The Dog Andrew
ing paper in his hand, "I have landed a case that will delight your legal soul."
"Indeed?" queried the elder lawyer. "I have never differentiated between my legal soul and any other I may possess. However, I assume from your remark that we have been retained in a matter presenting some peculiarly absurd, archaic or otherwise interesting doctrine of law?"
"Not directly," responded Tutt. "Though you will doubtless find it entertaining enough, but indirectly—atmospherically so to speak—it touches upon doctrines of jurisprudence, of religion and of philosophy, replete with historic fascination."
"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Tutt, laying down his stogy. "What kind of a case is it?"
"It's a dog case!" said the junior partner, waving the paper. "The dog bit somebody."
"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Tutt, perceptibly brightening. "Doubtless we shall find a precedent in Oliver Goldsmith's famous elegy:
"And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree."
"Only," explained Tutt, "in this case, though the man recovered of the bite, the dog refused to die!"
"And so they want to prosecute the dog? It
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