Whether
they contributed to my future success, I do not know, but that they
afforded amusement is proved by my remembering them at all.
Hertford and St. Albans were my chief places, my earliest attachments,
and are amongst my pleasantest memories. It seems childish to think of
them as scenes of my struggles, for when I come to look back I had
no struggles at all. I was merely practising like a cricketer at the
nets; there was nothing to struggle for except a verdict when it would
not come without some effort.
But dear old Codd was the man to struggle. He struggled and wriggled;
tie him up as tightly as you could, you saw him fighting to get free,
as he did in the following great duck case. He was a very amiable old
barrister, a fast talker--so fast that he never stayed to pronounce
his words--and of an ingenuity that ought to have been applied to some
better purpose, such as the making of steam-engines or writing novels,
rather than defending thieves. He reminded me on this occasion of the
man in the circus who rode several horses at a time. In the case I
allude to, he set up no less than _seven defences_ to account for the
unhappy duck's finding its way into his client's pocket, and the charm
of them all was their variety. Inconsistency was not the word to apply
reproachfully. Inconsistency was Codd's merit.
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