badgering of the witness. They can say nothing about the absurd
objections that are interrupting the proceedings or the spiteful
little exceptions that are being thrown in, but can only quietly store
up an increasing mistrust of the whole method. When the lawyer objects
so strenuously the jury thinks he must have something to conceal. Yet
when the objections are made they have a certain effect which is not
at first realized. A question is asked that is to the juryman
perfectly sensible, but which is absolutely inadmissable under the
rules of evidence. For example, the lawyer asks, "What did you tell
your wife about the accident when you got home?" Any reasonable man
knows that what he tells his wife is very important and bears on the
question of his veracity. The other lawyer very properly objects. The
jury thinks there must be something in it. The lawyer asks again,
"Didn't you tell your wife the horses were going very fast?" The other
lawyer is on his feet. "I object," he says, "and I must ask your Honor
to instruct the counsel not to ask questions that are manifestly
improper." The Court rules in favor of the objecting lawyer. He
admonishes the lawyer and instructs the jury to disregard the
question. Yet what is the effect? The jury believes unless the lawyer
thought the answer would be most unfavorable to his side he would not
have objected to it so strenuously. The impression remains on the
minds of the jury that there was a good deal to that question of what
he told his wife.

It is for this reason that when the lawyer keeps on asking
objectionable questions, the judge will sometimes declare a mistrial
or allow one side to withdraw a juror, which is only a polite way of
saying that the present jury in the particular case can not be fair.

Here arises one of the prettiest dilemmas of the law on the trial of a