when the court sustained objection to them, getting up and senselessly haranguing the court and jury, trying thus to get before the jury what he could not legally prove. Finally, he had his most important witness on the stand asked an incompetent question, and the court sustained an objection. The attor ney got up, and began a long speech about what he intended to prove by the witness, addressing his remarks to the jury, trying in an unfair way to influence them. While he faced the jury, the witness, the court, and the door of the room were nearly behind him. Our Scotch jurist motioned toward the door, and said to the witness in an undertone, "You are excused." "For good, Judge?" said the witness. " Yes," responded the court; and the witness, who was glad to get away, departed through the door. The petti fogger finished his talk to the jury and the crowd, and turned to resume his attack on the witness, when his dismay and astonish ment were amusing to those knowing the cause. A long-haired, hairy-faced, large-footed native of the Grand River swamps, after having made fires in winter and swept out in summer in a country lawyer's office for seven or eight years, was by an indulgent court admitted to the bar. He located in K , a little county-seat, and began trying to practise. A young woman whom an old gentleman had taken in her infancy to his home and reared as his own child, sued his estate for the value of her services during the time she had lived in his family. The widow was executrix, and employed our Grand River tyro as counsel, along with a fairly good lawyer. In looking up author ities on the case, the good lawyer read one to his co-counsel, which held in such cases "that the decedent stood in loco parentis to the child, and services could not be re covered for unless there had been a spe cial contract for pay." And this seems to be the law in most of the States. The Grand-Riverian made the opening argument,
and undertook to quote from the authority in question to the probate court : " Why, sir," said he, " this old man was a locust in parenthcsis to this girl, and she can't recover in this suit." The executrix won, and the product of the Grand River country has since been probate judge of a far-western county of Kansas. In a northwest Missouri county, some fifteen years ago, a young fellow was admit ted to the bar, not because of his knowledge of law, but because his and his wife's rela tions all said he was a natural orator. His first case was before a jury in a country J. P.'s court, and when he came to address the jury, he began as follows: "Gentlemen of the jury," said he, " had I the ability of Daniel Webster or the eloquence of Henry Clay, I would ravish this entire community." The justice and constable were several min utes suppressing the applause, mostly made by the young man's relatives in the audience. During the last annual meeting of the Missouri Bar Association, at the celebrated Excelsior Springs, an eminent appellate judge, a most genial gentleman when off duty, spent an evening with some country members who relished a stronger refresh ment with their cigars than spring water. The hours passed pleasantly until some one suggested that it was two o'clock, A. m.; and all retired to the elegant Elms Hotel, to their respective rooms. The appellate judge roomed with a distinguished federal judge, who had retired before him, but who awakened on his entering the room. The hotel is provided with electric bell service; and in each room is an annunciator, with an index pointing upward, resembling the face of a clock, with the hands at twelve. Our appellate judge, whose vision was a little "misty " from being out with " the boys," spied it, and pulling out his watch, remarked to his room-mate, "Judge, my watch is about two hours too fast," and proceeded to set it back to the time apparently indicated by the
