So frequent are the occurrings of occasions like this, and so thoroughly have greater lawyers and orators than I canvassed the fields of thought, that it would be presumption in me to attempt anything very original. I shall pursue a different and perhaps untrodden way. As a boy on a visit with my father to the old capital of North Carolina, I saw George E. Badger, for years a distinguished United States Senator from that state, and a great lawyer. He was walking leisurely through the beautiful grounds of the Capitol, leaning on the arm of his son.

Daniel Webster, a short time before, had introduced Mr. Badger to Mr. Everett, and said: "He is your equal and my superior." The great lawyer's presence and advice was an inspiration to me, and would have been to any boy. . . . Another great lawyer contemporaneous was a man who aided Mr. Everett in raising the funds to buy and preserve the home of Washington in Mt. Vernon. He was, on account of his wonderful eloquence, compared in the city of Washington to Demosthenes after one of his matchless speeches. Unfortunately, like many others, he was addicted to a habit, blighting in its effect, blighting perhaps in proportion to the intellect it affects. While a boy, I stood almost still for four hours-and you know it is hard for a boy to be still-and listened to this prodigy. He it was who raised his head when he had fallen, and said in answer to the sneering remark of a political enemy, "See what a bright star has fallen." "Yes, so bright it can glitter even in the dust. . . . While a law student in Tennessee, I met Judge M. He was an admirer and friend of the noted lawyer, Felix Grundy, whose name is yet a household word in that state. This Judge M- was much admired for his literary attainments. He was discussing with a friend one day while I listened attentively, the beauties of Shakespeare and Byron, of Emerson and Poe, quoting approvingly favorite passages from these and other classical writers. erature, too, and while one quoted Gato's Hamlet's. I was charmed. Judge M of the finest ideas to my mind is Byron's description of a thunderstorm in the Alps where the great bard says: 'From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, leaps the live thunder.'" His friend replied: "Yes, pretty; almost equal to the words of Habakkuk: 'He stood and measured the earth and the everlasting mountains were scattered, and the perpetual hills did bow.'" He continued: "Judge, you're a lawyer, have you ever read a finer piece of forensic eloquence than Paul's defense before Agrippa?" The judge studied a moment, and replied: "I don't think I ever heard of him, the first man you quoted from, but it seems I have heard of that defense you refer to, though I cannot recall anything about it. Before what court was that speech made, and was it ever published? I'd like to read it." Many years ago, I was in Fort Smith when only the Arkansas River separated between my state and the then Indian Territory. The

Now, his friend loved litsoliloquy, the other quoted said finally: "Now one

country was new, the population across from the city were rather "tough." A murder had been committed, it appeared, the night before on the river. A suspect was before a justice of the peace for examination. Some evidence was being heard as I entered the room. His attorney moved to discharge the defendant when the justice of the peace said: "Joe, you set down. It's true there's no p'int blank proof agin him, but this court believes he had a hand in it. I'm going to hold him, and you keep still, Joe, for I'm going to hold him till hell freezes over, and then I'll hold him on the ice."

Gen. A. H. Garland was a great lawyer in my state. He was for years the contemporary of Edmunds and Conklin and Blaine in the United States Supreme Court; his petition ex parte to remove imposed liabilities from Southern lawyers, and permit them again to practice in that court was presented. His petition was granted. It was said of him, whenever the constitutionality of any measure he favored was called in question, he'd quote at once the general welfare clause.

The recent confirmation of Mr. Brandeis has called to mind another great Jew who was attorney general in Mr. Davis' cabinet while president of the Confederacy. Once in the Senate before the war, a Senator referred to Mr. Benjamin as a Jew. With great dignity, he replied: "The honorable Senator from has sneeringly called me a Jew. I am. And would remind the Senator while his ancestors were hunting wild boars upon the plains of Arabian deserts, half naked savages, my ancestors were the princes of the earth." After the fall of the Confederacy, Mr. Benjamin went to London, and became G. C. in the English government. He was the author of Benjamin on Sales. "There is no law," said one of the greatest lawyers we have ever known. "You can find decisions on both sides of every case. I repeat, 'there is no law.' The books are full of cases overruled."

The question confronting every day the young practitioner and law student, is not, is there a precedent, but on which side is the weight of authorities; and that, very often, is hard to tell. Does not the expression, "Homer sometimes nods" apply to all great men, great lawyers as well as others? How does the decision in the historic "Dred Scott case"-and I speak as a Southern man, and the son of a slaveholder-rendered by one of the ablest jurists the country ever produced-appeal to our reason and common sense today? Or, rather, how did it appeal during our great family fuss in '61-'65? Or, how we can understand the decision of courts, not many years ago, in the great state of Massachusetts, which condemned men and women to be publicly hanged for the so-called crime of witchcraft? And will not the student of history ask if Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee, in obeying the call of their respective states, were really traitors, why were they never tried for treason? The former was indicted, but never was tried. The government abandoned the prosecution.

On the other hand, sometimes a court, to say the least, is not learned in the law,' yet makes very wise decisions. There was a blacksmith in Arkansas who was elected by his township one of the justices. He was an honest man; and said he had before his election never read a page in any law book in his life. A justice of the peace in an adjoining township had certified to the blacksmith this character of suit: John Doe had brought an attachment as an ancillary suit in that state against Richard Roe. It developed that the defendant or an interpleader, was related to the justice by marriage, and so he certified the case for trial to the blacksmith, the nearest justice. Before the order was made, attorneys moved to dismiss, and read the statute, "No judge or justice shall preside in any trial in which he is related to either party within the fourth consanguinity or affinity," but the order was made and later renewed before the blacksmith. The attorneys were young, there were long and eloquent arguments, and many authorities cited. The trial was held in the blacksmith shop; and the crowd was increased by several busy farmers who had come on urgent errands to have work done in the shop. The farmers were restless, though they took some interest in the trial. The justice of the peace tried to look wise, but also grew very restless, glancing often at the work waiting in the shop. The disciples of Blackstone, Kent and Greenleaf had much to say about jurisdiction, consanquinity and affinity, judicial and ministerial acts, until at last, the blacksmith could stand no more, and he stopped the forensic display of oratory, after his patience was exhausted, by saying: "Gentlemen, you've read enough law to make a book as big as the constitution of the state. Much of it I never heard before, and even now don't know anything about it, but I've got, or did have this morning, a little common sense. It may be you've muddled that. My decision is as follows: This case is here, the parties are both here, as well as the witnesses. For four or five mortal hours some of you have argued you're not here. I'm not kin to either of the parties if the other justice was. Call your witnesses, and proceed with the trial."

William B. was a well-to-do farmer in my state. A young man was making a crop for him on shares. The landlord was known as a miserly, hard-fisted man, and a neighbor passing his house late one night heard him and his cropper quarreling. He paused at the gate a few minutes, but concluded he'd attend to his own business and go on home. The young man disappeared that night. He was known to be an orphan with no fixed home. The neighborhood was aroused. William B. and his wife were arrested for murder. There was a preliminary examination. The witness testified what he had heard on the night referred to. Another witness swore he was hunting some stock two evenings afterwards and saw in a ravine back of the defendant's field a sandbar where somebody, he was satisfied, had been buried and afterwards removed. The flies were swarming

around the place. Another witness testified the night before he had heard somebody driving by his place at a late hour in a wagon; and after a couple of hours-about long enough to have gone to the river and return-the same wagon, as he judged, went back and in the direction William B. lived. This was about all the testimony. The enraged citizens were aroused to the point of mob violence, and concluded William B., "the defendant, had killed the young man to get his share of the crop, which was then matured, had hid the body in the sand bank in the ravine, and the following night had carried it to the river and sunk it in some deep hole therein." So argued the prosecution; and the defendant's attorney tried in vain to convince the court that no corpus delicti had been proven. They dredged the river, they threatened mob violence, but finally, wiser counsel prevailed. The defendant's attorney, when commanded to explain what he meant by his "foreign language," failed to satisfy the court; he had never studied Latin. "This court, if it knows itself, can't tell what 'corpus delictum' means; and even the defendant's lawyer don't explain. I shall hold the prisoner for the grand jury." And a cheer went up from the crowd. In a few days, the missing boy came back to claim his share of the crop; but it is believed neither the defendant's attorney nor the examining court yet knows what corpus delicti means. But everybody seemed convinced that circumstantial evidence may mislead an excited populace.

