Page:The Green Bag (1889–1914), Volume 13.pdf/645

 боо

77ie Green Bag.

bench, whose face, when he smiles, beams with pleasantness, but when in repose is as stern and forbidding as that of old Chief Sit ting Bull. It appears that in the courtroom presided over by Judge Prouty is a bailiff named Thomas, who is considerable of a politician in his precinct, and who is no handsomer than the judge. Bailiff Thomas wears his hair combed pompadour, and his hair being long, the effect is something startling. His face is covered with whiskers, which he combs straight back at the side, so that his head looks as if the hair had been caught by a fifty-knot breeze and frozen into position. Not long ago a lawyer from another city stepped into the clerk's office at Des Moines, Iowa, and inquired for Judge Prouty, wishing to see him on political business. The clerk di rected the stranger to the courtroom -presided over by the judge. A deputy volunteered the suggestion that court was then in recess, and that the judge was not on the bench, but was seated in the room, talking. "What does the judge look like?" inquired the stranger. " How shall I know him?" The clerk laughed and replied : "Go in through that door and the homeliest man in the room is Judge Prouty. You can't mistake him." The stranger obeyed. He pushed open the door of the courtroom and entered. Several groups of men were standing and sitting about, talking. The stranger cast his eye over the gathering once, and without a moment's hesita tion walked up to a man in the far corner and tapped him on the shoulder, saying : "Excuse me, but this is Judge Prouty, is it not?" It was Bailiff Thomas. A CASE was being tried before Chief Justice Draper at an assize in a county town. Among those living in that neighborhood was a wellknown character, who had once been a school master, but who was at this time given to the too free indulgence in strong drink, devoting most of his time to loafing. On this occasion he found himself in court much the worse for liquor. Being somewhat obstreperous, the chief justice inflicted upon him a small fine. As this, however, had not the desired effect of

quieting him, he was brought up a second time, whereupon the chief, in his well-known quiet but severe tone, reprimanded him, telling him that he had previously inflicted a small fine, but as the offense had been repeated, he would now have to inflict a heavy one. The peda gogue, however, was equal to the occasion, and promptly rejoined : " Stop, judge, you ca-an't do it; it's agin the law. It's unconshushinal — Nemo his vexare pro eadem causa. You see, judge, it's the same old drunk." Even the quick wit of the sarcastic chief justice had no answer ready, and, turning away, he ignored the presence of the delinquent. The same learned judge was on another occasion trying a case in the old Prince Edward district. Many of the settlers there were Tunkers, and in giving evidence theoretically preferred to affirm rather than swear. The Court having put to a witness the question usual in that locality, " Do you swear or affirm?" re ceived the prompt and entirely unexpected reply, " I don't care ad—n which "; whereupon the chief justice leaned over his desk, and, in his usual suave manner, instructed the clerk of assize as follows : " Mr. Campbell, the witness swears."— Canadian Law Journal.

LITERARY

NOTES.

AT the present moment the reading public is suffering from — or shall we say enjoying? — an epidemic of novels dealing with the " Negro Question " and the relations between the North and the South which grew out of the Civil War. Two such books lie before us. The first of these, The Marrow of Tradi tion* by Charles W. Chestnutt, is a strong story .of modern life in the South, em phasizing the great race problems and their attendant tragedies. With much dramatic force and very little bitterness, the facts are set forth, with no suggestions for the solution of the future, excepting that the negro may overcome the prejudice to his race when, like the hero of this novel, he shall make himself absolutely essential to the life and happiness of even his bitterest enemies^ 1 THE MARROW OF TRADITION. By Charles W. Chestnutt. Boston : Houghton, Mifflin & Company. 1901. (vi + 329 pp.) Cloth: $1.50.