"How much did you get," he asked.

"Two thousand dollars," the lawyer answered.

"Two thousand, and you give me $500? Say, who got hit by that brick, you or me?"—Green Bag.

GUNNING.

A man came into the police court the other day carrying a friend on his back. "What's the matter?" asked the judge. The man answered, "Judge, this man is a friend of mine, and his name is Gunn. Now, Gunn is loaded. I know that it's against the law to carry a loaded gun on the streets, so I brought him in here." The judge said: "Gunn, you are discharged." And the next day the report was in the papers.-Mount Morris Index.

PHILANDER AND THE OFFICE-BOY.

One day, says a friend, Mr. Knox, when practicing in Pittsburg, was much put out to find on his arrival at his office that everything was topsy-turvy and that the temperature of his rooms was much too low for comfort. Summoning his office-boy, a lad but recently entered in his employ, the lawyer asked who had raised every window in the place on such a cold morning.

"Mr. Muldoon, sir," was the answer.

"Who is Mr. Muldoon?" asked the attorney.

"The janitor, sir."

"Who carried off my waste-basket?" was the next question. "Mr. Reilly, sir."

"And who is Mr. Reilly?"

"He's the man that cleans the rooms."

Mr. Knox looked sternly at the boy and said: "See here, Richard, we call men by their first names here. We don't 'mister' them in this office. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." And the boy retired.

In a few minutes he reappeared and in a shrill, piping voice announced:

"There's a gentleman that wants to see you, Philander."

SAGE ADVICE.

Russell Sage has a horror of lawsuits. A clerk of Mr. Sage's said the other day: "I sought out the chief one morning in his office. 'You remember, sir,' I said, 'my complaint against my wife's uncle?'

"Yes,' he answered.

"Well,' said I, 'the man is obdurate, and I think of bringing suit against him. What do you advise?'

"Mr. Sage was silent a moment, frowning thoughtfully. Then he said:

"Listen. When I was clerk in Troy, I had a case against a man that seemed quite as good as yours. I visited a prominent lawyer, and I laid the whole matter before him in detail. When I was through he told me that he would be delighted to take the case-that it was a case that couldn't lose.

"It can't lose?' said I.

"It can't lose,' he repeated.

"I rose, and took up my hat. I thanked the lawyer, and told him that I wouldn't bring suit, after all. And then I explained that it was my opponent's side, and not my own, which I had laid before him.'"-New York Tribune.

A UTAH BRIEF.

S. P. Armstrong, Hamilton 87, of Salt Lake City favors us with an excerpt from a brief filed by Hurd and Wedgewood of that city in an action seeking to hold an administrator for property administrated by his predecessor:

THIRD DISTRICT COURT OF UTAH.

In the Matter of the Estate of Jonathan M. Williamson, deceased. Brief of Objectors to Allowance of Final Account of Administrator. The brief of the learned counsel for the administrator burns, scintillates, and sparkles with the brilliant and awe-inspiring words, "De bonis non." Ever recurring, they sportively chase and jostle each other through it, simply laughing in the very joy of existence, imparting to it a piquancy, charm, and flavor indescribable in words, and obscuring the points, if any, which may have been in the author's mind as completely as the dazzling light of the summer sunrise blots out the brightness of the morning star.

Heretofore the said administrator-created by, and agent and arm of, this court-has been a plain, common, ordinary administrator, with the will annexed. But now, as the curtain is about to be rung down on this little drama, he appears before us surrounded by a halo emanating from that mystic garb-de bonis non, and says to these objectors," Hold your peace, you are silent in my presence." And to the court,-" Who are you that you should question me?"

De bonis non-de bonis non! Whence comes-and what is the power of this magic phrase? Ask the statute, and there comes in answer not even an echo of the words. Extend the appeal and from the eternal hills of ancient Rome, down the long, devious course of the common law, comes a low, faint whisper-" The goods not-the goods not."

This whisper has caught the ear and pleased the fancy of our learned associate, and he now shouts again and again,-" The goods my client has not."

THE JUDGE'S FIRST CLIENT.

Judge James J. Banks, the well-known Denver lawyer, is a native of the South. It was in Birmingham, Ala., that he hung out his first shingle. For a long while Judge Banks sat in his office and wondered what a law client looked like. He would read and study to pass the long hours away. Every time he heard footsteps in the hall he would straighten up, assume an air of knowledge and wait, only to be disappointed. One day an old negro woman entered his office.

"Is yo' de lawyah man?" she asked. Judge Banks immediately was all attention. This surely was a client. He answered in the affirmative.

"Well, sah," said the old woman, "Ah wants ter ax yo' device. Now, yo' see, Ah owes rent on ma house. Ah kain't pay hit en de lan'lord say he gwine ter put me out nex' week ef Ah doan' fotch 'round de cash. What's Ah gwine ter do', Mistah lawyah man?”

Judge Banks gave himself over to deep study for a moment. Then he told the old woman that, with due process of law, the landlord could be compelled to give her a month's notice. The first client was delighted.

"Well, now, young man," she said, "Ah's mighty much erbliged ter you. Yo' suhtinly es smaht. Good mohnin'!"

"Hold on," came from the young lawyer. "Haven't you forgotten something?"

"How's dat?" asked the old negress. "Did Ah done drapped somethin'?"

"No," said Judge Banks, "but my fee is $5. You must pay me for that advice."

The old negress hesitated. Then she took hold of the doorknob. "Mistah," she said, "Ah don't want yo' ole device. Keep hit. Dat rent ain't but foah dollars." And out she went.-Denver Post.