and if I liked to put in with him, I might get
to stay somehow." Not wishing to inconvenience
his Honour, I preferred to pass the
night in my own blanket, on the "stoup" or
porch of the building.

I have seen a judge who is said, in pursuance
of his duty as a magistrate, to have fined
a man twenty-five dollars for shooting at
another, but who also (swayed by his feelings as
a man) mulcted the other in the same figure,
for not shooting back again.

At the Cariboo gold mines in British Columbia
lives a well-known Irish gold commissioner,
whose common-sense decisions have gained great
reputation throughout that section of country.
On one occasion two mining companies came
before him with some dispute. One swore one
way, and the other swore the exactly opposite
way. The "judge" was nonplussed. "Look
here, boys," at last was his sage decision,
"there's no use you going to law about it.
There's some hard swearing somewhere; where
I won't pretend to say. You say this, and they
say that, aye, and produce witnesses, too.
What am I to do? Of course, if you insist
I'll come to a decision; but I honestly confess
it will be only a toss up. I tell you what's
the best thing to do. You know my shanty
down the creek?" All shouted in the affirmative.
"Well, in that shanty there's a bottle
of prime whisky, in which I will be happy to
drink luck to both of you. Now, the first man
there, gets the suit. Go!" Out of the court
they rushed, down the creek, over logs, and
over mining flumes, tumbling and rolling and
running, with half the population after them,
until they reached the cabin in question. When
the judge arrived shortly afterwards, he found
a stalwart miner firmly grasping the handle of
the door. The whisky was produced, luck was
drunk, and everybody went away, perfectly
satisfied with the decision.

Most commendable on the whole, is the
patience evinced by these judges under the
orations of long-winded and not very learned
attorneys. The most extraordinary instance of
patience was that of a judge in Illinois, who,
after two wordy lawyers had argued and re-
argued about the meaning of a certain Act of
Congress, closed the whole at the end of the
second day by calmly remarking, " Gentlemen,
the Act is repealed!"

Mr. Justice Begbie, of British Columbia, the
terror of evil doers, and of too sympathising
jurors, had occasion to caution a witness.
"Don't prevaricate, sir, don't prevaricate;
remember that you are on oath!" The excuse
was, "How can I help it, judge, when I have
such an almighty bad toothache!"

If the learning of the judge puzzles the
witness, sometimes the dog Latin of the lawyers
puzzles a judge. A short time ago, in San
Francisco, a hotly contested case came on in a
certain justice's court in the city, which is
presided over by a magistrate with a strong
antipathy to the dead languages, and all who
indulge in the affectation of using them. Plaintiff
having put in his complaint in due form, the
judge demanded what was the defendant's
answer. Whereupon the defendant's counsel,
who had been brought up under the old system
and still had a lingering love for scraps of law
Latin, responded, " May it please the court,
our answer is that the same subject matter and
cause of action in this suit was the subject
matter and cause of action in a previous suit
already determined, ia consequence of which
the question now raised before your honour, is
res adjudicata." " Is what?" cried the judge,
adjusting his spectacles. " Res adjudicata, if
the court pleases." " Sir," roared the judge,
"we allow no dead languages here. Plain
English is good enough for us. The Practice
has abolished the dead languages, and if you
give us any more of your Greek or Latin 'I'll
commit you, sir, for contempt of this court."

In the early days of California, one of these
rough-and-ready dispensers of the law held a
court on a Sunday, and sentenced a " greaser"
(a native Californian or Mexican), according
to the law then in force, to thirty-nine lashes,
for theft; but on the prisoner's counsel threatening
to apply for a writ of habeas corpus, on
the ground that it was " unconstitootional" to
hold a court on a Sunday, the judge declared,
with a round oath, that rather than the (blessed)
greaser should get off by any such pettifogging
trick, he would carry the sentence into effect
"right away." And then and there he applied
the thirty-nine lashes (the law limiting them to
under forty), remarking, when he had finished,
that the lawyer had better reserve his " habeas
corpus until the greaser's back got barked
again!"

The Missouri sheriff might truly enough
remark that "jurymen aer raither scarce." More
than once a friend who knew the ways of the
country has informed me, as a kindness, that
"there wor a (blessed) jury trial agwine on.
down to Humbug City, and, as I reckon, the
sheriff's darned run for jurymen, you'd better
kinder work round clar of that loc-ality." If I
asked, " How can I be a juryman? I am a
foreigner, a stranger, a traveller, who has neither
land nor lot, neither votes nor pays taxes?"
"Ah, that would be mighty little 'count," would
be the reply; " you hev paid taxes, for you paid
your head money; and as for not being a resident,
I reckon the sheriff 'll soon make ye out
a residence; and as for your being a furrener,
it don't matter shucks; that's the very thing
you'll be spotted for. The sheriff has
summoned every citizen to coroners' and jury trials,
and every other darned sort of trial, so mighty
often, that they swar, if summoned much oftener,
they won't vote for him next election. And as
'lection comes on in March, I sorter reckon he'll
like to corall a coon or two who ain't got no
vote."

At last I really was caught, and it was useless
to remonstrate. The sheriff declared " jurymen
were scarce, and I must just take a turn
at it." To my astonishment, under the idea,
. I suppose, that I was " a right smart chance