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up his courage to the sticking point and it was very unfair in the other to damp his spirits. Haliburton turned away, and strolled away from the hotel; and about half an hour afterwards a turn in the road brought Blondin and his living burthen full upon his view. The justice told me that, although he would not on any account have gone to witness the exploit, he was so fascinated by the sudden spectacle that he could not withdraw his gaze, but continued to watch their progress with the most painfully absorbing interest. Once one of the gyes-the small ropes extended from the great one across the river to the shore-gave way, and produced a visible vibration. Blondin knelt down on the rope, under his load, until the vibration ceased, and then successfully completed his perilous task.

Haliburton was once persuaded to take a Turkish bath, and his description to me of his sufferings while under the manipulations of the attendant was very rich. He was always, in my recollection, stout, and latterly he grew so corpulent that he was induced to try the Banting system; and I never met him that he did not tell me of the success of the experiment, informing me how much he had diminished in girth; and on the last occasion he mentioned to me in great triumph that he could pick up his spectacles.

He was dining one day with the Leander Club at the Star and Garter at Putney. It was a fine day in summer, and the window towards the river immediately over the towpath was open. The Justice was returning thanks for the toast to his health; and, being interrupted by the loud barking of a dog, paused, and said that when the member for Bark-shire had finished his speech, he (the Justice) would finish his.

He sat in Parliament for some time for a Cornish borough, but he used to complain to me of the late hours which his duties obliged him to keep. He was a fine genial specimen of an English gentleman, and had a warm heart. I was speaking to him of a common acquaintance, and mentioned that he was an old friend: "Cherish him then," said the Justice; "for there are no new friends like old ones."

His after-dinner speeches were remarkable for their raciness and rich humour. I remember his returning thanks at a dinner in Stationers' Hall, in his character as "the Clockmaker." He was the strongest Tory of my acquaintance, and made no secret of his politics.

A QUARTER OF AN HOUR TOO LATE.

I was on the point of quitting my office to keep a dinner engagement with my friend Admiral (then Lieutenant) Allen, when a gentleman mentioned the death of a literary man of some eminence, by which a rather valuable and important editorship became vacant. I knew that many competitors would be in the field; but, on the mere chance, I immediately wrote a letter to the publishers, offering myself for the post. It then occurred to me, it being Saturday, that they would not get my letter until Monday; and, therefore, although it would make me late for dinner, I trusted to the indulgence of my gallant friend, and took my letter to the publishers myself. They were both out, but I saw their managing man; and, explaining to him the purport of my letter, asked him to tell me if the appointment had been made. He assured me it had not. I then repaired to my friend's, and arrived

a quarter of an hour too late. I explained the cause, and he drank success to my application. On Monday I had a note from the publishers requesting to see me, and stating that they would explain to me how they were circumstanced with regard to the editorship. I went, and, to my great surprise, they put the papers of the deceased editor into my hands, and gave me the appointment, which I held for six years.

ON THE HOME CIRCUIT.

Some of the brightest hours of my life were spent on the Circuit, either at Guildford or Croydon, whither, for many years, at the Summer Assizes I was invited by my dear and fast friend Patrick Colquhoun, and where I had a hearty welcome from the brother barristers with whom he set up housekeeping on these occasions, and very nice housekeeping it was. I shall always remember, with the profoundest gratitude, the care and devoted attention I experienced from these young men, on whom I can pronounce no higher eulogy than adducing the fact that, with but one or two exceptions, they were all raised to the bench either at home or in the colonies. Our breakfasts were not late ones, as my friends had to attend the courts. Luncheon was laid about one o'clock, and remained on the table for an hour or two; but at seven we were all expected to assemble at dinner. I should mention, however, that we were early risers, the whole party bathing before breakfast, except myself; nevertheless, I always went with them, and was called, in consequence, the "Companion of the Bath." Among the party one summer was Morgan John O'Connell, the nephew of the agitator, and son of John O'Connell. He had the ready wit

of his country in a remarkable degree. degree. We were walking by the Wey one day when an Oxford graduate, a Mr. White, who had a taste for botany, plucked a flower (Balsamum impatiens) from the river, remarking that "it was a rare plant." "It is an out of the Wey one, at any rate," was the instantaneous reply. Speaking of Charles Dickens, he remarked, "He is more intolerant than the Puritanism he denounces. He sees only the scum thrown by the system to the surface, and which is bitter to the taste and unpleasant to look at; and does not see the under-current of good which it hides." We were talking of Louis Napoleon, some of us agreeing that it was not to his interest to invade England, and that it would be his last card. "True," said O'Connell; "but, as we do in Ireland sometimes, he may play his last card first." He told us a story of a duel, premising, what I knew already, that duels in Ireland in former years were commonly attended by tended by a crowd of spectators, the affair to come off being no secret, and the police, if any existed, never thinking of interference. The result was fatal, and the survivor was, of course, brought to trial for his life, and the judge in summing up concluded by saying, "Gentlemen of the Jury, I am bound in justice to the prisoner to say that it was the fairest duel I ever saw in my life."

