In a few minutes, however, the judges entered and took their seats; the crier opened the court, the crowd poured in, the plaintiff with his counsel made his appearance, and the business of the day commenced.

I shall not give all the details of this trial; I shall only glance at a few of them.

The courtroom was full, but not crowded; nothing short of a murder or a divorce case ever draws a crowd to such a place.

The counsel for the plaintiff was composed of three of the oldest, ablest, and most experienced members of the Washington bar.  The first of these, Mr. Wiseman, was distinguished for his profound knowledge of the law, his skill in logic, and his closeness in reasoning; the second, Mr. Berners, was celebrated for his fire and eloquence; and the third, Mr. Vivian, was famous for his wit and sarcasm.  Engaged on one side, they were considered invincible.  To these three giants, with the law on their side, was opposed young Ishmael, with nothing but justice on his side.  Bad look-out for justice!  Well, so it was in that great encounter already alluded to between Brian and Ivanhoe.

Mr. Wiseman, for the plaintiff, opened the case.  He was a great, big, bald-headed man, who laid down the law as a blacksmith hammers an anvil, in a clear, forcible, resounding manner, leaving the defense—­as everybody declared—­not a leg to stand upon.

“Oh, Mr. Worth! it is all over with me, and I shall die!” whispered Mrs. Walsh, in deadly terror.

“Have patience! his speech does not impress the court as it does you—­they are used to him.”

Witnesses were called, to prove as well as they could from a bad set of facts, what an excellent husband and father the plaintiff had been; how affectionate, how anxious, how zealous he was for the happiness of his wife and children—­leaving it to be inferred that nothing on earth but her own evil tendencies instigated the wife to withdraw herself and children from his protection!

“Heaven and earth, Mr. Worth, did you ever hear anything like that?  They manage to tell the literal truth, but so pervert it that it is worse than the worse falsehood!” exclaimed Mrs. Walsh, in a low but indignant tone.

“Aye,” answered Ishmael, who sat, pencil and tablets in hand, taking notes; “aye! ‘a lie that is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.’  But the court is accustomed to such witnesses; they do not receive so much credit as you or they think.”

Ishmael did not cross-examine these witnesses; the great mass of rebutting testimony that he could bring forward, he knew, must overwhelm them.  So when the last witness for the plaintiff had been examined, he whispered a few cheering words to the trembling woman by his side, and rose for the defendant.  Now, whenever a new barrister takes the floor for the first time, there is always more or less curiosity and commotion among the old fogies of the forum.

What will he turn out to be? that is the question.  All eyes were turned towards him.