y to lend himself to his client's motives. And in
this instance, the cunning Keepum finds an excellent instrument of
furthering his ends, in one Peter Crimpton, a somewhat faded and rather
disreputable member of the learned profession. It is said of Crimpton,
that he is clever at managing cases where oppression rather than justice
is sought, and that his present client furnishes the larger half of his
practice.

And while Maria, too sensitive to face the gaze of the coarse crowd,
pauses without, silent and anxious, listening one moment and hoping the
next will see her old father restored to her, the adroit Crimpton rises
to object to "the Schedule." To the end that he may substantiate his
objections, he proposes to examine the prisoner. Having no alternative,
the Commissioner grants the request.

The old Antiquary made out his schedule with the aid of the good-hearted
jailer, who inserted as his effects, "_Necessary wearing apparel_." It
was all he had. Like the gallant Fremont, when he offered to resign his
shirts to his chivalric creditor, he could give them no more. A few
questions are put; the old man answers them with childlike simplicity,
then sits down, his trembling fingers wandering into his beard. Mr.
Crimpton produces his paper, sets forth his objections, and asks
permission to file them, that the case may come before a jury of
"Special Bail."

Permission is granted. The reader will not fail to discover the object
of this procedure. Keepum hopes to continue the old man in prison, that
he may succeed in breaking down the proud spirit of his daughter.

The Commissioner listens attentively to the reading of the objections.
The first sets forth that Mr. McArthur has a gold watch;[7] the second,
that he has a valuable breastpin, said to have been worn by Lord
Cornwallis; and the third, that he has one Yorick's skull. All of these,
Mr. Crimpton regrets to say, are withheld from the schedule, which
virtually constitutes fraud. The facile Commissioner bows; the assembled
crowd look on unmoved; but the old man shakes his head and listens. He
is surprised to find himself accused of fraud; but the law gives him no
power to show his own innocence. The Judge of the Sessions was competent
to decide the question now raised, and to have prevented this reverting
to a "special jury"--this giving the vindictive plaintiff a means of
torturing his infirm victim. Had he but listened to the old man's tale
of poverty, he might h