Mr. Long proceeded to examine this witness. Mr. Long had a singularly keen and acute mind, and the witness was nothing in his hands. Old Zeke in a few minutes became so confused that he could not testify to anything. He said first that the day was Tuesday, then Wednesday, then Thursday, then he wouldn’t be sure but that it might be Friday, then Saturday, and at length he wouldn’t swear but that it might have been Sunday. Finally, he said that he wouldn’t swear to the day at all. After this, he was so pressed by Mr. Long, that he thought that the horse might have been a cow; and then he said he wouldn’t swear that it wasn’t a sheep, or a goat, or a dog. Finally, Mr. Long asked him on his oath if he would swear that it wasn’t a rat, and Old Zeke wouldn’t swear that it wasn’t, a rat. Old Zeke’s total discomfiture, however, was nothing to Mr. Long. It was mere child’s play. He longed to close with a worthier antagonist--with the prosecutor himself. The prosecutor swore that cattle had got into his potato field, and had done damage which he had estimated at over five hundred dollars. Mr. Long now proceeded to grapple with the prosecutor. Could he prove damages to the extent of five hundred dollars? He could, all? And how? Could he prove that any cattle had got in? Had he himself seen any cattle? No. No? Who, then, had seen them? Old Zeke. Old Zeke? Very good. Would the prosecutor be kind enough to state which of the cattle that Old Zeke had seen had done the damage? Was it Old Zeke’s rat! At this a roar of laughter arose from the spectators, who were now in the highest state of excitement. And what might have been the value of the potatoes planted there,--or how much would it cost to replant them? Two dollars, or twenty? Over how much ground had Old Zeke’s rat gone, and how many potatoes had Old Zeke’s rat eaten? Would he swear that Old Zeke’s rat wouldn’t have eaten the potatoes even if the wall had been standing? Would he swear that it was possible for any one rat, in five or six days, to eat up five hundred dollars’ worth of potatoes? In a short time the prosecutor had got into an awful state of wrath and confusion. But Mr. Long was merciless, and had made up his mind not to spare him. So he rang the changes on Old Zeke’s rat and the potatoes till all the assembly were convulsed with laughter, and the prosecutor was purple with fury and bewilderment. Then Mr. Long changed his tone to one of greater seriousness. Alluding to the prosecutor’s oath; that the damage had amounted to five hundred dollars, he questioned him with merciless severity as to how he had made that estimate. Had he dug up the potatoes to see if they had been injured? No. Had he ploughed up the field and sowed it again? No. The field remained, then, as it had been planted? Yes. On his oath, did he, or did he not, expect a crop of potatoes? Yes. How much was planted? One acre. How much would be raised? About a hundred bushels. How much would they fetch?