counsel's observation—the foreman simply
winked) It would be but a brief procedure, he
might add, not more than a 'foot' in length,
but he did not expect them to appreciate his
little joke, until they had heard what was to
follow. If, by chance, any individual of that
useful and talented body, the reporters for the
press, were present (a laugh, and tremendous
scratching of pens), he would request them to
record it, 'a foot.'—Well, to the facts.

"'On a lovely evening in early June, nine
hundred and seventy years ago, the ancestor of the
prisoner at the bar first landed on these shores.
That he was a man of humane and gentle
character, and refined tastes, is sufficiently proved
by the fact that, in those turbulent times, no
record exists of his having burned a castle,
ravaged a nunnery, or broiled a Jew! Might
it not be fairly expected that a man so gracious
would be the honoured father of a line of no less
scrupulous sons, wags, beaux, statesmen, poets,
queen's counsel; men whose ardent love of truth,
and hate of blood, would embalm them for ever
in the retentive memory of the land their virtues
had adorned? Alas! alas!'

"Mr. Bullseye would not detain the jury by
tracing, through nearly nine centuries and a half,
the history of this remarkable family, but would
ask them to look at once at him, their miserable
descendant, cowering under the glance of the
justice he had offended and defied!

"He would restrain his feelings, which had,
for a moment, got the better of him. 'The
prisoner, gentlemen, entered the railway station
at Deal, purchased two first-class tickets, and,
accompanied by a young lady of prepossessing
appearance, got into a carriage, assisted in
doing so by a porter, to whom, in defiance of
the by-laws hanging up before him handsomely
framed, he gave a fourpenny-piece. I mention
this fact, as showing that habitual contempt for all
legal enactments which cropped out (to use a
(figurative expression) so fearfully a few minutes
later.

"'Before leaving, the prisoner desired to
purchase a biscuit, and, finding none were to be
had, expressed his dissatisfaction in language of
considerable strength. This apparently trivial
fact is of the highest importance. It will be my
duty to prove to you, gentlemen, that the prisoner,
on leaving, was in a condition of extreme
hunger.'

"The learned counsel went on to state that, on
the train arriving at London-bridge, the young
lady alluded to was missing. In the mean time
a telegram had been forwarded requesting the
apprehension of the prisoner, and this was
speedily followed by the arrival of three
witnesses, who related what they (the jury) would
presently hear, and brought with them a young
lady's foot, with silk stocking and brodequin
complete. No trace of the body had been
discovered! The mutilated remains of the unhappy
girl were not to be found in the tunnel whose
cavernous depths witnessed this atrocious deed.
They could not have hopped away upon the leg
that was left. He had a theory. It was strange!
It was startling! But ill would it beseem the wig
he wore, should he shrink from the promulgation
of any theory, no matter how repugnant to
common sense, that might serve his client, or
possess the very slightest chance of finding
credence with a British jury.

"'They had all studied natural history.
Indulgence in recreative science was a familiar
characteristic of that admirable class which poured
into the British jury-box its treasures of
patriotism, of wisdom, and of wit. This bottle'
(holding up a small phial) 'contains a colourless
liquid and invisible animalculæ. The jury would
instantly recognise those curious nomads as
members of a deeply-interesting family, the infusoria.
They were distinguished by the most complete
unanimity of taste and touching harmony of
purpose. Their whole time was passed in eating
each other.

"'Size, in the case of these happily-constructed
children of nature, seemed to be of no
consequence whatever. A sharp-set individual of the
race has been seen to attack and swallow a friend
as large—as nay, larger than—himself, and to be
none the worse for his repast! They would bear
this fact in mind.'

"Anthropapagy (Mr. Bullseye continued),
properly so called, had not flourished in England
for a very considerable period. He believed that
there was no absolute record of the practice, since
that case in which a gentleman of half-Highland,
half-negro extraction—Mr. Alexander (commonly
called "Sawney") Bean—cut a very distinguished
figure. Time, which, according to the poet, eats
all sorts of things (edax rerum), has, it must be
owned, revolutionised the whole science of
gastronomy. But, though it has changed, it has not
abolished, innocent and primitive tastes. Horses,
and, he believed, donkeys, were eaten in the
polished salons of Paris. Was it too much to
inquire, if donkeys, why not men? Again, let him
ask, what becomes of the innumerable letters of
the alphabet advertised for day by day, and year
by year, yet which never come to hand? 'What,
for example, becomes of the friend for whom, in
difficulties, you advanced the sum of fifty pounds?
Do you ever meet him again? Never. Is he
dragged to some suburban shambles and eaten?
Is he simply devoured by regret at his own inability
to come up to time? Your knowledge of the
man precludes the latter theory. Then, by the
exhaustive process, it must be the former.'

"The learned counsel had little more to add.
There was his theory. He did not ask them to
accept it. It was theirs, to take or leave. He
would conclude by a simple summary of his facts.
He had shown:

"1. That the prisoner, on quitting Deal, was
almost frantic with hunger.

"2. That the young woman entered the tunnel,
and never came out (at least, in her original
form).

"3. That Anthropophagy cannot yet be classed