tam, significans in corde suo quòd omnia sunt manifesta Deo. Stultus autem credebat quòd volebat dare alapam sibi, et incontinenti ostendit ei pugnum clausum, significans quòd si vis mihi dare alapam, ego repercutiam te pugno clauso. At Græcus sapiens intellexit quòd per pugnum clausum voluit Stultus significare quòd Deus omnia manu clauderet. Et sic putavit Romanos esse valdè sapientes et dignos legibus. Et reversus fuit Athenas, et retulit Romanos esse legibus dignos et sic fuerint concessæ leges illis decem viris."

As this event is supposed to have occurred more than four centuries before the Christian era, Accursius should have explained how the Grecian sage had at that time become familiar with the doctrine of the Trinity.

The contested codicils were declared invalid in the surrogate, by the Supreme Court, and finally by the Court of Appeals. See Delafield v. Parish, 25 N. Y. 9.

I

HAVE said enough to show that to become a lawyer in England is not an easy thing, and there is no disposition to make it more so. And now we may compare or contrast this with the conditions of admission to the profession in the United States, where there exists no such division of higher and lower, counsel or attorney, but where a man, admitted at all, is admitted to all. The rights and privileges which in England are divided among queen's counsel, junior counsel, special pleaders, proctors, attorneys and solicitors; in Scotland, between advocates and writers to the signet; in France, between advocates and avoués; and in every country of Europe, between men of different degrees or branches of the profession, are here enjoyed by everyone who gets into the profession at all. In for one thing, he is in for all things. And in many of the States there is practically no test of qualification at all, or none worthy of the name, no evidence even of an elementary general education, no necessary preliminary service, no examination whatever. A young man of very limited education, serving behind a counter or working in a shop during

the day, may join a law school or class meeting at nights, may attend a number of lectures (which he cannot understand for want of elementary legal knowledge), and without any further qualification or test than this may be "admitted and licensed as an attorney and counselor of law," and by means of such license may, if he choose, procure admission in most of the other States of the Union, and he is the equal, as to legal right and status, of the man of greatest culture, learning, and experience the profession has in it. It is not too much to say that a profession into which men can swarm in this way can scarcely be designated a "learned profession," or command the respect and confidence of the public on its own merits as a profession. And a very limited observation of the practice of our courts in most of the States is sufficient to show us the natural fruits of this state of things. It is seen in the lack of courteous deference from the bar to the bench, and of respect and confidence on the part of the bench to the bar; in the bawling and thumping which are often made to do duty for quiet

logical argument and persuasive reasoning; in the evident lack of real legal learning; in provincialisms and educational deficiencies, and even in the behavior and bearing of the men. There are at the bar of every State of the Union men of great learning and culture and power, the leaders and ornaments of the community, but they are such by force of their own inherent qualities, and in spite of, rather than because of, the profession to which they belong. I would not, if I could, introduce into this country the English system of a divided profession, though there is very much to be said in its favor. It secures

a high standard of attainment and character, and an independence of spirit, as far removed from blustering on the one hand as from servility on the other. But its disadvantages also are great, so great as, in the estimation of many men even in England, to outweigh the advantages. The attorney has usually been with the matter in dispute from its inception, known all its phases and complications as they have arisen, become familiar with all the facts and all the evidence, and (other things being equal) no one so well as he could present them from his client's point of view to the court and jury that is to judge of them. But his mouth is closed. He must transfer all he knows to paper, although to do so may require scores, sometimes hundreds, of sheets, and occupy many days or weeks of labor. Of this vast mass of writing, several copies must then be made. These copies being delivered to counsel, all the knowledge of the case they give must be transferred from the brief to the minds and memories of the counsel, and however elaborately or carefully the brief may have been prepared, this process of transference must be at the best a very imperfect one, omitting very many details well known to the attorney, which, though they seemed too small for lengthy mention in the brief, may, as the trial develops, become all important to the client's success. But the attorney is not permitted to offer a word of

information or explanation save by whispering to his counsel, who, having his mind fully occupied, may be quite impatient of such interruption. No one who has not witnessed it can imagine how much of humiliating reproof and rejection an attorney may have to take from his own counsel, before the eyes and in the hearing of his client, during the course of an important and exciting trial. Some counsel, indeed, seem to delight in and give full rein to this faculty of reproof and snubbing. Then of course, each counsel briefed is also fee-ed, and these fees form the main items in the costs of a trial. As a general rule, more than half the costs of a protracted trial in which three counsel are briefed is for the briefs and fees of counsel. They often exceed the attorney's fees, the court and jury fees, and the allowances to witnesses all put together.

