Counsel who are briefless and who spend much time in perambulating the floor of Parliament Hall should be as careful in their dress as their more fortunate neighbours who jostle each other in the lobbies as they rush from one Court to another. A company of Americans visiting the Courts one day made a casual inquiry of one of the advocates "in waiting," who politely offered to show them all that is to be seen. As they were leaving, one of the party caught hold of a passing solicitor and after apologising for stopping him inquired: "This—this—this gentleman has been very good in showing us over your beautiful place. Would it be correct to give him something?"—"Yes, certainly," said the busy practitioner, "and it will be the first fee he has earned, to my knowledge, for the last ten years."
An advocate of the present day, in trying to induce the Second Division of the Court of Session to reverse a decision pronounced in Glasgow Sheriff Court somewhat startled the Bench by reminding them that their lordships were only mortal after all. "Are you quite sure of that?" asked the presiding judge. Counsel judiciously refrained from replying to this poser. The incident recalls an occasion in the Second Division when it was presided over by Lord Justice-Clerk Moncreiff. A junior counsel was debating a case in the division, and, apparently finding he was not making much headway, invited their lordships to imagine for the moment that they were navvies, and to look at the question from the point of view of the worker. In stately tones the Lord Justice-Clerk informed the audacious junior that his invitation was unsuited to the dignity of the Court.
A learned counsel at the Bar prided himself on the juvenility of his appearance, and boasted that he looked twenty years younger than he was. He was cross-examining a very prepossessing and uncommonly self-possessed young woman as to the age of a person whom she knew quite well, but could get no satisfactory answer. "Well," he persisted, "but surely you must have been able to make a good guess at his age, having seen him often."—"People don't always look their age."—"No, but you can surely form a good idea from their looks. Now, how old should you say I am?" "You might be sixty by your looks, but judging by the questions you ask I should say about sixteen!"
Much amusement is afforded by the answers given by witnesses to judges and counsel. They form the theme of legions of stories, and we append a selection to this chapter of legal wit of the Bar.
An Irishman before Lord Ardwall was giving evidence on the question whether having lived eleven years in Glasgow he was a domiciled Scotsman. He swore that he was, and as a question of succession depended upon the domicile the point was of importance. The opposing counsel thought he had him cornered when on the list of voters for an Irish constituency he found the witness's name. But Pat was equal to the occasion. "It's a safe sate," he said; "they never revise the lists," and by way of clinching the argument, he added: "Shure there's men in Oireland who have been in their graves for twenty years who voted at the last election."
Legal gentlemen sometimes resort to methods not quite in accordance with usual practice to elicit information from stubborn witnesses. In Glasgow Sheriff Court one day a somewhat long and involved question was addressed by the cross-examining agent to a witness who, from his stout build and imperturbable manner, looked the embodiment of Scottish caution. The witness, who was not to be so easily "had," having regarded his questioner with a steady gaze for the space of almost a minute, at last broke silence: "Would you mind, sir," said he, "just repeating that question, and splitting it into bits?" And after the Court had regained its composure the discomfited agent humbly proceeded to subdivide the question.