Counsel. "That's enough, Mrs. Laurie."

Cissie (still talking as she prepares to depart). "Oh, is it enough, Mister Grey-Wig? Well, I call it a darned sight too much." (Cissie here being persuaded out by an usher of the Court). "So the next time you wants me to leave my work in the middle of the day you can fish for me, same as the lodgers will 'ave to fish for their darned dinner this blessed——" (door of the Court closes upon Cissie, rendering further remarks inaudible).

Judge. "A most garrulous woman."

Here Mr. Dreadful, K.C., rose with an evil smile of triumph, that is to say, it was a cross between a legal smile and a snarl.

Mr. Dreadful, K.C.'s utterances rather suggested the muffled discharging of pom-poms. Whenever he opened his mouth it was succeeded by an explosion of words, then a whistle by way of taking breath, another explosion succeeded by more whistles. Mr. Dreadful announced that before placing his client in the witness-box, he would state that all his client, the defendant's, written words were true in substance and in fact.

"The Lord Mayor of London had wandered out into the night, so had his client, Mr. Learnéd Bore. This gentleman, a playwright, journalist and writer, had wandered forth in order, no doubt, to get inspiration. The source of any such inspiration as he might have derived from the calm night had been utterly destroyed by the ridiculous antics of the Lord Mayor of London; inspiration had vanished, giving place instantly to a righteous feeling of strong condemnation that so beautiful a thing should have been so ruthlessly crushed. Fancies had fled, driven from their abiding-place by stern facts. Those facts had been embodied in a glowing article, destined to be distributed through the medium of the daily paper which his client adorned by contributions from his pen."

"If the Lord Mayor of London objected to the ridicule which his client's able article had heaped upon him—it was entirely the fault of the Lord Mayor. Any sober person, such as his client, must have instinctively supposed the Lord Mayor to be inebriated, when he was actually discovered arrayed in his state robes, coaxing the statue of a Lion to speak to him. Any Christian person, after observing this high Civic official place a wreath about this effigy, would unquestionably have believed him to be a Pagan, and a very ignorant one at that. Finding it hopeless to either excuse or explain such conduct, the plaintiff in this action, which ought never to have been brought, that is if the plaintiff had been wise, had actually, with an impudent audacity unparalleled in any Court of Law, urged that this lifeless Lion not only talked, but made signs. I shall not cross-examine one single witness who has appeared up to the present in this case, they have sufficiently condemned themselves already."

"The last lady, with a wealth of unnecessary words and adjectives, had informed the Court that she was once in a Pantomime, and it is my firm impression that is exactly where all the other witnesses in this case ought to be, especially the child who had unblushingly told them a long fairy story, and had attempted to sing them a song. A Pantomime was the proper place for them all, a fitting setting, and especially suitable for the Lord Mayor himself, robes and all. There, amidst the medley of such an entertainment, the Lord Mayor could coax Lions to do tricks, the sailor could indulge in his hornpipes and quaff dog's-noses. The child could act fairy stories, and sing all by himself, whilst the vociferating lady, who owned to a weakness for dancing indecorous solos, would be able to delight her heart by performing the Russian Carnival——"

Judge (prompting). "Bacchanal."

"They would all be most suitable in a Pantomime, but not in a Court of
Law."