The constitutional convention of 1874 was in session in Little Rock. Leaving a few of us out of the question, it was an able body of men. A talented, but eccentric chaplain was elected. We had passed through the fires of reconstruction, and the people were coming to self-government again. Incidentally, I will say that organic law yet abides. The different committees had been appointed and were zealously at work. Each day's proceedings were opened by prayer, or what was perhaps designed to be an invocation to Diety.

One morning the chaplain prayed as follows: "Oh, thou great Jehovah, preserver of men, save our bodies from the doctors, our purses from the lawyers, and our souls from the devil."

A certain distinguished lawyer raised his head and said: "Mr. President, in view of the Beecher-Tilton scandal, now filling the newspapers every day, I move to amend that prayer, 'Our wives from the preachers.''

Almost every young lawyer has an ambition to go to the Legislature of his state. It is safe to say no matter what honors may come to him in after years, no event at any period in his life ever affords him the real pleasure, nor makes him feel his importance quite so much as when he, with a new suit, a derby hat and a four-in-hand, first takes his seat in a general assembly. He may be like the good old farmer in my state, who was elected to the Senate. His suit was jeans, and his No. 11's had never yet received their virgin coat of polish. When he arrived at the Capitol, following the example of others, and

with much dignity, he answered the invitation, "Have a shine, mister; shine 'em up!" When one was done, and the contrast between the two beggared description, the darkey said, glancing suspiciously at his almost depleted material, "Say, mister, have to charge a quarter for these stogies, sir. 'Clare to goodness, sir, it am taking all my polish." "What, you black rascal, ten cents is all anybody ever charges." "Dat's so, boss, but for dat, dey don't have to black a side er leather, sir." "Here, take your dime and go ahead. I'm in a hurry." The negro grinned, pocketed the dime and commenced on the next customer. The honorable Senator didn't want a scene, and didn't want to go up the street in the condition he was, so amid smiles of bystanders, he paid the fifteen cents and had the job finished.

The same Senator went with his colleagues on a junketing visit to Hot Springs. Everything was free, railroad fare, hotel accommodations, bus fare, everything. But there were many other visitors besides the members, but they paid. "Fare, please, sir," said the bus man to our Cincinnatus. The Senator with offended dignity, said: "I thought this trip was free." "Tis, sir, to de honorable members of the Gineral Assembly from Little Rock, but to no others, sir." "Well, Pompey, I'll have you to know I'm a member of that honorable body called the Arkansas State Senate." And he wrapped his jeans around him with offended pride. The negro grinned and said: "La! boss, do they raffle for 'em up where you lives. 'Scuse me, boss, but shorely you win it in some kind of a game."

In reconstruction days down in my state, the negroes from the plantations were frequently members. The mere promise made to them by the carpet-baggers of "forty acres and a mule" seemed to satisfy, but each one, as one of them expressed it, wanted a whole "bucketful" of franchise, and wanted it now. On one occasion, during a session of the General Assembly, some member introduced a bill to prohibit the wearing or carrying of weapons. The phraseology was about as follows:

"Whosoever shall wear or carry any pistol, bowie knife, dirk, sword-cane, brass or metal knucks, shall be adjudged guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction thereof, shall be fined in any sum not less than fifty nor more than two hundred dollars." When it was announced the measure was subject to amendment, or commitment, a negro member said: "Mr. Speaker, sar, I moves you, sar, Mr. Speaker, that that ar bill be amended as follows, sar

"The gentleman from Phillips will send up his amendment in writing."

"Mr. Speaker, sar, please, sar, let the secretary take down hisself, my 'mendment. He might not be able to read what I writes." "Amend by addin' razors. Now, Mr. Speaker, you knows, and I knows a bowie knife and dem other things is white man's tricks. We cullud persons use de razor."

Another negro member, I think from Chicot, interrupted: "De