[Illustration]
_Is wholly devoted to a Full and Faithful Report of the Memorable
Trial of Bardell against Pickwick_
"I wonder what the foreman of the jury, whoever he'll be, has got for
breakfast," said Mr. Snodgrass, by way of keeping up a conversation on
the eventful morning of the fourteenth of February.
"Ah!" said Perker, "I hope he's got a good one."
"Why so?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.
"Highly important; very important, my dear sir," replied Perker. "A
good, contented, well-breakfasted juryman, is a capital thing to get
hold of. Discontented or hungry jurymen, my dear sir, always find for
the plaintiff."
"Bless my heart," said Mr. Pickwick, looking very blank; "what do they
do that for?"
"Why, I don't know," replied the little man, coolly; "saves time,
I suppose. If it's near the dinner-time, the foreman takes out his
watch when the jury has retired, and says, 'Dear me, gentlemen, ten
minutes to five, I declare! I dine at five, gentlemen.' So do I,'
says everybody else, except two men who ought to have dined at three,
and seem more than half disposed to stand out in consequence. The
foreman smiles, and puts up his watch:--'Well, gentlemen, what do we
say, plaintiff or defendant, gentlemen? I rather think, so far as I
am concerned, gentlemen,--I say, I rather think,--but don't let that
influence you--I _rather_ think the plaintiff's the man.' Upon this,
two or three other men are sure to say that they think so too--as of
course they do; and then they get on very unanimously and comfortably.
Ten minutes past nine!" said the little man, looking at his watch.
"Time we were off, my dear sir; breach of promise trial--court is
generally full in such cases. You had better ring for a coach, my dear
sir, or we shall be rather late."
Mr. Pickwick immediately rang the bell; and a coach having been
procured, the four Pickwickians and Mr. Perker ensconced themselves
therein, and drove to Guildhall; Sam Weller, Mr. Lowten, and the blue
bag, following in a cab.
"Lowten," said Perker, when they reached the outer hall of the court,
"put Mr. Pickwick's friends in the students' box; Mr. Pickwick himself
had better sit by me. This way, my dear sir, this way." Taking Mr.
Pickwick by the coat-sleeve, the little man led him to the low seat
just beneath the desks of the King's Counsel, which is constructed for
the convenience of attorneys, who from that spot can whisper into the
ear of the leading counsel in the case, any instructions that may be
necessary during the progress of the trial. The occupants of this seat
are invisible to the great body of spectators, inasmuch as they sit on
a much lower level than either the barristers or the audience, whose
seats are raised above the floor. Of course they have their backs to
both, and their faces towards the judge.
"That's the witness-box, I suppose?" said Mr. Pickwick, pointing to a
kind of pulpit, with a brass rail, on his left hand.
"That's the witness-box, my dear sir," replied Perker, disinterring a
quantity of papers from the blue bag, which Lowten had just deposited
at his feet.
"And that," said Mr. Pickwick, pointing to a couple of enclosed seats
on his right, "that's where the jurymen sit, is it not?"
"The identical place, my dear sir," replied Perker, tapping the lid of
his snuff-box.
Mr. Pickwick stood up in a state of great agitation, and took a
glance at the court. There were already a pretty large sprinkling
of spectators in the gallery, and a numerous muster of gentlemen in
wigs, in the barristers' seats: who presented, as a body, all that
pleasing and extensive variety of nose and whisker for which the bar
of England is so justly celebrated. Such of the gentlemen as had a
brief to carry, carried it in as conspicuous a manner as possible, and
occasionally scratched their noses therewith, to impress the fact more
strongly on the observation of the spectators. Other gentlemen, who
had no briefs to show, carried under their arms goodly octavos with a
red label behind, and that under-done-pie-crust-coloured cover, which
is technically known as "law calf." Others, who had neither briefs nor
books, thrust their hands into their pockets, and looked as wise as
they conveniently could; others, again, moved here and there with great
restlessness and earnestness of manner, content to awaken thereby the
admiration and astonishment of the uninitiated strangers. The whole, to
the great wonderment of Mr. Pickwick, were divided into little groups,
who were chatting and discussing the news of the day in the most
unfeeling manner possible,--just as if no trial at all were coming on.
A bow from Mr. Phunky, as he entered, and took his seat behind the row
appropriated to the King's Counsel, attracted Mr. Pickwick's attention;
and he had scarcely returned it, when Mr. Serjeant Snubbin appeared,
followed by Mr. Mallard, who half hid the Serjeant behind a large
crimson bag, which he placed on the table, and after shaking hands
with Perker, withdrew. Then there entered two or three more Serjeants;
and among them, one with a fat body and a red face, who nodded in a
friendly manner to Mr. Serjeant Snubbin, and said it was a fine morning.
"Who's that red-faced man, who said it was a fine morning, and nodded
to our counsel?" whispered Mr. Pickwick.
"Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz," replied Perker. "He's opposed to us; he leads on
the other side. That gentleman behind him is Mr. Skimpin, his junior."
Mr. Pickwick was on the point of inquiring, with great abhorrence of
the man's cold-blooded villainy, how Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, who was
counsel for the opposite party, dared to presume to tell Mr. Serjeant
Snubbin, who was counsel for him, that it was a fine morning, when he
was interrupted by a general rising of the barristers, and a loud cry
of "Silence!" from the officers of the court. Looking round, he found
that this was caused by the entrance of the judge.
Mr. Justice Stareleigh (who sat in the absence of the Chief Justice,
occasioned by indisposition), was a most particularly short man, and
so fat, that he seemed all face and waistcoat. He rolled in, upon two
little turned legs, and having bobbed gravely to the bar, who bobbed
gravely to him, put his little legs underneath his table, and his
little three-cornered hat upon it; and when Mr. Justice Stareleigh
had done this, all you could see of him was two queer little eyes,
one broad pink face, and somewhere about half of a big and very
comical-looking wig.
The judge had no sooner taken his seat, than the officer on the floor
of the court called out "Silence!" in a commanding tone, upon which
another officer in the gallery cried "Silence!" in an angry manner,
whereupon three or four more ushers shouted "Silence!" in a voice of
indignant remonstrance. This being done, a gentleman in black, who sat
below the judge, proceeded to call over the names of the jury; and
after a great deal of bawling, it was discovered that only ten special
jurymen were present. Upon this, Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz prayed a _tales_;
the gentleman in black then proceeded to press into the special jury,
two of the common jurymen; and a greengrocer and a chemist were caught
directly.
