Before the same judge, two prominent advocates in their day were debating a case. One of them was a particularly well-known figure, the feature of whose pinafore, if he wore one, would be its extensive girth. The other advocate, who happened to be rather slim, was addressing his lordship: "My learned friend and I are particularly at one upon this point. I may say, my lord, that we are virtually in the same boat." Here his opponent broke in: "No, no, my lord, we are nothing of the kind. I do not agree with that." Lord Young, leaning across the bench, remarked: "No, I suppose you would need a whole boat to yourself."
It is also attributed to Lord Young that, when Mr. Baird of Cambusdoon bequeathed a large sum of money to the Church of Scotland to found the lectureship delivered under the auspices of the Baird Trust, he remarked that it was the highest fire insurance premium he had ever heard of. "Possibly, my lord," observed a fire insurance manager who heard the remark; "but you will admit that cases occur where the premium scarcely covers the risk."
Lord Guthrie tells that when, as an advocate, he was engaged in a case before Lord Young, he mentioned that his client was a Free Church minister. "Well," said Lord Young, "that may be, but for all that he may perhaps be quite a respectable man."
And there is the story that when Mr. Young was Lord Advocate for Scotland a vacancy occurred on the Bench and two names were mentioned in connection with it. One was that of Mr. Horne, Dean of Faculty, a very tall man, and the other Lord Shand. "So, Mr. Young," said a friend, "you'll be going to appoint Horne?"—"I doubt if I will get his length," was the reply. "Oh, then," queried the friend, "you'll be going to appoint Shand?"—"It's the least I could do," answered the witty Lord Advocate.
"What is your occupation?" asked Lord Ardwall of a witness in a case. "A miner, sir."—"Good; and how old are you?"—"Twenty, sir."—"Ah, then you are a minor in more senses than one." Whereat, no doubt, the Court laughed. "Now, my lord, we come to the question of commission received by the witness, which I was forgetting," said a counsel before the same judge one day. "Ah, don't commit the omission of omitting the commission," replied his lordship.
An unfortunate miner had been hit on the head by a lump of coal, and the judges of the First Division of the Court of Session were considering whether his case raised a question of law or of fact. "The only law I can see in the matter," said Lord Maclaren, "is the law of gravitation."
In a fishing case heard in the Court of Session some years ago, a good deal of evidence was led on the subject of taking immature salmon from a river in the north. The case was an important one, and the evidence was taken down in shorthand notes and printed for the use of the judge and counsel next day. The evidence of one of the witnesses with respect to certain of the salmon taken was that "some of them were kelts." When his lordship turned over the pages of the printed evidence next morning to refresh his memory, he was astonished to find it stated by one of the witnesses in regard to the salmon that "some of them wore kilts."
Many other stories, particularly of the older judges, might be given, were they not too well known. We may therefore close this chapter with the following epigram by a Scottish writer, which is decidedly pointed and clever, and has the additional merit of being self-explanatory:
"He was a burglar stout and strong,
Who held, 'It surely can't be wrong,
To open trunks and rifle shelves,
For God helps those who help themselves.'
But when before the Court he came,
And boldly rose to plead the same,
The judge replied—'That's very true;
You've helped yourself—now God help you!'"