe, very deferentially and as if he were afraid of +being up afore the magistrate, “If you please, sir, med I +have a bit o’ that there bacca?”</p> +<p>“Of course,” said the Sergeant, tossing his pouch; +“certainly; help yourself.”</p> +<p>Joe’s heart was softened more and more towards the +military, which he had hitherto regarded, from all he could hear, +as a devil’s own trap to catch Sabbath breakers and +disobedient to parents.</p> +<p>And methought, in my dream, I never saw men who were not +partakers of a feast enjoy it more than the onlookers of that +military repast.</p> +<p><!-- page 177--><a name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +177</span>Then said Harry,—</p> +<p>“Well, Sergeant, I’m well-nigh tired of my life, +and I’ve come here to enlist.”</p> +<p>“Just wait a bit,” said the Sergeant; +“I’m not a man to do things in a hurry. I never +allow a man to enlist, if I know it, in Her Majesty’s +service, honourable and jolly as it is, without asking him to +think about it.”</p> +<p>“Hear, hear!” said Lazyman; “that’s +good, I likes that; don’t be in a hurry, lad.”</p> +<p>“Hear, hear!” says Outofwork, “don’t +jump into a job too soon, yer medn’t like it.”</p> +<p>“Hear, hear!” says the Boardman, “walk round +a-bit.”</p> +<p>“But,” said Harry, “I have considered +it. I’ve just had education enough to prevent my +getting a living, and not enough to make a man of me: I’ve +tried everything and nobody wants me.”</p> +<p>“Then,” said Sergeant Goodtale, “do you +think the Queen only wants them that nobody else’ll +have. I can tell you that ain’t the Queen of +England’s way. It might do for Rooshia or Germany, or +them countries, but not for Old England. It’s a free +country. I think, lads, I’m right—”</p> +<p>Here there was tremendous hammering on the table by way of +assent and applause; amidst which Joe could be observed thumping +his hard fist with as much vehemence as if he had got a County +Magistrate’s head under it.</p> +<p>“This is a free country, sir,” said the Sergeant, +“no man here is kidnapped into the Army, which is a +profession for men, not slaves.”</p> +<p>“I’m going to join,” said Harry, “say +what you like.”</p> +<p><!-- page 178--><a name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +178</span>“Wait till the morning;” said the Sergeant, +“and meanwhile we’ll have a song.”</p> +<p>At this moment Mr. Bumpkin put in an appearance; for although +he had been enjoying himself with Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes, he +thought it prudent to have a peep and see how “thic Joe wur +gettin on.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 179--><a name="page179"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 179</span>CHAPTER XX.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Mr. Bumpkin sings a good old song—the +Sergeant becomes quite a convivial companion and plays +dominoes.</p> +<p>The Sergeant, having finished his repast, again had recourse +to his pipe, and was proceeding to light it when Mr. Bumpkin +appeared in the room.</p> +<p>“We be gwine to have a song, maister,” said +Joe.</p> +<p>“Give us a song, governor,” said half-a-dozen +voices.</p> +<p>“Ay, do, maister,” says Joe; “thee sings a +good un, I knows, for I ha eerd thee often enough at arvest +oames: gie us a song, maister.”</p> +<p>Now if there was one thing Mr. Bumpkin thought he was really +great at besides ploughing the straightest and levellest furrow, +it was singing the longest and levellest song. He had been +known to sing one, which, with its choruses, had lasted a full +half hour, and then had broken down for lack of memory.</p> +<p>On the present occasion he would have exhibited no reluctance, +having had a glass or two in the Bar Parlour had he not possessed +those misgivings about the Sergeant. He looked furtively at +that officer as though it were better to give him no +chance. Seeing, however, that he was smoking quietly, and +almost in a forlorn manner by himself, his apprehensions became +less oppressive.</p> +<p><!-- page 180--><a name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +180</span>Invitations were repeated again and again, and with +such friendly vehemence that resistance at last was out of the +question.</p> +<p>“I aint sung for a good while,” said he, +“but I wunt be disagreeable like, so here goes.”</p> +<p>But before he could start there was such a thundering on the +tables that several minutes elapsed. At length there was +sufficient silence to enable him to be heard.</p> +<p>“This is Church and Crown, lads.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Gie me the man as loves the Squire,<br +/> +The Parson, and the Beak;<br /> +And labours twelve good hours a day<br /> +For thirteen bob a week!”</p> +<p>“Hooroar! hooroar! hooroar!” shouted +Lazyman. “What d’ye think ’o +that?”</p> +<p>“O, my eye,” said Outofwork, “aint it +jolly?”</p> +<p>“Well done! bravo!” shrieked the Boardman. +“I’ll carry that ere man through the streets on my +shoulders instead o’ the boards, that I will. Bravo! +he ought to be advertized—this style thirteen bob a +week!”</p> +<p>“Thirteen bob a week!” laughed Harry; +“who’d go for a soldier with such a prospect. +Can you give us a job, governor?”</p> +<p>“Wait a bit, lads,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “there +be another werse and then a chorus.”</p> +<p>“Hooray!” they shouted, “a chorus! +let’s have the chorus—there ought to be a +chorus—thirteen bob a week!”</p> +<p>“Now, gentlemen, the chorus if you please,” said +Harry; “give it mouth, sir!”</p> +<p>Then sang Bumpkin—</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 181--><a name="page181"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 181</span>“O ’edgin, ditchin, +that’s the geaam,<br /> + All in the open air;<br /> +The poor man’s health is all his wealth,<br /> + But wealth without a care!</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">Chorus</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then shout hurrah for Church and State<br /> + Though ’eretics may scoff,<br /> +The devil is our head Constable,<br /> + To take the willins off.</p> +<p class="poetry">Give me the man that’s poor and +strong,<br /> + Hard working and content;<br /> +Who looks on onger as his lot,<br /> + In Heaven’s wise purpose sent.<br /> +Who looks on riches as a snare<br /> + To ketch the worldly wise;<br /> +And good roast mutton as a dodge,<br /> + To blind rich people’s eyes.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">Chorus</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Give me the man that labours hard<br /> + From mornin’ until night,<br /> +And looks at errins as a treat<br /> + And bacon a delight.<br /> +O ’edgin, ditchin, diggin drains,<br /> + And emptyin pool and dyke,<br /> +It beats your galloppin to ’ounds,<br /> + Your ball-rooms and the like.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">Chorus</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Gi’ me the man that loves the Squire<br +/> + With all his might and main;<br /> +And with the taxes and the rates<br /> + As never racks his brain.<br /> +Who loves the Parson and the Beak<br /> + As Heaven born’d and sent,<br /> +And revels in that blessed balm<br /> + A hongry sweet content.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">Chorus</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 182--><a name="page182"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 182</span>Gie me the good Shaksperan man<br /> + As wants no other books,<br /> +But them as he no need to spell,<br /> + The ever runnin brooks:<br /> +As feeds the pigs and minds the flocks,<br /> + And rubs the orses down;<br /> +And like a regler lyal man,<br /> + Sticks up for Church and Crown.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">Chorus</span>.</p> +<p>At the termination of this pastoral song there was such a +hullabaloo of laughter, such a yelling, thumping, and, I grieve +to say, swearing, that Mr. Bumpkin wondered what on earth was the +occasion of it. At the Rent dinner at the Squire’s he +had always sung it with great success; and the Squire himself had +done him the honour to say it was the best song he had ever +heard, while the Clergyman had assured him that the sentiments +were so good that it ought to be played upon the organ when the +people were coming out of church. And Farmer Grinddown, who +was the largest gentleman farmer for miles around, had declared +that if men would only act up to that it would be a happy +country, and we should soon be able to defy America itself.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin, hearing such shouts of laughter, thought perhaps +he might have a patch of black on his face, and put his hand up +to feel. Then he looked about him to see if his dress was +disarranged; but finding nothing amiss, he candidly told them he +“couldn’t zee what there wur to laugh at thic +fashion.”</p> +<p>They all said it was a capital song, and wondered if he had +any more of the same sort, and hoped he’d leave them a lock +of his hair—and otherwise manifested tokens of enthusiastic +approbation.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin, however, could not quite see their <!-- page +183--><a name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +183</span>mirth in the same light, so he turned on his heel and, +beckoning to Joe, left the room in high dudgeon, not to say +disdain.</p> +<p>“Mind Joe—no truck wi un.”</p> +<p>“Why, maister, he knows my sister.”</p> +<p>“Damn thee sister, Joe; it be a lie.”</p> +<p>“Be it? here’s some o’ the bacca he brought +up from Okleton, I tell ee.”</p> +<p>“I tell thee, have nowt to do wi un; we shall be on +t’morrer, we be tenth in the list.”</p> +<p>“Ay,” said Joe, “we bin igher in list un +thic, we bin as near as eight; I shall be mighty glad when it be +over.”</p> +<p>“An get back to pigs, aye, Joe?”</p> +<p>“Aye, maister.”</p> +<p>“Nothin like oame, Joe, be there?” and Mr. Bumpkin +turned away.</p> +<p>“No,” said Joe; “no, maister, if so +be” (and this was spoken to himself) “if so be you +got a oame.”</p> +<p>Then I saw that Joe rejoined his companions, amongst whom a +conversation was going on as to the merits of the song. +Some said one thing and some another, but all condemned it as a +regular toading to the Parson and the Squire: and as for the +Beak, how any man could praise him whose only duty was to punish +the common people, no one could see. The company were +getting very comfortable. The Sergeant had called for +another glass of that delectable grog whose very perfume seemed +to inspire everyone with goodfellowship, and they all appeared to +enjoy the Sergeant’s liquor without tasting it.</p> +<p>“What do you say to a game of dominoes?” said +Harry.</p> +<p>“They won’t allow em ere,” said Lazyman.</p> +<p><!-- page 184--><a name="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +184</span>“Won’t they,” answered +Outofwork. “I’ll warrant if the Sergeant likes +to play there’s no landlord’ll stop him, ay, +Sergeant?”</p> +<p>“Well, I believe,” said the Sergeant, “as +one of the Queen’s servants, I have the privilege of +playing when I like.”</p> +<p>“Good,” said Harry, “and I’ll be a +Queen’s man too, so out with the shilling, +Sergeant.”</p> +<p>“Wait till the morning,” said the Sergeant.</p> +<p>“No,” said Harry. “I’ve had +enough waiting. I’m on, give me the +shilling.”</p> +<p>The Sergeant said, “Well, let me see, what height are +you?” and he stood up beside him.</p> +<p>“Ah!” he said, “I think I can get you +in,” saying which he gave him a shilling; such a bright +coin, that it seemed to have come fresh from the Queen’s +hand.</p> +<p>Then the Sergeant took out some beautiful bright ribbons which +he was understood to say (but did <i>not</i> say) the Queen had +given him that morning. Then he rang the bell, and the +buxom waitress appearing he asked for the favour of a needle and +thread, which, the radiant damsel producing, with her own fair +fingers she sewed the ribbons on to Harry’s cap, smiling +with admiration all the while. Even this little incident +was not without its effect on the observant “head +witness,” and he felt an unaccountable fascination to have +the same office performed by the same fair hands on his own +hat.</p> +<p>Then, without saying more, a box of dominoes was produced, and +Joe soon found himself, he did not know how, the Sergeant’s +partner, while Lazyman and Outofwork were opposed to them.</p> +<p>“Is it pooty good livin in your trade, Mr. +Sergeant?” asked Joe.</p> +<p><!-- page 185--><a name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +185</span>“Not bad,” said the Sergeant; “that +is five-one, I think”—referring to the play.</p> +<p>“Rump steaks and ingons aint bad living,” said +Outofwork.</p> +<p>“No,” said the Sergeant, “and there’s +nothing I like better than a good thick mutton chop for +breakfast—let me see, what’s the game?”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Joe, smacking his lips, “mutton +chops is the best thing out; I aint had one in my mouth, though, +for a doocid long time; I likes em with plenty o’ fat an +gravy loike.”</p> +<p>“You see,” said the Sergeant, “when +you’ve been out for a two or three mile ride before +breakfast in the fresh country air, a chap wants something good +for breakfast, and a mutton chop’s none too much for +him.”</p> +<p>“No,” answered Joe, “I could tackle +three.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Sergeant Goodtale, “but some are +much larger than others.”</p> +<p>“So em be,” agreed Joe.</p> +<p>“What’s the game,” enquired the +Sergeant.</p> +<p>“Two-one,” said Joe.</p> +<p>“One’s all,” said the soldier.</p> +<p>“I tell ee what,” remarked Joe, “if I was +going to list, there’s no man as I’d liefer list wi +than you, Mr. Sergeant.”</p> +<p>“Domino!” said the Sergeant, “that’s +one to us, partner!”</p> +<p>Then they shuffled the dominoes and commenced again. But +at this moment the full figure of Mr. Bumpkin again stood in the +doorway.</p> +<p>“Joe!” he exclaimed angrily, “I want thee, +come ere thirecly, I tell ee!”</p> +<p>“Yes, maister; I be comin.”</p> +<p><!-- page 186--><a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +186</span>“You stoopid fool!” said Mr. Bumpkin in a +whisper, as Joe went up to him, “thee be playin with thic +feller.”</p> +<p>“Well, maister, if I be; what then?” Joe said this +somewhat angrily, and Mr. Bumpkin replied:—</p> +<p>“He’ll ha thee, Joe—he’ll ha +thee!”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, maister; I be too old in the tooth for he; +but it beant thy business, maister.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Bumpkin, as he turned away, “it +beant.”</p> +<p>Then Joe resumed his play. Now it happened that as the +Sergeant smacked his lips when he took his occasional sip of the +fragrant grog, expressive of the highest relish, it awakened a +great curiosity in Wurzel’s mind as to its particular +flavour. The glass was never far from his nose and he had +long enjoyed the extremely tempting odour. At last, as he +was not invited to drink by Sergeant Goodtale, he could contain +himself no longer, but made so bold as to say:—</p> +<p>“Pardner, med I jist taste this ere? I never did +taste sich a thing.”</p> +<p>“Certainly, partner,” said the Sergeant, pushing +the tumbler, which was about three-parts full. +“What’s the game now?”</p> +<p>“Ten-one,” said Outofwork.</p> +<p>“One’s all, then,” said the Sergeant.</p> +<p>Joe took the tumbler, and after looking into it for a second +or two as though he were mentally apostrophizing it, placed the +glass to his lips.</p> +<p>“Don’t be afraid,” said the Sergeant.</p> +<p>No one seemed more courageous than Wurzel, in respect of the +act with which he was engaged, and before he took the glass from +his lips its contents had disappeared.</p> +<p>“I’m mighty glad thee spoke, Maister Sergeant, for +if <!-- page 187--><a name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +187</span>thee hadn’t I should a drunk un all wirout thy +leave. I never tasted sich tackle in my life; it’s +enough to make a man gie up everything for sogering.”</p> +<p>“Domino!” said the Sergeant. “I think +that’s the game!”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>“My dear,” said my wife, “you have been +talking again in your sleep.”</p> +<p>“Really,” said I, “I hope I have not +compromised myself.”</p> +<p>“I do not understand you,” cried she.</p> +<p>“No more do I, for I am hardly awake.”</p> +<p>“You have been talking of Joe Wurzel again.”</p> +<p>“O, to be sure. What about him?”</p> +<p>“Then you mentioned Mr. Outofwork and Mr. Lazyman and +Mr. Devilmecare, and another whose name I did not +catch.”</p> +<p>“Ah,” I asked, “did they go for +soldiers?”</p> +<p>“At present, no, except Harry, for whom I was heartily +sorry, he seemed such a nice disappointed lad. But pray who +is this Sergeant Goodtale?”</p> +<p>“He is on recruiting service, a very fine, persuasive +fellow.”</p> +<p>“But he didn’t seem to press these people or use +any arts to entice them: I like him for that. He rather +seemed to me to discourage them from enlisting. He might +have been sure poor Harry meant it, because, as I take it, he was +half-starved, and yet he desired him to wait till the +morning.”</p> +<p>“I think,” said I, “his conduct was artful +if you examine it with reference to its effect on the others; but +he is an extraordinary man, this Sergeant Goodtale—was +never known to persuade any one to enlist, I believe.”</p> +<p><!-- page 188--><a name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +188</span>“But he seemed to get along very well.”</p> +<p>“Very; I thought he got along very +comfortably.”</p> +<p>“Then there was one Lucy Prettyface!”</p> +<p>“Ah, I don’t remember her,” cried I, alarmed +lest I might have said anything in my dream for which I was not +responsible.</p> +<p>“Why she was the girl who sewed the colours on and +somebody called ‘my dear.’”</p> +<p>“I assure you,” I said, “it was not I: it +must have been the Sergeant; but I have no recollection—O +yes, to be sure, she was the waitress.”</p> +<p>“You remember her now?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said I, determined not to yield if I could +possibly help it, “I can’t say that I do. I +know there was a person who sewed colours on and whom the +Sergeant called ‘my dear,’ but further than that I +should not like to pledge myself. Yes—yes—to be +sure,” and here I went on talking, as it were, to myself, +for I find it is much better to talk to yourself if you find it +difficult to carry on a conversation with other persons.</p> +<p>“She was pretty, wasn’t she?” said my wife +with an arch look.</p> +<p>I gave her a look just as arch, as I replied,</p> +<p>“Really I hardly looked at her; but I should say +<i>not</i>.” I make a point of never saying any one +is pretty.</p> +<p>“Joe thought her so.”</p> +<p>“Did he? Well she may have been, but I never went +in for Beauty myself.”</p> +<p>“You shocking man,” said my wife, “do you +perceive what you are saying?”</p> +<p>“Why, of course; but you take me up so sharply: if you +had not cut me off in the flower of my speech you would have been +gratified at the finish of my sentence. <!-- page 189--><a +name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 189</span>I was going +to say, I never went in for Beauty, but once. That, I +think, gives the sentence a pretty turn.”</p> +<p>“Well, now, I think these dreams and this talking in +your sleep indicate that you require a change; what do you say to +Bournemouth?”</p> +<p>“You think I shall sleep better there?”</p> +<p>“I think it will do you good.”</p> +<p>“Then we’ll go to Bournemouth,” cried I, +“for I understand it’s a very dreamy +place.”</p> +<p>“But I should like to know what becomes of this action +of Mr. Bumpkin, and how all his people get on? You may +depend upon it that Sergeant will enlist those other +men.”</p> +<p>“I do not know,” I remarked, “what is in the +future.”</p> +<p>“But surely you know what you intend. You can make +your characters do anything.”</p> +<p>“Indeed not,” I said. “They will have +their own way whether I write their history or any one +else.”</p> +<p>“That Sergeant Goodtale will have every one of them, my +dear; you mark my words. He’s the most artful man I +ever heard of.”</p> +<p>Of course I could offer no contradiction to this statement as +I was not in the secrets of the future. How the matter will +work out depends upon a variety of circumstances over which I +have not the least control. For instance, if Bill were to +take the shilling, I believe Dick would follow: and if the +Sergeant were to sing a good song he might catch the rest. +But who can tell?</p> +<h2><!-- page 191--><a name="page191"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 191</span>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Joe electrifies the company and surprises the +reader.</p> +<p>“Suppose we have another song,” said Sergeant +Goodtale.</p> +<p>“And spoase we has some moore o’ that there +stuff,” answered Joe.</p> +<p>“Aye,” said Harry, “we will too. +I’ll spend my shilling like a man.”</p> +<p>Saying which he rang the bell and ordered a glass for himself +and one for Joe.</p> +<p>“Now, then,” said the latter, “I can’t +sing, but I’ll gie thee summut as I larned.”</p> +<p>“Hooray!” said Harry, “summut as he +larned!”</p> +<p>“Bravo!” said the Boardman, “summut as he +larned?”</p> +<p>“Here’s at un,” said Joe.</p> +<p>And then with a mighty provincialism he repeated without a +break:—</p> +<h3>DR. BRIMSTONE’S SERMON,<br /> +<span class="smcap">as put into verse by gaffer +ditcher</span>.</h3> +<p class="poetry">I bin to Church, I ha’, my boy,<br /> + And now conwarted be;<br /> +The last time I wur ever there<br /> + War eighteen farty-three!</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 192--><a name="page192"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 192</span>And ’ow I knows it is as +this,<br /> + I didn’t goo to pray,<br /> +Nor ’ear the Word, but went becorse<br /> + It wur my weddin day!</p> +<p class="poetry">Zounds! wot a blessed sarmon twur<br /> + I ’eeard the Sabbath morn;<br /> +’Ow I a woful sinner wur<br /> + Or ever I wur born.</p> +<p class="poetry">You sees them wilful igorant pigs<br /> + In mud a wollorin;<br /> +Well, like them pigs, but ten times wus,<br /> + We wollers in our sin.</p> +<p class="poetry">We’re coated o’er wi’ sinful +mud,—<br /> + A dreadful sight we be;<br /> +And yet we doant despise ourselves—<br /> + For why?—We doant zee!</p> +<p class="poetry">I thinks I had yer there, my boy,<br /> + For all your sniggerin’ jeers;<br /> +Thee’re in t’ mud, I tell ’ee, lad,<br /> + Rightoover ’ed an’ ears.</p> +<p class="poetry">Zounds! what a orful thing it be<br /> + That love should blind us so!<br /> +Why, them there bloomin rosy cheeks<br /> + Be ony masks o’ woe!</p> +<p class="poetry">The reddest on ’em thee could kiss<br /> + Aint ’ardly wuth the pains;<br /> +At best it’s but the husk o’ bliss,<br /> + It’s nuther wuts nor banes.</p> +<p class="poetry">There aint a pleasure you can name,<br /> + From coourtin down to skittles,<br /> +But wot there’s mischief in the same,<br /> + Like pisen in your wittles.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Reverend Brimstone says, “Beloved,<br +/> + Be allays meek an umble;<br /> +A saint should never ax for moor,<br /> + An never larn to grumble.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 193--><a name="page193"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 193</span>We ain’t to tork o’ +polleticks<br /> + An’ things as don’t consarn us,<br /> +And wot we wornts to know o’ lor<br /> + The madgistret will larn us.</p> +<p class="poetry">We ain’t to drink wi’ +Methodists,<br /> + No, not a friendly soop;<br /> +We ain’t to tork o’ genteel folks<br /> + Onless to praise un oop.</p> +<p class="poetry">We ain’t to ’ear a blessed word<br +/> + Agin our betters said;<br /> +We’re got to lay the butter thick<br /> + Becorse they’re sich ’igh bred!</p> +<p class="poetry">We got to say “Ha! look at he!<br /> + A gemman tooth and nail!”<br /> +You morn’t say, “What a harse he’d be<br /> + If he’d a got a tail!”</p> +<p class="poetry">For why? becorse these monied gents<br /> + Ha’ got sich birth an’ +breedin’;<br /> +An’ down we got to ’old our ’eads,<br /> + Like cattle, when they’re feedin’.</p> +<p class="poetry">The parson put it kindly like—<br /> + He sed, says he, as ’ow<br /> +We’re bean’t so good as them there grubs<br /> + We turns up wi’ the plow.</p> +<p class="poetry">There’s nowt more wretcheder an we,<br /> + Or worthier an the rich,<br /> +I praises ’em for bein’ born,<br /> + An’ ’eaven for makin’ sich.</p> +<p class="poetry">So wile we be, I daily stares<br /> + That earthquakes doan’t fall,<br /> +An’ swaller up this unconwinced<br /> + Owdashus earthly ball!</p> +<p class="poetry">An’ wen I thinks of all our +sins—<br /> + Lay down, says I, my boys,<br /> +We’re fittin’ only for manoor,<br /> + So don’t let’s make a noise.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 194--><a name="page194"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 194</span>Let’s spred us out upon the +ground<br /> + An’ make the turmuts grow,<br /> +It’s all we’re good for in this world<br /> + O’ wickedness an’ woe!</p> +<p class="poetry">And yet we’re ’llow’d to +brethe the air<br /> + The same as gents from town;<br /> +And ’llow’d to black their ’appy boots,<br /> + And rub their ’orses down!</p> +<p class="poetry">To think o’ blessins sich as these,<br /> + Is like ongrateful lust;<br /> +It stuffs us oop wi’ worldly pride,<br /> + As if our ’arts would bust!</p> +<p class="poetry">But no, we’re ’umble got to be,<br +/> + Though privileged so ’igh:<br /> +Why doan’t we feed on grass or grains,<br /> + Or leastways ’umbly die!</p> +<p class="poetry">We got to keep our wicked tongue<br /> + From disrespeckful speakin’,<br /> +We han’t a got to eat too much,<br /> + Nor yet goo pleasure seekin’.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nor kitch a rabbit or a aire,<br /> + Nor call the Bobby names,<br /> +Nor stand about, but goo to church,<br /> + And play no idle games:</p> +<p class="poetry">To love paroshial orficers,<br /> + The squire, and all that’s his,<br /> +And never goo wi’ idle chaps<br /> + As wants their wages riz.</p> +<p class="poetry">So now conwarted I ha’ bin<br /> + From igorance and wice;<br /> +It’s only ’appiness that’s sin,<br /> + And norty things that’s nice!</p> +<p class="poetry">Whereas I called them upstart gents<br /> + The wust o’ low bred snobs,<br /> +Wi’ contrite ’art I hollers out<br /> + “My heye, wot bloomin’ nobs!”</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 195--><a name="page195"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 195</span>I sees the error o’ my +ways,<br /> + So, lads, this warnin’ take,<br /> +The Poor Man’s path, the parson says,<br /> + Winds round the Burnin’ Lake.</p> +<p class="poetry">They’ve changed it since the days +o’ yore,<br /> + Them Gospel preachers, drat un;<br /> +They used to preach it to the poor,<br /> + An’ now they preach it <i>at</i> un.</p> +<p>Every one was amazed at the astonishing memory of this country +lad: and the applause that greeted the reciter might well be +calculated to awaken his latent vanity. It was like being +called before the curtain after the first act by a young actor on +his first appearance. And I believe every one understood +the meaning of the verses, which seemed to imply that the hungry +prodigal, famishing for food, was fed with husks instead of +grain. Contentment with wretchedness is not good preaching, +and this was one lesson of Dr. Brimstone’s sermon. As +soon as Harry could make himself heard amidst the general hubbub, +which usually follows a great performance, he said:—</p> +<p>“Now, look here, lads, it’s all very well to be +converted with such preaching as that; but it’s my belie +it’s more calculated to make hypocrites than +Christians.”</p> +<p>“Hear! hear!” said Lazyman. “That +<i>is</i> right.” Anything but conversion for +Lazyman.</p> +<p>“Now,” continued Harry, “I’ve heard +that kind of preaching a hundred times: it’s a regular +old-fashioned country sermon; and, as for the poor being so near +hell, I put it in these four lines.”</p> +<p>“Hear, hear!” cried the company; +“order!”</p> +<p>And they prepared themselves for what was to come with as +great eagerness as, I venture to say, would <!-- page 196--><a +name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 196</span>always be +shown to catch the text, if it came at the end, instead of the +beginning, of a sermon.</p> +<p>“Shut up,” says Lazyman; “let’s +’ear this ’ere. I knows it’s summut good +by the look an him.”</p> +<p>“Don’t make a row,” retorts the Boardman; +“who can hear anything while you keeps on like +that?”</p> +<p>And there they stood, actually suspending the operation of +smoking as they waited the summing up of this remarkably orthodox +“preaching of the word.” The sergeant only was +a spectator of the scene, and much amused did he seem at the +faces that prepared for a grin or a sneer as the forthcoming +utterance should demand. Then said Harry solemnly and +dramatically:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“In <span class="smcap">Want</span> full +many a vice is born,<br /> + And Virtue in a <span +class="smcap">Dinner</span>;<br /> +A well-spread board makes many a <span +class="smcap">Saint</span>,<br /> + And <span class="smcap">Hunger</span> many a +sinner.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>From the explosion which followed this antidote to Mr. +Brimstone’s sermon, I should judge that the more part of +the company believed that Poverty was almost as ample a virtue as +Charity itself. They shook their heads in token of assent; +they thumped the table in recognition of the soundness of the +teaching; and several uttered an exclamation not to be committed +to paper, as an earnest of their admiration for the ability of +Mr. Highlow, who, instead of being a private soldier, ought, in +their judgment, to be Lord Mayor of London. After this +recital every one said he thought Mr. Highlow might oblige +them.</p> +<p>“Well, I’m no singer,” said Harry.</p> +<p>“Try, Harry!” exclaimed Lazyman: he was a rare one +to advise other people to try.</p> +<p><!-- page 197--><a name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +197</span>“Trying to sing when you can’t,” +answered Harry, “I should think is a rum sort of business; +but I’ll tell you what I’ll do if you like. +When I was down at Hearne Bay I heard an old fisherman tell a +story which—”</p> +<p>“That’s it!” thumped out Joe, “a +story. I likes a good story, specially if there be a goast +in it.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know what there is in it,” said +Harry, “I’ll leave you to make that out; but I tell +you what I did when I heard it, I made a ballad of it, and so if +you like I’ll try and recollect it.”</p> +<p>“Bravo!” they said, and Harry gave them the +following</p> +<h3>SONG OF THE WAVES.</h3> +<p class="poetry">Far away on the pebbly beach<br /> + That echoes the sound of the surge;<br /> +As if they were gifted with speech,<br /> + The breakers will sing you a dirge.</p> +<p class="poetry">The fishermen list to it oft,<br /> + And love the sweet charm of its spell,<br /> +For sometimes it wispers so soft,<br /> + It seems but the voice of the shell.</p> +<p class="poetry">It tells of a beautiful child<br /> + That used to come down there and play,<br /> +And shout to the surges so wild<br /> + That burst on the brink of the bay.</p> +<p class="poetry">She was but a child of the poor,<br /> + Whose father had perished at sea;<br /> +’Twas strange, that sweet psalm of the shore,<br /> + Whatever the story might be!</p> +<p class="poetry">Yes, strange, but so true in its tone<br /> + That no one could listen and doubt;<br /> +The heart must be calm and alone<br /> + To search its deep mystery out.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 198--><a name="page198"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 198</span>She came with a smaller than she<br +/> + That toddled along at her side;<br /> +Now ran to and fled from the sea,<br /> + Now paddled its feet in the tide.</p> +<p class="poetry">Afar o’er the waters so wild,<br /> + Grazed Effie with wondering eye;<br /> +What mystery grew on the child<br /> + In all that bright circle of sky?</p> +<p class="poetry">Her father—how sweet was the thought!<br +/> + Was linked with this childish delight;<br /> +’Twas strange what a vision it brought—<br /> + As though he still lingered in sight.</p> +<p class="poetry">Was it Heaven so near, so remote,<br /> + Across the blue line of the wave?<br /> +’Twas thither he sailed in his boat,<br /> + ’Twas there he went down in his grave!</p> +<p class="poetry">So the days and the hours flew along,<br /> + Like swallows that skim o’er the flood;<br /> +Like the sound of a beautiful song,<br /> + That echoes and dies in the wood!</p> +<p class="poetry">One day as they strayed on the strand,<br /> + And played with the shingle and shell,<br /> +A boat that just touched on the land<br /> + Was playfully rocked by the swell.</p> +<p class="poetry">O childhood, what joy in a ride!<br /> + What eagerness beams in their eyes!<br /> +What bliss as they climb o’er the side<br /> + And shout as they tumble and rise!</p> +<p class="poetry">O sea, with thy pitiful dirge,<br /> + Thou need’st to be mournful and moan!<br /> +The wrath of thy terrible surge<br /> + Omnipotence curbs it alone!</p> +<p class="poetry">The boat bore away from the shore,<br /> + The laughter of childhood so glad!<br /> +And the breakers bring back ever more<br /> + The dirge with its echo so sad!</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 199--><a name="page199"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 199</span>A widow sits mute on the beach,<br +/> + And ever the tides as they flow,<br /> +As if they were gifted with speech,<br /> + Repeat the sad tale of her woe!</p> +<p>“That’s werry good,” said the +Boardman. “I’m afraid them there children was +washed away—it’s a terrible dangerous coast that ere +Ern Bay. I’ve ’eeard my father speak on +it.”</p> +<p>“Them there werses is rippin’!” said +Joe.</p> +<p>“Stunnin’!” exclaimed Bob.</p> +<p>And so they all agreed that it was a pretty song and +“well put together.”</p> +<p>“Capital,” said the sergeant, “I never heard +anything better, and as for Mr. Wurzel, a man with his memory +ought to do something better than feed pigs.”</p> +<p>“Ay, aye,” said the company to a man.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you follow my example?” said +Harry; “it’s the finest life in the world for a young +fellow.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said the sergeant, “that all +depends; its very good for some, for others not so +good—although there are very few who are not pleased when +they once join, especially in such a regiment as ours!”</p> +<p>“And would you mind telling me, sir,” asked +Outofwork, “what sort of chaps it don’t +suit?”</p> +<p>“Well, you see, chaps that have been brought up in the +country and tied to their mothers’ apron strings all their +life: they have such soft hearts, they are almost sure to +cry—and a crying soldier is a poor affair. I +wouldn’t enlist a chap of that sort, no, not if he gave me +ten pounds. Now, for instance, if Mr. Wurzel was to ask my +advice about being a soldier I should say +‘don’t!’”</p> +<p><!-- page 200--><a name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +200</span>“Why not, sir?” asked Joe; +“how’s that there, then? D’ye think I be +afeard?”</p> +<p>“I should say, go home first, my boy, and ask your +mother!”</p> +<p>“I be d---d if I be sich a molly-coddle as that, nuther; +and I’ll prove un, Mr. Sergeant; gie me thic bright +shillin’ and I be your man.”</p> +<p>“No,” said the sergeant, “think it over, and +come to me in a month’s time, if your mother will let +you. I don’t want men that will let their masters buy +them off the next day.”</p> +<p>“No; an lookee here, Maister Sergeant; I bean’t to +be bought off like thic, nuther. If I goes, I goes for good +an’ all.”</p> +<p>“Well, then,” said the sergeant, shaking him by +the hand, and pressing into it the bright shilling, “if you +insist on joining, you shall not say I prevented you: my business +is not to prevent men from entering Her Majesty’s +service.”</p> +<p>Then the ribbons were brought out, and Joe asked if the young +woman might sew them on as she had done Harry’s; and when +she came in, Joe looked at her, and tried to put on a military +bearing, in imitation of his great prototype; and actually went +so far as to address her as “My dear,” for which +liberty he almost expected a slap in the face. But Lucy +only smiled graciously, and said: “Bravo, Mr. Wurzel! +Bravo, sir; I’ve seen many a man inlisted, and sewed the +Queen’s colours on for him, but never for a smarter or a +finer fellow, there!” and she skipped from the room.</p> +<p>“Well done!” said several voices. And the +sergeant said:</p> +<p><!-- page 201--><a name="page201"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +201</span>“What do you think of that, Mr. Wurzel? +I’ll back she’s never said that to a soldier +before.”</p> +<p>Joe turned his hat about and drew the ribbons through his +fingers, as pleased as a child with a new toy, and as proud as if +he had helped to win a great battle.</p> +<p>Here I awoke.</p> +<h2><!-- page 203--><a name="page203"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 203</span>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The Sergeant makes a loyal speech and sings a +song, both of which are well received by the company.</p> +<p>And when I got to Bournemouth I dreamed again; and a singular +thing during this history was, that always in my dream I began +where I had left off on the previous night. So I saw that +there, in the room at “The Goose,” were Sergeant +Goodtale, and Harry, and Joe, and the rest, just as I had left +them when I last awoke. But methought there was an air of +swagger on the part of the head witness which I had not observed +previously. His hat was placed on one side, in imitation of +the sergeant’s natty cap, and he seemed already to hold up +his head in a highly military manner; and when he stooped down to +get a light he tried to stoop in the same graceful and military +style as the sergeant himself; and after blowing it out, threw +down the spill in the most off-hand manner possible, as though he +said, “That’s how we chaps do it in the +Hussars!” Everyone noticed the difference in the +manner and bearing of the young recruit. There was a +certain swagger and boldness of demeanour that only comes after +you have enlisted. Nor was this change confined to outward +appearance alone. What now were pigs in the mind of +Joe? Merely the producers of pork chops for <!-- page +204--><a name="page204"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +204</span>breakfast. What was Dobbin that slowly dragged +the plough compared to the charger that Joe was destined to +bestride? And what about Polly Sweetlove and her saucy +looks? Perhaps she’d be rather sorry now that she did +not receive with more favour his many attentions. Such were +the thoughts that passed through the lad’s mind as he +gradually awakened to a sense of his new position. One +thought, however, strange to say, did not occur to him, and that +was as to what his poor old mother would think. Dutiful son +as Joe had always been, (though wild in some respects), he had +not given her a single thought. But his reflections, no +doubt, were transient and confused amid the companions by whom he +was surrounded.</p> +<p>“You’ll make a fine soldier,” said the +Boardman, as he saw him swagger across to his seat.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the sergeant, “any man that has +got it in him, and is steady, and doesn’t eat too much and +drink too much, may get on in the army. It isn’t like +it used to be.”</p> +<p>“I believe that,” said Bob Lazyman.</p> +<p>“The only thing,” continued the sergeant, +“is, there is really so little to do—there’s +not work enough.”</p> +<p>“That ud suit me,” said Bob.</p> +<p>“Ah! but stop,” added the sergeant, “the +temptations are great—what with the +girls—.”</p> +<p>“Hooray!” exclaimed Dick; “that beats +all—I likes them better than mutton chops.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied the sergeant; “they are all +very well in their way; but you know, if a man wants to rise in +the army, he must be steady.”</p> +<p>“Steady, boys! stea—dy!” shouted Dick</p> +<p>I don’t know how far the sergeant was justified, <!-- +page 205--><a name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +205</span>morally, in thus holding out the prospect of riotous +living to these hungry men, but I think, all things considered, +it was an improvement on the old system of the pressgang, which +forced men into the navy. These lads were not bound to +believe the recruiting sergeant, and were not obliged to enter +into a contract with Her Majesty. At the same time, the +alluring prospects were such that if they had been represented as +facts in the commercial transactions of life, such is the purity +of the law that they would have given rise to much pleading, +multifarious points reserved, innumerable summonses at Chambers, +and, at least, one new trial.</p> +<p>“Now,” said Jack Outofwork, “I tell yer what +it is—I don’t take no Queen’s shilling, for +why? it ain’t the Queen’s—it belongs to the +people—I’m for a republic.”</p> +<p>‘“Well,” said the sergeant, “I always +like to meet a chap that calls himself a republican, and +I’ll tell you why. This country is a republic, say +what you like, and is presided over by our gracious Queen. +And I should like to ask any man in this country—now, just +listen, lads, for this is the real question, +whether—”</p> +<p>“Now, order,” said Lazyman, “I never +’eerd nothing put better.”</p> +<p>“Let’s have order, gentlemen,” said Harry; +“chair! chair!”</p> +<p>“All ’tention, sergeant,” said Dick.</p> +<p>“I say,” continued the sergeant; “let us +suppose we got a republic to-morrow; well, we should want a head, +or as they say, a president.”</p> +<p>“That’s good,” said half-a-dozen voices.</p> +<p><!-- page 206--><a name="page206"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +206</span>“Well, what then?” said the sergeant; +“Who would you choose? Why, the Queen, to be +sure.”</p> +<p>Everybody said “The Queen!” And there was +such a thumping on the table that all further discourse was +prevented for several minutes. At last everyone said it was +good, and the sergeant had put it straight.</p> +<p>“Well, look’ee ’ere, lads—I was born +among the poor and I don’t owe nothing to the upper +classes, not even a grudge!”</p> +<p>“Hear! hear! Bravo, Mr. Sergeant!” cried +all.</p> +<p>“Well, then; I’ve got on so far as well as I can, +and I’m satisfied; but I’ll tell you what I believe +our Queen to be—a thorough woman, and loves her people, +especially the poor, so much that d---d if I wouldn’t die +for her any day—now what d’ye think o’ +that?”</p> +<p>Everybody thought he was a capital fellow.</p> +<p>“Look, here,” he continued, “it isn’t +because she wears a gold crown, or anything of that sort, nor +because a word of her’s could make me a field marshal, or a +duke, or anything o’ that sort, nor because she’s +rich, but I’ll tell you why it is—and it’s +this—when we’re fighting we don’t fight for her +except as the Queen, and the Queen means the country.”</p> +<p>“Hear! hear! hear! hear!”</p> +<p>“Well, we fight for the country—but she loves the +soldiers as though they were not the country’s but her own +flesh and blood, and comes to see ’em in the hospital like +a mother, and talks to ’em the same as I do to you, and +comforts ’em, and prays for ’em, and acts like the +real mother of her people—that’s why I’d die +for her, and not because she’s the Queen of England +only.”</p> +<p><!-- page 207--><a name="page207"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +207</span>“Bravo!” said Joe. “Hope I +shall soon see her in th’ ’orsepittal. It be +out ’ere: beant it St. Thomas’s.”</p> +<p>“I hope you won’t, my brave lad,” said the +sergeant; “but don’t tell me about republicanism when +we’ve got such a good Queen; it’s a shame and a +disgrace to mention it.”</p> +<p>“So it be,” said Joe; “I’m darned if I +wouldn’t knock a feller into the middle o’ next week +as talked like thic. Hooroar for the Queen!”</p> +<p>“And now I’m going to say another thing,” +continued the sergeant, who really waxed warm with his subject, +and struck admiration into his audience by his manner of +delivery: may I say that to my mind he was even eloquent, and +ought to have been a sergeant-at-law, only that the country would +have been the loser by it: and the country, to my mind, has the +first right to the services of every citizen. “Just +look,” said the sergeant, “at the kindness of +that—what shall I call her? blessed!—yes, blessed +Princess of Wales! Was there ever such a woman? Talk +about Jael in the Bible being blessed above women—why I +don’t set no value upon her; she put a spike through a +feller it’s true, but it was precious cowardly; but the +Princess, she goes here and goes there visiting the sick and poor +and homeless, not like a princess, but like a real woman, and +that’s why the people love her. No man despises a +toady more than I do—I’d give him up to the tender +mercies of that wife of Heber the Keenite any day; but if the +Princess was to say to me, ‘Look ’ere, Sergeant, I +feel a little low, and should like some nice little excitement +just to keep up my spirits and cheer me up a bit’” +(several of them thought this style of conversation was a +familiar habit with the Princess and Sergeant Goodtale, and that +he <!-- page 208--><a name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +208</span>must be immensely popular with the Royal Family), +“well, if she was to say, ‘Look here, Sergeant +Goodtale, here’s a precipice, it ud do me good to see you +leap off that,’ I should just take off my coat and tuck up +my shirt sleeves, and away I should go.”</p> +<p>At such unheard of heroism and loyalty there was a general +exclamation of enthusiasm, and no one in that company could tell +whom he at that moment most admired, the Princess or the +Sergeant.</p> +<p>“That’s a stunner!” said Joe.</p> +<p>“Princess by name and Princess by nature,” replied +the sergeant; “and now look’ee here, in proof of what +I say, I’m going to give you a toast.”</p> +<p>“Hear, hear,” said everybody.</p> +<p>“But stop a minute,” said the sergeant, +“I’m not a man of words without deeds. Have we +got anything to drink to the toast?”</p> +<p>All looked in their respective cups and every one said, +“No, not a drop!”</p> +<p>Then said the sergeant “We’ll have one all rounded +for the last. You’ll find me as good as my +word. What’s it to be before we part?”</p> +<p>“Can’t beat this ’ere,” said Joe, +looking into the sergeant’s empty glass.</p> +<p>“So say all of us,” exclaimed Harry.</p> +<p>“That’s it,” said all.</p> +<p>“And a song from the sergeant,” added +Devilmecare.</p> +<p>“Ay, lads, I’ll give you a song.”</p> +<p>Then came in the pretty maid whom Joe leered at, and the +sergeant winked at; and then came in tumblers of the military +beverage, and then the sergeant said:</p> +<p>“In all companies this is drunk upstanding, and with +<!-- page 209--><a name="page209"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +209</span>hats off, except soldiers, whose privilege it is to +keep them on. You need not take yours off, Mr. Wurzel; you +are one of Her Majesty’s Hussars. Now then all say +after me: ‘Our gracious Queen; long may she live and +blessed be her reign—the mother and friend of her +people!’”</p> +<p>The enthusiasm was loud and general, and the toast was drunk +with as hearty a relish as ever it was at Lord Mayor’s +Banquet.</p> +<p>“And now,” said the sergeant, “once more +before we part—”</p> +<p>“Ah! but the song?” said the Boardman.</p> +<p>“Oh yes, I keep my word. A man, unless he’s +a man of his word, ought never to wear Her Majesty’s +uniform!” And then he said:</p> +<p>“The Prince and Princess of Wales and the rest of the +Royal Family.”</p> +<p>This also was responded to in the same unequivocal manner; and +then amid calls of “the sergeant,” that officer, +after getting his voice in tune, sang the following song:</p> +<h3>GOD BLESS OUR DEAR PRINCESS.</h3> +<p class="poetry">There’s not a grief the heart can bear<br +/> + But love can soothe its pain;<br /> +There’s not a sorrow or a care<br /> + It smiles upon in vain.<br /> +And <i>She</i> sends forth its brightest rays<br /> + Where darkest woes depress,<br /> +Where long wept Suffering silent prays—<br /> + God save our dear Princess!</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">chorus</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">She soothes the breaking heart,<br /> + She comforts in distress;<br /> +She acts true woman’s noblest part.<br /> + God save our dear Princess<br /> +<!-- page 210--><a name="page210"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +210</span>She bringeth hope to weary lives<br /> + So worn by hopeless toil;<br /> +E’en Sorrow’s drooping form revives<br /> + Beneath her loving smile.<br /> +Where helpless Age reluctant seeks<br /> + Its refuge from distress,<br /> +E’en there <i>Her</i> name the prayer bespeaks<br /> + God save our dear Princess!</p> +<p class="poetry">It’s not in rank or princely show<br /> + True <i>Manhood’s</i> heart to win;<br /> +’Tis Love’s sweet sympathetic glow<br /> + That makes all hearts akin.<br /> +Though frequent storms the State must stir<br /> + While Freedom we possess,<br /> +Our hearts may all beat true to Her,<br /> + Our own beloved Princess.</p> +<p class="poetry">The violet gives its sweet perfume<br /> + Unconscious of its worth;<br /> +So Love unfolds her sacred bloom<br /> + And hallows sinful earth;<br /> +May God her gentle life prolong<br /> + And all her pathway bless;<br /> +Be this the nation’s fervent song—<br /> + God save our dear Princess!</p> +<p>Although the language of a song may not always be intelligible +to the unlettered hearer, the spirit and sentiment are; +especially when it appeals to the emotions through the charms of +music. The sergeant had a musical voice capable of deep +pathos; and as the note of a bird or the cry of an animal in +distress is always distinguishable from every other sound, so the +pathos of poetry finds its way where its words are not always +accurately understood. It was very observable, and much I +thought to the sergeant’s great power as a singer, that the +first chorus was sung with a tone which seemed to imply that the +audience was feeling its way: <!-- page 211--><a +name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 211</span>the second +was given with more enthusiasm and vehemence: the third was +thumped upon the table as though a drum were required to give +full effect to the feelings of the company; while the fourth was +shouted with such heartiness that mere singing seemed useless, +and it developed into loud hurrahs, repeated again and again; and +emphasized by the twirling of hats, the clapping of hands, and +stamping of feet.</p> +<p>“What d’ye think o’ that?” says the +Boardman.</p> +<p>“I’m on,” said Lazyman; “give me the +shilling, sergeant, if you please?”</p> +<p>“So’m I,” said Saunter.</p> +<p>“Hooroar!” shouted the stentorian voice that had +erstwhile charmed the audience with Brimstone’s sermon.</p> +<p>“Bravo!” said Harry.</p> +<p>“Look’ee here,” said Jack Outofwork, +“we’ve had a werry pleasant evenin’ together, +and I ain’t goin’ to part like this ’ere; no +more walkin’ about looking arter jobs for me, I’m +your man, sergeant.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said the sergeant, eyeing his company, +“I didn’t expect this; a pluckier lot o’ chaps +I never see; and I’m sure when the Queen sees you +it’ll be the proudest moment of her life. Why, how +tall do you stand, Mr. Lazyman?”</p> +<p>“Six foot one,” said he.</p> +<p>“Ha,” said the Sergeant, “I thought +so. And you, Mr. Outofwork?”</p> +<p>“I don’t rightly know,” said Jack.</p> +<p>“Well,” said the sergeant, “just stand up by +the side of me—ha, that will do,” he added, +pretending to take an accurate survey, “I think I can +squeeze you in—it will be a tight fit though.”</p> +<p><!-- page 212--><a name="page212"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +212</span>“I hope you can, Mr. Sergeant,” said +he.</p> +<p>“Look ’ere,” laughed Joe; “We’ll +kitch ’old of his legs and give him a stretch, won’t +us, Sergeant?”</p> +<p>And so the bright shillings were given, and the pretty +maid’s services were again called in; and she said +“she never see sich a lot o’ plucky fellows in her +born days;” and all were about to depart when, as the +sergeant was shaking hands with Dick Devilmecare in the most +pathetic and friendly manner, as though he were parting from a +brother whom he had not met for years, Devilmecare’s eyes +filled with tears, and he exclaimed,</p> +<p>“Danged if I’ll be left out of it, sergeant; give +me the shillin’?”</p> +<p>At this moment the portly figure of Mr. Bumpkin again appeared +in the doorway!</p> +<h2><!-- page 213--><a name="page213"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 213</span>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The famous Don O’Rapley and Mr. Bumpkin +spend a social evening at the “Goose.”</p> +<p>When Mr. Bumpkin, on this memorable evening, went into Mrs. +Oldtimes’ parlour to console himself after the fatigues and +troubles of the day there were a cheerful fire and a comfortable +meal prepared for him. Mr. O’Rapley had promised to +spend the evening with him, so that they might talk over the +business of the day and the prospects of the coming trial. +It was a very singular coincidence, and one that tended to cement +the friendship of these two gentlemen, that their tastes both +inclined to gin-and-water. And this very house, as appeared +from a notice on the outside, was the “noted house for +Foolman’s celebrated gin.”</p> +<p>But as yet Mr. O’Rapley had not arrived; so after his +meal Mr. Bumpkin looked into the other room to see how Joe was +getting on, for he was extremely anxious to keep his “head +witness” straight. “Joe was his +mainstay.”</p> +<p>I have already related what took place, and the song that +Bumpkin sang. The statement of the head witness that he was +all right, and that he was up to Mr. Sergeant, to a great extent +reassured Mr. Bumpkin: although he felt, keen man that he was, +that that soldier was there for the purpose of “ketchin +what <!-- page 214--><a name="page214"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 214</span>young men he could to make sogers on +’em; he had ’eerd o’ sich things afore:” +such were his thoughts as Mr. O’Rapley entered the +apartment.</p> +<p>“Dear me, Mr. Bumpkin,” said that official, +“how very cold it is! how are you, Mrs. Oldtimes? I +haven’t seen you for an age.”</p> +<p>The Don always made that observation when strangers were +present.</p> +<p>“Hope you’re quite well, sir,” said the +landlady, with much humility.</p> +<p>“What’ll thee please to take, sir?” asked +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Well, now, I daresay you’ll think me remarkable +strange, Mr. Bumpkin, but I’m going to say something which +I very very seldom indulge in, but it’s good, I believe, +for indigestion. I will take a little—just a very +small quantity—of gin, with some hot water, and a large +lump of sugar, to destroy the alcohol.”</p> +<p>“Ha!” said the knowing Bumpkin; +“that’s wot we call gin-and-water in our part of the +country. So’ll I, Mrs. Oldtimes, but not too much hot +water for I. What’ll thee smoke, sir?”</p> +<p>“Thank you, one of those cheroots that my lord praised +so much the last time we was ’ere.”</p> +<p>“If you please, sir,” said the landlady, with a +very good-natured smile.</p> +<p>“Well,” said the O’Rapley, in his +patronizing manner; “and how have we got on to-day? let us +hear all about it. Come, your good health, Mr. Bumkin, and +success to our lawsuit. I call it <i>ours</i> now, for I +really feel as interested in it as you do yourself; by-the-bye, +what’s it all about, Mr. Bumpkin?”</p> +<p>“Well, sir, you see,” replied the astute man, +“I hardly knows; it beginnd about a pig, but what +it’s <!-- page 215--><a name="page215"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 215</span>about now, be more un I can tell +thee. I think it be salt and trespass.”</p> +<p>“You have not enquired?”</p> +<p>“No, I beant; I left un all in the hands o’ my +lawyer, and I believe he’s a goodun, bean’t +he?”</p> +<p>“Let me see; O dear, yes, a capital man—a very +good man indeed, a close shaver.”</p> +<p>“Is ur? and that’s what I want. I wants thic +feller shaved as close to his chin as may be.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said O’Rapley, “and Prigg will +shave him, and no mistake. Well, and how did we get on at +the Mansion House? First of all, who was against +you?—Mrs. Oldtimes, I <i>think</i> I’ll just take a +very small quantity more, it has quite removed my +indigestion—who was against you, sir?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Nimble; but, lor, he worn’t nowhere; I had un +to rights,—jest gi’e me a leetle more, +missus,—he couldn’t axe I a question I couldn’t +answer; and I believe he said as good, for I zeed un talking to +the Lord Mayor; it worn’t no use to question I.”</p> +<p>“You didn’t say anything about me?”</p> +<p>“No,” answered Bumpkin, in a loud whisper; +“I din’t; but I did say afore I could stop the word +from comin’ out o’ my mouth as I had a +<i>companion</i>, but they didn’t ketch it, except that the +gentleman under the lord mayor were gwine to ax about thee, and +blowed if the counsellor didn’t stop un; so that be all +right.”</p> +<p>“Capital!” exclaimed the great bowler, waving his +arm as if in the act of delivery; then, in a whisper, “Did +they ask about the woman?”</p> +<p>“Noa—they doan’t know nowt about +thic—not a word; I was mighty plased at un, for although, +as thee be aware, it be the biggest lie as ever wur heard, I <!-- +page 216--><a name="page216"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +216</span>wouldn’t have my wife hear o’ sich to save +my life. She be a good wife to I an’ allays have a +bin; but there I thee could clear me in a minute, if need be, +sir.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but you see,” said the artful Don, “if +I was to appear, it would make a sensational case of it in a +minute and fill all the papers.”</p> +<p>“Would ur now? Morn’t do that nuther; but, +wot d’ye think, sir? As I wur leavin’ the +Cooart, a gemman comes up and he says, says he, ‘I spoase, +sir, you don’t want this thing put in the +papers?’ How the dooce he knowed that, I can’t +make out, onless that I wouldn’t say where I lived, for the +sake o’ Nancy; no, nor thee couldn’t ha’ +dragged un out o’ me wi’ horses.”</p> +<p>“Yes?” said the Don, interrogatively.</p> +<p>“‘Well,’ says I, ‘no, I don’t +partickler want it in.’ I thought I’d say that, +don’t thee zee (with a wink), ’cos he shouldn’t +think I were eager like.”</p> +<p>“Exactly,”</p> +<p>“Well, this ’ere gemman says, says he, ‘It +don’t matter to me, sir, whether it’s in or not, but +if thee don’t want it in, I’ll keep it out, +that’s all. It will pay I better p’raps to put +un in.’</p> +<p>“‘And who med thee be, sir?’ I axed.</p> +<p>“‘Only the <i>Times</i>’, said the gemman, +‘that’s all.’ Then, turning to his +friend, he said, ‘Come on, Jack, the gemman wants it in, so +we’ll have it in, every word, and where he comes from too, +and all about the gal; we know all about it, don’t us, +Jack?’”</p> +<p>“Ha!” said the O’Rapley, blowing out a large +cloud, and fixing his eye on the middle stump.</p> +<p>“Well,” continued Bumpkin, “thee could +ha’ knocked I down wi’ a feather. How the doose +they knowed where I comed from I can’t make out; but here +wur I <!-- page 217--><a name="page217"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 217</span>as cloase to the man as writes the +<i>Times</i> as I be to thee.”</p> +<p>The O’Rapley nodded his head knowingly several +times.</p> +<p>“‘Well, and how much do thee charge to keep un +out?’ seys I. ‘Don’t be too hard upon me, +I be only a poor man.’</p> +<p>“‘We have only one charge,’ says the +<i>Times</i>, ‘and that is half a guinea.’</p> +<p>“‘Spoase we say seven and six,’ sess I.</p> +<p>“‘That,’ seys the <i>Times</i>, +‘wouldn’t keep your name out, and I suppose you +don’t want that in?’ ‘Very well,’ I +sess, takin’ out my leather bag and handin’ him the +money; ‘this’ll keep un out, wool ur?’</p> +<p>“‘Sartainly,’ says he; and then his friend +Jack says, ‘My fee be five shillings, sir.’ +‘And who be thee?’ says I. ‘I’m the +<i>Telegrarf</i>,’ seys he. ‘The devil thee +be?’ I sess, ‘I’ve eerd tell on +ee.’ ‘Largest calculation in the world,’ +he says; ‘and, if thee like,’ he says, ‘I can +take the <i>Daily Noos</i> and <i>Stanard</i> money, for I +don’t see ’em here jist now; it’ll be five +shillings apiece.’</p> +<p>“‘Well,’ I sess, ‘this be rum +business, this; if I takes a quantity like this, can’t it +be done a little cheaper?’</p> +<p>“‘No,’ he says; ‘we stands too high +for anything o’ that sort. Thee can ’ave it or +leave it.’</p> +<p>“‘Very well,’ I sess; ‘then, if +there’s no option, there’s the money.’ +And with that I handed un the fifteen shillings.</p> +<p>“‘Then,’ says the <i>Times</i>, +‘we’d better look sharp, Jack, or else we +shan’t be in time to keep it out.’ And +wi’ that they hurried off as fast as they could. I +will say’t they didn’t let the grass grow under their +feet.”</p> +<p><!-- page 218--><a name="page218"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +218</span>“And why,” enquired the Don, with an amused +smile, “were you so anxious to keep it out of the +<i>Times</i>? Mrs. Bumpkin doesn’t read the +<i>Times</i>, does she?”</p> +<p>“Why, no; but then the Squoire tak it in, and when eve +done wi un he lends un to the Doctor, Mr. Gossip; and when he +gets hold o’ anything, away it goes to the Parish Clerk, +Mr. Jeerum, and then thee med as well hire the town crier at +once.”</p> +<p>“I see; but if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Bumpkin, I +will give you a bit of information that may be of +service.”</p> +<p>“Thankee, sir; will thee jist tak a little more to wet +the tother eye like.”</p> +<p>“Well, really,” replied O’Rapley, “it +is long past my hour of nocturnal repose.”</p> +<p>“What, sir? I doant ondustand.”</p> +<p>“I mean to say that I generally hook it off to bed +before this.”</p> +<p>“Zackly; but we’ll ’ave another. Your +leave, sir, thee was going to tell I zummat.”</p> +<p>“O yes,” said Mr. O’Rapley, with a wave of +the hand in imitation of the Lord Chief Justice. “I +was going to say that those two men were a couple of +rogues.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin paused in the act of passing the tumbler to his +lips, like one who feels he has been artfully taken in.</p> +<p>“You’ve been done, sir!” said Mr. +O’Rapley emphatically, “that man who said he was the +<i>Times</i> was no more the <i>Times</i> than you’re +<i>Punch</i>.”</p> +<p>“Nor thic <i>Telegrarf</i> feller!”</p> +<p>“No. And you could prosecute them. And +I’ll tell you what you could prosecute them +for.” Mr. Bumpkin looked almost stupified.</p> +<p><!-- page 219--><a name="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +219</span>“I’ll tell you what these villains have +been guilty of; they’ve been guilty of obtaining money by +false pretences, and conspiring to obtain money by false +pretences.”</p> +<p>“Have um?” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“And you can prosecute them. You’ve only got +to go and put the matter in the hands of the police, and then go +to some first-rate solicitor who attends police courts; now I can +recommend you one that will do you justice. I should like +to see these rascals well punished.”</p> +<p>“And will this fust-rate attorney do un for +nothin’?”</p> +<p>“Why, hardly; any more than you would sell him a pig for +nothing.”</p> +<p>“Then I shan’t prosekit,” said Mr. Bumpkin; +“the devil’s in’t, I be no sooner out o’ +one thing than I be into another—why I beant out o’ +thic watch job yet, for I got to ’pear at the Old Bailey on +the twenty-fourth.”</p> +<p>“O, committed for trial, was he?” exclaimed the +Don.</p> +<p>“Sure wur ur,” said Mr. Bumpkin +triumphantly—“guilty!”</p> +<p>Now I perceived that the wily Mr. O’Rapley did not +recommend Bumpkin to obtain the services of a solicitor to +conduct his prosecution in this case; and I apprehend for this +reason, that the said solicitor being conscientious, would +unquestionably recommend and insist that Mr. Bumpkin’s +evidence at the Old Bailey should be supported by that of the Don +himself. So Mr. Bumpkin was left to the tender mercies of +the Public Prosecutor or a criminal tout, or the most +inexperienced of “soup” instructed counsel, as the +case might be, but of which matters at present I have no +knowledge as I have no dreams of the future.</p> +<p><!-- page 220--><a name="page220"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +220</span>Then Mr. Bumpkin said, “By thy leave, worthy Mr. +O’Rapley, I will just see what my head witness be about: he +be a sharp lad enow, but wants a dale o’ lookin +arter.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 221--><a name="page221"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 221</span>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Don O’Rapley expresses his views of the +policy of the legislature in not permitting dominoes to be played +in public houses.</p> +<p>When Mr. Bumpkin returned to the cosy parlour, his face was +red and his teeth were set. He was so much agitated indeed, +that instead of addressing Mr. O’Rapley, he spoke to Mrs. +Oldtimes, as though in her female tenderness he might find a more +sincere and sympathetic adviser.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin was never what you would call an eloquent or +fluent speaker: his Somersetshire brogue was at times difficult +of comprehension. He certainly was not fluent when he said +to Mrs. Oldtimes: “Why thic—there—damn un Mrs. +Oldtimes if he beant gwine and never zeed zich a thing in my +bornd days—”</p> +<p>“Why what ever in the name of goodness gracious is the +matter?” asked the landlady.</p> +<p>“Why thic there head witness o’ mine: a +silly-brained—Gor forgive me that iver I should spake so +o’ un, for he wor allays a good chap; and I do +b’leeve he’ve got moore sense than do any thing +o’ that kind.”</p> +<p>“What’s the matter? what’s the +matter?” again enquired Mrs. Oldtimes.</p> +<p>“Why he be playin’ dominoes wi thic +Sergeant.”</p> +<p>“O,” said the landlady, “I was afraid +something had <!-- page 222--><a name="page222"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 222</span>happened. We’re not +allowed to know anything about dominoes or card-playing in our +house—the Law forbids our knowing it, Mr. Bumpkin; so, if +you please, we will not talk about it—I wish to conduct my +house as it always has been for the last five-and-twenty years, +in peace and quietness and respectability, Mr. Bumpkin, which +nobody can never say to the contrairy. It was only the last +licensing day Mr. Twiddletwaddle, the chairman of the Bench, said +as it were the best conducted house in Westminster.”</p> +<p>Now whether it was that the report of this domino playing was +made in the presence of so high a dignitary of the law as Mr. +O’Rapley, or from any other cause, I cannot say, but Mrs. +Oldtimes was really indignant, and positively refused to accept +any statement which involved the character of her +establishment.</p> +<p>“I think,” she continued, addressing Mr. +O’Rapley, “you have known this house for some time, +sir.”</p> +<p>“I have,” said O’Rapley. “I have +passed it every evening for the last ten years.”</p> +<p>“Ah now, to be sure—you hear that, Mr. +Bumpkin. What do you think of that?”</p> +<p>“Never saw anything wrong, I will say that.”</p> +<p>“Never a game in my house, if I knows it; and +what’s more, I won’t believe it until I sees +it.”</p> +<p>“Ockelar demonstration, that’s the law,” +said the Don.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin’s excitement was absolutely merged in that +of the landlady, whom he had so innocently provoked. He +stared as the parties continued their wordy justification of this +well-ruled household like one dreaming with his eyes open. +No woman could have made more ado about her own character than +Mrs. Oldtimes did respecting that of her house. But then, +<!-- page 223--><a name="page223"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +223</span>the one could be estimated in money, while the other +possessed but an abstract value.</p> +<p>“I believe,” she repeated, “that cards or +dominoes has never been played in my house since here I’ve +been, or since the law has been what it is.”</p> +<p>“I be wery sorry,” said the penitent Bumpkin; +“I warn’t aweare I wur doing anythin’ +wrong.”</p> +<p>“It’s unlawful, you see, to play,” said the +Don; “and consequently they dursn’t play. Now, +why is it unlawful? Because Public Houses is for drinking, +not for amusement. Now, sir, Drink is the largest tax-payer +we’ve got—therefore Drink’s an important +Industry. Set people to work drinking and you get a good +Rewenue, which keeps up the Army and Navy—the Navy swims in +liquor, sir—but let these here Perducers of the Rewenue +pause for the sake o’ playing dominoes, or what not, and +what’s the consequence? You check this important +industry—therefore don’t by any manner of means +interrupt drinking. It’s an agreeable ockepation and +a paying one.”</p> +<p>“Well done, sir,” said Oldtimes, from the corner +of the fireplace, where he was doing his best with only one mouth +and one constitution to keep up the Army and Navy. A +patriotic man was Oldtimes.</p> +<p>“Drink,” continued O’Rapley, “is the +most powerful horgsilery the Government has.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Mr. Bumpkin, not knowing what a +horgsilery was; “now thee’ve gone a-head o’ me, +sir. Thee’re a larned man, Mr. O’Rapley, and I +beant much of a schollard; will thee please to tell I what a +horgs—what wur it?”</p> +<p>“Horgsilery,” said Mr. O’Rapley.</p> +<p>“Horsgilly—ah! so twur. Well, by thy leave, +<!-- page 224--><a name="page224"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +224</span>worthy sir, will thee be so kind as to tell I be it +anything like a hogshead?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mr. O’Rapley, “its more +like a corkscrew: the taxes of the country would be bottled up as +tight as champagne and you couldn’t get ’em out +without this corkscrew.”</p> +<p>“But I worn’t spakin’ about taxes when I +spak of dominoes; what I wur alludin’ to wur thic Joe been +drawed in to goo for a soger.”</p> +<p>“Lor, bless you,” said Mrs. Oldtimes, “many +a man as good as Joe have listed before now and will +again.”</p> +<p>“Mayhap,” said Bumpkin; “but he wurn’t +my ’ead witness and didn’t work for I. Joe be +my right hand man, although I keeps un down and tells un he beant +fit for nothin’.”</p> +<p>“Ha,” said the Don, “he’s not likely +to go for a soldier, I think, if it’s that good-looking +young chap I saw with the kicking-straps on.”</p> +<p>“Kickin’-straps,” said Bumpkin; “haw! +haw! haw! That be a good un. Well he told I he wur up +to un and I think ur be: he’ll be a clever feller if ur +gets our Joe. Why Nancy ud goo amost out o’ her +mind. And now, sir, will thee ’ave any +moore?”</p> +<p>Mr. O’Rapley, in the most decisive but polite manner, +refused. He had quite gone out of his way as it was in the +hope of serving Mr. Bumpkin. He was sure that the thief +would be convicted, and as he rose to depart seized his +friend’s hand in the most affectionate manner. +Anything he could do for him he was sure he would do cheerfully, +at any amount of self-sacrifice—he would get up in the +night to serve him.</p> +<p>“Thankee,” said Bumpkin; but he had hardly spoken +when he was startled by the most uproarious cheers from <!-- page +225--><a name="page225"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +225</span>the taproom. And then he began again about the +folly of young men getting into the company of recruiting +sergeants.</p> +<p>“Look here,” said the Don, confidentially, +“take my advice—say nothing—a still tongue +makes a wise head; to persuade a man not to enter the army is +tantamount to advising him to desert. If you don’t +mind, you may lay yourself open to a prosecution.”</p> +<p>“Zounds!” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin, “it seem to +me a man in Lunnon be every minit liable to a prosecution for +zummat. I hope sayin’ that beant contempt o’ +Coourt, sir.”</p> +<p>Mr. O’Rapley was silent—his head drooped towards +Mr. Bumpkin in a semi-conscious manner, and he nodded three +consecutive times: called for another “seroot,” lit +it after many efforts, and again assuring Mr. Bumpkin that he +would do all he could towards facilitating his triumph over +Snooks, was about to depart, when his friend asked him, +confidentially, whether he had not better be at the Old Bailey +when the trial came on, in case of its being necessary to call +him.</p> +<p>“Shurel not!” hiccupped the Don. Then he +pointed his finger, and leering at Bumpkin, repeated, +“Shurel not;—jus swell cll Ch. +Jussiself”—which being interpreted meant, +“Certainly not, you might just as well call the Chief +Justice himself.”</p> +<p>“Pr’aps he’ll try un?” said +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Noer won’t—noer won’t: Chansy Juge +mos likel Massr Rolls.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 227--><a name="page227"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 227</span>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">In spite of all warnings, Joe takes his own +part, not to be persuaded on one side or the +other—affecting scene between Mr. Bumpkin and his old +servant.</p> +<p>“Whatever can that there shoutin’ be for, Mrs. +Oldtimes—they be terrible noisy.”</p> +<p>“O,” said the landlady, “somebody else has +listed.”</p> +<p>“I hope it beant that silly Joe. I warned un two +or three times agin thic feller.”</p> +<p>“There have been several to-night,” said the +landlady, who had scarcely yet recovered from the insinuations +against the character of her house.</p> +<p>“How does thee know thic, my dear lady?”</p> +<p>“O, because Miss Prettyface have been in and out +sewin’ the colours on all the evening, that’s +all. Sergeant Goodtale be the best recrootin’ +sergeant ever come into a town—he’d list his own +father!”</p> +<p>“Would ur, now?” said Bumpkin. “Beant +thee afeard o’ thy husband bein’ took?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Oldtimes shrieked with laughter, and said she wished he +would list Tom, for he wasn’t any good except to sit in the +chimney corner and smoke and drink from morning to night.</p> +<p>“And keep up th’ Army,” growled the +husband</p> +<p><!-- page 228--><a name="page228"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +228</span>“Ha, keep up the Army, indeed,” said Mrs. +Oldtimes; “you do your share in that way, I +grant.”</p> +<p>Now it was quite manifest that that last cheer from the +taproom was the herald of the company’s departure. +There was a great scuffling and stamping of feet as of a general +clearing out, and many “good nights.” Then the +big manly voice of the Sergeant said: “Nine o’clock, +lads; nine o’clock; don’t oversleep yourselves; we +shall have chops at eight. What d’ye say to that, +Mrs. Oldtimes?”</p> +<p>“As you please, Sergeant; but there’s a nice piece +of ham, if any would like that.”</p> +<p>“Ha!” said the Sergeant; “now, how many +would like ham?”</p> +<p>“I’se for a chop,” said Joe, working his +mouth as if he would get it in training.</p> +<p>“Right,” said the Sergeant, “we’ll see +about breakfast in the morning. But you know, Mrs. +Oldtimes, we like to start with a good foundation.”</p> +<p>And with three cheers for the Sergeant the recruits left the +house: all except Joe, who occupied his old room.</p> +<p>After they were gone, and while Mr. Bumpkin was confidentially +conversing with the landlord in the chimney corner, he was +suddenly aroused by the indomitable Joe bursting into the room +and performing a kind of dance or jig, the streamers, meanwhile, +in his hat, flowing and flaunting in the most audaciously +military manner.</p> +<p>“Halloa! halloa! zounds! What be th’ meaning +o’ all this? Why, Joe! Joe! thee’s never +done it, lad! O dear! dear!”</p> +<p>There were the colours as plain as possible in Joe’s +<!-- page 229--><a name="page229"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +229</span>hat, and there was a wild unmeaning look in his +eyes. It seemed already as if the old intimacy between him +and his master were at an end. His memory was more a thing +of the future than the past: he recollected the mutton chops that +were to come. And I verily believe it was brightened by the +dawn of new hopes and aspirations. There was an awakening +sense of individuality. Hitherto he had been the property +of another: he had now exercised the right of ownership over +himself; and although that act had transferred him to another +master, it had seemed to give him temporary freedom, and to have +conferred upon him a new existence.</p> +<p>Man is, I suppose, what his mind is, and Joe’s mind was +as completely changed as if he had been born into a different +sphere. The moth comes out of the grub, the gay Hussar out +of the dull ploughman.</p> +<p>“Why, Joe, Joe,” said his old master. +“Thee’s never gone an’ listed, has thee, +Joe?”</p> +<p>“Lookee ’ere, maister,” said the recruit, +taking off his hat and spreading out the +colours—“Thee sees these here, maister?”</p> +<p>“Thee beant such a fool, Joe, I knows thee +beant—thee’s been well brought oop—and I knows +thee beant gwine to leave I and goo for a soger!”</p> +<p>“I be listed, maister.”</p> +<p>“Never!” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin. “I +wunt b’lieve it, Joe.”</p> +<p>“Then thee must do tother thing, maister. I tellee +I be listed; now, what’s thee think o’ +that?”</p> +<p>“That thee be a fool,” said Mr. Bumpkin, angrily; +“thee be a silly-brained—.”</p> +<p>“Stop a bit, maister, no moore o’ that. I +beant thy <!-- page 230--><a name="page230"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 230</span>sarvant now. I be a +Queen’s man—I be in the Queen’s +sarvice.”</p> +<p>“A pooty Queen’s man thee be, surely. Why +look at thic hair all down over thy face, and thee be as red as a +poppy.”</p> +<p>Now I perceived that although neither master nor man was in +such a state as could be described as “intoxicated,” +yet both were in that semi-beatific condition which may be called +sentimental.</p> +<p>“Lookee ’ere, maister,” continued Joe.</p> +<p>“And lookee here,” said Mr. Bumpkin, +“didn’t I come out to thee two or three times, and +call thee out and tell ’ee to tak’ heed to thic soger +feller, for he wur up to no good? Did I Joe, or did I +not?”</p> +<p>“Thee did, maister.”</p> +<p>“Well, an’ now look where thee be; he’ve +regler took thee in, thee silly fool.”</p> +<p>“No, he beant; for he wouldn’t ’ave I at +fust, and told I to goo and ax my mither. No ses I, +I’ll goo to the divil afore I be gwine to ax mither. +I beant a child, I ses.”</p> +<p>“But thee’s fond o’ thy poor old mither, +Joe; I knows thee be, and sends her a shillin’ a week out +o’ thy wages; don’t thee, Joe?”</p> +<p>This was an awkward thrust, and pricked the lad in his most +sensitive part. His under-lip drooped, his mouth twitched, +and his eyes glistened. He was silent.</p> +<p>“Where’ll thy poor old mither get a shilling a +week from noo, Joe? That’s what I wants to +know.”</p> +<p>Joe drew his sleeve over his face, but bore up bravely +withal. <i>He</i> wasn’t going to cry, not he.</p> +<p>“Thee beest a silly feller to leave a good ooame and +nine shillin’ a week to goo a sogerin; and when thee was +<!-- page 231--><a name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +231</span>out o’ work, there were allays a place for thee, +Joe, at the fireside: now, warnt there, Joe?”</p> +<p>“Lookee ’ere, maister, I be for betterin’ +myself.”</p> +<p>“Betterin’ thyself? who put that into thy silly +pate? thic sergeant, I bleeve.”</p> +<p>“So ur did; not by anything ur said, but to see un wi +beef steaks and ingons for supper, while I doan’t +’ave a mouthful o’ mate once a week, and work like a +oarse.”</p> +<p>“Poor silly feller—O dear, dear! whatever wool I +tell Nancy and thy poor mither. What redgimen be thee in, +Joe?”</p> +<p>“Hooroars!”</p> +<p>“Hooroars! hoo-devils!” and I perceived that Mr. +Bumpkin’s eyes began to glisten as he more and more +realized the fact that Joe was no more to him—“thee +manest the oosors, thee silly feller; a pooty oosor thee’ll +make!”</p> +<p>“I tellee what,” said Joe, whose pride was now +touched, “Maister Sergeant said I wur the finest made chap +he ever see.”</p> +<p>“That’s ow ur gulled thee, Joe.”</p> +<p>“Noa didn’t; I went o’ my own free +will. No man should persuade I—trust Joe for thic: +couldn’t persuade I to goo, nor yet not to goo.”</p> +<p>“That’s right,” chimed in Miss Prettyface, +with her sweet little voice.</p> +<p>“And thee sewed the colours on; didn’t thee, +Miss?”</p> +<p>“I did,” answered the young lady.</p> +<p>“Joe,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “I be mortal sorry +for thee; what’ll I do wirout thy evidence? Lawyer +Prigg say thee’s the most wallible witness for +I.”</p> +<p>“Lookee ’ere, maister, ere we bin ’anging +about for weeks and weeks and no forrerder so far as I can +see. <!-- page 232--><a name="page232"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 232</span>When thy case’ll come on I +don’t bleeve no man can tell; but whensomdever thee wants +Joe, all thee’ve got to do is to write to the Queen, and +she’ll gie I leave.”</p> +<p>“O thee silly, igerant ass!” said Mr. Bumpkin; +“I can’t help saying it, Joe—the Queen +doan’t gie leave, it be the kernel. I know zummut +o’ sogerin, thee see; I were in th’ militia farty +year agoo: but spoase thee be away—abraird? How be I +to get at thee then?”</p> +<p>“Ha! if I be away in furren parts, and thy case be in +the list, I doant zee—”</p> +<p>“Thee silly feller, thee’ll ha to goo +fightin’ may be.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Joe, “I loikes +fightin’.”</p> +<p>“Thee loikes fightin’! what’s thee know +about fightin’? never fit anything in thy life but thic +boar-pig, when he got I down in the yard. O, Joe, I +can’t bear the thought o thee goin’.”</p> +<p>“Noa, but Maister Sergeant says thee jist snicks off the +’eads of the enemy like snickin’ off the tops +o’ beans.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but ow if thee gets thine snicked off?”</p> +<p>“Well, if mine be snicked off, it wunt be no use to I, +and I doan’t care who has un when I ha’ done wi un: +anybody’s welcome as thinks he can do better with un than +I, or ’as moore right to un.”</p> +<p>“Joe, Joe, whatever’ll them there pigs do wirout +thee, and thic there bull ’ll goo out of his mind—he +wur mighty fond o’ thee, Joe—thee couldst do anything +wi un: couldn’t ur, Joe?”</p> +<p>“Ha!” said the recruit; “that there bull ud +foller I about anywhere, and so ur would Missis.”</p> +<p>“Then there be Polly!”</p> +<p>“Ha, that there Polly, she cocked her noase at I, +maister, becos she thought I worn’t good enough; but <!-- +page 233--><a name="page233"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +233</span>wait till she sees me in my cloase; she wunt cock her +noase at I then, I’ll warrant.”</p> +<p>“Well, Joe, as thee maks thy bed so thee must lie on un, +lad. I wish thee well, Joe.”</p> +<p>“Never wronged thee, did I, maister?”</p> +<p>“Never; no, never.” And at this point master +and man shook hands affectionately.</p> +<p>“Gie my love to thic bull,” said Joe. +“I shall come down as soon as evir I can: I wish +they’d let me bring my oarse.”</p> +<p>“Joe, thee ha’ had too much to drink, I know thee +has; and didn’t I warn thee, Joe? Thee can’t +say I didn’t warn thee.”</p> +<p>“Thee did, maister, I’ll allays say it; thee +warned I well—but lor that there stuff as the Sergeant had, +it jist shoots through thee and livins thee oop for all the world +as if thee got a young ooman in thee arms in a dancin’ +booth at the fair.”</p> +<p>“Ha, Joe, it were drink done it.”</p> +<p>“Noa, noa, never!—good-night, maister, and God +bless thee—thee been a good maister, and I been a good +sarvant. I shall allays think o’ thee and Missis, +too.”</p> +<p>Here I saw that Mr. Bumpkin, what with his feelings and what +with his gin-and-water, was well nigh overcome with +emotion. Nor was it to be wondered at; he was in London a +stranger, waiting for a trial with a neighbour, with whom for +years he had been on friendly terms; his hard savings were fast +disappearing; his stock and furniture were mortgaged; some of it +had been sold, and his principal witness and faithful servant was +now gone for a soldier. In addition to all this, poor Mr. +Bumpkin could not help recalling the happiness of his past life, +his early struggles, his rigid self-denial, his <!-- page +234--><a name="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +234</span>pleasure as the modest savings accumulated—not so +much occasioned by the sordid desire of wealth, as the nobler +wish to be independent. Then there was Mrs. Bumpkin, who +naturally crossed his mind at this miserable moment in his +existence—at home by herself—faithful, hardworking +woman, who believed not only in her husband’s wisdom, but +in his luck. She had never liked this going to law, and +would much rather have given Snooks the pig than it should have +come about; yet she could not help believing that her husband +must be right come what may. What would she think of +Joe’s leaving them in this way? All this passed +through the shallow mind of the farmer as he prepared for +bed. And there was no getting away from his thoughts, try +as he would. As he lay on his bed there passed before his +mind the old farm-house, with its elm tree; and the barnyard, +newly littered down with the sweet smelling fodder; the orchard +blossoms smiling in the morning sunshine; the pigs routing +through the straw; the excited ducks and the swifter fowls +rushing towards Mrs. Bumpkin as she came out to shake the +tablecloth; the sleek and shining cows; the meadows dotted all +over with yellow buttercups; the stately bull feeding in the +distance by himself; the lazy stream that pursued its even course +without a quarrel or a lawsuit; all these, and a thousand other +remembrances of home, passed before the excited and somewhat +distempered vision of the farmer on this unhappy night. Had +he been a criminal waiting his trial he could not have been more +wretched. At length he endeavoured to console himself by +thinking of Snooks: tried to believe that victory over that +ill-disposed person would repay the trouble and anxiety it cost +him to achieve. But no, not even revenge was sweet under +his <!-- page 235--><a name="page235"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 235</span>present circumstances. It is +always an apple of ashes at the best; but, weighed now against +the comforts and happiness of a peaceful life, it was worse than +ashes—it was poison.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Here I awoke.</p> +<p>“Now,” said my wife, “is it not just as I +told you? I knew that artful Sergeant would enlist poor +stupid Joe?”</p> +<p>“O,” quoth I, “have I been talking +again?”</p> +<p>“More than ever; and I am very sorry Joe has deserted +his kind master. I am afraid now he will lose his +case.”</p> +<p>“I am not concerned about that at present; my work is +but to dream, not to prophesy events. I hope Mr. Bumpkin +will win, but nothing is so uncertain as the Law.”</p> +<p>“And why should that be? Law should be as certain +as the Multiplication Table.”</p> +<p>“Ah,” sighed I, “but—”</p> +<p>“A man who brings an action must be right or +wrong,” interrupted my wife.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said I, “and sometimes he’s +both; and one judge will take one view of his case—his +conduct out of Court, and his demeanour in—while another +judge will take another; why, I have known a man lose his case +through having a wart upon his nose.”</p> +<p>“Gracious!” exclaimed my wife, “is it +possible?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” quoth I; “and another through having +a twitch in his eye. Then you may have a foolish jury, who +take a prejudice against a man. For instance, if a lawyer +brings an action, he can seldom get justice before a common jury; +and so if he be sued. A blue ribbon <!-- page 236--><a +name="page236"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 236</span>man on the +jury will be almost sure to carry his extreme virtue to the +border of injustice against a publican. Masters decide +against workmen, and so on.”</p> +<p>“Well, Mr. Bumpkin is not a lawyer, or a publican, or a +blue ribbon man, so I hope he’ll win.”</p> +<p>“I don’t hope anything about it,” I +replied. “I shall note down what takes place; I +don’t care who wins.”</p> +<p>“When will his case at the Old Bailey come on? I +think that’s the term you use.”</p> +<p>“It will be tried next week.”</p> +<p>“He is sure to punish that wicked thief who stole his +watch.”</p> +<p>“One would think so: much will depend upon the way Mr. +Bumpkin gives his evidence; much on the way in which the thief is +defended; a good deal on the ability of the Counsel for the +Prosecution; and very much on the class of man they get in the +jury box.”</p> +<p>“But the case is so clear.”</p> +<p>“Yes, to us who know all about it; but you have to make +it clear to the jury.”</p> +<p>“There’s the watch found upon the man. Why, +dear me, what can be clearer or plainer than that?”</p> +<p>“True; that’s Mr. Bumpkin’s +evidence.”</p> +<p>“And Mr. Bumpkin saw him take it.”</p> +<p>“That’s Bumpkin again.”</p> +<p>“Then Mr. O’Rapley was with him.”</p> +<p>“Did you not hear that he is not to be called; the Don +doesn’t want to be seen in the affair.”</p> +<p>“Well, I feel certain he will win. I shall not +believe in trial by jury if they let that man off.”</p> +<p>“You don’t know what a trial at the Old Bailey or +Quarter Sessions is. I don’t mean at the Old Bailey +<!-- page 237--><a name="page237"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +237</span>before a real Common Law judge, but a Chancery +judge. I once heard a counsel, who was prosecuting a man +for passing bad money, interrupt a recorder in his summing up, +and ask him to tell the jury there was evidence of seven bad +florins having been found in the prisoner’s boot. As +guilty knowledge was the gist of the offence, this seemed +somewhat important. The learned young judge, turning to the +jury, said, in a hesitating manner, ‘Well, really, +gentlemen, I don’t know whether that will affect your +judgment in any way; there is the evidence, and you may consider +it if you please.’”</p> +<p>“One more thing I should like to ask.”</p> +<p>“By all means.”</p> +<p>“Why can’t they get Mr. Bumpkin’s case +tried?”</p> +<p>“Because there is no system. In the County Court, +where a judge tries three times as many cases in a day as any +Superior judge, cases are tried nearly always on the day they are +set down for. At the Criminal Courts, where every case is +at least as important as any Civil case, everyone gets tried +without unnecessary delay. In the Common Law Courts +it’s very much like hunt the slipper—you hardly ever +know which Court the case is in for five minutes together. +Then they sit one day and not another, to the incalculable +expense of the suitors, who may come up from Devonshire to-night, +and, after waiting a week, go back and return again to town at +the end of the following month.”</p> +<p>“But, now that O’Rapley has taken the matter up, +is there not some hope?”</p> +<p>“Well, he seems to have as much power as +anyone.”</p> +<p>“Then I hope he’ll exert it; for it’s a +shame that this poor man should be kept waiting about so +long. I <!-- page 238--><a name="page238"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 238</span>quite feel for him: there really +ought not to be so much delay in the administration of +justice.”</p> +<p>“A dilatory administration of justice amounts too often +to a denial of it altogether. It always increases the +expense, and often results in absolute ruin.”</p> +<p>“I wonder men don’t appoint someone when they fell +out to arbitrate between them.”</p> +<p>“They often do, and too frequently, after all the +expense of getting ready for trial has been incurred, the case is +at last sent to the still more costly tribunal called a +reference. Many matters cannot be tried by a jury, but many +can be that are not; one side clamouring for a reference in order +to postpone the inevitable result; the other often obliged to +submit and be defeated by mere lapse of time.”</p> +<p>“It seems an endless sort of business.”</p> +<p>“Not quite; the measure of it is too frequently the +length of the purse on the one side or the other. A Railway +Company, who has been cast in damages for £1,000, can soon +wear out a poor plaintiff. One of the greatest evils of +modern litigation is the frequency with which new trials are +granted.”</p> +<p>“Lawyers,” said my wife, “are not apparently +good men of business.”</p> +<p>“They are not organizers.”</p> +<p>“It wants such a man as General Wolseley.”</p> +<p>“Precisely.” And here I felt the usual +drowsiness which the subject invariably produces. So I +dreamed again.</p> +<h2><!-- page 239--><a name="page239"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 239</span>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Morning reflections—Mrs. Oldtimes proves +herself to be a great philosopher—the departure of the +recruits to be sworn in.</p> +<p>And as I dreamed, methought what a strange paradox is human +nature. How often the night’s convivialities are +followed by despondent morning reflections! In the evening +we grow valiant over the inspiriting converse and the inspiring +glass; in the morning we are tame and calculating. The +artificial gaslight disappears, and the sober, grey morning +breaks in upon our reason. If the sunshine only ripened +one-half the good resolves and high purposes formed at night over +the social glass, what a harvest of good deeds there would +be! Yes, and if the evening dissipations did not obliterate +the good resolves of the morning, which we so often form as a +protection against sin and sorrow, what happy creatures we should +be!</p> +<p>Methought I looked into a piece of three-cornered glass, which +was resting on a ledge of the old wall in the room where Joe was +sleeping, and that I read therein the innermost thoughts of this +country lad. And I saw that he awoke to a very dreadful +sense of the realities of his new position; that, one after +another, visions of other days passed before his mind’s eye +as he lay gazing at the dormer window of his narrow +chamber. What a <!-- page 240--><a name="page240"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 240</span>profound stillness there was! +How different from the roystering glee of the previous +night! It was a stillness that seemed to whisper of home; +of his poor old mother; of the green sward lane that led to the +old farm; of the old oak tree, where the owls lived, and ghosts +were said to take up their quarters; of the stile where, of a +Sunday morning, he used to smoke his pipe with Jack, and Ned, and +Charley; where he had often stood to see Polly go by to church; +and he knew that, notwithstanding she would not so much as look +at him, he loved her down to the very sole of her boot; and would +stand and contemplate the print of her foot after she had passed; +he didn’t know why, for there was nothing in it, after +all. No, Joe, nothing in it—it was in you; that makes +all the difference. And the voice whispered to him of sunny +days in the bright fields, when he held the plough, and the sly +old rook would come bobbing and pecking behind him; and the +little field-mouse would flit away from its turned up nest, +frightened to death, as if it were smitten with an earthquake; +and the skylark would dart up over his head, letting fall a song +upon him, as though it were Heaven’s blessing. Then +the voice spoke of the noontide meal under the hedge in the warm +sunshine, or in the shade of the cool spreading tree; of the +horses feeding close up alongside the hedge; of the going home in +the evening, and the warm fireside, and the rustic song, and of +the thousand and one beloved associations that he was leaving and +casting behind him for ever. But then, again, he thought of +“bettering his condition,” of getting on in the +world, of the smart figure he should look in the eyes of Polly, +who would be sure now to like him better <!-- page 241--><a +name="page241"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 241</span>than she +liked the baker. He never could see what there was in the +baker that any girl should care for; and he thought of what the +Sergeant had said about asking his mother’s leave. +And then he pondered on the beef steaks and onions and mutton +chops, and other glories of a soldier’s life; so he got up +with a brave, resolute heart to face the world like a man, +although it was plainly visible that sorrow struggled in his +eyes.</p> +<p>There was just one tear for old times, the one tear that +showed how very human Joe was beneath all the rough incrustations +with which ignorance and poverty had enveloped him.</p> +<p>As he was sousing his head and neck in a pail of cold water in +the little backyard of the Inn, the thought occurred to +him,—</p> +<p>“I wonder whether or no we ’gins these ’ere +mutton chops for brakfast to-day or arter we’re sweared +in. I expects not till arter we’re sweared +in.”</p> +<p>Then his head went into the pail with a dash, as if that was +part of the swearing-in process. As it came out he was +conscious of a twofold sensation, which it may not be out of +place to describe: the sensation produced by the water, which was +refreshing in the highest degree, and the sensation produced by +what is called wind, which was also deliciously refreshing; and +it was in this wise. Borne along upon the current of air +which passed through the kitchen, there was the most odoriferous +savour of fried bacon that the most luxurious appetite could +enjoy. It was so beautifully and voluptuously fragrant that +Joe actually stopped while in the act of soaping his face that he +might enjoy it. No one, I think, will deny that it must +have been an <!-- page 242--><a name="page242"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 242</span>agreeable odour that kept a man +waiting with his eyes fall of soap for half a minute.</p> +<p>“That beant amiss,” thought Joe; “I wonder +whether it be for I.”</p> +<p>The problem was soon solved, for as he entered the kitchen +with a face as bright and ruddy almost as the sun when he comes +up through a mist, he saw the table was laid out for five, and +all the other recruits had already assembled. There was not +one who did not look well up to his resolution, and I must say a +better looking lot of recruits were never seen: they were tall, +well made, healthy, good-looking fellows.</p> +<p>Now Mrs. Oldtimes was busy at the kitchen fire; the frying-pan +was doing its best to show what could be done for Her +Majesty’s recruits. He was hissing bravely, and +seemed every now and then to give a louder and heartier welcome +to the company. As Joe came in I believe it fairly gave a +shout of enthusiasm, a kind of hooray. In addition to the +rashers that were frying, there was a large dish heaped up in +front of the fire, so that it was quite clear there would be no +lack, however hungry the company might be.</p> +<p>Then they sat down and every one was helped. Mrs. +Oldtimes was a woman of the world; let me also state she had a +deep insight into human nature. She knew the feelings of +her guests at this supreme moment, and how cheaply they could be +bought off at their present state of soldiering. She was +also aware that courage, fortitude, firmness, and the higher +qualities of the soul depend so much upon a contented stomach, +that she gave every one of her guests some nice gravy from the +pan.</p> +<p>It was a treat to see them eat. The Boardman was <!-- +page 243--><a name="page243"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +243</span>terrific, so was Jack. Harry seemed to have a +little more on his mind than the others, but this did not +interfere with his appetite; it simply affected his manner of +appeasing it. He seemed to be in love, for his manner was +somewhat reserved. At length the Sergeant came in, looking +so cheerful and radiant that one could hardly see him and not +wish to be a soldier. Then his cheery “Well, lads; +good morning, lads,” was so home-like that you almost +fancied soldiering consisted in sitting by a blazing kitchen fire +on a frosty morning and eating fried bacon. What a spirit +his presence infused into the company! He detected at a +glance the down-heartedness of Harry, and began a story about his +own enlistment years ago, when the chances for a young man of +education were nothing to what they are now. The story +seemed exactly to fit the circumstances of the case and cheered +Harry up wonderfully. Breakfast was nearly finished when +the Sergeant, after filling his pipe, said:</p> +<p>“Comrades, what do you say; shall I wait till +you’ve quite finished?”</p> +<p>“No, no, Sergeant; no, no,” said all.</p> +<p>Oh! the fragrance of that pipe! And the multiplied +fragrance of all the pipes! Then came smiling Miss +Prettyface to see if their ribbons were all right; and the +longing look of all the recruits was quite an affecting sight; +and the genial motherly good-natured best wishes of Mrs. Oldtimes +were very welcome. All these things were pleasant, and +proved Mrs. Oldtimes’ philosophy to be correct—if you +want to develop the higher virtues in a man, feed him.</p> +<p>Then came the word of command in the tone of an invitation to +a pleasure party: “Now, lads, what do you <!-- page +244--><a name="page244"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +244</span>say?” And off went Harry, upright as if he +had been drilled; off went Bill, trying to shake off the deal +boards in which he had been sandwiched for a year and a half; off +went Bob as though he had found an agreeable occupation at last; +off went Devilmecare as though the war was only just the other +side of the road; off went Jack as though it mattered nothing to +him whether it was the Army or the Church; and, just as Mr. +Bumpkin looked out of the parlour window, off went his +“head witness,” swaggering along in imitation of the +Sergeant, with the colours streaming from his hat as though any +honest employment was better than hanging about London for a case +to “come on.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 245--><a name="page245"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 245</span>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">A letter from home.</p> +<p>“I wonder,” said Mrs. Oldtimes, “who this +letter be for; it have been ’ere now nigh upon a week, and +I’m tired o’ seein’ it.”</p> +<p>Miss Prettyface took the letter in her hand and began, as best +she could, for the twentieth time to endeavour to decipher the +address. It was very much blotted and besmeared, and +presented a very remarkable specimen of caligraphy. The +most legible word on it seemed “Gouse.”</p> +<p>“There’s nobody here of that name,” said the +young lady. “Do you know anybody, Mr. Bumpkin, of the +name of Gouse?”</p> +<p>“Devil a bit,” said he, taking the letter in his +hands, and turning it over as if it had been a skittle-ball.</p> +<p>“The postman said it belonged here,” said Mrs. +Oldtimes, “but I can’t make un out.”</p> +<p>“I can’t read the postmark,” said Miss +Prettyface.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin put on a large pair of glasses and examined the +envelope with great care.</p> +<p>“I think you’ve got un upside down,” said +Mrs. Oldtimes.</p> +<p>“Ah! so ur be,” replied the farmer, turning it +over several times. “Why,” he continued, +“here be a <i>b</i>—<!-- page 246--><a +name="page246"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 246</span>and a +<i>u</i>, beant it? See if that beant a <i>u</i>, Miss, +your eyes be better un mine; they be younger.”</p> +<p>“O yes, that’s a <i>u</i>,” said Miss +Prettyface, “and an <i>m</i>.”</p> +<p>“And that spell <i>bum</i>.”</p> +<p>“But stop,” said Miss Prettyface, +“here’s a <i>p</i>.”</p> +<p>“That’s <i>bump</i>,” said Mrs. Oldtimes; +“we shall get at something presently.”</p> +<p>“Why,” exclaimed Bumpkin, “I be danged if I +doant think it be my old ’ooman’s writin’: but +I beant sure. That be the way ur twists the tail of ur +<i>y</i>’s and <i>g</i>’s, I’ll swear; and +lookee ’ere, beant this <i>k i n</i>?”</p> +<p>“I think it is,” said the maid.</p> +<p>“Ah, then, thee med be sure that be Bumpkin, and the +letter be for I.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the young lady, “and that other +word which looks more like Grouse is meant for Goose, the sign of +the house.”</p> +<p>“Sure be un,” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin, “and +Nancy ha put Bumpkin and Goose all in one line, when ur ought to +ha made two lines ov un. Now look at that, that letter +might ha been partickler.”</p> +<p>“So it may be as it is,” said Mrs. Oldtimes; +“it’s from Mrs. Bumpkin, no doubt. Aren’t +you going to open it?”</p> +<p>“I think I wool,” said Bumpkin, turning the letter +round and round, and over and over, as though there was some +special private entrance which could only be discovered by the +closest search. At length Mrs. Oldtimes’ curiosity +was gratified, for he found a way in, and drew out the many +folded letter of the most difficult penmanship that ever was +subjected to mortal gaze. It was not that the writing was +illegible, but that the spelling was so extraordinary, and the +terms of expression <!-- page 247--><a name="page247"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 247</span>so varied. Had I to interpret +this letter without the aid of a dream I should have a long and +difficult task before me. But it is the privilege of +dreamers to see things clearly and in a moment: to live a +lifetime in a few seconds, and to traverse oceans in the space of +a single respiration. So, in the present instance, that +which took Mr. Bumpkin, with the help of Mrs. Oldtimes and the +occasional assistance of Lucy an hour to decipher, flashed before +me in a single second. I ought perhaps to translate it into +a more civilized language, but that would be impossible without +spoiling the effect and disturbing the continuity of character +which is so essential in a work made up of various actors. +Mr. Bumpkin himself in his ordinary costume would be no more out +of place in my Lord Mayor’s state carriage than Mrs. +Bumpkin wielding the Queen’s English in its statelier and +more fashionable adornment. So I give it as it was +written. It began in a bold but irregular hand, and clearly +indicated a certain agitation of mind not altogether in keeping +with the even temperament of the writer’s daily life.</p> +<p>“Deer Tom” (the letter began), “I ope thee +be well for it be a long time agoo since thee left ere I +cant mak un out wot be all this bother about a pig but Tom +thee’ll be glad to ear as I be doin weel the lamin be over +and we got semteen as pooty lams as ever thee clapped eyes +on The weet be lookin well and so be the barly an wuts +thee’ll be glad Tom to ear wot good luck I been avin wi +sellin Mister Prigg have the kolt for twenty pun a pun more +an the Squoire ofered Sam broked er in and ur do look well +in Mrs. Prigg faten I met un the tother day Mr. Prigg wur +drivin un an he tooked off his at jist th’ sam as if +I’d been a lady <!-- page 248--><a +name="page248"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 248</span>Missis +Prigg din’t see me as her edd wur turned th’ tother +way I be glad to tell ee we sold the wuts ten quorter these +was bort by Mister Prigg and so wur the stror ten load as clane +and brite as ever thee seed Mr. Prigg be a rale good +custumer an a nice man I wish there was moore like im it ud +be the makin o’ th’ Parish we shal ave a nice lot o +monie to dror from un at Miklemes he be the best customer we ever +ad an I toold th’ Squoire wen ur corled about the wuts as +Mister Prigg ad orfered ten shillin a quorter for un more un +ee Ur dint seem to like un an rod away but we dooant o un +anythink Tom so I dont mind we must sell ware we ken mak moast +monie I spose Sampson be stronger an grander than ever +it’s my belief an I thinks we shal do well wi un this +Spring tell t’ Joe not to stop out o’ nites or keep +bad kumpany and to read evere nite wat the Wicker told un the +fust sarm an do thee read un Tom for its my bleef ur cant +’urt thee nuther.”