"Answer to your names, gentlemen, that you may be sworn," said the
gentleman in black. "Richard Upwitch."
"Here," said the greengrocer.
"Thomas Groffin."
"Here," said the chemist.
"Take the book, gentlemen. You shall well and truly try----"
"I beg this court's pardon," said the chemist, who was a tall, thin,
yellow-visaged man, "but I hope this court will excuse my attendance."
"On what grounds, sir?" said Mr. Justice Stareleigh.
"I have no assistant, my Lord," said the chemist.
"I can't help that, sir," replied Mr. Justice Stareleigh. "You should
hire one."
"I can't afford it, my Lord," rejoined the chemist.
"Then you ought to be able to afford it, sir," said the judge,
reddening; for Mr. Justice Stareleigh's temper bordered on the
irritable, and brooked no contradiction.
"I know I _ought_ to do, if I got on as well as I deserved, but I
don't, my Lord," answered the chemist.
"Swear the gentleman," said the judge, peremptorily.
The officer had got no further than the "You shall well and truly try,"
when he was again interrupted by the chemist.
"I am to be sworn, my Lord, am I?" said the chemist.
"Certainly, sir," said the testy little judge.
"Very well, my Lord," replied the chemist, in a resigned manner. "Then
there'll be murder before this trial's over; that's all. Swear me, if
you please, sir;" and sworn the chemist was, before the judge could
find words to utter.
"I merely wanted to observe, my Lord," said the chemist, taking his
seat with great deliberation, "that I've left nobody but an errand-boy
in my shop. He is a very nice boy, my Lord, but he is not acquainted
with drugs; and I know that the prevailing impression on his mind,
is that Epsom salts means oxalic acid; and syrup of senna, laudanum.
That's all, my Lord." With this, the tall chemist composed himself
into a comfortable attitude, and, assuming a pleasant expression of
countenance, appeared to have prepared himself for the worst.
Mr. Pickwick was regarding the chemist with feelings of the deepest
horror, when a slight sensation was perceptible in the body of the
court; and immediately afterwards Mrs. Bardell, supported by Mrs.
Cluppins, was led in, and placed, in a drooping state, at the other
end of the seat on which Mr. Pickwick sat. An extra-sized umbrella
was then handed in by Mr. Dodson, and a pair of pattens by Mr. Fogg,
each of whom had prepared a most sympathising and melancholy face for
the occasion. Mrs. Sanders then appeared, leading in Master Bardell.
At sight of her child, Mrs. Bardell started; suddenly recollecting
herself, she kissed him in a frantic manner; then relapsing into a
state of hysterical imbecility, the good lady requested to be informed
where she was. In reply to this, Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders turned
their heads away and wept, while Messrs. Dodson and Fogg entreated the
plaintiff to compose herself. Serjeant Buzfuz rubbed his eyes very hard
with a large white handkerchief, and gave an appealing look towards
the jury, while the judge was visibly affected, and several of the
beholders tried to cough down their emotions.
"Very good notion that, indeed," whispered Perker to Mr. Pickwick.
"Capital fellows those Dodson and Fogg; excellent ideas of effect, my
dear sir, excellent."
As Perker spoke, Mrs. Bardell began to recover by slow degrees, while
Mrs. Cluppins, after a careful survey of Master Bardell's buttons and
the button-holes to which they severally belonged, placed him on the
floor of the court in front of his mother,--a commanding position in
which he could not fail to awaken the full commiseration and sympathy
of both judge and jury. This was not done without considerable
opposition, and many tears, on the part of the young gentleman himself,
who had certain inward misgivings that the placing him within the
full glare of the judge's eye was only a formal prelude to his being
immediately ordered away for instant execution, or for transportation
beyond the seas, during the whole term of his natural life, at the very
least.
"Bardell and Pickwick," cried the gentleman in black, calling on the
case, which stood first on the list.
"I am for the plaintiff, my Lord," said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz.
"Who is with you, brother Buzfuz?" said the judge. Mr. Skimpin bowed,
to intimate that he was.
"I appear for the defendant, my Lord," said Mr. Serjeant Snubbin.
"Anybody with you, brother Snubbin?" inquired the court.
"Mr. Phunky, my Lord," replied Serjeant Snubbin.
"Serjeant Buzfuz and Mr. Skimpin for the plaintiff," said the judge,
writing down the names in his note-book, and reading as he wrote; "for
the defendant, Serjeant Snubbin and Mr. Monkey."
"Beg your Lordship's pardon, Phunky."
"Oh, very good," said the judge; "I never had the pleasure of hearing
the gentleman's name before." Here Mr. Phunky bowed and smiled and the
judge bowed and smiled too, and then Mr. Phunky, blushing into the very
whites of his eyes, tried to look as if he didn't know that everybody
was gazing at him: a thing which no man ever succeeded in doing yet,
or, in all reasonable probability, ever will.
"Go on," said the judge.
The ushers again called silence, and Mr. Skimpin proceeded to "open
the case;" and the case appeared to have very little inside it when he
had opened it, for he kept such particulars as he knew, completely to
himself, and sat down, after a lapse of three minutes, leaving the jury
in precisely the same advanced stage of wisdom as they were in before.
Serjeant Buzfuz then rose with all the majesty and dignity which the
grave nature of the proceedings demanded, and having whispered to
Dodson, and conferred briefly with Fogg, pulled his gown over his
shoulders, settled his wig, and addressed the jury.
Serjeant Buzfuz began by saying, that never, in the whole course of
his professional experience--never, from the very first moment of
his applying himself to the study and practice of the law--had he
approached a case with feelings of such deep emotion, or with such a
heavy sense of the responsibility imposed upon him--a responsibility,
he would say, which he could never have supported, were he not buoyed
up and sustained by a conviction so strong, that it amounted to
positive certainty that the cause of truth and justice, or, in other
words, the cause of his much-injured and most oppressed client, must
prevail with the high-minded and intelligent dozen of men whom he now
saw in that box before him.
