statements."

When Ridgwell came to a description of the Griffin, his sayings,
doings, his woes and his character generally, the entire Court rocked
with amusement which nobody made any effort to subdue.

"And now," said Counsel, who had watched everything up to this point
with the cunning eye of a fox, "and now, little man, will you kindly
sing as well as you can the song you say the Griffin sang at the party
before the Lion?"

At this point Mr. Learned Bore, with his hands covering his ears, sank
his head upon the solicitor's table at which he sat. If there was one
thing Mr. Learned Bore hated more than children, it was music, in any
shape or form, and when they both came together Mr. Learned Bore shared
all the unpleasant feelings from which Mephistopheles was supposed to
have suffered whenever he heard church bells. In a beautifully clear
childish voice Ridgwell sang the merry song in the merriest way
imaginable.

"Of a merry, merry King I will relate,
Who owned much silver, gold and plate,"

commenced Ridgwell triumphantly, in a quite wonderful rendering of the
Griffin's favourite ballad. The tune was haunting, the swing of the
air irresistible. The entire Court became slowly infected with the
seductive gaiety of the song. The Juniors began to move their feet,
the solicitors began to wave their quill pens to it. The Usher of the
Court nodded his head, and his Lordship the Judge was so carried away
by the melody that he unconsciously beat time gently by wagging one
finger, whilst he smiled around upon the Court; and so in a burst of
pleasing song Ridgwell continued--

"Yet one thing the merry, merry King forgot,
That it would be his Griffin's lot
To be very, very cold or very, very hot--"

"High up in Fleet Street," sang the entire Court.

"So slowly the faithful creature got
Chilblains in Fleet Street."

"Chilblains in Fleet Street," yelled all the Juniors in chorus. On
went Ridgwell without a breath--

"The Griffin grew prettier day by day,
Directing the traffic along each way,
With always a pleasant word to say,"

"High up in Fleet Street," burst from the Court, who knew the phrase
quite as well as the refrain by this time, and could not have sung it
better if they had practised it.

"One trouble alone caused him dismay,"

"Chilblains in Fleet Street," came the chorus, which drowned Ridgwell's
last notes entirely.

Frantic applause in Court, which the Jud