Law points were threshed over with
gusto, but counsel, client, and witness gained many a point by
ready wit, and there was no lack of dry humor from the bench.
About the Burgh court, for all its stately setting, there was
little formality. The magistrate of the day sat behind a tall
desk, with a clerk of record at his elbow, and the officer gave
his testimony briefly: Edinburgh being quite overrun by stray and
unlicensed dogs, orders had recently been given the Burgh police
to report such animals. In Mr. Traill's place he had seen a small
terrier that appeared to be at home there; and, indeed, on the
dog's going out, Mr. Traill had called a servant lassie to fetch
a bone, and to open the door for him. He noticed that the animal
wore no collar, and felt it his duty to report the matter.
By the time Mr. Traill was called to answer to the charge a
number of curious idlers had gathered on the back benches. He
admitted his name and address, but denied that he either owned or
was harboring a dog. The magistrate fixed a cold eye upon him,
and asked if he meant to contradict the testimony of the officer.
"Nae, your Honor; and he might have seen the same thing ony
week-day of the past eight and a half years. But the bit terrier
is no' my ain dog." Suddenly, the memory of the stormy night, the
sick old man and the pathos of his renunciation of the only
beating heart in the world that loved him--"Bobby isna ma ain
dog!" swept over the remorseful landlord.
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