Now summonses at Chambers, and appeals, and demurrers, are not at all bad conjuring wands, if you only know how to use them. Two clever men like Prigg and Locust, not only surprise the profession, but alarm the
public, since no one knows what will take place next, and Justice herself is startled from her propriety. Let no clamorous law reformer say that interrogatories or any other multitudinous proceedings at Judge’s Chambers are useless. It is astonishing how many changes you can ring upon them with a little ingenuity, and a very little scrupulosity. Mr. Prigg turned two sides of bacon into an Indian vase, and performed many other feats truly astonishing to persons who look on as mere spectators, and wonder how it is done. Wave your magic wand, good Prigg, and you shall see a hayrick turn into a chestnut mare; and a four-wheeled waggon into a Victoria.
But the greatest change he had effected was in Mr. Bumpkin himself, who loved to hear his wife read the interrogatories and answers. The almanac was nothing to this. He had no idea law was so interesting. I dare say there were two guiding influences working within him, in addition to the many influences working without; one being that inherent British pluck, which once aroused, “doesn’t care, sir, if it costs me a thousand pound, I’ll have it out wi’ un;” the other was the delicious thought that all his present outlay would be repaid by the cunning and covetous Snooks. So much was Bumpkin’s heart in the work of crushing his opponent, that expense was treated with ridicule. I heard him one day say jocularly to Mr. Prigg, who had come for an affidavit:
“Be it a pig, sir, or a heifer?”
“O,” said the worthy Prigg, “we want a pretty good one; I think it must be a heifer.”
All this was very pleasant, and made the business, dull and prosaic in itself, a cheerful recreation.
Then, again, there was a feeling of self-importance
whenever these affidavits came to be sworn. Mr. Bumpkin would put down his ash-stick by the side of the fireplace, and bidding his visitor be seated, would compose himself with satisfaction to listen to the oft-repeated words:
“I, Thomas Bumpkin, make oath, and say—”
Fancy, “I, Bumpkin!” Just let the reader pause over that for a moment! What must “I, Bumpkin,” be whose statement is required on oath before my Lord Judge?