drawing a cork from a bottle of porter, the froth of which you are
quite sure from the manner in which the bottle is held, will chiefly
fall upon the sheets between which you are destined to sleep,--unless
some half drunken ruffian, regardless of rights of possession and
negligent of etiquette, deposits himself there before the hour at
which you may think good to retire to rest.

Fruitless and vain would it be for you to endeavour to disturb that
convivial party. Better lock up your bag, above all things not
forgetting your brushes; and, as you are a witness yourself, go down
to the court and admire the ingenious manner in which the great
barrister, Mr. Allewinde, is endeavouring to make that unfortunate
and thoroughly disconcerted young man in the witness box, swear to
a point diametrically opposite to another point to which he has
already sworn at the instigation of counsel on the other side,--and
thereby perjure himself. Never mind the bustling of eager, curious
countrymen; never mind those noisy numerous policemen with their
Sunday brass-chained caps; push on through them all, make your way
into the centre of the court--go down there right on to the lawyers'
benches; never mind the seats being full--plunge in; if you hesitate,
look timid--ask question, or hang back--you are lost, thrust out,
expelled, and finally banished with ignominy into the tumultuous sea
of damp frieze coats, which aestuates in the outer court. But go on
with noise, impudence, and a full face; tread on people's toes, and
thrust them back with "by your leave," and you will find yourself
soon seated in direct view of the judge, counsel, witness and
prisoner. You will be taken for an attorney, or, at any rate, for an
influential court witness. If you talk somewhat loud, and frown very
angrily in the face of the tallest policeman, you may by the ignorant
even be taken for a barrister.

In fact, into court you must come, there is no other place open to
receive you. The big room at the hotel, in which we have been three
times on such different occasions, the long big room where McKeon
presided over so many drunken spirits--where poor Feemy made her last
arrangements with her lover at the ball--and where so soon afterwards
she was brought forward to give her evidence touching his death,
while his cold body was lying dead on the table before her,--this
long big room is now set apart for yet another purpose. The grand
jury are to dine there, and alr