he days of his
constant practice, which had not come to his knowledge. There
was a great audience, and when Mr. Webster had got his point
fairly stated, he was interrupted by Wilde. "Pooh, pooh,
Mr. Webster." The Judge pointed out that Webster had overlooked
one link in the chain of his antagonist's title.

"But," said Mr. Webster in reply, "the descent tolls the
entry."

"That rule is abolished by the statoot, sir."

"Why didn't you tell me that?" said Webster angrily to his
junior.

Another of our great old Judges was Judge Fletcher. He had
had a great practice as an advocate in Boston, especially
as a commercial lawyer. He had a great power of clear statement.
He brought out his utterances in a queer, jerking fashion,
protruding his lips a little as he hesitated at the beginning
of his sentences. But he knew how to convey his meaning to
the apprehension of Courts and juries. He left the Bench
less than two years after I came to the Bar. I never had
but one important case before him. He was a bachelor. He
was very interesting in conversation, liked the company of
young men, who never left him without carrying away some delightful
anecdote or shrewd and pithy observation.

A lawyer from the country told me one day that he had just
been in Fletcher's office to get his opinion. While he was
in the office, old Ebenezer Francis, a man said to be worth
$8,000,000, then the richest man in New England, came to consult
him about a small claim against some neighbor. Fletcher interrupted
his consultation with my friend and listened to Mr. Francis's
story. In those days, parties could not be witnesses in their
own cases. Fletcher advised his client that although he had
an excellent case, the evidence at his command was not sufficient
to prove it, and advised against bringing an action. Francis,
who was quite avaricious, left the office with a heavy heart.
When he had gone, Fletcher turned to my friend and said: "Isn't
it pitiful, sir, to see an old critter, wandering about our
streets, destitute of proof?"

But the most interesting and racy character among our old
Judges was Theron Metcalf. He used to say of himself--a saying
that did him great injustice--that he was taken to fill a
gap in the Court as people take an old hat to stop a broken
window. He undervalued his own capacity. He was not a good
Judge to preside at jury trials. He had queer and eccentric
notions of what the case was all about, an