WHAT IT MAY COME TO!
Scene—The Central Criminal Court. The usual company assembled, and the place wearing its customary aspect. “Standing room only” everywhere, except in the jury box, which is empty. Prisoner at the bar.
Judge. This is most annoying! Owing to the refusal of the jury to serve, the time of the Bar, the Bench, and I may even add, the prisoner, is wasted! I really don’t know what to do! Mr. Twentybob, I think you appear for the accused?
Counsel for the Defence. Yes, my Lord.
Judge (with some hesitation). Well, I do not for a moment presume to dictate to you, but it certainly would get us out of a serious difficulty if your client pleaded guilty. I suppose you have carefully considered his case, and think it advisable that he should not withdraw his plea?
Counsel for the Defence. No, my lord, I certainly cannot advise him to throw up his defence. It is a serious—a deeply serious—matter for him. I do not anticipate any difficulty in establishing his innocence before an intelligent jury.
Judge. But we can’t get a jury—intelligent or otherwise.
Counsel for the Defence. If no evidence is offered, my client should be discharged.
Counsel for the Prosecution. I beg pardon, but I must set my friend right. Evidence is offered in support of the charge, my lord.
Judge. Yes; but there is no properly constituted body to receive and decide upon its credibility. I am glad that the grand jury (to whom I had the privilege of addressing a few observations upon our unfortunate position) have ignored a larger number of bills than usual; still, the present case is before the court, and I must dispose of it. Can you assist us in any way, Mr. Perplebagge?
Counsel for the Prosecution (smiling). I am afraid not, my lord.
Judge. Well, I suppose I have no alternative but to order the prisoner to be taken back to——
Prisoner. To the place I was in last night? No thankee!—not me! Look here, gemmen all, we knows one another, don’t we? Well, just to oblige you—as Dartmoor ain’t ’arf bad in the summer, and as in course I did do it—I plead guilty!
Judge (with a sigh of relief). Prisoner at the bar; we are infinitely beholden to you!
[Passes regulation sentence with grateful courtesy.
The Ruling Passion.—Prison Chaplain (charged to report on convict’s religious knowledge). “Do you know the Commandments?”
Prisoner. “Yes, Sir.”
Prison Chaplain. “Say the eighth.”
Prisoner (promptly). “Thou shalt do no manner of work; thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter.” &c.
Habes Confitentem Reum.—Suitors write to the papers to complain of the “block in Chancery.” Who but a block (we must ask) would be in Chancery?
The Thief’s Motto.—“Take things quietly.”
Spring Assizes.—Trying weather.
Query.—Would an ideal barrister be a counsel of perfection?
A Proverb Revised.—Too many cooks spoil the—police.
Saying of Solicitors.—November is at best a pettifogger.
An Equity Draftsman.—A lawyer who sketches.
Improved costume for the Metropolitan Police during the great heat of 1893.