"If you think so," grumbled Gottlieb, "you had better argue it yourself before the Court of Appeals."
"Very well," said I. "Nothing will give me greater pleasure."
It was with some trepidation, however, that I went to Albany to argue, before so august a body of judges, a proposition of law that had in reality so little to commend it; particularly as I was opposed in person by the district attorney of New York County—a man of great learning and power of sarcasm. However, I found the Court of Appeals much interested in my argument and had the pleasure of hearing them put many puzzling questions to my opponent, in answering which he was not always altogether successful.
Pending the opinion of the Court, which was not handed down for several months, an incident occurred in our practice that may serve to amuse the reader if not to illustrate the dangers of ignorance. We were engaged in a litigation in the United States District Court, where the subpoenas for the witnesses are issued by the clerk to the deputy marshals for service. Our opponent in the case was a testy old member of the bar over sixty years of age and of the very highest respectability and standing, who had several times refused elevation to the bench and was regarded as the personification of dignity and learning. Unfortunately his appearance belied his position, for he was almost totally bald and his face was as weazened and wrinkled as that of a monkey.
It so happened that we desired to have in court the following day certain papers that were in his possession; and, in order that we might be in a position to introduce copies of them in case he failed to produce the originals, we secured what is called a duces tecum subpoena for him—that is to say, a subpoena directing him to bring with him—duces tecum—"bring with you"—the papers in question. There had recently been appointed as a deputy marshal a very honest and enthusiastic, but exceedingly ignorant Irishman named Hennessey, who, prior to his advent into officialdom, had been employed at heaving coal at a dollar and eighty cents a day. The clerk called him into his office and handed to him our subpoena.
"Mike," he said, "here is a subpoena for Winthrop Van Rennsellaer" —our worthy opponent. "It is a duces tecum. Understand?"
"Shure, I do!" answered Mike, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and taking the paper; for, though he had no idea of what duces tecum meant, he had no intention of disclosing the fact.
"It's important," continued the clerk. "Be sure and attend to the matter at once."
"Lave that to me!" Mike assured him.
"Don't forget that it's a duces tecum," admonished the clerk as
Mike passed out of the door.