The judge then put this question, “Did Captain Dodd tell you what he intended to do with it?”
Fullalove (reverently).—I think, my lord, he said he was going to give it to his wife. (Sharply.) Well, what is it, old hoss? What are you making mugs at me for? Don't you know it's clean against law to telegraph a citizen in the witness-box?
The Judge.—This won't do; this won't do.
The Crier.—Silence in the court.
“Do you hyar now what his lordship says?” said Fullalove, with ready tact. “If you know anything more, come up hyar and swear it like an enlightened citizen; do you think I am going to swear for tew?” With this Vespasian and Fullalove proceeded to change places amidst roars of laughter at the cool off-hand way this pair arranged forensicalities; but Serjeant Saunders requested Fullalove to stay where he was. “Pray sir,” said he slowly, “who retained you for a witness in this cause?”
Fullalove looked puzzled.
“Of course somebody asked you to drop in here so very accidentally: come now, who was it?”
“I'm God Almighty's witness dropped from the clouds, I cal'late.”
“Come, sir, no prevarication. How came you here just at the nick of time?”
“Counsellor, when I'm treated polite, I'm ile; but rile me, and I'm thunder stuffed with pison: don't you raise my dander, and I'll tell you. I have undertaken to educate this yar darkie,”—here he stretched out a long arm, and laid his hand on Vespasian's woolly pate—“and I'm bound to raise him to the Eu-ropean model.” (Laughter.) “So I said to him, coming over Westminster Bridge, 'Now there's a store hyar where they sell a very extraordinary Fixin; and it's called Justice; they sell it tarnation dear; but prime. So I make tracks for the very court where I got the prime article three years ago, against a varmint that was breaking the seventh and eighth commandments over me, adulterating my patent and then stealing it. Blast him!” (A roar of laughter.) “And coming along I said this old country's got some good pints after all, old hoss. One is they'll sell you justice dear, but prime in these yar courts, if you were born at Kamschatkee; and the other is, hyar darkies are free as air, disenthralled by the univarsal genius of British liberty; and then I pitched Counsellor Curran's bunkum into this darkie, and he sucked it in like mother's milk, and in we came on tiptoe, and the first thing we heard was a freeborn Briton treated wus than ever a nigger in Old Kentuck, decoyed away from his gal, shoved into a darned madhouse—the darbies clapped on him——”