</p> +<p>“Humph!” said Bumpkin, “fust sarms +indade. I got a lot o’ time for sarms, an’ as +for thic Joe—lor, lor, Nancy, whatever will thee say, I +wonder, when thee knows he’s gone for a soger—a sarm +beant much good to un now; he be done for.”</p> +<p>And then Mr. Bumpkin went and looked out of the window, and +thought over all the good news of Mrs. Bumpkin’s letter, +and mentally calculated that even up to this time Mr. +Prigg’s account would come to enough to pay the +year’s rent.</p> +<p>Going to law seemed truly a most advantageous business. +Here he had got two shillings a quarter more for the oats than +the Squire had offered, and a pound more for the colt. +Prigg was a famous customer, and no doubt would buy the +hay. And, strange to say, just as <!-- page 249--><a +name="page249"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 249</span>Mr. Bumpkin +thought this, he happened to turn over the last page of the +letter, and there he saw what was really a Postscript.</p> +<p>“Halloo!” says he, “my dear, here be moore +on’t; lookee ’ere.”</p> +<p>“So there is,” answered Lucy; “let’s +have a look.” And thus she read:—</p> +<p>“The klover cut out well it made six lode the little rik +an four pun nineteen The Squoire ony offered four pun ten +so in corse I let Mister Prigg ave un.”</p> +<p>“Well done, Nancy, thee be famous. Now, thic big +rik’ll fetch moore’n thic.”</p> +<p>Such cheering intelligence put Mr. Bumpkin in good heart in +spite of his witness’s desertion. Joe was a good +deal, but he wasn’t money, and if he liked to go for a +soger, he must go; but, in Mr. Bumpkin’s judgment, he would +very soon be tired of it, and wish himself back at his +fireside.</p> +<p>“Now, you must write to Mrs. Bumpkin,” said +Lucy.</p> +<p>“Thee’ll write for I, my dear; won’t +thee?”</p> +<p>“If you like,” said Lucy. And so, after +dinner, when she had changed her dress, she proceeded to write an +epistle for Mrs. Bumpkin’s edification. She had +<i>carte blanche</i> to put in what she liked, except that the +main facts were to be that Joe had gone for a horse soger; that +he expected “the case would come on every day;” and +that he had the highest opinion of the unquestioned ability of +honest Lawyer Prigg.</p> +<p>And now another surprise awaited the patient Bumpkin. As +he sat, later in the day, smoking his pipe, in company with Mrs. +Oldtimes, two men, somewhat <!-- page 250--><a +name="page250"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 250</span>shabbily +dressed, walked into the parlour and ordered refreshment.</p> +<p>“A fine day, sir,” said the elder of the two, a +man about thirty-five. This observation was addressed to +Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“It be,” said the farmer.</p> +<p>The other individual had seated himself near the fire, and was +apparently immersed in the study of the <i>Daily +Telegraph</i>. Suddenly he observed to his companion, as +though he had never seen it before,—</p> +<p>“Hallo! Ned, have you seen this?”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” asked the gentleman called +Ned.</p> +<p>“Never read such a thing in my life. Just +listen.”</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“‘A YOUNG +MAN FROM THE COUNTRY.’<br /> +“<span class="smcap">extraordinary story</span>.</p> +<p>“A man, apparently about sixty-eight, who gave the name +of Bumpkin, appeared as the prosecutor in a case under the +following extraordinary circumstances. He said he was from +the country, but declined to give any more particular address, +and had been taken by a friend to see the Old Bailey and to hear +the trials at that Court. After leaving the Central +Criminal Court, he deposed, that, walking with his friend, he was +accosted in the Street in the open daylight and robbed of his +watch; that he pursued the thief, and when near Blackfriars +Bridge met a man coming towards him; that he seized the supposed +thief, and found him wearing the watch which he affirmed had been +stolen. The manner and appearance of ‘the young man +from the country’ excited great laughter in Court, and the +Lord Mayor, in <!-- page 251--><a name="page251"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 251</span>the absence of any evidence to the +contrary, thought there was a <i>primâ facie</i> case under +the circumstances, and committed the accused for trial to the +Central Criminal Court. The prisoner, who was respectably +dressed, and against whom nothing appeared to be known, was most +ably defended by Mr. Nimble, who declined to put any questions in +cross-examination, and did not address his Lordship. The +case created great sensation, and it is expected that at the +trial some remarkable and astounding disclosures will be +made. ‘The young man from the country’ was very +remarkably dressed: he twirled in his hand a large old-fashioned +white-beaver hat with a black band round it; wore a very peculiar +frock, elaborately ornamented with needlework in front and +behind, while a yellow kerchief with red ends was twisted round +his neck. The countryman declined to give his town address; +but a remarkable incident occurred during the hearing, which did +not seem to strike either the Lord Mayor or the counsel for the +defence, and that was that no appearance of the +countryman’s companion was put in. Who he is and to +what region he belongs will probably transpire at the ensuing +trial, which is expected to be taken on the second day of the +next Sessions. It is obvious that while the case is <i>sub +judice</i> no comments can properly be made thereon, but we are +not prevented from saying that the evidence of this extraordinary +‘young man from the country’ will be subjected to the +most searching cross-examination of one of the ablest counsel of +the English Bar.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The two men looked at Mr. Bumpkin; while the latter coloured +until his complexion resembled beetroot. Miss Prettyface +giggled; and Mrs. Oldtimes winked at <!-- page 252--><a +name="page252"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 252</span>Mr. +Bumpkin, and shook her head in the most significant manner.</p> +<p>“That’s a rum case, sir,” said Ned.</p> +<p>Silence.</p> +<p>“I don’t believe a word of the story,” said +his companion.</p> +<p>Silence.</p> +<p>“Do you believe,” he continued, “that that +man could have been wearing that watch if he’d stole +it?”</p> +<p>“Not I.”</p> +<p>“Lor! won’t Jemmy Nimble make mincemeat of +’im!”</p> +<p>Mrs. Oldtimes looked frequently towards Mr. Bumpkin as she +continued her sewing, making the most unmistakeable signals that +under no circumstances was he to answer. It was apparent to +everyone, from Mr. Bumpkin’s manner, that the paragraph +referred to him.</p> +<p>“The best thing that chap can do,” said Ned, +“is not to appear at the trial. He can easily keep +away.”</p> +<p>“He won’t, you’re sure,” answered the +other man; “he knows a trick worth two of that. They +say the old chap deserted his poor old wife, after beating her +black and blue, and leaving her for dead.”</p> +<p>“It be a lie!” exclaimed Bumpkin, thumping his +fist on the table.</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Ned, “do you know anything about +it, sir? It’s no odds to me, only a man can’t +shut his ears.”</p> +<p>“P’r’aps I do and p’r’aps I +doant; but it beant no bi’niss o’ thine.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t mean no offence, but anybody can read +the paper, surely; it’s a free country. +P’r’aps you’re the man himself; I didn’t +think o’ that.”</p> +<p><!-- page 253--><a name="page253"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +253</span>“P’r’aps I be, and +p’r’aps I beant.”</p> +<p>“And p’r’aps your name is +Bumpkin?”</p> +<p>“And p’r’aps it beant, and what +then?”</p> +<p>“Why, you’ve nothing to do with it, that’s +all; and I don’t see why you should interfere.”</p> +<p>“I can’t have no quarrelling in my house,” +said the landlady. “This gentleman’s nothing to +do with it; he knows nothing at all about it; so, if you please, +gentlemen, we needn’t say any more.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I don’t want to talk about it,” +said Ned.</p> +<p>“No more do I,” chimed in his companion; +“but it’s a pity that he should take up our +conversation when he hasn’t anything to do with it, and his +name isn’t Bumpkin, and he hasn’t lost his +watch. It’s no odds to me; I don’t care, do +you, Ned?”</p> +<p>“Not I,” said Ned; “let’s be off; I +don’t want no row; anybody mustn’t open his mouth +now. Good day, sir.”</p> +<p>And the two young men went away.</p> +<h2><!-- page 255--><a name="page255"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 255</span>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Mr. Bumpkin determines to maintain a discreet +silence about his case at the Old Bailey—Mr. Prigg confers +with him thereon.</p> +<p>And I saw that Mr. Bumpkin’s case did not come on. +Day by day passed away, and still it was not in the paper. +The reason, however, is simple, and need not be told to any +except those of my readers who are under the impression that the +expeditious administration of justice is of any +consequence. It was obvious to the most simple-minded that +the case could not be taken for a day or two, because there was a +block in every one of the three Courts devoted to the trial of +Nisi Prius actions. And you know as well as anyone, Mr. +Bumpkin, that when you get a load of turnips, or what not, in the +market town blocked by innumerable other turnip carts, you must +wait. Patience, therefore, good Bumpkin. Justice may +be slow-footed, but she is sure handed; she may be blind and +deaf, but she is not dumb; as you shall see if you look into one +of the “blocked Courts” where a trial has been going +on for the last sixteen days. A case involving a dispute of +no consequence to any person in the world, and in which there is +absolutely nothing except—O rare phenomenon!—plenty +of money. It was interesting only on account of the +bickerings between the learned counsel, and the occasionally +friendly <!-- page 256--><a name="page256"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 256</span>altercations between the Bench and +the Bar. But the papers had written it into a <i>cause +célèbre</i>, and made it a dramatic entertainment +for the beauty and the chivalry of England. So Mr. Bumpkin +had still to wait; but it enabled him to attend comfortably the +February sittings of the Old Bailey, where his other case was to +be tried.</p> +<p>When Mr. Prigg read the account of the proceedings before the +Lord Mayor, he was very much concerned, not to say annoyed, +because he was under the impression that he ought to have been +consulted. Not knowing what to do under the circumstances, +he resolved, after due consideration, to get into a hansom and +drive down to the “Goose.” Mr. Prigg, as I have +before observed, was swift in decision and prompt in +action. He had no sooner resolved to see Bumpkin than to +Bumpkin he went. But his client was out; it was uncertain +when he would be in. Judge of Mr. Prigg’s +disappointment! He left word that he would call again; he +did call again, and, after much dodging on the part of the wily +Bumpkin, he was obliged to surrender himself a captive to honest +Prigg.</p> +<p>“My dear Mr. Bumpkin,” exclaimed he, taking both +the hands of his client into his own and yielding him a double +measure of friendship; “is it possible—have you been +robbed? Is it you in the paper this morning in this +<i>very</i> extraordinary case?”</p> +<p>Bumpkin looked and blushed. He was not a liar, but truth +is not always the most convenient thing, say what you will.</p> +<p>“I see,” said Mr. Prigg; “quite +so—quite so! Now <i>how</i> did this +happen?”</p> +<p>Bumpkin still looked and blushed.</p> +<p><!-- page 257--><a name="page257"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +257</span>“Ah!” said Mr. Prigg; “just so. +But who was this companion?”</p> +<p>Bumpkin muttered “A friend!”</p> +<p>“O! O! O!” said Mr. Prigg, drawing a long face and +placing the fore-finger of his left hand perpendicularly from the +tip of his nose to the top of his forehead.</p> +<p>“Noa,” said Bumpkin, “’taint none +o’ that nuther; I beant a man o’ that +sort.”</p> +<p>“Well, well,” said Mr. Prigg, “I only +thought I’d call, you know, in case there should be +anything which might in any way affect our action.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin, conscious of his moral rectitude, like all good +men, was fearless: he knew that nothing which he had done would +affect the merits of his case, and, therefore, instead of +replying to the subtle question of his adviser, he merely +enquired of that gentleman when he thought the case would be +on. The usual question.</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg rubbed his hands and glanced his eyes as though just +under his left elbow was a very deep well, at the bottom of which +lay that inestimable jewel, truth. “Really,” +Mr. Bumpkin, “I expect every hour to see us in the +paper. It’s very extraordinary; they have no less +than three Courts sitting, as I daresay you are aware. No +less than—let me see, my mind’s so full of business, +I have seven cases ready to come on. Where was I? O, +I know; I say there are no less than three Courts, under the +continuous sittings system, and yet we seem to make no progress +in the diminution of the tremendous and overwhelming mass of +business that pours in upon us.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin said “Hem!”</p> +<p><!-- page 258--><a name="page258"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +258</span>“You see,” continued Mr. Prigg, +“there’s one thing, we shall not last long when we do +come on.”</p> +<p>“Shan’t ur?”</p> +<p>“You see there’s only one witness, besides +yourself, on our side.”</p> +<p>“And ’eve gone for a soger,” said Mr. +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“A soldier!” exclaimed Prigg. “A +soldier, my dear Bumpkin. No—no—you don’t +say so, really!”</p> +<p>“Ay, sure ’ave ur; and wot the devil I be to do +agin that there Snooks, as ’ll lie through a brick wall, I +beant able to say. I be pooty nigh off my chump wot +wi’ one thing and another.”</p> +<p>“Off what, sir?” enquired Mr. Prigg.</p> +<p>“Chump,” shouted Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“O, indeed, yes; dear me, you don’t say so. +Well, now I’m glad I called. I must see about +this. What regiment did you say he’d +joined?”</p> +<p>“Hoosors!”</p> +<p>“Ha! dear me, has he, indeed?” said Mr. Prigg, +noting it down in his pocket-book. “What a pity for a +young man like that to throw himself away—such an +intelligent young fellow, too, and might have done so well; dear +me!”</p> +<p>“Ha,” answered Bumpkin, “there worn’t +a better feller at plough nor thic there; and he could mend a +barrer or a ’arrer, and turn his ’and to pooty nigh +anything about t’ farm.”</p> +<p>“And is there any reason that can be assigned for this +extraordinary conduct? Wasn’t in debt, I +suppose?”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin laughed one of his old big fireside laughs such as +he had not indulged in lately.</p> +<p>“Debt! why they wouldn’t trust un a +shoe-string. <!-- page 259--><a name="page259"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 259</span>Where the devil wur such a chap as +thic to get money to get into debt wi’?”</p> +<p>“My dear sir, we don’t want money to get into debt +with; we get into debt when we have none.”</p> +<p>“Do ur, sir. Then if I hadn’t ’ad any +money I’d like to know ’ow fur thee’d ha’ +trusted I.”</p> +<p>“Dear me,” said Mr. Prigg, “what a very +curious way of putting it! But, however, soldier or no +soldier, we must have his evidence. I must see about it: I +must go to the dépôt. Now, with regard to your +case at the Old Bailey.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Bumpkin, rather testily; “I +be bound over to proserkit, and that be all I knows about +un. I got to give seam evidence as I guv afore the Lord +Mayor, and the Lord Mayor said as the case wur clear, and away it +went for trial.”</p> +<p>“Indeed! dear me!”</p> +<p>“And I got to tak no trouble at all about un, but to +keep my mouth shut till the case comes on, that’s what the +pleeceman told I. I bean’t to talk about un, or to +tak any money not to proserkit.”</p> +<p>“O dear, no,” said Mr. Prigg. “O dear, +dear, no; you would be compounding a felony.” (Here +Mr. Prigg made a note in his diary to this +effect:—“Attending you at ‘The Goose’ at +Westminster, when you informed me that you were the prosecutor in +a case at the Old Bailey, and in which I advised you not, under +any circumstances, to accept a compromise or money for the +purpose of withdrawing from the prosecution, and strongly +impressed upon you that such conduct would amount in law to a +misdemeanor. Long conference with you thereon, when you +promised to abide by my advice, £1 6<i>s.</i> +0<i>d.</i>”).</p> +<p><!-- page 260--><a name="page260"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +260</span>“Now,” said Bumpkin, “it seem to me +that turn which way I wool, there be too much law, too many +pitfalls; I be gettin’ sick on’t.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Prigg, “we have only to do +our duty in that station of life in which we are called, and we +have no cause to fear. Now you know you would <i>not</i> +have liked that unprincipled man, Snooks, to have the laugh of +you, would you now?”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin clenched his fist as he said, “Noa, +I’d sooner lose every penny I got than thic there feller +should ha’ the grin o’ me.”</p> +<p>“Quite so,” said the straightforward +moralist. “Quite so! dear me! Well, well, I +must wish you good morning, for really I am so overwhelmed with +work that I hardly know which way to turn—bye, bye. I +will take care to keep you posted up in—.” Here +Mr. Prigg’s cab drove off, and I could not ascertain +whether the posting up was to be in the state of the list or in +the lawyer’s ledger.</p> +<p>“What a nice man!” said the landlady.</p> +<p>Yes, that was Mr. Prigg’s character, go where he would: +“A nice man!”</p> +<h2><!-- page 261--><a name="page261"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 261</span>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The trial at the Old Bailey of Mr. Simple +Simonman for highway robbery with violence—Mr. Alibi +introduces himself to Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>I next saw Mr. Bumpkin wandering about the precincts of that +Grand Institution, the Old Bailey, on a drizzly morning about the +middle of February, 187—, waiting to go before the Grand +Jury. As the famous prison in Scotland was called the +“Heart of Midlothian” so the Old Bailey may be +considered the Heart of Civilization. Its commanding +situation, in the very centre of a commercial population, +entitles it to this distinction; for nothing is supposed to have +so civilizing an influence as Commerce. I was always +impressed with its beautiful and picturesque appearance, +especially on a fine summer morning, during its sittings, when +the sun was pouring its brightest beams on its lively +portals. What a charming picture was presented to your +view, when the gates being open, the range of sheds on the left +met the eye, especially the centre one where the gallows is kept +packed up for future use. The gallows on the one side might +be seen and the stately carriages of my Lord Mayor and Sheriffs +on the other! Gorgeous coachmen and footmen in resplendent +liveries; magnificent civic dignitaries in elaborate liveries +too, rich with gold and bright with <!-- page 262--><a +name="page262"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 262</span>colour, +stepping forth from their carriages, amid loud cries of +“Make way!” holding in their white-gloved hands large +bouquets of the loveliest flowers, emblems of—what?</p> +<p>Crime truly has its magnificent accompaniments, and if it does +not dress itself, as of old, in the rich costumes of a Turpin or +a Duval, it is not without its beautiful surroundings. +Here, where the channels and gutters of crime converge, is built, +in the centre of the greatest commercial city in the world, the +Bailey. Mr. Bumpkin wandered about for hours through a +reeking unsavoury crowd of thieves and thieves’ companions, +idlers of every type of blackguardism, ruffians of every degree +of criminality; boys and girls receiving their finishing lessons +in crime under the dock, as they used to do only a few years ago +under the gallows. The public street is given over to the +enemies of Society; and Civilisation looks on without a shudder +or regret, as though crime were a necessity, and the Old Bailey, +in the heart of London, no disgrace.</p> +<p>And a little dirty, greasy hatted, black whiskered man, after +pushing hither and thither through this pestiferous crowd as +though he had business with everybody, but did not exactly know +what it was, at length approached Mr. Bumpkin; and after standing +a few minutes by his side eyeing him with keen hungry looks, +began that interesting conversation about the weather which seems +always so universally acceptable. Mr. Bumpkin was +tired. He had been wandering for hours in the street, and +was wondering when he should be called before the Grand +Jury. Mr. Alibi, that was the dark gentleman’s name, +knew all about Mr. Bumpkin’s case, his condition of mind, +and his impatience; and he said deferentially:</p> +<p><!-- page 263--><a name="page263"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +263</span>“You are waiting to go before the Grand Jury, I +suppose, sir?”</p> +<p>“I be,” answered Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Where’s your policeman?” enquired +Alibi.</p> +<p>“I doant know,” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“What’s his number?”</p> +<p>“Sev’n hunderd and sev’nty.”</p> +<p>“O, I know,” said Alibi; “why not let me get +you before the Grand Jury at once, instead of waiting about here +all day, and perhaps to-morrow and the next day, and the day +after that; besides, the sooner you go before the Grand Jury, the +sooner your case will come on; that stands to common sense, I +think.”</p> +<p>“So ur do,” answered the farmer.</p> +<p>“You will be here a month if you don’t look +out. Have you got any counsel or solicitor?”</p> +<p>“Noa, I beant; my case be that plaain, it spaks for +itself.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Mr. Alibi; “they won’t +always let a case speak for itself—they very often stop +it—but if you can get a counsel for nothing, why not have +one; that stands to reason, I think?”</p> +<p>“For nothing? well that be the fust time I ever eeard +o’ a loryer as chape as thic.”</p> +<p>How it could pay was the wonder to Mr. Bumpkin. And what +a strange delusion it must seem to the mind of the general +reader! But wait, gentle peruser of this history, you shall +see this strange sight.</p> +<p>“If you like to have a counsel and a lawyer to conduct +your case, sir, it shall not cost you a farthing, I give you my +word of honour! What do you think of that?”</p> +<p>What could Mr. Bumpkin think of that? What a pity that +he had not met this gentleman before! Probably he <!-- page +264--><a name="page264"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +264</span>would have brought several actions if he had; for if +you could work the machinery of the law for nothing, you would +always stand to win.</p> +<p>“O,” said Mr. Alibi, “here is seven hundred +and seventy! This gentleman wants a counsel, and I’ve +been telling him he can have one, and it won’t cost him +anything.”</p> +<p>“That’s right enough,” said the Policeman; +“but it ain’t nothin’ to do with me!”</p> +<p>“Just step this way, sir, we’ll soon have this +case on,” said Alibi; and he led the way to the back room +of a public-house, which seemed to be used as a +“hedge” lawyer’s office.</p> +<p>“Med I mak so bold, sir; be thee a loryer?”</p> +<p>“No,” answered Alibi, “I am clerk to Mr. +Deadandgone.”</p> +<p>“And don’t Mr. Deadandam charge +nothin’?”</p> +<p>“O dear, no!”</p> +<p>What a very nice man Mr. Deadandam must be!</p> +<p>“You see,” said Alibi, “the Crown pays +us!”</p> +<p>“The Crown!”</p> +<p>And here Mr. Alibi slipped a crown-piece into the artfully +extended palm of the policeman, who said:</p> +<p>“It ain’t nothin’ to do wi’ me; but +the gentleman’s quite right, the Crown pays.” +And he dropped the money into his leather purse, which he rolled +up carefully and placed in his pocket.</p> +<p>“You see,” said Alibi, “I act as the Public +Prosecutor, who can’t be expected to do +everything—you can’t grind all the wheat in the +country in one mill, that stands to common sense.”</p> +<p>“That be right, that’s werry good,”</p> +<p>“And,” continued Mr. Alibi, “the Government +<!-- page 265--><a name="page265"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +265</span>allows two guineas for counsel, a guinea for the +solicitor, and so on, and the witnesses, don’t you +see?”</p> +<p>“Zactly!” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“And that’s quite enough,” continued Alibi; +“we don’t want anything from the +prosecutor—that’s right, policeman!”</p> +<p>“It ain’t nothink to do wi’ me,” said +the policeman; “but what this ’ere gentleman says is +the law.”</p> +<p>“There,” said Alibi, “I told you +so.”</p> +<p>“I spose,” said the policeman, “you +don’t want me, gentlemen; it ain’t nothink to do with +me?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, Leary,” replied Alibi; “we +don’t want you; the case is pretty straight, I +suppose.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, sir; I expects it’ll be a plea of +guilty. There ain’t no defence, not as I’m +aware of.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Alibi, “that’s all +right—keep your witnesses together, Leary—don’t +be out of the way.”</p> +<p>“No, sir,” says Leary; “I thinks I knows my +dooty.”</p> +<p>And with this he slouched out of the room, and went and +refreshed himself at the bar.</p> +<p>In two or three minutes the policeman returned, and was in the +act of drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, when Alibi +said:</p> +<p>“Yes?”</p> +<p>“Beg pardin, sir; but there’s another gentleman +wants to see you—I thinks he wants you to defend ---; but +it ain’t nothink to do wi’ me, sir.”</p> +<p>“Very good,” answered Alibi, “very good; now +let me see—”</p> +<p>“You got the Baker’s case?” said Leary.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Alibi; “O, +yes—embezzlement.”</p> +<p>Everything was thus far satisfactorily settled, and Mr. <!-- +page 266--><a name="page266"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +266</span>Bumpkin’s interests duly represented by Mr. +Deadandgone, an eminent practitioner. No doubt the services +of competent counsel would be procured, and the case fully +presented to the consideration of an intelligent jury.</p> +<p>Who shall say after this that the Old Bailey is <i>not</i> the +Heart of Civilization?</p> +<p>I pass over the preliminary canter of Mr. Bumpkin before the +Grand Jury; the decision of that judicial body, the finding of +the true bill, the return of the said bill in Court, the bringing +up of the prisoner for arraignment, and the fixing of the case to +be taken first on Thursday in deference to the wishes of Mr. +Nimble. I pass by all those preliminary proceedings which I +have before attempted to describe, and which, if I might employ a +racing simile, might be compared to the saddling of Mr. Bumpkin +in the paddock, where, unquestionably, he was first favourite for +the coming race, to be ridden by that excellent jockey, Alibi; +and come at once to the great and memorable trial of Regina on +the prosecution of Thomas Bumpkin against Simon Simpleman for +highway robbery with violence.</p> +<p>As the prisoner entered the dock there was a look of +unaffected innocence in his appearance that seemed to make an +impression on the learned Judge, Mr. Justice Technical, a +recently appointed Chancery barrister. I may be allowed to +mention that his Lordship had never had any experience in +Criminal Courts whatever: so he brought to the discharge of his +important duty a thoroughly unprejudiced and impartial +mind. He did not suspect that a man was guilty because he +was charged: and the respectable and harmless manner of the +accused was not interpreted by his Lordship as a piece of +consummate acting, as it would be by some Judges <!-- page +267--><a name="page267"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +267</span>who have seen much of the world as it is exhibited in +Criminal Courts.</p> +<p>Many ladies of rank were ushered in by the Sheriff, all +looking as smiling and happy as if they were about to witness the +performance of some celebrated actress for the first time; they +had fans and opera-glasses, and as they took their places in the +boxes allotted to rank and fashion, there was quite a pleasant +sensation produced in Court, and they attracted more notice for +the time being than the prisoners themselves.</p> +<p>Now these ladies were not there to witness the first piece, +the mere trial of Simpleman for highway robbery, although the +sentence might include the necessary brutality of flogging. +The afterpiece was what they had come to see—namely, a +fearful tragedy, in which two men at least were sure of being +sentenced to death. This is the nearest approach to +shedding human blood which ladies can now witness in this +country; for I do not regard pigeon slaughtering, brutal and +bloodthirsty as it is, as comparable to the sentencing of a +fellow-creature to be strangled. And no one can blame +ladies of rank if they slake their thirst for horrors in the only +way the law now leaves open to them. The Beauty of Spain is +better provided for. What a blessed thing is humanity!</p> +<p>It is due to Mr. Newboy, the counsel for the prosecution in +the great case of <i>Regina</i> v. <i>Simpleman</i>, to say that +he had only lately been called to the Bar, and only +“<i>instructed</i>,” as the prisoner was placed in +the dock. Consequently, he had not had time to read his +brief. I do not know that that was a disadvantage, inasmuch +as the brief consisted in what purported to be a copy of the +depositions so illegibly scrawled that it would have <!-- page +268--><a name="page268"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +268</span>required the most intense study to make out the meaning +of a single line.</p> +<p>Mr. Newboy was by no means devoid of ability; but no amount of +ability would give a man a knowledge of the facts of a case which +were never communicated to him. In its simplicity the +prosecution was beautifully commonplace, and five minutes’ +consideration would have been sufficient to enable counsel to +master the details and be prepared to meet the defence. +Alas, for the lack of those five minutes! The more Mr. +Newboy looked at the writing (?) the more confused he got. +All he could make out was his own name, and <i>Reg.</i> v. +<i>Somebody</i> on the back.</p> +<p>Now it happened that Mr. Alibi saw the difficulty in which Mr. +Newboy was, and knowing that his, Alibi’s, clerk, was not +remarkable for penmanship, handed to the learned counsel at the +last moment, when the last juryman was being bawled at with the +“well and truly try,” a copy of the depositions.</p> +<p>The first name at the top of the first page which caught the +eye of the learned counsel, was that of the prisoner; for the +depositions commence in such a way as to show the name of the +prisoner in close proximity to, if not among the names of +witnesses.</p> +<p>So Mr. Newboy, in his confusion, taking the name of the +prisoner as his first witness, shouted out in a bold voice, to +give himself courage, “<i>Simon Simpleman</i>.”</p> +<p>“’Ere!” answered the prisoner.</p> +<p>The learned Judge was a little astonished; and, although, he +had got his criminal law up with remarkable rapidity, his +lordship knew well enough that you cannot call the prisoner as a +witness either for or against himself. Mr. Newboy perceived +his mistake and apologised. <!-- page 269--><a +name="page269"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 269</span>The laugh, +of course, went round against him; and when it got to Mr. Nimble, +that merry gentleman slid it into the jury-box with a turn of his +eyes and a twist of his mouth. The counsel for the +prosecution being by this time pretty considerably confused, and +not being able to make out the name of a single witness on the +depositions (there were only two) called out, “The +Prosecutor.”</p> +<p>“Here, I be,” said a voice from the crowd in a +tone which provoked more laughter, all of which was turned into +the jury-box by Mr. Nimble. “Here I be” +struggled manfully with all his might and main to push through +the miscellaneous crowd of all sorts and conditions that hemmed +him in. All the arrangements at the Old Bailey, like the +arrangements at most Courts, are expressly devised for the +inconvenience of those who have business there.</p> +<p>All eyes were turned towards “<i>Here I be</i>,” +as, after much pushing and struggling as though he were in a +football match, he was thrust headlong forward by three policemen +and the crier into the body of the Court. There he stood +utterly confounded by the treatment he had undergone and the +sight that presented itself to his astonished gaze. +Opera-glasses were turned on him from the boxes, the gentlemen on +the grand tier strained their necks in order to catch a glimpse +of him; the pit, filled for the most part with young barristers, +was in suppressed ecstasies; while the gallery, packed to the +utmost limit of its capacity, broke out into unrestrained +laughter. I say, unrestrained; but as the Press truly +observed in the evening papers, “it was immediately +suppressed by the Usher.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin climbed into the witness-box (as though <!-- page +270--><a name="page270"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 270</span>he +were going up a rick), which was situated between the Judge and +the jury. His appearance again provoked a titter through +the Court; but it was not loud enough to call for any further +measure of suppression than the usual +“Si—lence!” loudly articulated in two widely +separated syllables by the crier, who had no sooner pronounced it +than he turned his face from the learned Judge and pressed his +hand tightly against his mouth, straining his eyes as if he had +swallowed a crown-piece. Mr. Bumpkin wore his long drab +frock overcoat, with the waist high up and its large flaps; his +hell-fire waistcoat, his trousers of corduroy, and his +shirt-collar, got up expressly for the occasion as though he had +been a prime minister. The ends of his neckerchief bore no +inconsiderable likeness to two well-grown carrots. In his +two hands he carefully nursed his large-brimmed well-shaped white +beaver hat; a useful article to hold in one’s hands when +there is any danger of nervousness, for nothing is so hard to get +rid of as one’s hands. I am not sure that Mr. Bumpkin +was nervous. He was a brave self-contained man, who had +fought the world and conquered. His maxim was, “right +is right,” and “wrong is no man’s +right.” He was of the upright and down-straight +character, and didn’t care “for all the counsellors +in the kingdom.” And why should he? His cause +was good, his conscience clear, and the story he had to tell +plain and “straightforrard” as himself. No +wonder then that his face beamed with a good old country smile, +such as he would wear at an exhibition where he could show the +largest “turmut as ever wur growed.” That was +the sort of smile he turned upon the audience. And as the +audience looked at the “turmut,” it felt that it was +indeed the most extraordinary <!-- page 271--><a +name="page271"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 271</span>specimen of +field culture it had ever beheld, and worthy of the first +prize.</p> +<p>“What is your name?” inquired Mr. Newboy; “I +mustn’t lead.”</p> +<p>“Bumpkin, and I bearned asheamed on ’im,” +answered the bold farmer.</p> +<p>“Never mind whether you are ashamed or not,” +interposed Mr. Nimble; “just answer the +question.”</p> +<p>“You must answer,” remarked the learned Judge, +“not make a speech.”</p> +<p>“Zackly, sir,” said Bumpkin, pulling at his +hair.</p> +<p>Another titter. The jury titter and hold down their +heads. Evidently there’s fun in the case.</p> +<p>Then Mr. Newboy questioned him about the occurrence; asked him +if he recollected such a day, and where he had been, and where he +was going, and a variety of other questions; the answer to every +one of which provoked fresh laughter; until, after much +floundering on the part of both himself and Mr. Newboy, as though +they were engaged in a wrestling match, he was asked by the +learned Judge “to tell them exactly what happened. +Let him tell his own story,” said the Judge.</p> +<p>“Ha!” said everybody; “now we shall hear +something!”</p> +<p>“I wur a gwine,” began Bumpkin, +“hoame—”</p> +<p>“That’s not evidence,” said Mr. Nimble.</p> +<p>“How so?” asks the Judge.</p> +<p>“It doesn’t matter where he was going to, my lord, +but where he was!”</p> +<p>“Well, that is so,” says the Judge; “you +mustn’t tell us, Mr. Bumpkin, whither you were going, but +where you were!”</p> +<p><!-- page 272--><a name="page272"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +272</span>Bumpkin scratched his head; there were too many +where’s for him.</p> +<p>“Can’t yon tell us,” says Mr. Newboy, +“where you were?”</p> +<p>“Where I were?” says Bumpkin.</p> +<p>A roar of laughter greeted this statement. Mr. Nimble +turning it into the jury-box like a flood.</p> +<p>“I wur in Lunnun—”</p> +<p>“Yes—yes,” says his counsel; “but what +locality?”</p> +<p>You might just as well have put him under a mangle, as to try +to get evidence out of him like that.</p> +<p>“Look,” says the Judge, “attend to me; if +you go on like that, you will not be allowed your +expenses.”</p> +<p>“What took place?” asks his counsel; +“can’t you tell us, man?”</p> +<p>“Why the thief cotch—”</p> +<p>“I object,” says Mr. Nimble; “you +mustn’t call him a thief; it is for the jury, my lord, to +determine that.”</p> +<p>“That is so,” says my lord; “you +mustn’t call him a thief, Mr. Bumpkin.”</p> +<p>“Beg pardon, your lord; but ur stole my +watch.”</p> +<p>“No—no,” says Mr. Newboy; “took your +watch.”</p> +<p>“An if ur took un, ur stole un, I allows,” says +Bumpkin; “for I never gin it to un.”</p> +<p>There was so much laughter that for some time nothing further +was said; but every audience knows better than to check the +source of merriment by a continued uproar; so it waited for +another supply.</p> +<p>“You must confine yourself,” says the Judge, +“to telling us what took place.”</p> +<p>“I’ll spak truth and sheam t’ devil,” +says Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Now go on,” says Newboy.</p> +<p><!-- page 273--><a name="page273"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +273</span>“The thief stole my watch, and that be t’ +plain English on ’t.”</p> +<p>“I shall have to commit you to prison,” says the +Judge, “if you go on like that; remember you are upon your +oath, and it’s a very serious thing—serious for you +and serious for the young man at the bar.”</p> +<p>At these touching words, the young man at the bar burst out +crying, said “he was a respectable man, and it was all got +up against him;” whereupon Mr. Nimble said “he must +be quiet, and that his lordship and the gentlemen in the box +would take care of him and not allow him to be trampled +on.”</p> +<p>“You are liable,” said the Judge, “to be +prosecuted for perjury if you do not tell the truth.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, your lord, if a man maun goo to prison for +losin’ his watch, I’ll goo that’s all; but that +ere man stole un.”</p> +<p>Mr. Newboy: “He took it, did he?”</p> +<p>“I object,” said Mr. Nimble; “that is a +leading question.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the Judge; “I think that is +rather leading,” Mr. Newboy; “you may vary the form +though, and ask him whether the prisoner stole it.”</p> +<p>“Really, my lord,” said Mr. Nimble, “that, +with very great respect, is as leading as the other +form.”</p> +<p>“Not quite, I think, Mr. Nimble. You see in the +other form, you make a positive assertion that he did steal it; +in this, you merely ask the question.”</p> +<p>And I saw that this was a very keen and subtle distinction, +such as could only be drawn by a Chancery Judge.</p> +<p>“Would it not be better, my lord, if he told us what +took place?”</p> +<p><!-- page 274--><a name="page274"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +274</span>“That is what he is doing,” said the Judge; +“go on, witness.”</p> +<p>“I say as ’ow thic feller comed out and hugged up +aginst I and took ’t watch and runned away. I +arter’d him, and met him coomin’ along wi’ it +in ’s pocket; what can be plaainer an thic?”</p> +<p>There was great laughter as Mr. Bumpkin shook his head at the +learned counsel for the defence, and thumped one hand upon the +ledge in front of him.</p> +<p>“That will do,” said Mr. Newboy, sitting down +triumphantly.</p> +<p>Then the counsel for the defence arose, and a titter again +went round the Court, and there was a very audible adjustment of +persons in preparation for the treat that was to come.</p> +<p>“May the prisoner have a seat, my lord?”</p> +<p>“Oh, certainly,” said his lordship; “let an +easy-chair be brought immediately.”</p> +<p>“Now then, Mr. Bumpkin, or whatever your name is, +don’t lounge on the desk like that, but just stand up and +attend to me. Stand up, sir, and answer my +questions,” says Mr. Nimble.</p> +<p>“I be standin’ oop,” said Bumpkin, +“and I can answer thee; ax away.”</p> +<p>“Just attend,” said the Judge. “You +must not go on like that. You are here to answer questions +and not to make speeches. If you wish those gentlemen to +believe you, you must conduct yourself in a proper manner. +Remember this is a serious charge, and you are upon your +oath.”</p> +<p>Poor Bumpkin! Never was there a more friendless position +than that of Ignorance in the witness-box.</p> +<p><!-- page 275--><a name="page275"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +275</span>“Just attend!” repeated Mr. Nimble; this +was a favourite expression of his.</p> +<p>“How may aliases have you?”</p> +<p>“Ow many who?” asked Bumpkin. (Roars of +laughter.)</p> +<p>“How many different names?”</p> +<p>“Naames! why I s’pose I got two, like moast +people.”</p> +<p>“How many more?”</p> +<p>“None as iver I knowed of.”</p> +<p>“Wait a bit, we shall see. Now, sir, will you +swear you have never gone by the name of Pumpkin?”</p> +<p>Loud laughter, in which the learned judge tried not to +join.</p> +<p>“Never!”</p> +<p>“Do you swear it?”</p> +<p>“I do.”</p> +<p>“My lord, would you kindly let me see the +depositions. Now look here, sir, is that your +signature?”</p> +<p>“I ain’t much of a scollard.”</p> +<p>“No; but you can make a cross, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“Ay, I can make a cross, or zummut in imitation as well +as any man.”</p> +<p>“Look at that, is that your cross?”</p> +<p>“It look like un.”</p> +<p>“Now then, sir; when you were before the Lord Mayor, I +ask you, upon your oath, did you not give the name of +Pumpkin?”</p> +<p>“Noa, I din’t!”</p> +<p>“Was this read over to you, and were you asked if it was +correct?”</p> +<p>“It med be.”</p> +<p>“Med be; but wasn’t it? You know it was, or, +don’t you?”</p> +<p><!-- page 276--><a name="page276"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +276</span>Bumpkin seemed spiked, so silent; seemed on fire, so +red.</p> +<p>“Well, we know it was so. Now, my lord, I call +your lordship’s attention to this remarkable fact; here in +the depositions he calls himself Pumpkin.”</p> +<p>His lordship looks carefully at the depositions and says that +certainly is so.</p> +<p>Mr. Newboy rises and says he understands that it may be a +mistake of the clerk’s.</p> +<p>Judge: “How can you say that, Mr. Newboy, when +it’s in his affidavit?”</p> +<p>(Clerk of Arraigns whispers to his lordship.) “I +mean in his depositions, as I am told they are called in this +Court; these are read over to him by the clerk, and he is asked +if they are correct.” Shakes his head.</p> +<p>(So they began to try the prisoner, not so much on the merits +of the case as on the merits of the magistrate’s +clerk.)</p> +<p>“You certainly said your name was Pumpkin,” said +the Judge, “and what is more you swore to it.”</p> +<p>(“They’ve got the round square at work,” +muttered a voice in the gallery.)</p> +<p>Mr. Nimble: “Now just attend; have you ever gone so far +as to say that this case did not refer to you because your name +was not Bumpkin?”</p> +<p>The witness hesitates, then says “he b’leeves +not.”</p> +<p>“Let those two gentlemen, Mr. Crackcrib and Mr. +Centrebit, step forward.”</p> +<p>There was a bustle in Court, and then, with grinning faces, up +stepped the two men who had visited Mr. Bumpkin at the +“Goose” some days before.</p> +<p>“Have you ever seen these gentlemen before?” asks +the learned counsel.</p> +<p>The gentlemen alluded to looked up as if they had <!-- page +277--><a name="page277"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +277</span>practised it together, and both grinned. How can +Mr. Bumpkin’s confusion be described? His under jaw +fell, and his head drooped; he was like one caught in a net +looking at the fowler.</p> +<p>The question was repeated, and Mr. Bumpkin wiped his face and +returned his handkerchief into the depths of his hat, into which +he would have liked to plunge also.</p> +<p>Question repeated in a tone that conveyed the impression that +witness was one of the biggest scoundrels in the Heart of +Civilization.</p> +<p>“You must really answer,” says the Judge.</p> +<p>“They be put on, your lordship.”</p> +<p>“No, no,” says the counsel, “you +mustn’t say that, I’ll have an answer. Have you +seen them before?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” muttered the prosecutor.</p> +<p>“Let them go out of Court. Now then,” says +the counsel, extending his right hand and his forefinger and +leaning towards the witness, +“have—you—not—told—them—that—this +case was nothing to do with you as your name wasn’t +Bumpkin?”</p> +<p>“My lord,” says the witness.</p> +<p>“No, no; you must answer.”</p> +<p>The witness stood confounded.</p> +<p>“You decline to answer,” says the counsel. +“Very well; now then, let me see if you will decline to +answer this. When you were robbed, as you say, was anybody +with you?”</p> +<p>“Be I obligated to answer, my lord?”</p> +<p>“I think you must answer,” said his lordship.</p> +<p>“There wur.”</p> +<p>“Who was it?”</p> +<p>“A companion, I s’poase.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but who was he? what was his name?”</p> +<p><!-- page 278--><a name="page278"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +278</span>No answer.</p> +<p>“You’d rather not answer; very well. Where +does he live?”</p> +<p>“I doant know. Westmunster, I believe.”</p> +<p>“Is he here?”</p> +<p>“Not as I knows on.”</p> +<p>(“What a lark this is,” chuckled the Don, as he +sat in the corner of the gallery peeping from behind the front +row.)</p> +<p>“Did he see the watch taken?”</p> +<p>“He did, leastways I s’poase so.”</p> +<p>“And has never appeared as a witness?”</p> +<p>“How is that?” asks his lordship.</p> +<p>“He axed me, m’lud, not to say as ’ow he wur +in it.”</p> +<p>Judge shakes his head. Counsel for the prisoner shakes +his head at the jury, and the jury shake their heads at one +another.</p> +<p>Now in the front row of the gallery sat five young men in the +undress uniform of the hussars: they were Joe and his brother +recruits come to hear the famous trial. At this moment Mr. +Bumpkin in sheer despair lifted his eyes in the direction of the +gallery and immediately caught sight of his old servant. He +gave a nod of recognition as if he were the only friend left in +the wide world of that Court of Justice.</p> +<p>“Never mind your friends in the gallery,” said Mr. +Nimble; “I dare say you have plenty of them about; now +attend to this question:”—Yes, and a nice question it +was, considering the tone and manner with which it was +asked. “At the moment when you were being robbed, as +you say, did a young woman with a baby in her arms come +up?”</p> +<p>The witness’s attention was again distracted, but this +<!-- page 279--><a name="page279"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +279</span>time by no such pleasing object as on the former +occasion. He was dumbfoundered; a sparrow facing an owl +could hardly be in a greater state of nervousness and +discomfiture: for down in the well of the Court, a place where he +had never once cast his eyes till now, with a broad grin on his +coarse features, and a look of malignant triumph, sat the +<i>fiendlike Snooks</i>! His mouth was wide open, and +Bumpkin found himself looking down into it as though it had been +a saw-pit. By his side sat Locust taking notes of the +cross-examination.</p> +<p>“What are you looking at, Mr. Bumpkin?” inquired +the learned counsel.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin started.</p> +<p>“What are you looking at?”</p> +<p>“I wur lookin’ doun thic there hole in thic +feller’s head,” answered Bumpkin.</p> +<p>Such a roar of laughter followed this speech as is seldom +heard even in a breach of promise case, where the most touching +pathos often causes the greatest amusement to the audience.</p> +<p>“What a lark!” said Harry.</p> +<p>“As good as a play,” responded Dick.</p> +<p>“I be sorry for the old chap,” said Joe; +“they be givin’ it to un pooty stiff.”</p> +<p>“Now attend,” said the counsel, “and never +mind the hole. Did a young woman with a baby come +up?”</p> +<p>“To the best o’ my b’leef.”</p> +<p>“Don’t say to the best of your belief; did she or +not?”</p> +<p>“He can only speak to the best of his belief,” +said the Judge.</p> +<p>(“There’s the round square,” whispered +O’Rapley.)</p> +<p>“Did she come up then to the best of your +belief?”</p> +<p><!-- page 280--><a name="page280"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +280</span>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“And—did—she—accuse—you—to +the best of your belief of assaulting her?”</p> +<p>“I be a married man,” answered the witness. +(Great laughter.)</p> +<p>“Yes, we know all about you; we’ll see who you are +presently. Did she accuse you, and did you run +away?”</p> +<p>“I runned arter thic feller.”</p> +<p>“No, no; did she accuse you?”</p> +<p>“She might.”</p> +<p>The learned counsel then sat down with the quickest motion +imaginable, and then the policeman gave his evidence as to taking +the man into custody; and produced the huge watch. Mr. +Bumpkin was recalled and asked how long he had had it, and where +he bought it; the only answers to which were that he had had it +five years, and bought it of a man in the market; did not know +who he was or where he came from; all which answers looked very +black against Mr. Bumpkin. Then the policeman was asked to +answer this question—yes or no. “Did he know +the prisoner?” He said “No.”</p> +<p>Mr. Nimble said to the jury, “Here was a man dressing +himself up as an old man from the country (laughter) prowling +about the streets of London in company with an associate whose +name he dared not mention, and who probably was well-known to the +police; here was this countryman actually accused of committing +an assault in the public streets on a young woman with a baby in +her arms: he runs away as hard as his legs will carry him and +meets a man who is actually wearing the watch that this Bumpkin +or Pumpkin charges him with stealing. He, the learned +counsel, would call witness after witness <!-- page 281--><a +name="page281"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 281</span>to speak to +the character of his client, who was an engraver (I believe he +was an engraver of bank notes); he would call witness after +witness who would tell them how long they had known him, and how +long he had had the watch; and, curiously enough, such curious +things did sometimes almost providentially take place in a Court +of Justice, he would call the very man that poor Mr. Simpleman +had purchased it of five years ago, when he was almost, as you +might say, in the first happy blush of boyhood (that ‘blush +of boyhood’ went down with many of the jury who were fond +of pathos); let the jury only fancy! but really would it be +safe—really would it be safe, let him ask them upon their +consciences, which in after life, perhaps years to come, when +their heads were on their pillows, and their hands upon their +hearts, (here several of the jury audibly sniffed), would those +consciences upbraid, or would those consciences approve them for +their work to-day? would it be safe to convict after the +exhibition the prosecutor had made of himself in that box, where, +he ventured to say, Bumpkin stood self-condemned before that +intelligent jury.”</p> +<p>Here the intelligent jury turned towards one another, and +after a moment or two announced, through their foreman (who was a +general-dealer in old metal, in a dark street over the water), +that if they heard a witness or two to the young man’s +character that would be enough for them.</p> +<p>Witnesses, therefore, were called to character, and the young +man was promptly acquitted, the jury appending to their verdict +that he left the Court without a stain upon his character.</p> +<p>“Bean’t I ’lowed to call witnesses to +charickter?” asks the Prosecutor.</p> +<p><!-- page 282--><a name="page282"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +282</span>“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Nimble; “we +know your character pretty well.”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” inquired the Judge.</p> +<p>“He wants to know, my lord,” says Mr. Nimble, +laughing, “if he may call witnesses to +character!”</p> +<p>“Oh dear, no,” says the Judge; “you were not +being tried.”</p> +<p>Now many persons might have been of a different opinion from +his lordship on this point. Snooks for one, I think; for he +gave a great loud vulgar haw! haw! haw! and said, “I could +ha’ gien him a charakter.”</p> +<p>“Si-lence!” said the Usher.</p> +<p>“May the prisoner have his watch, my lord?” asks +Mr. Nimble.</p> +<p>“O, yes,” said his lordship, “to be +sure. Give the prisoner his watch.”</p> +<p>“<i>His</i> watch,” groaned a voice.</p> +<h2><!-- page 283--><a name="page283"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 283</span>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Mr. Alibi is stricken with a +thunderbolt—interview with Horatio and Mr. Prigg.</p> +<p>The “round square,” as the facetious Don called +the new style of putting the round judicial pegs into the square +judicial holes, had indeed been applied with great effect on this +occasion; for I perceived that Mr. Alibi, remarkable man, was not +only engaged on the part of the Crown to prosecute, but also on +that of the prisoner to defend. And this fact came to my +knowledge in the manner following:</p> +<p>When Mr. Bumpkin got into the lower part of that magnificent +pile of buildings which we have agreed to call the Heart of +Civilisation, he soon became the centre of a dirty mob of +undersized beings who were anxious to obtain a sight of him; and +many of whom were waiting to congratulate their friend, the +engraver. Amidst the crowd was Mr. Alibi. That +gentleman had no intention of meeting Mr. Bumpkin any more, for +certain expenses were due to him as a witness, and it had long +been a custom at the Old Bailey, that if the representative of +the Crown did not see the witnesses the expenses due to them +would fall into the Consolidated Fund, so that it was a clear +gain to the State if its representative officers did not meet the +witnesses. On this occasion, however, Mr. Alibi ran against +his client <!-- page 284--><a name="page284"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 284</span>accidentally, and being a courteous +gentleman, could not forbear condoling with him on the +unsuccessful termination of his case.</p> +<p>“You, see,” began Mr. Alibi, “I was +instructed so late—really, the wonder is, when gentlemen +don’t employ a solicitor till the last moment, how we ever +lay hold of the facts at all. Now look at your case, +sir. Yes, yes, I’m coming—bother my clerks, how +they worry—I’ll be there directly.”</p> +<p>“But thic feller,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “who +had my case din’t know nowt about it. I could +ha’ done un better mysel.”</p> +<p>“Ah, sir; so we are all apt to think. He’s a +most clever man, that—a very rising man, sir.”</p> +<p>“Be he?” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Why, do you know, sir,” continued Mr. Alibi, +“he was very great at his University.”</p> +<p>“That bean’t everything, though, by a long +way.”</p> +<p>“No, sir, granted, granted. But he was Number Four +in his boat; and the papers all said his feathering was +beautiful.”</p> +<p>“A good boatman, wur he?”</p> +<p>“Magnificent, sir; magnificent!”</p> +<p>“Then he’d better keep a ferry; bean’t no +good at law.”</p> +<p>“Ah! I am afraid you are a little prejudiced. +He’s a very learned man.”</p> +<p>“I wish he’d larned to open his mouth. Why, +I got a duck can quack a devilish sight better un thic feller can +talk.”</p> +<p>“Ha, how d’ye do, Mr. Swindle?” said a +shabby-looking gentleman, who came up at this moment.</p> +<p><!-- page 285--><a name="page285"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +285</span>“Excuse me, sir; but you have the advantage of +me,” said Alibi, winking.</p> +<p>“Dear me, how very strange, I thought you were Mr. +Wideawake’s representative.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Mr. Alibi, laughing, “we are +often taken for brothers—and yet, would you believe me, +there is no relationship.”</p> +<p>“No?” said the gentleman.</p> +<p>“None, whatever. I think you’ll find him in +the Second Court, if not, he’ll be there in a short +time. I saw him only just now.”</p> +<p>That is how I learned that Mr. Alibi represented the Crown and +Mr. Deadandgone for the prosecutor; also the prisoner, and Mr. +Wideawake for the defence. Clever man!</p> +<p>“Now,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “Can’t un get +a new trial?”</p> +<p>“I fear not,” said Alibi; “but I should not +be in the least surprised if that Wideawake, who represented the +prisoner, brought an action against you for false imprisonment +and malicious prosecution.”</p> +<p>“What, thic thief?”</p> +<p>“Ah, sir—law is a very deep pit—it’s +depth is not to be measured by any moral plummet.”</p> +<p>“Doan’t ’zacly zee’t.”</p> +<p>“Well, it’s this,” said Mr. Alibi. +“Whether you’re right or whether you’re wrong, +if he brings an action you must defend it—it’s not +your being in the right will save you.”</p> +<p>“Then, what wool?” asked Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>Mr. Alibi did not know, unless it was instructing him in due +time and not leaving it to the last moment. That seemed the +only safe course.</p> +<p><!-- page 286--><a name="page286"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +286</span>Mr. Bumpkin took off his hat, drew out his +handkerchief, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. +Then he breathed heavily. Now at this moment a strange +phenomenon occurred, not to be passed over in this truthful +history. Past Mr. Bumpkin’s ear something shot, in +appearance like a human fist, in velocity like a thunderbolt, and +unfortunately it alighted full on the nose and eye of the great +Mr. Alibi, causing that gentleman to reel back into the arms of +the faithful thieves around. I cannot tell from what +quarter it proceeded, it was so sudden, but I saw that in the +neighbourhood whence it came stood five tall hussars, and I heard +a voice say:</p> +<p>“Now, look at that. Come on, Maister, don’t +let us git into no row.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin, with the politeness of his nature, said:</p> +<p>“Good marnin’, sir,” and retired.</p> +<p>And thus thought the unfortunate prosecutor: “This +’ere country be all law, actions grows out o’ +actions, like that ’ere cooch that runs all over +everywhere’s.” And then he saw the five +recruits strutting along with their caps at the side of their +heads, the straps across their chins, their riding-whips under +their arms, and walking with such a swagger that one would have +thought they had just put down a rebellion, or set up a +throne.</p> +<p>It was some time before, in the confusion of his mind, the +disappointed Bumpkin could realize the fact that there was any +connection between him and the military. But as he looked, +with half-closed eyes, suddenly the thought crossed his mind: +“Why, that be like our Joe—that middle un.”</p> +<p>And so it was: they were walking at a fastish pace, and as +they strutted along Joe seemed to be marching <!-- page 287--><a +name="page287"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 287</span>away with +the whole farm and with all the pleasures of his past life. +Even Mrs. Bumpkin herself, in some extraordinary manner, seemed +to be eloping with him. Why was it? And now, +despondent, disappointed and humiliated, with his blood once more +up, poor old Bumpkin bethought himself seriously of his +position. For weeks he had been waiting for his case to +“come on”; weeks more might pass idly away unless he +made a stir. So he would call at the office of Mr. +Prigg. And being an artful man, he had a reason for calling +without further delay. It was this: his desire to see Prigg +before that gentleman should hear of his defeat. Prigg +would certainly blame him for not employing a solicitor, or going +to the Public Prosecutor. So to Prigg’s he went about +three o’clock on that Thursday afternoon. I do not +undertake to describe furniture, so I say nothing of +Prigg’s dingy office, except this, that if Prigg had been a +spider, it was just the sort of corner in which I should have +expected him to spin his web. Being a man of enormous +practice, and in all probability having some fifty to sixty +representatives of county families to confer with, two hours +elapsed before Mr. Bumpkin could be introduced. The place, +small as it was, was filled with tin boxes bearing, no doubt, +eminent names. Horatio was busy copying drafts of marriage +settlements, conveyances, and other matters of great +importance. He had little time for gossip because his work +seemed urgent, and although he was particularly glad to see Mr. +Bumpkin, yet being a lad of strict adherence to duty, he always +replied courteously, but in the smallest number of words to that +gentleman’s questions.</p> +<p>“Will ur be long?” asked the client; “I +don’t think so,” said Horatio.</p> +<p><!-- page 288--><a name="page288"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +288</span>Then in a whisper, asked Mr. Bumpkin, “How does +thee think, sir, we shall get on: win, shan’t +us?”</p> +<p>Horatio just raised his face from the paper and winked, as +though he were conveying a valuable secret.</p> +<p>“Have ur heard anythink, sir?”</p> +<p>Another artful wink.</p> +<p>“Thee know’s zummat, I knows thee do.”</p> +<p>Another artful wink.</p> +<p>“Thee can tell I, surely? I wunt let un goo no +furder.”</p> +<p>Horatio winked once more, and made a face at the door where +the great Prigg was supposed to be.</p> +<p>“Ain’t give in, ave ur?”</p> +<p>Horatio put his finger in his mouth and made a popping noise +as he pulled it out.</p> +<p>“What the devil does thee mean, lad? there be zummat up, +I’ll swear.”</p> +<p>“Hush! hush!”</p> +<p>“Now, look here,” said Bumpkin, taking out his +purse; “thee beest a good chap, and writ out thic brief, +didn’t thee? I got zummat for thee;” and +hereupon he handed Horatio half-a-crown.</p> +<p>The youth took the money, spun it into the air, caught it in +the palm of his hand, spat on it for good luck, and put it in his +pocket</p> +<p>“I’ll have a spree with that,” said he, +“if I never do again.”</p> +<p>“Be careful, lad,” said Bumpkin, +“don’t fool un away.”</p> +<p>“Not I,” said Horatio; “I’m on for the +Argille tonight, please the pigs.”</p> +<p>“Be thic a place o’ wusship” said Bumpkin, +laughing.</p> +<p><!-- page 289--><a name="page289"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +289</span>“Not exactly,” answered Horatio; +“it’s a place where you can just do the gentleman on +the cheap, shoulder it with noblemen’s sons, and some of +the highest. Would you like to go now, just for a +lark? I’m sure you’d like it.”</p> +<p>“Not I,” said the client; “this ’ere +Lunnun life doan’t do for I.’.’</p> +<p>“Yes; but this is a nice quiet sort of place.”</p> +<p>“Gals, I spoase.”</p> +<p>“Rather; I believe you my boy; stunners too.”</p> +<p>“Thee be too young, it’s my thinking.”</p> +<p>“Well, that’s what the Governor says; everybody +says I’m too young; but I hope to mend that fault, Master +Bumpkin, if I don’t get the better of any other.”</p> +<p>“I wish I wur as old in the ’ead; but tell I, lad, +hast thee ’eard anything? Thee might just as well +tell I; it wunt goo no furder.”</p> +<p>Horatio put his finger to his nose and made a number of dumb +signs, expressive of more than mere words could convey.</p> +<p>“Danged if I can mak’ thee out,” said +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“You recollect that ride we had in the gig.”</p> +<p>“Ha, now it’s coming,” thought he; “I +shall have un now,” so he answered: “Well, it wur +nice, wurn’t ur?”</p> +<p>“Never enjoyed myself more in my life,” rejoined +Horatio; “what a nice morning it was!”</p> +<p>“Beautiful!”</p> +<p>“And do you recollect the rum and milk?”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin remembered it.</p> +<p>“Well, I believe that rum and milk was the luckiest +investment you ever made. Hallo! there’s the +bell—hush, <i>mither woy</i>!”</p> +<p><!-- page 290--><a name="page290"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +290</span>“Dang thee!” said Bumpkin, +“thee’s got un;” and he followed the youthful +clerk into Mr. Prigg’s room.</p> +<p>There sat that distinguished lawyer with his respectable head, +in his easy chair, much worn, both himself and the chair, by +constant use. There sat the good creature ready to offer +himself up on the altar of Benevolence for the good of the first +comer. His collar was still unruffled, so was his temper, +notwithstanding the severe strain of the county families. +There was his clear complexion indicating the continued health +resulting from a well-spent life. His almost angelic +features were beautiful rather in the amiability of their +expression than in their loveliness of form. Anyone looking +at him for the first time must exclaim, “Dear me, what a +<i>nice</i> man!”</p> +<p>“Well, Mr. Bumpkin,” said he, extending his left +hand lazily as though it were the last effort of exhausted +humanity, “how are we now?”—always identifying +himself with Bumpkin, as though he should say “We are in +the same boat, brother; come what may, we sink or swim +together—how are we now?”</p> +<p>“Bean’t wery well,” answered Mr. Bumpkin, +“I can tell ’ee.”</p> +<p>“What’s the matter? dear me, why, what’s the +matter? We must be cool, you know. Nothing like +coolness, if we are to win our battle.”</p> +<p>“Lookee ’ere,” said Bumpkin; “lookee +’ere, sir; I bin here dordlin’ about off an’ on +six weeks, and this ’ere dam trial—”</p> +<p>“Sh—sh!” remonstrated Mr. Prigg with the +softest voice, and just lifting his left hand on a level with his +forehead. “Let us learn resignation, good Mr. +Bumpkin. Let us learn it at the feet of disappointment and +losses and crosses.”</p> +<p><!-- page 291--><a name="page291"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +291</span>“Yes, yes,” said Bumpkin; “but thic +larnin’ be spensive, I be payin’ for it.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Bumpkin,” said the good man sternly, +“the dispensations of Providence are not to be denounced in +this way. You are a man, Bumpkin; let us act, then, the +man’s part. You see these boxes, these names: they +represent men who have gone through the furnace; let us be +patient.”</p> +<p>“But I be sick on it. I wish I’d never +know’d what law wur.”</p> +<p>“Ah, sir, most of us would like to exist in that state +of wild and uncultured freedom which only savages and beasts are +permitted to enjoy; but life has higher aims, Mr. Bumpkin; +grander pursuits; more sublime duties.”</p> +<p>“Well, sir, I bean’t no schollard and so +can’t argify; but if thee plase to tell I, sir, when this +case o’ mine be likely to come on—”</p> +<p>“I was just that minute going to write to you, Mr. +Bumpkin, as your name was announced, to say that it would not be +taken until next term.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin uttered an exclamation which is not for print, and +which caused the good Prigg to clap his hands to his ears and +press them tightly for five minutes. Then he took them away +and rubbed them together (I mean his hands), as though he were +washing them from the contaminating influence of Mr. +Bumpkin’s language.</p> +<p>“Quite so,” he said, mechanically; “dear +me!”</p> +<p>“What be quite so,” asked Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Yes—yes—you see,” said Prigg, +“Her Majesty’s Judges have to go circuit; or, as it +is technically called, jail delivery.”</p> +<p>“They be allays gwine suckitt.”</p> +<p><!-- page 292--><a name="page292"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +292</span>“Quite so. That is precisely what the +profession is always observing. No sooner do they return +from one circuit than they start off on another. Are you +aware, Mr. Bumpkin, that we pay a judge five thousand a-year to +try a pickpocket?”</p> +<p>“Hem!” said Bumpkin, “I bean’t aware +on it. Never used t’ have so many o’ these +’ere—what d’ye call ’ems?”</p> +<p>“Circuits. No—but you see, here now is an +instance. There’s a prisoner away somewhere, I think +down at Bodmin, hundreds of miles off, and I believe he has sent +to say that they must come down and try him at once, for he +can’t wait.”</p> +<p>“I’d mak’ un wait. Why should honest +men wait for sich as he? I bin waitin’ long +enough.”</p> +<p>“Quite so. And the consequence is that the Lord +Chief Justice of England is going down to try him, a common +pickpocket, I believe, and his Lordship is the very head of the +Judicial Body.”</p> +<p>“Hem!” said Mr. Bumpkin; “then I may as well +goo hoame?”</p> +<p>“Quite so,” answered the amiable Prigg; “in +fact, better—much better.”</p> +<p>“An’ we shan’t come on now, sir; +bean’t there no chance?”</p> +<p>“Not the least, my dear sir; but you see we have not +been idle; we have been advancing, in fact, during the whole time +that has seemed to you so long. Now, just look, my dear +sir; we have fought no less than ten appeals, right up, mind you, +to the Court of Appeal itself; we have fought two demurrers; we +have compelled them three times to give better answers to our +interrogatories, and we have had fourteen other <!-- page +293--><a name="page293"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +293</span>summonses at Chambers on which they have not thought +proper to appeal beyond the Judge. Now, Mr. Bumpkin, after +that, I <i>think</i> you ought to be satisfied; but really that +is one of the most disparaging things in the profession, the most +disparaging, I may say; we find it so difficult to show our +clients that we have done enough for them.”</p> +<p>“An’ thee think, sir, as we shall win un?” +said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Prigg, “I never like to +prophesy; but if ever a case looked like winning it’s +<i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i>. And I may tell you this, +Mr. Bumpkin, only pray don’t say that I told +you.”</p> +<p>“What be thic, sir?” asked the eager client, with +his eyes open as widely as ever client’s can be.</p> +<p>“The other side are in a tre-<i>men</i>-dous +way!”</p> +<p>“What, funkin’, be um? I said so. That +there Snooks be a rank bad un—now, then, we’ll at un +like steam.”</p> +<p>“All in good time, Bumpkin,” said the worthy +Prigg, affectionately taking his client’s hand. +“All in good time. My kind regards to Mrs. +Bumpkin. I suppose you return to-night?”</p> +<p>“Ay, sir, I be off by the fust train. Good day +t’ ye, sir; good day and thankee.”</p> +<p>Thus comforted and thus grateful did the confiding client take +leave of his legal adviser, who immediately took down his +costs-book and booked a long conference, including the two hours +that Mr. Bumpkin was kept in the “outer +office.” This followed immediately after another +“long conference with you when you thought we should be in +the paper to-morrow from what a certain Mr. O’Rapley had +told you, and I thought we should not.”</p> +<p><!-- page 294--><a name="page294"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +294</span>As he passed through the “outer office” he +shook. Horatio by the hand. “Good-bye, +sir. I knows what it wur now—bean’t +comin’ on.”</p> +<p>“Don’t say I told you,” said the pale boy, +as though he were afraid of communicating some tremendous +secret.</p> +<p>“Noa, thee bean’t told I. Now, lookee +’ere, Mr. Jigger, come down when thee like; I shall be rare +and prood to see thee, and so’ll Missus.”</p> +<p>“Thanks,” said Horatio; “I’ll be sure +and come. <i>Mither woy</i>!”</p> +<p>“Ha! mither woy, lad! that’s ur; thee got +un. Good-bye.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 295--><a name="page295"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 295</span>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Mr. Bumpkin at home again.</p> +<p>How peaceful the farm seemed after all the turmoil and worry +that Farmer Bumpkin had been subjected to in London! What a +haven of rest is a peaceful Home! How the ducks seemed to +quack!—louder, as Mr. Bumpkin thought, than they ever did +before. The little flock of sheep looked up as he went, +with his old ash stick under his arm, to look round the +farm. They seemed to say to one another, “Why, +here’s Master; I told you he’d come +back.” And the cows turned their heads and bellowed a +loud welcome. They knew nothing of his troubles, and only +expressed their extreme pleasure at seeing him again. They +left off eating the whole time he was with them; for they were +very well bred Shorthorns and Alderneys. It was quite +pleasant to see how well behaved they all were. And Mrs. +Bumpkin pointed out which ones had calved and which were expected +to calve in the course of a few months. And then the +majestic bull looked up with an expression of immense delight; +came up to Mr. Bumpkin and put his nose in his master’s +hand, and gazed as only a bull would gaze on a farmer who had +spent several weeks in London. It was astonishing with what +admiration the bull regarded him; and he seemed quite delighted +as Mrs. Bumpkin told her husband of the bull’s good conduct +in his absence; how he had never broken bounds once, <!-- page +296--><a name="page296"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +296</span>and had behaved himself as an exemplary bull on all +occasions.</p> +<p>“But,” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “I be +’bliged to say, Tom, that there Mrs. Snooks have belied him +shamefully. She haven’t got a good word to say for +un; nor, for the matter o’ that, for anything on the +farm.”</p> +<p>“Never mind,” said Mr. Bumpkin; “he +bean’t the only one as ’ave been slandered +hereabouts.”</p> +<p>“No, Tom, sure enough; but we bean’t ’bliged +to heed un.”</p> +<p>“No, nor wun’t. And now here come +Tim.”</p> +<p>To see Tim run and bound and leap and put his paws round Mr. +Bumpkin’s neck and lick him, was a sight which must have +made up for a great deal of the unkindness which he had +experienced of late. Nor could any dog say more plainly +than Tim did, how he had had a row with that ill-natured cur of +Snooks’, called Towser, and how he had driven him off the +farm and forbade him ever setting foot on it again. Tim +told all about the snarling of Towser, and said he would not have +minded his taking Snooks’ part in the action, if he had +confined himself to that; but when he went on and barked at Mr. +Bumpkin’s sheep and pigs, against whom he ought to have +shown no ill-feeling, it was more than Tim could stand; so he +flew at him and thoroughly well punished him for his malignant +disposition.</p> +<p>But in the midst of all this welcoming, there was an +unpleasant experience, and that was, that all the pigs were gone +but two. The rare old Chichester sow was no more.</p> +<p>“There be only two affidavys left, Nancy!”</p> +<p>“No, Tom—only two; the man fetched two +yesterday.”</p> +<p><!-- page 297--><a name="page297"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +297</span>“I hope they sold well. Have he sent any +money yet?”</p> +<p>“Not a farthing,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; “nor +yet for the sheep. He have had six sheep.”</p> +<p>“Zo I zee; and where be th’ heifers? we had +six.”</p> +<p>“They be all sold, Tom.”</p> +<p>“And how much did ’em fetch?”</p> +<p>“The man ain’t brought in the account yet, Tom; +but I spect we shall have un soon.”</p> +<p>“Why,” said Mr. Bumpkin, looking at the stackyard, +“another rick be gone!”</p> +<p>“Yes, Tom, it be gone, and fine good hay it wur; it cut +out as well as any hay I ever zeed.”</p> +<p>“Sure did ur!” answered Tom; “it were the +six ak’r o’ clover, and were got up wirout a drop +o’ rain on un; it wur prime hay, thic. Why, I wur +offered six pun’ a looad for un.”</p> +<p>“I don’ow what ur fetched, Tom; but I be mighty +troubled about this ’ere lawsuit. I wish we’d +never ’a had un.”</p> +<p>“Doan’t say thic, Nancy; we be bound to bring +un. As Laryer Prigg say, it bean’t so much t’ +pig—”</p> +<p>“No, Tom, thee said un fust.”</p> +<p>“Well, s’poase I did—so ur did, and it +worn’t so much t’ pig, it wur thic feller’s +cheek.”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t know nothing about un; I dissay you +be right, because you’ve allays been right, Tom; and +we’ve allays got on well togither these five and thirty +year: but, some’ow, Tom—down, Tim!—down, +Tim!”</p> +<p>“Poor old Tim!” said Tom. “Good +boy! I wish men wur as good as dogs be.”</p> +<p>“Some’ow,” continued Mrs. Bumpkin, “I +doan’t <!-- page 298--><a name="page298"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 298</span>like that ’aire Prigg; he seem +to shake his head too much for I; and ’olds his ’at +up to his face too long in church when ur goes in; and then ur +shakes his head so much when ur prays. I don’t like +un, Tom.”</p> +<p>“Now, Nancy, thee knows nothing about un. I can +tell ’ee he be a rare good man, and sich a clever lawyer, +he’ll knock that ’aire Snooks out o’ +time. But, come on, let’s goo in and ’ave some +ta.”</p> +<p>So they went in. And a very comfortable tea there was +set out on the old oak table in front of the large fireplace +where the dog-irons were. And a bright, blazing log there +was on the hearth; for a cold east wind was blowing, +notwithstanding that the sun had shone out bravely in the +day. Ah! how glad Tom was to see the bright pewter plates +and dishes ranged in rows all round the homely kitchen! +They seemed to smile a welcome on the master; and one very large +family sort of dish seemed to go out of his way to give him +welcome. I believe he tumbled down in his enthusiasm at +Tom’s return, although it was accounted for by saying that +Tim had done it by the excessive “waggling” of his +tail. I believe that dish fell down in the name of all the +plates and dishes on the shelves, for the purpose of +congratulating the master; else why should all their faces +brighten up so suddenly with smiles as he did so? +It’s ridiculous to suppose plates and dishes have no +feelings; they’ve a great deal more than some people. +And then, how the great, big, bright copper kettle, suspended on +his hook, which was in the centre of the huge fireplace, how he +did sing! Why the nightingale couldn’t throw more +feeling into a song than did that old kettle! And then the +home-made bread and rashers of bacon, such as you never see out +of a farmhouse; and tea, such as can’t <!-- page 299--><a +name="page299"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 299</span>be made +anywhere else! And then the long pipe was brought out of +his corner, where he had been just as Tom had left it before +going to town. And the bowl of that pipe gave off circular +clouds of the bluest smoke, expressive of its joy at the +master’s return: it wasn’t very expressive, perhaps, +but it was all that a pipe could do; and when one does his best +in this world, it is all that mortal man can expect of him.</p> +<p>And then said Mrs. Bumpkin,—still dubious as to the +policy of the proceedings, but too loving to combat her husband +upon them,—“When be thee gwine agin, Tom?”</p> +<p>“I doan’t rightly know,” said Bumpkin. +“Mr. Prigg will let I know; sometime in May, I +reckon.”</p> +<p>“Dear, dear!” said Mrs. Bumpkin; “it may be +on, then, just as th’ haymakin’s about.”</p> +<p>“Lor, lor! no, dearie; it’ll be over long enough +afore.”</p> +<p>“Doan’t be too sure, Tom; it be a long time now +since it begun.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Tom, “a long time enough; but +it’ll be in th’ paper afore long now; an’ we +got one o’ the cleverest counsel in Lunnun?”</p> +<p>“What be his name?”</p> +<p>“Danged if I know, but it be one o’ the stunninest +men o’ the day; two on ’em, by Golly; we got two, +Nancy.”</p> +<p>“Who be th’ tother? p’r’aps thee med +mind his name?”</p> +<p>“Noa, I doan’t mind his name nuther. Now, +what d’ye think o’ thic?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Bumpkin laughed, and said, “I think it be a rum +thing that thee ’as counsellors and doan’t mind their +names.”</p> +<p><!-- page 300--><a name="page300"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +300</span>And then the conversation turned upon Joe, whose place +was vacant in the old chimney corner.</p> +<p>The tears ran down Mrs. Bumpkin’s rosy cheeks as she +said for the twentieth time since Mr. Bumpkin’s +return,—</p> +<p>“Poor Joe! why did ur goo for a soger?”</p> +<p>“He wur a fool!” said Bumpkin, “and I told +un so. So as I warned un about thic Sergeant; the +artfullest man as ever lived, Nancy.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Bumpkin wiped her eyes. “He wur a good boy, +wur Joe, goo where ur wool; but, Tom, couldn’t thee +’a’ kept thine eye on un when thee see thic Sergeant +hoverin’ roun’ like a ’awk arter a +sparrer?”</p> +<p>“I did keep eye on un, I tell ’ee; but what be the +good o’ thic; as well keep thee eye on th’ sparrer +when th’ hawk be at un. I tell ’ee I +’suaded un and warned un, and begged on un to look +out.”</p> +<p>“An’ what did ur say?”</p> +<p>“Say, why said ur wur up to un.”</p> +<p>“Up to un,” repeated Mrs. Bumpkin. +“Can’t think ’ow ur got ’old on +un.”</p> +<p>“No, and thee mark I, no more can nobody else—in +Lunnon thee’re ’ad afore thee knows where thee +be.”</p> +<p>And now Mr. Bumpkin had his “little drop of warm gin and +water before going to bed”: and Mrs. Bumpkin had a mug of +elder wine, for the Christmas elder wine was not quite gone: and +after that Mrs. Bumpkin, who as the reader knows, was the better +scholar of the two, took down from a shelf on which the family +documents and books were kept, a large old bible covered with +green baize. Then she wiped her glasses, and after turning +over the old brown leaves until she came to the place where she +had read last before Tom went away, commenced <!-- page 301--><a +name="page301"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 301</span>her evening +task, while her husband smoked on and listened.</p> +<p>Was it the old tone with which she spelt her way through the +sacred words? Hardly: here it could be perceived that in +her secret heart there was doubt and mistrust. Do what she +would her eyes frequently became so dim that it was necessary to +pause and wipe her glasses; and when she had finished and closed +the book, she took Tom’s hand and said:</p> +<p>“O, Tom, I hope all ’ll turn out well, but sure +enough I ha’ misgivings.”</p> +<p>“What be it, my dear? Mr. Prigg say we shall +win—how can ur do better ’an thic?”</p> +<p>“Shall we get back the pigs and sheep, Tom?”</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Bumpkin looked into her lap, and folding her apron very +smooth with both hands, answered:</p> +<p>“I doan’t think, Tom, that man looks like bringing +anything back. He be very chuffy and masterful, and looks +all round as he goo away, as though he wur lookin’ to see +what ur would take next. I think he’ll have un all, +Tom.”</p> +<p>“Stuff!” said Mr. Bumpkin, “he be +sellin’ for I, take what ur may.”</p> +<p>“He be sellin’ <span class="smcap">thee</span>, +Tom, I think, and I’d stop un from takin’ +more.”</p> +<p>They rose to go to bed, and as Mrs. Bumpkin looked at the cosy +old hearth, and put up the embers of the log to make it safe for +the night, it seemed as if the prosperity of their old home had +burnt down at last to dull ashes, and she looked sadly at the +vacant place where Joe had used to sit.</p> +<h2><!-- page 303--><a name="page303"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 303</span>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Joe’s return to Southwood—an +invitation from the Vicar—what the old oak saw.</p> +<p>It was a long time after the circumstances mentioned in the +last chapter. The jails had been “delivered” of +their prisoners, and prodigious events had taken place in the +world; great battles had been fought and won, great laws made for +the future interpretation of judges, and for the vexation of +unfortunate suitors. It seemed an age to Mr. Bumpkin since +his case commenced; and Joe had been in foreign parts and won his +share of the glory and renown that falls to the lot of privates +who have helped to achieve victory for the honour and glory of +their General and the happiness of their country. It was a +very long time, measured by events, since Mr. Bumpkin’s +return from town, when on a bright morning towards the end of +June, a fine sunburnt soldier of Her Majesty’s regiment of +the --- Hussars knocked with the butt-end of his riding whip at +the old oak door in the old porch of Southwood farm-house.</p> +<p>“Well, I never! if that there bean’t our +Joe!” exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin, looking out of the window; +and throwing down the rolling-pin which she had just been using +in rolling-out the dough for a dumpling—(Mr. Bumpkin was +“uncommon fond o’ dumplins”)—“well, +I never!” repeated Mrs. Bumpkin, as she opened <!-- page +304--><a name="page304"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +304</span>the door; “who ever would ha’ thought +it? Why, how be’est thee, Joe? And bless the +lad, ’ow thee’ve growed! My ’art alive, +come along! The master’ll be mighty glad to see thee, +and so be I, sure a ly.”</p> +<p>And here Mrs. Bumpkin paused to look round him, sticking her +knuckles in her sides and her elbows in the air as though Joe +were a piece of handiwork—a dumpling, say—which she +herself had turned out, clothes and all. And then she put +the corner of her apron to her eye.</p> +<p>“Why, Joe, I thought,” said she, “I should +never see thee agin! Dear, dear, this ’ere lawsuit be +the ruin on us, mark my words! But lor, don’t say as +I said so to the master for the world, for he be that wropped up +in un that nothing goes down night and morning, morning and +night, but affidavys, and summonses, and counsellors, and +jussices, and what not.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said the soldier, slapping his whip on his +leg as was his custom, “you might be sure I should come and +see yer if they left me a leg to hop with, and I should ’a +wrote, but what wi’ the smoke and what with the cannon +balls flying about, you haven’t got much time to think +about anything; but I did think this, that if ever I got back to +Old England, if it was twenty year to come, I’d go and see +the old master and missus and ’ear ’ow that lawsuit +wur going on.”</p> +<p>“And that be right, Joe—I knowed ’ee would; +I said as much to master. But ’ow do thee think +it’ll end? shall us win or lose?”</p> +<p>Now this was the first time he had ever been called upon to +give a legal opinion, or rather, an opinion upon a legal matter, +so he was naturally somewhat put about; <!-- page 305--><a +name="page305"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 305</span>and looking +at the rolling-pin and the dough and then at Mrs. Bumpkin, +said:</p> +<p>“Well, it’s like this: a man med win or a man med +lose, there’s no telling about the case; but I be +dang’d well sure o’ this, missus, he’ll lose +his money: I wish master had chucked her up long agoo.”</p> +<p>This opinion was not encouraging; and perceiving that the +subject troubled Mrs. Bumpkin more than she liked to confess, he +asked a question which was of more immediate importance to +himself, and that was in reference to Polly Sweetlove.</p> +<p>“Why, thee’ll make her look at thee now, +I’ll warrant; thy clothes fit thee as though they growed on +thee.”</p> +<p>“Do she walk with the baker?” inquired Joe, with +trembling accents.</p> +<p>“I never heeard so, an’ it’s my belief she +never looked at un wi’ any meaning. I’ve seen +her many a time comin’ down the Green Lane by herself and +peepin’ over th’ gate.”</p> +<p>“Now look at that!” said Joe; “and when I +was here I couldn’t get Polly to come near the +farm—allays some excuse—did you ever speak to her +about me, missus?”</p> +<p>“I ain’t going to tell tales out of school, Joe, +so there.”</p> +<p>“Now look at that,” said Joe; “here’s +a chap comes all this way and you won’t tell him +anything.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Bumpkin laughed, and went on rolling the dough, and told +him what a nice dumpling she was making, and how he would like +it, and asked how long he was going to stop, and hoped it would +be a month, and was telling him all about the sheep and the cows +<!-- page 306--><a name="page306"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +306</span>and the good behaviour of the bull, when suddenly she +said:</p> +<p>“Here he be, Joe! lor, lor, how glad he’ll be to +see thee!”</p> +<p>But it wasn’t the Bull that stepped into the room; it +was Mr. Bumpkin, rosy, stalwart, jolly, and artful as ever. +Now Mrs. Bumpkin was very anxious to be the bearer of such good +intelligence as Joe’s arrival, so, notwithstanding the fact +that Mr. Bumpkin and he were face to face, the eager woman +exclaimed:</p> +<p>“Here be our Joe, Tom, hearty and well. And +bean’t he a smart fine feller? What’ll Polly +think of un now?”</p> +<p>“Shut up thic chatter,” said Mr. Bumpkin, +laughing. “Halloa! why, Joe, egad thee looks like a +gineral. I’d take thee for a kernel at the wery +least. Why, when did thee come, lad?”</p> +<p>“Just now, master.”</p> +<p>“That be right, an’ I be glad to see thee. +I’ll warrant Nancy ain’t axed thee t’ have +nothun.”</p> +<p>“Why, thee be welcome to the ’ouse if thee can eat +un, thee knows thic,” answered Nancy; “but +dinner’ll be ready at twelve, and thee best not spoil +un.”</p> +<p>“A quart o’ ale wun’t spile un, will un, +Joe?”</p> +<p>“Now look at that,” said the soldier. +“Thankee, master, but not a quart.”</p> +<p>“Well, thee hasn’t got thee head snicked off yet, +Joe?”</p> +<p>“No, master, if my head had been snicked off I +couldn’t ha’ bin here.” And he laughed a +loud ha! ha! ha!</p> +<p>And Mr. Bumpkin laughed a loud haw! haw! haw! at this +tremendous witticism. It was not much of a <!-- page +307--><a name="page307"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +307</span>witticism, perhaps, after all, when duly considered, +but it answered the purpose as well as the very best, and +produced as much pleasure as the most brilliant <i>repartee</i>, +in the most fashionable circles. We must take people as +they are.</p> +<p>So Joe stayed chattering away till dinner-time, and then, +referring to the pudding, said he had never tasted anything like +it in his life; and went on telling the old people all the +wonders of the campaign: how their regiment just mowed down the +enemy as he used to cut corn in the harvest-field, and how +nothing could stand aginst a charge of cavalry; and how they +liked their officers; and how their General, who warn’t +above up to Joe’s shoulder, were a genleman, every inch on +him, an’ as brave as any lion you could pick out. And +so he went on, until Mr. Bumpkin said:</p> +<p>“An’ if I had my time over agin I’d goo for +a soger too, Joe,” which made Mrs. Bumpkin laugh and ask +what would become of her.</p> +<p>“Ha! ha! ha! look at that!” said Joe; +“she’s got you there, master.”</p> +<p>“No she bean’t, she’d a married thic feller +that wur so sweet on her afore I had ur.”</p> +<p>“What, Jem?” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “why I +wouldn’t ha’ had un, Tom, if every ’air had +been hung wi’ dimonds.”</p> +<p>“Now look at that,” laughed Joe.</p> +<p>And so they went on until it was time to take a turn round the +farm. Everything seemed startled at Joe’s fine +clothes, especially the bull, who snorted and pawed the earth and +put out his tail, and placed his head to the ground, until Joe +called him by name, and then, as he told his comrades afterwards +in barracks, the bull said:</p> +<p><!-- page 308--><a name="page308"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +308</span>“Why danged if it bean’t our +Joe!”</p> +<p>I must confess I did not hear this observation in my dream, +but I was some distance off, and if Mr. Ricochet, Q.C., in +cross-examination had said, “Will you swear, sir, upon your +oath that the bull did not use those words?” I must have +been bound to answer, “I will not.”</p> +<p>But presently they met old Tim, the Collie, and there was no +need for Joe to speak to him. Up he came with a bound and +caressed his old mate in the most loving manner.</p> +<p>The Queen’s uniform was no disguise to him.</p> +<p>The next day it was quite a treat to see Joe go through the +village. Such a swagger he put on that you would have +thought he was the whole regiment. And when he went by the +Vicarage, where Polly was housemaid, it was remarkable to see the +air of indifference which he assumed. Whack went his +riding-whip on his leg: you could hear it a hundred yards +off. He didn’t seem to care a bit whether she was +staring at him out of the study window as hard as she could stare +or not. Two or three times he struck the same leg, and +marched on perfectly indifferent to all around.</p> +<p>At length came Sunday, as Sunday only comes in a country +village. No such peace, no such Sabbath anywhere. You +have only got to look at anything you like to know that it is +Sunday. Bill’s shirt collar; the milkman; even his +bright milk-can has a Sunday shine about it. The cows +standing in the shallow brook have a reverent air about +them. They never look like that on any other day. Why +the very sunshine is Sabbath sunshine, and seems to bring more +peace and more pleasantness than on any other day of the +week. And <!-- page 309--><a name="page309"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 309</span>all the trees seem to whisper +together, “It’s Sunday morning.”</p> +<p>Presently you see the people straggling up to the little +church, whose donging bell keeps on as much as to say, “I +know I’m not much of a peal, but in my humble way I do my +duty to the best of my ability; it’s not the sound but the +spirit of the thing that is required; and if I’m not very +musical, and can’t give you many changes, I’m sincere +in what I say.” And this was an emblem of the +sincerity and the simplicity of the clergyman inside. He +kept on hammering away at the old truths and performing his part +in God’s great work to the best of his ability; and I know +with very great success. So in they all came to church; and +Joe, who had been a very good Sunday-school pupil +(notwithstanding his love of poaching) and was a favourite with +the vicar, as the reader knows, took his old place in the free +seats, not very far from the pew where the vicar’s servants +sat. Who can tell what his feelings were as he wondered +whether Polly would be there that morning?</p> +<p>The other servants came in. Ah, dear! Polly +can’t come, now look at that! Just as he was thinking +this in she came. Such a flutter in her heart as she saw +the bright uniform and the brighter face, bronzed with a foreign +clime and looking as handsome as ever a face could look. O +what a flutter too in Joe’s heart! But he was +determined not to care for her. So he wouldn’t look, +and that was a very good way; and he certainly would have kept +his word if he could.</p> +<p>I think if I had to choose where and how I would be admired, +if ever such a luxury could come to me, I would be Joe Wurzel +under present circumstances. A young hero, handsome, tall, +in the uniform of the <!-- page 310--><a name="page310"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 310</span>Hussars, with a loved one near and +all the village girls fixing their eyes on me! That for +once only, and my utmost ambition would be gratified. Life +could have no greater pride for me. I don’t know +whether the sermon made much impression that day, but of the two, +I verily believe Joe made the most; and as they streamed out of +the little church all the young faces of the congregation were +turned to him: and everywhere when they got outside it was, +“Halloa, Joe!” “Why, Joe, my lad, what +cheer?” “Dang’d if here bean’t +Joe!” and other exclamations of welcome and surprise. +And then, how all the pinafored boys flocked round and gazed with +wondering eyes at this conquering hero; chattering to one another +and contradicting one another about what this part of his uniform +was and what that part was, and so on; but all agreeing that Joe +was about the finest sight that had come into Yokelton since ever +it was a place.</p> +<p>And then the old clergyman sent for him and was as kind as +ever he could be; and Joe was on the enchanted ground where the +fairy Polly flitted about as noiselessly as a butterfly. +Ah, and what’s this? Now let not the reader be +over-anxious; for a few lines I must keep you, gentle one, in +suspense; a great surprise must be duly prepared. If I told +you at once what I saw, you would not think so much of it as if I +kept you a little while in a state of wondering curiosity. +What do you think happened in the Vicarage?</p> +<p>Now’s the moment to tell it in a fresh paragraph. +Why in came the fairy with a little tray of cake and wine! +Now pause on that before I say any more. What about their +eyes? Did they swim? What about their hearts; did +they flutter? Did Polly blush? Did Joe’s +bronzed face shine? Ah, it all took place, and <!-- page +311--><a name="page311"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +311</span>much more than I could tell in a whole volume. +The vicar did not perceive it, for luckily he was looking out of +the window. It only took a moment to place the tray on the +table, and the fairy disappeared. But that moment, not then +considered as of so much importance, exciting as it was, stamped +the whole lives of two beings, and who can tell whether or no +such a moment leaves its impress on Eternity?</p> +<p>All good and all kind was the old vicar; and how attentively +he listened with Mrs. Goodheart to the eye-witness of +England’s great deeds! And then—no, he did not +give Joe a claptrap maudlin sermon, but treated him as a man +subject to human frailties, and, only hoped in all his career he +would remember some of the things he had been taught at the +Sunday School.</p> +<p>“Ay,” said Joe, “ay, sir, and the best +lesson I ever larned, and what have done me most good, be the +kindness I always had from you.”</p> +<p>So they parted, and a day or two after, strangely enough, just +as Joe was walking along by the old Oak that is haunted, and +which the owls and the ghosts occupy between them, who should +come down the lane in the opposite direction but Polly +Sweetlove! Where she came from was the greatest mystery in +the world! And it was so extraordinary that Joe should meet +her: and he said so, as soon as he could speak.</p> +<p>“Now look at that! Whoever would have thought of +meeting anybody here?”</p> +<p>Polly hung down her head and blushed. Neither of them +knew what to say for a long time; for Joe was not a spokesman to +any extent. At last Polly Sweetlove broke silence and +murmured in the softest voice, and I should think the very +sweetest ever heard in this world:</p> +<p><!-- page 312--><a name="page312"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +312</span>“Are you going away soon, Joe?”</p> +<p>“Friday,” answered the young Hussar.</p> +<p>Ah me! This was Wednesday already; to-morrow would be +Thursday, and the next day Friday! I did not hear this, but +I give you my word it took place.</p> +<p>“Are you coming to see the Vicar again?” asked the +sweet voice.</p> +<p>“No,” said Joe.</p> +<p>They both looked down at the gnarled roots of the old +tree—the roots did stick out a long way, and I suppose +attracted their attention—and then Polly just touched the +big root with her tiny toe. And the point of that tiny toe +touched Joe’s heart too, which seemed to have got into that +root somehow, and sent a thrill as of an electric shock, only +much pleasanter, right through his whole body, and even into the +roots of his hair.</p> +<p>“When are you coming again?” whispered the sweet +lips.</p> +<p>“Don’t know,” said the young soldier; +“perhaps never.”</p> +<p>“But you’ll come and see—your +mother?”</p> +<p>“O yes,” answered Joe, “I shall come and see +mother; but what’s it matter to thee, lassie?”</p> +<p>The lassie blushed, and Joe thought it a good opportunity to +take hold of her hand. I don’t know why, but he did; +and he was greatly surprised that the hand did not run away.</p> +<p>“I think the Vicar likes you, Joe?”</p> +<p>“Do he?” and he kept drawing nearer and nearer, +little by little, until his other hand went clean round Polly +Sweetlove’s waist, and—well an owl flew out of the +tree at that moment, and drew off my attention; but afterwards +<!-- page 313--><a name="page313"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +313</span>I saw that they both kept looking at the root of the +tree, and then Joe said;</p> +<p>“But you love th’ baker, Polly?”</p> +<p>“No,” whispered Polly; “no, no, +never!”</p> +<p>“Now, look at that!” said Joe, recovering himself +a little; “I always thought you liked the baker.”</p> +<p>“Never, Joe.”</p> +<p>“Well then, why didn’t you look at me?”</p> +<p>Polly blushed.</p> +<p>“Joe, they said you was so wild.”</p> +<p>“Now, look at that,” said Joe; “did you ever +see me wild, Polly?”</p> +<p>“Never, Joe—I will say that.”</p> +<p>“No, and you can ask my mother or Mrs. Bumpkin, or the +Vicar, or anybody else you like, Polly—.”</p> +<p>“I shall go and see your mother,” said Polly.</p> +<p>“Will you come to-morrow night?” asked Joe.</p> +<p>“If I can get away I will; but I must go +now—good-bye—good-bye—good——”</p> +<p>“Are you in a hurry, Polly.”</p> +<p>“I must go, Joe—good—; but I will come +to-morrow, as soon as dinner is +over—good—good—good-bye.”</p> +<p>“And then——,” but the Old Oak kept his +counsel. Here I awoke.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>“Well,” cried my wife, “you have broken off +abruptly.”</p> +<p>“One can’t help it,” quoth I, rubbing my +eyes. “I cannot help waking any more than I can help +going to sleep.”</p> +<p><!-- page 314--><a name="page314"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +314</span>“Well, this would be a very pretty little +courtship if true.”</p> +<p>“Ah,” I said, “if I have described all that +I saw in my dream, you may depend upon it it is true. But +when I go to Southwood I will ask the Old Oak, for we are the +greatest friends imaginable, and he tells me everything. He +has known me ever since I was a child, and never sees me but he +enters into conversation.”</p> +<p>“What about?”</p> +<p>“The past, present, and future—a very fruitful +subject of conversation, I assure you.”</p> +<p>“Wide enough, certainly.”</p> +<p>“None too wide for a tree of his standing.”</p> +<p>“Ask him, dear, if Joe will marry this Polly +Sweetlove.”</p> +<p>“He will not tell me that; he makes a special +reservation in favour of lovers’ secrets. They would +not confide their loves to his keeping so often as they do if he +betrayed them. No, he’s a staunch old fellow in that +respect, and the consequence is, that for centuries lovers have +breathed their vows under his protecting branches.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry for that—I mean I am sorry he +will not tell you about this young couple, for I should like to +know if they will marry. Indeed, you must find out somehow, +for everyone who reads your book will be curious on this +subject.”</p> +<p>“What, as to whether ploughman Joe will marry Polly the +housemaid. Had he been the eldest son of the Squire now, +and she the Vicar’s daughter, instead of the +maid—”</p> +<p>“It would not have been a whit more interesting, for +love is love, and human nature the same in high and <!-- page +315--><a name="page315"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +315</span>low degree. But, perhaps, this old tree +doesn’t know anything about future events?”</p> +<p>“He knows from his long experience of the past what will +happen if certain conditions are given; he knows, for instance, +the secret whispers, and the silent tokens exchanged beneath his +boughs, and from them he knows what will assuredly result if +things take their ordinary course.”</p> +<p>“So does anyone, prophet or no prophet.”</p> +<p>“But his process of reasoning, based upon the experience +of a thousand years, is unerring; he saw William the Conqueror, +and listened to a council of war held under his branches; he knew +what would happen if William’s projects were successful: +whether they would be successful was not within his +knowledge. He was intimately acquainted with Herne’s +Oak at Windsor, and they frequently visited.”</p> +<p>“Visited! how was that possible?”</p> +<p>“Quite possible; trees visit one another just the same +as human beings—they hold intercourse by means of the +wind. For instance, when the wind blows from the +north-east, Southwood Oak visits at Windsor Park, and when the +wind is in the opposite direction a return visit is paid. +There isn’t a tree of any position in England but the Old +Oak of Southwood knows. He is in himself the History of +England, only he is unlike all other histories, for he speaks the +truth.”</p> +<p>“He must have witnessed many love scenes!”</p> +<p>“Thousands!”</p> +<p>“Tell me some?”</p> +<p>“Not now—besides, I must ask leave.”</p> +<p>“Does he ever tell you anything about +yourself?”</p> +<p>“A great deal—it is our principal topic of +conversation; <!-- page 316--><a name="page316"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 316</span>but he always begins it, lest my +modesty should prevent any intercourse on the subject.”</p> +<p>“What has he said?”</p> +<p>“A great deal: he has inspired me with hope, even +instilled into me some ambition: he has tried to impart to me an +admiration of all that is true, and to awaken a detestation of +all that is mean and pettifogging. I never look at him but +I see the symbol of all that is noble, grand and brave: he is the +emblem of stability, friendship and affection; a monument of +courage, honesty, and fidelity; he is the type of manly +independence and self-reliance. I am glad, therefore, that +under his beautiful branches, and within his protecting presence, +two young hearts have again met and pledged, as I believe they +have, their troth, honestly resolving to battle together against +the storms of life, rooted in stedfast love, and rejoicing in the +sunshine of the Creator’s smiles!”</p> +<p>After these observations, which were received with marked +approval, I again gave myself up to the soft influence of a +dreamy repose.</p> +<h2><!-- page 317--><a name="page317"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 317</span>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">A consultation as to new lodgings.—Also +a consultation with counsel.</p> +<p>It was a subject of grave discussion between the Bumpkins and +Joe, as to where would be the best place for the plaintiff to +lodge on his next visit to London. If he had moved in the +upper ranks of life, in all probability he would have taken Mrs. +Bumpkin to his town house: but being only a plain man and a +farmer, it was necessary to decide upon the most convenient, and +at the same time, inexpensive locality.