all cognizant of.  They are facts that no one would deny—­and we should have a poor opinion of the ass who, at—­er—­such a supreme moment, would attempt to suggest that his call was unthinking and without significance.  But, gentlemen, I shall prove to you that such was the foolish, self-convicting custom of the defendant.  With the greatest reluctance, and the—­er—­greatest pain, I succeeded in wresting from the maidenly modesty of my fair client the innocent confession that the defendant had induced her to correspond with him in these methods.  Picture to yourself, gentlemen, the lonely moonlight road beside the widow’s humble cottage.  It is a beautiful night, sanctified to the affections, and the innocent girl is leaning from her casement.  Presently there appears upon the road a slinking, stealthy figure, the defendant on his way to church.  True to the instruction she has received from him, her lips part in the musical utterance” (the Colonel lowered his voice in a faint falsetto, presumably in fond imitation of his fair client), “‘Keeree!’ Instantly the night becomes resonant with the impassioned reply” (the Colonel here lifted his voice in stentorian tones), “‘Kee-row.’  Again, as he passes, rises the soft ‘Keeree;’ again, as his form is lost in the distance, comes back the deep ‘Keerow.’”

A burst of laughter, long, loud, and irrepressible, struck the whole court-room, and before the Judge could lift his half-composed face and take his handkerchief from his mouth, a faint “Keeree” from some unrecognized obscurity of the court-room was followed by a loud “Keerow” from some opposite locality.  “The Sheriff will clear the court,” said the Judge sternly; but, alas! as the embarrassed and choking officials rushed hither and thither, a soft “Keeree” from the spectators at the window, outside the court-house, was answered by a loud chorus of “Keerows” from the opposite windows, filled with onlookers.  Again the laughter arose everywhere,—­even the fair plaintiff herself sat convulsed behind her handkerchief.

The figure of Colonel Starbottle alone remained erect—­white and rigid.  And then the Judge, looking up, saw—­what no one else in the court had seen—­that the Colonel was sincere and in earnest; that what he had conceived to be the pleader’s most perfect acting and most elaborate irony were the deep, serious, mirthless convictions of a man without the least sense of humor.  There was the respect of this conviction in the Judge’s voice as he said to him gently, “You may proceed, Colonel Starbottle.”

“I thank your Honor,” said the Colonel slowly, “for recognizing and doing all in your power to prevent an interruption that, during my thirty years’ experience at the bar, I have never been subjected to without the privilege of holding the instigators thereof responsible—­personally responsible.  It is possibly my fault that I have failed, oratorically, to convey to the gentlemen of the jury the full force and significance of the defendant’s