“I donnow what thee means.”
“Be careful, sir; you know what I mean perfectly well.”
Then Locust whispers to him, and he says:
“O, you frequent Music Halls, don’t you?”
“Donnow what thee means,” says Bumpkin.
“O, you don’t, don’t you; will you swear that?”
“I wool.”
“Be careful, sir. Were you at the Canterbury Hall with two women, who passed as the Countess and Lady Flora?”
“It be a lie!”
And thus every form of torture was ruthlessly employed, till Mr. Bumpkin broke down under it, and cried like a child in the witness-box. This awakened sympathy for him. There had been much humour and much laughter; and Mr. Ricochet having no knowledge of human nature, was not aware how closely allied are laughter and tears; that in proportion as the jury had laughed at the expense of Mr. Bumpkin they would sympathize with his unhappy position.