Punch: Punch (82.1882)

228

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAEIVAEI.

[May 13, 1882.

RACING NOTES BY DUMB-CRAMBO JUNIOR.

The Derby Crack. A Walk Over.

Two-Year-old Form. Taking the Field.

Halpfj 2MaIlics ISmcrson.

Bork, May 25, 1803. Died, April 27, 1882.

A cheery Oracle, alert and quick,

Amidst the joyless voiees of tlie hour—

The dirges dull of singers who are sick,

The peevish plaints of thinkers who are sour—■
Its utterance was still of hope and health ;

Its silence lessens the World’s better wealth.

j INEXPERIENCES OE A BARRISTEUS LIEE.

(Not by Serjeant B-ll-nt-ne.)

Long tables, benches, stained-glass windows, and a good deal of
oak. That is my first impression of the Hall of Lincoln’s Inn. Then
I become conseious of a numher of gentlemen who
are apparently considerably younger than myself,
except a fewwho are unquestionably considerably
older. These last are white-headed veterans,
wearing spectacles. They seem to be very harm-
less. They have expressions of great sweetness,
and appear to be as innocent as children. Why
they should suddenly give up the Arcadian life
they have evidently been living for half a cen-
tury, to be called to the Bar, is .a mystery to me.
They seem nervous and anxious ; so am I. A
clerk asks for my name, and gives me a nurnber. This makes me
feel rather like a convict until he explains that the number corre-
sponds with the number of my seat.

I am two yards from my neighbours to the right and left. In
front of me are pens, ink, and some MS. books. Instructions are
given me in a circular. “ After finishing one hook, commence
another ! ” The Examiners have sadly over-estimated the extent
of my knowledge !

I collect my thoughts, and try to recall everything I have
crammed for the last twelve months. Then I become conscious of a
discovery which is interesting from a psychological point of view,
but for the moment decidedly embarrassing. This interesting dis-
covery is that, in spite of my year’s hard labour, I can remember
absolutely nothing. However, at this moment a pleasant-looking
gentleman, carrying the Examination Paper, approaches me, and.
presents me with a copy.

The first words rather encourage me. It is a direction. The
candidates are _ requested to “ answer their questions concisely.”
“'Come!” I think to myself, “ this is capital. Answer them con-
cisely, of course I will. What can he more concise than ‘ Tes ’ and
‘ No ’ F 1 will put ‘ Yes ’ and ‘ No ’ all the way down.” Full of this
intention, I read the first question:—

1.—JExplain and illustrate—“ JEven noic a common purchase-deed
of a piece of freehold land cannot be explained without going back to
the reign of Henry the Eightr, or an ordinary settlement of land
icithout having recourse to the laws of Edward the First 1 ”

I lay down my pen ! This can’t be answered with a “ A’es ” or a
“ No.” Henry the Eighth and Edward the First ! Why should

I explain the laws of their days F This is an age of progress, and the
Examiners are sadly hehind their time.

I am quite mistaken. The Examiners are not behind their time.
On the contrary, they are in the hall, and one of them (so 1 am told
hy an attendant) is actually waiting for me. My indignation f'ades-
away, and I become distinctly clammy—ears red, feet cold!

An amiable old gentleman in a gown is sitting at a tahle. I
approach him abjectly, and bow! He returns the salutation
courteously, and motions me to take a chair. I ohey him. We
have a dark mahogany table before us. Were it not that he has a
list in front of him, and a pen, I should feel that we had just dined
together tete-d-tete, and were waiting for the appearance of a bottle-
of port and some walnuts. He asks me a preliminary question :—

“ Have yon been in a Conveyancer’s Office F ”

“ No,” I reply, but in such a tone that it implies, that if he considers
I ought to have been in a conveyancer’s office, I will supply the
accidental omission at once, by entering one on leaving the hall, and
remaining there for months, years, or life !

He seems a little disappointed at my answer. He continues—

“ Do you intend to practise in India F”

Well, as a matter of fact, I did not. But I have been so unlucky
in my first answer, that I feel inclined to throw my previous career
to the winds, and begin again in India. A moment’s reflection,
however, proves to me that it would be extremely inconvenient to
leave my native country atthe moment; so I answer inthenegative.
However, there is a depth of meaning in my “ No.” I imply in my
tone that there is a sorrowful secret eonnected with my regretfuily
adopted intention of not going to India—that were I not, so to speak,
“ the child of Destiny,” I should be in Calcutta in a wig and gown
in something less than no time.

My Examiner seems thoroughly disheartened. He had forgiven me
for not being in a conveyancer’s office, but he did think 1 was going
to practise in India. However, he is just before all things, and
although disappointed, will yet put a few questions upon law.

“ Now,” says he, as if he were asking me the simplest thing in the
world—just to show me that, in spite of my shortcomings about
India and the conveyancing, he hore me no ill-will—■“ Now, will you
please tell me the rule in Shelley's Case f ”

I hesitate. I know that Sir Percy Shelley has opened au
Amateur Theatre in Chelsea, and it occurs to me that, perhaps, there
has been some difficulty under the Licensing Acts. I am on the-
point of asking the Examiner if he happens to mean Sir Percy
Shelley’s case, when, fortunatelv for me, he exclaims, impatiently,
“ Surely you know the rule in Shelley's Case ! ”

I wish I were as sure of the matter as he seems to he ! Shelley F'
Who on Earth was Shelley F I smile in a deprecatory manner.
What had Shelley to do with a Rule P Shelley was a poet; and
Rule kept an oyster-shop in Maiden Lane. Certainly Rule’s
oysters were shelly. For a moment I am on the point of telling him
my little joke, when a glance at my Examiner’s grave, sorrowful face-
convinces me that this is not the time for playfulness.

“ Come,” says the Examiner, “ you surely know that when a man

takes an estate in freehold, and in the same instrument”-

Eureka ! I have got it! My mind is no longer a blank, and all
my knowledge flows back into my head as water freshly turned on
rushes into an empty cistern. I should rather think I did know the
rule in Shelley's Case! I repeat it quickly, like a tune being
played on a musical-box that has been over-wound.

My Examiner smiles, and asks me another question. I answer it
sharply. He tries me with another. Same result. He puts down
marks rapidly on his piece of paper, as if he were scoring for me at
some inteilectual game of chance.

“ That will do, thank you,” he says at last.

I should like to ask him if my score has been successful, and which
of us leaves off the winner. But on second thoughts, lest any ob-
servation I may now make might be “ used against me at my trial ”
(so to speak), I simply bow with much native grace and retire.
Should like to ask him to dine with me and sqnare him.

I resume my seat, look at the paper, and—hurra !—find I can
do it!

Three weeks afterwards I learn that I have passed a “ satisfactory
examination,” and am consequently qualified.

The Released Suspects declare that they have always acted, and
will always act, in accordance with their convictions. _ But they
never had any convictions. They were imprisoned without any
“ previous convictions ” being proved against them, and it was the
convictions of others that led to their incarceration.

Mrs. Ramsbotiiam has been very much interested in an account
of Professor Baref’s Antiseptic Boroglyceride. “ Ah ! ” exclaimed
the good Lady after a day’s consideration, “ why doesn’t Professor
Barff give some of his Anti-Sceptic remedy to Mr. Bradlaugh F ”