Quizzing a Witness — 483
Chapman, a witty lawyer of Hartford, was busy with a case at which a lady was present, with whom he had already something to do as a witness. Her husband was present—a diminutive, meek, forbearing sort of a man—who, in the language of Mr. Chapman, “looked like a rooster just fished out of a swill barrel,” while the lady was a large portly woman, evidently the better horse. As on the former occasion, she baulked on the cross-examination. The lawyer was pressing a question urgently, when she said, with vindictive fire flashing from her eyes, “Mr. Chapman, you needn’t think to catch me; you tried that once before!” Putting on his most quizzical expression, he replied, “Madam, I haven’t the slightest desire to catch you, and your husband looks as if he was sorry he did.” The husband faintly smiled assent.