seemed to give him momentary strength: his clerk was sent for, and the oath taken in due form. The master was lifted up in his bed, and with difficulty subscribed the paper. As he sunk down again he made a signal to his clerk-" Wallace." "Sir !" "Your earlower: have you got the half-crown?" He was dead before morning. HORSE-DEALING TRIALS.

In the art of cross-examining a witness Curran was pre-eminent. What could be cleverer than his repartee in a horse cause, when he asked the jockey's servant his master's age, and the man retorted, with ready gibe, "I never put my hand into his mouth to try!" The laugh was against the counsellor till he made the bitter reply. "You did perfectly right, friend; for your master is said to be a great bite."

Erskine displayed similar readiness in a case of breach of warranty. The horse taken on trial had become dead-lame, but the witness to prove it said he had a cataract in his eye. "A singular proof of lameness," suggested the Court. "It is cause and effect," remarked Erskine; for what is a cataract but a fall ?"

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NORTHUMBRIAN WITNESSES.

Of the difficulty experienced at times by judges and counsel in making out the evidence of Northumbrian witnesses, these are comical illustrations. The inundation of 1771, which swept away the greater part of the old Tyne Bridge, was long remembered and alluded to with emphasis as "the flood." On one occasion Mr. Adam Thompson was put into the witness-box at the Assizes. The counsel asking his name, received for answer. "Adam, sir; Adam Thompson." "Where do you live?"-"At Paradise, sir" (Paradise is a village about a mile and a half west of Newcastle).-" And how long have you dwelt in Paradise ?" continued the barrister.-"Ever since the flood" was the answer, made in all simplicity and with no intention to raise a laugh. It is needless so say that the Judge had to ask for explanations. On another occasion William Russel, deputy-surveyor of the town, said from the witness-box, "As I was going along I saw a hubbleshew coming out of a chair-foot." His Lordship was amazed. What on earth was a 66 hubbleshew" that it could come out of a chair-foot? "My Lord," explained a barrister, learned in the dialect of the natives, 6 a chair-foot' is the lower part of a narrow lane or alley; and 'hubbleshew' is a term signifying riotous concourse of disorderly people."—The Athenæum.

ALMANACKS IN EVIDENCE.

The following anecdote serves to exemplify how necessary it is upon any important occasion to scrutinise the accuracy of a state

ment before it is taken upon trust. A fellow was tried at the Old Bailey for highway robbery, and the prosecutor swore positively to him, saying he had seen his face distinctly, for it was a bright moonlight night. The counsel for the prisoner cross-questioned the man so as to make him repeat that assertion, and insist upon it. He then affirmed that this was a most important circumstance and a most fortunate one for the prisoner at the bar; because the night on which the alleged robbery was said to have been committed was one in which there had been no moon: it was then during the dark quarter! In proof of this he handed an almanack to the bench, and the prisoner was acquitted accordingly. The prosecutor, however, had stated everything truly; and it was known afterwards that the almanack, with which the counsel came provided, had been prepared and printed for the occasion.

LAW OF LIBEL.

Lord Ligonier was killed by the newspapers, and wanted to prosecute them his lawyer told him it was impossible-a tradesman might prosecute, as such a report might affect his credit. "Well, then," said the old man, "I may prosecute too, for I can prove I have been hurt by this report: I was going to marry a great fortune who thought I was but 74; the newspapers have said I am 80, and she will not have me."

SWALLOWING A WRIT.

In Manning and Bray's History of Surrey we find the following strange story, with a voucher for its truth. In Newington church is buried Mr. Sergeant Davy, who died in 1780. He was originally a chemist at Exeter; and a Sheriff's officer coming to serve on him a process from the Court of Common Pleas, he civilly asked him to drink; while the man was drinking Davy contrived to heat a poker, and then told the bailiff that if he did not eat the writ, which was of sheepskin and as good as mutton, he should swallow the poker! The man preferred the parchment; but the Court of Common Pleas, not then accustomed to Mr. Davy's jokes, sent for him to Westminster Hall, and for contempt of their process committed him to the Fleet Prison. From this circumstance, and some unfortunate man whom he met there, he acquired a taste for the law on his discharge he applied himself to the study of it in earnest, was called to the bar, made a serjeant, and was for a long time in good practice.

WITNESSES TO CHARACTER.

"What do you know of his moral character ?" asked the president of the court-martial of a sailor in Jerrold's dramatic version of Black

eyed Susan. "A good deal," is the answer; "he plays on the fiddle like an angel."

The late Earl Dudley wound up an eloquent tribute to the virtues of a deceased Baron of the Exchequer with this pithy peroration: "He had the best melted butter I ever tasted in my life."

The term respectability was defined by one of the witnesses on the trial of John Thurtell for murder. The question was, "What sort of a person was Mr. Weare?" Answer" Mr. Weare was respectable." Counsel "What do you mean by respectability?" ness" He kept a gig."

A LAWYER'S TOAST.

Wit

At a dinner of a provincial Law Society, the president called upon the senior solicitor of the company to toast the person whom he considered the best friend of the profession. "Then," responded he, "the man who makes his own will."

KEEPING THE ADVANTAGE.

