"It was never intended to be published at all."
"Never intended to be read in Court, of course?"
"Never, in the way it was read."
"Thank you, that is enough," whereupon the Writer vanished gracefully from the witness-box.
After this period in the proceedings, if the Learned Judge slumbered only fitfully during Mr. Dreadful's final peroration, it might have been owing to the spasmodic explosions of that Counsel's voice; but there could be no doubt that the Learned Judge slept peacefully during the earlier portions of Mr. Gentle Gammon's final effort upon behalf of his client.
The Learned Judge had, however, a curious habit of hearing particular things in his sleep, which, like the highly intelligent house-dog, might have been either the result of long training or a naturally keen possession of the intuitive faculty. His Lordship found frequent occasion, therefore, to arouse himself in order to interpolate remarks during the latter half of Mr. Gentle Gammon's closing speech.
"Who are these sceptics?" demanded Mr. Gammon, "these disbelievers?"
After all they had heard that afternoon, might they not verily be
approaching that blissful period when the Lion should lie down with the
Lamb?…
His Lordship (opening one eye). "But it seems, according to evidence, that the Lion didn't always lie down; it stood up and gave a party."
Counsel proceeds: he had not quite finished the beautiful and well-known simile; here Counsel paused before continuing in a voice mellowed by winning tenderness—
"And the little child shall lead them."