* * * * *

"Mr. Tutt," announced Tutt, leaning against his senior partner's door
jamb with a formal-looking paper in his hand, "I have landed a case
that will delight your legal soul."

"Indeed?" queried the elder lawyer. "I have never differentiated between
my legal soul and any other I may possess. However, I assume from your
remark that we have been retained in a matter presenting some peculiarly
absurd, archaic or otherwise interesting doctrine of law?"

"Not directly," responded Tutt. "Though you will doubtless find it
entertaining enough, but indirectly--atmospherically so to speak--it
touches upon doctrines of jurisprudence, of religion and of philosophy,
replete with historic fascination."

"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Tutt, laying down his stogy. "What kind of a case
is it?"

"It's a dog case!" said the junior partner, waving the paper. "The dog
bit somebody."

"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Tutt, perceptibly brightening. "Doubtless we shall
find a precedent in Oliver Goldsmith's famous elegy:

"And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree."

"Only," explained Tutt, "in this case, though the man recovered of the
bite, the dog refused to die!"

"And so they want to prosecute the dog? It can't be done. An animal
hasn't been brought to the bar of justice for several centuries."

"No, no!" interrupted Tutt. "They don't--"

"There was a case," went on Mr. Tutt reminiscently "Let me see--at
Sauvigny, I think it was--about 1457, when they tried a sow and three
pigs for killing a child. The court assigned a lawyer to defend her, but
like many assigned counsel he couldn't think of anything to say in her
behalf. As regards the little pigs he did enter the plea that no animus
was shown, that they had merely followed the example of their mother,
and that at worst they were under age and irresponsible. However, the
court found them all guilty, and the sow was publicly hanged in the
market place."

"What did they do with the three little pigs?" inquired Tutt with some
interest.

"They were pardoned on account of their extreme youth," said Mr. Tutt,
"and turned loose again--with a warning."

"I'm glad of that!" sighed Tutt. "Is that a real case?"

"Absolutely," replied his partner. "I've read it in the Sauvigny
records."

"I'll be hanged!" exclaimed Tutt. "I never knew that animals were ever
held person