Not many years ago, in the High Court at Glasgow, a case was heard before an eminent judge still on the Scottish Bench, in which the accused had committed a very serious assault and robbery. He was unable to engage counsel for his defence, and the usual course was adopted of putting his case in the hands of "counsel for the poor." There was really no defence; but the young advocate who undertook the task had to make the best of it, and the plea he put forward was that the accused was so drunk at the time he did not know what he was doing. It was the best thing he could do in the circumstances, as all the success he could expect to make with a well-known felon was a mitigation of the sentence. When it came to his time to address the Court, he set out in the following fashion: "My lord and gentlemen of the jury, you all know what it is to be drunk."
It is most important to be exact in stating the times of the movements of a person accused of murder. In a recent case this point was very minutely examined by an advocate in the Scottish Court. One witness deponed that she saw the accused in a certain place at 5.40 P.M. "Are you sure," asked the learned counsel in a tone calculated to make a witness not quite sure after all, "are you sure it was not twenty minutes to six?" And then he seemed surprised at the laughter his question had raised.
When Mr. Ludovick Mair, who was a very short man, was Sheriff-Substitute of Lanarkshire, he was called upon, at an Ayrshire Burns Club dinner, to propose the toast of the "Ayrshire Lasses." After alluding to the honour that had been conferred upon him, happily said that "Provided his fair clients were prepared to be 'contented wi' little and canty wi' mair,' he had no compunction in performing the agreeable duty."
In the Glasgow Small Debt Court where the sheriff frequently presided, a young lawyer's exhaustive eloquence in striving to prove that his client was not due the sum sued for, drew from his lordship the following interruption: "Excuse me, sir, but throughout the conflict and turmoil engendered by this desperate dispute with the pursuer I presume the British Empire is not in any danger?"—"No, my lord," came the reply, "but I fear after that interrogation from your lordship my client's case is?"
On one occasion the sheriff, becoming impatient with an agent's protracted speech, rebuked him thus: "Be brief, be brief, my dear sir; time is short and eternity is long!" And again on being asked by an agent not to allow a witty old Irishman to act as the spokesman of "the defendant" on the ground that the Irishman was not now in the defendant's employment, the sheriff sternly said to the would-be witness: "Now, answer me truthfully, mirthful Michael, are you or are you not in the defendant's employment?"—"Well, my lord of lords," was the reply, "that is to say, in the learned phraseology of the law, pro tem I am and ultimo and proximo I amn't."
Two stories are told of the late Sheriff Balfour. His lordship was addressing a prisoner at unusual length, when he was interrupted more than once by a sotto voce observation from his then clerk, who was very impatient when the luncheon hour drew near. Accustomed to this interruption, the sheriff, as a rule, took no notice of them. On this occasion, however, he threw down his quill with a show of annoyance, leaned back in his chair, and addressed the interrupter thus: "I say, Mr. ——, are you, or am I, sheriff here?" Promptly came the unabashed reply: "You, of course; but your lordship knows that this woman has been frequently here," meaning that it was idle to address words of counsel to the prisoner. On another occasion, the sheriff was pulled up by a male prisoner, who took exception to his version of the story of the crime, and concluded: "So you see I've got your lordship there."—"Have you?" was the sheriff's rejoinder. "No, but I've got you—three months hard."
A law agent was talking at length against an opinion which Sheriff Balfour had already indicated. Twice the sheriff essayed in vain to stay the torrent that was flowing uselessly past the mill. At last, in a more decided tone, he asked the agent to allow him just one word, after which he would engage not to interrupt him again. "Certainly, milord," said the agent. "Decree," said the sheriff.