Counsel usually begin in this way, because it puts the jury on the very
best terms with themselves, and makes them think what sharp fellows
they must be. A visible effect was produced immediately; several
jurymen beginning to take voluminous notes with the utmost eagerness.
"You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen," continued Serjeant
Buzfuz, well knowing that, from the learned friend alluded to, the
gentlemen of the jury had heard just nothing at all--"you have
heard from my learned friend, gentlemen, that this is an action for
a breach of promise of marriage, in which the damages are laid at
£1500. But you have not heard from my learned friend, inasmuch as
it did not come within my learned friend's province to tell you,
what are the facts and circumstances of the case. Those facts and
circumstances, gentlemen, you shall hear detailed by me and proved by
the unimpeachable female whom I will place in that box before you."
Here Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, with a tremendous emphasis on the word "box,"
smote his table with a mighty sound, and glanced at Dodson and Fogg,
who nodded admiration of the serjeant, and indignant defiance of the
defendant.
"The plaintiff, gentlemen," continued Serjeant Buzfuz, in a soft and
melancholy voice, "the plaintiff is a widow; yes, gentlemen, a widow.
The late Mr. Bardell, after enjoying, for many years, the esteem and
confidence of his sovereign, as one of the guardians of his royal
revenues, glided almost imperceptibly from the world, to seek elsewhere
for that repose and peace which a custom-house can never afford."
At this pathetic description of the decease of Mr. Bardell, who had
been knocked on the head with a quart-pot in a public-house cellar, the
learned serjeant's voice faltered, and he proceeded with emotion:
"Some time before his death, he had stamped his likeness upon a little
boy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman,
Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the retirement and
tranquillity of Goswell Street; and here she placed in her front
parlour window a written placard, bearing this inscription--'Apartments
furnished for a single gentleman. Inquire within.'" Here Serjeant
Buzfuz paused, while several gentlemen of the jury took a note of the
document.
"There is no date to that, is there, sir?" inquired a juror.
"There is no date, gentlemen," replied Serjeant Buzfuz: "but I am
instructed to say that it was put in the plaintiff's parlour-window
just this time three years. I entreat the attention of the jury to
the wording of this document. 'Apartments furnished for a single
gentleman'! Mrs. Bardell's opinions of the opposite sex, gentlemen,
were derived from a long contemplation of the inestimable qualities
of her lost husband. She had no fear, she had no distrust, she had no
suspicion, all was confidence and reliance. 'Mr. Bardell,' said the
widow; 'Mr. Bardell was a man of honour, Mr. Bardell was a man of
his word, Mr. Bardell was no deceiver, Mr. Bardell was once a single
gentleman himself; _to_ single gentlemen I look for protection, for
assistance, for comfort, and for consolation; _in_ single gentlemen
I shall perpetually see something to remind me of what Mr. Bardell
was, when he first won my young and untried affections; to a single
gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be let.' Actuated by this beautiful
and touching impulse (among the best impulses of our imperfect nature,
gentlemen), the lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished
the first floor, caught the innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put
the bill up in her parlour-window. Did it remain there long? No. The
serpent was on the watch, the train was laid, the mine was preparing,
the sapper and miner was at work. Before the bill had been in the
parlour-window three days--three days--gentlemen--a Being erect upon
two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a man, and not of
a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell's house. He inquired
within; he took the lodgings; and on the very next day he entered into
possession of them. This man was Pickwick--Pickwick, the defendant."
Serjeant Buzfuz, who had proceeded with such volubility that his face
was perfectly crimson, here paused for breath. The silence awoke Mr.
Justice Stareleigh, who immediately wrote down something with a pen,
without any ink in it, and looked unusually profound, to impress the
jury with the belief that he always thought most deeply with his eyes
shut. Serjeant Buzfuz proceeded:
"Of this man Pickwick I will say little; the subject presents but few
attractions; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, gentlemen,
the men, to delight in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness,
and of systematic villainy."
Here Mr. Pickwick, who had been writhing in silence for some time, gave
a violent start, as if some vague idea of assaulting Serjeant Buzfuz,
in the august presence of justice and law, suggested itself to his
mind. An admonitory gesture from Perker restrained him, and he listened
to the learned gentleman's continuation with a look of indignation,
which contrasted forcibly with the admiring faces of Mrs. Cluppins and
Mrs. Sanders.
"I say systematic villainy, gentlemen," said Serjeant Buzfuz, looking
through Mr. Pickwick and talking _at_ him; "and when I say systematic
villainy, let me tell the defendant Pickwick, if he be in court, as I
am informed he is, that it would have been more decent in him, more
becoming, in better judgment, and in better taste, if he had stopped
away. Let me tell him, gentlemen, that any gestures of dissent or
disapprobation in which he may indulge in this court will not go down
with you; that you will know how to value and how to appreciate them;
and let me tell him further, as my lord will tell you, gentlemen, that
a counsel, in the discharge of his duty to his client, is neither to
be intimidated nor bullied, nor put down; and that any attempt to do
either the one or the other, or the first or the last, will recoil on
the head of the attempter, be he plaintiff or be he defendant, be his
name Pickwick, or Noakes, or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson."
This little divergence from the subject in hand had, of course, the
intended effect of turning all eyes to Mr. Pickwick. Serjeant Buzfuz,
having partially recovered from the state of moral elevation into which
he had lashed himself, resumed:
"I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick continued to
reside constantly, and without interruption or intermission, at Mrs.
Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole
of that time, waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his
meals, looked out his linen for the washerwoman when it went abroad,
darned, aired, and prepared it for wear, when it came home, and, in
short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show you
that, on many occasions, he gave halfpence, and on some occasions even
sixpences, to her little boy; and I shall prove to you, by a witness
whose testimony it will be impossible for my learned friend to weaken
or controvert, that on one occasion he patted the boy on the head, and,
after inquiring whether he had won _alley tors_ or _commoneys_ lately
(both of which I understand to be a particular species of marbles
much prized by the youth of this town), made use of this remarkable
expression: 'How should you like to have another father?' I shall prove
to you, gentlemen, that about a year ago, Pickwick suddenly began
to absent himself from home, during long intervals, as if with the
intention of gradually breaking off from my client; but I shall show
you also, that his resolution was not at that time sufficiently strong,
or that his better feelings conquered, if better feelings he has, or
that the charms and accomplishments of my client prevailed against
his unmanly intentions; by proving to you, that on one occasion, when
he returned from the country, he distinctly and in terms, offered her
marriage: previously, however, taking special care that there should be
no witness to their solemn contract; and I am in a situation to prove
to you, on the testimony of three of his own friends--most unwilling
witnesses, gentlemen--most unwilling witnesses--that on that morning he
was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his arms, and soothing
her agitation by his caresses and endearments."
