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 Rh "You had better answer the question," re plied the Judge. "Yes, sir; state it!" said the Jawyer. "Well, sir, if you compel me to do it, I will. About twelve 's office,years did you ago you not?"studied in Judge "Yes," answered the lawyer. "Well, sir, I remember your father com ing into my office and saying to me. 'Mr. D, my son is to be examined tomor row, and I wish you would lend me $15 to buy him a suit of clothes.' I remember also, sir, that from that day to this he has never paid me that sum. That, sir, I remember as though it were yesterday."—Philadelphia Ledger. OVER in the rookery known as the New York County Courthouse, the clock in one of the trial rooms was being repaired. George C. Barrett, long a brilliant member of the local judiciary, chanced to be in the building at the moment and wandered, for auld lang syne, into the chamber where the chronometer in question hangs and where in former years he had dispensed justice. "That clock and the repairing of it," he remarked to the attorney who accompanied him, "reminds me of a droll experience I had in this room with the late Counselor Nolan. It occurred shortly after this hand some watch was presented to me." And the jurist rehearsed it. Xolan, who was one of the most eccentric and plausible of Irish-Americans, had a case on Judge Barrett's calendar, but did not ar rive in the court-room until it had been called twice and marked "dismissed." On learning, to his consternation, what had hap pened, he made an earnest appeal to have the case restored. "You are more than half an hour late," replied Barrett, pointing to the clock. "It is the duty of counsel who have cases on the calendar to be here when the calendar is called." "Shure. your Honor, shure it is," said the "barrister," as he called himself, "but that clock there, your Honor, is one of the

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clocks put in by the 'Tweed ring.' Your Honor won't trust a Tweed clock against an honest man." When the roar of laughter, in which the judge joined heartily, had subsided, Barrett pulled his new watch from his pocket, and retorted: "But, counselor, I find the clock shows the same time exactly as my watch." "Thin," exclaimed the counselor, in his richest brogue, "I must make my confes sion. The reason I was half an hour late is that I was out around the court-house try ing to collect the overdue subscriptions for your Honor's beautiful watch." Nolan's case was put back on the calen dar.—New York Evening Mail. THAT well known legal light of the State of Washington, James Hamilton Lewis, is fond of telling of the vicissitudes he experienced during the days when he had first hung out his shingle. "In Boise City, Idaho," says Mr. Lewis, "I was once called upon to undertake the de fense of a Texan who during à visit to our city had in the course of an altercation rather seriously done up one of our prominent citi zens. "During the progress of the trial I ob served that our Texan friend seemed not in the least worried as to the outcome- Things looked bad for him and I told him so. Yet Ъе didn't worry a bit. One day I said to him: "'My friend, you're taking this matter a trifle too complacently. I desire to impress upon you the fact that there is a very fair chance that you'll be jailed for this.' "Whereupon, for the first time, the Texan began to evince signs of alarm. "'Say, sport,' said he, 'is that right?' "'It certainly is,' I replied. "At this the Texan began to stride about the room, all the time pulling fiercely at his big mustache. Finally he stopped and, bringing down his fist upon the table be tween us, he yelled: "'Then, by hell, I've got to get a law yer!' "—New York Press.