_Queen's Bench Court, No. ----,_ 10.20 A.M.
The eventful morn of my trial for Breach of Promise has at length
arrived, and I am resolved to jot down on the exterior of my brief such
tittles as take place. I have taken my seat in Court on one of the
benches reserved for long-robed juniors; in my immediate rear being my
solicitor, SIDNEY SMARTLE, Esq., who will officiate as my Remembrancer
and Friend in Need.
[Illustration: "FRESH AS A DAISY, AND FINE AS A CARROT FRESH SCRAPED."]
In the Great Hall below I had the pleasure to encounter Miss JESSIMINA
and that worthy Madam her Mamma, being prepared to greet them with
effusive kindness, and assure them I was only a hostile in my
professional capacity. Whether they were struck with awe by the
unaccustomed majesty of my appearance in brand-new wig, bands, &c., in
which I am fresh as a daisy, and fine as a carrot fresh scraped, or
whether they simply did not recognise me in the disguisement of such
toggeries, I am not to decide--but they passed by without responding
visibly to my salutations.
10.25.--A stout, large Q.C., with luxuriant cheek-whiskers has just
entered the row in front. Mister SMARTLE whispers to me that this is
WITHERINGTON, whom I refused to engage, and who is now in opposition.
I have taken the undue liberty to pluck him by the sleeve and introduce
myself in straightforward English style to his honourable notice,
acquainting him that his unfortunate client had a very flimsy case, and
was not deserving of success, while myself was a meritorious Native
Neophyte, whose entire fortune was impaled on a stake, and urging him
not to show too windy a temper to such a shorn lamb as his petitioner.
However, he has declined rather peremptorily to lend me his ears, nor
can I induce his learned junior, who is my next neighbour, to show me
any fraternal kindness. My said solicitor is highly indignant at my
treatment, and warns me in an undertone that I am not to make any
further overtures to such stuck-up individuals.
10.30.--Hon'ble Mister Justice HONEYGALL enters in highly dignified
fashion. He is of a bland, benignant, and intensely clean aspect, which
uplifts my downfallen heart, for it is obvious, from his benevolent and
smiling bow to myself that he already feels a paternal interest in my
achieving the conquest of my spurs.
The jury are taking the oath. Whether any of my co-contributors to
_Punch_ are among them I cannot discover, since they do not vouchsafe
to encourage me by the freemasonry of even a surreptitious simper. But
this is perhaps occasioned by over prudence.
The learned junior on my right has risen, and in shockingly bald and
barren verbiage has stated the issues which are to be tried, and, being
evidently no Heaven-born orator, sits abruptly down, completely
gravelled for lack of a more copious vocabulary. A poor tongue-tied
devil of a chap whom I regard with pity!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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