defendant's; and, if I know right from wrong, to
postpone his trial a fourth time would be to
insult Divine justice, and trifle with human
misery, and shock the common sense of nations."

The doctor's pen neither clipped the words
nor minced the matter you see. Reading this
the water came into Alfred's eyes: "Ah, staunch
friend," he said, "how few are like you! To the
intellectual dwarfs who conspire with my
oppressors, Hardie v. Hardie is but a family
squabble. Parvis omnia parva." Mr. Compton
read it too; and said from the bottom of his
heart, "Heaven defend us from our friends!
This is enough to make the courts decline to try
the case at all."

And, indeed, it did not cure the evil: for next
term another malade affidavitaire was set up.
Speers to wit. This gentleman deposed to having
come over on purpose to attend the trial; but,
having inadvertently stepped aside as far as
Wales, he lay there stricken with a mysterious
malady, and had just strength to forward medical
certificate. On this the judge, in spite of
remonstrance, adjourned Hardie v. Hardie to the
summer term. Summer came, the evil day drew
nigh: Mr. Heathfield got the venue changed
from Westminster to London, which was the
fifth postponement. At last the cause came on:
the parties and witnesses were all in court, with
two whole days before them to try it in.

Dr. Sampson rushed in furious. "There is
some deviltry afloat," said he. "I was in the
House of Commons last night, and there I saw
the defendant's counsel earwigging the judge."

"Nonsense," said Mr. Compton; " such
suspicions are ridiculous. Do you think they can
talk of nothing but Hardie v. Hardie?"

"Mai—dearr sirr—my son met one of Heathfield's
clerks at dinner, and he let out that the
trile was not to come off. Put this and that
together now."

"It will come off," said Mr. Compton, "and
in five minutes at furthest."

In less than that time the learned judge came
in, and before taking his seat made this
extraordinary speech.

"I hear this cause will take three days to try:
and we have only two days before us. It would
be inconvenient to leave it unfinished; and I
must proceed on circuit the day after to-morrow.
It must be a remanet: no man can do more than
time allows."

Plaintiff's counsel made a feeble remonstrance;
then yielded. And the crier with sonorous
voice called on the case of Bread v. Cheese, in
which there were pounds at stake but no
principle. Oh, with what zest they all went into it;
being small men escaping from a great thing to
a small one. Never hopped frogs into a ditch
with more alacrity. Alfred left the court and
hid himself, and the scalding tears forced their
way down his cheeks at this heartless proceeding:
to let all the witnesses come into court at
a vast expense to the parties: and raise the cup
of justice to the lips of the oppressed, and then
pretend he knew a trial would last more than
two days, and so shirk it. "I'd have made that
a reason for sitting till midnight," said poor
Alfred, "not for prolonging a poor injured man's
agony four mortal months." He then prayed
God earnestly for this great postponer's death
as the only event that could give him back an
Englishman's right of being tried by his peers,
and so went down to Oxford broken-hearted.

As for Sampson he was most indignant, and
said a public man had no business with a private
ear: and wanted to appeal to the press again:
but the doughty doctor had a gentle but powerful
ruler at home, as fiery horses are best ruled
by a gentle hand. Mrs. Sampson requested him
to write no more, but look round for an M.P. to
draw these repeated defeats of justice to the
notice of the House. Now there was a Mr. Bite,
who had taken a prominent and honourable part
in lunacy questions; headed committees and so
on: this seemed the man. Dr. Sampson sent
him a letter saying there was a flagrant case of
a sane man falsely imprisoned, who had now
been near a year applying for a jury, and juggled
out of this constitutional right by arbitrary and
unreasonable postponements: would Mr. Bite
give him (Dr. Sampson) ten minutes and no more,
when he would explain the case and leave
documentary evidence behind him for Mr. Bite to test
his statement. The philanthropical M.P. replied
promptly in these exact words:

"Mr. Bite presents his compliments to Dr.
Sampson to state that it is impossible for him to
go into his case, nor to give him the time he
requests to do so."

Sampson was a little indignant at the man's
insolence; but far more at having been duped
by his public assumption of philanthropy. "The
little pragmatical impostor!" he roared. "With
what a sense o' relief th' animal flings off the
mask of humanity when there is no easy éclat to
be gained by putting 't on." He sent the
philanthropical Bite's revelation of his private self
to Alfred, who returned it with this single
remark: "Homunculi quanti sunt!"

Dishonest suitors all try to postpone; but
they do not gain unmixed good thereby. These
delays give time for more evidence to come in;
and this slow coming and chance evidence is
singularly adverse to the unjust suitor. Of this
came a notable example in October, and made
Richard Hardie determine to precipitate the trial,
and even regret he had not fought it out long
ago.

He had just returned from consulting Messrs.
Heathfield , and sat down to a nice little dinner
in his apartments (Sackville-street), when a
visitor was announced; and in came the slouching
little figure of Mr. Barkington, alias Noah
Skinner.

DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.

Mr. Hardie suppressed a start, and said
nothing. Skinner bowed low with a mixture of his
old cringing way, and a certain sly triumphant
leer, so that his body seemed to say one thing,