"SWEET ALICE, BEN BOLT"

A touching scene occurred in the House of Representatives a number of years ago, when an aged member from New Jersey arose, and for the first time addressed the Speaker. All eyes were turned in his direction as he stood calmly awaiting recognition. He was tall, spare, and erect. His venerable appearance and kindly expression, coupled with most courteous manners, at once commanded attention. As in husky tones he again said, "Mr. Speaker!" there came from the farthest end of the Great Hall in a whisper, but distinctly heard by all, the words, "Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt." A moment later, and from the floor and gallery many voices blended in the familiar refrain, "Don't you remember sweet Alice Ben Bolt?"

The ovation which immediately followed was such as is rarely witnessed in the Great Hall. Business was suspended for the moment, and the hand of the new member warmly grasped by the chosen representatives of all parties and sections. It was an inspiring tribute, one worthily bestowed. The member was Thomas Dunn English, author of the little poem, sung in palace and cottage, which has found its way into all languages, and touched all hearts.

THE MAINE LAW

The mention of the "Maine Law" recalls a little episode that occurred in the early days in the good county of McLean. One Duncan - no kinsman to him who had been

"So clear in his great office"

was again a candidate for the Legislature. The temperance question, in some of its many phases, was then giving much trouble to aspirants to public place. In the midst of his opening speech at the old courthouse, the candidate was interrupted by one of the inquisitive men who always appear when least wanted, with the question: "Mr. Duncan, are you in favor of the Maine Law?" "Yes, yes," quickly replied the candidate, "I am coming to that very soon." Shying off to the tariff, the improvement of Western rivers, and the necessity of rigid economy in all public expenditures,

our candidate was about to close when the same troublesome inquiry, "Mr. Duncan, are you in favor of the Maine Law?" again greeted his unwilling ears. "Oh, yes," exclaimed the orator, in tone and manner indicating much thankfulness: "I am glad you called my attention to this subject; I was about to forget it. My fellow-citizens have a right to know my views upon all public questions, and I have nothing to conceal. I have no respect for candidates who attempt to dodge any of these great questions. I have given you fully, my views upon the tariff, upon a general system of internal improvements, and something of my own services in the past; and now thanking you for your attention, will""Mr. Duncan, are you in favor of the Maine Law?" were the words that again escaped the lips of the importunate inquisitor.

Fully appreciating his dilemma - with constituents about equally divided upon the dangerous question the candidate at once nerved himself for the answer upon which hung his hopes and fears, and boldly replied: "Yes, sir, I am in favor of the law, but everlastingly opposed to its enforcement!"

HOW HE GOT HIS MAJORITY

One of the candidates upon the ticket with Mr. Tilden when he was elected Governor of New York, was the late William Dorshemer. Judge Maynard told me that he was present in the library of Mr. Tilden when Dorshemer called, immediately after the full election returns had been received. Tilden's popularity at the time was very great-growing out of his successful prosecution of the noted Canal ring, and resulted in the triumph of the ticket of which he was the head. Mr. Dorshemer, the Lieutenant-Governor elect, was greatly delighted that his own majority exceeded that of the more distinguished candidate for the Chief Executive office. During the conversation, Dorshemer remarked to Tilden: "Your majority is only fifty thousand, while mine is fifty-one thousand, five hundred." "Yes, yes,' quickly remarked Tilden; "you got the fifteen hundred; I gave you the fifty thousand!"

WILLIAM R. TRAVERS

The generation now passing has known no man of keener wit than the late William R. Travers, of New York. An impediment of speech not infrequently gave zest and vim to his words, when they finally found utterance. He was for a lifetime steeped in affairs of great concern and among his associates were prominent factors in the commercial and political world.

On his revisiting Baltimore some years after his removal to New York, an old acquaintance remarked, "You seem to stutter more in New York than you did here, Mr. Travers." To this the brief reply at length came, "Have to it's a bigger place."

Back in the days when Gould and Fisk were names to conjure with in the mart and on the board; when railroads and gold mines were but pawns upon the chessboard of money changers and those who sold doves"; when "Black Friday" was still fresh in the memories of thousands, this incident is said to have occurred.

