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; somet