ing 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 a