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forgotten and lost. They often give an insight into character, and are so far deserv ing of permanent preservation. Only two of Mr. Bartlett's students now survive, the venerable J. Hamilton Shapley of Exeter, and William H. Rollins, a prominent lawyer and financier of Portsmouth. Both of these gentlemen speak feelingly of their attach ment to their preceptor. He was always dignified and courteous, and greatly liked by young men. To Mr. Rollins I am indebted for a frag ment of an address to the jury in rather an odd case of Bell and Tuck v. Dow. I only wish the reader could have it in the exact words as told to me. Two distinguished members of the Rock ingham bar, it seems, had bought a horse of a farmer at Hampton, for the sum of thirty dollars. They managed to get the steed as far as Exeter, where they lived, a distance of about ten miles; but the animal proved too weak to stand up to get his oats. Upon arrival in town he soon collapsed,— a total loss. The irate. purchasers brought a suit against the farmer for fraud in the sale. Bartlett was retained for the defence. He began his argument to the jury some what after this fashion: "Gentlemen of the jury, before we consider the testimony that bears on the circumstances of this sale, let us for a moment see who are the parties to this suit. Whom have we here as plain tiffs? Two able and astute lawyers. Who is here as defendant? A plain farmer. One of these plaintiffs, gentlemen, is James Bell! A lawyer of talent and experience; a gentle man of such shrewdness, that when the rich corporations of Massachusetts were hunting all over the State of New Hampshire for the right kind of an attorney to protect their enormously valuable interests at Lake Winnepisseogee, they selected him. Amos Tuck! Another lawyer, gentlemen, of such marked success and distinction at the Bar, that the people of this district have just chosen him to represent them in Congress.

These two keen-witted men, as if not con tent to trust their own sagacity and skill, proceeded to call in a third party to help them. They selected none other than Stephen W. Dearborn, gentlemen, the High Sheriff of this county, who is sitting in yon der box, — a man known all this region roundabout as the sharpest horse-jockey to be found anywhere. And now, gentlemen, with this combination brought to bear on the subject, you are seriously asked to believe that they were cheated in a horsetrade by my poor, simple, old client here!" The verdict, it is hardly necessary to add, was for the defendant. When he thought that the occasion called for it, Mr. Bartlett did not hesitate to employ criticism of a most caustic kind. A trifling incident may be recited, where he administered a rebuke to one of his neigh bors who had presumed to make a show of learning. One day Mr. Bartlett, being in the library of the Portsmouth Athenaeum, observed a gentleman present just closing a book that he had been reading. When the gentleman had withdrawn, Mr. Bartlett out of curiosity picked up the volume. It was a work upon a recondite subject, and the book opened at the place where the other had been reading. A few minutes later, Mr. Bartlett went down into the reading room to find the gentleman in question engaged in a discussion. With an air of profound acquaintance with the topic in hand the gentleman remarked : " It is some time since I have read the author, but if my recollection serves me aright, the passage runs something like this." He then re peated a long quotation, and looked around upon his little audience most triumphantly. After a brief pause, during which much credit was accumulating for the gentleman's powers of memory, Mr. Bartlett deliberately said: "Yes, you are exactly right. I know you are right, for not five minutes ago up-stairs I picked up the book you had laid down, and looked over that portion of it