Mr. T. O'Meara, an Irish attorney, well known for his conviviality, wit, and good nature, met at the house of a friend an Englishman of rank and fortune, whom he, according to the hospitable custom of that time, invited to his house in the country; and at the close of the visit the Englishman left Ireland with many expressions of obligation for the kindness and attention he had received. Shortly after, O'Meara, for the first time, visited London, and one day saw his English acquaintance walking on the opposite side of Bond-street; so he immediately crossed over, declared, with outstretched hand, how delighted he was to see him again. The gentleman was walking with two friends of highly aristocratic cast, and dressed in the utmost propriety of costume; and when he saw a wild-looking man, with soiled leather breeches, dirty top-boots, not over-clean linen, nor very closely-shaven beard, striding up to him, with a whip in his hand, and the lash twisted round his arm, he started back, and with a look of cold surprise, said, "Sir, you have the advantage of me." "I have, sir," said O'Meara, looking at him coldly for a moment, and then walking away, "and by heaven I'll keep it."

A COURTEOUS JUDGE.

Justice Graham was the most polite judge that ever adorned the bench. On one occasion it was said he had hastily condemned a man, who had been capitally convicted, to transportation, when the clerk of the Court, in a whisper, set him right. "Oh," he exclaimed, "criminal, I beg your pardon; come back:" and putting on the

black cap, courteously apologised for his mistake, and consigned him to the gallows, to be hanged by the neck until he was dead. To one found guilty of burglary, or a similar offence, he would say, "My honest friend, you are found guilty of felony, for which it is my painful duty," &c. &c. Among other peculiarities he had a custom of repeating the answers made to him, as illustrated in the following dialogue:-"My good friend, you are charged with murder what have you to observe on the subject?" "Eh, my lord?" "Eh, how did it happen?" "Why, my lord, Jem aggravated me, and swore as how he'd knock the breath out of my body." Good; he'd knock the breath out of your body-and what did you reply ?" "Nothing; I floored him." "Good; and then-" Why, then, my lord, they took him up and found that his head was cut open.' "His head was cut open-good; and what followed?" "After that, my lord, they gathered him up to take him to the hospital, but he died on the road." "He died on the road; very good.”

London Review.

THE CRIMINAL LAW.

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The temper with which too many persons of rank and influence received any project of amelioration at the beginning of this century, is forcibly exhibited in this observation by Romilly: "If any person be desirous of having an adequate idea of the mischievous effects which have been produced in this country by the French Revolution, and all its attendant horrors, he should attempt some legislative reform, on humane and liberal principles. He will then find, not only what a stupid dread of innovation, but what a savage spirit, it has infused into the minds of many of his countrymen. I have had several opportunities of observing this. It is but a few nights ago, that, while I was standing at the bar of the House of Commons, a young man, the brother of a peer, whose name is not worth setting down, came up to me, and, breathing in my face the nauseous fumes of his undigested debauch, stammered out, I am against your Bill; I am for hanging all.' I was confounded; and, endeavouring to find out some excuse for him, I observed that I supposed he meant that the certainty of punishment affording the only prospect of suppressing crimes, the laws, whatever they were, ought to be executed. No, no,' he said; it is not that. There is no good done by mercy; they only get worse. I would hang them all up at once.'

THE LAST ENGLISH GIBBET.

In March, 1856, the last gibbet erected in England was demolished by the workmen employed by the contractors making docks for the North-Eastern Railway Company, upon the Tyne. The

person who was gibbeted at that place was a pitman, convicted at the Durham midsummer assizes of 1832. So great was the horror and disgust of all parties with the sight of the body of the poor wretch dangling in chains by the side of a public road, that great gratitude was expressed when the pitmen took it down one dark night. It is a gratifying fact, showing the progress of civilization among the mining population, that, though there have been several strikes among them since 1832, none of those strikes have been marked by a repetition of the fearful acts of violence of that year. At one of the great meetings of pitmen held in the spring of 1832, the Marquis of Londonderry attended on horseback to remonstrate with them; but he had a company of soldiers with him, which were hiding in the valley. This was known to the pitmen, and the pitman that held his horse's head as he spoke had a loaded pistol up his sleeve, in case the Marquis should wave the soldiers to come up, to blow the Marquis's brains out. Fortunately, the good feeling and kind heart of the late nobleman prevailed, and that emergency did not arise.

A SCOTTISH JEFFREYS.

Lord Cockburn, in his Memorials, describes the giant of the Bench in his day to have been Lord Braxfield: "his very name makes people start yet. Strong built, and dark, with rough eyebrows, powerful eyes, threatening lips, and a low, growling voice, he was like a formidable blacksmith. His accent and his dialect were exaggerated Scotch; his language, like his thoughts, short, strong, and conclusive." As a lawyer, in every matter depending on natural ability and practical sense, he was very great; but he was illiterate, coarse in his manners, and rough and indecent in his humour. "Almost the only story of him," says Cockburn, "I ever heard that had some fun in it, without immodesty, was when a butler up his place because his lordship's wife was always scolding him. Lord! he exclaimed, 'ye've little to complain o': ye may be thankfu' ye're no married to her.'"

gave

But Braxfield, as a criminal judge, was a disgrace to the age. He would tauntingly repel the last despairing claim of a wretched culprit, and send him to Botany Bay, or the gallows, with an insulting jest; over which he would chuckle the more from observing that correct people were shocked. "Yet," says Cockburn, this was not from cruelty, for which he was too strong and too jovial, but from cherished coarseness.'

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In the political trials of 1793 and 1794, "he was the Jeffreys of Scotland." "Let them bring me prisoners, and I'll find them law," was openly stated as his sentiment. Mr. Horner, who was one of