“Ah! I cannot forget the words of that good old judge, Sir John Moore,” he replied with a sigh.
“Oh, you are as bad as Eldon, always quoting some fusty old judge. But what did he say?” queried my wife.
“He said that he would compare the multitude of women who are to be chosen for wives unto a bag full of snakes, having among them a single eel. Now, if a man should put his hand into this bag, he might chance to light on the eel, but it is one hundred to one he would be stung by a snake,” returned Jones.
“The horrid old wretch. I am sure I was neither a snake nor an eel: was I, Eldon? I hate both.”
“Oh, no, my dear,” I replied. “But Tom, that surely is only an obiter dictum, not a decision of that worthy judge.”
“Of course,” replied Jones; “but all the dicta of judges are entitled to weight.” Tom had just been called to the bar.
“It is time that you two horrid creatures left here,” said Mrs. L.
“Well, suppose we start. Mind dear, to tell the man to be sure to meet us, two hours from now, at Mrs. Smith’s.”
“Is your life insured against accidents, Mr. Jones?” asked my wife. “You are sure to be run away with and upset.”
“Only against railway accidents,” he said.