Southwood—An Invitation from the Vicar—What the Old Oak saw

303

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A Consultation as to new Lodgings—Also a Consultation with Counsel

317

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Mr. Bumpkin receives Compliments from distinguished Persons

325

CHAPTER XXXV.

The Trial

335

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Motion for Rule Nisi, in which is displayed much Learning, Ancient and Modern

351

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Mr. Bumpkin is congratulated by his Neighbours and Friends in the Market Place and sells his Corn

359

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Farewell

375

The Lawsuit

381

“He never suffered his private partiality to intrude into the conduct of publick business.  Nor in appointing to employments did he permit solicitation to supply the place of merit; wisely sensible, that a proper choice of officers is almost the whole of Government.”—Burke.

Extract from Notice of the Work in The Saturday Review, September 15th, 1883:—

“He was obviously quite as eager for a good battle in Court as ever was Dandy Dinmont.”

CHAPTER I.

The beauty of a farm yard on a Sabbath day, and what a difference a single letter will sometimes make in the legal signification of a sentence.

It was during the Long Vacation—that period which is Paradise to the Rich and Purgatory to the Poor Lawyer—to say nothing of the client, who simply exists as a necessary evil in the economy of our enlightened system of Legal Procedure: it was during this delightful or dismal period that I returned one day to my old Farm-house in Devonshire, from a long and interesting ramble.  My excellent thirst and appetite having been temperately appeased, I seated myself cosily by the huge chimney, where the log was always burning; and, having lighted my pipe, surrendered my whole being to the luxurious enjoyment of so charming a situation.  I had scarcely finished smoking, when I fell into a sound and delicious sleep.  And behold! I dreamed a dream; and methought:

It was a beautiful Sabbath morning, in the early part of May, 18--, when two men might have been seen leaning over a pigstye.  The pigstye was situated in a

farm-yard in the lovely village of Yokelton, in the county of Somerset.  Both men had evidently passed what is called the “prime of life,” as was manifest from their white hair, wrinkled brows, and stooping shoulders.  It was obvious that they were contemplating some object with great interest and thoughtful attention.

And I perceived that in quiet and respectful conversation with them was a fine, well-formed, well-educated sow of the Chichester breed.  It was plain from the number of her rings that she was a sow of great distinction, and, indeed, as I afterwards learned, was the most famous for miles around: her progeny (all of whom I suppose were honourables) were esteemed and sought by squire and farmer.  How that sow was bred up to become so polite a creature, was a mystery to all; because there were gentlemen’s homesteads all around, where no such thoroughbred could be found.  But I suppose it’s the same with pigs as it is with men: a well-bred gentleman may work in the fields for his living, and a cad may occupy the manor-house or the nobleman’s hall.

The Chichester sow looked up with an air of easy nonchalance into the faces of the two men who smoked their short pipes, and uttered ever and anon some short ejaculation, such as, “Hem!” “Ah!” “Zounds!” and so forth, while the sow exhibited a familiarity with her superiors only to be acquired by mixing in the best society.  There was a respectful deference which, while it betrayed no sign of servility, was in pleasing contrast with the boisterous and somewhat unbecoming levity of the other inhabitants of the stye.  These people were the last progeny of this illustrious Chichester, and numbered

in all eleven—seven sons and four daughters—honourables all.  It was impossible not to admire the high spirit of this well-descended family.  That they had as yet received no education was due to the fact that their existence dated only from the 21st of January last.  Hence their somewhat erratic conduct, such as jumping, running, diving into the straw, boring their heads into one another’s sides, and other unceremonious proceedings in the presence of the two gentlemen whom it is necessary now more particularly to describe.

Mr. Thomas Bumpkin, the elder of the two, was a man of about seventy summers, as tall and stalwart a specimen of Anglo-Saxon peasantry as you could wish to behold.  And while I use the word “peasantry” let it be clearly understood that I do so in no sense as expressing Mr. Bumpkin’s present condition.  He had risen from the English peasantry, and was what is usually termed a “self-made man.”  He was born in a little hut consisting of “wattle and dab,” and as soon as he could make himself heard was sent into the fields to “mind the birds.”  Early in the November mornings, immediately after the winter sowings, he would be seen with his little bag of brown bread