tion 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