The sun drank up the waters out of Jefferson, and the almanac brought the day for the May term of the Court for Ashtabula county; came the Judge, the juries and unfortunate parties; came also some twenty lawyers, from the various points of North-eastern Ohio. It was to be a great time for our young students. Bart had seen the Court once or twice at Chardon, and had heard the advocates in the famous case of Ohio vs. Joe Smith, the Mormon Prophet, for conspiring to murder Newell, and came to know some of them by name and sight. The same judge presided on that trial as in the present court Judge Humphrey. Bart was much interested of course in the proceedings, and observed them attentively from the opening proclamation, the calling and swearing of the grand jury, calling of the calendar of cases, etc. Much more interested was he in Case’s graphic sketches of the members of the bar, who hit them off, well or ill, with a few words.

“That elderly man, shortish, with the soft, autumn-like face, is Elisha Whittlesey, sixteen years in Congress; where he never made a speech, but where he ranks with the most useful members: sober colors that wear. He was a good lawyer, and comes back to practice. The old men will employ him, and wonder why they get beaten.”

“That brisk, cheery, neat man by his side is Norton lively, smirky and smiling you see the hair leaves the top of his head, to lay the fact bare that there is not much there; and just why that snubby little nose should perk itself up, I can’t tell, unless to find out whether there really is anything above it. He has quite a reputation with juries, and a tendency to bore, sometimes in very dry places, for water, and usually furnishes his own moisture. When he isn’t damp he is funny. They both live in Canfield.”

“Who is that fine-looking, fine-featured, florid man?”

“That is Crowell, from Warren. Mark him and see how studied are all his motions. He tears up that paper with an air and grace only reached by long and intense practice and study. He is a little unpopular, but is a man of ability, and is often effective with a jury. The trouble is, his shadow is immense, and falls all about him on every thing, and he sees every thing through it.”

“That young, dark-eyed handsome man is Labe Sherman, admitted last year. He and Ranney are the two young men of the democracy; but there is enough of Ranney to make two of him. He is a fine advocate.”

“Look at that tall, rather over-dressed, youngish man.”

“The one with weak, washed-out gray eyes?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know anything?”

“Not a devilish thing. His strong point, where he concentrates in force, is his collar and stock; from that he radiates into shirt bosom, and fades off into coat and pants. Law! He don’t know the difference between a bill in Chancery and the Pope’s Bull. Here’s another knowledge-cuss. He’s from Warren McKnight. His great effort is to keep himself in to hold himself from mischief, and working general ruin. He knows perfectly well that if he should let himself loose in a case, in open court, the other side would stand no chance at all; and his sense of right prevents his putting forth his real power. It would be equal to a denial of justice to the other side.”

“An instance where the severity of the law is tempered and modified by equity,” remarked Bart.

“Exactly.”

“Who is that man on the left of Bowen, and beyond, with that splendid head and face, and eyes like Juno, if a man can have such eyes?”

“That is Dave Tod, son of old Judge Tod, of Warren. Two things are in his way: he is a democrat, and lazy as thunder; otherwise he would be among the first and it will do to keep him in mind anyway. There is some sort of a future for him.”

“Here’s another minister of the law in the temple of justice that man with the cape on. He always wears it, and the boys irreverently call him Cape Cod Ward of Connaught. He puts a paper into the clerk’s office and calls it commencing a suit. He puts in another and calls it a declaration. If anybody makes himself a party, and offers to go to trial with him, and nobody objects, he has a trial of something, at some time, and if he gets a verdict or gets licked it is equally incomprehensible to him, and to everybody else.

“There are Hitchcock and Perkins, of Painesville, whom you know. What great wide staring eyes Hitchcock has: but they look into things. And see how elegantly Perkins is dressed. I’d like to hear Frank Wade on that costume but Perkins is a good lawyer, for all that. Look at that stout, broad, club-faced man that’s old Dick Matoon. You see the lower part of his face was made for larger upper works; and after puckering and drawing the under lip in all he can, he speaks in a grain whistle through an opening still left, around under one ear. He knows no more law than does necessity; but is cunning, and acts upon his one rule, ‘that it is always safe to continue.’

“Here is a man you must get acquainted with; this dark swarthy man with the black eyes, black curling hair, and cast-iron face, sour and austere. That is Ned Wade, Frank’s younger brother, and one of the pleasantest and best-hearted men alive. He has more book than Frank, and quite as much talent, and will hammer his way towards the front.”

“Who is that little, old, hump-backed, wry-necked chap hoisting his face up as if trying to look into a basket on his shoulder?”

“That? That is the immortal Brainard, of Unionville. He is the Atlas who has sustained the whole world of the law-on his back until he has grown hump-backed; and that attitude is the only way in which he can look into the law on his back, as you remark.

“And there is Steve Mathews, mostly legs. His face begins with his chin, and runs right up over the top of his head; that head has no more brains inside than hair out. You see that little knob there in front? Well, that was originally intended for a bump, and, as you see, just succeeded in becoming a wart. Ranney suggested to him at the last term that the books were all against his straddling about the bar, as he always does.”

“That smallish man with the prominent chin and retreating forehead, is Horace Wilder, one of the best men at the bar. You see he is pleasant and amiable. He is a good lawyer, and give him a case which involves a question of morals and he develops immense power.”

“Who is that dark, singular-looking young man, with full beard and open throat? Is he a lawyer?”

“That,” said Case, sadly, “is Sartliff, the most brilliant intellect our region has produced; full of learning, full of genius and strange new thoughts! He is a lawyer, and should equal Daniel Webster.”

“What is the matter with him?”

“God only knows! men call him crazy. If he is, the rest of us never had intellect enough to become crazy. Look at his dress; he wears a kind of frock, tied with a hay rope, and is barefoot, I presume. Some strange new or old idea has taken possession of him to get back to nature. If he keeps on he will become crazy. I must introduce you; he and you will like one another.”

“Because I am crazy, too?” laughing.

“Because you have some out-of-the-way notions, Bart, and I want you should hear him. He will make you feel as if you were in the visible presence of the forces of nature. He knew your brother well and liked him.”

“Where does he live?”

“Nowhere! He remains in the open air when he can, day and night; drinks water and eats roots and herbs; sometimes a little plain bread never meat. He was formerly vigorous, as you see, he is now thin and drooping.”

“Has he had any unusual history, any heart agony?”

“None that I ever heard of; nor was he particularly poetic or imaginative. He does not attempt any business now; but goes and comes with lawyers, the most of whom now avoid him. He has brothers, able and accomplished men, and whom he usually avoids. He commenced business with Giddings, with a brilliant opening, ten years ago.”

The calendar was finished, a jury sworn in a case, and the court adjourned.

How closely the young men watched the proceedings of the court, all the trials and points made, and the rulings, and how stripped of mystery seemed the mere practice, as at that time in Ohio it really was. Wise men had taken the best of the old common law practice, and with the aid of judicious legislation and intelligent courts, had got about the best it was capable of.

Bart managed to make himself useful and do himself some good on one occasion. Ranney had taken a position in a case, on a trial of some importance, on which the court was apparently against him. Bart had just gone over with it, in a text-book, and in a moment brought it in, with the case referred to, and received, as men often do, more credit than he was entitled to, Ranney carried his point, and could afford to be generous.