"As I was saying, this Ananias never misses a chance: he's on the look-out at this moment; if they was to push that gangway against his toe, down he'd go and be laid up with an injured spine and concussion of the brain, till he got damages from the company."

"Must be a reg'ler rogue, I allows; I should like to push un overboard."

"Just what he would like; he isn't born to be drowned, that man; he'd soon have a writ out against you. There was a railway accident once miles away in the country; ever so many people were injured and some of 'em killed. Well, down he goes to see if he could get hold of anybody-no, n.o.body would have him-so what does he do but bring an action himself."

"What for?"

"Why, just the same as if he'd been in the accident."

"Ought to be hanged."

"Well, the doctors were very pleased to find that no bones were broken, and, although there were no bruises, they discovered that there were internal injuries: the spine was wrong, and there was concussion of the brain, and so on."

"If ever I 'eerd tell o' sich a thing in my borned days."

"No, but it's true. Well, he was laid up a long time under medical treatment, and it was months before he could get about, and then he brings his action: but before it came on he prosecutes his servant for stealing some trumpery thing or other-a very pretty girl she was too-and the trial came on at Quarter Sessions."

"Where Squoire Stooky sits."

"I never laughed so in all my life; there was the railway company with the red light, and there was Fireaway, the counsel for the girl, and then in hobbled the prosecutor, with a great white bandage round his head. He was so feeble through the injuries he had received that he could hardly walk. 'Now then,' says the counsel, 'is he sworn?' 'Yes,' says the crier.

"'He must be sworn on the Koran,' says Fireaway; 'he's a Mommadon.'

"'Where's the Jorum?' says the crier. 'Must be swore on the Jorum.'

"O dear, dear, you should ha' heard 'em laugh-it was more like a theayter than a court. It was not only roars, but continnerus roars for several minutes. And all the time the larfter was going on there was this man throwin' out his arms over the witness-box at the counsel like a madman; and the more he raved the more they laughed. He was changed from a hobblin' invalid, as the counsel said, into a hathletic pugilist."

"I 'ope she got off."

"Got off with flying colours-we're magnanimous said the jury, 'not guilty.'"

"Well, I likes upright and down-straight," said b.u.mpkin, "it'll goo furdest in th' long run."

"Yes," said O'Rapley, "and the longer the run the furder it'll go."

"So 't wool; but if you doan't mind, sir, I'd like to get nearer that 'ere fireplace."

"The funnel-very well." And as they moved Mr. O'Rapley, in the exuberance of his spirits, delivered another ball at the chimney, which apparently took the middle stump, for the chimney again broke in half.

"Got him!" said he. "I quite agree, and I'll tell you for why. You can play a straight ball if you mind what you are about-just take your bat so, and bring your left elbow well round so, and keep your bat, as you say, upright and down-straight, so-and there you are. And there, indeed, Mr. b.u.mpkin was, on his back, for the boat at that moment b.u.mped so violently against the side of the pier that many persons were staggering about as if they were in a storm.

"Zounds!" said the farmer, as he was being picked up-"these 'ere booats, I doan't like 'em-gie me the ole-fashioned uns."

Now came the usual hullabaloo, "Stand back!-pa.s.s on!-out of the way! now, then, look sharp there!" and the pushing of the gangway against people's shins as though they were so many skittles to be knocked over, and then came the slow process of "pa.s.sing out."

"There's one thing," whispered O'Rapley, "if you do break your leg the company's liable-that's one comfort."

"Thankee, sir," answered b.u.mpkin, "but I bean't a gwine to break my leg for the sake o' a haction-and mebbee ha' to pay the costs."

CHAPTER XIV.

THE OLD BAILEY-ADVANTAGES OF THE NEW SYSTEM ILl.u.s.tRATED.

And I saw in my dream that Don O'Rapley and worthy Master b.u.mpkin proceeded together until they came to the Old Bailey; that delightful place which will ever impress me with the belief that the Satanic Personage is not a homeless wanderer. As they journeyed together O'Rapley asked whether there was any particular kind of case which he would prefer-much the same as he would enquire what he would like for lunch.

"Well, thankee, sir," said b.u.mpkin, "what he there?"-just the same as a hungry guest would ask the waiter for the bill of fare.

"Well," said Mr. O'Rapley, "there's no murder to-day, but there's sure to be highway robberies, burglaries, rapes, and so on."

"Wall, I thinks one o' them air as good as anything," said b.u.mpkin. "I wur on the jury once when a chap were tried."

"Did he get off?"

"Got off as clane as a whusle. Not guilty, we all said: sarved her right."

"It's rather early in the morning, p'r'aps," said O'Rapley; "but there's sure to be something interesting before lunch-crimes are very pop'lar, and for my own part, I think they're as nice as anything: divorces, p'r'aps, are as good, and the female intellect prefers 'em as a more digestable food for their minds."

"As a what, sir!"

"Well, since they did away with _crim. cons_, there's nothing left for females but murders and divorces, worth speaking of."

"Why, how's that, then?"

"O, they're not considered sufficiently moral, that's all. You see, Master b.u.mpkin, we're getting to be a very moral and good people.