</p> +<p>Mrs. Bumpkin, who, of course, knew all about her +husband’s adventures, was strongly opposed to his returning +to the Goose. Never had created thing lost so much in her +estimation by mere association as this domestic bird. Joe +was a fine soldier, no doubt, but it was the Goose that had taken +him in.</p> +<p>Curiously enough, as they were discussing this important +question, who should come in but honest Lawyer Prigg himself.</p> +<p>What a blessing that man seemed to be, go where he +would! Why, he spread an air of hope and cheerfulness over +this simple household the moment he entered it! But the +greatest virtue he dispensed was resignation; he had a large +stock of this on hand. He always preached <!-- page +318--><a name="page318"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +318</span>it: “resignation to the will of +Providence;” resignation to him, Prigg!</p> +<p>So when he came in with his respectable head, professional +collar, and virtuous necktie, Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin could not +choose but rise. Mr. Bumpkin meekly pulled his hair, and +humbly bowed obeisance as to his benefactor. Mrs. Bumpkin +curtseyed as to a superior power, whom she could not recognize as +a benefactor. Joe stood up, and looked as if he +couldn’t quite make out what Mr. Prigg was. He knew +he worked the Law somehow, and “summut like as a man works +a steam-threshing machine, but how or by what means, was a +mystery unrevealed to the mind of the simple soldier.”</p> +<p>“Good morning! good morning!” said Mr. Prigg, +after the manner of a patriarch conferring a blessing. +“Well, Joe, so you are returned, are you? Come, now, +let me shake hands with one of our brave heroes!”</p> +<p>What condescension! and his tone was the tone of a man +reaching down from a giddy height to the world beneath him.</p> +<p>“So you were in the thick of the fight, were +you—dear me! what a charge that was!” Ah, but, +dear reader, you should see Prigg’s charges!</p> +<p>“I wur someur about, sir,” said Joe. +“I dunnow where now though.”</p> +<p>“Quite so,” said Mr. Prigg, “it was a great +victory; I’m told the enemy ran away directly they heard +our troops were coming.”</p> +<p>“Now look at that,” said Joe; “what a lot of +lies do get about sure-ly!”</p> +<p>“Dear me!” said Mr. Prigg; “but you beat +them, did you not? we won the battle?”</p> +<p><!-- page 319--><a name="page319"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +319</span>“That’s right enough,” said Joe; +“but if they’d run away we couldn’t a beat +un—’tain’t much of a fight when there’s +no enemy.”</p> +<p>“Haw, haw, haw!” laughed Bumpkin. +“That be good, Mr. Prigg, that be good!”</p> +<p>“Very good, very good, indeed,” said Mr. Prigg; +“I don’t wonder at your winning if you could make +such sallies as that.”</p> +<p>And that was good for Mr. Prigg.</p> +<p>“And now,” said he, “to +business—business, eh?”</p> +<p>“We be jist gwine to ’ave a nice piece o’ +pork and greens, Mr. Prigg, would ee please to tak some,” +said Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Dear me!” answered Prigg; “how very +strange, my favourite dish—if ever Mrs. Prigg is in doubt +about—”</p> +<p>“It be wery plain,” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“The plainer the better, my dear sir; as I always say to +my servants, if you—”</p> +<p>“I’m sure,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; “I be +’ardly fit to wait on a gennleman like you. I +ain’t ’ad time this morning to change my gown and +tidy up myself.”</p> +<p>“Really, my dear madam—don’t, now; I adjure +you; make no apologies—it is not the dress—or +the—or the —, anything in fact, that makes us what we +are;—don’t, if you please.”</p> +<p>And here his profound sentiments died away again and were lost +to the world; and the worthy man, not long after, was discussing +his favourite dish with greedy relish.</p> +<p>“An when’ll this ’ere thing be on, Mr. +Prigg, does thee think? It be a hell of a long +time.”</p> +<p>“Tom! Tom!” exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin. +But Mr. <!-- page 320--><a name="page320"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 320</span>Prigg was too well bred and too much +occupied with his pork and greens to hear the very wayward +epithet of the Farmer Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Quite so,” said the lawyer; “quite so, it +is so difficult to tell when a case will come on. +You’re in the list to-day and gone to-morrow; a man the +other day was just worried as you have been; but mark this; at +the trial, Mr. Bumpkin, the jury gave that man a verdict for a +thousand pounds!”</p> +<p>“Look at that, Nancy,” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin; +“Will ’ee tak a little more pork, sir?”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Mr. Prigg, “it’s +uncommonly good; some of your own feeding, I suppose?”</p> +<p>“Ay,” said Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Were that a pig case, Mr. Prigg, where the man got the +thousand pounds?” asked Mrs. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Let me see,” answered Prigg, “<i>was</i> it +a pig case?” Here he put his finger to the side of +his nose. “I really, at this moment, quite forget +whether it was or was not a pig case. I’ll trouble +you, Mrs. Bumpkin, for a little more greens, if you +please.”</p> +<p>“Now, I wur saying,” said Bumpkin, “jist as +thee comed in, where be I to lodge when I gooes to Lunnon +agin?”</p> +<p>“Ah, now, quite so—yes; and you must go in a day +or two. I expect we shall be on shortly. Now, let me +see, you don’t like ‘The Goose’? A nice +respectable hostelry, too!”</p> +<p>“I wunt ’ave un goo there, Mr. Prigg,” said +Mrs. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Quite so—quite so. Now what I was thinking +was, suppose you took lodgings at some nice suburban place, +say—”</p> +<p><!-- page 321--><a name="page321"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +321</span>“What pleace, sir?” inquired Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Let us say Camden Town, for instance—nice healthy +neighbourhood and remarkably quiet. You could come every +morning by ’bus, or if you preferred it, by rail; and if by +rail, you could take a season ticket, which would be much +cheaper; a six months’ ticket, again, being cheaper than a +three months’ ticket.”</p> +<p>“In the name o’ Heaven, sir,” exclaimed Mrs. +Bumpkin, “be this ’ere thing gwine on for +ever?”</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg smiled benignly, as much as to say, “You +ladies are so impatient, so innocent of the business of +life.”</p> +<p>“It seems to me, Mr. Prigg, one need live to be as old +as thic there Mackthusaler to bring a law-suit +now-a-days.”</p> +<p>“Now, look at that!” broke in Joe, +“it’s made master look forty year older +aready.”</p> +<p>“So it have, Joe,” rejoined the mistress; “I +wish it could be chucked up altogether.”</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg benignantly shook his head.</p> +<p>“D’ye think I be gwine to give in to thic +sniggerin’ Snooks feller?” asked Mr. Bumpkin. +“Not if I knows it. Why thic feller goo +sniggerin’ along th’ street as though he’d won; +and he ’ave told lots o’ people how he’ll laugh +I out o’ Coourt—his counsel be gwine to laugh I out +o’ Coourt becors I be a country farmer.”</p> +<p>“Right can’t be laughed out of Court, sir,” +said the excellent Prigg, solemnly.</p> +<p>“Noa, noa, right bean’t asheamed, goo where ur +wool. Upright and down-straight wur allays my motto. +I be a plain man, but I allays tried to act straight-forrerd, and +bean’t asheamed o’ no man.”</p> +<p>This speech was a complete success: it was unanswerable. +<!-- page 322--><a name="page322"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +322</span>It fixed the lodgings at Camden Town. It stopped +Mrs. Bumpkin’s impatience; diminished her apprehensions; +and apparently, lulled her misgivings. She was a gentle, +hard-working, loving wife.</p> +<p>And so all was settled. It was the month of April, and +it was confidently expected that by the end of July all would be +comfortably finished in time to get in the harvest. The +crops looked well; the meadows and clover-field promised a fair +crop, and the wheat and barley never looked better.</p> +<p>The following week found Mr. Bumpkin in his new lodgings at +Camden Town; and I verily believe, as Mr. Prigg very sagaciously +observed, if it had not been for the Judges going circuit, +<i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i> would have been in the paper six +weeks earlier than it really was. But even lawsuits must +come on at last, be they never so tardy: and one day, in bustling +haste, Mr. Prigg’s young man informed Mr. Bumpkin that a +consultation was actually fixed at his leader’s chambers, +Garden Court, Temple, at seven o’clock punctually the next +day.</p> +<p>Bumpkin was delighted: he was to be present at the express +wish of the leading counsel. So to Garden Court he went at +seven, with Mr. Prigg; and there sure enough was Mr. Dynamite, +his junior counsel. Mr. Catapult, Q.C., had not yet +arrived. So while they waited, Mr. Bumpkin had an +opportunity of looking about him; never in his life had he seen +so many books. There they were all over the walls; shelves +upon shelves. The chambers seemed built with books, and Mr. +Bumpkin raised his eyes with awe to the ceiling, expecting to see +books there.</p> +<p><!-- page 323--><a name="page323"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +323</span>“What be all these ’ere books, sir?” +he whispered to Prigg.</p> +<p>“These are law books,” answered the intelligent +Prigg; “but these are only a few.”</p> +<p>“Must be a good dale o’ law,” said +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“A good deal too much,” observed Mr. Dynamite, +with a smile; “if we were to burn nine-tenths of the law +books we should have better law, eh, Mr. Prigg?”</p> +<p>Mr. Prigg never contradicted counsel; and if Mr. Dynamite had +said it’s a great pity that our libraries have so few +authorities, Prigg would have made the same answer, “I +quite agree, quite so! quite so!”</p> +<p>“Mr. Cats-’is-name don’t seem to +come,” observed Bumpkin, after an hour and a half had +passed.</p> +<p>“Mr. <i>Catapult</i>, Mr. <i>Catapult</i>,” said +Mr. Prigg; “no, he doesn’t seem to come.” +And then he rang for the clerk, and the clerk came.</p> +<p>“Do you think Mr. Catapult will return to-night?” +inquired Prigg.</p> +<p>“I don’t think he will,” said the clerk, +looking at his watch; “I am afraid not.”</p> +<p>“Beant much good to stop then,” said Mr. +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“I fear not,” observed the clerk, “he has so +many engagements. Shall we fix another consultation, Mr. +Prigg?”</p> +<p>“If you please,” said that gentleman.</p> +<p>“Say half-past seven to-morrow, then. The case, I +find, is not in the paper to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Quite so, quite so,” returned Prigg, +“half-past seven to-morrow.”</p> +<p>And thus the consultation was at an end and the parties went +their several ways.</p> +<h2><!-- page 325--><a name="page325"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 325</span>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Mr. Bumpkin receives compliments from +distinguished persons.</p> +<p>One evening as Mr. Bumpkin was sitting in his little parlour, +ruminating, or as he termed it, “rummaging” in his +mind over many things, and especially wondering when the trial +would come on, Horatio, in breathless impatience, entered the +room. His excited and cheerful appearance indicated that +something of an unusually pleasant nature had occurred. A +strong intimacy had long been established between this boy and +Mr. Bumpkin, who regarded Horatio as a kind of legal prodigy; his +very hopes seemed centered in and inspired by this lad. He +seemed to be the guiding spirit and the flywheel of the whole +proceedings. Was Snooks to be pulverized? it must be under +Horatio’s heel!</p> +<p>This legal stripling brought almost as much comfort as Mr. +Prigg himself; and it was quite a pleasure to hear the familiar +terms in which he spoke of the bigwigs of the profession. +He would say of McCannister, the Queen’s Counsel, “I +like Mac’s style of putting a question, it’s so soft +like—it goes down like a Pick-me-up.” Then he +would allude to Mr. Heavytop, Q.C., as Jack; to Mr. Bigpot as old +Kettledrum; to Mr. Swagger, Q.C., as Pat; to B. C. Windbag, Q.C., +M.P., as B. C.—all which indicated to the mind of Mr. +Bumpkin the particularly <!-- page 326--><a +name="page326"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 326</span>intimate +terms upon which Horatio was with these celebrities. Nor +did his intimacy cease there: instead of speaking of the highest +legal official of the land in terms of respectful deference, as +“my Lord High Chancellor,” or “my Lord +Allworthy,”—he would say, in the most indifferent +manner “Old Allworthy” this, and “Old +Allworthy,” that; sometimes even, he ventured to call some +of Her Majesty’s Judges by nick-names; an example which, I +trust, will not be followed by the Horatios of the future. +But I believe the pale boy, like his great namesake, was +fearless. It was a comfort to hear him denounce the +law’s delay, and the terrible “cumbersomeness” +of legal proceedings: not that he did it in soothing language or +in happy phraseology: it was rather in a manner that led Mr. +Bumpkin to believe the young champion was standing up for his +particular rights; as if he had said to the authorities, whoever +they might be, “Look here! I’ll have no more of +this: it’s a shame and disgrace to this country that a +simple dispute between a couple of neighbours can’t be +tried without months of quarrelling in Judges’ Chambers and +elsewhere; if you don’t try this case before long +I’ll see what can be done.” Then there was +further consolation in the fact that Horatio declared that, in +his opinion, Tommy <i>Catpup</i>, Q.C., would knock Snooks into a +cocked hat, and that Snooks already looked very down in the +mouth.</p> +<p>On the evening at which I have arrived in my dream, when the +pale boy came in, Mr. Bumpkin inquired what was the matter: was +the case settled? Had Snooks paid the damages? +Nothing of the kind. Horatio’s visit was of a +common-place nature. He had simply come to inform Mr. +Bumpkin that the Archbishop of <!-- page 327--><a +name="page327"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 327</span>Canterbury +had kindly sent him a couple of tickets for the reserved seats at +Canterbury Hall.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin was disappointed. He cared nothing for +Archbishops. He was in hopes it had been something +better.</p> +<p>“I wunt goo,” said he.</p> +<p>“We ought to go, I think,” said Horatio; “it +was very kind of old Archy to send em, and he wouldn’t like +it if we didn’t go: besides, he and the Rolls are great +chums.”</p> +<p>“Rolls!” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“The Master of the Rolls. I shouldn’t wonder +if he aint got Archy to send em—don’t you be a +fool. And another thing, Paganani’s going to play the +farmyard on the fiddle to-night. Gemminey, ain’t that +good! You hear the pigs squeak, and the bull roar, and the +old cock crow, and the sow grunt, and the horse +kick—”</p> +<p>“How the devil can thee hear a horse kick, unless he +kicks zummat?”</p> +<p>“Well, he does,” said Horatio; “that’s +just what he does do. Let’s go, I am sure you will +like it.”</p> +<p>“It beant one o’ these ere playhouse pleaces, be +it?”</p> +<p>“Lor bless you,” said Horatio, +“there’s pews just the same as if you was in Church: +and the singing’s beautiful.”</p> +<p>“No sarmon, I s’pooase.”</p> +<p>“Not on week nights, but I’ll tell you what there +is instead: a chap climbs up to the top of a high pole and stands +on his head for ten minutes.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin, although a man who never went out of an evening, +could not resist the persuasions of his pale young friend. +He had never been to any place of amusement, except the Old +Bailey, since he had been in London; <!-- page 328--><a +name="page328"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 328</span>although he +had promised himself a treat to the Cattle Show, provided that +came on, which was very likely, as it only wanted five months to +it, before his case.</p> +<p>So they got on the top of a ’Bus and proceeded on their +way to Lambeth Palace; for the Canterbury Hall, as everyone +knows, is in that ancient pile. And truly, when they +arrived everything was astonishingly beautiful and +pleasing. Mr. Bumpkin was taken through the Picture +Gallery, which he enjoyed, although he would have liked to see +one or two like the Squire had got in his Hall, such as +“Clinker,” the prize bull; and “Father +Tommy,” the celebrated ram. But the Archbishop +probably had never taken a prize: not much of a breeder +maybe.</p> +<p>Now they entered the Hall amid strains of sweet, soft, +enchanting music. Never before had the soul of Bumpkin been +so enthralled: it was as if the region of fairyland had suddenly +burst upon his astonished view. In presence of all this +beauty, and this delicious cadence of sweet sounds, what a +common-place thing <i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i> seemed!</p> +<p>Theirs was a very nice pew, commanding a full view of the +stage and all the angelic looking beings. And evidently our +friends were considered fashionable people, for many of the +audience looked round at them as they entered. So awed was +Mr. Bumpkin when he first sat down, that he wondered whether he +ought to look into his hat as the Squire did in Church; but, +resolving to be guided by Horatio, and seeing that the pale youth +did not even take his billycock off, but spread his elbows out on +the front ledge and clapped his hands with terrific vehemence, +and shouted “Anchore” as loudly as he <!-- page +329--><a name="page329"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +329</span>could, Mr. Bumpkin, in imitation, clapped his hands and +said “Hooroar!”</p> +<p>It was glorious. The waiter came and exchanged winks +with the pale boy, and brought some soda-and-brandy and a +cigar. Mr. Bumpkin wondered more and more. It was the +strangest place he had ever heard of. It seemed so strange +to have smoking and drinking. But then he knew there were +things occurring every day that the cleverest men could not +account for: not even Mr. Slater, the schoolmaster at Yokelton, +could account for them.</p> +<p>Just in front of the two friends was another pew, a very nice +one that was, and for some little time it was unoccupied. +Presently with a great rustling of silks and a great smell of +Jockey Club, and preceded by one of the servants of the +establishment, entered two beautiful and fashionably dressed +ladies of extremely quiet (except the Jockey Club) and retiring +demeanour. They could not but attract Mr. Bumpkin’s +attention: they so reminded him of the Squire’s daughters, +only they dressed much better. How he would like Nancy to +see them: she was very fond of beautiful gowns, was Nancy.</p> +<p>“I wonder who they be?” whispered Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” answered Horatio; +“I’ll ask as soon as I get a chance. It’s +the Archbishop’s pew; I believe they are his +daughters.”</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t ur ha come wi em?” said +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“He generally does, but I suppose he can’t get +away to-night.”</p> +<p>At this moment a waiter, or as Bumpkin called him a pew +opener, was passing, and Horatio whispered something in his ear, +his companion looking at him the while from the corner of his +eyes.</p> +<p><!-- page 330--><a name="page330"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +330</span>“The one on the right,” whispered the +waiter, untwisting the wire of a bottle of sodawater, “is +the Countess Squeezem, and the other is Lady Flora, her +sister.”</p> +<p>Bumpkin nodded his head as much as to say, “Just see +that: high life, that, if you like!”</p> +<p>And really the Countess and Lady Flora were as quiet and +unassuming as if they had been the commonest bred people in the +world.</p> +<p>Now came forward on the stage a sweet young lady dressed in +yellow satin, with lovely red roses all down the front and one on +the left shoulder, greeted by a thunder of applause. Her +voice was thrilling: now it was at the back of the stage; now it +was just behind your ear; now in the ceiling. You +didn’t know where to have it. After she had done, +Horatio said:</p> +<p>“What do you think of Nilsson?”</p> +<p>“Wery good! wery good!”</p> +<p>“Hallo,” says Horatio, “here’s Sims +Reeves. Bravo Sims! bravo Reeves!”</p> +<p>“I’ve eered tell o’ he,” says Bumpkin; +“he be wery young, bean’t he?”</p> +<p>“O,” says Horatio, “they paint up so; but +ain’t he got a tenor—O gemminey crikery!”</p> +<p>“A tenner?” says Bumpkin, “what’s thee +mean, ten pun a week?”</p> +<p>“O my eye!” says the youth, “he gets more +than that.”</p> +<p>“It be good wages.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but it’s nothing to what some of em +get,” says Horatio; “why if a man can play the fool +well he can get as much as the Prime Minister.”</p> +<p>“Ah, and thic Prime Minister can play the fool well <!-- +page 331--><a name="page331"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +331</span>at times; it seem to me—they tooked the dooty of +whate and made un too chape.”</p> +<p>“Who’s this?” asks Horatio of the +waiter.</p> +<p>“Patti,” says the waiter, “at the express +wish of the Queen.”</p> +<p>Bumpkin nods again, as though there was no end to the grandeur +of the company.</p> +<p>Then comes another no less celebrated, if Horatio was +correct.</p> +<p>“Hullo,” says he, “here’s +Trebelli!”</p> +<p>Now this was too much for the absorbing powers of even a +Bumpkin. Horatio had carried it too far. Not that his +friend had ever heard of the great vocalist, but if you are +inclined for fun pray use names that will go down. Mr. +Bumpkin looked hard at Horatio’s face, on which was just +the faintest trace of a smile. And then he said:</p> +<p>“What a name, <i>Bellie</i>! danged if I doan’t +think thee be stickin it into I,” and then he laughed and +repeated, “thee be stickin it into I.”</p> +<p>“Now for Pagannini!” says Horatio; “now +you’ll hear something. By Jove, he’ll show +you!”</p> +<p>“Why I’ve eerd tell o’ thic Piganiny when I +were a boy,” says Bumpkin, “used to play on one +leg.”</p> +<p>“That’s the man,” says Horatio.</p> +<p>“But this ere man got two legs, how can he be +Piganiny?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know anything about that,” says +Horatio; “what’s it matter how many legs he’s +got, just listen to that!”</p> +<p>“Why danged if that bean’t as much like thic +Cochin Chiner cock o’ mine as ever I eered in my +life.”</p> +<p><!-- page 332--><a name="page332"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +332</span>“Told you so,” says Horatio; “but +keep quiet, you’ll hear something presently.”</p> +<p>And sure enough he did: pig in the straw; sow in the stye; +bull in the meadow; sheep in the fold; everything was +perfect.</p> +<p>Never before had Mr. Bumpkin been so overpowered. He +never before knew what music was. Truly Piganiny was a +deserving man, and a clever one too. Mr. Bumpkin’s +enthusiasm had carried him thus far, when to his great +satisfaction the Lady Flora looked round. It was very nice +of her, because it was as if she wished to know if Mr. Bumpkin +and his friend felt the same rapturous delight as she and her +sister. What a nice face Lady Flora’s was! It +wasn’t unlike the Squire’s eldest +daughter’s. Between that, perhaps, and the +Vicar’s youngest daughter’s.</p> +<p>Then the Countess slightly turned round, her face wearing a +smile of great complaisance, and Mr. Bumpkin could have seen at +once that she was a person of great distinction even if he had +not been informed of her rank. Well, taken for all in all, +it was a night he would never forget, and his only feeling of +regret was that Mrs. Bumpkin was not present to share his +pleasure—the roar of that bull would have just pleased her; +it was so like Sampson.</p> +<p>And now the scene shifters were preparing for another +performance, and were adjusting ropes and fixing poles, and what +not, when, as Mr. Bumpkin was lost in profound meditation, up +rose from her seat the beautiful Lady Flora, and turning round +with a bewitching face, and assuming an air of inexpressible +simplicity, she exclaimed to Mr. Bumpkin in the sweetest of +voices: “O you duck!”</p> +<p><!-- page 333--><a name="page333"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +333</span>Mr. Bumpkin started as if a cannon had exploded in his +face instead of a beautiful young lady. He blushed to the +deepest crimson, and then the lady Flora poured into him a volley +of her sweetiest prettiest laughter. Attacked thus so +suddenly and so effectively, what could he do? He felt +there must be some mistake, and that he ought to apologize. +But the Lady Flora gave him no time; leaning forward, she held +out her hand—</p> +<p>“Beg pardon, +m’lady—thic—I—I.”</p> +<p>Then the Countess rose and smiled upon Mr. Bumpkin, and said +she hoped he wouldn’t mind; her sister was of such a +playful disposition.</p> +<p>The playful one here just touched Mr. Bumpkin under the chin +with her forefinger, and again said he was a “<i>perfect +duck</i>!”</p> +<p>“What be the manin’ o’ this?” said +he. “I be off; come on, sir. This be quite +enough for I.”</p> +<p>“Don’t go like that,” said Lady Flora. +“Oh, dear, dear, what a cruel man!”</p> +<p>“Not a glass of wine,” said the Countess.</p> +<p>“Not one, Mr. Bumpkin!” urged Lady Flora.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin had risen, and was angry: he was startled at his +name being known: he looked to Horatio, hoping some explanation +might come; but the pale youth had his back to him, and was +preparing to leave the Hall. There were many curious eyes +looking at them, and there was much laughter. Mr. +Bumpkin’s appearance would alone have been sufficient to +cause this: but his mind was to be farther enlightened as to the +meaning of this extraordinary scene; and it happened in this +wise. As he was proceeding between the rows of people, +followed closely by those illustrious members of the aristocracy, +the Countess and Lady <!-- page 334--><a name="page334"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 334</span>Flora; while the waiters grinned and +the people laughed, his eye caught sight of an object away over +the front seat, which formed a right angle with the one he had +been occupying; it was an object unattractive in itself but +which, under the circumstances, fixed and riveted his attention; +that object was Snooks, in the corner of the third row, with his +sawpit mouth on the broadest grin.</p> +<h2><!-- page 335--><a name="page335"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 335</span>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">The trial.</p> +<p>Who shall describe the feelings of joy which animated the +breast of Mr. Bumpkin when at last, with the suddenness of +lightning, Mr. Prigg’s clerk flashed into his little +parlour the intelligence, “Case in paper; be at Court by +ten o’clock; Bail Court.” Such was the telegram +which Mr. Bumpkin got his landlady to read on that pleasant +evening towards the end of July. The far-seeing Prigg was +right. It would come on about the end of July. That +is what he had predicted. But it would not have been safe +for Mr. Bumpkin to be away from town for a single day. It +might have been in the paper at any moment; and here it was, just +as he was beginning to get tired of “Camden Town and the +whole thing.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin put on a clean shirt, with a good stiff high +collar, which he had reserved from Mrs. Bumpkin’s wash; +for, in his opinion, there was no stiffening in the London +starch, and no getting up like Mrs. Bumpkin’s. He put +on his best neckerchief, and a bran new waistcoat which he had +bought for Sundays six years ago at the market town. He put +on his drab coat with the long tails, which he had worn on the +day of his marriage, and had kept for his best ever since; he put +on his velvety <!-- page 336--><a name="page336"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 336</span>looking corduroy trowsers and his +best lace-up watertight boots; and then, after a good breakfast, +put on his white beaver hat, took his ash-stick, and got into a +Westminster ‘Bus. What a beautiful morning it +was! Just the morning for a law suit! Down he got at +Palace Yard, walked towards the spacious door of the old hall, +entered its shadowy precincts, and then, in my dream, I lost +sight of him as he mingled with the crowd. But I saw some +few moments after in the Bail Court enter, amidst profound +silence and with impressive dignity, Mr. Justice Stedfast. +Let me here inform the reader that if by any chance, say by +settlement, postponement or otherwise, the first case in the list +“goes off,” as it is called (from its bearing a +striking resemblance to the unexpected going off of a gun), and +the parties in the next case, taken by surprise, are not there at +the moment, that case goes off by being struck out; and very +often the next and the next, and so on to the end of the +list. Parties therefore should be ready, so as to prevent a +waste of time. The time of the Court is not to be wasted by +parties not being ready. Now, strangely enough, this is +what happened in the case of <i>Bumpkin</i> v. +<i>Snooks</i>. Being number eight, no one thought it would +be reached; and the leading counsel, and also the junior counsel +being engaged elsewhere; and Mr. Prigg and Mr. Prigg’s +clerk not having arrived; and Mr. Bumpkin not knowing his way; at +five minutes after the sitting of the Court, so expeditious are +our legal proceedings, the celebrated case was actually reached, +and this is what took place:</p> +<p>“Are the parties ready?” inquired his +Lordship.</p> +<p>Mr. Ricochet, Q.C., who appeared with Mr. Weasel for the +defendant, said he was ready for the defendant.</p> +<p><!-- page 337--><a name="page337"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +337</span>“Call the plaintiff!” said a voice.</p> +<p>Loud cries for Bumpkin, who was just pushing his way down the +passage outside.</p> +<p>“Does anyone answer?” asked his lordship; +“do you know if any gentleman is instructed, Mr. +Ricochet?”</p> +<p>“I am not aware, my lud.”</p> +<p>“Stand up and be sworn, gentlemen,” says the +associate. Up stood the jury; and in less than half a +minute they found a verdict for the defendant, counterclaim being +abandoned, just as Mr. Bumpkin had pushed into Court. And +judgment is given.</p> +<p>The business having been thus got through, the Court rose and +went away. And then came in both counsel and Mr. Prigg and +Horatio; and great complaints were made of everybody except the +Judge, who couldn’t help it.</p> +<p>But our administration of justice is not so inelastic that it +cannot adapt itself to a set of circumstances such as +these. It was only to make a few more affidavits, and to +appear before his lordship by counsel, and state the facts in a +calm and respectful manner, to obtain the necessary rectification +of the matter. All was explained and all forgiven. +<i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i> was to be restored to the paper +upon payment of the costs of the day—a trifling matter, +amounting only to about eighteen pounds seventeen +shillings. But a severe admonition from the Bench +accompanied this act of grace: “The Court cannot be kept +waiting,” said his lordship; “and it is necessary +that all suitors should know that if they are not here when their +cases are called on they will be struck out, or the party to the +cause who is here will be entitled to a verdict, if the +defendant; or to try his case in the other’s absence, if he +be the plaintiff. It was idle to suppose <!-- page 338--><a +name="page338"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 338</span>that +parties could not be there in time: it was their business to be +there.”</p> +<p>At this every junior barrister nodded approvingly, and the +usher called silence.</p> +<p>Of course, the cause could not be in the paper again for some +time: they must suit Mr. Ricochet’s convenience now: and +accordingly another period of waiting had to be endured. +Mr. Bumpkin was almost distracted, but his peace of mind was +restored by the worthy Prigg, who persuaded him that a most +laudable piece of good fortune had been brought about by his +intervention; and that was the preventing the wily Snooks from +keeping the verdict he had snatched.</p> +<p>What a small thing will sometimes comfort us!</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin was, indeed, a lucky man; for if his case had not +been in the paper when at last it was, it would have “gone +over the Long Vacation.”</p> +<p>At length I saw Mr. Justice Pangloss, the eminent Chancery +Judge, take his seat in the Bail Court. He was an immense +case lawyer. He knew cases that had been tried in the +reigns of the Edwards and Henries. A pig case could not, +therefore, come amiss.</p> +<p>A case lawyer is like Moses and Sons; he can fit anybody, from +Chang down to a midget. But there is sometimes an +inconvenience in trying to fit an old precedent on to new +circumstances: and I am not unfrequently reminded of the boy +whose corduroy trousers were of the exact length, and looked +tolerable in front; but if you went round they stuck out a good +deal on the other side. He might grow to them, no doubt, +but it is a clumsy mode of tailoring after all.</p> +<p>Now Mr. Bumpkin, of course, could not be sure that his case +was “coming on.” All he knew was, that he <!-- +page 339--><a name="page339"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +339</span>must avoid Snooks’ snatching another +verdict. He had been to great expense, and a commission had +actually been issued to take Joe’s evidence while his +regiment was detained at Malta. Mr. Prigg had taken the +plaintiff into a crowd, and there had left him early in the +morning.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin’s appearance even in the densest crowd was +attractive, to say the least: and many and various were the +observations from time to time made by the vulgar roughs around +as to his personal appearance. His shirtcollar was greatly +praised, so was the beauty of his waistcoat: while I heard one +gentleman make an enquiry which showed he was desirous of +ascertaining what was the name of the distinguished firm which +had the honour of supplying him with hats. One said it was +Heath, he could tell by the brim; another that it was Cole, he +went by the polish; and the particular curl of the brim, which no +other hatter had ever succeeded in producing. While another +gentleman with one eye and half a nose protested that it was one +of Lincoln and Bennett’s patent dynamite resisters on an +entirely new principle.</p> +<p>The subject of all these remarks listened as one in doubt as +to whether they were levelled at him or in any other +direction. He glanced at the many eyes turned upon him, and +heard the laughter that succeeded every new witticism. His +uncertainty as to whether he was “the party eamed +at,” heightened the amusement of the wits.</p> +<p>Now came a bolder and less mistakable allusion to his personal +appearance:</p> +<p>“I should like Gladstone to see that, Jem; talk about +<!-- page 340--><a name="page340"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +340</span>a collar! the Grand Old Man’s +nowhere—he’d better take to turndowns after +this.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied the gentleman addressed; “I +think this would settle him—is he liberal or tory, I +wonder?”</p> +<p>“Tory, you’re sure—wotes for the Squoire, +I’ll warrant. A small loaf and a big jail.”</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin turned his eyes first towards one speaker and then +towards another without moving his head, as he thought:</p> +<p>“Danged if I doan’t bleeve thee means +I.” But he wisely said nothing.</p> +<p>“I say,” said another, “I wonder if +pigeon’s milk is good for the complexion.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Jem, “it makes your nose red, and +makes the hair sprout out of the top of it.”</p> +<p>Here was a laugh all round, which made the Usher call out +silence; and the Judge said he would have the Court cleared if +order was not preserved. Then there was a loud shouting all +over the Court for “Thomas Bumpkin!”</p> +<p>“Here I be!” said Bumpkin, amid more +laughter—and especially of the wits around him. Then +a great bustling and hustling, and pushing and struggling took +place.</p> +<p>“Danged if that beant my case,” said Mr. Bumpkin; +“but it ain’t my counsellor.”</p> +<p>“Make way for the plaintiff,” shouted the Usher; +“stand on one side—don’t crowd up this +passage. This way, sir, make haste; the Court’s +waiting for you, why do you keep the Court waiting in this +way?”</p> +<p>“I was just going to strike your case out,” said +the Judge, “the public time can’t be wasted in this +way.”</p> +<p>Bumpkin scrambled along through the crowd, and was <!-- page +341--><a name="page341"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +341</span>hustled into the witness-box. The Judge put up +his eye-glass, and looked at the plaintiff as though he was +hardly fit to bring an action in a Superior Court. Up went +the book into his hand. “Take the book in your right +hand. Kiss the book; now attend and speak up—speak up +so that those gentlemen may hear.”</p> +<p>“Why weren’t you here before?” asked the +Judge.</p> +<p>“I wur, my lord?”</p> +<p>“Didn’t you hear your learned counsel opening your +case?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know it wur my case,” said +Bumpkin, amid roars of laughter.</p> +<p>“I don’t wonder at that,” said Mr. Ricochet, +looking at the jury.</p> +<p>“Now then,” said the Judge.</p> +<p>“And now, then,” said Mr. Silverspoon; for neither +of his own counsel was able to be present.</p> +<p>“You are a farmer, I believe?”</p> +<p>“I be.”</p> +<p>“On the 29th of May, 18--; did the defendant come to +your farm?”</p> +<p>“Ur did.”</p> +<p>“Did he buy a pig?”</p> +<p>“Ur did not; but ur said he’d be d---d if ur +wouldn’t ’ave un.”</p> +<p>“And did he come and take it away?”</p> +<p>“Ur did; pulled un slick out of the sty; and when I +tried to stop un in the Lane, took un by main force?”</p> +<p>Mr. Silverspoon sat down.</p> +<p>“What was the age of this pig, Mr. Bumpkin,” +enquired the Judge.</p> +<p>“He wur ten weeks old, your lord.”</p> +<p><!-- page 342--><a name="page342"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +342</span>“Isn’t there a calf case, Mr. Ricochet, +very similar to this?”</p> +<p>“Yes, my lord.”</p> +<p>“I think,” said Mr. Justice Pangloss, “it +was tried in the reign of James the First.”</p> +<p>Mr. Ricochet, who knew nothing of the calf case, except what +his Lordship had told him, said he believed it was.</p> +<p>“If this was anything,” continued Mr. Ricochet, +“upon the plaintiff’s own showing it was a felony, +and the plaintiff should have prosecuted the defendant criminally +before having recourse to his civil remedy; that is laid down in +the sheep case reported in Walker’s Trumpery +Cases.”</p> +<p>“What volume of the Trumpery Cases is that, Mr. +Ricochet?”</p> +<p>“Six hundred and fifty, my lud.”</p> +<p>His Lordship writes it down. “Page?” says +his lordship.</p> +<p>“Nineteen hundred and ninety-five, my lud; about the +middle of the book.”</p> +<p>Judge calls to the Usher to bring the six hundred and fiftieth +volume of Walker’s Trumpery Cases.</p> +<p>“But there’s a case before that,” said his +lordship. “There’s a case, if I recollect +rightly, about the time of Julius Cæsar—the donkey +case.”</p> +<p>“It’s on all fours with this,” said Mr. +Ricochet.</p> +<p>“What do you say, Mr. Silverspoon?”</p> +<p>Then Mr. Silverspoon proceeded to show that none of those +cases was on all fours with the present case; and a long and +interesting argument followed between the Bench and the +Bar. And it was said by those who were most competent to +judge, that Mr. Silverspoon quite <!-- page 343--><a +name="page343"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +343</span>distinguished himself for the wonderful erudition he +displayed in his knowledge of the donkey case, and several other +cases of four-footed beasts that were called to his attention by +Mr. Justice Pangloss. A perfect menagerie was +“adduced.” Mr. Bumpkin meanwhile wondering +where he was, and what on earth they had all got to do with the +plain fact of Snooks taking his pig without paying for it.</p> +<p>At length, after four hours had been consumed in these learned +disquisitions, Mr. Justice Pangloss, reviewing the judgments of +the various eminent lawyers who had presided over the respective +cases in the several reigns, and after quoting many observations +of those eminent jurists, said that in order to save time he +would hold, for the purposes of to-day, that Mr. Bumpkin was +entitled to bring his action: but, of course, he would reserve +the point; he was by no means clear; he considered himself bound +by authority; and as the point was extremely important, and left +undecided after no less than twelve hundred years of argument on +the one side and the other, he thought it ought to be solemnly +settled. An unsettled state of the law was a very bad thing +in his lordship’s opinion; especially in these modern +times, when it appeared to him that the public were clamouring +for further reform, and a still further simplification of legal +procedure.</p> +<p>This suited Mr. Ricochet exactly; he could not be said now to +have lost his case, even if the jury should find against +him. But he had yet to cut up Bumpkin in +cross-examination. The old trial was brought up against the +plaintiff; and every thing that could tend to discredit him was +asked. Mr. Ricochet, indeed, seemed to think that the art +of cross-examination consisted <!-- page 344--><a +name="page344"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 344</span>in bullying +a witness, and asking all sorts of questions tending to cast +reflections upon his character. He was especially great in +insinuating perjury; knowing that that is always open to a +counsel who has no other defence.</p> +<p>“Will you swear that?” was asked at almost every +answer; sometimes prefaced by the warning, “Be careful, +sir—be careful.” If he could get hold of +anything against a witness’s character, be it ever so +small, and at ever so remote a distance in the man’s life, +he brought it out; and being a Queen’s Counsel he did not +always receive the reproofs that would have crushed a stuff +gownsman into respectable behaviour.</p> +<p>“Were you charged with assaulting a female in the public +streets, sir?”</p> +<p>“No, I worn’t.”</p> +<p>“Be careful, sir—she may be in Court.”</p> +<p>“Let her come forward then,” said the courageous +Silverspoon, who was by no means wanting in tact.</p> +<p>“Will you be quiet, sir,” retorted Ricochet. +“Now Mr. Bumpkin, or whatever your name is, will you swear +she did not accuse you of assaulting her?”</p> +<p>“She coomed oop, and it’s my belief she wur in the +robbery.”</p> +<p>“Bravo Bumpkin!” said one of the men who had +chaffed him. And the jury looked at one another in a manner +that showed approval.</p> +<p>“Will you swear, sir, you have never been in +trouble?”</p> +<p>“I donnow what thee means.”</p> +<p>“Be careful, sir; you know what I mean perfectly +well.”</p> +<p>Then Locust whispers to him, and he says:</p> +<p><!-- page 345--><a name="page345"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +345</span>“O, you frequent Music Halls, don’t +you?”</p> +<p>“Donnow what thee means,” says Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“O, you don’t, don’t you; will you swear +that?”</p> +<p>“I wool.”</p> +<p>“Be careful, sir. Were you at the Canterbury Hall +with two women, who passed as the Countess and Lady +Flora?”</p> +<p>“It be a lie!”</p> +<p>And thus every form of torture was ruthlessly employed, till +Mr. Bumpkin broke down under it, and cried like a child in the +witness-box. This awakened sympathy for him. There +had been much humour and much laughter; and Mr. Ricochet having +no knowledge of human nature, was not aware how closely allied +are laughter and tears; that in proportion as the jury had +laughed at the expense of Mr. Bumpkin they would sympathize with +his unhappy position.</p> +<p>“I’ve worked hard,” said he, “for +sixty year, and let any man come forrard and say I’ve +wronged man, ooman, or child!”</p> +<p>That was a point for Bumpkin. Every one said, +“Poor old man!” and even his Lordship, who was +supposed to have no feeling, was quite sympathetic. Only +Mr. Ricochet was obtuse. He had no heart, and very little +skill, or he would have managed his case more adroitly. +“Badgering” is not much use if you have no better +mode of winning your case.</p> +<p>“Stand down, Mr. Bumpkin,” said his counsel, as +Mr. Ricochet resumed his seat amid the suppressed hisses of the +gallery.</p> +<p>“Joseph Wurzel,” said Mr. Silverspoon.</p> +<p>Joe appeared in the uniform of the Hussars. And he wore +a medal too. Mr. Ricochet had no sympathy <!-- page +346--><a name="page346"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +346</span>with heroes any more than he had with men of letters, +artists, or any other class of talent. He was a dry, +uncompromising, blunt, unfeeling lawyer, looking at justice as a +thimblerig looks at his pea; lift which thimble you may, he will +take care the pea shall not be found if he can help it. He +smiled a grim, inhuman smile at Bumpkin’s tears, and +muttered that he was an “unmanly milksop.”</p> +<p>Joe gave his evidence briefly and without hesitation. +Everyone could see he was speaking the truth; everybody but Mr. +Ricochet, who commenced his cross-examination by telling him to +be careful, and that he was upon his oath.</p> +<p>“Be careful, sir;” he repeated.</p> +<p>Joe looked.</p> +<p>“You are on your oath, sir.” Joe faced +him.</p> +<p>“You deserted your master, did you?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Joe; “I aint no +deserter?”</p> +<p>“But you enlisted.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know as that’s desertion,” +said Joe; “and I’m here to speak for him now; and I +give my evidence at Malta, too.”</p> +<p>“Do you swear that, sir?” enquired Mr. +Ricochet. “Were you not with your master when the +young woman accused him of assaulting her?”</p> +<p>“I was not.”</p> +<p>“Why did you enlist, then?” enquired Mr. +Ricochet.</p> +<p>“Cause I choose to,” said Joe.</p> +<p>“Now, sir, upon your oath; I ask you, did you not enlist +because of this charge?”</p> +<p>“No; I never heard on it till arter I was +listed.”</p> +<p><!-- page 347--><a name="page347"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +347</span>“When did you hear of it?”</p> +<p>“At the trial at the Old Bailey.”</p> +<p>“O,” said the learned Q.C.; “wait a minute, +you were there, were you? Were you there as a +witness?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“Because I warnt.”</p> +<p>“Will you swear that?” asked Ricochet, amid roars +of laughter.</p> +<p>“What were you there for?”</p> +<p>“To hear the trial!”</p> +<p>“And you were not called?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“And do you mean on your oath, sir, to say that you had +enlisted at that time.”</p> +<p>“Now look at that,” said Joe; “the Sergeant +there enlisted me, and he knows.”</p> +<p>“I suppose you had seen your master’s watch many +times?”</p> +<p>“I’d seen it,” said Joe.</p> +<p>“And did not give evidence!”</p> +<p>“No; I warnt called, and know’d nothing about +it.”</p> +<p>“You’ve been paid for coming here, I +suppose?”</p> +<p>“Not a farden, and wouldn’t take un; he bin a good +maister to me as ever lived.”</p> +<p>“And you left him. Now then, sir, be careful; do +you swear you heard Bumpkin say Snooks should not have the +pig?”</p> +<p>“I do.”</p> +<p>“Have you been speaking to anyone about this case before +to-day?”</p> +<p>Joe thought a bit.</p> +<p>“Be careful, sir, I warn you,” says Ricochet.</p> +<p><!-- page 348--><a name="page348"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +348</span>“Yes,” said Joe; “I have.”</p> +<p>“I thought so. When? To whom?”</p> +<p>And here an air of triumph lit up the features of Mr. +Ricochet.</p> +<p>“Afore I comed here.”</p> +<p>“When! let’s have it?”</p> +<p>“Outside the Court.”</p> +<p>“To Bumpkin?”</p> +<p>“No; to that there Locust; he axed un—”</p> +<p>“Never mind what he axed you;” said Ricochet, +whose idea of humour consisted in the repetition of an illiterate +observation; and he sat down—as well he might—after +such an exhibition of the art of advocacy.</p> +<p>But on re-examination, it turned out that Mr. Locust had put +several questions to Joe with a view of securing his evidence +himself at a reasonable remuneration, and of contradicting Mr. +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>This caused the jury to look at one another with grave faces +and shake their heads.</p> +<p>Mr. Ricochet began and continued his speech in the same +common-place style as his cross-examination; abusing everyone on +the other side, especially that respectable solicitor, Mr. Prigg; +and endeavouring to undo his own bad performance with the witness +by a worse speech to the jury. What he was going to show, +and what he was going to prove, was wonderful; everybody who had +been called was guilty of perjury; everybody he was going to call +would be a paragon of all the virtues. He expatiated upon +the great common sense of the jury (as though they were fools), +relied on their sound judgment and denounced the conduct of Mr. +Bumpkin in the witness-box as a piece of artful acting, intended +to appeal to the weakness of the jury. But all was +useless. Snooks <!-- page 349--><a name="page349"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 349</span>made a sorry figure in the +box. He was too emphatic, too positive, too abusive. +Mr. Ricochet could not get over his own cross-examination. +The ridiculous counterclaim with its pettifogging innuendoes +vanished before that common sense of the jury to which Mr. +Ricochet so dryly appealed. The edifice erected by the +modern pleader’s subtle craftiness was unsubstantial as the +icy patterns on the window-pane, which a single breath can +dissipate. And yet these ingenious contrivances were +sufficient to give an unimportant case an appearance of +substantiality which it otherwise would not have possessed.</p> +<p>The jury, after a most elaborate charge from Mr. Justice +Pangloss, who went through the cases of the last 900 years in the +most careful manner, returned a verdict for the plaintiff with +twenty-five pounds damages. The learned Judge did not give +judgment, inasmuch as there were points of law to be +argued. Mr. Bumpkin, although he had won his case so far as +the verdict was concerned, did not look by any means +triumphant. He had undergone so much anxiety and misery, +that he felt more like a man who had escaped a great danger than +one who had accomplished a great achievement.</p> +<p>Snooks’ mouth, during the badgering of the witnesses, +which was intended for cross-examination was quite a study for an +artist or a physiologist. When he thought a witness was +going to be caught, the orifice took the form of a gothic window +in a ruinous condition. When he imagined the witness had +slipped out of the trap laid for him, it stretched horizontally, +and resembled a baker’s oven. He was of too coarse a +nature to suspect that his own counsel had damaged his case, and +believed the result of the trial to have been due to the <!-- +page 350--><a name="page350"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +350</span>plaintiff’s “snivelling.” He +left the Court with a melancholy downcast look, and his only +chance of happiness hereafter in this life seemed now to be in +proportion to his power of making Mr. Bumpkin miserable. +Mr. Locust was not behind in his advice on their future course; +and, after joining his client in the hall, at once pointed out +the utterly absurd conclusion at which the jury had arrived; +declared that there must be friends of the plaintiff among them, +and that Mr. Ricochet would take the earliest opportunity of +moving for a new trial; a piece of information which quite lit up +the coarse features of his client, as a breath of air will bring +a passing glow to the mouldering embers of an ash-heap on a dark +night.</p> +<h2><!-- page 351--><a name="page351"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 351</span>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Motion for rule nisi, in which is displayed +much learning, ancient and modern.</p> +<p>On the following day there was a great array of judicial +talent and judicial dignity sitting in what is called +“Banco,” not to be in any way confounded with +“Sancho;” the two words are totally distinct both as +to their meaning and etymology. In the centre of the Bench +sat Mr. Justice Doughty, one of the clearest heads perhaps that +ever enveloped itself in horsehair. On his right was Mr. +Justice Pangloss, and on his left Mr. Justice Technical.</p> +<p>Then arose from the Queen’s Counsel row, Mr. Ricochet to +apply for a rule <i>nisi</i> for a new trial in the cause of +<i>Bumpkin</i> v. <i>Snooks</i> which was tried yesterday before +Mr. Justice Pangloss.</p> +<p>“Before me?” says Mr. Justice Pangloss.</p> +<p>“Yes, my lud,” says Mr. Ricochet.</p> +<p>“Are you sure?” enquired the learned Judge, +turning over his notes.</p> +<p>“O, quite, my lud.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” says his lordship: “what do you say +the name of the case was?”</p> +<p>“<i>Bumpkin</i> against <i>Snooks</i>, my lud,” +says Mr. Ricochet, Q.C.</p> +<p><!-- page 352--><a name="page352"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +352</span>“Coots; what was it,—a Bill of +Exchange?” asks his lordship.</p> +<p>“Snooks, my lud, Snooks;” says Mr. Ricochet, +“with the greatest deference, my lud, his name is spelt +with an S.”</p> +<p>Judge, still turning over his book from end to end calls to +his clerk, and addressing Mr. Ricochet, says: “When do you +say it was tried, Mr. Ricochet?”</p> +<p>“Yesterday, my lud; with great submission, my lud, I +overheard your ludship say Coots. Snooks, my +lud.”</p> +<p>Then all the Judges cried “Snooks!” as if it had +been a puzzle or a conundrum at a family Christmas party, and +they had all guessed it at once.</p> +<p>“Bring me the book for this term,” said the Judge +sharply to his clerk.</p> +<p>“What was the name of the plaintiff?” enquired Mr. +Justice Doughty.</p> +<p>“Bumpkin, my lud,” said Mr. Ricochet, “with +great deference.”</p> +<p>“Ah, Pumpkin, so it was,” said the presiding +Judge.</p> +<p>“With great submission, my lud, Bumpkin!”</p> +<p>“Eh?”</p> +<p>“Bumpkin, my lud;” and then all the Judges’ +cried “Bumpkin!” as pleased as the followers of +Columbus when they discovered America.</p> +<p>“Ah, here it is,” said Mr. Justice Pangloss, +passing his forefinger slowly along the page; “the name of +the case you refer to, Mr. Ricochet, is <i>Bumpkin</i> v. +<i>Snooks</i>, not <i>Coots</i> v. <i>Pumpkin</i>, and it was +tried before me and a special jury on the twenty-eighth of July +of the present year.”</p> +<p>“Yes, my lud, with all submission.”</p> +<p><!-- page 353--><a name="page353"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +353</span>“Why, that was yesterday,” said Mr. Justice +Pangloss. “Why did you not say so; I was referring to +last year’s book.”</p> +<p>“With all deference, my lud—”</p> +<p>“Never mind, never mind, Mr. Ricochet; let us get +on.”</p> +<p>“What do you move for?” asked Mr. Justice +Doughty.</p> +<p>“A new trial, my lud.”</p> +<p>“A new trial—yes—? Which way was the +verdict, Mr. Ricochet?”</p> +<p>“Verdict for the plaintiff, my lud.”</p> +<p>“And whom do you appear for?”</p> +<p>“I am for the defendant, my lud.”</p> +<p>“O! you’re for the defendant. Stop—let +me have my note correct. I find it always of great +assistance when the rule comes on to be argued. I +don’t say you’re going to have a rule. I must +know a little more of the case before we grant a rule.”</p> +<p>“If your ludship pleases.”</p> +<p>I did not gather what his lordship intended to say when he +made the observations recorded, and can only regret that his +lordship should have broken off so abruptly.</p> +<p>“What ground do you move upon, Mr. Ricochet.”</p> +<p>Mr. Ricochet said, “The usual grounds, my lud; that is +to say, that the verdict was against the weight of +evidence.”</p> +<p>“Stop a minute,” said Mr. Justice Doughty; +“let me have my note correct, ‘against the weight of +evidence,’ Mr. Ricochet.”</p> +<p>“Misdirection, my lud—with all respect to Mr. +Justice Pangloss—and wrongful admission of +evidence.”</p> +<p><!-- page 354--><a name="page354"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +354</span>“What was the action for?”</p> +<p>Now this was a question that no man living had been able to +answer yet. What was in the pleadings, that is, the pattern +of the lawyer’s net, was visible enough; but as regards +merits, I predict with the greatest confidence, that no man will +ever be able to discover what the action of <i>Bumpkin</i> versus +<i>Snooks</i> was about. But it speaks wonders for the +elasticity of our system of jurisprudence and the ingenuity of +our lawyers that such a case could be <i>invented</i>.</p> +<p>“Trespass,” said Ricochet, “was one +paragraph; then there was assault and battery; breach of contract +in not accepting a pig at the price agreed; trespass in seizing +the pig without paying for it; and then, my lud, there were the +usual money counts, as they used to be called, to which the +defendant pleaded, among other pleas, a right of way; an +easement; leave and license; a right to take the pig; that the +pig was the property of the defendant, and various other +matters. Then, my lud, there was a counter-claim for +slander, for assault and battery; for loss of profit which would +have been made if the pig had been delivered according to +contract; breach of contract for the non-delivery of the +pig.”</p> +<p>Mr. Justice Doughty: “This was pig-iron, I +suppose?”</p> +<p>The two other Judges fell back, shaking their sides with +laughter; and then forcibly thrust their hands against their hips +which made their tippets stick out very much, and gave them a +dignified and imposing appearance. Then, seeing the Judges +laugh, all the bar laughed, and all the ushers laughed, and all +the public laughed. The mistake, however, was a very easy +one to fall into, and when Mr. Justice Doughty, who was an <!-- +page 355--><a name="page355"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +355</span>exceedingly good-tempered man, saw the mistake he had +made, he laughed as much as any man, and even caused greater +laughter still by good-humouredly and wittily observing that he +supposed somebody must be a pigheaded man. To which Mr. +Ricochet laughingly replied, that he believed the plaintiff was a +very pigheaded man.</p> +<p>“Now,” said Mr. Justice Pangloss, “have you +considered what Vinnius in his ‘Commentary on Urban +Servitudes’ says.”</p> +<p>Mr. Ricochet said, “Hem!” and that was the very +best answer he could make to the learned Pangloss, and if he only +continues to answer in that manner he’ll get any rule he +likes to apply for—(no, not the Rule of Three, +perhaps).</p> +<p>So Mr. Justice Pangloss went on:</p> +<p>“There are, as Gale says, ‘two classes of +easements distinctly recognised by the Civil +Law—’”</p> +<p>“Hem!” said Ricochet.</p> +<p>“‘Under the head of “Urban +Servitudes—’”</p> +<p>Ricochet: “Hem!”</p> +<p>“‘That a man,’ (continued Mr. Justice +Pangloss), ‘shall receive upon his house or land the +<i>flumen</i> or <i>stillicidium</i> of his +neighbour—’”</p> +<p>“Hem!” coughed Mr. Ricochet, in a very high key; I +verily believe in imitation of that wonderful comedian, J. C. +Clarke.</p> +<p>Then Mr. Justice Pangloss proceeded, to the admiration of the +whole Bar:</p> +<p>“‘The difference,’ says Vinnius, in his +Commentary on this passage, between the <i>flumen</i> and the +<i>stillicidium</i> is this—the latter is the rain falling +from the roof by drops (<i>guttatim et +stillatim</i>).’”</p> +<p><!-- page 356--><a name="page356"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +356</span>“Hem!” from the whole Bar.</p> +<p>“‘The <i>flumen</i>’—”</p> +<p>“I think,” said Mr. Justice Doughty, “you +are entitled to a rule on that point, Mr. Ricochet.”</p> +<p>Then Mr. Justice Technical whispered, and I heard Mr. Justice +Doughty say the principle was the same, although there might be +some difference of opinion about the facts, which could be argued +hereafter. “But what is the misreception of evidence, +Mr. Ricochet? I don’t quite see that.”</p> +<p>“With all submission, my lud, evidence was admitted of +what the solicitor for the defendant said to the +plaintiff.”</p> +<p>“Wait a minute, let me see how that stands,” said +Mr. Justice Doughty; “the solicitor for the defendant said +something to the plaintiff, I don’t quite follow +that.”</p> +<p>Mr. Justice Technical observed that it was quite clear that +what is said by the solicitor of one party to the solicitor of +another party is not evidence.</p> +<p>“O,” said the learned Pangloss, “so far back +as the time of Justinian it was laid down—”</p> +<p>“And that being so,” said the eminent Chancery +Judge, Mr. Justice Technical, “I should go so far as to +say, that what the solicitor of one party says to the client +stands upon the same footing.”</p> +<p>“Precisely,” said Mr. Ricochet</p> +<p>“I think you are entitled to a rule on that +point,” remarked Mr. Justice Doughty, “although my +brother Pangloss seems to entertain some doubt as to whether +there was any such evidence.”</p> +<p>“O, my lud, with all submission, with the greatest +possible deference and respect to the learned Judge, I <!-- page +357--><a name="page357"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +357</span>assure your ludship that it was so, for I have a note +of it.”</p> +<p>“I was about to say,” continued Mr. Justice +Doughty, “as my brother Pangloss says, it may have been +given while he was considering a point in Justinian. What +is the misdirection?”</p> +<p>“O, my lud, the misdirection was, I venture respectfully +and deferentially to submit, and with the utmost deference to the +learned Judge, in his lordship’s telling the jury that if +they found that the right of way which the defendant set up in +his answer to the trespass, or easement—but perhaps, my +lud, I had better read from the short-hand writer’s notes +of his ludship’s summing-up. This is it, my lud, his +ludship said: ‘In an action for stopping of his +<i>ancient</i> lights —.”</p> +<p>“What!” said Mr. Justice Doughty, “<i>did he +black the plaintiff’s eyes</i>, then?”</p> +<p>“No, my lud,” said Mr. Ricochet, “that was +never alleged or suggested.”</p> +<p>“I only used it by way of illustration,” said Mr. +Justice Pangloss.</p> +<p>Then their lordships consulted together, and after about +three-quarters of an hour’s conversation the learned Mr. +Justice Doughty said:</p> +<p>“You can take a rule, Mr. Ricochet.”</p> +<p>“On all points, my lud, if your ludships +please.”</p> +<p>“It will be more satisfactory,” said his lordship, +“and then we shall see what there is in it. At +present, I must confess, I don’t understand anything about +it.”</p> +<p>And I saw that what there was really in it was very much like +what there is in a kaleidoscope, odds and ends, which form all +sorts of combinations when you twist and turn them about in the +dark tube of a “legal argument.” <!-- page +358--><a name="page358"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +358</span>And so poor Bumpkin was deprived of the fruit of his +victory. Truly the law is very expeditious. Before +Bumpkin had got home with the cheerful intelligence that he had +won, the wind had changed and was setting in fearfully from the +north-east. Juries may find as many facts as they like, but +the Court applies the law to them; and law is like gunpowder in +its operation upon them,—twists them out of all +recognisable shape. It is very difficult in a Court of law +to get over “<i>guttatims</i>” and +“<i>stillatims</i>,” even in an action for the price +of a pig.</p> +<h2><!-- page 359--><a name="page359"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 359</span>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Mr. Bumpkin is congratulated by his neighbours +and friends in the market place and sells his corn.</p> +<p>What a lovely peace there was again over the farm! It +was true Mr. Bumpkin had not obtained as large a measure of +damages as his solicitor had led him to anticipate, but he was +triumphant, and that over a man like Snooks was something. +So the damages were forgotten beneath that peaceful August +sky. How bright the corn looked! There was not a +particle of “smut” in the whole field. And it +was a good breadth of wheat this year for Southwood Farm. +The barley too, was evidently fit for malting, and would be sure +to fetch a decent price: especially as they seemed to say there +was not much barley this year that was quite up to the mark for +malting. The swedes, too, were coming on apace, and a +little rain by and by would make them swell considerably. +So everything looked exceedingly prosperous, except perhaps the +stock. There certainly were not so many pigs. Out of +a stye of eleven there was only one left. The sow was +nowhere to be seen. She had been sold, it appeared, so no +more were to be expected from that quarter. When Mr. +Bumpkin asked where “old Jack” was (that was the +donkey), he was informed that “the man” had fetched +it. “The man” <!-- page 360--><a +name="page360"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 360</span>it appeared +was always fetching something. Yesterday it was pigs; the +day before it was ducks; the day before that it was geese; and +about a week ago it was a stack of this year’s hay: a stack +of very prime clover indeed. Then “the man” +took a fancy to some cheeses which Mrs. Bumpkin had in the dairy, +some of her very finest make. She remonstrated, but +“the man” was peremptory. But what most +surprised Mr. Bumpkin, and drew tears from Mrs. Bumpkin’s +eyes, was when the successful litigant enquired how the bull +was.</p> +<p>Mrs. Bumpkin had invented many plans with a view to +“breaking this out” to her husband: and now that the +time had come every plan was a failure. The tears betrayed +her.</p> +<p>“What, be he dead?” enquired Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“O, no, Tom—no, no—”</p> +<p>“Well, what then?”</p> +<p>“The man!”</p> +<p>“The man! The devil’s in thic man, who be +he? Where do ur come from? I’ll bring an action +agin him as sure’s he’s alive or shoot un dead wi my +gun;” here Mr. Bumpkin, in a great rage, got up and went to +the beam which ran across the kitchen ceiling, and formed what is +called the roof-tree of the house, by the side of which the gun +was suspended by two loops.</p> +<p>“No, no, Tom, don’t—don’t—we +have never wronged any one yet, and don’t—don’t +now.”</p> +<p>“But I wool,” said Bumpkin; “what! be I to +be stripped naaked and not fight for th’ cloathes—who +be thic feller as took the bull?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Bumpkin was holding her apron to her eyes, and for a long +while could say nothing.</p> +<p>“Who be he, Nancy?”</p> +<p><!-- page 361--><a name="page361"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +361</span>“I don’t know, Tom—but he held a +paper in his hand writ all over as close as the stubble-rows in +the field, and he said thee had signed un.”</p> +<p>“Lord! lord!” exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin, and then sat +down on the settle and looked at the fire as though it threw a +light over his past actions. He couldn’t speak for a +long time, not till Mrs. Bumpkin went up to him and laid her hand +upon his shoulder, and said:</p> +<p>“Tom! Tom! thee ha winned the case.”</p> +<p>“Aye, aye,” said Bumpkin, starting up as from a +reverie. “I ha winned, Nancy. I ha beat thic +there Snooks; ur wont snigger now when ur gooes by—lor, +lor,—our counsellor put it into un straight, +Nancy.”</p> +<p>“Did ur, Tom?—well, I be proud.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Bumpkin, “and what d’ye +think?—it wornt our counsellor, that is the Queen’s +Counsellor nuther; he wornt there although I paid un, but I +spoase he’ll gie up the money, Nancy?”</p> +<p>“Were it much, Tom?”</p> +<p>“Farty guineas!”</p> +<p>“Farty guineas, Tom! Why, it wur enough to set up +housekeepin wi—and thee only winned twenty-five, Tom; why +thic winnin were a heavy loss I think.”</p> +<p>“Now, lookee ere,” said Bumpkin; “I oughter +had five undered, as Laryer Prigg said, our case were that good, +but lor it baint sartain: gie I a little gin and water, +Nancy—thee ain’t asked I to have a drap since I bin +oame.”</p> +<p>“Lor, Tom, thee knows I be all for thee, and that all be +thine.”</p> +<p>“It beant much, it strikes me; lor, lor, whatever shall +us do wirout pigs and sheep, and wirout thic bull. I be fit +to cry, Nancy, although I winned the case.”</p> +<p><!-- page 362--><a name="page362"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +362</span>Tom had his gin and water and smoked his pipe, and went +to bed and dreamed of all that had taken place. He rose +with the lark and went into the fields and enjoyed once again the +fresh morning air, and the sweet scent of the new hayrick in the +yard; and, without regarding it, the song of the lark as it shot +heavenward and poured down its stream of glad music: but there +was amidst all a sadness of spirit and a feeling of +desolation. It was not like the old times when everything +seemed to welcome him about the farm wherever he went. The +work of “the man” was everywhere. But the +harvest was got in, and a plentiful harvest it was: the corn was +threshed, and one day Mr. Bumpkin went to market with his little +bags of samples of the newly-housed grain. Everybody was +glad to see him, for he was known everywhere as a regular upright +and down-straight man. Every farmer and every corn-dealer +and cattle-dealer congratulated him in his homely way on his +success. They looked at his samples and acknowledged they +were very bright and weighty. “I never liked that +Snooks feller,” was the general cry, and at the +farmers’ ordinary, which was held every market day at the +“Plough,” every one who knew Bumpkin shook hands and +wished him well, and after dinner, before they broke up, Farmer +Gosling proposed his health, and said how proud he “were +that his old neighbour had in the beautiful words o’ the +National Anthem, ‘confounded their politicks’: and he +hoped that the backbone o’ old England, which were the +farmers, wornt gwine to be broked jist yet awhile. Farmin +might be bad, but yet wi little cheaper rents and a good deal +cheaper rates and taxes, there’d be good farmin and good +farmers in England yit.”</p> +<p>Now this speech, I saw in my dream, brought down the <!-- page +363--><a name="page363"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +363</span>house. Everyone said it was more to the point +than the half-mile speeches which took up so much of the +newspapers to the exclusion of murders, burglaries and +divorces. And in truth, now I come to look at it in my +waking moments, I respectfully commend it to our legislators, or +what is better, to their constituencies, as embodying on this +subject both the principles of true conservatism and true +liberalism: and I don’t see what the most exacting of +politicians can require more than that.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin made a suitable reply—that is to say, +“he wur mighty proud o’ their +neighbourliness—he wur a plaain man, as had made his own +way in the world, or leastwise tried to do un by ard work and +uprightedness and downstraightedness; tried to be straight +forrerd, and nobody as he knowed of could ax un for a +shillin’. But,” he added: “I be praisin +oop myself, neighbours, I be afeard, and I doant wish to do thic, +only to put I straaight afore thee. I beant dead yit, and I +hope we shall all be friends and neighbours, and meet many moore +times at this ornary together.”</p> +<p>And so, delighted with one another, after a glass or two, and +a song or two, the party broke up, all going to their several +farms. Mr. Bumpkin was particularly well pleased, for he +had sold twenty quarters of wheat at forty-nine shillings a +quarter; which, as times went, was a very considerable increase, +showing the excellent quality of the samples.</p> +<p>Sooner or later, however, it must be told, that when Bumpkin +reached his quiet farm, a strange and sad scene presented +itself. Evidences of “<i>the man</i>” were in +all directions. He had been at work while Mr. Bumpkin in +his convivial moments was protesting that he did not <!-- page +364--><a name="page364"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +364</span>owe anyone a shilling. Alas! how little the best +of as know how much we owe!</p> +<p>Mrs. Bumpkin, who had borne up like a true woman through all +the troubles that had come upon her home,—borne up for his +sake, hoping for better days, and knowing nothing of the terrible +net that had been spread around them by the wily fowler, at +length gave way, as she saw “the man” loading his +cart with her husband’s wheat; the wheat he had gone that +day to sell. Bitterly she wrung her hands, and begged him +to spare her husband that last infliction. Was there +anything that she could do or give to save him this blow? +No, no; the man was obstinate in the performance of his duty; +“right was right, and wrong was no man’s +right!”</p> +<p>So when Mr. Bumpkin returned, the greater part of his wheat +was gone, and the rest was being loaded. The beautiful rick +of hay too, which had not yet ceased to give out the fresh scent +that a new rick yields, were being cut and bound into +trusses.</p> +<p>Poor Tom was fairly beside himself, but Mrs. Bumpkin had taken +the precaution to hide the gun and the powder-flask, for she +could not tell what her husband might do in his +distraction. Possibly she was right. Tom’s rage +knew no bounds. Youth itself seemed to be restored in the +strength of his fury. He saw dimly the men standing around +looking on; he saw, as in a dream, the man cutting on the rick, +and he uttered incoherent sentences which those only understood +who were accustomed to his provincial accent.</p> +<p>“Tom, Tom,” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “don’t +be in a rage.”</p> +<p>“Who be thic feller on my rick?”</p> +<p>“I beant any more a feller nor thee, Maister Boompkin; +it aint thy rick nuther.”</p> +<p><!-- page 365--><a name="page365"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +365</span>“Then in the name of h—, whose be +it?”</p> +<p>“It be Maister Skinalive’s; thee can’t have +t’ cake an eat un; thee sowled it to un.”</p> +<p>“It be a lie, a --- lie; come down!”</p> +<p>“Noa, noa, I beant coomin doon till I coot all t’ +hay; it be good hay an all, as sweet as a noot.”</p> +<p>“Where is thy master?” enquired Mrs. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“I dooant rightly knoo, missus, where ur be; but I think +if thee could see un, he’d poot it right if thee wanted +time loike, and so on, for he be a kind-hearted man +enoo.”</p> +<p>“Can we find un, do ur think?” asked Mrs. +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“If thee do, missus, it wur moor un I bin able to do for +the last three moonths.”</p> +<p>“I’ll find some un,” said Mr. Bumpkin; +“here, goo and fetch a pleeceman.”</p> +<p>This was said to a small boy who did the bird-minding, and was +now looking on with his mouth wide open, and his eyes actually +shedding tears.</p> +<p>“Ah, fetch a pleeceman an all,” said the man, +thrusting the big hay-knife down into the centre of the rick; +“but take a soop o’ cyder, maister; I dessay thee +feels a bit out o’ sorts loike.”</p> +<p>“Thee darn thief; it be my cyder, too, I’ve a +notion.”</p> +<p>“How can it be thine, maister, when thee ha’ +sowled un?” said the man with his unanswerable logic: +“haw! haw! haw!”</p> +<p>Mrs. Bumpkin held her husband’s hand, and tried her +hardest to keep him from using violence towards the man. +She felt the convulsive twitches of his strong muscles, and the +inward struggle that was shaking his stalwart frame. +“Come away, Tom; come away; let <!-- page 366--><a +name="page366"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 366</span>un do as +they like, we’ll have them as will see us righted +yet. There’s law for un, surely.”</p> +<p>“It beant no use to kick, maister,” said the man, +again ramming the knife down into the rick as though he were +cutting Mr. Bumpkin himself in half, and were talking to him the +while; “it beant no use to kick, maister. Here thee +be; thee owes the man the money, and can’t pay, so ur does +this out of kindness to prevent thee being sowled oop +loike.”</p> +<p>“Here be the pleeceman,” said Mrs. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>Mr. Bumpkin turned suddenly, and shouted, “Tak thic +thief into custody.”</p> +<p>The policeman, albeit a country constable, was a very sensible +man; and seeing how matters stood, he very wisely set himself to +the better task of taking Mr. Bumpkin into custody without +appearing to do so, and without Mr. Bumpkin knowing it.</p> +<p>“Now,” said he, “if so be as you will come +indoors, Mr. Bumpkin, I think we can put our heads together and +see what can be done in this ’ere case; if it’s +stealing let him steal, and I’ll have him nicely; but if it +ain’t stealing, then I woant have him at all.” +(A pause.)</p> +<p>“For why?” (A pause.)</p> +<p>“Because the law gives you other remedies.”</p> +<p>“That be right, pleeceman,” said Bumpkin; +“I’ll goo wi’ thee. Now then, Nancy, +let’s goo; and look ’ere, thee thief, I’ll +ha’ thee in th’ jail yet.”</p> +<p>The man grinned with a mouth that seemed to have been cut with +his own hay-knife, so large was it, and went on with his work, +merely saying: “I dooant charge thee nothin for +cootin’ nor yet for bindin, maister; I does it all free +graatis, loike.”</p> +<p>“Thee d--- thief, thee’ll be paid.”</p> +<p><!-- page 367--><a name="page367"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +367</span>So they went in, and the policeman was quite a +comforter to the poor old man. He talked to him about what +the law was on this point and that point, and how a trespass was +one thing, and a breach of the peace another; and how he +mustn’t take a man up for felony just because somebody +charged him: otherwise, the man on the rick might have charged +Mr. Bumpkin, and so on; till he got the old man into quite a +discussion on legal points. But meanwhile he had given him +another piece of advice, which was also much to his credit, and +that was to send to his solicitor, Mr. Prigg. Mr. Prigg was +accordingly sent for; but, like most good men, was very +scarce. Nowhere could Mr. Prigg be found. But it was +well known, for it was advertised everywhere on large bills, that +the excellent gentleman would take the chair at a meeting, to be +held in the schoolroom in the evening, for the propagation of +Christianity among the Jews. The policeman would be on duty +at that meeting, and he would be sure to see Mr. Prigg, and tell +him Mr. Bumpkin was very desirous to see him as early as possible +on the following day. Mr. Bumpkin was thankful, and to some +extent pacified. As the policeman wished them goodnight, +Mrs. Bumpkin accompanied him to the door, and begged, if he +wouldn’t mind, that he would look in to-morrow, for he +seemed a kind of protection for them.</p> +<p>It was about three in the afternoon of the following day when +good Mr. Prigg drove up to Mr. Bumpkin’s door; he drove up +with the mare that had been Mr. Bumpkin’s cow.</p> +<p>“Here he be,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; and if Mr. Prigg +had been an angel from heaven, his presence could not have been +more welcome. Oh, what sunshine he seemed to bring! +Was it a rainbow round his face, or was it only <!-- page +368--><a name="page368"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +368</span>his genial Christian smile? His collar was +perfect, so was his tie; his head immoveable, so were his +principles. “Dear, dear!” said Mrs. Bumpkin, +“I be so glad thee be come, Mr. Prigg—here be master +takin’ on so as never was; I never see’d anything +like it.”</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, my dear lady?” inquired +the good man.</p> +<p>“Be that loryer Prigg?” shouted a voice from the +inner room.</p> +<p>“Aye, aye, Tom, it be Mr. Prigg.”</p> +<p>“Come in, zur,” said the voice, “come in; I +be mighty glad to see thee. Why dam—”</p> +<p>“Hush!” remonstrated the diffuser of Christianity +among the Jews; “hush!” and his hands were softly +raised in gentle protest—albeit his head never turned so +much as a hair’s breadth. “Let us be calm, my +dear sir, let us be calm. We win by being calm.”</p> +<p>“Ah, we winned the lawsuit; didn’t us, +sir?”</p> +<p>“Ah, that thee did, Tom!” exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin, +delighted at this momentary gleam of gladness in her +husband’s broken heart.</p> +<p>“Of course we won,” said Mr. Prigg. +“Did I ever entertain a doubt from the first about the +merits of that case?”</p> +<p>“Thee did not, sir,” said Tom; “but lookee +’ere, sir,” he continued, in almost a whisper, +“I dreamt last night as we lost un; and I see thic Snooks a +sniggering as plaain as ever I see’d anybody in my +life.”</p> +<p>“My dear sir, what matters your dream? We won, +sir. And as for Snooks’ sniggering, I am sorry to say +he is sold up.”</p> +<p>“Sold oop!” exclaimed Bumpkin. “Sorry! +why beest thee sorry for un—beant thee sorry for +I?”</p> +<p><!-- page 369--><a name="page369"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +369</span>“Sorry you’ve won, Mr. Bumpkin? No; +but, I’m sorry for Snooks, because we lose our costs. +Oh, that Locust is the greatest dodger I ever met.”</p> +<p>“I don’t understand thee, sir,” said +Bumpkin. “What d’ye mean by not getting +costs—won’t ur pay?”</p> +<p>“I fear not,” said Mr. Prigg, rubbing his +hands. “I am surprised, too, that he should not have +waited until the rule for a new trial was argued.”</p> +<p>“What the devil be the meaning o’ all this?” +exclaimed Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Really, really,” said the pious diffuser of +Christianity, “we must exercise patience; we may get more +damages if there should be another trial.”</p> +<p>“This be trial enough,” said Mr. Bumpkin; +“and after all it were a trumpery case about a +pig.”</p> +<p>“Quite so, quite so,” said the lawyer, rubbing his +hands; “but you see, my dear sir, it’s not so much +the pig.”</p> +<p>“No, no,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “it beant so +much th’ pig; it be the hoarses moore, and the hayricks, +and the whate, and—where be all my fowls and +dooks?”</p> +<p>“The fowls—quite so! Let me see,” said +the meditative man, pressing the head of his gold pencil-case +against his forehead, “the fowls—let me see—oh, +I know, they did the pleadings—so they did.”</p> +<p>“And thic sow o’ mine?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes; I think she made an affidavit, if I remember +rightly. Yes, yes—and the bacon,” said he, +elevating his left hand, “six flitches I think there were; +they used to be in this very room—”</p> +<p>“Ay, sure did ur,” said Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p><!-- page 370--><a name="page370"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +370</span>“Well I remember; they made a very splendid +affidavit too: I have a note of all of them in my +memory.”</p> +<p>“What coomed o’ the cows?”</p> +<p>“Cows? Yes—I have it—our leading +counsel had them; and the calf, if I remember rightly, went to +the junior.”</p> +<p>‘“Who had the cheeses?” inquired Mr. +Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Cheeses!” said the good man. “Oh, +yes, the cheeses; they went in refreshers.”</p> +<p>“And the poor old donkey?” asked Mrs. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Ah, where be Jock?” said Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Went for the opinion,” answered the lawyer.</p> +<p>“Where be thic bull o’ mine?” said +Tom. “He wur the finest bull in all thic county, +woren’t he, Nancy?”</p> +<p>“Ay,” answered Mrs. Bumpkin, “and ur +follered I about, Tom, jist like a Christian.”</p> +<p>“So ur did, Nancy. Dost thee mind, when ur got +through thic gap into Squire Stucky’s meadow, ’mong +the cows?”</p> +<p>“Ay, Tom; and thee went and whistled un; but ur +wouldn’t come for thy whistlin; and Joe, poor Joe! went and +got a great stick.”</p> +<p>“There I mind un,” said Bumpkin; “what +coomed of un, Master Prigg?”</p> +<p>“Quite so,” said Mr. Prigg; “quite so; let +me see.” And again the gold pencil-case was pressed +against his respectable forehead in placid cogitation. +“Yes, that bull argued the appeal.”</p> +<p>“Hem!” said Mr. Bumpkin; “argied appeal, did +ur? Well, I tell ee what, Master Prigg, if that air bull +’ad knowed what I knows now, he’d a gi’en them +jusseses a bit o’ his mind, and thee too.”</p> +<p><!-- page 371--><a name="page371"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +371</span>“Dear me,” said Mr. Prigg; “you +entirely mis-apprehend—”</p> +<p>“Well, lookee ’ere,” said Tom, “it +beant no use to mince matters wi’ ee. What I wants to +know is as this; I winned my case—”</p> +<p>“Quite so,” said Prigg.</p> +<p>“And ’ow be it then that all my sheep and things +be took off the farm?”</p> +<p>“Dear me!” said Mr. Prigg, in the tone of an +injured man; “I think, of all men, clients are the most +ungrateful. I have worked night and day to serve you; I +have sacrificed my pleasures, which I do not reckon—my home +comforts—”</p> +<p>“But who be thic feller that steals my corn an’ +hay, and pigs?”</p> +<p>“Really, Mr. Bumpkin, this is language which I did not +expect from you.”</p> +<p>“But ’ow comes my farm stripped, Maister Prigg? +tell I thic.”</p> +<p>“I suppose you have given a bill of sale, Mr. +Bumpkin. You are aware that a lawsuit cannot be carried on +without means, and you should have calculated the cost before +going to war. I think there is Scripture authority for +that.”</p> +<p>“Then have this Skinalive feller the right to take +un?”</p> +<p>“I presume so,” said Prigg; “I know +he’s a most respectable man.”</p> +<p>“A friend o’ thine, I s’poase?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Prigg, hesitating, “I may even +go so far as to say that.”</p> +<p>“Then I be gwine so fur as to say thee be a damned +rogue!” said Mr. Bumpkin, rising, and thumping the table +with great vehemence.</p> +<p><!-- page 372--><a name="page372"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +372</span>You might have knocked Mr. Prigg down with a feather, +certainly with a bludgeon; such a shock he had never received at +the hands of a client in the whole course of his professional +experience. He rose and drew from his pocket an envelope, a +very large official-looking envelope, such as no man twice in his +life would like to see, even if he could be said to enjoy the +prospect once.</p> +<p>It is not usual for respectable solicitors to carry about +their bills of costs in their pockets, and why Mr. Prigg should +have done so on this occasion I am not aware. I merely saw +in my dream that he did so. There was not a change in his +countenance; his piety was intact; there was not even a suffusion +of colour. Placid, sweet-tempered, and urbane, as a +Christian should be, he looked pityingly towards the hot and +irascible Bumpkin, as though he should say, “You have +smitten me on this cheek, now smite me on that!” and placed +the great envelope on the table before the ungrateful man.</p> +<p>“What be thic?” inquired Mr. Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“A list of my services, sir,” said Prigg, meekly: +“You will see there, ungrateful man, the sacrifices I have +made on your behalf; the journeyings oft; the hunger, and, I may +say, thirst; the perils of robbers, the perils amongst false +friends, the—”</p> +<p>“I doant understand, sir,” said Bumpkin.</p> +<p>“Because darkness hath blinded your eyes,” said +the pious lawyer; “but I leave you, Mr. Bumpkin, and I will +ask you, since you no longer repose confidence in my judgment and +integrity, to obtain the services of some other professional +gentleman, who will conduct your case with more zeal and fidelity +than you think I have shown; I who have carried your cause to a +triumphant issue; <!-- page 373--><a name="page373"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 373</span>and may be said to have established +the grand principle that an Englishman’s house is his +castle.”</p> +<p>And with this the good man, evidently affected by deep +emotion, shook hands silently with Mrs. Bumpkin, and disappeared +for ever from my view.</p> +<p>Never in any dream have I beheld that man again. Never, +surely, under any form of humanity have so many virtues been +concealed. I have looked for him in daily life, about the +Courts of Justice and in the political arena, but his equal for +simplicity of character, for unaffected piety, and purity of +motive, have I never discovered, although I have seen many, who, +without his talents, have vainly endeavoured to emulate his +virtues.</p> +<p>Mrs. Bumpkin examined the document he had left, and found a +most righteous statement of the services rendered by this great +and good man; which, after giving credit to Mr. Bumpkin for cash +received from Mr. Skinalive, Mr. Prigg’s friend, of seven +hundred and twenty-two pounds, six shillings and +eightpence-half-penny, left a balance due to Honest Lawyer Prigg +of three hundred and twenty-eight pounds, seven shillings and +threepence,—subject, of course, to be reduced on +taxation.</p> +<h2><!-- page 375--><a name="page375"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 375</span>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Farewell.</p> +<p>The last chapter of a book must always possess a special and +melancholy interest for the author. He gives his words +reluctantly, almost grudgingly, like one who is spending his last +coins and will soon be left penniless upon the world. Or +like one who is passing his last moments at the house of a friend +whom he may see no more for ever. The author is taking +farewell of his characters and his readers, and therefore his +regret is twofold; added to which is the doubt as to whether, +judged by the severe standard of Public Opinion, he has been +faithful to both. Thought is large, and may fill the world, +permeating every class and every section of society; it may be +circumscribed, and operate only upon some infinitesimal +proportion of mankind: but whether great or small, for good or +evil, it is published, and a corresponding responsibility +devolves upon the writer. I record my dream faithfully, and +am therefore exonerated, in my conscience, from responsibility in +its effect.</p> +<p>How shall I describe the closing scene of this eventful +story? I will imagine nothing; I will exaggerate nothing; +for, during the whole progress of the story, it has been my +constant care not to give the most captious critic the +opportunity of saying that I have exaggerated a single +incident. I will relate faithfully what I saw in <!-- page +376--><a name="page376"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 376</span>my +dream, and that only; diminishing nothing, and adding +nothing.</p> +<p>In my waking moments my wife said it was very wrong of Mr. +Bumpkin, after all that Mr. Prigg had done for him, to be so +rude. I agreed that it was: but said, great allowance must +be made for Mr. Bumpkin’s want of education. Then +said my wife, “Will not some shallow-minded persons say +that your story attacks the administration of +justice?” To which I replied that it did not matter +what shallow-minded persons said, but that in fact I had in no +way attacked the administration of justice; nor had I in the +least degree reflected on the great body of respectable +solicitors who had in their hands the interests of the country, +and faithfully discharged their duties. And then I stood +up, and putting forth my hand in imitation of Pitt’s statue +in the corridor of the House of Commons, I said, “Justice +is Divine, not Human; and you cannot detract from anything that +is Divine, any more than you can lessen the brilliancy of the +sun. You may obscure its splendour to mortal eyes, but its +effulgence is the same. Man may so ostensibly assert his +own dignity, or the dignity of a perishable system, that it may +temporarily veil the beauty of a Divine attribute; but Justice +must still remain the untarnished glory of Divine wisdom. +It is not the pomp of position or the majesty of office that +imparts dignity to Justice.”</p> +<p>Here, exhausted with my effort, and with my wife’s +applause ringing in my ears, I fell asleep again, and dreamed +that I saw Bumpkin sadly wandering about the old farm; his +faithful wife following, and never for one moment ceasing to +cheer him up. It was a fine bright morning in October as +they wandered <!-- page 377--><a name="page377"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 377</span>forth. There wasn’t a +living thing about the farm except the birds, and even they +seemed sad in their twittering. Could it be possible that +they knew of poor Bumpkin’s miserable condition?</p> +<p>There was an old jackdaw that certainly did; for he hopped and +hopped along after the master with the saddest expression I ever +saw bird wear. But the master took no notice. On and +on he wandered, seemingly unconscious of the presence even of his +wife.</p> +<p>“Tom!” she said, “Tom, where beest thee +gwine?”</p> +<p>Bumpkin started; turned round, and said:</p> +<p>“Nancy! what, be it thee, lassie?”</p> +<p>“Ay, Tom, sure enough it be I. Let’s cheer +up, Tom. If the worst come to the worst—we can but +goo to Union.”</p> +<p>“The wust have come to th’ wust, Nancy; we be +ruined! Look at this ’ere farm—all be +bare—all be lost, Nancy. Hark how silent it all +be!”</p> +<p>“Never mind, Tom; never mind. I wish Joe wur +here.”</p> +<p>“Ah! Joe, yes. I wonder where Joe be; praps he be +out here in th’ six akre.”</p> +<p>“No, no, Tom, he be gwine for a sojer; but I’ve a +mind he’ll come back. And who knows, we may be +’appy yet! We’ve worked hard, Tom, together +these five-and-thirty year, and sure we can trudge on t’ +th’ end. Come, let’s goo in and ave some +breakfast.”</p> +<p>But Tom kept on walking and looking round the fields after his +old manner.</p> +<p>“I think we’ll ave wuts here,” said he.</p> +<p>“So ur will, Tom, but let’s have breakfast +fust. Come, lad.”</p> +<p>They wandered still through the quiet fields, and the old +man’s mind seemed giving way. But I saw that <!-- +page 378--><a name="page378"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +378</span>Mrs. Bumpkin kept up with him and cheered him whenever +she could put in a word of comfort, cold and hopeless as it +was. And so the day was spent, and the night came, and they +entered their home for the last time. It was a terribly sad +night; but the Vicar came and sat up late with the old people, +and talked to them and read and cried with them, until at last +Tom said:</p> +<p>“I zee it, sir, thee hast showed I; thank God for thy +words. Yes, yes, we maun leave t’ morrer, and +we’ll call on thee, and maybe thou’lt goo to +th’ Squire wi’ us and explaain to un how we +can’t pay our rent, and may be th’ Squire’ll +let I work un out. If we could only work un out, I’d +be ’appy.”</p> +<p>“Ay, Tom,” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “an I’ll +work too; thee knows that.”</p> +<p>“Thee wast allays a good wife, Nancy; and I’ll +allays say’t, come what wooll.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the Vicar, “to-morrow we will +go—”</p> +<p>“I don’t want un to forgive I th’ +rent,” said Tom; “only to gie us time, and Nancy and +I’ll work un out.” And so it was arranged that +the next morning the old home was to be left for ever. It +was no longer home, for every article of furniture, every tool, +every scrap that was of any value had been ruthlessly seized by +the heartless money-lender whom the Law permitted to rob under +the name of a bill of sale. The man was in possession to +take away their bed and the few other articles that were left for +their accommodation till the morrow.</p> +<p>And on the morrow I saw the last of poor Bumpkin that I shall +ever see. In the beautiful sunshine of that October +morning, just by the old oak, he was leaning over the gate +looking his last at the dear old fields and the old farm-house +where so many happy years had been <!-- page 379--><a +name="page379"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +379</span>spent. By his side was his wife, with her hand +shading her eyes; the old dog was between them, looking into the +face now of Tom and then of his wife. Mr. Bumpkin’s +arms were resting on the gate, and his old ash stick that he used +to walk with over the fields was in his hand. They stood +there for a long, long time as though they could never leave +it. And I saw the tears trickle down the old man’s +face as Mrs. Bumpkin, letting fall the corner of her apron, which +she had held to her eyes, and placing her arm through his, said +in a faltering voice:—</p> +<p>“Come, Tom, we must goo.”</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">THE END.</p> +<h2><!-- page 381--><a name="page381"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 381</span>THE LAWSUIT.</h2> +<p class="poetry">Tom Bumpkin was a thriving man,<br /> + As all the world could see;<br /> +In forty years he’d raised himself<br /> + From direst poverty.</p> +<p class="poetry">And now he rented from the Squir<br /> + Some acres, near a score;<br /> +Some people said ’twas twenty-five,<br /> + And some that it was more.</p> +<p class="poetry">He had a sow of rare brave breed,<br /> + And nine good pigs had he;<br /> +A cow and calf, a rick of hay,<br /> + And horses he had three.</p> +<p class="poetry">And Mrs. Bumpkin had a bull,<br /> + The finest creature out;<br /> +“And, like a Christian,” so she said,<br /> + “It follered her about.”</p> +<p class="poetry">So Bumpkin was a thriving man,<br /> + As all the world could see;<br /> +A self-made man, but yet not made<br /> + Of scholarship was he.</p> +<p class="poetry">With neighbour Snooks he dealings had<br /> + About his latest farrow;<br /> +Snooks said he’d bought a pig, and so,<br /> + To prove it, brought his barrow.</p> +<p class="poetry">Tom said, “It wur to be two +crowns;”<br /> + Snooks said, “Twur nine-and-six;”<br /> +Then Tom observed, “You doan’t ’ave me<br /> + Wi none o’ them there tricks.”</p> +<p class="poetry">So there was battle; Lawyer Prigg<br /> + Was told this tale of woe;<br /> +The Lawyer rubbed his bony hands<br /> + And said, “I see; quite so!”</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 382--><a name="page382"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 382</span>“A case of +trespass,”—“Ay zo ’t be!”<br /> + Said Bumpkin, feeling big;<br /> +“Now mak un pay vor’t, mak un pay;<br /> + It beant so much th’ pig.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“No, no, it’s not so much the +pig,<br /> + That were a matter small;<br /> +Indeed, good Bumpkin, we may say<br /> + It’s not the pig at all!</p> +<p class="poetry">“It’s more the <i>principle</i> +involved,<br /> + The rights of man, you see”—<br /> +“Ay, ay,” quoth Tom; “the devil’s +in’t<br /> + ’F I beant as good as he.”</p> +<p class="poetry">There never was a man more prompt<br /> + Or swift to strike a blow:<br /> +Give but the word, and Charger Prigg<br /> + Was down upon the foe.</p> +<p class="poetry">The <span class="smcap">Letter</span>, <span +class="smcap">Writ</span>, and <span +class="smcap">Statement</span> went<br /> + Like lightning, thunder, rain;<br /> +<span class="smcap">Inspection</span> and <span +class="smcap">Discovery</span> rode<br /> + Like Uhlans o’er the plain!</p> +<p class="poetry">Then <span class="smcap">Interrogatories</span> +flew<br /> + Without procrastination:<br /> +As when the ambushed outposts give<br /> + A deadly salutation.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now Snooks’s lawyer was a man<br /> + To wrong would never pander;<br /> +And like a high-souled Pleader drew<br /> + A <span class="smcap">Counterclaim</span> for +slander;</p> +<p class="poetry">And then with cautious skill behind<br /> + The legal outworks clambers;<br /> +Until dislodged, he held his own<br /> + Entrenched in Judges’ Chambers.</p> +<p class="poetry">At length came battle hot and fierce,<br /> + And points reserved as though<br /> +The case must be economized,<br /> + Not murdered at a blow.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 383--><a name="page383"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 383</span>Then came appeals upon the +points,<br /> + New trials on the facts;<br /> +More points, more learned arguments,<br /> + More precedents and Acts.</p> +<p class="poetry">But <span class="smcap">Law</span>, thou art a +tender plant<br /> + That needs must droop and die;<br /> +And bear no fruit unless thy root<br /> + Be watered constantly:</p> +<p class="poetry">And Bumpkin with a generous hand<br /> + Had given thee good supply;<br /> +He drained the well, and yet withal<br /> + The noble Prigg was dry.</p> +<p class="poetry">With plaintive look would move a stone,<br /> + Tom gazed on Lawyer Prigg:<br /> +Who rubbed his hands and said, “You see,<br /> + It’s not so much the pig.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Noa, noa, it be th’ horses +moore,<br /> + The calf and sheep and kine,<br /> +Where be th’ hay-rick and the straw?<br /> + And where thic bull o’ mine?”</p> +<p class="poetry">The Lawyer said, “Quite so, quite +so!”<br /> + Looked wise, and wisely grinned;<br /> +For Tom was like a ship becalmed,<br /> + He stopped for want of wind.</p> +<p class="poetry">“You see,” said Prigg with +gravity<br /> + Would almost make you laugh,<br /> +“Our leading Counsel had the Cow,<br /> + The junior had the Calf.</p> +<p class="poetry">“The hay and straw <i>Rules nisi</i> +got,<br /> + Made <i>Absolute</i> with corn,<br /> +The pigs made <i>Interrogat’ries</i>,<br /> + Most beautifully drawn.</p> +<p class="poetry">“The Bacon—ah, dear Bumpkin, few<br +/> + In Law suits ever save it;<br /> +It made together with the sow,<br /> + A splendid <i>Affidavit</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><!-- page 384--><a name="page384"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 384</span>“The cocks and hens the +<i>Pleadings</i> did<br /> + Most exquisitely utter;<br /> +And some few pans of cream there were,<br /> + Which made the <i>Surre-butter</i>.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Why, Surrey butter! I’d a +tub<br /> + The best in this ere nation”—<br /> +“Quite so!” said Prigg; “but you forget,<br /> + ’Twas used in <i>Consultation</i>.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Well, well, of all the hungry mouths,<br +/> + There’s nothing like the Law’s;<br /> +No wonder they can talk if that<br /> + Be how they iles their jaws.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Now just look ere; I’d twenty +cheese,<br /> + The finest of old Cheshires,”—<br /> +“Quite so, quite so!” said Prigg; “but they<br +/> + Just furnished the <i>Refreshers</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“The Ass for the <i>Opinion</i> went;<br +/> + The Horses, <i>Costs</i> between us;<br /> +And all the Ducks and Drakes, my boy,<br /> + Were turned into <span +class="smcap">Subpœnas</span>.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“I zee it all; the road to Ruin,<br /> + Straight as any furrer:<br /> +That Bull o’ mine”—“Excuse me, Sir,<br /> + Went up upon <span +class="smcap">Demurrer</span>.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Then beant there nothing left for I,<br +/> + In all this ere undoin?<br /> +Nay, Nance, our fireside be gone,<br /> + It’s emptiness and ruin.</p> +<p class="poetry">“I wish we’d fought un out +ourselves<br /> + Wi’ fists instead o’ law;<br /> +Since Samson fit, there never was<br /> + Good fightin wi the jaw.”</p> +<p class="poetry">So <i>now</i> Tom’s not a thriving +man,<br /> + He owns not cow or pig;<br /> +And evermore he’ll be in debt<br /> + To Honest Lawyer Prigg.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="smcap">bradbury</span>, <span class="smcap">agnew</span>, +<span class="smcap">& co.</span>, <span +class="smcap">printers</span>, <span +class="smcap">whitefriars</span>.</p> +<h2>Footnotes</h2> +<p><a name="footnote0a"></a><a href="#citation0a" +class="footnote">[0a]</a> Since the First Edition, “a +bulky volume” of new rules has appeared. No +independent existence at present, and therefore anatomy +uncertain. I have peeped at it, and think if it reaches +maturity it will help the rich litigant very much; and, if it +abolishes trial by jury, as it threatens, we shall be, in time to +come, a Judge-ridden people, which God forbid. I am not +afraid of a Judge now, but I should be then. The choice in +the future <i>might</i> be between servility and a prison; and I +sincerely believe that if trial by jury should be abolished, this +country would not be safe to live in. Much <i>mending</i>, +therefore, and consequently the more holes. I wonder what +the Liberalism of the future will say when it learns that the +Liberalism of Mr. Gladstone’s Government struck the first +blow at <i>Trial by Jury</i>? Truly “the axe to laid +to the root of the tree,” and, reversing the Divine order, +“every tree that <i>bringeth forth good fruit is</i>” +in danger of being “hewn down.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right">R. H.</p> +<p><a name="footnote22"></a><a href="#citation22" +class="footnote">[22]</a> This inscription, with the +exception of the names, is a literal copy.</p> +<p><a name="footnote52"></a><a href="#citation52" +class="footnote">[52]</a> Modern pleaders would say the +Court would take judicial notice of the existence of Egypt: I am +aware of this, but at the time I write of the Courts were too +young to take notice.</p> +<p><a name="footnote138"></a><a href="#citation138" +class="footnote">[138]</a> The correctness of Mr. +O’Rapley’s views may be vouched for by a newspaper +report in the <i>Evening Standard</i> of April 17th, 1883, which +was as follows:—“Mr. Justice Day in charging the +Grand Jury at the Manchester Spring Assizes yesterday, expressed +his disagreement with the opinion of other Judges in favour of +the Commission being so altered that the Judge would have to +‘deliver all the prisoners detained in gaol,’ and +regarded it as a waste of the Judge’s time that he should +have to try a case in which a woman was indicted for stealing a +shawl worth three-and-ninepence, or a prisoner charged with +stealing two mutton pies and two ounces of bacon.”</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMOUROUS STORY OF FARMER +BUMPKIN'S LAWSUIT***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 30551-h.htm or 30551-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/5/5/30551 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's Lawsuit + + +Author: Richard Harris + + + +Release Date: November 27, 2009 [eBook #30551] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMOUROUS STORY OF FARMER +BUMPKIN'S LAWSUIT*** + + +Transcribed from the 1883 Stevens and Sons edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + THE + HUMOUROUS STORY + OF + FARMER BUMPKIN'S LAWSUIT: + + + BY + RICHARD HARRIS, + + BARRISTER-AT-LAW, + AUTHOR OF "HINTS ON ADVOCACY," ETC., ETC. + + SECOND EDITION. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: + STEVENS AND SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE, + Law Publishers and Booksellers. + 1883. + + LONDON: + BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. + + +Considering the enormous interest which the Public have in "a more +efficient and speedy administration of justice," I am not surprised that +a Second Edition of "Mr. Bumpkin's Lawsuit" should be called for so soon +after the publication of the first. If any proof were wanting that I had +not overstated the evils attendant on the present system, it would be +found in the case of _Smitherman_ v. _The South Eastern Railway Company_, +which came before the House of Lords recently; and judgment in which was +delivered on the 16th of July, 1883. The facts of the case were +extremely simple, and were as follow:--A man of the name of Smitherman +was killed on a level crossing of the South Eastern Railway Company at +East Farleigh, in December, 1878. His widow, on behalf of herself and +four children, brought an action against the Company on the ground of +negligence on the part of the defendants. The case in due course was +tried at the Maidstone Assizes, and the plaintiff obtained a verdict for +400 pounds for herself and 125 pounds for each of the children. A rule +for a new trial was granted by the Divisional Court: the rule for the new +trial was discharged by the Court of Appeal. The Lords reversed the +decision of the Court of Appeal, and ordered a new trial. New trial took +place at Guildhall, City of London, before Mr. Baron Pollock; jury again +found for the plaintiff, with 700 pounds _agreed_ damages: Company +thereby saving 200 pounds. Once more rule for new trial granted by +Divisional Court: once more rule discharged by Court of Appeal: once more +House of Lords reverse decision of Court of Appeal, and order _second new +trial_. So that after more than four years of harassing litigation, this +poor widow and her children are left in the same position that they were +in immediately after the accident--except that they are so much the worse +as being liable for an amount of costs which need not be calculated. The +case was tried by competent judges and special juries; and yet, by the +subtleties of the doctrine of contributory negligence, questions of such +extreme nicety are raised that a third jury are required to give an +opinion _upon the same state of facts_ upon which two juries have already +decided in favour of the plaintiff and her children. + +Such is the power placed by our complicated, bewildering, and inartistic +mode of procedure, in the hands of a rich Company. + +No one can call in question the wisdom or the learning of the House of +Lords: it is above criticism, and beyond censure; but the House of Lords +itself works upon the basis of our system of Procedure, and as that is +neither beyond criticism nor censure, I unhesitatingly ask, _Can Old +Fogeyism and Pettifoggism further go_? + + RICHARD HARRIS. + +LAMB BUILDING, TEMPLE, + _October_, 1883. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. + + +When Old Fogeyism is being lowered to his last resting place, +Pettifoggism, being his chief mourner, will be so overwhelmed with grief +that he will tumble into the same grave. How then to hasten the demise +of this venerable Humbug is the question. Some are for letting him die a +natural death, others for reducing him gradually by a system of slow +starvation: for myself, I confess, I am for knocking him on the head at +once. Until this event, so long wished for by all the friends of +Enlightenment and Progress, shall have happened, there will be no +possibility of a Reform which will lessen the needless expense and +shorten the unjustifiable delay which our present system of legal +procedure occasions; a system which gives to the rich immeasurable +advantages over poor litigants; and amounts in many cases not only to a +perversion of justice but to a denial of it altogether. + +Old Fogeyism only tinkers at reform, and is so nervous and incompetent +that in attempting to mend one hole he almost invariably makes two. The +Public, doubtless, will, before long, undertake the much needed reform +and abolish some of the unnecessary business of "judges' chambers," where +the ingenuity of the Pettifogging Pleader is so marvellously displayed. +How many righteous claims are smothered in their infancy at this stage of +their existence! + +I have endeavoured to bring the evils of our system before the Public in +the story of Mr. Bumpkin. The solicitors, equally with their clients, as +a body, would welcome a change which would enable actions to be carried +to a legitimate conclusion instead of being stifled by the "Priggs" and +"Locusts" who will crawl into an honorable profession. It is impossible +to keep them out, but it is not impossible to prevent their using the +profession to the injury of their clients. All respectable solicitors +would be glad to see the powers of these unscrupulous gentlemen +curtailed. + +The verses at the end of the story have been so often favourably received +at the Circuit Mess, that I thought an amplified version of them in prose +would not be unacceptable to the general reader, and might ultimately +awaken in the public mind a desire for the long-needed reform of our +legal procedure. + + RICHARD HARRIS. + +LAMB BUILDING, TEMPLE, + _July_, 1883. + + + + +ADVERTISEMENT. + + +On the 4th of December, 1882, Our Gracious Queen, on the occasion of the +opening of the Royal Courts of Justice, said:-- + + "I trust that the uniting together in one place of the various + branches of Judicature in this my Supreme Court, will conduce to the + _more efficient_ and _speedy_ administration of justice to my + subjects." + +On April 20th, 1883, in the House of Commons, Mr. H. H. Fowler asked the +Attorney-General whether he was aware of the large number of causes +waiting for trial in the Chancery Division of the High Court, and in the +Court of Appeal; and whether the Government proposed to take any steps to +remedy the delay and increased cost occasioned to the suitors by the +present administration of the Judicature Acts. + +The Attorney-General said the number of cases of all descriptions then +waiting for trial in the Chancery Division was 848, and in the Court of +Appeal 270. The House would be aware that a committee of Judges had been +engaged for some time in framing rules in the hope of getting rid of some +of the delay that now existed in the hearing of cases; and until those +rules were prepared, which would be shortly, the Government were not +desirous of interfering with a matter over which the Judges had +jurisdiction. The Government were now considering the introduction of a +short Judicature Act for the purpose of lessening the delay.--_Morning +Post_. + +[No rules or short Judicature Act at present!] {0a} + +On the 13th April, 1883, Mr. Glasse, Q.C., thus referred to a statement +made by Mr. Justice Pearson of the Chancery Division: "The citizens of +this great country, of which your Lordship is one of the representatives, +will look at the statement you have made with respectful amazement." The +statement appears to have been, that his Lordship had intended to +continue the business of the Court in exactly the same way in which it +had been conducted by Mr. Justice Fry; but he had been informed that he +would have to take the interlocutory business of Mr. Justice Kay's Court +whilst his Lordship _was on Circuit_; and, as it was requisite that he +should take his own interlocutory business _before the causes set down +for hearing_, "ALL THE CAUSES IN THE TWO COURTS MUST GO TO THE WALL"!!! +His Lordship added, that it would be necessary for him to rise at 3 +o'clock every day (not at 3 o'clock in the _morning_, gentle reader), +because he understood he should have to conduct the business of Mr. +Justice Kay's Chambers as well as his own.--_Morning Post_. + +On the 16th April, 1883, Mr. Justice Day, in charging the Grand Jury at +the Manchester Spring Assizes, expressed his disagreement with the +opinion of the other Judges in favour of the Commission being so altered +that the Judge would have to "_deliver all the prisoners detained in +gaol_," and regarded it as "a waste of the Judge's time that he should +have to try a case in which a woman was indicted for _stealing a shawl +worth_ 3_s._ 9_d._; or a prisoner charged with stealing _two mutton pies_ +and _two ounces of bacon_."--_Evening Standard_. + +CONTENTS. + + CHAPTER I. +Shows the Beauty of a Farm Yard on a Sabbath-Day, and what a 1 +difference a single letter will sometimes make in the legal +signification of a Sentence + CHAPTER II. +The Simplicity and Enjoyments of a Country life depicted 11 + CHAPTER III. +Showing how true it is that it takes at least Two to make a 17 +Bargain or a Quarrel + CHAPTER IV. +On the extreme Simplicity of Going to Law 27 + CHAPTER V. +In which it appears that the Sting of Slander is not always 35 +in the Head + CHAPTER VI. +Showing how the greatest Wisdom of Parliament may be thrown 45 +away on Ungrateful People + CHAPTER VII. +Showing that Appropriateness of Time and Place should be 55 +studied in our Pastimes + CHAPTER VIII. +The Pleasure of a Country Drive on a Summer Evening described 63 +as enhanced by a Pious Mind + CHAPTER IX. +A Farm-house Winter Fire-side--A morning Drive and a mutual 71 +interchange of Ideas between Town and Country, showing how we +may all learn something from one another + CHAPTER X. +The last Night before the first London Expedition, which 87 +gives occasion to recall pleasant reminiscences + CHAPTER XI. +Commencement of London Life and Adventures 97 + CHAPTER XII. +How the great Don O'Rapley became an Usher of the Court of 105 +Queen's Bench, and explained the Ingenious Invention of the +Round Square--How Mr. Bumpkin took the water and studied +Character from a Penny Steamboat + CHAPTER XIII. +An interesting Gentleman--showing how true it is that one 111 +half the World does not know how the other half lives + CHAPTER XIV. +The Old Bailey--Advantages of the New System illustrated 119 + CHAPTER XV. +Mr. Bumpkin's Experience of London Life enlarged 133 + CHAPTER XVI. +The coarse mode of Procedure in Ahab _versus_ Naboth 143 +ruthlessly exposed and carefully contrasted with the humane +and enlightened form of the Present Day + CHAPTER XVII. +Showing that Lay Tribunals are not exactly Punch and Judy 151 +Shows where the Puppet is moved by the Man underneath + CHAPTER XVIII. +A comfortable Evening at the "Goose" 165 + CHAPTER XIX. +The Subject continued 175 + CHAPTER XX. +Mr. Bumpkin sings a good old Song--The Sergeant becomes quite 179 +a convivial Companion and plays Dominoes + CHAPTER XXI. +Joe electrifies the Company and surprises the Reader 191 + CHAPTER XXII. +The Sergeant makes a loyal Speech and sings a Song, both of 203 +which are well received by the Company + CHAPTER XXIII. +The famous Don O'Rapley and Mr. Bumpkin spend a social 213 +Evening at the "Goose" + CHAPTER XXIV. +Don O'Rapley expresses his views of the Policy of the 221 +Legislature in not permitting Dominoes to be played in +Public-houses + CHAPTER XXV. +In spite of all warnings, Joe takes his own part, not to be 227 +persuaded on one side or the other--Affecting Scene between +Mr. Bumpkin and his old Servant + CHAPTER XXVI. +Morning Reflections--Mrs. Oldtimes proves herself to be a 239 +great Philosopher--The Departure of the Recruits to be sworn +in + CHAPTER XXVII. +A Letter from Home 245 + CHAPTER XXVIII. +Mr. Bumpkin determines to maintain a discreet silence about 255 +his Case at the Old Bailey--Mr. Prigg confers with him +thereon + CHAPTER XXIX. +The Trial at the Old Bailey of Mr. Simple Simonman for 261 +Highway Robbery with violence--Mr. Alibi introduces himself +to Mr. Bumpkin + CHAPTER XXX. +Mr. Alibi is stricken with a Thunderbolt--Interview with 283 +Horatio and Mr. Prigg + CHAPTER XXXI. +Mr. Bumpkin at Home again 295 + CHAPTER XXXII. +Joe's Return to Southwood--An Invitation from the Vicar--What 303 +the Old Oak saw + CHAPTER XXXIII. +A Consultation as to new Lodgings--Also a Consultation with 317 +Counsel + CHAPTER XXXIV. +Mr. Bumpkin receives Compliments from distinguished Persons 325 + CHAPTER XXXV. +The Trial 335 + CHAPTER XXXVI. +Motion for Rule _Nisi_, in which is displayed much Learning, 351 +Ancient and Modern + CHAPTER XXXVII. +Mr. Bumpkin is congratulated by his Neighbours and Friends in 359 +the Market Place and sells his Corn + CHAPTER XXXVIII. +Farewell 375 +THE LAWSUIT 381 + + "_He never suffered his private partiality to intrude into the + conduct of publick business_. _Nor in appointing to employments did + he permit solicitation to supply the place of merit_; _wisely + sensible_, _that a proper choice of officers is almost the whole of + Government_."--BURKE. + +_Extract from Notice of the Work in_ THE SATURDAY REVIEW, _September_ +15_th_, 1883:-- + + "He was obviously quite as eager for a good battle in Court as ever + was Dandy Dinmont." + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The beauty of a farm yard on a Sabbath day, and what a difference a +single letter will sometimes make in the legal signification of a +sentence. + +It was during the Long Vacation--that period which is Paradise to the +Rich and Purgatory to the Poor Lawyer--to say nothing of the client, who +simply exists as a necessary evil in the economy of our enlightened +system of Legal Procedure: it was during this delightful or dismal period +that I returned one day to my old Farm-house in Devonshire, from a long +and interesting ramble. My excellent thirst and appetite having been +temperately appeased, I seated myself cosily by the huge chimney, where +the log was always burning; and, having lighted my pipe, surrendered my +whole being to the luxurious enjoyment of so charming a situation. I had +scarcely finished smoking, when I fell into a sound and delicious sleep. +And behold! I dreamed a dream; and methought: + +It was a beautiful Sabbath morning, in the early part of May, 18--, when +two men might have been seen leaning over a pigstye. The pigstye was +situated in a farm-yard in the lovely village of Yokelton, in the county +of Somerset. Both men had evidently passed what is called the "prime of +life," as was manifest from their white hair, wrinkled brows, and +stooping shoulders. It was obvious that they were contemplating some +object with great interest and thoughtful attention. + +And I perceived that in quiet and respectful conversation with them was a +fine, well-formed, well-educated sow of the Chichester breed. It was +plain from the number of her rings that she was a sow of great +distinction, and, indeed, as I afterwards learned, was the most famous +for miles around: her progeny (all of whom I suppose were honourables) +were esteemed and sought by squire and farmer. How that sow was bred up +to become so polite a creature, was a mystery to all; because there were +gentlemen's homesteads all around, where no such thoroughbred could be +found. But I suppose it's the same with pigs as it is with men: a +well-bred gentleman may work in the fields for his living, and a cad may +occupy the manor-house or the nobleman's hall. + +The Chichester sow looked up with an air of easy nonchalance into the +faces of the two men who smoked their short pipes, and uttered ever and +anon some short ejaculation, such as, "Hem!" "Ah!" "Zounds!" and so +forth, while the sow exhibited a familiarity with her superiors only to +be acquired by mixing in the best society. There was a respectful +deference which, while it betrayed no sign of servility, was in pleasing +contrast with the boisterous and somewhat unbecoming levity of the other +inhabitants of the stye. These people were the last progeny of this +illustrious Chichester, and numbered in all eleven--seven sons and four +daughters--honourables all. It was impossible not to admire the high +spirit of this well-descended family. That they had as yet received no +education was due to the fact that their existence dated only from the +21st of January last. Hence their somewhat erratic conduct, such as +jumping, running, diving into the straw, boring their heads into one +another's sides, and other unceremonious proceedings in the presence of +the two gentlemen whom it is necessary now more particularly to describe. + +Mr. Thomas Bumpkin, the elder of the two, was a man of about seventy +summers, as tall and stalwart a specimen of Anglo-Saxon peasantry as you +could wish to behold. And while I use the word "peasantry" let it be +clearly understood that I do so in no sense as expressing Mr. Bumpkin's +present condition. He had risen from the English peasantry, and was what +is usually termed a "self-made man." He was born in a little hut +consisting of "wattle and dab," and as soon as he could make himself +heard was sent into the fields to "mind the birds." Early in the +November mornings, immediately after the winter sowings, he would be seen +with his little bag of brown bread round his neck, trudging along with a +merry whistle, as happy as if he had been going home to a bright fire and +a plentiful breakfast of ham, eggs, and coffee. By degrees he had raised +himself to the position of ploughman, and never ploughman drove a +straighter or leveller furrow. He had won prizes at the annual ploughing +and harrowing matches: and upon the strength of ten and sixpence a week +had married Nancy Tugby, to whom he had been engaged off and on for +eleven years. Nancy was a frugal housewife, and worked hard, morning, +noon and night. She was quite a treasure to Bumpkin; and, what with +taking in a little washing, and what with going out to do a little +charing, and what with Tom's skill in mending cart-harness (nearly all +the cart-harness in the neighbourhood was in a perpetual state of +"mendin'"), they had managed to put together in a year or two enough +money to buy a sow. This, Tom always said, was "his first start." And +mighty proud they both were as they stood together of a Sunday morning +looking at this wonderful treasure. The sow soon had pigs, and the pigs +got on and were sold, and then the money was expended in other things, +which in their turn proved equally remunerative. Then Tom got a piece of +land, and next a pet ewe-lamb, and so on, until little by little wealth +accumulated, and he rented at last, after a long course of laborious +years, from the Squire, a small homestead called "Southwood Farm," +consisting of some fifty acres. Let it not be supposed that the +accession of an extra head of live stock was a small matter. Everything +is great or little by relation. I believe the statesman himself knows no +greater pleasure when he first obtains admission to the Cabinet, than Tom +did when he took possession of his little farm. And he certainly +experienced as great a joy when he got a fresh pig as any young barrister +does when he secures a new client. + +Southwood Farm was a lovely homestead, situated near a very pretty river, +and in the midst of the most picturesque scenery. The little rivulet +(for it was scarcely more) twisted about in the quaintest conceivable +manner, almost encircling the cosy farm; while on the further side rose +abruptly from the water's edge high embankments studded thickly with oak, +ash, and an undergrowth of saplings of almost every variety. The old +house was spacious for the size of the farm, and consisted of a large +living-room, ceiled with massive oak beams and oak boards, which were +duly whitewashed, and looked as white as the sugar on a wedding cake. +The fireplace was a huge space with seats on either side cut in the wall; +while from one corner rose a rude ladder leading to a bacon loft. +Dog-irons of at least a century old graced the brick hearth, while the +chimney-back was adorned with a huge slab of iron wrought with divers +quaint designs, and supposed to have been in some way or other connected +with the Roman invasion, as it had been dug up somewhere in the +neighbourhood, by whom or when no one ever knew. There was an inner +chamber besides the one we are now in, which was used as a kitchen; while +on the opposite side was a little parlour with red-tiled floor and a +comparatively modern grate. This was the reception room, used chiefly +when any of the ladies from "t'Squoire's" did Mrs. Bumpkin the honour to +call and taste her tea-cakes or her gooseberry wine. The thatched roof +was gabled, and the four low-ceiled bedrooms had each of them a window in +a gable. The house stood in a well-stocked garden, beyond which was a +lovely green meadow sloping to the river side. In front was the little +farm-yard, with its double-bayed barn, its lean-to cow-houses, its +stables for five horses, and its cosy loft. Then there were the pigstyes +and the henhouses: all forming together a very convenient and compact +homestead. Adjoining the home meadow was a pretty orchard, full of +apple, pear, cherry and plum trees; and if any one could imagine that Mr. +and Mrs. Bumpkin had no eye or taste for the beautiful, I would have +advised that ill-conditioned person to visit those good people of a +Sunday morning after "brakfast" when the orchard was in full blossom. +This beautiful picture it was not only Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin's special joy +to behold, but their great and proud delight to show; and if they had +painted the blossoms themselves they could not have felt more intense +enjoyment and satisfaction. + +There was one other feature about the little farm which I must mention, +because it is one of the grandest and most beautiful things in nature, +and that is the magnificent "Old Oak" that stood in the corner of one of +the home fields, and marked the boundary of the farm in that direction. +If the measure of its girth would be interesting to the reader to know, +it was just twenty-seven feet: not the largest in England certainly, +notwithstanding which the tree was one of the grandest and most +beautiful. It towered high into the air and spread its stalwart branches +like giant trees in all directions. It was said to be a thousand years +old, and to be inhabited by owls and ghosts. Whether the ghosts lived +there or not I am unable to say, but from generation to generation the +tradition was handed down and believed to be true. Such was Mr. +Bumpkin's home, in my dream: the home of Peace and Plenty, Happiness and +Love. + +The man who was contemplating Mr. Bumpkin's pigs on this same Sunday +morning was also a "self-made man," whose name was Josiah SNOOKS. He was +not made so well as Bumpkin, I should say, by a great deal, but +nevertheless was a man who, as things go, was tolerably well put +together. He was the village coal-merchant, not a Cockerell by any +means, but a merchant who would have a couple of trucks of "Derby +Brights" down at a time, and sell them round the village by the +hundredweight. No doubt he was a very thrifty man, and to the extent, so +some people said, of nipping the poor in their weight. And once he +nearly lost the contract for supplying the coal-gifts at Christmas on +that account. But he made it a rule to attend church very regularly as +the season came round, and so did Mrs. Josiah Snooks; and it will require +a great deal of "nipping" to get over that in a country village, I +promise you. I did not think Snooks a nice looking man, by any means; +for he had a low forehead, a scowling brow, a nobbly fat nose, small +eyes, one of which had a cast, a large mouth always awry and distorted +with a sneer, straight hair that hung over his forehead, and a large scar +on his right cheek. His teeth were large and yellow, and the top ones +protruded more, I thought, than was at all necessary. Nor was he +generally beliked. In fact, so unpopular was this man with the poor, +that it was a common thing for mothers to say to their children when they +could not get them in of a summer's evening, "You, Betsy," or "You, Jane, +come in directly, or old Snooks will have you!" A warning which always +produced the desired effect. + +No one could actually tell whether Snooks had made money or merely +pretended to possess it. Some said they knew he had, for he lived so +niggardly; others said the coal trade was not what it was; and there were +not wanting people who hinted that old Betty Bodger's house and +garden--which had been given to her years ago by the old squire, what +for, nobody knew--had been first mortgaged to Josiah and then sold to him +and "taken out in coals." A very cunning man was Snooks; kept his own +counsel--I don't mean a barrister in wig and gown on his premises--but in +the sense of never divulging what was in his sagacious mind. He was +known as a universal buyer of everything that he could turn a penny out +of; and he sold everybody whenever he got the chance. Such was the +character of old Snooks. + +How then came our good guileless friend Bumpkin to be associated with +such a man on this beautiful Sunday morning? I can only answer: there +are things in this world which admit of no explanation. This, so far as +I am concerned, was one. + +"They be pooty pork," said Mr. Bumpkin. + +"Middlin'," rejoined the artful Snooks. + +"They be a mighty dale more an middlin', if you come to thic," said the +farmer. + +"I've seen a good deal better," remarked Snooks. This was always his +line of bargaining. + +"Well, I aint," returned Bumpkin, emphatically. "Look at that un--why, +he be fit for anything--a regler pictur." + +"What's he worth?" said Snooks. "Three arf crowns?" That was Snooks' +way of dealing. + +"Whisht!" exclaimed Bumpkin; "and four arf-crowns wouldn't buy un." That +was Bumpkin's way. + +Snooks expectorated and gave a roar, which he intended for a laugh, but +which made every pig jump off its feet and dive into the straw. + +"I tell 'ee what, maister Bumpkin, I doant want un"--that was his way +again; "but I doant mind giving o' thee nine shillings for that un." + +"Thee wunt 'ave un--not a farden less nor ten if I knows it; ye doant +'ave we loike that, nuther--ye beant sellin' coals, maister Snooks--no, +nor buyin' pigs if I knows un." + +How far this conversation would have proceeded, and whether any serious +altercation would have arisen, I know not; but at this moment a +combination of circumstances occurred to interrupt the would-be +contracting parties. First, Mrs. Bumpkin, who had been preparing the +Sunday dinner, came across the yard with her apron full of cabbage-leaves +and potato-peelings, followed by an immense number of chickens, while the +ducks in the pond clapped their wings, and flew and ran with as much +eagerness as though they were so many lawyers seeking some judicial +appointment, and Mrs. Bumpkin were Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain; +and they made as much row as a flock of Chancery Barristers arguing about +costs. Then came along, with many a grunt and squeak, a pig or two, who +seemed to be enjoying a Sunday holiday in their best clothes, for they +had just come out of a puddle of mud; then came slouching along, a young +man whose name was Joe (or, more correctly speaking, Joseph Wurzel), a +young man of about seventeen, well built, tall and straight, with a +pleasant country farm-house face, a roguish black eye, even teeth, and a +head of brown straight hair, that looked as if the only attention it ever +received was an occasional trimming with a reap-hook, and a brush with a +bush-harrow. + +It was just feeding time; that was why Joe came up at this moment; and in +addition to all these circumstances, there came faintly booming through +the trees the ding of the old church bell, reminding Mr. Bumpkin that he +must "goo and smarten oop a bit" for church. He already had on his +purple cord trousers, and, as Joe termed it, his hell-fire waistcoat with +the flames coming out of it in all directions; but he had to put on his +drab "cooat" and white smock-frock, and then walk half a mile before +service commenced. He always liked to be there before the Squire, and +see him and his daughters, Miss Judith and Miss Mary, come in. + +So he had to leave the question of the "walley" of the pig and attend to +the more important interests of his immortal soul. But now as he was +going comes the point to which the reader's special attention is +directed. He had got about six yards from the stye, or it may have been +a little more, when Snooks cried out: + +"I've bought un for nine and six." + +To which Mr. Bumpkin replied, without so much as turning his head-- + +"'Ave ur." + +Now this expression, according to Chitty on Contracts, would mean, "Have +you, indeed? Mr. Snooks." But the extreme cunning of Josiah converted it +into "'Ave un," which, by the same learned authority would signify, "Very +well, Mr. Snooks, you can have him." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The simplicity and enjoyments of a country life depicted. + +A quiet day was Sunday on Southwood Farm. Joe used to slumber in the +meadows among the buttercups, or in the loft, or near the kitchen-fire, +as the season and weather invited. That is to say, until such time as, +coming out of Sunday School (for to Sunday School he sometimes went) he +saw one of the fairest creatures he had ever read about either in the +Bible or elsewhere! It was a very strange thing she should be so +different from everybody else: not even the clergyman's daughters--no, +nor the Squire's daughters, for the matter of that--looked half so nice +as pretty Polly Sweetlove, the housemaid at the Vicar's. + +"Now look at that," said Joe, as he went along the lane on that Sunday +when he first beheld this divine creature. "I'm danged if she beant +about the smartest lookin o' any on 'em. Miss Mary beant nothing to her: +it's a dandelion to a toolup." + +So ever since that time Joe had slept less frequently in the hay-loft on +a Sunday afternoon; and, be it said to his credit, had attended his +church with greater punctuality. The vicar took great notice of the +lad's religious tendencies, and had him to his night-school at the +vicarage, in consequence; and certainly no vicar ever knew a boy more +regular in his attendance. He was there waiting to go in ever so long +before the school began, and was always the very last to leave the +premises. + +Often he would peep over the quick-set hedge into the kitchen-window, +just to catch a glance of this lovely angel. And yet, so far as he could +tell, she had never looked at him. When she opened the door, Joe always +felt a thrill run through him as if some extraordinary thing had +happened. It was a kind of jump; and yet he had jumped many times before +that: "it wasn't the sort of jump," he said, "as a chap gits either from +bein' frit or bein' pleased." And what to make of it he didn't know. +Then Polly's cap was about the loveliest thing, next to Polly herself, he +had ever seen. It was more like a May blossom than anything else, or a +beautiful butterfly on the top of a water-lily. In fact, all the rural +images of a rude but not inartistic mind came and went as this country +boy thought of his beautiful Polly. As he ploughed the field, if he saw +a May-blossom in the hedgerow, it reminded him of Polly's cap; and even +the little gentle daisy was like Polly herself. Pretty Polly was +everywhere! + +Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin, on a fine Sabbath afternoon, would take their +pastime in the open air. First Mr. Bumpkin would take down his long +churchwarden pipe from its rack on the ceiling, where it lay in close +companionship with an ancient flint-gun; then he would fill it tightly, +so as to make it last the longer, with tobacco from his leaden jar; and +then, having lighted it, he and his wife would go out of the back door, +through the garden and the orchard, and along by the side of the quiet +river. By their side, as a matter of course, came Tim the Collie (named +after Mrs. Bumpkin's grandfather Timothy), who knew as well as possible +every word that was being said. If Mrs. Bumpkin only asked, "Where is +Betsy?" (that was the head Alderney cow) Tim would bark and fly across to +the meadow where she was; and then, having said to her and to the five +other Alderney cows and four heifers, "Why, here's master and missus +coming round to look at you, why on earth don't you come and see them?" +up the whole herd would come, straggling one after the other, to the +meadow where Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin were waiting for them; and all would +look over the hedge, as much as to say, "How d'ye do, master, and how +d'ye do, missus; what a nice day, isn't it?" exactly in the same manner +as men and women greet one another as often as they meet. And then there +was the old donkey, Jack, whom Tim would chaff no matter when or where he +saw him. I believe if Tim had got him in church, he would have chaffed +him. It was very amusing to see Jack duck his head and describe a circle +as Tim swept round him, barking with all his might, and yet only laughing +all the while. Sometimes Jack, miscalculating distances--he wasn't very +great at mathematics--and having no eye for situations, would kick out +vigorously with his hind legs, thinking Tim was in close proximity to his +heels; whereas the sagacious and jocular Tim was leaning on his +outstretched fore-feet immediately in front of Jack's head. + +Then there was another sight, not the least interesting on these +afternoon rambles: in the far meadow, right under "the lids," as they +were called, lived the famous Bull of Southwood Farm. He was Mrs. +Bumpkin's pet. She had had him from a baby, and used to feed him in his +infant days from a bottle by the kitchen fire. And so docile was he +that, although few strangers would be safe in intruding into his +presence, he would follow Mrs. Bumpkin about, as she said, "just like a +Christian." The merits of this bull were the theme, on all appropriate +occasions, of Mrs. Bumpkin's unqualified praise. If the Vicar's wife +called, as she sometimes did, to see how Mrs. Bumpkin was getting on, +Mrs. Bumpkin's "baby" (that is the bull) was sure to be brought up--I +don't mean by the nurse, but in conversation. No matter how long she +waited her opportunity, Mrs. Goodheart never left without hearing +something of the exploits of this remarkable bull. In truth, he was a +handsome, well-bred fellow. He had come from the Squire's--so you may be +sure his breed was gentlemanly in the extreme; and his grandmother, on +the maternal side, had belonged to the Bishop of Winchester; so you have +a sufficient guarantee, I hope, for his moral character and orthodox +principles. Indeed, it had been said that no dissenter dared pass +through the meadow where he was, in consequence of his connection with +the Establishment. Now, on the occasions when Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin took +their walks abroad through the meadows to see their lambkins and their +bull skip, this is what would invariably happen. First, Mrs. Bumpkin +would go through the little cosy-looking gate in the corner of the +meadow, right down by the side of the old boat-house; then Mr. Bumpkin +would follow, holding his long pipe in one hand and his ash-stick in the +other. Then, away in the long distance, at the far end of the meadow (he +was always up there on these occasions), stood "Sampson" (that was the +bull), with his head turned right round towards his master and mistress, +as if he were having his photograph taken. Thus he stood for a moment; +then down went his huge forehead to the ground; up went his tail to the +sky; then he sent a bellow along the earth which would have frightened +anybody but his "mother," and started off towards his master and mistress +like a ship in a heavy sea; sometimes with his keel up in the air, and +sometimes with his prow under water: it not only was playful, it was +magnificent, and anybody unaccustomed to oxen might have been a little +terrified by the furious glare of his eyes and the terrible snort of his +nostrils as he approached. + +Not so Mrs. Bumpkin, who held out her hand, and ejaculated, + +"My pretty baby; my sweet pet; good Sampson!" and many other expressions +of an endearing character. + +"Good Sampson" looked, snorted, danced, plunged and careered; and then +came up and let Mrs. Bumpkin stroke and pat him; while Bumpkin looked on, +smoking his pipe peacefully, and thinking what a fine fellow he, the +bull, was, and what a great man he, Bumpkin, must be to be the possessor +of "sich!" + +Thus the peaceful afternoon would glide quietly and sweetly away, and so +would the bull, after the interesting interview was over. + +They always returned in time for tea, and then Mrs. Bumpkin would go to +evening service, while Mr. Bumpkin would wait for her on the little piece +of green near the church, where neighbours used to meet and chat of a +Sunday evening; such as old Mr. Gosling, the market gardener, and old +Master Mott, the head gardener to the Squire, and Master Cole, the +farmer, and various others, the original inhabitants of Yokelton; +discussing the weather and the crops, the probability of Mr. Tomson +getting in again at the vestry as waywarden; what kind of a highway rate +there would be for the coming year; how that horse got on that Mr. Sooby +bought at the fair; and various other matters of importance to a village +community. They would also pass remarks upon any striking personage who +passed them on his way to church. Mr. Prigg, for instance, the village +lawyer, who, they said, was a remarkably upright and down-straight sort +of man; although his wife, they thought, was "a little bit stuck up like" +and gave herself airs a little different from Mrs. Goodheart, who would +"always talk to 'em jist the same as if she was one o' th' people." So +that, on the whole, they entertained themselves very amicably until such +time as the "organ played the people out of church." Then every one +looked for his wife or daughter, as the case might be, and wished one +another good night: most of them having been to church in the morning, +they did not think it necessary to repeat the performance in the evening. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Showing how true it is that it takes at least two to make a bargain or a +quarrel. + +The day after the events which I have recorded, while the good farmer and +his wife were at breakfast, which was about seven o'clock, Joe presented +himself in the sitting-room, and said: + +"Plase, maister, here be t' money for t' pig." + +"Money for t' pig," exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin; "what's thee mean, lad? what +pig?" + +"Maister Snooks!" said Joe, "there ur be, gwine wi' t' pig in t' barrer." + +Nothing shall induce me to repeat the language of Mr. Bumpkin, as he +jumped up from the table, and without hat or cap rushed out of the room, +followed by Joe, and watched by Mrs. Bumpkin from the door. Just as he +got to the farmyard by one gate, there was Snooks leaving it by another +with Mr. Bumpkin's pig in a sack in the box barrow which he was wheeling. + +"Hulloa!" shouted the farmer; "hulloa here! Thee put un down--dang thee, +what be this? I said thee shouldn't ave un, no more thee sha'n't. I +beant gwine to breed Chichster pigs for such as thee at thy own price, +nuther." Snooks grinned and went on his way, saying; + +"I bought un and I'll 'ave un." + +"An I'll 'ave thee, dang'd if I doant, afore jussices; t' Squoire'll tell +thee." + +"I doant keer for t' Squire no more nor I do for thee, old Bumpkin; thee +be a cunnin' man, but thee sold I t' pig and I'll 'ave un, and I got un +too: haw! haw! haw! an thee got t' money--nine-and-six--haw! haw! haw!" + +Mr. Bumpkin by this time came up to him, but was so much out of breath, +or "winded," that he was unable to carry on the conversation, so he just +tapped the bag with his stick as if to be certain the pig was there, and +sure enough it was, if you might judge by the extraordinary wriggling +that went on inside the bag. + +The indomitable Snooks, however, with the largest and most hideous grin I +ever saw, pushed on with his barrow, and Mr. Bumpkin having now +sufficiently recovered his breath, said, + +"Thee see ur tak un, didn't thee, Joe?" + +"Sure did ur," answered the lad. "I seed un took un clane out o' the +stye, and put un in the sack, and wheeled un away." + +"Ha! so ur did, Joe; stick to that, lad--stick to un." + +"And thee seed I pay th' money for un, Joe, didn't thee?" laughed Snooks. +"Seed I put un on t' poast, and thee took un oop--haw! haw! haw! I got +t' pig and thee got t' money--haw! haw! haw! Thee thowt thee'd done I, +and I done thee--haw! haw! haw!" + +And away went Snooks and away went pig; but Snooks' laugh remained, and +every now and then Snooks turned his head and showed his large yellow +teeth and roared again. + +The rage of Mr. Bumpkin knew no bounds. There are some things in life +which are utterly unendurable; and one is the having your pig taken from +you against your will and without your consent--an act which would be +described legally as _the rape of the pig_. This offence, in Mr. +Bumpkin's judgment, Snooks was guilty of; and therefore he resolved to do +that which is considered usually a wise thing, namely, to consult a +solicitor. + +Now, if I were giving advice--which I do not presume to do--I should say +that in all matters of difficulty a man should consult his wife, his +priest, or his solicitor, and in the order in which I have named them. +In the event of consulting a solicitor the next important question +arises, "What solicitor?" I could write a book on this subject. There +are numerous solicitors, within my acquaintance, to whom I would entrust +my life and my character; there are some, not of my acquaintance, but of +my knowledge, into whose hands, if I had one spark of Christian feeling +left, I would not see my enemy delivered. There is little difference +between one class of men and another as to natural disposition; and +whether you take one or another, you must find the shady character. But +where the opportunities for mischief are so great as they are in the +practice of the Law, it is necessary that the utmost care should be +exercised in committing one's interests to the keeping of another. Had +Mr. Bumpkin been a man of the world he would have suspected that under +the most ostentatious piety very often lurked the most subtle fraud. +Good easy man, had he been going to buy a hay-stack, he would not have +judged by the outside but have put his "iron" into it; he could not put +his iron into Mr. Prigg, I know, but he need not have taken him by his +appearance alone. I may observe that if Mr. Bumpkin had consulted his +sensible and affectionate spouse, or a really respectable solicitor, this +book would not have been written. If he had consulted the Vicar, +possibly another book might have been written; but, as it was, he +resolved to consult Mr. Prigg in the first instance. Now Mrs. Bumpkin, +except as the mother of the illustrious Bull, has very little to do with +this story. Mr. Prigg is one of its leading characters; but in my +description of that gentleman I am obliged to be concise: I must minimize +Prigg, great as he is, and I trust that in doing so I shall prospectively +minimize all future Priggs that may ever appear on the world's stage. I +do not attempt to pulverize him, that would require the crushing pestle +of the legislature; but merely to make him as little as I can, with due +consideration for the requirements of my story. + +I should be thought premature in mentioning Prigg, but that he was a +gentleman of great pretensions in the little village of Yokelton. +Gentleman by Act of Parliament, and in his own estimation, you may be +sure he was respected by all around him. That was not many, it is true, +for his house was the last of the straggling village. He was a man of +great piety and an extremely white neck-cloth; attended the parish church +regularly, and kept his white hair well brushed upwards--as though, like +the church steeple, it was to point the way at all times. He was the +most amiable of persons in regard to the distribution of the parish +gifts; and, being a lawyer it was not considered by the churchwardens, a +blacksmith and a builder, safe to refuse his kind and generous +assistance. He involved the parish in a law-suit once, in a question +relating to the duty to repair the parish pump; and since that time +everyone knew better than to ignore Mr. Prigg. I have heard that the +money spent in that action would have repaired all the parish pumps in +England for a century, but have no means of ascertaining the truth of +this statement. + +Mr. Prigg was a man whose merits were not appreciated by the local +gentry, who never asked him to dinner. Virtue is thus sometimes +ill-rewarded in this world. And Mrs. Prigg's virtue had also been +equally ignored when she had sought, almost with tears, to obtain tickets +for the County Ball. + +Mr. Prigg was about sixty years old, methodical in his habits, +punctilious in his dress, polite in his demeanour, and precise in his +language. He wore a high collar of such remarkable stiffness that his +shoulders had to turn with his head whenever it was necessary to alter +his position. This gave an appearance of respectability to the head, not +to be acquired by any other means. It was, indeed, the most respectable +head I ever saw either in the flesh or in marble. + +Mr. Prigg had descended from the well-known family of Prigg, and he +prided himself on the circumstance. How often was he seen in the little +churchyard of Yokelton of a Sunday morning, both before and after +service, pointing with family pride to the tombstone of a relative which +bore this beautiful and touching inscription:-- + + HERE + LIE THE ASHES OF + MR. JOHN PRIGG, + OF SMITH STREET, BRISTOL, + ORIGINALLY OF DUCK GREEN, YOKELTON, + WHO UNDER PECULIAR DISADVANTAGES + WHICH TO COMMON MINDS + WOULD HAVE BEEN A BAR TO ANY EXERTIONS + RAISED HIMSELF FROM ALL OBSCURE SITUATIONS + OF BIRTH AND FORTUNE + BY HIS OWN INDUSTRY AND FRUGALITY + TO THE ENJOYMENT OF A _MODERATE COMPETENCY_. + HE ATTAINED A PECULIAR EXCELLENCE + IN PENMANSHIP AND DRAWING + WITHOUT THE INSTRUCTIONS OF A MASTER, + AND TO EMINENCE IN ARITHMETIC, + THE USEFUL AND THE HIGHER BRANCHES OF + THE MATHEMATICS, + BY GOING TO SCHOOL ONLY A YEAR AND EIGHT MONTHS. + + * * * * * + + HE + DIED A BACHELOR + ON THE 24TH DAY OF OCTOBER, 1807, + IN THE 55TH YEAR OF HIS AGE; + AND WITHOUT FORGETTING + RELATIONS FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + BEQUEATHED ONE FIFTH OF HIS PROPERTY + TO PUBLIC CHARITY. + + READER + THE WORLD IS OPEN TO THEE. + "GO THOU AND DO LIKEWISE." {22} + +It was generally supposed that this beautiful composition was from the +pen of Mr. Prigg himself, who, sitting as he did so high on his branch of +the Family Tree, + + COULD LOOK + WITH PRIDE AND SYMPATHY + ON + THE MANLY STRUGGLES + OF A HUMBLER MEMBER + LOWER DOWN! + +High Birth, like Great Wealth, can afford to condescend! + +Mrs. Prigg was worthy of her illustrious consort. She was of the noble +family of the Snobs, and in every way did honour to her progenitors. As +the reader is aware, there is what is known as a "cultivated voice," the +result of education--it is absolutely without affectation: there is also +the voice which, in imitation of the well-trained one, is little more +than a burlesque, and is affected in the highest degree: this was the +only fault in Mrs. Prigg's voice. + +Mr. Prigg's home was charmingly small, but had all the pretensions of a +stately country house--its conservatory, its drawing-room, its study, and +a dining-room which told you as plainly as any dining-room could speak, +"I am related to Donkey Hall, where the Squire lives: I belong to the +same aristocratic family." + +Then there was the great heavy-headed clock in the passage. He did not +appear at all to know that he had come down in the world through being +sold by auction for two pounds ten. He said with great plausibility, "My +worth is not to be measured by the amount of money I can command; I am +the same personage as before." And I thought it a very true observation, +but the philosophy thereof was a little discounted by his haughty +demeanour, which had certainly gone up as he himself had come down; and +that is a reason why I don't as a rule like people who have come down in +the world--they are sure to be so stuck up. But I do like a person who +has come down in the world and doesn't at all mind it--much better than +any man who has got up in the world from the half-crown, and does mind it +upon all occasions. + +Mrs. Prigg, apart from her high descent, was a very aristocratic person: +as the presence of the grand piano in the drawing-room would testify. +She could no more live without a grand piano than ordinary people could +exist without food: the grand piano, albeit a very dilapidated one, was a +necessity of her well-descended condition. It was no matter that it +displaced more useful furniture; in that it only imitated a good many +other persons, and it told you whenever you entered the room: "You see me +here in a comparatively small way, but understand, I have been in far +different circumstances: I have been courted by the great, and listened +to by the aristocracy of England. I follow Mrs. Prigg wherever she goes: +she is a lady; her connections are high, and she never yet associated +with any but the best families. You could not diminish from her very +high breeding: put her in the workhouse, and with me to accompany her, it +would be transformed into a palace." + +Mr. Prigg was by no means a rich man as the world counts richness. No +one ever heard of his having a "_practice_," although it was believed he +did a great deal in the way of "lending his name" _and profession_ to +impecunious and uneducated men; who could turn many a six-and-eightpence +under its prestige. So great is the moral "power of attorney," as +contradistinguished from the legal "power of attorney." + +But Prigg, as I have hinted, was not only respectable, he was _good_: he +was more than that even, he was _notoriously_ good: so much so, that he +was called, in contradistinction to all other lawyers, "_Honest Lawyer +Prigg_"; and he had further acquired, almost as a universal title, the +sobriquet of "Nice." Everybody said, "What a very nice man Mr. Prigg +is!" Then, in addition to all this, he was considered _clever_--why, I +do not know; but I have often observed that men can obtain the reputation +of being clever at very little cost, and without the least foundation. +The cheapest of all ways is to abuse men who really are clever, and if +your abuse be pungently and not too coarsely worded, it will be accepted +by the ignorant as _criticism_. Nothing goes down with shallow minds +like criticism, and the severest criticism is generally based on envy and +jealousy. + +Mr. Prigg, then, was clever, respectable, good, and nice, remarkably +potent qualities for success in this world. + +So I saw in my dream that Mr. Bumpkin, whose feelings were duly aroused, +turned his eye upon Honest Lawyer Prigg, and resolved to consult him upon +the grievous outrage to which he had been subjected at the hands of the +cunning Snooks: and without more ado he resolved to call on that very +worthy and extremely nice gentleman. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +On the extreme simplicity of going to law. + +With his right leg resting on his left, with his two thumbs nicely +adjusted, and with the four points of his right fingers in delicate +contact with the fingers of his left hand, sat Honest Lawyer Prigg, +listening to the tale of unutterable woe, as recounted by Farmer Bumpkin. + +Sometimes the good man's eyes looked keenly at the farmer, and sometimes +they scanned vacantly the ceiling, where a wandering fly seemed, like Mr. +Bumpkin, in search of consolation or redress. Sometimes Mr. Prigg nodded +his respectable head and shoulders in token of his comprehension of Mr. +Bumpkin's lucid statement: then he nodded two or three times in +succession, implying that the Court was with Mr. Bumpkin, and +occasionally he would utter with a soft soothing voice, + +"Quite so!" + +When he said "quite so," he parted his fingers, and reunited them with +great precision; then he softly tapped them together, closed his eyes, +and seemed lost in profound meditation. + +Here Mr. Bumpkin paused and stared. Was Mr. Prigg listening? + +"Pray proceed," said the lawyer, "I quite follow you;--never mind about +what anybody else had offered you for the pig--the question really is +whether you actually sold this pig to Snooks or not--whether the bargain +was complete or inchoate." + +Mr. Bumpkin stared again. "I beant much of a scollard, sir," he +observed; "but I'll take my oath I never sold un t'pig." + +"That is the question," remarked the lawyer. "You say you did not? +Quite so; had this Joe of yours any authority to receive money on your +behalf?" + +"Devil a bit," answered Bumpkin. + +"Excuse me," said Mr. Prigg, "I have to put these questions: it is +necessary that I should understand where we are: of course, if you did +not sell the pig, he had no right whatever to come and take it out of the +sty--it was a trespass?" + +"That's what I says," said Bumpkin; and down went his fist on Mr. Prigg's +table with such vehemence that the solicitor started as though aroused by +a shock of dynamite. + +"Let us be calm," said the lawyer, taking some paper from his desk, and +carefully examining the nib of a quill pen, "Let me see, I think you said +your name was Thomas?" + +"That's it, sir; and so was my father's afore me." + +"Thomas Bumpkin?" + +"I beant ashamed on him." + +And then Mr. Prigg wrote out a document and read it aloud; and Mr. +Bumpkin agreeing with it, scratched his name at the bottom--very badly +scratched it was, but well enough for Mr. Prigg. This was simply to +retain Mr. Prigg as his solicitor in the cause of _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_. + +"Quite so, quite so; now let me see; be calm, Mr. Bumpkin, be calm; in +all these matters we must never lose our self-possession. You see, I am +not excited." + +"Noa," said Bumpkin; "but then ur dint tak thy pig." + +"Quite true, I can appreciate the position, it was no doubt a gross +outrage. Now tell me--this Snooks, as I understand, is the coal-merchant +down the village?" + +"That's ur," said Bumpkin. + +"I suppose he's a man of some property, eh?" + +Mr. Bumpkin looked for a few moments without speaking, and then said: + +"He wur allays a close-fisted un, and I should reckon have a goodish bit +o' property." + +"Because you know," remarked the solicitor, "it is highly important, when +one wins a case and obtains damages, that the defendant should be in a +position to pay them." + +This was the first time that ever the flavour of damages had got into +Bumpkin's mouth; and a very nice flavour it was. To beat Snooks was one +thing, a satisfaction; to make him pay was another, a luxury. + +"Yes, sir," he repeated; "I bleeve he ave, I bleeve he ave." + +"What makes you think so?" + +"Wull, fust and foremust, I knows he lent a party a matter of a hundred +pound, for I witnessed un." + +"Then he hasn't got that," said the lawyer. + +"Yes ur ave, sir, or how so be as good; for it wur a morgage like, and +since then he've got the house." + +Mr. Prigg made a note, and asked where the house was. + +"It be widder Jackson's." + +"Indeed; very well." + +"An then there be the bisness." + +"Exactly," said the lawyer, "horses and carts, weighing machines, and so +on?" + +"And the house he live in," said Bumpkin, "I know as ow that longs to +him." + +"Very well; I think that will be enough to start with." Now, Mr. Prigg +knew pretty well the position of the respective parties himself; so it +was not so much for his own information that he made these inquiries as +to infuse into Bumpkin's mind a notion of the importance of the case. + +"Now," said he, throwing down the pen, "this is a very serious matter, +Mr. Bumpkin." + +This was a comfort, and Bumpkin looked agreeably surprised and vastly +important. + +"A very serious case," and again the tips of the fingers were brought in +contact. + +"I spoase we can't bring un afore jusseses, sir?" + +"Well, you see the criminal law is dangerous; you can't get damages, and +you may get an action for malicious prosecution." + +"I think we ought to mak un pay for 't." + +"That is precisely my own view, but I am totally at a loss to understand +the reason of such outrageous conduct on the part of this Snooks. Now +don't be offended, Mr. Bumpkin, if I put a question to you. You know, we +lawyers like to search to the bottom of things. I can understand, if you +had owed him any money--" + +"Owe un money!" exclaimed Bumpkin contemptuously; "why I could buy un out +and out." + +"Ah, quite so, quite so; so I should have supposed from what I know of +you, Mr. Bumpkin." + +"Lookee ere, sir," said the farmer; "I bin a ard workin man all my life, +paid my way, twenty shillins in the pound, and doant owe a penny as fur +as I knows." + +"And if you did, Mr. Bumpkin," said the lawyer with a good-natured laugh, +"I dare say you could pay." + +"Wull, I bleeve there's no man can axe me for nothing; and thank God, +what I've got's my own; and there aint many as got pootier stock nor +mine--all good bred uns, Mr. Prigg." + +"Yes, I've often heard your cattle praised." + +"He be a blagard if ur says I owed un money." + +"O, dear, Mr. Bumpkin, pray don't misunderstand me; he did not, that I am +aware, allege that he took the pig because you owed him money; and even +if you did, he could not legally have done so. Now this is not a mere +matter of debt; it's a very serious case of trespass." + +"Ay; zo 't be sir; that was my bleef, might jist as wull a tooked baacon +out o' baacon loft." + +"Just the same. Quite so--quite so!" + +"And I want thee, Mr. Prigg, to mak un pay for't--mak un pay, sir; it +beant so much th' pig." + +"Quite so: quite so: that were a very trifling affair, and might be +settled in the County Court; but, in fact, it's not the pig at all, it's +trespass, and you want to make him answerable in damages." + +"That's it, sir; you've got un." + +"I suppose an apology and a return of the pig would not be enough." + +"I'll make un know he beant everybody," said Bumpkin. + +"Quite so; now what shall we lay the damages at?" + +"Wull, sir, as for that, I doant rightly know; if so be he'd pay down, +that's one thing, but it's my bleef as you might jist as wull try to dror +blood out of a stoane as git thic feller to do what's right." + +"Shall we say a hundred pounds and costs?" + +Never did man look more astonished than Bumpkin. A hundred pounds! What +a capital thing going to law must be! But, as the reader knows, he was a +remarkably discreet man, and never in the course of his dealing committed +himself till the final moment. Whenever anybody made him a "bid," he +invariably met the offer with one form of refusal. "Nay, nay; it beant +good enough: I bin offered moore." And this had answered so well, that +it came natural to Bumpkin to refuse on all occasions the first offer. +It was not to be wondered at then that the question should be regarded in +the light of an offer from Snooks himself. Now he could hardly say "I +bin _bid moore_ money," because the case wasn't in the market; but he +could and did say the next best thing to it, namely:-- + +"I wunt let un goo for that--'t be wuth moore!" + +"Very well," observed Prigg; "so long as we know: we can lay our damages +at what we please." + +Now there was great consolation in that. The plaintiff paused and rubbed +his chin. "What do thee think, sir?" + +"I think if he pays something handsome, and gives us an apology, and pays +the costs, I should advise you to take it." + +"As you please, sir; I leaves it to you; I beant a hard man, I hope." + +"Very good; we will see what can be done. I shall bring this action in +the Chancery Division." + +"Hem! I've eerd tell, sir, that if ever a case gets into that ere Coourt +he niver comes out agin." + +"O, that's all nonsense; there used to be a good deal of truth in that; +but the procedure is now so altered that you can do pretty much what you +like: this is an age of despatch; you bring your action, and your writ is +almost like a cheque payable on demand!" + +"Wull, I beant no lawyer, never had nothing to do wi un in my life; but I +should like to axe, sir, why thee'll bring this ere case in Chancery?" + +"Good; well, come now, I like to be frank; we shall get more costs?" + +Mr. Bumpkin again rubbed his chin. "And do I get em?" he asked. + +"Well, they go towards expenses; the other side always pays." + +This was a stroke of reasoning not to be gainsaid. But Mr. Prigg had a +further observation to make on the subject, and it was this: + +"After the case has gone on up to being ready for trial, and the Judges +find that it is a case more fitting to be tried in the Common Law Courts, +then an order is made transferring it, that is, sending it out of +Chancery to be tried by one of the other Judges." + +"Can't see un," said Bumpkin, "I beant much of a scollard, but I tak it +thee knows best." + +Mr. Prigg smiled: a beneficent, sympathizing smile. + +"I dare say," he said, "it looks a little mysterious, but we lawyers +understand it; so, if you don't mind, I shall bring it in the Chancery +Division in the first instance; and nice and wild the other side will be. +I fancy I see the countenance of Snooks' lawyer." + +This was a good argument, and perfectly satisfactory to the +unsophisticated mind of Bumpkin. + +"And when," he asked, "will ur come on, think'ee?" + +"O, in due time; everything is done very quickly now--not like it used to +be--you'd be surprised, we used to have to wait years--yes, years, sir, +before an action could be tried; and now, why bless my soul, you get +judgment before you know where you are." + +How true this turned out to be may hereafter appear; but in a dream you +never anticipate. + +"I shall write at once," said "Honest Prigg," "for compensation and an +apology; I think I would have an apology." + +"Make un pay--I doant so much keer for the t'other thing; that beant much +quonsequence." + +"Quite so--quite so." And with this observation Mr. Prigg escorted his +client to the door. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +In which it appears that the sting of slander is not always in the head. + +Mr. Prigg lost no time in addressing a letter to the ill-advised Josiah +Snooks with the familiar and affectionate commencement of "Dear Sir,'" +asking for compensation for the "gross outrage" he had committed upon +"his client;" and an apology to be printed in such papers as he, the +client, should select. + +The "Dear Sir" replied, not in writing, for he was too artful for that, +but by returning, as became his vulgar nature, Mr. Prigg's letter in a +very torn and disgusting condition. + +To a gentleman of cultivated mind and sensitive nature, this was +intolerable; and Mr. Prigg knew that even the golden bridge of compromise +was now destroyed. He no longer felt as a mere lawyer, anxious in the +interests of his client, which was a sufficient number of horse-power for +anything, but like an outraged and insulted gentleman, which was more +after the force of hydraulic pressure than any calculable amount of +horse-power. It was clear to his upright and sensitive mind that Snooks +was a low creature. Consequently all professional courtesies were at an +end: the writ was issued and duly served upon the uncompromising Snooks. +Now a writ is not a matter to grin at and to treat with contempt or +levity. Mr. Snooks could not return that document to Mr. Prigg, so he +had to consider. And first he consulted his wife: this consultation led +to a domestic brawl and then to his kicking one of his horses in the +stomach. Then he threw a shovel at his dog, and next the thought +occurred to him that he had better go and see Mr. Locust. This gentleman +was a solicitor who practised at petty sessions. He did not practise +much, but that was, perhaps, his misfortune rather than his fault. He +was a small, fiery haired man, with a close cut tuft of beard; small +eyes, and a pimply nose, which showed an ostentatious disdain for +everything beneath it. + +Mr. Locust was not at home, but would return about nine. At nine, +therefore, the impatient Snooks appeared. + +"Yes," said Mr. Locust, as he looked at the writ, "I see this writ is +issued by Mr. Prigg." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did he not write to you before issuing it?--dear me, this is very sharp +practice--very sharp practice: the sharpest thing I ever heard of in all +my life." + +"Wull, he did write, but I giv un as good as he sent." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Locust; "I am afraid you have committed +yourself." + +"No I beant, sir," said the cunning Snooks, with a grin, "no I beant." + +"You should never write without consulting a solicitor--bear that in +mind, Mr. Snooks; it will be an invaluable lesson--hem!" + +"I never writ, sir--I ony sent un his letter back." + +"Ah!" said Locust, "come now, that is better; but still you should have +consulted me. I see this claim is for three hundred and fifty +pounds--it's for trespass. Now sit down quietly and calmly, and tell me +the facts." And then he took pen and paper and placed himself in +position to take his retainer and instructions. + +"Wull, sir, it is as this: a Sunday mornin--no, a Sunday mornin week--I +won't tell no lie if I knows it--a Sunday mornin week--" + +"Sunday morning week," writes Locust. + +"I buyd a pig off this ere man for nine and six: well, o' the Monday +mornin I goes with my barrer and a sack and I fetches the pig and gies +the money to his man Joe Wurzel; leastways I puts it on the poast and he +takes it up. Then out comes Bumpkin and swears I never bought un at all, +gets in a rage and hits the bag wi' a stick--" + +"Now stop," said the Lawyer; "are you quite sure he did not strike _you_? +That's the point." + +"Well, sir, he would a' done if I adn't a bobbed." + +"Good: that's an assault in law. You are sure he would have struck you +if you hadn't ducked or bobbed your head?" + +"In course it would, else why should I bob?" + +"Just so--just so. Now then, we've got him there--we've got him nicely." + +Snooks' eyes gleamed. + +"Next I want to know: I suppose you didn't owe him anything?" + +"No, nor no other man," said Snooks, with an air of triumph. "I worked +hard for what I got, and no man can't ax me for a farden. I allays paid +twenty shillings in the pound." + +The reader will observe how virtuous both parties were on this point. + +"So!" said Locust. "Now you haven't told me all that took place." + +"That be about all, sir." + +"Yes, yes; but I suppose there was something said between you--did you +have any words--was he angry--did he call you any names or say anything +in an angry way?" + +"Well, not partickler--" + +"Not particular: I will judge of that. Just tell me what was said." + +"When, sir?" + +"Well, begin on the Sunday morning. What was first said?" + +Then Snooks told the Solicitor all that took place, with sundry additions +which his imagination supplied when his memory failed. + +"And I member the price wull, becos he said 'You beant sellin coals, +recollect, so you doant ave me." + +"Ho! ho!" exclaimed Locust rubbing his hands, "You are sure he said +that?" writing down the words carefully. + +"I be." + +"That will do, we've got him: we've got him nicely. Was anybody present +when he said this?" + +"Yes, sir. Joe were there, and t' best o' my belief, Mrs. Bumpkin." + +"Never mind Mrs. Bumpkin. I don't suppose she was there, if you come to +recollect; it's quite enough if Joe was present and could hear what was +said. I suppose he could hear it?" + +"Stood cloase by." + +"Very well--that is slander--and slander of a very gross kind. We've got +him." + +"Be it?" said Snooks. + +"I'll show you," said Locust; "in law a man slanders you if he insinuates +that you are dishonest; now what does this Bumpkin do? he says 'you don't +have me,' meaning thereby that you don't trick him out of his pig; and, +'you are not selling coals,' meaning that when you do sell coals you do +trick people. Do you see?--that you cheat them, in fact rob them." + +Snooks thought Mr. Locust the most wonderful man he had ever come across. +This was quite a new way of putting it. + +"But ur didn't say as much," he said, wondering whether that made any +difference. + +"Perfectly immaterial in law," said Mr. Locust: "it isn't what a man +says, it's what he _means_: you put that in by an innuendo--" + +"A what, sir? begging pardon--" + +"It's what we lawyers call an innuendo: that is to say, making out that a +man says so and so when he doesn't." + +"I zee," said the artful Snooks, quick at apprehending every point. +"Then if he called a chap a devilish honest man and the innu--what d'ye +call it, meant he were a thief, you got him?" + +"Well," said Mr. Locust, smiling, "that is going rather far, Mr. Snooks, +but I see you understand what I mean." + +"I thinks so, sir. I thinks I has your meanin." + +"It's a very gross slander," observed Mr. Locust, "and especially upon a +tradesman in your position. I suppose now you have lived in the +neighbourhood a considerable time?" + +"All my life, sir." + +"Ah! just so, just so--now let me see; and, if I remember rightly, you +have a vote for the County." + +"I ave, sir, and allus votes blue, and that's moore." + +"Then you're on our side. I'm very glad indeed to hear that; a vote's a +vote, you know, now-a-days." + +Any one would have thought, to hear Mr. Locust, that votes were scarce +commodities, whereas we know that they are among the most plentiful +articles of commerce as well as the cheapest. + +"And you have, I think, a family, Mr. Snooks." + +"Four on em, sir." + +"Ah! how very nice, how laudable to make a little provision for them: as +I often say, if a man can only leave his children a few hundreds apiece, +it's something." + +The solicitor watched his client's face as he uttered this profound +truism, and the face being as open and genuine as was Snooks' character, +it said plainly enough "Yes, I have a few hundreds." + +"Well then," continued Mr. Locust, "having been in business all these +years, and being, as times go, tolerably successful, being a careful man, +and having got together by honest industry a nice little independency--" + +Here the learned gentleman paused, and here, unfortunately, Snooks' open +and candid heart revealed itself through his open and candid countenance. + +"I _believe_," said Mr. Locust, "I am right?" + +"You're about right, sir." + +"Very charming, very gratifying to one's feelings," continued Mr. Locust; +"and then, just as you are beginning to get comfortable and getting your +family placed in the world, here comes this what shall I call him, I +never like to use strong language, this intolerable blackguard, and calls +you a thief--a detestable thief." + +"Well, he didn't use that air word, sir--I wool say that," said Mr. +Snooks. + +"In law he did, my good man--he meant it and said it--he insinuated that +you cheated the poor--you serve a good many of the poor, I think?" + +"I do, sir." + +"Well, he insinuated that you cheated them by giving short weight and bad +coals--that is worse than being a thief, to my mind--such a man deserves +hanging." + +"Damn him," said Snooks, "that's it, is it?" + +"That's it, my dear sir, smooth it over as you will. I don't want to +make more of it than necessary, but we must look at it fairly and study +the consequences. Now I want to ask you particularly, because we must +claim special damage for this, if possible--have you lost any customers +through this outrageous slander?" + +"Can't say I have, rightly, sir." + +"No, but you will--mark my words, as soon as people hear of this they +will cease to deal with you. They can't deal with you." + +"I hope not, sir." + +"So do I; but let me tell Mr. Bumpkin" (here the learned man shook his +forefinger as though it had been the often quoted finger of scorn) "that +for every customer you lose we'll make him answerable in damages. He'll +repeat this slander: take my advice and get some one to look out, and +make a note of it--be on your guard!" + +Snooks wiped the perspiration from his forehead and then threw his large +coloured handkerchief into his hat, which he held by both hands between +his knees, + +"It be a bad case then, sir?" + +"A very bad case for Bumpkin!" replied Mr. Locust; "let me have a list of +your customers as soon as you can, and we shall see who leaves you in +consequence of this slander. Does my friend, Mr. Overrighteous, deal +with you? I think he does?" + +"He do, sir, and have for five or six years--and a good customer he be." + +"Ah! now, there's a man! Whatever you do don't let Mr. Overrighteous +know of it: he would leave you directly: a more particular man than that +can't be. Then again, there is my friend Flythekite, does he deal with +you? Of course he does!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And you'll lose him--sure to lose him." + +Judging from Mr. Snooks' countenance it would have been small damage if +he did. + +"Ve-ry well," continued Locust, after a pause, "ve-ry well--just so." +Then he looked at the copy of the writ and perceived that it was dated +eighteen hundred and ninety something instead of eighteen hundred and +seventy something. So he said that the writ was wrong and they ought not +to appear; "by which means," said he, "we shall let them in at the start +for a lot of costs--we shall let them in." + +"And will that stash the action?" asked Snooks. + +"It will not stash ours," said Locust. "I suppose you mean to go on +whether he does or not? Your claim is for assault and slander." + +"As you please, sir." + +"No, no, as you please. I have not been called a thief--they haven't +said that I sell short weight and cheat and defraud the poor: _my_ +business will not be ruined--_my_ character is not at stake." + +"Let un have it, sir; he be a bad un," and here he rose to depart. Mr. +Locust gave him a professional shake of the hand and wished him good day. +But as the door was just about to be closed on his client, he remembered +something which he desired to ask, so he called, "Mr. Snooks!" + +"Sir," said the client. + +"Is there any truth in the statement that this Bumpkin beats his wife?" + +"I doant rightly know," said Snooks, in a hesitating voice; "it may be +true. I shouldn't wonder--he's just the sort o' man." + +"Just enquire about that, will you?" + +"I wool, sir," said Snooks; and thus his interview with his Solicitor +terminated. + +Now the result of the enquiries as to the domestic happiness of Bumpkin +was this; first, the question floated about in a vague sort of form, +"_Does Bumpkin beat his wife_?" then it grew into "_Have you heard that +Bumpkin beats his wife_?" and lastly, it was affirmed that Bumpkin +"_really did beat his wife_." And the scandal spread so rapidly that it +soon reached the ears of plaintiff himself, who would have treated it +with the contempt it deserved, knowing the quarter whence it came, but +that it was so gross a calumny that he determined to give the lying +Snooks no quarter, and to press his action with all the energy at his +command. + +After this there could be no compromise. + +"I wish," said Snooks to himself, as he smoked his pipe that evening, "I +could a worked one o' them there innerenders in my trade--I could a made +summut on him." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Showing how the greatest wisdom of Parliament may be thrown away on +ungrateful people. + +The first skirmish between the two doughty champions of the hostile +forces took place over the misdated writ. Judgment was signed for want +of appearance; and then came a summons to set it aside. The Judge set it +aside, and the Divisional Court set aside the Judge, and the Court of +Appeal set aside the Divisional Court upon the terms of the defendant +paying the costs, and the writ being amended, &c. &c. And I saw that +when the Judge in Chambers had hesitatingly and "not without grave doubt" +set aside the judgment, Mr. Prigg said to Mr. Locust, "What a very nice +point!" And Mr. Locust replied: + +"A very nice point, indeed! Of course you'll appeal?" And Mr. Quibbler, +Mr. Locust's pleader, said, "A very neat point!" + +"Oh dear, yes," answered Mr. Prigg. + +And then Mr. Prigg's clerk said to Mr. Locust's clerk--"What a very nice +point!" And Mr. Locust's clerk rejoined that it was indeed a very nice +point! And then Mr. Locust's boy in the office said to Mr. Prigg's boy +in the office, "What a very nice point!" And Mr. Prigg's boy, a pale +tall lad of about five feet six, and of remarkably quiet demeanour, +replied-- + +"A dam nice point!" + +Next came letters from the respective Solicitors, suggesting a compromise +in such terms that compromise became impossible; each affirming that he +was so averse from litigation that almost any amicable arrangement that +could be come to would be most welcome. Each required a sum of two +hundred pounds and an apology in six morning papers. And I saw at the +foot of one of Mr. Prigg's letters, when the hope of compromise was +nearly at an end, these touching words: + +"Bumpkin's blood's up!" + +And at the end of the answer thereto, this very expressive retort: + +"You say Bumpkin's blood is up; so is Snooks'--do your worst!" + +As I desire to inform the lay reader as to the interesting course an +action may take under the present expeditious mode of procedure, I must +now state what I saw in my dream. The course is sinuosity itself in +appearance, but that only renders it the more beautiful. The reader will +be able to judge for himself of the simple method by which we try actions +nowadays, and how very delightful the procedure is. The first skirmish +cost Snooks seventeen pounds six shillings and eight-pence. It cost +Bumpkin only three pounds seventeen shillings, or _one heifer_. Now +commenced that wonderful process called "Pleading," which has been the +delight and the pride of so many ages; developing gradually century by +century, until at last it has perfected itself into the most beautiful +system of evasion and duplicity that the world has ever seen. It ranks +as one of the fine Arts with Poetry and Painting. A great Pleader is +truly a great Artist, and more imaginative than any other. The number of +summonses at Chambers is only limited by his capacity to invent them. +Ask any respectable solicitor how many honest claims are stifled by +proceedings at Chambers. And if I may digress in all sincerity for the +purpose of usefulness, I may state that while recording my dream for the +Press, Solicitors have begged of me to bring this matter forward, so that +the Public may know how their interests are played with, and their rights +stifled by the iniquitous system of proceedings at Chambers. + +The Victorian age will be surely known as the Age of Pleading, Poetry, +and Painting. + +First, the Statement of Claim. Summons at Chambers to plead and demur; +summons to strike out; summons to let in; summons to answer, summons not +to answer; summonses for all sorts of conceivable and inconceivable +objects; summonses for no objects at all except costs. And let me here +say Mr. Prigg and Mr. Locust are not alone blameable for this: Mr. +Quibbler, Mr. Locust's Pleader, had more to do with this than the +Solicitor himself. And so had Mr. Wrangler, the Pleader of Mr. Prigg. +But without repeating what I saw, let the reader take this as the line of +proceeding throughout, repeated in at least a dozen instances:-- + + The Judge at Chambers reversed the Master; + + The Divisional Court reversed the Judge; + + And the Court of Appeal reversed the Divisional Court. + +And let this be the chorus:-- + + "What a very nice point!" said Prigg; + + "What a very nice point!" said Locust; + + "What a very nice point!" said Gride (Prigg's clerk); + + "What a d--- nice point!" said Horatio! (the pale boy). + + Summons for particulars.--Chorus. + + Further and better particulars.--Chorus. + + Interrogatories--Summons to strike out.--Chorus. + + Summons for further and better answers.--Chorus. + + More summonses for more, further, better, and all sorts of + things.--Chorus. + +All this repeated by the other side, of course; because each has his +proper innings. There is great fairness and impartiality in the game. +Something was always going up from the foot of this Jacob's ladder called +"the Master" to the higher regions called the Court of Appeal. The +simplest possible matter, which any old laundress of the Temple ought to +have been competent to decide by giving both the parties a box on the +ear, was taken before the Master, from the Master to the Judge, from the +Judge to the Divisional Court, and from the Divisional Court to the Court +of Appeal, at the expense of the unfortunate litigants; while Judges, who +ought to have been engaged in disposing of the business of the country, +were occupied in deciding legal quibbles and miserable technicalities. +All this I saw in my dream. Up and down this ladder Bumpkin and Snooks +were driven--one going up the front while the other was coming down the +back. And I heard Bumpkin ask if he wasn't entitled to the costs which +the Court gave when he won. But the answer of Mr. Prigg was, "No, my +dear sir, the labourer is worthy of his hire." And I saw a great many +more ups and downs on the ladder which I should weary the reader by +repeating: they are all alike equally useless and equally contemptible. +Then I thought that poor Bumpkin went up the ladder with a great bundle +on his back; and his face seemed quite changed, so that I hardly knew +him, and I said to Horatio, the pale boy-- + +"Who is that going up now? It looks like Christian in the Pilgrim's +Progress." + +"Oh, no," said Horatio, "that's old Bumpkin--it's a regler sweater for +him, ain't it?" + +I said, "Whatever can it be? will he ever reach the top?" + +Here Bumpkin seemed to slip, and it almost took my breath away; whereat +the pale boy laughed, stooping down as he laughed, and thrusting his +hands into his breeches pockets, + +"By George!" he exclaimed, "what a jolly lark!" + +"I hope he won't fall," I exclaimed. "What has he got on his back?" + +"A DEMURRER," said Horatio, laughing. "Look at him! That there ladder's +the Judicatur Act: don't it reach a height? There's as many rounds in +that there ladder as would take a man a lifetime to go up if it was all +spread out; it's just like them fire escapes in reaching up, but nobody +ever escapes by it." + +"It will break the poor man's back," said I, as he was a few feet from +the top. And then in my dream I thought he fell; and the fright was so +great that I awoke, and found I was sitting in my easy chair by the fire, +and the pipe I had been smoking had fallen out of my hand. + + * * * * * + +"You've been dreaming," said my wife; "and I fear have had a nightmare." +When I was thoroughly aroused, and had refilled my pipe, I told her all +my dream. + +Then cried she, "I hope good Mr. Bumpkin will get up safely with that +great bundle." + +"It doesn't matter," said I, "whether he do or not; he will have to bear +its burden, whether he take it up or bring it back. He will have to +bring it down again after showing it to the gentlemen at the top." + +"What do they want to see it for?" cried she. + +"They have no wish to see it," I replied; "on the contrary, they would +rather not. They will simply say he is a very foolish man for his pains +to clamber up so high with so useless a burden." + +"But why don't they check him?" + +"Because they have no power; they look and wonder at the folly of +mankind, who can devise no better scheme of amusement for getting rid of +their money." + +"But the lawyers are wise people, and they should know better." + +"The lawyers," said I, "do know better; and all respectable lawyers +detest the complicated system which brings them more abuse than fees. +They see men, permitted by the law, without character and conscience, +bring disgrace on an honourable body of practitioners." + +"But do they not remonstrate?" + +"They do, but with little effect; no one knows who is responsible for the +mischief or how to cure it." + +"That is strange." + +"Yes, but the time will come when the people will insist on a cheaper and +more expeditious system. Half-a-dozen solicitors and members of the +junior bar could devise such a system in a week." + +"Then why are they not permitted to take it in hand?" + +"Because," said I, "Old Fogeyism has, at present, only got the gout in +one leg; wait till he has it in both, and then Common Sense will rise to +the occasion." + +"But what," quoth she, "is this fine art you spoke of?" + +"Pleading!" + +"Yes; in what consists its great art?" + +"In artfulness," quoth I. + +Then there was a pause, and at length I said, "I will endeavour to give +you an illustration of the process of pleading from ancient history: you +have heard, I doubt not, of Joseph and his Brethren." + +"O, to be sure," cried she; "did they not put him in the pit?" + +"Well, I believe they put him in the pit, but I am not referring to that. +The corn in Egypt is what I mean." + +"When they found all their money in their sacks' mouths?" + +"Exactly. Now if Joseph had prosecuted those men for stealing the money, +they would simply have pleaded not guilty, and the case would have been +tried without any bother, and the defendants have been acquitted or +convicted according to the wisdom of the judge, the skill of the counsel, +and the common sense of the jury. But now suppose instead thereof, +Joseph had brought an action for the price of the corn." + +"Would it not have been as simple?" + +"You shall see. The facts would have been stated with some accuracy and +a good deal of inaccuracy, and a good many things which were not facts +would have been introduced. Then the defendants in their statement of +defence would have denied that there was any such place as Egypt as +alleged; {52} denied that Pharaoh was King thereof; denied that he had +any corn to sell; denied that the said Joseph had any authority to sell; +denied that they or any of them went into Egypt; denied that they ever +saw the said Joseph or had any communication with him whatever, either by +means of an interpreter or otherwise; denied, in fact, everything except +their own existence; but in the alternative they would go on to say, if +it should be proved that there was a place called Egypt, a man called +Pharaoh, an agent of his called Joseph, and that the defendants actually +did go to Egypt, all of which they one and all absolutely deny (as +becomes men of honour), then they say, that being large corn-merchants +and well known to the said Joseph, the factor of the said Pharaoh, as +purchasers only of corn for domestic purposes, and requiring therefore a +good sound merchantable article, the said Joseph, by falsely and +fraudulently representing that certain corn of which he, the said Joseph, +was possessed, was at that time of a good sound and merchantable quality +and fit for seed and domestic purposes, by the said false and fraudulent +representations he, the said Joseph, induced the defendants to purchase a +large quantity thereof, to wit, five thousand sacks; whereas the said +corn was not of a good sound and merchantable quality and fit for seed +and domestic purposes, but was maggoty from damp, and infected with smut +and altogether worthless, as he, the said Joseph, well knew at the time +he made the said false representations. The defendants would also +further allege that, relying on the said Joseph's word, they took away +the said corn, but having occasion at the inn to look into the said +sacks, they found that the said wheat was worthless, and immediately +communicated with the said Joseph by sending their younger brother Simeon +down to demand a return of the price of the said corn. But when the said +Simeon came to the said Joseph the said Joseph caught him, and kicked +him, and beat him with a great stick, and had him to prison, and would +not restore him to his brethren, the defendants. Whereupon the +defendants sent other messengers, and at length, after being detained a +long time at the said inn, the said Joseph came down, and on being shown +the said corn, admitted that it was in bad condition. Whereupon the +defendants, fearing to trust the said Joseph with the said sacks until +they had got a return of their said money, demanded that he, the said +Joseph, should put the full tale of every man's money in the sack of the +said man; which thing the said Joseph agreed to, and placed every man's +money in the mouth of his said sack. And when the said man was about to +reach forth his hand to take his said money, the said Joseph seized the +said hand and held him fast--." + +"Stop, stop!" cried my wife; "the said Joseph had not ten hands. You +must surely draw the line somewhere." + +"No, no," said I, "that is good pleading; if the other side should omit +to deny it, it will be taken by the rules of pleading to be admitted." + +"But surely you can't admit impossibilities!" + +"Can't you, though!" cried I. "You can do almost anything in pleading." + +"Except, it seems to me, tell the truth." + +"You mustn't be too hard upon us poor juniors," cried I. "I haven't come +to the Counterclaim yet." + +"O don't let us have Counterclaims," quoth she; "they can have no claim +against Joseph?" + +"What, not for selling them smutty wheat?" + +"Nonsense." + +"I say yes; and he'll have to call a number of witnesses to prove the +contrary--nor do I think he will be able to do it." + +"I fail now," said my wife, "to see how this pleading is a fine art. +Really, without joking, what is the art?" + +"The art of pleading," said I, "consists in denying what is, and inducing +your adversary to admit what isn't." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Showing that appropriateness of time and place should be studied in our +pastimes. + +The next night, sitting over the cheerful fire and comfortably resting +after the labours of the day, I dreamed again, and I saw that Horatio +Snigger was "the Office Boy" of Mr. Prigg. He had been in the employment +of that gentleman about two years. He was tall for his money, standing, +in his shoes, at least five feet six, and receiving for his services, +five shillings and sixpence a week, (that is, a shilling for every foot +and a penny for every odd inch), his last rise (I mean in money,) having +taken place about a month ago. + +Horatio was a lad of as much spirit as any boy I ever saw. I do not +believe he had any liking for the profession, but had entered it simply +as his first step in life, utterly in the dark as to whither it would +lead him. It was, I believe, some disappointment to his father that on +no occasion when he interrogated him as to his "getting on," could he +elicit any more cheering reply than "very well." And yet Horatio, during +the time he had been with Mr. Prigg, had had opportunities of studying +character in its ever-varying phases as presented by Courts of Justice +and kindred places. + +"Kindred places!" Yes, I mean "Judges' Chambers," where any boy may +speedily be impressed with the dignity and simplicity of the practice of +the Law, especially since the passing of the Judicature Act. To my lay +readers who may wish to know what "Judges' Chambers" means, I may observe +that it is a place where innumerable proceedings may be taken for +lengthening a case, embarrassing the clients, and spending money. It is, +to put it in another form, a sort of Grands Mulets in the Mont Blanc of +litigation, whence, if by the time you get there you are not thoroughly +"pumped out," you may go on farther and in due time reach the top, +whence, I am told, there is a most magnificent view. + +But even the beauty of the proceedings at Judges' Chambers failed to +impress Horatio with the dignity of the profession. He lounged among the +crowds of chattering boys and youths who "cheeked" one another before +that august personage "the Master," declaring that "Master" couldn't do +this and "Master" couldn't do that; that the other side was too late or +too soon; that his particulars were too meagre or too full; or his +answers to interrogatories too evasive or not sufficiently diffuse, and +went on generally as if the whole object of the law were to raise as many +difficulties as possible in the way of its application. As if, in fact, +it had fenced itself in with such an undergrowth of brambles that no +amount of ability and perseverance could arrive at it. + +From what I perceived of the character of Horatio, I should say that he +was a scoffer. He was a mild, good-tempered, well-behaved boy enough, +but ridiculed many proceedings which he ought to have reverenced. He was +a great favourite with Mr. Prigg, because, if anything in the world +attracted the boy's admiration, it was that gentleman's pious demeanour +and profound knowledge. But the exuberance of the lad's spirits when +away from his employer was in exact proportion to the moral pressure +brought to bear upon him while in that gentleman's presence. As an +illustration of this remark and proof of the twofold character of +Horatio, I will relate what I saw after the "Master" had determined that +the tail of the 9 was a very nice point, but that there was nothing in +it. They had all waited a long time at Judge's Chambers, and their +spirits were, no doubt, somewhat elated by at last getting the matter +disposed of. + +Horatio heard Mr. Prigg say to Mr. Locust, "What a very nice point!" and +had heard Mr. Locust reply, "A very nice point, indeed!" And Mr. Gride, +the clerk, say, "What, a very nice point!" and somebody else's clerk say, +"What a very nice point!" And Horatio felt, as a humble member of the +profession, he must chime in with the rest of the firm. So, having said +to Locust's boy, "What a dam nice point!" he went back to his lonely den +in Bedford Row and then, as he termed it, "let himself out." He +accomplished this proceeding by first taking off his coat and throwing it +on to a chair; he next threw but his arms, with his fists firmly +clenched, as though he had hardly yet to its fullest extent realized the +"_niceness_" of the point which the Master had determined. The next step +which Horatio took was what is called "The double shuffle," which, I may +inform my readers, is the step usually practised by the gentleman who +imitates the sailor in the hornpipe on the stage. Being a slim and agile +youth, Horatio's performance was by no means contemptible, except that it +was no part of his professional duty to dance a Hornpipe. Then I saw +that this young gentleman in the exuberance of his youthful spirits +prepared for another exhibition of his talent. He cleared his throat, +once more threw out his arms, stamped his right foot loudly on the floor, +after the manner of the Ethiopian dancer with the long shoe, and then to +my astonishment poured forth the following words in a very agreeable, +and, as it seemed to me, melodious voice,-- + + "What a very nice point, said Prigg." + +Then came what I suppose would be called a few bars of the hornpipe; then +he gave another line,-- + + "What a very nice point, said Gride." + +(Another part of the hornpipe.) Then he sang the third and fourth lines, +dancing vigorously the while: + + "It will take a dozen lawyers with their everlasting jaw: + It will take a dozen judges with their ever changing law"-- + +(Vigorous dancing for some moments), and then a pause, during which +Horatio, slightly stooping, placed two fingers of his left hand to the +side of his nose, and turning his eyes to the right, sang-- + + "And"-- + +Paused again, and finished vehemently as follows: + + "Twenty golden guineas to decide!" + +Then came the most enthusiastic hornpipe that ever was seen, and Horatio +was in the seventh Heaven of delight, when the door suddenly opened, and +Mr. Prigg entered! + +It was unfortunate for Horatio that his back being towards the door he +could not see his master enter; and it need scarcely be said that the +noise produced by the dance prevented him from hearing his approach. + +Mr. Prigg looked astounded at the sight that presented itself. The whole +verse was repeated, and the whole dance gone through again in the sight +and hearing of that gentleman. Was the boy mad? Had the strain of +business been too much for him? + +As if by instinct Horatio at last became aware of his master's presence. +A change more rapid, transformation more complete I never saw. The lad +hung his head, and wandered to the chair where his coat was lying. It +took him some time to put it on, for the sleeves seemed somehow to be +twisted; at length, once more arrayed, and apparently in his right mind, +he stood with three-quarter face towards his astonished master. + +Mr. Prigg did not turn his head even on this occasion. He preserved a +dignified silence for some time, and then spoke in a deep tragic tone: + +"Horatio!" + +Horatio did hot answer. + +"What is the meaning of this exhibition, Horatio?" + +"I was only having a little fun, sir," said the youthful clerk. + +"I am not averse to youth enjoying itself," said Mr. Prigg; "but it must +be at proper seasons, and in appropriate places; there is also to be +exercised a certain discretion in the choice of those amusements in which +youth should indulge. I am not aware what category of recreation your +present exhibition may belong to, but I may inform you that in my humble +judgment--I may be mistaken, and you may know far better than I--but as +at present advised, I do not see that your late performance is consistent +with the duties of a solicitor's clerk." And then he muttered to +himself, "Quite so." + +After this magnificent rebuke, Mr. Prigg drew out his cambric +handkerchief, and most gently applied it to his stately nose. + +"Again," said Mr. Prigg, "I heard language, or thought I heard language, +which I should construe as decidedly derogatory to the Profession which +you serve and to which I have the honour to belong." + +"I was only in fun, sir," said Horatio, gathering confidence as Mr. Prigg +proceeded. + +"Quite so, quite so; that may be, I sincerely hope you were; but never +make fun of that by which you live; you derive what I may call a very +competent, not to say handsome, salary from the proceedings which you +make fun of. This is sad, and manifests a spirit of levity." + +"I didn't mean it like that, sir." + +"Very well," said the good man, "I am glad to perceive that you are +brought to a proper sense of the impropriety of your conduct. I will not +discharge you on this occasion, for the sake of your father, whom I have +known for so many years: but never let this occur again. Dancing is at +all times, to my mind, a very questionable amusement; but when it is +accompanied, as I perceived it was on this occasion, with gestures which +I cannot characterize by any other term than disgusting; and when further +you take the liberty of using my name in what I presume you intended for +a comic song, I must confess that I can hardly repress my feelings of +indignation. I hope you are penitent." + +Horatio hung down his head, and said he was very sorry Mr. Prigg had +heard it, for he only intended it for his own amusement. + +"I shall take care," said Mr. Prigg, "that you have less opportunity for +such exercises as I have unfortunately witnessed." And having thus +admonished the repentant youth, Mr. Prigg left him to his reflections. I +am glad Mr. Prigg did not return while the pale boy was reflecting. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +The pleasure of a country drive on a summer evening described as enhanced +by a pious mind. + +It is only fair to the very able solicitors on both sides in the +memorable case of _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ to state that the greatest +possible despatch was exercised on all occasions. Scarcely a day passed +without something being done, as Prigg expressed it, "to expedite +matters." Month after month may have passed away without any apparent +advance; but this in reality was not the case. Many appeals on what +seemed trifling matters had been heard; so many indeed that _Bumpkin_ v. +_Snooks_ had become a household word with the Court of Appeal, and a +bye-word among the innumerable loafers about Judge's Chambers. + +"What! _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ again!" the President would say. "What is +it now? It's a pity the parties to this case can't agree: it seems a +very trifling matter." + +"Not so, my lord, as your lordship will quickly apprehend when the new +point is brought before your notice. A question of principle is here +which may form a precedent for the guidance of future Judges, as did the +famous case of _Perryman_ v. _Lister_, which went to the House of Lords +about prosecuting a man for stealing a gun. This is about a pig, my +lord--a little pig, no doubt, and although there is not much in the pig, +there is a good deal outside it." + +And often did Prigg say to Locust: + +"I say, Locust, whenever _shall_ we be ready to set this case down for +trial?" + +"Really, my dear Prigg," Locust would reply, "it seems interminable--come +and dine with me." So the gentle and innocent reader will at once +perceive that there was great impatience on all sides to get this case +ready for trial. Meanwhile it may not be uninteresting to describe +shortly some of the many changes that had taken place in the few short +months since the action commenced. + +First it was clearly observable by the inhabitants of Yokelton that Mr. +Prigg's position had considerably improved. I say nothing of his new +hat; that was a small matter, but not so his style of living--so great an +advance had that made that it attracted the attention of the neighbours, +who often remarked that Mr. Prigg seemed to be getting a large practice. +He was often seen with his lady on a summer afternoon taking the air in a +nice open carriage--hired, it is true, for the occasion. And everybody +remarked how uncommonly ladylike Mrs. Prigg lay back in the vehicle, and +how very gracefully she held her new aesthetic parasol. And what a proud +moment it was for Bumpkin, when he saw this good and respectable +gentleman pass with the ladylike creature beside him; and Mr. Bumpkin +would say to his neighbours, lifting his hat at the same moment, + +"That be my loryer, that air be!" + +And then Mr. Prigg would gracefully raise his hat, and Mrs. Prigg would +lie back perfectly motionless as became a very languid lady of her +exalted position. And when Mr. Prigg said to Mrs. Prigg, "My dear, that +is our new client;" Mrs. Prigg would elevate her arched eyebrows and +expand her delicate nostrils as she answered,-- + +"Really, my love, what a very vulgar-looking creechar!" + +"Not nearly so vulgar as Locust's client," rejoined her husband. "You +should see him." + +"Thank you, my love, it is quite enough to catch a glimpse of the +superior person of the two." + +Mr. Prigg seemed to think it a qualifying circumstance that Snooks was a +more vulgar-looking man than Bumpkin, whereas a moment's consideration +showed Mrs. Prigg how illogical that was. It is the intrinsic and +personal value that one has to measure things by. This value could not +be heightened by contrast. Mrs. Prigg's curiosity, however, naturally +led her to inquire who the other creechar was? As if she had never heard +of _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_, although she had actually got the case on four +wheels and was riding in it at that very moment; as if in fact she was +not practically all Bumpkin, as a silkworm may be said to be all mulberry +leaves. As if she knew nothing of her husband's business! Her ideas +were not of this world. Give her a church to build, she'd harass people +for subscriptions; or let it be a meeting to clothe the naked savage, +Mrs. Prigg would be there. She knew nothing of clothing Bumpkin! But +she did interest herself sufficiently in her husband's conversation to +ask, in answer to his reference to Locust's disreputable client, + +"And who is he, pray?" + +"My darling," said Prigg, "you must have heard of Snooks?" + +"Oh," drawled Mrs. Prigg, "do you mean the creechar who sells coals?" + +"The same, my dear." + +"And are you engaged against _that_ man? How very dreadful!" + +"My darling," observed Mr. Prigg, "it is not for us to choose our +opponents; nor indeed, for the matter of that, our clients." + +"I can quite perceive that," returned the lady, "or you would never have +chosen such men--dear me!" + +"We are like physicians," returned Mr. Prigg, "called in in case of +need." + +"And the healing virtues of your profession must not be confined to rich +patients," said Mrs. Prigg, in her jocular manner. + +"By no means," was the good man's reply; "justice is as much the right of +the poor as the rich--so is the air we breathe--so is everything." And +he put his fingers together again, as was his wont whenever he uttered a +philosophical or moral platitude. + +So I saw in my dream that the good man and his ladylike wife rode through +the beautiful lanes, and over the breezy common on that lovely summer +afternoon, and as they drew up on the summit of a hill which gave a view +of the distant landscape, there was a serenity in the scene which could +only be compared to the serenity of Mr. Prigg's benevolent countenance; +and there was a calm, deeply, sweetly impressive, which could only be +appreciated by a mind at peace with itself in particular, and with the +world in general. Then came from a neighbouring wood the clear voice of +the cuckoo. It seemed to sing purposely in honour of the good man; and I +fancied I could see a ravenous hawk upon a tree, abashed at Mr. Prigg's +presence and superior ability; and a fluttering timid lark seemed to +shriek, "Wicked bird, live and let live;" but it was the last word the +silly lark uttered, for the hawk was upon him in a moment, and the little +innocent songster was crushed in its ravenous beak. Still the cuckoo +sang on in praise of Mr. Prigg, with now and then a little note for Mrs. +Prigg; for the cuckoo is a very gallant little bird, and Mrs. Prigg was +such a heavenly creature that no cuckoo could be conscious of her +presence without hymning her praise. + +"Listen," said Mrs. Prigg, "isn't it beautiful? I wonder where cuckoos +go to?" + +"Ah, my dear!" said Prigg, enraptured with the clear notes and the +beautiful scene; but neither of them seemed to wonder where hawks go to. + +"Do you hear the echo, love? Isn't it beautiful?" + +O, yes, it was beautiful! Nature does indeed lift the soul on a quiet +evening from the grovelling occupations of earth to bask in the genial +sunshine of a more spiritual existence. What was Bumpkin? What was +Snooks to a scene like this? Suddenly the cuckoo ceased. Wonderful +bird! I don't know whether it was the presence of the hawk that hushed +its voice or the sight of Mr. Prigg as he stood up in the carriage to +take a more extended view of the prospect; but the familiar note was +hushed, and the evening hymn in praise of the Priggs was over. + +So the journey was continued by the beautiful wood of oaks and chestnuts, +along by the hillside from which you could perceive in the far distance +the little stream as it wound along by meadow and wood and then lost +itself beneath the hill that rose abruptly on the left. + +The stream was the symbol of life--probably Bumpkin's life; all nature +presents similes to a religious mind. And so the evening journey was +continued with ever awakening feelings of delight and gratitude until +they once more entered their peaceful home. And this brings me to +another consideration which ought not to be passed over with +indifference. + +I saw in my dream that a great change had taken place in the home of the +Priggs. The furniture had undergone a metamorphosis almost so striking +that I thought Mr. Prigg must be a wizard. The gentle reader knows all +about Cinderella; but here was a transformation more surprising. I saw +that one of Mr. Bumpkin's pigs had been turned into a very pretty +walnut-wood whatnot, and stood in the drawing-room, and on it stood +several of the ducks and geese that used to swim in the pond of Southwood +farm. They were not ducks and geese now, but pretty silent ornaments. +An old rough-looking stack of oats had been turned into a very nice +Turkey carpet for the dining-room. Poor old Jack the donkey had been +changed into a musical box that stood on a little table made out of a +calf. One day Mr. Bumpkin called to see how his case was going on, and +by mistake got into this room among his cows and pigs; but not one of +them did the farmer know, and when the maid invited him to sit down he +was afraid of spoiling something. + +Now summonses at Chambers, and appeals, and demurrers, are not at all bad +conjuring wands, if you only know how to use them. Two clever men like +Prigg and Locust, not only surprise the profession, but alarm the public, +since no one knows what will take place next, and Justice herself is +startled from her propriety. Let no clamorous law reformer say that +interrogatories or any other multitudinous proceedings at Judge's +Chambers are useless. It is astonishing how many changes you can ring +upon them with a little ingenuity, and a very little scrupulosity. Mr. +Prigg turned two sides of bacon into an Indian vase, and performed many +other feats truly astonishing to persons who look on as mere spectators, +and wonder how it is done. Wave your magic wand, good Prigg, and you +shall see a hayrick turn into a chestnut mare; and a four-wheeled waggon +into a Victoria. + +But the greatest change he had effected was in Mr. Bumpkin himself, who +loved to hear his wife read the interrogatories and answers. The almanac +was nothing to this. He had no idea law was so interesting. I dare say +there were two guiding influences working within him, in addition to the +many influences working without; one being that inherent British pluck, +which once aroused, "doesn't care, sir, if it costs me a thousand pound, +I'll have it out wi' un;" the other was the delicious thought that all +his present outlay would be repaid by the cunning and covetous Snooks. +So much was Bumpkin's heart in the work of crushing his opponent, that +expense was treated with ridicule. I heard him one day say jocularly to +Mr. Prigg, who had come for an affidavit: + +"Be it a pig, sir, or a heifer?" + +"O," said the worthy Prigg, "we want a pretty good one; I think it must +be a heifer." + +All this was very pleasant, and made the business, dull and prosaic in +itself, a cheerful recreation. + +Then, again, there was a feeling of self-importance whenever these +affidavits came to be sworn. Mr. Bumpkin would put down his ash-stick by +the side of the fireplace, and bidding his visitor be seated, would +compose himself with satisfaction to listen to the oft-repeated words: + +"I, Thomas Bumpkin, make oath, and say--" + +Fancy, "_I_, _Bumpkin_!" Just let the reader pause over that for a +moment! What must "I, Bumpkin," be whose statement is required on oath +before my Lord Judge? + +Always, at these words, he would shout. "That be it--now then, sir, +would you please begin that agin?"