To weightier belongings, Gould and Fisk had added by way of pastime a splendid steamer to ply between Fall River and New York. Upon its trial voyage, Travers was the guest of its owners. The appointments of the vessel were gorgeous in the extreme, and in the large saloon were suspended lifesize portraits of Gould and of Fisk. After a promenade of an hour in company with the originals, Travers suddenly paused in front of the portraits, gazed earnestly at each in turn, and then with eyes fixed on the intervening spaceejaculated: "Where's Christ?"

TOLD BY COLONEL W. D. HAYNIE

- slowly

The following, told with happy effect by Colonel W. D. Haynie of the Chicago Bar, probably has no parallel in theological literature. A colored brother who felt called upon to preach, applied to the Bishop of his church for license to exercise the sacred office. The Bishop, far from being favorably impressed by the appearance of the candidate, earnestly inquired whether he had read the Bible,

and was familiar with appropriate stories to relate, as occasion might require, to his Sunday school and congregation. The answer was, “Boss, I has read dat book from led to led." In response to the request of the good Bishop that he would repeat a Bible story, the applicant for Holy Orders began:

"One time dar wus a wicked ole King, an' his name was Ahab; an' he live in Babylon; an' he wus a mighty warrior; an' one day he wuz marchin' along at de head uv his army fru de streets of Babylon, an' he seed Bersheby standin' up on de house-top; an' he said to his soldiers, Bring me Bersheby fur my wife'; an' day brung him Bersheby fur his wife. An' ole Ahab he march a long ways off, and fit a big battle, an' tuk a hull lot of prisoners; an' cum a-marchin' back fru de streets of Babylon, wid de brass bans a-playin', and de stars an' stripes a-floatin'; an' Bersheby she wuz a-standin' on de house-top, and she holler out,

"How did you cum out wid 'em, old Ahab?'

"An' it make him powerful mad you know; an he say to his soldiers, 'Frow her down to me.' And dey frowed her down to him; and den he say, 'Frow her down to me seven times'; and dey frowed her down seven times; and den he say, 'Frow her down to me seventy times seven times!' and dey frowed her down to him seventy times seven times; an' po' ole Bersheby, she crawl away and lay down at de rich man's gate, and de dogs come and lick her wouns, and when dey gevered her up, dar was 'leven basketfuls left, an' whose wife will she be in de resurrection?"

THE LEGAL PROFESSION

MISSING THE

TAKEN BY SURPRISE
A REMARKABLE INCIDENT

POINT OF THE JOKE
A JUDICIAL
DECISION ON BAPTISM A DOUBTFUL COMPLIMENT STRONG
PERSONAL ATTACHMENT-IRISH WIT-ENGLISH JOKES ABOUT

LAWYERS

ALL IN HIS WIFE'S REMITTING A FINE

A CASE

OUR NOBLE CALLING

L

GREATNESS UNAPPRECIATED

A RETORT BY CURRAN

NAME
ON ALL-FOURS”—“GOING OUT WITH THE TIDE."

S we well know, lawyers generally entertain an exceedingly exalted opinion of their profession. Textbooks, opinions of courts, addresses innumerable to graduating students, all bear witness to the fact that our noble profession is the most honorable of human callings, the safeguard of society, the palladium of our liberty.

True, some uncharitable layman has suggested: "Yes, all this, and more, has been said a thousand times, but always by lawyers."

There are persons yet in life who, practically at least, hold with Aaron Burr, that "law is that which is boldly asserted and plausibly maintained," and that lawyers, like the Roman augurs of old, always smile when they meet one another on the street. The by no means exalted opinion of two men as to "our noble profession" will appear from the following.

A few days after Knott was admitted to the bar, he was sitting alone in his office, waiting for clients, when a onegallowsed, awkward-looking fellow from the "brush" walked in without ceremony, dropped into the only vacant chair, and inquired: “Air you a lawyer, mister?" Assuming the manner of one of the regulars, Knott unhesitatingly answered that he was. "Well," said the visitor, "I thought I would drap in and git you to fetch a few suits for me." Picking up his pen with the air of a man with whom suing people was an everyday, matter-of-course sort of an affair, Knott said: