And so poor Bumpkin was deprived of the fruit of his victory. Truly the law is very expeditious. Before Bumpkin had got home with the cheerful intelligence that he had won, the wind had changed and was setting in fearfully from the north-east. Juries may find as many facts as they like, but the Court applies the law to them; and law is like gunpowder in its operation upon them,—twists them out of all recognisable shape. It is very difficult in a Court of law to get over “guttatims” and “stillatims,” even in an action for the price of a pig.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Mr. Bumpkin is congratulated by his neighbours and friends in the market place and sells his corn.
What a lovely peace there was again over the farm! It was true Mr. Bumpkin had not obtained as large a measure of damages as his solicitor had led him to anticipate, but he was triumphant, and that over a man like Snooks was something. So the damages were forgotten beneath that peaceful August sky. How bright the corn looked! There was not a particle of “smut” in the whole field. And it was a good breadth of wheat this year for Southwood Farm. The barley too, was evidently fit for malting, and would be sure to fetch a decent price: especially as they seemed to say there was not much barley this year that was quite up to the mark for malting. The swedes, too, were coming on apace, and a little rain by and by would make them swell considerably. So everything looked exceedingly prosperous, except perhaps the stock. There certainly were not so many pigs. Out of a stye of eleven there was only one left. The sow was nowhere to be seen. She had been sold, it appeared, so no more were to be expected from that quarter. When Mr. Bumpkin asked where “old Jack” was (that was the donkey), he was informed that “the man” had fetched it. “The man”
it appeared was always fetching something. Yesterday it was pigs; the day before it was ducks; the day before that it was geese; and about a week ago it was a stack of this year’s hay: a stack of very prime clover indeed. Then “the man” took a fancy to some cheeses which Mrs. Bumpkin had in the dairy, some of her very finest make. She remonstrated, but “the man” was peremptory. But what most surprised Mr. Bumpkin, and drew tears from Mrs. Bumpkin’s eyes, was when the successful litigant enquired how the bull was.
Mrs. Bumpkin had invented many plans with a view to “breaking this out” to her husband: and now that the time had come every plan was a failure. The tears betrayed her.
“What, be he dead?” enquired Mr. Bumpkin.
“O, no, Tom—no, no—”
“Well, what then?”
“The man!”