--while, if Mrs. Bumpkin were not too +busy, he would call her in to hear them too. + +So there was no wonder that the action went merrily along. Once get up +enthusiasm in a cause, and it is half won. Without enthusiasm, few +causes can succeed against opposition. Then, again, the affidavit +described Bumpkin as a Yeoman. What, I wonder, would Snooks the +coal-merchant think of that? + +So everything proceeded satisfactorily, and the months rolled away; the +seasons came in their turn, so did the crops, so did the farrows of pigs, +so did the spring chickens, and young ducks (prettiest little golden +things in the world, on the water); so did Mr. Prigg, and so did a +gentleman (hereafter to be called "the man,") with whom a very convenient +arrangement was made, by which Mr. Bumpkin preserved the whole of his +remaining stock intact; had not in fact to advance a single penny piece +more; all advances necessary for the prosecution of the action being made +by the strange gentleman (whose name I did not catch) under that most +convenient of all legal forms, "a Bill of Sale." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +A farmhouse winter fireside--a morning drive and a mutual interchange of +ideas between town and country: showing how we may all learn something +from one another. + +I never saw the home of Farmer Bumpkin without thinking what a happy and +comfortable home it was. The old elm tree that waved over the thatched +roof, seemed to bless and protect it. On a winter's evening, when +Bumpkin was sitting in one corner smoking his long pipe, Mrs. Bumpkin +darning her stockings, and Joe on the other side looking into the blazing +fire, while the old Collie stretched himself in a snug corner beside his +master, it represented a scene of comfort almost as perfect as rustic +human nature was capable of enjoying. And when the wind blew through the +branches of the elm over the roof, it was like music, played on purpose +to heighten the enjoyment. Comfort, thou art at the evening fireside of +a farm-house, if anywhere! + +You should have seen Tim, when an unusual sound disturbed the harmony of +this peaceful fireside. He growled first as he lay with his head resting +between his paws, and just turned up his eyes to his master for approval. +Then, if that warning was not sufficient, he rose and barked +vociferously. Possessed, I believe, of more insight than Bumpkin, he got +into the most tremendous state of excitement whensoever anyone came from +Prigg's, and he cordially hated Prigg. But most of all was he angry when +"the man" came. There was no keeping him quiet. I wonder if dogs know +more about Bills of Sale than farmers. I am aware that some farmers know +a good deal about them; and when they read this story, many of them will +accuse me of being too personal; but Tim was a dog of strong prejudices, +and I am sure he had a prejudice against money-lenders. + +As the persons I have mentioned were thus sitting on this dreary evening +in the month of November, suddenly, Tim sprang from his recumbent +position, and barked furiously. + +"Down, Tim! down, Tim!" said the farmer; "what be this, I wonder!" + +"Tim, Tim," said Mrs. Bumpkin, "down, Tim! hold thee noise, I tell ee." + +"Good Tim!" said Joe; he also had an instinct. + +"I'll goo and see what it be," said Mrs. Bumpkin; "whoever can come here +at this time o' night! it be summat, Tom." And she put down her +stockings, and lighting a candle went to the front door, whereat there +was a loud knocking. Tim jumped and flew and thrust his nose down to the +bottom of the door long before Mrs. Bumpkin could get there. + +"Quiet, Tim! I tell thee; who be there?" + +"From Mr. Prigg's," answered a voice. + +This was enough for Tim; the name of Prigg made him furious. + +"Somebody from Mr. Prigg, Tom." + +"Wull, let un in, Nance; bless thee soul, let un in; may be the case be +settled. I hope they ain't took less nor a hundred pound. I told un not +to." The door was unbolted and unbarred, and a long time it took, and +then stood before Mrs. Bumpkin a tall pale youth. + +"I've come from Mr. Prigg." + +"Will er plase to walk in, sir?" said Mrs. Bumpkin. + +By this time the master had got up from his seat, and advancing towards +the youth said:-- + +"How do, sir; how do, sir; wark in, wark in, tak a seat, I be glad to see +thee." + +"I come from Mr. Prigg," said the youth, "and we want another affidavit." + +"Hem!" said Bumpkin, "be it a pig or a eifer, sir?" He couldn't forget +the old joke. + +"We want an affidavit of documents," said the youth. + +"And what be the manin o' that?--affiday o' what?" + +"Documents, sir," said the mild youth; "here it is." + +"Oh," said Bumpkin, "I got to swear un, I spoase, that's all." + +"That's it, sir," said Horatio. + +"Well, thee can't take oaths, I spoase." + +"No, sir, not exactly." + +"Wull then I spoase I must goo to --- in the marnin. And thee'll stop +here the night and mak thyself comfortable. We can gie un a bed, can't +us, Nancy?" + +"Two, if ur wishes it," answered Mrs. Bumpkin. + +"Devil's in it, ur doan't want two beds, I'll warrant? Now then, sir, +sitten doon and mak theeself comfortable. What'll thee drink?" + +"I'm too young to drink," said Horatio, with a smile. + +Bumpkin smiled too. "I'll warrant thee be." + +"I'm always too young," said Horatio, "for every thing that's nice. Mr. +Prigg says I'm too young to enjoy myself; but if you don't mind, sir, I'm +not too young to be hungry. I've walked a long distance." + +"Have ur now?" said Mrs. Bumpkin. "We ain't got anything wery grand, +sir; but there be a nice piece o' pickle pork and pease-puddin, if thee +doan't mind thic." + +"Bring un out," said Bumpkin; and accordingly a nice clean cloth was soon +spread, and the table was groaning (as the saying is), with a large leg +of pork and pease-pudding and home-made bread; to which Horatio did ample +justice. + +"Bain't bad pooark," said Bumpkin. + +"Best I ever tasted," replied Horatio; "we don't get this sort of pork in +London--pork there doesn't seem like pork." + +"Now look at that," said Joe; "I fed that air pig." + +"So ur did, Joe," said the farmer; "I'll gie thee credit, Joe, thee fed +un well." + +"Ah!" said Joe; "and that air pig knowed I as well as I knows thee." + +When Horatio had supped, and the things were removed, Mr. Bumpkin assured +the youth that a little drop of gin-and-water would not hurt him after +his journey; and accordingly mixed him a tumbler. "Thee doan't smoke, I +spoase?" he said; to which Mrs. Bumpkin added that she "spoased he wur +too young like." + +"I'll try," answered the courageous youth, nothing daunted by his +youngness. + +"So thee shall--dang if thee shan't," rejoined Mr. Bumpkin; and produced +a long churchwarden pipe, and a big leaden jar of tobacco of a very dark +character, called "shag." + +Horatio filled his pipe, and puffed away as if he had been a veteran +smoker; cloud after cloud came forth, and when Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin and +Joe looked, expecting that the boy should be ill, there was not the least +sign; so Joe observed with great sagacity: + +"Look at that now, maister; I bleeve he've smoked afoore." + +"Have ur, sir?" asked Mr. Bumpkin. + +"A little," said Horatio. + +"Why, I never smoked afoore I wur turned twenty," said the farmer. + +"I believe the right time now is fourteen," observed the youth; "it used +to be twenty, I have heard father say; but everything has been altered by +the Judicature Act." + +"Look at that air," said Joe, "he've eeard father say. You knows a thing +or two, I'll warrant, Mr. --." + +Here Joe was baffled, and coming so abruptly to an end of his address, +Mr. Bumpkin took the matter up, and asked, if he might make so bold, what +the youth's name might be. + +"Horatio Snigger," answered that gentleman. + +"When will this ere case be on, think'ee, sir?" inquired Mr. Bumpkin. + +"We expect it to be in the paper every day now," said the youth; "they've +tried to dodge us a good deal, but they can't dodge us much longer--we're +a little too downy for em." + +"It have been a mighty long time about, surely," said Mr. Bumpkin. + +"O, that's nothing," said Horatio; "time's nothing in Law! Why, a suit +to administer a Will sometimes takes 'ears; and Bankruptcy, O my eye, +ain't there dodging about that, and jockeying too, eh! Crikey!" + +Mr. Bumpkin here winked at his wife, as much as to say, "Now you hold +your tongue, and see me dror un out. I'll have un." + +"Will ee tak a little more gin-and-water, sir?" + +"No, thankee," said the youth. + +"A little more won't hurt ee--it'll do thee good." And again he filled +the tumbler; while the pale boy refilled his pipe. + +"Now, who's my counsellor gwine to be?" asked the farmer. + +"Oh," said Horatio, "a regular cruncher--Mr. Catapult." + +"He be a cruncher, be he?" + +"I believe you; he turned a man inside out the other day; a money-lender +he was." + +"Did ur now?" + +"Look at that," said Joe. + +"And we're going to have Mr. Dynamite for junior; my eye, don't he make a +row!" + +"Two an em!" exclaimed Bumpkin. + +"Must have two for the plaintiff," said Horatio; "that's the law. Why, a +Queen's Counsel ain't allowed to open a case without a junior starts +him--it's jist like the engine-driver and the guard. You have the junior +to shove the leader." + +"Look at that," said Joe; expectorating into the fire. + +Mr. Bumpkin looked again at Nancy, and gave another wink that you might +have heard. + +"And the tother side?" he asked. + +"Ah! I don't know about them," said the boy. "They're artful dodgers, +they are." + +"Is 'em now? but artfulness don't allays win, do ur?" + +"No," said Horatio; "but it goes a long way, and sometimes when it's gone +a long way it beats itself." + +"Look at that," said Joe; "that's like that ere--" + +"Be quiet, Joe," said Bumpkin; "let I talk, will ur? You said it beats +itself, sir?" + +"If the judge gets 'old of him, it's sure to," said Horatio. "There +ain't no judge on the Bench as will let artfulness win if he knows it. +I've sin em watchin like a cat watches a mouse; and directly it comes out +o' the 'ole, down he is on em--like that:" and he slapped his hand on the +table with startling effect. + +"Good!" said Bumpkin. + +"And don't they know who the solicitor is, eh--that's all! My word, if +he's a shady one--the judge is down on the case like winkin." + +"And be this ere Locust a shady un?" (Another wink at Mrs. Bumpkin.) + +"Ah! I'm too young to know." + +"Thee beest too old, thee meanest," said Mrs. Bumpkin, laughing. + +"Now hold thee tongue, Nancy; I wur gwine to say that myself--dang if I +warnt!" + +"Now look at thic," said Joe; "maister were gwine to say thic." + +"So I wur," repeated Bumpkin. "Jist got the word o' th' tip o' th' +tongue." + +"And be these Queen's Counsellors," he asked, "summat grand?" + +"I believe you," said Horatio; "they wears silk gowns." + +"Do em?" said Mrs. Bumpkin, laughing. "Silk gowns--and what kind o' +petticoats?" + +"Shut up," said Bumpkin; "thee be as igorant as a donkey; these Queen's +Counsellors be made for their larnin and cleverness, beant em, sir?" + +"Well," said Horatio, "nobody ever could make out--some of em are pretty +good, and some of em ain't much--not near so good as the others." + +"But this ere Mr. Catapult be a good un, bean't he--a regler crunsher?" + +"O, I believe you, my boy: his look's enough for some of em." + +"I spoase he be dear?" (Another wink at Mrs. Bumpkin.) + +"They're all dear," said Horatio; "some of em are dear because their fees +are high; and some of em would be dear at a gift, but I'm too young to +know much about it." + +"Now hark at that," said Joe; "like that air old horse o' Morris'." + +"Hold thee tongue, Joe, I tell ee, putten thy spoke in; does thee think +the Queen 'as old 'orses in her stable? It's merit, I tell ee--ain't it, +Mr. Jigger?" + +"Merit, sir; I believe it's merit." And thus in pleasant conversation +the evening passed merrily away, until the clock striking nine warned the +company that it was time to retire. + +A bright, brisk frosty morning succeeded, and a substantial breakfast of +bacon, eggs, fresh butter, and home-made bread, at seven o'clock, +somewhat astonished and delighted the youthful Horatio; and then the old +horse, with plenty of hair about his heels, was brought round with the +gig. And Mr. Bumpkin and his guest got up and took their seats. The old +Market Town was about seven miles off, and the road lay through the most +picturesque scenery of the county. To ride on such a pleasant morning +through such a country almost made one think that swearing affidavits was +the most pleasing occupation of life. It was the first time Horatio had +ever ridden in a gig: the horse went a good old market pace, and the +beautiful sunshine, lovely scenery, and crisp air produced in his +youthful bosom a peculiarly charming and delightful sense of +exhilaration. He praised the country and the weather and the horse, and +asked if it was what they called a thoroughbred. + +"Chit!" said Bumpkin, "thoroughbred! So be I thoroughbred--did thee ever +see thoroughbred wi' 'air on his 'eels?' + +"Well, he goes well," said Horatio. + +"Gooes well enough for I," said Bumpkin. + +This answer somewhat abashed Horatio, who was unlearned in horses; for +some time he remained silent. Then it became Mr. Bumpkin's turn to renew +the conversation: + +"I spoase," said he, "thee be gwine to be a loryer?" + +"Not if I know it," answered Horatio. + +"Why not, then?" + +"Don't care for it; I like the country." + +"What wouldst thee like to be then, a farmer?" + +"I should--that's the life for me!" + +"Thee likes plenty o' fresh air?" said the farmer. + +"Yes," answered Horatio, "and fresh butter and fresh eggs." + +"I'll go to ---, if thee doen't know what's good for thee, anyhow. +Thee'd ha' to work 'ard to keep straaight, I can tell thee; thee'd had to +plough, and danged if I believe thee could hold plough! What's thee say +to that, lad?" + +"I think I could." + +"Devil a bit! now spoase thee'st got plough-handles under thy arms, and +the cord in the 'ands, and thee wanted to keep t'colter from jibbin into +t' soil, wouldst thee press down wi' might and main, or how?" + +"Press down with might and main," said Horatio. + +"Right!" exclaimed Bumpkin; "danged if I doant think thee'd make a +ploughman now. Dost know what th' manin o' mither woiy be?" + +This was rather a startling question for the unsophisticated London +youth. He had never heard such an expression in his life; and although +he might have puzzled his agricultural interrogator by a good many +questions in return, yet that possibility was no answer to "mither woiy." + +"I don't know that, Mr. Bumpkin," he ingenuously replied. + +"No? well, there ain't a commoner word down ere nor 'mither woiy,' and +there ain't a boy arf your age as doan't know the manin o't, so thee see +thee got summat to larn. Now it mane this--spoase thee got a team o' +horses at dung cart or gravel cart, and thee wants em to come to ee; thee +jest holds whip up over to the ed o' th' leadin orse like this ere, and +says 'mither woiy,' and round er comes as natteral as possible." + +"O, that's it!" said Horatio; "I see." + +"Ah!" said Bumpkin, "I can teach ee summat, can't I, though thee comes +from town, and I be only a country clown farmer?" + +"I should just like to come down a month on trial, that's all, when I +have my holiday," said the youth; "I think it would do me good: 'mither +woiy,'" he said, mimicking his instructor. + +"Thee shall come if thee likes," replied the good-natured Bumpkin; +"Nancy'll be proud to see thee--thee's got 'mither woiy' to rights." + +"What a very nice public-house!" exclaimed Horatio, as they approached a +village green where an old Inn that had flourished in the coaching days +still stood, the decaying monument of a past age, and an almost forgotten +style of locomotion. + +"Be a good house. I often pulls up there on way from market." + +"Did you ever try rum and milk for your cough?" inquired the pale youth. + +"Never had no cough," said Bumpkin. + +"What a good thing! But it's capital, they say, in case you should have +one; they say there's nothing beats rum and milk." + +"Hem!" muttered Bumpkin, giving his horse a tremendous jerk with the +reins. "I spoase thee'd like a glass, Mr. Jigger." + +"I don't care about it for myself," answered the youth; "but if you like +to have one I'll join you with pleasure." + +"So us wool then;" and up they pulled at the sign of the "Merry-go-round" +on Addlehead Green. + +"Bain't bad tackle!" said Mr. Bumpkin, tossing off his glass. + +"No," responded Horatio, "I've tasted worse medicine. I quite enjoy my +ride, Mr. Bumpkin; I wish we had a dozen more affidavits to swear." + +"I doan't," said the client; "I sworn a goodish many on em as it be. I +doan't think that air Snooks can bate un." + +"I don't think he can," said Horatio, as they once more climbed into the +old-fashioned gig; "but talk about paper, you should see your brief: +that's a caution and no mistake!" + +"Is ur now? In what way, sir?" + +"Lor, how I should like a cigar, Mr. Bumpkin, if I'd only got my case +with me, but unfortunately--" + +"Would ur--then thee shall 'ave one; here, Mr. Ostler, jest goo and fetch +one o' them there what d'ye call ems." + +"O, do they sell them down here? Cigars--cigars," said Horatio, "I +wasn't aware of that." + +"Now then, sir; what about this ere what d'ye call un--beef?" + +Mr. Bumpkin, being a very artful man, was inwardly chuckling at the +successful manoeuvring by which he was drawing out this pale +unsophisticated London youth, and hoped by dint of a little strategy to +learn a good deal before they parted company. + +"Brief! brief!" said Horatio, laughing. + +"Ah! so it wur; thee said he wur a hell of a big un." + +"Yes, and I wrote him myself." + +"Did ur now; then thee knows all about un?" + +"From beginning to end--he is a clipper, I can tell you; a regular +whacker." + +"I hope he'll whack thic Snooks then." + +"He's a beauty!" rejoined Horatio, much to his companion's surprise; for +here was this young man speaking of a brief in the same terms that he +(Bumpkin) would use with reference to a prize wurzel or swede. A brief +being a _beauty_ sounded somewhat strange in the ears of a farmer who +could associate the term with nothing that didn't grow on the farm. + +"I dare say you've heard of Macaulay's England?" asked the lad. + +"Whose England?" + +"Macaulay's." + +"I've eerd o' England, if you mean this ere country, sartainly." + +"You've heard of Macaulay's History, I mean?" + +"Can't say as ever I eerd tell on un." + +"Well, there's as much in your brief as there is in that book, and that's +saying something, ain't it?" + +"Zo't be; but what th' devil be 't all about?" + +"Well, I'll tell you," said Horatio, holding out his hands and putting +the point of his right forefinger on to the point of the forefinger of +his left hand. "First: biography of the plaintiff." + +"There now," said Bumpkin, shaking the reins; "thee med jist as well talk +Greek--it's the same wally (value) to me, for I doan't understan' a +word--bography, indade!" + +"Well then, Mr. Bumpkin, there is first a history of your life." + +"Good lord, what be that for?" + +"I'll tell you presently--then there's the history of Mrs. Bumpkin from +the cradle." (Mr. Bumpkin uttered an exclamation which nothing shall +induce me to put on paper.) "Then"--and here the young man had reached +the third finger of the left hand--"then comes a history of the defendant +Snooks." + +"Ah!" said Bumpkin, as though they were getting nearer the mark; "that be +summut like--that'll do un--have you put in about the gal?" + +"What's that?" asked the youth. + +"Oh! didn't thee 'ear? Why, thee 'st left out the best part o' Snooks' +life; he were keepin company wi' a gal and left her in t' lurch: but I +'ope thee 'st shown up ur carater well in other ways--he be the worst man +as ever lived in this 'ere country." + +"Well," said Horatio, travelling towards his little finger; "then there's +the history of the pig." + +"Zounds!" laughed the farmer, "if ever I eerd tell o' such a thing in my +bornd days. What the devil be the good o' thic?" + +"O, a good deal; the longer you make the brief the more money you +get--you are paid by the yard. They don't pay lawyers accordin' to the +value of their services, but the length of 'em." + +"Well, look ee 'ere, if I sells a pig it ain't wallied by its length, but +by its weight." + +"It ain't so with lawyers then," rejoined Horatio; "the taxing master +takes the length of the pig, and his tail counts, and the longer the tail +the better the taxing master likes it; then comes,"--(as the young lad +had only four fingers he was obliged to have recourse to his thumb, +placing his forefinger thereon)--"then comes about ten pages on the +immortality of the soul." + +"That be the tail, I spoase." + +"You got it," said Horatio, laughing. "O, he's a stunner on the +immortality of the soul." + +"Who be?--Snooks?" + +"No--Prigg--he goes into it like winkin'." + +"But what be it to do with thic case?" + +"Well, if you only put in a brief what had got to do with the case it +would be a poor thing." + +And I saw in my dream that the young man was speaking truthfully: it was +a beautifully drawn essay on the immortality of the soul, especially +Bumpkin's. + +"By George!" continued the youth, "it'll cost something--that brief." + +Mr. Bumpkin twitched as if he had touched with ice a nerve of his hollow +tooth. + +"If I had the money that case'll cost I wouldn't do any more work," said +the youth. + +"What would'st thee be then?" + +"Well, I should try and get an Associate's place in one of the Courts." + +"Hem! but this ere Snooks ull have to pay, won't he?" + +"Ah!" said Horatio, breathing deeply and indignantly, "I hope so; he's a +mean cuss--what d'ye think? never give Locust's boy so much as a +half-sovereign! Now don't such a feller deserve to lose? And do you +think Locust's boy will interest himself in his behalf?" + +Bumpkin looked slily out of the corners of his eyes at the young man, but +the young man was impassive as stone, and pale as if made of the best +Carrara marble. + +"But tell I, sir--for here we be at the plaace of Mr. Commissioner to +take oaths--what need be there o' this ere thing I be gwine to swear, for +I'll be danged if I understand a word of un, so I tell ee." + +"Costs, my dear sir, costs!" + + * * * * * + +And I heard Bumpkin mutter to himself that "he'd he danged if this 'ere +feller wur so young as he made out--his 'ead wur a mighty dale older nor +his body." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +The last night before the first London expedition, which gives occasion +to recall pleasant reminiscences. + +"I, Bumpkin, make oath and say," having been duly presented, and the +Commissioner having duly placed the Testament in Mr. Bumpkin's hands, and +said to him that to the best of his knowledge and belief the contents of +the "I Bumpkin" paper were true, the matter was over, and Mr. Snigger, +with the valuable document in his possession, might have returned to +London by the next train. But as Horatio afterwards observed to a +friend, he "was not quite so green." It was market day; Mr. Bumpkin was +a genial companion, and had asked him to partake of the Market Ordinary. +So thither at one o'clock they repaired, and a very fine dinner the pale +youth disposed of. It seemed in proportion to the wonderful brief whose +merits they had previously discussed. More and more did Horatio think +that a farmer's life was the life for him. He had never seen such +"feeding;" more and more would he like that month on trial in the +country; more and more inclined was he to throw up the whole blessed law +at once and for ever. This partly-formed resolution he communicated to +Mr. Bumpkin, and assured him that, but for the case of _Bumpkin_ v. +_Snooks_, he would do so on that very afternoon, and wash his hands of +it. + +"I don't want," said he, "to leave you in the lurch, Mr. Bumpkin, or else +I'd cut it at once, and throw this affidavit into the fire." + +"Come, come," said the farmer, "thee beest a young man, don't do nowt +that be wrong--stick to thy employer like a man, and when thee leaves, +leave like a man." + +"As soon as your case is over, I shall hook it, Mr. Bumpkin. And now let +me see--you'll have to come to London in a week or two, for I am pretty +nigh sure we shall be in the paper by that time. I shall see you when +you come up--where shall you stay?" + +"Danged if I know; I be a straanger in Lunnun." + +"Well, now, look 'ere, Mr. Bumpkin, I can tell you of a very nice quiet +public-house in Westminster where you'll be at home; the woman, I +believe, comes from your part of the country, and so does the landlord." + +"What be the naame o' the public 'ouse?" asked Mr. Bumpkin. + +"It's the sign of the 'Goose,' and stands just a little way off from the +water-side." + +"The Goose" sounded countryfied and homelike, and being near the water +would be pleasant, and the landlord and landlady being Somersetshire +people would also be pleasant. + +"Be it a dear plaace?" he inquired. + +"Oh, no; dirt cheap." + +"Ah, that air _dirt_ cheap I doan't like--I likes it a bit clean like." + +"Oh, yes, clean as a smelt--clean as ever it can be; and I'll bespeak +your lodgings for you if you like, and all." + +"Well, thankee, sir, thankee," said the farmer, shaking hands with the +youth, and giving him a half-sovereign. "I be proud to know thee." And +thus they parted: Horatio returning to his office, and Mr. Bumpkin +driving home at what is called a "shig-shog" pace, reflecting upon all +the events that had transpired during that memorable day. + +Pretty much the same as ever went on the things at the farm, and the +weeks passed by, and the autumn was over, and Christmas Day came and +went, and the Assizes came and went, and _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ alone in +all the world seemed to stand still. One day in the autumn a friend of +Mr. Prigg's came and asked the favour of a day's fishing, which was +granted with Mr. Bumpkin's usual cordiality. He was not only to fish on +that day, but to come whenever he liked, and make the house his "hoame, +like." So he came and fished, and partook of the hospitality of the +homely but plentiful table, and enjoyed himself as often as he pleased. +He was a most agreeable man, and knew how to talk. Understood a good +deal about agriculture and sheep breeding, and quite enjoyed a walk with +Mr. Bumpkin round the farm. This happened five or six times during the +autumn. He was reticent when Mr. Bumpkin mentioned the lawsuit, because +he knew so little about legal proceedings. Nor could Mr. Bumpkin "draw +him out" on any point. Nothing could be ascertained concerning him +except that he had a place in Yorkshire, and was in London on a visit; +that he had known Mr. Prigg for a good many years, and always "found him +the same." At last, the month of February came, and the long expected +letter from Mr. Prigg. Bumpkin and Joe were to be in London on the +following day, for it was expected they would be in the paper. What a +flutter of preparation there was at the farm! Bumpkin was eager, Mrs. +Bumpkin anxious. She had never liked the lawsuit, but had never once +murmured; now she seemed to have a presentiment which she was too wise to +express. And she went about her preparations for her husband's leaving +with all the courage she could command. It was, however, impossible +entirely to repress her feelings, and now and again as she was packing +the flannels and worsted stockings, a tear would force its way in spite +of all she could do. + +Night came, and the fireside was as cosy as ever. But there was a sense +of sadness nevertheless. Tim seemed to understand that something was not +quite as it should be, for he was restless, and looked up plaintively in +his master's face, and went to Joe and put his head in his lap; then +turned away and stretched himself out on the hearth, winking his eyes at +the fire. + +It is always a melancholy effort to "keep up the spirits" when the moment +of separation is at hand. One longs for the last shake of the hand and +the final good-bye. This was the case at Southwood Farm on this +memorable evening. Nothing in the room looked as usual. The pewter +plates on the shelf shone indeed, but it was like the smile of a winter +sun; it lacked the usual cheery warmth. Even the old clock seemed to +feel sad as he ticked out with melancholy monotony the parting moments; +and the wind, as it came in heavy gusts and howled round the old chimney, +seemed more melancholy than need be under the circumstances. + +"Thee must be careful, Tom," said Mrs. Bumpkin; "that Lunnun, as I hear, +be a terrible plaace." + +"How be un a terrible plaace?" said Bumpkin, sarcastically. "I bean't a +child, Nancy." + +"No, thee bean't a child, Tom; but thee bean't up to Lunnun ways: there +be thieves and murderers, and what not." + +"Thieves and murderers!" + +"And Joe, doan't ee git out o' nights; if anything 'appened to thee, thy +old mother 'ud brak her 'art." + +"Look ee 'ere," said Joe, "I bean't got nuthin' to lose, so I bean't +afeared o' thieves." + +"No, but thee might git into trouble, thee might be led away." + +"So might thic bull," said Joe; "but I'd like to zee what 'ud become o' +the chap as led un." + +"Chap as led un!" said Mrs. Bumpkin, laughing. + +"I'd gie un a crack o' the canister," said Joe. + +"Don't thee git knockin' down, Joe, unless thee be 'bliged," said Mrs. +Bumpkin; "keep out o' bad company, and don't stay out o' nights." + +"And lookee 'ere, Joe," said Bumpkin, "when thee comes afore th' +Counsellor wi' wig on, hold up thee head; look un straight in t' face and +spak oop. Thee needn't be afeared t' spak t' truth." + +"I bean't afeard," said Joe; "I mind me when old Morris wur at plough, +and I was leadin' th' 'orses, Morris says, says he, 'Now then, cock, +let's see if we can't git a eend this time;' so on we goes, and jist +afore I gits the 'orses to eend o' t' field, Dobbin turns, and then, dash +my bootons, the tother turns after un, and me tryin' to keep em oop, +Dobbin gits his legs over the trace. Well, Morris wur that wild, he +says, says he, 'Damme, if yer doan't look sharp, I'll gie thee a crack o' +t' canister wi' this 'ere whippense presny'" (presently). + +"Crack o' the canister!" laughed Mrs. Bumpkin, "and that's what Morris +called thy head, eh?" + +This was a capital hit on Joe's part, for it set them thinking of the +events of old times, and Joe, seeing the effect of it, ventured upon +another anecdote relating to the old carter. + +"Thee recollect, master, when that there Mr. Gearns come down to shoot; +lor, lor, what a queer un he wur, surely!" + +"Couldn't shoot a hit," said Bumpkin. + +"Not he. Wall, we was carrying wheat, and Morris wur loadin, and jest as +we gits the last pitch on t' load, right through th' 'orses legs runds a +rat. Gearns wi'out more ado oops wi' his loaded gun and bangs her off +right under t' 'orses legs; up jumps th' 'orse, and Morris wur wery nigh +tossed head fust into th' yard. Wall, he makes no moore ado, for he +didn't keer, gemman or no gemman--didn't Morris--" + +"No more ur didn't, Joe," said Mrs. Bumpkin. + +"He makes no moore ado, but he up and said, 'damme,' he says, 'sir, you +might as well a said you was gwine to shoot; you might a had me off and +broked my neck.'" + +"Haw! haw! haw!" laughed Mr. Bumpkin, and "Well done, Morris," said Mrs. +Bumpkin. + +"Wall," said Joe, "this ere gemman says, 'It wouldn't er bin much loss,' +he says, 'if he had!' 'Damme,' roars Morris, 'it had a bin as much wally +to me as yourn, anyhow.'" + +They all remembered the story, and even Tim seemed to remember it too, +for when they laughed he wagged his tail and laughed with them. + +And thus the evening dragged along and bed time came. + +In the morning all was in readiness, and the plaintiff with his witness +drove away in the gig to the station, where Morris waited to bring the +old horse back. + +And as the train came into the little country station I awoke. + + * * * * * + +"I hope," cried my wife, "that Mr. Prigg is a respectable man." + +"Respectable," I answered, "I know he is; but whether he is honest is +another matter." + +"But don't you know?" + +"I only know what I dream." + +"I have no opinion of him," said she; "nor of that Locust; I believe they +are a couple of rogues." + +"I should be very sorry to suggest such a thing as that," I answered, +"without some proof. Everybody should give credit for the best of +motives." + +"But what are all these summonses you speak of?" + +"O, they are summonses in the action. You may have as many of them as +you can invent occasion for. You may go up to the Court of Appeal about +twenty times before you try the action, which means about eighty +different hearings before Master and Judges." + +"But how can a poor man endure that? It's a great shame." + +"He can't--he may have a perfectly good cause of action against a rich +man or a rich company, and they can utterly ruin him before ever his case +can come into Court." + +"But will no solicitor take it up for the poor man?" + +"Yes, some will, and the only reward they usually get for their pains is +to be stigmatized as having brought a speculative action--accused of +doing it for the sake of costs; although I have known the most honourable +men do it out of pure sympathy for the poor man." + +"And so they ought," cried she. + +"And I trust," said I, "that hereafter it will be considered honourable +to do so. It is quite as honourable, in my judgment, to bring an action +when you may never be paid as to bring it when you know you will be." + +"Who was the person referred to as 'the man?'" + +"I don't know," said I, "but I strongly suspect he is, in reality, a +nominee of Prigg's." + +"That is exactly my opinion," said my wife. "And if so, between them, +they will ruin that poor man." + +"I can't tell," said I, lighting my pipe. "I know no more about the +future of my dream than you do; maybe when I sleep again something else +will transpire." + +"But can no one do anything to alter this state of things? I plainly +perceive that they are all against this poor Bumpkin." + +"Well, you see, in a tinkering sort of way, a good many try their hands +at reforming the law; but it's to no one's interest, that I can see, to +reform it." + +"I hope you'll write this dream and publish it, so that someone's eyes +may be opened." + +"It may make me enemies." + +"Not among honest people; they will all be on your side, and the +dishonest ones, who seem to me to be the only persons benefited by such a +dilatory and shocking mode of procedure, are the very persons whose +enmity you need not fear. But can the Judges do nothing?" + +"No; their duty is merely to administer the law, not to change it. But +if the people would only give them full power and fair play, Old Fogeyism +would be buried to-morrow. They struggle might and main to break through +the fetters, but to no purpose while they are hampered by musty old +precedents, ridiculous forms and bad statutes. They are not masters of +the situation. I wish they were for the sake of suitors. I would only +make one condition with regard to them. If they were to set about the +task of reform, I would not let the Equity Judges reform the Common Law +nor the Common Law Judges the Equity." + +"I thought they were fused." + +"No, only transposed." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Commencement of London life and adventures. + +And I dreamt again, and methought there were three things with reference +to London that Joe had learnt at school. First, that there was a Bridge, +chiefly remarkable for the fact that Captain Cook, the Navigator, shot +his servant because he said he was under London Bridge when he was in the +South Pacific Ocean; secondly, that there was a famous Tower, where the +Queen's Crown was kept; thirdly, that there was a Monument built to show +where the Great Fire began, and intimately connected in its cause with +Guy Faux, whom Joe had helped to carry on the Fifth of November. Now +when the young man woke in the morning at "The Goose," in Millbank +Street, Westminster, his attention was immediately attracted by these +three historic objects; and it was not till after he had made inquiries +that he found that it was not London Bridge that crossed the water in a +line with the Horseferry Road, but a very inferior structure called +Lambeth Suspension Bridge. Nor was the Tower on the left the Tower of +London, but the Lollards' tower of Lambeth Palace; while the supposed +Monument was only the handsome column of Messrs. Doulton's Pottery. + +But they were all interesting objects nevertheless; and so were the huge +cranes that were at work opposite the house lifting the most tremendous +loads of goods from the lighters to the wharves. The "Shipping," too, +with its black and copper-coloured sails, gave some idea of the extent of +England's mercantile marine. At all events, it excited the country lad's +wonder and astonishment. But there was another matter that gave quite an +agricultural and countrified look to the busy scene, and that was the +prodigious quantity of straw that was being unloaded from the barges +alongside. While Mr. Bumpkin went to see his solicitor at Westminster +Hall, Joe wandered about the wharves looking at the boats and barges, the +cranes and busy workmen who drove their barrows from barge to wharf, and +ran along with loads on their backs over narrow planks, in the most +lively manner. But looking on, even at sights like these, day by day, +becomes a wearisome task, and Joe, being by no means an idle lad, +occasionally "lent a hand" where he saw an opportunity. London, no +doubt, was a very interesting place, but when he had seen Page Street, +and Wood Street, and Church Street, and Abingdon Street, and Millbank +Prison, and the other interesting objects referred to, his curiosity was +gratified, and he began to grow tired of the sameness of the place. +Occasionally he saw a soldier or two and the military sight fired his +rustic imagination. Not that Joe had the remotest intention of entering +the army; it was the last thing he would ever dream of; but, in common +with all mankind he liked to look at the smart bearing and brilliant +uniform of the sergeant, who seemed to have little else to do than walk +about with his cane under his arm, or tap the stone parapet with it as he +looked carelessly at some interesting object on the river. + +The evenings in the taproom at "The Goose" were among the most enjoyable +periods of the lad's London existence. A select party usually gathered +there, consisting chiefly of a young man who never apparently had had +anything to do in his life. His name was Harry Highlow, a clever sort of +wild young scapegrace who played well at "shove-ha'penny," and sang a +good comic song. Another of the party was a youth who earned a +precarious livelihood by carrying two boards on his shoulders advertising +a great pickle, or a great singer, as the case might be. Another of the +company was a young man who was either a discharged or a retired groom; I +should presume the former, as he complained bitterly that the authorities +at Scotland Yard would not grant him a licence to drive a cab. He +appeared to be a striking instance of how every kind of patronage in this +country is distributed by favouritism. There were several others, all +equally candidates for remunerative situations, but equally unfortunate +in obtaining them: proving conclusively that life is indeed a lottery in +which there may be a few prizes, usually going, by the caprice of +Fortune, to the undeserving, while the blanks went indiscriminately to +all the rest. + +Bound together by the sympathy which a common misfortune engenders, these +young men were happy in the pursuit of their innocent amusements at "The +Goose." And while, at first, they were a little inclined to chaff the +rustic youth on account of his apparent simplicity, they soon learned to +respect him on account of his exceedingly good temper and his willingness +to fall in with the general views of the company on all occasions. They +learnt all about Joe's business in London, and it was a common greeting +when they met in the evening to ask "how the pig was?" And they would +enquire what the Lord Chancellor thought about the case, and whether it +wouldn't be as well to grease the pig's tail and have a pig-hunt. To all +which jocular observations Joe would reply with excellent temper and +sometimes with no inappropriate wit. And then they said they would like +to see Joe tackle Mr. Orkins, and believed he would shut him up. But +chaff never roused his temper, and he laughed at the case as much as any +man there. Fine tales he would have to tell when he got back to +Yokelton; and pleasant, no doubt, would be in after-life, his +recollections of the evenings at "The Goose." + +As a great general surveys the field where the intended action is to be +fought, so Mr. Bumpkin was conducted by Horatio to Westminster Hall, and +shown the various Courts of Justice, and some of the judges. + +"Be this Chancery?" he enquired. + +"O my eye, no!" said Horatio; "the cause has been transferred from +Chancery to these 'ere Common Law Courts. It was only brought in +Chancery because the costs there are upon a higher scale; we didn't mean +to try her there." + +"Where will she be tried then?" + +"In one of these Courts." + +"Who be the judge?" whispered Bumpkin. + +At this moment there was a loud shout of "Silence!" and although Mr. +Bumpkin was making no noise whatever, a gentleman approached him, looking +very angry, and enquired if Mr. Bumpkin desired to be committed for +contempt of Court. + +Mr. Bumpkin thought the most prudent answer was silence; so he remained +speechless, looking the gentleman full in the face; while the gentleman +looked him full in the face for at least a minute and a half, as if he +were wondering whether he should take him off to prison there and then, +or give him another chance, as the judge sometimes does a prisoner when +he sentences him to two years imprisonment with hard labour. + +Now the gentleman was a very amiable man of about forty, with large brown +mutton-chop whiskers, and a very well trained moustache; good-looking +and, I should think, with some humour, that is for a person connected +with the Courts. He was something about the Court, but in what capacity +he held up his official head, I am unable to say. He was evidently +regarded with great respect by the crowd of visitors. It was some time +before he took his gaze off Mr. Bumpkin; even when he had taken his eyes +off, he seemed looking at him as if he feared that the moment he went +away Bumpkin would do it again. + +And then methought I heard someone whisper near me: "His lordship is +going to give judgment in the case of _Starling_ v. _Nightingale_," and +all at once there was a great peace. I lost sight of Bumpkin, I lost +sight of the gentleman, I lost sight of the crowd; an indefinable +sensation of delight overpowered my senses. Where was I? I had but a +moment before been in a Court of Justice, with crowds of gaping idlers; +with prosaic-looking gentlemen in horsehair wigs; with gentlemen in a pew +with papers before them ready to take down the proceedings. Now it +seemed as if I must be far away in the distant country, where all was +calm and heavenly peace. + +Surely I must be among the water-lilies! What a lullaby sound as of +rippling waters and of distant music in the evening air; of the eddying +and swirl of the mingling currents; of the chime of bells on the evening +breeze; of the zephyrs through fir-tops; of woodland whispers; of the +cadence of the cathedral organ; of the soft sweet melody of the maiden's +laugh; of her gentlest accents in her sweetest mood; of--but similitudes +fail me. In this delicious retreat, which may be compared to the Garden +of Eden before the tempter entered, are the choicest flowers of rhetoric. +I hear a voice as from the far-off past, and I wonder will that be the +voice which will utter the "last syllable of recorded time?" + +Then methought the scene changed, and I heard the question-- + +"Do you move, Mr. Jones?" + +O the prosaic Jones!--"don't you move?" + +Yes, he does; he partly rises, ducks his head, and elevates the hinder +portion of his person, and his movement ceases. And the question is +repeated to Mr. Quick. "Do you move, Mr. Quick?" + +Then I saw Mr. Bumpkin again, just as Mr. Quick ducked his head and +elevated his back. + +And then some gentleman actually moved in real earnest upon these +interesting facts:--A farmer's bull--just the very case for Mr. +Bumpkin--had strayed from the road and gone into another man's yard, and +upset a tub of meal; was then driven into a shed and locked up. The +owner of the bull came up and demanded that the animal should be +released. "Not without paying two pounds," said the meal-owner. The +bull owner paid it under protest, and summoned the meal-owner to the +County Court for one pound seventeen shillings and sixpence, the +difference between the damage done (which was really about twopence) and +the money paid to redeem the bull. Judgment for the plaintiff. Motion +for new trial, or to enter verdict for the defendant, on the ground that +the meal man could charge what he liked. + +One of the learned Judges asked: + +"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Smiles, that if a man has a bull, and that +bull goes into a yard and eats some meal out of a meal-tub, and the +damage amounts to twopence, and the owner of the bull says 'here's your +twopence,' that the owner of the meal can say, "No, I want a hundred +pounds, and shall take your bull damage feasant," and then takes him and +locks him up, and the owner of the bull pays the hundred pounds, he +cannot afterwards get the money back?" + +"That is so," says the learned counsel, "such is the law." And then he +cited cases innumerable to prove that it was the law. + +"Well," said the Judge, "unless you show me a case of a bull and a +meal-tub, I shall not pay attention to any case--must be a meal-tub." + +Second Judge: "It is extortion, and done for the purpose of extortion; +and I should say he could be indicted for obtaining money by false +pretences." + +"I am not sure he could not, my lord," said the counsel; "but he can't +recover the money back." + +"Then," said the Judge, "if he obtains money by an indictable fraud +cannot he get it back?" + +"Well," said Bumpkin, "that be rum law; if it had bin my bull, he'd a gin +'em summat afore they runned him in." + +It was interesting to see how the judges struggled against this +ridiculous law; and it was manifest even to the unlettered Bumpkin, that +a good deal of old law is very much like old clothes, the worse for wear, +and totally inapplicable to the present day. A struggle against old +authorities is often a struggle of Judges to free themselves from the +fetters of antiquated dicta and decisions no longer appropriate to or +necessary for the modern requirements of civilisation. + +In this case precedents running over _one hundred and eight years_ were +quoted, and so far from impressing the Court with respect, they simply +evoked a smile of contempt. + +The learned Judges, after patiently listening to the arguments, decided +that extortion and fraud give no title, and thus were the mists and +vapours that arose from the accumulated mudbanks of centuries dispelled +by the clear shining of common sense. In spite of arguments by the hour, +and the pettifogging of one hundred and eight years, justice prevailed, +and the amazed appellant was far more damaged by his legal proceedings +than he was by the bull. The moral surely is, that however wise ancient +judges were in their day, their wisdom ought not to be allowed to work +injustice. He may be a wise Judge who makes a precedent, but he is often +a much wiser who sweeps it away. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +How the great Don O'Rapley became an usher of the Court of Queen's Bench +and explained the ingenious invention of the round square--how Mr. +Bumpkin took the water and studied character from a penny steamboat. + +Some years ago there lived in a little village near Bridgewater a young +man who was the bowler of his village eleven--one of the first roundhand +bowlers in point of time, and by no means the last in point of merit. +Indeed, so great was the local fame of this young man that it produced a +sensation for miles around when it was announced that Don O'Rapley (such +was his name) was going to bowl. All the boys of the village where the +match was to take place were in a state of the utmost excitement to see +the Don. At times it was even suggested that he was unfairly "smugged +in" to play for a village to which he had no pretensions to belong. In +process of time the youth became a man, and by virtue of his cricket +reputation he obtained a post in the Court of Queen's Bench. The +gentleman whom I have referred to as looking with such austerity at Mr. +Bumpkin is that very Don O'Rapley; the requirements of a large family +necessitated his abandonment of a profession which, although more to his +taste, was not sufficiently remunerative to admit of his indulging it +after the birth of his sixth child. But it was certain that he never +lost his love for the relinquished pursuit, as was manifest from his +habit when alone of frequently going through a kind of dumb motion with +his arm as if he were delivering one of his celebrated "twisters." He +had even been seen in a quiet corner of the Court to go through the same +performance in a somewhat modified form. He was once caught by the Judge +in the very act of delivering a ball, but found a ready apology in the +explanation that he had a touch of "rheumatiz" in his right shoulder. + +Now I saw in my dream that Don O'Rapley was in earnest conversation with +Horatio, and it was clear Mr. Bumpkin was the subject of it, from the +very marked manner in which the Don and the youth turned occasionally to +look at him. It may be stated that Horatio was the nephew of Don +O'Rapley, and, perhaps, it was partly in consequence of this +relationship, and partly in consequence of what Horatio told him, that +the latter gentleman rose from his seat under the witness-box and came +towards Mr. Bumpkin, shouting as he did so in a very solemn and prolonged +tone, "Si-lence!" + +Mr. Bumpkin saw him, and, conscious that he was innocent this time of any +offence for which he could be committed, stood his ground with a bold +front, and firmly held his white beaver with both hands. O'Rapley +contemplated him for a few minutes with an almost affectionate interest. +Bumpkin felt much as a pigeon would under the gaze of an admiring owl. + +At last O'Rapley spoke:-- + +"Why, it's never Mr. Bumpkin, is it?" + +"It be a good imitation, sir," said Bumpkin, "and I bean't asheamed of +un." + +"Silence!" cried the Don. "You don't remember me, I s'pose?" + +"Wall, not rightly, I doan't." + +"I dissay you recollect Don O'Rapley, the demon bowler of Bridgewater?" + +"I've 'eered tell on 'im," said Bumpkin. + +"I'm that man!" said the Don, "and this is my nephew, Mr. Snigger. He +tells me you've got a case comin' on?" + +"I be." + +"Just step outside," said the Don, "we mustn't talk 'ere." So they went +into Westminster Hall, and the good-natured O'Rapley asked if Mr. Bumpkin +would like to look round, and if so he said he would be happy to show +him, for he was very pleased to see anyone from the scene of his youthful +exploits. + +"Thankee, sir--thankee, sir," answered Bumpkin, delighted to find another +"native" among "furriners." "And this 'ere genleman be thy nevvy, sir?" + +"He is, and very proud of him I am; he's my sister's son." + +"Seems a nice quiet boy," said Mr. Bumpkin. "Now how old might he be?" + +"Old," said Mr. O'Rapley, looking deedily at the floor and pressing his +hand to his forehead, "why he'll be seventeen come March." + +"Hem! his 'ed be a good deal older nor thic: his 'ed be forty--it's my +way o' thinkin'." + +The Don laughed. + +"Yes, he has his head screwed on the right way, I think." + +"Why that air lad," said Bumpkin, "might make a judge." + +O'Rapley laughed and shook his head. + +"In old times," said he, "he might ha' made a Lord Chancellor; a man as +was clever had a chance then, but lor' blesh you, Mr. Bumpkin, now-a-days +it's so very different; the raw material is that plentiful in the law +that you can find fifty men as would make rattlin good Lord Chancellors +for one as you could pick out to make a rattlin' good bowler. But come, +we'll have a look round." + +So round they looked again, and Mr. Bumpkin was duly impressed with the +array of wigs and the number of books and the solemnity of the judges and +the arguments of counsel, not one word of which was intelligible to him. +Mr. O'Rapley explained everything and pointed out where a judge and jury +tried a case, and then took him into another court where two judges tried +the judge and jury, and very often set them both aside and gave new +trials and altered verdicts and judgments or refused to do so +notwithstanding the elaborate arguments of the most eloquent and +long-winded of learned counsel. + +Then the Don asked if Mr. Bumpkin would like to see the Chancery +Judges--to which Mr. Bumpkin answered that "he hadn't much opinion o' +Chancery from all he'd 'eeard, and that when a man got into them there +Cooarts maybe he'd never coome out agin, but he shouldn't mind seein' a +Chancery Judge." + +"Well, then," said the distinguished bowler, "now-a-days we needn't go to +Chancery, for they've invented the 'Round Square.'" + +Mr. Bumpkin stared. Could so great a man as the O'Rapley be joking? No; +the Don seldom laughed. He was a great admirer of everything relating to +the law, but had a marked prejudice against the new system; and when he +spoke of the "Round Square" he meant, as he afterwards explained, that +confusion of Law and Equity which consists in putting Chancery Judges to +try common law cases and Common Law Judges to unravel the nice twistings +of the elaborate system of Equity; "as though," said he, "you should fuse +the butcher and the baker by getting the former to make bread and the +latter to dress a calf." + +Mr. Bumpkin could only stare by way of reply. + +"If you want to see Chancery Judges," added the Don, "come to the Old +Bailey!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +An interesting gentleman--showing how true it is that one half the world +does not know how the other half lives. + +"The Old Bailey," said Mr. Bumpkin, as they crossed Palace Yard on their +way to the steamboat pier, "bean't that where all these 'ere chaps be +tried for ship stealin'?" (sheep stealing). + +"I don't know about ship stealing," said O'Rapley, "but it's a place +where they can cure all sorts of diseases." + +"Zounds!" exclaimed Bumpkin, "I've 'eeard tell of un. A horsepital you +means--dooan't want to goo there." + +"Horse or donkey, it don't matter what," said Don O'Rapley. "They've got +a stuff that's so strong a single drop will cure any disease you've got." + +"I wonder if it 'ud cure my old 'ooman's roomatiz. It 'ud be wuth +tryin', maybe." + +"I'll warrant it," replied the Don. "She'd never feel 'em after takin' +one drop," and he drew his hand across his mouth and coughed. + +"I'd like to try un," said the farmer, "for she be a terrible suffrer in +these 'ere east winds. 'As 'em like all up the grine." + +"Ah," said the Don, "it don't matter where she 'as 'em, it will cure +her." + +"How do 'em sell it--in bottles?" + +"No, it isn't in bottles--you take it by the foot; about nine feet's +considered a goodish dose." + +Mr. Bumpkin looked straight before him, somewhat puzzled at this +extraordinary description of a medicine. At length he got a glimmering +of the Don's meaning, and, looking towards, but not quite at him, said:-- + +"I be up to 'ee, sir!" and the Don laughed, and asked whether his +description wasn't right? + +"That be right enough. Zounds! it be right enough. Haw! haw! haw!" + +"You never want a second dose," said the Don, "do you?" + +"No, sir--never wants moore 'an one dose; but 'ow comes it, if you +please, sir, that these 'ere Chancery chaps have changed their tack; be +it they've tried 'onest men so long that they be gwine to 'ave a slap at +the thieves for a change?" + +"Look 'ere," said the worthy O'Rapley, "you will certainly see the inside +of a jail before you set eyes on the outside of a haystack, if you go on +like that. It's contempt of court to speak of Her Majesty's Judges as +'chaps'." + +"Beg pardon, sir," said Bumpkin, "but we must all 'ave a larnin'. I +didn't mane no disruspect to the Lord Judge; but I wur only a axin' jist +the same as you might ax me about anythink on my farm." + +And I saw that they proceeded thus in edifying conversation until they +came to the Thames embankment. It was somewhat difficult to preserve his +presence of mind as Mr. Bumpkin descended the gangway and stepped on +board the boat, which was belching forth its volumes of black smoke and +rocking under the influence of the wash of a steamer that had just left +the pier. + +"I doant much like these 'ere booats," said he. "Doant mind my old punt, +but dang these 'ere ships." + +"There's no danger," said the O'Rapley, springing on board as though he +had been a pilot: and then making a motion with his arm as if he was +delivering a regular "length ball," his fist unfortunately came down on +Mr. Bumpkin's white hat, in consequence of a sudden jerk of the vessel; a +rocking boat not being the best of places for the delivery of length +balls. + +Mr. Bumpkin looked round quite in the wrong direction for ascertaining +what was the cause of the sudden shock to his nervous system and his hat. + +"Zounds!" said he, "what were thic?" + +"What was what?" asked O'Rapley. + +"Summut gie me a crack o' the top o' my 'ead like a thunderbolt." + +"I didn't see anything fall," said the Don. + +"Noa; but I felt un, which I allows wur more'n seein'--lookee 'ere." + +And taking off his huge beaver he showed the dent of Mr. O'Rapley's fist. + +"Bless me," said the roundhand bowler, "it's like a crack with a cricket +ball." + +But there was no time for further examination of the extraordinary +circumstance, for the crowd of passengers poured along and pushed this +way and that, so that the two friends were fairly driven to the fore part +of the boat, where they took their seats. It was quite a new world to +Mr. Bumpkin, and more like a dream than a reality. As he stared at the +different buildings he was too much amazed even to enquire what was this +or what was that. But when they passed under the Suspension Bridge, and +the chimney ducked her head and the smoke came out of the "stump," as Mr. +Bumpkin termed it, he thought she had struck and broken short off. Mr. +O'Rapley explained this phenomenon, as he did many others on their route; +and when they came to Cleopatra's Needle he gave such information as he +possessed concerning that ancient work. Mr. Bumpkin looked as though he +were not to be taken in. + +"I be up to 'ee, sir," said he. "I s'pose that air thing the t'other +side were the needle-case?" + +The O'Rapley informed him that it was a shot tower where they made shot. + +Mr. Bumpkin laughed heartily at this; he was not to be taken in by any +manner of means; was far too sharp for that. + +"And I spoase," said he, "they makes the guns--" + +"In Gunnersbury," said Mr. O'Rapley; it was no use to be serious. + +"I thought thee were gwine to say in a gun pit, but I don't mind thy +chaff, Master Rapley, and shall be mighty proud to see thee down at +Southood for a day's shoot-in': and mind thee bring some o' these ere +shot with thee that be made at yon tower, haw! haw! haw! Thee'll kill a +white-tailed crow then, I shouldn't wonder; thee knows a white-tailed +crow, doan't thee, Master Rapley, when thee sees un--and danged if I +doan't gie thee a quart bottle o' pigeon's milk to tak' wi' thee; haw! +haw! haw!" + +The O'Rapley laughed heartily at these witty sallies, for Bumpkin was so +jolly, and took everything in such good part, that he could not but enjoy +his somewhat misplaced sarcasms. + +"Now you've heard of Waterloo, I dare say," said Mr. O'Rapley. + +"Yes, I've 'eeard tell on un, and furder, my grand-feather wur out +theer." + +"Well, this that we are coming to is Waterloo Bridge." + +"Yes," said Bumpkin, "it be a bridge, but it bean't Worterloo more 'an I +be my grandfearther--what de think o' that--haw! haw! haw!" + +"Good," said O'Rapley; "that's quite right, but this is the bridge named +after the battle." + +"Zo't be neamed artur un because it worn't named afore un, haw! haw! haw! +Good agin, Maister Rapley, thee got it." + +Mr. O'Rapley found that any attempt to convey instruction was useless, so +he said:-- + +"Joking apart, Mr. Bumpkin, you see that man sitting over there with the +wideawake hat?" + +"D'ye mane near the noase o' the ship?" + +"Well, the nose if you like." + +"I zee un--chap wi' red faace, blue 'ankercher, and white spots?" + +"That's the man. Well, now, you'd never guess who he is?" + +Mr. Bumpkin certainly would have been a sharp man if he could. + +"Well," continued the Don, "that man gets his living by bringing actions. +No matter who it is or what, out comes the writ and down he comes for +damages." + +"Hem! that be rum, too, bean't it?" + +"Yes, he's always looking out for accidents; if he hears o' one, down he +comes with his pocket-book, gets 'old o' some chap that's injured, or +thinks he is, and out comes the writ." + +"What be he then?" + +"A scamp--works in the name of some broken-down attorney, and pays him +for the use of it." + +"So he can work the lor like wirout being a loryer?" + +"That's it--and, lor' bless you, he's got such a way with him that if he +was to come and talk to you for five minutes, he'd have a writ out +against you in the morning." + +"Ain't it rayther cold at this eend o' the booat," asked Mr. Bumpkin, "I +feel a little chilly loike." + +"No," said the Don, "we just caught the wind at that corner, that was +all." + +But Mr. Bumpkin kept his eye on the artful man, with a full determination +to "have no truck wi' un." + +"As I was saying, this Ananias never misses a chance: he's on the +look-out at this moment; if they was to push that gangway against his +toe, down he'd go and be laid up with an injured spine and concussion of +the brain, till he got damages from the company." + +"Must be a reg'ler rogue, I allows; I should like to push un overboard." + +"Just what he would like; he isn't born to be drowned, that man; he'd +soon have a writ out against you. There was a railway accident once +miles away in the country; ever so many people were injured and some of +'em killed. Well, down he goes to see if he could get hold of +anybody--no, nobody would have him--so what does he do but bring an +action himself." + +"What for?" + +"Why, just the same as if he'd been in the accident." + +"Ought to be hanged." + +"Well, the doctors were very pleased to find that no bones were broken, +and, although there were no bruises, they discovered that there were +internal injuries: the spine was wrong, and there was concussion of the +brain, and so on." + +"If ever I 'eerd tell o' sich a thing in my borned days." + +"No, but it's true. Well, he was laid up a long time under medical +treatment, and it was months before he could get about, and then he +brings his action: but before it came on he prosecutes his servant for +stealing some trumpery thing or other--a very pretty girl she was +too--and the trial came on at Quarter Sessions." + +"Where Squoire Stooky sits." + +"I never laughed so in all my life; there was the railway company with +the red light, and there was Fireaway, the counsel for the girl, and then +in hobbled the prosecutor, with a great white bandage round his head. He +was so feeble through the injuries he had received that he could hardly +walk. 'Now then,' says the counsel, 'is he sworn?' 'Yes,' says the +crier. + +"'He must be sworn on the Koran,' says Fireaway; 'he's a Mommadon.' + +"'Where's the Jorum?' says the crier. 'Must be swore on the Jorum.' + +"O dear, dear, you should ha' heard 'em laugh--it was more like a +theayter than a court. It was not only roars, but continnerus roars for +several minutes. And all the time the larfter was going on there was +this man throwin' out his arms over the witness-box at the counsel like a +madman; and the more he raved the more they laughed. He was changed from +a hobblin' invalid, as the counsel said, into a hathletic pugilist." + +"I 'ope she got off." + +"Got off with flying colours--we're magnanimous said the jury, 'not +guilty.'" + +"Well, I likes upright and down-straight," said Bumpkin, "it'll goo +furdest in th' long run." + +"Yes," said O'Rapley, "and the longer the run the furder it'll go." + +"So 't wool; but if you doan't mind, sir, I'd like to get nearer that +'ere fireplace." + +"The funnel--very well." And as they moved Mr. O'Rapley, in the +exuberance of his spirits, delivered another ball at the chimney, which +apparently took the middle stump, for the chimney again broke in half. + +"Got him!" said he. "I quite agree, and I'll tell you for why. You can +play a straight ball if you mind what you are about--just take your bat +so, and bring your left elbow well round so, and keep your bat, as you +say, upright and down-straight, so--and there you are. And there, +indeed, Mr. Bumpkin was, on his back, for the boat at that moment bumped +so violently against the side of the pier that many persons were +staggering about as if they were in a storm. + +"Zounds!" said the farmer, as he was being picked up--"these 'ere booats, +I doan't like 'em--gie me the ole-fashioned uns." + +Now came the usual hullabaloo, "Stand back!--pass on!--out of the way! +now, then, look sharp there!" and the pushing of the gangway against +people's shins as though they were so many skittles to be knocked over, +and then came the slow process of "passing out." + +"There's one thing," whispered O'Rapley, "if you do break your leg the +company's liable--that's one comfort." + +"Thankee, sir," answered Bumpkin, "but I bean't a gwine to break my leg +for the sake o' a haction--and mebbee ha' to pay the costs." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +THE OLD BAILEY--ADVANTAGES OF THE NEW SYSTEM ILLUSTRATED. + +And I saw in my dream that Don O'Rapley and worthy Master Bumpkin +proceeded together until they came to the Old Bailey; that delightful +place which will ever impress me with the belief that the Satanic +Personage is not a homeless wanderer. As they journeyed together +O'Rapley asked whether there was any particular kind of case which he +would prefer--much the same as he would enquire what he would like for +lunch. + +"Well, thankee, sir," said Bumpkin, "what he there?"--just the same as a +hungry guest would ask the waiter for the bill of fare. + +"Well," said Mr. O'Rapley, "there's no murder to-day, but there's sure to +be highway robberies, burglaries, rapes, and so on." + +"Wall, I thinks one o' them air as good as anything," said Bumpkin. "I +wur on the jury once when a chap were tried." + +"Did he get off?" + +"Got off as clane as a whusle. Not guilty, we all said: sarved her +right." + +"It's rather early in the morning, p'r'aps," said O'Rapley; "but there's +sure to be something interesting before lunch--crimes are very pop'lar, +and for my own part, I think they're as nice as anything: divorces, +p'r'aps, are as good, and the female intellect prefers 'em as a more +digestable food for their minds." + +"As a what, sir!" + +"Well, since they did away with _crim. cons_, there's nothing left for +females but murders and divorces, worth speaking of." + +"Why, how's that, then?" + +"O, they're not considered sufficiently moral, that's all. You see, +Master Bumpkin, we're getting to be a very moral and good people. +They're doin' away with all that's naughty, such as music and dancing, +peep-shows and country fairs. This is a religious age. No pictur +galleries on a Sunday, but as many public-houses as you like; it's wicked +to look at picturs on a Sunday. And now I'll tell you another thing, +Master Bumpkin, although p'r'aps I ought to keep my mouth closed; but +'ere you'll see a Chancery Judge as knows everything about land and +titles to property, and all that, and never had any training in Criminal +Courts, and may be never been inside of one before, you'll see 'im down +'ere tryin' burglaries and robberies, and down at the Assizes you'll see +'im tryin' men and women for stealing mutton pies and a couple of ounces +of bacon; that's the way the Round Square's worked, Master Bumpkin; and +very well it acts. There's a moral atmosphere, too, about the Courts +which is very curious. It seems to make every crime look bigger than it +really is. But as I say, where's the human natur of a Chancery +barrister? How can you get it in Chancery? They only sees human natur +in a haffidavit, and although I don't say you can't put a lot of it into +a haffidavit, such as perjury and such like, yet it's so done up by the +skill of the profession that you can hardly see it. Learning from +haffidavits isn't like learning from the witness-box, mark my words, Mr. +Bumpkin; and so you'll find when you come to hear a case or two." + +Having thus eloquently delivered himself, Mr. O'Rapley paused to see its +effect: but there was no answer. There was no doubt the Don could talk +a-bit, and took especial pride in expressing his views on law reform, +which, to his idea, would best be effected by returning to the "old +style." + +And I saw that they pushed their way through a crowd of people of all +sorts and degrees of unwashedness and crime, and proceeded up a winding +stair, through other crowds of the most evil-looking indictable persons +you could meet with out of the Bottomless Pit. + +And amongst them were pushing, with eager, hungry, dirty faces, men who +called themselves clerks, evil-disposed persons who traded under such +names as their owners could use no longer on their own account. These +prowlers amongst thieves, under the protection of the Law, were permitted +to extort what they could from the friends of miserable prisoners under +pretence of engaging counsel to defend them. Counsel they would engage +after a fashion--sometimes: but not unfrequently they cheated counsel, +client and the law at the same time, which is rather better than killing +two birds with one stone. + +And the two friends, after threading their way through the obnoxious +crowd, came to the principal Court of the Old Bailey, called the "Old +Court," and a very evil-looking place it was. All the ghosts of past +criminals seemed floating in the dingy atmosphere. Crowds of men, women +and children were heaped together in all directions, except on the bench +and in a kind of pew which was reserved for such ladies as desired to +witness the last degradation of human nature. + +Presently came in, announced with a loud cry of "Silence!" and "Be +uncovered in Court!" a gorgeous array of stout and berobed gentlemen, +with massive chains and purple faces. These, I learned, were the noble +Aldermen of the Corporation. What a contrast to the meagre wretches who +composed the crowd! Here was a picture of what well-fed honesty and +virtue could accomplish for human nature on the one part, as opposed to +what hungry crime could effect, on the other. Blessings, say I, on good +victuals! It is a great promoter of innocence. And I thought how many +of the poor, half-starved, cadaverous wretches who crowded into the dock +in all their emaciated wretchedness and rags would, under other +conditions, have become as portly and rubicund and as moral as the row of +worthy aldermen who sat looking at them with contempt from their exalted +position. + +The rich man doesn't steal a loaf of bread; he has no temptation to do +so: the uneducated thief doesn't get up sham companies, because _he_ has +no temptation to do so. Temptation and Opportunity have much to answer +for in the destinies of men. Honesty is the best policy, but it is not +always the most expedient or practicable. + +Now there was much arraignment of prisoners, and much swearing of +jurymen, and proclamations about "informing my Lords Justices and the +Queen's Attorney-General of any crimes, misdemeanours, felonies, &c., +committed by any of the prisoners," and "if anybody could so inform my +Lords Justices," &c, he was to come forward and do so, and he would be +heard. And then the crowd of prisoners, except the one about to be +tried, were told to stand down. And down they all swarmed, some laughing +and some crying, to the depths below. And the stout warders took their +stand beside the remaining prisoner. + +"Now," said Mr. O'Rapley, "this Judge is quite fresh to the work, and +I'll warrant he'll take a moral view of the law, which is about the worst +view a Judge _can_ take." + +The man left in the dock was a singular specimen of humanity: he was a +thin, wizen-looking man of about seventy, with a wooden leg: and as he +stood up to plead, leant on two crutches, while his head shook a good +deal, as if he had got the palsy. A smile went round the bar, and in +some places broke out into a laugh: the situation was, indeed, +ridiculous; and before any but a Chancery Judge, methought, there must be +an acquittal on the view. However, I saw that the man pleaded not +guilty, and then Mr. Makebelieve opened the case for the Crown. He put +it very clearly, and, as he said, fairly before the jury; and then called +a tall, large-boned woman of about forty into the witness-box. This was +the "afflicted widow," as Makebelieve had called her; and the way she +gave her evidence made a visible impression on the mind of the learned +Judge. His Lordship looked up occasionally from his note-book and fixed +his eyes on the prisoner, whose appearance was that of one trembling with +a consciousness of guilt--that is, to one not versed in human nature +outside an affidavit. + +Mr. Nimble, the prisoner's counsel, asked if the prisoner might sit down +as he was very "infirm." + +"Have you an affidavit of that fact, Mr. Nimble?" asked the Judge. + +"No, my lord; it is not usual on such an application to have an +affidavit." + +"It is not usual," said his lordship, "to take notice of any fact not +upon affidavit; but in this case the prisoner may sit down." + +The prosecutrix gave her evidence very flippantly, and did not seem in +the least concerned that her virtue had had so narrow an escape. + +"Now," asked Mr. Nimble, "what are you?" + +The learned Judge said he could not see what that had to do with the +question. Could Mr. Nimble resist the facts? + +"Yes, my lord," answered the learned counsel; "and I intend, in the first +place, to resist them by showing that this woman is entirely unworthy of +credit." + +"Are you really going to suggest perjury, Mr. Nimble?" + +"Assuredly, my lord! I am going to show that there is not a word of +truth in this woman's statement. I have a right to cross-examine as to +her credit. If your lordship will allow me, I will--" + +"Cross-examination, Mr. Nimble, cannot be allowed, in order to make a +witness contradict all that she has said in her examination-in-chief; it +would be a strange state of the law, if it could." + +Mr. Nimble looked about the desk, and then under it, and felt in his bag, +and at last exclaimed in a somewhat petulant tone: + +"Where's my Taylor?" + +"What do you want your tailor for?" asked the Judge. + +"I wish to point out to your lordship that my proposition is correct, and +that I can cross-examine to the credit of a witness." + +Here the clerk of arraigns, who sat just under the learned Judge, and was +always consulted on matters of practice when there was any difficulty, +was seen whispering to his lordship: after which his lordship looked very +blank and red. + +"We always consult him, my lord," said Mr. Nimble, with a smile, "in +suits at Common Law." + +Everybody tried not to laugh, and everybody failed. Even the Judge, +being a very good-tempered man, laughed too, and said: + +"O yes, Taylor on Evidence, Mr. Nimble." + +At last the book, about the size of a London Directory, was handed up by +a tall man who was Mr. Nimble's clerk. + +"Now, my lord, at page nineteen hundred and seventy-two your lordship +will find that when the credibility of a witness is attacked--" + +Judge: "That will be near the end of the book." + +Mr. Nimble: "No, my lord, near the beginning." + +"I shall not stop you," said the learned Judge; "your question may be put +for what it is worth: but now, suppose in answer to your question she +says she is an ironer, what then?" + +"That's what I am, my lordship," said the woman, with an obsequious +curtsey. + +"There, now you have it," said the Judge, "she is an ironer; stop, let me +take that down, 'I am an ironer.'" + +The cross-examination continued, somewhat in an angry tone no doubt, and +amid frequent interruptions; but Mr. Nimble always thumped down the +ponderous Taylor upon any objection of the learned Judge, and crushed it +as though it were a butterfly. + +Next the policeman gave his evidence, and was duly cross-examined. Mr. +Nimble called no witnesses; there were none to call: but addressed the +jury in a forcible and eloquent speech, stigmatizing the charge as an +utterly preposterous one, and dealing with every fact in a +straightforward and manly manner. After he had finished, the jury would +undoubtedly have acquitted; but the learned Judge had to sum up, which in +this, as in many cases at Quarter Sessions, was no more a summing up than +counting ten on your fingers is a summing up. It was a desultory speech, +and if made by the counsel for the prosecution, would have been a most +unfair one for the Crown: totally ignoring the fact that human nature was +subject to frailties, and testimony liable to be tainted with perjury. +It made so great an impression upon me in my dream that I transcribed it +when I awoke; and this is the manner in which it dealt with the main +points:-- + +"GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY, + +"This is a case of a very serious character (the nature of the offence +was then read from Roscoe), and I am bound to tell you that the evidence +is all one way: namely, on the side of the prosecution. There is not a +single affidavit to the contrary. Now what are the facts?" + +Mr. Nimble: "Would your lordship pardon me--whether they are facts or not +is for the jury." + +"I am coming to that, Mr. Nimble; unless contradicted they are facts, or, +at least, if you believe them, gentlemen. If the evidence is +uncontradicted, what is the inference? The inference is for you, not for +me; I have simply to state the law: it is for you to find the facts. You +must exercise your common sense: if the prisoner could have contradicted +this evidence, is it reasonable to suppose he would not have done so with +so serious a charge hanging over his head?" + +"My lord, may I ask how could the prisoner have called evidence? there +was no one present." + +"Mr. Nimble," said his Lordship solemnly, "he might have shown he was +elsewhere." + +"Yes, my lord; but the prisoner admits being present: he doesn't set up +an _alibi_." + +"Gentlemen, you hear what the learned counsel says: he admits that the +prisoner was present; that is corroborative of the story told by the +prosecutrix. Now, if you find a witness speaking truthfully about one +part of a transaction, what are you to infer with regard to the rest? +Gentlemen, the case is for you, and not for me: happily I have not to +find the facts: they are for you--and what are they? This woman, who is +an ironer, was going along a lonely lane, proceeding to her home, as she +states--and again I say there is no contradiction--and she meets this +man; he accosts her, and then, according to her account, assaults her, +and in a manner which I think leaves no doubt of his intention--but that +is for you. I say he assaults her, if you believe her story: of course, +if you do not believe her story, then in the absence of corroboration +there would be an end of the case. But is there an absence of +corroboration? What do we find, gentlemen? Now let me read to you the +evidence of Police Constable Swearhard. What does he say? 'I was coming +along the Lover's Lane at nine twenty-five, and I saw two persons, whom I +afterwards found to be the prosecutrix and the prisoner.' 'You will +mark that, gentlemen, the prisoner himself does not suggest an _alibi_, +that is to say, that he was elsewhere, when this event occurred. Then he +was upon the spot: and the policeman tells you--it is for you to say +whether you believe the policeman or not; there is no suggestion that he +is not a witness of truth--and he says that he heard a scream, and caught +the defendant in the act. Now, from whom did that scream proceed? Not +from the prisoner, for it was the scream of a woman. From whom then +could it proceed but from the prosecutrix? Now, in all cases of this +kind, one very material point has always been relied on by the Judges, +and that point is this: What was the conduct of the woman? Did she go +about her ordinary business as usual, or did she make a complaint? If +she made no complaint, or made it a long time after, it is some +evidence--not conclusive by any means--but it is some evidence against +the truth of her story. Let us test this case by that theory. What is +the evidence of the policeman? I will read his words: 'The moment I got +up,' he says, now mark that, gentlemen, 'the woman complained of the +conduct of the prisoner: she screamed and threw herself in my arms and +then nearly fainted.' Gentlemen, what does all that mean? You will say +by your verdict." + +"Consider your verdict," said the Clerk of Arraigns, and almost +immediately the Jury said: "Guilty of attempt." + +"Call upon him," said the Judge: and he was called upon accordingly, but +only said "the prosecutrix was a well-known bad woman." + +Then the Judge said very solemnly:-- + +"Prisoner at the bar, you have been convicted upon the clearest possible +evidence of this crime: what you say about the character of the +prosecutrix the more convinces me that you are a very bad man. You not +only assail the virtue of this woman, but, happily prevented in your +design, you endeavour to destroy it afterwards in this Court. No one who +has heard this case can doubt that you have been guilty of this very +grave offence; and in my judgment that offence is aggravated by the fact +that you committed it against her will and without her consent. The +sentence is that you be sent to prison for eighteen calendar months." + +"Rather warm," said Mr. O'Rapley. + +"Never heeard such a thing in my life," said Master Bumpkin, "she wur a +consentin' party if ever there wur one." + +"But that makes no difference now-a-days," said Mr. O'Rapley. "Chancery +Judges studies the equity of the thing more. But perhaps, Mr. Bumpkin, +you don't know what that means?" + +"No," said Bumpkin, "I doan't." + +"You must be quiet," said Mr. O'Rapley; "recollect you are in a Court of +Justice." + +"Be I! It 'ud take moore un thic case to make I believe it; but lookee +here: I be hanged if there ain't that Snooks feller down along there." + +"Who?" enquired O'Rapley. + +"That there feller," said Bumpkin, "be sure to find his way where there's +anything gooin on o' this ere natur." + +Next an undefended prisoner was placed on trial, and as he was supposed +to know all the law of England, he was treated as if he did. + +"You can't put that question, you know," said the learned Judge; "and now +you are making a statement; it is not time to make your statement yet; +you will have ample opportunity by-and-by in your speech to the jury." +And afterwards, when the Judge was summing up, the unhappy prisoner +called his lordship's attention to a mistake; but he was told that he had +had his turn and had made his speech to the jury, and must not now +interrupt the Court. So he had to be quite silent until he was +convicted. Then the two companions went into another court, where a very +stern-looking Common Law Judge was trying a ferocious-looking prisoner. +And Mr. O'Rapley was delighted to explain that now his friend would see +the difference. They had entered the court just as the learned Judge had +begun to address the jury; and very careful his lordship was to explain +(not in technical language), but in homely, common-place and common-sense +English, the nature of the crime with which the prisoner was charged. He +was very careful in explaining this, for fear the jury should improperly +come to the conclusion that, because they might believe the prisoner had +in fact committed the act, he must necessarily be guilty. And they were +told that the act was in that case only one element of the crime, and +that they must ascertain whether there was the guilty intent or no. Now +this old Mr. Justice Common Sense, I thought, was very well worth +listening to, and I heartily wished Mr. Justice Technical from the Old +Court had been there to take a lesson; and I take the liberty of setting +down what I heard in my dream for the benefit of future Justices +Technical. + +His lordship directed the jury's attention to the evidence, which he +carefully avoided calling facts: not to the verbatim report of it on his +note-book as some Recorders do, and think when they are reading it over +they are summing it up; but pointing out statements which, if believed, +become facts and if facts, lead to certain _inferences_ of guilt or +innocence. + +It was while the learned Mr. Justice Common Sense was thus engaged, that +the warder in the dock suddenly checked the prisoner with these words: + +"You mustn't interrupt." + +"Why may he not interrupt?" asks Mr. Justice Common Sense. "What do you +want to say, prisoner?" + +"My lord," answered the prisoner, "I wanted to say as how that there +witness as your lordship speaks on didn't say as he seen me there." + +"O, didn't he?" said the Judge. "I thought he did--now let us see," +turning over his notes. "No, you are quite right, prisoner, he did not +see you at the spot but immediately after." + +Then his lordship proceeded until there was another interruption of the +same character, and the foolish warder again told the prisoner to be +quiet. This brought down Mr. Justice Common Sense with a vengeance: + +"Warder! how dare you stop the prisoner? he is on his trial and is +undefended. Who is to check me if I am misstating the evidence if he +does not? If you dare to speak like that to him again I will commit you. +Prisoner, interrupt me as often as you think I am not correctly stating +the evidence." + +"Thankee, my lord." + +"That be the sort o' Judge for me," said Bumpkin; "but I've 'ad enough on +it, Maister O'Rapley, so if you please, I'll get back t' the 'Goose.' +Why didn't that air Judge try t'other case, I wonder?" + +"Because," replied the Don, "the new system is to work the 'Round +Square'." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Mr. Bumpkin's experience of London life, enlarged. + +On leaving the Old Bailey the two friends proceeded to a neighbouring +public-house and partook of some light refreshment at the counter. Now +Mr. Bumpkin had never yet examined the viands displayed on a counter. +His idea of refreshment, when from home, had always been a huge round of +beef smoking at one end of the table and a large leg of mutton smoking at +the other, with sundry dishes of similar pretensions between, and an +immense quantity of vegetables. When, therefore he saw some +stale-looking sandwiches under the ordinary glass cover, he exclaimed: +"Wittals must be mighty scarce to clap 'em under a glass case." + +"It's to keep the flies off;" said his companion. + +"They need well keep un off, for there bean't enough for a couple if they +was ony wise ongry like." + +However, our friends made the best of what there was, and Mr. O'Rapley, +wishing success to his companion, enquired who was to be his counsel. + +"I doan't rightly know, but I'll warrant Mr. Prigg'll have a good un--he +knows what he be about; and all I hopes is, he'll rattle it into that +there Snooks, for if ever there wur a bad un it be him." + +"He looks a bad un," replied O'Rapley. "When do you think the case is +likely to come on?" + +"Well, it is supposed as it ull be on to-morrer; but I bleeve there's no +sartinty about thic. Now then, just give us a little moore, will 'ee +sir?" (this to the waiter). + +"I'll pay for the next," said O'Rapley, feeling in his pocket. + +"Noa, noa, I'll pay; and thankee, sir, for comin'." + +And then O'Rapley drank his friend's health again, and wished further +success to the case, and hoped Mr. Bumpkin would be sure to come to him +when he was at Westminster; and expressed himself desirous to assist his +friend in every way that lay in his power--declaring that he really must +be going for he didn't know what would happen if the Judge should find he +was away; and was not at all certain it would not lead to some officious +member of the House of Commons asking a question of the Prime Minister +about it. + +Mr. Bumpkin drank his good health, again and again, declaring he was +"mighty proud to have met with un;" and that when the case was over and +he had returned to his farm, he should be pleased if Mr. O'Rapley would +come down and spend a few days with him. "Nancy," he said, "'ll be rare +and pleased to see thee. I got as nice a little farm as any in the +county, and as pooty pigs as thee ever clapped eyes on." + +Mr. O'Rapley, without being too condescending, expressed himself highly +gratified with making Mr. Bumpkin's acquaintance, and observed that the +finest pigs ever he saw were those of the Lord Chief Justice. + +"Dade, sir, now what sort be they?" Mr. O'Rapley was not learned in +pigs, and not knowing the name of any breed whatever, was at a loss how +to describe them. Mr. Bumpkin came to his assistance. + +"Be they smooth like and slim?" + +"Yes," said the Don. + +"Hardly any hair?" + +"Scarce a bit." + +"They be Chichesters then--the werry best breed as a man ever had in his +stye." + +"I never see anything so pretty," replied Mr. O'Rapley. + +"Ah! and they be the smallest-boned pigs as ever could be--they bean't +got a bone bigger nor your little finger." + +"Ha!" said the Don, finishing his glass, "the smaller the bone the more +the meat, that's what I always say; and the Lord Chief Justice don't care +for bone, he likes meat." + +"An' so do I--the Lud Judge be right, and if he tries my case he'll know +the difference betwixt thic pig as Snooks tooked away and one o' them +there--" + +"Jackass-looking pigs," said O'Rapley, seeing that his friend paused. "I +hate them jackass pigs." + +"So do I--they never puts on fat." + +"I must go, really," said O'Rapley. "What do you make the right time?" + +Master Bumpkin pulled out his watch with great effort, and said it was +just a quarter past four by Yokelton time. + +"Here's your good health again, Mr. Bumpkin." + +"And yours, sir; and now I think on it, if it's a fair question Mr. +O'Rapley, and I med ax un wirout contempt, when do you think this 'ere +case o' mine be likely to come on, for you ought to know summut about +un?" + +"Ha!" said the Don, partially closing one eye, and looking profoundly +into the glass as though he were divining the future, "law, sir, is a +mystery and judges is a mystery; masters is a mystery and 'sociates is a +mystery; ushers is a mystery and counsel is a mystery;--the whole of life +(here he tipped the contents of the glass down his throat) is a mystery." + +"So it be," said Mr. Bumpkin, drawing the back of his hand across his +mouth. "So it be sir, but do 'ee think--" + +"Well, really," answered the Don, "I should say in about a couple of +years if you ask me." + +"How the h--" + +"Excuse me, Master Bumpkin, but contempt follers us like a shadder: if +you had said that to a Judge it would have been a year at least: it's +three months as it is if I liked to go on with the case; but I'm not a +wicious man, I hope." + +"I didn't mean no offence," said the farmer. + +"No, no, I dare say not; but still there is a way of doing things. Now +if you had said to me, 'Mr. O'Rapley, you are a gentleman moving in +judicial circles, and are probably acquainted with the windings of the,' +&c. &c. &c. 'Can you inform me why my case is being so unduly +prolonged?' Now if you had put your question in that form I should in +all probability have answered: 'I do not see that it is unduly prolonged, +Master Bumpkin--you must have patience. Judges are but human and it's a +wonder to me they are as much as that, seein' what they have to go +through.'" + +"But if there be a Court why can't us get in and try un, Mr. Rapley?" + +"Ah, now that is putting it pointedly;" and O'Rapley closed one eye and +looked into his tumbler with the other before he answered: + +"You see this is how it goes under the continerous sittings--off and on +we sits continerously at Nisy Prisy in London three months in the year. +Now that ain't bad for London: but it's nothing near so much time as they +gives to places like Aylesbury, Bedford, and many others." + +Mr. Bumpkin looked like a terrier dog watching a hole out of which he +expected a rat: at present he saw no sign of one. + +"Take Aylesbury; well now, if a Judge went there once in seven years he'd +find about every other assize enough work to last him till lunch. But in +course two Judges must go to Aylesbury four times a year, to do nothing +but admire the building where the Courts are held; otherwise you'd soon +have Aylesbury marching on to London to know the reason why. P'r'aps the +Judges have left five hundred cases untried in London to go to this +Aylesbury." + +"Be it a big plaace, sir?" + +"Not so big as a good-sized hotel," said the Don. "Then," he continued, +"there's Bedford ditto again--septennel would do for that; then comes +Northampton--they don't want no law there at all." (I leave the obvious +pun to anyone who likes to make it). "Then Okeham again--did you ever +hear of anyone who came from Okeham? I never did." + +The Don paused, as though on the answer to this question depended his +future course. + +"Noa," said Bumpkin, "can't rightly say as ever I did." + +"And nobody ever did come from there except the Judges. Well, to Okeham +they go four times a year, whereas if they was to go about once in every +hundred years it wouldn't pay. Why raly, Mr. Bumpkin, the Judges goes +round like travellers arfter orders, and can't get none. I'm not +talkin', as you are aware, about great centres like Liverpool, where if +they had about fifty-two assizes in the year it wouldn't be one too many; +but I'm talking about circumfrences on the confines of civilization." + +"Oh dear!" sighed Bumpkin. The hole seemed to him too choked up with +"larnin'" for the rat ever to come out--he could glean nothing from this +highly wrought and highly polished enthusiasm. + +"And, notwithstanding and accordingly," continued the Don, "they do say, +goodness knows how true it is, that they're going to have two more +assizes in the year. All that I can say is, Mr. Bumpkin--and, mark my +words, there'll be no stopping in London at all, but it will be just a +reg'ler Judge's merry-go-round." {138} + +Mr. Bumpkin dropped a look into his glass, and the two companions came +out of the door and proceeded along under the archway until they came to +the corner of Bridge Street, Blackfriars. Exactly at that point a young +woman with a baby in her arms came in contact with Mr. Bumpkin, and in a +very angry tone said,-- + +"I tell you what it is, don't you take them liberties with me or I'll +give you in charge." + +And the young woman passed on with her baby. Just at that moment, and +while Master Bumpkin was meditating on this strange conduct of the young +female, he felt a smart tug at his watch, and, looking down, saw the +broken chain hanging from his pocket. + +"Zounds!" he exclaimed, "I never zeed anything claner than thic; did thee +zee thic feller?" + +"There he goes," said O'Rapley. + +"There ur gooes," said Mr. Bumpkin, and, as fast as he could, pursued the +thief. + +"Stop un!" he cried. "Stop thic there thief; he got my watch." + +But it was a long time before Master Bumpkin's mandate was obeyed; the +value of a policeman, like that of every other commodity, depends upon +his rarity. There was no policeman to be found. There was a fire escape +in the middle of the street, but that was of no use to Master Bumpkin. +Away went thief, and away went Bumpkin, who could "foot it," as he said, +"pooty well, old as he wur." Nor did either the thief or himself stop +until they got nearly to the bridge, when, to Bumpkin's great +astonishment, up came the thief, walking coolly towards him. This was +another mystery, in addition to those mentioned by Mr. O'Rapley. But the +fact was, that the hue and cry was now raised, and although Master +Bumpkin did not perceive it, about a hundred people, men, women, and +boys, were in full chase; and when that gentleman was, as Bumpkin +thought, coolly coming towards him, he was simply at bay, run down, +without hope of escape; and fully determined to face the matter out with +all the coolness he could command. + +"Take un," said Bumpkin; "take un oop; thee dam scoundrel!" + +"Take care what you're saying," said the thief. "I'm a respectable man, +and there's law in the land." + +"Yes, and thee shall have un, too, thee willin; thee stole my watch, thee +knows that." + +"You're a liar," said the captive. + +"Why thee's got un on, dang if thee bean't, and a wearin' on un. Well, +this bates all; take un oop, pleeceman." + +At this moment, which is always the nick of time chosen by the force, +that is to say, when everything is done except the handcuffs, a policeman +with a great deal of authority in his appearance came up, and plunged his +hands under his heavy coat-tails, as though he were about to deliver them +of the bower anchor of a ship. + +"Do you give him in charge?" + +"Sure enough do ur," said Mr. Bumpkin. + +So the handcuffs were put on, and the stalwart policeman, like a hero +with the captive of his bow and spear, marched him along at a great rate, +Bumpkin striding out manfully at the side, amid a great crowd of small +boys, with all their heads turned towards the prisoner as they ran, in +the highest state of delight and excitement. Even Bumpkin looked as if +he had made a good thing of it, and seemed as pleased as the boys. + +As they came again to the corner of Ludgate Hill, there stood Mr. +O'Rapley, looking very pompous and dignified, as became so great a man. + +"You've got him then," said he. + +"Ay; come on, Master Rapley, come on." + +"One moment," said the official; "I must here leave you for the present, +Mr. Bumpkin; we are not allowed to give evidence in Criminal Courts any +more than Her Majesty's Judges themselves; we are a part of the Court. +But, besides all that, I did not see what happened; what was it?" + +"Well," said Mr. Bumpkin, "that be rum too, sir; thee see thic feller +steal my watch, surely." + +"Indeed, Mr. Bumpkin, it was so quickly done that I really did _not_ see +it, if you ask me." + +"Why, he dragged un out o' thic pocket." + +"No doubt, Master Bumpkin; but it does not follow that I see it." + +"Thee can come and say I wur with thee, anyhow." + +"I can't give evidence, Mr. Bumpkin, as I told you before; and, besides, +I must not appear in this matter at all. You know I was absent to oblige +you, and it's possible I may be of some further service to you yet; but +please don't mention me in this matter. I assure you it will do harm, +and perhaps I should lose my place." + +"Well, Master Rapley," said Bumpkin, taking his hand, "I won't do thee no +harm if I knows it, and there be plenty of evidence." + +"Evidence! You say you found the watch upon him?" + +"Sartinly." + +"The case then is clear. You don't want any evidence besides that." + +"Well, sir, you're a man o' larnin'. I bean't much of a scollard, I'll +tak' thy advice; but I must get along; they be waitin' for I." + +"I will see you at Westminster to-morrow, Mr. Bumpkin." + +"All right, zir, all right." + +And with that Mr. O'Rapley proceeded on his way down Fleet Street, and +Mr. Bumpkin proceeded on his up Ludgate Hill in the midst of an excited +crowd. