se of
his professional experience--never, from the very first moment of his
applying himself to the study and practice of the law--had he approached
a case with feelings of such deep emotion, or with such a heavy sense
of the responsibility imposed upon him--a responsibility, he would say,
which he could never have supported, were he not buoyed up and sustained
by a conviction so strong, that it amounted to positive certainty that
the cause of truth and justice, or, in other words, the cause of
his much-injured and most oppressed client, must prevail with the
high-minded and intelligent dozen of men whom he now saw in that box
before him.

Counsel usually begin in this way, because it puts the jury on the very
best terms with themselves, and makes them think what sharp fellows
they must be. A visible effect was produced immediately, several jurymen
beginning to take voluminous notes with the utmost eagerness.

'You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen,' continued Serjeant
Buzfuz, well knowing that, from the learned friend alluded to, the
gentlemen of the jury had heard just nothing at all--'you have heard
from my learned friend, gentlemen, that this is an action for a breach
of promise of marriage, in which the damages are laid at #1,500. But
you have not heard from my learned friend, inasmuch as it did not come
within my learned friend's province to tell you, what are the facts and
circumstances of the case. Those facts and circumstances, gentlemen, you
shall hear detailed by me, and proved by the unimpeachable female whom I
will place in that box before you.'

Here, Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, with a tremendous emphasis on the word 'box,'
smote his table with a mighty sound, and glanced at Dodson and Fogg,
who nodded admiration of the Serjeant, and indignant defiance of the
defendant.

'The plaintiff, gentlemen,' continued Serjeant Buzfuz, in a soft and
melancholy voice, 'the plaintiff is a widow; yes, gentlemen, a widow.
The late Mr. Bardell, after enjoying, for many years, the esteem and
confidence of his sovereign, as one of the guardians of his royal
revenues, glided almost imperceptibly from the world, to seek elsewhere
for that repose and peace which a custom-house can never afford.' At
this pathetic description of the decease of Mr. Bardell, who had been
knocked on the head with a quart-pot in a public-house cellar, the
learned serjeant's voice faltered, and he proceeded, with emotion--

'Some time befor