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 The Supreme Court of Maine. He received his commission as Chief Jus tice August 29, 1883. The degree of LL.D. was conferred upon him by Colby University in 1884, by Bovvdoin College in 1885, and by Yale in 1893. In 1891 he was elected a trustee of Bowdoin College. No sketch of Chief-Justice Peters would be complete without reference to his afterdinner speeches. No matter what the occa sion, whether it be a bar gathering, or a meeting of Bowdoin or Yale alumni, his presence is always the forerunner of the most enjoyable hour of the feast. His mirth and good-natured humor never fail to bring down the house with uproarious applause. He has the happy faculty of utilizing the occasion with thought appropriate to the time, while his talk is unstudied and mixed with wit and jest which captivate and en

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trance his listeners. He never says any thing that wounds the feelings of others and at the same time he is audacious in punctur ing shams and all kinds of pretense. The presence of grave college-presidents, his dignified associates on the bench and sober and solemn members of the bar, does not deter him, for they all enjoy the fun and join in the laughter that will break out in spite of themselves. These speeches have never been reported. They are as unreportable as the bubbles of champagne, the delicious flavor of Chateau Yquem, or the flash of diamonds and the songs of birds. Even if it were possible to re produce his words, there would be still want ing their setting with the occasion, and over all the speaker himself, beaming, debonair, bland — the inspiration of the hour.

CASSIUS ON CiESAR'S DEATH. By Benj. F. Burnham. Brutus : Cassius, go you into the other street, and part the numbers. Those that will hear me speak, let them stay here; those that will follow Cassius, go with him; and public reasons shall be rendered of Caesar's death. — Julius Caesar: Act III, Scene 2. Friends! Romans! Nobler title hath no man Than that which hails him citizen of Rome. Are you not patriots all? I know ye are. But if, too fondly proud, I'm self-deceived, And there stand here a single human form That shrines a heart not throbbing with Rome's weal, Let such one close his ears and slink away, Whiles I, with this poor tremulous voice, Yet with most honest purpose do protest My solemn yearning that in this grave hour We think no thought, precipitate no deed, That is not offspring of brave reason's throes.