up. After he is through,
it is the turn of the plaintiff. The tactical position is in favor of
the plaintiff. The advantage, as in all verbal disputes, is reputedly
with the man who has the last word. In all debates the proponent has
the right of opening and closing. The plaintiff began the case with
his opening, and after it is over he is permitted to close.

"Gentlemen," says the judge, "how long will you take in your address?"
Both sides agree upon a certain time, which usually proves too short,
but which is acquiesced in with alacrity because each side thinks
their case is so plain and convincing that it will not be difficult to
explain. The lawyer girds up his loins, the court-room quiets, the
struggle of conflicting evidence is over, the clients and witnesses
retire from the foreground, the other counsel sits down and the lawyer
steps close to the jury-box.

"The jury is yours," says the judge, as though he were abandoning the
jury. Indeed the summing up is an attack, a vivid, keen, masterly
struggle in which wit and brain is pitted against wit and brain: where
facts and passions are to be marshalled in the most intelligent and
plausible way, where imagination and oratory are to be employed in
their finest capacities. It may be bold, manly, energetic, or soft and
persuasive; it may appeal to sympathy or threaten with a battery of
accumulated facts. Forensic oratory is the highest type of art, the
most powerful of human gifts. The only trouble with most court oratory
is that it is only fit for the market-place. The lawyer begins with
the firm impression that he must win the jury. His voice is bland and
soothing, he feels that he must be soft and persuasive. He rubs his
hands and remembering the old adage, that laugh and the world laughs
with you, attempts a little joke. There is nothing so good as to get a
smile for his side. Perhaps the joke does not go very well and the
laugh does not come; the point has missed. He will try what flattery
can do.

"Men of your intelligence can readily see," he says.

"When I was examining you," he explains in a subtle way. "I knew at
once how unprejudiced and fair-minded you were."

"You gentlemen are practical men and can understand." Yet somehow the
jury are impervious. They sit back in their chairs and stare.

Then the lawyer begins to forget the object of ingratiating himself.
Hypnotized by the memory of his client's wrongs, he works himself into
a frenzy of feeling. He