represented in the most
ingenious manner by printers' rules cut to show the dimensions of the
rooms on the third floor, the position of the fireplace, bed, washstand,
chest of drawers, unknown machine in the corner, and other things which
had no bearing whatever on the affair. The other jurors, who could not
read at all, or had an insuperable aversion to that laborious
occupation, were rolling their quids in silence, and looking wise.

At a long table in the centre of the room were seated several young
gentlemen, dressed with singular independence of style. From one point
of view they looked like actors, bearing about them signs of fatigue, as
if from heavy night work. Observed again, they resembled young lawyers
of indolent habits and scanty practice, who had just dropped in to
watch the case.

From their conversation, no clue to their professional identity could be
gathered. They were cracking jokes, propounding conundrums, and telling
stories humorously broad to each other. Everything was to them a
legitimate amusement. The proceedings of the day before were peculiarly
rich in funny reminiscences; and one tall, bright, curly-haired fellow
was evoking roars of suppressed laughter by his capital mimicry of two
of the dullest witnesses. Another was drawing comic profiles of a sleepy
juryman on a scrap of paper. He had previously dashed off a very happy
sketch of the coroner, and shown it to that functionary, who had
"haw-hawed," and pronounced it "devilish good," and, in turn, presented
the young artist with a fine Havana cigar, which he playfully put in his
mouth and chewed the end of. Yet there were, about these young
gentlemen, signs of business, which an intelligent observer might have
easily interpreted. From the outside breast pockets of each of them
protruded a number of pencils; and, from their lower side pockets, thick
memorandum books with gray covers, or stiffly folded quires of foolscap.

They were the reporters of the press--the gamins and good fellows of
literature;--fellows of inexhaustible resources, who carry their wits
literally at their fingers' ends;--who can do more than extract sunbeams
from cucumbers; for they can make up thrilling facts out of
nothing;--who can thread their way through a crowd where a tapeworm
would be squeezed to death;--whose writing desk is usually another man's
back; and who sketch out a much better speech between an orator's
shoulder blades than he is making in front;--wh