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The coarse mode of procedure in Ahab _v._ Naboth ruthlessly exposed and +carefully contrasted with the humane and enlightened form of the present +day. + +Here I awoke, and my wife said unto me, "Dear, you have been dreaming and +talking in your sleep." + +Now fearing for what I may have said, although of a tolerably clear +conscience, I enquired if she could tell me what words I had uttered. +She replied that I had mentioned the names of many eminent men: such as +Mr. Justice Common Sense. + +"Indeed," quoth I; and then I told my dream. Upon which she observed, +that it seemed there must be much exaggeration. To this I made answer +that dreams do generally magnify events, and impress them more vividly +upon the senses, inasmuch as the imagination was like a microscope: it +enabled you to see many things which would escape the naked eye. + +"But," said my partner, "if they are distorted?" + +"If they are distorted, they are not reliable; but a clear imagination, +like a good lens, faithfully presents its objects, although in a larger +form, in order that those who have no time for scientific observation, +may see what the scientist desires to direct their attention to. There +are creatures almost invisible to the naked eye, which, nevertheless, +cause great irritation to the nerves. So, also, there are matters +affecting the body corporate of these kingdoms which the public are blind +to and suffer from, but which, if thoroughly exposed, they may be +inclined to take a hand in removing." + +"I don't believe that Mr. O'Rapley," said she: "he seems a cantankerous, +conceited fellow." + +"Why so he is; but cantankerous and conceited fellows sometimes speak the +truth. They're like those cobwebbed, unwholesome-looking bottles which +have lain a long time in cellars. You would hardly like to come in +contact with them, and yet they often contain a clear and beautiful wine. +This Mr. O'Rapley is a worthy man who knows a great deal, and although a +bit of a toady to his superiors, expresses his opinions pretty freely +behind their backs." + +"And what of this Master Bumpkin--this worthy Master Bumpkin I hear you +speak of so often?" + +"A very shrewd man in some respects and a silly one in others." + +"Not an unusual combination." + +"By no means." + +And then I told her what I have already related; to which she observed it +was a pity some friend had not interposed and stopped the business. I +answered, that friends were no doubt useful, but friends or no friends we +must have law, and whether for sixpence or a shilling it ought to be +readily attainable: that no one would be satisfied with having no other +authority than that of friendship to settle our disputes; and besides +that, friends themselves sometimes fell out and were generally the most +hard to reconcile without an appeal to our tribunals. + +"Well, it does seem a pity," said she, "that judges cannot sit as they +did in Moses' time at all seasons so as to decide expeditiously and +promptly between the claims of parties." + +"Why so they do sit 'continuously,'" quoth I, "but the whole difficulty +consists in getting at them. What is called procedure is so circuitous +and perplexing, that long before you get to your journey's end you may +faint by the way." + +"Is there no one with good sense who will take this matter up and help +this poor man to come by his rights. It must be very expensive for him +to be kept away from his business so long, and his poor wife left all +alone to manage the farm." + +"Why, so it is, but then going to law, which means seeking to maintain +your rights, is a very expensive thing: a luxury fit only for rich men." + +"Why then do people in moderate circumstances indulge in it?" + +"Because they are obliged to defend themselves against oppressive and +unjust demands; although I think, under the present system, if a man had +a small estate, say a few acres, and a rich man laid claim to it, it +would be far better for the small man to give up the land without any +bother." + +"But no man of spirit would do that?" + +"No, that is exactly where it is, it's the spirit of resistance that +comes in." + +"Resistance! a man would be a coward to yield without a fight." + +"Why so he would, and that is what makes law such a beautiful science, +and its administration so costly. Men will fight to the last rather than +give in. If Naboth had lived in these times there would have been no +need of his death in order to oust him from his vineyard. Ahab could +have done a much more sensible thing and walked in by process of law." + +"In what way?" + +"In the first place he could have laid claim to a right of way, or +easement as it is called, of some sort: or could have alleged that Naboth +had encroached on his land by means of a fence or drain or ditch." + +"Well, but if he hadn't?" + +"If he hadn't, so much the better for the Plaintiff, and so much the +worse for Naboth." + +"I don't understand; if Naboth had done no wrong, surely it would be far +better for him than if he had." + +"Not in the long run, my dear: and for this reason, if he had encroached +it would have taken very little trouble to ascertain the fact, and Naboth +being a just and honest man, would only require to have it pointed out to +him to remedy the evil. Maps and plans of the estate would doubtless +have shown him his mistake, and, like a wise man, he would have avoided +going to law." + +"I see clearly that the good man would have said, 'Neighbour Ahab, we +have been on neighbourly terms for a long lime, and I do not wish in any +way to alter that excellent feeling which has always subsisted between +us. I see clearly by these maps and plans which worthy Master Metefield +hath shown me that my hedge hath encroached some six inches upon thy +domain, wherefore, Neighbour Ahab, take, I pray thee, as much of the land +as belongeth unto thee, according to just admeasurement." + +"Why certainly, so would the honest Naboth have communed with Ahab, and +there would have been an end of the business." + +"But show me, darling, how being in the wrong was better for good Naboth +than being in the right in this business?" + +"Most willingly," said I; "you see, my dear, there was quickly an end of +the matter by Naboth yielding to the just demands of neighbour Ahab. But +now let us suppose honest Naboth in the right concerning his vineyard, +and neighbour Ahab to be making an unjust demand. You have already most +justly observed that in that case it would be cowardly on the part of +Naboth to yield without a struggle?" + +"Assuredly." + +"Well then, that means a lawsuit." + +"But surely," said my wife, "it ought to be soon seen who is in the +wrong. Where is Master Metefield who you said just now was so accurate a +surveyor, and where are those plans you spoke of which showed the +situation of the estates?" + +"Ah, my dear, I see you know very little of the intricacies of the law; +that good Master Metefield, instead of being a kind of judge to determine +quickly as he did for Master Naboth what were the boundaries of the +vineyard, hath not now so easy a task of it, because Ahab being in the +wrong he is not accepted by him as his judge." + +"But if the plans are correct, how can he alter them?" + +"He cannot alter them, but the question of correctness of boundary as +shown, is matter of disputation, and will have to be discussed by +surveyors on both sides, and supported and disputed by witnesses +innumerable on both sides: old men coming up with ancient memories, +hedgers and ditchers, farmers and bailiffs and people of all sorts and +conditions, to prove and disprove where the boundary line really divides +Neighbour Naboth's vineyard from Neighbour Ahab's park." + +"But surely Naboth will win?" + +"All that depends upon a variety of things, such as, first, the +witnesses; secondly, the counsel; thirdly, the judge; fourthly, the +jury," + +"O," said my wife, "pray don't go on to a fifthly--it seems to me poor +Naboth is like to have a sorry time of it before he establish his +boundary line." + +"Ay, if he ever do so: but he first is got into the hands of his Lawyers, +next into the hands of his Counsel, thirdly, into Chancery, fourthly, +into debt--" + +"Pray, do not let us have a fifthly here either; I like not these +thirdlys and fourthlys, for they seem to bring poor Naboth into bad case; +but what said you about debt?" + +"I say that Naboth, not being a wealthy man, but, as I take it, somewhat +in the position of neighbour Bumpkin, will soon be forced to part with a +good deal of his little property in order to carry on the action." + +"But will not the action be tried in a reasonable time, say a week or +two?" + +"I perceive," cried I, "that you are yet in the very springtide and +babyhood of innocence in these matters. There must be summonses for time +and for further time; there must be particulars and interrogatories and +discoveries and inspections and strikings out and puttings in and appeals +and demurrers and references and--" + +"O, please don't. I perceive that poor Naboth is already ruined a long +way back. I think when you came to the interrogatories he was in want of +funds to carry on the action." + +"A Chancery action sometimes takes years," said I. + +"Years! then shame to our Parliament." + +"I pray you do not take on so," said I. "Naboth, according to the decree +of Fate, is to be ruined. Jezebel did it in a wicked, clumsy and brutal +manner. Anyone could see she was wrong, and her name has been handed +down to us with infamy and execration. I now desire to show how Ahab +could have accomplished his purpose in a gentle, manly and scientific +manner and saved his wife's reputation. Naboth's action, carried as it +would be from Court to Court upon every possible point upon which an +appeal can go, under our present system, would effectually ruin him ages +before the boundary line could be settled. It would be all swallowed up +in costs." + +"Poor Naboth!" said my wife. + +"And," continued I, "the law reports would hand down the _cause celebre_ +of _Ahab_ v. _Naboth_ as a most interesting leading case upon the subject +of goodness knows what: perhaps as to whether a man, under certain +circumstances, may not alter his neighbour's landmark in spite of the +statute law of Moses." + +"And so you think poor Naboth would be sold up?" + +"That were about the only certain event in his case, except that Ahab +would take possession and so put an end for ever to the question as to +where the boundary line should run." + +Here again I dozed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Shewing that lay tribunals are not exactly Punch and Judy shows where the +puppet is moved by the man underneath. + +It was particularly fortunate for Mr. Bumpkin that his case was not in +the list of causes to be tried on the following day. It may seem a +curious circumstance to the general reader that a great case like +_Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_, involving so much expense of time, trouble, and +money should be in the list one day and out the next; should be sometimes +in the list of one Court and sometimes in the list of another; flying +about like a butterfly from flower to flower and caught by no one on the +look-out for it. But this is not a phenomenon in our method of +procedure, which startles you from time to time with its miraculous +effects. You can calculate upon nothing in the system but its +uncertainty. Most gentle and innocent reader, I saw that there was no +Nisi Prius Court to sit on the following day, so _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ +could not be taken, list or no list. The lucky Plaintiff therefore found +himself at liberty to appear before that August Tribunal which sits at +the Mansion House in the City of London. A palatial and imposing +building it was on the outside, but within, so far as was apparent to me, +it was a narrow ill ventilated den, full of all unclean people and +unpleasant smells. I say full of unclean people, but I allude merely to +that portion of it which was appropriated to the British Public; for, +exalted on a high bench and in a huge and ponderous chair or throne sat +the Prince of Citizens and the King of the Corporation, proud in his +dignity, grand in his commercial position, and highly esteemed in the +opinion of the world. There he sat, the representative of the Criminal +Law, and impartial, as all will allow, in its administration. Wonderful +being is my Lord Mayor, thought I, he must have the Law at his fingers' +ends. Yes, there it is sitting under him in the shape and person of his +truly respectable clerk. The Common Law resides in the breasts of the +Judges, but it is here at my Lord Mayor's fingers' ends. He has to deal +with gigantic commercial frauds; with petty swindlers, common thieves; +mighty combinations of conspirators; with extradition laws; with +elaborate bankruptcy delinquencies; with the niceties of the criminal law +in every form and shape. Surely, thought I, he should be one of those +tremendous geniuses who can learn the criminal law before breakfast, or +at least before dinner! So he was. His lordship seemed to have learned +it one morning before he was awake. But it is not for me to criticise +tribunals or men: I have the simple duty to perform of relating the story +of the renowned Mr. Bumpkin. + +After the night charges are disposed of up comes the man through the +floor, not Mr. Bumpkin, but Mr. Bumpkin's prisoner. He comes up through +the floor like the imp in the pantomime: and then the two tall warders +prevent his going any farther. + +He was a pale, intelligent looking creature, fairly dressed in frock +coat, dark waistcoat and grey trousers, with a glove on his left hand and +another in his right; looked meekly and modestly round, and then politely +bowed to the Lord Mayor. The charge was then read to him and with a +smile he indignantly repudiated the idea of theft. + +And I saw in my dream that he was represented by a learned Counsel, who +at this moment entered the Court, shook hands with the Lord Mayor, and +saying, "I appear, my lord, for the prisoner," took his seat upon the +bench, and entered for a minute or so into some private and apparently +jocular conversation with his Lordship. + +The name of the learned Counsel was Mr. Nimble, whom we have before seen. +He was a very goodly-shaped man, with a thin face and brown hair. His +eyes were bright, and always seemed to look into a witness rather than at +him. His manner was jaunty, good-natured, easy, and gay; not remarkable +for courtesy, but at the same time, not unpleasantly rude. I thought the +learned Counsel could be disagreeable if he liked, but might be a very +pleasant, sociable fellow to spend an hour with--not in the witness-box. + +He was certainly a skilful and far-seeing Counsel, if I may make so bold +as to judge from this case. And methought that nothing he did or said +was said or done without a purpose. Nor could I help thinking that a +good many Counsel, young and old, if their minds were free from +prejudice, might learn many lessons from this case. It is with this +object that, in my waking moments, I record the impressions of this +dream. I do not say Mr. Nimble was an example to follow on all points, +for he had that common failing of humanity, a want of absolute +perfection. But he was as near to perfection in defending a prisoner as +any man I ever saw, and the proceedings in this very case, if carefully +analysed, will go a long way towards proving that assertion. + +After the interchange of courtesies between his Lordship and Mr. Nimble, +the learned Counsel looked down from the Bench on to the top of Mr. +Keepimstraight's bald head and nodded as if he were patting it. Mr. +Keepimstraight was the Lord Mayor's Clerk. He was very stout and seemed +puffed up with law: had an immense regard for himself and consequently +very little for anybody else: but that, so far as I have been able to +ascertain, is a somewhat common failing among official personages. He +ordered everybody about except the Lord Mayor, and him he seemed to push +about as though he were wheeling him in a legal Bath-chair. His Lordship +was indeed a great invalid in respect to matters of law; I think he had +overdone it, if I may use the expression; his study must have been +tremendous to have acquired a knowledge of the laws of England in so +short a time. But being somewhat feeble, and in his modesty much +misdoubting his own judgment, he did nothing and said nothing, except it +was prescribed by his physician, Dr. Keepimstraight. Even the solicitors +stood in awe of Dr. Keepimstraight. + +And now we are all going to begin--Walk up! + +The intelligent and decent-looking prisoner having been told what the +charge against him was, namely, Highway Robbery with violence, declares +that he is as "innercent as the unborn babe, your lordship:" and then Mr. +Keepimstraight asks, where the Prosecutor is--"Prosecutor!" shout a dozen +voices at once--all round, everywhere is the cry of "Prosecutor!" There +was no answer, but in the midst of the unsavoury crowd there was seen to +be a severe scuffle--whether it was a fight or a man in a fit could not +be ascertained for some time; at length Mr. Bumpkin was observed +struggling and tearing to escape from the throng. + +"Why don't you come when you are called?" asks the Junior Clerk, handing +him the Testament, as Mr. Bumpkin stood revealed in the witness-box. + +And I saw that he was dressed in a light frock, not unlike a pinafore, +which was tastefully wrought with divers patterns of needlework on the +front and back thereof; at the openings thus embroidered could be seen a +waistcoat of many stripes, that crossed and recrossed one another at +various angles and were formed of several colours. He wore a high calico +shirt collar, which on either side came close under the ear; and round +his neck a red handkerchief with yellow ends. His linen certainly did +credit to Mrs. Bumpkin's love of "tidiness," and altogether the +prosecutor wore a clean and respectable appearance. His face was broad, +round and red, indicating a jovial disposition and a temperament not +easily disturbed, except when "whate" was down too low to sell and he +wanted to buy stock or pay the rent: a state of circumstances which I +believe has sometimes happened of late years. A white short-clipped +beard covered his chin, while his cheeks were closely shaven. He had +twinkling oval eyes, which I should say, he invariably half-closed when +he was making a bargain. If you offered less than his price the first +refusal would come from them. His nose was inexpressive and appeared to +have been a dormant feature for many a year. It said nothing for or +against any thing or any body, and from its tip sprouted a few white +hairs. His mouth, without utterance, said plainly enough that he owed +"nobody nothink" and was a thousand pound man every morning he rose. It +was a mouth of good bore, and not by any means intended for a silver +spoon. + +Such was the Prosecutor as he stood in the witness-box at the Mansion +House on this memorable occasion; and no one could doubt that truth and +justice would prevail. + +"Name?" said Mr. Keepimstraight. + +"Bumpkin." + +Down it goes. + +"Where?" + +After a pause, which Mr. Nimble makes a note of. + +"Where?" repeats Keepimstraight. + +"Westminister." + +"Where there?" + +"'Goose' publichouse." + +Down it goes. + +"Yes?" says Keepimstraight. + +Bumpkin stares. + +"Yes, go on," says the clerk. + +"Go on," says the crier; "go on," say half-a-dozen voices all round. + +"Can't you go on?" says the clerk. + +"Tell your story," says his Lordship, putting his arms on the elbows of +the huge chair. "Tell it in your own way, my man." + +"I wur gwine down thic place when--" "my man" began. + +"What time was this?" asks the clerk. + +"Arf arter four, as near as I can tell." + +"How do you know?" asks the clerk. + +"I heard--" + +"I object," says the Counsel--"can't tell us what he heard." + +Then I perceived that the Lord Mayor leant forward towards Mr. +Keepimstraight, and the latter gentleman turned his head and leaned +towards the Lord Mayor, so that his Lordship could obtain a full view of +Mr. Keepimstraight's eyes. + +Then I perceived that Mr. Keepimstraight winked his left eye and +immediately turned to his work again, and his Lordship said: + +"I don't think what you heard, witness, is evidence." + +"Can't have that," said Mr. Keepimstraight, as though he took his +instructions and the Law from his Lordship. + +"You said it was half-past four." + +"Heard the clock strike th' arf hour." + +Here his Lordship leant again forward and Mr. Keepimstraight turned round +so as to bring his eyes into the same position as heretofore. And I +perceived that Mr. Keepimstraight winked his right eye, upon which his +Lordship said: + +"I think that's evidence." + +Clerk whispered, behind his hand, "Can hardly exclude that." + +"Can hardly exclude that," repeats his Lordship; then--turning to the +Learned Counsel--"Can't shut that out, Mr. Nimble." + +"You seldom can shut a church clock out, my Lord," replies the Counsel. + +At this answer his Lordship smiled and the Court was convulsed with +laughter for several minutes. + +"Now, then," said Mr. Keepimstraight, "we must have order in Court." + +"We must have order in Court," says his Lordship. + +"Order in Court," says the Junior Clerk, and "Order!" shouts the +Policeman on duty. + +Then Mr. Bumpkin stated in clear and intelligible language how the man +came up and took his watch and ran away. Foolishly enough he said +nothing about the woman with the baby, and wisely enough Mr. Nimble asked +nothing about it. But what an opportunity this would have been for an +unskilful Counsel to lay the foundation for a conviction. Knowing, as he +probably would from the prisoner but from no other possible source about +the circumstance, he might have shown by a question or two that it was a +conspiracy between the prisoner and the young woman. Not so Mr. Nimble, +he knew how to make an investment of this circumstance for future profit: +indeed Mr. Bumpkin had invested it for him by not mentioning it. +Beautiful is Advocacy if you do not mar it by unskilful handling. + +When, after describing the robbery, the prosecutor continued: + +"I ses to my companion, ses I--" + +"I object," says Mr. Nimble. + +And I perceived that his Lordship leant forward once more towards Mr. +Keepimstraight, and Mr. Keepimstraight turned as aforetime towards the +Lord Mayor, but not quite, I thought, so fully round as heretofore; the +motion seemed to be performed with less exactness than usual, and that +probably was why the operation miscarried. Mr. Keepimstraight having +given the correct signal, as he thought, and the Enginedriver on the +Bench having misunderstood it, an accident naturally would have taken +place but for the extreme caution and care of his Lordship, who, if he +had been a young Enginedriver, would in all probability have dashed on +neck or nothing through every obstacle. Not so his Lordship. Not being +sure whether he was on the up or down line, he pulled up. + +Mr. Keepimstraight sat pen in hand looking at his paper, and waiting for +the judicial voice which should convey to his ear the announcement that +"I ses, ses I," is evidence or no evidence. Judge then of Mr. +Keepimstraight's disappointment when, after waiting in breathless silence +for some five minutes, he at last looks up and sees his Lordship in deep +anxiety to catch his eye without the public observing it. His Lordship +leant forward, blushing with innocence, and whispered something behind +his hand to Mr. Keepimstraight. And in my dream I heard his Lordship +ask: + +"_Which eye_?" + +To which Mr. Keepimstraight as coolly as if nothing had happened, +whispered behind his hand: + +"_Left_!" and then coughed. + +"O then," exclaimed his Lordship, "it is clearly not evidence." + +"It's not evidence," repeated the clerk; and then to the discomfiture of +Mr. Nimble, he went on, "You say you had a companion." + +This was more than the learned Counsel wanted, seeing as he did that +there was another investment to be made if he could only manage it. + +Mr. Bumpkin blushed now, but said nothing. + +"Would you excuse me," said Mr. Nimble; "I shall not cross-examine this +witness." + +"O, very good," says Keepimstraight, thinking probably it was to be a +plea of guilty hereafter; "very good. Then I think that is all--is that +the watch?" + +"It be," said the witness; "I ken swear to un." + +It certainly would be from no want of metal if Mr. Bumpkin could not +identify the timepiece, for it was a ponderous-looking watch, nearly as +large as a tea-saucer. + +Then said Mr. Nimble: + +"You say that is your watch, do you?" + +"It spakes for itself." + +"I don't think that's evidence," says Mr. Keepimstraight, with a smile. + +"That's clearly not evidence," says the Lord Mayor, gravely. Whereupon +there was another burst of laughter, in which the clerk seemed to take +the lead. The remarkable fact, however, was, that his Lordship was +perfectly at a loss to comprehend the joke. He was "as grave as a +Judge." + +After the laughter had subsided, the learned Keepimstraight leaned +backward, and the learned Lord Mayor leaned forward, and it seemed to me +they were conversing together about the cause of the laughter; for +suddenly a smile illuminated the rubicund face of the cheery Lord Mayor, +and at last he had a laugh to himself--a solo, after the band had ceased. +And then his Lordship spoke: + +"What your watch may say is not evidence, because it has not been sworn." + +Then the band struck up again to a lively tune, his Lordship playing the +first Fiddle; and the whole scene terminated in the most humorous and +satisfactory manner for all parties--_except_, perhaps, the prisoner--who +was duly committed for trial to the next sittings of the Central Criminal +Court, which were to take place in a fortnight. + +Mr. Bumpkin naturally asked for his watch, but that request was smilingly +refused. + +"Bin in our famly forty years," exclaimed the prisoner. + +"Will you be quiet?" said Mr. Nimble petulantly, for it was a foolish +observation for the prisoner to make, inasmuch as, if Mr. Bumpkin had +been represented by professional skill, the remark would surely be met at +the trial with abundant evidence to disprove it. Mr. Bumpkin at present, +however, has no professional skill. + + * * * * * + +Here something disturbed me, and I awoke. While preparing to enjoy my +pipe as was my custom in these intervals, my wife remarked: + +"I do not approve of that Master O'Rapley by any means, with his +cynicisms and sarcasms and round squares. Did ever anyone hear of such a +contradiction?" + +"Have patience," quoth I, "and we shall see how worthy Master O'Rapley +makes it out. I conjecture that he means the same thing that we hear of +under the term, 'putting the round peg into the square hole.'" + +"But why should such a thing be done when it is easy surely to find a +square peg that would fit?" + +"Granted; but the master-hand may be under obligations to the round peg; +or the round peg may be a disagreeable peg, or a hundred things: one +doesn't know. I am but a humble observer of human nature, and like not +these ungracious cavillings at Master O'Rapley. Let us calmly follow +this dream, and endeavour to profit by its lessons without finding fault +with its actors." + +"But I would like to have a better explanation of that Round Square, +nevertheless," muttered my wife as she went on with her knitting. So to +appease her I discoursed as follows:-- + +"The round square," said I, "means the inappropriate combination of +opposites." + +"Now, not too long words," said she, "and not too much philosophy." + +"Very well, my dear," I continued; "Don O'Rapley is right, not in his +particular instance, but in the general application of his meaning. Look +around upon the world, or so much of it as is comprised within our own +limited vision, and what do you find?" + +"I find everything," said my wife, "beautifully ordered and arranged, +from the Archbishop of Canterbury to the Parish Beadle." + +"What do you find?" I repeated. "Mark the O'Rapley's knowledge of human +nature, you not only find Waterloos won in the Cricket-field of Eton, but +Bishopricks and Secretaryships and many other glorious victories; so that +you might--" + +"Don't be foolish; Trafalgar was not won in the Cricket-field." + +"No, but it was fought on the Isis or the Cam, I forget which. But carry +the O'Rapley's theory into daily life, and test it by common observation, +what do you find? Why, that this round square is by no means a modern +invention. It has been worked in all periods of our history. Here is a +Vicar with a rich benefice, intended by nature for a Jockey or a +Whipper-in--" + +"What, the benefice?" + +"No, the Vicar! Here is a barrister who ought to have been a curate, and +become enthusiastic over worked slippers: there is another thrust into a +Government appointment, not out of respect to him, the Minister doesn't +know him, but to serve a political friend, or to place an investment in +the hands of a political rival, who will return it with interest on a +future day. The gentleman thus provided for at the country's expense +would, if left to himself, have probably become an excellent +billiard-marker or pigeon-shooter. Here is another, who, although a +member of Parliament, was elected by no constituency under Heaven or +above it; and it is clear he was intended by Nature for a position where +obsequiousness and servility meet with their appropriate reward. Another +fills the post of some awful Commissioner of something, drawing an +immense salary, and doing an immense amount of mischief for it, intended +naturally for a secretary to an Autocratic Nobleman, who would trample +the rights of the people under foot. Here is another--" + +"O pray, my dear, do not let us have another--" + +"Only one more," said I; "here is another, thrust into the Cabinet for +being so disagreeable a fellow, who ought to have been engaged in making +fireworks for Crystal Palace fetes." + +"But this is only an opinion of yours; how do you know these gentlemen +are not fitted for the posts they occupy? surely if they do the work--" + +"The public would have no right to grumble." + +"And as for obsequiousness and servility, I am afraid those are epithets +too often unjustly applied to those gentlemen whose courteous demeanour +wins them the respect of their superiors." + +"Quite so," said I; "and I don't see that it matters what is the +distinguishing epithet you apply to them: this courteous demeanour or +obsequiousness is no doubt the very best gift Nature can bestow upon an +individual as an outfit for the voyage of life." + +"Dear me, you were complaining but just now of its placing men in +positions for which they were not qualified." + +"Not complaining, my love; only remarking. I go in for obsequiousness, +and trust I shall never be found wanting in that courteous demeanour +towards my superiors which shall lead to my future profit." + +"But would you have men only courteous?" + +"By no means, I would have them talented also." + +"But in what proportion would you have the one to the other?" + +"I would have the same proportion maintained that exists between the +rudder and the ship: you want just enough tact to steer your +obsequiousness." + +Here again I dozed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +A comfortable evening at the Goose + +When Mr. Bumpkin left the Mansion House, he was in a state of great +triumph not to say ecstasy: for it seemed to him that he had had +everything his own way. He was not cross-examined; no witnesses were +called, and it had only been stated by the prisoner himself, not proved, +although he said he should prove it at the trial, that the watch had been +in the family for upwards of forty years. + +"The biggest lie," muttered Master Bumpkin, "that ever wur told." And +then he reasoned in this wise: "how could it a bin in his family forty +year when he, Bumpkin, only lost it the day afore in the most barefaced +manner? He was a pooty feller as couldn't tell a better story than +thic." + +And then methought in my dream, "Ah, Bumpkin, thou may'st triumph now, +but little dreamest thou what is in store for thee at the trial. Wait +till all those little insignificant points, hardly visible at present, +shall rise, like spear-heads against thee at the Old Bailey and thrust +thee through and through and make thee curse the advocate's skill and the +thief's impudence and the inertness of the so-called Public Prosecutor: +and mayhap, I know not yet, show thee how wrong and robbery may triumph +over right and innocence. Thou hast raised thyself, good Bumpkin, from +the humblest poverty to comparative wealth and a lawsuit: but boast not +overmuch lest thou find Law a taskmaster instead of a Protector! + +Thus, moralizing in my dream I perceived that Mr. Bumpkin after talking +to some men betook himself to a Bus and proceeded on his way to the +"Goose" at Westminster, whither he arrived in due time and in high +spirits. + +The Goose was a nice cosy public-house, situated, as I before observed, +near the river side and commanded a beautiful view of the neighbouring +wharves and the passing craft. It was a favourite resort of waterside +men, carters, carriers, labourers on the wharf and men out of work. The +Military also patronized it:--And many were the jovial tales told around +the taproom hearth by members of Her Majesty's troops to admiring and +astonished Ignorance. + +It was a particularly cold and bleak day, this ninth of March one +thousand eight hundred and something. The wind was due East and +accompanied ever and anon with mighty thick clouds of sleet and snow. +The fireside therefore was particularly comfortable, and the cheery faces +around the hearth were pleasant to behold. + +Now Mr. Bumpkin, as the reader knows, was not alone in his expedition. +He had his witness, named Joseph Wurzel: called in the village "Cocky," +inasmuch as it was generally considered that he set much by his wisdom: +and was possessed of considerable attainments. For instance, he could +snare a hare as well as any man in the county: or whistle down pheasants +to partake of a Buckwheat refection which he was in the habit of +spreading for their repast. + +A good many fellows who were envious of Joe's abilities avowed that "he +was a regler cunnin' feller, as ud some day find out his mistake;" +meaning thereby that Joe would inevitably be sent to prison. Others +affirmed that he was a good deal too cunning for that; that he was a +regular artful dodger, and knew how to get round the vicar and all in +authority under him. The reader knows that he was a regular attendant at +Church, and by that means was in high favour. Nor was his mother behind +hand in this respect, especially in the weeks before Christmas; and truly +her religion brought its reward even in this world in the shape of Parish +Gifts. + +No doubt Joe was fond of the chase, but in this respect he but imitated +his superiors, except that I believe he occasionally went beyond them in +the means he employed. + +Assembled in this common room at the Goose on the night in question, were +a number of persons of various callings and some of no calling in +particular. Most of them were acquainted, and apparently regular +customers. One man in particular became a great favourite with Joe, and +that was Jacob Wideawake the Birdcatcher; and it was interesting to +listen to his conversation on the means of catching and transforming the +London Sparrow into an article of Commerce. + +Joe's dress no doubt attracted the attention of his companions when he +first made his appearance, for it was something out of the ordinary +style: and certainly one might say that great care had been bestowed upon +him to render his personal appearance attractive in the witness-box. He +wore a wideawake hat thrown back on his head, thus displaying his brown +country-looking face to full advantage. His coat was a kind of dark +velveteen which had probably seen better days in the Squire's family; so +had the long drab waistcoat. His corduroy trousers, of a light green +colour, were hitched up at the knees with a couple of straps as though he +wore his garters outside. His neckerchief was a bright red, tied round +his neck in a careless but not unpicturesque manner. Take him for all in +all he was as fine a specimen of a country lad as one could wish to +meet,--tall, well built, healthy looking, and even handsome. + +Now Mr. Bumpkin, being what is called "a close man," and prone to keep +his own counsel on all occasions when it was not absolutely necessary to +reveal it, had said nothing about his case before the Lord Mayor; not +even Mrs. Oldtimes had he taken into his confidence. It is difficult to +understand his motive for such secrecy, as it is impossible to trace in +nine instances out of ten any particular line of human conduct to its +source. + +Acting probably on some vague information that he had received, Mr. +Bumpkin looked into the room, and told Joe that he thought they should be +"on" to-morrow. He had learned the use of that legal term from frequent +intercourse with Mr. Prigg. He thought they should be on but "wur not +sartin." + +"Well," said Joe, "the sooner the better. I hates this ere hangin' +about." At this Jack Outofwork, Tom Lazyman, and Bill Saunter laughed; +while Dick Devilmecare said, "He hated hanging about too; it was wus than +work." + +"And that's bad enough, Heaven knows," said Lazyman. + +Then I saw that at this moment entered a fine tall handsome soldier, who +I afterwards learned was Sergeant Goodtale of the One Hundred and +twenty-fourth Hussars. A smarter or more compact looking fellow it would +be impossible to find: and he came in with such a genial, good-natured +smile, that to look at him would almost make you believe there was no +happiness or glory on this side the grave except in Her Majesty's +service--especially the Hussars! + +I also perceived that fluttering from the side of Sergeant Goodtale's +cap, placed carelessly and jauntily on the side of his head, was a bunch +of streamers of the most fascinating red white and blue you ever could +behold. Altogether, Sergeant Goodtale was a splendid sight. Down went +his cane on the table with a crack, as much as to say "The Queen!" and he +marched up to the fire and rubbed his hands: apparently taking no heed of +any human being in the room. + +Mr. Bumpkin's heart leaped when he saw the military sight: his eyes +opened as if he were waking from a dream out of which he had been +disturbed by a cry of "fire:" and giving Joe a wink and an obviously +made-up look, beckoned him out of the room. As they went out they met a +young man, shabbily clad and apparently poorly fed. He had an +intelligent face, though somewhat emaciated. He might be, and probably +was, a clerk out of employment, and he threw himself on the seat in a +listless manner that plainly said he was tired of everything. + +This was Harry Highlow. He had been brought up with ideas beyond his +means. It was through no fault of his that he had not been taught a +decent trade: those responsible for his training having been possessed of +the notion that manual labour lowers one's respectability: an error and a +wickedness which has been responsible for the ruin of many a promising +youth before to-day. + +Harry was an intelligent, fairly educated youth, and nothing more. What +is to be done with raw material so plentiful as that? The cheapest +marketable commodity is an average education, especially in a country +where even our Universities can supply you with candidates for employment +at a cheaper rate than you can obtain the services of a first-class cook. +This young man had tried everything that was genteel: he had even aspired +to literature: sought employment on the Press, on the Stage, everywhere +in fact where gentility seemed to reign. Nor do I think he lacked +ability for any of these walks; it was not ability but opportunity that +failed him. + +"Lookee ere, Joe," said Mr. Bumpkin; "harken to me. Don't thee 'ave nowt +to say to that there soger." + +"All right, maister," said Joe, laughing; "thee thinks I be gwine for a +soger. Now lookee ere, maister, I beant a fool." + +"No, thee beant, Joe. I knowed thee a good while, and thee beant no +fool." + +Joe laughed. It was a big laugh was Joe's, for his mouth was somewhat +large, and a grin always seemed to twist it. On this occasion, so great +was his surprise that his master should think he would be fool enough to +enlist for a "soger," that his mouth assumed the most irregular shape I +ever saw, and bore a striking resemblance to a hole such as might be made +in the head of a drum by the heel of a boot. + +"I be up to un, maister." + +"Have no truck wi' un, I tell ee; don't speak to un. Thee be my head +witness, and doant dare goo away; no, no more un if--" + +"No fear," said Joe. "'Taint likely I be gwine to listen to ee. I knows +what he wants; he's arter listin chaps." + +"Look ee ere, Joe, if ur speaks to thee, jist say I beant sich a fool as +I looks; that'll ave un." + +"Right," says Joe; "I beant sich a fool as I looks; that'll ave un +straight." + +"Now, take heed; I'm gwine into the parlour wi' Landlord." + +Accordingly, into the little quiet snuggery of Mr. Oldtimes, Mr. Bumpkin +betook himself. And many and many an agreeable evening was passed with +Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes during the period when Mr. Bumpkin was waiting for +his trial. For Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes being Somersetshire people knew +many inhabitants of the old days in the village of Yokelton, where Mr. +Bumpkin "were bred and born'd." + +Meanwhile the "head witness" had returned to the cheerful scene in the +taproom, and sat leering out of the corners of his eyes upon the +Sergeant, as though he expected every moment that officer would make a +spring at him and have him upon the floor. But the Sergeant was not a +bullying, blustering sort of man at all; his demeanour was quiet in the +extreme. He scarcely looked at anyone. Simply engaged in warming his +hands at the cheerful fire, no one had cause to apprehend anything from +him. + +But a man, Sergeant or no Sergeant, must, out of common civility, +exchange a word now and then, if only about the weather; and so he said, +carelessly,-- + +"Sharp weather, lads!" + +Now, not even Joe could disagree with this; it was true, and was assented +to by all; Joe silently acquiescing. After the Sergeant had warmed his +hands and rubbed them sufficiently, he took off his cap and placed it on +a little shelf or rack; and then took out a meerschaum pipe, which he +exhibited without appearing to do so to the whole company. Then he +filled it from his pouch, and rang the bell; and when the buxom young +waitress appeared, he said,-- + +"My dear, I think I'll have a nice rump steak and some onions, if you +please." + +"Yes, sir," said the maid. + +Now I observed that two or three matters were noteworthy at this point. +First, Joe's mouth so watered that he actually went to the fireplace and +expectorated. Secondly, he was utterly amazed at the familiar manner in +which the Sergeant was permitted to address this beautiful young person, +who seemed to be quite a lady of quality. Thirdly, he was duly impressed +and astounded with the luxurious appetite of this Sergeant of Hussars! + +Then the young woman came back and said,--"Would you like to have it in +the parlour, sir?" + +"O no, my dear," said the Sergeant; "I would rather have it here. I hate +being alone." + +As he said this, he slightly glanced at Dick Devilmecare. Dick, +flattering himself that the observation was addressed particularly to +him, observed that he also hated being alone. + +Then the Sergeant lighted his pipe; and I suppose there was not one in +the company who did not think that tobacco particularly nice. + +Next, the Sergeant rang again, and once more the pretty maid appeared. + +"Lucy," said he, "while my steak is getting ready, I think I'll have +three of whiskey hot, with a little lemon in it." + +At this there was an involuntary smacking of lips all round, although no +one was conscious he had exhibited any emotion. The Sergeant was +perfectly easy and indifferent to everything. He smoked, looked at the +fire, sipped his grog, spread out his legs, folded his arms; then rose +and turned his back to the fire, everyone thinking how thoroughly he +enjoyed himself. + +"That smells very nice, Sergeant," said Harry. + +"Yes, it's very good," said the Sergeant; "it's some I got down at +Yokelton, Somersetshire." + +Here Joe looked up; he hadn't been home for a week, and began to feel +some interest in the old place, and everything belonging to it. + +"I comes from that ere place, Mr. Sergeant," said he. + +"Indeed, sir," said the Sergeant, in an off-hand manner. + +"Did thee buy un at a shop by the Pond, sir?" + +"That's it," replied the Sergeant, pointing with his pipe, "to the +right." + +"The seame plaace," exclaimed Joe. "Why my sister lives there sarvant wi +that ooman as keeps the shop." + +"Indeed!" said Sergeant Goodtale; "how very curious!" + +And Jack said, "What a rum thing!" + +And Bill said, "That is a rum thing!" + +And Harry said it was a strange coincidence. In short, they all agreed +that it was the most remarkable circumstance that ever was. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +The subject continued. + +As soon as the conversation on the remarkable circumstance recorded in +the last chapter had drifted into another subject no less remarkable, and +the Sergeant had finished his pipe, the beautiful being appeared with the +rump steak and onions, a snowy white cloth having been previously spread +at the end of one of the tables. When all was ready, it looked as nice +and appetizing as could well be conceived. The most indifferent man +there seemed the Sergeant himself, who, instead of rushing to the chair +provided for him, walked as coolly up to the table as though he were +going into action. Then he took the knife, and seeing it had not quite +so sharp an edge as he liked, gave it a touch or two on the stone hearth. + +The smell of that tobacco from Yokelton had been sweet; so had the +perfume from the whiskey toddy and the lemon; but of all the delicious +and soul-refreshing odours that ever titilated human nostrils, nothing +surely could equal that which proceeded from the rump steak and onions. +The fragrance of new mown hay, which Cowper has so beautifully mentioned, +had palled on Joe's senses; but when would the fragrance of that dish +pall on the hungry soul? + +The Sergeant took no notice of the hungry looks of the company; he was a +soldier, and concentrated his mind upon the duties of the moment. +Sentimentality was no part of his nature. He was a man, and must eat; he +was a soldier, and must perform the work as a duty irrespective of +consequences. + +"Do you mind my smoke?" asked Harry. + +"Oh dear, no," said the Sergeant; "I like it." + +Joe stared and watched every bit as the Sergeant cut it. He looked +admiringly on the soldier and so lovingly at the steak, that it almost +seemed as if he wished he could be cut into such delicious morsels and +eaten by so happy a man. What thoughts passed through his mind no one +but a dreamer could tell; and this is what I saw passing through the mind +of Wurzel. + +"O, what a life! what grub! what jollyness! no turmut oeing; no +dung-cart; no edgin and ditchin; no five o'clock in the mornin; no +master; no bein sweared at; no up afore the magistrates; no ungriness; +rump steaks and inguns; whiskey and water and bacca; if I didn't like +that air Polly Sweetlove, danged if I wouldn't go for a soger to-morrer!" + +Then said Joe, very deferentially and as if he were afraid of being up +afore the magistrate, "If you please, sir, med I have a bit o' that there +bacca?" + +"Of course," said the Sergeant, tossing his pouch; "certainly; help +yourself." + +Joe's heart was softened more and more towards the military, which he had +hitherto regarded, from all he could hear, as a devil's own trap to catch +Sabbath breakers and disobedient to parents. + +And methought, in my dream, I never saw men who were not partakers of a +feast enjoy it more than the onlookers of that military repast. + +Then said Harry,-- + +"Well, Sergeant, I'm well-nigh tired of my life, and I've come here to +enlist." + +"Just wait a bit," said the Sergeant; "I'm not a man to do things in a +hurry. I never allow a man to enlist, if I know it, in Her Majesty's +service, honourable and jolly as it is, without asking him to think about +it." + +"Hear, hear!" said Lazyman; "that's good, I likes that; don't be in a +hurry, lad." + +"Hear, hear!" says Outofwork, "don't jump into a job too soon, yer medn't +like it." + +"Hear, hear!" says the Boardman, "walk round a-bit." + +"But," said Harry, "I have considered it. I've just had education enough +to prevent my getting a living, and not enough to make a man of me: I've +tried everything and nobody wants me." + +"Then," said Sergeant Goodtale, "do you think the Queen only wants them +that nobody else'll have. I can tell you that ain't the Queen of +England's way. It might do for Rooshia or Germany, or them countries, +but not for Old England. It's a free country. I think, lads, I'm +right--" + +Here there was tremendous hammering on the table by way of assent and +applause; amidst which Joe could be observed thumping his hard fist with +as much vehemence as if he had got a County Magistrate's head under it. + +"This is a free country, sir," said the Sergeant, "no man here is +kidnapped into the Army, which is a profession for men, not slaves." + +"I'm going to join," said Harry, "say what you like." + +"Wait till the morning;" said the Sergeant, "and meanwhile we'll have a +song." + +At this moment Mr. Bumpkin put in an appearance; for although he had been +enjoying himself with Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes, he thought it prudent to +have a peep and see how "thic Joe wur gettin on." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Mr. Bumpkin sings a good old song--the Sergeant becomes quite a convivial +companion and plays dominoes. + +The Sergeant, having finished his repast, again had recourse to his pipe, +and was proceeding to light it when Mr. Bumpkin appeared in the room. + +"We be gwine to have a song, maister," said Joe. + +"Give us a song, governor," said half-a-dozen voices. + +"Ay, do, maister," says Joe; "thee sings a good un, I knows, for I ha +eerd thee often enough at arvest oames: gie us a song, maister." + +Now if there was one thing Mr. Bumpkin thought he was really great at +besides ploughing the straightest and levellest furrow, it was singing +the longest and levellest song. He had been known to sing one, which, +with its choruses, had lasted a full half hour, and then had broken down +for lack of memory. + +On the present occasion he would have exhibited no reluctance, having had +a glass or two in the Bar Parlour had he not possessed those misgivings +about the Sergeant. He looked furtively at that officer as though it +were better to give him no chance. Seeing, however, that he was smoking +quietly, and almost in a forlorn manner by himself, his apprehensions +became less oppressive. + +Invitations were repeated again and again, and with such friendly +vehemence that resistance at last was out of the question. + +"I aint sung for a good while," said he, "but I wunt be disagreeable +like, so here goes." + +But before he could start there was such a thundering on the tables that +several minutes elapsed. At length there was sufficient silence to +enable him to be heard. + +"This is Church and Crown, lads." + + "Gie me the man as loves the Squire, + The Parson, and the Beak; + And labours twelve good hours a day + For thirteen bob a week!" + +"Hooroar! hooroar! hooroar!" shouted Lazyman. "What d'ye think 'o that?" + +"O, my eye," said Outofwork, "aint it jolly?" + +"Well done! bravo!" shrieked the Boardman. "I'll carry that ere man +through the streets on my shoulders instead o' the boards, that I will. +Bravo! he ought to be advertized--this style thirteen bob a week!" + +"Thirteen bob a week!" laughed Harry; "who'd go for a soldier with such a +prospect. Can you give us a job, governor?" + +"Wait a bit, lads," said Mr. Bumpkin, "there be another werse and then a +chorus." + +"Hooray!" they shouted, "a chorus! let's have the chorus--there ought to +be a chorus--thirteen bob a week!" + +"Now, gentlemen, the chorus if you please," said Harry; "give it mouth, +sir!" + +Then sang Bumpkin-- + + "O 'edgin, ditchin, that's the geaam, + All in the open air; + The poor man's health is all his wealth, + But wealth without a care! + + CHORUS. + + Then shout hurrah for Church and State + Though 'eretics may scoff, + The devil is our head Constable, + To take the willins off. + + Give me the man that's poor and strong, + Hard working and content; + Who looks on onger as his lot, + In Heaven's wise purpose sent. + Who looks on riches as a snare + To ketch the worldly wise; + And good roast mutton as a dodge, + To blind rich people's eyes. + + CHORUS. + + Give me the man that labours hard + From mornin' until night, + And looks at errins as a treat + And bacon a delight. + O 'edgin, ditchin, diggin drains, + And emptyin pool and dyke, + It beats your galloppin to 'ounds, + Your ball-rooms and the like. + + CHORUS. + + Gi' me the man that loves the Squire + With all his might and main; + And with the taxes and the rates + As never racks his brain. + Who loves the Parson and the Beak + As Heaven born'd and sent, + And revels in that blessed balm + A hongry sweet content. + + CHORUS. + + Gie me the good Shaksperan man + As wants no other books, + But them as he no need to spell, + The ever runnin brooks: + As feeds the pigs and minds the flocks, + And rubs the orses down; + And like a regler lyal man, + Sticks up for Church and Crown." + + CHORUS. + +At the termination of this pastoral song there was such a hullabaloo of +laughter, such a yelling, thumping, and, I grieve to say, swearing, that +Mr. Bumpkin wondered what on earth was the occasion of it. At the Rent +dinner at the Squire's he had always sung it with great success; and the +Squire himself had done him the honour to say it was the best song he had +ever heard, while the Clergyman had assured him that the sentiments were +so good that it ought to be played upon the organ when the people were +coming out of church. And Farmer Grinddown, who was the largest +gentleman farmer for miles around, had declared that if men would only +act up to that it would be a happy country, and we should soon be able to +defy America itself. + +Mr. Bumpkin, hearing such shouts of laughter, thought perhaps he might +have a patch of black on his face, and put his hand up to feel. Then he +looked about him to see if his dress was disarranged; but finding nothing +amiss, he candidly told them he "couldn't zee what there wur to laugh at +thic fashion." + +They all said it was a capital song, and wondered if he had any more of +the same sort, and hoped he'd leave them a lock of his hair--and +otherwise manifested tokens of enthusiastic approbation. + +Mr. Bumpkin, however, could not quite see their mirth in the same light, +so he turned on his heel and, beckoning to Joe, left the room in high +dudgeon, not to say disdain. + +"Mind Joe--no truck wi un." + +"Why, maister, he knows my sister." + +"Damn thee sister, Joe; it be a lie." + +"Be it? here's some o' the bacca he brought up from Okleton, I tell ee." + +"I tell thee, have nowt to do wi un; we shall be on t'morrer, we be tenth +in the list." + +"Ay," said Joe, "we bin igher in list un thic, we bin as near as eight; I +shall be mighty glad when it be over." + +"An get back to pigs, aye, Joe?" + +"Aye, maister." + +"Nothin like oame, Joe, be there?" and Mr. Bumpkin turned away. + +"No," said Joe; "no, maister, if so be" (and this was spoken to himself) +"if so be you got a oame." + +Then I saw that Joe rejoined his companions, amongst whom a conversation +was going on as to the merits of the song. Some said one thing and some +another, but all condemned it as a regular toading to the Parson and the +Squire: and as for the Beak, how any man could praise him whose only duty +was to punish the common people, no one could see. The company were +getting very comfortable. The Sergeant had called for another glass of +that delectable grog whose very perfume seemed to inspire everyone with +goodfellowship, and they all appeared to enjoy the Sergeant's liquor +without tasting it. + +"What do you say to a game of dominoes?" said Harry. + +"They won't allow em ere," said Lazyman. + +"Won't they," answered Outofwork. "I'll warrant if the Sergeant likes to +play there's no landlord'll stop him, ay, Sergeant?" + +"Well, I believe," said the Sergeant, "as one of the Queen's servants, I +have the privilege of playing when I like." + +"Good," said Harry, "and I'll be a Queen's man too, so out with the +shilling, Sergeant." + +"Wait till the morning," said the Sergeant. + +"No," said Harry. "I've had enough waiting. I'm on, give me the +shilling." + +The Sergeant said, "Well, let me see, what height are you?" and he stood +up beside him. + +"Ah!" he said, "I think I can get you in," saying which he gave him a +shilling; such a bright coin, that it seemed to have come fresh from the +Queen's hand. + +Then the Sergeant took out some beautiful bright ribbons which he was +understood to say (but did _not_ say) the Queen had given him that +morning. Then he rang the bell, and the buxom waitress appearing he +asked for the favour of a needle and thread, which, the radiant damsel +producing, with her own fair fingers she sewed the ribbons on to Harry's +cap, smiling with admiration all the while. Even this little incident +was not without its effect on the observant "head witness," and he felt +an unaccountable fascination to have the same office performed by the +same fair hands on his own hat. + +Then, without saying more, a box of dominoes was produced, and Joe soon +found himself, he did not know how, the Sergeant's partner, while Lazyman +and Outofwork were opposed to them. + +"Is it pooty good livin in your trade, Mr. Sergeant?" asked Joe. + +"Not bad," said the Sergeant; "that is five-one, I think"--referring to +the play. + +"Rump steaks and ingons aint bad living," said Outofwork. + +"No," said the Sergeant, "and there's nothing I like better than a good +thick mutton chop for breakfast--let me see, what's the game?" + +"Ah!" said Joe, smacking his lips, "mutton chops is the best thing out; I +aint had one in my mouth, though, for a doocid long time; I likes em with +plenty o' fat an gravy loike." + +"You see," said the Sergeant, "when you've been out for a two or three +mile ride before breakfast in the fresh country air, a chap wants +something good for breakfast, and a mutton chop's none too much for him." + +"No," answered Joe, "I could tackle three." + +"Yes," said Sergeant Goodtale, "but some are much larger than others." + +"So em be," agreed Joe. + +"What's the game," enquired the Sergeant. + +"Two-one," said Joe. + +"One's all," said the soldier. + +"I tell ee what," remarked Joe, "if I was going to list, there's no man +as I'd liefer list wi than you, Mr. Sergeant." + +"Domino!" said the Sergeant, "that's one to us, partner!" + +Then they shuffled the dominoes and commenced again. But at this moment +the full figure of Mr. Bumpkin again stood in the doorway. + +"Joe!" he exclaimed angrily, "I want thee, come ere thirecly, I tell ee!" + +"Yes, maister; I be comin." + +"You stoopid fool!" said Mr. Bumpkin in a whisper, as Joe went up to him, +"thee be playin with thic feller." + +"Well, maister, if I be; what then?" Joe said this somewhat angrily, and +Mr. Bumpkin replied:-- + +"He'll ha thee, Joe--he'll ha thee!" + +"Nay, nay, maister; I be too old in the tooth for he; but it beant thy +business, maister." + +"No," said Bumpkin, as he turned away, "it beant." + +Then Joe resumed his play. Now it happened that as the Sergeant smacked +his lips when he took his occasional sip of the fragrant grog, expressive +of the highest relish, it awakened a great curiosity in Wurzel's mind as +to its particular flavour. The glass was never far from his nose and he +had long enjoyed the extremely tempting odour. At last, as he was not +invited to drink by Sergeant Goodtale, he could contain himself no +longer, but made so bold as to say:-- + +"Pardner, med I jist taste this ere? I never did taste sich a thing." + +"Certainly, partner," said the Sergeant, pushing the tumbler, which was +about three-parts full. "What's the game now?" + +"Ten-one," said Outofwork. + +"One's all, then," said the Sergeant. + +Joe took the tumbler, and after looking into it for a second or two as +though he were mentally apostrophizing it, placed the glass to his lips. + +"Don't be afraid," said the Sergeant. + +No one seemed more courageous than Wurzel, in respect of the act with +which he was engaged, and before he took the glass from his lips its +contents had disappeared. + +"I'm mighty glad thee spoke, Maister Sergeant, for if thee hadn't I +should a drunk un all wirout thy leave. I never tasted sich tackle in my +life; it's enough to make a man gie up everything for sogering." + +"Domino!" said the Sergeant. "I think that's the game!" + + * * * * * + +"My dear," said my wife, "you have been talking again in your sleep." + +"Really," said I, "I hope I have not compromised myself." + +"I do not understand you," cried she. + +"No more do I, for I am hardly awake." + +"You have been talking of Joe Wurzel again." + +"O, to be sure. What about him?" + +"Then you mentioned Mr. Outofwork and Mr. Lazyman and Mr. Devilmecare, +and another whose name I did not catch." + +"Ah," I asked, "did they go for soldiers?" + +"At present, no, except Harry, for whom I was heartily sorry, he seemed +such a nice disappointed lad. But pray who is this Sergeant Goodtale?" + +"He is on recruiting service, a very fine, persuasive fellow." + +"But he didn't seem to press these people or use any arts to entice them: +I like him for that. He rather seemed to me to discourage them from +enlisting. He might have been sure poor Harry meant it, because, as I +take it, he was half-starved, and yet he desired him to wait till the +morning." + +"I think," said I, "his conduct was artful if you examine it with +reference to its effect on the others; but he is an extraordinary man, +this Sergeant Goodtale--was never known to persuade any one to enlist, I +believe." + +"But he seemed to get along very well." + +"Very; I thought he got along very comfortably." + +"Then there was one Lucy Prettyface!" + +"Ah, I don't remember her," cried I, alarmed lest I might have said +anything in my dream for which I was not responsible. + +"Why she was the girl who sewed the colours on and somebody called 'my +dear.'" + +"I assure you," I said, "it was not I: it must have been the Sergeant; +but I have no recollection--O yes, to be sure, she was the waitress." + +"You remember her now?" + +"Well," said I, determined not to yield if I could possibly help it, "I +can't say that I do. I know there was a person who sewed colours on and +whom the Sergeant called 'my dear,' but further than that I should not +like to pledge myself. Yes--yes--to be sure," and here I went on +talking, as it were, to myself, for I find it is much better to talk to +yourself if you find it difficult to carry on a conversation with other +persons. + +"She was pretty, wasn't she?" said my wife with an arch look. + +I gave her a look just as arch, as I replied, + +"Really I hardly looked at her; but I should say _not_." I make a point +of never saying any one is pretty. + +"Joe thought her so." + +"Did he? Well she may have been, but I never went in for Beauty myself." + +"You shocking man," said my wife, "do you perceive what you are saying?" + +"Why, of course; but you take me up so sharply: if you had not cut me off +in the flower of my speech you would have been gratified at the finish of +my sentence. I was going to say, I never went in for Beauty, but once. +That, I think, gives the sentence a pretty turn." + +"Well, now, I think these dreams and this talking in your sleep indicate +that you require a change; what do you say to Bournemouth?" + +"You think I shall sleep better there?" + +"I think it will do you good." + +"Then we'll go to Bournemouth," cried I, "for I understand it's a very +dreamy place." + +"But I should like to know what becomes of this action of Mr. Bumpkin, +and how all his people get on? You may depend upon it that Sergeant will +enlist those other men." + +"I do not know," I remarked, "what is in the future." + +"But surely you know what you intend. You can make your characters do +anything." + +"Indeed not," I said. "They will have their own way whether I write +their history or any one else." + +"That Sergeant Goodtale will have every one of them, my dear; you mark my +words. He's the most artful man I ever heard of." + +Of course I could offer no contradiction to this statement as I was not +in the secrets of the future. How the matter will work out depends upon +a variety of circumstances over which I have not the least control. For +instance, if Bill were to take the shilling, I believe Dick would follow: +and if the Sergeant were to sing a good song he might catch the rest. +But who can tell? + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Joe electrifies the company and surprises the reader. + +"Suppose we have another song," said Sergeant Goodtale. + +"And spoase we has some moore o' that there stuff," answered Joe. + +"Aye," said Harry, "we will too. I'll spend my shilling like a man." + +Saying which he rang the bell and ordered a glass for himself and one for +Joe. + +"Now, then," said the latter, "I can't sing, but I'll gie thee summut as +I larned." + +"Hooray!" said Harry, "summut as he larned!" + +"Bravo!" said the Boardman, "summut as he larned?" + +"Here's at un," said Joe. + +And then with a mighty provincialism he repeated without a break:-- + + + +DR. BRIMSTONE'S SERMON, +AS PUT INTO VERSE BY GAFFER DITCHER. + + + I bin to Church, I ha', my boy, + And now conwarted be; + The last time I wur ever there + War eighteen farty-three! + + And 'ow I knows it is as this, + I didn't goo to pray, + Nor 'ear the Word, but went becorse + It wur my weddin day! + + Zounds! wot a blessed sarmon twur + I 'eeard the Sabbath morn; + 'Ow I a woful sinner wur + Or ever I wur born. + + You sees them wilful igorant pigs + In mud a wollorin; + Well, like them pigs, but ten times wus, + We wollers in our sin. + + We're coated o'er wi' sinful mud,-- + A dreadful sight we be; + And yet we doant despise ourselves-- + For why?--We doant zee! + + I thinks I had yer there, my boy, + For all your sniggerin' jeers; + Thee're in t' mud, I tell 'ee, lad, + Rightoover 'ed an' ears. + + Zounds! what a orful thing it be + That love should blind us so! + Why, them there bloomin rosy cheeks + Be ony masks o' woe! + + The reddest on 'em thee could kiss + Aint 'ardly wuth the pains; + At best it's but the husk o' bliss, + It's nuther wuts nor banes. + + There aint a pleasure you can name, + From coourtin down to skittles, + But wot there's mischief in the same, + Like pisen in your wittles. + + The Reverend Brimstone says, "Beloved, + Be allays meek an umble; + A saint should never ax for moor, + An never larn to grumble." + + We ain't to tork o' polleticks + An' things as don't consarn us, + And wot we wornts to know o' lor + The madgistret will larn us. + + We ain't to drink wi' Methodists, + No, not a friendly soop; + We ain't to tork o' genteel folks + Onless to praise un oop. + + We ain't to 'ear a blessed word + Agin our betters said; + We're got to lay the butter thick + Becorse they're sich 'igh bred! + + We got to say "Ha! look at he! + A gemman tooth and nail!" + You morn't say, "What a harse he'd be + If he'd a got a tail!" + + For why? becorse these monied gents + Ha' got sich birth an' breedin'; + An' down we got to 'old our 'eads, + Like cattle, when they're feedin'. + + The parson put it kindly like-- + He sed, says he, as 'ow + We're bean't so good as them there grubs + We turns up wi' the plow. + + There's nowt more wretcheder an we, + Or worthier an the rich, + I praises 'em for bein' born, + An' 'eaven for makin' sich. + + So wile we be, I daily stares + That earthquakes doan't fall, + An' swaller up this unconwinced + Owdashus earthly ball! + + An' wen I thinks of all our sins-- + Lay down, says I, my boys, + We're fittin' only for manoor, + So don't let's make a noise. + + Let's spred us out upon the ground + An' make the turmuts grow, + It's all we're good for in this world + O' wickedness an' woe! + + And yet we're 'llow'd to brethe the air + The same as gents from town; + And 'llow'd to black their 'appy boots, + And rub their 'orses down! + + To think o' blessins sich as these, + Is like ongrateful lust; + It stuffs us oop wi' worldly pride, + As if our 'arts would bust! + + But no, we're 'umble got to be, + Though privileged so 'igh: + Why doan't we feed on grass or grains, + Or leastways 'umbly die! + + We got to keep our wicked tongue + From disrespeckful speakin', + We han't a got to eat too much, + Nor yet goo pleasure seekin'. + + Nor kitch a rabbit or a aire, + Nor call the Bobby names, + Nor stand about, but goo to church, + And play no idle games: + + To love paroshial orficers, + The squire, and all that's his, + And never goo wi' idle chaps + As wants their wages riz. + + So now conwarted I ha' bin + From igorance and wice; + It's only 'appiness that's sin, + And norty things that's nice! + + Whereas I called them upstart gents + The wust o' low bred snobs, + Wi' contrite 'art I hollers out + "My heye, wot bloomin' nobs!" + + I sees the error o' my ways, + So, lads, this warnin' take, + The Poor Man's path, the parson says, + Winds round the Burnin' Lake. + + They've changed it since the days o' yore, + Them Gospel preachers, drat un; + They used to preach it to the poor, + An' now they preach it _at_ un. + +Every one was amazed at the astonishing memory of this country lad: and +the applause that greeted the reciter might well be calculated to awaken +his latent vanity. It was like being called before the curtain after the +first act by a young actor on his first appearance. And I believe every +one understood the meaning of the verses, which seemed to imply that the +hungry prodigal, famishing for food, was fed with husks instead of grain. +Contentment with wretchedness is not good preaching, and this was one +lesson of Dr. Brimstone's sermon. As soon as Harry could make himself +heard amidst the general hubbub, which usually follows a great +performance, he said:-- + +"Now, look here, lads, it's all very well to be converted with such +preaching as that; but it's my belie it's more calculated to make +hypocrites than Christians." + +"Hear! hear!" said Lazyman. "That _is_ right." Anything but conversion +for Lazyman. + +"Now," continued Harry, "I've heard that kind of preaching a hundred +times: it's a regular old-fashioned country sermon; and, as for the poor +being so near hell, I put it in these four lines." + +"Hear, hear!" cried the company; "order!" + +And they prepared themselves for what was to come with as great eagerness +as, I venture to say, would always be shown to catch the text, if it came +at the end, instead of the beginning, of a sermon. + +"Shut up," says Lazyman; "let's 'ear this 'ere. I knows it's summut good +by the look an him." + +"Don't make a row," retorts the Boardman; "who can hear anything while +you keeps on like that?" + +And there they stood, actually suspending the operation of smoking as +they waited the summing up of this remarkably orthodox "preaching of the +word." The sergeant only was a spectator of the scene, and much amused +did he seem at the faces that prepared for a grin or a sneer as the +forthcoming utterance should demand. Then said Harry solemnly and +dramatically:-- + + "In WANT full many a vice is born, + And Virtue in a DINNER; + A well-spread board makes many a SAINT, + And HUNGER many a sinner." + +From the explosion which followed this antidote to Mr. Brimstone's +sermon, I should judge that the more part of the company believed that +Poverty was almost as ample a virtue as Charity itself. They shook their +heads in token of assent; they thumped the table in recognition of the +soundness of the teaching; and several uttered an exclamation not to be +committed to paper, as an earnest of their admiration for the ability of +Mr. Highlow, who, instead of being a private soldier, ought, in their +judgment, to be Lord Mayor of London. After this recital every one said +he thought Mr. Highlow might oblige them. + +"Well, I'm no singer," said Harry. + +"Try, Harry!" exclaimed Lazyman: he was a rare one to advise other people +to try. + +"Trying to sing when you can't," answered Harry, "I should think is a rum +sort of business; but I'll tell you what I'll do if you like. When I was +down at Hearne Bay I heard an old fisherman tell a story which--" + +"That's it!" thumped out Joe, "a story. I likes a good story, specially +if there be a goast in it." + +"I don't know what there is in it," said Harry, "I'll leave you to make +that out; but I tell you what I did when I heard it, I made a ballad of +it, and so if you like I'll try and recollect it." + +"Bravo!" they said, and Harry gave them the following + + + +SONG OF THE WAVES. + + + Far away on the pebbly beach + That echoes the sound of the surge; + As if they were gifted with speech, + The breakers will sing you a dirge. + + The fishermen list to it oft, + And love the sweet charm of its spell, + For sometimes it wispers so soft, + It seems but the voice of the shell. + + It tells of a beautiful child + That used to come down there and play, + And shout to the surges so wild + That burst on the brink of the bay. + + She was but a child of the poor, + Whose father had perished at sea; + 'Twas strange, that sweet psalm of the shore, + Whatever the story might be! + + Yes, strange, but so true in its tone + That no one could listen and doubt; + The heart must be calm and alone + To search its deep mystery out. + + She came with a smaller than she + That toddled along at her side; + Now ran to and fled from the sea, + Now paddled its feet in the tide. + + Afar o'er the waters so wild, + Grazed Effie with wondering eye; + What mystery grew on the child + In all that bright circle of sky? + + Her father--how sweet was the thought! + Was linked with this childish delight; + 'Twas strange what a vision it brought-- + As though he still lingered in sight. + + Was it Heaven so near, so remote, + Across the blue line of the wave? + 'Twas thither he sailed in his boat, + 'Twas there he went down in his grave! + + So the days and the hours flew along, + Like swallows that skim o'er the flood; + Like the sound of a beautiful song, + That echoes and dies in the wood! + + One day as they strayed on the strand, + And played with the shingle and shell, + A boat that just touched on the land + Was playfully rocked by the swell. + + O childhood, what joy in a ride! + What eagerness beams in their eyes! + What bliss as they climb o'er the side + And shout as they tumble and rise! + + O sea, with thy pitiful dirge, + Thou need'st to be mournful and moan! + The wrath of thy terrible surge + Omnipotence curbs it alone! + + The boat bore away from the shore, + The laughter of childhood so glad! + And the breakers bring back ever more + The dirge with its echo so sad! + + A widow sits mute on the beach, + And ever the tides as they flow, + As if they were gifted with speech, + Repeat the sad tale of her woe! + +"That's werry good," said the Boardman. "I'm afraid them there children +was washed away--it's a terrible dangerous coast that ere Ern Bay. I've +'eeard my father speak on it." + +"Them there werses is rippin'!" said Joe. + +"Stunnin'!" exclaimed Bob. + +And so they all agreed that it was a pretty song and "well put together." + +"Capital," said the sergeant, "I never heard anything better, and as for +Mr. Wurzel, a man with his memory ought to do something better than feed +pigs." + +"Ay, aye," said the company to a man. + +"Why don't you follow my example?" said Harry; "it's the finest life in +the world for a young fellow." + +"Well," said the sergeant, "that all depends; its very good for some, for +others not so good--although there are very few who are not pleased when +they once join, especially in such a regiment as ours!" + +"And would you mind telling me, sir," asked Outofwork, "what sort of +chaps it don't suit?" + +"Well, you see, chaps that have been brought up in the country and tied +to their mothers' apron strings all their life: they have such soft +hearts, they are almost sure to cry--and a crying soldier is a poor +affair. I wouldn't enlist a chap of that sort, no, not if he gave me ten +pounds. Now, for instance, if Mr. Wurzel was to ask my advice about +being a soldier I should say 'don't!'" + +"Why not, sir?" asked Joe; "how's that there, then? D'ye think I be +afeard?" + +"I should say, go home first, my boy, and ask your mother!" + +"I be d---d if I be sich a molly-coddle as that, nuther; and I'll prove +un, Mr. Sergeant; gie me thic bright shillin' and I be your man." + +"No," said the sergeant, "think it over, and come to me in a month's +time, if your mother will let you. I don't want men that will let their +masters buy them off the next day." + +"No; an lookee here, Maister Sergeant; I bean't to be bought off like +thic, nuther. If I goes, I goes for good an' all." + +"Well, then," said the sergeant, shaking him by the hand, and pressing +into it the bright shilling, "if you insist on joining, you shall not say +I prevented you: my business is not to prevent men from entering Her +Majesty's service." + +Then the ribbons were brought out, and Joe asked if the young woman might +sew them on as she had done Harry's; and when she came in, Joe looked at +her, and tried to put on a military bearing, in imitation of his great +prototype; and actually went so far as to address her as "My dear," for +which liberty he almost expected a slap in the face. But Lucy only +smiled graciously, and said: "Bravo, Mr. Wurzel! Bravo, sir; I've seen +many a man inlisted, and sewed the Queen's colours on for him, but never +for a smarter or a finer fellow, there!" and she skipped from the room. + +"Well done!" said several voices. And the sergeant said: + +"What do you think of that, Mr. Wurzel? I'll back she's never said that +to a soldier before." + +Joe turned his hat about and drew the ribbons through his fingers, as +pleased as a child with a new toy, and as proud as if he had helped to +win a great battle. + +Here I awoke. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +The Sergeant makes a loyal speech and sings a song, both of which are +well received by the company. + +And when I got to Bournemouth I dreamed again; and a singular thing +during this history was, that always in my dream I began where I had left +off on the previous night. So I saw that there, in the room at "The +Goose," were Sergeant Goodtale, and Harry, and Joe, and the rest, just as +I had left them when I last awoke. But methought there was an air of +swagger on the part of the head witness which I had not observed +previously. His hat was placed on one side, in imitation of the +sergeant's natty cap, and he seemed already to hold up his head in a +highly military manner; and when he stooped down to get a light he tried +to stoop in the same graceful and military style as the sergeant himself; +and after blowing it out, threw down the spill in the most off-hand +manner possible, as though he said, "That's how we chaps do it in the +Hussars!" Everyone noticed the difference in the manner and bearing of +the young recruit. There was a certain swagger and boldness of demeanour +that only comes after you have enlisted. Nor was this change confined to +outward appearance alone. What now were pigs in the mind of Joe? Merely +the producers of pork chops for breakfast. What was Dobbin that slowly +dragged the plough compared to the charger that Joe was destined to +bestride? And what about Polly Sweetlove and her saucy looks? Perhaps +she'd be rather sorry now that she did not receive with more favour his +many attentions. Such were the thoughts that passed through the lad's +mind as he gradually awakened to a sense of his new position. One +thought, however, strange to say, did not occur to him, and that was as +to what his poor old mother would think. Dutiful son as Joe had always +been, (though wild in some respects), he had not given her a single +thought. But his reflections, no doubt, were transient and confused amid +the companions by whom he was surrounded. + +"You'll make a fine soldier," said the Boardman, as he saw him swagger +across to his seat. + +"Yes," said the sergeant, "any man that has got it in him, and is steady, +and doesn't eat too much and drink too much, may get on in the army. It +isn't like it used to be." + +"I believe that," said Bob Lazyman. + +"The only thing," continued the sergeant, "is, there is really so little +to do--there's not work enough." + +"That ud suit me," said Bob. + +"Ah! but stop," added the sergeant, "the temptations are great--what with +the girls--." + +"Hooray!" exclaimed Dick; "that beats all--I likes them better than +mutton chops." + +"Yes," replied the sergeant; "they are all very well in their way; but +you know, if a man wants to rise in the army, he must be steady." + +"Steady, boys! stea--dy!" shouted Dick + +I don't know how far the sergeant was justified, morally, in thus holding +out the prospect of riotous living to these hungry men, but I think, all +things considered, it was an improvement on the old system of the +pressgang, which forced men into the navy. These lads were not bound to +believe the recruiting sergeant, and were not obliged to enter into a +contract with Her Majesty. At the same time, the alluring prospects were +such that if they had been represented as facts in the commercial +transactions of life, such is the purity of the law that they would have +given rise to much pleading, multifarious points reserved, innumerable +summonses at Chambers, and, at least, one new trial. + +"Now," said Jack Outofwork, "I tell yer what it is--I don't take no +Queen's shilling, for why? it ain't the Queen's--it belongs to the +people--I'm for a republic." + +'"Well," said the sergeant, "I always like to meet a chap that calls +himself a republican, and I'll tell you why. This country is a republic, +say what you like, and is presided over by our gracious Queen. And I +should like to ask any man in this country--now, just listen, lads, for +this is the real question, whether--" + +"Now, order," said Lazyman, "I never 'eerd nothing put better." + +"Let's have order, gentlemen," said Harry; "chair! chair!" + +"All 'tention, sergeant," said Dick. + +"I say," continued the sergeant; "let us suppose we got a republic +to-morrow; well, we should want a head, or as they say, a president." + +"That's good," said half-a-dozen voices. + +"Well, what then?" said the sergeant; "Who would you choose? Why, the +Queen, to be sure." + +Everybody said "The Queen!" And there was such a thumping on the table +that all further discourse was prevented for several minutes. At last +everyone said it was good, and the sergeant had put it straight. + +"Well, look'ee 'ere, lads--I was born among the poor and I don't owe +nothing to the upper classes, not even a grudge!" + +"Hear! hear! Bravo, Mr. Sergeant!" cried all. + +"Well, then; I've got on so far as well as I can, and I'm satisfied; but +I'll tell you what I believe our Queen to be--a thorough woman, and loves +her people, especially the poor, so much that d---d if I wouldn't die for +her any day--now what d'ye think o' that?" + +Everybody thought he was a capital fellow. + +"Look, here," he continued, "it isn't because she wears a gold crown, or +anything of that sort, nor because a word of her's could make me a field +marshal, or a duke, or anything o' that sort, nor because she's rich, but +I'll tell you why it is--and it's this--when we're fighting we don't +fight for her except as the Queen, and the Queen means the country." + +"Hear! hear! hear! hear!" + +"Well, we fight for the country--but she loves the soldiers as though +they were not the country's but her own flesh and blood, and comes to see +'em in the hospital like a mother, and talks to 'em the same as I do to +you, and comforts 'em, and prays for 'em, and acts like the real mother +of her people--that's why I'd die for her, and not because she's the +Queen of England only." + +"Bravo!" said Joe. "Hope I shall soon see her in th' 'orsepittal. It be +out 'ere: beant it St. Thomas's." + +"I hope you won't, my brave lad," said the sergeant; "but don't tell me +about republicanism when we've got such a good Queen; it's a shame and a +disgrace to mention it." + +"So it be," said Joe; "I'm darned if I wouldn't knock a feller into the +middle o' next week as talked like thic. Hooroar for the Queen!" + +"And now I'm going to say another thing," continued the sergeant, who +really waxed warm with his subject, and struck admiration into his +audience by his manner of delivery: may I say that to my mind he was even +eloquent, and ought to have been a sergeant-at-law, only that the country +would have been the loser by it: and the country, to my mind, has the +first right to the services of every citizen. "Just look," said the +sergeant, "at the kindness of that--what shall I call her? blessed!--yes, +blessed Princess of Wales! Was there ever such a woman? Talk about Jael +in the Bible being blessed above women--why I don't set no value upon +her; she put a spike through a feller it's true, but it was precious +cowardly; but the Princess, she goes here and goes there visiting the +sick and poor and homeless, not like a princess, but like a real woman, +and that's why the people love her. No man despises a toady more than I +do--I'd give him up to the tender mercies of that wife of Heber the +Keenite any day; but if the Princess was to say to me, 'Look 'ere, +Sergeant, I feel a little low, and should like some nice little +excitement just to keep up my spirits and cheer me up a bit'" (several of +them thought this style of conversation was a familiar habit with the +Princess and Sergeant Goodtale, and that he must be immensely popular +with the Royal Family), "well, if she was to say, 'Look here, Sergeant +Goodtale, here's a precipice, it ud do me good to see you leap off that,' +I should just take off my coat and tuck up my shirt sleeves, and away I +should go." + +At such unheard of heroism and loyalty there was a general exclamation of +enthusiasm, and no one in that company could tell whom he at that moment +most admired, the Princess or the Sergeant. + +"That's a stunner!" said Joe. + +"Princess by name and Princess by nature," replied the sergeant; "and now +look'ee here, in proof of what I say, I'm going to give you a toast." + +"Hear, hear," said everybody. + +"But stop a minute," said the sergeant, "I'm not a man of words without +deeds. Have we got anything to drink to the toast?" + +All looked in their respective cups and every one said, "No, not a drop!" + +Then said the sergeant "We'll have one all rounded for the last. You'll +find me as good as my word. What's it to be before we part?" + +"Can't beat this 'ere," said Joe, looking into the sergeant's empty +glass. + +"So say all of us," exclaimed Harry. + +"That's it," said all. + +"And a song from the sergeant," added Devilmecare. + +"Ay, lads, I'll give you a song." + +Then came in the pretty maid whom Joe leered at, and the sergeant winked +at; and then came in tumblers of the military beverage, and then the +sergeant said: + +"In all companies this is drunk upstanding, and with hats off, except +soldiers, whose privilege it is to keep them on. You need not take yours +off, Mr. Wurzel; you are one of Her Majesty's Hussars. Now then all say +after me: 'Our gracious Queen; long may she live and blessed be her +reign--the mother and friend of her people!'" + +The enthusiasm was loud and general, and the toast was drunk with as +hearty a relish as ever it was at Lord Mayor's Banquet. + +"And now," said the sergeant, "once more before we part--" + +"Ah! but the song?" said the Boardman. + +"Oh yes, I keep my word. A man, unless he's a man of his word, ought +never to wear Her Majesty's uniform!" And then he said: + +"The Prince and Princess of Wales and the rest of the Royal Family." + +This also was responded to in the same unequivocal manner; and then amid +calls of "the sergeant," that officer, after getting his voice in tune, +sang the following song: + + + +GOD BLESS OUR DEAR PRINCESS. + + + There's not a grief the heart can bear + But love can soothe its pain; + There's not a sorrow or a care + It smiles upon in vain. + And _She_ sends forth its brightest rays + Where darkest woes depress, + Where long wept Suffering silent prays-- + God save our dear Princess! + + CHORUS. + + She soothes the breaking heart, + She comforts in distress; + She acts true woman's noblest part. + God save our dear Princess + She bringeth hope to weary lives + So worn by hopeless toil; + E'en Sorrow's drooping form revives + Beneath her loving smile. + Where helpless Age reluctant seeks + Its refuge from distress, + E'en there _Her_ name the prayer bespeaks + God save our dear Princess! + + It's not in rank or princely show + True _Manhood's_ heart to win; + 'Tis Love's sweet sympathetic glow + That makes all hearts akin. + Though frequent storms the State must stir + While Freedom we possess, + Our hearts may all beat true to Her, + Our own beloved Princess. + + The violet gives its sweet perfume + Unconscious of its worth; + So Love unfolds her sacred bloom + And hallows sinful earth; + May God her gentle life prolong + And all her pathway bless; + Be this the nation's fervent song-- + God save our dear Princess! + +Although the language of a song may not always be intelligible to the +unlettered hearer, the spirit and sentiment are; especially when it +appeals to the emotions through the charms of music. The sergeant had a +musical voice capable of deep pathos; and as the note of a bird or the +cry of an animal in distress is always distinguishable from every other +sound, so the pathos of poetry finds its way where its words are not +always accurately understood. It was very observable, and much I thought +to the sergeant's great power as a singer, that the first chorus was sung +with a tone which seemed to imply that the audience was feeling its way: +the second was given with more enthusiasm and vehemence: the third was +thumped upon the table as though a drum were required to give full effect +to the feelings of the company; while the fourth was shouted with such +heartiness that mere singing seemed useless, and it developed into loud +hurrahs, repeated again and again; and emphasized by the twirling of +hats, the clapping of hands, and stamping of feet. + +"What d'ye think o' that?" says the Boardman. + +"I'm on," said Lazyman; "give me the shilling, sergeant, if you please?" + +"So'm I," said Saunter. + +"Hooroar!" shouted the stentorian voice that had erstwhile charmed the +audience with Brimstone's sermon. + +"Bravo!" said Harry. + +"Look'ee here," said Jack Outofwork, "we've had a werry pleasant evenin' +together, and I ain't goin' to part like this 'ere; no more walkin' about +looking arter jobs for me, I'm your man, sergeant." + +"Well," said the sergeant, eyeing his company, "I didn't expect this; a +pluckier lot o' chaps I never see; and I'm sure when the Queen sees you +it'll be the proudest moment of her life. Why, how tall do you stand, +Mr. Lazyman?" + +"Six foot one," said he. + +"Ha," said the Sergeant, "I thought so. And you, Mr. Outofwork?" + +"I don't rightly know," said Jack. + +"Well," said the sergeant, "just stand up by the side of me--ha, that +will do," he added, pretending to take an accurate survey, "I think I can +squeeze you in--it will be a tight fit though." + +"I hope you can, Mr. Sergeant," said he. + +"Look 'ere," laughed Joe; "We'll kitch 'old of his legs and give him a +stretch, won't us, Sergeant?" + +And so the bright shillings were given, and the pretty maid's services +were again called in; and she said "she never see sich a lot o' plucky +fellows in her born days;" and all were about to depart when, as the +sergeant was shaking hands with Dick Devilmecare in the most pathetic and +friendly manner, as though he were parting from a brother whom he had not +met for years, Devilmecare's eyes filled with tears, and he exclaimed, + +"Danged if I'll be left out of it, sergeant; give me the shillin'?" + +At this moment the portly figure of Mr. Bumpkin again appeared in the +doorway! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +The famous Don O'Rapley and Mr. Bumpkin spend a social evening at the +"Goose." + +When Mr. Bumpkin, on this memorable evening, went into Mrs. Oldtimes' +parlour to console himself after the fatigues and troubles of the day +there were a cheerful fire and a comfortable meal prepared for him. Mr. +O'Rapley had promised to spend the evening with him, so that they might +talk over the business of the day and the prospects of the coming trial. +It was a very singular coincidence, and one that tended to cement the +friendship of these two gentlemen, that their tastes both inclined to +gin-and-water. And this very house, as appeared from a notice on the +outside, was the "noted house for Foolman's celebrated gin." + +But as yet Mr. O'Rapley had not arrived; so after his meal Mr. Bumpkin +looked into the other room to see how Joe was getting on, for he was +extremely anxious to keep his "head witness" straight. "Joe was his +mainstay." + +I have already related what took place, and the song that Bumpkin sang. +The statement of the head witness that he was all right, and that he was +up to Mr. Sergeant, to a great extent reassured Mr. Bumpkin: although he +felt, keen man that he was, that that soldier was there for the purpose +of "ketchin what young men he could to make sogers on 'em; he had 'eerd +o' sich things afore:" such were his thoughts as Mr. O'Rapley entered the +apartment. + +"Dear me, Mr. Bumpkin," said that official, "how very cold it is! how are +you, Mrs. Oldtimes? I haven't seen you for an age." + +The Don always made that observation when strangers were present. + +"Hope you're quite well, sir," said the landlady, with much humility. + +"What'll thee please to take, sir?" asked Bumpkin. + +"Well, now, I daresay you'll think me remarkable strange, Mr. Bumpkin, +but I'm going to say something which I very very seldom indulge in, but +it's good, I believe, for indigestion. I will take a little--just a very +small quantity--of gin, with some hot water, and a large lump of sugar, +to destroy the alcohol." + +"Ha!" said the knowing Bumpkin; "that's wot we call gin-and-water in our +part of the country. So'll I, Mrs. Oldtimes, but not too much hot water +for I. What'll thee smoke, sir?" + +"Thank you, one of those cheroots that my lord praised so much the last +time we was 'ere." + +"If you please, sir," said the landlady, with a very good-natured smile. + +"Well," said the O'Rapley, in his patronizing manner; "and how have we +got on to-day? let us hear all about it. Come, your good health, Mr. +Bumkin, and success to our lawsuit. I call it _ours_ now, for I really +feel as interested in it as you do yourself; by-the-bye, what's it all +about, Mr. Bumpkin?" + +"Well, sir, you see," replied the astute man, "I hardly knows; it beginnd +about a pig, but what it's about now, be more un I can tell thee. I +think it be salt and trespass." + +"You have not enquired?" + +"No, I beant; I left un all in the hands o' my lawyer, and I believe he's +a goodun, bean't he?" + +"Let me see; O dear, yes, a capital man--a very good man indeed, a close +shaver." + +"Is ur? and that's what I want. I wants thic feller shaved as close to +his chin as may be." + +"Ah!" said O'Rapley, "and Prigg will shave him, and no mistake. Well, +and how did we get on at the Mansion House? First of all, who was +against you?--Mrs. Oldtimes, I _think_ I'll just take a very small +quantity more, it has quite removed my indigestion--who was against you, +sir?" + +"Mr. Nimble; but, lor, he worn't nowhere; I had un to rights,--jest gi'e +me a leetle more, missus,--he couldn't axe I a question I couldn't +answer; and I believe he said as good, for I zeed un talking to the Lord +Mayor; it worn't no use to question I." + +"You didn't say anything about me?" + +"No," answered Bumpkin, in a loud whisper; "I din't; but I did say afore +I could stop the word from comin' out o' my mouth as I had a _companion_, +but they didn't ketch it, except that the gentleman under the lord mayor +were gwine to ax about thee, and blowed if the counsellor didn't stop un; +so that be all right." + +"Capital!" exclaimed the great bowler, waving his arm as if in the act of +delivery; then, in a whisper, "Did they ask about the woman?" + +"Noa--they doan't know nowt about thic--not a word; I was mighty plased +at un, for although, as thee be aware, it be the biggest lie as ever wur +heard, I wouldn't have my wife hear o' sich to save my life. She be a +good wife to I an' allays have a bin; but there I thee could clear me in +a minute, if need be, sir." + +"Yes, but you see," said the artful Don, "if I was to appear, it would +make a sensational case of it in a minute and fill all the papers." + +"Would ur now? Morn't do that nuther; but, wot d'ye think, sir? As I +wur leavin' the Cooart, a gemman comes up and he says, says he, 'I +spoase, sir, you don't want this thing put in the papers?' How the dooce +he knowed that, I can't make out, onless that I wouldn't say where I +lived, for the sake o' Nancy; no, nor thee couldn't ha' dragged un out o' +me wi' horses." + +"Yes?" said the Don, interrogatively. + +"'Well,' says I, 'no, I don't partickler want it in.' I thought I'd say +that, don't thee zee (with a wink), 'cos he shouldn't think I were eager +like." + +"Exactly," + +"Well, this 'ere gemman says, says he, 'It don't matter to me, sir, +whether it's in or not, but if thee don't want it in, I'll keep it out, +that's all. It will pay I better p'raps to put un in.' + +"'And who med thee be, sir?' I axed. + +"'Only the _Times_', said the gemman, 'that's all.' Then, turning to his +friend, he said, 'Come on, Jack, the gemman wants it in, so we'll have it +in, every word, and where he comes from too, and all about the gal; we +know all about it, don't us, Jack?'" + +"Ha!" said the O'Rapley, blowing out a large cloud, and fixing his eye on +the middle stump. + +"Well," continued Bumpkin, "thee could ha' knocked I down wi' a feather. +How the doose they knowed where I comed from I can't make out; but here +wur I as cloase to the man as writes the _Times_ as I be to thee." + +The O'Rapley nodded his head knowingly several times. + +"'Well, and how much do thee charge to keep un out?' seys I. 'Don't be +too hard upon me, I be only a poor man.' + +"'We have only one charge,' says the _Times_, 'and that is half a +guinea.' + +"'Spoase we say seven and six,' sess I. + +"'That,' seys the _Times_, 'wouldn't keep your name out, and I suppose +you don't want that in?' 'Very well,' I sess, takin' out my leather bag +and handin' him the money; 'this'll keep un out, wool ur?' + +"'Sartainly,' says he; and then his friend Jack says, 'My fee be five +shillings, sir.' 'And who be thee?' says I. 'I'm the _Telegrarf_,' seys +he. 'The devil thee be?' I sess, 'I've eerd tell on ee.' 'Largest +calculation in the world,' he says; 'and, if thee like,' he says, 'I can +take the _Daily Noos_ and _Stanard_ money, for I don't see 'em here jist +now; it'll be five shillings apiece.' + +"'Well,' I sess, 'this be rum business, this; if I takes a quantity like +this, can't it be done a little cheaper?' + +"'No,' he says; 'we stands too high for anything o' that sort. Thee can +'ave it or leave it.' + +"'Very well,' I sess; 'then, if there's no option, there's the money.' +And with that I handed un the fifteen shillings. + +"'Then,' says the _Times_, 'we'd better look sharp, Jack, or else we +shan't be in time to keep it out.' And wi' that they hurried off as fast +as they could. I will say't they didn't let the grass grow under their +feet." + +"And why," enquired the Don, with an amused smile, "were you so anxious +to keep it out of the _Times_? Mrs. Bumpkin doesn't read the _Times_, +does she?" + +"Why, no; but then the Squoire tak it in, and when eve done wi un he +lends un to the Doctor, Mr. Gossip; and when he gets hold o' anything, +away it goes to the Parish Clerk, Mr. Jeerum, and then thee med as well +hire the town crier at once." + +"I see; but if you'll excuse me, Mr. Bumpkin, I will give you a bit of +information that may be of service." + +"Thankee, sir; will thee jist tak a little more to wet the tother eye +like." + +"Well, really," replied O'Rapley, "it is long past my hour of nocturnal +repose." + +"What, sir? I doant ondustand." + +"I mean to say that I generally hook it off to bed before this." + +"Zackly; but we'll 'ave another. Your leave, sir, thee was going to tell +I zummat." + +"O yes," said Mr. O'Rapley, with a wave of the hand in imitation of the +Lord Chief Justice. "I was going to say that those two men were a couple +of rogues." + +Mr. Bumpkin paused in the act of passing the tumbler to his lips, like +one who feels he has been artfully taken in. + +"You've been done, sir!" said Mr. O'Rapley emphatically, "that man who +said he was the _Times_ was no more the _Times_ than you're _Punch_." + +"Nor thic _Telegrarf_ feller!" + +"No. And you could prosecute them. And I'll tell you what you could +prosecute them for." Mr. Bumpkin looked almost stupified. + +"I'll tell you what these villains have been guilty of; they've been +guilty of obtaining money by false pretences, and conspiring to obtain +money by false pretences." + +"Have um?" said Bumpkin. + +"And you can prosecute them. You've only got to go and put the matter in +the hands of the police, and then go to some first-rate solicitor who +attends police courts; now I can recommend you one that will do you +justice. I should like to see these rascals well punished." + +"And will this fust-rate attorney do un for nothin'?" + +"Why, hardly; any more than you would sell him a pig for nothing." + +"Then I shan't prosekit," said Mr. Bumpkin; "the devil's in't, I be no +sooner out o' one thing than I be into another--why I beant out o' thic +watch job yet, for I got to 'pear at the Old Bailey on the +twenty-fourth." + +"O, committed for trial, was he?" exclaimed the Don. + +"Sure wur ur," said Mr. Bumpkin triumphantly--"guilty!" + +Now I perceived that the wily Mr. O'Rapley did not recommend Bumpkin to +obtain the services of a solicitor to conduct his prosecution in this +case; and I apprehend for this reason, that the said solicitor being +conscientious, would unquestionably recommend and insist that Mr. +Bumpkin's evidence at the Old Bailey should be supported by that of the +Don himself. So Mr. Bumpkin was left to the tender mercies of the Public +Prosecutor or a criminal tout, or the most inexperienced of "soup" +instructed counsel, as the case might be, but of which matters at present +I have no knowledge as I have no dreams of the future. + +Then Mr. Bumpkin said, "By thy leave, worthy Mr. O'Rapley, I will just +see what my head witness be about: he be a sharp lad enow, but wants a +dale o' lookin arter." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +Don O'Rapley expresses his views of the policy of the legislature in not +permitting dominoes to be played in public houses. + +When Mr. Bumpkin returned to the cosy parlour, his face was red and his +teeth were set. He was so much agitated indeed, that instead of +addressing Mr. O'Rapley, he spoke to Mrs. Oldtimes, as though in her +female tenderness he might find a more sincere and sympathetic adviser. + +Mr. Bumpkin was never what you would call an eloquent or fluent speaker: +his Somersetshire brogue was at times difficult of comprehension. He +certainly was not fluent when he said to Mrs. Oldtimes: "Why +thic--there--damn un Mrs. Oldtimes if he beant gwine and never zeed zich +a thing in my bornd days--" + +"Why what ever in the name of goodness gracious is the matter?" asked the +landlady. + +"Why thic there head witness o' mine: a silly-brained--Gor forgive me +that iver I should spake so o' un, for he wor allays a good chap; and I +do b'leeve he've got moore sense than do any thing o' that kind." + +"What's the matter? what's the matter?" again enquired Mrs. Oldtimes. + +"Why he be playin' dominoes wi thic Sergeant." + +"O," said the landlady, "I was afraid something had happened. We're not +allowed to know anything about dominoes or card-playing in our house--the +Law forbids our knowing it, Mr. Bumpkin; so, if you please, we will not +talk about it--I wish to conduct my house as it always has been for the +last five-and-twenty years, in peace and quietness and respectability, +Mr. Bumpkin, which nobody can never say to the contrairy. It was only +the last licensing day Mr. Twiddletwaddle, the chairman of the Bench, +said as it were the best conducted house in Westminster." + +Now whether it was that the report of this domino playing was made in the +presence of so high a dignitary of the law as Mr. O'Rapley, or from any +other cause, I cannot say, but Mrs. Oldtimes was really indignant, and +positively refused to accept any statement which involved the character +of her establishment. + +"I think," she continued, addressing Mr. O'Rapley, "you have known this +house for some time, sir." + +"I have," said O'Rapley. "I have passed it every evening for the last +ten years." + +"Ah now, to be sure--you hear that, Mr. Bumpkin. What do you think of +that?" + +"Never saw anything wrong, I will say that." + +"Never a game in my house, if I knows it; and what's more, I won't +believe it until I sees it." + +"Ockelar demonstration, that's the law," said the Don. + +Mr. Bumpkin's excitement was absolutely merged in that of the landlady, +whom he had so innocently provoked. He stared as the parties continued +their wordy justification of this well-ruled household like one dreaming +with his eyes open. No woman could have made more ado about her own +character than Mrs. Oldtimes did respecting that of her house. But then, +the one could be estimated in money, while the other possessed but an +abstract value. + +"I believe," she repeated, "that cards or dominoes has never been played +in my house since here I've been, or since the law has been what it is." + +"I be wery sorry," said the penitent Bumpkin; "I warn't aweare I wur +doing anythin' wrong." + +"It's unlawful, you see, to play," said the Don; "and consequently they +dursn't play. Now, why is it unlawful? Because Public Houses is for +drinking, not for amusement. Now, sir, Drink is the largest tax-payer +we've got--therefore Drink's an important Industry. Set people to work +drinking and you get a good Rewenue, which keeps up the Army and +Navy--the Navy swims in liquor, sir--but let these here Perducers of the +Rewenue pause for the sake o' playing dominoes, or what not, and what's +the consequence? You check this important industry--therefore don't by +any manner of means interrupt drinking. It's an agreeable ockepation and +a paying one." + +"Well done, sir," said Oldtimes, from the corner of the fireplace, where +he was doing his best with only one mouth and one constitution to keep up +the Army and Navy. A patriotic man was Oldtimes. + +"Drink," continued O'Rapley, "is the most powerful horgsilery the +Government has." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Bumpkin, not knowing what a horgsilery was; "now thee've +gone a-head o' me, sir. Thee're a larned man, Mr. O'Rapley, and I beant +much of a schollard; will thee please to tell I what a horgs--what wur +it?" + +"Horgsilery," said Mr. O'Rapley. + +"Horsgilly--ah! so twur. Well, by thy leave, worthy sir, will thee be so +kind as to tell I be it anything like a hogshead?" + +"Well," said Mr. O'Rapley, "its more like a corkscrew: the taxes of the +country would be bottled up as tight as champagne and you couldn't get +'em out without this corkscrew." + +"But I worn't spakin' about taxes when I spak of dominoes; what I wur +alludin' to wur thic Joe been drawed in to goo for a soger." + +"Lor, bless you," said Mrs. Oldtimes, "many a man as good as Joe have +listed before now and will again." + +"Mayhap," said Bumpkin; "but he wurn't my 'ead witness and didn't work +for I. Joe be my right hand man, although I keeps un down and tells un +he beant fit for nothin'." + +"Ha," said the Don, "he's not likely to go for a soldier, I think, if +it's that good-looking young chap I saw with the kicking-straps on." + +"Kickin'-straps," said Bumpkin; "haw! haw! haw! That be a good un. Well +he told I he wur up to un and I think ur be: he'll be a clever feller if +ur gets our Joe. Why Nancy ud goo amost out o' her mind. And now, sir, +will thee 'ave any moore?" + +Mr. O'Rapley, in the most decisive but polite manner, refused. He had +quite gone out of his way as it was in the hope of serving Mr. Bumpkin. +He was sure that the thief would be convicted, and as he rose to depart +seized his friend's hand in the most affectionate manner. Anything he +could do for him he was sure he would do cheerfully, at any amount of +self-sacrifice--he would get up in the night to serve him. + +"Thankee," said Bumpkin; but he had hardly spoken when he was startled by +the most uproarious cheers from the taproom. And then he began again +about the folly of young men getting into the company of recruiting +sergeants. + +"Look here," said the Don, confidentially, "take my advice--say +nothing--a still tongue makes a wise head; to persuade a man not to enter +the army is tantamount to advising him to desert. If you don't mind, you +may lay yourself open to a prosecution." + +"Zounds!" exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin, "it seem to me a man in Lunnon be every +minit liable to a prosecution for zummat. I hope sayin' that beant +contempt o' Coourt, sir." + +Mr. O'Rapley was silent--his head drooped towards Mr. Bumpkin in a +semi-conscious manner, and he nodded three consecutive times: called for +another "seroot," lit it after many efforts, and again assuring Mr. +Bumpkin that he would do all he could towards facilitating his triumph +over Snooks, was about to depart, when his friend asked him, +confidentially, whether he had not better be at the Old Bailey when the +trial came on, in case of its being necessary to call him. + +"Shurel not!" hiccupped the Don. Then he pointed his finger, and leering +at Bumpkin, repeated, "Shurel not;--jus swell cll Ch. Jussiself"--which +being interpreted meant, "Certainly not, you might just as well call the +Chief Justice himself." + +"Pr'aps he'll try un?" said Bumpkin. + +"Noer won't--noer won't: Chansy Juge mos likel Massr Rolls." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +In spite of all warnings, Joe takes his own part, not to be persuaded on +one side or the other--affecting scene between Mr. Bumpkin and his old +servant. + +"Whatever can that there shoutin' be for, Mrs. Oldtimes--they be terrible +noisy." + +"O," said the landlady, "somebody else has listed." + +"I hope it beant that silly Joe. I warned un two or three times agin +thic feller." + +"There have been several to-night," said the landlady, who had scarcely +yet recovered from the insinuations against the character of her house. + +"How does thee know thic, my dear lady?" + +"O, because Miss Prettyface have been in and out sewin' the colours on +all the evening, that's all. Sergeant Goodtale be the best recrootin' +sergeant ever come into a town--he'd list his own father!" + +"Would ur, now?" said Bumpkin. "Beant thee afeard o' thy husband bein' +took?" + +Mrs. Oldtimes shrieked with laughter, and said she wished he would list +Tom, for he wasn't any good except to sit in the chimney corner and smoke +and drink from morning to night. + +"And keep up th' Army," growled the husband + +"Ha, keep up the Army, indeed," said Mrs. Oldtimes; "you do your share in +that way, I grant." + +Now it was quite manifest that that last cheer from the taproom was the +herald of the company's departure. There was a great scuffling and +stamping of feet as of a general clearing out, and many "good nights." +Then the big manly voice of the Sergeant said: "Nine o'clock, lads; nine +o'clock; don't oversleep yourselves; we shall have chops at eight. What +d'ye say to that, Mrs. Oldtimes?" + +"As you please, Sergeant; but there's a nice piece of ham, if any would +like that." + +"Ha!" said the Sergeant; "now, how many would like ham?" + +"I'se for a chop," said Joe, working his mouth as if he would get it in +training. + +"Right," said the Sergeant, "we'll see about breakfast in the morning. +But you know, Mrs. Oldtimes, we like to start with a good foundation." + +And with three cheers for the Sergeant the recruits left the house: all +except Joe, who occupied his old room. + +After they were gone, and while Mr. Bumpkin was confidentially conversing +with the landlord in the chimney corner, he was suddenly aroused by the +indomitable Joe bursting into the room and performing a kind of dance or +jig, the streamers, meanwhile, in his hat, flowing and flaunting in the +most audaciously military manner. + +"Halloa! halloa! zounds! What be th' meaning o' all this? Why, Joe! +Joe! thee's never done it, lad! O dear! dear!" + +There were the colours as plain as possible in Joe's hat, and there was a +wild unmeaning look in his eyes. It seemed already as if the old +intimacy between him and his master were at an end. His memory was more +a thing of the future than the past: he recollected the mutton chops that +were to come. And I verily believe it was brightened by the dawn of new +hopes and aspirations. There was an awakening sense of individuality. +Hitherto he had been the property of another: he had now exercised the +right of ownership over himself; and although that act had transferred +him to another master, it had seemed to give him temporary freedom, and +to have conferred upon him a new existence. + +Man is, I suppose, what his mind is, and Joe's mind was as completely +changed as if he had been born into a different sphere. The moth comes +out of the grub, the gay Hussar out of the dull ploughman. + +"Why, Joe, Joe," said his old master. "Thee's never gone an' listed, has +thee, Joe?" + +"Lookee 'ere, maister," said the recruit, taking off his hat and +spreading out the colours--"Thee sees these here, maister?" + +"Thee beant such a fool, Joe, I knows thee beant--thee's been well +brought oop--and I knows thee beant gwine to leave I and goo for a +soger!" + +"I be listed, maister." + +"Never!" exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin. "I wunt b'lieve it, Joe." + +"Then thee must do tother thing, maister. I tellee I be listed; now, +what's thee think o' that?" + +"That thee be a fool," said Mr. Bumpkin, angrily; "thee be a +silly-brained--." + +"Stop a bit, maister, no moore o' that. I beant thy sarvant now. I be a +Queen's man--I be in the Queen's sarvice." + +"A pooty Queen's man thee be, surely. Why look at thic hair all down +over thy face, and thee be as red as a poppy." + +Now I perceived that although neither master nor man was in such a state +as could be described as "intoxicated," yet both were in that +semi-beatific condition which may be called sentimental. + +"Lookee 'ere, maister," continued Joe. + +"And lookee here," said Mr. Bumpkin, "didn't I come out to thee two or +three times, and call thee out and tell 'ee to tak' heed to thic soger +feller, for he wur up to no good? Did I Joe, or did I not?" + +"Thee did, maister." + +"Well, an' now look where thee be; he've regler took thee in, thee silly +fool." + +"No, he beant; for he wouldn't 'ave I at fust, and told I to goo and ax +my mither. No ses I, I'll goo to the divil afore I be gwine to ax +mither. I beant a child, I ses." + +"But thee's fond o' thy poor old mither, Joe; I knows thee be, and sends +her a shillin' a week out o' thy wages; don't thee, Joe?" + +This was an awkward thrust, and pricked the lad in his most sensitive +part. His under-lip drooped, his mouth twitched, and his eyes glistened. +He was silent. + +"Where'll thy poor old mither get a shilling a week from noo, Joe? +That's what I wants to know." + +Joe drew his sleeve over his face, but bore up bravely withal. _He_ +wasn't going to cry, not he. + +"Thee beest a silly feller to leave a good ooame and nine shillin' a week +to goo a sogerin; and when thee was out o' work, there were allays a +place for thee, Joe, at the fireside: now, warnt there, Joe?" + +"Lookee 'ere, maister, I be for betterin' myself." + +"Betterin' thyself? who put that into thy silly pate? thic sergeant, I +bleeve." + +"So ur did; not by anything ur said, but to see un wi beef steaks and +ingons for supper, while I doan't 'ave a mouthful o' mate once a week, +and work like a oarse." + +"Poor silly feller--O dear, dear! whatever wool I tell Nancy and thy poor +mither. What redgimen be thee in, Joe?" + +"Hooroars!" + +"Hooroars! hoo-devils!" and I perceived that Mr. Bumpkin's eyes began to +glisten as he more and more realized the fact that Joe was no more to +him--"thee manest the oosors, thee silly feller; a pooty oosor thee'll +make!" + +"I tellee what," said Joe, whose pride was now touched, "Maister Sergeant +said I wur the finest made chap he ever see." + +"That's ow ur gulled thee, Joe." + +"Noa didn't; I went o' my own free will. No man should persuade I--trust +Joe for thic: couldn't persuade I to goo, nor yet not to goo." + +"That's right," chimed in Miss Prettyface, with her sweet little voice. + +"And thee sewed the colours on; didn't thee, Miss?" + +"I did," answered the young lady. + +"Joe," said Mr. Bumpkin, "I be mortal sorry for thee; what'll I do wirout +thy evidence? Lawyer Prigg say thee's the most wallible witness for I." + +"Lookee 'ere, maister, ere we bin 'anging about for weeks and weeks and +no forrerder so far as I can see. When thy case'll come on I don't +bleeve no man can tell; but whensomdever thee wants Joe, all thee've got +to do is to write to the Queen, and she'll gie I leave." + +"O thee silly, igerant ass!" said Mr. Bumpkin; "I can't help saying it, +Joe--the Queen doan't gie leave, it be the kernel. I know zummut o' +sogerin, thee see; I were in th' militia farty year agoo: but spoase thee +be away--abraird? How be I to get at thee then?" + +"Ha! if I be away in furren parts, and thy case be in the list, I doant +zee--" + +"Thee silly feller, thee'll ha to goo fightin' may be." + +"Well," said Joe, "I loikes fightin'." + +"Thee loikes fightin'! what's thee know about fightin'? never fit +anything in thy life but thic boar-pig, when he got I down in the yard. +O, Joe, I can't bear the thought o thee goin'." + +"Noa, but Maister Sergeant says thee jist snicks off the 'eads of the +enemy like snickin' off the tops o' beans." + +"Yes, but ow if thee gets thine snicked off?" + +"Well, if mine be snicked off, it wunt be no use to I, and I doan't care +who has un when I ha' done wi un: anybody's welcome as thinks he can do +better with un than I, or 'as moore right to un." + +"Joe, Joe, whatever'll them there pigs do wirout thee, and thic there +bull 'll goo out of his mind--he wur mighty fond o' thee, Joe--thee +couldst do anything wi un: couldn't ur, Joe?" + +"Ha!" said the recruit; "that there bull ud foller I about anywhere, and +so ur would Missis." + +"Then there be Polly!" + +"Ha, that there Polly, she cocked her noase at I, maister, becos she +thought I worn't good enough; but wait till she sees me in my cloase; she +wunt cock her noase at I then, I'll warrant." + +"Well, Joe, as thee maks thy bed so thee must lie on un, lad. I wish +thee well, Joe." + +"Never wronged thee, did I, maister?" + +"Never; no, never." And at this point master and man shook hands +affectionately. + +"Gie my love to thic bull," said Joe. "I shall come down as soon as evir +I can: I wish they'd let me bring my oarse." + +"Joe, thee ha' had too much to drink, I know thee has; and didn't I warn +thee, Joe? Thee can't say I didn't warn thee." + +"Thee did, maister, I'll allays say it; thee warned I well--but lor that +there stuff as the Sergeant had, it jist shoots through thee and livins +thee oop for all the world as if thee got a young ooman in thee arms in a +dancin' booth at the fair." + +"Ha, Joe, it were drink done it." + +"Noa, noa, never!