Mr. Punch in Wig and Gown 7

Mr. Punch in Wig and Gown 7

STRANGE SORT OF BUSINESS.--Lawyers sometimes take a different view

of things from other persons; so perhaps they may understand how a

stationer can think it is to his advantage to give this public notice

in his window,--“Deeds abstracted.”

 

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[Illustration: “All in! all in! walk up, ladies!--just a going to

begin! None of your shams here, but real bullet-headed murderers! All

in! all in!”]

 

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THE BARRISTERS OF ENGLAND!

 

The barristers of England, how hungrily they stand

About the Hall of Westminster, with wig, and gown, and band;

With brief bag full of dummies and fee book full of _oughts_,

Result of the establishment of the new county courts.

 

The barristers of England, how listlessly they sit,

Expending on each other a small amount of wit:

Without the opportunity of doing something worse,

By talking nonsense at the cost of some poor client’s purse.

 

The barristers of England, how when they get a cause,

They (some of them) will disregard all gentlemanly laws;

And bullying the witnesses upon the adverse side.

Will do their very utmost the honest truth to hide.

 

The barristers of England, how with _sang froid_ sublime,

They undertake to advocate two causes at one time;

And when they find it is a thing impossible to do,

They throw one client overboard, but take the fees of two.

 

The barristers of England, how rarely they refuse,

The party they appear against with coarseness to abuse;

Feeling a noble consciousness no punishment can reach

The vulgar ribaldry they call the “privilege of speech.”

 

The barristers of England, how often they degrade

An honourable calling to a pettifogging trade,

And show how very slight the lines of separation are,

Between the cabman’s licence, and “the licence of the bar.”

 

The barristers of England, how, if they owe a grudge,

They try with insolence to goad a poor assistant-judge;

And after having bullied him, their bold imposture clench,

By talking of their high respect for the judicial bench.

 

The barristers of England, how sad it is to feel

That rant will pass for energy, and bluster goes for zeal;

But ’tis a consolation that ’mid their ranks there are

Sufficient gentlemen to save the credit of the bar.

 

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[Illustration: _Aged Criminal (who has just got a life sentence)._ “Oh,

me lud, I shall never live to do it!”

 

_Judge (sweetly)._ “Never mind. Do as much of it as you can!”]

 

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LEGAL EXAMINATION QUESTION.

 

_Q._ What is a _feme sole_?

 

_A._ A lady’s boot that has lost its _fellow_.

 

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FROM SCOTLAND YARD.--Our police force, it has been observed, is

deficient in height. The reason is plain. Tall policemen are

discouraged, because they might look over things.

 

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A TIGHT FIT.--A state of coma, which bobbies are too apt to confound

with apoplexy.

 

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A SPECIAL PLEA.--A young thief who was charged the other day with

picking pockets, demurred to the indictment, “for, that, whereas he

had never picked pockets, but had always taken them just as they came.”

 

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[Illustration: DRAWING THE LINE.--_Judge._ “Remove those barristers.

They’re drawing!”

 

_Chorus of Juniors._ “May it please your ludship, we’re only

drawing--pleadings.”

 

[“Mr. Justice Denman said that he saw a thing going on in court that he

could not sanction. He saw gentlemen of the bar making pictures of the

witness. Let it be understood that he would turn out any gentleman of

the bar who did so in future.”--_Daily Paper._]]

 

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MONODY ON THE DEATH OF AN ONLY CLIENT

 

Oh! take away my wig and gown,

Their sight is mock’ry now to me:

I pace my chambers up and down,

Reiterating “Where is _he_?”

 

Alas! wild echo, with a moan,

Murmurs above my fever’d head:

In the wide world I am alone;

Ha! ha! my only client’s--dead.

 

In vain the robing room I seek;

The very waiters scarcely bow;

Their looks contemptuously speak,

“He’s lost his only client now.”

 

E’en the mild usher, who of yore,

Would hasten when his name I said,

To hand in motions, comes no more,

_He_ knows my only client’s dead.

 

Ne’er shall I, rising up in court,

Open the pleadings of a suit:

Ne’er shall the judges cut me short,

While moving them for a compute.

 

No more with a consenting brief

Shall I politely bow my head;

Where shall I run to hide my grief?

Alas! my only client’s dead.

 

Imagination’s magic power

Brings back, as clear as clear can be,

The spot, the day, the very hour,

When first I sign’d my maiden plea.

 

In the Exchequer’s hindmost row,

I sat, and some one touch’d my head,

He tendered ten-and-six, but oh!

That only client now is dead.

 

In vain, I try to sing--I’m hoarse:

In vain I try to play the flute,

A phantom seems to flit across,--

It is the ghost of a compute.

 

I try to read--but all in vain;

My chambers listlessly I tread;

Be still, my heart; throb less, my brain;

Ho! ho! my only client’s dead.

 

I think I hear a double knock;

I did--alas! it is a dun.

Tailor--avaunt! my sense you shock;

He’s dead! you know I had but one!

 

What’s this they thrust into my hand?

A bill returned!--ten pounds for bread!

My butcher got a large demand;

I’m mad! my only client’s dead.

 

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[Illustration: CHAMBER PRACTICE.--_Messenger (from studious party in

the floor below)._ “If you please, sir, master’s compliments, and he

says he’d be much obliged if you’d let him know when the repairs will

be finished, for the knocking do disturb him so!”]

 

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REFORM YOUR LAWYERS’ BILLS.--There is one consolidation of the statutes

that would be very useful--to make them so solid that no lawyer could

drive a coach-and-six through them.

 

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[Illustration: _First Litigant._ “I’m bankruptcy. What are you?”

 

_Second L._ “I’m divorce.”

 

_First L._ “Then you stand lunch!”]

 

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