A visible impression was produced upon the auditors by this part of
the learned serjeant's address. Drawing forth two very small scraps of
paper, he proceeded:
"And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters have passed between
these parties, letters which are admitted to be in the handwriting
of the defendant, and which speak volumes indeed. These letters,
too, bespeak the character of the man. They are not open, fervent,
eloquent epistles, breathing nothing but the language of affectionate
attachment. They are covert, sly, underhanded communications,
but, fortunately, far more conclusive than if couched in the most
glowing language and the most poetic imagery--letters that must
be viewed with a cautious and suspicious eye--letters that were
evidently intended at the time, by Pickwick, to mislead and delude
any third parties into whose hands they might fall. Let me read the
first:--'Garraway's, twelve o'clock. Dear Mrs. B.--Chops and Tomato
sauce. Yours, +Pickwick+.' Gentlemen, what does this mean? 'Chops and
Tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick!' Chops! Gracious heavens! and Tomato
sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding female
to be trifled away by such shallow artifices as these? The next has no
date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. 'Dear Mrs. B., I shall
not be at home till to-morrow. Slow coach.' And then follows this very
remarkable expression. 'Don't trouble yourself about the warming-pan.'
The warming-pan! Why, gentlemen, who _does_ trouble himself about
a warming-pan? When was the peace of mind of man or woman broken or
disturbed by a warming-pan, which is in itself a harmless, a useful,
and I will add, gentlemen, a comforting article of domestic furniture?
Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself
about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere
cover for hidden fire--a mere substitute for some endearing word of
promise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence, artfully
contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplated desertion, and
which I am not in a condition to explain? And what does this allusion
to the slow coach mean? For aught I know, it may be a reference to
Pickwick himself, who has most unquestionably been a criminally slow
coach during the whole of this transaction, but whose speed will now be
very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose wheels, gentlemen, as he will
find to his cost, will very soon be greased by you!"
Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz paused in this place, to see whether the jury
smiled at his joke; but as nobody took it but the greengrocer, whose
sensitiveness on the subject was very probably occasioned by his having
subjected a chaise-cart to the process in question on that identical
morning, the learned serjeant considered it advisable to undergo a
slight relapse into the dismals before he concluded.
"But enough of this, gentlemen," said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz; "it is
difficult to smile with an aching heart; it is ill jesting when our
deepest sympathies are awakened. My client's hopes and prospects are
ruined, and it is no figure of speech to say that her occupation is
gone indeed. The bill is down--but there is no tenant. Eligible single
gentlemen pass and repass--but there is no invitation for them to
inquire within or without. All is gloom and silence in the house; even
the voice of the child is hushed; his infant sports are disregarded
when his mother weeps; his 'alley tors' and his 'commoneys' are alike
neglected; he forgets the long familiar cry of 'knuckle-down,' and at
tip-cheese, or odd and even, his hand is out. But Pickwick, gentlemen,
Pickwick, the ruthless destroyer of this domestic oasis in the desert
of Goswell Street--Pickwick, who has choked up the well, and thrown
ashes on the sward--Pickwick, who comes before you to-day with his
heartless Tomato sauce and warming-pans--Pickwick still rears his head
with unblushing effrontery, and gazes without a sigh on the ruin he
has made. Damages, gentlemen--heavy damages--is the only punishment
with which you can visit him; the only recompense you can award to
my client. And for those damages she now appeals to an enlightened,
a high-minded, a right-feeling, a conscientious, a dispassionate,
a sympathising, a contemplative jury of her civilised countrymen."
With this beautiful peroration, Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz sat down, and Mr.
Justice Stareleigh woke up.
"Call Elizabeth Cluppins," said Serjeant Buzfuz, rising a minute
afterwards, with renewed vigour.
The nearest usher called for Elizabeth Tuppins; another one, at a
little distance off, demanded Elizabeth Jupkins; and a third rushed in
a breathless state into King Street, and screamed for Elizabeth Muffins
till he was hoarse.
Meanwhile Mrs. Cluppins, with the combined assistance of Mrs.
Bardell, Mrs. Sanders, Mr. Dodson, and Mr. Fogg, was hoisted into the
witness-box; and when she was safely perched on the top step, Mrs.
Bardell stood on the bottom one, with the pocket-handkerchief and
pattens in one hand, and a glass bottle that might hold about a quarter
of a pint of smelling salts in the other, ready for any emergency. Mrs.
Sanders, whose eyes were intently fixed on the judge's face, planted
herself close by, with the large umbrella: keeping her right thumb
pressed on the spring with an earnest countenance, as if she were fully
prepared to put it up at a moment's notice.
"Mrs. Cluppins," said Serjeant Buzfuz, "pray compose yourself,
ma'am." Of course, directly Mrs. Cluppins was desired to compose
herself she sobbed with increased vehemence, and gave divers alarming
manifestations of an approaching fainting fit, or, as she afterwards
said, of her feelings being too many for her.
"Do you recollect, Mrs. Cluppins," said Serjeant Buzfuz, after a few
unimportant questions, "do you recollect being in Mrs. Bardell's back
one pair of stairs, on one particular morning in July last, when she
was dusting Pickwick's apartment?"
"Yes, my Lord and Jury, I do," replied Mrs. Cluppins.
"Mr. Pickwick's sitting-room was the first-floor front, I believe?"
"Yes, it were, sir," replied Mrs. Cluppins.
"What were you doing in the back room, ma'am?" inquired the little
judge.
"My Lord and Jury," said Mrs. Cluppins, with interesting agitation, "I
will not deceive you."
"You had better not, ma'am," said the little judge.
