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blood, by man his blood shall be shed.' That's what God said and Moses wrote. Now, boys, come on with your Blackstone and Chief Justice Marshall!" Then, after throwing his bombshell, the old deacon sat down like a victorious gladiator. Then up rose young Fuller. "Deacon Skinner," he said, ''the law that you and Moses indorse is nonsense. Il has no logic in it. Your Mosaic law is that if a man kills a man another man must kill him. See what a logical deduction such a law would bring you to. Here one man kills another; another man kills him—and so on till we come to the last man on earth; who's going to kill him? He can't kill himself, for the law forbids sui cide. Now, deacon, what in thunder are you going to do with that last man?" Twenty years after this, Lawyer Fuller made another wise and witty answer before Judge McArthur when he was practising law in Chicago. In his speech before the Judge, Mr. Ful ler pleaded his client's ignorance of the law in extenuation of an offense he had com mitted. "But, -Mr. Fuller," said the Judge, "every man is presumed to know the law. Ignor ance of the law is no excuse, you know.'1 "Yes, your Honor," responded Mr. Ful ler, "I am aware that every shoemaker, tailor, mechanic and illiterate laborer is pre sumed to know the law—yes, even- man is presumed to know it—except the Judges of the Supreme Court, and we have a Court of Appeals to correct their mistakes." In Elmdra, New York, the old home of exGovernor Hill, the lawyers tell a good story about "one Dave Hill," as they call him there. "Governor Hill is a lawyer," said Con gressman Ray of Norwich, "but he has al ways kept it quiet. However, he had one quite famous case. He defended a man named Gibson for defrauding the revenue. It was a tobacco case, and went to two Courts, Supreme and Superior. Everybody was sur prised that Hill could take it so high; but he

did. Well, Gibson finally was convicted and was sent to Sing-Sing for ten years. "Then/' continued Congressman Ray. "Hill sent in his bill for a thousand dollars. Gibson's family kicked at this. They thought that the charge was too high. The Governor was a little sensitive about this. He is a fair man in his dealings, and looked around to get the opinion of his brother law yers about fees in revenue cases. In New ' York, the next day, Governor Hill met Wil liam M. Evarts, the great constitutional law yer who defended Andrew Johnson and Henry Ward Beecher. "'You're just the lawyer I want to see. Mr. Evarts,' said Hill, grasping his hand en thusiastically. 'You've had a good many in ternal revenue cases, haven't you?' "'Oh, yes, a good many,' said Evarts. "'Well, Mr. Evarts, what is the custom about lawyers' fees in those cases?' "'Oh, just the same as with any other law,' said Evarts. 'We simply charge ac cording to the work we do.'. "'Now, Mr. Evarts,' said Hill confiden tially, 'do you think I charged Gibson too much. Did I really charge him too much?' "'Well, Governor,' said Mr. Evarts, delib erately, 'the thought occurs to me, Mr. Hill, —simply occurs to me, you know—that p-e-r-h-a-p-s Gibson might have been con victed for—for less money.'" The last time I met William M. Evarts, our late great lawyer and diplomat, was on the Boston & Maine train going up to his old Windsor, Vermont, farm. "Have you seen your son Sherman to day?'' I asked, holding up a newspaper with a quarter-page cut in it. "No, I can't see anything you know; I'm almost blind." It brought tears in 'my eyes to see the great statesman open his blind eyes and still not be able to see Roger Sherman Evarts, the boy he worshiped. As we passed New Haven I asked the law yer how one ought to lie in the Pullman to sleep well—head to the engine or feet?"