Two pilgrims spotted on the beach one day an oyster, there abandoned by the tide. Their eyes grew large; their mouths grew moistened at the thought of so delectable a morsel.
One stooped to scoop it up; the other pushed him, saying:
“Not so fast! Whoever first perceived it should the rightful owner be.”
“That’s fine by me. I have an eagly eye, God knows, thank God.”
“My vision’s just as sharp as yours,” the other remonstrated, “and I swear I saw it far away, before you ever did.”
“Suppose it so; I smelled it from a mile away at least!”
“You lie!”
And so the disputation flourished, till along came William Witling, whom they asked to mediate. This providential judge agreed to weigh the matter solemnly.
He opened up the oyster, gulped it down, and, in a lofty, haughty voice, intoned the verdict:
“I award you each, and free of charge, one oyster-shell. Now go in peace.”
The only certain winner in an act of litigation is the trier of fact.