Only the year before, Sir Charles Withers,
Knt., M.P., for Belhanger, had been at the bar,
her Majesty's Attorney-General, carrying
important law bills through the House, receiving
enormous fees in heavy cases—will, ejectment,
claims to peerages, and the like. A short,
round-cheeked glistening man, with a soft, lisping
voice—slow, with oily utterance and
insolent tone, which his companions at the bar
called impudence, but which his followers—he
had no friend—said was fine sarcasm. This
seemed a sort of constitutional failing with
him, and almost uncontrolled; and there was
always going round some story of " Withers's
last," received with half amusement, half disgust.
How he had said to Mr. Justice Bonnycastle,
a mild, inoffensive man, whose only fault was
a slowness arising out of his wish to do
justice, " If I suc-ceed in leading your lee-
ordship's mind, as-seyewming for the moment
that there is something on which I may exercise
that operation," was said, with open
indignation, to be outrageous, and going too far.

The old gentlemen had not yet arrived, and
that golden chamber, glittering so gorgeously
and æsthetically, where, with very little extra
preparation, High Mass might have been sung
at any moment, was in possession of only a few
loungers. It seemed like a gorgeous lantern
whose panes were filled in with stained glass,
and which served as an illuminated casket for a
glorified " McKillop's Reports." Yesterday the
appeal had been " on;" the late Attorney-
General, now become Lord Belhanger of
Belhanger, and his round full cheeks, glistening
even to stickiness, under his great wig, had
heard all the arguments. But the defendant's
case was now presented in a way it had never
been done before. They had secured the
present Attorney, viz. Sir John Render, a masterly
Chancery lawyer, of gentle and persuasive
manner, with a tranquil voice, who, his enemies
said, preached, but with whose ability they
could find no fault, and he opened the case to their
lordships. The old gentlemen were listening.
These few legal noblemen looked dwindled
and deserted, and very much as if they had got
locked up by accident in a rich cathedral. Lord
Belhanger, the Chancellor, carefully listened,
put a question now and again, took a note now
and again. When the Attorney-General had
finished, he looked round with a dry smile, and
screwing up his tiny eyes to the ceiling, as if
he had discovered a new carved monster which
he had never noticed before, said:

"I suppose there is see-omething to be said
on the other side?"

Mr. Buckhorse, eminent at the equity side,
started to his feet, saying:

"They were quite ready, and ready to state
to their l'dships," &c.

But between the law lord who was irreverently
known as " Old Bile-'em" and Lord Belhanger
raged a feud of long standing, arising out of
sarcasms on the part of the latter, repeated
when he was in the House. Thus, when
there was a question of a junior being
put over Prideaux' s head (" Old Bile-'em"
had been Sir John Prideaux), Lord
Belhanger had insolently asked, " Has
Prideaux a head?" Such a speech naturally
inflamed any political animosity that existed
between such eminent men.

During Mr. Buckhorse's argument, therefore,
Lord Prideaux was noticed to be very attentive,
carefully taking notes, and helping on Mr.
Buckhorse with encouragement; on the
contrary, the Right Honourable Baron Belhanger,
of Belhanger, Lord High Chancellor, &c., was
seen leaning back with a resigned air, with his
light eyes searching the ceiling for a new
grotesque, and tapping his fingers together in
measured beats, sometimes without taking down
his eyes, and as if he were addressing the
question to the grotesque, he would ask:

"Then, as I take it, you are contending for
the overthrowal, in this instance at least, of the
old principle of the inadmissibility of hearsay
evidence?" which Mr. Buckhorse would
disclaim with much feeling and even pathos.

"No, no, no, my lud; I would not offer an
insult to your l'dship's understanding——"

"Ah, that's another view," said his lordship,
without removing his eyes. " Go on, please."

But the noble Lord Prideaux came to
Buckhorse's assistance.

"As I take it, Mr. Buckhorse, your argument
is this: you don't import the question of hearsay
at all?"

"Quite so, my lud, quite so," said
Buckhorse with alacrity, as if a light had broken in
on him, though it is likely he would have
adopted, with the same enthusiasm, any
question coming from the same quarter. " But
what I was pressing on you, my lud, was this;"
and then Mr. Buckhorse artfully began to
insinuate that very point of hearsay which he had
disclaimed. On which the Chancellor's eyes
again sought his favourite grotesque, and the
Chancellor's mouth began to blow something
that seemed like a faint whistle. Not at all
disturbed, Mr. Buckhorse had gone on in his
even monotony until again interrupted.

"I had dee-reamed," said the Chancellor,
"that these were all prin-ci-ples which the
merest tee-yro would re-ject. How-ever, go
on."

"Cern'ly, m'lud," said Mr. Buckhorse, as if
this was encouragement. And thus the argument
did go on, until concluded.

Ross was present in the little pew close
to the bar, biting his nails impatiently, chafing,
stamping, and beating the rail of his prison, as if
it was the bar of a cage. He saw that the
Chancellor was not " with him," and he glared
at him as if he would spring out and finish him.
His solicitors were close to him, a little moody
and impatient, auguring mischief, and specially
impatient with their client. At times he would
go out and get fresh air in the great hall
outside, where he would be seen pacing angrily,
and muttering to himself, " I'd like to catch
that old stulfed cockatoo in a dark place.
It is easy for him to lisp and be impudent,