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