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 The Editor's Bag a fashionable vice, "I am a very old man, and my memory is as clear as a bell, but I can't remember when I've gone to bed wholly sober." Lord Mansfield was silent. "Ah, my lord," exclaimed Dunning, a lawyer, "this old man's case supports a theory upheld by many persons, that habitual intemperance is favorable to longevity." "No, no," said the Chief Justice, with a smile. "This old man and his brother merely teach us what every carpenter knows — that Elm, whether it be wet or dry, is a very tough wood."

PENAL BARBARISM — AN EX AMPLE FOR REFORMERS A SOUTHERN lawyer tells of an old chap called Job Beggs, super visor of a county jail in Alabama, who fed and housed his convicts so well that they became really attached to him. Indeed, it is said, Beggs would actually permit them to roam about at will. It was also his custom to hire the con victs in the summer to farmers in the neighborhood, and in that way contri bute to the county's treasury. Very early one morning, the story runs, one of these prisoners appeared in the office of a lawyer. "I understand that you're a lawyer," said the caller. "I want you to get me out of jail right away on a writ of habeas corpus." "You must show reason why the writ should be issued." "I have reason enough," said the prisoner, "The cruelty of the keeper makes life there unbearable." "You're mad!" exclaimed the lawyer, "Every one knows that Job Beggs is the kindest hearted man in the world." "Judge for yourself," continued the prisoner. "Yesterday I was working

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out at Mr. Taylor's and we had a big lot of hay to get in, for the sky was full of rain clouds. So when the jail horn blew for bedtime I stayed and helped get the hay under cover. "It was after dark when I got back, and, you may not believe me, sir, but that flinty-hearted keeper had locked me out. I had to sleep out of doors, and caught rheumatism in my bones. It settled things in my mind. I'll not stay another night under the roof of a man who'll treat me like that. I want that habeas corpus before sundown." GETTING OFF EASY A SOUTHERN representative in Congress, formerly a lawyer in Georgia, tells how years ago he under took the defense of an old darky who had been arrested as a chicken thief, and who in the days of slavery had been owned by the attorney's father. It was the youthful advocate's first plea, and it was not brilliant in either construction or delivery. The darky received a pretty severe sentence, his guilt being well proved. "Thank you, sah," said the prisoner, addressing the judge, cheerfully, when the sentence had been pronounced; "dat's mighty hard, but it ain't any thing like what I expected. I thought, sah, day between my character and pore Mars Henry's speech dey'd hang me, sure."

TROUBLES OF THE DECEASED AMONG the witnesses called in a certain trial at Richmond, Va., not so very long ago, was a quaint old darky named Elijah Elverson. The first question put to Elijah by counsel was, "Did you ever hear the deceased complain of any ailment?" "De who, sah?"