--good-night, maister, and God bless thee--thee been a +good maister, and I been a good sarvant. I shall allays think o' thee +and Missis, too." + +Here I saw that Mr. Bumpkin, what with his feelings and what with his +gin-and-water, was well nigh overcome with emotion. Nor was it to be +wondered at; he was in London a stranger, waiting for a trial with a +neighbour, with whom for years he had been on friendly terms; his hard +savings were fast disappearing; his stock and furniture were mortgaged; +some of it had been sold, and his principal witness and faithful servant +was now gone for a soldier. In addition to all this, poor Mr. Bumpkin +could not help recalling the happiness of his past life, his early +struggles, his rigid self-denial, his pleasure as the modest savings +accumulated--not so much occasioned by the sordid desire of wealth, as +the nobler wish to be independent. Then there was Mrs. Bumpkin, who +naturally crossed his mind at this miserable moment in his existence--at +home by herself--faithful, hardworking woman, who believed not only in +her husband's wisdom, but in his luck. She had never liked this going to +law, and would much rather have given Snooks the pig than it should have +come about; yet she could not help believing that her husband must be +right come what may. What would she think of Joe's leaving them in this +way? All this passed through the shallow mind of the farmer as he +prepared for bed. And there was no getting away from his thoughts, try +as he would. As he lay on his bed there passed before his mind the old +farm-house, with its elm tree; and the barnyard, newly littered down with +the sweet smelling fodder; the orchard blossoms smiling in the morning +sunshine; the pigs routing through the straw; the excited ducks and the +swifter fowls rushing towards Mrs. Bumpkin as she came out to shake the +tablecloth; the sleek and shining cows; the meadows dotted all over with +yellow buttercups; the stately bull feeding in the distance by himself; +the lazy stream that pursued its even course without a quarrel or a +lawsuit; all these, and a thousand other remembrances of home, passed +before the excited and somewhat distempered vision of the farmer on this +unhappy night. Had he been a criminal waiting his trial he could not +have been more wretched. At length he endeavoured to console himself by +thinking of Snooks: tried to believe that victory over that ill-disposed +person would repay the trouble and anxiety it cost him to achieve. But +no, not even revenge was sweet under his present circumstances. It is +always an apple of ashes at the best; but, weighed now against the +comforts and happiness of a peaceful life, it was worse than ashes--it +was poison. + + * * * * * + +Here I awoke. + +"Now," said my wife, "is it not just as I told you? I knew that artful +Sergeant would enlist poor stupid Joe?" + +"O," quoth I, "have I been talking again?" + +"More than ever; and I am very sorry Joe has deserted his kind master. I +am afraid now he will lose his case." + +"I am not concerned about that at present; my work is but to dream, not +to prophesy events. I hope Mr. Bumpkin will win, but nothing is so +uncertain as the Law." + +"And why should that be? Law should be as certain as the Multiplication +Table." + +"Ah," sighed I, "but--" + +"A man who brings an action must be right or wrong," interrupted my wife. + +"Yes," said I, "and sometimes he's both; and one judge will take one view +of his case--his conduct out of Court, and his demeanour in--while +another judge will take another; why, I have known a man lose his case +through having a wart upon his nose." + +"Gracious!" exclaimed my wife, "is it possible?" + +"Yes," quoth I; "and another through having a twitch in his eye. Then +you may have a foolish jury, who take a prejudice against a man. For +instance, if a lawyer brings an action, he can seldom get justice before +a common jury; and so if he be sued. A blue ribbon man on the jury will +be almost sure to carry his extreme virtue to the border of injustice +against a publican. Masters decide against workmen, and so on." + +"Well, Mr. Bumpkin is not a lawyer, or a publican, or a blue ribbon man, +so I hope he'll win." + +"I don't hope anything about it," I replied. "I shall note down what +takes place; I don't care who wins." + +"When will his case at the Old Bailey come on? I think that's the term +you use." + +"It will be tried next week." + +"He is sure to punish that wicked thief who stole his watch." + +"One would think so: much will depend upon the way Mr. Bumpkin gives his +evidence; much on the way in which the thief is defended; a good deal on +the ability of the Counsel for the Prosecution; and very much on the +class of man they get in the jury box." + +"But the case is so clear." + +"Yes, to us who know all about it; but you have to make it clear to the +jury." + +"There's the watch found upon the man. Why, dear me, what can be clearer +or plainer than that?" + +"True; that's Mr. Bumpkin's evidence." + +"And Mr. Bumpkin saw him take it." + +"That's Bumpkin again." + +"Then Mr. O'Rapley was with him." + +"Did you not hear that he is not to be called; the Don doesn't want to be +seen in the affair." + +"Well, I feel certain he will win. I shall not believe in trial by jury +if they let that man off." + +"You don't know what a trial at the Old Bailey or Quarter Sessions is. I +don't mean at the Old Bailey before a real Common Law judge, but a +Chancery judge. I once heard a counsel, who was prosecuting a man for +passing bad money, interrupt a recorder in his summing up, and ask him to +tell the jury there was evidence of seven bad florins having been found +in the prisoner's boot. As guilty knowledge was the gist of the offence, +this seemed somewhat important. The learned young judge, turning to the +jury, said, in a hesitating manner, 'Well, really, gentlemen, I don't +know whether that will affect your judgment in any way; there is the +evidence, and you may consider it if you please.'" + +"One more thing I should like to ask." + +"By all means." + +"Why can't they get Mr. Bumpkin's case tried?" + +"Because there is no system. In the County Court, where a judge tries +three times as many cases in a day as any Superior judge, cases are tried +nearly always on the day they are set down for. At the Criminal Courts, +where every case is at least as important as any Civil case, everyone +gets tried without unnecessary delay. In the Common Law Courts it's very +much like hunt the slipper--you hardly ever know which Court the case is +in for five minutes together. Then they sit one day and not another, to +the incalculable expense of the suitors, who may come up from Devonshire +to-night, and, after waiting a week, go back and return again to town at +the end of the following month." + +"But, now that O'Rapley has taken the matter up, is there not some hope?" + +"Well, he seems to have as much power as anyone." + +"Then I hope he'll exert it; for it's a shame that this poor man should +be kept waiting about so long. I quite feel for him: there really ought +not to be so much delay in the administration of justice." + +"A dilatory administration of justice amounts too often to a denial of it +altogether. It always increases the expense, and often results in +absolute ruin." + +"I wonder men don't appoint someone when they fell out to arbitrate +between them." + +"They often do, and too frequently, after all the expense of getting +ready for trial has been incurred, the case is at last sent to the still +more costly tribunal called a reference. Many matters cannot be tried by +a jury, but many can be that are not; one side clamouring for a reference +in order to postpone the inevitable result; the other often obliged to +submit and be defeated by mere lapse of time." + +"It seems an endless sort of business." + +"Not quite; the measure of it is too frequently the length of the purse +on the one side or the other. A Railway Company, who has been cast in +damages for 1,000 pounds, can soon wear out a poor plaintiff. One of the +greatest evils of modern litigation is the frequency with which new +trials are granted." + +"Lawyers," said my wife, "are not apparently good men of business." + +"They are not organizers." + +"It wants such a man as General Wolseley." + +"Precisely." And here I felt the usual drowsiness which the subject +invariably produces. So I dreamed again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +Morning reflections--Mrs. Oldtimes proves herself to be a great +philosopher--the departure of the recruits to be sworn in. + +And as I dreamed, methought what a strange paradox is human nature. How +often the night's convivialities are followed by despondent morning +reflections! In the evening we grow valiant over the inspiriting +converse and the inspiring glass; in the morning we are tame and +calculating. The artificial gaslight disappears, and the sober, grey +morning breaks in upon our reason. If the sunshine only ripened one-half +the good resolves and high purposes formed at night over the social +glass, what a harvest of good deeds there would be! Yes, and if the +evening dissipations did not obliterate the good resolves of the morning, +which we so often form as a protection against sin and sorrow, what happy +creatures we should be! + +Methought I looked into a piece of three-cornered glass, which was +resting on a ledge of the old wall in the room where Joe was sleeping, +and that I read therein the innermost thoughts of this country lad. And +I saw that he awoke to a very dreadful sense of the realities of his new +position; that, one after another, visions of other days passed before +his mind's eye as he lay gazing at the dormer window of his narrow +chamber. What a profound stillness there was! How different from the +roystering glee of the previous night! It was a stillness that seemed to +whisper of home; of his poor old mother; of the green sward lane that led +to the old farm; of the old oak tree, where the owls lived, and ghosts +were said to take up their quarters; of the stile where, of a Sunday +morning, he used to smoke his pipe with Jack, and Ned, and Charley; where +he had often stood to see Polly go by to church; and he knew that, +notwithstanding she would not so much as look at him, he loved her down +to the very sole of her boot; and would stand and contemplate the print +of her foot after she had passed; he didn't know why, for there was +nothing in it, after all. No, Joe, nothing in it--it was in you; that +makes all the difference. And the voice whispered to him of sunny days +in the bright fields, when he held the plough, and the sly old rook would +come bobbing and pecking behind him; and the little field-mouse would +flit away from its turned up nest, frightened to death, as if it were +smitten with an earthquake; and the skylark would dart up over his head, +letting fall a song upon him, as though it were Heaven's blessing. Then +the voice spoke of the noontide meal under the hedge in the warm +sunshine, or in the shade of the cool spreading tree; of the horses +feeding close up alongside the hedge; of the going home in the evening, +and the warm fireside, and the rustic song, and of the thousand and one +beloved associations that he was leaving and casting behind him for ever. +But then, again, he thought of "bettering his condition," of getting on +in the world, of the smart figure he should look in the eyes of Polly, +who would be sure now to like him better than she liked the baker. He +never could see what there was in the baker that any girl should care +for; and he thought of what the Sergeant had said about asking his +mother's leave. And then he pondered on the beef steaks and onions and +mutton chops, and other glories of a soldier's life; so he got up with a +brave, resolute heart to face the world like a man, although it was +plainly visible that sorrow struggled in his eyes. + +There was just one tear for old times, the one tear that showed how very +human Joe was beneath all the rough incrustations with which ignorance +and poverty had enveloped him. + +As he was sousing his head and neck in a pail of cold water in the little +backyard of the Inn, the thought occurred to him,-- + +"I wonder whether or no we 'gins these 'ere mutton chops for brakfast +to-day or arter we're sweared in. I expects not till arter we're sweared +in." + +Then his head went into the pail with a dash, as if that was part of the +swearing-in process. As it came out he was conscious of a twofold +sensation, which it may not be out of place to describe: the sensation +produced by the water, which was refreshing in the highest degree, and +the sensation produced by what is called wind, which was also deliciously +refreshing; and it was in this wise. Borne along upon the current of air +which passed through the kitchen, there was the most odoriferous savour +of fried bacon that the most luxurious appetite could enjoy. It was so +beautifully and voluptuously fragrant that Joe actually stopped while in +the act of soaping his face that he might enjoy it. No one, I think, +will deny that it must have been an agreeable odour that kept a man +waiting with his eyes fall of soap for half a minute. + +"That beant amiss," thought Joe; "I wonder whether it be for I." + +The problem was soon solved, for as he entered the kitchen with a face as +bright and ruddy almost as the sun when he comes up through a mist, he +saw the table was laid out for five, and all the other recruits had +already assembled. There was not one who did not look well up to his +resolution, and I must say a better looking lot of recruits were never +seen: they were tall, well made, healthy, good-looking fellows. + +Now Mrs. Oldtimes was busy at the kitchen fire; the frying-pan was doing +its best to show what could be done for Her Majesty's recruits. He was +hissing bravely, and seemed every now and then to give a louder and +heartier welcome to the company. As Joe came in I believe it fairly gave +a shout of enthusiasm, a kind of hooray. In addition to the rashers that +were frying, there was a large dish heaped up in front of the fire, so +that it was quite clear there would be no lack, however hungry the +company might be. + +Then they sat down and every one was helped. Mrs. Oldtimes was a woman +of the world; let me also state she had a deep insight into human nature. +She knew the feelings of her guests at this supreme moment, and how +cheaply they could be bought off at their present state of soldiering. +She was also aware that courage, fortitude, firmness, and the higher +qualities of the soul depend so much upon a contented stomach, that she +gave every one of her guests some nice gravy from the pan. + +It was a treat to see them eat. The Boardman was terrific, so was Jack. +Harry seemed to have a little more on his mind than the others, but this +did not interfere with his appetite; it simply affected his manner of +appeasing it. He seemed to be in love, for his manner was somewhat +reserved. At length the Sergeant came in, looking so cheerful and +radiant that one could hardly see him and not wish to be a soldier. Then +his cheery "Well, lads; good morning, lads," was so home-like that you +almost fancied soldiering consisted in sitting by a blazing kitchen fire +on a frosty morning and eating fried bacon. What a spirit his presence +infused into the company! He detected at a glance the down-heartedness +of Harry, and began a story about his own enlistment years ago, when the +chances for a young man of education were nothing to what they are now. +The story seemed exactly to fit the circumstances of the case and cheered +Harry up wonderfully. Breakfast was nearly finished when the Sergeant, +after filling his pipe, said: + +"Comrades, what do you say; shall I wait till you've quite finished?" + +"No, no, Sergeant; no, no," said all. + +Oh! the fragrance of that pipe! And the multiplied fragrance of all the +pipes! Then came smiling Miss Prettyface to see if their ribbons were +all right; and the longing look of all the recruits was quite an +affecting sight; and the genial motherly good-natured best wishes of Mrs. +Oldtimes were very welcome. All these things were pleasant, and proved +Mrs. Oldtimes' philosophy to be correct--if you want to develop the +higher virtues in a man, feed him. + +Then came the word of command in the tone of an invitation to a pleasure +party: "Now, lads, what do you say?" And off went Harry, upright as if +he had been drilled; off went Bill, trying to shake off the deal boards +in which he had been sandwiched for a year and a half; off went Bob as +though he had found an agreeable occupation at last; off went Devilmecare +as though the war was only just the other side of the road; off went Jack +as though it mattered nothing to him whether it was the Army or the +Church; and, just as Mr. Bumpkin looked out of the parlour window, off +went his "head witness," swaggering along in imitation of the Sergeant, +with the colours streaming from his hat as though any honest employment +was better than hanging about London for a case to "come on." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +A letter from home. + +"I wonder," said Mrs. Oldtimes, "who this letter be for; it have been +'ere now nigh upon a week, and I'm tired o' seein' it." + +Miss Prettyface took the letter in her hand and began, as best she could, +for the twentieth time to endeavour to decipher the address. It was very +much blotted and besmeared, and presented a very remarkable specimen of +caligraphy. The most legible word on it seemed "Gouse." + +"There's nobody here of that name," said the young lady. "Do you know +anybody, Mr. Bumpkin, of the name of Gouse?" + +"Devil a bit," said he, taking the letter in his hands, and turning it +over as if it had been a skittle-ball. + +"The postman said it belonged here," said Mrs. Oldtimes, "but I can't +make un out." + +"I can't read the postmark," said Miss Prettyface. + +Mr. Bumpkin put on a large pair of glasses and examined the envelope with +great care. + +"I think you've got un upside down," said Mrs. Oldtimes. + +"Ah! so ur be," replied the farmer, turning it over several times. +"Why," he continued, "here be a _b_--and a _u_, beant it? See if that +beant a _u_, Miss, your eyes be better un mine; they be younger." + +"O yes, that's a _u_," said Miss Prettyface, "and an _m_." + +"And that spell _bum_." + +"But stop," said Miss Prettyface, "here's a _p_." + +"That's _bump_," said Mrs. Oldtimes; "we shall get at something +presently." + +"Why," exclaimed Bumpkin, "I be danged if I doant think it be my old +'ooman's writin': but I beant sure. That be the way ur twists the tail +of ur _y_'s and _g_'s, I'll swear; and lookee 'ere, beant this _k i n_?" + +"I think it is," said the maid. + +"Ah, then, thee med be sure that be Bumpkin, and the letter be for I." + +"Yes," said the young lady, "and that other word which looks more like +Grouse is meant for Goose, the sign of the house." + +"Sure be un," exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin, "and Nancy ha put Bumpkin and Goose +all in one line, when ur ought to ha made two lines ov un. Now look at +that, that letter might ha been partickler." + +"So it may be as it is," said Mrs. Oldtimes; "it's from Mrs. Bumpkin, no +doubt. Aren't you going to open it?" + +"I think I wool," said Bumpkin, turning the letter round and round, and +over and over, as though there was some special private entrance which +could only be discovered by the closest search. At length Mrs. Oldtimes' +curiosity was gratified, for he found a way in, and drew out the many +folded letter of the most difficult penmanship that ever was subjected to +mortal gaze. It was not that the writing was illegible, but that the +spelling was so extraordinary, and the terms of expression so varied. +Had I to interpret this letter without the aid of a dream I should have a +long and difficult task before me. But it is the privilege of dreamers +to see things clearly and in a moment: to live a lifetime in a few +seconds, and to traverse oceans in the space of a single respiration. +So, in the present instance, that which took Mr. Bumpkin, with the help +of Mrs. Oldtimes and the occasional assistance of Lucy an hour to +decipher, flashed before me in a single second. I ought perhaps to +translate it into a more civilized language, but that would be impossible +without spoiling the effect and disturbing the continuity of character +which is so essential in a work made up of various actors. Mr. Bumpkin +himself in his ordinary costume would be no more out of place in my Lord +Mayor's state carriage than Mrs. Bumpkin wielding the Queen's English in +its statelier and more fashionable adornment. So I give it as it was +written. It began in a bold but irregular hand, and clearly indicated a +certain agitation of mind not altogether in keeping with the even +temperament of the writer's daily life. + +"Deer Tom" (the letter began), "I ope thee be well for it be a long time +agoo since thee left ere I cant mak un out wot be all this bother about +a pig but Tom thee'll be glad to ear as I be doin weel the lamin be over +and we got semteen as pooty lams as ever thee clapped eyes on The weet +be lookin well and so be the barly an wuts thee'll be glad Tom to ear wot +good luck I been avin wi sellin Mister Prigg have the kolt for twenty +pun a pun more an the Squoire ofered Sam broked er in and ur do look +well in Mrs. Prigg faten I met un the tother day Mr. Prigg wur drivin un +an he tooked off his at jist th' sam as if I'd been a lady Missis Prigg +din't see me as her edd wur turned th' tother way I be glad to tell ee +we sold the wuts ten quorter these was bort by Mister Prigg and so wur +the stror ten load as clane and brite as ever thee seed Mr. Prigg be a +rale good custumer an a nice man I wish there was moore like im it ud be +the makin o' th' Parish we shal ave a nice lot o monie to dror from un at +Miklemes he be the best customer we ever ad an I toold th' Squoire wen ur +corled about the wuts as Mister Prigg ad orfered ten shillin a quorter +for un more un ee Ur dint seem to like un an rod away but we dooant o un +anythink Tom so I dont mind we must sell ware we ken mak moast monie I +spose Sampson be stronger an grander than ever it's my belief an I thinks +we shal do well wi un this Spring tell t' Joe not to stop out o' nites or +keep bad kumpany and to read evere nite wat the Wicker told un the fust +sarm an do thee read un Tom for its my bleef ur cant 'urt thee nuther." + +"Humph!" said Bumpkin, "fust sarms indade. I got a lot o' time for +sarms, an' as for thic Joe--lor, lor, Nancy, whatever will thee say, I +wonder, when thee knows he's gone for a soger--a sarm beant much good to +un now; he be done for." + +And then Mr. Bumpkin went and looked out of the window, and thought over +all the good news of Mrs. Bumpkin's letter, and mentally calculated that +even up to this time Mr. Prigg's account would come to enough to pay the +year's rent. + +Going to law seemed truly a most advantageous business. Here he had got +two shillings a quarter more for the oats than the Squire had offered, +and a pound more for the colt. Prigg was a famous customer, and no doubt +would buy the hay. And, strange to say, just as Mr. Bumpkin thought +this, he happened to turn over the last page of the letter, and there he +saw what was really a Postscript. + +"Halloo!" says he, "my dear, here be moore on't; lookee 'ere." + +"So there is," answered Lucy; "let's have a look." And thus she read:-- + +"The klover cut out well it made six lode the little rik an four pun +nineteen The Squoire ony offered four pun ten so in corse I let Mister +Prigg ave un." + +"Well done, Nancy, thee be famous. Now, thic big rik'll fetch moore'n +thic." + +Such cheering intelligence put Mr. Bumpkin in good heart in spite of his +witness's desertion. Joe was a good deal, but he wasn't money, and if he +liked to go for a soger, he must go; but, in Mr. Bumpkin's judgment, he +would very soon be tired of it, and wish himself back at his fireside. + +"Now, you must write to Mrs. Bumpkin," said Lucy. + +"Thee'll write for I, my dear; won't thee?" + +"If you like," said Lucy. And so, after dinner, when she had changed her +dress, she proceeded to write an epistle for Mrs. Bumpkin's edification. +She had _carte blanche_ to put in what she liked, except that the main +facts were to be that Joe had gone for a horse soger; that he expected +"the case would come on every day;" and that he had the highest opinion +of the unquestioned ability of honest Lawyer Prigg. + +And now another surprise awaited the patient Bumpkin. As he sat, later +in the day, smoking his pipe, in company with Mrs. Oldtimes, two men, +somewhat shabbily dressed, walked into the parlour and ordered +refreshment. + +"A fine day, sir," said the elder of the two, a man about thirty-five. +This observation was addressed to Mr. Bumpkin. + +"It be," said the farmer. + +The other individual had seated himself near the fire, and was apparently +immersed in the study of the _Daily Telegraph_. Suddenly he observed to +his companion, as though he had never seen it before,-- + +"Hallo! Ned, have you seen this?" + +"What's that?" asked the gentleman called Ned. + +"Never read such a thing in my life. Just listen." + + "'A YOUNG MAN FROM THE COUNTRY.' + "EXTRAORDINARY STORY. + + "A man, apparently about sixty-eight, who gave the name of Bumpkin, + appeared as the prosecutor in a case under the following + extraordinary circumstances. He said he was from the country, but + declined to give any more particular address, and had been taken by a + friend to see the Old Bailey and to hear the trials at that Court. + After leaving the Central Criminal Court, he deposed, that, walking + with his friend, he was accosted in the Street in the open daylight + and robbed of his watch; that he pursued the thief, and when near + Blackfriars Bridge met a man coming towards him; that he seized the + supposed thief, and found him wearing the watch which he affirmed had + been stolen. The manner and appearance of 'the young man from the + country' excited great laughter in Court, and the Lord Mayor, in the + absence of any evidence to the contrary, thought there was a _prima + facie_ case under the circumstances, and committed the accused for + trial to the Central Criminal Court. The prisoner, who was + respectably dressed, and against whom nothing appeared to be known, + was most ably defended by Mr. Nimble, who declined to put any + questions in cross-examination, and did not address his Lordship. + The case created great sensation, and it is expected that at the + trial some remarkable and astounding disclosures will be made. 'The + young man from the country' was very remarkably dressed: he twirled + in his hand a large old-fashioned white-beaver hat with a black band + round it; wore a very peculiar frock, elaborately ornamented with + needlework in front and behind, while a yellow kerchief with red ends + was twisted round his neck. The countryman declined to give his town + address; but a remarkable incident occurred during the hearing, which + did not seem to strike either the Lord Mayor or the counsel for the + defence, and that was that no appearance of the countryman's + companion was put in. Who he is and to what region he belongs will + probably transpire at the ensuing trial, which is expected to be + taken on the second day of the next Sessions. It is obvious that + while the case is _sub judice_ no comments can properly be made + thereon, but we are not prevented from saying that the evidence of + this extraordinary 'young man from the country' will be subjected to + the most searching cross-examination of one of the ablest counsel of + the English Bar." + +The two men looked at Mr. Bumpkin; while the latter coloured until his +complexion resembled beetroot. Miss Prettyface giggled; and Mrs. +Oldtimes winked at Mr. Bumpkin, and shook her head in the most +significant manner. + +"That's a rum case, sir," said Ned. + +Silence. + +"I don't believe a word of the story," said his companion. + +Silence. + +"Do you believe," he continued, "that that man could have been wearing +that watch if he'd stole it?" + +"Not I." + +"Lor! won't Jemmy Nimble make mincemeat of 'im!" + +Mrs. Oldtimes looked frequently towards Mr. Bumpkin as she continued her +sewing, making the most unmistakeable signals that under no circumstances +was he to answer. It was apparent to everyone, from Mr. Bumpkin's +manner, that the paragraph referred to him. + +"The best thing that chap can do," said Ned, "is not to appear at the +trial. He can easily keep away." + +"He won't, you're sure," answered the other man; "he knows a trick worth +two of that. They say the old chap deserted his poor old wife, after +beating her black and blue, and leaving her for dead." + +"It be a lie!" exclaimed Bumpkin, thumping his fist on the table. + +"Oh!" said Ned, "do you know anything about it, sir? It's no odds to me, +only a man can't shut his ears." + +"P'r'aps I do and p'r'aps I doant; but it beant no bi'niss o' thine." + +"I didn't mean no offence, but anybody can read the paper, surely; it's a +free country. P'r'aps you're the man himself; I didn't think o' that." + +"P'r'aps I be, and p'r'aps I beant." + +"And p'r'aps your name is Bumpkin?" + +"And p'r'aps it beant, and what then?" + +"Why, you've nothing to do with it, that's all; and I don't see why you +should interfere." + +"I can't have no quarrelling in my house," said the landlady. "This +gentleman's nothing to do with it; he knows nothing at all about it; so, +if you please, gentlemen, we needn't say any more." + +"Oh! I don't want to talk about it," said Ned. + +"No more do I," chimed in his companion; "but it's a pity that he should +take up our conversation when he hasn't anything to do with it, and his +name isn't Bumpkin, and he hasn't lost his watch. It's no odds to me; I +don't care, do you, Ned?" + +"Not I," said Ned; "let's be off; I don't want no row; anybody mustn't +open his mouth now. Good day, sir." + +And the two young men went away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +Mr. Bumpkin determines to maintain a discreet silence about his case at +the Old Bailey--Mr. Prigg confers with him thereon. + +And I saw that Mr. Bumpkin's case did not come on. Day by day passed +away, and still it was not in the paper. The reason, however, is simple, +and need not be told to any except those of my readers who are under the +impression that the expeditious administration of justice is of any +consequence. It was obvious to the most simple-minded that the case +could not be taken for a day or two, because there was a block in every +one of the three Courts devoted to the trial of Nisi Prius actions. And +you know as well as anyone, Mr. Bumpkin, that when you get a load of +turnips, or what not, in the market town blocked by innumerable other +turnip carts, you must wait. Patience, therefore, good Bumpkin. Justice +may be slow-footed, but she is sure handed; she may be blind and deaf, +but she is not dumb; as you shall see if you look into one of the +"blocked Courts" where a trial has been going on for the last sixteen +days. A case involving a dispute of no consequence to any person in the +world, and in which there is absolutely nothing except--O rare +phenomenon!--plenty of money. It was interesting only on account of the +bickerings between the learned counsel, and the occasionally friendly +altercations between the Bench and the Bar. But the papers had written +it into a _cause celebre_, and made it a dramatic entertainment for the +beauty and the chivalry of England. So Mr. Bumpkin had still to wait; +but it enabled him to attend comfortably the February sittings of the Old +Bailey, where his other case was to be tried. + +When Mr. Prigg read the account of the proceedings before the Lord Mayor, +he was very much concerned, not to say annoyed, because he was under the +impression that he ought to have been consulted. Not knowing what to do +under the circumstances, he resolved, after due consideration, to get +into a hansom and drive down to the "Goose." Mr. Prigg, as I have before +observed, was swift in decision and prompt in action. He had no sooner +resolved to see Bumpkin than to Bumpkin he went. But his client was out; +it was uncertain when he would be in. Judge of Mr. Prigg's +disappointment! He left word that he would call again; he did call +again, and, after much dodging on the part of the wily Bumpkin, he was +obliged to surrender himself a captive to honest Prigg. + +"My dear Mr. Bumpkin," exclaimed he, taking both the hands of his client +into his own and yielding him a double measure of friendship; "is it +possible--have you been robbed? Is it you in the paper this morning in +this _very_ extraordinary case?" + +Bumpkin looked and blushed. He was not a liar, but truth is not always +the most convenient thing, say what you will. + +"I see," said Mr. Prigg; "quite so--quite so! Now _how_ did this +happen?" + +Bumpkin still looked and blushed. + +"Ah!" said Mr. Prigg; "just so. But who was this companion?" + +Bumpkin muttered "A friend!" + +"O! O! O!" said Mr. Prigg, drawing a long face and placing the +fore-finger of his left hand perpendicularly from the tip of his nose to +the top of his forehead. + +"Noa," said Bumpkin, "'taint none o' that nuther; I beant a man o' that +sort." + +"Well, well," said Mr. Prigg, "I only thought I'd call, you know, in case +there should be anything which might in any way affect our action." + +Mr. Bumpkin, conscious of his moral rectitude, like all good men, was +fearless: he knew that nothing which he had done would affect the merits +of his case, and, therefore, instead of replying to the subtle question +of his adviser, he merely enquired of that gentleman when he thought the +case would be on. The usual question. + +Mr. Prigg rubbed his hands and glanced his eyes as though just under his +left elbow was a very deep well, at the bottom of which lay that +inestimable jewel, truth. "Really," Mr. Bumpkin, "I expect every hour to +see us in the paper. It's very extraordinary; they have no less than +three Courts sitting, as I daresay you are aware. No less than--let me +see, my mind's so full of business, I have seven cases ready to come on. +Where was I? O, I know; I say there are no less than three Courts, under +the continuous sittings system, and yet we seem to make no progress in +the diminution of the tremendous and overwhelming mass of business that +pours in upon us." + +Mr. Bumpkin said "Hem!" + +"You see," continued Mr. Prigg, "there's one thing, we shall not last +long when we do come on." + +"Shan't ur?" + +"You see there's only one witness, besides yourself, on our side." + +"And 'eve gone for a soger," said Mr. Bumpkin. + +"A soldier!" exclaimed Prigg. "A soldier, my dear Bumpkin. No--no--you +don't say so, really!" + +"Ay, sure 'ave ur; and wot the devil I be to do agin that there Snooks, +as 'll lie through a brick wall, I beant able to say. I be pooty nigh +off my chump wot wi' one thing and another." + +"Off what, sir?" enquired Mr. Prigg. + +"Chump," shouted Bumpkin. + +"O, indeed, yes; dear me, you don't say so. Well, now I'm glad I called. +I must see about this. What regiment did you say he'd joined?" + +"Hoosors!" + +"Ha! dear me, has he, indeed?" said Mr. Prigg, noting it down in his +pocket-book. "What a pity for a young man like that to throw himself +away--such an intelligent young fellow, too, and might have done so well; +dear me!" + +"Ha," answered Bumpkin, "there worn't a better feller at plough nor thic +there; and he could mend a barrer or a 'arrer, and turn his 'and to pooty +nigh anything about t' farm." + +"And is there any reason that can be assigned for this extraordinary +conduct? Wasn't in debt, I suppose?" + +Mr. Bumpkin laughed one of his old big fireside laughs such as he had not +indulged in lately. + +"Debt! why they wouldn't trust un a shoe-string. Where the devil wur +such a chap as thic to get money to get into debt wi'?" + +"My dear sir, we don't want money to get into debt with; we get into debt +when we have none." + +"Do ur, sir. Then if I hadn't 'ad any money I'd like to know 'ow fur +thee'd ha' trusted I." + +"Dear me," said Mr. Prigg, "what a very curious way of putting it! But, +however, soldier or no soldier, we must have his evidence. I must see +about it: I must go to the depot. Now, with regard to your case at the +Old Bailey." + +"Well," said Mr. Bumpkin, rather testily; "I be bound over to proserkit, +and that be all I knows about un. I got to give seam evidence as I guv +afore the Lord Mayor, and the Lord Mayor said as the case wur clear, and +away it went for trial." + +"Indeed! dear me!" + +"And I got to tak no trouble at all about un, but to keep my mouth shut +till the case comes on, that's what the pleeceman told I. I bean't to +talk about un, or to tak any money not to proserkit." + +"O dear, no," said Mr. Prigg. "O dear, dear, no; you would be +compounding a felony." (Here Mr. Prigg made a note in his diary to this +effect:--"Attending you at 'The Goose' at Westminster, when you informed +me that you were the prosecutor in a case at the Old Bailey, and in which +I advised you not, under any circumstances, to accept a compromise or +money for the purpose of withdrawing from the prosecution, and strongly +impressed upon you that such conduct would amount in law to a +misdemeanor. Long conference with you thereon, when you promised to +abide by my advice, 1 pound 6_s._ 0_d._"). + +"Now," said Bumpkin, "it seem to me that turn which way I wool, there be +too much law, too many pitfalls; I be gettin' sick on't." + +"Well," said Mr. Prigg, "we have only to do our duty in that station of +life in which we are called, and we have no cause to fear. Now you know +you would _not_ have liked that unprincipled man, Snooks, to have the +laugh of you, would you now?" + +Mr. Bumpkin clenched his fist as he said, "Noa, I'd sooner lose every +penny I got than thic there feller should ha' the grin o' me." + +"Quite so," said the straightforward moralist. "Quite so! dear me! +Well, well, I must wish you good morning, for really I am so overwhelmed +with work that I hardly know which way to turn--bye, bye. I will take +care to keep you posted up in--." Here Mr. Prigg's cab drove off, and I +could not ascertain whether the posting up was to be in the state of the +list or in the lawyer's ledger. + +"What a nice man!" said the landlady. + +Yes, that was Mr. Prigg's character, go where he would: "A nice man!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +The trial at the Old Bailey of Mr. Simple Simonman for highway robbery +with violence--Mr. Alibi introduces himself to Mr. Bumpkin. + +I next saw Mr. Bumpkin wandering about the precincts of that Grand +Institution, the Old Bailey, on a drizzly morning about the middle of +February, 187--, waiting to go before the Grand Jury. As the famous +prison in Scotland was called the "Heart of Midlothian" so the Old Bailey +may be considered the Heart of Civilization. Its commanding situation, +in the very centre of a commercial population, entitles it to this +distinction; for nothing is supposed to have so civilizing an influence +as Commerce. I was always impressed with its beautiful and picturesque +appearance, especially on a fine summer morning, during its sittings, +when the sun was pouring its brightest beams on its lively portals. What +a charming picture was presented to your view, when the gates being open, +the range of sheds on the left met the eye, especially the centre one +where the gallows is kept packed up for future use. The gallows on the +one side might be seen and the stately carriages of my Lord Mayor and +Sheriffs on the other! Gorgeous coachmen and footmen in resplendent +liveries; magnificent civic dignitaries in elaborate liveries too, rich +with gold and bright with colour, stepping forth from their carriages, +amid loud cries of "Make way!" holding in their white-gloved hands large +bouquets of the loveliest flowers, emblems of--what? + +Crime truly has its magnificent accompaniments, and if it does not dress +itself, as of old, in the rich costumes of a Turpin or a Duval, it is not +without its beautiful surroundings. Here, where the channels and gutters +of crime converge, is built, in the centre of the greatest commercial +city in the world, the Bailey. Mr. Bumpkin wandered about for hours +through a reeking unsavoury crowd of thieves and thieves' companions, +idlers of every type of blackguardism, ruffians of every degree of +criminality; boys and girls receiving their finishing lessons in crime +under the dock, as they used to do only a few years ago under the +gallows. The public street is given over to the enemies of Society; and +Civilisation looks on without a shudder or regret, as though crime were a +necessity, and the Old Bailey, in the heart of London, no disgrace. + +And a little dirty, greasy hatted, black whiskered man, after pushing +hither and thither through this pestiferous crowd as though he had +business with everybody, but did not exactly know what it was, at length +approached Mr. Bumpkin; and after standing a few minutes by his side +eyeing him with keen hungry looks, began that interesting conversation +about the weather which seems always so universally acceptable. Mr. +Bumpkin was tired. He had been wandering for hours in the street, and +was wondering when he should be called before the Grand Jury. Mr. Alibi, +that was the dark gentleman's name, knew all about Mr. Bumpkin's case, +his condition of mind, and his impatience; and he said deferentially: + +"You are waiting to go before the Grand Jury, I suppose, sir?" + +"I be," answered Bumpkin. + +"Where's your policeman?" enquired Alibi. + +"I doant know," said Bumpkin. + +"What's his number?" + +"Sev'n hunderd and sev'nty." + +"O, I know," said Alibi; "why not let me get you before the Grand Jury at +once, instead of waiting about here all day, and perhaps to-morrow and +the next day, and the day after that; besides, the sooner you go before +the Grand Jury, the sooner your case will come on; that stands to common +sense, I think." + +"So ur do," answered the farmer. + +"You will be here a month if you don't look out. Have you got any +counsel or solicitor?" + +"Noa, I beant; my case be that plaain, it spaks for itself." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Alibi; "they won't always let a case speak for +itself--they very often stop it--but if you can get a counsel for +nothing, why not have one; that stands to reason, I think?" + +"For nothing? well that be the fust time I ever eeard o' a loryer as +chape as thic." + +How it could pay was the wonder to Mr. Bumpkin. And what a strange +delusion it must seem to the mind of the general reader! But wait, +gentle peruser of this history, you shall see this strange sight. + +"If you like to have a counsel and a lawyer to conduct your case, sir, it +shall not cost you a farthing, I give you my word of honour! What do you +think of that?" + +What could Mr. Bumpkin think of that? What a pity that he had not met +this gentleman before! Probably he would have brought several actions if +he had; for if you could work the machinery of the law for nothing, you +would always stand to win. + +"O," said Mr. Alibi, "here is seven hundred and seventy! This gentleman +wants a counsel, and I've been telling him he can have one, and it won't +cost him anything." + +"That's right enough," said the Policeman; "but it ain't nothin' to do +with me!" + +"Just step this way, sir, we'll soon have this case on," said Alibi; and +he led the way to the back room of a public-house, which seemed to be +used as a "hedge" lawyer's office. + +"Med I mak so bold, sir; be thee a loryer?" + +"No," answered Alibi, "I am clerk to Mr. Deadandgone." + +"And don't Mr. Deadandam charge nothin'?" + +"O dear, no!" + +What a very nice man Mr. Deadandam must be! + +"You see," said Alibi, "the Crown pays us!" + +"The Crown!" + +And here Mr. Alibi slipped a crown-piece into the artfully extended palm +of the policeman, who said: + +"It ain't nothin' to do wi' me; but the gentleman's quite right, the +Crown pays." And he dropped the money into his leather purse, which he +rolled up carefully and placed in his pocket. + +"You see," said Alibi, "I act as the Public Prosecutor, who can't be +expected to do everything--you can't grind all the wheat in the country +in one mill, that stands to common sense." + +"That be right, that's werry good," + +"And," continued Mr. Alibi, "the Government allows two guineas for +counsel, a guinea for the solicitor, and so on, and the witnesses, don't +you see?" + +"Zactly!" said Bumpkin. + +"And that's quite enough," continued Alibi; "we don't want anything from +the prosecutor--that's right, policeman!" + +"It ain't nothink to do wi' me," said the policeman; "but what this 'ere +gentleman says is the law." + +"There," said Alibi, "I told you so." + +"I spose," said the policeman, "you don't want me, gentlemen; it ain't +nothink to do with me?" + +"Oh, no, Leary," replied Alibi; "we don't want you; the case is pretty +straight, I suppose." + +"Oh, yes, sir; I expects it'll be a plea of guilty. There ain't no +defence, not as I'm aware of." + +"Oh," said Alibi, "that's all right--keep your witnesses together, +Leary--don't be out of the way." + +"No, sir," says Leary; "I thinks I knows my dooty." + +And with this he slouched out of the room, and went and refreshed himself +at the bar. + +In two or three minutes the policeman returned, and was in the act of +drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, when Alibi said: + +"Yes?" + +"Beg pardin, sir; but there's another gentleman wants to see you--I +thinks he wants you to defend ---; but it ain't nothink to do wi' me, +sir." + +"Very good," answered Alibi, "very good; now let me see--" + +"You got the Baker's case?" said Leary. + +"Yes," said Alibi; "O, yes--embezzlement." + +Everything was thus far satisfactorily settled, and Mr. Bumpkin's +interests duly represented by Mr. Deadandgone, an eminent practitioner. +No doubt the services of competent counsel would be procured, and the +case fully presented to the consideration of an intelligent jury. + +Who shall say after this that the Old Bailey is _not_ the Heart of +Civilization? + +I pass over the preliminary canter of Mr. Bumpkin before the Grand Jury; +the decision of that judicial body, the finding of the true bill, the +return of the said bill in Court, the bringing up of the prisoner for +arraignment, and the fixing of the case to be taken first on Thursday in +deference to the wishes of Mr. Nimble. I pass by all those preliminary +proceedings which I have before attempted to describe, and which, if I +might employ a racing simile, might be compared to the saddling of Mr. +Bumpkin in the paddock, where, unquestionably, he was first favourite for +the coming race, to be ridden by that excellent jockey, Alibi; and come +at once to the great and memorable trial of Regina on the prosecution of +Thomas Bumpkin against Simon Simpleman for highway robbery with violence. + +As the prisoner entered the dock there was a look of unaffected innocence +in his appearance that seemed to make an impression on the learned Judge, +Mr. Justice Technical, a recently appointed Chancery barrister. I may be +allowed to mention that his Lordship had never had any experience in +Criminal Courts whatever: so he brought to the discharge of his important +duty a thoroughly unprejudiced and impartial mind. He did not suspect +that a man was guilty because he was charged: and the respectable and +harmless manner of the accused was not interpreted by his Lordship as a +piece of consummate acting, as it would be by some Judges who have seen +much of the world as it is exhibited in Criminal Courts. + +Many ladies of rank were ushered in by the Sheriff, all looking as +smiling and happy as if they were about to witness the performance of +some celebrated actress for the first time; they had fans and +opera-glasses, and as they took their places in the boxes allotted to +rank and fashion, there was quite a pleasant sensation produced in Court, +and they attracted more notice for the time being than the prisoners +themselves. + +Now these ladies were not there to witness the first piece, the mere +trial of Simpleman for highway robbery, although the sentence might +include the necessary brutality of flogging. The afterpiece was what +they had come to see--namely, a fearful tragedy, in which two men at +least were sure of being sentenced to death. This is the nearest +approach to shedding human blood which ladies can now witness in this +country; for I do not regard pigeon slaughtering, brutal and bloodthirsty +as it is, as comparable to the sentencing of a fellow-creature to be +strangled. And no one can blame ladies of rank if they slake their +thirst for horrors in the only way the law now leaves open to them. The +Beauty of Spain is better provided for. What a blessed thing is +humanity! + +It is due to Mr. Newboy, the counsel for the prosecution in the great +case of _Regina_ v. _Simpleman_, to say that he had only lately been +called to the Bar, and only "_instructed_," as the prisoner was placed in +the dock. Consequently, he had not had time to read his brief. I do not +know that that was a disadvantage, inasmuch as the brief consisted in +what purported to be a copy of the depositions so illegibly scrawled that +it would have required the most intense study to make out the meaning of +a single line. + +Mr. Newboy was by no means devoid of ability; but no amount of ability +would give a man a knowledge of the facts of a case which were never +communicated to him. In its simplicity the prosecution was beautifully +commonplace, and five minutes' consideration would have been sufficient +to enable counsel to master the details and be prepared to meet the +defence. Alas, for the lack of those five minutes! The more Mr. Newboy +looked at the writing (?) the more confused he got. All he could make +out was his own name, and _Reg._ v. _Somebody_ on the back. + +Now it happened that Mr. Alibi saw the difficulty in which Mr. Newboy +was, and knowing that his, Alibi's, clerk, was not remarkable for +penmanship, handed to the learned counsel at the last moment, when the +last juryman was being bawled at with the "well and truly try," a copy of +the depositions. + +The first name at the top of the first page which caught the eye of the +learned counsel, was that of the prisoner; for the depositions commence +in such a way as to show the name of the prisoner in close proximity to, +if not among the names of witnesses. + +So Mr. Newboy, in his confusion, taking the name of the prisoner as his +first witness, shouted out in a bold voice, to give himself courage, +"_Simon Simpleman_." + +"'Ere!" answered the prisoner. + +The learned Judge was a little astonished; and, although, he had got his +criminal law up with remarkable rapidity, his lordship knew well enough +that you cannot call the prisoner as a witness either for or against +himself. Mr. Newboy perceived his mistake and apologised. The laugh, of +course, went round against him; and when it got to Mr. Nimble, that merry +gentleman slid it into the jury-box with a turn of his eyes and a twist +of his mouth. The counsel for the prosecution being by this time pretty +considerably confused, and not being able to make out the name of a +single witness on the depositions (there were only two) called out, "The +Prosecutor." + +"Here, I be," said a voice from the crowd in a tone which provoked more +laughter, all of which was turned into the jury-box by Mr. Nimble. "Here +I be" struggled manfully with all his might and main to push through the +miscellaneous crowd of all sorts and conditions that hemmed him in. All +the arrangements at the Old Bailey, like the arrangements at most Courts, +are expressly devised for the inconvenience of those who have business +there. + +All eyes were turned towards "_Here I be_," as, after much pushing and +struggling as though he were in a football match, he was thrust headlong +forward by three policemen and the crier into the body of the Court. +There he stood utterly confounded by the treatment he had undergone and +the sight that presented itself to his astonished gaze. Opera-glasses +were turned on him from the boxes, the gentlemen on the grand tier +strained their necks in order to catch a glimpse of him; the pit, filled +for the most part with young barristers, was in suppressed ecstasies; +while the gallery, packed to the utmost limit of its capacity, broke out +into unrestrained laughter. I say, unrestrained; but as the Press truly +observed in the evening papers, "it was immediately suppressed by the +Usher." + +Mr. Bumpkin climbed into the witness-box (as though he were going up a +rick), which was situated between the Judge and the jury. His appearance +again provoked a titter through the Court; but it was not loud enough to +call for any further measure of suppression than the usual "Si--lence!" +loudly articulated in two widely separated syllables by the crier, who +had no sooner pronounced it than he turned his face from the learned +Judge and pressed his hand tightly against his mouth, straining his eyes +as if he had swallowed a crown-piece. Mr. Bumpkin wore his long drab +frock overcoat, with the waist high up and its large flaps; his hell-fire +waistcoat, his trousers of corduroy, and his shirt-collar, got up +expressly for the occasion as though he had been a prime minister. The +ends of his neckerchief bore no inconsiderable likeness to two well-grown +carrots. In his two hands he carefully nursed his large-brimmed +well-shaped white beaver hat; a useful article to hold in one's hands +when there is any danger of nervousness, for nothing is so hard to get +rid of as one's hands. I am not sure that Mr. Bumpkin was nervous. He +was a brave self-contained man, who had fought the world and conquered. +His maxim was, "right is right," and "wrong is no man's right." He was +of the upright and down-straight character, and didn't care "for all the +counsellors in the kingdom." And why should he? His cause was good, his +conscience clear, and the story he had to tell plain and +"straightforrard" as himself. No wonder then that his face beamed with a +good old country smile, such as he would wear at an exhibition where he +could show the largest "turmut as ever wur growed." That was the sort of +smile he turned upon the audience. And as the audience looked at the +"turmut," it felt that it was indeed the most extraordinary specimen of +field culture it had ever beheld, and worthy of the first prize. + +"What is your name?" inquired Mr. Newboy; "I mustn't lead." + +"Bumpkin, and I bearned asheamed on 'im," answered the bold farmer. + +"Never mind whether you are ashamed or not," interposed Mr. Nimble; "just +answer the question." + +"You must answer," remarked the learned Judge, "not make a speech." + +"Zackly, sir," said Bumpkin, pulling at his hair. + +Another titter. The jury titter and hold down their heads. Evidently +there's fun in the case. + +Then Mr. Newboy questioned him about the occurrence; asked him if he +recollected such a day, and where he had been, and where he was going, +and a variety of other questions; the answer to every one of which +provoked fresh laughter; until, after much floundering on the part of +both himself and Mr. Newboy, as though they were engaged in a wrestling +match, he was asked by the learned Judge "to tell them exactly what +happened. Let him tell his own story," said the Judge. + +"Ha!" said everybody; "now we shall hear something!" + +"I wur a gwine," began Bumpkin, "hoame--" + +"That's not evidence," said Mr. Nimble. + +"How so?" asks the Judge. + +"It doesn't matter where he was going to, my lord, but where he was!" + +"Well, that is so," says the Judge; "you mustn't tell us, Mr. Bumpkin, +whither you were going, but where you were!" + +Bumpkin scratched his head; there were too many where's for him. + +"Can't yon tell us," says Mr. Newboy, "where you were?" + +"Where I were?" says Bumpkin. + +A roar of laughter greeted this statement. Mr. Nimble turning it into +the jury-box like a flood. + +"I wur in Lunnun--" + +"Yes--yes," says his counsel; "but what locality?" + +You might just as well have put him under a mangle, as to try to get +evidence out of him like that. + +"Look," says the Judge, "attend to me; if you go on like that, you will +not be allowed your expenses." + +"What took place?" asks his counsel; "can't you tell us, man?" + +"Why the thief cotch--" + +"I object," says Mr. Nimble; "you mustn't call him a thief; it is for the +jury, my lord, to determine that." + +"That is so," says my lord; "you mustn't call him a thief, Mr. Bumpkin." + +"Beg pardon, your lord; but ur stole my watch." + +"No--no," says Mr. Newboy; "took your watch." + +"An if ur took un, ur stole un, I allows," says Bumpkin; "for I never gin +it to un." + +There was so much laughter that for some time nothing further was said; +but every audience knows better than to check the source of merriment by +a continued uproar; so it waited for another supply. + +"You must confine yourself," says the Judge, "to telling us what took +place." + +"I'll spak truth and sheam t' devil," says Bumpkin. + +"Now go on," says Newboy. + +"The thief stole my watch, and that be t' plain English on 't." + +"I shall have to commit you to prison," says the Judge, "if you go on +like that; remember you are upon your oath, and it's a very serious +thing--serious for you and serious for the young man at the bar." + +At these touching words, the young man at the bar burst out crying, said +"he was a respectable man, and it was all got up against him;" whereupon +Mr. Nimble said "he must be quiet, and that his lordship and the +gentlemen in the box would take care of him and not allow him to be +trampled on." + +"You are liable," said the Judge, "to be prosecuted for perjury if you do +not tell the truth." + +"Well, then, your lord, if a man maun goo to prison for losin' his watch, +I'll goo that's all; but that ere man stole un." + +Mr. Newboy: "He took it, did he?" + +"I object," said Mr. Nimble; "that is a leading question." + +"Yes," said the Judge; "I think that is rather leading," Mr. Newboy; "you +may vary the form though, and ask him whether the prisoner stole it." + +"Really, my lord," said Mr. Nimble, "that, with very great respect, is as +leading as the other form." + +"Not quite, I think, Mr. Nimble. You see in the other form, you make a +positive assertion that he did steal it; in this, you merely ask the +question." + +And I saw that this was a very keen and subtle distinction, such as could +only be drawn by a Chancery Judge. + +"Would it not be better, my lord, if he told us what took place?" + +"That is what he is doing," said the Judge; "go on, witness." + +"I say as 'ow thic feller comed out and hugged up aginst I and took 't +watch and runned away. I arter'd him, and met him coomin' along wi' it +in 's pocket; what can be plaainer an thic?" + +There was great laughter as Mr. Bumpkin shook his head at the learned +counsel for the defence, and thumped one hand upon the ledge in front of +him. + +"That will do," said Mr. Newboy, sitting down triumphantly. + +Then the counsel for the defence arose, and a titter again went round the +Court, and there was a very audible adjustment of persons in preparation +for the treat that was to come. + +"May the prisoner have a seat, my lord?" + +"Oh, certainly," said his lordship; "let an easy-chair be brought +immediately." + +"Now then, Mr. Bumpkin, or whatever your name is, don't lounge on the +desk like that, but just stand up and attend to me. Stand up, sir, and +answer my questions," says Mr. Nimble. + +"I be standin' oop," said Bumpkin, "and I can answer thee; ax away." + +"Just attend," said the Judge. "You must not go on like that. You are +here to answer questions and not to make speeches. If you wish those +gentlemen to believe you, you must conduct yourself in a proper manner. +Remember this is a serious charge, and you are upon your oath." + +Poor Bumpkin! Never was there a more friendless position than that of +Ignorance in the witness-box. + +"Just attend!" repeated Mr. Nimble; this was a favourite expression of +his. + +"How may aliases have you?" + +"Ow many who?" asked Bumpkin. (Roars of laughter.) + +"How many different names?" + +"Naames! why I s'pose I got two, like moast people." + +"How many more?" + +"None as iver I knowed of." + +"Wait a bit, we shall see. Now, sir, will you swear you have never gone +by the name of Pumpkin?" + +Loud laughter, in which the learned judge tried not to join. + +"Never!" + +"Do you swear it?" + +"I do." + +"My lord, would you kindly let me see the depositions. Now look here, +sir, is that your signature?" + +"I ain't much of a scollard." + +"No; but you can make a cross, I suppose." + +"Ay, I can make a cross, or zummut in imitation as well as any man." + +"Look at that, is that your cross?" + +"It look like un." + +"Now then, sir; when you were before the Lord Mayor, I ask you, upon your +oath, did you not give the name of Pumpkin?" + +"Noa, I din't!" + +"Was this read over to you, and were you asked if it was correct?" + +"It med be." + +"Med be; but wasn't it? You know it was, or, don't you?" + +Bumpkin seemed spiked, so silent; seemed on fire, so red. + +"Well, we know it was so. Now, my lord, I call your lordship's attention +to this remarkable fact; here in the depositions he calls himself +Pumpkin." + +His lordship looks carefully at the depositions and says that certainly +is so. + +Mr. Newboy rises and says he understands that it may be a mistake of the +clerk's. + +Judge: "How can you say that, Mr. Newboy, when it's in his affidavit?" + +(Clerk of Arraigns whispers to his lordship.) "I mean in his +depositions, as I am told they are called in this Court; these are read +over to him by the clerk, and he is asked if they are correct." Shakes +his head. + +(So they began to try the prisoner, not so much on the merits of the case +as on the merits of the magistrate's clerk.) + +"You certainly said your name was Pumpkin," said the Judge, "and what is +more you swore to it." + +("They've got the round square at work," muttered a voice in the +gallery.) + +Mr. Nimble: "Now just attend; have you ever gone so far as to say that +this case did not refer to you because your name was not Bumpkin?" + +The witness hesitates, then says "he b'leeves not." + +"Let those two gentlemen, Mr. Crackcrib and Mr. Centrebit, step forward." + +There was a bustle in Court, and then, with grinning faces, up stepped +the two men who had visited Mr. Bumpkin at the "Goose" some days before. + +"Have you ever seen these gentlemen before?" asks the learned counsel. + +The gentlemen alluded to looked up as if they had practised it together, +and both grinned. How can Mr. Bumpkin's confusion be described? His +under jaw fell, and his head drooped; he was like one caught in a net +looking at the fowler. + +The question was repeated, and Mr. Bumpkin wiped his face and returned +his handkerchief into the depths of his hat, into which he would have +liked to plunge also. + +Question repeated in a tone that conveyed the impression that witness was +one of the biggest scoundrels in the Heart of Civilization. + +"You must really answer," says the Judge. + +"They be put on, your lordship." + +"No, no," says the counsel, "you mustn't say that, I'll have an answer. +Have you seen them before?" + +"Yes," muttered the prosecutor. + +"Let them go out of Court. Now then," says the counsel, extending his +right hand and his forefinger and leaning towards the witness, +"have--you--not--told--them--that--this case was nothing to do with you +as your name wasn't Bumpkin?" + +"My lord," says the witness. + +"No, no; you must answer." + +The witness stood confounded. + +"You decline to answer," says the counsel. "Very well; now then, let me +see if you will decline to answer this. When you were robbed, as you +say, was anybody with you?" + +"Be I obligated to answer, my lord?" + +"I think you must answer," said his lordship. + +"There wur." + +"Who was it?" + +"A companion, I s'poase." + +"Yes, but who was he? what was his name?" + +No answer. + +"You'd rather not answer; very well. Where does he live?" + +"I doant know. Westmunster, I believe." + +"Is he here?" + +"Not as I knows on." + +("What a lark this is," chuckled the Don, as he sat in the corner of the +gallery peeping from behind the front row.) + +"Did he see the watch taken?" + +"He did, leastways I s'poase so." + +"And has never appeared as a witness?" + +"How is that?" asks his lordship. + +"He axed me, m'lud, not to say as 'ow he wur in it." + +Judge shakes his head. Counsel for the prisoner shakes his head at the +jury, and the jury shake their heads at one another. + +Now in the front row of the gallery sat five young men in the undress +uniform of the hussars: they were Joe and his brother recruits come to +hear the famous trial. At this moment Mr. Bumpkin in sheer despair +lifted his eyes in the direction of the gallery and immediately caught +sight of his old servant. He gave a nod of recognition as if he were the +only friend left in the wide world of that Court of Justice. + +"Never mind your friends in the gallery," said Mr. Nimble; "I dare say +you have plenty of them about; now attend to this question:"--Yes, and a +nice question it was, considering the tone and manner with which it was +asked. "At the moment when you were being robbed, as you say, did a +young woman with a baby in her arms come up?" + +The witness's attention was again distracted, but this time by no such +pleasing object as on the former occasion. He was dumbfoundered; a +sparrow facing an owl could hardly be in a greater state of nervousness +and discomfiture: for down in the well of the Court, a place where he had +never once cast his eyes till now, with a broad grin on his coarse +features, and a look of malignant triumph, sat the _fiendlike Snooks_! +His mouth was wide open, and Bumpkin found himself looking down into it +as though it had been a saw-pit. By his side sat Locust taking notes of +the cross-examination. + +"What are you looking at, Mr. Bumpkin?" inquired the learned counsel. + +Mr. Bumpkin started. + +"What are you looking at?" + +"I wur lookin' doun thic there hole in thic feller's head," answered +Bumpkin. + +Such a roar of laughter followed this speech as is seldom heard even in a +breach of promise case, where the most touching pathos often causes the +greatest amusement to the audience. + +"What a lark!" said Harry. + +"As good as a play," responded Dick. + +"I be sorry for the old chap," said Joe; "they be givin' it to un pooty +stiff." + +"Now attend," said the counsel, "and never mind the hole. Did a young +woman with a baby come up?" + +"To the best o' my b'leef." + +"Don't say to the best of your belief; did she or not?" + +"He can only speak to the best of his belief," said the Judge. + +("There's the round square," whispered O'Rapley.) + +"Did she come up then to the best of your belief?" + +"Yes." + +"And--did--she--accuse--you--to the best of your belief of assaulting +her?" + +"I be a married man," answered the witness. (Great laughter.) + +"Yes, we know all about you; we'll see who you are presently. Did she +accuse you, and did you run away?" + +"I runned arter thic feller." + +"No, no; did she accuse you?" + +"She might." + +The learned counsel then sat down with the quickest motion imaginable, +and then the policeman gave his evidence as to taking the man into +custody; and produced the huge watch. Mr. Bumpkin was recalled and asked +how long he had had it, and where he bought it; the only answers to which +were that he had had it five years, and bought it of a man in the market; +did not know who he was or where he came from; all which answers looked +very black against Mr. Bumpkin. Then the policeman was asked to answer +this question--yes or no. "Did he know the prisoner?" He said "No." + +Mr. Nimble said to the jury, "Here was a man dressing himself up as an +old man from the country (laughter) prowling about the streets of London +in company with an associate whose name he dared not mention, and who +probably was well-known to the police; here was this countryman actually +accused of committing an assault in the public streets on a young woman +with a baby in her arms: he runs away as hard as his legs will carry him +and meets a man who is actually wearing the watch that this Bumpkin or +Pumpkin charges him with stealing. He, the learned counsel, would call +witness after witness to speak to the character of his client, who was an +engraver (I believe he was an engraver of bank notes); he would call +witness after witness who would tell them how long they had known him, +and how long he had had the watch; and, curiously enough, such curious +things did sometimes almost providentially take place in a Court of +Justice, he would call the very man that poor Mr. Simpleman had purchased +it of five years ago, when he was almost, as you might say, in the first +happy blush of boyhood (that 'blush of boyhood' went down with many of +the jury who were fond of pathos); let the jury only fancy! but really +would it be safe--really would it be safe, let him ask them upon their +consciences, which in after life, perhaps years to come, when their heads +were on their pillows, and their hands upon their hearts, (here several +of the jury audibly sniffed), would those consciences upbraid, or would +those consciences approve them for their work to-day? would it be safe to +convict after the exhibition the prosecutor had made of himself in that +box, where, he ventured to say, Bumpkin stood self-condemned before that +intelligent jury." + +Here the intelligent jury turned towards one another, and after a moment +or two announced, through their foreman (who was a general-dealer in old +metal, in a dark street over the water), that if they heard a witness or +two to the young man's character that would be enough for them. + +Witnesses, therefore, were called to character, and the young man was +promptly acquitted, the jury appending to their verdict that he left the +Court without a stain upon his character. + +"Bean't I 'lowed to call witnesses to charickter?" asks the Prosecutor. + +"Oh, no," replied Mr. Nimble; "we know your character pretty well." + +"What's that?" inquired the Judge. + +"He wants to know, my lord," says Mr. Nimble, laughing, "if he may call +witnesses to character!" + +"Oh dear, no," says the Judge; "you were not being tried." + +Now many persons might have been of a different opinion from his lordship +on this point. Snooks for one, I think; for he gave a great loud vulgar +haw! haw! haw! and said, "I could ha' gien him a charakter." + +"Si-lence!" said the Usher. + +"May the prisoner have his watch, my lord?" asks Mr. Nimble. + +"O, yes," said his lordship, "to be sure. Give the prisoner his watch." + +"_His_ watch," groaned a voice. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +Mr. Alibi is stricken with a thunderbolt--interview with Horatio and Mr. +Prigg. + +The "round square," as the facetious Don called the new style of putting +the round judicial pegs into the square judicial holes, had indeed been +applied with great effect on this occasion; for I perceived that Mr. +Alibi, remarkable man, was not only engaged on the part of the Crown to +prosecute, but also on that of the prisoner to defend. And this fact +came to my knowledge in the manner following: + +When Mr. Bumpkin got into the lower part of that magnificent pile of +buildings which we have agreed to call the Heart of Civilisation, he soon +became the centre of a dirty mob of undersized beings who were anxious to +obtain a sight of him; and many of whom were waiting to congratulate +their friend, the engraver. Amidst the crowd was Mr. Alibi. That +gentleman had no intention of meeting Mr. Bumpkin any more, for certain +expenses were due to him as a witness, and it had long been a custom at +the Old Bailey, that if the representative of the Crown did not see the +witnesses the expenses due to them would fall into the Consolidated Fund, +so that it was a clear gain to the State if its representative officers +did not meet the witnesses. On this occasion, however, Mr. Alibi ran +against his client accidentally, and being a courteous gentleman, could +not forbear condoling with him on the unsuccessful termination of his +case. + +"You, see," began Mr. Alibi, "I was instructed so late--really, the +wonder is, when gentlemen don't employ a solicitor till the last moment, +how we ever lay hold of the facts at all. Now look at your case, sir. +Yes, yes, I'm coming--bother my clerks, how they worry--I'll be there +directly." + +"But thic feller," said Mr. Bumpkin, "who had my case din't know nowt +about it. I could ha' done un better mysel." + +"Ah, sir; so we are all apt to think. He's a most clever man, that--a +very rising man, sir." + +"Be he?" said Bumpkin. + +"Why, do you know, sir," continued Mr. Alibi, "he was very great at his +University." + +"That bean't everything, though, by a long way." + +"No, sir, granted, granted. But he was Number Four in his boat; and the +papers all said his feathering was beautiful." + +"A good boatman, wur he?" + +"Magnificent, sir; magnificent!" + +"Then he'd better keep a ferry; bean't no good at law." + +"Ah! I am afraid you are a little prejudiced. He's a very learned man." + +"I wish he'd larned to open his mouth. Why, I got a duck can quack a +devilish sight better un thic feller can talk." + +"Ha, how d'ye do, Mr. Swindle?" said a shabby-looking gentleman, who came +up at this moment. + +"Excuse me, sir; but you have the advantage of me," said Alibi, winking. + +"Dear me, how very strange, I thought you were Mr. Wideawake's +representative." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Alibi, laughing, "we are often taken for brothers--and +yet, would you believe me, there is no relationship." + +"No?" said the gentleman. + +"None, whatever. I think you'll find him in the Second Court, if not, +he'll be there in a short time. I saw him only just now." + +That is how I learned that Mr. Alibi represented the Crown and Mr. +Deadandgone for the prosecutor; also the prisoner, and Mr. Wideawake for +the defence. Clever man! + +"Now," said Mr. Bumpkin, "Can't un get a new trial?" + +"I fear not," said Alibi; "but I should not be in the least surprised if +that Wideawake, who represented the prisoner, brought an action against +you for false imprisonment and malicious prosecution." + +"What, thic thief?" + +"Ah, sir--law is a very deep pit--it's depth is not to be measured by any +moral plummet." + +"Doan't 'zacly zee't." + +"Well, it's this," said Mr. Alibi. "Whether you're right or whether +you're wrong, if he brings an action you must defend it--it's not your +being in the right will save you." + +"Then, what wool?" asked Mr. Bumpkin. + +Mr. Alibi did not know, unless it was instructing him in due time and not +leaving it to the last moment. That seemed the only safe course. + +Mr. Bumpkin took off his hat, drew out his handkerchief, and wiped the +perspiration from his forehead. Then he breathed heavily. Now at this +moment a strange phenomenon occurred, not to be passed over in this +truthful history. Past Mr. Bumpkin's ear something shot, in appearance +like a human fist, in velocity like a thunderbolt, and unfortunately it +alighted full on the nose and eye of the great Mr. Alibi, causing that +gentleman to reel back into the arms of the faithful thieves around. I +cannot tell from what quarter it proceeded, it was so sudden, but I saw +that in the neighbourhood whence it came stood five tall hussars, and I +heard a voice say: + +"Now, look at that. Come on, Maister, don't let us git into no row." + +Mr. Bumpkin, with the politeness of his nature, said: + +"Good marnin', sir," and retired. + +And thus thought the unfortunate prosecutor: "This 'ere country be all +law, actions grows out o' actions, like that 'ere cooch that runs all +over everywhere's." And then he saw the five recruits strutting along +with their caps at the side of their heads, the straps across their +chins, their riding-whips under their arms, and walking with such a +swagger that one would have thought they had just put down a rebellion, +or set up a throne. + +It was some time before, in the confusion of his mind, the disappointed +Bumpkin could realize the fact that there was any connection between him +and the military. But as he looked, with half-closed eyes, suddenly the +thought crossed his mind: "Why, that be like our Joe--that middle un." + +And so it was: they were walking at a fastish pace, and as they strutted +along Joe seemed to be marching away with the whole farm and with all the +pleasures of his past life. Even Mrs. Bumpkin herself, in some +extraordinary manner, seemed to be eloping with him. Why was it? And +now, despondent, disappointed and humiliated, with his blood once more +up, poor old Bumpkin bethought himself seriously of his position. For +weeks he had been waiting for his case to "come on"; weeks more might +pass idly away unless he made a stir. So he would call at the office of +Mr. Prigg. And being an artful man, he had a reason for calling without +further delay. It was this: his desire to see Prigg before that +gentleman should hear of his defeat. Prigg would certainly blame him for +not employing a solicitor, or going to the Public Prosecutor. So to +Prigg's he went about three o'clock on that Thursday afternoon. I do not +undertake to describe furniture, so I say nothing of Prigg's dingy +office, except this, that if Prigg had been a spider, it was just the +sort of corner in which I should have expected him to spin his web. +Being a man of enormous practice, and in all probability having some +fifty to sixty representatives of county families to confer with, two +hours elapsed before Mr. Bumpkin could be introduced. The place, small +as it was, was filled with tin boxes bearing, no doubt, eminent names. +Horatio was busy copying drafts of marriage settlements, conveyances, and +other matters of great importance. He had little time for gossip because +his work seemed urgent, and although he was particularly glad to see Mr. +Bumpkin, yet being a lad of strict adherence to duty, he always replied +courteously, but in the smallest number of words to that gentleman's +questions. + +"Will ur be long?" asked the client; "I don't think so," said Horatio. + +Then in a whisper, asked Mr. Bumpkin, "How does thee think, sir, we shall +get on: win, shan't us?" + +Horatio just raised his face from the paper and winked, as though he were +conveying a valuable secret. + +"Have ur heard anythink, sir?" + +Another artful wink. + +"Thee know's zummat, I knows thee do." + +Another artful wink. + +"Thee can tell I, surely? I wunt let un goo no furder." + +Horatio winked once more, and made a face at the door where the great +Prigg was supposed to be. + +"Ain't give in, ave ur?" + +Horatio put his finger in his mouth and made a popping noise as he pulled +it out. + +"What the devil does thee mean, lad? there be zummat up, I'll swear." + +"Hush! hush!" + +"Now, look here," said Bumpkin, taking out his purse; "thee beest a good +chap, and writ out thic brief, didn't thee? I got zummat for thee;" and +hereupon he handed Horatio half-a-crown. + +The youth took the money, spun it into the air, caught it in the palm of +his hand, spat on it for good luck, and put it in his pocket + +"I'll have a spree with that," said he, "if I never do again." + +"Be careful, lad," said Bumpkin, "don't fool un away." + +"Not I," said Horatio; "I'm on for the Argille tonight, please the pigs." + +"Be thic a place o' wusship" said Bumpkin, laughing. + +"Not exactly," answered Horatio; "it's a place where you can just do the +gentleman on the cheap, shoulder it with noblemen's sons, and some of the +highest. Would you like to go now, just for a lark? I'm sure you'd like +it." + +"Not I," said the client; "this 'ere Lunnun life doan't do for I.'.' + +"Yes; but this is a nice quiet sort of place." + +"Gals, I spoase." + +"Rather; I believe you my boy; stunners too." + +"Thee be too young, it's my thinking." + +"Well, that's what the Governor says; everybody says I'm too young; but I +hope to mend that fault, Master Bumpkin, if I don't get the better of any +other." + +"I wish I wur as old in the 'ead; but tell I, lad, hast thee 'eard +anything? Thee might just as well tell I; it wunt goo no furder." + +Horatio put his finger to his nose and made a number of dumb signs, +expressive of more than mere words could convey. + +"Danged if I can mak' thee out," said Bumpkin. + +"You recollect that ride we had in the gig." + +"Ha, now it's coming," thought he; "I shall have un now," so he answered: +"Well, it wur nice, wurn't ur?" + +"Never enjoyed myself more in my life," rejoined Horatio; "what a nice +morning it was!" + +"Beautiful!" + +"And do you recollect the rum and milk?" + +Mr. Bumpkin remembered it. + +"Well, I believe that rum and milk was the luckiest investment you ever +made. Hallo! there's the bell--hush, _mither woy_!" + +"Dang thee!" said Bumpkin, "thee's got un;" and he followed the youthful +clerk into Mr. Prigg's room. + +There sat that distinguished lawyer with his respectable head, in his +easy chair, much worn, both himself and the chair, by constant use. +There sat the good creature ready to offer himself up on the altar of +Benevolence for the good of the first comer. His collar was still +unruffled, so was his temper, notwithstanding the severe strain of the +county families. There was his clear complexion indicating the continued +health resulting from a well-spent life. His almost angelic features +were beautiful rather in the amiability of their expression than in their +loveliness of form. Anyone looking at him for the first time must +exclaim, "Dear me, what a _nice_ man!" + +"Well, Mr. Bumpkin," said he, extending his left hand lazily as though it +were the last effort of exhausted humanity, "how are we now?"--always +identifying himself with Bumpkin, as though he should say "We are in the +same boat, brother; come what may, we sink or swim together--how are we +now?" + +"Bean't wery well," answered Mr. Bumpkin, "I can tell 'ee." + +"What's the matter? dear me, why, what's the matter? We must be cool, +you know. Nothing like coolness, if we are to win our battle." + +"Lookee 'ere," said Bumpkin; "lookee 'ere, sir; I bin here dordlin' about +off an' on six weeks, and this 'ere dam trial--" + +"Sh--sh!" remonstrated Mr. Prigg with the softest voice, and just lifting +his left hand on a level with his forehead. "Let us learn resignation, +good Mr. Bumpkin. Let us learn it at the feet of disappointment and +losses and crosses." + +"Yes, yes," said Bumpkin; "but thic larnin' be spensive, I be payin' for +it." + +"Mr. Bumpkin," said the good man sternly, "the dispensations of +Providence are not to be denounced in this way. You are a man, Bumpkin; +let us act, then, the man's part. You see these boxes, these names: they +represent men who have gone through the furnace; let us be patient." + +"But I be sick on it. I wish I'd never know'd what law wur." + +"Ah, sir, most of us would like to exist in that state of wild and +uncultured freedom which only savages and beasts are permitted to enjoy; +but life has higher aims, Mr. Bumpkin; grander pursuits; more sublime +duties." + +"Well, sir, I bean't no schollard and so can't argify; but if thee plase +to tell I, sir, when this case o' mine be likely to come on--" + +"I was just that minute going to write to you, Mr. Bumpkin, as your name +was announced, to say that it would not be taken until next term." + +Mr. Bumpkin uttered an exclamation which is not for print, and which +caused the good Prigg to clap his hands to his ears and press them +tightly for five minutes. Then he took them away and rubbed them +together (I mean his hands), as though he were washing them from the +contaminating influence of Mr. Bumpkin's language. + +"Quite so," he said, mechanically; "dear me!" + +"What be quite so," asked Mr. Bumpkin. + +"Yes--yes--you see," said Prigg, "Her Majesty's Judges have to go +circuit; or, as it is technically called, jail delivery." + +"They be allays gwine suckitt." + +"Quite so. That is precisely what the profession is always observing. +No sooner do they return from one circuit than they start off on another. +Are you aware, Mr. Bumpkin, that we pay a judge five thousand a-year to +try a pickpocket?" + +"Hem!" said Bumpkin, "I bean't aware on it. Never used t' have so many +o' these 'ere--what d'ye call 'ems?" + +"Circuits. No--but you see, here now is an instance. There's a prisoner +away somewhere, I think down at Bodmin, hundreds of miles off, and I +believe he has sent to say that they must come down and try him at once, +for he can't wait." + +"I'd mak' un wait. Why should honest men wait for sich as he? I bin +waitin' long enough." + +"Quite so. And the consequence is that the Lord Chief Justice of England +is going down to try him, a common pickpocket, I believe, and his +Lordship is the very head of the Judicial Body." + +"Hem!" said Mr. Bumpkin; "then I may as well goo hoame?" + +"Quite so," answered the amiable Prigg; "in fact, better--much better." + +"An' we shan't come on now, sir; bean't there no chance?" + +"Not the least, my dear sir; but you see we have not been idle; we have +been advancing, in fact, during the whole time that has seemed to you so +long. Now, just look, my dear sir; we have fought no less than ten +appeals, right up, mind you, to the Court of Appeal itself; we have +fought two demurrers; we have compelled them three times to give better +answers to our interrogatories, and we have had fourteen other summonses +at Chambers on which they have not thought proper to appeal beyond the +Judge. Now, Mr. Bumpkin, after that, I _think_ you ought to be +satisfied; but really that is one of the most disparaging things in the +profession, the most disparaging, I may say; we find it so difficult to +show our clients that we have done enough for them." + +"An' thee think, sir, as we shall win un?" said Bumpkin. + +"Well," said Mr. Prigg, "I never like to prophesy; but if ever a case +looked like winning it's _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_. And I may tell you this, +Mr. Bumpkin, only pray don't say that I told you." + +"What be thic, sir?" asked the eager client, with his eyes open as widely +as ever client's can be. + +"The other side are in a tre-_men_-dous way!" + +"What, funkin', be um? I said so. That there Snooks be a rank bad +un--now, then, we'll at un like steam." + +"All in good time, Bumpkin," said the worthy Prigg, affectionately taking +his client's hand. "All in good time. My kind regards to Mrs. Bumpkin. +I suppose you return to-night?" + +"Ay, sir, I be off by the fust train. Good day t' ye, sir; good day and +thankee." + +Thus comforted and thus grateful did the confiding client take leave of +his legal adviser, who immediately took down his costs-book and booked a +long conference, including the two hours that Mr. Bumpkin was kept in the +"outer office." This followed immediately after another "long conference +with you when you thought we should be in the paper to-morrow from what a +certain Mr. O'Rapley had told you, and I thought we should not." + +As he passed through the "outer office" he shook. Horatio by the hand. +"Good-bye, sir. I knows what it wur now--bean't comin' on." + +"Don't say I told you," said the pale boy, as though he were afraid of +communicating some tremendous secret. + +"Noa, thee bean't told I. Now, lookee 'ere, Mr. Jigger, come down when +thee like; I shall be rare and prood to see thee, and so'll Missus." + +"Thanks," said Horatio; "I'll be sure and come. _Mither woy_!" + +"Ha! mither woy, lad! that's ur; thee got un. Good-bye." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +Mr. Bumpkin at home again. + +How peaceful the farm seemed after all the turmoil and worry that Farmer +Bumpkin had been subjected to in London! What a haven of rest is a +peaceful Home! How the ducks seemed to quack!--louder, as Mr. Bumpkin +thought, than they ever did before. The little flock of sheep looked up +as he went, with his old ash stick under his arm, to look round the farm. +They seemed to say to one another, "Why, here's Master; I told you he'd +come back." And the cows turned their heads and bellowed a loud welcome. +They knew nothing of his troubles, and only expressed their extreme +pleasure at seeing him again. They left off eating the whole time he was +with them; for they were very well bred Shorthorns and Alderneys. It was +quite pleasant to see how well behaved they all were. And Mrs. Bumpkin +pointed out which ones had calved and which were expected to calve in the +course of a few months. And then the majestic bull looked up with an +expression of immense delight; came up to Mr. Bumpkin and put his nose in +his master's hand, and gazed as only a bull would gaze on a farmer who +had spent several weeks in London. It was astonishing with what +admiration the bull regarded him; and he seemed quite delighted as Mrs. +Bumpkin told her husband of the bull's good conduct in his absence; how +he had never broken bounds once, and had behaved himself as an exemplary +bull on all occasions. + +"But," said Mrs. Bumpkin, "I be 'bliged to say, Tom, that there Mrs. +Snooks have belied him shamefully. She haven't got a good word to say +for un; nor, for the matter o' that, for anything on the farm." + +"Never mind," said Mr. Bumpkin; "he bean't the only one as 'ave been +slandered hereabouts." + +"No, Tom, sure enough; but we bean't 'bliged to heed un." + +"No, nor wun't. And now here come Tim." + +To see Tim run and bound and leap and put his paws round Mr. Bumpkin's +neck and lick him, was a sight which must have made up for a great deal +of the unkindness which he had experienced of late. Nor could any dog +say more plainly than Tim did, how he had had a row with that ill-natured +cur of Snooks', called Towser, and how he had driven him off the farm and +forbade him ever setting foot on it again. Tim told all about the +snarling of Towser, and said he would not have minded his taking Snooks' +part in the action, if he had confined himself to that; but when he went +on and barked at Mr. Bumpkin's sheep and pigs, against whom he ought to +have shown no ill-feeling, it was more than Tim could stand; so he flew +at him and thoroughly well punished him for his malignant disposition. + +But in the midst of all this welcoming, there was an unpleasant +experience, and that was, that all the pigs were gone but two. The rare +old Chichester sow was no more. + +"There be only two affidavys left, Nancy!" + +"No, Tom--only two; the man fetched two yesterday." + +"I hope they sold well. Have he sent any money yet?" + +"Not a farthing," said Mrs. Bumpkin; "nor yet for the sheep. He have had +six sheep." + +"Zo I zee; and where be th' heifers? we had six." + +"They be all sold, Tom." + +"And how much did 'em fetch?" + +"The man ain't brought in the account yet, Tom; but I spect we shall have +un soon." + +"Why," said Mr. Bumpkin, looking at the stackyard, "another rick be +gone!" + +"Yes, Tom, it be gone, and fine good hay it wur; it cut out as well as +any hay I ever zeed." + +"Sure did ur!" answered Tom; "it were the six ak'r o' clover, and were +got up wirout a drop o' rain on un; it wur prime hay, thic. Why, I wur +offered six pun' a looad for un." + +"I don'ow what ur fetched, Tom; but I be mighty troubled about this 'ere +lawsuit. I wish we'd never 'a had un." + +"Doan't say thic, Nancy; we be bound to bring un. As Laryer Prigg say, +it bean't so much t' pig--" + +"No, Tom, thee said un fust." + +"Well, s'poase I did--so ur did, and it worn't so much t' pig, it wur +thic feller's cheek." + +"Well, I don't know nothing about un; I dissay you be right, because +you've allays been right, Tom; and we've allays got on well togither +these five and thirty year: but, some'ow, Tom--down, Tim!--down, Tim!" + +"Poor old Tim!" said Tom. "Good boy! I wish men wur as good as dogs +be." + +"Some'ow," continued Mrs. Bumpkin, "I doan't like that 'aire Prigg; he +seem to shake his head too much for I; and 'olds his 'at up to his face +too long in church when ur goes in; and then ur shakes his head so much +when ur prays. I don't like un, Tom." + +"Now, Nancy, thee knows nothing about un. I can tell 'ee he be a rare +good man, and sich a clever lawyer, he'll knock that 'aire Snooks out o' +time. But, come on, let's goo in and 'ave some ta." + +So they went in. And a very comfortable tea there was set out on the old +oak table in front of the large fireplace where the dog-irons were. And +a bright, blazing log there was on the hearth; for a cold east wind was +blowing, notwithstanding that the sun had shone out bravely in the day. +Ah! how glad Tom was to see the bright pewter plates and dishes ranged in +rows all round the homely kitchen! They seemed to smile a welcome on the +master; and one very large family sort of dish seemed to go out of his +way to give him welcome. I believe he tumbled down in his enthusiasm at +Tom's return, although it was accounted for by saying that Tim had done +it by the excessive "waggling" of his tail. I believe that dish fell +down in the name of all the plates and dishes on the shelves, for the +purpose of congratulating the master; else why should all their faces +brighten up so suddenly with smiles as he did so? It's ridiculous to +suppose plates and dishes have no feelings; they've a great deal more +than some people. And then, how the great, big, bright copper kettle, +suspended on his hook, which was in the centre of the huge fireplace, how +he did sing! Why the nightingale couldn't throw more feeling into a song +than did that old kettle! And then the home-made bread and rashers of +bacon, such as you never see out of a farmhouse; and tea, such as can't +be made anywhere else! And then the long pipe was brought out of his +corner, where he had been just as Tom had left it before going to town. +And the bowl of that pipe gave off circular clouds of the bluest smoke, +expressive of its joy at the master's return: it wasn't very expressive, +perhaps, but it was all that a pipe could do; and when one does his best +in this world, it is all that mortal man can expect of him. + +And then said Mrs. Bumpkin,--still dubious as to the policy of the +proceedings, but too loving to combat her husband upon them,--"When be +thee gwine agin, Tom?" + +"I doan't rightly know," said Bumpkin. "Mr. Prigg will let I know; +sometime in May, I reckon." + +"Dear, dear!" said Mrs. Bumpkin; "it may be on, then, just as th' +haymakin's about." + +"Lor, lor! no, dearie; it'll be over long enough afore." + +"Doan't be too sure, Tom; it be a long time now since it begun." + +"Ah!" said Tom, "a long time enough; but it'll be in th' paper afore long +now; an' we got one o' the cleverest counsel in Lunnun?" + +"What be his name?" + +"Danged if I know, but it be one o' the stunninest men o' the day; two on +'em, by Golly; we got two, Nancy." + +"Who be th' tother? p'r'aps thee med mind his name?" + +"Noa, I doan't mind his name nuther. Now, what d'ye think o' thic?" + +Mrs. Bumpkin laughed, and said, "I think it be a rum thing that thee 'as +counsellors and doan't mind their names." + +And then the conversation turned upon Joe, whose place was vacant in the +old chimney corner. + +The tears ran down Mrs. Bumpkin's rosy cheeks as she said for the +twentieth time since Mr. Bumpkin's return,-- + +"Poor Joe! why did ur goo for a soger?" + +"He wur a fool!" said Bumpkin, "and I told un so. So as I warned un +about thic Sergeant; the artfullest man as ever lived, Nancy." + +Mrs. Bumpkin wiped her eyes. "He wur a good boy, wur Joe, goo where ur +wool; but, Tom, couldn't thee 'a' kept thine eye on un when thee see thic +Sergeant hoverin' roun' like a 'awk arter a sparrer?" + +"I did keep eye on un, I tell 'ee; but what be the good o' thic; as well +keep thee eye on th' sparrer when th' hawk be at un. I tell 'ee I +'suaded un and warned un, and begged on un to look out." + +"An' what did ur say?" + +"Say, why said ur wur up to un." + +"Up to un," repeated Mrs. Bumpkin. "Can't think 'ow ur got 'old on un." + +"No, and thee mark I, no more can nobody else--in Lunnon thee're 'ad +afore thee knows where thee be." + +And now Mr. Bumpkin had his "little drop of warm gin and water before +going to bed": and Mrs. Bumpkin had a mug of elder wine, for the +Christmas elder wine was not quite gone: and after that Mrs. Bumpkin, who +as the reader knows, was the better scholar of the two, took down from a +shelf on which the family documents and books were kept, a large old +bible covered with green baize. Then she wiped her glasses, and after +turning over the old brown leaves until she came to the place where she +had read last before Tom went away, commenced her evening task, while her +husband smoked on and listened. + +Was it the old tone with which she spelt her way through the sacred +words? Hardly: here it could be perceived that in her secret heart there +was doubt and mistrust. Do what she would her eyes frequently became so +dim that it was necessary to pause and wipe her glasses; and when she had +finished and closed the book, she took Tom's hand and said: + +"O, Tom, I hope all 'll turn out well, but sure enough I ha' misgivings." + +"What be it, my dear? Mr. Prigg say we shall win--how can ur do better +'an thic?" + +"Shall we get back the pigs and sheep, Tom?" + +"Why not?" + +Mrs. Bumpkin looked into her lap, and folding her apron very smooth with +both hands, answered: + +"I doan't think, Tom, that man looks like bringing anything back. He be +very chuffy and masterful, and looks all round as he goo away, as though +he wur lookin' to see what ur would take next. I think he'll have un +all, Tom." + +"Stuff!" said Mr. Bumpkin, "he be sellin' for I, take what ur may." + +"He be sellin' THEE, Tom, I think, and I'd stop un from takin' more." + +They rose to go to bed, and as Mrs. Bumpkin looked at the cosy old +hearth, and put up the embers of the log to make it safe for the night, +it seemed as if the prosperity of their old home had burnt down at last +to dull ashes, and she looked sadly at the vacant place where Joe had +used to sit. