“Jest call me Jim,” said the individual named, from his distant seat.

“James Fenton” was called to the stand, and Mr. Benedict stepped down.  Jim advanced through the crowd, his hair standing very straight in the air, and his face illumined by a smile that won every heart in the house, except those of the defendant and his counsel.  A war-horse going into battle, or a hungry man going to his dinner, could not have manifested more rampant alacrity.

“Hold up your right hand,” said the clerk.

“Sartin,” said Jim.  “Both on ’em if ye say so.”

“You solemnly swear m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-so help you God!”

“I raally wish, if ye ain’t too tired, that ye’d say that over agin,” said Jim.  “If I’m a goin’ to make a Happy David, I want to know what it is.”

The clerk hesitated, and the judge directed him to repeat the form of the oath distinctly.  When this was done, Jim said:  “Thank ye; there’s nothin’ like startin’ squar.”

“James Fenton,” said Mr. Balfour, beginning a question.

“Jest call me Jim:  I ain’t no prouder here nor I be at Number Nine,” said the witness.

“Very well, Jim,” said Mr. Balfour smiling, “tell us who you are.”

“I’m Jim Fenton, as keeps a hotel at Number Nine.  My father was an Englishman, my mother was a Scotchman, I was born in Ireland, an’ raised in Canady, an’ I’ve lived in Number Nine for more nor twelve year, huntin’, trappin’ an’ keepin’ a hotel.  I hain’t never ben eddicated, but I can tell the truth when it’s necessary, an’ I love my friends an’ hate my enemies.”

“May it please the Court,” said Mr. Cavendish with a sneer, “I beg to suggest to the plaintiff’s counsel that the witness should be required to give his religious views.”

Mr. Belcher laughed, and Mr. Cavendish sniffed his lips, as if they had said a good thing.

“Certainly,” responded Mr. Balfour.  “What are your religious views, Jim?”

“Well,” said Jim, “I hain’t got many, but I sh’d be s’prised if there wasn’t a brimstone mine on t’other side, with a couple o’ picks in it for old Belcher an’ the man as helps ’im.”

The laugh was on Mr. Cavendish.  The Court smiled, the audience roared, and order was demanded.

“That will do,” said Mr. Cavendish.  “The religious views of the witness are definite and satisfactory.”

“Jim, do you know Paul Benedict?” inquired Mr. Balfour.

“Well, I do,” said Jim.  “I’ve knowed ’im ever sence he come to Sevenoaks.”

“How did you make his acquaintance?”

“He used to come into the woods, fishin’ an’ huntin’.  Him an’ me was like brothers.  He was the curisest creetur I ever seen, an’ I hope he takes no ‘fense in hearin’ me say so.  Ye’ve seen his tackle, Mr. Balfour, an’ that split bamboo o’ his, but the jedge hasn’t seen it.  I wish I’d brung it along.  Fond of fishin’, sir?” And Jim turned blandly and patronizingly to the Court.