ounger brother Simeon
down to demand a return of the price of the said corn. But when the said
Simeon came to the said Joseph the said Joseph caught him, and kicked
him, and beat him with a great stick, and had him to prison, and would
not restore him to his brethren, the defendants. Whereupon the
defendants sent other messengers, and at length, after being detained a
long time at the said inn, the said Joseph came down, and on being shown
the said corn, admitted that it was in bad condition. Whereupon the
defendants, fearing to trust the said Joseph with the said sacks until
they had got a return of their said money, demanded that he, the said
Joseph, should put the full tale of every man's money in the sack of the
said man; which thing the said Joseph agreed to, and placed every man's
money in the mouth of his said sack. And when the said man was about to
reach forth his hand to take his said money, the said Joseph seized the
said hand and held him fast--."

"Stop, stop!" cried my wife; "the said Joseph had not ten hands. You
must surely draw the line somewhere."

"No, no," said I, "that is good pleading; if the other side should omit
to deny it, it will be taken by the rules of pleading to be admitted."

"But surely you can't admit impossibilities!"

"Can't you, though!" cried I. "You can do almost anything in pleading."

"Except, it seems to me, tell the truth."

"You mustn't be too hard upon us poor juniors," cried I. "I haven't come
to the Counterclaim yet."

"O don't let us have Counterclaims," quoth she; "they can have no claim
against Joseph?"

"What, not for selling them smutty wheat?"

"Nonsense."

"I say yes; and he'll have to call a number of witnesses to prove the
contrary--nor do I think he will be able to do it."

"I fail now," said my wife, "to see how this pleading is a fine art.
Really, without joking, what is the art?"

"The art of pleading," said I, "consists in denying what is, and inducing
your adversary to admit what isn't."

CHAPTER VII.

Showing that appropriateness of time and place should be studied in our
pastimes.

The next night, sitting over the cheerful fire and comfortably resting
after the labours of the day, I dreamed again, and I saw that Horatio
Snigger was "the Office Boy" of Mr. Prigg. He had been in the employment
of that gentleman about two years. He was tall for his money, standing,
in his shoes, at least five feet six, and receiving for his