And this matter of the increased cost of litigation is not the only nor the greatest objection to the system. The attorney is by it belittled and degraded. In London, more than in the provinces (for in the latter counsel is not so readily accessible), the attorney is little more than a medium of communication between the client and counsel. He gives no opinion but "takes counsel's opinion," for which purpose he must prepare a

case for opinion," and make copies of all documents referred to (for counsel object to receive originals), and deliver his case for opinion duly "marked" to counsel's clerk. He draws no pleadings, but sends instructions to counsel to "settle" them, which means to draw them. He trusts not to his own judgment at any single stage of the case, but at every stage is advised by counsel, and when the case is, or seems to be, ripe for trial, the incipient brief is submitted to the junior counsel to “advise on evidence"; and the scale of costs to be allowed on taxation provides for all this. Indeed, the law as it exists to-day makes it absolutely necessary for an attorney thus to instruct counsel at every stage unless he is willing to deprive

himself of his own remuneration. Nothing is allowed to him for thought and care, and experience and professional learning, but he is allowed for "preparing instructions to counsel," "attending counsel with instructions,"" attending conference with counsel," "copying documents for counsel," and even for "drawing" pleadings which he instructs counsel to "settle," although settling really means drawing. Thus at every step the attorney's own remuneration depends on his employing counsel. But a more important fact in this regard is this: that by taking counsel's opinion at every stage he is relieved from responsibility. In an action against an attorney for negligence or ignorance in the bringing or conduct of a cause (say for mistake as to the form of action, or of the pleadings, or the insufficiency of the documentary evidence), it is sufficient for him to show that he acted on the opinion of counsel. He may be a man of great experience and social consequence, but that will avail him nothing, whereas by acting on the opinion of some mere stripling "at the bar" he would have been relieved from responsibility. This principle applies also to conveyancing, and all other branches of legal business in England, making it in all things to the advantage of the attorney to think little of himself and much of counsel, to instruct himself in everything, and entrust counsel with everything.

But the most serious objection to the English system is the irresponsibility of counsel, for this evil is moral as well as financial. As a rule, English counsel are gentlemen, and men of the highest moral tone. And it is the system, rather than the men that is to blame for the present state of things. No amount of learning or integrity can enable a man to be in more than one place at once, but it happens every day in London, during the term or sittings, that the same counsel is engaged in three, or four, or even more cases, all of which are being tried at the same time in as many different

courts. I have frequently known men like Mr. Charles Russell (now Lord Russell), or Sir Richard Webster, have as many as four causes on trial at the same time in as many different courts, giving perhaps some meas-. ure of attention to all, cross-examining an important witness in one, "opening opening" in a second, "replying" in a third, taking an important objection in a fourth; or confining himself all the time to one case, and leaving all the rest to the care of his juniors. I remember one case in which the late Mr. J. P. Benjamin, Q. C., was briefed as leading counsel for defendant with two juniors. The hearing lasted four or five days, but Mr. Benjamin never once came into court, for he had three or four other cases going on at the same time in other courts, and to one of them only (an appeal in the House of Lords), he devoted his personal attention, leaving the others to his juniors; yet in all these cases, as in every such case, the absent counsel received the same fees as if he had been present every moment, and as "further consultation" or" refresher" could be marked on the brief of any of the juniors without marking the absent leader's brief also, with still heavier fees. It would not be easy to obviate this difficulty without a thorough change of the system. Counsel do not know, when briefs are delivered, at what precise day or time the case may be reached, or what other cases may then be on trial in other courts. In the chancery courts the leading counsel attach themselves to a particular court, and never go out of it except on special retainer, or to follow their own cases into the court of appeal, and thus they avoid the danger of clashing; and though I think something like this might be done in the courts of law, nothing of the kind is done now, or has ever been done, for all actions are brought in one court (the high court of judicature), and the distribution of them for trial among the several sitting courts is the business of the "masters" who know only from day to day what judges are available

and what courts can sit, and who make out the cause lists from day to day without any knowledge of the arrangements of counsel, or the disposition of briefs. And in England, except in very rare cases, trials are never adjourned because of the prior engagements, or for the mere convenience of counsel, even though they are then actually engaged in the trial of cases in other courts.

