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A GHOST OF NISI PRIUS.

Bv A. Oakey Hall. WHILE seated recently, awaiting a call of the calendar in a branch of the city court held in the New York City Hall, wherein formerly every court had local habitation and name, my attention, from some inexplicable reason, became magneti cally fixed upon the figure and face of an apparently absorbed spectator, much in ap pearance like the actor Jefferson when made up as Rip Van Winkle. And I turned to my neighbor whispering " is not yonder man Mr. Jefferson himself in character?" and at the same time I designated his po sition. My friend looked, and then with a curious glance at me declared that he did not see the person I had pointed out. After several attempts of mine to designate the spectator to him, I had to desist, and was about to make an impatient remark when the Rip Van Winkle figure rose to go. Curiosity impelled me to follow, but I was puzzled to see him apparently walking though group after group as if they saw him not and he touched them not. In the corridor I took his arm and politely said, "Pardon me, but your appearance interests me. I am Mr. — and —." He paused, and looking intently into my eyes, while a mag netic shiver seemed to pass over me, inter rupted with, " Oh I know you very well. But how is it you see me? It is a singular circumstance, for although I died in mortal shape many, many years ago, and am now per mitted at will to leave my consociation in the spirit world and revisit earthly scenes, I was never before made visible to mortal eye." I ventured with no little trepidation to stammer out, " Pray whom have I the honor to address?" In a firm and melodious voice he answered, " The mortal name I once bore is graven on a mural tablet in the old Second St. cemetery, but now I am known as a ghost

of Nisi Prius. When alive I was an official attendant of the court held in the room we have just quitted, and there passed forty years of my life. But — how is it that your mortal eye sees a spirit, and your mortal ear hears my language? We of the other world are allowed to see and hear mortals. But no matter, now that we do sec and hear each other, let us have a talk." WTe had reached what is known in the City Hall as the Governor's room, and the door happening to be open, we entered. It was vacant, and we took chairs before what is known as the Wash ington table-—■ it having once been used by the General and stands immediately under the portrait of De Witt Clinton. The ghost raised his eyes to the picture and said, "Grand old gentleman, he was. I last saw him in this very room, but never met him in the spirit world, for he must belong to a different consociation from the one I there mix with." Just at this moment an acquaint ance passing by the door looked in and said to me, "Hello — mooning all alone over some case, eh? " and strode on. Then I knew that my ghost was indeed invisible to all ■ except myself. I seized the opportunity and began conversation with, "Then, if you lived in Clinton's time and spent so many years in the City Hall, I presume you must have encountered many of the great lawyers of the past." "The whole procession from Alexander Hamilton down to these nisi prius times of Carter, Choate, and Coudert, the three C's of the Bar." "Then, my dear ghost of nisi prius, you are the very Rip Van Winkle to give me rem iniscences for my beloved GREEN Bag. Pray, as Hamlet said to his father on Elsinore platform, ' lead on, and I will follow thee. I shall remember thee so long as memory