THE SONG OF THE COURT.

(" The foreman of the jury asked the Sedge if he would adjourn over Wednesday_ Several jurymen had important business to transact on that day, and had formed important engagements. The Lord Chief Justice said it would be no holiday to him, for he had a mass of notes collected already which he must look over. The

Solicitor-General said, believe I am the only man who will not attend the Isthmian games.' "-2 Imes, May 23.3

\Vint fingers weary and worn, With eyes 'neath his spectacles red, A Judge sat at home on the Derby Day Getting his notes in his head. Tich, Tich, Tich, While others were having their sport, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch He sang the Song of the Court.

"Notes, notes, notes, From ten in the morning till four, And notes, notes, notes, When the long day's sitting is o'er.

It's oh to be at the Bar, Where counsel are straining their throats To make things seem what they never are, If these be Judge's notes.

"Notes, notes, notes, Till the brain with the eyes grows dim; Notes, notes, notes, Till the names on the paper swim,— Jenne and Giffard and Rose, Rose and Giffard and Jenne, Till I find myself humming them under my breath, And they all run into a tune.

"0 counsel who flaunt in silk, 0 counsel who scramble in stuff, The facts will never be wearing out, But we've got impressions enough ! Twitch, twitch, twitch, Is the trait to which all resort, Netting at once with a double mesh The world as well as the Court.

"But why do I name the world, The bugbear that preachers paint ?

I am out of humanity's reach, I live like a cloistered saint.

Stylites all day on the bench, At night my vigils I keep, Each witness's words, each fact to clench, And only the speeches for sleep.

"Oh but to breathe the breath Of the Downs, and the life and the fun, Where Lords and Commons as equals meet, And the whole of the Bar,—save one! To see when. the flag is dropped How the close line lengthens out, And to feel the sudden hush That heralds the moving shout.

"Oh but for one short hour A respite, a break, a change : A novel at least would turn my thoughts From truth that is far more strange.

A bottle of wine would cheer me now, But in its crusty bed

My port must stop, for every drop Drives my notes out of my head."

With fingers holding the glass, With eyes on the winning-post, The jury stood on the Epsom Downs, In "important business" engrossed ; Which, which, which, Wins a race of a different sort ;

And thus with a voice of joyfullest pitch— Wouldn't it make the Judge's ears itch—

They sang their song out of Court.