He was certainly a skilful and far-seeing Counsel, if I may make so bold as to judge from this case. And methought that nothing he did or said was said or done without a purpose. Nor could I help thinking that a good many Counsel, young and old, if their minds were free from prejudice, might learn many lessons from this case. It is with this object that, in my waking moments, I record the impressions of this dream. I do not say Mr. Nimble was an example to follow on all points, for he had that common failing of humanity, a want of absolute perfection. But he was as near to perfection in defending a prisoner as any man I ever saw, and the proceedings in
this very case, if carefully analysed, will go a long way towards proving that assertion.
After the interchange of courtesies between his Lordship and Mr. Nimble, the learned Counsel looked down from the Bench on to the top of Mr. Keepimstraight’s bald head and nodded as if he were patting it. Mr. Keepimstraight was the Lord Mayor’s Clerk. He was very stout and seemed puffed up with law: had an immense regard for himself and consequently very little for anybody else: but that, so far as I have been able to ascertain, is a somewhat common failing among official personages. He ordered everybody about except the Lord Mayor, and him he seemed to push about as though he were wheeling him in a legal Bath-chair. His Lordship was indeed a great invalid in respect to matters of law; I think he had overdone it, if I may use the expression; his study must have been tremendous to have acquired a knowledge of the laws of England in so short a time. But being somewhat feeble, and in his modesty much misdoubting his own judgment, he did nothing and said nothing, except it was prescribed by his physician, Dr. Keepimstraight. Even the solicitors stood in awe of Dr. Keepimstraight.
And now we are all going to begin—Walk up!
The intelligent and decent-looking prisoner having been told what the charge against him was, namely, Highway Robbery with violence, declares that he is as “innercent as the unborn babe, your lordship:” and then Mr. Keepimstraight asks, where the Prosecutor is—“Prosecutor!” shout a dozen voices at once—all round, everywhere is the cry of “Prosecutor!” There was no answer, but in the midst of the unsavoury crowd there was seen to be a severe scuffle—whether it was a fight or
a man in a fit could not be ascertained for some time; at length Mr. Bumpkin was observed struggling and tearing to escape from the throng.
“Why don’t you come when you are called?” asks the Junior Clerk, handing him the Testament, as Mr. Bumpkin stood revealed in the witness-box.
And I saw that he was dressed in a light frock, not unlike a pinafore, which was tastefully wrought with divers patterns of needlework on the front and back thereof; at the openings thus embroidered could be seen a waistcoat of many stripes, that crossed and recrossed one another at various angles and were formed of several colours. He wore a high calico shirt collar, which on either side came close under the ear; and round his neck a red handkerchief with yellow ends. His linen certainly did credit to Mrs. Bumpkin’s love of “tidiness,” and altogether the prosecutor wore a clean and respectable appearance. His face was broad, round and red, indicating a jovial disposition and a temperament not easily disturbed, except when “whate” was down too low to sell and he wanted to buy stock or pay the rent: a state of circumstances which I believe has sometimes happened of late years. A white short-clipped beard covered his chin, while his cheeks were closely shaven. He had twinkling oval eyes, which I should say, he invariably half-closed when he was making a bargain. If you offered less than his price the first refusal would come from them. His nose was inexpressive and appeared to have been a dormant feature for many a year. It said nothing for or against any thing or any body, and from its tip sprouted a few white hairs. His mouth, without utterance, said plainly enough that he owed “nobody nothink” and was a thousand pound man every morning
he rose. It was a mouth of good bore, and not by any means intended for a silver spoon.
Such was the Prosecutor as he stood in the witness-box at the Mansion House on this memorable occasion; and no one could doubt that truth and justice would prevail.