It is remarkable that, at the time I speak of, Judges, as a rule, had wonderful confidence in this class of expert, and never seemed to think of forming any opinion of their own.  A witness swore to certain peculiarities; the Judge looked at them and at once saw them, too often without considering that peculiarities are exactly the things that forgers imitate.

“You find the same peculiarity here, my lord, and the same peculiarity there, my lord; consequently I say it is the same handwriting.”

In days long gone by the eminent expert in this science had a great reputation.  As I often met him, I knew his peculiarities, and how annoyed he was if the correctness of his opinion was in the least doubted.

He had a son of whom he was deservedly proud, and he and his son, in cases of importance, were often employed on opposite sides to support or deny the genuineness of a questioned handwriting.  On one occasion, in the Queen’s Bench, a libel was charged against a defendant which he positively denied ever to have written.

I appeared for the defendant, and Mr. Nethercliffe was called as a witness for the plaintiff.

When I rose to cross-examine I handed to the expert six slips of paper, each of which was written in a different kind of handwriting.  Nethercliffe took out his large pair of spectacles—­magnifiers—­which he always carried, and began to polish them with a great deal of care, saying,—­

“I see, Mr. Hawkins, what you are going to try to do—­you want to put me in a hole.”

“I do, Mr. Nethercliffe; and if you are ready for the hole, tell me—­were those six pieces of paper written by one hand at about the same time?”

He examined them carefully, and after a considerable time answered:  “No; they were written at different times and by different hands!”

“By different persons, do you say?”

“Yes, certainly!”

“Now, Mr. Nethercliffe, you are in the hole!  I wrote them myself this morning at this desk.”

He was a good deal disconcerted, not to say very angry, and I then began to ask him about his son.

“You educated your son to your own profession, I believe, Mr. Nethercliffe?”

“I did, sir; I hope there was no harm in that, Mr. Hawkins.”

“Not in the least; it is a lucrative profession.  Was he a diligent student?”

“He was.”

“And became as good an expert as his father, I hope?”

“Even better, I should say, if possible.”

“I think you profess to be infallible, do you not?”

“That is true, Mr. Hawkins, though I say it.”

“And your son, who, as you say, is even better than yourself, is he as infallible as you?”

“Certainly, he ought to be.  Why not?”

Then I put this question; “Have you and your son been sometimes employed on opposite sides in a case?”

“That is hardly a fair question, Mr. Hawkins.”