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Joe's return to Southwood--an invitation from the Vicar--what the old oak +saw. + +It was a long time after the circumstances mentioned in the last chapter. +The jails had been "delivered" of their prisoners, and prodigious events +had taken place in the world; great battles had been fought and won, +great laws made for the future interpretation of judges, and for the +vexation of unfortunate suitors. It seemed an age to Mr. Bumpkin since +his case commenced; and Joe had been in foreign parts and won his share +of the glory and renown that falls to the lot of privates who have helped +to achieve victory for the honour and glory of their General and the +happiness of their country. It was a very long time, measured by events, +since Mr. Bumpkin's return from town, when on a bright morning towards +the end of June, a fine sunburnt soldier of Her Majesty's regiment of the +--- Hussars knocked with the butt-end of his riding whip at the old oak +door in the old porch of Southwood farm-house. + +"Well, I never! if that there bean't our Joe!" exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin, +looking out of the window; and throwing down the rolling-pin which she +had just been using in rolling-out the dough for a dumpling--(Mr. Bumpkin +was "uncommon fond o' dumplins")--"well, I never!" repeated Mrs. Bumpkin, +as she opened the door; "who ever would ha' thought it? Why, how be'est +thee, Joe? And bless the lad, 'ow thee've growed! My 'art alive, come +along! The master'll be mighty glad to see thee, and so be I, sure a +ly." + +And here Mrs. Bumpkin paused to look round him, sticking her knuckles in +her sides and her elbows in the air as though Joe were a piece of +handiwork--a dumpling, say--which she herself had turned out, clothes and +all. And then she put the corner of her apron to her eye. + +"Why, Joe, I thought," said she, "I should never see thee agin! Dear, +dear, this 'ere lawsuit be the ruin on us, mark my words! But lor, don't +say as I said so to the master for the world, for he be that wropped up +in un that nothing goes down night and morning, morning and night, but +affidavys, and summonses, and counsellors, and jussices, and what not." + +"Well," said the soldier, slapping his whip on his leg as was his custom, +"you might be sure I should come and see yer if they left me a leg to hop +with, and I should 'a wrote, but what wi' the smoke and what with the +cannon balls flying about, you haven't got much time to think about +anything; but I did think this, that if ever I got back to Old England, +if it was twenty year to come, I'd go and see the old master and missus +and 'ear 'ow that lawsuit wur going on." + +"And that be right, Joe--I knowed 'ee would; I said as much to master. +But 'ow do thee think it'll end? shall us win or lose?" + +Now this was the first time he had ever been called upon to give a legal +opinion, or rather, an opinion upon a legal matter, so he was naturally +somewhat put about; and looking at the rolling-pin and the dough and then +at Mrs. Bumpkin, said: + +"Well, it's like this: a man med win or a man med lose, there's no +telling about the case; but I be dang'd well sure o' this, missus, he'll +lose his money: I wish master had chucked her up long agoo." + +This opinion was not encouraging; and perceiving that the subject +troubled Mrs. Bumpkin more than she liked to confess, he asked a question +which was of more immediate importance to himself, and that was in +reference to Polly Sweetlove. + +"Why, thee'll make her look at thee now, I'll warrant; thy clothes fit +thee as though they growed on thee." + +"Do she walk with the baker?" inquired Joe, with trembling accents. + +"I never heeard so, an' it's my belief she never looked at un wi' any +meaning. I've seen her many a time comin' down the Green Lane by herself +and peepin' over th' gate." + +"Now look at that!" said Joe; "and when I was here I couldn't get Polly +to come near the farm--allays some excuse--did you ever speak to her +about me, missus?" + +"I ain't going to tell tales out of school, Joe, so there." + +"Now look at that," said Joe; "here's a chap comes all this way and you +won't tell him anything." + +Mrs. Bumpkin laughed, and went on rolling the dough, and told him what a +nice dumpling she was making, and how he would like it, and asked how +long he was going to stop, and hoped it would be a month, and was telling +him all about the sheep and the cows and the good behaviour of the bull, +when suddenly she said: + +"Here he be, Joe! lor, lor, how glad he'll be to see thee!" + +But it wasn't the Bull that stepped into the room; it was Mr. Bumpkin, +rosy, stalwart, jolly, and artful as ever. Now Mrs. Bumpkin was very +anxious to be the bearer of such good intelligence as Joe's arrival, so, +notwithstanding the fact that Mr. Bumpkin and he were face to face, the +eager woman exclaimed: + +"Here be our Joe, Tom, hearty and well. And bean't he a smart fine +feller? What'll Polly think of un now?" + +"Shut up thic chatter," said Mr. Bumpkin, laughing. "Halloa! why, Joe, +egad thee looks like a gineral. I'd take thee for a kernel at the wery +least. Why, when did thee come, lad?" + +"Just now, master." + +"That be right, an' I be glad to see thee. I'll warrant Nancy ain't axed +thee t' have nothun." + +"Why, thee be welcome to the 'ouse if thee can eat un, thee knows thic," +answered Nancy; "but dinner'll be ready at twelve, and thee best not +spoil un." + +"A quart o' ale wun't spile un, will un, Joe?" + +"Now look at that," said the soldier. "Thankee, master, but not a +quart." + +"Well, thee hasn't got thee head snicked off yet, Joe?" + +"No, master, if my head had been snicked off I couldn't ha' bin here." +And he laughed a loud ha! ha! ha! + +And Mr. Bumpkin laughed a loud haw! haw! haw! at this tremendous +witticism. It was not much of a witticism, perhaps, after all, when duly +considered, but it answered the purpose as well as the very best, and +produced as much pleasure as the most brilliant _repartee_, in the most +fashionable circles. We must take people as they are. + +So Joe stayed chattering away till dinner-time, and then, referring to +the pudding, said he had never tasted anything like it in his life; and +went on telling the old people all the wonders of the campaign: how their +regiment just mowed down the enemy as he used to cut corn in the +harvest-field, and how nothing could stand aginst a charge of cavalry; +and how they liked their officers; and how their General, who warn't +above up to Joe's shoulder, were a genleman, every inch on him, an' as +brave as any lion you could pick out. And so he went on, until Mr. +Bumpkin said: + +"An' if I had my time over agin I'd goo for a soger too, Joe," which made +Mrs. Bumpkin laugh and ask what would become of her. + +"Ha! ha! ha! look at that!" said Joe; "she's got you there, master." + +"No she bean't, she'd a married thic feller that wur so sweet on her +afore I had ur." + +"What, Jem?" said Mrs. Bumpkin, "why I wouldn't ha' had un, Tom, if every +'air had been hung wi' dimonds." + +"Now look at that," laughed Joe. + +And so they went on until it was time to take a turn round the farm. +Everything seemed startled at Joe's fine clothes, especially the bull, +who snorted and pawed the earth and put out his tail, and placed his head +to the ground, until Joe called him by name, and then, as he told his +comrades afterwards in barracks, the bull said: + +"Why danged if it bean't our Joe!" + +I must confess I did not hear this observation in my dream, but I was +some distance off, and if Mr. Ricochet, Q.C., in cross-examination had +said, "Will you swear, sir, upon your oath that the bull did not use +those words?" I must have been bound to answer, "I will not." + +But presently they met old Tim, the Collie, and there was no need for Joe +to speak to him. Up he came with a bound and caressed his old mate in +the most loving manner. + +The Queen's uniform was no disguise to him. + +The next day it was quite a treat to see Joe go through the village. +Such a swagger he put on that you would have thought he was the whole +regiment. And when he went by the Vicarage, where Polly was housemaid, +it was remarkable to see the air of indifference which he assumed. Whack +went his riding-whip on his leg: you could hear it a hundred yards off. +He didn't seem to care a bit whether she was staring at him out of the +study window as hard as she could stare or not. Two or three times he +struck the same leg, and marched on perfectly indifferent to all around. + +At length came Sunday, as Sunday only comes in a country village. No +such peace, no such Sabbath anywhere. You have only got to look at +anything you like to know that it is Sunday. Bill's shirt collar; the +milkman; even his bright milk-can has a Sunday shine about it. The cows +standing in the shallow brook have a reverent air about them. They never +look like that on any other day. Why the very sunshine is Sabbath +sunshine, and seems to bring more peace and more pleasantness than on any +other day of the week. And all the trees seem to whisper together, "It's +Sunday morning." + +Presently you see the people straggling up to the little church, whose +donging bell keeps on as much as to say, "I know I'm not much of a peal, +but in my humble way I do my duty to the best of my ability; it's not the +sound but the spirit of the thing that is required; and if I'm not very +musical, and can't give you many changes, I'm sincere in what I say." +And this was an emblem of the sincerity and the simplicity of the +clergyman inside. He kept on hammering away at the old truths and +performing his part in God's great work to the best of his ability; and I +know with very great success. So in they all came to church; and Joe, +who had been a very good Sunday-school pupil (notwithstanding his love of +poaching) and was a favourite with the vicar, as the reader knows, took +his old place in the free seats, not very far from the pew where the +vicar's servants sat. Who can tell what his feelings were as he wondered +whether Polly would be there that morning? + +The other servants came in. Ah, dear! Polly can't come, now look at +that! Just as he was thinking this in she came. Such a flutter in her +heart as she saw the bright uniform and the brighter face, bronzed with a +foreign clime and looking as handsome as ever a face could look. O what +a flutter too in Joe's heart! But he was determined not to care for her. +So he wouldn't look, and that was a very good way; and he certainly would +have kept his word if he could. + +I think if I had to choose where and how I would be admired, if ever such +a luxury could come to me, I would be Joe Wurzel under present +circumstances. A young hero, handsome, tall, in the uniform of the +Hussars, with a loved one near and all the village girls fixing their +eyes on me! That for once only, and my utmost ambition would be +gratified. Life could have no greater pride for me. I don't know +whether the sermon made much impression that day, but of the two, I +verily believe Joe made the most; and as they streamed out of the little +church all the young faces of the congregation were turned to him: and +everywhere when they got outside it was, "Halloa, Joe!" "Why, Joe, my +lad, what cheer?" "Dang'd if here bean't Joe!" and other exclamations of +welcome and surprise. And then, how all the pinafored boys flocked round +and gazed with wondering eyes at this conquering hero; chattering to one +another and contradicting one another about what this part of his uniform +was and what that part was, and so on; but all agreeing that Joe was +about the finest sight that had come into Yokelton since ever it was a +place. + +And then the old clergyman sent for him and was as kind as ever he could +be; and Joe was on the enchanted ground where the fairy Polly flitted +about as noiselessly as a butterfly. Ah, and what's this? Now let not +the reader be over-anxious; for a few lines I must keep you, gentle one, +in suspense; a great surprise must be duly prepared. If I told you at +once what I saw, you would not think so much of it as if I kept you a +little while in a state of wondering curiosity. What do you think +happened in the Vicarage? + +Now's the moment to tell it in a fresh paragraph. Why in came the fairy +with a little tray of cake and wine! Now pause on that before I say any +more. What about their eyes? Did they swim? What about their hearts; +did they flutter? Did Polly blush? Did Joe's bronzed face shine? Ah, +it all took place, and much more than I could tell in a whole volume. +The vicar did not perceive it, for luckily he was looking out of the +window. It only took a moment to place the tray on the table, and the +fairy disappeared. But that moment, not then considered as of so much +importance, exciting as it was, stamped the whole lives of two beings, +and who can tell whether or no such a moment leaves its impress on +Eternity? + +All good and all kind was the old vicar; and how attentively he listened +with Mrs. Goodheart to the eye-witness of England's great deeds! And +then--no, he did not give Joe a claptrap maudlin sermon, but treated him +as a man subject to human frailties, and, only hoped in all his career he +would remember some of the things he had been taught at the Sunday +School. + +"Ay," said Joe, "ay, sir, and the best lesson I ever larned, and what +have done me most good, be the kindness I always had from you." + +So they parted, and a day or two after, strangely enough, just as Joe was +walking along by the old Oak that is haunted, and which the owls and the +ghosts occupy between them, who should come down the lane in the opposite +direction but Polly Sweetlove! Where she came from was the greatest +mystery in the world! And it was so extraordinary that Joe should meet +her: and he said so, as soon as he could speak. + +"Now look at that! Whoever would have thought of meeting anybody here?" + +Polly hung down her head and blushed. Neither of them knew what to say +for a long time; for Joe was not a spokesman to any extent. At last +Polly Sweetlove broke silence and murmured in the softest voice, and I +should think the very sweetest ever heard in this world: + +"Are you going away soon, Joe?" + +"Friday," answered the young Hussar. + +Ah me! This was Wednesday already; to-morrow would be Thursday, and the +next day Friday! I did not hear this, but I give you my word it took +place. + +"Are you coming to see the Vicar again?" asked the sweet voice. + +"No," said Joe. + +They both looked down at the gnarled roots of the old tree--the roots did +stick out a long way, and I suppose attracted their attention--and then +Polly just touched the big root with her tiny toe. And the point of that +tiny toe touched Joe's heart too, which seemed to have got into that root +somehow, and sent a thrill as of an electric shock, only much pleasanter, +right through his whole body, and even into the roots of his hair. + +"When are you coming again?" whispered the sweet lips. + +"Don't know," said the young soldier; "perhaps never." + +"But you'll come and see--your mother?" + +"O yes," answered Joe, "I shall come and see mother; but what's it matter +to thee, lassie?" + +The lassie blushed, and Joe thought it a good opportunity to take hold of +her hand. I don't know why, but he did; and he was greatly surprised +that the hand did not run away. + +"I think the Vicar likes you, Joe?" + +"Do he?" and he kept drawing nearer and nearer, little by little, until +his other hand went clean round Polly Sweetlove's waist, and--well an owl +flew out of the tree at that moment, and drew off my attention; but +afterwards I saw that they both kept looking at the root of the tree, and +then Joe said; + +"But you love th' baker, Polly?" + +"No," whispered Polly; "no, no, never!" + +"Now, look at that!" said Joe, recovering himself a little; "I always +thought you liked the baker." + +"Never, Joe." + +"Well then, why didn't you look at me?" + +Polly blushed. + +"Joe, they said you was so wild." + +"Now, look at that," said Joe; "did you ever see me wild, Polly?" + +"Never, Joe--I will say that." + +"No, and you can ask my mother or Mrs. Bumpkin, or the Vicar, or anybody +else you like, Polly--." + +"I shall go and see your mother," said Polly. + +"Will you come to-morrow night?" asked Joe. + +"If I can get away I will; but I must go +now--good-bye--good-bye--good----" + +"Are you in a hurry, Polly." + +"I must go, Joe--good--; but I will come to-morrow, as soon as dinner is +over--good--good--good-bye." + +"And then----," but the Old Oak kept his counsel. Here I awoke. + + * * * * * + +"Well," cried my wife, "you have broken off abruptly." + +"One can't help it," quoth I, rubbing my eyes. "I cannot help waking any +more than I can help going to sleep." + +"Well, this would be a very pretty little courtship if true." + +"Ah," I said, "if I have described all that I saw in my dream, you may +depend upon it it is true. But when I go to Southwood I will ask the Old +Oak, for we are the greatest friends imaginable, and he tells me +everything. He has known me ever since I was a child, and never sees me +but he enters into conversation." + +"What about?" + +"The past, present, and future--a very fruitful subject of conversation, +I assure you." + +"Wide enough, certainly." + +"None too wide for a tree of his standing." + +"Ask him, dear, if Joe will marry this Polly Sweetlove." + +"He will not tell me that; he makes a special reservation in favour of +lovers' secrets. They would not confide their loves to his keeping so +often as they do if he betrayed them. No, he's a staunch old fellow in +that respect, and the consequence is, that for centuries lovers have +breathed their vows under his protecting branches." + +"I'm sorry for that--I mean I am sorry he will not tell you about this +young couple, for I should like to know if they will marry. Indeed, you +must find out somehow, for everyone who reads your book will be curious +on this subject." + +"What, as to whether ploughman Joe will marry Polly the housemaid. Had +he been the eldest son of the Squire now, and she the Vicar's daughter, +instead of the maid--" + +"It would not have been a whit more interesting, for love is love, and +human nature the same in high and low degree. But, perhaps, this old +tree doesn't know anything about future events?" + +"He knows from his long experience of the past what will happen if +certain conditions are given; he knows, for instance, the secret +whispers, and the silent tokens exchanged beneath his boughs, and from +them he knows what will assuredly result if things take their ordinary +course." + +"So does anyone, prophet or no prophet." + +"But his process of reasoning, based upon the experience of a thousand +years, is unerring; he saw William the Conqueror, and listened to a +council of war held under his branches; he knew what would happen if +William's projects were successful: whether they would be successful was +not within his knowledge. He was intimately acquainted with Herne's Oak +at Windsor, and they frequently visited." + +"Visited! how was that possible?" + +"Quite possible; trees visit one another just the same as human +beings--they hold intercourse by means of the wind. For instance, when +the wind blows from the north-east, Southwood Oak visits at Windsor Park, +and when the wind is in the opposite direction a return visit is paid. +There isn't a tree of any position in England but the Old Oak of +Southwood knows. He is in himself the History of England, only he is +unlike all other histories, for he speaks the truth." + +"He must have witnessed many love scenes!" + +"Thousands!" + +"Tell me some?" + +"Not now--besides, I must ask leave." + +"Does he ever tell you anything about yourself?" + +"A great deal--it is our principal topic of conversation; but he always +begins it, lest my modesty should prevent any intercourse on the +subject." + +"What has he said?" + +"A great deal: he has inspired me with hope, even instilled into me some +ambition: he has tried to impart to me an admiration of all that is true, +and to awaken a detestation of all that is mean and pettifogging. I +never look at him but I see the symbol of all that is noble, grand and +brave: he is the emblem of stability, friendship and affection; a +monument of courage, honesty, and fidelity; he is the type of manly +independence and self-reliance. I am glad, therefore, that under his +beautiful branches, and within his protecting presence, two young hearts +have again met and pledged, as I believe they have, their troth, honestly +resolving to battle together against the storms of life, rooted in +stedfast love, and rejoicing in the sunshine of the Creator's smiles!" + +After these observations, which were received with marked approval, I +again gave myself up to the soft influence of a dreamy repose. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +A consultation as to new lodgings.--Also a consultation with counsel. + +It was a subject of grave discussion between the Bumpkins and Joe, as to +where would be the best place for the plaintiff to lodge on his next +visit to London. If he had moved in the upper ranks of life, in all +probability he would have taken Mrs. Bumpkin to his town house: but being +only a plain man and a farmer, it was necessary to decide upon the most +convenient, and at the same time, inexpensive locality. + +Mrs. Bumpkin, who, of course, knew all about her husband's adventures, +was strongly opposed to his returning to the Goose. Never had created +thing lost so much in her estimation by mere association as this domestic +bird. Joe was a fine soldier, no doubt, but it was the Goose that had +taken him in. + +Curiously enough, as they were discussing this important question, who +should come in but honest Lawyer Prigg himself. + +What a blessing that man seemed to be, go where he would! Why, he spread +an air of hope and cheerfulness over this simple household the moment he +entered it! But the greatest virtue he dispensed was resignation; he had +a large stock of this on hand. He always preached it: "resignation to +the will of Providence;" resignation to him, Prigg! + +So when he came in with his respectable head, professional collar, and +virtuous necktie, Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin could not choose but rise. Mr. +Bumpkin meekly pulled his hair, and humbly bowed obeisance as to his +benefactor. Mrs. Bumpkin curtseyed as to a superior power, whom she +could not recognize as a benefactor. Joe stood up, and looked as if he +couldn't quite make out what Mr. Prigg was. He knew he worked the Law +somehow, and "summut like as a man works a steam-threshing machine, but +how or by what means, was a mystery unrevealed to the mind of the simple +soldier." + +"Good morning! good morning!" said Mr. Prigg, after the manner of a +patriarch conferring a blessing. "Well, Joe, so you are returned, are +you? Come, now, let me shake hands with one of our brave heroes!" + +What condescension! and his tone was the tone of a man reaching down from +a giddy height to the world beneath him. + +"So you were in the thick of the fight, were you--dear me! what a charge +that was!" Ah, but, dear reader, you should see Prigg's charges! + +"I wur someur about, sir," said Joe. "I dunnow where now though." + +"Quite so," said Mr. Prigg, "it was a great victory; I'm told the enemy +ran away directly they heard our troops were coming." + +"Now look at that," said Joe; "what a lot of lies do get about sure-ly!" + +"Dear me!" said Mr. Prigg; "but you beat them, did you not? we won the +battle?" + +"That's right enough," said Joe; "but if they'd run away we couldn't a +beat un--'tain't much of a fight when there's no enemy." + +"Haw, haw, haw!" laughed Bumpkin. "That be good, Mr. Prigg, that be +good!" + +"Very good, very good, indeed," said Mr. Prigg; "I don't wonder at your +winning if you could make such sallies as that." + +And that was good for Mr. Prigg. + +"And now," said he, "to business--business, eh?" + +"We be jist gwine to 'ave a nice piece o' pork and greens, Mr. Prigg, +would ee please to tak some," said Mr. Bumpkin. + +"Dear me!" answered Prigg; "how very strange, my favourite dish--if ever +Mrs. Prigg is in doubt about--" + +"It be wery plain," said Bumpkin. + +"The plainer the better, my dear sir; as I always say to my servants, if +you--" + +"I'm sure," said Mrs. Bumpkin; "I be 'ardly fit to wait on a gennleman +like you. I ain't 'ad time this morning to change my gown and tidy up +myself." + +"Really, my dear madam--don't, now; I adjure you; make no apologies--it +is not the dress--or the--or the --, anything in fact, that makes us what +we are;--don't, if you please." + +And here his profound sentiments died away again and were lost to the +world; and the worthy man, not long after, was discussing his favourite +dish with greedy relish. + +"An when'll this 'ere thing be on, Mr. Prigg, does thee think? It be a +hell of a long time." + +"Tom! Tom!" exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin. But Mr. Prigg was too well bred and +too much occupied with his pork and greens to hear the very wayward +epithet of the Farmer Bumpkin. + +"Quite so," said the lawyer; "quite so, it is so difficult to tell when a +case will come on. You're in the list to-day and gone to-morrow; a man +the other day was just worried as you have been; but mark this; at the +trial, Mr. Bumpkin, the jury gave that man a verdict for a thousand +pounds!" + +"Look at that, Nancy," exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin; "Will 'ee tak a little more +pork, sir?" + +"Thank you," said Mr. Prigg, "it's uncommonly good; some of your own +feeding, I suppose?" + +"Ay," said Mr. Bumpkin. + +"Were that a pig case, Mr. Prigg, where the man got the thousand pounds?" +asked Mrs. Bumpkin. + +"Let me see," answered Prigg, "_was_ it a pig case?" Here he put his +finger to the side of his nose. "I really, at this moment, quite forget +whether it was or was not a pig case. I'll trouble you, Mrs. Bumpkin, +for a little more greens, if you please." + +"Now, I wur saying," said Bumpkin, "jist as thee comed in, where be I to +lodge when I gooes to Lunnon agin?" + +"Ah, now, quite so--yes; and you must go in a day or two. I expect we +shall be on shortly. Now, let me see, you don't like 'The Goose'? A +nice respectable hostelry, too!" + +"I wunt 'ave un goo there, Mr. Prigg," said Mrs. Bumpkin. + +"Quite so--quite so. Now what I was thinking was, suppose you took +lodgings at some nice suburban place, say--" + +"What pleace, sir?" inquired Bumpkin. + +"Let us say Camden Town, for instance--nice healthy neighbourhood and +remarkably quiet. You could come every morning by 'bus, or if you +preferred it, by rail; and if by rail, you could take a season ticket, +which would be much cheaper; a six months' ticket, again, being cheaper +than a three months' ticket." + +"In the name o' Heaven, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin, "be this 'ere thing +gwine on for ever?" + +Mr. Prigg smiled benignly, as much as to say, "You ladies are so +impatient, so innocent of the business of life." + +"It seems to me, Mr. Prigg, one need live to be as old as thic there +Mackthusaler to bring a law-suit now-a-days." + +"Now, look at that!" broke in Joe, "it's made master look forty year +older aready." + +"So it have, Joe," rejoined the mistress; "I wish it could be chucked up +altogether." + +Mr. Prigg benignantly shook his head. + +"D'ye think I be gwine to give in to thic sniggerin' Snooks feller?" +asked Mr. Bumpkin. "Not if I knows it. Why thic feller goo sniggerin' +along th' street as though he'd won; and he 'ave told lots o' people how +he'll laugh I out o' Coourt--his counsel be gwine to laugh I out o' +Coourt becors I be a country farmer." + +"Right can't be laughed out of Court, sir," said the excellent Prigg, +solemnly. + +"Noa, noa, right bean't asheamed, goo where ur wool. Upright and +down-straight wur allays my motto. I be a plain man, but I allays tried +to act straight-forrerd, and bean't asheamed o' no man." + +This speech was a complete success: it was unanswerable. It fixed the +lodgings at Camden Town. It stopped Mrs. Bumpkin's impatience; +diminished her apprehensions; and apparently, lulled her misgivings. She +was a gentle, hard-working, loving wife. + +And so all was settled. It was the month of April, and it was +confidently expected that by the end of July all would be comfortably +finished in time to get in the harvest. The crops looked well; the +meadows and clover-field promised a fair crop, and the wheat and barley +never looked better. + +The following week found Mr. Bumpkin in his new lodgings at Camden Town; +and I verily believe, as Mr. Prigg very sagaciously observed, if it had +not been for the Judges going circuit, _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ would have +been in the paper six weeks earlier than it really was. But even +lawsuits must come on at last, be they never so tardy: and one day, in +bustling haste, Mr. Prigg's young man informed Mr. Bumpkin that a +consultation was actually fixed at his leader's chambers, Garden Court, +Temple, at seven o'clock punctually the next day. + +Bumpkin was delighted: he was to be present at the express wish of the +leading counsel. So to Garden Court he went at seven, with Mr. Prigg; +and there sure enough was Mr. Dynamite, his junior counsel. Mr. +Catapult, Q.C., had not yet arrived. So while they waited, Mr. Bumpkin +had an opportunity of looking about him; never in his life had he seen so +many books. There they were all over the walls; shelves upon shelves. +The chambers seemed built with books, and Mr. Bumpkin raised his eyes +with awe to the ceiling, expecting to see books there. + +"What be all these 'ere books, sir?" he whispered to Prigg. + +"These are law books," answered the intelligent Prigg; "but these are +only a few." + +"Must be a good dale o' law," said Bumpkin. + +"A good deal too much," observed Mr. Dynamite, with a smile; "if we were +to burn nine-tenths of the law books we should have better law, eh, Mr. +Prigg?" + +Mr. Prigg never contradicted counsel; and if Mr. Dynamite had said it's a +great pity that our libraries have so few authorities, Prigg would have +made the same answer, "I quite agree, quite so! quite so!" + +"Mr. Cats-'is-name don't seem to come," observed Bumpkin, after an hour +and a half had passed. + +"Mr. _Catapult_, Mr. _Catapult_," said Mr. Prigg; "no, he doesn't seem to +come." And then he rang for the clerk, and the clerk came. + +"Do you think Mr. Catapult will return to-night?" inquired Prigg. + +"I don't think he will," said the clerk, looking at his watch; "I am +afraid not." + +"Beant much good to stop then," said Mr. Bumpkin. + +"I fear not," observed the clerk, "he has so many engagements. Shall we +fix another consultation, Mr. Prigg?" + +"If you please," said that gentleman. + +"Say half-past seven to-morrow, then. The case, I find, is not in the +paper to-morrow." + +"Quite so, quite so," returned Prigg, "half-past seven to-morrow." + +And thus the consultation was at an end and the parties went their +several ways. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +Mr. Bumpkin receives compliments from distinguished persons. + +One evening as Mr. Bumpkin was sitting in his little parlour, ruminating, +or as he termed it, "rummaging" in his mind over many things, and +especially wondering when the trial would come on, Horatio, in breathless +impatience, entered the room. His excited and cheerful appearance +indicated that something of an unusually pleasant nature had occurred. A +strong intimacy had long been established between this boy and Mr. +Bumpkin, who regarded Horatio as a kind of legal prodigy; his very hopes +seemed centered in and inspired by this lad. He seemed to be the guiding +spirit and the flywheel of the whole proceedings. Was Snooks to be +pulverized? it must be under Horatio's heel! + +This legal stripling brought almost as much comfort as Mr. Prigg himself; +and it was quite a pleasure to hear the familiar terms in which he spoke +of the bigwigs of the profession. He would say of McCannister, the +Queen's Counsel, "I like Mac's style of putting a question, it's so soft +like--it goes down like a Pick-me-up." Then he would allude to Mr. +Heavytop, Q.C., as Jack; to Mr. Bigpot as old Kettledrum; to Mr. Swagger, +Q.C., as Pat; to B. C. Windbag, Q.C., M.P., as B. C.--all which indicated +to the mind of Mr. Bumpkin the particularly intimate terms upon which +Horatio was with these celebrities. Nor did his intimacy cease there: +instead of speaking of the highest legal official of the land in terms of +respectful deference, as "my Lord High Chancellor," or "my Lord +Allworthy,"--he would say, in the most indifferent manner "Old Allworthy" +this, and "Old Allworthy," that; sometimes even, he ventured to call some +of Her Majesty's Judges by nick-names; an example which, I trust, will +not be followed by the Horatios of the future. But I believe the pale +boy, like his great namesake, was fearless. It was a comfort to hear him +denounce the law's delay, and the terrible "cumbersomeness" of legal +proceedings: not that he did it in soothing language or in happy +phraseology: it was rather in a manner that led Mr. Bumpkin to believe +the young champion was standing up for his particular rights; as if he +had said to the authorities, whoever they might be, "Look here! I'll +have no more of this: it's a shame and disgrace to this country that a +simple dispute between a couple of neighbours can't be tried without +months of quarrelling in Judges' Chambers and elsewhere; if you don't try +this case before long I'll see what can be done." Then there was further +consolation in the fact that Horatio declared that, in his opinion, Tommy +_Catpup_, Q.C., would knock Snooks into a cocked hat, and that Snooks +already looked very down in the mouth. + +On the evening at which I have arrived in my dream, when the pale boy +came in, Mr. Bumpkin inquired what was the matter: was the case settled? +Had Snooks paid the damages? Nothing of the kind. Horatio's visit was +of a common-place nature. He had simply come to inform Mr. Bumpkin that +the Archbishop of Canterbury had kindly sent him a couple of tickets for +the reserved seats at Canterbury Hall. + +Mr. Bumpkin was disappointed. He cared nothing for Archbishops. He was +in hopes it had been something better. + +"I wunt goo," said he. + +"We ought to go, I think," said Horatio; "it was very kind of old Archy +to send em, and he wouldn't like it if we didn't go: besides, he and the +Rolls are great chums." + +"Rolls!" said Bumpkin. + +"The Master of the Rolls. I shouldn't wonder if he aint got Archy to +send em--don't you be a fool. And another thing, Paganani's going to +play the farmyard on the fiddle to-night. Gemminey, ain't that good! +You hear the pigs squeak, and the bull roar, and the old cock crow, and +the sow grunt, and the horse kick--" + +"How the devil can thee hear a horse kick, unless he kicks zummat?" + +"Well, he does," said Horatio; "that's just what he does do. Let's go, I +am sure you will like it." + +"It beant one o' these ere playhouse pleaces, be it?" + +"Lor bless you," said Horatio, "there's pews just the same as if you was +in Church: and the singing's beautiful." + +"No sarmon, I s'pooase." + +"Not on week nights, but I'll tell you what there is instead: a chap +climbs up to the top of a high pole and stands on his head for ten +minutes." + +Mr. Bumpkin, although a man who never went out of an evening, could not +resist the persuasions of his pale young friend. He had never been to +any place of amusement, except the Old Bailey, since he had been in +London; although he had promised himself a treat to the Cattle Show, +provided that came on, which was very likely, as it only wanted five +months to it, before his case. + +So they got on the top of a 'Bus and proceeded on their way to Lambeth +Palace; for the Canterbury Hall, as everyone knows, is in that ancient +pile. And truly, when they arrived everything was astonishingly +beautiful and pleasing. Mr. Bumpkin was taken through the Picture +Gallery, which he enjoyed, although he would have liked to see one or two +like the Squire had got in his Hall, such as "Clinker," the prize bull; +and "Father Tommy," the celebrated ram. But the Archbishop probably had +never taken a prize: not much of a breeder maybe. + +Now they entered the Hall amid strains of sweet, soft, enchanting music. +Never before had the soul of Bumpkin been so enthralled: it was as if the +region of fairyland had suddenly burst upon his astonished view. In +presence of all this beauty, and this delicious cadence of sweet sounds, +what a common-place thing _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ seemed! + +Theirs was a very nice pew, commanding a full view of the stage and all +the angelic looking beings. And evidently our friends were considered +fashionable people, for many of the audience looked round at them as they +entered. So awed was Mr. Bumpkin when he first sat down, that he +wondered whether he ought to look into his hat as the Squire did in +Church; but, resolving to be guided by Horatio, and seeing that the pale +youth did not even take his billycock off, but spread his elbows out on +the front ledge and clapped his hands with terrific vehemence, and +shouted "Anchore" as loudly as he could, Mr. Bumpkin, in imitation, +clapped his hands and said "Hooroar!" + +It was glorious. The waiter came and exchanged winks with the pale boy, +and brought some soda-and-brandy and a cigar. Mr. Bumpkin wondered more +and more. It was the strangest place he had ever heard of. It seemed so +strange to have smoking and drinking. But then he knew there were things +occurring every day that the cleverest men could not account for: not +even Mr. Slater, the schoolmaster at Yokelton, could account for them. + +Just in front of the two friends was another pew, a very nice one that +was, and for some little time it was unoccupied. Presently with a great +rustling of silks and a great smell of Jockey Club, and preceded by one +of the servants of the establishment, entered two beautiful and +fashionably dressed ladies of extremely quiet (except the Jockey Club) +and retiring demeanour. They could not but attract Mr. Bumpkin's +attention: they so reminded him of the Squire's daughters, only they +dressed much better. How he would like Nancy to see them: she was very +fond of beautiful gowns, was Nancy. + +"I wonder who they be?" whispered Bumpkin. + +"I don't know," answered Horatio; "I'll ask as soon as I get a chance. +It's the Archbishop's pew; I believe they are his daughters." + +"Wouldn't ur ha come wi em?" said Bumpkin. + +"He generally does, but I suppose he can't get away to-night." + +At this moment a waiter, or as Bumpkin called him a pew opener, was +passing, and Horatio whispered something in his ear, his companion +looking at him the while from the corner of his eyes. + +"The one on the right," whispered the waiter, untwisting the wire of a +bottle of sodawater, "is the Countess Squeezem, and the other is Lady +Flora, her sister." + +Bumpkin nodded his head as much as to say, "Just see that: high life, +that, if you like!" + +And really the Countess and Lady Flora were as quiet and unassuming as if +they had been the commonest bred people in the world. + +Now came forward on the stage a sweet young lady dressed in yellow satin, +with lovely red roses all down the front and one on the left shoulder, +greeted by a thunder of applause. Her voice was thrilling: now it was at +the back of the stage; now it was just behind your ear; now in the +ceiling. You didn't know where to have it. After she had done, Horatio +said: + +"What do you think of Nilsson?" + +"Wery good! wery good!" + +"Hallo," says Horatio, "here's Sims Reeves. Bravo Sims! bravo Reeves!" + +"I've eered tell o' he," says Bumpkin; "he be wery young, bean't he?" + +"O," says Horatio, "they paint up so; but ain't he got a tenor--O +gemminey crikery!" + +"A tenner?" says Bumpkin, "what's thee mean, ten pun a week?" + +"O my eye!" says the youth, "he gets more than that." + +"It be good wages." + +"Yes, but it's nothing to what some of em get," says Horatio; "why if a +man can play the fool well he can get as much as the Prime Minister." + +"Ah, and thic Prime Minister can play the fool well at times; it seem to +me--they tooked the dooty of whate and made un too chape." + +"Who's this?" asks Horatio of the waiter. + +"Patti," says the waiter, "at the express wish of the Queen." + +Bumpkin nods again, as though there was no end to the grandeur of the +company. + +Then comes another no less celebrated, if Horatio was correct. + +"Hullo," says he, "here's Trebelli!" + +Now this was too much for the absorbing powers of even a Bumpkin. +Horatio had carried it too far. Not that his friend had ever heard of +the great vocalist, but if you are inclined for fun pray use names that +will go down. Mr. Bumpkin looked hard at Horatio's face, on which was +just the faintest trace of a smile. And then he said: + +"What a name, _Bellie_! danged if I doan't think thee be stickin it into +I," and then he laughed and repeated, "thee be stickin it into I." + +"Now for Pagannini!" says Horatio; "now you'll hear something. By Jove, +he'll show you!" + +"Why I've eerd tell o' thic Piganiny when I were a boy," says Bumpkin, +"used to play on one leg." + +"That's the man," says Horatio. + +"But this ere man got two legs, how can he be Piganiny?" + +"I don't know anything about that," says Horatio; "what's it matter how +many legs he's got, just listen to that!" + +"Why danged if that bean't as much like thic Cochin Chiner cock o' mine +as ever I eered in my life." + +"Told you so," says Horatio; "but keep quiet, you'll hear something +presently." + +And sure enough he did: pig in the straw; sow in the stye; bull in the +meadow; sheep in the fold; everything was perfect. + +Never before had Mr. Bumpkin been so overpowered. He never before knew +what music was. Truly Piganiny was a deserving man, and a clever one +too. Mr. Bumpkin's enthusiasm had carried him thus far, when to his +great satisfaction the Lady Flora looked round. It was very nice of her, +because it was as if she wished to know if Mr. Bumpkin and his friend +felt the same rapturous delight as she and her sister. What a nice face +Lady Flora's was! It wasn't unlike the Squire's eldest daughter's. +Between that, perhaps, and the Vicar's youngest daughter's. + +Then the Countess slightly turned round, her face wearing a smile of +great complaisance, and Mr. Bumpkin could have seen at once that she was +a person of great distinction even if he had not been informed of her +rank. Well, taken for all in all, it was a night he would never forget, +and his only feeling of regret was that Mrs. Bumpkin was not present to +share his pleasure--the roar of that bull would have just pleased her; it +was so like Sampson. + +And now the scene shifters were preparing for another performance, and +were adjusting ropes and fixing poles, and what not, when, as Mr. Bumpkin +was lost in profound meditation, up rose from her seat the beautiful Lady +Flora, and turning round with a bewitching face, and assuming an air of +inexpressible simplicity, she exclaimed to Mr. Bumpkin in the sweetest of +voices: "O you duck!" + +Mr. Bumpkin started as if a cannon had exploded in his face instead of a +beautiful young lady. He blushed to the deepest crimson, and then the +lady Flora poured into him a volley of her sweetiest prettiest laughter. +Attacked thus so suddenly and so effectively, what could he do? He felt +there must be some mistake, and that he ought to apologize. But the Lady +Flora gave him no time; leaning forward, she held out her hand-- + +"Beg pardon, m'lady--thic--I--I." + +Then the Countess rose and smiled upon Mr. Bumpkin, and said she hoped he +wouldn't mind; her sister was of such a playful disposition. + +The playful one here just touched Mr. Bumpkin under the chin with her +forefinger, and again said he was a "_perfect duck_!" + +"What be the manin' o' this?" said he. "I be off; come on, sir. This be +quite enough for I." + +"Don't go like that," said Lady Flora. "Oh, dear, dear, what a cruel +man!" + +"Not a glass of wine," said the Countess. + +"Not one, Mr. Bumpkin!" urged Lady Flora. + +Mr. Bumpkin had risen, and was angry: he was startled at his name being +known: he looked to Horatio, hoping some explanation might come; but the +pale youth had his back to him, and was preparing to leave the Hall. +There were many curious eyes looking at them, and there was much +laughter. Mr. Bumpkin's appearance would alone have been sufficient to +cause this: but his mind was to be farther enlightened as to the meaning +of this extraordinary scene; and it happened in this wise. As he was +proceeding between the rows of people, followed closely by those +illustrious members of the aristocracy, the Countess and Lady Flora; +while the waiters grinned and the people laughed, his eye caught sight of +an object away over the front seat, which formed a right angle with the +one he had been occupying; it was an object unattractive in itself but +which, under the circumstances, fixed and riveted his attention; that +object was Snooks, in the corner of the third row, with his sawpit mouth +on the broadest grin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +The trial. + +Who shall describe the feelings of joy which animated the breast of Mr. +Bumpkin when at last, with the suddenness of lightning, Mr. Prigg's clerk +flashed into his little parlour the intelligence, "Case in paper; be at +Court by ten o'clock; Bail Court." Such was the telegram which Mr. +Bumpkin got his landlady to read on that pleasant evening towards the end +of July. The far-seeing Prigg was right. It would come on about the end +of July. That is what he had predicted. But it would not have been safe +for Mr. Bumpkin to be away from town for a single day. It might have +been in the paper at any moment; and here it was, just as he was +beginning to get tired of "Camden Town and the whole thing." + +Mr. Bumpkin put on a clean shirt, with a good stiff high collar, which he +had reserved from Mrs. Bumpkin's wash; for, in his opinion, there was no +stiffening in the London starch, and no getting up like Mrs. Bumpkin's. +He put on his best neckerchief, and a bran new waistcoat which he had +bought for Sundays six years ago at the market town. He put on his drab +coat with the long tails, which he had worn on the day of his marriage, +and had kept for his best ever since; he put on his velvety looking +corduroy trowsers and his best lace-up watertight boots; and then, after +a good breakfast, put on his white beaver hat, took his ash-stick, and +got into a Westminster 'Bus. What a beautiful morning it was! Just the +morning for a law suit! Down he got at Palace Yard, walked towards the +spacious door of the old hall, entered its shadowy precincts, and then, +in my dream, I lost sight of him as he mingled with the crowd. But I saw +some few moments after in the Bail Court enter, amidst profound silence +and with impressive dignity, Mr. Justice Stedfast. Let me here inform +the reader that if by any chance, say by settlement, postponement or +otherwise, the first case in the list "goes off," as it is called (from +its bearing a striking resemblance to the unexpected going off of a gun), +and the parties in the next case, taken by surprise, are not there at the +moment, that case goes off by being struck out; and very often the next +and the next, and so on to the end of the list. Parties therefore should +be ready, so as to prevent a waste of time. The time of the Court is not +to be wasted by parties not being ready. Now, strangely enough, this is +what happened in the case of _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_. Being number eight, +no one thought it would be reached; and the leading counsel, and also the +junior counsel being engaged elsewhere; and Mr. Prigg and Mr. Prigg's +clerk not having arrived; and Mr. Bumpkin not knowing his way; at five +minutes after the sitting of the Court, so expeditious are our legal +proceedings, the celebrated case was actually reached, and this is what +took place: + +"Are the parties ready?" inquired his Lordship. + +Mr. Ricochet, Q.C., who appeared with Mr. Weasel for the defendant, said +he was ready for the defendant. + +"Call the plaintiff!" said a voice. + +Loud cries for Bumpkin, who was just pushing his way down the passage +outside. + +"Does anyone answer?" asked his lordship; "do you know if any gentleman +is instructed, Mr. Ricochet?" + +"I am not aware, my lud." + +"Stand up and be sworn, gentlemen," says the associate. Up stood the +jury; and in less than half a minute they found a verdict for the +defendant, counterclaim being abandoned, just as Mr. Bumpkin had pushed +into Court. And judgment is given. + +The business having been thus got through, the Court rose and went away. +And then came in both counsel and Mr. Prigg and Horatio; and great +complaints were made of everybody except the Judge, who couldn't help it. + +But our administration of justice is not so inelastic that it cannot +adapt itself to a set of circumstances such as these. It was only to +make a few more affidavits, and to appear before his lordship by counsel, +and state the facts in a calm and respectful manner, to obtain the +necessary rectification of the matter. All was explained and all +forgiven. _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ was to be restored to the paper upon +payment of the costs of the day--a trifling matter, amounting only to +about eighteen pounds seventeen shillings. But a severe admonition from +the Bench accompanied this act of grace: "The Court cannot be kept +waiting," said his lordship; "and it is necessary that all suitors should +know that if they are not here when their cases are called on they will +be struck out, or the party to the cause who is here will be entitled to +a verdict, if the defendant; or to try his case in the other's absence, +if he be the plaintiff. It was idle to suppose that parties could not be +there in time: it was their business to be there." + +At this every junior barrister nodded approvingly, and the usher called +silence. + +Of course, the cause could not be in the paper again for some time: they +must suit Mr. Ricochet's convenience now: and accordingly another period +of waiting had to be endured. Mr. Bumpkin was almost distracted, but his +peace of mind was restored by the worthy Prigg, who persuaded him that a +most laudable piece of good fortune had been brought about by his +intervention; and that was the preventing the wily Snooks from keeping +the verdict he had snatched. + +What a small thing will sometimes comfort us! + +Mr. Bumpkin was, indeed, a lucky man; for if his case had not been in the +paper when at last it was, it would have "gone over the Long Vacation." + +At length I saw Mr. Justice Pangloss, the eminent Chancery Judge, take +his seat in the Bail Court. He was an immense case lawyer. He knew +cases that had been tried in the reigns of the Edwards and Henries. A +pig case could not, therefore, come amiss. + +A case lawyer is like Moses and Sons; he can fit anybody, from Chang down +to a midget. But there is sometimes an inconvenience in trying to fit an +old precedent on to new circumstances: and I am not unfrequently reminded +of the boy whose corduroy trousers were of the exact length, and looked +tolerable in front; but if you went round they stuck out a good deal on +the other side. He might grow to them, no doubt, but it is a clumsy mode +of tailoring after all. + +Now Mr. Bumpkin, of course, could not be sure that his case was "coming +on." All he knew was, that he must avoid Snooks' snatching another +verdict. He had been to great expense, and a commission had actually +been issued to take Joe's evidence while his regiment was detained at +Malta. Mr. Prigg had taken the plaintiff into a crowd, and there had +left him early in the morning. + +Mr. Bumpkin's appearance even in the densest crowd was attractive, to say +the least: and many and various were the observations from time to time +made by the vulgar roughs around as to his personal appearance. His +shirtcollar was greatly praised, so was the beauty of his waistcoat: +while I heard one gentleman make an enquiry which showed he was desirous +of ascertaining what was the name of the distinguished firm which had the +honour of supplying him with hats. One said it was Heath, he could tell +by the brim; another that it was Cole, he went by the polish; and the +particular curl of the brim, which no other hatter had ever succeeded in +producing. While another gentleman with one eye and half a nose +protested that it was one of Lincoln and Bennett's patent dynamite +resisters on an entirely new principle. + +The subject of all these remarks listened as one in doubt as to whether +they were levelled at him or in any other direction. He glanced at the +many eyes turned upon him, and heard the laughter that succeeded every +new witticism. His uncertainty as to whether he was "the party eamed +at," heightened the amusement of the wits. + +Now came a bolder and less mistakable allusion to his personal +appearance: + +"I should like Gladstone to see that, Jem; talk about a collar! the Grand +Old Man's nowhere--he'd better take to turndowns after this." + +"Yes," replied the gentleman addressed; "I think this would settle +him--is he liberal or tory, I wonder?" + +"Tory, you're sure--wotes for the Squoire, I'll warrant. A small loaf +and a big jail." + +Mr. Bumpkin turned his eyes first towards one speaker and then towards +another without moving his head, as he thought: + +"Danged if I doan't bleeve thee means I." But he wisely said nothing. + +"I say," said another, "I wonder if pigeon's milk is good for the +complexion." + +"No," said Jem, "it makes your nose red, and makes the hair sprout out of +the top of it." + +Here was a laugh all round, which made the Usher call out silence; and +the Judge said he would have the Court cleared if order was not +preserved. Then there was a loud shouting all over the Court for "Thomas +Bumpkin!" + +"Here I be!" said Bumpkin, amid more laughter--and especially of the wits +around him. Then a great bustling and hustling, and pushing and +struggling took place. + +"Danged if that beant my case," said Mr. Bumpkin; "but it ain't my +counsellor." + +"Make way for the plaintiff," shouted the Usher; "stand on one +side--don't crowd up this passage. This way, sir, make haste; the +Court's waiting for you, why do you keep the Court waiting in this way?" + +"I was just going to strike your case out," said the Judge, "the public +time can't be wasted in this way." + +Bumpkin scrambled along through the crowd, and was hustled into the +witness-box. The Judge put up his eye-glass, and looked at the plaintiff +as though he was hardly fit to bring an action in a Superior Court. Up +went the book into his hand. "Take the book in your right hand. Kiss +the book; now attend and speak up--speak up so that those gentlemen may +hear." + +"Why weren't you here before?" asked the Judge. + +"I wur, my lord?" + +"Didn't you hear your learned counsel opening your case?" + +"I didn't know it wur my case," said Bumpkin, amid roars of laughter. + +"I don't wonder at that," said Mr. Ricochet, looking at the jury. + +"Now then," said the Judge. + +"And now, then," said Mr. Silverspoon; for neither of his own counsel was +able to be present. + +"You are a farmer, I believe?" + +"I be." + +"On the 29th of May, 18--; did the defendant come to your farm?" + +"Ur did." + +"Did he buy a pig?" + +"Ur did not; but ur said he'd be d---d if ur wouldn't 'ave un." + +"And did he come and take it away?" + +"Ur did; pulled un slick out of the sty; and when I tried to stop un in +the Lane, took un by main force?" + +Mr. Silverspoon sat down. + +"What was the age of this pig, Mr. Bumpkin," enquired the Judge. + +"He wur ten weeks old, your lord." + +"Isn't there a calf case, Mr. Ricochet, very similar to this?" + +"Yes, my lord." + +"I think," said Mr. Justice Pangloss, "it was tried in the reign of James +the First." + +Mr. Ricochet, who knew nothing of the calf case, except what his Lordship +had told him, said he believed it was. + +"If this was anything," continued Mr. Ricochet, "upon the plaintiff's own +showing it was a felony, and the plaintiff should have prosecuted the +defendant criminally before having recourse to his civil remedy; that is +laid down in the sheep case reported in Walker's Trumpery Cases." + +"What volume of the Trumpery Cases is that, Mr. Ricochet?" + +"Six hundred and fifty, my lud." + +His Lordship writes it down. "Page?" says his lordship. + +"Nineteen hundred and ninety-five, my lud; about the middle of the book." + +Judge calls to the Usher to bring the six hundred and fiftieth volume of +Walker's Trumpery Cases. + +"But there's a case before that," said his lordship. "There's a case, if +I recollect rightly, about the time of Julius Caesar--the donkey case." + +"It's on all fours with this," said Mr. Ricochet. + +"What do you say, Mr. Silverspoon?" + +Then Mr. Silverspoon proceeded to show that none of those cases was on +all fours with the present case; and a long and interesting argument +followed between the Bench and the Bar. And it was said by those who +were most competent to judge, that Mr. Silverspoon quite distinguished +himself for the wonderful erudition he displayed in his knowledge of the +donkey case, and several other cases of four-footed beasts that were +called to his attention by Mr. Justice Pangloss. A perfect menagerie was +"adduced." Mr. Bumpkin meanwhile wondering where he was, and what on +earth they had all got to do with the plain fact of Snooks taking his pig +without paying for it. + +At length, after four hours had been consumed in these learned +disquisitions, Mr. Justice Pangloss, reviewing the judgments of the +various eminent lawyers who had presided over the respective cases in the +several reigns, and after quoting many observations of those eminent +jurists, said that in order to save time he would hold, for the purposes +of to-day, that Mr. Bumpkin was entitled to bring his action: but, of +course, he would reserve the point; he was by no means clear; he +considered himself bound by authority; and as the point was extremely +important, and left undecided after no less than twelve hundred years of +argument on the one side and the other, he thought it ought to be +solemnly settled. An unsettled state of the law was a very bad thing in +his lordship's opinion; especially in these modern times, when it +appeared to him that the public were clamouring for further reform, and a +still further simplification of legal procedure. + +This suited Mr. Ricochet exactly; he could not be said now to have lost +his case, even if the jury should find against him. But he had yet to +cut up Bumpkin in cross-examination. The old trial was brought up +against the plaintiff; and every thing that could tend to discredit him +was asked. Mr. Ricochet, indeed, seemed to think that the art of +cross-examination consisted in bullying a witness, and asking all sorts +of questions tending to cast reflections upon his character. He was +especially great in insinuating perjury; knowing that that is always open +to a counsel who has no other defence. + +"Will you swear that?" was asked at almost every answer; sometimes +prefaced by the warning, "Be careful, sir--be careful." If he could get +hold of anything against a witness's character, be it ever so small, and +at ever so remote a distance in the man's life, he brought it out; and +being a Queen's Counsel he did not always receive the reproofs that would +have crushed a stuff gownsman into respectable behaviour. + +"Were you charged with assaulting a female in the public streets, sir?" + +"No, I worn't." + +"Be careful, sir--she may be in Court." + +"Let her come forward then," said the courageous Silverspoon, who was by +no means wanting in tact. + +"Will you be quiet, sir," retorted Ricochet. "Now Mr. Bumpkin, or +whatever your name is, will you swear she did not accuse you of +assaulting her?" + +"She coomed oop, and it's my belief she wur in the robbery." + +"Bravo Bumpkin!" said one of the men who had chaffed him. And the jury +looked at one another in a manner that showed approval. + +"Will you swear, sir, you have never been in trouble?" + +"I donnow what thee means." + +"Be careful, sir; you know what I mean perfectly well." + +Then Locust whispers to him, and he says: + +"O, you frequent Music Halls, don't you?" + +"Donnow what thee means," says Bumpkin. + +"O, you don't, don't you; will you swear that?" + +"I wool." + +"Be careful, sir. Were you at the Canterbury Hall with two women, who +passed as the Countess and Lady Flora?" + +"It be a lie!" + +And thus every form of torture was ruthlessly employed, till Mr. Bumpkin +broke down under it, and cried like a child in the witness-box. This +awakened sympathy for him. There had been much humour and much laughter; +and Mr. Ricochet having no knowledge of human nature, was not aware how +closely allied are laughter and tears; that in proportion as the jury had +laughed at the expense of Mr. Bumpkin they would sympathize with his +unhappy position. + +"I've worked hard," said he, "for sixty year, and let any man come +forrard and say I've wronged man, ooman, or child!" + +That was a point for Bumpkin. Every one said, "Poor old man!" and even +his Lordship, who was supposed to have no feeling, was quite sympathetic. +Only Mr. Ricochet was obtuse. He had no heart, and very little skill, or +he would have managed his case more adroitly. "Badgering" is not much +use if you have no better mode of winning your case. + +"Stand down, Mr. Bumpkin," said his counsel, as Mr. Ricochet resumed his +seat amid the suppressed hisses of the gallery. + +"Joseph Wurzel," said Mr. Silverspoon. + +Joe appeared in the uniform of the Hussars. And he wore a medal too. +Mr. Ricochet had no sympathy with heroes any more than he had with men of +letters, artists, or any other class of talent. He was a dry, +uncompromising, blunt, unfeeling lawyer, looking at justice as a +thimblerig looks at his pea; lift which thimble you may, he will take +care the pea shall not be found if he can help it. He smiled a grim, +inhuman smile at Bumpkin's tears, and muttered that he was an "unmanly +milksop." + +Joe gave his evidence briefly and without hesitation. Everyone could see +he was speaking the truth; everybody but Mr. Ricochet, who commenced his +cross-examination by telling him to be careful, and that he was upon his +oath. + +"Be careful, sir;" he repeated. + +Joe looked. + +"You are on your oath, sir." Joe faced him. + +"You deserted your master, did you?" + +"No," said Joe; "I aint no deserter?" + +"But you enlisted." + +"I don't know as that's desertion," said Joe; "and I'm here to speak for +him now; and I give my evidence at Malta, too." + +"Do you swear that, sir?" enquired Mr. Ricochet. "Were you not with your +master when the young woman accused him of assaulting her?" + +"I was not." + +"Why did you enlist, then?" enquired Mr. Ricochet. + +"Cause I choose to," said Joe. + +"Now, sir, upon your oath; I ask you, did you not enlist because of this +charge?" + +"No; I never heard on it till arter I was listed." + +"When did you hear of it?" + +"At the trial at the Old Bailey." + +"O," said the learned Q.C.; "wait a minute, you were there, were you? +Were you there as a witness?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I warnt." + +"Will you swear that?" asked Ricochet, amid roars of laughter. + +"What were you there for?" + +"To hear the trial!" + +"And you were not called?" + +"No." + +"And do you mean on your oath, sir, to say that you had enlisted at that +time." + +"Now look at that," said Joe; "the Sergeant there enlisted me, and he +knows." + +"I suppose you had seen your master's watch many times?" + +"I'd seen it," said Joe. + +"And did not give evidence!" + +"No; I warnt called, and know'd nothing about it." + +"You've been paid for coming here, I suppose?" + +"Not a farden, and wouldn't take un; he bin a good maister to me as ever +lived." + +"And you left him. Now then, sir, be careful; do you swear you heard +Bumpkin say Snooks should not have the pig?" + +"I do." + +"Have you been speaking to anyone about this case before to-day?" + +Joe thought a bit. + +"Be careful, sir, I warn you," says Ricochet. + +"Yes," said Joe; "I have." + +"I thought so. When? To whom?" + +And here an air of triumph lit up the features of Mr. Ricochet. + +"Afore I comed here." + +"When! let's have it?" + +"Outside the Court." + +"To Bumpkin?" + +"No; to that there Locust; he axed un--" + +"Never mind what he axed you;" said Ricochet, whose idea of humour +consisted in the repetition of an illiterate observation; and he sat +down--as well he might--after such an exhibition of the art of advocacy. + +But on re-examination, it turned out that Mr. Locust had put several +questions to Joe with a view of securing his evidence himself at a +reasonable remuneration, and of contradicting Mr. Bumpkin. + +This caused the jury to look at one another with grave faces and shake +their heads. + +Mr. Ricochet began and continued his speech in the same common-place +style as his cross-examination; abusing everyone on the other side, +especially that respectable solicitor, Mr. Prigg; and endeavouring to +undo his own bad performance with the witness by a worse speech to the +jury. What he was going to show, and what he was going to prove, was +wonderful; everybody who had been called was guilty of perjury; everybody +he was going to call would be a paragon of all the virtues. He +expatiated upon the great common sense of the jury (as though they were +fools), relied on their sound judgment and denounced the conduct of Mr. +Bumpkin in the witness-box as a piece of artful acting, intended to +appeal to the weakness of the jury. But all was useless. Snooks made a +sorry figure in the box. He was too emphatic, too positive, too abusive. +Mr. Ricochet could not get over his own cross-examination. The +ridiculous counterclaim with its pettifogging innuendoes vanished before +that common sense of the jury to which Mr. Ricochet so dryly appealed. +The edifice erected by the modern pleader's subtle craftiness was +unsubstantial as the icy patterns on the window-pane, which a single +breath can dissipate. And yet these ingenious contrivances were +sufficient to give an unimportant case an appearance of substantiality +which it otherwise would not have possessed. + +The jury, after a most elaborate charge from Mr. Justice Pangloss, who +went through the cases of the last 900 years in the most careful manner, +returned a verdict for the plaintiff with twenty-five pounds damages. +The learned Judge did not give judgment, inasmuch as there were points of +law to be argued. Mr. Bumpkin, although he had won his case so far as +the verdict was concerned, did not look by any means triumphant. He had +undergone so much anxiety and misery, that he felt more like a man who +had escaped a great danger than one who had accomplished a great +achievement. + +Snooks' mouth, during the badgering of the witnesses, which was intended +for cross-examination was quite a study for an artist or a physiologist. +When he thought a witness was going to be caught, the orifice took the +form of a gothic window in a ruinous condition. When he imagined the +witness had slipped out of the trap laid for him, it stretched +horizontally, and resembled a baker's oven. He was of too coarse a +nature to suspect that his own counsel had damaged his case, and believed +the result of the trial to have been due to the plaintiff's "snivelling." +He left the Court with a melancholy downcast look, and his only chance of +happiness hereafter in this life seemed now to be in proportion to his +power of making Mr. Bumpkin miserable. Mr. Locust was not behind in his +advice on their future course; and, after joining his client in the hall, +at once pointed out the utterly absurd conclusion at which the jury had +arrived; declared that there must be friends of the plaintiff among them, +and that Mr. Ricochet would take the earliest opportunity of moving for a +new trial; a piece of information which quite lit up the coarse features +of his client, as a breath of air will bring a passing glow to the +mouldering embers of an ash-heap on a dark night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +Motion for rule nisi, in which is displayed much learning, ancient and +modern. + +On the following day there was a great array of judicial talent and +judicial dignity sitting in what is called "Banco," not to be in any way +confounded with "Sancho;" the two words are totally distinct both as to +their meaning and etymology. In the centre of the Bench sat Mr. Justice +Doughty, one of the clearest heads perhaps that ever enveloped itself in +horsehair. On his right was Mr. Justice Pangloss, and on his left Mr. +Justice Technical. + +Then arose from the Queen's Counsel row, Mr. Ricochet to apply for a rule +_nisi_ for a new trial in the cause of _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_ which was +tried yesterday before Mr. Justice Pangloss. + +"Before me?" says Mr. Justice Pangloss. + +"Yes, my lud," says Mr. Ricochet. + +"Are you sure?" enquired the learned Judge, turning over his notes. + +"O, quite, my lud." + +"Ah!" says his lordship: "what do you say the name of the case was?" + +"_Bumpkin_ against _Snooks_, my lud," says Mr. Ricochet, Q.C. + +"Coots; what was it,--a Bill of Exchange?" asks his lordship. + +"Snooks, my lud, Snooks;" says Mr. Ricochet, "with the greatest +deference, my lud, his name is spelt with an S." + +Judge, still turning over his book from end to end calls to his clerk, +and addressing Mr. Ricochet, says: "When do you say it was tried, Mr. +Ricochet?" + +"Yesterday, my lud; with great submission, my lud, I overheard your +ludship say Coots. Snooks, my lud." + +Then all the Judges cried "Snooks!" as if it had been a puzzle or a +conundrum at a family Christmas party, and they had all guessed it at +once. + +"Bring me the book for this term," said the Judge sharply to his clerk. + +"What was the name of the plaintiff?" enquired Mr. Justice Doughty. + +"Bumpkin, my lud," said Mr. Ricochet, "with great deference." + +"Ah, Pumpkin, so it was," said the presiding Judge. + +"With great submission, my lud, Bumpkin!" + +"Eh?" + +"Bumpkin, my lud;" and then all the Judges' cried "Bumpkin!" as pleased +as the followers of Columbus when they discovered America. + +"Ah, here it is," said Mr. Justice Pangloss, passing his forefinger +slowly along the page; "the name of the case you refer to, Mr. Ricochet, +is _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_, not _Coots_ v. _Pumpkin_, and it was tried +before me and a special jury on the twenty-eighth of July of the present +year." + +"Yes, my lud, with all submission." + +"Why, that was yesterday," said Mr. Justice Pangloss. "Why did you not +say so; I was referring to last year's book." + +"With all deference, my lud--" + +"Never mind, never mind, Mr. Ricochet; let us get on." + +"What do you move for?" asked Mr. Justice Doughty. + +"A new trial, my lud." + +"A new trial--yes--? Which way was the verdict, Mr. Ricochet?" + +"Verdict for the plaintiff, my lud." + +"And whom do you appear for?" + +"I am for the defendant, my lud." + +"O! you're for the defendant. Stop--let me have my note correct. I find +it always of great assistance when the rule comes on to be argued. I +don't say you're going to have a rule. I must know a little more of the +case before we grant a rule." + +"If your ludship pleases." + +I did not gather what his lordship intended to say when he made the +observations recorded, and can only regret that his lordship should have +broken off so abruptly. + +"What ground do you move upon, Mr. Ricochet." + +Mr. Ricochet said, "The usual grounds, my lud; that is to say, that the +verdict was against the weight of evidence." + +"Stop a minute," said Mr. Justice Doughty; "let me have my note correct, +'against the weight of evidence,' Mr. Ricochet." + +"Misdirection, my lud--with all respect to Mr. Justice Pangloss--and +wrongful admission of evidence." + +"What was the action for?" + +Now this was a question that no man living had been able to answer yet. +What was in the pleadings, that is, the pattern of the lawyer's net, was +visible enough; but as regards merits, I predict with the greatest +confidence, that no man will ever be able to discover what the action of +_Bumpkin_ versus _Snooks_ was about. But it speaks wonders for the +elasticity of our system of jurisprudence and the ingenuity of our +lawyers that such a case could be _invented_. + +"Trespass," said Ricochet, "was one paragraph; then there was assault and +battery; breach of contract in not accepting a pig at the price agreed; +trespass in seizing the pig without paying for it; and then, my lud, +there were the usual money counts, as they used to be called, to which +the defendant pleaded, among other pleas, a right of way; an easement; +leave and license; a right to take the pig; that the pig was the property +of the defendant, and various other matters. Then, my lud, there was a +counter-claim for slander, for assault and battery; for loss of profit +which would have been made if the pig had been delivered according to +contract; breach of contract for the non-delivery of the pig." + +Mr. Justice Doughty: "This was pig-iron, I suppose?" + +The two other Judges fell back, shaking their sides with laughter; and +then forcibly thrust their hands against their hips which made their +tippets stick out very much, and gave them a dignified and imposing +appearance. Then, seeing the Judges laugh, all the bar laughed, and all +the ushers laughed, and all the public laughed. The mistake, however, +was a very easy one to fall into, and when Mr. Justice Doughty, who was +an exceedingly good-tempered man, saw the mistake he had made, he laughed +as much as any man, and even caused greater laughter still by +good-humouredly and wittily observing that he supposed somebody must be a +pigheaded man. To which Mr. Ricochet laughingly replied, that he +believed the plaintiff was a very pigheaded man. + +"Now," said Mr. Justice Pangloss, "have you considered what Vinnius in +his 'Commentary on Urban Servitudes' says." + +Mr. Ricochet said, "Hem!" and that was the very best answer he could make +to the learned Pangloss, and if he only continues to answer in that +manner he'll get any rule he likes to apply for--(no, not the Rule of +Three, perhaps). + +So Mr. Justice Pangloss went on: + +"There are, as Gale says, 'two classes of easements distinctly recognised +by the Civil Law--'" + +"Hem!" said Ricochet. + +"'Under the head of "Urban Servitudes--'" + +Ricochet: "Hem!" + +"'That a man,' (continued Mr. Justice Pangloss), 'shall receive upon his +house or land the _flumen_ or _stillicidium_ of his neighbour--'" + +"Hem!" coughed Mr. Ricochet, in a very high key; I verily believe in +imitation of that wonderful comedian, J. C. Clarke. + +Then Mr. Justice Pangloss proceeded, to the admiration of the whole Bar: + +"'The difference,' says Vinnius, in his Commentary on this passage, +between the _flumen_ and the _stillicidium_ is this--the latter is the +rain falling from the roof by drops (_guttatim et stillatim_).'" + +"Hem!" from the whole Bar. + +"'The _flumen_'--" + +"I think," said Mr. Justice Doughty, "you are entitled to a rule on that +point, Mr. Ricochet." + +Then Mr. Justice Technical whispered, and I heard Mr. Justice Doughty say +the principle was the same, although there might be some difference of +opinion about the facts, which could be argued hereafter. "But what is +the misreception of evidence, Mr. Ricochet? I don't quite see that." + +"With all submission, my lud, evidence was admitted of what the solicitor +for the defendant said to the plaintiff." + +"Wait a minute, let me see how that stands," said Mr. Justice Doughty; +"the solicitor for the defendant said something to the plaintiff, I don't +quite follow that." + +Mr. Justice Technical observed that it was quite clear that what is said +by the solicitor of one party to the solicitor of another party is not +evidence. + +"O," said the learned Pangloss, "so far back as the time of Justinian it +was laid down--" + +"And that being so," said the eminent Chancery Judge, Mr. Justice +Technical, "I should go so far as to say, that what the solicitor of one +party says to the client stands upon the same footing." + +"Precisely," said Mr. Ricochet + +"I think you are entitled to a rule on that point," remarked Mr. Justice +Doughty, "although my brother Pangloss seems to entertain some doubt as +to whether there was any such evidence." + +"O, my lud, with all submission, with the greatest possible deference and +respect to the learned Judge, I assure your ludship that it was so, for I +have a note of it." + +"I was about to say," continued Mr. Justice Doughty, "as my brother +Pangloss says, it may have been given while he was considering a point in +Justinian. What is the misdirection?" + +"O, my lud, the misdirection was, I venture respectfully and +deferentially to submit, and with the utmost deference to the learned +Judge, in his lordship's telling the jury that if they found that the +right of way which the defendant set up in his answer to the trespass, or +easement--but perhaps, my lud, I had better read from the short-hand +writer's notes of his ludship's summing-up. This is it, my lud, his +ludship said: 'In an action for stopping of his _ancient_ lights --." + +"What!" said Mr. Justice Doughty, "_did he black the plaintiff's eyes_, +then?" + +"No, my lud," said Mr. Ricochet, "that was never alleged or suggested." + +"I only used it by way of illustration," said Mr. Justice Pangloss. + +Then their lordships consulted together, and after about three-quarters +of an hour's conversation the learned Mr. Justice Doughty said: + +"You can take a rule, Mr. Ricochet." + +"On all points, my lud, if your ludships please." + +"It will be more satisfactory," said his lordship, "and then we shall see +what there is in it. At present, I must confess, I don't understand +anything about it." + +And I saw that what there was really in it was very much like what there +is in a kaleidoscope, odds and ends, which form all sorts of combinations +when you twist and turn them about in the dark tube of a "legal +argument." And so poor Bumpkin was deprived of the fruit of his victory. +Truly the law is very expeditious. Before Bumpkin had got home with the +cheerful intelligence that he had won, the wind had changed and was +setting in fearfully from the north-east. Juries may find as many facts +as they like, but the Court applies the law to them; and law is like +gunpowder in its operation upon them,--twists them out of all +recognisable shape. It is very difficult in a Court of law to get over +"_guttatims_" and "_stillatims_," even in an action for the price of a +pig. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +Mr. Bumpkin is congratulated by his neighbours and friends in the market +place and sells his corn. + +What a lovely peace there was again over the farm! It was true Mr. +Bumpkin had not obtained as large a measure of damages as his solicitor +had led him to anticipate, but he was triumphant, and that over a man +like Snooks was something. So the damages were forgotten beneath that +peaceful August sky. How bright the corn looked! There was not a +particle of "smut" in the whole field. And it was a good breadth of +wheat this year for Southwood Farm. The barley too, was evidently fit +for malting, and would be sure to fetch a decent price: especially as +they seemed to say there was not much barley this year that was quite up +to the mark for malting. The swedes, too, were coming on apace, and a +little rain by and by would make them swell considerably. So everything +looked exceedingly prosperous, except perhaps the stock. There certainly +were not so many pigs. Out of a stye of eleven there was only one left. +The sow was nowhere to be seen. She had been sold, it appeared, so no +more were to be expected from that quarter. When Mr. Bumpkin asked where +"old Jack" was (that was the donkey), he was informed that "the man" had +fetched it. "The man" it appeared was always fetching something. +Yesterday it was pigs; the day before it was ducks; the day before that +it was geese; and about a week ago it was a stack of this year's hay: a +stack of very prime clover indeed. Then "the man" took a fancy to some +cheeses which Mrs. Bumpkin had in the dairy, some of her very finest +make. She remonstrated, but "the man" was peremptory. But what most +surprised Mr. Bumpkin, and drew tears from Mrs. Bumpkin's eyes, was when +the successful litigant enquired how the bull was. + +Mrs. Bumpkin had invented many plans with a view to "breaking this out" +to her husband: and now that the time had come every plan was a failure. +The tears betrayed her. + +"What, be he dead?" enquired Mr. Bumpkin. + +"O, no, Tom--no, no--" + +"Well, what then?" + +"The man!" + +"The man! The devil's in thic man, who be he? Where do ur come from? +I'll bring an action agin him as sure's he's alive or shoot un dead wi my +gun;" here Mr. Bumpkin, in a great rage, got up and went to the beam +which ran across the kitchen ceiling, and formed what is called the +roof-tree of the house, by the side of which the gun was suspended by two +loops. + +"No, no, Tom, don't--don't--we have never wronged any one yet, and +don't--don't now." + +"But I wool," said Bumpkin; "what! be I to be stripped naaked and not +fight for th' cloathes--who be thic feller as took the bull?" + +Mrs. Bumpkin was holding her apron to her eyes, and for a long while +could say nothing. + +"Who be he, Nancy?" + +"I don't know, Tom--but he held a paper in his hand writ all over as +close as the stubble-rows in the field, and he said thee had signed un." + +"Lord! lord!" exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin, and then sat down on the settle and +looked at the fire as though it threw a light over his past actions. He +couldn't speak for a long time, not till Mrs. Bumpkin went up to him and +laid her hand upon his shoulder, and said: + +"Tom! Tom! thee ha winned the case." + +"Aye, aye," said Bumpkin, starting up as from a reverie. "I ha winned, +Nancy. I ha beat thic there Snooks; ur wont snigger now when ur gooes +by--lor, lor,--our counsellor put it into un straight, Nancy." + +"Did ur, Tom?--well, I be proud." + +"Ah!" said Bumpkin, "and what d'ye think?--it wornt our counsellor, that +is the Queen's Counsellor nuther; he wornt there although I paid un, but +I spoase he'll gie up the money, Nancy?" + +"Were it much, Tom?" + +"Farty guineas!" + +"Farty guineas, Tom! Why, it wur enough to set up housekeepin wi--and +thee only winned twenty-five, Tom; why thic winnin were a heavy loss I +think." + +"Now, lookee ere," said Bumpkin; "I oughter had five undered, as Laryer +Prigg said, our case were that good, but lor it baint sartain: gie I a +little gin and water, Nancy--thee ain't asked I to have a drap since I +bin oame." + +"Lor, Tom, thee knows I be all for thee, and that all be thine." + +"It beant much, it strikes me; lor, lor, whatever shall us do wirout pigs +and sheep, and wirout thic bull. I be fit to cry, Nancy, although I +winned the case." + +Tom had his gin and water and smoked his pipe, and went to bed and +dreamed of all that had taken place. He rose with the lark and went into +the fields and enjoyed once again the fresh morning air, and the sweet +scent of the new hayrick in the yard; and, without regarding it, the song +of the lark as it shot heavenward and poured down its stream of glad +music: but there was amidst all a sadness of spirit and a feeling of +desolation. It was not like the old times when everything seemed to +welcome him about the farm wherever he went. The work of "the man" was +everywhere. But the harvest was got in, and a plentiful harvest it was: +the corn was threshed, and one day Mr. Bumpkin went to market with his +little bags of samples of the newly-housed grain. Everybody was glad to +see him, for he was known everywhere as a regular upright and +down-straight man. Every farmer and every corn-dealer and cattle-dealer +congratulated him in his homely way on his success. They looked at his +samples and acknowledged they were very bright and weighty. "I never +liked that Snooks feller," was the general cry, and at the farmers' +ordinary, which was held every market day at the "Plough," every one who +knew Bumpkin shook hands and wished him well, and after dinner, before +they broke up, Farmer Gosling proposed his health, and said how proud he +"were that his old neighbour had in the beautiful words o' the National +Anthem, 'confounded their politicks': and he hoped that the backbone o' +old England, which were the farmers, wornt gwine to be broked jist yet +awhile. Farmin might be bad, but yet wi little cheaper rents and a good +deal cheaper rates and taxes, there'd be good farmin and good farmers in +England yit." + +Now this speech, I saw in my dream, brought down the house. Everyone +said it was more to the point than the half-mile speeches which took up +so much of the newspapers to the exclusion of murders, burglaries and +divorces. And in truth, now I come to look at it in my waking moments, I +respectfully commend it to our legislators, or what is better, to their +constituencies, as embodying on this subject both the principles of true +conservatism and true liberalism: and I don't see what the most exacting +of politicians can require more than that. + +Mr. Bumpkin made a suitable reply--that is to say, "he wur mighty proud +o' their neighbourliness--he wur a plaain man, as had made his own way in +the world, or leastwise tried to do un by ard work and uprightedness and +downstraightedness; tried to be straight forrerd, and nobody as he knowed +of could ax un for a shillin'. But," he added: "I be praisin oop myself, +neighbours, I be afeard, and I doant wish to do thic, only to put I +straaight afore thee. I beant dead yit, and I hope we shall all be +friends and neighbours, and meet many moore times at this ornary +together." + +And so, delighted with one another, after a glass or two, and a song or +two, the party broke up, all going to their several farms. Mr. Bumpkin +was particularly well pleased, for he had sold twenty quarters of wheat +at forty-nine shillings a quarter; which, as times went, was a very +considerable increase, showing the excellent quality of the samples. + +Sooner or later, however, it must be told, that when Bumpkin reached his +quiet farm, a strange and sad scene presented itself. Evidences of "_the +man_" were in all directions. He had been at work while Mr. Bumpkin in +his convivial moments was protesting that he did not owe anyone a +shilling. Alas! how little the best of as know how much we owe! + +Mrs. Bumpkin, who had borne up like a true woman through all the troubles +that had come upon her home,--borne up for his sake, hoping for better +days, and knowing nothing of the terrible net that had been spread around +them by the wily fowler, at length gave way, as she saw "the man" loading +his cart with her husband's wheat; the wheat he had gone that day to +sell. Bitterly she wrung her hands, and begged him to spare her husband +that last infliction. Was there anything that she could do or give to +save him this blow? No, no; the man was obstinate in the performance of +his duty; "right was right, and wrong was no man's right!" + +So when Mr. Bumpkin returned, the greater part of his wheat was gone, and +the rest was being loaded. The beautiful rick of hay too, which had not +yet ceased to give out the fresh scent that a new rick yields, were being +cut and bound into trusses. + +Poor Tom was fairly beside himself, but Mrs. Bumpkin had taken the +precaution to hide the gun and the powder-flask, for she could not tell +what her husband might do in his distraction. Possibly she was right. +Tom's rage knew no bounds. Youth itself seemed to be restored in the +strength of his fury. He saw dimly the men standing around looking on; +he saw, as in a dream, the man cutting on the rick, and he uttered +incoherent sentences which those only understood who were accustomed to +his provincial accent. + +"Tom, Tom," said Mrs. Bumpkin, "don't be in a rage." + +"Who be thic feller on my rick?" + +"I beant any more a feller nor thee, Maister Boompkin; it aint thy rick +nuther." + +"Then in the name of h--, whose be it?" + +"It be Maister Skinalive's; thee can't have t' cake an eat un; thee +sowled it to un." + +"It be a lie, a --- lie; come down!" + +"Noa, noa, I beant coomin doon till I coot all t' hay; it be good hay an +all, as sweet as a noot." + +"Where is thy master?" enquired Mrs. Bumpkin. + +"I dooant rightly knoo, missus, where ur be; but I think if thee could +see un, he'd poot it right if thee wanted time loike, and so on, for he +be a kind-hearted man enoo." + +"Can we find un, do ur think?" asked Mrs. Bumpkin. + +"If thee do, missus, it wur moor un I bin able to do for the last three +moonths." + +"I'll find some un," said Mr. Bumpkin; "here, goo and fetch a pleeceman." + +This was said to a small boy who did the bird-minding, and was now +looking on with his mouth wide open, and his eyes actually shedding +tears. + +"Ah, fetch a pleeceman an all," said the man, thrusting the big hay-knife +down into the centre of the rick; "but take a soop o' cyder, maister; I +dessay thee feels a bit out o' sorts loike." + +"Thee darn thief; it be my cyder, too, I've a notion." + +"How can it be thine, maister, when thee ha' sowled un?" said the man +with his unanswerable logic: "haw! haw! haw!" + +Mrs. Bumpkin held her husband's hand, and tried her hardest to keep him +from using violence towards the man. She felt the convulsive twitches of +his strong muscles, and the inward struggle that was shaking his stalwart +frame. "Come away, Tom; come away; let un do as they like, we'll have +them as will see us righted yet. There's law for un, surely." + +"It beant no use to kick, maister," said the man, again ramming the knife +down into the rick as though he were cutting Mr. Bumpkin himself in half, +and were talking to him the while; "it beant no use to kick, maister. +Here thee be; thee owes the man the money, and can't pay, so ur does this +out of kindness to prevent thee being sowled oop loike." + +"Here be the pleeceman," said Mrs. Bumpkin. + +Mr. Bumpkin turned suddenly, and shouted, "Tak thic thief into custody." + +The policeman, albeit a country constable, was a very sensible man; and +seeing how matters stood, he very wisely set himself to the better task +of taking Mr. Bumpkin into custody without appearing to do so, and +without Mr. Bumpkin knowing it. + +"Now," said he, "if so be as you will come indoors, Mr. Bumpkin, I think +we can put our heads together and see what can be done in this 'ere case; +if it's stealing let him steal, and I'll have him nicely; but if it ain't +stealing, then I woant have him at all." (A pause.) + +"For why?" (A pause.) + +"Because the law gives you other remedies." + +"That be right, pleeceman," said Bumpkin; "I'll goo wi' thee. Now then, +Nancy, let's goo; and look 'ere, thee thief, I'll ha' thee in th' jail +yet." + +The man grinned with a mouth that seemed to have been cut with his own +hay-knife, so large was it, and went on with his work, merely saying: "I +dooant charge thee nothin for cootin' nor yet for bindin, maister; I does +it all free graatis, loike." + +"Thee d--- thief, thee'll be paid." + +So they went in, and the policeman was quite a comforter to the poor old +man. He talked to him about what the law was on this point and that +point, and how a trespass was one thing, and a breach of the peace +another; and how he mustn't take a man up for felony just because +somebody charged him: otherwise, the man on the rick might have charged +Mr. Bumpkin, and so on; till he got the old man into quite a discussion +on legal points. But meanwhile he had given him another piece of advice, +which was also much to his credit, and that was to send to his solicitor, +Mr. Prigg. Mr. Prigg was accordingly sent for; but, like most good men, +was very scarce. Nowhere could Mr. Prigg be found. But it was well +known, for it was advertised everywhere on large bills, that the +excellent gentleman would take the chair at a meeting, to be held in the +schoolroom in the evening, for the propagation of Christianity among the +Jews. The policeman would be on duty at that meeting, and he would be +sure to see Mr. Prigg, and tell him Mr. Bumpkin was very desirous to see +him as early as possible on the following day. Mr. Bumpkin was thankful, +and to some extent pacified. As the policeman wished them goodnight, +Mrs. Bumpkin accompanied him to the door, and begged, if he wouldn't +mind, that he would look in to-morrow, for he seemed a kind of protection +for them. + +It was about three in the afternoon of the following day when good Mr. +Prigg drove up to Mr. Bumpkin's door; he drove up with the mare that had +been Mr. Bumpkin's cow. + +"Here he be," said Mrs. Bumpkin; and if Mr. Prigg had been an angel from +heaven, his presence could not have been more welcome. Oh, what sunshine +he seemed to bring! Was it a rainbow round his face, or was it only his +genial Christian smile? His collar was perfect, so was his tie; his head +immoveable, so were his principles. "Dear, dear!" said Mrs. Bumpkin, "I +be so glad thee be come, Mr. Prigg--here be master takin' on so as never +was; I never see'd anything like it." + +"What's the matter, my dear lady?" inquired the good man. + +"Be that loryer Prigg?" shouted a voice from the inner room. + +"Aye, aye, Tom, it be Mr. Prigg." + +"Come in, zur," said the voice, "come in; I be mighty glad to see thee. +Why dam--" + +"Hush!" remonstrated the diffuser of Christianity among the Jews; "hush!" +and his hands were softly raised in gentle protest--albeit his head never +turned so much as a hair's breadth. "Let us be calm, my dear sir, let us +be calm. We win by being calm." + +"Ah, we winned the lawsuit; didn't us, sir?" + +"Ah, that thee did, Tom!" exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin, delighted at this +momentary gleam of gladness in her husband's broken heart. + +"Of course we won," said Mr. Prigg. "Did I ever entertain a doubt from +the first about the merits of that case?" + +"Thee did not, sir," said Tom; "but lookee 'ere, sir," he continued, in +almost a whisper, "I dreamt last night as we lost un; and I see thic +Snooks a sniggering as plaain as ever I see'd anybody in my life." + +"My dear sir, what matters your dream? We won, sir. And as for Snooks' +sniggering, I am sorry to say he is sold up." + +"Sold oop!" exclaimed Bumpkin. "Sorry! why beest thee sorry for +un--beant thee sorry for I?" + +"Sorry you've won, Mr. Bumpkin? No; but, I'm sorry for Snooks, because +we lose our costs. Oh, that Locust is the greatest dodger I ever met." + +"I don't understand thee, sir," said Bumpkin. "What d'ye mean by not +getting costs--won't ur pay?" + +"I fear not," said Mr. Prigg, rubbing his hands. "I am surprised, too, +that he should not have waited until the rule for a new trial was +argued." + +"What the devil be the meaning o' all this?" exclaimed Bumpkin. + +"Really, really," said the pious diffuser of Christianity, "we must +exercise patience; we may get more damages if there should be another +trial." + +"This be trial enough," said Mr. Bumpkin; "and after all it were a +trumpery case about a pig." + +"Quite so, quite so," said the lawyer, rubbing his hands; "but you see, +my dear sir, it's not so much the pig." + +"No, no," said Mr. Bumpkin, "it beant so much th' pig; it be the hoarses +moore, and the hayricks, and the whate, and--where be all my fowls and +dooks?" + +"The fowls--quite so! Let me see," said the meditative man, pressing the +head of his gold pencil-case against his forehead, "the fowls--let me +see--oh, I know, they did the pleadings--so they did." + +"And thic sow o' mine?" + +"Yes, yes; I think she made an affidavit, if I remember rightly. Yes, +yes--and the bacon," said he, elevating his left hand, "six flitches I +think there were; they used to be in this very room--" + +"Ay, sure did ur," said Mr. Bumpkin. + +"Well I remember; they made a very splendid affidavit too: I have a note +of all of them in my memory." + +"What coomed o' the cows?" + +"Cows? Yes--I have it--our leading counsel had them; and the calf, if I +remember rightly, went to the junior." + +'"Who had the cheeses?" inquired Mr. Bumpkin. + +"Cheeses!" said the good man. "Oh, yes, the cheeses; they went in +refreshers." + +"And the poor old donkey?" asked Mrs. Bumpkin. + +"Ah, where be Jock?" said Mr. Bumpkin. + +"Went for the opinion," answered the lawyer. + +"Where be thic bull o' mine?" said Tom. "He wur the finest bull in all +thic county, woren't he, Nancy?" + +"Ay," answered Mrs. Bumpkin, "and ur follered I about, Tom, jist like a +Christian." + +"So ur did, Nancy. Dost thee mind, when ur got through thic gap into +Squire Stucky's meadow, 'mong the cows?" + +"Ay, Tom; and thee went and whistled un; but ur wouldn't come for thy +whistlin; and Joe, poor Joe! went and got a great stick." + +"There I mind un," said Bumpkin; "what coomed of un, Master Prigg?" + +"Quite so," said Mr. Prigg; "quite so; let me see." And again the gold +pencil-case was pressed against his respectable forehead in placid +cogitation. "Yes, that bull argued the appeal." + +"Hem!" said Mr. Bumpkin; "argied appeal, did ur? Well, I tell ee what, +Master Prigg, if that air bull 'ad knowed what I knows now, he'd a gi'en +them jusseses a bit o' his mind, and thee too." + +"Dear me," said Mr. Prigg; "you entirely mis-apprehend--" + +"Well, lookee 'ere," said Tom, "it beant no use to mince matters wi' ee. +What I wants to know is as this; I winned my case--" + +"Quite so," said Prigg. + +"And 'ow be it then that all my sheep and things be took off the farm?" + +"Dear me!" said Mr. Prigg, in the tone of an injured man; "I think, of +all men, clients are the most ungrateful. I have worked night and day to +serve you; I have sacrificed my pleasures, which I do not reckon--my home +comforts--" + +"But who be thic feller that steals my corn an' hay, and pigs?" + +"Really, Mr. Bumpkin, this is language which I did not expect from you." + +"But 'ow comes my farm stripped, Maister Prigg? tell I thic." + +"I suppose you have given a bill of sale, Mr. Bumpkin. You are aware +that a lawsuit cannot be carried on without means, and you should have +calculated the cost before going to war. I think there is Scripture +authority for that." + +"Then have this Skinalive feller the right to take un?" + +"I presume so," said Prigg; "I know he's a most respectable man." + +"A friend o' thine, I s'poase?" + +"Well," said Prigg, hesitating, "I may even go so far as to say that." + +"Then I be gwine so fur as to say thee be a damned rogue!" said Mr. +Bumpkin, rising, and thumping the table with great vehemence. + +You might have knocked Mr. Prigg down with a feather, certainly with a +bludgeon; such a shock he had never received at the hands of a client in +the whole course of his professional experience. He rose and drew from +his pocket an envelope, a very large official-looking envelope, such as +no man twice in his life would like to see, even if he could be said to +enjoy the prospect once. + +It is not usual for respectable solicitors to carry about their bills of +costs in their pockets, and why Mr. Prigg should have done so on this +occasion I am not aware. I merely saw in my dream that he did so. There +was not a change in his countenance; his piety was intact; there was not +even a suffusion of colour. Placid, sweet-tempered, and urbane, as a +Christian should be, he looked pityingly towards the hot and irascible +Bumpkin, as though he should say, "You have smitten me on this cheek, now +smite me on that!" and placed the great envelope on the table before the +ungrateful man. + +"What be thic?" inquired Mr. Bumpkin. + +"A list of my services, sir," said Prigg, meekly: "You will see there, +ungrateful man, the sacrifices I have made on your behalf; the +journeyings oft; the hunger, and, I may say, thirst; the perils of +robbers, the perils amongst false friends, the--" + +"I doant understand, sir," said Bumpkin. + +"Because darkness hath blinded your eyes," said the pious lawyer; "but I +leave you, Mr. Bumpkin, and I will ask you, since you no longer repose +confidence in my judgment and integrity, to obtain the services of some +other professional gentleman, who will conduct your case with more zeal +and fidelity than you think I have shown; I who have carried your cause +to a triumphant issue; and may be said to have established the grand +principle that an Englishman's house is his castle." + +And with this the good man, evidently affected by deep emotion, shook +hands silently with Mrs. Bumpkin, and disappeared for ever from my view. + +Never in any dream have I beheld that man again. Never, surely, under +any form of humanity have so many virtues been concealed. I have looked +for him in daily life, about the Courts of Justice and in the political +arena, but his equal for simplicity of character, for unaffected piety, +and purity of motive, have I never discovered, although I have seen many, +who, without his talents, have vainly endeavoured to emulate his virtues. + +Mrs. Bumpkin examined the document he had left, and found a most +righteous statement of the services rendered by this great and good man; +which, after giving credit to Mr. Bumpkin for cash received from Mr. +Skinalive, Mr. Prigg's friend, of seven hundred and twenty-two pounds, +six shillings and eightpence-half-penny, left a balance due to Honest +Lawyer Prigg of three hundred and twenty-eight pounds, seven shillings +and threepence,--subject, of course, to be reduced on taxation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +Farewell. + +The last chapter of a book must always possess a special and melancholy +interest for the author. He gives his words reluctantly, almost +grudgingly, like one who is spending his last coins and will soon be left +penniless upon the world. Or like one who is passing his last moments at +the house of a friend whom he may see no more for ever. The author is +taking farewell of his characters and his readers, and therefore his +regret is twofold; added to which is the doubt as to whether, judged by +the severe standard of Public Opinion, he has been faithful to both. +Thought is large, and may fill the world, permeating every class and +every section of society; it may be circumscribed, and operate only upon +some infinitesimal proportion of mankind: but whether great or small, for +good or evil, it is published, and a corresponding responsibility +devolves upon the writer. I record my dream faithfully, and am therefore +exonerated, in my conscience, from responsibility in its effect. + +How shall I describe the closing scene of this eventful story? I will +imagine nothing; I will exaggerate nothing; for, during the whole +progress of the story, it has been my constant care not to give the most +captious critic the opportunity of saying that I have exaggerated a +single incident. I will relate faithfully what I saw in my dream, and +that only; diminishing nothing, and adding nothing. + +In my waking moments my wife said it was very wrong of Mr. Bumpkin, after +all that Mr. Prigg had done for him, to be so rude. I agreed that it +was: but said, great allowance must be made for Mr. Bumpkin's want of +education. Then said my wife, "Will not some shallow-minded persons say +that your story attacks the administration of justice?" To which I +replied that it did not matter what shallow-minded persons said, but that +in fact I had in no way attacked the administration of justice; nor had I +in the least degree reflected on the great body of respectable solicitors +who had in their hands the interests of the country, and faithfully +discharged their duties. And then I stood up, and putting forth my hand +in imitation of Pitt's statue in the corridor of the House of Commons, I +said, "Justice is Divine, not Human; and you cannot detract from anything +that is Divine, any more than you can lessen the brilliancy of the sun. +You may obscure its splendour to mortal eyes, but its effulgence is the +same. Man may so ostensibly assert his own dignity, or the dignity of a +perishable system, that it may temporarily veil the beauty of a Divine +attribute; but Justice must still remain the untarnished glory of Divine +wisdom. It is not the pomp of position or the majesty of office that +imparts dignity to Justice." + +Here, exhausted with my effort, and with my wife's applause ringing in my +ears, I fell asleep again, and dreamed that I saw Bumpkin sadly wandering +about the old farm; his faithful wife following, and never for one moment +ceasing to cheer him up. It was a fine bright morning in October as they +wandered forth. There wasn't a living thing about the farm except the +birds, and even they seemed sad in their twittering. Could it be +possible that they knew of poor Bumpkin's miserable condition? + +There was an old jackdaw that certainly did; for he hopped and hopped +along after the master with the saddest expression I ever saw bird wear. +But the master took no notice. On and on he wandered, seemingly +unconscious of the presence even of his wife. + +"Tom!" she said, "Tom, where beest thee gwine?" + +Bumpkin started; turned round, and said: + +"Nancy! what, be it thee, lassie?" + +"Ay, Tom, sure enough it be I. Let's cheer up, Tom. If the worst come +to the worst--we can but goo to Union." + +"The wust have come to th' wust, Nancy; we be ruined! Look at this 'ere +farm--all be bare--all be lost, Nancy. Hark how silent it all be!" + +"Never mind, Tom; never mind. I wish Joe wur here." + +"Ah! Joe, yes. I wonder where Joe be; praps he be out here in th' six +akre." + +"No, no, Tom, he be gwine for a sojer; but I've a mind he'll come back. +And who knows, we may be 'appy yet! We've worked hard, Tom, together +these five-and-thirty year, and sure we can trudge on t' th' end. Come, +let's goo in and ave some breakfast." + +But Tom kept on walking and looking round the fields after his old +manner. + +"I think we'll ave wuts here," said he. + +"So ur will, Tom, but let's have breakfast fust. Come, lad." + +They wandered still through the quiet fields, and the old man's mind +seemed giving way. But I saw that Mrs. Bumpkin kept up with him and +cheered him whenever she could put in a word of comfort, cold and +hopeless as it was. And so the day was spent, and the night came, and +they entered their home for the last time. It was a terribly sad night; +but the Vicar came and sat up late with the old people, and talked to +them and read and cried with them, until at last Tom said: + +"I zee it, sir, thee hast showed I; thank God for thy words. Yes, yes, +we maun leave t' morrer, and we'll call on thee, and maybe thou'lt goo to +th' Squire wi' us and explaain to un how we can't pay our rent, and may +be th' Squire'll let I work un out. If we could only work un out, I'd be +'appy." + +"Ay, Tom," said Mrs. Bumpkin, "an I'll work too; thee knows that." + +"Thee wast allays a good wife, Nancy; and I'll allays say't, come what +wooll." + +"Yes," said the Vicar, "to-morrow we will go--" + +"I don't want un to forgive I th' rent," said Tom; "only to gie us time, +and Nancy and I'll work un out." And so it was arranged that the next +morning the old home was to be left for ever. It was no longer home, for +every article of furniture, every tool, every scrap that was of any value +had been ruthlessly seized by the heartless money-lender whom the Law +permitted to rob under the name of a bill of sale. The man was in +possession to take away their bed and the few other articles that were +left for their accommodation till the morrow. + +And on the morrow I saw the last of poor Bumpkin that I shall ever see. +In the beautiful sunshine of that October morning, just by the old oak, +he was leaning over the gate looking his last at the dear old fields and +the old farm-house where so many happy years had been spent. By his side +was his wife, with her hand shading her eyes; the old dog was between +them, looking into the face now of Tom and then of his wife. Mr. +Bumpkin's arms were resting on the gate, and his old ash stick that he +used to walk with over the fields was in his hand. They stood there for +a long, long time as though they could never leave it. And I saw the +tears trickle down the old man's face as Mrs. Bumpkin, letting fall the +corner of her apron, which she had held to her eyes, and placing her arm +through his, said in a faltering voice:-- + +"Come, Tom, we must goo." + + * * * * * + + THE END. + + + + +THE LAWSUIT. + + + Tom Bumpkin was a thriving man, + As all the world could see; + In forty years he'd raised himself + From direst poverty. + + And now he rented from the Squir + Some acres, near a score; + Some people said 'twas twenty-five, + And some that it was more. + + He had a sow of rare brave breed, + And nine good pigs had he; + A cow and calf, a rick of hay, + And horses he had three. + + And Mrs. Bumpkin had a bull, + The finest creature out; + "And, like a Christian," so she said, + "It follered her about." + + So Bumpkin was a thriving man, + As all the world could see; + A self-made man, but yet not made + Of scholarship was he. + + With neighbour Snooks he dealings had + About his latest farrow; + Snooks said he'd bought a pig, and so, + To prove it, brought his barrow. + + Tom said, "It wur to be two crowns;" + Snooks said, "Twur nine-and-six;" + Then Tom observed, "You doan't 'ave me + Wi none o' them there tricks." + + So there was battle; Lawyer Prigg + Was told this tale of woe; + The Lawyer rubbed his bony hands + And said, "I see; quite so!" + + "A case of trespass,"--"Ay zo 't be!" + Said Bumpkin, feeling big; + "Now mak un pay vor't, mak un pay; + It beant so much th' pig." + + "No, no, it's not so much the pig, + That were a matter small; + Indeed, good Bumpkin, we may say + It's not the pig at all! + + "It's more the _principle_ involved, + The rights of man, you see"-- + "Ay, ay," quoth Tom; "the devil's in't + 'F I beant as good as he." + + There never was a man more prompt + Or swift to strike a blow: + Give but the word, and Charger Prigg + Was down upon the foe. + + The LETTER, WRIT, and STATEMENT went + Like lightning, thunder, rain; + INSPECTION and DISCOVERY rode + Like Uhlans o'er the plain! + + Then INTERROGATORIES flew + Without procrastination: + As when the ambushed outposts give + A deadly salutation. + + Now Snooks's lawyer was a man + To wrong would never pander; + And like a high-souled Pleader drew + A COUNTERCLAIM for slander; + + And then with cautious skill behind + The legal outworks clambers; + Until dislodged, he held his own + Entrenched in Judges' Chambers. + + At length came battle hot and fierce, + And points reserved as though + The case must be economized, + Not murdered at a blow. + + Then came appeals upon the points, + New trials on the facts; + More points, more learned arguments, + More precedents and Acts. + + But LAW, thou art a tender plant + That needs must droop and die; + And bear no fruit unless thy root + Be watered constantly: + + And Bumpkin with a generous hand + Had given thee good supply; + He drained the well, and yet withal + The noble Prigg was dry. + + With plaintive look would move a stone, + Tom gazed on Lawyer Prigg: + Who rubbed his hands and said, "You see, + It's not so much the pig." + + "Noa, noa, it be th' horses moore, + The calf and sheep and kine, + Where be th' hay-rick and the straw? + And where thic bull o' mine?" + + The Lawyer said, "Quite so, quite so!" + Looked wise, and wisely grinned; + For Tom was like a ship becalmed, + He stopped for want of wind. + + "You see," said Prigg with gravity + Would almost make you laugh, + "Our leading Counsel had the Cow, + The junior had the Calf. + + "The hay and straw _Rules nisi_ got, + Made _Absolute_ with corn, + The pigs made _Interrogat'ries_, + Most beautifully drawn. + + "The Bacon--ah, dear Bumpkin, few + In Law suits ever save it; + It made together with the sow, + A splendid _Affidavit_. + + "The cocks and hens the _Pleadings_ did + Most exquisitely utter; + And some few pans of cream there were, + Which made the _Surre-butter_." + + "Why, Surrey butter! I'd a tub + The best in this ere nation"-- + "Quite so!" said Prigg; "but you forget, + 'Twas used in _Consultation_." + + "Well, well, of all the hungry mouths, + There's nothing like the Law's; + No wonder they can talk if that + Be how they iles their jaws. + + "Now just look ere; I'd twenty cheese, + The finest of old Cheshires,"-- + "Quite so, quite so!" said Prigg; "but they + Just furnished the _Refreshers_. + + "The Ass for the _Opinion_ went; + The Horses, _Costs_ between us; + And all the Ducks and Drakes, my boy, + Were turned into SUBPOENAS." + + "I zee it all; the road to Ruin, + Straight as any furrer: + That Bull o' mine"--"Excuse me, Sir, + Went up upon DEMURRER." + + "Then beant there nothing left for I, + In all this ere undoin? + Nay, Nance, our fireside be gone, + It's emptiness and ruin. + + "I wish we'd fought un out ourselves + Wi' fists instead o' law; + Since Samson fit, there never was + Good fightin wi the jaw." + + So _now_ Tom's not a thriving man, + He owns not cow or pig; + And evermore he'll be in debt + To Honest Lawyer Prigg. + + BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. + + + + +Footnotes + + +{0a} Since the First Edition, "a bulky volume" of new rules has +appeared. No independent existence at present, and therefore anatomy +uncertain. I have peeped at it, and think if it reaches maturity it will +help the rich litigant very much; and, if it abolishes trial by jury, as +it threatens, we shall be, in time to come, a Judge-ridden people, which +God forbid. I am not afraid of a Judge now, but I should be then. The +choice in the future _might_ be between servility and a prison; and I +sincerely believe that if trial by jury should be abolished, this country +would not be safe to live in. Much _mending_, therefore, and +consequently the more holes. I wonder what the Liberalism of the future +will say when it learns that the Liberalism of Mr. Gladstone's Government +struck the first blow at _Trial by Jury_? Truly "the axe to laid to the +root of the tree," and, reversing the Divine order, "every tree that +_bringeth forth good fruit is_" in danger of being "hewn down." + + R. H. + +{22} This inscription, with the exception of the names, is a literal +copy. + +{52} Modern pleaders would say the Court would take judicial notice of +the existence of Egypt: I am aware of this, but at the time I write of +the Courts were too young to take notice. + +{138} The correctness of Mr. O'Rapley's views may be vouched for by a +newspaper report in the _Evening Standard_ of April 17th, 1883, which was +as follows:--"Mr. Justice Day in charging the Grand Jury at the +Manchester Spring Assizes yesterday, expressed his disagreement with the +opinion of other Judges in favour of the Commission being so altered that +the Judge would have to 'deliver all the prisoners detained in gaol,' and +regarded it as a waste of the Judge's time that he should have to try a +case in which a woman was indicted for stealing a shawl worth +three-and-ninepence, or a prisoner charged with stealing two mutton pies +and two ounces of bacon." + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMOUROUS STORY OF FARMER +BUMPKIN'S LAWSUIT*** + + +******* This file should be named 30551.txt or 30551.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/5/5/30551 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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