"I was there," resumed Mrs. Cluppins, "unbeknown to Mrs. Bardell; I had
been out with a little basket, gentlemen, to buy three pound of red
kidney purtaties, which was three pound tuppense ha'penny, when I see
Mrs. Bardell's street door on the jar."
"On the what?" exclaimed the little judge.
"Partly open, my Lord," said Serjeant Snubbin.
"She _said_ on the jar," said the little judge, with a cunning look.
"It's all the same, my Lord," said Serjeant Snubbin. The little judge
looked doubtful and said he'd make a note of it. Mrs. Cluppins then
resumed:
"I walked in, gentlemen, just to say good mornin', and went, in a
permiscuous manner, up-stairs, and into the back room. Gentlemen, there
was the sound of voices in the front room, and----"
"And you listened, I believe, Mrs. Cluppins?" said Serjeant Buzfuz.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir," replied Mrs. Cluppins, in a majestic
manner, "I would scorn the haction. The voices was very loud, sir, and
forced themselves upon my ear."
"Well, Mrs. Cluppins, you were not listening, but you heard the voices.
Was one of these voices Pickwick's?"
"Yes, it were, sir."
And Mrs. Cluppins, after distinctly stating that Mr. Pickwick addressed
himself to Mrs. Bardell, repeated by slow degrees, and by dint of
many questions, the conversation with which our readers are already
acquainted.
The jury looked suspicious, and Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz smiled and sat
down. They looked positively awful when Serjeant Snubbin intimated that
he should not cross-examine the witness, for Mr. Pickwick wished it to
be distinctly stated that it was due to her to say, that her account
was in substance correct.
Mrs. Cluppins having once broken the ice, thought it a favourable
opportunity for entering into a short dissertation on her own domestic
affairs; so, she straightway proceeded to inform the court that she
was the mother of eight children at that present speaking, and that
she entertained confident expectations of presenting Mr. Cluppins with
a ninth, somewhere about that day six months. At this interesting
point, the little judge interposed most irascibly; and the effect of
the interposition was, that both the worthy lady and Mrs. Sanders were
politely taken out of court, under the escort of Mr. Jackson, without
further parley.
"Nathaniel Winkle!" said Mr. Skimpin.
"Here!" replied a feeble voice. Mr. Winkle entered the witness-box, and
having been duly sworn, bowed to the judge with considerable deference.
"Don't look at me, sir," said the judge, sharply, in acknowledgment of
the salute; "look at the jury."
Mr. Winkle obeyed the mandate, and looked at the place where he thought
it most probable the jury might be; for seeing anything in his then
state of intellectual complication was wholly out of the question.
Mr. Winkle was then examined by Mr. Skimpin, who, being a promising
young man of two or three and forty, was of course anxious to confuse a
witness who was notoriously predisposed in favour of the other side, as
much as he could.
"Now, sir," said Mr. Skimpin, "have the goodness to let his Lordship
and the jury know what your name is, will you?" and Mr. Skimpin
inclined his head on one side to listen with great sharpness to the
answer, and glanced at the jury meanwhile, as if to imply that he
rather expected Mr. Winkle's natural taste for perjury would induce him
to give some name which did not belong to him.
"Winkle," replied the witness.
"What's your Christian name, sir?" angrily inquired the little judge.
"Nathaniel, sir."
"Daniel,--any other name?"
"Nathaniel, sir--my Lord, I mean."
"Nathaniel Daniel, or Daniel Nathaniel?"
"No, my Lord, only Nathaniel; not Daniel at all."
"What did you tell me it was Daniel for, then, sir?" inquired the judge.
"I didn't, my Lord," replied Mr. Winkle.
"You did, sir," replied the judge, with a severe frown. "How could I
have got Daniel on my notes, unless you told me so, sir?"
This argument was, of course, unanswerable.
"Mr. Winkle has rather a short memory, my Lord," interposed Mr.
Skimpin, with another glance at the jury. "We shall find means to
refresh it before we have quite done with him, I dare say."
"You had better be careful, sir," said the little judge, with a
sinister look at the witness.
Poor Mr. Winkle bowed, and endeavoured to feign an easiness of manner
which, in his then state of confusion, gave him rather the air of a
disconcerted pickpocket.
"Now, Mr. Winkle," said Mr. Skimpin, "attend to me, if you please,
sir; and let me recommend you, for your own sake, to bear in mind his
Lordship's injunction to be careful. I believe you are a particular
friend of Pickwick, the defendant, are you not?"
"I have known Mr. Pickwick now, as well as I recollect at this moment,
nearly----"
"Pray, Mr. Winkle, do not evade the question. Are you, or are you not,
a particular friend of the defendant's?"
"I was just about to say that----"
"Will you, or will you not, answer my question, sir?"
"If you don't answer the question you'll be committed, sir," interposed
the little judge, looking over his note-book.
"Come, sir," said Mr. Skimpin, "yes or no, if you please."
"Yes, I am," replied Mr. Winkle.
"Yes, you are. And why couldn't you say that at once, sir? Perhaps you
know the plaintiff, too? Eh, Mr. Winkle?"
"I don't know her; I've seen her."
"Oh, you don't know her, but you've seen her? Now, have the goodness to
tell the gentlemen of the jury what you mean by _that_, Mr. Winkle."
"I mean that I am not intimate with her, but I have seen her when I
went to call on Mr. Pickwick in Goswell Street."
"How often have you seen her, sir?"
"How often?"
"Yes, Mr. Winkle, how often? I'll repeat the question for you a dozen
times if you require it, sir." And the learned gentleman, with a firm
and steady frown, placed his hands on his hips, and smiled suspiciously
at the jury.
On this question there arose the edifying brow-beating, customary on
such points. First of all, Mr. Winkle said it was quite impossible for
him to say how many times he had seen Mrs. Bardell. Then he was asked
if he had seen her twenty times, to which he replied, "Certainly,--more
than that." Then he was asked whether he hadn't seen her a hundred
times--whether he couldn't swear that he had seen her more than
fifty times--whether he didn't know that he had seen her at least
seventy-five times--and so forth; the satisfactory conclusion which was
arrived at, at last, being, that he had better take care of himself,
and mind what he was about. The witness having been by these means
reduced to the requisite ebb of nervous perplexity, the examination was
continued as follows:
"Pray Mr. Winkle, do you remember calling on the defendant Pickwick at
these apartments in the plaintiff's house in Goswell Street, on one
particular morning, in the month of July last?"
