ey picture officers of the
law as human bulldogs, with undershot, foam-dripping jaws and
bloodshot eyes. The bourne--from which so many travellers never
return--bounded by the criminal statutes, is a _terra incognita_
to the average citizen. A bailiff with a warrant for his arrest
would cause his instant collapse and a message that "all was
discovered" would--exactly as in the popular saw--lead him to flee
at once.

Upon this dread of the unknown the criminal attorney plays whenever
possible. It is his strongest asset, his stock in trade. The
civil lawyer, vaguely believing that there must be a criminal law
to cover every obvious wrong, retains him to put the screws on the
evil-doer and bring him to terms. The man who has done a dirty
business trick--in reality a hundred miles from being a crime--
engages the shyster to keep him out of jail. The practical weapon
of the criminal lawyer is the warrant of arrest. Just as at civil
law any one can bring a groundless suit and subject his enemy to
much annoyance and expense, so almost anybody can get almost anybody
else arrested. Of course if there is no justification for it a
suit for malicious prosecution and false arrest may arise; but most
persons who resort to such tactics are "judgment proof" and the
civil law has no terrors for them at all. At least fifty persons
out of every hundred would gladly pay an unrighteous claim rather
than be subjected to the humiliation of arrest, even if their
confinement were of the most temporary character.

In New York the right of having the defendant arrested in certain
classes of civil cases is a matter of statute. It is a preliminary
remedy not half as much availed of as it might be. The young lady
who brings a breach-of-promise suit against her faithless follower
has the right to put him under arrest and make him give bail; and
the young gentleman who would laugh ordinarily at the mere service
of papers may well settle her claim if a sheriff whispers in his
ear that he has a warrant for his person.

In the early days, before Gottlieb and I practised at the criminal
bar, a judgment creditor could arrest and lock up his delinquent
debtor. This was a most ancient and honorable form of redress;
and the reader has undoubtedly read dozens of novels in which some
of the scenes are laid in "Fleet Street." This locking up of people
who owed other people money but could not meet their just obligations
was sanctified by tradit