The friend of this prisoner, instead of insisting that there was no evidence, since no one could swear to the sheep bones when no man had ever seen them, endeavoured to explain away the cause of death, and thus, by a foolish concession, admitted their actual identity.  It was not Alderson’s duty to defend the prisoner against his own admission, although, but for that, he would have pointed out to the Crown how absolutely illogical their proposition was in law.  But the “friend” of the prisoner suggested that sheep often put their heads through gaps or breakages in the hurdles, and rubbed their necks against the projecting points of the broken bars; and that being so, why should the jury not come to a verdict in favour of the prisoner on that ground?  It was quite possible that the constant rubbing would ultimately cut the sheep’s throat.  If it did not, the prisoner submitted to the same operation at the hand of his “friend.”

“Yes,” said Baron Alderson, “that is a very plausible suggestion to start with; but having commenced your line of defence on that ground, you must continue it, and carry it to the finish; and to do this you must show that not only did this sheep in a moment of temporary insanity—­as I suppose you would allege in order to screen it—­commit suicide, but that it skinned itself and then buried its body, or what, was left of it after giving a portion to the prisoner to eat, in the prisoner’s garden, and covered itself up in its own grave.  You must go as far as that to make a complete defence of it.  I don’t say the jury may not believe you; we shall see.  Gentlemen, what do you say—­is the sheep or the prisoner guilty?” The sheep was instantly acquitted.

There was another display of forensic ingenuity by the same counsel in the next case, where he was once again the “friend” of the prisoner.

A man was charged with stealing a number of gold and silver coins which had been buried a few hours previously under the foundation-stone of a new public edifice.

The prisoner was one of the workmen, and had seen them deposited for the historical curiosity of future ages.  Antiquity, of course, would be the essence of the value of the coins, except to the thief.  The royal hand had covered them with the stone, duly tapped by the silver trowel amidst the hurrahs of the loyal populace, in which the prisoner heartily joined.  But in the night he stole forth, and then stole the coins.

They were found at his cottage secreted in a very private locality, as though his conscience smote him or his fear sought to prevent discovery.  His legal friend, however, driven from the mere outwork of facts, had taken refuge in the citadel of law; he was equal to the occasion.  Alas!  Alderson knew the way into this impregnable retreat.