TO PORTIA AT THE BAR
(“The first lady barrister has just taken the oath at Paris.”—Daily paper).
O Portia, many maids there are,
Who wear their wigs as gaily
As thou, appearing at the bar
To take refreshers daily;
They rustle too, in silk like thee
With oft a clerk resplendent
And, not infrequently you see,
Solicitors attendant.
Their trade is legal—so is thine,
Yet not their craft thou pliest,
For they are in the liquor line
And thou in law—the driest.
But welcome, bar maid! hail to thee!
Bright be thy lot and griefless!
And may thy portion never be,
Like this poor writer’s, briefless.
The Eye of the Law.—Policeman’s bull’s-eye.
More than a Miracle.—When a prisoner is “taken from the dock unmoved.”
Song for Magistrates.—“Let us speak of a man as we’ve fined him.”
THE FINE OLD SPIRIT
“But if you really think Jones has injured you, my dear fellow, why not consult some clever lawyer?”
“Lawyer, indeed! With men of my stamp, the only possible reply to a man of Jones’s, is the horsewhip, since it can no longer be the sword!”