THE LIGHTER SIDE
677
THE LIGHTER SIDE THE LAW'S DELAY BY DONALD RICHBERG FOURTEEN years ago, the files in a certain case now pending in a federal court were re turned to their box in the vault. The dust of one, two, ten, years accumulated on the wrap per. One day a young attorney called for the files, glanced over the various documents with an ironic smile, handed them back to the vault clerk, and returned to his office to wash his hands — of the case. Four more years passed by. Then one morning last March, the young attorney came again, this time armed with a receipt, O.K.'ed by the proper judge and de parted with the somnolent files. A few weeks later, notices were received by some eighty attorneys that at ю A.M. on the following morning, or as shortly thereafter as, etc., Richard Roe would, by his attorney, John Jones, make a motion, etc. At ten o'clock on the following morning, the usually quiet federal court-room appeared to be in the possession of an excited mob. Not only was the court-room crowded, but the overflow of lawyers and lawyers' clerks ex tended far down the outside hall way. The judge raised his eyebrows slightly, as this throng rose to greet his entrance. The usual formalities proceeded in the customarily mo notonous and stupid fashion, until the clerk called a case possessing a general number which brought a tone of surprise into his sing song voice. A young attorney advanced to the bar and stated his motion briefly. As he concluded, fully forty voices joined in an anxious : "If your honor please — ' The surge of unfortunates stranded in the corridor pressed the speakers forward until the stout rail before the judge cracked omi nously. The bailiff pounded and shouted for order. When a partial calm had been pro cured, the chorus broke forth once more: "If your honor please — '" The judge leaned over the bench. "Mr. Martin," he said, "do you wish to be heard upon this motion?" A gray-haired man in the front row of lawyers said emphatically: "Yes, your honor, I do."
"Then proceed," said the Court. "I wish to object," began Martin, "to the hearing of the motion at the present time upon the ground of insufficient notice. I am aware that according to the rules, the notice served has been sufficient, but this is a most unusual case. Your honor, it has been fourteen years since this case has been in court. 1 don't know a thing about it, and I question whether another lawyer here knows any more. My former partner, Judge Stillman, took care of the matter, I believe, but as he died seven years ago that doesn't assist my knowledge greatly." "Whom do you represent, Mr. Martin," asked his honor? Mr. Martin looked distinctly embarrassed. "I am not quite sure, your honor." "What's that," demanded the judge? "Well you see, your honor, there have been so many transfers of interest in regard to the subject matter of this litigation, that I — well — I am not quite sure whether the parties originally represented by my deceased part ner, that is — I am not quite sure who they were, but to-day it is really quite impossible for me, on so short notice, to tell who they are — that is—" His honor's temper had never been the subject of enconiums by the Bar, and his face was rapidly assuming a purplish tinge which vis ibly affected even as tried an attorney as Martin. "May I ask," said the judge, in tones rem iniscent of the first hissing overflow of lava from a long quiet Vesuvius — "may I ask whether you are opposing or supporting this motion?" "I really don't know, your honor," replied the gray-haired attorney in so piteous a tone that a distinct titter was heard in the midst of the legal mob. The judge's voice rose in sharp tones of displeasure. "Does any attorney here know who his client is, and what his position on this motion is?" A full quarter minute of silence ensued. Then a lawyer crowded his way forward. "If your honor please," he said, "fourteen
