In the days when burglary was punished with death, there was very seldom any remission, I was in court one day at Guildford, when a respectably-dressed man in a velveteen suit of a yellowy green colour and pearl buttons came up to me. He looked like one of Lord Onslow's gamekeepers. I knew nothing of him, but seemed to recognize his features as those of one I had seen before. When he came in front of my seat he grinned with immense satisfaction, and said,-- "Can I get you anything, Mr. Orkins?" I could not understand the man's meaning. "No, thank you," I said. "What do you mean?" "Don't you recollect, sir, you defended me at Kingston for a burglary charge, and got me off., Mr. Orkins, in flyin' colours?" I recollected. He seemed to have the flying colours on his lips. "Very well," I said; "I hope you will never want defending again." "No, sir; never." "That's right." "Would a _teapot_ be of any use to you, Mr. Orkins?" "A teapot!" "Yes, sir, or a few silver spoons--anything you like to name, Mr. Orkins." I begged him to leave the court. "Mr. Orkins, I will; but I am grateful for your gettin' me off that job, and if a piece o' plate will be any good, I'll guarantee it's good old family stuff as'll fetch you a lot o' money some day." I again told him to go, and, disappointed at my not accepting things of greater value, he said,-- "Sir, will a sack o' taters be of any service to you?" This sort of gratitude was not uncommon in those days. I told the story to Mr. Justice Wightman, and he said,-- "Oh, that's nothing to what happened to the Common Serjeant of London. He had sent to him once a Christmas hamper containing a hare, a brace and a half of pheasants, three ducks, and a couple of fowls, which _he accepted_." I sometimes won a jury over by a little good-natured banter, and often annoyed Chief Justice Campbell when I woke him up with laughter. And yet he liked me, for although often annoyed, he was never really angry. He used to crouch his head down over his two forearms and go to sleep, or pretend to, by way of showing it did not matter what I said to the jury. I dare say it was disrespectful, but I could not help on these occasions quietly pointing across my shoulder at him with my thumb, and that was enough. The jury roared, and Campbell looked up,-- "What's the joke, Mr. Hawkins?" "Nothing, my lord; I was only saying I was quite sure your lordship would tell the jury exactly what I was saying." "Go on, Mr. Hawkins--" Then he turned to his clerk and said,-- "I shall catch him one of these days. Confine yourself to the issue, Mr. Hawkins." "If your lordship pleases," said I, and went on.