THE LIGHTER SIDE vilely abused and insulted the accused in a manner no manly person could endure. The eloquent advocate concluded: " Now, gentle men, let me say that my client was resenting a gross insult. You, Mr. O'Brien (pointing to an Irish juror), suppose I had some words with you and called you a d—n dirty Irish blackguard; wouldn't you resent it? And you, Mr. Walton (addressing an extremely baldheaded juror), suppose I shook my fist in your face and called you a dirty old bald-headed blackguard; wouldn't you try to whip me? And you, Mr. Wagner (pointing to a German sitting next), suppose I had called you a fat old Dutch blackguard; wouldn't you knock me down? In short, gentlemen, suppose 1 were to quarrel with any one of you and were to call you the particular kind of a blackguard that you are, wouldn't you assert your man hood and thrash me soundly? Of course you would." The New England Calf. — In a new volume of the American Criminal Reports, now in the hands of the printer, Mr. John F. Geeting makes an editorial criticism on the practice of courts in blindly following precedents, in which he reproduces the following poem : One day through the primeval wood, A calf walked home, as good calves should; But made a trail all bent askew, A crooked trail as all calves do. Since then two hundred years have fled, And, I infer, the calf is dead. And from that day o'er hill and glade Through those old woods a path was made; And many men wound in and out, And dodged, and turned, and bent about And uttered words of righteous wrath Because 'twas such a crooked path. This forest path became a lane, That bent, and turned, and turned again; This crooked lane became a road, Where many a poor horse with his load Toiled on beneath the burning sun, And traveled some three miles in one, And thus, a century and a half / They trod in the footsteps of that calf^ The years passed on in swiftness fleet, The road became a village street;
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And this, before men were aware, A city's crowded thoroughfare. And soon the central street was this Of a renowned metropolis. And men two centuries and a half Trod in the footsteps of that calf. Each day a hundred thousand rout Followed the zigzag calf about; And o'er this crooked journey went The traffic of a continent. A hundred thousand men were led By one calf near three centuries dead. They followed still his crooked way, And lost one hundred years a day; For such reverence is lent To well established precedent. Men are prone to go it blind Along the calf paths of the mind, And work away from sun to sun To do what other men have done. They follow in the beaten track, And out, and in, and forth, and back, And still their devious course pursue, To keep the path that others do. But how the wise old wood gods laugh Who saw the first primeval calf; Ah! many things this tale might teach, But I am not ordained to preach. Patient. — Two prisoners were convicted of a capital offense before an English judge; and when the judge came to pronounce sentence he very magnanimously announced that the prisoners could select the kind of trees upon which to hang. One of the prisoners was an Englishman. He replied that he preferred "The sturdy oak — emblematic of the strength and solidity of England." The other was an Irishman. He was asked what tree he would select; and his reply was, "The hookleberry bush." " That's not tall enough," replied the judge. " Well, in faith," said Pat, " Oi'ill wait ointil it grows taller thin." Long Life. — A Cleveland subscriber thought the following statistics gleaned from one of his cases worth preserving, as showing that the practice of law is conductive to long life. How lucrative it may be is another question, but that lawyers are long-lived seems established by it.