"Yes, I do."
"Were you accompanied on that occasion by a friend of the name of
Tupman, and another of the name of Snodgrass?"
"Yes, I was."
"Are they here?"
"Yes, they are," replied Mr. Winkle, looking very earnestly towards the
spot where his friends were stationed.
"Pray attend to me, Mr. Winkle, and never mind your friends," said Mr.
Skimpin, with another expressive look at the jury. "They must tell
their stories without any previous consultation with you, if none
has yet taken place (another look at the jury). Now, sir, tell the
gentlemen of the jury what you saw on entering the defendant's room,
on this particular morning. Come; out with it, sir: we must have it,
sooner or later."
"The defendant, Mr. Pickwick, was holding the plaintiff in his arms,
with his hands clasping her waist," replied Mr. Winkle, with natural
hesitation, "and the plaintiff appeared to have fainted away."
"Did you hear the defendant say anything?"
"I heard him call Mrs. Bardell a good creature, and I heard him ask
her to compose herself, for what a situation it was, if anybody should
come, or words to that effect."
"Now, Mr. Winkle, I have only one more question to ask you, and I beg
you to bear in mind his lordship's caution. Will you undertake to swear
that Pickwick, the defendant, did not say on the occasion in question,
'My dear Mrs. Bardell, you're a good creature; compose yourself to this
situation, for to this situation you must come,' or words to _that_
effect?"
"I didn't understand him so, certainly," said Mr. Winkle, astounded at
this ingenious dove-tailing of the few words he had heard. "I was on
the staircase, and couldn't hear distinctly; the impression on my mind
is----"
"The gentlemen of the jury want none of the impressions on your
mind, Mr. Winkle, which I fear would be of little service to honest,
straightforward men," interposed Mr. Skimpin. "You were on the
staircase, and didn't distinctly hear; but you will not swear that
Mr. Pickwick did not make use of the expressions I have quoted? Do I
understand that?"
"No, I will not," replied Mr. Winkle; and down sat Mr. Skimpin with a
triumphant countenance.
Mr. Pickwick's case had not gone off in so particularly happy a manner,
up to this point, that it could very well afford to have any additional
suspicion cast upon it. But as it could afford to be placed in a rather
better light, if possible, Mr. Phunky rose for the purpose of getting
something important out of Mr. Winkle in cross-examination. Whether he
did get anything important out of him will immediately appear.
"I believe, Mr. Winkle," said Mr. Phunky, "that Mr. Pickwick is not a
young man?"
"Oh no," replied Mr. Winkle; "old enough to be my father."
"You have told my learned friend that you have known Mr. Pickwick a
long time. Had you ever any reason to suppose or believe that he was
about to be married?"
"Oh no; certainly not;" replied Mr. Winkle with so much eagerness,
that Mr. Phunky ought to have got him out of the box with all possible
despatch. Lawyers hold that there are two kinds of particularly bad
witnesses: a reluctant witness, and a too-willing witness; it was Mr.
Winkle's fate to figure in both characters.
"I will even go further than this, Mr. Winkle," continued Mr. Phunky in
a most smooth and complacent manner. "Did you ever see anything in Mr.
Pickwick's manner and conduct towards the opposite sex, to induce you
to believe that he ever contemplated matrimony of late years, in any
case?"
"Oh no; certainly not," replied Mr. Winkle.
"Has his behaviour, when females have been in the case, always been
that of a man who, having attained a pretty advanced period of life,
content with his own occupations and amusements, treats them only as a
father might his daughters?"
"Not the least doubt of it," replied Mr. Winkle, in the fulness of his
heart. "That is--yes--oh yes--certainly."
"You have never known anything in his behaviour towards Mrs. Bardell,
or any other female, in the least degree suspicious?" said Mr. Phunky,
preparing to sit down; for Serjeant Snubbin was winking at him.
"N--n--no," replied Mr. Winkle, "except on one trifling occasion which,
I have no doubt, might be easily explained."
Now, if the unfortunate Mr. Phunky had sat down when Serjeant Snubbin
winked at him, or if Serjeant Buzfuz had stopped this irregular
cross-examination at the outset (which he knew better than to do;
observing Mr. Winkle's anxiety, and well knowing it would, in all
probability, lead to something serviceable to him), this unfortunate
admission would not have been elicited. The moment the words fell from
Mr. Winkle's lips, Mr. Phunky sat down, and Serjeant Snubbin rather
hastily told him he might leave the box, which Mr. Winkle prepared to
do with great readiness, when Serjeant Buzfuz stopped him.
"Stay, Mr. Winkle, stay!" said Serjeant Buzfuz. "Will your Lordship
have the goodness to ask him, what this one instance of suspicious
behaviour towards females, on the part of this gentleman, who is old
enough to be his father, was?"
"You hear what the learned counsel says, sir," observed the judge,
turning to the miserable and agonised Mr. Winkle. "Describe the
occasion to which you refer."
"My Lord," said Mr. Winkle, trembling with anxiety, "I--I'd rather not."
"Perhaps so," said the little judge; "but you must."
Amid the profound silence of the whole court, Mr. Winkle faltered out
that the trifling circumstance of suspicion was Mr. Pickwick's being
found in a lady's sleeping apartment at midnight; which had terminated,
he believed, in the breaking off of the projected marriage of the lady
in question, and had led, he knew, to the whole party being forcibly
carried before George Nupkins, Esq., magistrate and justice of the
peace for the borough of Ipswich!
"You may leave the box, sir," said Serjeant Snubbin. Mr. Winkle _did_
leave the box, and rushed with delirious haste to the George and
Vulture, where he was discovered some hours afterwards by the waiter,
groaning in a hollow and dismal manner, with his head buried beneath
the sofa cushions.
Tracy Tupman, and Augustus Snodgrass, were severally called into the
box; both corroborated the testimony of their unhappy friend; and each
was driven to the verge of desperation by excessive badgering.
