- vested seemed to furnish them with life and magnetism.
"All his life," whispered the fat barrister to his friend, in a tone of curious tenderness, "he has been a blusterer and a blunderer, overanxious, pedantic, weak-willed, easily led, but—but his end is glorious. This is a note he has never touched before."
"This state defence of prisoners is so much mischievous nonsense," said the other almost angrily. "Where does he suppose it will land the country? A judge has no right to advance such an opinion from the bench."
"Bill," said the fat barrister, with a solemnity for which none of his friends would have been prepared, "when you have been one of His Majesty's judges for twenty-five years you may not hold quite such definite opinions. Dear old Bow-wow; all the world knows that underneath his armor he has kept the kindest heart that ever beat, but this is the first time he has made me feel that I wanted to blub."
"'Pon my word, Jumbo," said his friend, impatiently, "don't you begin. We have had enough mawkishness this afternoon to last us for the rest of our lives. I expect Weekes will be falling on the neck of Topott soon, and the clerk will be kissing the sheriff."
"Dear old Bow-wow, dear old boy, how old he is getting. They say this John Davis affair has cut him up dreadfully. There is not a judge on the bench who would feel it more."
"Probably the weakest judge who ever took his seat on the bench. What is he maundering
