Witness. I did, m’lud.

Judge. Well, Gentlemen of the Jury, perhaps we had better, as a matter of form, have the prisoner before us.  By the bye, where is the prisoner?

Usher (returning).  I believe he’s in the dog-box, m’lud.  They had to put him there, he was so refractory in the guard’s van.

Judge. That shows the advantages of this new way of going Circuit.  A dog-box is just the sort of receptacle for a person accused of murder in the first class—­I mean in the first degree.  When do we get to Blankchester Junction?

Foreman. In a quarter of an hour, m’lud, by my time-tables.  And I should like to say that most of the Jury wish to get out there—­they feel the oscillations of this carriage so much.  If your Lordship would sum up now—­

Judge (with alacrity).  Quite so.  Blankchester is a convenient place for me to alight, I think.

    [Sums up lucidly in about five minutes, and Jury at once
    brings in verdict of Guilty of Manslaughter.

Judge (surprised).  Manslaughter, Gentlemen!  Perhaps, after all, I was wrong in not summing up in the Booking-Office.  It would have given time for more consideration. [Awful collision occurs.

Judge (at bottom of an embankment).  Usher, Usher!  I haven’t pronounced sentence yet!  Bring the prisoner before me!

Usher (wounded).  Beg your Lordship’s pardon—­prisoner’s escaped!

Judge. Escaped?  Well, I can sentence him in his absence quite as well.  Oh, dear, my back is bad!  Those law-books came down on the top of me, I believe.  The sentence of the Court is that the prisoner be imprisoned, when found, for three years.

Facetious Counsel (turning up from a heap of wreckage).  As a First Class misdemeanant, of course?

Judge (catching the spirit of the joke).  First Class!  No—­Third Class, for Portland! [Left on Circuit.

* * * * *

ONLY FANCY!

Members of the House of Commons have read with a thrill of interest Lord HENRY BRUCE’s letter to his constituents, announcing his intention not to offer himself for re-election in North West Wilts.  Full five years Lord HENRY has sat in the House.  He has rarely joined in debate, but the manner of his occasional interposition was always notable.  He slowly rose, placed one hand in his trousers’ pocket, looked round the House and said nothing.  Then, when the SPEAKER was about to call on someone else, Lord HENNY blurted forth a few sentences, the end generally coming first, and having apparently said about half what he meant to say, abruptly sat down.  But the House, with keen instinct, always recognised the heaven-born orator, and knew his time would come.  It has come with the opportunity of writing this letter,