He quoted a story from Sir Frank Barrington which is worth repeating, if it be only as a specimen of the style of that renowned racconteur. Two Irishmen were returning from mowing, with their scythes on their shoulders, when one of them saw a salmon in the river. "That's an illigant salmon under the bank there," said he. "That's true for you, Mick," said the other; wouldn't we spare him

with our scythe handles?" Pat made the experiment, and in doing so cut off his own head and his comrade's ear, both of which floated down the stream until they were stopped by the mill dam. "Tare an 'ouns, Masther!" exclaimed the miller's man, “here's a poor man has been kelt and murthered I who can he be?" "Oh," replied the miller, "sure 'twill be aisy enough to identify a man with three ears!"

At the commencement of the assize the bathers borrowed a ladder, which they let down into the river, by the bank, for the convenience of landing, the part of the river in which they bathed being nearly a mile from the town. On the last morning of the assize the ladder was withdrawn, placed on two sticks, and thus borne by four of the party; while one, which

on the occasion referred to was myself, stalked in front of the procession with a towel, by way of tabard, in the character of herald, O'Connell bringing up the rear and enacting the chief mourner, while another of the party chanted a solemn dirge, which he did in a remarkably rich bass. As we neared the town the tabard was discarded, but the order of procession was otherwise preserved, and the dirge continued sotto Much eloquence was wasted in the endeavour to persuade me to "take a header," backed by the assurance that if I got into difficulty they would have me out in a moment; indeed, one of them requested me as a personal favour to take the plunge, in order that he might save me and get the Humane Society's medal.

voce.

Much of my time was spent in the court, and I was much interested by occasional passages of arms between counsel and witness. Here is an instance in which the former endeavoured to elicit a fact from a Dorking innkeeper, the most coolly

impracticable character I ever met with:

Counsel: The horse which was taken from the common was afterwards sold to the plaintiff ?

Witness: Was it? (With the minutest possible note of interrogation after the word.)

Counsel: And this occurred in the month of August, 1857 ?

Witness: You say so. I didn't. Counsel: When the horse was taken back to his companion, did they know each other? (A laugh.)

Adverse Counsel: My learned friend means- -Did they kiss and hug each other?

The Counsel, Montagu Chambers, gave up the Dorking Boniface as impracticable.

The following was reported to me as having occurred in another court:

Counsel: And when, do you say, did this happen?

Witness: Three years since. Counsel: Why, you told me just now that it was only a year and a half.

Witness: Did I? Then I'll stick to it.

Judge: Could the horse, which is the subject of this action, draw?

Witness (A bucolic but shrewd one): Draa? Bless your heart, my lord, he wouldn't draa a sprat off a gridiron.

Edwin James was inapproachable at an operation on a roguish or refractory witness. Hawkins was a great ally of his; and, therefrom had acquired the title of James the Second. They were bathing one morning, and while in the water a rampant bull came from the other end of the meadow and mounted guard over their clothes, which they were unable to regain until some rustics came to the rescue.

Among the privileges I owed to the kindness of my forensic friends was admission to the hospitalities

of the bar mess. On one occasion, at Guildford, I sat between Serjeant Shee and Mr. Montague Chambers. The latter gave us "The British Grenadiers," with its refrain of "Tow, row, row," in grand style. Edwin James sang The Fine Old English Gentleman" more beautifully than I ever heard it sung. Mr. Hawkins has a voice like a bell, and inexpressively sweet. Relieved from the dry duties of the court, my learned hosts were like boys just let out of school, and were as playful as colts, and the evening was a very brilliant

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one.

One of the company informed me, that on a recent occasion a learned gentleman began a story, but before he had proceeded far he was interrupted by "Swear him." Accordingly a bottle was presented to him, on which he was to be sworn. To this he objected, on the ground that it was empty. The objection was gravely argued, and finally pronounced to be valid, and the gentleman was accordingly sworn. upon a full bottle.

SIR FREDERICK POLLOCK, LORD CHIEF BARON.

