XXIII.
LANTY OLIPHANT IN COURT.
Lawyers allege that there are four classes of witnesses: those who prove too much, those who prove too little, those of a totally negative character, and those of no character at all, who will prove anything. We have a case in point.
Far, very far away from the tall Blue Mountains, at a little place called Lodom, there were upon a time three neighbours called in, as arbitrators, to settle a point relative to some stolen chickens, in dispute between one Lot Corson, and a “hard case” called Emanuel Allen, better known thereabouts as King of the Marsh.
“Mister Constable,” said one of the semi-judicials, “now call the principal witness.”
“Lanty Oliphant! Lanty Oliph-ant!” bawled Dogberry; “Mosey in, and be sworn!”
In obedience to this summons, little Lanty, whose bottle had usurped the place in his affections commonly assigned to soap and water, waddled up, and was qualified, deprecating, by a look, the necessity of such a useless ceremony among gentlemen.
“Mister Oliphant, you are now swore. Do you know the value of an oath?” asked the senior of the board.
“Doesn’t I?” rejoined Lanty, with a wink at a bystander. “Four bushel of weight wheat, the old score wiped off, and licker for the hul day throw’d in.”
This matter-of-fact answer met a severe frown from the man with the red ribbon round his hat.
“Well, Mister Oliphant,” continued the senior, “tell all you know about this here case.”