They're doin' away with all that's naughty, such as music and dancing, peep-shows and country fairs. This is a religious age. No pictur galleries on a Sunday, but as many public-houses as you like; it's wicked to look at picturs on a Sunday. And now I'll tell you another thing, Master b.u.mpkin, although p'r'aps I ought to keep my mouth closed; but 'ere you'll see a Chancery Judge as knows everything about land and t.i.tles to property, and all that, and never had any training in Criminal Courts, and may be never been inside of one before, you'll see 'im down 'ere tryin' burglaries and robberies, and down at the a.s.sizes you'll see 'im tryin' men and women for stealing mutton pies and a couple of ounces of bacon; that's the way the Round Square's worked, Master b.u.mpkin; and very well it acts. There's a moral atmosphere, too, about the Courts which is very curious. It seems to make every crime look bigger than it really is. But as I say, where's the human natur of a Chancery barrister? How can you get it in Chancery? They only sees human natur in a haffidavit, and although I don't say you can't put a lot of it into a haffidavit, such as perjury and such like, yet it's so done up by the skill of the profession that you can hardly see it. Learning from haffidavits isn't like learning from the witness-box, mark my words, Mr.

b.u.mpkin; and so you'll find when you come to hear a case or two."

Having thus eloquently delivered himself, Mr. O'Rapley paused to see its effect: but there was no answer. There was no doubt the Don could talk a-bit, and took especial pride in expressing his views on law reform, which, to his idea, would best be effected by returning to the "old style."

And I saw that they pushed their way through a crowd of people of all sorts and degrees of unwashedness and crime, and proceeded up a winding stair, through other crowds of the most evil-looking indictable persons you could meet with out of the Bottomless Pit.

And amongst them were pushing, with eager, hungry, dirty faces, men who called themselves clerks, evil-disposed persons who traded under such names as their owners could use no longer on their own account. These prowlers amongst thieves, under the protection of the Law, were permitted to extort what they could from the friends of miserable prisoners under pretence of engaging counsel to defend them. Counsel they would engage after a fashion-sometimes: but not unfrequently they cheated counsel, client and the law at the same time, which is rather better than killing two birds with one stone.

And the two friends, after threading their way through the obnoxious crowd, came to the princ.i.p.al Court of the Old Bailey, called the "Old Court," and a very evil-looking place it was. All the ghosts of past criminals seemed floating in the dingy atmosphere. Crowds of men, women and children were heaped together in all directions, except on the bench and in a kind of pew which was reserved for such ladies as desired to witness the last degradation of human nature.

Presently came in, announced with a loud cry of "Silence!" and "Be uncovered in Court!" a gorgeous array of stout and berobed gentlemen, with ma.s.sive chains and purple faces. These, I learned, were the n.o.ble Aldermen of the Corporation. What a contrast to the meagre wretches who composed the crowd! Here was a picture of what well-fed honesty and virtue could accomplish for human nature on the one part, as opposed to what hungry crime could effect, on the other. Blessings, say I, on good victuals! It is a great promoter of innocence. And I thought how many of the poor, half-starved, cadaverous wretches who crowded into the dock in all their emaciated wretchedness and rags would, under other conditions, have become as portly and rubicund and as moral as the row of worthy aldermen who sat looking at them with contempt from their exalted position.

The rich man doesn't steal a loaf of bread; he has no temptation to do so: the uneducated thief doesn't get up sham companies, because _he_ has no temptation to do so. Temptation and Opportunity have much to answer for in the destinies of men. Honesty is the best policy, but it is not always the most expedient or practicable.

Now there was much arraignment of prisoners, and much swearing of jurymen, and proclamations about "informing my Lords Justices and the Queen's Attorney-General of any crimes, misdemeanours, felonies, &c., committed by any of the prisoners," and "if anybody could so inform my Lords Justices," &c, he was to come forward and do so, and he would be heard. And then the crowd of prisoners, except the one about to be tried, were told to stand down. And down they all swarmed, some laughing and some crying, to the depths below. And the stout warders took their stand beside the remaining prisoner.

"Now," said Mr. O'Rapley, "this Judge is quite fresh to the work, and I'll warrant he'll take a moral view of the law, which is about the worst view a Judge _can_ take."

The man left in the dock was a singular specimen of humanity: he was a thin, wizen-looking man of about seventy, with a wooden leg: and as he stood up to plead, leant on two crutches, while his head shook a good deal, as if he had got the palsy. A smile went round the bar, and in some places broke out into a laugh: the situation was, indeed, ridiculous; and before any but a Chancery Judge, methought, there must be an acquittal on the view. However, I saw that the man pleaded not guilty, and then Mr. Makebelieve opened the case for the Crown. He put it very clearly, and, as he said, fairly before the jury; and then called a tall, large-boned woman of about forty into the witness-box. This was the "afflicted widow," as Makebelieve had called her; and the way she gave her evidence made a visible impression on the mind of the learned Judge. His Lordship looked up occasionally from his note-book and fixed his eyes on the prisoner, whose appearance was that of one trembling with a consciousness of guilt-that is, to one not versed in human nature outside an affidavit.