"Juries," said Mr. Bumble, grasping his cane tightly, as was his wont when working into a passion, "Juries is ineddicated, vulgar, grovelling wretches."
"So they are," said the undertaker.
"They haven't no more philosophy nor political economy about 'em than that," said the beadle, snapping his fingers contemptuously.
"No more they have," acquiesced the undertaker.
"I despise 'em," said the beadle, growing very red in the face.
"So do I," rejoined the undertaker.
"A peculiar anthologic maze, an amusing literary chaos, a farrago of quotations, a mere olla podrida of quaintness, a pot pourri of pleasant delites, a florilegium of elegant extracts, a tangled fardel of old-world flowers of thought, a faggot of odd fancies, quips, facetiae, loosely tied" (Holbrook Jackson, Anatomy of Bibliomania) by a "laudator temporis acti," a "praiser of time past" (Horace, Ars Poetica 173).
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Wednesday, May 04, 2005
The Jury System
Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, chap. 4: