Page:The Green Bag (1889–1914), Volume 13.pdf/94

 The Barrister's Benefit.

THE

BARRISTER'S

69

BENEFIT.

BY FRANCIS DANA. WHEN the evening sun was creeping To his occidental shelf, One lone barrister sat weeping For the brieflessness of self. In pursuit of legal science He'd allowed himself no ease, But he hadn't any clients And he hadn't any fees; And he wondered in unmitigated Grief from day to day Why the populace that litigated Never came his way. As the shadows gathered thicker He betook him to his room, And consumed a sip of liquor To dispel the inner gloom, With a not at all extensive But consolatory lunch; And was growing gently pensive Over pilot-bread and punch, When all suddenly a vision Was apparent to him there, Sitting grinning in derision On his broken-legged chair. "How now, madam!" said the. lawyer "Only me, sir!'' said the ghost. "Hope my coming won't annoy a Man so learned as my host. I'm intruding, but the fact is, I am here to tell you how You can get a bigger practice Than rewards your efforts now. So, unless you wish to miss an Opportunity to rise, Hold an ear this way and listen To the thing that I advise. You want clients, haven't got 'em, (Pardon if I treat of shop) Get a footing on the bottom E'er you jump to reach the top!'' "Haven't I?" he asked in wonder. "No, you've not," responded she;

"You are hanging on like thunder Somewhere part way up the tree. If you wish to live in clover, You must cultivate the sod, So, come down, begin life over, Chuck your books and take a hod, Make acquaintances and muscle, Know the heelers and the boys; I will tell you when to hustle And begin to make a noise!'' Then a rooster sang of dawning, And the vision wasn't there, But the barrister sat yawning Vaguely at the empty air; Then arose (it was a trick, odd, But the odd trick's worth a trump), Got a dinner-pail and brick-hod And went jobbing on the dump; Wore his overalls just muddied In the manner then in vogue, Smoked a rank T. D. and studied At the accent of the brogue. Two long years he spent in labors And the joys that labor lends, Till he got to know his neighbors And accumulated friends; Till again arose the phantom, Crying, "Come along! don't tarry! Stir Up the populace! Enchant 'em By appearing as a barrister!" Then he did as he was bidden And his light, no longer dim, Shone more bright for having hidden, And illuminated him. Fame, the crier, up and stuck her Flaring posters near and far, Roaring, "Lannigan, the mucker, Is a member of the bar!" Then the people to whose level He had come to pick up fame, Held the devil of a revel In the honor of his name—