“Why, gentlemen, there is not sufficient evidence against the prisoner on which to hang a dog.”

“And how much evidence, Mr. ——­, would you consider sufficient to hang a dog?”

“That would depend, my lord, as to whom the dog belonged.”

I thought how like human nature that young man was.

I used to have a very good view of all that took place in court, and could tell some very funny as well as interesting stories about persons I have seen.

One day I was amused so much that, had I not remembered where I was, I must, like my friends mentioned by Robert Burns in his “Twa Dogs,” have “barked wi’ joy,” because I thought it so strange.  Here was a Queen’s Counsel, a man of so proper a countenance that I do not think it ever smiled in its life, and so very devoted to his profession that he would never think of leaving it to go to a racecourse.  I should have as soon expected to meet him in our dogs’ home looking for a greyhound to go coursing with on Primrose Hill,—­and here he was standing up on his hind legs, and making an application to the court which my lord was never in his life known to grant.

It was the night before the Derby, and we always took care to have a full list of cases for that Wednesday, for fear the public should think we went to the Derby and left the work to look after itself.  We generally had about a dozen in pretty early in the afternoon of Tuesday, so that the suitors and witnesses, solicitors and all others whom it concerned, might know where they were, and that they could not go to the Derby the following day.

What a scene it was as soon as this list was published!  I used to sit and watch the various applicants sidle into their seats with the most sheepish faces for men I ever saw.  In came the first gentleman, flustered with excitement.

“Would your lordship allow me to make an application?”

“Yes,” said my lord—­“yes; I see no objection.  What is your application, Mr. ——?” I will not give his name.

“There is a case, my lord, in to-morrow’s list—­number ten.  It is quite impossible, seeing the number of cases before it, that that case can be reached.”

“If that is so,” said my lord, “there is no necessity for making any application—­if you know it is impossible to reach it, I mean to say—­”

“It is ex abundanti cautela, my lord.”

I think that was the expression, but, as it is not dog-Latin, I am not sure.

“It is a good horse to run, I dare say,” said my lord, “but I don’t think he’ll win this time.”

The counsel shook his head and would have smiled, I could see that, only he was disappointed.  I felt sorry for him, because his clients had made arrangements to go to the Derby.  As he was turning disconsolately away my lord spoke with a little more encouragement in his tone and a quiet smile.

“We will see later, Mr. ——.  Is your client unable to appear to-morrow?”