has no right to complain so long as it does not interfere with him.  It strikes Mr. Scranton that people who differ with him in opinion must have been educated under the teaching of a bad philosophy.  Great governments, he holds, often nurture the greatest errors.  It matters not how much they feel their magnitude; often, the more they do, the least inclined are they to correct them.  Others fear the constitutional structure so much, that they stand trembling lest the slightest correction totter it to the ground.  Great governments, too, are most likely to stand on small points when these errors are pointed out.  Mr. Scranton declares, with great emphasis, that all these things are most legally true, perfectly natural:  they follow in man as well as governments.

With all due deference to Mr. Scranton’s opinion, so much demanded among his admiring neighbours, it must be said that he never could bring his mind to understand the difference between natural philosophy and his own constitutional scruples, and was very apt to commit himself in argument, forgetting that the evil was in the fruits of a bad system, bringing disgrace upon his countrymen, corrupting the moral foundation of society, spreading vice around the domestic fireside, and giving to base-minded men power to speculate in the foulness of their own crimes.

The case is opened by the attorney for the plaintiff, who makes a great many direct and indirect remarks, and then calls witnesses.  “Marco Graspum!” the clerk exclaims.  That gentleman comes forward, takes his place, calmly, upon the witnesses’ stand.  At first he affects to know but little; then suddenly remembers that he has heard Marston call their mothers property.  Further, he has heard him, while extolling their qualities, state the purchase to have been made of one Silenus, a trader.

“He stated-be sure now!-to you, that he purchased them of one Silenus, a trader?” interpolates the judge, raising his glasses, and advancing his ear, with his hand raised at its side.

Yes, yer honour!” “Please observe this testimony,” rejoins the attorney, quickly.  He bows; says that is enough.  The opposing attorney has no question to put on cross-examination:  he knows Graspum too well.  Being quite at home with the gentlemen of the legal profession, they know his cool nonchalance never can be shaken upon a point of testimony.

“Any questions to put?” asks the legal opponent, with an air of indifference.

“No, nothing,” is the reply.

His brother of special pleas smiles, gives a cunning glance at Graspum, and wipes his face with a very white handkerchief.  He is conscious of the character of his man; it saves all further trouble.  “When we know who we have to deal with, we know how to deal,” he mutters, as he sits down.

Graspum retires from the stand, and takes his seat among the witnesses.  “We will now call Anthony Romescos,” says the attorney.  A few minutes’ pause, and that individual rolls out in all his independence, takes his place on the stand.  He goes through a long series of questioning and cross-questioning, answers for which he seems to have well studied.