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THE GREEN BAG

THE LIGHTER SIDE BREWSTER'S

CLIENT

BY HERBERT W. HOLCOMB BREWSTER cherished certain ideals. There was no reason why he shouldn't. After finishing his course at college and law school he found himself possessed of a metis Sana in a six foot corpora sano with a thorough knowl edge of football and a fair acquaintance with the law. As he "officed" in his father's building in Chicago and lived in the family home in a suburban village, he was not con fronted in the practice of his profession with the sordid details of rent and the other et ceteras which are the most prominent features of the advent into business of the oft men tioned average lawyer. It was not difficult for him, therefore, to determine that he would practice law as a man and a gentleman, for reward if the client's circumstances justified it, but without if his duty to his client and to his profession demanded it. The opportunity soon found the man. Returning one night from the golf club, where he had recuperated from an exhausting review of contingent remainders and an equally exhausting wait for clients, he found a neighbor's colored coachman awaiting him. As Brewster's ideals and lack of clients were equally well known to his family, his sister hastened to inform him that the coachman was a prospective client, and that she had cheer fully spent a half hour in entertaining him, lest he should change his mind before Brew ster's arrival. Brewster, notwithstanding his somewhat negligee golf clothes, hurriedly assumed what professional dignity he could summon and opened the interview. "Well, Sam, is there something I can do for you?" "Why, yes, Mistah Brewstah, yo see a while ago I maa'ied a yalla gull down 'Lanta way, and 'bout two yeahs back she up and goes to Wisconsin and maa'ies anotha fellah, an' ahm mighty lonesome and ah dun ast a lady 'at lives heah to maa'y me an' she's willin', but Mistah Preston he sez dat I can't get maa'ied nohow 'twell ah gets one o' them deevocis, an' ah thawt praps yo all cud get me one."

Brewster winced, "and yet," he argued with himself, "why not?" His ideals did not include divorce practice, but his mind reverted to the half forgotten pet theory of his old professor in "Social Science A," "the lack of moral sense is one of the great handicaps to the race." A refusal seemed almost immoral. Prompt action might inculcate respect for the law among the considerable colored population of the village. "All right, Sam," he said, "I'll undertake it." After prolonged questioning Brewster gath ered the necessary information as to the dates and places of the two marriages of the irrespon sible Mrs. Sam. He felt that a proper respect for the majesty of the law would be better con served in Sam's mind by delaying action until Sam advanced the court costs, and so closed the interview by informing him that the pro duction of ten dollars would be the first step in the court procedure. Sam agreed to bring this amount around on his next pay day. some two weeks in the future. Brewster said that this time would be well employed in collecting the evidence. He sat down to a cold dinner with that sense of honest pride as a helper of the oppressed that comes at times to every decent lawyer. Next morning he caught an early train to the city. He curtly answered chaffing inquiries as to the reason for his early appearance with: "Have to get an early start on running down some evidence." After corresponding with the county clerks of various counties in Georgia and Wisconsin. he found that Sam's information was correct, and he even secured certified copies of both marriage certificates. Brewster's family of course was advised of the progress of events, and, through Brewster's sister's chum, the neighborhood. On the day before Sam's pay day all was in readiness for the institution of the action. As Brewster opened the front door he saw Sam shuffling across the lawn, with his face wreathed in smiles. "Mawnin", Mistah Brewstah, ah'se got some news foh yo. Ah's glad to say — no, ah's sorry to say — no, ah ain't sorry — well, any