the bar in Dublin, and at once proved that he was possessed of unquestionable talent. His friends predicted a great career for him and pictured a roseate future. But he eschewed equity and common law and de voted himself to what was then termed "Old Bailey" practice, in short he became a crim inal lawyer, thus marring his chances of pro motion but increasing his immediate emolu ments. He was shrewd and, though apparently leading a superficial life, did not disdain to use every means to advertise himself. He had every magistrate's assistant clerk in his pay and no sooner was a man committed for trial than the particulars were sent to Costelloe. If the case promised a good fee or a large share of glory he at once worked incessantly to be retained for the- defence. At that time a counsellor could also be a practicing attorney, the rules separating the branches not having been passed, the bar recognizing that "it was well to leave it to a man to find out from the opportunities that might arise of calling forth the particular qualities and talents that are in him, and so leave it to such occasions to develop whether or not he has a better opportunity of carry ing on the business of a solicitor than the profession of an advocate." (Mr. Justice Hannen.) Costelloe would hurry to the prison, seek an interview with the accused and often before the other members of the bar had heard of the arrest. One morning the city of Dublin was startled by the announcement that one of the largest and most influential banks had been plundered of a large sum in gold, by the chief cashier. The alleged culprit was instantly arrested, taken before a sitting magistrate, and a prima facie case having been made out, committed to Newgate before noon. Before the accused had reached the prison, Costelloe was made aware of the facts in the case and arrived at the gloomy jail within a few minutes of the prisoner.
The accused cashier, a man of about fifty years of age, had intended retaining Costel loe and was therefore pleased to see him, welcoming the counsellor in a serious and sanctimonious manner. It was evident the cashier was going to assume an innocent demeanor. The door being carefuly closed, the cashier commenced by saying that he had been the cashier of Gleadowe's bank and that a large deficit had been discovered in his accounts. The shrewd counsellor saw the kind of man with whom he had to deal and replied: "I have heard that Gleadowe's cashier has appropriated to himself one of the money bags, in fact that the bank had been robbed by the rascal of a whole heap of gold." "Rascal! That is a harsh word to apply to an honest, conscientious man. I am the cashier, or at least was." "Then you are the thief!" "Sir!" "I repeat, it was you then who robbed the bank?" The cashier pretended to be very indig nant. He assured the counsellor that he was innocent, that Mr. Gleadovve was his best friend and that some enemy had trumped up a false charge against him on purpose to ruin him. "Then you have no money?" "Not a shilling, I assure you, Mr. Costel loe." "Then you will be hanged. I'll make it clear to you. The law is very plain. If you have robbed the bank, you must have some of the money left, enough to retain me and so save your life. If you are innocent, and consequently penniless, you have no means of counteracting the efforts of your enemies and so must hang as surely as did Cahir »a grappiil." ("Charles the horse.") At the mention of Cahir na grafiptil the cashier trembled. The man referred to was a notorious horse thief who had just been hanged. After a moment's dejection the cashier asked:
