It was once disputed in France whether a horse could properly be said to have a mouth; a wager concerning it was laid, and referred to no less a person than a Judge, because, says a Frenchman, “our French Judges are held in such esteem that they are appealed to upon the most trifling occasions.” The one party maintained _qu'il falloit dire la gueule à toutes bestes, et qu'il n'y avoit que l'homme qui eust bouche_; but the Judge decided, _qu'à cause de l'excellence du cheval, il falloit dire la bouche_. The Giant King's Knights must have been of the Judge's opinion when they saw Cornelin make but a mouthful of their companion. When our English Judges are holden in such esteem as to be referred to on such occasions, they do not always entertain the appeal. Mr. Brougham when at the Bar—that Mr. Brougham (if posterity enquiries whom I mean) who was afterwards made Lord Chancellor and of whom Sir Edward Sugden justly observed, that if he had but a smattering of law he would know something of everything—Mr. Brougham, I say, opened before Lord Chief Justice Tenterden an action for the amount of a wager laid upon the event of a dog-fight, which through some unwillingness of dogs or men had not been brought to an issue: “We, My Lord,” said the advocate, “were minded that the dogs should fight.”—“Then I,” replied the Judge “are minded to hear no more of it;” and he called another cause. No wager would ever have been left undecided through any unwillingness to fight on the part of Cornelin or of his Master the Knight of the Sun.