Susannah Sanders was then called, and examined by Serjeant Buzfuz,
and cross-examined by Serjeant Snubbin. Had always said and believed
that Pickwick would marry Mrs. Bardell; knew that Mrs. Bardell's
being engaged to Pickwick was the current topic of conversation in
the neighbourhood, after the fainting in July; had been told it
herself by Mrs. Mudberry which kept a mangle, and Mrs. Bunkin which
clear-starched, but did not see either Mrs. Mudberry or Mrs. Bunkin in
court. Had heard Pickwick ask the little boy how he should like to have
another father. Did not know that Mrs. Bardell was at that time keeping
company with the baker, but did know that the baker was then a single
man and is now married. Couldn't swear that Mrs. Bardell was not very
fond of the baker, but should think that the baker was not very fond
of Mrs. Bardell, or he wouldn't have married somebody else. Thought
Mrs. Bardell fainted away on the morning in July, because Pickwick
asked her to name the day: knew that she (witness) fainted away stone
dead when Mr. Sanders asked _her_ to name the day, and believed that
everybody as called herself a lady would do the same, under similar
circumstances. Heard Pickwick ask the boy the question about the
marbles, but upon her oath did not know the difference between an alley
tor and a commoney.
By the +Court+--During the period of her keeping company with Mr.
Sanders had received love-letters, like other ladies. In the course of
their correspondence Mr. Sanders had often called her a "duck," but
never "chops," nor yet "tomato sauce." He was particularly fond of
ducks. Perhaps if he had been as fond of chops and tomato sauce, he
might have called her that, as a term of affection.
Serjeant Buzfuz now rose with more importance than he had yet
exhibited, if that were possible, and vociferated: "Call Samuel Weller."
It was quite unnecessary to call Samuel Weller; for Samuel Weller
stepped briskly into the box the instant his name was pronounced;
and placing his hat on the floor, and his arms on the rail, took a
bird's-eye view of the bar, and a comprehensive survey of the bench,
with a remarkably cheerful and lively aspect.
"What's your name, sir?" inquired the judge.
"Sam Weller, my Lord," replied that gentleman.
"Do you spell it with a 'V' or a 'W'?" inquired the judge.
"That depends upon the taste and fancy of the speller, my Lord,"
replied Sam; "I never had occasion to spell it more than once or twice
in my life, but I spells it with a 'V'."
Here a voice in the gallery exclaimed aloud, "Quite right, too,
Samivel, quite right. Put it down a 'we,' my Lord, put it down a 'we'."
"Who is that who dares to address the court?" said the little judge,
looking up. "Usher!"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Bring that person here instantly."
"Yes, my Lord."
But as the usher didn't find the person, he didn't bring him; and,
after a great commotion, all the people who had got up to look for the
culprit sat down again. The little judge turned to the witness as soon
as his indignation would allow him to speak, and said,
"Do you know who that was, sir?"
"I rayther suspect it was my father, my Lord," replied Sam.
"Do you see him here, now?" said the judge.
"No, I don't, my Lord," replied Sam, staring right up into the lantern
in the roof of the court.
"If you could have pointed him out, I would have committed him
instantly," said the judge.
Sam bowed his acknowledgments and turned, with unimpaired cheerfulness
of countenance, towards Serjeant Buzfuz.
"Now, Mr. Weller," said Serjeant Buzfuz.
"Now, sir," replied Sam.
"I believe you are in the service of Mr. Pickwick, the defendant in
this case. Speak up, if you please, Mr. Weller."
"I mean to speak up, sir," replied Sam; "I am in the service of that
'ere gen'l'm'n, and a wery good service it is."
"Little to do, and plenty to get, I suppose?" said Serjeant Buzfuz,
with jocularity.
"Oh, quite enough to get, sir, as the soldier said ven they ordered him
three hundred and fifty lashes," replied Sam.
"You must not tell us what the soldier, or any other man, said, sir,"
interposed the judge, "it's not evidence."
"Wery good, my Lord," replied Sam.
"Do you recollect anything particular happening on the morning when you
were first engaged by the defendant; eh, Mr. Weller?" said Serjeant
Buzfuz.
"Yes I do, sir," replied Sam.
"Have the goodness to tell the jury what it was."
"I had a reg'lar new fit out o' clothes that mornin', gen'l'm'n of
the jury," said Sam, "and that was a wery partickler and uncommon
circumstance vith me in those days."
Hereupon there was a general laugh; and the little judge, looking with
an angry countenance over his desk, said, "You had better be careful,
sir."
"So Mr. Pickwick said at the time, my Lord," replied Sam; "and I wos
wery careful o' that 'ere suit o' clothes; wery careful indeed, my
Lord."
The judge looked sternly at Sam for full two minutes, but Sam's
features were so perfectly calm and serene that the judge said nothing,
and motioned Serjeant Buzfuz to proceed.
"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Weller," said Serjeant Buzfuz, folding
his arms emphatically, and turning half-round to the jury, as if in
mute assurance that he would bother the witness yet: "Do you mean to
tell me, Mr. Weller, that you saw nothing of this fainting on the part
of the plaintiff in the arms of the defendant, which you have heard
described by the witnesses?"
"Certainly not," replied Sam, "I was in the passage till they called me
up, and then the old lady was not there."
"Now, attend, Mr. Weller," said Serjeant Buzfuz, dipping a large pen
into the inkstand before him, for the purpose of frightening Sam with a
show of taking down his answer. "You were in the passage, and yet saw
nothing of what was going forward. Have you a pair of eyes, Mr. Weller?"
"Yes, I have a pair of eyes," replied Sam, "and that's just it. If
they wos a pair o' patent double million magnifyin' gas microscopes of
hextra power, p'raps I might be able to see through a flight o' stairs,
and a deal door; but bein' only eyes, you see, my wision's limited."
At this answer, which was delivered without the slightest appearance
of irritation, and with the most complete simplicity and equanimity of
manner, the spectators tittered, the little judge smiled, and Serjeant
Buzfuz looked particularly foolish. After a short consultation with
Dodson and Fogg, the learned Serjeant again turned towards Sam, and
said, with a painful effort to conceal his vexation, "Now, Mr. Weller,
I'll ask you a question on another point, if you please."
"If you please, sir," rejoined Sam, with the utmost good-humour.
"Do you remember going up to Mrs. Bardell's house, one night in
November last?"
"Oh yes, wery well."
