As usual, he gave one that would cut either way, though if it had any tendency whatever it was to induce Jorrocks to go on; and he not wanting much persuasion, it will not surprise our readers to hear that Jorrocks, Capias, and the Yorkshireman were seen a few days after crossing Waterloo Bridge in a yellow post-chaise, on their way to Croydon sessions.

After a “guinea” consultation at the “Greyhound,” they adjourned to the court, which was excessively crowded, Jorrocks being as popular with the farmers and people as Cheatum was the reverse.  Party feeling, too, running rather high at the time, there had been a strong “whip” among the magistrates to get a full attendance to reverse Boreem’s conviction, who had made himself rather obnoxious on the blue interest at the election.  Of course they all came in new hats,[15] and sat on the bench looking as wise as gentlemen judges generally do.

[Footnote 15:  Magistrates always buy their hats about session times, as they have the privilege of keeping their hats on their blocks in court.]

One hundred and twenty-two affiliation cases (for this was in the old Poor Law time) having been disposed of, about one o’clock in the afternoon, the chairman, Mr. Tomkins of Tomkins, moved the order of the day.  He was a perfect prototype of a county magistrate—­with a bald powdered head covered by a low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat, hair terminating behind in a queue, resting on the ample collar of a snuff-brown coat, with a large bay-window of a corporation, with difficulty retained by the joint efforts of a buff waistcoat, and the waistband of a pair of yellow leather breeches.  His countenance, which was solemn and grave in the extreme, might either be indicative of sense or what often serves in the place of wisdom—­when parties can only hold their tongues—­great natural stupidity.  From the judge’s seat, which he occupied in the centre of the bench, he observed, with immense dignity, “There is an appeal of Jorrocks against Cheatum, which we, the bench of magistrates of our lord the king, will take if the parties are ready,” and immediately the court rang with “Jorrocks and Cheatum!  Jorrocks and Cheatum!  Mr. Capias, attorney-at-law!  Mr. Capias answer to his name!  Mr. Sharp attorney-at-law!  Mr. Sharp’s in the jury-room.—­Then go fetch him directly,” from the ushers and bailiffs of the court; for though Tomkins of Tomkins was slow himself, he insisted upon others being quick, and was a great hand at prating about saving the time of the suitors.  At length the bustle of counsel crossing the table, parties coming in and others leaving court, bailiffs shouting, and ushers responding, gradually subsided into a whisper of, “That’s Jorrocks!  That’s Cheatum!” as the belligerent parties took their places by their respective counsel.  Silence having been called and procured, Mr. Smirk, a goodish-looking man for a lawyer, having deliberately unfolded his brief, which his clerk had scored plentifully in the margin, to make the attorney believe he had read it very attentively, rose to address the court—­a signal for half the magistrates to pull their newspapers out of their pockets, and the other half to settle themselves down for a nap, all the sport being considered over when the affiliation cases closed.