“’With pleasure, my lord.  I was just observing to your lordship and the jury, with the eloquent poet Hergesius, ’vacuus viator cantabit ante latronem.’

“‘Greek, did you call it?’

“‘Yes, my lord, of course I did.’

“’Why, Mr. Purcell, you are quoting Latin to me—­and what do you mean by talking of the learned Hergesius, and Greek all this time?—­the line is Juvenal’s.’

“’My lord, with much submission to your lordship, and every deference to your great attainments and very superior talents, let me still assure you that I am quoting Greek, and that your lordship is in error.’

“’Mr. Purcell, I have only to remark, that if you are desirous of making a jest of the court, you had better be cautious, I say, sir;’ and here the judge waxed exceeding wroth.  ’I say the line is Latin—­Latin, sir, Juvenal’s Latin, sir—­every schoolboy knows it.’

“‘Of course, my lord,’ said Peter, with great humility, ’I bow myself to the decision of your lordship; the line is, therefore, Latin.  Yet I may be permitted to hint that were your lordship disposed to submit this question, as you are shortly about to do another and a similar one, to those clear-sighted and intelligent gentlemen there, I am satisfied, my lord, it would be Greek to every man of them.’

“The look, the voice, and the peculiar emphasis with which Peter gave these words, were perfectly successful.  The acute judge anticipated the wish of the counsel—­the jury were dismissed, and Peter proceeded to his case before those he knew better how to deal with, and with whom the result was more certain to be as he wished it.”

To this anecdote of the counsellor, succeeded many others, of which, as the whiskey was potent and the hour late, my memory is not over retentive:  the party did not break up till near four o’clock; and even then, our seance only concluded, because some one gravely remarked “that as we should be all actively engaged on the morrow, early hours were advisable.”

CHAPTER XIX.

THE ASSIZE TOWN.

I had not been above a week in my new quarters, when my servant presented me, among my letters one morning, with a packet, which with considerable pains, I at length recognised to be directed to me.  The entire envelope was covered with writing in various hands, among which I detected something which bore a faint resemblance to my name; but the address which followed was perfectly unreadable, not only to me, as it appeared, but also to the “experts” of the different post-offices, for it had been followed by sundry directions to try various places beginning with T, which seemed to be the letter commencing the “great unknown locality:”  thus I read “try Tralee,” “try Tyrone,” “try Tanderagee,” &c. &c.  I wonder that they didn’t add, “try Teheran,” and I suppose they would at last, rather than abandon the pursuit.