My introduction to this distinguished scholar and judge was in this wise. I had gone down to Croydon to spend the day and dine with Patrick Colquhoun, then on the Home Circuit, and was taken by him into the Civil Court then sitting. It was much crowded, and not being able to find me a comfortable seat, he sent up a slip of paper to the judge, the Lord Chief Baron, with a request that "his friend might be raised to the bench." A bright smile passed over the face of the judge as he nodded assent, and I was accordingly presented to his lordship by my friend. Sir Frederick rose from the bench, and meeting me

at the end of it, said, "Colquhoun is coming to dine with me to-day, will you come too?" I said I should be very proud indeed to do so, but that I had no evening dress with me, only a frock-coat. "Never mind your frock-coat; come." Accordingly, accompanied by my friend, on the breaking up of the court, I repaired to the "Judges' lodgings," a fine house and lovely grounds a short distance out of the town; and on entering the drawing room, was received by the Chief Baron, who presented me to his daughter, Miss Mary Pollock, as a gentleman who wished to apologise for coming in a frock-coat; adding, "If it will put him more at his ease, I will put on a frock-coat too." It was a small but very charming party, consisting, I think, of eight, including the judge and his daughter, Serjeant Channell, who was assisting as judge pro hac vice in the Crown Court, a barrister of the name of Clarke, Colquhoun, and myself. After dinner the judge, apropos of the subject of conversation, quoted twenty lines from Pope with wonderful feeling and effect. This led to quotations from others of the company, myself included, and then the Chief Baron quoted a long passage from Hudibras, in which he ran the lines so into one another as to disguise the rhyme and give it the semblance of blank heroic verse.

The next time I had the pleasure of seeing Sir Frederick was at the Guildford Assizes, I think in the following summer, when I was again "raised to the bench," and as soon as I had taken my seat, was invited to dinner on that day. It was a very lovely day, and the "judges' lodgings were the rectory about half a mile out of Guildford, in very beautiful grounds. Instead of going into the drawing room we were received on the lawn. The guests were the

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Rev. Mr. and Lady Maria Bender, the daughter of the Earl of Waldegrave, Mr. Willes (afterwards Justice of the Court of Common Pleas), the same Mr. Clarke whom I had met at Croydon, Colquhoun, and two sons of the Chief Baron. The colleague of the latter, Justice Sir William Erle was there in his own right. I think I have now before me the dear old Chief Baron pacing up and down the lawn with Lady Maria on his arm, a picture of venerable age and graceful youth. The lady sat in the middle of the table, with a judge on each side of her. The Chief Baron had wonderful tact, invaluable in a host, of drawing out his guests; and before the soup was removed he asked me a question which he knew by some sort of instinct that I could talk upon. Apropos of the soup, which was real turtle, the Chief Baron inquired of Sir William (who was going to the Old Bailey Sessions, or had recently been there) whether the turtle soup served to the judges there was as good. "Well," said Erle, "I never enjoy the turtle soup at the Old Bailey; it seems to be flavoured with the sighs and groans of the condemned prisoners.'

The trial and acquittal of the woman (formerly a nurse of the Queen) for the murder of her six children had just taken place, the ground of acquittal being, as is well known, the insanity of the prisoner. The judge who tried her (Sir William) had summed up against the plea, and he repeated at table his opinion that she was of sound mind when she committed the act. The presumption, however, is that he was wrong, for the woman subsequently destroyed herself while under confinement in the asylum to which she had been consigned for her life. I asked Sir William his opinion of the new law of evidence in civil cases which had just come into operation, under

which the evidence of both plaintiff and defendant was taken. He said he thought the change a great improvement, adding that he wished that it had been extended to criminal cases; and in support of his view, he told us that he had once tried two men for highway robbery, the evidence of which appeared to be perfect, and they were found guilty and sentenced to fifteen years transportation. An exclamation from one of the prisoners, as he was removed by the turnkey, struck Sir William as being remarkable, and to point to a fact which had not come out in the course of trial. Upon this the judge sent to the prisoners' attorney and the counsel who defended them, desiring them to come up to his lodgings in the evening, and bring the papers with them. The result of this and further investigation was that it was shown that, although the stolen property was found upon them, and that they were in company with the thieves at the time, they did not actually commit the robbery. Sir William was therefore rewarded for his benevolent sagacity by the pleasure of reducing the term of imprisonment to a year or two. I was much fascinated by his manner and conversation; there was benevolence in his voice and look; and I never met with anyone on whom he had not made a like impression. He was a bachelor, delighting in horse. exercise, and very fond of his horses. Indeed, the Court was no sooner up than he might be seen taking his anteprandial ride; and often, when the Courts were sitting in London, have I met him, about nine in the morning, on horseback in the neighbourhood of the obelisk, with his groom behind him. He rode heavily, and leaned over his horse's neck, so as to render the

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