ake.

When this phrase had numbered its appointed days, it died away like its
predecessors, and "_Who are you?_" reigned in its stead. This new
favourite, like a mushroom, seems to have sprung up in a night, or, like a
frog in Cheapside, to have come down in a sudden shower. One day it was
unheard, unknown, uninvented; the next it pervaded London. Every alley
resounded with it; every highway was musical with it,

"And street to street, and lane to lane flung back
The one unvarying cry."

The phrase was uttered quickly, and with a sharp sound upon the first and
last words, leaving the middle one little more than an aspiration. Like
all its compeers which had been extensively popular, it was applicable to
almost every variety of circumstance. The lovers of a plain answer to a
plain question did not like it at all. Insolence made use of it to give
offence; ignorance to avoid exposing itself; and waggery to create
laughter. Every new comer into an alehouse tap-room was asked
unceremoniously, "_Who are you?_" and if he looked foolish, scratched his
head, and did not know what to reply, shouts of boisterous merriment
resounded on every side. An authoritative disputant was not unfrequently
put down, and presumption of every kind checked by the same query. When
its popularity was at its height, a gentleman, feeling the hand of a thief
in his pocket, turned suddenly round and caught him in the act,
exclaiming, "_Who are you?_" The mob which gathered round applauded to the
very echo, and thought it the most capital joke they had ever heard, the
very acme of wit, the very essence of humour. Another circumstance of a
similar kind gave an additional fillip to the phrase, and infused new life
and vigour into it just as it was dying away. The scene occurred in the
chief criminal court of the kingdom. A prisoner stood at the bar; the
offence with which he had been charged was clearly proved against him; his
counsel had been heard, not in his defence, but in extenuation, insisting
upon his previous good life and character as reasons for the lenity of the
court. "And where are your witnesses?" inquired the learned judge who
presided. "Please you, my lord, I knows the prisoner at the bar, and a
more honester feller never breathed," said a rough voice in the gallery.
The officers of the court looked aghast, and the strangers tittered with
ill-suppressed laughter. "_Who are you?_" said the judge, looking suddenly
up, but with imper