cus Witherett inquired, "Is that all you wish to say?" "All,
sir--all," replied Mr. Smith; adding nervously, "And I trust you will
excuse me for troubling you about the matter; but, sir, I could not
sleep a wink last night; all through the night I was turning this matter
over in my mind." A glimpse of silence. Sir Causticus rose and standing
over his victim made his final speech--"Mis-ter Smith, if you take my
advice, given with sincere commiseration for your state, you will
without delay return to the tranquil village in which you habitually
reside. In the quietude of your accustomed scenes you will have leisure
to _turn this matter over in what you are pleased to call your mind_.
And I am willing to hope that _your mind_ will recover its usual
serenity. Mr. Smith, I wish you a very good morning."

Legal biography abounds with ghastly stories that illustrate the
insensibility with which the hanging judges in past generations used to
don the black cap jauntily, and smile at the wretched beings whom they
sentenced to death. Perhaps of all such anecdotes the most thoroughly
sickening is that which describes the conduct of Jeffreys, when, as
Recorder of London, he passed sentence of death on his old and familiar
friend, Richard Langhorn, the Catholic barrister--one of the victims of
the Popish Plot phrensy. It is recorded that Jeffreys, not content with
consigning his friend to a traitor's doom, malignantly reminded him of
their former intercourse, and with devilish ridicule admonished him to
prepare his soul for the next world. The authority which gives us this
story adds, that by thus insulting a wretched gentleman and personal
associate, Jeffreys, instead of rousing the disgust of his auditors,
elicited their enthusiastic applause.

In a note to a passage in one of the Waverley Novels, Scott tells a
story of an old Scotch judge, who, as an enthusiastic chess-player, was
much mortified by the success of an ancient friend, who invariably beat
him when they tried their powers at the beloved game. After a time the
humiliated chess-player had his day of triumph. His conqueror happened
to commit murder, and it became the judge's not altogether painful duty
to pass upon him the sentence of the law. Having in due form and with
suitable solemnity commended his soul to the divine mercy, he, after a
brief pause, assumed his ordinary colloquial tone of voice, and nodding
humorously to his old friend, observed--"And noo, Jammie, I t