"Oh, you _do_ remember that, Mr. Weller," said Serjeant Buzfuz,
recovering his spirits; "I thought we should get something at last."
"I rayther thought that, too, sir," replied Sam; and at this the
spectators tittered again.
"Well; I suppose you went up to have a little talk about this
trial--eh, Mr. Weller?" said Serjeant Buzfuz, looking knowingly at the
jury.
"I went up to pay the rent; but we _did_ get a talkin' about the
trial," replied Sam.
"Oh, you did get a talking about the trial," said Serjeant Buzfuz,
brightening up with the anticipation of some important discovery. "Now
what passed about the trial; will you have the goodness to tell us, Mr.
Weller?"
"Vith all the pleasure in life, sir," replied Sam. "Arter a few
unimportant obserwations from the two virtuous females as has been
examined here to-day, the ladies gets into a wery great state o'
admiration at the honourable conduct of Mr. Dodson and Fogg--them two
gen'l'm'n as is settin' near you now." This, of course, drew general
attention to Dodson and Fogg, who looked as virtuous as possible.
"The attorneys for the plaintiff," said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz. "Well!
They spoke in high praise of the honourable conduct of Messrs, Dodson
and Fogg, the attorneys for the plaintiff, did they?"
"Yes," said Sam, "they said what a wery gen'rous thing it was o' them
to have taken up the case on spec, and to charge nothing at all for
costs, unless they got 'em out of Mr. Pickwick."
At this very unexpected reply, the spectators tittered again, and
Dodson and Fogg, turning very red, leant over to Serjeant Buzfuz, and
in a hurried manner whispered something in his ear.
"You are quite right," said Serjeant Buzfuz aloud, with affected
composure. "It's perfectly useless, my lord, attempting to get at any
evidence through the impenetrable stupidity of this witness. I will not
trouble the court by asking him any more questions. Stand down, sir."
"Would any other gen'l'm'n like to ask me anythin'?" inquired Sam,
taking up his hat, and looking round most deliberately.
"Not I, Mr. Weller, thank you," said Serjeant Snubbin, laughing.
"You may go down, sir," said Serjeant Buzfuz, waving his hand
impatiently. Sam went down accordingly, after doing Messrs. Dodson and
Fogg's case as much harm as he conveniently could, and saying just as
little respecting Mr. Pickwick as might be, which was precisely the
object he had had in view all along.
"I have no objection to admit, my Lord," said Serjeant Snubbin, "if it
will save the examination of another witness, that Mr. Pickwick has
retired from business, and is a gentleman of considerable independent
property."
"Very well," said Serjeant Buzfuz, putting in the two letters to be
read. "Then that's my case, my Lord."
Serjeant Snubbin then addressed the jury on behalf of the defendant;
and a very long and a very emphatic address he delivered, in which he
bestowed the highest possible eulogiums on the conduct and character
of Mr. Pickwick; but inasmuch as our readers are far better able to
form a correct estimate of that gentleman's merits and deserts, than
Serjeant Snubbin could possibly be, we do not feel called upon to enter
at any length into the learned gentleman's observations. He attempted
to show that the letters which had been exhibited, merely related to
Mr. Pickwick's dinner, or to the preparations for receiving him in his
apartments on his return from some country excursion. It is sufficient
to add in general terms, that he did the best he could for Mr.
Pickwick; and the best, as everybody knows, on the infallible authority
of the old adage, could do no more.
Mr. Justice Stareleigh summed up, in the old-established and most
approved form. He read as much of his notes to the jury as he could
decipher on so short a notice, and made running comments on the
evidence as he went along. If Mrs. Bardell were right, it was perfectly
clear that Mr. Pickwick was wrong, and if they thought the evidence
of Mrs. Cluppins worthy of credence they would believe it, and, if
they didn't, why they wouldn't. If they were satisfied that a breach
of promise of marriage had been committed, they would find for the
plaintiff with such damages as they thought proper; and if, on the
other hand, it appeared to them that no promise of marriage had ever
been given, they would find for the defendant with no damages at all.
The jury then retired to their private room to talk the matter over,
and the judge retired to _his_ private room, to refresh himself with a
mutton chop and a glass of sherry.
An anxious quarter of an hour elapsed; the jury came back; the judge
was fetched in. Mr. Pickwick put on his spectacles, and gazed at the
foreman with an agitated countenance and a quickly beating heart.
"Gentlemen," said the individual in black, "are you all agreed upon
your verdict?"
"We are," replied the foreman.
"Do you find for the plaintiff, gentlemen, or for the defendant?"
"For the plaintiff."
"With what damages, gentlemen?"
"Seven hundred and fifty pounds."
Mr. Pickwick took off his spectacles, carefully wiped the glasses,
folded them into their case, and put them in his pocket; then having
drawn on his gloves with great nicety, and stared at the foreman all
the while, he mechanically followed Mr. Perker and the blue bag out of
court.
They stopped in a side room while Perker paid the court fees; and here,
Mr. Pickwick was joined by his friends. Here, too, he encountered
Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, rubbing their hands with every token of
outward satisfaction.
"Well, gentlemen?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Well, sir?" said Dodson: for self and partner.
"You imagine you'll get your costs, don't you, gentlemen?" said Mr.
Pickwick.
Fogg said they thought it rather probable. Dodson smiled, and said
they'd try.
"You may try, and try, and try again, Messrs. Dodson and Fogg," said
Mr. Pickwick vehemently, "but not one farthing of costs or damages do
you ever get from me, if I spend the rest of my existence in a debtor's
prison."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Dodson. "You'll think better of that, before next
term, Mr. Pickwick."
"He, he, he! We'll soon see about that, Mr. Pickwick," grinned Fogg.
Speechless with indignation, Mr. Pickwick allowed himself to be led
by his solicitor and friends to the door, and there assisted into
a hackney-coach, which had been fetched for the purpose, by the
ever-watchful Sam Weller.
Sam had put up the steps, and was preparing to jump upon the box, when
he felt himself gently touched on the shoulder; and looking round,
his father stood before him. The old gentleman's countenance wore a
mournful expression, as he shook his head gravely, and said, in warning
accents:
"I know'd what 'ud come o' this here mode o' doin' bisness. Oh Sammy,
Sammy, vy worn't there a alleybi!"