The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's Lawsuit Part 44

"That is what he is doing," said the Judge; "go on, witness."

"I say as 'ow thic feller comed out and hugged up aginst I and took 't watch and runned away. I arter'd him, and met him coomin' along wi' it in 's pocket; what can be plaainer an thic?"

There was great laughter as Mr. b.u.mpkin shook his head at the learned counsel for the defence, and thumped one hand upon the ledge in front of him.

"That will do," said Mr. Newboy, sitting down triumphantly.

Then the counsel for the defence arose, and a t.i.tter again went round the Court, and there was a very audible adjustment of persons in preparation for the treat that was to come.

"May the prisoner have a seat, my lord?"

"Oh, certainly," said his lordship; "let an easy-chair be brought immediately."

"Now then, Mr. b.u.mpkin, or whatever your name is, don't lounge on the desk like that, but just stand up and attend to me. Stand up, sir, and answer my questions," says Mr. Nimble.

"I be standin' oop," said b.u.mpkin, "and I can answer thee; ax away."

"Just attend," said the Judge. "You must not go on like that. You are here to answer questions and not to make speeches. If you wish those gentlemen to believe you, you must conduct yourself in a proper manner.

Remember this is a serious charge, and you are upon your oath."

Poor b.u.mpkin! Never was there a more friendless position than that of Ignorance in the witness-box.

"Just attend!" repeated Mr. Nimble; this was a favourite expression of his.

"How may aliases have you?"

"Ow many who?" asked b.u.mpkin. (Roars of laughter.)

"How many different names?"

"Naames! why I s'pose I got two, like moast people."

"How many more?"

"None as iver I knowed of."

"Wait a bit, we shall see. Now, sir, will you swear you have never gone by the name of Pumpkin?"

Loud laughter, in which the learned judge tried not to join.

"Never!"

"Do you swear it?"

"I do."

"My lord, would you kindly let me see the depositions. Now look here, sir, is that your signature?"

"I ain't much of a scollard."

"No; but you can make a cross, I suppose."

"Ay, I can make a cross, or zummut in imitation as well as any man."

"Look at that, is that your cross?"

"It look like un."

"Now then, sir; when you were before the Lord Mayor, I ask you, upon your oath, did you not give the name of Pumpkin?"

"Noa, I din't!"

"Was this read over to you, and were you asked if it was correct?"

"It med be."

"Med be; but wasn't it? You know it was, or, don't you?"

b.u.mpkin seemed spiked, so silent; seemed on fire, so red.

"Well, we know it was so. Now, my lord, I call your lordship's attention to this remarkable fact; here in the depositions he calls himself Pumpkin."

His lordship looks carefully at the depositions and says that certainly is so.

Mr. Newboy rises and says he understands that it may be a mistake of the clerk's.

Judge: "How can you say that, Mr. Newboy, when it's in his affidavit?"

(Clerk of Arraigns whispers to his lordship.) "I mean in his depositions, as I am told they are called in this Court; these are read over to him by the clerk, and he is asked if they are correct." Shakes his head.

(So they began to try the prisoner, not so much on the merits of the case as on the merits of the magistrate's clerk.)

"You certainly said your name was Pumpkin," said the Judge, "and what is more you swore to it."

("They've got the round square at work," muttered a voice in the gallery.)

Mr. Nimble: "Now just attend; have you ever gone so far as to say that this case did not refer to you because your name was not b.u.mpkin?"

The witness hesitates, then says "he b'leeves not."

"Let those two gentlemen, Mr. Crackcrib and Mr. Centrebit, step forward."

There was a bustle in Court, and then, with grinning faces, up stepped the two men who had visited Mr. b.u.mpkin at the "Goose" some days before.

"Have you ever seen these gentlemen before?" asks the learned counsel.

The gentlemen alluded to looked up as if they had practised it together, and both grinned. How can Mr. b.u.mpkin's confusion be described? His under jaw fell, and his head drooped; he was like one caught in a net looking at the fowler.

The question was repeated, and Mr. b.u.mpkin wiped his face and returned his handkerchief into the depths of his hat, into which he would have liked to plunge also.