This momentary digression leads me to the following story.  I was staying at the house of an old friend, a wealthy Hebrew, while another of the guests was Arthur A’Becket.  As will sometimes happen when you are in good spirits, the conversation took a religious turn.  We drifted into it unconsciously, and our worthy host was telling us that he was in the habit of praying night and morning.  Being in a communicative mood, I said, “Well, since you name it, I sometimes say a little prayer myself.”  The Hebrew was attentive, and seemed not a little surprised.  “This is especially the case in the morning,” I added.  “But once upon a time my mind wavered a little between business and prayer, and I found myself in the midst of my devotional exercise saying, ‘Gentlemen of the jury.’”

“Thank God!” cried A’Becket, “our friend Hawkins is not a Unitarian.”

I often wonder how I was able to get through the amount of business that pressed upon me and retain my health, but happily I did so.  One great factor in my fortunate condition of health was, perhaps, that I had no ridiculous ambition.  What was to come would come as the result of hard work, for I was born to no miraculous interpositions or official friendships.

Having dropped gambling, I set to work, and after a long spell of nisi prius, in all its phases, had engaged my attention, a new sphere of action presented itself in the shape of Compensation Cases—­an easy and lucrative branch, which seemed to be added to, rather than have grown out of, our profession; but whatever was its connection, it was a prolific branch, hanging down with such good fruit that it required no tempter to make you taste it.

Railway, Government, and Municipal authorities were everywhere taking land for public improvements, and where they were, as a rule, my friend Horace Lloyd and myself were engaged in friendly rivalry as to the amount to be paid.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE PRIZE-FIGHT ON FRIMLEY COMMON.

I must now describe a remarkable event that occurred a great many years ago, and which caused no little amusement at the time; indeed, for years after Baron Parke used to tell the story with the greatest pleasure.

In those old days there was a prize-fight on Frimley Common, and it was known long after as the “Frimley Common Prize-Fight,” although many a battle had taken place on Frimley Ridges before that time, and many a one since.  This particular fight was the more celebrated because one of the combatants was killed, and I remember the events connected with it as clearly as if they had taken place only yesterday.  At the following Kingston Assizes the victorious pugilist was indicted for manslaughter.  It was an awful charge, especially before the Judge who was then presiding.  The man, however, escaped for the moment, and a warrant was issued for his apprehension.

At a later period I was at Guildford, where the Assizes were being held.  Even at that time the man “wanted” for the manslaughter could be easily identified, for he still bore visible signs of the punishment he had undergone in the encounter.