But the questions are asked whether, in spite of all these disadvantages, the cost of litigation is really greater in England than it is here, and whether the moral tone of the profession as a whole is not higher. That the cost ought to be less here I am quite sure, but I am not sure that it is. Trials last much longer here (in spite of the English system of daily "refreshers") without anything more of care or thoroughness. To say nothing of the time occupied in selecting juries (for in the course of twenty years' practice in England I never knew the selection of a jury occupy more than ten minutes), far more time is spent here in "objecting" and "excepting," and there is here less of ready and courteous deference to the rulings and suggestions of the judge. There, too, the judge in most cases interposes in the early stages of a trial to narrow it to the real question to be tried, and opens a straight cut to the real kernel of the case, either of fact or law. If of fact, the narrowed issue is of course submitted to the jury. If of law, it is, if substantial, reserved for argument before the court in banc. Thus trials occupying several days are comparatively rare. And the proportion of appeals is much

smaller there than here, due in part at least, to the fact that the rulings and opinions of the judges at nisi prius are more respected by the bar, and less readily overruled or dissented from by other judges on appeal. And in criminal cases there is no appeal, save on questions of law reserved. But that which more than all else secures respect for, and deference to, the English judges is the absolute confidence of the bar and the public in their learning, independence, and high character. Thank God we have there no popularly elected judiciary, and no one ever suggests or suspects an English judge of political party, or personal bias. He is appointed for life, is well paid (the salary even of the puisne judges being $25,000 a year), and his position is one of perfect independence. He cannot enter Parliament, or accept any other office, or take any part in politics during his judgeship, and can never return to the bar. After fifteen years of judicial service, he is entitled to retire on a liberal pension (£3500 a year for the puisne judges), but most of them remain on the bench very much longer, either from the love of the work, or the hope of further pro

THE

HE following incident is told of the early professional life of a distinguished lawyer of Charleston, South Carolina.

He had worked on in his profession for two years conscientiously and laboriously,

but for the past few months almost without hope of success. The bar in that city was very conservative, a large portion of the practice being inherited, and this young man, coming as he did from the country, had found it impossible to get a foothold.

He lived in the most inexpensive way consistent with decency, but economized as much as possible, the few savings which he had hoped would support him for the first year or two of his professional life were gradually exhausted, until the date of our incident finds him absolutely without a penny.

a

The scene is his chamber at I A. M. room in the same building with his officebut at the rear of the structure and extend, ing back over a sort of paved court below. The building is in the business part of the city, which is generally unused for dwelling purposes; and the street and all the houses around are as quiet as the grave. There should be a moon on this night, but the sky is overcast. The weather is warm and the windows of the room open, and the light that penetrates through them is only such as would enable one to see objects very indistinctly.

The poor young man is tossing on his couch, cursing his misfortunes and bewailing the inexorable necessity that confronts him of closing his office and abandoning the profession of his choice.

Suddenly a slight sound arrests his attention and a moment later a dark form has appeared at the window, leapt the sill, and presented a pistol at the head of the rest

Somewhat amazed at the coolness of the reply, the robber lit a stump of a candle and began his search-no money in the lawyer's only and very rusty suit of clothes which were lying on an old chair by the bed—nothing in a rickety bureau except two old shirts and a few threadbare collars and handkerchiefs and nothing else in all the room. He stopped in disgust, put the candle on the bureau, and turned to his host who had meanwhile been sitting up in bed watching him with cynical amusement.

"Are you hungry too as well as broke?" asked the intruder.

"I spent my last copper for a roll yesterday morning," was the reply.

"Well, pard," said the man, "before I came roun' to see you to-night, I jest stopped in to a baker shop, what didn't have wery good fastenin's on de winder. I didn't git no money but I tuk a loaf of bread and a pie. Wait a minnit."

The man disappeared over the windowsill, only to reappear in a few moments with the edibles he had mentioned. "Poverty makes strange bed-fellows," and these two men, both of whom had so far failed of their just dues at the hands of the law, sat down

the voice of the unknown whispers hoarsely, "and I want some money from you, or you know what'll come, and I ain't foolin' neither." The situation is perilous but it has its humorous side, which is quickly caught by the young lawyer. He laughs softly and says: Help yourself, my friend, to whatever you find here. You are a vagabond, while I am a member of the dignified profession of the law, yet if you are poorer than I am, I shall be glad to know it. You'll find some matches and a candle over there. Strike a light and take a look."

and exchanged views on the existing social evils over a loaf of bread and a pie.

The story, although a veracious one, is not devoid of poetical justice, as the sequel will show. The robbery at the baker shop was discovered and its perpetrator traced. The lawyer's midnight visitor was caught and held for trial. The lawyer, of course, volunteered for his defense, and cleared him in a manner that unmistakably bore witness to his own skill and ability, thus laying, in so unexpected a manner, the foundation of his future eminence.