Mr. W. G. Thorpe, F.S.A., in his entertaining volume of Middle Temple Table Talk, relates a curious story of a judge taking an extremely personal interest in a case which was brought before him. A milk company had sold off a lot of old stock to a cake-maker, and the cake-maker had declined to pay because the milk had turned out to be poisonous. As the case went on the judge became more and more exercised. "What do they do with this stuff?" he asked, pointing to a mass of horrible mixture. "Oh, my lord, they make cakes of it; it doesn't taste in the cakes."—"Where do they sell these cakes?" was the judge's next question, and the reply was, "They are used for certain railway stations, school-treats, and excursions." Then the defendant specified one of the places. "Bless me!" said the judge, turning an olive-green, "I had some there myself," and with a shudder he retired to his private room, returning in a few minutes wiping his mouth.
There is another story of a counsel defending a woman on a charge of causing the death of her husband by administering a poisoned cake to him. "I'll eat some of the cake myself," he said in Court, and took a bite. Just at this moment a telegram was brought to him to say that his wife was seriously ill, and he obtained permission to leave in order to answer the message. He returned, finished his speech, and obtained the acquittal of his client. It transpired afterwards that the telegram business was arranged in order that counsel could obtain an emetic after swallowing the cake.
Mr. Montagu Williams tells a story, in his interesting Leaves of a Life, of two members of the Bar, one of whom had made a large fortune by his practice, but worked too hard to enjoy his gains, while the other, who only made a decent living, liked to enjoy life. They met on one occasion at the end of a long vacation, and the rich man asked his less fortunate brother what he had been doing. "I have been on the Continent," the other replied, "and I enjoyed my holiday very much. What have you been doing?"—"I have been working," said the rich Q.C., "and have not been out of town; I had lots of work to do."—"What is the use of it?" queried the other; "you can't carry the money with you when you die; and if you could, it would soon melt."
From the same work we take the following story of Serjeant Ballantine. On one occasion he was acting in a case with a Jewish solicitor, and it happened that one of the hostile witnesses also belonged to the same race. Just as the serjeant was about to examine him, the solicitor whispered in Ballantine's ear: "Ask him as your first question, if he isn't a Jew."—"Why, but you're a Jew yourself," said the serjeant in some surprise. "Never mind, never mind," replied the little solicitor eagerly. "Please do—just to prejudice the jury."
JOHN ROMILLY, BARON ROMILLY, MASTER OF THE ROLLS.
No collection of the wit and humour of the Bar would be complete without some specimens of Sir Frank Lockwood's racy sayings. From Mr. Augustine Birrell's Life of Lockwood we quote the following: