And here it is that I fail to follow my learned
friend altogether, and here it is also, Mr. Brogg,
that your assistance becomes valuable to me. You
are, I believe, Mr. Grampus's friend—intimate
friend?

WITNESS. I am.

SCREW. And, doubtless, you are acquainted
with that gentleman's art-career from the very
beginning?

WITNESS. I believe that I am.

SCREW. You believe that you are. Very good.
Now, sir, you will doubtless be able to tell me
whether certain information which I have
received as to that career, from the highest source
—mark me, Mr. Brogg, from the very highest
source—is, or is not, correct. (The witness made
no observation, and the learned counsel went on.)
I have here a list of Mr. Grampus's works,
compiled from the most accurate sources, and to
which is appended an account of the ultimate
fate of each one of the pictures. With your
permission I will read the list over to you, and if
there are any mistakes contained in it, you will,
no doubt, be obliging enough to check me as I go
on. ("Ahem! ahem!" coughed the learned counsel,
making a prodigious noise; and then, getting
out the inevitable double eye-glass, he went on:)
Boadicea haranguing the Britons stands first on
my list, eighteen feet by ten, in the artist's
possession.

WITNESS. It is not in the artist's possession,
unhappily.

SCREW. Oh, indeed; not in the artist's
possession? What, is it sold, then?

WITNESS. No, it is not sold.

SCREW. Not sold, and not in the artist's
possession. May I ask what has become of this
immortal work?

WITNESS. It has ceased to exist. (At this
there was a roar of laughter.) The artist, in a
moment of disappointment, destroyed the
picture.

SCREW. Oh, very well; if the work has ceased
to exist, we must get on to something else. I
come next, then, to No. 2, Moses in the
Bulrushes, fourteen feet by twelve, in the artist's
maternal aunt's possession. (Laughter.) The
artist, finding these large high-class works
unsaleable, comes down very much in his notions,
and gives in next, No. 3, a Reaper, two feet by
eighteen inches, and this picture sells to a Mr.
Green—of whom more hereafter. Am I correct,
Mr. Brogg?

WITNESS. Entirely so.

SCREW. Then I will proceed with the list.
No. 4, Murder of the Young Princes in the
Tower, possession of the artist; No. 5, Ugolino,
a study, possession of the artist; No. 6, Infant
Minstrelsy, sold to Mr. Green; No. 7, The
Misanthrope, possession of the artist; No. 8,
Mariana, sold to Mr. Green; No. 9, Triumphs
of Music, possession of the artist; No. 10, The
Leper of the City of Aoste, possession of the
artist; No. 11, Bagpipes at the Eternal City,
sold to Mr. Green. Gentlemen of the jury, I
might go on, but it is needless. It is enough
that I hold in my hand a list of the remaining
works of Mr. Grampus, and that I assure you
they are all either in the possession of the artist
himself or that of this Mr. Green. But, gentlemen,
this list does not show Mr. Grampus in the light
of a prosperous artist. It cannot be contended
that this gentleman, when engaged in producing
these works, is, in reality, engaged in a process
akin to the coining of money. Why, his works
are all either in his own possession or in that of
Mr. Green. And now, gentlemen, with one word
more, we may dismiss this section of the subject.
Who is this Mr. Green? Can you tell us
anything about him, Mr. Brogg?

WITNESS. I had rather not say anything about
Mr. Green.

SCREW. I can't help that, sir; you must. Come,
Mr. Brogg, were you ever intimate with him?

WITNESS. Yes; at one time I may say that I
was.

SCREW. Oh, you were; and did you like him?

WITNESS. Yes; I always found him very
agreeable.

SCREW. You always found him very agreeable.
Just so. Ever think him at all eccentric?

WITNESS. Well, he used to say queer things
sometimes.

SCREW. Did you ever hear him say that he
considered that the whole human race were spoilt
by the possession of noses, and that he looked
forward to the day when he should be entrusted
(by commission) with the office of removing the
feature in question from every human countenance?

WITNESS. Yes, I have heard him say that.

SCREW. Oh, you have! Did you ever hear
him express any opinion on Mr. Grampus's
works? Yes, yes; I dare say you'd rather not,
but you must.

WITNESS. I have heard him say that he hated
them, and only bought them because he felt
too happy, and required something to make him
uneasy.

SCREW. Very good, very good indeed, Mr.
Brogg. Now, perhaps you are in a condition to
say what is his present condition, and his place of
abode? Perhaps you can tell us, Mr. Brogg?

WITNESS. With submission, I would rather
not answer that question.

SCREW. Then, sir, I will answer it for you.
Gentlemen of the jury, Mr. Green, the only
patron of Mr. Grampus's art, is at this moment a
pauper-lunatic in the wards of Colney Hatch
Asylum. He suffers under a painful conviction
that nature has gifted him with a tail.

At this there was a general roar of laughter,
and our friend, wearing an expression of pain
and disgust, was about to descend from the
witness-box, when he was arrested by the voice
of the dreadful Screw, who, it appeared, had not
even yet done with him.

SCREW. Stop a moment, if you please, Mr.—
Mr. Brogg. I must trouble you, I am afraid,
with one or two questions on another matter.